by Davis Ashura
“Run!” someone yelled. “The entire thing is about to fall.”
The tower took a series of lurches, first slamming into the Outer Wall and then falling away from it. With a groan, the entire structure slid downward.
A hollow sensation and a feeling of no weight came to Rukh. The tower was falling. He and Jessira were the only two still inside.
They sprinted for the edge. Rukh drew all the Jivatma he could hold. They leapt, and in the midst of it, he threw Jessira upward. She sailed over a merlon, while he barely caught hold of the edge of an arrow loop. He slipped, and his heart nearly stopped. Why the frag hadn't anyone pulled him up yet!
He was suddenly gripped hard and hauled over the Wall.
It was Jessira who had pulled him up, and he grinned in relief. The smile faded when he caught sight of her look of irritation. “What did I do this time?” he protested.
“You gave me a push when I didn't need it,” she said. “I don't mind your help, but . . .” she shook her head. “You almost didn't make it yourself because of that decision.” She sighed a moment later. “Priya, why do you insist on doing such stupid things?”
Rukh didn't know what to say. He would always choose the ones he loved over his own safety.
“I know,” Jessira said with faint smile. “But remember what I told you before: 'Guaranteed to do something stupid.' Looks like I was right.”
“Er,” Rukh coughed out.
“Er is right,” she mocked, putting the lie to her supposed annoyance when she ran her fingers through his hair.
“The stone-splitter managed to break the other tower,” the Marshall interrupted. He wore a satisfied smile. “It fell over and must have taken out a thousand or more of the Chims.”
Rukh's tension abated, and the tightness in his shoulders and neck eased.
“Now that we know how they're built and how to break them, those towers won't stand a chance,” Jaresh said with a cocky grin.
A sharp retort followed by the sound of thunder snapped their attention north. A section of the Outer Wall, at least a hundred feet long, was in the process of crashing to the ground. Rukh stared at the sight in disbelief. He couldn't come to grips with what he was witnessing. The sight was surreal.
A part of the Outer Wall had been broken?
Rukh's mouth went dry with what he saw next. The Sorrow Bringer's whirlwind fury was a shriek of triumph as She slowly pressed forward into Ashoka.
The Marshall was the first to shake off his shock. “Fall back!” he bellowed. “All Kummas, grab hold of a Muran or Rahail or anyone else who can't make the jump. Fall back! Regroup in the fields.”
The Outer Wall of Ashoka had been blown open. Where once had been unbroken stone, there was now a ragged rent. Mother had been the cause. Her power had ripped a gaping wound, broader at the top than the bottom where it narrowed to a breach that was about fifty feet wide. The breaking of the Outer Wall had occurred with an unexpected swiftness, one that had left Ashoka's defenders unprepared.
When Choke had first seen the Wall tumble down, he had been left slack-jawed with horror. To see what had seemed an insurmountable obstacle fall so suddenly had been shocking. And to then see Mother loom monstrously large within that entrance had struck him nerveless with fear. Choke had been certain that Mother would erupt through the opening and cast down the entirety of Ashoka.
Instead, She'd merely pushed forward a few yards before pulling back. Choke later learned that the Oasis had been shredded apart only in the portion of the Wall that had fallen. However, it had also quickly been resealed and reformed several yards behind the Outer Wall. As a result, Mother had been unable to fully enter Ashoka's confines. She'd been held at bay, but Her Chimeras had not.
The Oasis had never stymied them. They had raced through the opening in the Outer Wall like a spring flood through a broken dam and pushed deep into Ashoka's farmlands before finally being halted and thrown back. It had required three days of hard fighting.
The result was an uneasy stalemate with the Chimeras on one side of the breach and Humanity holding the other. But the price of such an impasse had been costly: the death or injury of far too many Humans. It was an irreplaceable loss, and one Ashoka couldn't afford. By comparison, while the Fan Lor Kum had lost five times as many of their own, they had the numbers to waste and hardly slow down.
And now, rumor had it that the Rahails might pull the Oasis back even further, all the way to the Inner Wall. Until that happened, though, the Ashokans were determined to harvest as many crops as they could and torch the rest. Even the farm animals would be affected. They were to be sacrificed, killed en masse. It was yet to be determined just how much damage the poisoning of the Fan Lor Kum's water supply had actually done, but if it had somehow killed a large number of the Pheds, then it wouldn't do to have the Fan Lor Kum resupply from Ashoka's own stores.
