by Davis Ashura
“After today, I'm certain those who have fallen from the fold will return,” his lieutenant said.
“To what shall they return, though?” Shur wondered. “This will be our final battle.”
“Fifty-seven against two?” the lieutenant said doubtfully. “Some of our men are warriors.”
Shur felt a brief stab of hope. “Kummas?”
“Only a few,” the lieutenant replied, dashing away Shur's hopes. “But none of them are too old to fight.”
“I suppose we should accept the good news even when it isn't excellent.” Shur noted.
“If we fight with everything we have, victory will be ours,” the lieutenant averred.
“And everything we have will be needed,” Shur replied. “Remember. The ones we seek to kill have Talents sourced in evil.”
“It won't save them,” the lieutenant said. “And when we kill them, everyone will know that Devesh's touch never graced their souls.”
Shur nodded agreement and gathered himself together. He took hold of his faith, gripping it like a line that kept him from drowning. “The Virtuous will ride today,” he said, his voice infused with confidence, “and though this will be our final ride, the ideals we fight for shall live on.”
“We will survive the battle—” the lieutenant began.
“We'll win the battle and the war itself, but the traitors who we once named brethren will betray us. They'll tell the Magisterium who we are. I fear this day will be our last.”
“Then we will make sure it is one worth living.”
“What do you believe your Magisterium will decide at today's meeting?” Li-Choke asked. He glanced between the three Humans: Rukh, Jessira, and Farn. Their faces, usually so expressive, were now utterly inscrutable, but just then, they shared a knowing glance, and Choke felt his hopes wither. “You think they'll deny us.”
“Will we ever not be thought evil?” Chak-Soon asked, his ears drooping in disappointment.
“No one thinks they'll deny you,” Rukh said, his face breaking into a look of concern. “We just can't say for certain what will happen.”
“This won't be an easy decision for the Magisterium,” Farn added, “but as things stand right now, I think we can say that the odds are slightly in our favor.”
Jessira squeezed Choke's arm. “We'd rather not see your hopes crushed if we turn out to be wrong,” she said.
“Hope is all we have,” Choke said softly. “We will never again serve Mother, and we can never go back to the Plague, not after Li-Shard's actions.”
Jessira's green eyes suddenly bored into him. “What actions?” she asked.
“It wasn't just him,” Choke explained. “It was many others, but ultimately, the plan belonged to Li-Shard.”
Chak-Soon's ears perked up, and he shuffled closer, his expression intent and curious.
The Tigon's interest wasn't surprising. In teaching the cat-like Chimeras of fraternity, Choke had also discovered that they loved stories. Who would have guessed such a thing?
“From Mother's reaction, he and the others must have been successful.”
Rukh sighed with impatience. “Choke, what did Shard do?”
Choke smiled. “He did what we should have long ago done,” he said, drawing himself up. “The SarpanKum redeemed all of us with his masterful plan.”
Farn turned to the other two Humans. “Is he always like this?”
Chak-Soon growled in warning. “Let him tell story!”
“Oh, hush,” Jessira said to Soon. “We want him to tell the story, but he keeps pausing and stalling like he always does.”
“Like all Baels do,” Rukh added. “Will this help us with the Magisterium? If so, tell us what Li-Shard did. And do it quickly. If it won't help, then just tell us later.”
Choke hated when the Humans made him rush his stories. It ruined the flavor of what he was saying. Upon seeing their impatient expressions, he sighed in disappointment. “Fine,” he agreed. As quickly as he could, he outlined the plan Li-Shard had urged upon the other SarpanKums. He described the incandescent rage Mother had experienced a few days ago. “I've never felt something like that from Her ever before.”
“Even compared to when She destroyed Li-Dirge and his command?” Rukh asked.
Choke nodded. “Even more than then,” he said. “Shard's plan must have worked. The attack on the breeders has to be the reason for Mother's fury. Nothing else makes sense.”
Farn was frowning. “You're certain of this?” he asked. “Think carefully.”
“If we can't prove what actually happened or what caused the Queen's anger, then what difference does it make?” Jessira asked. “It's the plan itself that's important, and what the plan means.”
