“I thought We were to destroy Ashoka?” Lienna whined.
“You think? A wonder for the ages.” Mistress laughed again, that same derisive taunt. “Do as I command. The Flats first.”
“Then Ashoka.”
Mistress sighed, seemingly reaching the bounds of Her patience. “No. Then Hammer.”
Lienna recalled something just then. “Is Hammer not destroyed?”
She winced as She sensed a building rage from Her Mistress.
“If it was destroyed already, why would I want it destroyed again?” Mistress thundered.
Lienna was too scared to answer. Mistress Arisa was fearful and disturbing at the best of times. And this was not the best of times.
“Fine. I see where Your mind wishes to go. Ashoka then, coward.”
“And the Baels?”
“The Baels are Our greatest ally.”
“A new age will issue forth from Our loyal servants.” Lienna said, speaking fervently.
“Yes. But only if You gain the merest grain of wisdom, dull and stupid girl.”
Her orders given the Mistress was gone just as suddenly as She had arrived. Lienna shivered in relief.
“The Baels will betray you,” Father said.
“I’ll kill them all when they are no longer useful to Me.”
“You were once loved by all,” Mother murmured. “Your name means ‘gentle soul’. Now, all fear and hate you, even the Baels.”
“Our greatest ally,” Mistress Arisa said.
Once again, Lienna wondered which voice She should believe.
Chapter 8 – A Reckoning
The crucible of tragedy teaches us the truth of our dharma: we sacrifice all so others need not. It is a weighty burden.
-The Sorrows of Hume, AF 1789
Rukh knew when Brand Blended. Worse, he knew how Brand Blended. This was a Talent given over only to the Murans and Rahails. Never to the Kummas. But then again, no one other than a Kumma could Annex their Jivatmas, and yet, Brand, a Rahail, had been joined with Rukh, Farn, and Keemo only a few minutes earlier.
What did this all mean? And should he mention his possible abilities to the others? He didn’t want to. It went against everything he had ever been taught. It was wrong. He was wrong. And if he spoke up, loathing was the best he could expect from his friends. It was how he would have reacted if one of them admitted to something so repulsive. In that case, wouldn’t it be better to just keep it quiet and not say anything? It would certainly be easier. After all, why did anyone need to know this one little secret? He could just keep it to himself. No one would really be hurt if he remained quiet.
But then again, the Martial Masters of the House of Fire and Mirrors taught how a true warrior strove to cleanse himself of all weaknesses, no matter how shameful. He was expected to fight against his sins as hard as he would any Chimera, and it was the duty of his brothers to aid him in the attempt. And those who chose to fight their demons alone were fools, especially if their hidden flaws somehow led to the death of their brothers. There was no salvation for such a coward. Was this the situation Rukh was in? Could his secret lead to the death of one of the others? He worried it might, and he wavered in his decision, torn between hard duty and the easy lie of omission. His heart wanted to follow the path of least pain, but his mind knew he couldn’t. He had to tell them. They had to know the truth.
“I think I might be able to Blend,” Rukh admitted in a whisper. “Or learn to.”
Keemo and Brand looked confused, but Farn immediately seemed to know what Rukh meant. His head snapped around, and he wore an expression of disgust as he locked gazes with Rukh, looking at him as if he were a deadly serpent.
“What do you mean?” Farn hissed. “That’s impossible. Don’t ever speak of something so grotesque ever again. It’s…
“I can feel the presence of a Blend,” Rukh insisted, his voice more forceful this time. For some reason, he was unwilling or unable to remain silent. It was like a wave had crashed over him, sending him tumbling and rolling down a path not of his own choosing. He was sick over what he had become, but he couldn’t hide from it, and he couldn’t hide it from his friends, either.
The others wore uneasy expressions.
“I think I can too,” Keemo said into the echoing quiet. “I felt it when Brand Blended us.”
Farn gasped. “Devesh save you,” he whispered in horror. “What have you two become? You’re naajas. Tainted. Both of you.”
