A Warrior's Knowledge

by Davis Ashura

  The rest of the Silversuns and Shadowcats arrived.

  “I’ve already warned them,” Rukh said before the others entered the cleft. “We should see evacuees coming out any moment.”

  Cedar breathed heavily, panting, but it seemed more likely from emotion than from the run down the mountain. He took a hesitant step forward. “My wife? My family?”

  “It’s all in Devesh’s hands now,” Jessira heard herself say.

  “Then we’re all doomed,” a warrior muttered.

  “Clear the area,” Rukh said. “Once they come out, we have to lead them to shelter.”

  Cedar shuddered and he turned away from Stronghold. “We’ll head back up the trail,” he said, his voice throbbing with suppressed passion. “There’s a rallying point no more than a couple miles on the far side of the field we were using.”

  “It’s part of a series of caves we prepared in case something like this ever happened,” Jessira explained after seeing Rukh’s confusion.

  A number of women and children as well as some warriors were making their way through the cleft — a throng, thick and filling the passageway from side-to-side. They were packed in so tight, it was hard for them to make headway. The crowd moved with sluggish speed. Most of them wouldn’t make it if the Queen was already heading their way.

  “Move it!” Jessira screamed.

  “Cedar!” a woman cried out. It was Laya.

  Cedar’s face cleared into a look of joy and amazement. “Laya!”

  “Hurry!” Rukh shouted. “She’s coming.” He pointed. High in the air, south of them and rapidly heading their way, came the Queen.

  Cedar turned to Sign. “Take command of the Shadowcats. Lead our people to safety. Protect them! Chims are likely in the heights.”

  Sign nodded and with a gesture, she gathered the Shadowcats around her. She led a contingent of folk from Stronghold, the straggling few who had finally managed to exit the cleft.

  Cedar turned to Jessira and Court. “We’ll stay behind as long as we can; help get out as many as possible.”

  Jessira knew he would wait until the very end for Laya. Where was she? Jessira scanned the onrushing crowd, which was finally picking up speed. There! Still many yards deep within the passage.

  Jessira startled as Rukh launched himself skyward. He landed on an outcropping fifteen feet deep into the cleft and a dozen feet above the crowd before taking off again. He hurdled his way down the throat of the passage, jumping from one spot to another, high above the streaming horde.

  “Holy Devesh,” Court murmured in awe.

  Jessira didn’t answer. Her attention was entirely on Rukh. She knew in any other time, she would have been awed by what he was doing: his balance, his grace, his power. Right now she was too afraid to do anything other than pray for him to hurry with whatever he had planned. She glanced skyward and her heart clenched. The Sorrow Bringer was nearly upon them. “Hurry, Rukh,” she whispered.

  Rukh landed beside Laya. Without missing a beat, he grabbed her up and hurled himself back in the air. He made his way back through the cleft, bypassing the struggling, seething mass of people below.

  Cedar’s fists were clenched tight as he wore a look of desperate hope on his face.

  Seconds later, Rukh landed beside them. He set Laya on her feet before almost falling to the ground himself, gasping for breath. Jessira reached for him, holding him up. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “We need to get moving,” Court said, propping Rukh up from the other side.

  Jessira glanced up the trail. The Silversuns were urging their fellow Strongholders to greater speed. But as one, they stumbled to an uncertain halt. Many of them pointed to the sky and screamed in terror as Suwraith circled in a tight spiral. At any moment, She would attack the East Gate.

  “Run!” Cedar shouted, getting them moving. Rukh shook himself free of Jessira and Court, staggering toward the path.

  Jessira watched him, ready to help if needed. As strong as he was, she knew his vaulting leaps through the cleft couldn’t have been easy.

  More screams, this time from behind them. The Queen had taken on the shape of an arrowhead, pointed at the heart of their city. Suwraith plunged downward on a rush of wind. Those still in the passageway wouldn’t make it.

  The Sorrow Bringer seemed to cry out in triumph, a static shout of crackling lightning and booming thunder. She slammed into the narrow, open-ceilinged tunnel leading to the East Gate, folding it over as if were made of soft dough. Stone cracked, boulders tumbled, and the passage was filled with tons of falling debris. Hundreds were crushed.