“I agree,” Rukh said. “We tell the Magisterium about what Shard and the other SarpanKums tried to do and their likelihood of success given Suwraith's reaction.”
“How is this any different than lying?” Choke brought up hesitantly. “Won't the Magisterium be furious with us if we're proven wrong?”
Farn shrugged. “They might be, but I think Rukh and Jessira are right,” he said. “We tell them about Li-Shard, and if you're wrong, at least you'll be in Ashoka to beg for forgiveness, rather than camped outside begging to come inside.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened to Li-Shard and the other Baels?” Rukh asked.
“Mother order all Baels killed,” Chak-Soon brought up. “Every Bael but those near Ashoka. She spoke in our dreams like sometimes does.”
“He's right,” Choke said. “That's why I'm sure Li-Shard's plan must have come to fruition.”
“Which means you and your brothers here might be the last Baels left on Arisa,” Farn noted.
“But the Bovars in Ashoka and the hundreds wandering outside the city walls—as clear a sign as any that the Fan Lor Kum is coming—can be the means by which my kind do not go extinct. And if the Baels sent to these other cities on Continent Catalyst were also granted sanctuary, then our odds for survival increase even further.”
“What about the Tigons and the other Chimeras?” Jessira asked.
“Mother created the original breeders,” Choke said. “She can recreate them. But it will take Her many decades to replace what Shard and his fellow SarpanKums destroyed.” He grinned, the only joy he could receive from Shard's desperate gambit. “The final part of Shard's plan was to have each Plague positioned around a Human city and attack it. Without Mother's help and the leadership of the Baels, the Plagues will be destroyed.”
Farn settled back on his heels. “Well,” he began, looking pensive and pleased. “This certainly might change things.”
“Suwraith was careless when She birthed Her breeders,” Rukh said. “Spawning male mules was a clumsy error. She should have known better.”
Choke's ears perked. His Human friend's voice had sounded distant, deep, and powerful. So unlike his usual voice.
“Not the Magisterium, too,” Rukh said in exasperation. The self-important air of the Cherid Magistrate, Fol Nacket, was nowhere in evidence. Instead, he stared at Rukh with the head-tilted expression of a dog watching a cat swim. Jone Drent of Caste Duriah, and Poque Belt, the Sentya, studied him with narrow-eyed, unblinking gazes. They appeared worried while Gren Vos, the elderly Shiyen Magistrate—bless her—merely glared at him. Rukh preferred her annoyance to the unalloyed awe shown by Krain Linshok of Caste Kumma, Brit Hule of Caste Rahail, and Dos Martel of Caste Muran.
“What about the Magisterium?” Farn asked.
“Nothing,” Rukh said. He hoped that over time, with familiarity to breed some contempt, some of the awe-full attitude—really it was just awful; he smiled at the terrible pun—aimed at him would eventually dissipate.
Jessira flashed him a knowing, sympathetic smile.
“Rukh Shektan,” Fol Nacket began, sounding stern. “Why doesn't it surprise me that you come before this body once again, and once again, you mean to upend our way of life.”
�
�My wife would tell you it's part of my charm,” Rukh answered. Several years ago, he would have never dared reply to a Magistrate in such a flippant fashion. Time and events had changed him.
“Well, I don't find you charming,” Gren Vos groused. “I find you annoying.” Krain Linshok and Dos Martel shot the small Shiyen a look of offended disbelief, and Gren noticed. She turned to the other two Magistrates with a waspish expression. “Don't you two eye me like I just spat in your soup,” she barked. “You may be in awe of the boy, but that's what he still is to me: a boy.” She settled in her seat. “One who should be taken to the woodshed for all the problems he keeps dropping in our laps,” she muttered.
Rukh had to suppress a grin at the small Magistrate's fearless display.
Poque Belt cleared his throat. “What would you have us do with the Chimeras in Ashoka?” he asked.
“You're out of order,” Fol Nacket said, “but the question remains. What would you have us do with the Chimeras?”
Farn stepped forward. “Perhaps you will allow me to—”
“You will speak when we decide to allow it,” Fol Nacket said in an unexpectedly blunt tone. “We know who you are, Farn Arnicep. We also know Jessira Shektan. But of the three of you, only one has driven off Suwraith. He is the one whose voice carries the most weight amongst us, and he is the only one with a chance to convince us to allow Chimeras permanent residence in Ashoka.”
