The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  The Triad slowed, almost halted. It conducted Jivatma from all three and from Secondary and Tertiary came Lucency. The thoughts of the members quieted, became sharp as a razor. Purpose was restored.

  The Triad had drifted too far away from allies. It cut a controlled retreat through the middle elements of the enemy. This time Primary led. Her swift sword sang. Tertiary worked to her right. Secondary brought up the rear, defending their backs.

  Tertiary took a cut to her thigh. It was deep and immediately began bleeding profusely. Secondary stepped forward to protect her weakened side. Just then, Primary took a stunning blow to the face.

  Secondary was left to defend both of them. She blurred, moving even faster than before. She defended against a swarm. The enemy had them surrounded.

  Rector fought without the aid of a Duo, Triad, or Quad. He had to have a clear mind to watch everything that was happening and direct the warriors to where they could better protect the women. As a result, he felt every thrust, every cut, every slice he inflicted upon another living person. He wanted to plead for mercy, to have this weighty burden removed from his shoulders, to cry out at the pain he was inflicting on his very soul. How did these attackers not feel the awfulness of what they were doing? How could they attempt to murder without even the slightest of hesitations?

  The questions might have circled in his head, but instead, Rector shoved them down, burying them along with his horror. He did what he had to. The horror could come later.

  There came a moment of stillness when the Linked Blends of the adversary simply dissolved. The enemy was suddenly visible. They were a mix of Duriahs, Murans, and Rahails. Nearly a third of their number lay on the ground, unmoving or groaning in pain. As for the warriors of House Shektan—all of them still fought. They remained in the battle, but most were injured. A few gravely. Some of the women who the warriors were meant to protect had taken up swords as well. Their skill was lacking. Unlike Bree, they hadn't spent the last year focused on mastering their martial skills. They were almost more of a hindrance than a help.

  Rector cursed when he saw the Triad of Bree, Jessira, and Sign drift away from the main body of House Shektan's warriors. They were too far for the other guards to offer support. He had given permission for those three to fight, but why couldn't they have remained close and hold the line like proper warriors? Maybe a woman in a battle simply couldn't think clearly enough to do what was needed.

  He cursed again when Sign took a deep wound and Bree a heavy blow to the face. Jessira blurred, but it was a pace she couldn't maintain for long. Rector called out orders. The other nine guards closed ranks while he stepped forward to rescue the three nits.

  Primary shook off the effects of the blow to the face. Secondary was surrounded. Attackers swept around her like water around a boulder. She was immoveable in her determination. It couldn't last forever, though. She would weaken. Tertiary's leg was rapidly failing. A ringing of swords. Secondary was pressed hard. A hard blow was absorbed by her Shield. Primary cut her way to Secondary's side.

  Rector Bryce was there as well. He thrust and slashed all about him.

  Primary offered distraction to Secondary's main opponent. Rector ran the enemy through.

  Another adversary filled the gap, and Primary took a deep cut to the biceps. Her arm immediately weakened.

  The Triad followed as Rector acted as the ramming prow and returned them to the thin line of House Shektan's warriors. Triad noted that their numbers were down to eight. Two warriors lay unmoving, and the rest were slowing, all of them injured in some fashion.

  The enemy had them hard-pressed on all sides. Their numbers were likely little more than half of what they started with, but they were whittling the Shektans down.

  The Triad sensed the worry of its members, but the concern didn't touch it. Purpose was all it knew.

  Rector was growing fearful. The enemy numbers had been cut down—they were down to a little less than half of their original number—but they showed no signs of fatiguing from the fight. They came on, and he distantly wondered what fervor drove them to such evil.

  Further rumination had to be put aside. Three of them attacked him just then. Rector slipped past a blow intended to take off his head. He spun with the momentum of his movement. He parried a slash. Still spinning, his upswing took off the third man's sword arm at the elbow. Another blow was taken on his weakening Shield. He thrust forward like a launched arrow. His sword took one of them through the heart. The final opponent was dispatched by Jessira Shektan.

