The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Jaresh shook his head in bemused admiration. No matter what, Rector Bryce clung to his honor like a dog did its last bone.

  “Let's go,” he said.

  Aia hated the risks Rukh took. Her Human was the best of his kind, but it didn't mean he should endanger himself against a creature like the Demon Wind. Against the Queen, no victory was possible. It was better to simply flee from Her baleful gaze and pray something else grabbed Her attention.

  It was a wisdom Aia wished Rukh would learn. She doubted it would occur to him, not in the short time they likely had left. Instead, Rukh would rail on against the Queen, fight Her to the end. Aia only hoped that when he fell—and she would grieve terribly when he did—she would have a chance to escape the Demon Wind's wrath.

  She wasn't sure such would be the case. Fires blazed throughout the city and battles raged. The crackling sounds of buildings burning filled the air as smoke roiled skyward. It was a black cloud intermixed with the black ravens drawn by the dying. An echoing boom reached Aia. Another one came, and she flinched.

  *Suwraith's blowing apart some buildings,* Rukh said. For minutes after he'd been struck by the stone, he'd been unable to form a coherent sentence. That confusion seemed to be getting better.

  *I wish we were home amongst our family,* Shon whimpered.

  Aia noticed her brother settle down under Jessira's gentle touch. It was a touching sight, but one she couldn't help but regret, at least somewhat. If she'd never approached Rukh, she and her brothers wouldn't be in this dire situation. As Shon had said, they would have been at home amongst their family. Safe with no Human to bind them to a path no Kesarin would have ever otherwise chosen. It would have left Aia free of all attachments that could hurt.

  And of any attachment that taught of purpose, service, and sacrifice. She, Shon, and Thrum had learned so much from their time with their Humans. Despite the terrible dangers they'd faced and were facing, Aia realized she wouldn't have it any other way.

  Aia purred to Rukh, who was holding tight to her fur. She doubted he understood what she was trying to say, but as he so often did, he surprised her with his insight.

  *I love you, too, Aia,* he said, *and I always will.*

  *Shon says that Thrum, Jaresh, and Sign are heading for the House Seat,* Jessira said.

  Aia felt Rukh's nod of acknowledgment against her fur. *Take us home,* he said.

  In the deepest hour of need, search for the helping hand, the soothing embrace, and the forgiving voice. Search for the Lord's Love.

  ~The Book of All Souls

  Rukh's head still ached but the deep-seated throb that made it difficult for him to walk or even see clearly was down to a dull pounding. It was a pain he could ignore—just as he could ignore the blood caked in his eyelashes and on his face, or the small cuts and scrapes on his hands and clothes.

  However, he couldn't ignore what was happening to his city. Ashoka burned. Flames engulfed the city as the Sorrow Bringer lashed lightning and set entire districts ablaze. Rukh didn't want to imagine what was happening to those trapped within those areas. Smoke billowed, lofting the scent of burnt wood and flesh. A high-pitched wail came every now and then as the Queen descended to the ground with Her clawing winds.

  The fires hadn't yet reached Jubilee Hills, and Rukh hoped Jaresh might make it home so they could see one another a final time. He also hoped his parents were still there to greet them.

  They reached the unguarded gatehouse to the Shektan House Seat, and Rukh dismounted Aia. He took a moment to settle his balance—his legs weren't entirely under him—before turning to his Kesarin. *You and Shon should leave,* he said.

  Aia blinked. *You no longer wish me in your life?* she asked.

  Rukh rubbed his Kesarin between her eyes, one of the places he knew she liked best and swallowed a lump in his throat. Tears filled his vision, and he did his best to blink them away. Aia shouldn't be here. She should be free, back in the Hunters Flats, amongst their own kind. She shouldn't die in Ashoka, not on his account.

  *I love you,* he said. *You know that. But you can't stay. You need to go. Run to safety.*

  Aia rubbed her head against his. *I will leave when I know all hope is lost. I will take my brothers with me only then.*

  *You should leave now,* Rukh urged.

