by Davis Ashura
“But no Kummas?” Rukh asked.
“No Kummas,” Jessira affirmed. “Hume saved them, holding back a Fracture of Chimeras by himself. We thought he had died in the defense of our ancestors, but apparently not if the Baels are to be believed.”
“They were telling the truth,” Rukh said. “They weren’t lying about the caverns, were they?”
Jessira gave a moue of distaste. She still didn’t like acknowledging that the Baels were secretly allied with Humanity. There was too much bloody history between the two species to so easily accept friendship with the leaders of the Fan Lor Kum.
“Anyway, we honor Hume because of his sacrifice. Our stories also tell of how Hume urged the Fifty-Five to look past Casteism and become one people if they wished to survive. His words were the inspiration for the OutCastes.” Jessira privately doubted Hume had said any such thing, but the man had defended her ancestors against impossible odds. The fact that he had survived what should have been a glorious sacrifice didn’t take anything away from what he had done for her people.
“It’s why you hold a tournament in his name?” Rukh guessed.
“It’s why we hold a tournament,” Jessira said. “You’re part of our story now, too. And we call it the Trials of Hume, remember?”
Rukh grimaced. “I guess I should get used to saying ‘we’ when referring to the OutCastes, shouldn’t I?”
Jessira nodded, wanting to give him some kind of reassurance. Things were bleak for him, but his life could still be a good one. She sent a prayer on Rukh’s behalf to Devesh, the First Father, the First Mother — anyone who was listening.
“What else?” Rukh asked.
“The city is built within a series of caverns inside a mountain, Mount Fort. Two rivers drain the surrounding peaks into Teardrop Lake, which forms the southern border of a valley where we do all our farming. From the Croft — the farmland — Teardrop empties into an underground river running beneath Mount Fort. It’s where we get most of our fresh water. The river eventually joins with the Gaunt and from there, on down to Ashoka.”
“These caves,” Rukh asked. “What are they like?” He looked and sounded worried.
Jessira smiled. Rukh probably thought her people lived in some nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with ends of worms and an oozy smell. “Don’t worry, Stronghold is nothing like what you’re probably imagining,” Jessira said. “It’s a civilized place.” At his still unsure expression, she laughed. “You’ll have to see it to understand what I mean.”
“I suppose so.”
“What else should I tell you?” she mused, speaking more to herself than him. She snapped her fingers. “Government.” At Rukh’s nod, she continued. “Each Crofthold — the ten main caverns — elects a five-member Home Council. The councilors in turn elect a senator, one for each Crofthold. They serve in the Home Senate and basically decide who should farm the Croft when a field becomes available.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Croft is held as a trust by the entire city. No one owns the fields they farm. People work their plots based on the consent and advice of the Senate, and if they don’t do a good job, the land is turned over to someone who might do better. As for the individual Croftholds, those are run by their Senator and Home Council. So long as it doesn’t impact the entire city, they’re pretty independent when it comes to what they’re allowed to do. And overseeing all of it is the Governor-General. He’s elected during a citywide election every five years. He’s also in charge of the Home Army. Beyond that everyone else is either a laborer, farmer, or craftsmen of some sort.”
“Like a plumber?” Rukh asked with a quirk of his lips.
“Like a plumber,” Jessira said, not sure why Rukh found Disbar’s trade to be so humorous.
“And what will I do there?” Rukh asked. “All I know is how to be a warrior.”
“I’m sure you could join the Home Army,” Jessira said, although she wasn’t nearly as sure of the possibility as she was letting on.
Rukh had the skill for the Home Army — more than any warrior she had ever met in fact — but skill alone wouldn’t be enough. Competition to get into the Army was fierce. It was often the only means by which someone who was poor could attain a higher station in life. Those who served for twenty-five years were automatically entitled to farm a full acre of land, and farmers were the wealthiest members of Stronghold. No one would want to lose their place to an outsider.
