A Warrior's Penance

by Davis Ashura

  And back in Ashoka, Dar'El discovers the truth about Ular Sathin. His friend, a member of the Society of Rajan, is also the Muran MalDin. However, before Dar'El can extract any information from the traitor, Hal'El tracks Ular down first. In the confrontation with Hal'El, Ular ends up taking his life, and by doing so, all his secrets as well.

  Days later, a journal—Ular's—arrives on Dar'El's desk. It contains everything the Muran MalDin knew of the Sil Lor Kum . . . but it's written in cypher.

  That same day, Rector and Mira, through a great deal of investigation, separately learn the true name of the SuDin: Hal'El Wrestiva. Mira is about to relay the information to Dar'El, but before she can do so, she is abducted by Hal'El, who had been watching her movements and monitoring what she had been doing. He takes her back to the secret flat that he and Varesea share.

  Rector had been on his way to meet Mira, and he catches a glimpse of her with Hal'El. At first, he isn't sure it's her, and before he can act on what he's seen, she's gone. He's further distracted when Satha and Bree Shektan ride up to him. After hearing what he's learned, and what he's just witnessed, Satha returns to the Shektan House Seat to gather warriors, while Rector and Bree go after Mira.

  They burst inside just as Hal'El strikes Mira. In the ensuing battle, Varesea is killed and Mira terribly injured. Hal'El, however, manages to escape.

  During all this, Rukh and Jessira manage to make their way back to Stronghold. Shortly thereafter, they are married. Any damage to Jessira's reputation when she broke off her engagement to Disbar is long since washed away, especially when the wedding ceremony is performed by none other than the Governor-General, Mon Peace.

  Their honeymoon, however, is short-lived.

  Several weeks after their wedding, Suwraith arrives at Stronghold. Rukh and Jessira, along with Sign, Cedar, and Court, watch helplessly as the Sorrow Bringer eradicates the OutCaste city. Only a handful manage to escape the destruction.

  Also arriving at Stronghold on the same day as Suwraith is Farn, Jaresh, and the rest of the warriors of the Trial from Ashoka to Stronghold. They, too, are witness to Suwraith's wretched evil as is Aia, Shon, and Thrum.

  Li-Choke, who has brought his Shatter of Chimeras north, does his best to save the survivors. He and Chak-Soon had managed to haul a number of canoes up to River Gaunt, which the OutCastes can hopefully use to escape. Choke tells Rukh, newly reunited with Jaresh and Farn, about his plan and promises to do all he can to keep the Chimeras away from where the boats are to be launched.

  A tearful trek makes its way north. Out of Stronghold's original forty thousand, a little more than one hundred remain. Nevertheless, through luck, courage, and skill, all of the survivors—Strongholders and Ashokans alike—make it to the River Gaunt and the promised boats.

  They push off into the water, but in the ensuing, frenetic escape, a Fracture of Chimeras discovers them. The battle that follows is horrific, and none would have survived if not for the timely intervention of Aia and her brothers. The Kesarins had been tracking their Humans—Rukh and Jessira—back to Stronghold. During the battle, they pass on all of Rukh's Talents to the OutCaste warriors fighting for survival.

  By the barest of margins, the new abilities prove just enough to hold off the Chimeras, and it is left to a ragged and weary Jessira and Rukh to lead the other survivors to safety. They push their canoes into the water, hauling on the oars as they hurl them into the river's rapids.

  When a city is destroyed by Suwraith, Hope itself becomes a victim.

  ~A Concise History of Arisa by Kalthe Mint, AF 1839

  Rukh watched as Jessira sat alone by the banks of the Gaunt River. Her knees were clutched to her chest, and she stared across the water wearing a distant expression of shell-shocked weariness. Her air of grief and exhaustion was one that was mirrored by rest of the OutCastes, all of whom sat about in small clusters of huddled misery and mourning. Their losses were incalculable. From a city of over forty thousand people, there were now but one-hundred twenty-nine survivors of Stronghold's destruction. The OutCastes were people at risk of extinction.