Chak-Soon lifted his nose to the air. “I smell Bael,” he announced.
Choke glanced his way. “You're surrounded by them,” he reminded the jaguar-spotted Tigon.
Soon shook his head. “Different. Not us. Other.”
Choke straightened in surprise. The Chimeras under his command—both the Tigons and the Baels—currently held a forward position. It was near enough to the break in the Outer Wall to be able to throw a stone and hit it, which wouldn't be hard even now, in the middle of the night.
“Where are they?” Choke asked Soon.
“In opening,” the Tigon replied.
Choke frowned consternation. Why hadn't the Humans sensed the approach of the Fan Lor Kum? The Chimeras were not known for subtlety when it came to an approaching battle.
No matter. He quickly called out orders, eventually turning to Li-Silt. “The little ones must be protected at all cost,” Choke told the older Bael. “No matter what happens to me or anyone else here, that is the command you must carry out.”
Silt gave a solemn nod but said nothing in response.
While the Ashokan farm animals were to be sacrificed, the same would not happen to the Bovars. They were to be transported to empty land within the boundary of the Inner Wall, in Ashoka proper, but the exact location had yet to be agreed upon.
A young Kumma came up to Choke and his small band of Tigons and Baels. “There's a group of your kind in the breach that say they want to talk to you. They came through it yelling for us not to attack them.” The Kumma grinned. “Good thing Rukh and Jessira were on the line or we might have killed them before giving them a chance to speak.”
Choke felt a stirring hope in his heart. Perhaps those approaching Baels wanted to coordinate a means to end this awful siege. “Please take me to them,” he requested.
“Follow me,” the Kumma said. When other Baels moved to flank Choke, the Kumma paused. “Just him,” he added. “We don't need the Queen wondering why a bunch of Her commanders are having a meeting in the breach.”
Li-Choke gestured for his brothers to remain behind before he moved on and followed on the heels of the Kumma. At the edge of the Human encampment, he was passed on to Rukh and Jessira. They were waiting for him, looking relaxed and confident.
“We'll take him the rest of the way,” Rukh told the young Kumma, who saluted and turned aside. “Let's go,” Rukh said, leading the way to the break in the Outer Wall.
There, hidden in the shadowed depths of the breach were three Baels. They wore feathers of high command.
Rukh and Jessira took positions on either side of Choke. “Come forward slowly,” Rukh ordered.
The Baels stepped out of the shadows. “I am Li-Grist,” one of them said. “I am the Sarpan of the Dread sent east from Continent Catalyst.” He turned to the others and introduced them as well. “Li-Drill, my SarKi, and Li-Jull, a Vorsan.”
Li-Choke introduced himself and gestured to Rukh and Jessira, naming them as well.
“The stories are true. You do have Human friends,” Grist breathed, sounding as if all his deepest prayers had been answered. “Hume's heir is found.”
“We need to speak quickly,” Jessira said. “The Queen might notice our presence at any moment.”
Choke nodded agreement. “What do you wish to discuss?” he asked Grist.
“Our new SarpanKum, Li-Boil—”
Choke hissed. “Exactly what happened to Shard and Brind? I want to know.”
“They were killed when Mother discovered that it had been Shard who had planned the destruction of all Her breeding caverns,” Grist answered. “Boil says that Shard sacrificed himself so the rest of the Baels of the Eastern Plague would be spared.” Grist hesitated. “Those of us here may be the last of our kind.”
Choke struggled to understand why Shard would have done as Grist said. “That makes no sense.” A moment later, he latched on to something else the Sarpan had said. The last of our kind. “What of the Baels sent to Hanuman and Kush?” Choke asked, urgency in his voice.
“We have no way of learning what happened to them,” Li-Drill said with a sad shake of his head.
“And we likely will never know,” Grist added. “The reason we sought this meeting is because of Li-Boil. He is not very devout in his beliefs.”
“No, he is not,” Choke agreed.