“Not true,” Dos Martel, the Muran Magistrate said. “Jessira Shektan is his wife. By that reason alone, she has importance amongst my Caste and those who believe as I do.”
“I accept that of the three of us, Rukh is the most important,” Jessira said. “I love him and am proud of him, but I respectfully ask that you don't assume that my only worth is because I am his wife.”
“I didn't mean to offend you,” Magistrate Martel said. “If I did, then you have my apology.”
“There was no offense taken,” Jessira answered.
“Good. Now that everyone's apologized and not taken offense, let's move on,” Fol Nacket said curtly. “I still would like to hear Rukh's reasoning regarding the Chimeras.” His tone was atypical for him. Usually Fol was smooth and weaselly, even unctuous—not blunt and brusque.
Rukh took in the Cherid Magistrate's impatient expression and mentally shrugged. He explained once again the history of the Baels since the time of Hume Telrest, going over how they had come to believe in fraternity and had secretly aided Humanity all these centuries.
“You're wasting our time,” Fol snapped. “We know all this.”
“There is no need to be rude,” Brit Hule, the Rahail Magistrate admonished. “We might know it, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again given the momentous decision with which we are faced.”
Rukh nodded 'thanks' to Magistrate Hule before continuing with his explanation. He reviewed how he had learned of the Baels' secrets. Finally, he described the plan Choke said had been developed by Li-Shard and carried out by the SarpanKums of the other Plagues.
“They killed all the Chimera breeders?” Krain Linshok asked, leaning forward with the intent look of a leopard about to leap.
Rukh nodded. “So we believe.”
“Does Choke know whether the plan was successful?” Poque Belt asked.
Rukh scowled. He had hoped no one would ask him that particular question, but he had also known it would be foolish not to expect it.
“Choke believes the plan was successful,” Jessira answered.
“You haven't been given the floor,” Fol interrupted
“You're being ridiculous,” Gren snapped. “Let her continue.”
“Thank you.” Jessira dipped her head to Gren in acknowledgment. “Li-Choke believes that a few days ago, nearly every Bael in Arisa was killed. Chak-Soon confirms his guess,” Jessira said. She went on to explain why Choke believed as he did.
“It's only the word of one Bael and one Tigon,” said Jone Drent, the Duriah Magistrate. His heavy features were set in a sneer.
“A Bael and Tigon who saved my life,” Farn countered.
“And those of every Ashokan sent to Stronghold and the few OutCastes who escaped Stronghold's destruction,” Jessira said.
“They saved my life, too,” Rukh added.
Fol sighed heavily. He rested his elbows on the table and his forehead on his fisted hands. He stared downward. “What do you want us to do, Rukh?” he asked without looking up.
Rukh eyed the Cherid Magistrate in concern, unclear why the man was behaving so erratically. “You know what I want,” he said. “I want us to offer sanctuary to the Baels, Tigons, and their Bovars.”
“Then it will be done,” Fol Nacket said, still staring down at him.
Rukh shared a look of elation with Jessira and Farn. This had happened far more quickly and easily than he had ever expected.
“We haven't had a chance to discuss the matter,” Poque Belt protested. “And we certainly haven't voted yet.”
Fol looked up. “We know how the vote will go,” he said, glancing the Sentya's way. “Krain, Dos, Brit, and Gren will vote for the measure. You, Jone, and I will abstain. The measure will pass.” He shrugged. “Besides, how can we deny him?” He pointed to Rukh. “He is the Hero of the Advent Trial. The First Father reborn.” His voice was full of sarcasm, and his face tightened with anger. “Whatever his wants, we are expected to provide. I only hope this is the last of his demands.”
Jessira motioned to Rukh when she noticed something odd about the crowd in the Plaza of Toll and Toil.
“I know,” Rukh whispered to her. “There aren't any women.”
Jessira studied the milling people with concern. They were entirely comprised of men who kept glancing about at one another, as if waiting for a signal.
“Get your swords ready,” Farn murmured through the side of his mouth.
