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

by Ashura, Davis

  Rukh rocked back, appearing stunned.

  His fellow Ashokan, Farn, snarled in outrage. “It’s a trick,” the man snapped. “Don’t trust them.”

  “There is little time,” Dirge said. “She will be here in minutes. “A few hundred yards distant lies a small thicket of trees. You may be safe there.”

  Rukh stared at him, seeming to study him as he considered Dirge’s words. Lines of worry and doubt appeared on his face before he turned abruptly to his fellow Ashokans. He barked commands, turning even to the OutCastes.

  “We don’t take orders from Purebloods,” the OutCaste lieutenant, Cedar snapped.

  “Then stay and let Suwraith find you,” Rukh snapped back. “We need to hustle.”

  “Can you take a few of us,” Dirge pleaded. “You can Blend them. The memory of what the Baels are at their heart must not die.”

  “What about those of your kind back with your troops?” Jessira asked.

  “They’re dead. All of them,” Dirge replied, a catch in his throat. “I felt them torn apart when Mother poured Her insanity into the other Chimeras. They were attacked mercilessly.”

  “We can take two Baels,” Rukh said. “Any more, and we risk being exposed.”

  Dirge nodded, relieved. “Take Choke and Brine,” he said, pointing out his two youngest and most intelligent Levners. Of the younger Baels, they were also among those most dedicated to the way of brotherhood as taught by Hume.

  “I still don’t know how I feel about you,” Rukh said to Dirge, “but we’ll protect your Baels as best we can.”

  The SarpanKum – perhaps the last Bael to hold the title, at least for this Plague anyway – nodded. It was a start. Hume had said brotherhood began with small acts of trust. It was more than Dirge could have hoped for or expected.

  “One last thing, Ashokan,” Li-Dirge called out. “The other Chimeras require dark caverns in which to birth their young. It is where we hide their breeders, and where the Fan Lor Kum are the most vulnerable. You’ll find the breeding caverns housed in a rocky canyon where the Slave River races south from the Privation Mountains.” He explained more. “The only Chimeras Humanity has ever seen are the ones in the Plagues, male mules, including the Baels. The breeders, though, the ones who can produce more Chimeras …they are empty-headed creatures, caged all their lives long. Their only duty is to create more warriors for the Plagues, but they can only do so under the direct intervention of Suwraith. Without Her power, the breeders are as infertile as us, their mule offspring.”

  “What about you? The Baels. How do you reproduce?”

  “By accident. We are born to the Bovars through no agency of Mother.”

  “You know what I’ll do with this knowledge.”

  Li-Dirge smiled. “Yes. I’m counting on it. Consider it a gift, brother. Now go!”

  He watched as the Ashokans, along with Choke and Brine raced away, soon joined by the OutCaste.

  “It is good to have lived so long,” Li-Reg said.

  “A life well lived,” Dirge agreed. “Hume would have been pleased.”

  Mother was nearly upon them. Her scream seemed to tear the very sky. But She was too late. The Humans had made it to the copse of trees.

  “To brotherhood,” Li-Dirge cried, staring heavenward, past Mother’s evil. Devesh offer us grace.

  “Brotherhood!” his Baels shouted back.

  Mother struck the ground upon which they stood with an obliterating blast, and Li-Dirge knew no more as he rose into a singing light.

  *****

  “They’re gone,” Keemo said into the echoing silence after Suwraith left.

  The Baels were dead. They had to be. The Queen had struck hard as a falling mountain. She had led with streaks of lightning, blazing across the tortured earth as Her strikes incinerated everything they touched. Then came a scouring wind to cleanse the ground of anything still living. Nothing remained of where the Baels had stood awaiting Suwraith’s arrival except a deep crater and a cloud of dust hanging in the strangely quiet air.

  What a waste.

  Rukh didn’t want to admit it, but he had liked Li-Dirge. If not for the fact that he was a Bael, Rukh would have described the general as having a near-noble quality to him. Dirge had spoken so eloquently about the history of his kind and how the Bael had changed through their contact with Hume. Rukh had almost believed him. It was a nice story, and one Rukh wished were true, but now, with the general’s death, it might be impossible to ever know for sure. Rukh wished he could have gotten to know Li-Dirge better.

