by Davis Ashura
An hour of patient work later, they were ready.
While the Tigons crept to their positions, green signal arrows had flared near the forest west of the plain. Answering red flames had risen from the Outer Wall.
Hal'El had no idea why there were platoons in the forest. Nor did he know what they had seen to cause them to pass on the warning of approaching danger. Hal'El had shrugged and grinned. Whatever the reason, he had been grateful for the incompetent commander. The man had likely panicked for some reason. Maybe he'd seen his shadow. At any rate, the green arrows from the forest would cause even more disorder, especially after his Chimeras made their presence known.
Hal'El had cast a signal, and his Tigons had done as Tigons do: they'd mindlessly attacked the Trims. The young warriors had responded with admirable aplomb. They'd turned to face the Tigons, and even with blunted weapons, had annihilated them. None of the Chimeras had survived their attack, but it didn't matter. The Tigons had done their duty.
More green signal flares had been fired from the platoons who had battled the Tigons. Again, answering red flames had burst skyward from the Outer Wall. The Advent Trial was over, and the platoons had raced back to Ashoka.
It had all been to Hal'El's benefit as he had skulked his way closer to Ashoka. In the ensuing chaos, he had managed to dodge past the line of Trims. He had been halfway across the plain when a tingle in his spine had told him to look south. Suwraith had come. Her arrival, a half hour after the attack by the Tigons, had stirred abject panic. The platoons had raced across the plain with the Kummas in the lead and drawing away.
Hal'El had sprinted with them. He would be just another Kumma. The guards at the gates would be too panicked to look closely at the faces of those entering the city.
All had been going according to the plan he and the Queen had devised, but still, Hal'El had felt some measure of grief and even guilt for the dying Trims that Suwraith had destroyed.
Nevertheless, if such sacrifice was the price to be paid for a later, greater victory, then so be it.
Then had come that single Kumma who had dared confront the Queen. He'd thrown his challenge into the teeth of Her storm and come out triumphant. Or at least not dead, which in anyone's estimation was a victory.
Hal'El had watched the man's actions in stunned amazement. After Suwraith had retreated, he realized he hadn't yet reentered Ashoka. With a start he had raced for Sunset Gate. Thankfully, the Kumma's actions had everyone celebrating, and no one was truly warding the entrance to the city. Hal'El passed through with no one giving him a second glance.
Once inside, he'd kept running, wearing a look of dire importance on his face to dissuade any who might think to question him. He had evaded detection and managed to reach a small safe house in a Muran village. It was really just an unused cellar, but it had clothes, provisions, and money. There, he'd changed out of his camouflage and into garb more appropriate for the city.
In the Wildness, he'd allowed his beard free rein. It had grown in thick as a wool rug and gray as dirty snow. As a result, Hal'El Wrestiva, the finest warrior of his generation, one of the finest to ever walk the verdant streets of Ashoka, strode his home as anonymous as a pauper.
In times past, such a lack of recognition would have set his teeth on edge, but this time, his thoughts were taken up by another matter.
Who was the Kumma who had withstood the Sorrow Bringer? And what was the silvery essence he had used to best Her?
Hal'El had to have that knowledge. He needed it. He stroked the Withering Knife, sheathed and hidden next to his heart.
When all seems lost and fear a constant companion, simplistic though it may seem, prayer is often the only solution.
~Our Lives Alone by Asias Athandra, AF 331
Li-Choke glanced about his prison and felt a profound sense of gratitude. Being here was certainly better than the alternative, which would have been either dead or left for dead outside of Ashoka's gates. Choke and his brothers had been lucky. He'd always known that their reception in Rukh's home might not end well, especially after Mother's recent killing of so many of Ashoka's young warriors. Choke was just thankful that, upon their arrival, he and his brothers hadn't simply been executed on the spot.
And for the longest time, it seemed like summary execution would be exactly what would occur to the Chimeras. The Baels and Tigons had approached Sunset Gate during the brightest part of the day and had sat down in poses of passivity and meekness. But long before they had settled into place, shouts of challenge had come to them. The cries had been full of hatred, anger, and fear. Several Kummas had even had hands filled with Fireballs, appearing to be only a harsh word or movement away from unleashing their fury.
