by Davis Ashura
With a heavy exhalation, Jaresh seemed to take a hold of his terror. When he next met Farn’s gaze, the fear was gone—or at least suppressed—from his eyes. Jaresh nodded. “There’s likely to be Chimeras in the hills,” he said. “We’ll have to be doubly careful.”
Farn grunted even as he silently admired Jaresh’s courage. He loved his cousin like a brother, but this journey had taught him to respect him as a man. Jaresh would have made a fine Kumma. “Keep your eyes and ears sharp. And no wandering off,” he said to the fifty-two warriors under his command. “We need our Blends tight and over-lapping.”
If anything, the warriors grew more grim and determined. They loosened scabbarded swords and strung bows, readying for the battle all of them knew was coming. Farn wouldn’t have expected anything less. They were Ashokans. They knew their duty.
“Devesh see us through,” Jaresh said.
“Right now, no one else can,” Farn said.
“What are your orders?” Lieutenant Danslo asked, his face properly stoic.
“We go and learn what’s happened to Rukh. And Stronghold. And put the purifying fire to any who need it,” Farn answered.
Lienna exulted. The city was broken. Its people were dead and dying. Her work here was all but complete. There were a few Humans left, huddled and terrified in narrow tunnels deep within the heart of the mountain. They would likely die of dehydration, but Lienna saw no need to take any chances. The Human infestation needed uprooting, with no chance for the vermin to re-establish their hold here. Lienna sent out tendrils of Her sandstorm and killed those few people who must have believed themselves safe from Her wrath.
It was done, and She blasted an exit through the side of the mountain. She rained an avalanche of rocks and boulders down below, but She didn’t notice. Outside, some of the pests had emerged like locusts, fleeing the destruction of their city. The vermin ranged all over the slopes of the surrounding hills and valleys, but soon, they too would be dead. Her Chims would see to it. They would find and kill the Humans wherever they sought to hide.
“Weakling,” a sinister voice whispered to Her in a voice like flaying knives. Mistress Arisa.
Lienna shuddered. She did Her best to ignore the voice. It was a phantasm, a relic of a time of madness. Nevertheless, a lingering fear, a stone of doubt accreted within Her mind. Two other times during the attack today, Mother and Father or Arisa, had spoken to Her. Both times, Lienna had been mocked, treated as though She were dung underfoot.
“It is Your truest nature,” the cruel voice whispered. “Dung eater.”
“Can You not hear the cries of the dying? You were once a beloved Healer,” Mother said.
“Your legacy is one of blood, pain, and evil,” Father added.
“SILENCE!” Lienna shouted. The cries of the dying did bother Her, but worse was Mistress Arisa’s derisive laughter, Mother’s repetitive questioning, and Father’s nattering advice. It was exhausting, and Lienna wanted nothing more than to have all the voices gone from Her mind. They weren’t real, and yet here they were, whispering poison into Her mind. This after She had thought She’d found a way to cure Her madness.
“The madness is Your conscience,” Father said.
Lienna cried out, spiraling away from the city She had so recently destroyed. She out-stripped the clouds and the wind, seeking to escape the demons in Her mind, knowing all the while that She couldn’t. She couldn’t even pour more madness into the Fan Lor Kum of Continent Catalyst. If She did, Her children would tear into one another with lethal rage.
No. As She had so many other times, Lienna would have to suffer this pain alone. It was the curse of Her loving spirit.
Chak-Soon growled in annoyance. Fine, powdered soil, like ash, matted his fur and irritated his sensitive nose. His ears lay flat against his head as he tried to keep the dust out. The tremendous cloud of dirt and debris blasted skyward from an hour ago still hung in the air, but it was starting to descend like a hazy brown rain. He couldn’t see very well, smell very well, or hear very well. And he didn’t like it.
He and his claw stood on the summit of a flat-topped hill. His fellow Tigons ranged in size and coloration from an old, lean, cheetah-spotted cat to a younger, thickly muscled, tabby-striped brute. While Chak-Soon was the ordinate, he didn’t consider these Chimeras to be his minions. And unlike other claws, he knew he need not fear being overthrown by those in his command. These Tigons considered themselves brothers.
