by Davis Ashura
“You didn't tell us what happened to Choke,” Jull prodded.
“Boil is of the belief that Choke and his Baels and Tigons were denied succor from the city. He believes that the Ashokans killed them,” Grist explained.
“But he counted two Humans as friends,” Li-Drill said softly in sad disbelief.
A disappointed silence met his words, and to a Bael, they all turned to look at Ashoka's massive fortifications. While they stared at the city, a bright red flare suddenly burned skyward from the Outer Wall, and their conversation stilled as they studied the battlements.
“Who is that tall Human on the battlements?” Cord asked after a moment, pointing to a group of figures on the Wall.
Grist saw who Cord indicated. The man was at least two feet taller than those around him.
Drill handed him a spyglass. “You left it at the camp,” he said before pulling out his own.
The Vorsans were similarly equipped, and soon, they all had their spyglasses trained toward the small group on the Outer Wall. Their intense focus earned them mystified stares from the Baels of the Eastern Plague. Many of them looked to Ashoka's Wall, seeking out that which had Drill and the others so interested.
“That is no Human,” Grist said, excitement causing his tail to lash as he grinned broadly. “That is a Bael!” he shouted in triumph. “A Bael stands upon the ramparts of Ashoka, and he wears the feathers of a Vorsan.”
His words acted as a catalyst, and Eastern Baels up and down the line snapped out their own spyglasses and had them aimed at the Outer Wall. The word soon carried. 'Li-Choke' was the name cried out by many. Their voices were lifted in hope.
Grist turned and thumped Drill on the shoulder. “We live in an age of miracles!” he cried in joy. “Our brother stands with Humanity. Hume's glorious vision is coming to pass.”
“There's something else,” Meld said, still focused on the group. He gasped an instant later.
Grist whipped his gaze back to the Wall, studying the figure of Li-Choke. There was something else. Large beasts shambled along the parapet. They were Bovars.
Drill turned to Grist. The SarKi's eyes were wet with tears. “We are saved.”
Grist was too choked up to do anything more than nod in agreement.
The order of the world becomes simple if external morality and Devesh are decided to be fables. In such a situation, our lives would be rendered immaterial.
~ A Wandering Notion by Shone Brick, AF 1784
Li-Dox winced when Mother roared overhead. Back and forth She passed over the columns of Chimeras, crackling lightning and thunder as She soared through the blue heavens. Meanwhile, down in the dirt and dust, the Fan Lor Kum struggled to move Mother's siege engines into position. She expected the Chimeras to run the towers and the turtles—the wheeled, box-like structures with rams—as close to Ashoka's Outer Wall as possible.
It was a difficult task, and Dox sweated along with the rest of his Smash, his one hundred warriors, in accomplishing Her desires. Bovars and Balants had been harnessed to the front of the war engines while Tigons pushed from the rear. It fell to Dox and those like him, lowly Juts—commanders of a Smash—to guide and correct the movement of the heavy, cumbersome siege structures. If close attention wasn't paid, in the blink of an eye, the overladen constructions could easily tip over, something that had already happened to several towers this morning.
Dox glanced up as Mother soared past once again and shook his head in annoyance. If he didn't know better, he would have guessed that Mother was giddy with excitement, as full of vim and vigor as a young Tigon. Dox briefly wondered what Mother had been like as a carefree youngster. She had to have been a young girl at some point in Her long life. After all, Her claim of being the only Child of the First Mother and the First Father was said to be true by none other than Li-Choke.
Dox shivered with excitement at knowing he had actually seen the legendary Bael, the one who was the greatest of all of them. Choke, who had defied Mother's will and survived, who had taught Tigons of fraternity, who was the only one of their kind who could claim friendship with a Human.
“Your Balants are pushing too hard on the right,” yelled Li-Quill, a fellow Jut, startling Dox back to awareness. “The tower's going to tilt if we don't straighten up their lines.”
Dox took one look at his Balants and blanched. Immediately, he began shouting orders, snapping his whip a bare inch above ears to get his point across. More yells were needed to keep the Tigons in order as well. Worrying minutes later, all the Chimeras were eventually back in their proper places, and Dox turned to Quill, nodding his thanks.
