The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Even now, Rector Bryce, Bree, and many others were out scouring the city for any hint of who the Virtuous might be. Jaresh's sister had been especially outraged over what had occurred, and rightfully so. She'd actually seen the entire attack unfold. She'd seen aunts and lifelong friends cut down. She'd been a few feet away when Amma had nearly been killed. Bree wanted vengeance, and Jaresh hoped she would have it. The truth was that if the Shektans found the Virtuous first, the fragging creatures would be lucky if they weren't torn apart on the spot.

  It would justice enough as far as Jaresh was concerned.

  Their Amma had a severed spine. She was paralyzed from the chest down, and it was even hard for her to breathe. The physicians reckoned she would always be at risk for pneumonia and that she would never again walk.

  “Rukh and Jessira stopped by earlier,” Nanna said. “They had to hide in a covered wagon in order to get out, though.”

  Jaresh understood what Nanna meant. Rukh drew a crowd wherever he went. There would be shouts of need, of prayers, of exhortations for things that Rukh could never do. It was all so idiotic, especially the idea that Rukh was the First Father reborn or even more ludicrously, touched by Devesh. If Rukh held the holy power of the Lord, then why hadn't he simply killed the Queen and been done with it when he'd battled Her?

  It was madness, and it was a madness that had driven Rukh away from the House Seat. He and Jessira had wanted to stay here, but they couldn't. The crowds were too loud, and right now, Amma needed quiet.

  Of course, what Rukh had done and how he'd done it was still a mystery. He was a Kumma, but he held the Talents of Shiyens and Sentyas, and could also Blend like a Muran or Rahail. But Jaresh held all those Talents, too, and so did Jessira and a number of OutCastes. So what made Rukh different? And what had been that silver light he'd shot from his hands? A new Talent certainly, but how had it come to him?

  Rukh didn't know. He claimed to barely remember any of the events of his battle, unable to recall anything of what he'd done. All he could recollect was a burning need to hold on, to fight unto the last, to never surrender. He'd done so and then collapsed in an unmoving heap.

  “Am I interrupting?” Sign Deep peeked her head into the study.

  Nanna gestured for her to come on in. Since Rukh and Jessira couldn't often come to the House Seat, Sign had taken it upon herself to keep them apprised of Amma's condition.

  “Any changes?” she asked.

  Nanna turned away and stared out the windows at the drizzly summer day.

  “She's stable,” Jaresh replied, hating how such shallow words failed to convey the depth and pain of Amma's situation.

  “Rukh and Jessira will try to visit again tomorrow,” Sign said.

  “They ought to just move in,” Nanna muttered.

  “Rukh says he doesn't want to bring his troubles to the House Seat,” Sign replied.

  “Those troubles are here whether he is or not,” Nanna answered as he turned around to face them. “We are his parents. Anyone who is related to him is felt to be . . . touched by whatever holiness these fools think he possesses. They've been collecting near the gates every day, a few here and there, but always enough to make a ruckus if anyone goes outside.”

  “You don't believe he's special?” Sign asked, sounding surprised.

  “Of course he's special,” Nanna said. “But not in the way these others seem to believe. He isn't the First Father reborn and he isn't the way and means through which Devesh's will is known. He is a man, a Kumma whose experiences have changed him.”

  “But he fought Suwraith,” Sign argued. “He survived when She smothered him like a clutching fog of poison. He challenged Her might and smote Her with a silver fire. None of that strikes you as holy?”

  Jaresh grimaced in frustration. The words she had used couldn't be her own. Sign was a plainspoken person. Such flowery language had to be the words of someone else. And for her to repeat them might mean that she actually believed them. “I thought you were more levelheaded than that,” Jaresh said, not bothering to mask his disappointment.

  Sign shrugged. “I don't know what to believe,” she replied, “but it's what those other people are saying, the ones gathered by the House Seat's gate. They saw what happened. So did I. So did half of Ashoka, for that matter. And when I saw what I did, I thought I'd witnessed the rebirth of the First Father. I know it sounds ludicrous, but not to them. They don't know Rukh like you do, or even I do.”