It had taken many hours to sort out the situation: a long, patient discussion with the captain of the gate guards, then another one with a grizzly general. Finally, a warrior had been dispatched to bring out someone who knew Choke and could verify his words. There came a lengthy wait as the sun progressed across the sky and sank toward the horizon.
Finally, Jessira Shektan had appeared. Choke smiled in remembrance of her warmth and welcome, her unfettered joy upon seeing him. It was she who had vouchsafed Choke's trustworthiness, and by extension, the rest of the Baels and Tigons accompanying him. And it was she who had pleaded for the Chimeras to be allowed entrance into Ashoka. While her words had been eloquent, Choke had still expected her request to be turned down without a second thought. The Ashokans had lost too much, their hatred stoked to a furnace heat by what the Queen had so recently done to them. They would never trust a Chimera—or so Choke reckoned.
Events, though, had worked to surprise him. The general had eyed Jessira with something akin to nervousness and possibly even awe. He had acquiesced to her request, and thus, for the first time in history, a Chimera had been offered open entrance into a Human city.
As Jessira led the Baels and Tigons through the menacing maw of Sunset Gate, she had explained to Choke all that had happened to her and Rukh in the ensuing months since he had last seen her.
To say that he had been stunned would have been a tremendous understatement. Choke had always known that Rukh Shektan was special, but finding out that he had challenged the Queen, fought Her, and might have even caused Her pain or defeated Her, had been a revelation for the ages. His brothers, all of them—Tigons and Baels alike—had been similarly left speechless.
Afterward, Jessira had left, leaving Choke and his brothers penned in a barn near a Muran farm. Days later, they were moved to a structure that looked and felt like a prison. And here they had been ever since, awaiting their final fates. The Magisterium had yet to come to a decision on what do with the Chimeras, and while they dithered, Choke and his brothers had been left in this hastily constructed gaol. However, as a gaol went, it wasn't too uncomfortable.
The prison was a square block with one side composed of the Outer Wall and the other three made of the trunks of ironwood trees, all of them fifteen feet or taller. A single gate allowed entrance and egress with a perimeter catwalk lined with ready and wary Ashokan warriors of various Castes. It went without saying that the Chimeras had been disarmed before being allowed access to the city.
Choke didn't mind any of this, though. He couldn't have asked for any better treatment than what he and the others had thus far experienced.
He smiled again.
He was in Ashoka, and a battle hadn't been required to gain entrance. Instead, it had simply been granted. In the face of something so impossible, what need was there to complain?
Choke took a deep breath, enjoying the heat of the early morning summer sun and the sweet song of cicadas. While the ground making up their prison was a fallow field of ruined grass, the rest of the area encapsulated between the Outer and Inner Walls was lush and verdant. Choke could smell it. The clean scent of dirt and green things growing filled his nostrils. When the Chimeras had been marched into Ashoka, he had seen corn up to his thighs with waving, white tassels. He had seen beans,
wheat, barley, and potatoes. So much delectable deliciousness.
Choke rose to his feet and began a series of practiced motions meant to stretch limbs.
“The Tigons talk,” Chak-Soon said, joining him in his exercises.
Li-Choke didn't cease his movements, but instead merely offered a glance at the ordinate. He knew Soon would understand his unvoiced question. The Tigon didn't require much to interpret Choke's thoughts—just a tilt of the head, a twist of the horns, or a flick of his ears. It still sometimes surprised Choke how close he and Soon had grown. A year ago, it would have seemed an impossibility.
“They talk about Rukh,” Chak-Soon elaborated.
“What about him?” Choke asked.
“They wonder stories about him,” Soon replied, his tongue tripping over his oversized, overabundant teeth.
“I don't understand,” Choke said as he stretched his arms up to the sky.
“What it means.” Soon explained.
“Ah,” Choke said with a nod of understanding. “The Baels wonder the same thing,” he said. “Jessira says all of Ashoka is struggling with who Rukh is.”
