A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes)

by Ashura, Davis

  “After Craven,” the Bael replied smoothly.

  The Tigon lifted his snout to the air, seemingly tasting it. His jaguar-like visage lowered as his gaze came to rest upon the general. The Tigon’s ears flattened and he snarled. “Another Human nearby?” He turned to face the rocks. “Hiding.”

  Suwraith’s spit. The Chim must have seen through the ghrina’s Blend. Well, there went that. Rukh rolled his shoulders, loosening them. Thirty Tigons against three Kummas and a Rahail. Not great odds, but possible, especially if the Bael really did help them out.

  “Ready the Quad,” he whispered to the others.

  The first Tigon again tasted the air again. “Li-Dirge, what means this?”

  “It means you should remember who commands.”

  “Mother commands. She hate Humans. Not save them.”

  The Tigons were working themselves into a killing fury. Rukh could tell it, and apparently the general could as well.

  The Bael smiled as he leveled his trident. “There are greater mysteries in this world, oh foolish kitten, than your dim and empty head could ever hope to comprehend.” The smile faded and a look of grim purpose stole over him. “Remember who I am. I am the SarpanKum, chosen by Mother Herself! Who are you to gainsay Her will? Stand down!”

  The Tigons glanced at one another, their earlier anger fading away as they shuffled about in uncertainty.

  “Return to the encampment and forget all you saw here. Tell no one,” the Bael barked, his voice a whiplash command. “Go!”

  Long years of discipline and habit took hold. The Tigons turned and began to shuffle away. The general appeared to have convinced the cats to disengage, and Rukh relaxed, but his grip upon his sword remained firm.

  As the Tigons retreated to the south, a Fireball exploded into their midst, and all became chaos.

  Rukh spared a disbelieving glance at Farn, who was no longer Blended. It had been him. They’d been so close to walking out of this without a fight. Fragging idiot! Now, one or all of them might die here tonight.

  “Form the Quad!” Rukh shouted.

  The Tigons were on them before they could get off more than another few Fireballs.

  *****

  Jessira peered over the small boulder behind which she hid, watching as the Kumma leader, the one named Rukh, steadily advanced on the Bael. She hated to admit it, but the man was brave. Foolish, but brave.

  Kummas were supposed to be the foremost warriors of Arisa, and they might be, although Jessira figured their supposed skill was probably more than a little exaggerated – nobody could be that good. Regardless of their reputation, they sure weren’t bright. The best way to handle a Bael was with an arrow from a distance, preferably a very long distance. Trying to take one on with a sword was madness, a guaranteed trip to the funeral pyre.

  Although the other Purebloods didn’t look worried. They must be either too stupid or too ignorant to know any better. It might even be their first battle. She rolled her eyes, feeling contempt for the stupid jackholes. At least they were alert and wary, even if nothing in their faces or stances indicated concern for their leader. Or maybe they just hated him. She glanced at the one who made her blood run cold, the one who looked at her as if she were a maggot in his meal. He looked tense, and his hand was raised. It glowed dimly.

  Ah! So the stories about Fireballs were true! In that case, their leader might be able to escape his idiotic decision with nothing worse than a singeing, depending on the aim of his fellow Kummas.

  Jessira’s eyes narrowed, and she returned her attention to the Bael. Something was happening. The Bael had dropped his trident and had bowed his head to the Kumma leader. She couldn’t hear clearly, but it sounded as if the general had called the Kumma his brother and had offered his life to him. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t believe the Baels’ bilge water from earlier about brotherhood with Humanity and taking instruction from Hume. They had been lying for some reason. The only Humans the Chims didn’t automatically kill were those who chose servitude under Suwraith.

  Her eyes widened with sudden recognition.

  What did she know of these men? They were far out in the Wildness, in the Hunters Flats, a place she knew Purebloods only traversed if part of a large group of warriors. The nearest such caravan had been ambushed in the foothills of the Privation Mountains a few weeks back. So then how were these men here alone within the Hunters Flats and meeting with Baels?