Rukh couldn’t face him, and he turned away, feeling wretched. His gaze fell on Brand. He was the only Rahail amongst them. “How did you end up in our Annex?” Rukh asked, his voice unintentionally coming out as a gruff challenge.
Brand’s mouth gaped open in surprise before he finally spoke. “Why are you asking me?” he protested. “I didn’t try to join your Triad. I was just fighting to stay alive when suddenly I’m Annexed with the three of you in a Quad.”
“I know you didn’t intend to, and I’m not saying it’s your fault,” Rukh said, forcing calm and patience into his tone. “But you were Annexed, and suddenly you could do things only we can. You shouldn’t have been able to make that leap.” He gestured to the narrow canyon outside. “Do you have our Talents as well?”
Brand stared back in flat-eyed, angry silence. He swallowed heavily and broke with a shuddering sigh. “I think so,” he replied, looking miserable.
“You did this to us!” Farn cried out instantly.
“Shut up!” Rukh hissed. “We don’t want the Chims hearing us. And what’s this about ‘us’? Can you sense a Blend, too?”
Farn shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what I can do,” he muttered. He turned to Brand. “But if I can sense them – if any of us can – it has to be his fault. Until he joined the Annex, we were fine. He changed us somehow.”
“Go frag a goat,” Brand shot back. “I don’t care what you believe. If anything, it’s you lot who’ve done something to me. I didn’t ask to be in your Annex. You pulled me into it against my will.”
Farn looked angry enough to draw blood, which was ironic given how much blood and gore they were all covered with. He, Keemo, and Brand argued in harsh whispers, trying to assign blame for what had become of them, their voices growing steadily louder.
Rukh vaguely listened in, but none of what they said mattered anymore. All of them were naajas. All of them were Tainted. They might as well be ghrinas for all anyone else would care.
“You stupid jackass. How can you take his side?” Farn growled at Keemo.
Rukh’s jaw firmed. He’d heard enough. Right now, there were more important issues to address. “Shut up! All of you,” Rukh ordered. “In case you’ve forgotten, our fragging caravan was annihilated only a few minutes ago. Our friends have been slaughtered, and the damn Chimeras…look at their bonfires.” He gestured across the canyon to the flat-topped knoll where so many of their brothers had recently died; to where the Chims were joyously celebrating their victory, laughing loudly. The smell of meat carried on the air, the scent of Human flesh roasting. “What do you think they’re eating, you fragging idiots?” He glared at all of them, challenging them to look him in the eyes. “They’re feasting on the corpses of our brothers while you’re standing here barking like scalded dogs. Whatever happened on that plateau saved our lives. We should be grateful for it. So shut up. It’s done. Settle down and try to get some sleep. No fires. I’ll take first watch.”
“Who in the unholy hells put you in charge?” Farn challenged.
“He has rank, jackhole,” Keemo said.
“Or do you want to determine this with swords?” Rukh asked, glancing at Farn’s hands, both of which were clenched around the hilt of his blade.
With a shudder, Farn relaxed his grip. “Sorry, Rukh. I didn’t mean to…” He shuddered again. “It’s just been…”
“It’s alright,” Rukh said, laying a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “None of us are at our salty best right now. Get some rest.” He sighed. “Tomorrow is going
to be almost as bad as today.”
“I doubt it,” Brand muttered.
“It will be.” Rukh promised with quiet assurance. “Tomorrow we have to go back across that chasm and see what kind of supplies we can salvage. It’s going to be a long hike back to Ashoka.” His previous righteous fire was suddenly doused, and his head drooped with doleful weariness. He stared at the ground, not really seeing it. His voice was a pained whisper. “And we have to set fire to whatever’s left of our friends.”
Early the next morning, after a restless night of little sleep, the Ashokans woke and studied the distant ridge upon which the caravan had died. Even though they had seen the cook fires doused as the celebratory armies of Suwraith made their way back down the steep mountain pass in the middle of night, Rukh ordered them to maintain their position. No moving out yet.
“Why are we still here?” Keemo asked. “The Chims are long gone.”