  Rector shook his head in disgust. He still didn't like the idea of the three women fighting, but at least they were being useful now that they were holding the line. Not like the City Watch, which had yet to show up. Where in the unholy hells were they! The battle had been going on for seemingly forever, but there was still no sign of relief. If the Watch didn't arrive soon, there might not be anyone of House Shektan left to rescue.

  Two more of his warriors were down. Their line contracted further, and despite Rector's distaste with the notion of women as warriors, he was heartened when more of the Shektan women took up fallen weapons to defend themselves. They were the daughters, wives, and mothers of warriors. Rector felt great pride for these women. In their own way, they were warriors as well.

  An instant later, that same pride fled. Satha Shektan had taken up a sword.

  Rector watched, horrified when he saw her engage an enemy. She had some skill, but if she wasn't supported, she would fall. Rector fought his way to her side. Above all the other women, she had to be preserved.

  After a few intense moments of fighting, there came another pause.

  “I am capable of defending myself, Rector,” Satha said to him in a tart tone. “We would work better as a team.”

  “I can't form a Duo with you,” Rector said. “I have to maintain a clear mind to control the battle.”

  Jessira, Bree, and a badly limping Sign arrived.

  “Form a Quad with us,” the Triad said in its inflectionless voice from the mouths of all three women.

  Satha did so and a Quad was born.

  Rector wasn't sure whether to applaud Satha's courage or cringe with concern at her foolhardiness. In that moment, the most inane concern came to him: Dar'El would be furious that Rector had allowed Satha to risk herself like this.

  The Triad became the Quad. Its purpose remained unchanged: survive.

  Quaternary was the only one uninjured at this point. Her Shield was also the strongest. The other three were straining to conduct Jivatma. Their Wells were rapidly emptying. Quaternary was set at point. Even through the fog of their clouded minds came a rebellion from Primary and Secondary. Quaternary was pulled back. Secondary took point instead.

  Rector Bryce fought alongside them. Other Triads, Quads, and Duos, did so as well. All of them were women, except for the six remaining male warriors of House Shektan.

  There was a fierceness to the conflict, an escalation as the enemy launched themselves at the Shektans. From Secondary and Tertiary came the sense that this was likely the end of the battle. The enemy would either overwhelm them or be defeated.

  The Quad was faced by a constantly moving stream of opponents. They attacked. Blows were exchanged, but the quarters were tight. The enemy would be jostled aside before the Quad could land a telling blow.

  Two men stood against Tertiary. Her leg nearly collapsed as she sought to block the closer of the two opponents. The Quad sent Quaternary to support Tertiary. One of the enemy turned to face her. Quaternary slipped a thrust. Her own found a heart.

  Tertiary stepped inside the guard of her final opponent. She smashed the hilt of her sword into the man's nose, shattering it. An elbow followed in the same motion. The man stumbled into Secondary's waiting blade.

  Primary parried an overhand slash. Her arm buckled. Secondary had already been pulled to guard. Her sword cleaved a deep gash along the flank of Primary's adversary.

  Another opponent down. Another filled the gap.
And another. For once, Secondary was too slow to act. She took a slash to the ribs. It was deep, and her breathing suddenly came less easily.

  A shout came from Rector Bryce to pull back, to fight shoulder to shoulder.

  As the Quad did so, another surge came from the enemy. Three of them focused on Tertiary. Quaternary was moved to guard.

  Tertiary's leg gave way. Her Shield absorbed one blow. Another. Then it was done. Tertiary's Well could no longer support a Shield. Quaternary was sent to stand before the fallen Tertiary. She fought alone against what was now five opponents. What she was unable to block, she absorbed on her Shield. She would be overwhelmed soon.

  But Rector Bryce cut one adversary down. Quaternary took out another. There was a momentary lull.

  “Get her out of here!” Rector shouted.

  His order was echoed by all four members of the Quad. Quaternary carried out the command. She helped drag and carry Tertiary toward the back, until she was out of immediate danger. Quaternary then rejoined the fray.

