by Davis Ashura
The Eastern Plague was almost at the gates of Ashoka. Just another week or so, and they would arrive. Then would come the hammer blows of Her children against the evil walls of evil Ashoka.
“What You intend is evil,” Mother interrupted in Her sibilant whisper.
Lienna mentally rolled her eyes in scorn. “What I do is no more evil than when I threw down Your rule and that of Father's,” Lienna responded. She let no hint of the worry She felt at Father's ongoing absence enter Her voice. Where was Father? Had She really experienced his angry touch outside of Ashoka several weeks ago? It couldn't be. She had seen to His death.
“You murdered Us both,” Mother replied. “How can murder be counted as anything other than evil?”
Lienna wanted to gnash Her figurative teeth. Mother and Father had died two millennia ago. Why couldn't the foolish woman simply accept it and leave Lienna in peace?
“Peace is only owed to those who are peaceful,” Mother said. “You are anything but peaceful. You are wicked and violent, a murderous plague upon this world.”
“Be silent!” Lienna shouted.
There was a blessed but all-too-brief quiet, one that was broken by Mistress Arisa. “Ashoka will fall to You, My avenging angel. You will see Humanity's corruption excised from My bosom.”
Once Mistress' voice would have filled Lienna with love and trepidation, but not anymore. At least not as much. “Yes it will, Mistress,” Lienna replied.
Better to agree with Arisa rather than to argue with her, or worse, ignore Her. That path often led to terrible pain and still left Lienna wondering how a figment of Her imagination could hurt Her so badly.
“After Ashoka, next to fall will be vain Ajax,” Mistress continued.
Lienna held in a sigh. Ajax was dead. She had destroyed the city five centuries ago.
She was about to reply, but She felt the sudden death of thousands of Her children. The sensation came from the east, from the vastness of Continent Catalyst. The deaths continued, even the youngest . . .
Her breeders in the northern caverns!
Lienna shouted outraged thunder and roared eastward in a storm of wind and fury. She raced across the Sickle Sea bent on vengeance when She sensed more of Her children dying. More of Her breeders murdered. This time the southern caverns of Continent Catalyst. Lienna faltered and slowed. The Humans had done this. Somehow they must have discovered Her breeding caverns.
Lienna bled outraged lightning.
When the eastern caverns of Continent Ember had been attacked several years ago, She had been unaware of the evil taking place. Madness had held Her in its cruel grip, and, unlike now, Lienna hadn't sensed the murder of Her children. She had been unable to save them, Her breeders, the most innocent creatures in all creation.
But this time was different. This time Lienna was sane and clear-headed. This time the Humans would pay for this treachery! This time Lienna would tear them apart limb from limb. Rend them and scatter their remnants to the four winds. She would crush their cities; peel the skin off their living children in front of their mothers. She would—
With an anguished cry, Lienna crashed to halt. The western caverns of Continent Ember were also under attack.
Within the forests carpeting the hills west of Ashoka, the cool scent of moss and trickling water from a nearby creek struck counterpoint to the trilling of birdsong. Shadows stretched along the ground as the sun set and gloomed the world in gathering, soothing darkness. However, the dimness of the place did little to hide the Fan Lor Kum as they pressed through and amongst the trees. Wherever they went, the soothing sounds of the forest were erased. Taking its place was the mad clapping of wings in flight and small animals scurrying in the undergrowth as they sought to evade the interlopers clattering through their home.
Li-Shard, the SarpanKum of the Eastern Plague of Continent Ember wished he could do the same. He wished he could simply crawl away somewhere and hide from what he knew was coming. It would have been so much easier if others had to make the hard decisions, and not for the first time did he wish that the mantle of leadership had not been his to bear, that someone else could decide what to do about Mother's newfound prowess. She had already destroyed Stronghold, and now Ashoka was in Her sights. And afterward, whatever other city She wished to end would also fall. Such evil could not continue unchallenged.
“The others will do as we've discussed,” Li-Brind said in assurance, standing nearby the SarpanKum.
