A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (28 page)

Lure’s mouth
snapped shut.

“We wouldn’t have gotten all of them,” Rukh said, “but then we didn’t expect to.  If we took out maybe twenty…”

“Twenty-five,” the general said.  “With your presence, I would guess twenty-five of us might have been felled.”

Rukh shrugged.  “Fine.  More importantly, out of those twenty-five, the first to die would have been those with the most feathers: the senior commanders.  After that, we’d have melted into the night and waited for a chance to hit them again.”

“And what stayed your hand?” Cedar asked.

R
ukh’s lips quirked into a grin – a surprisingly winsome and boyish smile, Jessira was annoyed to note.  “Well…The Queen showed up.  You might have noticed.  We listened to their conversation, but none of it made any sense, and I hate it when things don’t make sense.”  He shrugged again.  “Then the general’s…”

“Li-Dirge,” the Bael commander corrected.  “I am known as Li-Dirge or simply as Dirge.”

“Then Dirge helped us kill the Tigons, and told us a story to make everything else we’ve learned tonight sound sane.”

Jessira turned to face the Bael general, wondering what
he could have said to convince an Ashokan not to split him on the spot?  Unless, of course, the Ashokan was Sil Lor Kum.  She asked as much, turning to face Rukh.

“We are not Sil Lor Kum
!” Rukh growled.  “Hear Dirge out for yourself.  And the fact the three of you still live when the Baels had you dead to rights tells me maybe there is something to his story after all.”

She and
her brothers fell silent as they considered the Kumma’s words.

Finally,
Cedar grunted.  “Tell us what you told him,” he said to Li-Dirge.

The Bael general sighed.  “Certainly.  But perhaps we can sit?  I’ve been standing since lunch.”

“I think we can all use some time off our feet,” Rukh said.

“Can you Heal their injuries
?” Cedar suddenly asked of Lure, nodding toward the Ashokans.

Jessira turned
to her older brother in surprise.  What was he up to?

“Only Shiyens can Heal,” Farn said, jaw set firm.

Jessira’s eyes rounded in shocked disbelief.  What an idiot.  He might even be stupid enough to refuse their help.  “You mean like only a Rahail and Muran can Blend?” Jessira asked, doing her best to hide the disdain in her voice.

Farn stiffened but said
, and did, nothing more.

“If you can Heal, we’ll take it.  Help Brand first,” Rukh said, pointing to the Rahail.  “He’s the worst off.  After him, Farn.”  He pointed to the tall, bigoted Kumma.  “Then Keemo.  And if you still have the strength, I would appreciate being able to breathe without feeling like I’m being stabbed in the chest.”

“What are you doing?” Jessira whispered to Cedar.

“I’m not sure,” her brother answered.  “I suddenly have a weird feeling is all.”

Jessira studied her brother.  His intuitions were rare and never predictable, but when they occurred, it was best to listen to them.

“I can’t Heal all of you,” Lure said.  “
But Jessira might be able to help.”  He turned to their brother.  “What do you think, Lieutenant?”

Cedar
considered the request before eventually nodding agreement.  “Go ahead.”

While Lure Healed the Ashokans, the general spoke.

“We were never wanted by Mother,” he began.  “Our birth was unexpected and unplanned.  We were a mistake She never desired.  The Bovars were, and are, beasts of burden, bereft of all but the most simple of wit.  They are as dumb and dull as the cows and bulls they resemble.  With our birth, however, Mother had a moment of clarity, a path through Her madness, and She allowed us to live.” The general paused.  “Humanity would have been better served had She not.”

“
Are we supposed to pity you for your existence?” Jessira said.

“It was not my intent,” the general said with a sad shake of his horned head.  “We are glad for our existence, but the simple truth is that if not for us, Humanity would not have suffered as grievously as it has.  After the Night of Sorrows, no other Human city died until the first Baels walked Arisa.  For the first fourteen hundred years after Mother’s murder of the First Mother and First Father…”

“The Queen murdered the First Mother and First Father?” Lure interrupted, pausing, as he was about to set Farn’s broken arm.  “How do you know this?”

