The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Mother laughed, like a soft, spring rain, but shortly it turned into a thunderclap of cacophonous din, pealing on and on and on. “If only My Baels could have served me so loyally, I would have already leveled Hume’s cursed home.” Her voice lifted, rising to the raging whirlwind of noise it had been the first time Chak-Soon had been in Her presence. “But with Li-Choke to lead, and with you to follow, Hume will die, and after him, Hammer. And then will I slay the hidden city of the mountains, the place of the cursed ghrinas, the sister city to Ashoka.” She laughed again, a cackle of hideous sound, and in it there was unreasoning madness.

  Chak-Soon cowered in fear, falling to his knees, his head pressed to the ground. What had just happened? Mother had seemed so reasonable and loving only moments before. Now She sounded utterly mad, raving on about dead cities and mythical people.

  An idea rose from the recesses of his mind, one he immediately tried to stifle. Despite his best efforts, though, the notion made its way to the forefront of his thoughts. Was Mother insane, and was this why the Baels had turned traitor? Chak-Soon clutched his head, trying to throttle the treasonous notions. It was sacrilege!

  Over and over again, Chak-Soon took to intoning the Prayer of Gratitude, trying to rid himself of his blasphemy.

  Lienna sped westward across the darkening skies. Her mission took Her to the setting sun, toward the Western Plague’s winter encampment along the northern shores of Lake Nest. As She outraced the wind, the Queen reveled in the silence of Her mind. Gone were Mother and Father. Their hectoring voices were stilled. Even more wonderful was the absence of Mistress Arisa. Her harping ugliness was nowhere to be heard.

  Lienna laughed. Once, simply thinking about Mistress would have brought about Her fearsome presence, but not any more, not since Lienna had learned how to tame Her madness. The Queen knew that if She were to empty Her rage and anguish down into a single Plague, Her Chimeras would take to killing one another, ripping and rending like rabid animals. But if Lienna was careful and doled out Her madness amongst two Plagues, Her Chimeras simply went catatonic. They lay down as if asleep, unable to harm one another. Of course, they also couldn’t defend themselves. Predators and scavengers had been known to attack the helpless Chimeras. Some of Her children had even stopped breathing if they were left holding Lienna’s madness for too long a period of time. So Lienna had to be mindful of Her children, never keeping them asleep for too long a period of time. Luckily, on Continent Catalyst, there were three Plagues. She could rotate Her insanity amongst them and not cause Her Chimeras any lasting harm.

  It wasn’t a perfect arrangement, not by any means. Right now, there were still times when Lienna slipped into old habits; old ways of thinking; when Mother, Father, or worse, Mistress Arisa, came to Her, whipping Her with whispers of hatred and ill will; times when Lienna became confused and the past and the present merged; when truths and lies became indistinguishable. But Lienna knew if She could spread Her terrible rage amongst even more of Her children, She could forever banish Mother, Father, and Mistress Arisa from Her mind. It was for this exact reason that the Queen was making Her way west.

  The Eastern Plague of Continent Ember was falling apart. The Tigons simply couldn’t lead. Their version of discipline was the simple solution of death for any who supposedly disobeyed their incomprehensible orders. They were mindless killers, good for nothing more than to lead a charge into battle.

  Much as Lienna hated to admit it, She needed the Baels. After discovering their betrayal in the east, there had been a moment when the Queen had almost killed all Her bull-like commanders. Luckily, fate had stayed Her hand. Mother had allowed the rest of the Baels to live. Had She not, then all Her children would be suffering in much the same way as the Eastern Plague.

  Lienna was thankful for Her good fortune.

  She had the opportunity to move a number of Baels from the west to the east. It would spread Her commanders thin, and they wouldn’t be able to lead either Plague very well, but the Baels should at least be able to maintain order. It was all She needed for now. In another ten years, She could easily breed up the Baels so their numbers were large enough for them to once again effectively command both Plagues on Continent Ember.

  And then Lienna could spread Her madness amongst three or more Plagues at a time. With Her sanity intact, She could make lucid plans and decisions, ones where falsehoods couldn’t lead her astray. She could finally kill Humanity for all time.