Shard glanced at the hardbitten SarpanKi in surprise. “Since when did you develop such certainty in the actions of others?”
Brind grinned. “When a young SarpanKum came up with a scheme so mad that it had to be the work of a great fool or someone imbued with Devesh's holiness.” He shrugged. “And when an even younger Vorsan taught a Tigon the meaning of fraternity and both of them earned the friendship of two Humans.”
Shard smiled with the SarpanKi, but his smile quickly faded. “So much rides on the actions of the other SarpanKums. They have to be impeccable in their timing. They have to coordinate their attacks so all the breeders are eliminated in one fell swoop. It has to occur too swiftly for Mother to counter.”
“Despite what She claims, Mother is no Goddess,” Brind said with a snort. “She cannot be everywhere at once. We do not need impeccable timing. We simply have to have the attacks go off at around the same time. Everything else will take care of itself from that point on.”
“I hope you're right,” Li-Shard said softly.
“Have faith,” Brind said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Shard did a double take upon hearing the SarpanKi's words. “Faith? You?” he asked in disbelief.
“Faith,” Li-Brind averred. “Even me.”
Shard studied Brind. The older Bael stared back at him wearing an open, welcoming expression. “When did you find your way back to Devesh?”
“I told you when and why it occurred,” Brind said with a shrug. “Besides, I find that with our likely upcoming deaths, my mind is focused like it never has been before.”
Shard shook his head, wishing he had Brind's equanimity. His heart thudded fear and his stomach churned uncertainty, both sensations resulting from what would happen should his plan actually succeed.
Once he had asked Brind if Humanity would do the same as the Baels if their respective roles had been reversed. The SarpanKi had felt it unlikely. “They don't think as we do,” Brind had said. “There is a gulf of differences that might mean that we don't always understand one another, but they are still our brothers. And brothers sacrifice for one another.”
“Even unto the end with no hope of a future for our race?” Shard had challenged.
“Even then.” Brind had smiled. “Besides, aren't you the one who's always telling me that our lives belong to Devesh—that in the end, He'll take back that which we have been borrowing? If that's true, then doesn't it stand to reason that the same would hold true for our race as a whole?”
At the time, the words had been comforting, but now they no longer retained their prayerful tranquility. For himself, Shard was already prepared to encounter his Creator before the day's ending, but he still feared for the collective future of the rest of his kind.
The SarpanKum turned his attention back to the present when he noticed a frown creasing Brind's face.
“What is it?”
“I just wish we were already at Ashoka,” the SarpanKi said.
Shard nodded. “It's these accursed trees. These forested hills that stretch for weeks of travel from the city.”
“We were to have already rendezvoused with the Shatters that Mother sent from Continent Catalyst, but at the pace we're traveling, they're more likely to be waiting for us at the gates of Ashoka.” Brind snorted in disgust.
“Or perhaps they have been similarly slowed by this same forest,” Shard observed.
The SarpanKi tilted his head in thought. “Maybe so,” he agreed. “The northern approach to Ashoka will be just as hard as ours.”
“Hard or easy, we should reach the city in the next few weeks,” Li-Shard said. “Then all these months—these worries—will be over. It ends today,” he said softly.
“It begins today,” Brind replied just as softly. “When Mother discovers our treachery, Her fury will be something this world has never seen.” The SarpanKi hardbitten though he was, actually shuddered.
The SarpanKum nodded. “At least we can assume that Li-Choke is safe.”
“Why must we assume such a thing?”
“Because if we don't, then everything we're doing somehow seems pointless.”
Brind nodded agreement. “Though we will not see another morning, I am grateful that you helped me recover my faith. It allows me to face this terrible future with hope and acceptance.”
They both stiffened.
Mother was coming. And She was furious.