Jessira frowned. Until now, she hadn’t actually considered what Rukh would do with the rest of his life. Getting home to Stronghold had been her only priority. Now she was faced with sudden worry for his future. If her own bigotry toward Purebloods was anything to go by, Rukh’s time in Stronghold would be hard, but once everyone got to know him, she was sure her people would accept him.
But what if they didn’t? What if Stronghold treated him poorly? The OutCastes wouldn’t turn him out, but that wasn’t the same as welcoming him. What would Rukh do then?
She shied away from those thoughts. Her people would just have to accept him.
But if they didn’t? her pessimistic side continued to pester.
She had no answer.
*****
Two weeks into the Privation Mountains found Rukh and Jessira journeying along the flat, dull terrain of a high mountain prairie. They were surrounded on all sides by white-peaked mountains and a dismal ceiling of gray clouds hiding the early afternoon sun. The wind blew in blustery waves, cutting through their coats and clothes. Scrubby buffalo grass stretched as far as the eye could see except for the occasional ash and cottonwood. Prairie dogs — the duller ones anyway — poked their heads out now and again. They’d do best to lay low. Hungry packs of wolves ranged the mountains, as did coyotes and foxes. Elk and moose were about as well, but they wouldn’t be as easy to bring down as a young, dumb prairie dog.
“We’re being stalked,” Jessira said. “A nest of Ur-Fels.”
“Where?” Rukh asked. His head swiveled about, searching out the Chimeras even as he loosened his sword in its scabbard. While he hadn’t seen anything, he trusted Jessira’s instincts. She had far more experience surviving out here than he did. While he had done plenty of scouting during the expedition to exterminate the Chimera breeding caverns, this was the Privation Mountains, the place where Jessira had grown up. This was where she had learned to hunt, where she’d learned to hide, and master the subtleties of scouting. She was in her element here.
“About a half-mile or so behind us,” Jessira answered. “They probably ran across our tracks and realized the prints they were looking at were shod hooves. Bad luck. It’s why Stronghold doesn’t use horses much.”
Rukh glanced back along the length of their trail. Stretching out into the distance, as far as he could see, was an unbroken path of muddy hoof prints in melting snow and ice. They had just experienced their first snowfall two nights ago. It hadn’t been heavy, but it had slowed them down. And apparently, it had also allowed some lucky nest of Ur-Fels to find their tracks.
Of course, whether it was good luck was another question. The Ur-Fels might curse their fortune if they actually caught up to Rukh and Jessira. He knew the two of them could take a single nest without any problem. Rukh had been worn out and drained when Jessira had found him a few days short of Ashoka — Healing day and night with no rest for weeks on end would do that to a person — but now, despite the hard travels of the past five weeks, Rukh was feeling fit and strong once again. The Ur-Fels would pose no challenge.
But it would be better if they could just avoid the fragging nest.
“Do you have any ideas on how we can lose them?” Rukh asked.
“No matter where we go, we’re going to leave a trail bright as day and easy enough for them to follow,” Jessira said with a frown. “We might as well shout out where we’re going from the top of the hills.”
“Can we outrun them?”
“I doubt it. Ur-Fels were bred from foxes. They can run through this muck fast
er than any horse. They’ll be on us within the hour.”
“Then we need to find a place to ambush them,” Rukh said.
They cast about, looking for an ideal spot from which to launch their attack.
“What about those rocks up there?” Jessira said, pointing toward a cluster of monoliths a hundred yards to the north and on the crest of a small rise. The stones were like jagged shards of crystals, splintered and spilled all around. “If we circle around them, we can hide and take out the Ur-Fels before they even know we’re there.”
Rukh studied the terrain with pursed lips before finally nodding agreement. It should work.
Jessira led the way past a rock-strewn gully where a wash of water had collected from the surrounding heights before spilling down to the east. The horses clambered and slipped over the piles of rubble and boulders. But, finally, they turned the corner of a particularly large monolith, and Jessira called a halt. From here, they were invisible to anyone following their trail.
Jessira dismounted and turned to face Rukh. “Do you plan on killing them yourself?” she challenged.