“Some of them are long gone,” Rukh replied. “There might still be a trap of Braids or a nest of Ur-Fels hiding in ambush over there. They might be hidden, just waiting for survivors like us to show up. We can’t afford carelessness right now. Too much depends on our survival.”
Rukh left unsaid why the four of them were suddenly so important. They were the only ones left who could carry word of the caravan’s destruction back to Ashoka. The city had to be made aware of what had happened: the Chims were massing and planned on attacking the city sometime later in the summer. If Rukh and the others died, the city might remain ignorant and unprepared for what was to come.
So Rukh had them stay in the cave, searching and studying until they were as sure as possible that no Chims were on the other side of the ravine. They ended up waiting for hours, gazing at the flat-topped hill, looking for Braids or Ur-Fels or any other Chimeras.
Nothing.
Rukh motioned, and they moved out. Slowly, carefully, they descended the steep expanse down from the cave in which they had sheltered to the base of the rocky ravine. In the shade of the canyon floor they briefly paused to catch their breath before pushing on to climb the high-walled cliff where the caravan had fought its last battle. It was a difficult ascent and they were all soon panting. They clambered up the last few feet, struggling to reach the top of the ridge, where they hunched over in exhaustion with hands on their knees as they worked to get their breath back.
Rukh was the first to straighten up, but he still needed deep lungfuls of air as he waited for his heart to slow down. He walked about, taking short, stiff steps and shaking out his arms. He didn’t want to start cramping.
As he recovered, he tried not to look around. Three hundred good men had died here yesterday, and while very little was left of their remains, there was enough. Mixed in amongst the slowly congealing pools of blood were a few torn up, unidentifiable corpses along with meat-picked bones and burnt pieces of flesh. Some broken swords and spears lay scattered about as well as a few blood-stained clothes, rent and tattered as they fluttered on a cool breeze.
Rukh battled to hold down his gorge. He doubted he was the only one.
Once the others were able, they set about their first task and gathered together the few wretched remains of their brothers in order to lay them to rest. They worked in a strange silence with only the sound of the wind to break the hallowed quiet. The vultures and crows and other carrion eaters hadn’t arrived yet, and if the Ashokans had their way, they would never have need to.
Rukh was sick at heart – they all were – as they gathered the remains scattered about like refuse. This might be all that was left of Lieutenant Pume or Captain Stryed or so many other men who had been close friends and even family. He had shared drink, food, and laughter with all of these men, and now there was nothing of them except these torn up chunks of flesh and bone.
What a waste. These warriors – his brothers – had died on Trial, and maybe doing so was holy, but it still seemed so senseless. The Murans would sing of the gallantry of these men, and a statue for their bravery might even be raised somewhere in Ashoka, but what difference would it make to those who had given their final, full measure on this lonely hill? They’d still be dead, hacked apart and eaten, their lives cut brutally short in some faraway and savage place. He swore in anger and disgust. He hoped the men had died quickly. It would be a mercy. Some of the veterans said the Chimeras, especially the Tigons, didn’t always wait until their victims had stopping moving before they began to feast.
Rukh studied the small pile of body parts the four of them had collected. He shook his head again. So damn pointless. His throat clenched as tears stung his eyes. He had to step away and take slow, deep breaths as he tried to settle his sorrow and anguish.
“We can’t light a fire,” Brand remarked. “The smoke would give us away.”
“Yes we can,” Rukh said, his voice shaky with suppressed emotions. He motioned to Keemo and Farn. “We’ll flash-burn them with Fireballs.” His voice steadied as he focused on the work at hand. “You’ll have to Blend it all and hide any smoke, but after we’re done, we should get them covered in a cairn.”
“Or we could Blend them ourselves. We all seemed to have picked up that Talent,” Farn muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “What kind of naaja bastards have we become?”
Keemo stiffened. “What’s your problem?” he demanded.
“We’re fragging naajas, dumbass. That’s my problem,” Farn snapped back. “We’re unnatural. How are we supposed to live with this? What will our families think? We might as well slit our throats right here and right now.”