  Rukh glanced over at the small encampment of Ashokans. Fifty warriors had journeyed from the city of his birth to Stronghold, and they too, had suffered grievous losses. There were now a little more than thirty Ashokan warriors remaining. They mourned their dead alongside the Strongholders and appeared every bit as drained. Most of the Ashokans leaned against one another, bone-tired and dozing, while a few of them remained alert and kept watch. Jaresh and Farn were amongst those who remained awake.

  Rukh shook his head. He still couldn't believe his brother and his cousin were actually here. It was like a waking dream, and he would have been overjoyed to see them, except for the occurrence of yesterday's events. So many terrible tragedies. So much loss. So many dead. Too many. Rukh bit his lip, refusing to let the tears fall as he remembered Cedar and Court.

  His gaze shifted and fell upon the people grouped along the river's bank. Some of them were angry with him. After the rapids, when the water had leveled out and calmed, some of the OutCastes had called for a halt. They wanted to stop and grieve, but Rukh wouldn't allow it. He knew they had to push on. They needed distance between themselves and Stronghold. The Sorrow Bringer was probably still seeking them.

  While Li-Choke could promise that his Fracture of Chimeras would not be patrolling the Gaunt River, he couldn't make the same vow on behalf of the Queen. She would almost certainly be on the hunt for them, and if She succeeded, they were all dead. According to Choke, Suwraith had discovered a new Talent. She could somehow sense a person's Jivatma, even through the tightest of Blends. It was apparently the reason why no word of Her imminence had been carried back to Stronghold by the Home Army's scouts. The Queen had killed them all.

  If Choke was right, the news was disastrous, not just for those huddled here but for everyone throughout the world. The Trials might no longer be possible. They relied on Blends to hide from the Sorrow Bringer's sight, but if She could see through them, then no one entering the Wildness would ever be safe.

  Art and learning—so important in rebuilding civilization after the Days of Desolation—would suffer as each city was cut off and left as an isolated island alone. The loss of communication and sharing would lead to stagnation, decay, and a slow-motion death for each city.

  Word of this potential calamity had to be carried as quickly as possible and . . .

  Rukh sighed, cutting off his thoughts.

  Tomorrow would have to take care of itself. Right now, all of them—Ashokans and Strongholders alike—needed to get going again if they were to make it through the rest of this day.

  He stood and stretched before turning to face the river. After last night's harrowing ride, they'd beached their canoes along a flat stretch of water. A broad valley spread out around them, enclosed on all sides by the Privation Mountains. A sandbar cupped the curve of the water, and a morning mist wrapped the world in silence.

  And Jessira remained seated on a plank of driftwood next to the river, as still and unmoving as a statue. She continued to stare out over the water and as Rukh approached her, he did his best to set aside his sorrow. His wife didn't need his tears. Not now anyway. Maybe later when they could properly grieve. Right now, she needed his support, his strength, his clear-eyed judgment to see them safe until they reached Ashoka. But as he studied her empty expression, he immediately knew he was wrong. Jessira needed his strength and support, but she also needed his comfort, even if it was nothing more than his quiet presence.

  Rukh sat down next to his wife and pulled her close. She didn't resist, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  They sat silent, quiet and still and seemingly alone despite all the others nearby.

  “We have to get going soon,” Jessira said, breaking the quiet.

  “You heard what Li-Choke said about the Queen?”

  “She can sense a person's Jivatma,” Jessira replied, her voice uncharacteristically flat.

 
Rukh kissed the top of her head. “We have to get to Ashoka as quickly as possible,” he said. “Will the river be the swiftest means to do so?”

  Jessira nodded. “Traveling downstream, it is,” she answered.

  “But not upstream?”

  “No.”

  “Is that why we didn't just follow the Gaunt to Stronghold when we left Ashoka?”

  “Yes. We would have had to climb too many cliffs and waterfalls,” she replied, a bit of life to her voice. “It would have taken weeks longer.”

  “But even going downstream, we'll have to hike down those same cliffs and waterfalls,” Rukh reminded her, glad to hear her take an interest in what they had to do next. He had worried that she might not; that she'd retreat into a bitter shell.