“If I have to,” Rukh replied, wearing a dismissive smile. “Why? Are you feeling scared?” He knew he sounded like a jackhole, but right now, he didn’t much care. He was caught up with the need to inflict pain, a desolate and empty desire to hurt. It was a strange feeling. Bloodlust wasn’t part of who he was.
“Don’t be an ass,” Jessira snapped. “The women of Stronghold don’t cower behind their men. We aren’t frail flowers.”
Jessira was irritated with him — he deserved it — but even more, she was determined. He realized Jessira’s pride must have taken a beating on their journey to Ashoka when she’d been unable to defend herself. Instead, she had to rely on Rukh’s sword for protection. It must have been humbling for such a strong women.
“You aren’t frail," Rukh said softly. “Besides, it’s just one nest. I won’t get hurt,” he added in an offhand tone. It was the wrong thing to say. He sensed an argument brewing, and he sighed. “Fine. When they show up, tell me which ones you want to take. I’ll deal with the ones who are left.”
Jessira still looked annoyed. “Just don’t do anything too foolish. I don’t want to see you hurt.” She Blended more deeply, disappearing entirely from Rukh’s view.
During their journey so far, the Blends they had used had been thin, meant to be good enough to hide them from a perfunctory examination. The Blend Jessira now used was the deepest possible for her. It hid her entirely. It also required more Jivatma, and as a result, was far more taxing.
Rukh reached for her Blend and Linked with it. She was crouched near the corner of the rocks, sword sheathed, arrow nocked. She looked focused and ready.
“Now who’s planning on taking on the entire Nest?” he asked.
Jessira glanced his way and rolled her eyes. “Unlike some, I’m not stupid.”
Rukh grunted acknowledgement and settled down behind her as they waited for the Ur-Fels. Rukh studied their trail east but was distracted by Jessira’s close presence. Her cinnamon scent, her breathing … he eased away from her even as he told himself to pay attention to the job at hand.
Just then, she looked over her shoulder at him, an intent expression on her face. She gripped the front of his pants, just above a knee and gave it a tug. Rukh shuffled forward.
“The Ur-Fels should be spread out. This won’t be like the Hunters Flats,” she said. “Those Chimeras weren’t aware of our presence. These will be. They’ll be cautious.”
“What do you suggest?” Rukh asked, doing his best to ignore her hand resting still on his leg.
“Get the drop on them from above.” She gestured. “Can you climb the monoliths and circle around the Ur-Fels?”
“Cut them down from behind so none them escape to warn the rest of their brethren,” Rukh said, guessing her plan. At her nod of agreement, he continued. “I can do it.”
“Be careful,” Jessira replied, staring him in the eyes. “I know how good you are, but you’re reckless.” Her hand slid down to his knee, briefly squeezing it. “I mean it.” She let go of his leg and faced forward again.
Rukh’s knee tingled from where her hand had squeezed it, but he forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand. He Blended as deeply as he could and swiftly ascended the rubble of bleached boulders and ragged stone monoliths. Upon descending to the other side, he ran parallel to where Jessira crouched and slightly diagonal to where they had been traveling. Rukh searched for a place to hide as he ducked alongside the gully formed by the snowmelt.
There.
Upon the wide shelf of a large, solitary stone, plinth-like in shape, sat a boulder. Behind it was a ledge, easily wide enough for him to crouch and remain hidden while he waited for the Ur-Fels. He climbed atop the monolith and hid, smiling in anticipation.
Soon enough, he heard the sound of movement. He peered over the top of the boulder. Here came the Nest. Fifteen of them, spread out in a line fifty yards wide. It was more Ur-Fels than he had anticipated. The original plan had been to allow the Chimeras to pass him by and let Jessira pick them off. The survivors would then be driven back toward Rukh, but with this many Ur-Fels, it wouldn’t work. The Chimeras wouldn’t run from Jessira. They’d attack.
Rukh would have to thin out the Ur-Fels before they came upon Jessira.
He waited as the nearest Ur-Fel approached. He was about to leap forward, but another sound came to him, a harsh guttural growl. A Tigon. Rukh looked for them and saw five of them crouched low, running on all fours from boulder-to-boulder. He frowned in consternation. The fragging cats changed everything. He had to attack with Fireballs. He didn’t see any other option.
