A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (38 page)

“I hope you are right, but I fear you are wrong,” Choke replied.

Rukh grunted.  The Bael’s assessment of the situation was probably the correct one, but it did no good to say so.  It was cruel actually, and the small sliver of sympathy worming its way into his heart surprised Rukh.  Compassion for the Baels?  How unexpected.  Only moments earlier he had felt a complete lack of concern regarding their impending slaughter.  Perhaps Li-Dirge’s words had affected him more deeply than he realized.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the glade of trees.

“We’ll stop here,” Rukh said as they approached the large copse.  “I can’t keep the Blend going for much longer anyway.”

Choke nodded, and soon after they penetrated into the deeper shadows under the cottonwoods and junipers, he carefully set Jessira down with a grateful sigh.  The Bael looked drained.

As for Rukh, he had been conducting
Jivatma
during the whole of their escape and even before, during the fight with the Tigons.  He felt as weary as Li-Choke looked.  And the pain in his chest was like an aching hot coal.

“Do we have anything to eat?” Choke asked.

Rukh shook his head.  “I left everything but my sword back there.”  He nodded in the direction they had come from.  “Besides, we need water more than food right now.  I need to clean the ghri…I mean Jessira’s wounds.”

“There might be a stream
somewhere nearby,” Choke said, pointing to a deeper part of the stand, where the maples arose.  It was an area marked by the fallen trunk of a thorn tree.  “It sounds like one anyway.”

Rukh went still and listened.

Choke was right.  There
was
a stream nearby.

Rukh stood with a weary sigh and clambered over the fallen thorn tree, careful not to let it scratch him.  Directly past it, a small rivulet of water meandered across gray pebbles before disappearing into a soggy bog, forming a small marsh.

“Water means animals,” Rukh said.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to drink
and
eat.”

Fate must have been smiling upon them because shortly after they had sated their thirst and cleaned Jessira’s wounds, a family of jackrabbits came to the watering hole.

Two Fireballs later, they had food.  The meat was tough, both gamey and burnt – the Fireballs hadn’t just cooked the jackrabbits, they had nearly incinerated them – but it was edible, and for Rukh, it was enough.

Afterward, he took the first watch while Choke fell into an instant slumber.  Rukh insisted on it. He didn’t trust the Bael.  What better time for a betrayal than now, when he was asleep and the woman was unconscious
?  Maybe after Jessira woke up, Rukh could sleep – even with Choke nearby – but until then, he would have to try and stay awake.

T
he Bael rumbled in a fitful slumber.

It was then, during a time of quiet reflection that the images from the previous night came to Rukh.  Keemo…smiling and laughing and bringing his infectious joy to all who knew him.  His lighthearted banter could lighten the mood of
even the most dour.  He had always been the most generous of them – so open and honest.  He was a rare man.  And Brand – so strong and brave.  He had always stood unflinching in the face of danger.  Never quitting.  He had even run with Kummas, a feat no other Rahail could have done.  Brand was pure will and determination.  Rukh had never known anyone tougher.

They were both gone now.  Both lay broken and dead in a faraway place.

He might have cried then, but he forced down the tears.  Now was not the time.  He could mourn when he reached Ashoka, when his city had been warned and her people saved.  Until then, the tears would have to wait.

But the grief remained, a hollow knot
in Rukh’s heart.

Just then Jessira stirred, briefly lifting Rukh’s hopes before she settled down again.  Sometime during their long run from the shallow bowl where
Suwraith had obliterated her Baels, Rukh had come to equate the OutCaste woman’s survival with that of Ashoka’s.  It was an odd belief to have, but for Rukh, he
had
ensure Jessira’s survival.  If nothing else, her survival might give meaning to all those who had so senselessly died last night.  It would be a chance to spit in the Sorrow Bringer’s face; let Her know that while She could kill some, She couldn’t kill everyone.  Humanity was too strong.  They would live on in spite of the Queen’s worst intentions.

Sometimes we must simply throw open the doors of destiny, hanging as they are upon the hinges of our choices.

-Attribution unknown (dating from circa AF 850)

E
ventually, fatigue overcame Rukh’s ability to stay awake, and Li-Choke had to take the watch.  It didn’t mean Rukh slept easily, though.  Every small noise had him instantly alert, and he had an ear cocked for the slightest sound of betrayal.  He didn’t trust the Bael.  More importantly, he didn’t
want
to trust him, and the idea of sleeping while Choke stood watch filled him with worry.  By Rukh’s way of thinking, this whole situation might still be an elaborate deception of some sort.

Who knew what occurred in the mind of a Chimera?

Then again, if this
wasn’t
an elaborate ruse, while the Baels were still Chimera, they were no longer Fan Lor Kum.  If so, could one of Humanity’s greatest enemies be made into an ally?  Rukh doubted many people would think so.  It was the long shot hope of a simpleton.  Too much blood had been spilled, and all those who had lost family at the hands of the Baels…how could they ever be expected to forgive what had been done to them and those they loved.

Still, Rukh wondered at his small niggle of hope where he wished it could be so.  Even stranger was the fervent yet fearful
desire
for it to be so.