“He leads the Fan Lor Kum with far too much competence,” Grist continued. “It can't go on. Those of us from Catalyst will seek a confrontation with him. We will provoke a civil war if need be.” Grist hammered his trident on the ground. “We must do everything we can to end this siege.”
Choke nodded. “What can I do to help?”
“I think most of our brothers from the Eastern Plague follow Boil out of fear and uncertainty. It seems to be some infection in their spirits. Even knowing that Baels are present in Ashoka, they obsess over the death of our race. It fills their minds and stills their willingness to serve. Will knowing that you still live, that what is said about you”—Grist gestured to Rukh and Jessira—”that you have Human friends, will that be enough to soothe their terrors?”
Choke mulled over the other Bael's question. “Boil is terrified by what he believes will happen if the Baels continue to go against Mother's will. He is certain that our race will be destroyed. It is what consumes his thoughts and drives his ambitions. Many in the Eastern Plague share that concern to varying degrees, but if they knew that the Bovars we brought with us still live, that they will be kept safe behind the Inner Wall, and even transported to Defiance if need be, perhaps that would ease their worries.”
Drill nodded enthusiastically. “When our Eastern brothers learn what you've accomplished, what the Ashokans have offered, they are certain to turn aside from this wicked path they've too long trod.”
“There is one other thing,” Choke announced with a slow grin. “Something to give our Eastern brothers further hope in these dark times. A miracle.”
The other Baels waited expectantly.
“The Bovars in Ashoka are protected, but they've also achieved something wondrous,” Choke continued.
“Why does he always stretch out a story?” Rukh muttered to Jessira.
“Must be something in his nature,” Jessira said with a shrug. “Or how Dirge trained him.”
Choke eyed them askance and rumbled in annoyed embarrassment before turning back to his brother Baels. “The Bovars have birthed three Bael crèches. There are fifteen young ones in Ashoka.”
Grist laughed gladly and in triumph. “Our purpose in this world will not end with our passing!”
“Why did you rally an Assembly of the Baels?” Li-Boil asked. “Such meetings are only called to witness the election of a new SarpanKum.”
Li-Grist studied the gathered Baels. Those from Continent Catalyst congregated behind him while those from the Eastern Plague stood at Li-Boil's back. Grist shook his head in disgust. It was disgraceful to see the brothers separated in such a fashion. A life truly given over to fraternity could not accept such division. Their ancestors would have been ashamed.
“We also come together when something of grave import that might affect all of us is learned,” Grist replied in what he hoped was an even tone. He didn't want any of the nervousness he felt to show through. This was as momentous a meeting as the Baels had ever experienced. And much depended on the reaction and actions of the Eastern Baels. They remained an unknown commodity. Would they behave as Li-Choke hoped they would? Grist wasn't sure, but of his brothers from Continent Catalyst, he was confident. They would do what was just. They would hold to morality even at the cost of their own lives.
“And what have you learned that is so important?” Boil asked, not bothering to hide his scorn.
Grist glanced around before answering. He wanted to freeze this moment in his memory. It was not a beautiful setting, but something beautiful could be created tonight. Eastward, the fracture in Ashoka's Wall yawned like a smashed-out tooth and was easily visible in the ivory moonlight. Many fires dotted the plain for miles both north and south, and a warm wind blew, pregnant with the smell of smoke, cooked meat, and the refuse of thousands of Chimeras. As for the Baels, they stood at a distance from the rest of the Plague, gathering at night when Mother was less likely to see. But even with the moonlight lighting the plain to brightness, She likely wouldn't notice. Ashoka held the entirety of Her attention.
Grist wondered if history would remember what was done here, or would this gathering be forgotten by uncaring future generations of both Baels and Humans?
“I met with Li-Choke and his Human friends, Rukh and Jessira Shektan,” Grist began. “Late at night, with Mother none the wiser, deep in the heart of the breach in the Outer Wall. All three of them confirm that the Bovars are safe in Ashoka.” He glanced around, heartened to see the hopeful expression in the eyes of his Eastern brothers. “There is more,” Grist continued. “Three crèches of Baels have been born from those Bovars.”
