The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Regardless, Choke wasn’t sure where the truth lay, but Li-Shard had apparently not suffered as many qualms. The SarpanKum had insisted on elevating Choke from Levner—leader of a Fracture—to Vorsan—commander of a Shatter, fifteen thousand Chimeras. Choke was now a senior commander of the Eastern Plague, but he wasn’t sure he was worthy or ready for such a promotion. There were so many details and responsibilities he was now required to manage.

  For instance, as a Vorsan, he was expected to attend senior staff meetings, offer his thoughts on the organization of the Eastern Plague, and evaluate the Baels junior to him. And then there were times like this, when the senior staff had to assemble far from the rest of the Fan Lor Kum, in preparation for Mother’s arrival. It was a supposed honor Li-Choke would have gladly foregone. His brothers stood in postures of nervous tension, shuffling about restlessly as they spoke to one another, sometimes laughing too loudly. Choke seemed the only one unaffected by anxiety. He stood alone and unmoving. Mother wasn’t to be feared. She was to be scorned.

  “Has Chak-Soon found any other Tigons worthy of instruction?” Li-Shard asked as he approached.

  “Thus far, he’s found seven others,” Choke replied.

  “Impressive. I would never have suspected that so many of the cats would have the wit to understand Hume’s instructions,” said the SarpanKum.

  “Hopefully there will be more, but it isn’t easy for them. They are pure carnivores. Their minds are those of a hunter. A predator. It is hard for them to see the world through the eyes of their prey.”

  The SarpanKum idly stroked one of his horns. “You raise an interesting concept. Is empathy best found amongst those who are herbivores?”

  Choke tilted his head in thought. He had never considered the basis of empathy in such a light.

  The SarpanKi, standing nearby, laughed. “I find such an idea dubious, at best,” he said. “After all, how hard is it to understand the mind of a leaf, or a blade of grass?”

  Choke stiffened, disliking the older Bael’s derisive tone.

  The SarpanKum didn’t seem to mind, though, giving no hint he was offended by Li-Brind’s mockery. “Omnivores then?” Li-Shard asked.

  “More likely,” Brind said.

  “Humans are omnivores,” Choke reminded them.

  “And they also understand empathy. Like your friends Jessira Grey and Rukh Shektan,” the SarpanKum noted. Shard shook his head in amazement. “No matter how many times I’ve heard it, I still find myself in awe of Dirge’s accomplishments,” he said. “We lost a great Bael when the Queen murdered him and the others.”

  Choke studied Li-Shard askance. In their time together, he had found the SarpanKum to be a strong, kind, and patient leader. It seemed Shard also possessed the mind of a scholar. And while he wasn’t as wise as Li-Dirge, he was also much younger. With age, even that might change to Shard’s favor.

  Li-Choke nodded. “The SarpanKum used to speak of how the Lord often grants us opportunities to understand His will, but it is for us to decipher His intent. Only then, when our footsteps walk the path He intended for us will our hearts be at peace.” Choke was glad for the renewal of his faith. Even in the best of times, it wasn’t easy to believe in a just God, and following Dirge’s death, his faith had worried away like a riverbank before a spring flood. Li-Choke had gone so far as to become indifferent to the proposition of whether Devesh even existed. Into that time of destitution had come Chak-Soon and the holy act of a Human Healing a Tigon. Apparently, Choke’s faith had never truly been extinguished, and he found he was the happier for it.

  Li-Brind, still cynical, obviously believed otherwise. “I am not as religious as Dirge must have been, nor am I certain Devesh is worthy of our worship. Why has he never done anything about Mother? As far as I am concerned, He should make His intent more obvious.”

  “Or maybe it is more obvious and we walk around with blinders. We do have His words from The Book of All Souls,” the SarpanKum said.

  “Li-Dirge believed as you, and so too did Jessira,” Li-Choke said.

  Li-Brind laughed. “Whether Devesh is real or a fable, why does it matter? We will soon come face-to-storm when Mother arrives. My faith in our Lord would be firmed if He did something about Her.”

  “Eight Tigons who adhere to tenets of fraternity aren’t enough?” Li-Shard asked. He turned to Choke, letting the SarpanKi mull over the question. “And what has become of these eight new brothers?”