Soon frowned in confusion. “He is Rukh,” he said, as if the name itself was somehow explanatory.
“Yes, but some think he's more than just Rukh—that he's touched by Devesh or the First Father reborn. They think there is something holy about him.”
Soon shook his head. “Not what we think,” he said. “We wonder if he defeat Mother. Kill Her forever.”
Choke laughed. “What a wonderful world if She were no longer a part of it.”
Aia groomed herself from shoulder-to-elbow, shoulder-to-elbow, over and over again, slowly and carefully, until she was satisfied. Next she worked on the other side of her body, still patient and steady. She hoped her bearing was one of nonchalance—lying on the ground grooming herself—but inside, she was almost vibrating with excitement.
For the first time in weeks, she would get to see Rukh. He'd finally have a chance to rub her chin, and she could rub her head against his chest.
It had been several days since her arrival to Ashoka, and Rukh had yet to visit her. It was understandable. His amma had been gravely injured in some fashion—it had been a battle between the Shektans and some unknown foe—and Rukh was torn up with worry for her. In addition, the city was in an uproar—more so than usual for this overturned ant hive. There was the arrival of the Nobeasts to take into account. Choke's kind had been Humanity's implacable enemies ever since their birthing, and now, here they were showing up, begging for sanctuary. And beforehand, the Demon Wind had annihilated scores of Ashoka's warriors. The Queen would have killed even more if not for Rukh's actions.
Aia purred contentment at the thought of what had occurred when the Queen had faced Rukh Shektan. During his battle with the Demon Wind, Aia had heard his thoughts. She had witnessed his bravery as he had lured the the Queen away from his fellow warriors. She had felt his resolve when he had refused to yield to the Demon Wind's might. She had known his triumph when he had survived Her wrath.
It had been a feat no one else could have accomplished. The ferocity of his heart, his courage, his sheer will . . . Rukh was a Human unlike any other, special in a way that neither Jaresh or even Jessira could ever hope to be. He would have made a mighty Kesarin.
The knowledge left Aia feeling smug, and she knew Thrum thought her insufferable. Yet hadn't he been equally as unbearable in his pride when he had boasted about Jaresh's intellect? Served him right to be humbled.
*Be nice,* a voice warned.
It was Rukh, and Aia stood up abruptly. He was near. Her ears perked forward, and her gaze shifted about, searching for him. She smiled when she saw him, a flick of her ears and a blink of her eyes. Jessira had accompanied him as well.
*Why didn't Jaresh come?* Thrum asked.
*He had other business to attend to,* Jessira replied, *but he promises to come by later.*
Thrum rumbled his disappointment. *Humans and their business,* he muttered in disgust.
Privately, Aia agreed with her brother's assessment, but for now, she was grateful that her Human didn't have business to attend to. She stepped forward. *It's good to see you again,* she said. *How is your amma?*
*She's being moved back home,* Rukh said with a soft smile.
*Will she walk again?*
His smiled faded, and he didn't answer. Instead, in the way of his kind, he reached up and held her around the neck and hugged her. It was an uncomfortable position for Aia. To have another's mouth and teeth so close to her neck, even if it was Rukh. Mentally, she shuddered. It was too vulnerable a state, but Rukh seemed to take comfort in it, so she allowed his embrace. After a moment, her Human began rubbing her chin and Aia rested her head on his shoulder. Her eyes closed to slits as she purred contentment.
*I wish Jaresh were here,* Thrum complained.
Aia unshuttered her eyes upon hearing her brother's whining. Shon, as per his usual habit, had rolled over on his back, and Jessira was fiercely rubbing his belly while Thrum looked on in miserable jealousy.
Rukh glanced Aia's way, a questioning look on his face. Over time, she had learned to decipher the myriad expressions on her Human's expressive face.
*Go ahead,* she said.