  Secondary and Primary were both beset by several opponents each. Primary was weakening quickly. Her injured arm hung by her side. She fought one-armed.

  Secondary's breathing grew ever more ragged. She didn't have much left in her Well either.

  Rector Bryce and another Shektan warrior provided them some relief.

  The Quad saw the attack coming. It could do nothing to stop it.

  Bree's thoughts, so quicksand slow in the Quad, snapped into racing focus. Her amma was going to die. She faced three Murans. They moved to flank her. There was no one close enough to offer her any support.

  The Quad was moving too slowly. Its focus was on keeping as many members alive as possible, even if that meant sacrificing one of them.

  Bree severed her ties with the Quad and threw herself forward even as she knew she would never reach Amma in time. She watched in horror as one of the Murans thrust forward. Amma blocked. She parried a slash. Another slash defended. A riposte took one adversary in the throat. Meanwhile, the third Muran—middle-aged and with a face full of hate—had stepped behind her. His blade stabbed out, penetrating Amma's Shield. The sword warped from the impact. Instead of stabbing Amma through the heart, it bent down and took her in the center of her back.

  Bree screamed.

  Amma collapsed, and her head smacked the ground.

  Bree arrived. Hatred and rage rode roughshod over her sorrow. There would be time for tears later. She killed a Muran and felt nothing. The one who had stabbed her Amma took one look at her and ran.

  “Coward!” Bree shouted at him.

  He stopped long enough to gesture rudely in her direction.

  Bree realized she had space. There was a cluster of three opponents closing on her. They'd never make it. Her hand glowed but before she could discharge her Fireball, another one impacted the charging enemy first. It had been Rector Bryce's.

  His Fireball had punched completely through the lead enemy and also taken his compatriot following on his heels. Both men were launched backward by the blast of the Fireball. They smashed into the third man, who'd been standing behind them. His head hit the ground with the sickening sound of a coconut cracking open.

  The rest of the attackers must have taken the sight of Rector's Fireball as a sign. They broke and within seconds, the Shektan section of the Outer Wall was clear.

  Bree's anger suddenly drained away, replaced by a desperate fear. She ran to her unconscious amma. Jessira was there also.

  “Can you Heal her?” Bree demanded.

  Jessira shook her head. “I just used up almost all of my Well, but even if I hadn't . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “Her spinal cord's been severed. Even on my best day, I couldn't help her with something like that”

  Bree looked around in desperation. Maybe there was a physician nearby.

  Their entire section of the Outer Wall was empty. For yards around where the fighting had taken place, there was no one. Beyond the open space, the crowd which had come to watch the spectacle of the Advent Trial stood still and quiet. They viewed the carnage from the melee with expressions of shocked disbelief. Eventually, they began moving. It was like a dislodged rock allowing the stream to flow once more. The crowd on both sides of the Shektans began moving, running forward. They called out offers of help.

  Bree scowled. Where had they been seconds before? What had they been doing while the Shektans had been desperately fighting to survive?

  She shook off her angry sense of betrayal. Amma needed help.

  Jessira was already yelling. “Is there a physician?” she cried out.

  Bree joined her.

  Seconds later—an eternity—a Shiyen with a bald pate and a long, pleated beard arrived. “What happened to her?” he asked, brusque and no nonsense.

  “Severed spine,” Bree answered. She looked to Jessira for confirmation who nodded agreement.

  The Shiyen spent no more time on questions. He had his hands by the side of Amma's head. A fierce look of concentration and determination took hold of his features. A glow built up in his hands. It kept building before suddenly draining down into Amma. The shape of the bones in her face became briefly visible.

  The Shiyen remained focused and sent another flow of Jivatma into Amma. Another flow. One more, and the Shiyen sat back with a sigh. “I've got her stabilized,” he said. “It's the best I can do for now. We need to get her to a hospice.” He glanced at Jessira. “Let me help with your breathing.”