  What if these men were of the Sil Lor Kum? It made sense. Kummas who could Blend. The Human followers of the Sorrow Bringer were said to have powers, gifts given to them by Suwraith and possessed by no one else.

  Jessira looked at the others in sudden revulsion as a knotted bramble of fear curled in her stomach. What had she gotten herself into? Baels who lied to the Queen? Men who might be Sil Lor Kum? And a plan meant to destroy a city named Craven, a place that might or might not be her own home of Stronghold? She had to get free. Her brothers had to know what they faced. She held back a sudden urge to jump and race away. It wouldn’t have worked, and she knew it. More likely, she would have been quickly recaptured, either by these men or the Chimeras or both.

  Patience was required. She would have to wait for the proper moment. She turned slightly in order to better study the men holding her. Good. None of them were watching her. Despite her earlier vow to the Kumma leader, she didn’t feel beholden to it; not if he was Sil Lor Kum. First chance to run, she would take it.

  A shocked hiss from the Rahail drew her attention back to the Bael and the Kumma. Rukh had stepped behind the general.

  Jessira frowned. Where had all the Tigons come from?

  She watched as the other three – the two Kummas and the Rahail – left the shelter of the boulders and slowly advanced, taking up positions next to and behind their leader. She remained Linked to their Blends and watched as all held up hands that glowed.

  Jessira sat back on her heels.

  So. The Rahail had the gifts of a Kumma.

  It was a certainty then. These men were Sil Lor Kum. Time to go. She prepared to crawl back to her brothers when a scream rent the air, followed by an explosion.

  She froze in place and risked a look over the boulders. Her eyes widened.

  The Tigons were attacking their general. And the Purebloods fought with him, which meant they would all be dead soon. The Tigons were too tough. They were best faced by a large group of warriors, hopefully with a sizeable advantage in numbers. The Purebloods must not have been taught that lesson. They had waded straight into the heart of the fight, to where the Tigons were massed most thickly. They were fearless, she had to admit, but courage alone wouldn’t save them. They would all be dead inside of…her thoughts broke apart as details of the battle took shape.

  “Holy Father,” Jessira murmured in awe.

  The Rahail was good. Before tonight, she would have said he was as good as anyone she’d ever seen, even her brother Cedar, one of the finest warriors in Stronghold, but the Kummas were something else entirely. They could fight. Their movements were liquid. They flowed across the ground, dancing with a graceful, eye-blurring speed and precision. Their technique was perfect, and they utterly devastated the Tigons. Wherever they went, the Chimeras fell. And they weren’t deadly with just their swords. Fireballs screamed through the air, killing and maiming the Tigons, decimating their numbers.

  It seemed the Kummas were everything the legends said. Jessira was suddenly glad she and her brothers hadn’t somehow stumbled upon these men. She would never have wanted to face them in battle.

  In moments, nearly all of the Tigons were either dead or dying. Only a few were left standing. Three Chimeras encircled the leader of the Kummas, Rukh, and his men weren’t close enough to offer him support. He never needed it. The Kumma took the fight to the Tigons, and in the space of three breaths, all three of the creatures were down and dead.

  It had been a slash across the throat of one Chim before the beast could even get his blade up. A hamstring cut to ano
ther followed by the decapitation of the third. The Kumma had returned to the disabled Tigon. A straight thrust through the beast’s armor and into its heart and the battle was over. All three blows had been perfectly placed and delivered with a speed and power that Jessira had never believed possible.

  “Unholy hells, they’re good, aren’t they?” Lure asked, suddenly appearing at her side as he crouched down next to her.

  Jessira was momentarily startled but quickly regained her composure.

  The Purebloods were the deadliest fighters Jessira had ever seen, but now wasn’t the time to discuss or admire their skill. They might very well be the enemy of all Humanity. At the least, they were Purebloods, which meant they were certainly the enemy of her kind, the OutCaste. No matter how it was measured, they sure weren’t friends, not by a long sight. She and her brothers had to flee if they wanted to get out of this situation alive. Stronghold needed to learn what they had discovered.