  “The Bael saved us,” Farn said, sounding amazed.

  “We’re going to have one hell of a story to tell when we get home,” Keemo said.

  “Let’s pack up and get moving,” Rukh replied.

  “What of us?” one of the Baels – Brine maybe – asked.

  “We need to find the Western Plague and warn our brothers,” Choke said.

  “Our city needs to know about this, too,” the ghrina lieutenant said. “We’ll take leave of you people now. This has been a right proper bastard of a night.”

  Cries, deep and rumbling, rose from several hundred yards away.

  “Just our fragging luck,” Rukh cursed softly.

  “Damn, damn, and double damn.” Brand replied.

  “What in the unholy hells was that?” Jessira asked.

  “Our deaths,” Li-Brine said, grimly. He unlimbered his chain and trident.

  “It seems the Shylows have taken displeasure at our presence,” Choke added.

  “Holy Mother, what a nightmare this night has turned out to be,” Jessira said.

  “Why don’t we all Blend?” Lure asked.

  “They see right through them,” Brand answered.

  “Form the Quad. I’ve got point,” Rukh ordered. “Keemo and Farn hold the flanks. Brand cover our backs.” He pointed to Choke and Brine. “Can you keep them off of us with your whips?”

  “Doubtful,” the Bael replied. “They are too swift.”

  “That fast?”

  “Faster than you would believe,” Brine said.

  The ghrinas had formed up.

  “Protect them as best you can,” Rukh ordered the Baels. “They’ll try to drive you out from the trees. Don’t let them. You won’t stand a chance out in the open.”

  Two Shylows, both males, came into view.

  Rukh had never seen one of the great cats before, and as they approached, details swiftly emerged. Both Shylows were similar in appearance with golden-tan fur all over their bodies, except on their backs where they wore a mottled black and yellow pattern. Each cat was thick and powerful, stading over seven feet at the shoulder and twenty-five feet from head-to-tail. Despite their great size, they weren’t slow. Far from it. The stories told by Trial veterans, describing the stunning speed of the Shylows appeared to be true. The cats ran with breathtaking swiftness, their over-sized tails pointing straight back as they covered yards with every bounding leap forward. They were only seconds away.

  Rukh melded into the Quad, and his consciousness dimmed.

  The Quad moved Primary to point. Secondary and Tertiary flanked him. Quaternary held the rear.

  Quaternary threw a barrage of Fireballs. They streaked toward the Shylows…and thudded with a dull roar as they slammed into the ground, all of them missing.

  Impossibly, the cats dodged all of the Quad’s ranged attacks. Had it the ability to fear, the Quad would have trembled. Nothing in this world should move so fast.

  The Shylows split apart and charged, one going for the group of OutCastes and Baels, the other for the Quad.

  Primary stepped forward to meet the attack, but his straight thrust, usually so lethal, caught nothing but air.

  The Shylow had leapt over Primary.

  Secondary and Tertiary were ready, but the Shylow dodged past them as well.

  Quaternary faced the great cat alone. The others were out of position to support him. The Shylow landed, and gutted the one known as Brand.

&nb
sp; The Quad became the Triad.

  Dimly, the Triad recognized the anguish of its members. They mourned the death of their friend, but the Triad was untouched by their grief. It had been charged with a mission: defeat the Shylow. Nothing else mattered.

  Tertiary charged from the right; Secondary from the left.

  The cat spun and caught Tertiary a blow to his arm, breaking it and sending him soaring through the air. He crashed down, losing consciousness as his head smacked hard against the ground.

  The Triad became Duo.

  Secondary, already in the midst of attack when Farn had fallen, cut deeply into the cat’s shoulder.

  The Shylow howled in pain and anger even as he spun about and raked Secondary across the leg, causing it to buckle. Primary raced in low and slashed the Shylow’s rear leg, hamstringing the cat before it could deliver a deathblow to Secondary.

  Secondary leaped straight up, stabbing through the cat’s lower jaw and into its brain.

  The animal keened a nerve-jangling scream as it died.