  While he did so, Bree's heart eased. Her amma would live. It was over. Relief, sudden and fine like the sweetest water, overwhelmed her. By the barest of margins, she held back the sobs. She feared she'd never get them to stop if she allowed them to start.

  Any sense of comfort she felt immediately dissipated when she looked around.

  The debris of dead bodies and moaning wounded littered the battlements of the Outer Wall. Too many of that number were of House Shektan.

  Jessira was so tired. She wanted to lie down and sleep. She was relieved to know that Satha was going to live, and now she needed to make sure her cousin was safe. “I have to find Sign,” she said to Bree, who nodded mutely.

  Jessira squeezed the other woman's arm before standing up and tottering away.

  She hadn't been this tired in a long time, and the fatigue wasn't entirely physical. Much of it was emotional as well. Jessira and the other Shektans had been attacked. It had been as violent a clash as anything she could ever remember, and her sense of safety was shattered. She'd almost died today.

  Her heart also ached for what she had been forced to do during the battle. She had killed another Human; many of them. Even now, her mind shied away from the memories of what she had done. The finality of death. The smooth parting of flesh. The expression on the faces of those men just before her sword had cleaved the life from their bodies . . .

  Jessira bit back a cry. She feared those images would haunt her for the rest of her life. She wished Rukh was with her. If nothing else, his presence would be a comfort, and she needed comforting.

  And so, too, would Rukh when he learned what had happened to his amma. Satha would live, but nevertheless, Jessira feared for her. She wasn't sure if Satha would ever again walk. It might be possible—the physicians of Ashoka were almost magical in what they could accomplish—but it seemed unlikely.

  Jessira momentarily beat back her fatigue when she saw Sign slowly sitting up. A physician had Healed her cousin and had already moved on to someone else injured in the battle. Sign rose to her feet, tottered, and almost fell.

  Jessira rushed to support her. “You know better than to stand up so quickly after a Healing,” she chided.

  “I'm fine,” Sign said irritably. “The Shiyen said I lost some blood and that I should eat some extra meat over the next few weeks. She Healed the wound, and I hardly even feel it now.”

  “It still takes a lot out of you,” Jessira reminded her.

  “I'm fine,” Sign insisted.

  Jessira was
about to reply, but a movement in the sky caught her sight.

  Lightning coruscated within a bruise-purple cloud that was moving faster than any cloud had a right to move.

  Jessira raced to the edge of the Outer Wall. She gawked at what she was seeing. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. She knew what was coming. “Rukh,” she breathed in terrified horror. He was out there.

  The storm beckons the tired warrior.

  Blood courses like a blessed, sorrel steed.

  Veins burning with fire.

  Bones adamantine.

  Breathe out unmanning fear and ride the tide.

  ~A Romantic Notion by Anto Jakper, AF 1454

  As soon as Black Platoon broke free of the forest, Rukh ordered the firing of their remaining signal arrows. He had to make sure that their message got out. The Blacks had launched their original flares while still deep in the depths of the forest, and though the arrows had climbed up past the upper canopy, what if the other warriors of the Advent Trial had been too far away to see them? Everyone had to be back behind Ashoka's sturdy Walls and even sturdier Oasis if the Sorrow Bringer was truly headed their way.

  Black Platoon's final signal flares flashed green fire across the sky, and Rukh's heart unclenched when an answering red blaze climbed heavenward from the Outer Wall. The green arrows had been the call, and the red fire the response that Black Platoon's warning had been seen and heeded.

  Rukh turned to the Kummas in his unit. “Run hard. Straight to the Outer Wall. The ladders will be waiting. Don't wait on us. I mean it. If you do, it might be your life. Go!”

  As one, the Kummas saluted and broke off. They raced forward in a ground-devouring run. It was Jivatma infused and for anyone else, would have been something just short of a dead sprint, but it was a pace the Kummas could keep up for miles.

  Rukh turned to the remaining warriors. “Even though Suwraith can see through our Blends, I still want them up. Make them as tight as you can. Now let's run hard like all the hounds of hell are chasing us!”