  Jessira urged Lure into motion, back toward Cedar, who still huddled behind the hummock. “Move. We have to get out of here,” she said to her older brother when they reached his side.

  “Why?”

  “The Purebloods…I think they might be Sil Lor Kum,” Jessira said, quickly explaining her reasoning. “If we don’t back our butts out of here right now, we might not ever be able to. We can’t hide. The Rahail can sense our Blends better than we can. And you just saw what the Kummas are capable of.”

  Cedar’s mouth thinned into a tight-lipped line of worry as he quickly considered her words. “Let’s go,” he said. “Don’t worry about being quiet. Just run. Swift and silent.”

  They slipped away into the night, moving as quickly and quietly as their Linked Blends would allow.

  No more than several hundred yards from the shallow vale where four Purebloods had crushed thirty Tigons, they ran into a nest of Ur-Fels, spread out along their path. The creatures, each one the size of a large hound had a fox-like appearance with triangular ears, narrow noses, and bushed tails. The Chims sniffed the air. They couldn’t see the Strongholders, not through a Blend, but they could sense powerful emotions such as fear and excitement, both of which Jessira knew she and her brothers exuded like cologne.

  Cedar signaled a different direction, and just as they were about to go, a strange call, deep and carrying, echoed across the night sky.

  The Ur-Fels yipped and yammered and bounded away in the direction of the cry.

  Jessira exhaled in relief.

  They broke into a run, but had taken no more than a few dozen steps when they almost ran full on into a troop of Baels – ten of them – looming out of the darkness like a dark, ugly fog.

  Jessira silently swore, hoping against hope that somehow the Chimeras hadn’t heard the grass tear as she and her brothers had come to a stumbling standstill. She prayed as fervently as she ever had. Please let the Blends hold. Please let them pass us by.

  For a moment the world was still except for the creak of the leather harnesses worn by the Baels as well as the jangling of the feathers from their horns. The beasts smelled of hay, cut grass, and musk. They breathed heavily as if they had been running.

  The world snapped back into motion.

  “Three Humans out for a stroll on this dimly lit night, so near our encampment,” one of them said sounding amused. He was a huge brute, one of those from earlier, with Suwraith.

  Icy fingers clutched at Jessira’s heart. She cursed their bad luck. Why did the Baels have to be right here and right now? Why hadn’t they returned to their camp as their general had ordered? She sought an escape, looking for any place to hide or run, but all paths before them and to the sides were blocked. Perhaps they could turn around and race back in the direction from which they had come. Baels were slow, and Humans were fast – especially scouts. The Chimeras knew they were nearby, but they probably didn’t know exactly where. She and her brothers were still Blended after all. They could…

  A whipcrack from one of the barbed, metal whips the Baels favored snapped less than a foot from Jessira’s head. There went that plan.

  “UnBlend,” the huge Bael ordered. “And sheathe your weapons. We won’t kill you yet, but try to flee, and we’ll snap your necks before you take another step.”

  Cedar flickered into view, causing a few of the Baels to mutter and gesture, pointing him out. Jessira followed her brother’s lead, as did Lure, but she still furtively cast about, searching everywhere for a means to escape. “What do you intend to do with us?” Cedar asked.

  “Nothing too horrible. Maybe the cookpot,” the large one said with a laugh.

  “We aren’t moving a step until we know what’s…

  “You are in no position to make demands, Human,” the Bael snapped, cutting him off. “Come with us and maybe live. Stay here and you’ll die. Either way, I care not. A patrol of Ur-Fels heads this way. They can’t see through your Blends, but they can sense when emotions run high and hot, and right now, your fear runs like lava down a mountainside.” The big Bael stepped back. “Your choice, but you should understand this: Mother’s other children are not as hospitable as we.” His lips pulled back into a menacing grin, exposing flat, white teeth.

  Jessira kept her breathing easy and steady. It wasn’t time to panic yet, but it was close. Stay alive. It was the only thing that mattered.

  Cedar reluctantly accepted the big Bael’s offer, and Jessira and her brothers were quickly surrounded and marched back in the direction of the shallow bowl of land from where they had come. When they arrived, the general and the Purebloods stood amongst the scattered corpses of the Tigon dead. The ground was slick; red and puddled in places with blood.