Chak-Soon set aside his wandering thoughts. He and the claw had climbed this hill to gain their bearings.
The River Gaunt was their destination, and this peak—bald except for a sparse crown of skeletal pine trees—offered a view for miles around, including a south-facing scree slope that was angled toward the wide valley and fields Mother had recently smashed. Even now, despite the sound-deadening dust, he could hear Her at work. She was deep within the bulk of the nearby mountain, likely slaughtering any She came across. Chak-Soon and his Tigons would have to work quickly if they were to help carry out Li-Choke’s plan and save as many of the Humans as they could. On the side opposite the scree slope, the Bovars and their precious cargo waited at the bottom of the hill, the means by which to carry out Choke’s plan.
“Braids,” the young tabby, Chak-Lind grunted.
“Three traps,” Chak-Rudd, the old cheetah, stated. He gestured to the south.
Chak-Soon looked to where the other Tigons pointed and saw the snake-like Chimeras, fifteen or twenty of them. They were several hundred yards away, slithering along the base of a nearby ridge. They appeared excited, gesturing about with eager energy. Of course, their enthusiasm was to be expected. A battle awaited, and with Mother’s presence, victory was all but assured. The Braids, paused every so often, noses to the air and tongues flicking in and out. Chak-Soon wondered how they could taste or smell anything with all the dust billowing about. His brows furrowed, and a moment later, he realized the reason for their excitement: a Human girl flickered into view halfway in between the Braids and the watching Tigons. The child was unskilled. Her Blend was poorly formed even after she re-established it. The Braids would be upon her in minutes.
Chak-Soon sat back on his heels and considered what to do. Thus far his treason had been confined to his thoughts alone. While he could be accused of spreading dissension, such as the knowledge of fraternity, even then he could simply lie; deny any knowledge of it. So long as Chak-Soon’s actions reflected the life he was bred to live, no one need find out what was in his heart. If he saved that girl, though, his future would be set and his past lost. He would be branded a traitor. But only if Mother ever learned of his betrayal.
She wouldn’t.
Chak-Soon searched the nearby valley and surrounding hills. Good. No one else was around. It might work, but only if his Tigons were swift and bold. “We save girl.”
Chak-Kilt, a young leopard-spotted Tigon growled. “Humans. Why?” he asked, appearing fearful.
“Brothers,” Chak-Rudd answered.
Chak-Dred, a snow leopard, nodded. “It why we here.”
“Not want,” Chak-Kilt said, eyes still filled with fear.
Chak-Soon felt pity for the young Tigon. They all recognized the finality of the step they were about to take. He rested his hand on Chak-Kilt’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We be with you, brother,” he said.
In the past, Chak-Soon would have merely demanded obedience to his will, and woe unto any Tigon who failed him. Now he attempted inspiration. It was a form of leadership he would have once labeled as weak. He now understood how wrong he had been. Compassion and empathy weren’t a sign of weakness. The truth was, it was far easier to have a hard, unforgiving heart than a soft one. Fraternity opened a being’s soul to a much harsher pain. For instance, should one of the Tigons in his claw perish, Chak-Soon knew he would feel a hurt such as he had never felt before when those under his command had died. But then again, fraternity also led to a far deeper joy, such as the bond he shared with these
Tigons. He knew they felt the same way about him. Prior to his trip to Hammer, it was a closeness Chak-Soon would have never expected to share with anyone.
Chak-Kilt nodded. “We save.”
Chak-Soon gave the leopard a final squeeze on the shoulder before facing down the slope to where the Braids had closed the distance with the Human girl. They would be on her in seconds. “We run. Kill all.”
He leapt forward, sprinting downward and screaming at the top of his lungs, not because of bloodlust, but to give the Braids pause. He hoped to halt their progress for even the briefest of moments. It might mean the difference between reaching the child in time or watching as she was cut down.
Luck, or maybe the supposed God, Devesh, was with them. The Braids pulled up short in their pell-mell run, gawking at seeing the claw rushing toward them. But the Tigons didn’t pause. They sprinted toward the Braids, all of whom had resumed their chase and likely thought the Tigons wanted to take the kill from them.
