The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  He placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  Rukh didn’t think so, but he kept quiet. Jessira’s voice was no longer strong and confident like it had been when they had first met, but there was no reason to state the obvious. “Let’s clean the wounds,” he suggested.

  “Want another look at the twins, huh?” she said with a chuckle.

  “My lust knows no bounds,” he said smiling back.

  After he finished, she sighed, and leaned back against him with her eyes closed. “Why won’t you talk about your friends?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer at first. He couldn’t. Reminiscing about Keemo and Brand was too painful. “If I talk about them, then I remember them, and if I remember them, I’ll miss them, and if I miss them…I’ll break down, and I can’t afford that right now. We can’t. I’ll mourn their deaths when we get home.”

  “Your home. Not mine,” Jessira reminded him in a soft, wistful tone. But her voice was without the bitterness and anger she had once so commonly expressed.

  “Yes. My home,” he said, acknowledging her correction.

  “You know, those first few days after the attack, I thought you were the coldest man I ever met. You reminded me of people I knew…you know, men whose only goal is the next battle.”

  Rukh gave her a half-hearted smile of bemusement. He knew the kind of person Jessira was talking about. Had she really thought of him like that? “I hope you don’t feel the same way anymore,” he said.

  She chuckled. “Well, you’ve grown on me,” she said with a shrug. “I think you’ll turn out alright. For a Pureblood, you’re not half bad.”

  He laughed with her. “And for an OutCaste, you’re only half abominable.”

  She protested in mock outrage, punching him lightly on the shoulder even as she laughed. “You deserve that,” she said.

  Rukh laughed with her. The punch hadn’t hurt, but once she was fit and healthy again, he imagined she could do some damage.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. “There’s still about three hours of daylight.”

  With a groan, Jessira stood. “I’m ready.”

  A few days later, they finally passed from the northern edges of the Flats and were into the southeastern foothills of the Privation Mountains. The grasslands had given way to forest, making it a much harder slog as they forced their way up and down steep hills and through wooded valleys. For every mile as the eagle flew, they had to cover four on the ground. It made for frustratingly slow progress, and to make matters worse, Jessira wasn’t getting any better. An infection had settled into her shoulder, further weakening her.

  Today, they had to stop early. Jessira had collapsed.

  Rukh set up camp on a small field of grass next to a narrow stream. The air was cool from the late day shower, and the smell of moss and wet leaves from the undergrowth filled the air. Lightning bugs flitted through the warm early summer evening while chirping crickets and croaking frogs competed to be heard over the sound of water burbling over rocks.

  Once he had a fire started, Rukh made Jessira as comfortable as he could. He tucked her under the few blankets they had managed to scavenge, but sometimes she still shivered uncontrollably. They were a little less than a week short of Ashoka, and beyond where Shylows were known to hunt. This close to the city jaguars and bears might still be a danger, but the smart ones had learned to steer clear of campfires. The stupid ones were dead, but even if one of them showed up, Rukh knew he could handle it.

  What he couldn’t handle was Jessira’s infection. Pus seeped from the wounds, and she burned hot with fever. At other times, her skin was cold and clammy. Her breathing had also changed, coming in short gasps as if she had been running for miles. She even smelled sick, a mixture of stale sweat, dirt, and old blood, but underneath it all was a sharp, bitter almond-like smell.

  He slipped her out of her jacket and shirt, leaving her in her camisole. He didn’t know what else to do with her alternating fever and coldness. He also hadn’t been able to wake her up for dinner, and with a sinking feeling, he realized she might not live through the night.

  Rukh had hoped to be in Ashoka by now, where a Shiyen physician could have Healed her. And if the wounds hadn’t slowed them down so much, they might have actually made it. As it was, they were still a good four or five days from Ashoka, which was too far for Jessira. Several days ago, he’d even tried his hand at Healing. Jessira had done her best to teach him, but it hadn’t worked out. He had even tried to form a Duo with her. After all, Rukh had learned to Blend while Annexed with Brand in a Quad, but once more they had met with failure.