  “It will be difficult, especially for the children and those unaccustomed to the hardships of the Wildness,” Jessira mused.

  “But it should be a little easier since we'll know what to look for.” At Jessira's look of confusion, Rukh explained. “Farn just made the journey we're about to take. He can tell us what to expect.”

  “His experience will be invaluable,” Jessira said with a nod. “I'll let my people know we have to get going.”

  She made to stand, but Rukh held her down. “Our people,” he reminded her.

  She held a hand to the side of his face and offered a brief, wan smile. “Thank you.”

  Rukh kissed her fingertips as he sought to buy some time. He didn't want to tell her the final piece of information.

  “What is it?” Jessira asked.

  “Disbar survived,” Rukh answered. “After everything he did—setting his cousins to attack me—he was stripped of his rank and forced to work as a laborer at East Lock. He escaped Stronghold's destruction, but during the ride on the river, he was thrown from his canoe and battered by the rocks. He won't live very long.” Rukh hesitated. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Jessira sighed in what sounded like a mix of regret, sorrow, and disappointment. “I'll go see him.”

  The canoes provided by Choke and Chak-Soon had carried the survivors of Stronghold's demise far in the past week. Though ugly and rough-hewn, they were also rugged and durable, and Rukh was grateful for them. They were holding up well. Only a few easily repaired leaks had been required to keep them afloat.

  “Everyone sure is quiet,” Jaresh observed as he took a seat next to Rukh.

  “Would you expect any different?” Farn asked, walking alongside the other man.

  Jaresh shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  Rukh glanced about.

  They'd stopped for the day near a series of rapids and falls, and from them came a plume of mineral-scented mist. The exuberance of the water was a sound not reflected by those who travelled upon it. As usual, the camp was somber. A few muted conversations could be heard, but otherwise, the OutCastes and Ashokans quietly moved about their tasks. Some had prepared the evening meal while others readied the bedrolls or inspected the canoes.

  “Do you mind if I eat with you?” Lieutenant Altin Danslo interrupted, sounding diffident as he handed a plate to Rukh. “I noticed you hadn't had your supper yet.”

  Rukh motioned for Altin to sit down. He still had trouble believing that this was the same lieutenant who had hounded him so mercilessly on the expedition to the Chimera caverns. That man had hated Rukh with a deep, dark passion, willing to see him dead, no matter the means. But in the end, that man had also apologized to Rukh, and according to Farn, as soon as the expedition for Stronghold had been announced, it had been Danslo who had been the first one to volunteer. He'd even been willing to change his House affiliation if that was what required to join the Trial.

  Apparently, many of the Kummas who had journeyed to Stronghold had similar stories to tell. Rukh's selflessness on the brutal return to Ashoka from the Chimera breeding caverns had won him the admiration of a number of warriors who felt they owed him a lifelong debt. Farn said hundreds of them had leapt at the chance to see Rukh home. They claimed to have sins that needed expiation, and while their gratitude was humbling, it was also something for which Rukh felt wholly unworthy.

  “We lost another OutCaste today,” Farn said, gesturing to the rapids. “It's the fifth so far. She jumped off the falls. We found her body downstream.”

  The group fell into a reflective silence, and Rukh shook his head in disappointment. With everything the OutCastes had been through, it wasn't surprising that some of them would take their lives, but it was still heartbreaking.

  “How do you suppose we should get past those rapids?” Jaresh asked, changing the subject.

  “It's too treacherous to try the canoes, even during the day,” Danslo said. “We'd be better of portaging overland until we reach a quieter stretch of water.”

  Farn grunted. “It might cost us a lot of time, but dying would cost us even more.”

  “I think we've all had enough near-death experiences on this journey to last a lifetime,” Jaresh responded with feeling.

  “Then it's a good thing you weren't on the Trial to Nestle,” Farn said.

  “Or the one to the Chimera caverns,” Danslo added.

  Jaresh looked between the two men before rolling his eyes. “And I'm sure in both Trials, the warriors waded through knee-deep snow and a howling blizzard in both directions.”

  “No snow,” Farn said, “but with the Nestle Trial, we did fight uphill the entire way.”