  Duo turned to face the other Shylow. It was engaged with the Baels and the ghrinas. One of their members was already dead, his chest ripped open, the one known as Lure. Another of the ghrinas, the woman, Jessira, lay face down, long hair matted with blood. Duo considered its options. Secondary’s leg was damaged. He would be slow. Duo couldn’t attack as fiercely as it would have liked. Secondary needed protection and support. Duo moved toward the battle, keeping Primary close to Secondary.

  A Bael, Li-Brine, jumped in front of a blow meant for the ghrina lieutenant, and the Bael’s chest was crushed. He landed with an unmoving thud.

  Primary slashed at an unprotected haunch, but somehow the cat’s tail, hard as bone and quick as a viper, struck him, knocking him onto his back.

  The Shylow stalked the ghrina lieutenant, who quickly gave way, moving toward the still inert Farn.

  Suddenly, the cat howled in outrage.

  The other Bael, Li-Choke, had wrapped his blazing whip around the creature’s neck. Smoke rose as fur singed and flesh burned. The Shylow pulled hard against the whip, yanking the Bael off his feet and toward the cat where the beast swatted him hard onto the ground.

  Secondary used the distraction to press forward, but before he could attack, he was seen. Duo tried to dodge, but Secondary’s injured leg made him too slow. The Shylow caught Secondary on his claws, impaling him. With the last of its focus and the last of Secondary’s strength, Duo stabbed, pressing Secondary’s sword to the hilt in the Shylow’s chest.

  The animal screamed once, loudly and terribly, before falling over dead.

  Duo became Rukh, who crashed to his knees and sobbed in grief.

  He had felt Keemo’s death. Brand’s also. His friends – both of them like brothers – were now dead. They were gone, their lives suddenly ended on a night filled with so much promise, but right now, no promise or hope could assuage Rukh’s guilt. It had been his decision to forgo returning straightaway to Ashoka. He had been the one to insist on tracking the Chims, and his choice had cost Brand and Keemo their lives. They would never again walk Ashoka’s tall hills and wide boulevards.

  What would he tell Keemo’s parents? Or Brand’s? Their families would be devastated, especially when they discovered how close their sons had been to making it home.

  Rukh sat on the ground, but a moan from Li-Choke reminded him of his duty.

  Farn. He had to make sure he was alive. Rukh levered himself to his feet, feeling a soreness in his chest. Even as he did so, hissing calls came from not more than a hundred yards away.

  Fragging unholy hells! Couldn’t they have a moment’s peace?

  “Braids,” Choke growled. “They seek our deaths. I can taste their anger.”

  Rukh gestured to the ghrina woman. “Pick her up. We have to move,” he said wearily.

  Choke nodded, throwing the ghrina over his uninjured shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. “I’m ready,”

  “Too late,” Rukh whispered.

  The Braids were already fanning out around the copse. They’d be discovered in moments.

  Rukh Blended, bringing Choke into it as well. He looked for Farn. The ghrina lieutenant, Cedar was leaned over him, and the two of them suddenly disappeared from view. They must have Blended as well. Rukh wished he could Link his Blend with the lieutenant’s so they could see one another, but the distance was too great. Brand might have been able to do so.

  Regrets and sorrows would have to wait, though. For now, escape was their only motivation. Rukh guided Choke with a gentle pull on the Bael’s arm as they picked their way past the nearest group of Braids. They would be instantly discovered if the Bael stepped outside the narrow range of Rukh’s Blend. Several of the snakelike Chimera scouts muttered amongst themselves as they inspected the dead Shylow, pointing out how they imagined the battle had gone. A few toed at Keemo and Brand’s bodies, satisfied when they proved to be dead.

  Rukh clenched his teeth. He hated leaving the remains of his friends amongst the Braids. Their bodies would end up in a Chim cook pot.

  Other Braids had their snouts raised to the air, tongues flicking out. It was said the snakelike Chimeras could taste the scent of Human blood from over a mile away. Just then, one swiveled his head and looked straight at them. Rukh froze, but after an uncertain and fearful moment, the Braid turned away and went back to tasting the air.

  Again, Rukh eased forward, gesturing for Choke to step quietly. Despite his warning, the Bael’s footsteps still thudded against the ground. Hopefully, the Braids would overlook the slight tremor. Another ten feet, and they were past the thickest collection of the Chimera scouts. Another twenty, and they were in open ground.