Rukh just hoped this wasn’t an even larger hunting party than he and Jessira had initially expected. He scanned behind the Tigons and Ur-Fels, worried about Braids. No sibilant cries or hissing sounds of scales dragging across the ground came to him.
This was it then. Fifteen Ur-Fels and five Tigons. It was doable. Blended as he was, he could take apart half the Nest and most of the Tigons before the rest of them even realized they were being attacked.
Rukh’s face relaxed into slack lines of indifference. A gray film seemed to cover his vision. He could take on all the Chimeras. Kill them all, and even if he couldn’t, so what? No one was immortal. Bleakness settled over his heart.
Time to kill.
Rukh stood, sighted the closest two Tigons. Kill them first and piss off the rest. He threw two Fireballs, and two of the cats were cooked, screaming as they died. His bow was already ready, an arrow fitted even as the second Fireball screamed through the air. Rukh let loose and killed the nearest Ur-Fel. The nest quickly realized where he must be, and they converged on his position. He conducted more Jivatma, Shielding now. Arrows pinged off it. He held his Blend and drew more deeply from his Well. More Jivatma to speed up his movements. He leapt off the boulder and landing thirty feet away, behind an Ur-Fel. A slash beheaded the foxlike Chimera. Arrows took two more Ur-Fels, those closest to him, leaving him room to work.
Rukh heard Jessira’s scream of frustration. “Damn it!”
Eleven Ur-Fels and three Tigons roared as they raced toward where they thought him to be. But he’d already ghosted away.
As he battled, the darkness in his heart, the futility grown from all he had lost and given, blossomed. It seemed he had all the time in the world to kill these Chimeras. No sympathy for such creatures.
Several more arrows. Down went another Tigon and a couple of Ur-Fels. They thrashed about on the ground.
The hollowing of his spirit — he thought he’d come to accept the losses in his life, but he hadn’t. The emptiness called to him. It was as irresistible as a cold drink in a desert. So easy to give in to its siren song.
Rukh dropped his Blend, letting the Chimeras see him. There were but nine Ur-Fels and two Tigons left and they roared in rage. Two more Ur-Fels fell, arrows in their throats, before Rukh drew his sword. The Chims were too c
lose for the bow, but not a final Fireball. This one took out three Ur-Fels who had foolishly clustered close to one another.
Four Ur-Fels and two Tigons against his sword.
It wasn’t even close. He darted amongst the Chimeras, dealing killing blows almost in passing. Disappointment filled him. It was all-too easy.
He almost dropped his Shield, wanting to tempt Fate to take his life. Thoughts cascaded through his mind. Why not? He was Unworthy, someone worthy of only death. The world wouldn’t care if he died. His passing wouldn’t even merit a footnote in the annals of anyone’s history.
The past five weeks, he’d been fooling himself. He’d gone through the motions of life because it was expected, because Jessira cared and wanted him to live, but all along, he’d known the truth: He should have died in the caverns of the Chimeras. It would have at least been an honorable death. Nothing he’d done since, even saving the lives of all those warriors … what did it matter in the end? Did Devesh approve of his actions?
Frag Devesh.
Their God hadn’t done anything for Humanity in millennia. And he sure hadn’t saved Rukh from the ugly fate that had taken him from everything he loved and cared for.
His thoughts swirled into thicker and thicker circles of darkness …
Jessira was there. She fired an arrow at the remaining Tigon, killing him. The remaining Ur-Fel spun around to face her, but she was Blended, hidden from his view. The Ur-Fel shifted his gaze from Rukh to wherever he suspected Jessira to be. Finally, he spun and made to run away. He took two steps before a foot of matte-black, spidergrass blade thrust through his chest, killing him. He gurgled out his dying breath.
Jessira turned to him, a look of fury on her face. Rukh reflexively strengthened his Shield. She looked mad enough to spit him on the spot. “What the fragging, unholy hells were you thinking!” she screamed. “You could have been killed.”