  *****

  Lienna, Her work above the fields complete, flew toward the hidden city of UnCasted Humans. They would all die, even the pitiful few who had already begun to scatter like cockroaches scuttling from the light. Let them flee. She’d hunt them down after She had finished off the rest of their wretched brethren, hiding as they were like rats within the nearby mountain. Did they think the mountain’s mass would hide them? Protect them?

  She smiled to Herself. They were sadly mistaken. She would crush their home, while Her child, Li-Choke, would execute any who managed to escape Her righteous vengeance. And She knew Choke would carry out Her will. He knew the penalty of defiance.

  Lienna cried out, a fierce, triumphant scream of lightning and thunder as She arrowed downward. Her goal was the passage from which the miserable Humans poured forth. Her aim was true, and She smashed into the walls, laughing with joy as they collapsed inward, burying hundreds of the Human pests beneath mountains of rubble. Screams of the dying — hundreds, possibly thousands — rose through the wreckage of the passage. The fear of those still trapped smelled sweet like honeysuckle.

  Done. No more of the vermin would escape from that route. But to the west, another stream of the parasites sought to escape their tomb.

  Pleasure bubbled through Lienna. It had been too long since She had smote Her vengeance upon the Human scum. Mistress Arisa would be pleased.

  The pleasure slipped away like a fish struggling through Her frantic grasp. Mistress Arisa wasn’t real. Even as Lienna thrust aside the hideous memory of the fiend She had once worshipped, questions arose within Her mind. If Mistress Arisa wasn’t real, then what was the point of killing the Humans? The answer came fitfully, in unhappy spurts. Had Lienna done as She had over the millennia because She believed Humanity to be a plague on the world? Was there no deeper reason, nothing more rational?

  She pushed aside the irritating voice challenging Her beliefs. It sounded too much like Mother, and Mother was long since dead. Besides, She still had work to do. She had no more time for philosophy.

  She soared westward, closing off a few smaller exits as She went, killing the few ant-like lines of dismal Humans who had managed to make it to the surface. Her goal, though, was the other main entrance and exit from the UnCasted city. And when She reached it, She smashed the passageway leading inward into heaps of rubble just as She had in the east. But this time, She kept on going, burrowing inside. The dying screams from the swarming mass of maggots lurking within was like music in Her figurative ears. And all throughout, She sent Her scouring sandstorms streaming down tunnels and darkened passageways, shredding and tearing everyone She came across into bloody ribbons.

  “Why do You kill them?”

  Lienna pulled up short, Her rage momentarily over taken by a needle of fear upon hearing the question. The voice had sounded disquietingly like Mistress Arisa. Lienna paused in Her destruction and listened further, desperate to hear nothing.

  And thankfully, there was only blessed quiet.

  Lienna moved on and Death rode Her wake. Not even the screams of Her victims could penetrate the cyclone howl of Her raging winds as She murdered the underground city. Splatters of blood, like ink stains, were the only remnants of Her victims. For their sins, they had to die.

  “What sins?”

  Mother.

  “Why do You murder them?”

  Fat
her.

  “Weakling.”

  Mistress Arisa.

  The prior needle of fear became a thick spar. Lienna paused once again and whimpered. None of them were real. Within Her mind were Mother’s memories and possibly some of Father’s, but nothing more. Mother and Father were gone, and Mistress Arisa had never existed.

  “Then why do You murder in My name?”

  The fear blanketed Lienna, and She waited in huddled fear. Her whipping winds became slow, sullen gusts as She tried to still Her racing, terrified thoughts. Arisa wasn’t real. She couldn’t be. She had merely been a figment of Lienna’s insanity. Nothing more. She held tight to the thought as She waited in the darkness and silence. She prayed — to whom She didn’t know since either Devesh didn’t exist or He was powerless to oppose Her — but She prayed, nonetheless, hoping to never again hear the voice from Her madness, hoping that the angry, ugly, hurtful voice would be silenced forever. She prayed nothing would break the quiet.

  “To whom do you pray?” Mistress Arisa asked.

  Lienna screamed.

  She raced away with a shriek, trying to outrun Mistress’ maniacal laughter. It chased after Her, even as She exterminated the hidden city of UnCasted Humans. In some fashion, their screaming deaths helped quiet Lienna’s own inner demons.