  *Only when all hope is lost,* Aia insisted. *Shon feels the same way.*

  Rukh hugged Aia. It was the best he could hope for from his stubborn Kesarin.

  A deep-voiced hail came to him. “Hold the gate.” Striding up the road came Li-Choke and his band of Baels and Tigons. Directly on their heels were Rector, Jaresh, Sign, and Thrum.

  Rukh exhaled in relief upon sighting his brother. He pulled him into a brief hug as soon as Jaresh had pulled up and dismounted Thrum. “It's good to see you again,” Rukh said.

  “Don't get used to it,” Jaresh said, managing a strained smile. “We're all likely to be dead in a few hours or even a few minutes from now.”

  Rukh lightly punched Jaresh's shoulder. “Always the optimist,” he said. “Farn could take lessons from you.”

  “Let me Heal your wounds,” Sign said, taking ahold of Rukh's brother. “It's not just his black eye. He's got a wound to the chest also.”

  “We thought we could stand with your family in these final moments of our lives,” Li-Choke said, striding up to join them. “It has been you and yours who were the first to see past prejudice and accept what has always been in our hearts.”

  “We'd be honored,” Rukh said, clasping the Bael's forearm. He did the same with Chak-Soon.

  “I will stand with your parents as well,” Rector said.

  Rukh nodded acceptance. Whatever rationale Rector had for coming to the House Seat rather than going to be with his own family was his own.

  As soon as everyone was inside, they closed the gate and barred it as best they could.

  The grounds were strangely hushed and empty in comparison to the tumult without. A single swinging barn door was the only lonely sound. Even the birds were quiet. It was an edgy, anticipatory stillness that filled the air, a pregnant pause as if the horrors going on in the rest of the city were simply biding their time before they consumed the House Seat.

  Rukh shivered.

  Jessira looked his way, a question in her eyes.

  “Just nerves,” he explained.

  She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “How long is the journey between Ashoka and Defiance?”

  “If the weather doesn't turn, about a week.”

  “Then we have to hope it takes the Queen another three days to finish Ashoka.”

  “So the ships can reach Defiance before She remembers to go after them,” Rukh said, picking up on Jessira's thoughts. “I sure hope they have those three days.”

  “I hope so as well,” she answered.

  They trudged hand in hand toward the House Seat when Jessira asked a question that Rukh had been struggling with ever since the Inner Wall had fallen.

  “What did you use to break apart that boulder? Is it called a Spear?” she asked.

  Rukh looked her way in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Because you said it,” Jessira answered. "You said 'A Spear would split the boulders'. But you didn't say it in your own voice.”

  Rukh recalled thinking those thoughts, but he hadn't realized he'd spoken them aloud. He frowned when he took in the rest of Jessira's words. “What do you mean it wasn't my voice?”

  “Over the past few weeks, you'll say something, but it isn't your voice. It's deeper and the inflections and pronunciations are different, more formal.”

  “How often does this happen?”

  “Not often,” Jessira replied. “Only a handful of times.”

  “I don't know what it means,” Rukh said, although the more he thought about the voice, the more familiar it seemed to him.

  Jessira quirked a smile. “Don't worry about it,” she advised. “None of it matters anymore.”

  She rested her
head on his shoulder, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Jessira followed Rukh into the House Seat while the Chimeras and Kesarins remained outside, retreating to the grounds out back where the battle with Hal'El had so recently occurred.

  Jessira startled at how little time had passed since that terrible event. So much had happened since then. Had it really taken place less than two weeks ago? Surely more days had passed than a mere twelve or so. It seemed impossible, but it was true.

  Time truly was a wriggling eel, and Jessira wished she could grasp hold of that slippery, sinuous creature and hold it frozen in place, keep Ashoka's death from coming to pass.

  Her thoughts turned to other matters as Rukh took them deeper into the House Seat. The soundlessness inside was oppressive with no signs to indicate that the home was occupied. No lights lit the rooms. No conversations or sensations marred the perfect stillness. The servants and their chatty conversations. The delicious foods perfected by Cook Heltin in her kitchen. All were gone now, and their absence left a vacuum, a hollow. The dead might have turned the Shektan House Seat into a mausoleum for all the life to be sensed within it.