  It was the driving dream of Her entire existence, the impetus that had once led a daughter to callously and without regret murder Her Amma and Nanna.

  Lienna smiled at the thought of a world freed of Humanity’s evil, their noisome nature, their wicked activities, and their grotesque sights and horrific stenches. She imagined a world made pure and clean.

  Li-Shard, the SarpanKum of the Western Plague, grew rigid with fear as he felt Mother approach. She would arrive in minutes. He and the three senior-most commanders of the Western Plague stood alone upon a lonely hill, facing out into Hammer Bay. Miles to the east, on the Creosote Plains, the broad flatlands south of the Bone Place, encamped the rest of the Western Plague, including all the other Baels. But Mother had called for only the four currently present. There had to be a reason for it. It was likely one Shard wouldn’t like.

  “Control your alarm,” Li-Brind, the SarpanKi, advised.

  Li-Shard nodded to the older Bael. Brind had survived many seasons and even more battles in his illustrious life. He was wise with age and not easily rattled. Shard trusted him implicitly. Brind had served as SarpanKi for ten years now, including to Shard’s direct predecessor, the older Bael’s crèche brother. Typically, the title of SarpanKi was bestowed upon the most trusted brother of the SarpanKum, but all from Shard’s crèche had died long ago. As a result, Brind had been the logical choice to continue on in the position he had already held for so long.

  Shard was grateful for the older Bael’s presence. Given his own youth—he was younger than many of the Vorsans and even a few of the Levners—having someone as experienced as Brind had been an invaluable aid. The SarpanKi was a pillar of knowledge and insight, helping to keep the young SarpanKum from making too many mistakes. In fact, Brind would have made a fine SarpanKum in his own right. Shard often thought the older Bael should have been the one elevated to leadership of the Western Plague, but instead, their brother Baels had chosen Li-Shard. It hadn’t been because of his great intellect and certainly not for his experience. It had been because of his devotion to the teachings of Hume, a piety unmatched by any except perhaps Li-Dirge, the former SarpanKum of the Eastern Plague.

  “Did She give any indication of what She desires?” Li-Chig, one of the Sarpans asked.

  Li-Sturg, Chig’s crèche brother and fellow Sarpan, stroked the feathers of his rank. It was a nervous habit. “After what Mother did to Li-Dirge and our brothers in the east, frankly I am stunned She has not come for us earlier. I was certain She would.”

  Li-Shard shook his head in negation. “She made no comment other than to command our presence.” He glanced at Sturg. “But I, too, was shocked that Mother hasn’t ended our existence.”

  “She should have if we are to believe Li-Choke’s messenger, the young Bael he sent to us,” said Li-Chig. “And why has She called for just the four of us?”

  “Calm yourselves,” Li-Brind advised again. “We will know shortly.”

  Shard knew the SarpanKi was correct. There was nothing to be done about it but await Mother’s will. He dropped to his knees and indicated for the others to follow his lead. They chanted the Prayer of Gratitude, and Li-Shard focused on the words, settling his mind and burying his nervousness.

  The Queen hated when any of the Chimeras demonstrated the slightest hint of fear toward Her.

  Shortly, She arrived; and as always, Mother was a maelstrom of lightning and chaotically racing thunderclouds. Shard sensed a difference, though. There was a focus, a rational pattern to Her swiftly changing form. But it was when She spo
ke that Shard truly recognized the change. It terrified him. Mother was lucid.

  “Child, you have served Me well, though you are young to your post,” Mother said. “And by now, I am sure you have become aware of the events to the east, and Our betrayal at the hands of the Baels there.”

  Was She asking a question? Shard wasn’t sure, but it sounded like one. “Yes, Mother,” he said. “Li-Dirge was trusted by all. It is shocking and shameful that he would lead so many to treason.”

  “The matter is dealt with,” Mother replied. “And I am sure you wonder whether I now believe that all My Baels are as poisonous as the traitor, Li-Dirge.”

  “We are faithful to Your will,” Shard said in his most fervent tone, praying the Queen couldn’t sense his lie.