  Now, she lay dying next to him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was helpless even as he watched her every movement, desperate to see some sign she might be able to rally. He didn’t want to lose Jessira. Not so soon after Brand and Keemo, and maybe even Farn. They were so close – just a few more days would see her safe.

  Karma. Fate. A fickle God. Whatever the reason, it flew in the face of goodness for Jessira Viola Grey to die this way.

  Just then, the sound of a large animal moving through the shrubs and trees came to him. It moved without any subtlety toward their camp.

  In an instant, Rukh was on his feet, sword ready and his back to the fire as he scanned the woods. He wasn’t too weak to fight. His Jivatma was woefully thin, but he had more than enough to speed his thoughts and muscles to take down any animal out there on this night. He welcomed such a challenge; not for the killing, but just to release some pent up aggression. He wanted to hit something, so whatever was out there was in for a beating.

  His blood ran cold when he saw what stalked into his firelight.

  A Shylow.

  The cat was a young female with a calico pattern and a black patch of fur surrounding her right eye. She slowly padded forward, ears erect.

  What was she waiting for? The Shylows on the Flats had charged straight in, claws out and out for blood. This one just paced toward him, and her eyes didn’t appear to hold malice or a promise of death. More than anything, they looked to be filled with curiosity.

  She stopped five feet from Rukh and carefully sat down, tail tucked neatly before her front paws.

  *You have an unusual voice. It is melancholy, and yet soothing at the same time.*

  Rukh glanced around, not sure where the words had come from.

  *I sit before you.*

  Rukh’s gaze sharpened on the cat. The Shylow? It couldn’t be.

  *And yet it is.*

  “Can you speak?” Rukh asked aloud.

  No response.

  *Why do your kind make so many loud noises? *

  “Who are you?”

  Again. No response.

  *My name is Aia.*

  Rukh frowned. Was the cat speaking to him through his mind?

  *Yes I am.*

  Rukh rocked back. Impossible. He had to be hallucinating, or maybe even having some sort of lucid dream.

  *If you can hear me, pat the ground three times,* Rukh said.

  The cat patted the ground three times.

  *Twice.*

  The Shylow did as Rukh asked.

  Rukh smiled hesitantly. It was her.

  *I already told you that.* the cat said.

  Rukh didn’t know what to think. There had never been any reports of a person speaking to a Shylow. As far as anyone knew, the great cats were simple beasts, deadly to everyone around them. It was best to avoid them, and trying to talk to one of them had certainly never been a recommended piece of advice. Yet here he was doing exactly that. It was surreal.

  *I’m going to put away my sword now. Do you promise not to kill or eat me?*

  *I came to talk. If I wanted to kill and eat you, you would already be dead. My father says Humans taste awful, by the way.*

  *I need a promise.*

  The Shylow seemed to sigh. *I promise not to kill or eat you. My name is Aia.* The cat repeated politely, seemingly waiting for
an expected response.

  It took Rukh a few seconds to understand what she wanted. *Hello, Aia. My name is Rukh Shektan.*

  *Hello, Rukh Shektan. Most of my kind believe Humans incapable of speech, yet you possess it. You are the first Human with whom any Kesarin has ever spoken.*

  *Kesarin?*

  *We are the Kesarins. You name us Shylows. *

  Rukh sat down. *I think I need a drink.*

  Aia padded further into the camp. *What is wrong with your mate?*

  *She isn’t my mate.*

  *She is female. You are male. You are alone. And yet you are not mates?*

  Right now wasn’t the best time to go over Human relationships. *It’s complicated.* Rukh said. She’s sick. I’m trying to get her to some help.*

  *I saw you defend her from the Nobeasts. *

  A vision of the battles with the Braids and Ur-Fels flashed through Rukh’s mind.

  *You saw?*

  *I witnessed.*

  *How long have you been following us?*

  Another vision, this time of the battle with the first two Shylow on the night when Brand and Keemo had died.