“Mother told us; from Her lips to our ears,” the general replied.  “When the guilt from Her evil becomes too great; when Her madness no longer suffices to hide the truth…She rages across the heavens, full o
f sorrow and regret during Her moments of ephemeral self-revelation.  She eventually calms and speaks to the Baels, telling us of Her childhood with the First Mother and the First Father, Her parents.”

“Her parents?” the Kumma leader asked.  “Most believers might find your claims blasphemous,” he added in
a bored voice.  He could have been discussing the weather for how much the information disturbed him.

Jessira felt quite differently.  The Bael’s words
weren’t just possibly blasphemous; they
were
blasphemous.  The Queen could never have been the child of the First Parents.  It had to be another lie.  Another trick.  How could something so evil be birthed by the personification of good?  She cast a look of disbelief toward her brothers who appeared as disturbed as she.

“
Our
histories indicate no such relationship,” Cedar said, tersely.

“She was T
heir Daughter,” Li-Dirge repeated.  “On this matter, She is completely clear.”

Cedar
waved aside his explanation.  “I don’t want to argue about it.  Move on.  Tell me what you meant to say about the birth of the Baels.”

“In the first fourteen centuries after the Night of Sorrows, the Fan Lor Kum, the Red Hand of Justice was under the command of the Tigons.  I am sure their
instability has not escaped your notice,” the general said, with a quick smile, while the other Baels chuckled.  “They are perhaps more deadly to the Fan Lor Kum than they are to Humanity.”

Cedar
stilled and Lure ceased his works on Keemo’s sliced hip.  Jessira trembled with anger.

Cedar
spoke for all of them.  “I’m not laughing,” he said, sounding furious.  “You Chimeras have been nothing but a pestilence of death for all of us – Purebloods or OutCastes alike.  You’ll pardon me, but I don’t think the Tigons are all that comical.”

“I should not have made light of their actions,” the general agreed.  “
But you must understand, we use the aggressive nature of Tigons to aid our brethren whenever we may.”

“By ‘brethren’, he means Humanity,” Rukh explained.  “I felt the same way you look, but listen to the rest of what he has to say.”

Jessira shot the Kumma a surprised look of speculation.  The Ashokan believed the general.  She heard it in his voice and in his stance, but most importantly by the fact that Li-Dirge still lived. Judging by the sour looks on the faces of his companions, though, it was a belief his fellow Ashokans didn’t share.

“With our birth, the Baels became the leaders of Suwraith’s armies.  And it was through our competence that Goshen became the first city to die since the Night of Sorrows, followed shortly by Anvil and then Ajax and then Karma.  Eventually, the greatest prize, mighty Hammer
, was crushed three hundred years ago.”

“Confessing your crimes is a poor way to earn our trust,”
Cedar said, a look of impatience on his face.  “We know all of this.  What else is there?”

“Perhaps you do,” the general said, unperturbed by
Cedar’s annoyance.  “But what is unknown to your kind until now is what happened after the fall of fabled Hammer.  In your histories, I understand you believe Hume Telrest, the last son of Hammer and the greatest warrior to ever walk Arisa’s fertile fields, died when his city was sacked, but it isn’t true.  Hume fell during the battle, yes, but not because of heartbreak or by the sword of a Fan Lor Kum.  The great warrior was felled by more cowardly means.”

Li-Dirge paused a moment, presumably to build up the drama and the tension, and Jessira had to grudgingly acknowledge the Bael’s story-telling ability.  She hated the interest the tale inspired, and
based on their expressions, Cedar and Lure felt the same way.  Of course, while the general was good at spinning out a tale, his skill wasn’t the real reason she and her brothers listened patiently to him.  The real reason was the ten large Baels standing around, and the four Ashokans, who might or might not be in league with them.