  “I have never doubted it,” Mother replied. “It is why I want you to assume command of the Eastern Plague.”

  “Take command of the east?”

  “Yes. The Eastern Plague is falling apart. The Tigons are unable to instill the proper discipline.”

  Shard did his best to hide his shock. Mother had deigned to explain Her reasonings. It was something She had never done before. Typically, She simply gave Her orders and left it to the Baels to carry them out. Even more worrisome was how the Queen spoke. She sounded entirely reasonable and rational.

  Li-Shard would have to tread carefully. “How shall I do Your bidding, Mother?” he asked.

  Mother chuckled. “It is for you to decide,” She said. “Take as many Baels as you think might be needed. Only set the Eastern Plague back to rights.”

  “It will be difficult to bring the Eastern Plague back to full readiness,” Shard said. “With all the casualties and possibly even desertions they’ve had and the loss of the breeding caverns, how will I rebuild their numbers?”

  “Leave the caverns to Me,” the Queen said. “Only bring back discipline and order to the east. Stop the bleeding. That is your only task.”

  “By Your command,” Li-Shard intoned. Once again, he led the other three Baels in the Prayer of Gratitude as Mother swiftly departed.

  Once She was gone, Li-Shard shuddered with suppressed fear before turning to Li-Brind. “In all your time as SarpanKi, have you ever heard Her sound like that?”

  Brind shook his head. “Never. It seems the rumors of a sane Mother are true,” he said. “Devesh help us all.” The older Bael looked troubled, almost frightened, a fact worrisome enough to cause the fine hairs on Shard’s neck to stand on end.

  “That might be about the most horrific news I’ve ever had,” Li-Chig muttered.

  “Yes, it is,” Li-Shard replied. “But it also seems likely that you or Sturg will be the next SarpanKum of the Western Plague.”

  “I only wish it didn’t come about through such terrifying means,” Li-Chig said.

  Take life’s blows and refuse to quit. It is the mark of true warrior and a true man.

  ~Kumma aphorism, attribution unknown

  Jessira took a final swig of water before re-stoppering her canteen. She and Rukh had stopped for an early lunch when they had come across a fallow wildflower field next to a clear running stream. The water was likely winding its way to River Mastery and from there, on to Hammer Bay. It sparkled under the sun.

  The field and stream had been a good place to stop since the walleye had been biting and a patch of wild spinach grew nearby. While she and Rukh were still well provisioned, it was always a good idea to save their supplies whenever possible. Jessira was pleasantly full and didn’t even mind that the fish had been over-salted—Rukh’s fault. On the trail, fresh food of any kind was a blessing.

  Just then, a blustery wind blew, pregnant with the taste of snow or a cold rain. The day had started out bright and sunny, but to the northwest, scudding, gray clouds warned of coming weather. It was likely to arrive in the next few hours, possibly sooner. The Creosote Plain was infamous for its temperamental weather. Yesterday evening and so far today, it had been spring-like—warm and sunny—but a few hours from now, snow would threaten.

  “What do you think?” Rukh asked, stepping to her side.

  Jessira studied the clouds for a moment. “I think we better find shelter,” she said.

  Rukh pointed south. “If we follow the stream toward those hills, we might come across a cave.”

  Jessira nodded. “We better hurry.”

  Rukh quickly loaded their belongings on the packhorse while Jessira took point. She led them along the stream bank, taking them into the southern hills Rukh had pointed out. The wind picked up, bitter and biting, forcing them to don heavy shirts and coats before pushing on. An hour later, they entered a water-carved canyon with sheer walls layered in shale, granite, and limestone. All the while, Jessira scanned ahead, searching for the sanctuary of a cave. Thick snowflakes began falling, swirling about and blown sideways by the wind, which was now a howling gale as it roared through the funnel of the canyon. The snow thickened and visibility dimmed to no more than a few yards ahead.

  “There,” Rukh yelled.

  Jessira looked to where he pointed, but she couldn’t see what it was. Rukh took her hand, and she let him pull her along, trusting he knew where they were going.