  Choke smiled. “They’ve formed a claw. Chak-Soon believes all of them will eventually come to believe as he does.” He bowed slightly. “By your leave, I’ve already moved them into my own Shatter.” By tradition, disbursement of various units and warriors of the Fan Lor Kum was generally initiated by one of the Sarpans or even the SarpanKi. While Choke had wide discretion as a Vorsan, by pulling Chak-Soon’s newly formed claw into the ranks of his own Shatter, he had bypassed the usual channels of command. He wasn’t sure how Li-Shard would take his action. Or even Li-Brand, who was known to be a stickler for rules and protocol

  “And from this seed, Chak-Soon hopes to lead others to the truth?” the SarpanKum asked, apparently disregarding Choke’s breach of etiquette.

  Choke nodded, letting out a soft exhalation of relief; but not daring to look toward Li-Brind, who was probably scowling in anger. “It is what I hope. There are a number of other Tigons in the Eastern Plague who might also come to believe as we do—given time and patient instruction.”

  Li-Brind snorted in derision. “Patience is not a virtue for which our Tigon brethren have ever been well known.”

  “Perhaps. But maybe it is one they can be taught,” the SarpanKum answered. “We have never tried to instruct their young, always believing they couldn’t learn our lessons.”

  “It goes against their nature,” Brind countered. “They are what they are. Chak-Soon and his cadre of fellow Tigons are an anomaly.”

  The obdurate edifice of Brind’s skepticism had been momentarily cracked when he had heard Li-Choke’s account of the events in Hammer, but over time, that firm foundation of cynicism had slowly been rebuilt, brick-by-disbelieving brick.

  “You may very well be right,” Li-Shard said. “But would you want to be right in this matter?”

  His question had the SarpanKi discomfited.

  Choke found himself impressed by Li-Shard. He hadn’t refuted Brind’s premise, but he had done something nearly as useful: with a single query, he had challenged the SarpanKi’s cynical nature. He had gently urged the older Bael to give up his scornful doubt and embrace hope. Li-Dirge could not have done better.

  “Do you know why the Queen has called for us?” Li-Brind asked, turning to Choke as he sought to change the subject. “She demanded your presence in particular.”

  Choke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll find it abhorrent.”

  “She comes,” a young Bael said, pointing to the heavens where a wildly swirling cloud the color of an old bruise raced toward them.

  “Bend knee and speak the Prayer of Gratitude,” Li-Shard commanded. As one, the Baels fell to their knees, foreheads pressed to the wet ground.

  Within moments, Mother was there, hovering above them and bearing a soft, spring shower. Thunder rumbled, but it was sporadic and distant, not nearly as frequent or loud as in times past. Choke would have preferred a raging torrent to this gentle rain. Ever since Mother had learned how to pour Her madness down the throats of the Fan Lor Kum, She was so much calmer, and as a result, so much more dangerous. The Plagues of Continent Ember didn’t carry the stain of Mother’s insanity, so most likely it was being borne by the Chimeras of Continent Catalyst. Regardless, on the few prior occasions when the Queen had housed Her madness within Her children on Continent Ember, She had always excluded the Baels. They had often wondered as to why and prayed their brothers on Catalyst had been similarly spared.

  But though they did not have to carry even the smallest part of Mother’s insanity, th
ey could still sense Her emotions. And right now, Mother was excited, joyful. “My beloved children,” She began, “I have need of your assistance.”

  Choke startled. Never before had She addressed them in such a way, nor had She ever sounded so gentle and caring. Always before, Mother had spoken to the Baels as their distant and cruel Mistress, ordering them about with no regard as to whether they could carry out Her commands. He cast a quick glance upward before returning to a still posture of attentive obedience, head bent low.

  “Rise, and hearken unto My words,” Mother continued.

  With shuffling feet and the groan and creak of leather harnesses, the Baels rose to their feet. Some of the younger brothers shared looks of confusion and concern. It was an uncertainty Li-Choke shared. A young Bael glanced at him, a look of fear on his face. A slight head shake was all Choke could offer, warning the young brother to stillness.