  Jessira did her best to set aside her macabre thoughts. She didn't want the last moments of her life filled with a gloaming outlook.

  Her mind cleared when Rukh brought them to Dar'El's study, and they found his parents waiting within.

  Jessira smiled in real joy. Two more people she loved yet lived. Dar'El stood behind his desk and turned to face them as they entered. One of his arms hung in a sling, and he had reached for his sheathed sword when the door opened before relaxing when he saw who it was. Beside him, Satha sat in her wheeled chair. A wool throw lay upon her lap. Even in the heat of summer, she got cold easily.

  “Thank Devesh you are all still alive,” Dar'El said, breaking into a grateful smile as he came around the desk.

  “As Jaresh would say, 'don't get used to it. We'll all likely be dead not too long from now,'“ Rukh said with an answering smile. “Or something like that.”

  “Our optimistic son and his sunny disposition,” Satha said with a chuckle.

  “Laugh if you like, but someone has to be the voice of reason,” Jaresh stated.

  “And that someone is on a ship to Defiance,” Rukh said. “Her name is Bree.”

  Dar'El laughed, and the family drew close together, sharing words and holding tight to one another. Sign was also pulled into the embrace.

  “Had Devesh allowed, you would have been our daughter,” Satha said to Jessira's cousin. “Marriage vows might not have been exchanged, but the heart has already spoken them.”

  Only Rector Bryce stood silent and apart, and Jessira's heart went out to him.

  “Why are you here, Rector?” Dar'El asked. “You should go and be with your family.”

  “I owe a debt to you and yours. It supersedes my own needs,” Rector replied. He drew himself up to attention.

  Dar'El circled past his family and walked to Rector, who was rendered speechless a moment later when Dar'El drew him into a warm hug. “In this last hour of our lives, all trespasses are long since forgiven,” Dar'El said.

  Rukh took Jessira's hand, and together, they approached the man who had once caused them so much grief. “All debts were long since forgiven,” Rukh said, clasping Rector's forearm.

  Jessira slipped her hand from Rukh's and hugged Rector. “There is no need to be here,” she said. “Go home. Be with those you love best.”

  Rector seemed to deflate as he exhaled heavily. He nodded sharply. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Devesh's blessings go with you,” Satha said as Rector prepared to leave.

  *Nobeasts are at the gates,* Shon said. *They're all over the streets. Li-Choke says the Demon Wind recognized him and called out for Her creatures to kill him and all those with him.* Thunder, likely from the Queen's lightning, and a gale-force howl served to emphasize Shon's final point.

  Jessira sighed. “Rector,” she called out to him. “Shon says that the Chimeras control the streets beyond the gate. He also says the Queen is close by. You won't make it back to your family. You should stay with us.”

  Rector's visage fell into an expression of regret.

  “I'm sorry,” Jessira said softly.

  Rector waved aside her words. His eyes were clenched shut, either in regret or sorrow or both. A moment later he had control of his emotions, and he straightened up and took a deep breath.

  “We would be grateful if you fought alongside us,” Dar'El offered. “As it is said: in a Trial, all warriors are brothers.”

  “I would be honored,” Rector said as he clasped forearms with Dar'El.

  *The Demon Wind hovers nearby,* Aia said. Her voice had been pitched to be heard by Jessira as well as Rukh.

  “I can't stay here inside while Aia fights alone out there,” Rukh announced, gesturing to the outside grounds. “She'll die trying to protect me. I won't have it.”

  Jessira felt the same way about Shon, and so did Jaresh about Thrum.

  “Inside or out, in the end, none of it will matter,” Dar'El said with a shake of his head.

  “I can't go outside,” Satha said. She gestured to the wheeled chair. “I'll only get in the way.”

  “Then I'll stay with you,” Dar'El declared.

  “No,” Satha said. “Go outside. Be with our sons. Protect them. Protect me.”

  Dar'El hesitated.

  “Go,” Satha urged. “You will always have my love no matter what happens next.”

  Dar'El kissed her. “And you will always have mine.”