Seconds later, yards from the girl—no, there were two others who were Blended with her—Chak-Soon and his claw forked about the child as though she were a rock in their rushing stream. They slammed into the unsuspecting Braids. The battle was brutal and short. The snake-like Chims were taken by surprise and more than half of them were down before the others even realized they were under attack. By the time they rallied to defend themselves, it was too late. The survivors of the initial clash were soon dead as well. Afterward, Chak-Soon was heartened to see that none of his Tigons had thrown aside their swords in favor of tooth and nail. Instead, they had fought with the discipline he had encouraged, using Li-Choke’s leadership as an example.
He turned to the cowering child, flickering in and out of view. “You safe now,” he told her. “Run north. No Fan Lor Kum there yet. Some Humans.” He adjusted his gaze to the others who had chosen to remain Blended. They weren’t very good, though. Their fear leaked through their Blends as sharp as a fox’s musk. “You all go. We see you safe. Hide your trail.”
A Human woman flicked into view as she dropped her Blend. She appeared terrified. “Why are you helping us?” she asked in a quavering voice.
Chak-Soon suppressed a smile. With his assortment of sharp teeth and his blood-splattered fur, it would not have been calming. “You know Jessira? Rukh?” he asked.
Some of the fear in the woman’s eyes leaked away, but distrust and confusion persisted. “I know them. They’re my family.”
“She save me. She and he my brothers,” Chak-Soon said. “You my brothers. If see Jessira, tell Chak-Soon save you.” This time, he couldn’t help it. Her puzzlement was just too funny. He smiled, and a moment later, laughed as she shrank away from him. “You run now,” he advised. “Fast.”
The woman nodded, still appearing shocked and in disbelief. She Blended and led the other Humans in a sprint to the north, probably wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and the Tigons who had just saved her life.
After witnessing the large plume of dust rising from the Croft, Farn had turned the column north. As they rode, the Sorrow Bringer had passed close by, a vile purple-hued thundercloud of lightning and evil. Shortly after Her appearance, several sounds carried to them: a shrieking wind carrying the laughter of a fiend; rocks and stones groaning as they were cracked and pulverized; and screams of terror and pain from of all those poor unfortunates in the Queen’s path.
Currently, the Ashokans were due east of Mount Fort, traveling through a narrow pass, along the cleft of a dry stream bed. Jaresh glanced about nervously. No Chims so far, but they had to be out here. South of their position rose the shoulders of Mount Frame. It was a lovely spring day, but despite the beautiful setting, it was impossible to forget the disaster unfolding nearby: the murder of a city.
So much desolation and heartache. When Jaresh had first seen the dust cloud reaching for the heavens, it had seemed like the smoke rising from some awful funeral pyre, signifying the death of innumerable people and the end of all their hopes and dreams. For him, all that mattered was finding Rukh.
“Blends nearby,” Plinth Fold, a Rahail said.
Jaresh, riding next to Farn at the head of the column, reined in his horse even before Farn held up his hand and called for a halt.
“The hill directly west of us. Large group of them.” Plinth’s eyes narrowed. “They’re heading our way.”
“Hold position,” Farn commanded. “Let them make it down the hill. We’ll confront them once they can’t run.”
“What will we do then?” Jaresh asked.
“Take them in,” Farn replied. “It’s the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “Besides, I don’t want them running away from us, which they might. And with Chims out there and the Queen Bitch Herself, all of us—Ashokans and Strongholders alike—will need to lean on one another if we want to make it out of here alive.” Another shrug. “And if we’re really lucky, Rukh might be with them.”
“Let’s hope so,” Jaresh said fervently.
“I don’t think those people know we’re here,” said Query Led, a Muran.
“Their Blends aren’t worth a spit,” Plinth muttered in disgust.
“It’s the best they can do,” Farn said. “Considering where they started from, it’s not too bad.”
“They’re coming toward us,” Query said. “They’re Linked. I still don’t think they know we’re here.”