  Jaresh sighed. “I grew up with him. I've seen him at his worst. I've heard him whinge when things didn't go his way in training. He's my brother. It's hard to think of him in any other light.”

  Sign smiled, looking fond. “And I remember when he came hobbling into Stronghold, when he could barely walk or move his sword arm. He was no hero then. He was just a man barely holding on.” She shrugged again. “But like I said—others don't know him like that. They only saw the glory, and they'll only see the glory until Rukh more fully explains what happened to him.”

  “If they keep pushing him, they'll see his grumpy side,” Nanna said with a faint smile. “Maybe then, they won't consider him Devesh-touched.”

  Jaresh laughed. “Ever since the Advent Trial, he's been as grouchy as a thorn-pawed cat.”

  “He has reason to be. We all do,” Nanna said. “And we have so many decisions to make.”

  Jaresh nodded. There wasn't just Amma and her injuries to take care of, or whatever it was that Rukh had done, but also the Baels and Tigons who had come to Ashoka begging for asylum.

  “We live in interesting times,” Sign said.

  “A generation cursed,” Nanna agreed.

  “Or blessed,” Jaresh countered.

  “Can I see Satha?” Sign asked, changing the subject. “I promised to give Rukh and Jessira a full report.”

  “They were already here earlier today,” Nanna replied. “And Satha just settled down to sleep. She won't awaken for hours.”

  Sign smiled brightly. “In that case, who wants to play chess?”

  “I'll play,” Jaresh offered.

  “You can play on my board,” Nanna said. “I'll do some paperwork while Jaresh works you into a lather and makes you do something stupid.”

  Sign squawked in outrage as Nanna chuckled.

  Several hours later, Rector Bryce was shown into the study. He looked haggard and haunted.

  “What is it?” Nanna asked without preamble.

  “There's been another Withering Knife murder. Hal'El Wrestiva is back in Ashoka.”

  Sadly, the future of those bred for battle is often one walked along a path of loneliness.

  ~Sooths and Small Sayings by Tramed Billow, AF 1387

  Li-Chig, the SarpanKum of the Western Plague of Continent Ember, wondered what this most momentous of days would bring to him and his kind. Would it merely bring death or would it bring extinction?

  A crow cried out and Chig frowned. The carrion eater was an ill omen, always present when death beckoned. The SarpanKum briefly wondered if the crow could smell blood on the wind. True, that blood was not yet spilled, but it was sure to come. Perhaps the crow had prescience about the coming carnage.

  Chig exhaled heavily, and his breath misted in the unusually chill summer weather. A blustery breeze blew, promising an early winter, but the SarpanKum didn't feel the cold wind or the damp drizzle. His mind was occupied by other thoughts.

  “Are you certain of this?” Li-Sturg, his SarpanKi, asked. “We are about to embark upon the most reckless path any Bael has ever travelled.”

  Chig smiled. “You mean what we do will forever brand us as traitors?”

  “You know that's the least of what we risk,” Sturg growled. “What we are about to do could lead to the death of all our brothers.”

  “Not if Li-Shard's plan works.”

  Sturg grunted. “Shard seeks to rise to the glory of Li-Dirge.”

  Chig tested the words of his crèche brother. They didn't taste right. “Glory is not what impels me, nor
, I am certain, does it impel Li-Shard,” he said.

  Sturg's lips twitched. “No. You are right. We do what as we must because we are slaves to those most devious of masters: service and sacrifice.”

  Chig chuckled a low, gallows-ridden laugh. “Are you ready then?”

  Sturg shrugged. “We will know soon enough.”

  Chig smiled briefly before turning to face his warriors, the ignorant Chimeras he would lead into unwitting treason. He took a deep breath and shouted. “The breeders are the means by which Mother's will is enforced on this world, but word comes that the Chimeras who are meant to guard the eastern breeding caverns of Continent Catalyst have been subverted. Many of you have heard of how the eastern breeding caverns of Continent Ember were eradicated. What you don't know is the truth. Those eastern caverns were overrun through treachery.”

  Murmurings of shock and disbelief met his words.