“What had you so distracted?” Quill asked once the tower was safely rumbling along again. “You had a faraway expression on your face,” he further explained.
“I was thinking about Li-Choke,” Dox answered, wanting to hide his face from the embarrassment.
Quill, only a season or two older, grinned in understanding. “I was there when he told us about Rukh Shektan,” he said.
Dox blinked. Quill was from the Eastern Plague of Continent Ember, and as a result, he must have actually known Li-Choke, met him, and even spoken to him. Suddenly, all Dox wanted was to corner his fellow Jut and squeeze out every morsel of knowledge Quill knew about the great Bael.
The other Jut chuckled, and Dox's ears wilted in embarrassment.
“No need to be ashamed,” Quill said. “As soon as we have our tower in place, I'll tell you all about him.”
Dox grinned, but the smile faded as he stared at the massive siege structure. It was almost the height of Ashoka's Wall. “This is an evil thing we'll be doing,” he whispered.
Quill turned away, and now it was he who appeared ashamed. “We've already done much evil,” he said in a voice hardly above a whisper.
Dox stared at the other Bael in confusion. He wasn't sure what evil it was to which Quill referred. After all, every Bael could be said to have deeply sinned at some point in their lives. Dox mentally shrugged. Perhaps Quill felt the sting of wickedness more acutely than most. “I truly wish Mother's plan will fail,” Dox said into the intervening silence.
Quill didn't answer at first, and his expression grew somber. “And sometimes, I truly wish She would allow the Humans to smash us all,” he replied.
Rukh stood upon the battlements just west of Sunset Gate's barbican. A baking, hot sun and a breezeless, cloudless sky promised no relief from the ongoing unseasonably hot weather. It was another dog day, and Rukh wished for some shade.
The steady drone of thick ropes unwinding like whips, the crack of wooden arms snapping to position, and hurled boulders thudding to the ground was as monotonous as a metronome. The beat was so steady, Rukh could have played his mandolin in time to it if not for the ripped-flesh sound of Suwraith's whirlwind groaning above it all.
Jaresh leaned his back to the merlon. “Their stones bounce off of our Oasis while ours are tossed aside by the Queen,” he said. “It's a stalemate.”
Just then a cry of Chimeras roaring in pain rose from the plain beyond Ashoka's Oasis.
Rukh tilted his head as he listened to the screams. It was a lovely sound. “I think you mean most of our stones,” he said with a smile.
“Most of our attacks then,” Jaresh agreed. “But my point still holds. The vast majority of the Chimeras are too far away for us to reach, and their siege engines are bunched up enough that the Queen doesn't have to be everywhere at once. She can protect most of them without hardly moving. In other words: a stalemate.”
Farn responded to Jaresh's statement, but Rukh was only listening with half an ear as he stared out at the plain beyond Ashoka's borders. It teemed with the warriors of the Fan Lor Kum. Not since Hammer's Fall had so many Chimeras been gathered together in one place at one time, tens of thousands of them. It was a daunting sight made worse by the presence of the Sorrow Bringer. She held motionless in the sky, just past the Outer Wall, hanging like a poisonous curtain as erratic lightning lit Her inner reaches. She wa
s suspended so close that Rukh imagined he could almost reach out and touch Her keening winds.
A snort of laughter from Jaresh returned Rukh's attention to the ongoing conversation between his brother and Farn.
“That's what I just said,” Jaresh said. “The battle for Ashoka is going to be a long, boring siege.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Farn said.
Rukh smiled. “You just might get it,” he said, finishing the quote.
“I wasn't wishing for anything,” Jaresh protested. “I was just talking about our circumstances.” He yawned. “It's so dull; I'm almost tempted to take a nap.”
Rukh glanced up and down the Wall. Many of Ashoka's warriors apparently shared Jaresh's sentiments. They stood about, leaning on shields and spears, with the bored expressions of those about to nod off. And truthfully, he felt the same way. There was nothing going on, and there likely wouldn't be, not for a while anyway.
“At least we'll be rotated off the Wall tonight,” Jaresh noted hopefully.