Rukh let go of Aia and approached her russet-colored brother. The two of them spoke for a moment before Thrum lowered his head. He regally accepted Rukh's ministrations as Aia's Human rubbed his forehead, the soft areas in front of his ears, and his chin. Just as Aia's ears were flattening in jealousy, Thrum lifted his head away. *Jaresh's fingers are more nimble,* he announced.
*But my Human's are stronger,* Aia countered.
*Jaresh's mind is sharper,* Thrum answered.
*Rukh's will is mightier. He is the greatest of Humans since the First Father and First Mother,* Aia responded. *He fought the Demon Wind and defeated Her. No one else could do that.*
Thrum mumbled something inaudible as he rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
*What was all that about?* Rukh asked.
*Aia insists on lauding your accomplishments as though you were the First Father reborn,* Shon explained, rolling over on his side. He blinked. *You aren't, are you?*
Rukh laughed. *I'm just me. Just a man. Not a legend.*
*But you battled the Demon Wind and defeated Her,* Thrum said, raising his head and taking note of the conversation. *My Human says that many in Ashoka wonder if you might be more than just a man.*
*Of course he's more than just a man,* Aia said with a sniff. *He is my Human, which means he must be someone who is truly exemplary.*
*My Human is his mate, so she must be exemplary also,* Shon declared.
*And mine is his brother,* Thrum said. *Anyone related to Rukh must be special.*
*Just as long as you understand that mine is the most special,* Aia replied. She noticed the tightening in her Human's eyes. Her conversation with Shon and Thrum bothered him. Rukh was uncharacteristically annoyed with her. *What did I say that has you so upset?* she asked.
Rukh gave a slight shrug. *It's nothing,* he said. *I'll just have to get used to it.*
*Get used to what?* Aia asked.
*Wherever we go, people seem to expect Rukh to grow wings and fly, to offer up miracles at their need,* Jessira explained.
Aia tilted her head in consideration. *You don't like that everyone knows who you are?* she asked.
*I don't mind that,* Rukh said. *It's the rest that bothers me.*
*He is uncomfortable by the expectations others have of him, of how they think he communicates directly with Devesh,* Jessira explained. *People have even fallen at his feet and prayed to him. It's hard. I think he's lonely.*
*He will never be alone so long as I am here,* Aia vowed. *He is my Human.*
*And he'll never be alone so long as I am here, either,* Jessira said.
Jessira took Rukh's hands in her own, and for a moment, Aia wished she had hands like the two of them. It was fleeting th
ought. Silly really. What would she do with hands? She certainly couldn't run on them. And a Kesarin who couldn't outrace the wind was no Kesarin at all.
In the dead of night, Ashoka was quiet, hushed and peaceful, something she never was during the day. The furnaces and industry of the Moon Quarter were stifled, and the bustling stores and streets were stilled. It was perfect for Hal'El's purposes. He could travel about the city with no one the wiser. His only company was a light mist, a drizzle that worked to his needs. It allowed him to pull forward the hood of his cloak and further shroud his features with no one to question why. He didn't even have to Blend.
In the near week since his return to Ashoka, Hal'El had learned much. The first piece of information he had desired had to do with the standing of the Wrestivas. Unsurprisingly, the fortunes of the House had been decimated. It was to be expected. After Hal'El's actions had come to light, the scandal had been too hard for the House to bear. Many members, some with ancient ties to House Wrestiva, had quit in disgust. Their abilities and reputations were irreplaceable, and Hal'El doubted the House could survive in the long term. The damage was simply too extensive.
He shrugged a moment later. It was no longer his concern.
There was other information that had also been of interest to Hal'El. For instance, the Sil Lor Kum had been shattered. Their ranks had been ruined when that venomous viper, Ular Sathin, had disclosed everything he knew of them. The man had sent a journal detailing all the works and members of the Sil Lor Kum to Dar'El Shektan, who had quickly acted on the information. Every MalDin but one had been tracked down and executed.
The one who survived, though—her name must not have been in Ular Sathin's journal. Nonetheless, Hal'El knew who she was. Somehow Pera Obbe had escaped the scourging hand of Dar'El Shektan. Somehow, that potato-faced wretch still lived.