A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (27 page)

Cedar’s
mouth thinned into a tight-lipped line of worry as he quickly considered her words.  “Let’s go,” he said.  “Don’t worry about being quiet.  Just run.  Swift and silent.”

They slipped away into the night, moving as quickly and quietly as their Linked Blends would allow.

No more than several hundred yards from the shallow vale where four Purebloods had crushed thirty Tigons, they ran into a nest of Ur-Fels, spread out along their path.  The creatures, each one the size of a large hound had a fox-like appearance with triangular ears, narrow noses, and bushed tails.  The Chims sniffed the air.  They couldn’t see the Strongholders, not through a Blend, but they could sense powerful emotions such as fear and excitement, both of which Jessira knew she and her brothers exuded like cologne.

Cedar
signaled a different direction, and just as they were about to go, a strange call, deep and carrying, echoed across the night sky.

The Ur-Fels yippe
d and yammered and bounded away in the direction of the cry.

Jessira exhaled in relief.

They broke into a run, but had taken no more than a few dozen steps when they almost ran full on into a troop of Baels – ten of them – looming out of the darkness like a dark, ugly fog.

Jessira
silently swore, hoping against hope that somehow the Chimeras hadn’t heard the grass tear as she and her brothers had come to a stumbling standstill.  She prayed as fervently as she ever had. 
Please let the Blends hold.  Please let them pass us by.

For a moment the world was still except for the creak of the leather harnesses worn by the Baels as well as the jangling of the feathers from their horns.  The beasts smelled of hay
, cut grass, and musk.  They breathed heavily as if they had been running.

The world snapped back into motion.

“Three Humans out for a stroll on this dimly lit night, so near our encampment,” one of them said sounding amused.  He was a huge brute, one of those from earlier, with Suwraith.

Icy fingers clutched at
Jessira’s heart.  She cursed their bad luck.  Why did the Baels have to be right here and right now?  Why hadn’t they returned to their camp as their general had ordered?  She sought an escape, looking for any place to hide or run, but all paths before them and to the sides were blocked.  Perhaps they could turn around and race back in the direction from which they had come.  Baels were slow, and Humans were fast – especially scouts.  The Chimeras knew they were nearby, but they probably didn’t know
exactly
where.  She and her brothers were still Blended after all.  They could…

A whipcrack from one of the barbed, metal whips the Baels favored snapped less than a foot from Jessira’s head.  There went that plan.

“UnBlend,” the huge Bael ordered.  “And sheathe your weapons.  We won’t kill you yet, but try to flee, and we’ll snap your necks before you take another step.”

Cedar
flickered into view, causing a few of the Baels to mutter and gesture, pointing him out.  Jessira followed her brother’s lead, as did Lure, but she still furtively cast about, searching everywhere for a means to escape. “What do you intend to do with us?” Cedar asked.

“Nothing too horrible.  Maybe the
cookpot,” the large one said with a laugh.

“We aren’t moving a step until we know what’s…

“You are in no position to make demands, Human,” the Bael snapped, cutting him off.  “Come with us and maybe live.  Stay here and you’ll die.  Either way, I care not.  A patrol of Ur-Fels heads this way.  They can’t see through your Blends, but they can sense when emotions run high and hot, and right now, your fear runs like lava down a mountainside.”  The big Bael stepped back.  “Your choice, but you should understand this: Mother’s other children are not as hospitable as we.”  His lips pulled back into a menacing grin, exposing flat, white teeth.

Jessira kept her breathing easy and steady.  It wasn’t time to panic yet, but it was close.  Stay alive. 
It was the only thing that mattered.

Cedar
reluctantly accepted the big Bael’s offer, and Jessira and her brothers were quickly surrounded and marched back in the direction of the shallow bowl of land from where they had come.  When they arrived, the general and the Purebloods stood amongst the scattered corpses of the Tigon dead.  The ground was slick; red and puddled in places with blood.