  “Miles north there stands a cesspool, a fever-swamp of corruption and evil,” Mother said. “We will go to this diseased place and with wind, storm, fire, and blades, we will lance this pus-ridden boil and forever wash away its stench from the sweet soil of our world. Thus, will Li-Choke lead forth a full Shatter of the Fan Lor Kum into the heart of the Privation Mountains. Come forth child, and receive My blessings and My command.”

  Li-Choke’s earlier bravery was abruptly vanished. It was one thing to be present during one of Mother’s visits, but it was another to have Her specifically call him forth, to have Her speak directly to him. When the senior commanders of the Fan Lor Kum were gathered together in preparation for one of the Queen’s visitations, it had always been the case that She spoke only with the SarpanKum.

  But the world was changed. Mother was changed—but She remained a dread, fearsome Goddess.

  Li-Choke had to swallow down a bitter bolus of bile. His knees trembled, and he locked them in place, stiffening his spine and his resolve. He had to be strong so Mother’s wrath wouldn’t fall upon his brothers. He made his way forward; moving with what he hoped was a deliberate, confident pace until he stood beside Li-Shard. “What is Your will, my Queen?” he asked in a strong voice.

  Thunder rumbled as Mother seemed to laugh. “Though you were once commanded by the traitor, Li-Dirge, your actions in Hammer and afterward have redeemed you in My eyes,” She said. Her words held a tinge of mockery. “I trust you have fully grasped My lesson from those many months ago on the Hunters Flats?”

  The Queen referred to the murder of his brothers, and Her threat to do the same to the rest of the Baels. Her reminder gave him an opportunity to focus on something other than fear. He gripped tight his anger. In fact, had it been only his life in the balance, he might have spit in the Queen’s face and told Her to shove Her commands to the unholy hells. After all, what could She really do to him? Kill him? So what. He was but one soul and he could only die once. But there were all the other Baels to think about. She would murder them if Choke defied Her. He had to do as the Queen commanded, but he would still do his best to thwart Her will. “What am I to do?” Choke asked, grinding out the words past his fury.

  “Take a Shatter of My children and follow Me north,” Mother commanded. “I will mark your way. You will know when we have arrived. An area south of the Gaunt River is our destination.”

  Li-Choke nodded, though he was confused. What did Mother intend in some empty part of the world, deep in the Privations? “And when we arrive, what are we to do?”

  “Kill any Humans I flush from their venomous lair.”

  Horror worked its way down Li-Choke’s spine. Jessira’s home. By the barest of margins, he kept his legs from shaking. “What lair?” he asked.

  Mother laughed once more, and lightning streaked the sky. “You will see. Be ready within a fortnight.” Her words spoken, the Queen took to the sky and raced off, leaving the Baels to stand about, muttering in confusion.

  As soon as She was lost from sight, Li-Shard turned to Choke. “Do you know what She intends?” the SarpanKum demanded.

  “I fear She has discovered Jessira Grey’s home,” Li-Choke replied. “Jessira was always careful never to speak of her city’s location, but it seemed most likely to lie hidden somewhere in the Privations.”

  “The city has no Oasis?” Li-Brind asked.

  Choke nodded. “Most likely,” he replied. “From what I could ascertain, it is a relatively young city.”

  “Mother will kill them all,” Brind said, sounding appalled despite his hard-bitten cynicism.

  “No,” Li-Shard said. “She will kill most of them, and we can do nothing to prevent it. But we will do our best to save as many as possible.”

  “How?” Brind demanded.

  “If Jessira had simply trusted me with the location, we could have sent brothers north to warn them,” Choke said, furious with the situation.

  “Calm yourselves,” the SarpanKum said. “The hour is dark, but all is not lost. Take Chak-Soon and his claw. Here is what you must do.”

  Late into the day, they discussed their plans.

  Mother Lienna waited exactly one fortnight before leading Her children north. She marked out their path, moving slowly so the Fan Lor Kum could more easily follow Her.

  While journeying through the mountains, She occasionally came across UnCasted Humans. It had been an unpleasant surprise witnessing so many of them, scurrying about like lice. Once, She would not have seen them. Their means of hiding from Her, their Blends were good, but they no longer sufficed to veil them from Her sight. For millennia Lienna had forgotten the Talents She had once possessed as a Human. She had forgotten Her singular gift: the ability to feel Jivatma, like the soft caress of a feather against Her cheek. Her Talent had been one of the reasons Lienna had once been considered the finest Healer in the world. But now Her gift would serve a different calling. If She searched patiently and carefully, She could find any Human anywhere, whether they were Blended or not. And She would kill them all.

