The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Knowing nods met her statement. It was information the other councilors must have already come to realize.

  “And what will become of all those who are given these new Talents?” Teerma asked.

  “They will form the nucleus of a new Caste,” Dar'El explained. “The first new one since the destruction of the First World.”

  “And why would we still have Castes to begin with if this new one is going to have the Talents of a Muran, Rahail, Duriah, and a Kumma?” Janos asked.

  “Because this new Caste will be sent to Defiance, and from there, members will spread out to every city throughout the world. But until the other cities accept the need to do away with Castes, this is the best first step. The other cities haven't been exposed to the OutCastes, and they haven't experienced what we have. Until they do, they aren't likely to accept ghrinas in their midst.” He smiled. “But a new Caste, they will.”

  “What will this new Caste be called?” Teerma asked.

  “Caste Maharaj,” Dar'El answered. “In honor of the First Father and First Mother's surname. A purposeful misspelling.”

  All this was the final realization of the Society of Rajan, but Satha wished it could have occurred in better circumstances, one that didn't involve the looming destruction of her home and the death of her children.

  Janos narrowed his eyes. “You've thought about this a long time, haven't you?” he asked.

  Dar'El nodded. “I have. The Castes are a relic of the past. They hold us back.” He glanced at the others. “By now, given what Rukh and the other OutCastes can do, you know this as well. So does the Magisterium, and I would venture to say most of Ashoka.”

  “You're right,” Teerma said, “but it still raises the question: what do you need from us? Why are we here?”

  “Because it's been decided that every child and most of the young men and women in all the Castes will be given these new Talents, and afterward, they will be sent away from Ashoka. We need to help come up with a plan of evacuation for them, or at least for the children of our House and our Caste.”

  “Ashoka is to be emptied?” Durmer looked like he'd taken a kick to the gut.

  “But only the children and some of the young men and women,” Teerma said, trying to sound soothing..

  “Which is the same as saying we will send away that which makes our city alive,” Durmer replied.

  Jessira read aloud the poem she'd come across, the one that reminded her of Ashoka's present and perhaps its future.

  Summer's last light has frayed and faded.

  So harvest the wheat with breaths bated,

  Whilst the last seritonal heat remains.

  Before gilded leaves are semaphore chains.

  Before bitter winds, a synecdoche

  Of winter's clutching snow and solid sea.

  Jessira looked to Rukh, waiting on his response.

  They sat on a stone bench in a small garden upon the grounds of the House Seat. A low-lying variegated hedge edged the border, making the space a haven. Birds trilled and butterflies and bumblebees flitted about as the honey scent of flowers filled the air.

  Rukh's head had been bent over as he played the mandolin, and he didn't respond at first to what Jessira said. Maybe he hadn't heard.

  Jessira recited the poem once again.

  Rukh glanced up. “I have no idea what you just said.”

  Jessira eyebrows rose in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know what that poem meant,” Rukh replied. “Some of those words . . .” He held a teasing smile. “They're pretty large for an uneducated OutCaste.”

  “It's why this 'uneducated OutCaste' uses a dictionary.”

  “I think you just like using big words.”

  Jessira snorted. “You're one to talk.” She pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Usually he kept his hair short, but with the siege, he hadn't bothered to have it cut. There were more strands of gray in there as well. They were more easily visible now, a scattering along his temples. She ran her fingers through them, and he leaned into her hand.

  “Laya and Sign are going to be a part of the evacuation,” he said. “Most every OutCaste and young person will be going, even Farn and Bree.”

  “I won't go with them,” Jessira said.

  “You can if you wish,” Rukh reminded her. “You were selected.”

  “Only if you come with me."

  “I wasn't chosen for the evacuation,” Rukh said. “Those warriors without children who are to leave Ashoka were decided upon by lots. I wasn't one of them.”

  “The Magisterium would allow it if you asked.”

  “You know I can't. Someone else would have to stay behind if I did.” He stared into her eyes. “But any woman of childbearing years can go . . .”

  “Don't,” she warned him. “Not again. I'll stay with you, or you can come with me.” This was an argument they'd already had more than once, and one she was mightily tired of having. Ever since the decision to create the Maharajs and abandon Ashoka had been made, Rukh had tried to convince her to leave the city without him.

  Jessira had steadfastly refused him every time, and every time she kept hoping that maybe he would finally accept her decision.

  Perhaps this time he actually had since his head was now bent low over the mandolin again as he plucked an aimless tune.

  “I sometimes have strange dreams,” Rukh said. “There's always a woman and a girl, but I can't see them. But when I wake up, they're gone. I know they're dead.” He looked up from his mandolin. “The dreams leave me feeling like how I would if I were to lose you.”

  “We don't have a daughter,” Jessira noted.

  “Not yet, but maybe some day. If we're lucky. Or at least you will.”

  Jessira mentally sighed as Rukh bent over the mandolin once again. He plucked a slow, melancholy melody. She recognized the song. It was about a man who lost the only woman he ever loved. “That sorrow you're feeling, the fear for me,” she began, “how can you believe that I would feel anything less for you? When I thought you had perished during the Advent Trial . . .” She shuddered. “I don't know whether I would have cared if I lived or died.”