She noticed the Rahail had a bad cut on his bicep.  It might be through muscle, which was a hard injury to recover from.  The crueler Kumma was also hurt, and his sword arm hung limply at his side, obviously broken
, and one eye was blackened.  Good.  She had no pity for those who hated her.  The shorter, stockier Kumma had a nasty slice across his hip and a stab through the meat of his thigh.  He limped about in obvious pain.  As for their leader, Rukh, even he was injured.  He looked like he was having trouble breathing and he held his arm protectively against the side of his chest.  He probably had a broken rib.

All of them were covered in gore and blood, looking like they had waded throu
gh the worst parts of a slaughterhouse.  The place smelled like one, too.  The prior clean scent of acacia and eucalyptus was overwhelmed by the stench of shit, piss, and blood.  It was stomach-turning.

“I found these morsels wandering all alone in the night,” the large Bael said as he stepped into the firelight.  He gestured
, and Jessira and her brothers were shoved forward.

“And I take it, Li-Reg, they came with you because of your legendary powers of persuasion?  It had nothing to do with threats?” the Bael general asked, a laughing tone in his voice.

The larger Bael’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.  “On my honor, Li-Dirge, I have been nothing but a gracious host.  Although…” his lips quirked into a grin, “…I might have implied deadly harm would be inflicted upon them if they didn’t accompany me.”

The general snorted in amusement.  “Well enough, Reg.  The Ur-Fels would have found them before they could have made good their escape.”

The large Bael looked at the dead Tigons.  “What happened here?”

“A couple of foolish claws decided to countermand our orders.”

“Brainless cats,” Li-Reg muttered.  “Wheresoever Mother appears, the Tigons follow, considering it a holy site and one worthy of a pilgrimage.”

Jessira wasn’t sure if the
Bael called Reg was joking or not, but he seemed to be earnest.

“And who are these individuals,” the general asked.  “Have you learned?”

“Not yet,” said the large Bael.  “We kept them silent until we could speak in privacy.”

The general nodded.  “Send someone to tell the Ur-Fels to stand down.”

“It is already done.”

“Good.  Then gather a detail and clean up this mess,” the general said, indicating the Tigon corpses.  He didn’t bother to see how his order was carried out as he turned to Jessira and her brothers.  “The Ashokans are known to me now.”

Ashokans? Had they been part of the destroyed caravan?

The general glanced at Rukh.  “Thankfully, they chose to spare my life until they heard me out.  What of you, though?  Who are you?”

“We have nothing to say to you,” Cedar said.  “Or to your Sil Lor Kum pets,” he spat toward the Purebloods.

Of course, it had to be Farn who had to take a
threatening step toward them.

What a prick.

“Why would you think we’re Sil Lor Kum?” Rukh asked.  Jessira noticed the sudden tension in his bearing.  “And what are all these Baels doing here?”  He glanced at the general.  “You should answer quickly.”

The Pureblood looked ready to explode into action, injury or no, as did the other Ashokans.

Reg looked to his general, who gave him leave to answer.  “The Ur-Fel nests nearby must have sensed the death of the Tigons.  They were out in force.  I’ve sent word for them to return to their dens.  If we hadn’t rounded up your friends when we did, they would likely have been caught.”

Rukh looked at Jessira.  “Is this true?”

She nodded reluctantly.  It felt too much like ceding authority to him.

“We don’t need your protection,”
Cedar said.  “We need nothing from the Sil Lor Kum.” 

Rukh turned
to him, a deadly earnestness in his face.  “Two times now you’ve called us that.  If this was Ashoka, I’d have already handed you your head.”  He never raised his voice, but Jessira heard the chill warning in his words.

“And what?  I’m supposed to be afraid of you?  The big, bad Kumma?  I’ll cross swords with any of you fraggers,”
Cedar said.  “I’m not afraid to die.  The greater death is failing to fight and give quarter to evil.”

“You’ll want to be careful, or you’ll find yourself facing death of a more certain kind,” Rukh replied, his voice flat.

Cedar didn’t back down, meeting him glare for glare and not giving an inch.

Rukh’s hand slid to his sword.