  Chig stamped his trident on the ground, a single blow demanding silence. “Just as there are righteous Humans who worship Mother, there are Chimeras who have allowed iniquity to grow in their hearts. They disregard Mother's teachings. They oppose Her will. They seek our destruction.” He forced a grimace before drawing himself up. “Their evil cannot be allowed. We must kill these treasonous warriors. We will end their wretched lives, kill them all.” He paused. Here was the most dangerous aspect of his plan. “And we must do the same with the breeders.”

  Silence met his final words. The Chimeras of his Plague turned their eyes to him, questioning and unsure, but not untrusting.

  “Yes. The breeders must all be killed,” Chig said with a nod of affirmation. “Without their deaths, our mission here will be a failure. Their eradication is the great task set before us. Mother commands it. After what happened to Li-Dirge and the eastern caverns, and now this, She trusts no one, not even the breeders. They are to be extinguished, for just as Mother has always promised us, She will create females of our kind so that we may procreate like all the other natural creatures of Arisa!”

  A harsh cry of joy met his words, and Chig smiled. “Follow your Baels. Do as they say. Show the enemy no mercy!”

  Li-Deem sweltered beneath the late afternoon sun and frowned in annoyance. Red sand dunes stretched out in unbroken, sinuous waves for miles in every direction, and a dry wind did nothing to cool off the temperature. Deem irritably wondered why Mother had placed the northern breeding caverns of Continent Catalyst in the midst of the Prayer, the hottest desert in all Arisa. No matter that the caves were buried beneath a series of rocky hills that cupped a large oasis, or that the smell of dirt, dates, and crushed grass softened the bruise-dry air, Deem still hated the heat. He always had, ever since his birth five decades ago. Summer was his bane. It was too hot. Too bright. Too uncomfortable. Deem much preferred the cool sweetness of fall and winter.

  He pondered whether he might ever again see those lovely seasons. He pondered whether he might ever again see a sunrise.

  It seemed unlikely, and if that turned out to be the case, then he would have no one else to blame but himself. As the SarpanKum of the Northern Plague of Continent Catalyst, ultimately it had been his decision to agree to Li-Shard's plan. It was a proposal that Deem had initially judged foolhardy but over time, found to be more and more intriguing and exciting. His discordant emotions had yet to entirely reconcile.

  Following the destruction of the heretofore unknown city of Stronghold last year, Deem had felt a disquiet such as he had never before experienced in his long five decades of life. With the restitution of Her sanity, Mother had grown too powerful. The balance of power had shifted too far in Her favor. She might actually achieve Her ultimate goal of Humanity's extinction. Something had to change, and Li-Shard's plan seemed the most likely means to achieve that change.

  Was this the best plan, though? Or even necessary? Those were questions still unanswered, but ones that didn't trouble Deem's crèche-brother and SarpanKi, Li-Feint. He had no doubts about their course, even if such a course might see an end to the Baels.

  “The warriors are ready,” Feint said, coming to Deem's side. “They only await your command.”

  Deem smiled faintly, a feeling that didn't reflect his heart's turmoil. “I wish I had your faith, brother,” he said softly.

  Feint stepped closer and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you lack, lean on me and know that you will not fall,” his brother replied. “If you cannot bring yourself to do this, I will still support you.”

  Deem exhaled softly and gave a tight smile of gratitude. The two Baels, gray-haired and old, should have long ago been retired to the breeding caverns to train the young, but the field was where they felt they could do the most good, where they felt they were the most effective. “I don't fear death,” Deem said. “It comes to all of us.”

  “But you don't want the Baels to die either.”

  Deem nodded again, unsurprised by his brother's insight. Such had always been their bond. “Mother will see us all dead for what we are about to do.”

  “We won't be ended.” Feint spoke with a steady, unwavering cadence to his voice. “The Baels and Bovars we sent to Hanuman were given sanctuary.”

  “I hope the Humans weren't lying to us when they gave us their promise,” Deem replied. Fear fluttered in his heart for those he had sent to Hanuman.

  Feint shrugged. “It will be as it will be,” he said enigmatically, “but it helped that the Humans had already heard the story of Rukh Shektan and his friendship with Li-Choke.”