  The Braids fanned out from the copse of trees, calling to one another and probably also for reinforcements.

  Time to pick up the pace.

  Rukh led Choke at a dead sprint for a large mound of rocks, a monolith thrown up in the middle of the Flats. Rukh was thankful for the hillock’s presence. Blends were good, but they weren’t perfect, and Choke was hard to keep hidden. It wasn’t his scent or sound or sight that Rukh worried about, though. It was his trail. The Baels had likely never been trained to cover their tracks, and others in the Fan Lor Kum were nothing if not excellent trackers.

  The rock formation might be a good place to lose the Chim scouts.

  Rukh clambered over the boulders, holding back a hiss of pain as the soreness in his chest became sharper. He hadn’t broken another rib, had he? Damn bad luck. Choke followed tight on his heels, carrying the still unconscious ghrina woman.

  “Try to keep your feet light,” Rukh cautioned. “Don’t even turn over a pebble if you can.”

  Once past the rocks, Rukh led them northeast, toward Ashoka. He briefly wondered if he should wait for Cedar and Farn, but he had no idea in which direction the other two might be headed. Rukh had to look to his own safety. Ashoka had to be made aware of all he had learned.

  He and the Bael stretched out into a loping run.

  Choke looked like he had it as rough as Rukh felt. The Bael’s breathing sounded pained. He, too, probably had either bruised or cracked ribs. Either way, it had to hurt like the unholy hells. The Bael remained stoic, though, never revealing any evidence that he was in pain.

  Hours passed.

  Rukh had no idea what had become of Farn and the ghrina…no OutCaste. It’s what they called themselves. He had no idea what became of Farn and the OutCaste lieutenant. Hopefully, Cedar had gotten the two of them out of there. Where they would go after Farn awoke was another question. The OutCaste was sure to head for his own city, while Rukh’s cousin would want to return to Ashoka. Farn was strong, but with what had looked to be a broken arm and a concussion, he would have to follow wherever Cedar led. Otherwise, with those injuries, Farn wouldn’t last more than a few days out here by himself.

  The sun rose, blushing the sky.

  Every hour or so, Rukh called a halt so he could check on Jessira. She had been cla
wed across the left shoulder and down her back, and the cuts still oozed. Rukh worried about her, especially since she still hadn’t come to.

  “The Shylow have a toxin on their claws,” Choke said. “It acts as both a soporific and a blood leecher. She will wake soon enough.”

  “Blood leecher?” Rukh’s brows furrowed in concentration. The Shiyens had a word for what the Bael was describing. What was it? His face cleared in remembrance. “An anti-coagulant? Something to make the bleeding last for a long time?” Rukh asked.

  Li-Choke nodded.

  “When will it stop?”

  “I wish I could tell you, but it all depends on how much got into her.”

  Rukh examined Jessira’ cuts. They were deep. She had likely received a large dose. He hoped the bleeding ended soon. He had to shrug aside his worry for her, though. There wasn’t anything he could do for her. Besides, worrying for a ghrina seemed sacrilegious.

  Rukh and the Bael pressed on, stumbling as fatigue and pain ate at their stamina.

  “There,” Choke said, pointing. “Those trees. Will they hide us?”

  Rukh looked to where Choke gestured. It was a large stand of scrub pines, junipers, and cottonwoods with a few tall maples rising high in the center of the glade, only about one or two miles away. “It depends,” Rukh said. “Are your Chims still searching?”

  Choke’s expression went flat. “They are no longer my Chims. They were never my Chims,” he replied. “As we ran, did you not see the claw of Tigons carrying the decapitated heads of my brethren before them?” He shook his head in sorrow. “I am no longer welcome among the Fan Lor Kum.”

  Well too damn bad. Rukh thought vindictively. Keemo and Brand were dead. So was Lure Grey. And Farn and Cedar were missing. In light of all that, what was the grief of a Bael to him? The black-horned bastards had been killing and destroying Humanity for centuries. Why should he worry now if they were suddenly the hunted? Despite Li-Dirge’s pronouncements, Rukh’s antipathy toward the creatures hadn’t ended. Not by a long shot. It would take more than a fine speech from one possibly noble Bael for him to feel otherwise. Let the damn Chims taste their own Queen’s anger for once.