  *You’ve been watching for that long? Why?*

  *I was curious. Why did the Demon Wind strike down Her Nobeast Kezin?*

  *I’m thinking by Demon Wind, you mean Suwraith?*

  *Yes.*

  *We also call her the Mad Queen or Bringer of Sorrows.*

  *So many names?*

  *She’s earned every single one,* Rukh said. *But what is a Kezin?*

  Another flash of information.

  The Kesarins were organized into glarings of forty-to-fifty, each one led by a dominant male, the Kezin, or what the Ashokans called the Slayer. There were also many Kesarins who chose to live as solitaries, like Aia. Most eventually rejoined their birth pack, but some never did.

  *The Kezin lead the Nobeasts.*

  *We call them the Fan Lor Kum.* Rukh explained the organization of Suwraith’s armies and the role of the Baels.

  *And these Baels betrayed their Mother?*

  *Yes.*

  *Then it is good they were killed. For the Kesarins the greatest sin is to go against our Father and our Mother.* Aia blinked. *They were Human.*

  *What do you mean?*

  *My birth father is Kezin to the Hungrove. My birth mother is a Secudus, a lower ranking female. But Mother and Father, our Creators, were Human.*

  Was Aia talking about the First Mother and First Father?

  *I see you know of whom I speak,* she said.

  *The Demon Wind is not First Mother to the Baels. There is only one First Mother and First Father, and Suwraith is Their Daughter. The Baels say the Queen killed Her parents in order to become who She is now.*

  *The Demon Wind slayed the First Mother and First Father?* Outrage tinged Aia’s thoughts. *Our stories tell us how after their seasons of labor, the First Mother and First Father lay down to rest. They sleep deeply now, but one day, They shall rise up and complete the path of the Kesarins, as They promised. But you say They are dead? How can this be?*

  Rukh explained all he knew of Suwraith and the Night of Sorrows, and Her endless war with Humanity.

  *It is good I did not slay you when you were in reach of my claws* Aia said. *The Kesarins give wide berth to the Demon Wind, and we slay the Nobeasts when necessary.*

  *And why would you have killed me?*

  *Some believe the Humans have hidden the First Mother and the First Father away so they cannot complete the Kesarins. It is why some Kesarins hate your people.*

  *But the First Mother and First Father were Human. Why would we do such a thing?*

  *Some Kesarins are fools and believe what is most convenient.*

  *So are many people.*

  *I will have to tell my father of this matter.*

  Rukh nodded feeling a sense of unreality. This was beyond doubt the oddest conversation he could have ever imagined having: ‘talking’ to a Shylow – a Kesarin – while a ghrina, an OutCaste woman, lay next to him beside a campfire somewhere in the depths of the Wildness.

  *When the other two Kesarins attacked us, you didn’t finish us off. You could have.*

  Aia seemed to smile, or at least it was the impression Rukh sensed from her. *I am…unusual. Of all the Kesarins, only a few are born such as I: ones who can hear the voices of others. It is said: the Kesarin who can hear all, will understand nothing. We are thought to be dreamers and fools.*

  Rukh smiled. *It seems like Kesarins and Humanity have much in common.*

  *Perhaps.* Aia gently nosed Jessira. *But in this way we are quite different. When one of us becomes too ill to even stand, they are left to die. We do not care for them as you have cared for this one.* She blinked. *The wounds are sickened.*

  Before Rukh could stop her, the Kesarin bent low and licked at Jessira cuts, scraping off the scabbed crust of suppuration and opening up the wounds until the blood ran clean, without a hint of pus.

  Jessira moaned.

  *You’re killing her!*

  Aia looked at him. *I am not. This is how we clean our wounds. It works for some cuts and illnesses, but it won’t help her deeper sickness.* She cocked her head as if she were listening to a sound only she could hear. *In her mind, she wishes you had her knowledge. She believes you could Heal her if you did.*

  Rukh grimaced. *I can’t do what she can. Believe me, I’ve tried.*

  *Jivatma? So this is how your kind throws fire. We wondered. We do not have this Jivatma.* Aia looked at him. *She can Heal. You cannot. You only lack the knowledge?*

  *And the skill.*

  *I can give you her knowledge.*

  *How…*

  Rukh never had a chance to finish his question. A mind-splitting flash had Rukh on his knees. He clutched his head. The pain must have only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to go on for much longer. Minutes or hours. It finally eased off. Rukh closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning and the pounding of his heart to settle down.