“Good. When they’re in reach, Link with them,” Farn ordered. “We’ll talk then.”
They waited for several minutes.
“I can see their Blends now,” Farn said.
“They can see ours, too,” Plinth said. “They’ve stopped.”
“Drop me out of the Link, but maintain your Blends. I’m going to let them see me,” Farn replied. “I’m a familiar face.”
Jaresh couldn’t tell if Farn had actually done anything until Plinth spoke again. “They’re coming toward us,” the Rahail said.
“We’re Linked with them,” Query said just as a large group of people—men, women, and children—blinked into view.
The Strongholders were unlike anyone Jaresh had ever seen—other than Jessira, of course—and the other Ashokans shifted about in their saddles, unsettled by the discordant appearance of the OutCastes. Every one of them had a masala of features, an inter-mix of Rahail, Muran, Cherid, Duriah, Sentya, and Shiyen. There was no evidence of Kumma heritage.
The silence between the two groups stretched on as they sized up one another. Farn dismounted, and of all things, it was a woman, tall and built like a man, who stepped forward to represent the OutCastes. She was dressed in camouflage and outfitted with a sheathed sword, a cased bow, and a quiver of arrows. Her dark hair was tied back in a braid, and her brown-eyed gaze studied them with a frank, if mistrustful, assessment. She was attractive in a brash, assertive way, much like Jessira, and the two women were similar enough in appearance to have been sisters.
“Sign Deep,” Farn said by way of greeting.
“Farn Arnicep,” the woman replied. “How is it you return to Stronghold on such an inauspicious day?” Suspicion tinged her voice.
Farn ignored the implied insult. “We were sent by Dar’El Shektan to open trade between your city and ours.”
“And you happen to arrive at our doorstep on the same day as the Queen?” She asked. “That doesn’t strike you as particularly coincidental?”
“Believe what you wish,” Farn said. “We saw Suwraith. She passed overhead. The only reason we’re still here rather than on our way back to Ashoka is because we thought we might be able to save some of your people.”
“How generous,” she said, her voice brittle and on edge.
“Do you know Rukh Shektan?” Jaresh asked, no longer able to keep silent. He had to know what had happened to his brother.
“Who is he to you?” Sign asked.
“My brother. I’m Jaresh.”
Her eyes rose. “So. He wasn’t lying when he said he had a Sentya brother. Some of us didn�
�t believe him.”
“How do you know him?” Jaresh asked.
“She is Jessira’s cousin,” Farn answered.
Well, that explained the resemblance between the two women.
“Cousin, yes,” Sign said, “but our bonds go much deeper. I think of her as my akka, my sister.” She turned to Jaresh. “Which means you and I are family.”
“What?” Jaresh asked.
“Rukh and Jessira are married,” she said. “The last time I saw the two of them—” her voice caught “—they were helping evacuate Stronghold, along with my brother and Cedar. I don’t know what happened to them afterward.” Toward the end, her voice firmed and her features grew flat and unexpressive. Maybe it was the only way to deal with her pain: shove it deep down and ignore it.
Farn stepped forward until he was no more than a few feet from the OutCaste woman. “We did not bring the Sorrow Bringer to your home,” he said, staring her in the eyes. “We came to open trade between our two cities and bring Rukh home. His exile has been lifted by the Chamber of Lords. And now we’re here to help save as many of your people as we can. We can Blend better than any of you. Let us help.”
Sign considered Farn’s words, her face impassive. She turned aside, listening to the words of someone speaking behind her.
“Four more Blends,” Plinth said into the silence. “Same hill as the one these came from. Coming fast.”
Sign shot a look of disbelief at the Rahail. “We don’t feel anything,” she said.
“What you do or don’t feel doesn’t matter,” Plinth replied. “They’re out there, and they’re coming.”
Jaresh turned to the hill Plinth indicated, scanning it for signs of movement, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Keep your Blends Linked with ours,” Farn said to Sign. “We can hide you better that way.”
She grimaced in distaste, but heeded Farn’s advice—or at least Jaresh assumed she did since the OutCastes didn’t pull away.