  “And in the expedition to the Chimera caverns, we fought in pitch black.” Danslo grinned. “A blizzard would have been easy. All the Chimeras would have died of frostbite.”

  “And surviving a blizzard is easy, especially if a beautiful woman keeps you warm.” Farn nudged Rukh. “Isn't that right?”

  The other three men laughed. They all knew the story by now, and Rukh chuckled with them.

  On the road to Stronghold, Rukh's horse had thrown him. He'd broken his leg and badly injured his shoulder and lungs. Then had come a freak blizzard, and Jessira had snuggled close to Rukh and kept him warm. She'd Healed him, saved him, and called him 'priya' for the first time.

  He caught sight of Jessira just then. She was heading out in the same direction he had seen taken by Jaciro Plume just minutes before.

  He frowned. He knew all about Jaciro Plume. The one time he'd confronted the man, it had taken all his self-control not to beat him within an inch of his life. What Plume had done to Jessira was unconscionable, unforgivable. Plume should have been castrated and cast out of Stronghold for the hurt he'd done to Jessira.

  But to see her following him, the two of them far away and alone, and the knife-edged anger Rukh sensed from his hot-tempered wife . . . He had a bad feeling. Rukh made his pardons to the other three men and set off in pursuit. He had to catch up with her before she did anything rash.

  Luckily, it wasn't hard to find Jessira. Somehow Rukh could feel her presence. He always knew exactly where she was.

  As he approached closer, Plume was nowhere in sight, but Jessira was marching on. Rukh followed after her with a frown. What was happening? From Jessira billowed a wave of icy fury, cold as cruelty and heartless as a grinding glacier.

  Rukh continued to shadow her trail, careful to keep far enough back that she wouldn't see him. When he finally found her, he watched her confrontation with Plume, and after a few minutes, he turned aside and returned to the camp.

  The survivors of Stronghold's death sat huddled about small fires that shed thin streams of quickly dissipating smoke. The crash of the nearby rapids overwhelmed most conversations, but every now and then, softly spoken words caught Jessira' attention. They were words of disbelief and denial; of anger and accusal; of sorrow and suffering; but sometimes of prayer and belief.

  Was Devesh truly up there in the heavens listening to the devotions of His people?

  Jessira hoped so, but she was no longer so sure. Still, even now, despite her fragmented faith, she continued to pray. She lifted her face to the heavens and prayed for her parents, for her famil
y, for all the people she loved. She prayed for herself, for strength, for courage, for forgiveness. She even prayed for Disbar Merdant, her once fiancé. Their final conversation still haunted her.

  “Passion can drive a man to stupidity.” Disbar had wheezed. His face had been a purpled wreck, bruised and broken just like his body. “And I wish I could have been the man I should have been.” He hesitated, and a wistful smile, a fleeting look of regret had stolen across his face. “Tell Rukh I'm sorry. Tell him I hope he remains a better man than I was.”

  Disbar had died later that morning, but Jessira liked to believe he'd achieved a state of grace before his passing. She hoped so anyway. She prayed so.

  It was in that moment, when she returned her gaze to the camp, that she noticed Lake Wren walk into the nearby woods. She looked to have been crying. Jessira's heart ached for the younger woman. Lake's entire family was gone. She had been married with three small children, but they were all dead now.

  Minutes later, Lieutenant Jaciro Plume left the camp as well, and Jessira's hackles rose. Plume's path carried him along the same route as the one recently trod by Lake.

  Well did Jessira remember the lieutenant and what he had taken from her. She stood and followed him.

  A quarter mile away, in a secluded space of boulders with a curtain of aspen, she found him.

  Jessira's mind hardened with fury. But her anger, usually hot and raging, was frozen this time. It was a bitter, biting thing, like an icy spear. It left Jessira in a strangely wicked mood, chill and hollow. In that moment, she knew herself capable of all sorts of cruelty, and it was this recognition that caused her to pause. She reconsidered if this was truly who she was, who she wanted to be.

  Jessira forced herself to reach past the coldness, back to the person she was. Molten rage, controlled and potent, filled her. It was better than the cruelty that had been icing her veins moments earlier.