“Hume Telrest was poisoned,” the general said into the silence he had built.   “Prior to the decisive battle, an unwise Sil Lor Kum thought to make a present for Suwraith in the form of Hume’s corpse.  Somehow, Mother knew of the great Kumma and hated him as She’s never hated anyone before or since.  I suppose the fool Sil Lor Kum reckoned such a prize would allow him to live on after his city’s demise, but sadly for the idiot, Hume was hardier than the traitor realized.  He swiftly threw off the poison and as soon as he had his wits about him, he ended the unlamented life of the unknown Sil Lor Kum.  Afterward, with his city a burnt-out husk, he left his home, taking refuge in the gullies and valleys of the foothills rising toward the Horned Mountains.  It was there, near the confluence of a silver spring and a mirrored lake, that he came upon our ancient forebear, the SarpanKum of the time.  His name was Li-Charn, and with him were his ten
senior-most commanders.  These were the very Baels who had led the sacking of Hume’s home, lovely Hammer.  Mother spoke to them there, demanding some impossible task or another, and after Her departure, their words about Her were less than complimentary.”  Li-Dirge paused again.  “For reasons unknown, Hume chose not to strike down the Baels, although he could have.  He had the skill.  Instead, he sought to converse with my forebears, and changed the course of our history and yours.”

“What a load of bull…” Lure began.

“How so?” Cedar asked, cutting their brother off.

Jessira
glanced at Cedar in worry.  She couldn’t believe her brother was taking this bilge water seriously.

“History was changed because for the first time, the Baels heard a voice other than their own or that of Mother.  Hume explained concepts such as honor and compassion and forgiveness,” Dirge said.  “He explained how the greatest leaders are the ones who see themselves as servants rather than oppressors.
Hume expanded our horizons.  He taught us to read and appreciate the beauty of the written word.  From the Master, we learned of Lauri, Chulet, and Maral, and so many others.”

“I prefer Shuson,” Li-Reg said.  “I have a copy of
Teller of the Sun and Bride
with me at all times.”  From somewhere beneath his leather harness, he pulled out a slim, battered volume.  It was small in his large hands, and he stared at it reverently.

Jessira frowned. 
Maybe what Li-Dirge claimed really was nothing but bilge water, but if so, he was the best liar she had ever met.  Why would he have planned out all this if it was just subterfuge?  Would the general have gone so far as to have one of his underlings produce a volume of romantic poetry on command?  She couldn’t see the reason for it, and that more than anything else had her feeling frustrated.  She wished this night had never happened.  Life had been so much simpler a few hours ago.  And even though she still wasn’t ready to buy what the general was selling, she also was no longer entirely sure he wasn’t telling the truth.  She was still alive, after all, when the damn Baels had her dead to rights.

Damn Chims.  Why couldn’t they just behave the way they were supposed to?

“May I see that?” Jessira asked Li-Reg, pointing to the volume of poetry he gently held.  Stronghold wasn’t a place for arts, but poetry was the one exception.  Shuson was one of her favorites, and the copy in the Bael’s hands was a rare edition, one not found in her home.  She shook her head in disbelief.  Who would have believed she would find herself sitting in the Hunters Flats, talking with a Bael as if the Chim was a civilized individual?  And discussing poetry no less?

Li-Reg reluctantly passed her the book, and she thumbed through it, wishing she could have a longer perusal.  She glanced at Li-Reg, the large, menacing Bael.  His eyes were focused on the book, following its every movement like a cat watching a floating feather. 
If he was anything other than what he was, the plaintive look of worry on his face might have appeared comical.  Nevertheless, it was mildly amusing, and she held in a chuckle at the Bael’s obvious relief when she passed the volume back to him.

“For romance, I’ve always favored Kyrian,” the general said.

Remembrance of love and

My tears fall in silence.

Your laugh,

My tongue grown mute.

A smile for me alone,

My heart was yours from the first.

All ends but our life endures.

Why so sad, beloved?