“We've seen them,” Jessira said.
“Who are they?” Farn asked.
“Who knows,” Jessira muttered in annoyance. “But I'll tell you this much: I'm tired of being attacked.” She held on to her anger, using it to settle the sick sensation in her stomach. She didn't want to do this again. She didn't want to ever again kill another Human. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing worse. During the battle with the Virtuous there hadn't been time to think of such matters. It had all been action and reaction, but now, Jessira knew the horror of what was to come.
“Form a Triad on me,” Rukh ordered.
“What's our goal?” Farn asked, also looking ill at ease.
“Survival. All of us,” Rukh answered. “It'll be any moment now.”
Jessira conducted Jivatma from her Well. It pooled like honey in her mind: thick, heavy, and potent with potential. It lifted Jessira, making her believe in the possibility of immortality.
Someone in the crowd shouted a call to battle. “Take them!”
Jessira drew her sword. Rukh shifted to her left and Farn to her right. She felt a whispering caress against her mind and stretched her inner senses. She found Rukh and Farn. They Annexed, and Jessira's thoughts slowed, becoming distant and blanketed with a textured fog.
The Triad was born.
The Triad Shielded. A searing set of Fireballs were hurled its way. Tertiary bent low and evaded. Secondary allowed a Fireball to strike his Shield. Primary leapt. A Fireball passed below him. It streaked between Secondary and Tertiary and burned a cluster of the enemy.
Still mid-leap, Primary hurled his own Fireballs. Five of the enemy were down.
The Triad took note of four Kummas coming its way. These others moved smoothly and were well coordinated. They were a Quad. Primary drew back.
Tertiary hurled Fireballs as she incinerated those who threatened to close on them. Secondary glowed brightly. A Fire Shower would thin the ranks of the enemy. Primary moved to cover Secondary until he was ready.
The Triad paused just then.
Another group of men had entered the square. Thirty of them. All armed. They lit into the rear of the e
nemy. An unexpected ally.
The bulk of the enemy turned to confront these new attackers.
The Fire Shower wasn't necessary.
The Quad raced forward, and Fireballs heralded its approach.
The Triad dodged the blows. Once again, the Fireballs ended up impacting other members of the enemies. The Triad noted their screams. The hosts were horrified by the deaths.
The Quad arrived.
The Triad shifted to meet the enemy.
Tertiary's enemy was a much older Kumma who had the age spots, arthritic hands, and deep wrinkles of a wizened grandfather. However, despite his advanced age, he was still stronger and more skilled than Tertiary. She was immediately hard-pressed. Thankfully, Tertiary was faster. She defended, beating aside several blows. One hard slash left her fingers numb, but her riposte rocked the enemy's Shield. Another set of blows came her way, but she parried them. She slid aside a disemboweling thrust and rolled with the motion before bending to the ground and cupping a hidden handful of dirt. The enemy came forward. Tertiary let him. She stepped into his guard, slipping through his Shield. Too late, he saw his danger. She threw the pebbles in his face, blinding him. He leapt up and back. She kept after him. He partially blocked her powerful blows, but several got through. His Shield shuddered and disintegrated. A slash sliced open his thigh. He crumpled to the ground. Her next thrust took him in the throat.
Secondary faced off against his opponent. They were evenly matched, with neither able to gain the advantage over the other. Thrust and parry. Riposte and block. A hard blow, a punch, got past Secondary's Shield and hit him in the face. Secondary stumbled back on rubbery legs, but still he defended. A kick and punch were turned aside.
Meanwhile, Primary faced off against two members of the Quad. He parried a thrust and slapped down an enemy's blade. A sidekick punched past an opponent's Shield and hurled him ten feet away. Primary stepped into the guard and Shield of the remaining enemy. His elbow leveled a hard crack to the man's head, causing him to stumble away and almost fall. The other opponent returned to the battle before Primary could take advantage of the momentary opening. Another opportunity came, though, and the Triad took it. Primary allowed a blow to scrape against his Shield and ducked a kick to his head. Another parry. Primary's blade spun in his hands. He parried again, and his riposte hammered his opponent's Shield, making it shudder and blink apart.