A murmuring of joyous relief arose from the assembled Baels. Grist noted that the same sense of happiness did not seem to affect Li-Boil or his SarpanKi, Li-Torq. Instead, upon hearing Grist's words, the SarpanKum had grimaced and shifted about on his feet. His tail lashed, and his posture was tense and uneasy. Grist was both saddened and angered by Boil's reaction.
“How do we know Li-Choke speaks the truth?” the SarpanKum asked. “Perhaps the Humans were coercing him.”
“It's not possible,” Grist answered. “I was there. Everything we were told about Li-Choke and his friendship with Humans is true. I saw them together. Choke wasn't being coerced.”
“They even jested at Choke's expense,” Li-Drill, Grist's SarKi, said. “It was the type of humor only shared amongst friends.”
Still, Li-Boil shook his head. “I am sorry, but you ask us to risk everything based on something only the three of you witnessed. I cannot allow it.”
Li-Grist didn't answer. He simply stared at Li-Boil. Anger replaced any lingering regret at what he had to do. Grist saw clearly now. He saw the cowardice at the core of the SarpanKum. How could Boil have fallen so low? It was unfathomable that there might exist a Bael who had never accepted the holy tenets of fraternity, but here before him stood just such an example. It made Grist wonder what had really happened to Li-Shard and Li-Brind. He'd always had his doubts. Boil's explanations regarding the fall of the former SarpanKum had always sounded too self-serving, but Grist had accepted them anyway. No longer.
Grist's anger stoked higher. A rumble, a deep-seated resonance of suppressed fury, rose from his chest. The rest of the gathering remained silent, watching, waiting to see what would happen next. “You are unfit to command us,” Grist snarled. “Take up your trident. Your betrayal of all we hold holy ends tonight.”
Boil stiffened, pretending outrage, but Grist could see the fear in the smaller Bael's eyes. “You seek to provoke a civil war when Mother's attention might turn to us at any moment?” he accused in disbelief. “Traitor,” he spat. “You'll see the death of every one of us.”
“I seek no war,” Grist replied. “I don't even wish your death, but I cannot allow you to mislead
us any longer. Choke already assures us that three crèches were born to the Ashokan Bovars. I believe him, just as I have faith that Kush and Hanuman took in our brethren and more crèches might have been born in those cities as well. Our kind will not die here on the fields of Ashoka. Nor do we need live as slaves to Mother's whims.”
“We are not so sanguine,” Boil said, anger now filling his eyes as Torq moved to stand in support of him. “My actions have seen us safe. My actions have assured the very existence of our kind.” He gestured to the Baels standing behind Grist. “You and a few others may laud Li-Dirge for his piety, but what did that fool's faith truly earn for him and his command?” Boil snorted derision. “Extermination,” he said, answering his own question. “And I tell you this: though you may despise me—for what I've accomplished—generations of our brothers will honor me and my brand of fealty.” His eyes shone with fervor and pride.
Grist's heart sank. “Is it glory then that impels you?” he asked, appalled by Boil's moral failings.
The SarpanKum grimaced. “You seek to twist my actions into something crass,” he answered. “But we saw what Shard and Brind's actions almost led to. I saved us by ending their lives.” He stood straight and proud. “And for that alone, yes, I should be held in the highest esteem.”
“So Shard and Brind didn't simply step aside for you,” Grist noted. “I thought as much. Did you face him, or did you stab him in the back like a coward?”
Torq hissed outrage. “You dare!”
“I dare that and more!” Grist cried out. He didn't want to spill the blood of a brother, even one as craven as Boil, but he would do whatever was needed to see fraternity restored to the Eastern Baels. “Stand down, and I will allow you to leave here with no one to harm you,” he promised, giving Boil and his SarpanKi one last chance to live.
“We have not yet fought, and you seek our surrender.” Torq sneered. “You and your SarKi will die tonight.”
Grist turned to the Eastern Baels, who shuffled about in uncertainty. “You have a reputation of being shallow in your faith, of cowardice,” he called out to them. “It is well-known all across Continent Catalyst. Which is why it struck all of us a miracle when one as devout as Shard came to command your Plague. We reckoned Devesh had touched your hearts and shown you the error of your ways. Were we wrong? Is the raiment of a faithless traitor all you will ever wear?”