  *****

  Sateesh Grey had only heard the warning bells of Stronghold rung once before. It had been years ago, when a fire had broken out in Crofthold Jonie, consuming several flats on Plot Find. The smoke had carried throughout Stronghold, coating most every hallway and tunnel with a thin layer of fine sooty ash. It had taken weeks to scrub the scent of smoke from the city.

  Today, Sateesh had expected something similar: a fire or some other kind of natural disaster. He had rushed from his workroom down in Plot Art of Crofthold Discus. Only after he had run into several friends did he learn the true extent of the disaster facing his home.

  Suwraith was coming to Stronghold. It was his people’s greatest fear. The Sorrow Bringer would destroy the city.

  Evacuation would save a few, but for most there would be little hope, those like Sateesh’s family, who were buried too deep within the mountain to reach the surface in time. They would simply be trapped in tunnels full of screaming, terrified people as the Sorrow Bringer brought the ceilings down on their heads. Today, then, would be the end of Sateesh’s family and of nearly everyone he loved.

  All but maybe Jessira, Cedar, Court, and Sign. They might survive the coming holocaust. The four of them had planned on traveling to a place on Mount Frame where Rukh Shektan trained. Sateesh prayed they were still out there, somewhere safe from the Sorrow Bringer. He added Laya to his prayers. She might be out there as well. She had planned on picnicking with Cedar along the shores of Lake Tear and share with him the joy of knowing she was pregnant. It was knowledge that only her own parents, Crena, and Sateesh knew. Another grandchild, and Sateesh would never see the infant born.

  So many regrets on this day of doom. Where would the people of Stronghold go? How many would survive, or would this be the end of the OutCastes? It was an unfair world in which they lived. Perhaps the next one — the one on the other side of the bridge of life — would be better.

  He prayed it would be so. So many prayers to offer, so many needs. He even voiced a supplication for his new son-in-law, Rukh Shektan, regretting he couldn’t have gotten to know the man better. So proud was the Kumma, but he had also taught the OutCastes to be wary of their own arrogance. And that he made Jessira happy was obvious to anyone who saw the two of them together, always seeking one another in a crowded room and sharing a smile whenever their gazes met.

  Sateesh climbed the stairs of Crofthold Lucent, wanting to reach his home. His family would have realized the futility of attempted escape and would be there even now, waiting for him at their flat. It was where Sateesh needed to be.

  On his way there, he ran into dear friends, and he paused long enough to share a few final words with them. They spoke of regrets and love before embracing a last time. Sateesh knew he would never again see any of those warm, wonderful people.

  As Sateesh hurried through the tunnels of Crofthold Lucent, he was struck by the silence of the city. Though the hallways were crowded, the people — usually so boisterous and alive — walked in a stern quiet with heads held high. There was no wailing or crying for salvation. No gnashing of teeth and tearing of clothes. His people were strong, and their bravery, their nobility in the face of annihilation almost unmanned him. These were good people. They didn’t deserve to die like this one. No one did: murdered by a mad fiend.

  Sateesh approached his flat and struggled to hold back the tears. He ached for his people. What had been the point of Stronghold’s existence if it was to be wiped away as if it had never existed? All the generations before, their struggle, their sacrifice — did it mean nothing? He hoped it wasn’t the case, prayed that their cries in the wilderness were heard.

  Before entering his flat, Sateesh stifled his tears, not wanting his family to see his weakness. They needed his strength in order to face this final day with the grace of their ancestors.

  He opened the door. Crena sat on the sofa with their middle grandchild, Lure, in her lap. The child, only nine, looked so much like his namesake uncle, but he would never have a chance to grow up. Jeshni sat alongside Crena with her two youngest, Cearthee and Mahri, both girls, huddled in her arms. Kart stood alongside his wife, a frozen look of mourning on his face. He held tight the hand of his oldest child, Ruhile, who was almost twelve. The boy stood quietly, but terror lurked behind his eyes.