  They reached a limestone overhang beneath which was a dry, gravel-lined floor. A rock shelter. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

  “We need wood for the fire,” Rukh said.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Jessira replied. “Set up the tents. We’ll want a place to huddle up if this turns out to be a blizzard.”

  Rukh grimaced. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  They set about their tasks. Jessira left the shelter, looking up and down the length of the stream. For once, luck was with her. Nearby was a large pile of old driftwood. It should be more than enough to see them through the storm. She hauled her find back to the rock shelter, taking several trips to do so. By the time she finished her task, Rukh had put up the tent and built a bright, cheery fire. He’d even seen to the packhorse, hobbling the gelding where the animal would be protected from the worst of the wind and weather but near enough to still feel the warmth of the fire. Their belongings stood stacked next to the tent

  “Is there anything else?” Rukh asked, looking up as he finished brushing down the horse.

  Jessira dropped her load of logs. “No. This is the last of it.” She moved to the bright warmth of the fire, putting out her hands to work some heat back into them.

  Rukh sighed. “Good thing we stopped early for lunch. We might have been caught out in the open if we hadn’t.”

  Jessira smiled. “You mean we should be thankful you were hungry so early in the day.”

  Rukh grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  “How much further to Hammer?” Jessira asked.

  “A few more days,” Rukh answered as he stirred their meager fire. In the Wildness, they couldn’t afford anything larger. Blending hid much but not everything.

  They camped near a marsh. Every day, more signs of spring’s imminent arrival could be read. The world was slowly coming back to life. Unfortunately, the warmer weather also meant the bog stank. Rukh imagined he could see a fog of sulfurous fumes rising like a foul mist from the surrounding core grass. Also, the ground underneath was thick and wet, sucking at their feet and slowing their travel. He’d almost lost a boot in it the other day. Luckily, another day should see them clear of the marsh.

  “I know it’s only been seven weeks, but it feels like seven months since we left Stronghold,” Jessira said.

  Rukh stared into the flames. He was thankful for Jessira’s presence, but guilty that she was with him in the first place. He lifted his head and met her eyes. “I’m sorry I brought you out here.”

  “I thought we already went over this,” Jessira said, a resolute tone in her voice. She stared at him, forcing him to meet the challenge in her eyes. “It was my choice, remember? You didn’t tie me down and force me. I came here of my own accord.” Silence fell between them until Jessira spoke once aga
in. “What happens after Hammer?” she asked.

  Rukh shrugged. “I’m not sure. I never thought about it.”

  “Will you come back to Stronghold?” she asked.

  Traveling the Wildness for the rest of his life was what he had originally intended when he had first made the decision to leave Stronghold. But that was before Jessira had chosen to accompany him. He couldn’t keep her away from her family and home. “I’ll go back,” he said, staring into the fire. He glanced up and caught her smile of gratitude. His stomach did a little flip when she reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “Thank you,” Jessira said.

  Rukh stared into the fire once more. “How do you think your people will react?” he asked.

  She misunderstood his question. “I think you won’t have nearly as difficult a time as you did before the Trials. You’ll be fine.”

  “I mean you,” Rukh corrected. “How will they react to you? You left with me. You broke your engagement to Disbar. How will they treat you?”

  “It probably won’t be easy,” she said with a grimace. “Disbar is an ass, and I’m sure he’s doing his best to ruin my reputation.”

  Rukh smiled. “At least he’s an ass who will never be your husband.”

  Jessira chuckled. “There is that,” she said. Silence fell again until Jessira shivered. “My feet are freezing,” she complained.

  Rukh glanced her way. “Put them closer to the fire,” he suggested. “And why aren’t you wearing your boots?”

  “Muscle cramps,” Jessira answered. “And they’re sore.” She gave him a hopeful look. “Can you rub them?”

  Rukh shuffled away from her. “No.”

  She looked affronted. “Why not?”

  Rukh sighed. “Because your feet probably smell awful.”

  “I just washed them,” Jessira protested, pointing to a nearby pond, one that was clear and not covered with pond scum.