“For the sake of sanity!  Leave off, Cedar,” Jessira said, pulling her brother back.  Her brother was good, but broken rib or no; he wasn’t anywhere close to the Kumma’s level.  “We believe you Ashokans are Sil Lor Kum because you cavort with the Chimeras…”

“We do no such thing!” Keemo interrupted.  “How dare you!”

Jessira turned to him.  “Then explain
his…”
she nodded to Rukh “…brotherly conversation with their general.  You call us ghrina, but at least we don’t treat with Humanity’s enemies.”

“You are Humanity’s enemies,” Farn mutter
ed.

“Leave off,” Rukh said in a tired voice to Farn before turning back to Jessira. 
“It was curiosity,” he continued.  “I needed information on where the Plague was staging and what was going on between the Baels and their Queen.”  Rukh glanced at the Chim commander.  “After he helped with the Tigons, the general had an interesting story to tell.  All I did was hear him out.”

“And what of your abilities?”
Cedar asked.  “You can Blend.  Only Murans and Rahails can do that.  We know how strict you Purebloods are with your Talents.  If anyone from any other Caste could do as a Muran or a Rahail, you’d think them no better than a ghrina.”

“We aren’t ghrina
s,” Keemo said.  “We’re naajas.  We’re Tainted.”

“But we weren’t made so at birth or by choice,” Farn said, glaring at
Cedar.  “Bad luck sealed our fate.”

Rukh glanced at the taller Kumma and shook his head, looking disappointed.  “It happened when our caravan was pinned against a cliff.  The three of us…” – he indicated the other Kummas – “…formed a Triad.  Somehow, Brand was drawn into it and we became a Quad.  I
never even knew something like that was possible.”

“But it happened,” Brand said.  “And now we can all do the same things.  The Kummas can Blend, and I can throw Fireballs.”

It was a nice story – although Jessira had no idea what they meant by Triads and Quads – but it was just too neat and tidy, just like everything else she’d heard tonight.

“A pretty explanation,”
Cedar said, apparently disbelieving as well.  “But in
our
histories, Purebloods do not suffer to live those whom they label ghrinas or naajas.”

Rukh nodded.  “And we will
likely be expelled once the city fathers learn what we can do.”

“We
may get marked with the Slash of Iniquity,” Keemo said.  “But we are Kummas.”

“And Kummas serve,” Farn said, drawing himself up proudly.  “We will protect Ashoka even though our lives there are ended.  We know our duty.”

“And this Rahail feels no differently,” Brand added.

Their words rang true, and Jessira found herself
confused and conflicted.  She actually
wanted
to believe them, and she hated her nascent compassion.  While the Purebloods hadn’t killed her out of hand when they had captured her, murder
had
been in their hearts.  She had seen it in their eyes.  Jessira had been moments from death, and she still wasn’t sure why their leader, Rukh, had allowed her to live. It made no sense because there was a simple truth to her world: Purebloods, whether they were Sil Lor Kum or not, hated the OutCastes.  According to the dictates of
The Word and the Deed
, a ghrina’s just punishment was death.

“Your story explains your abilities, but not why you have sought alliance with the Baels,
” Cedar said, obviously still holding onto his own suspicions.

“We made no alliance.  We seek none either,” Rukh replied. “We came to kill the Baels.  All of them if possible.”

Lure openly laughed in derision.  “Unbelievable.  You Purebloods and your arrogance.  There were fifty of the red-eyed bastards.”  He glanced about upon hearing the unhappy mutterings of the Baels, meeting their challenging stares with an unyielding one of his own.  “I should apologize for what I said?  After what your kind have done to Humanity for two millennia?”  He snorted in derision.  “You’re lucky I don’t call you worse.”

While
Jessira wanted to cheer Lure’s words, she also wanted to slap her younger brother and tell him to shut it.  A smart warrior knew when to keep silent, and a smarter warrior knew to never poke the bear.  Lure needed that instruction.  “They took thirty Tigons without loss,” she reminded her younger brother.