  She noticed the Rahail had a bad cut on his bicep. It might be through muscle, which was a hard injury to recover from. The crueler Kumma was also hurt, and his sword arm hung limply at his side, obviously broken, and one eye was blackened. Good. She had no pity for those who hated her. The shorter, stockier Kumma had a nasty slice across his hip and a stab through the meat of his thigh. He limped about in obvious pain. As for their leader, Rukh, even he was injured. He looked like he was having trouble breathing and he held his arm protectively against the side of his chest. He probably had a broken rib.

  All of them were covered in gore and blood, looking like they had waded through the worst parts of a slaughterhouse. The place smelled like one, too. The prior clean scent of acacia and eucalyptus was overwhelmed by the stench of shit, piss, and blood. It was stomach-turning.

  “I found these morsels wandering all alone in the night,” the large Bael said as he stepped into the firelight. He gestured, and Jessira and her brothers were shoved forward.

  “And I take it, Li-Reg, they came with you because of your legendary powers of persuasion? It had nothing to do with threats?” the Bael general asked, a laughing tone in his voice.

  The larger Bael’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “On my honor, Li-Dirge, I have been nothing but a gracious host. Although…” his lips quirked into a grin, “…I might have implied deadly harm would be inflicted upon them if they didn’t accompany me.”

  The general snorted in amusement. “Well enough, Reg. The Ur-Fels would have found them before they could have made good their escape.”

  The large Bael looked at the dead Tigons. “What happened here?”

  “A couple of foolish claws decided to countermand our orders.”

  “Brainless cats,” Li-Reg muttered. “Wheresoever Mother appears, the Tigons follow, considering it a holy site and one worthy of a pilgrimage.”

  Jessira wasn’t sure if the Bael called Reg was joking or not, but he seemed to be earnest.

  “And who are these individuals,” the general asked. “Have you learned?”

  “Not yet,” said the large Bael. “We kept them silent until we could speak in privacy.”

  The general nodded. “Send someone to tell the Ur-Fels to stand down.”

  “It is already done.”

  “Good. Then gather a de
tail and clean up this mess,” the general said, indicating the Tigon corpses. He didn’t bother to see how his order was carried out as he turned to Jessira and her brothers. “The Ashokans are known to me now.”

  Ashokans? Had they been part of the destroyed caravan?

  The general glanced at Rukh. “Thankfully, they chose to spare my life until they heard me out. What of you, though? Who are you?”

  “We have nothing to say to you,” Cedar said. “Or to your Sil Lor Kum pets,” he spat toward the Purebloods.

  Of course, it had to be Farn who had to take a threatening step toward them.

  What a prick.

  “Why would you think we’re Sil Lor Kum?” Rukh asked. Jessira noticed the sudden tension in his bearing. “And what are all these Baels doing here?” He glanced at the general. “You should answer quickly.”

  The Pureblood looked ready to explode into action, injury or no, as did the other Ashokans.

  Reg looked to his general, who gave him leave to answer. “The Ur-Fel nests nearby must have sensed the death of the Tigons. They were out in force. I’ve sent word for them to return to their dens. If we hadn’t rounded up your friends when we did, they would likely have been caught.”

  Rukh looked at Jessira. “Is this true?”

  She nodded reluctantly. It felt too much like ceding authority to him.

  “We don’t need your protection,” Cedar said. “We need nothing from the Sil Lor Kum.”

  Rukh turned to him, a deadly earnestness in his face. “Two times now you’ve called us that. If this was Ashoka, I’d have already handed you your head.” He never raised his voice, but Jessira heard the chill warning in his words.

  “And what? I’m supposed to be afraid of you? The big, bad Kumma? I’ll cross swords with any of you fraggers,” Cedar said. “I’m not afraid to die. The greater death is failing to fight and give quarter to evil.”

  “You’ll want to be careful, or you’ll find yourself facing death of a more certain kind,” Rukh replied, his voice flat.