Li-Boil heard Mother's call, and his heart quailed. She was incandescent with a rage unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was reminiscent of times past when She had been lost in Her insanity but also different. This time, rather than an inchoate anger at anything and everything—a fury born of Her madness—Her wrath now held a cold, cruel quality; a savagery that was focused and disciplined, icy and sharp like a stiletto blade sliding through the ribs. Mother's fury was always frightening to behold, but this—this was terrifying. Boil could tell that whoever had earned Her wrath would pay a terrible price as She seemed bent on exacting slow, methodical vengeance.
And She was racing in their direction.
Boil's knees trembled and his lips quivered. What had Mother so enraged? He did his best to calm himself by focusing on his breathing. He even prayed, searching for his inner quiet. Eventually he was able to control most of his fear, and his knees stopped knocking so much.
He looked to Li-Shard, the SarpanKum. He and Li-Brind, the SarpanKi. The two of them whispered to one another, but rather than appearing fearful, they seemed unsurprised, or possibly even relieved. It made no sense, and Li-Boil's gaze tightened in mistrusting speculation. Those two knew something, something related to why Mother was so angry. And whatever it was, it likely wasn't good for the Baels.
Shard and Brind were like too many of the brothers who insisted that Hume's teachings required that the Baels sacrifice themselves for the sake of strangers. In this, they were too much like the infamous Li-Dirge who insisted their kind relinquish everything—up to and including their lives—for the protection of Humanity. Boil believed differently. While he considered himself to be just as religious as any Bael—he prayed daily to Devesh and believed in the truth of fraternity—he wasn't willing to accept that he had to die so someone he had never met should live. He also didn't believe the Baels should suffer and be killed so Humanity could prosper. Where was the justice in such an approach? Boil's vision of fraternity did not require that the Baels should impale themselves on their own tridents for the benefit of those who hated them.
“What do you suppose is happening?” asked Li-Torq.
Boil glanced at the smaller Bael who had come alongside him. Torq was his last living crèche-mate. “I don't know,” Boil answered, “but it looks like Li-Shard and Li-Brind do.”
Torq nodded. “You think they might have betrayed us?”
“Look at their expressions and your question is answered,” Boil replied. “Mother is coming, and I've never felt Her so angry.” He gestured to the SarpanKum and the SarpanKi. “Yet they show no worry. Only acceptance.”
“What do you plan on doing?”
Boil flicked him a sidelong glance. “Whatever is needed to see our kind alive and prosperous.”
“I'll speak to the others,” Torq said. “Our tridents will be yours if it becomes necessary.”
“If Mother doesn't simply kill us outright,” Boil muttered after the smaller Bael had left.
“Mother commands us to attend Her. All of us!” the SarpanKum bellowed in that moment. “There is a nearby meadow which should suffice.”
“What has happened?” Boil demanded in a tone a VorsanKi should never take with the SarpanKum.
Li-Shard looked his way. “You will learn the answer to your question at the same time that we all do,” he said, his tail flicking either annoyance or unease. Given the drooping of his tufted ears, Boil guessed unease.
“Enough delay!” Li-Brind shouted. “We will not keep Mother waiting. Now move it!”
Boil didn't miss the look of relief Shard threw to his SarpanKi. Those two did know something. Boil looked discreetly in Li-Torq's direction. His crèche-mate nodded back, and the two Baels angled toward one another. Filtering in behind them and to the sides were Boil's supporters, the ones who felt as he did: that the Baels had done enough, given enough, and shouldn't be expected to sacrifice the very existence of their race for Humanity's benefit. They numbered in the several hundreds, and while they were vastly outnumbered by Shard's supporters, they had passion on their side. And passion could carry the day if disaster stalked the Baels.
Boil glanced again at Torq, and they slid in behind Shard and his followers. It was the perfect position from which to watch what might occur and be in a position to do something about it.
They had just entered the broad meadow the SarpanKum had mentioned when Mother's angry roar could be heard. She was still miles away, rushing closer with each passing second, but even from such a vast distance, Her thoughts were clear.
“Betrayal!” Mother shouted out. “All the breeders for every Caste of Chimeras have been slaughtered by treachery! And it is the Baels who have done this foul deed!”