“I don’t feel any different,” Keemo said. “Shouldn’t we expect to feel wrong if we’re as bad as you say we are?”
Farn laughed. “Do the Chimeras think they’re evil?” he asked. “Or do they suppose that serving the Mad Bitch is the height of holiness?” His voice held an edge of panic.
“Fragging hell, keep it together,” Rukh said, grabbing Farn by the collar of his shirt and frog-marching him to the small mound of bones and body parts. “Look around you. Our friends are dead. All of them were butchered and eaten. And you’re bitching about some Devesh damned Talent we’ve picked up?” he asked in disbelief.
“I was just saying…”
“I don’t care what you were saying,” Rukh said, cutting him off.
Farn’s attitude pissed him off. It was selfish. They were alive when so many others had given everything. Their lives. Their loves. Their futures. Who cared if the four of them were ghrinas or naajas or some other kind of freaks of nature? They could still do what they were trained for. They could protect Ashoka. Nothing else mattered. It was their Devesh damned duty, and he would be fragged and fried in the unholy hells before he quit on his city.
But if Rukh didn’t stomp out Farn’s whining, and damn quick, his cousin would destroy them all by wiping out their unit cohesion. Right now, the four of them were it. They had no one else to rely on. They had to be strong and tight with each other. There was no room for whining or complaining about how life was unfair. When had Devesh ever made life fair? They were alive. It was enough. It had to be.
Rukh pulled Farn closer, getting straight into his grill and looking the taller man in the eyes, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Unless you have something useful to say, shut up. Because the truth is, I’m damn grateful to be alive. We’re naajas. We’re ghrinas or something even worse. Who the frag cares? We’re the only naajas who can bring warning to Ashoka. We may be our people’s only hope, and if the price to pay is being some kind of unnatural horror, so be it. We’re Kummas. We pay any price.”
Farn looked chastened, and he averted his eyes, unable to meet Rukh’s scrutiny.
Good.
Rukh released him.
“I’m ready,” Brand said, interrupting their argument.
Rukh sighed and stepped away from Farn. “Then let’s lay our friends to rest. We can talk about the rest of this bilgewater on the way back.”
“Let’s do it,” Keemo said.
; Farn also nodded his readiness and he shuddered as some of the fear leached out of his eyes. “I’m ready.”
“As soon as we get started, get the Blend up,” Rukh directed to Brand. He looked to his cousins. “On three.”
As soon as the bodies were aflame, Rukh nodded to Brand who instantly threw a Blend over the corpses.
Rukh wished he didn’t have a sudden sense and awareness of the Blend. He could even tell how Brand had formed it. It was delicate work, conducting Jivatma like that, but with practice, Rukh knew he might be able to cast one himself.
Just lovely.
Despite his earlier words to Farn, Rukh wasn’t comfortable with what had happened to them. He was no less disgusted by the entire situation than his cousin. It was horrible, like being violated. He’d been forced to accept a Talent he had never sought or desired. As a result, he no longer knew who he was or even what he was. He wasn’t a Kumma. At least not as most would define the warrior Caste. Not anymore. This new person was Tainted, a naaja, and Rukh hated him. All night long, Rukh had tried to convince himself that whatever had happened, it would just turn out to be a trick played on his tired mind, like an illusion or something. It had been a slim reed of hope, and now it was burned away and gone.
But Rukh couldn’t dwell on his loss, not now when he knew the hard work that they had to do. “Let’s go,” he said a few minutes later.
“Ashoka?” Keemo asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s a Blend under that pile of rocks,” Brand said, pointing to a large mound of small boulders and stones. “I wasn’t able to sense it with all the death here until just now.”
“He’s right,” Farn agreed, immediately realizing what he had said and grimacing in disgust.
“We’ve got to get them out,” Rukh said, suddenly filled with hope. He prayed more earnestly than he’d ever prayed before. Just a small blessing today. Devesh, please…give us a chance.
“Could it be the Sil Lor Kum?” Keemo asked as they worked.
A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) Page 17