  There were many times when Rector wished his sense of honor and duty didn't overcome his good sense. Why in all the unholy hells had he come to the Shektan House Seat? He should have been at the home of his parents, surrounded by those he loved and who, in turn, loved him. Instead, as he'd so often done, he'd chosen the path of supposed righteousness. It was a cold comfort to know his honor was maintained. What good was maintaining dharma if he never again saw those he cared for most, or if they died without him ever able to tell them how much he loved them one last time?

  He did his best to ignore his frustration as he waited outside the Shektan House Seat with the others—all but Satha, of course, who remained behind in the study. Crippled as she was, there was nothing she could do to aid them.

  Rector glanced at the burned shrubs and ground. The skies above, while sunny in the morning, had turned stormy in the early afternoon. Or maybe it was just the mix of soot and smoke that dimmed the sun. Whatever the reason, Ashoka's demise could be seen in the fires raging throughout the city and heard in the cries of her people as they died by flame or sword. The bitter smell of ash filled the air, and thunder rumbled continuously.

  All the desecration was focused on a purple cloud hovering nearby. It moved against the winds. The Sorrow Bringer. Never in Rector's life had he hoped or expected to see the demon who had plagued Humanity for so many centuries. He prayed fervently that Devesh would soon see Her dead.

  “Should we form a Quad?” Jaresh asked.

  “Not with me,” Jessira vowed. “I want to be aware and alive when the end comes. I want to face whatever happens next with all my faculties intact.”

  Rector found himself in agreement.

  “I feel the same way,” Dar'El announced a beat later.

  Sign shook her head to Jaresh's question.

  Jaresh shrugged.

  “How should we position ourselves?” Rector asked.

  Surprisingly, it was Rukh rather than Dar'El who answered. He pointed to the Baels and Tigons. “They'll protect our flanks while we hold the center along with the Kesarins.”

  After he spoke, the calico-colored cat—Aia—rubbed her head against Rukh's. The tawny-coated Kesarin—the one called Shon—did the same to Jessira, while Jaresh rubbed the chin of the russet one—Thrum.

  “We don't know if the Chims will actually enter the grounds,” Sign said.

  “Thrum says they just did,�
�� Jaresh replied.

  Rector didn't need the Kesarin's input to tell him so. Already he could hear a rising tide of barks, growls, and hisses closing fast on their position.

  “Get ready,” Rukh said.

  “When they come, let me try to talk to them first,” said the Bael who led the Chimeras. Li-Choke was his name. “I may be able to convince them that you are Mother's servants. They may pass us by.”

  Rector privately doubted any such miracle would save them, but maybe for once, luck would be on their side. A moment later, he snorted in derision. When had luck ever been with them? Never. And never it would always be.

  Rector loosened his sword and conducted Jivatma. It swirled in his mind, a mirrored, shimmering pool. His senses heightened. He twitched, ready to race into the eye-blurring motion for which his Caste was known.

  “Don't waste your Jivatma on a Blend,” Rukh advised. “With all the emotions we're feeling, the Chims will be able to see right through them.”

  Just then, the Chimeras poured around the corner of the house. All kinds of them; Ur-Fels, Braids, Tigons, Balants, and Baels. There were several hundred: a wide grouping of armor, swords, and hatred. Rector set aside all fear when he saw them. Their howls of rage didn't touch him. He stepped forward, ready and willing.

  Li-Choke's basso roar lifted above the tumult. “Leave these Humans be,” he shouted. His chained whip caught fire. He cracked it. “Mother has placed them under Her protection.”

  His words were contradicted a moment later when there screeched a vast cry from the storm-wracked sky. It was the Sorrow Bringer. “Kill them all!” She commanded. “Kill every Human you find!” Her voice boomed to all the corners of Ashoka. It was likely a general order to all Her warriors, and the Chims howled in response to Her command. They spurred forward.

  Rector took an instant to center himself, to let go of all his regrets and emotions. When he was ready, he filled his hands with Fireballs. He threw them, as swiftly as he could, as many as he could before the Chims reached them. Rukh and the others did the same.