  So She made Her way through the Privation Mountains, finding caves now and then with UnCasted Humans hiding inside. Their lives were snuffed out and their lairs crushed, buried beneath heaps of rubble. Lienna smiled to Herself with each death. There would be no chance for the vermin to raise an alarm and allow their fellow parasites to flee their hidden city prior to Her arrival.

  She travelled on, and eventually came upon a strange rock formation. She chuckled at the sight of it, remembering what it was like to be Human. So phallic. And it so thoughtfully pointed Her children in the direction She intended: toward a large mountain lake shaped like a tear drop. South of the water were fields of grain.

  When we die, will the world notice? It is a hard question to ponder. I fear we are habitual liars, creatures of self-deceit. I fear we are each of us a fractured leaf fluttering alone in a cold and empty wind.

  ~ A Wandering Notion by Shone Brick, AF 1784

  Rukh toyed with the unfamiliar wine-red bracelet—a kalava—circling his left wrist. It was a simple band of ironwood, plain and unadorned, but it had a glow, a shiny sheen to it that brightly reflected the early morning sunlight. Rukh had only received the kalava a week ago. Jessira had given it to him on their wedding night, and he hadn’t yet grown used to the feel of it, but already he enjoyed its heft and what it represented. According to the customs of Stronghold, the kalava signified the bonds by which a husband was tied to his wife. For her part, Jessira had received a thaali—a black-beaded necklace worn close to her heart and meant to symbolize the love she would feel only for her husband. And both pieces of jewelry had been fashioned from the same plank of ironwood.

  Rukh twirled the bracelet, watching as it spun on his wrist and glinted in the early morning sunlight as he walked a wide dirt-packed trail that circled to the east of Stronghold. Following behind were Cedar, Jessira, and Court Deep—the Silversuns—and a few members of Sign’s unit, the Shadowcats. Rukh planned on taking them to a field of boulders, a level area where he had done much of his training. It was a wide-open space, perfect for
the Ashokan techniques Rukh planned on teaching the Stronghold warriors and far better than the constricting rings of East Lock.

  The instruction also gave him an excuse to get out of the city. Too many of Stronghold’s warriors viewed him with an unsettling attitude of deference and hero-worship.

  The path widened out onto a field littered with boulders and sharp, protruding stones. The area was several hundred feet higher up in elevation than Stronghold itself and had a broad view of the valley encompassing Teardrop Lake and the Croft. It felt private and secluded, yet still a part of the wide world beyond. Farn had been the one to show it to Rukh. The air was cool, but spring had found its grip. The slopes of Mount Frame were covered with green shoots straining to reach the sunshine while fields of pale, yellow wildflowers joyously waved upon their slender stems. There was a feeling in the air, a bubbly sensation demanding a festive celebration.

  Spring fever.

  Rukh wanted to dance.

  “You’re not already getting tired of wearing my kalava, are you?” Jessira teased, surprising him from behind.

  Rukh laughed and by way of answer, he took her in his arms and twirled her about. He didn’t care if the Silversuns and Shadowcats—who had straggled up to their position—groaned in disgust upon seeing his display of affection.

  “They should go back to the wedding cabin,” one of the scouts muttered in mock-revulsion.

  Rukh smiled, not embarrassed in the slightest. Spring fever was too wonderful to keep trapped inside.

  Jessira punched him in the shoulder. “We should get to work,” she said, a warm smile lighting her face.

  For the rest of the morning, the Silversuns and the Shadowcats faced off against one another. They sparred while Rukh walked amongst them, correcting forms and postures when necessary. Because of the times he’d trained against Jessira, he already knew what problems to look for. The manner by which Stronghold’s warriors were taught was quite different than the instruction Rukh had received in the House of Fire and Mirrors. Here, form and appearance often took precedence over practicality. The Silversuns and Shadowcats flowed through pretty patterns, but their choreographed techniques often left them off balance and poorly prepared to defend against a warrior who might choose to take a different angle than their forms allowed.