  “I know, priya” Rukh said. His hair had flopped over his eyes, and he didn't look up from the mandolin. “I just want you to live.”

  Jessira gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I feel the same way about you.”

  Rukh's mournful song was the only sound between them then.

  “We're to have a farewell gathering for the family tonight,” Jessira said when he finished the song. “Cook Heltin said she's using all the available stores she can get her hands on in order to make it a farewell to remember.”

  “I had hoped it would be our farewell as well,” Rukh said. He wore a teasing half smile on his face. “Are you sure you won't go with the ships and leave me in peace?”

  Her answer was a playful punch to the shoulder.

  “See,” Rukh protested. “This is why I want you to go. You're so violent, always pushing and punching. I swear my shoulders are black and blue from all your bruises.”

  Jessira shut him up by kissing him on the lips. She crossed her arms behind his neck and held him close. The kiss lingered, and his arms went around her as he held her close.

  Jaresh stood upon the ramparts of the Inner Wall and stared out at the ocean of Chimeras camped at the base. They'd finally moved their siege engines closer to the city several days ago and immediately began flinging their stones at the Oasis. However, while their aim remained true, their judgment of velocity was terrible. Most of their stones plowed at high speed into the Oasis, and promptly rebounded off of it.

  Jaresh couldn't recall a single one of their rocks penetrating through to worry the warriors on the Inner Wall. Nevertheless, the Chimeras kept up their barrage from sunrise-to-sunset, regular as a clock. Except for today. For some some reason, Suwraith's hordes had quit their bombardment early. Even the Sorrow Bringer was unaccountably quiet.

  It didn't
make much sense, but it probably didn't mean much either. It certainly didn't mean the siege would soon be lifted. More likely, the Queen was taking a respite for some reason and had ordered Her Chims to do the same. Any moment, though, they would probably get back to volleying their rocks at Ashoka's Inner Wall.

  According to Nanna, it wouldn't matter when they resumed their attack. Ashoka couldn't hold out. The city was doomed with only days left before the Oasis was broken.

  It was why every child and young person of every Caste had been gifted with Rukh's Talents. There were now thousands who could form a Bow and an Oasis. Jaresh was one of them.

  But taking on such a massive project had required a week of non-stop work by the three Kesarins and had left the cats worn out. They were still recovering, and Jaresh wondered what would become of them. They would remain in Ashoka, but after the city's fall and the death of their Humans, what would happen then?

  It struck Jaresh just then, all the changes in his life. He was so different from the young warrior who had left for Stronghold a year ago. He was older in a way unmeasured by time and years. He'd seen so much, experienced so much, and now came all these new Talents and knowledge. He couldn't help but wonder what Mira would have thought of the man he'd become, of what the city and her people had become.

  He reckoned she would have been proud of them.

  Jaresh bent his head in wistful remembrance and drew Jivatma. He formed a small Oasis around himself. Only another year, another few months even, and the Sorrow Bringer and all Her hordes could never have destroyed Ashoka.

  “You'll be late if you don't get going soon,” Sign said to him.

  Jaresh turned to her in surprise. He hadn't noticed her arrival until she had spoken. “You aren't coming?”

  Sign hesitated. “This is supposed to be a private farewell for your family.”

  “It won't be that private,” he told her. “Jessira will be there, and so will Laya, Farn, and little Court. They're your family, too.”

  “I don't want to intrude,” Sign said, still appearing unsure.

  “You won't,” Jaresh assured her. “I want you there.” He took her hands in his. “My parents want you there.”

  “Well, since you asked so politely, how can I say 'no'?” Sign asked with a faint smile.

  “Plus, it helps that you find me utterly charming and irresistible,” Jaresh added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  “Of course. How could I forget about that?” Sign teased.

  Jaresh smiled. “Admit it. You do like me.”

  “I admit nothing,” Sign said. She put the lie to her words a moment later when she kissed him. “I do like you,” she added, this time serious. “But why do your parents want me at tonight's party?”

  “They want to get to know you as best they can before you leave.”

  “They know about us?” Sign asked, looking surprised. “I didn't think you'd tell them.”

  “Of course I would,” Jaresh said, perplexed by her demeanor. “Why wouldn't I?”

  “I know your parents are open-minded when it comes to the OutCastes, but are you sure they'll want another son of theirs in a relationship with one of my kind?”

  Jaresh rolled his eyes. Sometimes Sign's preoccupation about her status as an OutCaste in a city of Purebloods made her overlook the blindingly obvious.

  “What?” she asked in protest after seeing his eye roll.

  “If you haven't noticed, every child in Ashoka now has Talents not of their birth Caste. We've become a city of OutCastes. We were just smart enough to come up with a better name.”

  Sign stared at him silently through measuring eyes. “Are you making fun of my people?” she finally asked.

  Jaresh held his hands up in surrender at her feigned annoyance. “Never.”

  “So you don't think your parents would care if they had two of my kind as daughters-in-law?”

  Jaresh had to laugh at her presumptuous question. “Daughter-in-law? Don't you think you're making a rather large assumption?”