The breeders were dead? All of them? No wonder Mother's wrath was so vast and deep. Boil stiffened. And She blamed the Baels for what had happened. His mouth grew dry with terror. Devesh save them. What would Mother do? Her vengeance might strike the Baels even harder than when She had destroyed that pious dullard, Li-Dirge. She might seek to utterly annihilate them.
Boil saw Shard and Brind share a triumphant smile. His fear fled, replaced by a righteous indignation. Those two! They'd known, possibly even helped plan this disaster. An overwhelming sense of outrage came upon Li-Boil, and with an inarticulate cry of hatred, he lifted his trident and uncoiled his chained whip.
All around him, his supporters did the same.
“Your race will rot for this treachery! And it will start here, with the author of this treason. Li-Shard!” Mother screamed, but Boil was no longer listening.
The need to kill those who had brought the Baels to ruin surged through him. His race was about to be destroyed completely and forever, and Li-Shard and Li-Brind dared smile in pleasure? As though they had accomplished something magnificent? Well they would enjoy their triumph for only a few more seconds. Before Mother killed all the Baels, Boil was intent on seeing those two race-traitors dead.
“The Baels will be ended for all time,” Mother vowed. “Even now, Bovars throughout the world are being slaughtered so no new Baels will ever again be born!”
Upon hearing Mother's promise, Boil's outrage overcame thought, and he shouted. “Kill the traitors!” He and his supporters attacked.
Li-Shard was on bended knee when he heard the commotion begin. He had lifted his head to search out the trouble when the screams began.
It was the cries of Baels dying at the hands of their brothers.
Brind was already on his feet and moving. The SarpanKi called out orders, but his voice suddenly ended in a gurgle. The tines of a trident had punched through his chest. He slumped over and stared with unseeing eyes at the sky.
Shard shook off his shock and stood. Baels were being slaughtered all about him. They were his closest supporters, the ones who most fervently believed in the ideals of Hume. And those attacking were those who believed otherwise.
Shard's gut clenched with outrage. How could his brothers have debased themselves so?
He uncoiled his whip and set it alight. His trident was ready and steady in his tight grip.
A Bael came at him, his face s
narled in blood lust. Li-Torq.
Shard snapped his whip over the other Bael's ear in distraction. He was about to thrust forward with his trident, but pain erupted in his side. He keened.
Torq's crèche-mate, Li-Boil, had stabbed him. Another stab. This time in the chest. It was Li-Torq.
“I am sorry, brother,” Li-Boil said.
Shard could barely hear for the pain. He took another thrust to the chest, and Li-Shard relinquished his grip on his weapons. A singing light filled the last moments of his life.
Boil and his supporters had easily slaughtered Li-Shard's adherents. The SarpanKum and most of those who followed him had been on their knees in prayer. They had been slow to rise and easy to kill, and in the end, their numbers had counted for little since they had been unprepared for the ferocity with which Boil and his supporters attacked them.
Boil panted heavily afterward and felt satisfaction in what he and the others had accomplished, but no joy. It had been a deed that needed doing. Nothing more. Boil had taken no pleasure in killing Li-Shard and his followers. No matter how deluded the SarpanKum had been or how wicked his actions, the Bael had been Boil's brother. His death was to be mourned, not celebrated.
As his panting breath slowed and his heart ceased racing, Boil began to comprehend the enormity of had just occurred. He realized the meadow was unnaturally quiet. It stank of blood and entrails. There was no movement, and all the Baels standing about were mute and in shock. The vast majority had not taken part in the attack on Li-Shard. They had been neutrals, neither supporting nor defending the fallen SarpanKum. They stared at Boil in confusion, and their eyes seemed to beg for direction.
Boil stared back at them in uncertainty. What now? Mother would be here at any moment, and he briefly wondered if by killing Li-Shard, Mother's hideous rage might be turned aside. Might She forgive the Baels? It seemed unlikely, but what other hope did he and the others have?