  Seeing his grandson’s fear, Sateesh collapsed to his knees and finally gave in to his grief. He could no longer hold back the tears, and he sobbed. He gathered his family to him. “It will all be fine,” he lied, kissing the heads of Cearthee and Mahri. He clutched Lure, hugging him fiercely, never wanting to let him go. He didn’t want to let any of them go. He wanted to see his grandchildren grow up and live wondrous lives of their own, to have all the joy he had been so blessed to experience.

  “Are we going to die?” a soft voice asked. It was Ruhile.

  Sateesh glanced at Kart, who quietly and almost imperceptibly shook his head. His son didn’t want Ruhile to know the truth. So be it. Sateesh mustered a smile. “Devesh will see us through,” he said. “We are just afraid of what might happen first.”

  Lure stroked Sateesh’s cheeks. “Amma says it’s a sin to lie.”

  Sateesh’s smile faltered. “It is not a lie to say Devesh will see us through, or that He waits for us, one hand always open to bring us home.”

  “Then we are going to die,” Ruhile said, sounded certain. He shuddered but didn’t cry. His bravery was beautiful to behold. What a man he would have been.

  “Only our bodies,” Crena said, speaking into the silence. “Our souls and Jivatma will shelter in Devesh’s loving embrace. The First Father and Mother will show us the way to our Lord.”

  A noise of thunder and breaking stone reached them, along with distant, short-lived screams.

  Cearthee whimpered and buried her head against Jeshni’s leg.

  “I love you,” Crena said, drawing Mahri to her lap, but speaking to all of them “The Lord loves you. This is not the end. It is just the beginning of a wondrous journey. Remember His promise as it is written in The Book of All Souls: in all the years of a person’s life is there a season. Now is our time for repose and prayer. Seek His light and let the fear pass; for nothing of this world can truly harm you. Our Lord’s promise is real. I know it to be true.”

  Sateesh’s heart swelled with pride. Crena was so quiet and unassuming that others took her to be meek. She was anything but. Crena was the rock, the foundation of everything good in Sateesh’s life. She was the shelter and the harbor where he had anchored his soul against the wreaking tides of the world. Crena was everything.

  The screams grew closer. Louder. The walls shook. Pebbles and chunks of stone fell to the ground. Larger pieces
tumbled to the floor in shards and splinters. Echoing booms carried as tunnels collapsed and ceilings crumbled to dust. All of Plot Discus shuddered.

  Sateesh could hear the thudding blows of walls punched open. He pulled his family closer about him, holding tight to them as if they might fly away from his grip in the coming storm. He whispered soft words of encouragement as the youngest among them cried again. He spoke brave words for his brave grandchildren. He cried for them. Their lovely light would be snuffed out before it could truly shine.

  Still, he spoke his words of bravery, not caring how they tasted like bitter, burnt offerings in his mouth. He would speak them over and over again if they brought even the slightest degree of comfort to his grandchildren.

  Closer.

  “I love you,” Kart said to his family. All of his children were crying now, trembling in fear, even the oldest Ruhile.

  “I love you,” Sateesh said.

  A closer boom. Sateesh looked in the direction from which the sounds were coming. A final echoing thud smashed through his family’s home, followed close by a raging wind full of scouring sand.

  For an instant only, Sateesh knew terrible pain as his skin was flayed. The screams of his family were mercifully brief. Then all was quiet, except the singing light of Blessed Peace.

  *****

  Li-Choke stood at the forefront of a single Fracture. He glanced back at the Chimeras strung out along the floor and surrounding ridges of a ravine running north-to-south. Sheer cliff walls — hundreds of feet tall and streaked with green and orange from copper and iron deposits — reared on either side of the canyon, casting much of it in near perpetual gloom. The sun struggled to reach the boulder-strewn floor of the ravine, leaving it cool and untouched by spring’s warmth. Long stalactites of ice speared downward from beneath the shadow of rocky overhangs and a wide, shallow stream gurgled in eddies and rapids as it made its way north.

  In that direction, the canyon opened out, revealing a tremendous plume of dust blasted into the sky. It lifted heavenward, several miles from where the Fracture stood. A moment later came a sound of thunder. Choke rocked back on his feet, and the echoing boom hurled many Chimeras off their feet. It was a fearful sight, and the Fan Lor Kum watched it in stunned silence. Choke swallowed hard and came to a halt. How many had just been murdered by Mother’s hideous will?