  “I don't think I am,” Sign replied. She arched a challenging brow. “Am I?”

  “You're not,” Jaresh said with a sigh, wishing the world were something other than it was. “And if I could go with you to Defiance . . .”

  Sign put a finger to his lips. “I'll stay,” she said. “I've thought about it. When Stronghold died and I survived, I ended up outliving nearly everyone I love. Jessira is the only family I have left. And now there's you. You're staying, and I can't survive such a loss ever again.”

  Jaresh gathered her in his arms. He knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. “We sure picked a lousy time to fall in love.”

  “There's never a terrible time for love.”

  Jaresh took her by the hand. “Let's go see my parents.”

  “What happen when the Ashokans leave?” Chak-Soon asked. “Seem cowardly.”

  Li-Choke didn't answer at first. The setting spread out before him held him entranced.

  He and Soon stood within a large field in Dryad Park. Before them grazed a herd of Bovars, munching contentedly on the lush grass. A couple of claws of Tigons dozed in the warm sunlight while the newborn Baels played amongst the tails and hooves of their slumbering, older brethren. A group of old Humans played chess beneath unlit firefly globes as wind chimes rang gently in time to the soft breeze.

  Nothing Li-Choke could have ever imagined would have been as graceful as this moment. This sylvan scene perfectly encapsulated all the hopes and aspirations of generations of Baels since the time of Hume, of peace and fraternity amongst those who should have always been brothers.

  And this lovely vision would end in a flood of blood and fire.

  “No. It's not cowardly,” Choke disagreed, finally responding to Soon's earlier words. “It's pragmatic. Whether they stay or go, the Inner Wall will come down. It's why the Ashokans created the Maharajs. So their young might live on in some other city.”

  “An arrogant name,” Soon muttered. “Not right. Make sound like . . .” he rambled to a halt, apparently running out of words.

  Choke shared the Tigon's distaste for the name given to the new Caste. A memory from several seasons ago came to him, a story he'd once heard, one that left him uneasy. “Li-Dirge told me of the time before the First World,” Choke said. “He said that before the coming of the First Father and the First Mother, the world was riven with blood and brutality. Tribes of Humanity warred against one another. They battled for scraps of sustenance scattered throughout the wasteland that was the world. Dirge said that these tribes were vicious and cruel. They tortured their enemies. They fed their weak to wild animals as sport. And their rulers were known as 'Rajs'. I suspect the First Father wasn't always known as Linder Val Maharj. More likely, he changed his name to be some kind of play on words, to make himself something greater than a mere 'Raj'. He was a 'great Raj'.” Choke snorted. “Now the Humans return to the names of their amoral ancestors.”

  “Karma,” Chak-Soon pronounced.

  “Perhaps,” Choke replied. “Or maybe this new Caste can redeem the savage name they were given.”

  Soon grunted in reply. “What we do when Wall fall?” Soon asked.

  “You and I will do as we must,” Choke replied, somehow managing a smile.

  “Your small ones die?”

  Choke shook his head, and his feathers of command rattled. Some of the other Baels had long since removed their symbols of authority, preferring to try to forget their time as slaves to Mother's lust for rampage and ruin. They wanted to wash away any remembrances of the evil they had committed under Her command, but Choke felt otherwise. He didn't want to forget what he'd done. He wanted to remember it all. Such knowledge was what inspired him, impelled him to continue on the path he had chosen.

  “The newborn Baels won't die,” Choke told Soon. “The Ashokans will allow them passage aboard their ships. Li-Silt will go with them. Of all of us, he is the one most dedicated to Hume's ideals. He is the one best suited
to teach them what they need to know.”

  “And us?”

  Choke rested a hand on Soon's shoulder and turned to face the Tigon. “We will fight, my friend. We will protect one another as brothers should. Until the last light fades from our sight”

  “And Devesh will welcome us into his warm embrace,” Soon answered, for once not mangling the words.

  Choke's gaze grew distant. “Yes,” he whispered. “And the singing light will call us home.”

  Aia stretched out and rested her head on Rukh's lap. He idly scratched at her neck and ran his wonderful fingers through her fur. For some reason, letting Rukh groom her always brought her comfort. She didn't understand why. Perhaps it had to do with the bond she felt for Rukh, a connection which was strongest in these quiet, private moments. It was just the two of them, with her human caring for her as he rightly should.

  Thinking back on it, Aia realized that in the past, only as a cub lying between Amma's strong paws had she ever felt this quiet contentment, this serene certainty that the world was exactly as it should be. She laughed at the thought. She was no longer a cub, and Rukh was most certainly not her amma.

  A breeze blew and carried the scent of blood and ashes. The area where Aia and Rukh rested had once been her favorite place within the lands of the Shektan House Seat. It was hard to remember what it looked like before the burnt bushes and trees, the dead, blackened grass, and the smell of ground steeped in smoke and ruin. This was the place where Rukh's family had almost died, the place where her Human had fought and defeated the wretched Hal-El Wrestiva.

  Aia curled her lip in disgust. Hal'El had been a wicked man with a heart full of evil. It was good that he was dead. She growled again.

  Rukh must have noticed her anger. *What's wrong?*