Rukh nodded. “Jessira and Sign should be off from Twilight Gate at the same time,” he said.
“Laya said she'd bring little Court,” Farn said. “It'll be nice seeing the little man.”
Not this ridiculous delusion again. Rukh snorted in tired disbelief. “Stop pretending it's just Court you want to see.”
Farn's mouth gaped. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You care for Laya. Just admit it and tell her,” Rukh replied. He stared his cousin in the eyes. “She feels the same way, you know.”
“And Sign promises to hurt you if you don't speak up soon,” Jaresh added helpfully.
Farn continued to gape. “Who else knows?” he asked in a strangled whisper.
Jaresh gave an unsympathetic shrug. “I'm pretty sure everyone does by now.”
“Did you really think we hadn't noticed?” Rukh asked at Farn's ongoing discomfiture.
Farn closed his mouth and wore a troubled expression. “She isn't Kumma,” he told them. “How will everyone react?”
Rukh rolled his eyes. “You're the stupidest smart person I know.” He thumped Farn on the head. “Remember who my wife is.”
Farn still appeared uncertain, and he muttered under his breath.
“What's the problem?” Rukh asked, getting annoyed with his cousin. “You like her. She likes you. So tell her.”
“What if Laya doesn't feel the same way?” Farn asked, sounding worried.
Rukh rolled his eyes once more. “I already told you she does.”
“But—”
“Shut up!” a grizzled warrior down the line demanded. “I can't believe you brainless twits are talking about women when we're in the middle of a siege. Maybe you should break out the needlepoint, you stupid gits.” He shook his head in disgust and spat over the side of the Wall.
Rukh and the others fell into a chastened quiet after the warrior's outburst.
The battle for Ashoka was several weeks old, and from all accounts, it was a deadlock, with no sign that either side would gain the upper hand.
The Queen was not pleased by the state of affairs. Most nights, She hounded Hal'El's dreams, demanding that he thrust the Withering Knife into the heart of the Oasis. Thus far, he had steadfastly ignored Her commands. It would be the end of Ashoka if he did as the Queen ordered. She and Her Chimeras would roll through the city like a terrible tide of swords and death.
Hal'El couldn't allow it, and he refused to be the instrument by which his home was destroyed. The Sorrow Bringer was truly insane if She believed he would allow his people to be slaughtered.
Better to let the battle be decided by whoever had enough stores to outlast the other. Let it become a war of attrition and provisions, of supplies and sustenance, of numbers and accountants. Ashoka's foodstuffs were enough to see the city through a year or more, but what of the Chimeras? Though the Queen appeared fully in control of Her faculties, how much preparation had She really put into this siege? How much time had She allowed for the Baels to ready their warriors for what was shaping up to be a long, drawn-out campaign?
Likely not a lot.
Which meant Ashoka would simply have to wait out the Chimeras until they starved.
A moment later, he grimaced at the thought. If the Chimeras died of hunger, then what information could he offer the Magisterium that would convince them to allow him to live? Precious little.
Hal'El tilted his head as shouts from outside broke through the quiet of his hideaway. He listened intently, trying to make out the words. A moment later, the meaning came clear.
The Chimeras had devised a means to drop their rocks on Ashoka's Outer Wall, and if they had enough rocks, they might actually be able to do some damage to it.
Hal'El smiled in satisfaction. For a time, he'd been worried that his superlative knowledge and skills wouldn't be needed in the defense of his home. For a time, he'd been worried that Ashoka would be safe without his help, but thankfully, that wasn't the case. The Chimeras would likely find a way to break through the Outer Wall, and if they couldn't, then Hal'El would make sure that they did. He fingered the hilt of the Withering Knife.
The Magistrates needed to learn fear.
If needed, Hal'El could simply use the black blade to scratch the stone upon which Ashoka's Oasis was anchored. He could mar it just enough to weaken the city's protection. A small breach. If he did so, the Magisterium would likely be in a far more accommodating mood toward him and his singular knowledge.
Yes. Perhaps that would be best.