  *What did you do?* he asked, not bothering to mask his anger. He didn’t care if the cat took offense. He was furious at what she had done.

  *I gave you her knowledge. You can Heal her now, if you wish. Good luck.*

  *Wait!* Rukh searched his thoughts, and found he did know how to Heal. What had Aia done?

  *I gave you her knowledge. I’m certain I’ve already explained this to you.* Aia wore a quizzical expression with her head tilted to the side.

  Rukh didn’t know what to say. He was stunned, but also heartened. He might actually be able to save Jessira. He walked over to stand before the Shylow. *Thank you. It hurt like the unholy hells, so please don’t do it again.*

  *You are welcome. And I won’t.* Aia paused. *My chin always itches.*

  Rukh frowned, not sure what she meant by her last statement. Surely she didn’t…maybe she did. Hesitantly, he reached forward and scratched under Aia’s chin, rubbing harder as her eyes slitted closed and she purred contentment.

  After a moment she stepped back and shook her head. *Utterly perfect. Had we known how well your fingers could groom us, we would have attempted to speak with your kind long before. A proper grooming…Father will find this most interesting. He needs to know of this as well.* She rubbed her forehead against Rukh’s chest, knocking him back a step. *Good luck to you, Rukh Shektan.*

  With that, Aia walked out of his campsite. Rukh stared after her as she left, and he briefly wondered how his people would view him now. He had spoken with a Shylow and had two Talents not of his own Caste. Perhaps one Talent might have been forgivable, but certainly not two. Most folk would see Rukh as a walking disgrace, only a few small steps short of a ghrina.

  He mentally shrugged. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself. He had work to do. He turned to Jessira. Time to Heal.

  First, he examined her wounds. He frowned in surprise. There was no pus seeping from them. The edges of the cuts actually did appear to be somewhat cleaner, no longer quite as heaped up with
inflammation. They still didn’t look good, but maybe Aia’s cleansing had helped a little.

  He searched his newfound Talent and tried to recall what Jessira had done when she had helped with his injured ribs.

  He knelt next to her and had to slip off her camisole – he still couldn’t understand why she wore such a feminine undergarment – to get to all the wounds. It was a liberty no Kumma would have ever taken with any woman in a normal situation, but this wasn’t a normal situation. Rukh grimaced at the severity of her injuries. This wouldn’t be easy. The cuts extended from just above her breast, over her shoulder, and down her back.

  He placed his hands over the wounds on her back and focused his Jivatma as Jessira had tried to teach him. He conducted it, measuring it out until it was a fine thread, more slender than a knitting needle and as precise as a Duriah’s measurement. This was so much harder than anything he had ever done. Always before, he had simply reached for Jivatma and accepted its fierce torrent. This required a fine touch, one of complete focus and discipline.

  Sweat beaded on his face moments into the Healing.

  The enormity of the work staggered him. The infection had spread beyond the surface wounds, extending into the blood and bone. Jessira’s wounds might have taxed a Shiyen, and here he was trying to Heal her on his first attempt at the art. He would have found the situation laughable if it wasn’t so serious.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to completely Heal Jessira. All he had to do was keep the infection under control until they reached Ashoka. A real physician could Heal her then, and maybe even save her arm.

  He worked slowly and carefully, focusing on the infection in the bones of her shoulder. There was a locus there, the source of the sickness spreading into her blood. He spent what seemed like hours trying to Heal it. Eventually, he was satisfied he’d done all he could. The bone was still infected, but at least the sickness was being held at bay, unlikely to spread so long as he continued Healing it until they reached Ashoka. Next came the wounds. They would also have to be dealt with. He couldn’t leave them open. Ever so gradually, Rukh worked at it, and the claw marks on her shoulder and back slowly knitted shut.