  “Li-Choke,” Deem said with a sigh and shake of his head. “He makes paupers of us all. We've lived so long, but in a sense, not at all, given what that young Bael has experienced.”

  “Then how would you like to live out the last moments of your life?” Feint asked with a smile. “Would you not want to experience the glory Li-Dirge experienced in his final breaths?”

  Deem shook his head. “I have no need for glory,” he replied. “It is enough for me to be a servant.” His spine stiffened as he replayed the words he had just spoken. They described the heart of who Deem was: a servant. He chuckled just then as he realized that despite all his stumbling and questioning, all along he'd known the course he would have to take. “We will do as Devesh asks: act as a servant to a greater cause than our own lives,” he said in response to the unspoken question in Feint's eyes.

  His brother smiled wryly. “Wisdom—decades late—has finally come to you.”

  Deem chuckled again. “Better late than not,” he replied before turning to the Chimeras gathered before him. He drew breath and bellowed. “Warriors. A great challenge lies ahead of us! And should we succeed, a greater prize will be ours!”

  Li-Shuk, the SarpanKum of the Southern Plague of the Continent Catalyst, led his warriors through a narrow, shadow-engulfed gorge. A trickle of water rattled over rocks on its way to nearby Lake Corruption, the body of water Mother insisted they call the Chalice of Purity. She claimed it was Her birthplace, which meant it was also the site where She had slaughtered Her Parents, the First Mother and First Father, in Their home at the Palace on the Hill.

  As far as Shuk was concerned, everything about Lake Corruption stank of desecration. It was a place pregnant with the stench of mildew and sulfur, of despair and despoilment, of loss and murdered hopes. Shuk only hoped that the cleansing ruin he was bringing to Mother's southern breeders would do much to erase such a foul reek.

  Perhaps it would, but even if it did nothing more than hinder Mother's villainous schemes, Shuk reckoned it would be worth the cost. He had heard that Li-Chig and Li-Deem had initially been hesitant to follow Li-Shard's grand scheme, but such doubts had never hindered Shuk's thoughts. He had always known that what he was about to do was just and righteous. Devesh demanded that all His servants oppose evil.

  “Do you think Chig and Deem will carry out their roles?” asked Li-Trid, the newly elevated SarpanKi.

  The previous one, Li-Kord, had been killed several weeks ago in a failed uprising by l
ess faithful Baels.The traitors had been selfishly attached to their own lives, foolishly believing that a longer life was somehow more meaningful. They were too blinded by their own wants and desires to remember that every breath they took was by Devesh's grace and to His honor should every breath they took be purposed.

  “I believe they will,” Shuk replied in answer to Trid's question, “but certain knowledge of what they ultimately decided will only come to us on the other side of life.”

  “I think they will,” Trid replied with the hearty assuredness of youth.

  Shuk grunted, wishing he still had the young SarpanKi's simple certainty. He had fears about what the other SarpanKums of Continent Catalyst might do. They were of lesser faith than Shuk would have liked, but still, Kord, his fallen crèche-brother, had believed that Deem and Chig would carry out their roles.

  Just then, a single tear fell from his eyes. Shuk still grieved over Kord's death. It still hurt, akin to a stabbing pain to the heart. Such a terrible loss. So pointless. His crèche-brother's ending shouldn't have come at the hands of a faithless traitor. And maybe with today's actions, Kord's death wouldn't be in vain.

  “Li-Dirge, Li-Shard, and Li-Choke,” Trid said, “those are the Baels by which we should measure ourselves. It is how those who follow after us will reckon our standing: as worthy heirs to those great Baels.”

  Shuk couldn't fail to notice the hopeful expression in the eyes of his earnest SarpanKi. The expression sparked a smile from the SarpanKum. “Gather the warriors. It is time.”

  The day had dawned bright and vibrant. The sun shone, the weather was warm, and the air dry. It was the perfect day to plan the murder of a city.

  Lienna soared through the skies, feeling an anticipation and joy that She couldn't ever recall experiencing. Even when approaching Stronghold, knowing that She was about to annihilate a city of Casteless Humans—the very idea of unCasted Humans still left Lienna revolted and feeling dirty—She had not felt this excitement, this tingling, this need to laugh.