His plan decided, Hal'El returned to the one item that he chewed over like an ugly piece of gristle: how to reach the Shektans. He'd learned that Satha was paralyzed, which was a good start for the punishment that cursed family deserved, but it wasn't nearly enough. Hal'El wouldn't be satisfied until he had Dar'El's head on a pike.
And after that, he would answer Ashoka's cry for a savior. He would rescue his home. Hal'El would ensure that his life's journey didn't end in infamy but in the only manner that truly made sense: as the unconquered hero that saved Ashoka.
But first he needed more abilities than he currently possessed. He needed something only Rukh Shektan possessed.
“You will never have all that you need,” Felt Barnel said in his mind. “You are too great a cretin to even know what you truly require.”
“A jackass dressed as a man,” said Aqua Oilhue. “Thus do we reckon Hal'El Wrestiva.”
“A simpleton, bellowing to his betters about his illusory knowledge. You are an idiot,” said Sophy.
Hal'El gritted his teeth in annoyance. The views of the others trapped in his mind were unimportant. He knew what mattered. He knew how he could yet claim his rightful victory. He needed Rukh Shektan's power. He hadn't forgotten how the young warrior had battled and defeated Suwraith. Hal'El wanted what Rukh had. He needed it. Ashoka needed for him to have it. That kind of Talent melded with what Hal'El knew of the Fan Lor Kum would make him undefeatable, and by extension, the city itself.
Hal'El studied the black blade, the Withering Knife, that had cost him so much but might also provide the salvation he so desperately desired.
“The rocks are eventually going to wear down Ashoka's walls,” Rukh said. He must have noticed Choke's sudden look of alarm. “Not now, but eventually. Probably many months from now,” he further explained.
“How many months?” Choke asked.
“Well into winter, maybe spring,” Rukh replied. “But Marshall Tanhue wants to know if you have any ideas on how to slow down the Fan Lor Kum. If nothing else, it would give our people hope.”
Li-Choke stroked his chin in thought. “An obvious solution doesn't come to mind,” he said, somewhat surprised that the marshall had sought out his advice. He was even more surprised that so early on, Ashoka's warriors thought their Walls might already be at risk. He had been sure it would take many more months, possibly the fall or even winter, to bring down the city's heavy fortifications.
“We have to
find a way to hurt the Chims,” Rukh said. “Put them on the defensive. We can't just hide here behind the walls while they're pulled down around our ears.”
Choke considered the problem anew as he glanced around the prison in which he and the other Chimeras were housed. Though the Magisterium had allowed them sanctuary, it didn't mean the Baels and Tigons had been given free rein to wander the city. Instead, they were still housed here, in the prison built for them shortly after their arrival to the city.
Right now, most of the Baels and Tigons rested in the shade, doing their best to evade the heat of the afternoon sun. On the catwalk skirting the prison's perimeter, warriors remained vigilant, keeping a close eye on the Baels and Tigons within.
Choke felt no resentment at his ongoing captivity. Why should he? The behavior of the Humans was to be expected. Throughout history, Baels and Tigons had not done nearly enough for Humanity, and yet here were the Ashokans housing and protecting their once mortal enemies. The Humans even fed them regularly. Choke was especially glad for the occasional meat they were offered. Pork, beef, and lamb were a welcome change from the taste of Phed. He . . .
Phed.
An idea came to him.
The Baels, Ur-Fels, and Balants were omnivores. They could feed on grass, but the Tigons and Braids were obligate carnivores. Their primary food source was the Pheds. If the Humans could kill enough Pheds, it wouldn't slow down the Fan Lor Kum, but they would have to hasten their attack or risk starvation for a large number of their warriors.
“What is it?” Rukh asked.
Choke explained what he'd been thinking, but irritatingly, Rukh wouldn't let him reveal his thoughts in the proper manner in which they should be given. Instead, he kept urging Choke to 'hurry up' or 'get to the point'.
Choke found such prompts discourteous, but by now, he'd grown used to the manner in which Humans spoke, and he trudged on with his truncated explanation. When he finished, he gave Rukh a smile. “Kill enough Pheds, and maybe that will give us an opportunity to stop the rest of the Chimeras.”