Rukh was a warrior, but he was finding a warrior’s heart was not entirely fulfilling.  At times, something else drove him or sought to drive him.  It was said a true warrior did not seek battle but sought victory through peace.  Rukh had long pondered the meaning of those words.  What did they really mean?  Whose peace?  Peace as he understood it meant the
annihilation of one’s enemies, or in the case of the Kumma Houses, coexisting with various degrees of comfort with one’s rivals.

Was there nothing deeper?

Rukh wasn’t sure, but he longed for something else, something richer and more profound.

The words of Li-Dirge had a sentimentality to them, and despite the fact that they had been spoken by a Bael, Rukh still found them touching and appealing.  He especially liked the notion of brotherhood amongst all who could reason. 
That
was deeper, richer, and a more profound sentiment, and one worth fighting for.

Rukh still didn’t like the Bael
s, but while his heart remained hardened against them, the undemanding hatred he had prior to last night was not as easy to summon anymore.  A part of him wished it was.  Life would be so much simpler then, safer and more comforting.  Before his Trial, all he had to do was just follow his years of training and teaching without giving any more thought to the matter.  It was how everyone else back home seemed to think.  Why couldn’t he do the same?

He knew why.  Li-Dirge and the damn Baels and their damn words had introduced doubt into his life.  The SarpanKum’s explanation of history since the fall of Hammer made sense.  Dirge had been right: before Hammer, cities had fall
en like kindling, but afterward – nothing.  What if Hume, the greatest hero in Humanity’s history, had gifted all who came after him with something even more precious than victory over a mountain of Chimera corpses?  What if three hundred years ago, Hume had found a means to teach the Baels to love?  It changed everything because it might very well be true.  If the Sorrow Bringer had genuinely wanted to, She could have easily annihilated Humanity.  She hadn’t done so, but was Her failure due to a lack of desire on Her part, or was it due to the actions of those like Li-Dirge?  Given Her extermination of the Baels, it seemed more and more likely that the Sorrow Bringer’s commanders and generals had, in fact, been the ones to block Her will.

The questions such a possibility raised raced through Rukh’s mind, and he couldn’t get them to stop.  Right now, all he wanted was for the thoughts to just go away.  At least for a little while.  He preferred silence.  He wanted quiet so he could grieve.  He wanted time to remember Keemo’s smile and Brand’s courage.

He wanted the bliss of ignorance.

Jessira stirred, and Rukh awo
ke, turning to see how she was doing.

“She’s starting to
rouse, I think,” Choke said.

“How long was I asleep?” Rukh asked.

“A few hours.  It’s just past mid-day.”

Jessira’ eyes flickered open.  She groaned.  “I feel like I’ve been mule-kicked.  What happened?”

“The Shylows happened,” Rukh replied, settling next to her.  “Do you remember anything from last night?”

She glanced at Choke, a guarded
ness to her eyes.  “I think I’m starting to,” she said.  “For a moment, I thought it might all have been a dream.”  She tried to sit up and instead cried out in pain.

Rukh helped ease her back down.  “Don’t try to get up just yet.  The Shylow raked you pretty good.”

“I’m thirsty.”

Rukh glanced at Choke.

“I’ll get her some water,” the Bael said.

“Where are we?”
Jessira asked, after the Bael left.

“In a small grove of trees, somewhere in the
Hunters Flats.”

“What about my brothers?”

“I saw Cedar.  We got separated.  I think he made it out.”

“And Lure?” she asked, dread rising in her eyes.

Rukh shook his head.  “One of the Shylows got him.  I’m sorry.”

She lay her head back and mouthed a silent prayer as tear
s leaked from the corners of her eyes, tracing a clear line through the dust and sweat on her face.

Rukh turned away, giving her privacy for her grief.

“And you have no idea where Cedar is?” Jessira asked after a moment.

“None,” Rukh said.  “Last I saw, he was with Farn.  Your brother had them Blended.”

“What about your Ashokans?” she asked.

Rukh swallowed heavily and turned away
.  Now it was his turn to hide his tears.  “Keemo and Brand are both dead.  And Farn…he’s with Cedar.  Hopefully, they’re still safe.”  Rukh quickly explained all that had happened while Jessira had been unconscious.

Choke returned
as Rukh was finishing his account.

“And him?” Jessira asked, gesturing to the Bael.

“The Queen killed all the Baels meeting with us, you remember that?”  Jessira nodded.  “We Blended two of them and hid them from Her.  The rest of the Fan Lor Kum killed all the others back in their main camp.  His brother, Li-Brine, the other one we saved, died protecting Cedar.  Choke might be the last of his kind.”

Jessira glanced at the Bael, a pitiless expression on her face.  Rukh could imagine how she felt: the Baels were the enemies of the OutCaste
s, no less than they were enemies to the rest of Humanity.  If they suffered, so be it.

“So what happens now?” Jessira asked.

“We go to Ashoka,” Rukh replied.  “It’ll take us about four weeks to get there.”

“You’re going to Ashoka.  I’m going to Stronghold,” she said, trying
again to lever herself up to a sitting position.

“I think you’re better off st
aying with me,” Rukh said.

“Frag that,” she said.  “I’ll be fine,” she snapped, as Rukh moved to keep her from swaying.

“You aren’t fine,” Rukh countered, privately impressed by the woman’s determination.  She had courage, he’d give her that, but fortitude and bravery wouldn’t serve her now.  She needed help, whether she accepted it or not.  “You can barely sit up.”

She fell back with a stifled moan.

“Drink some water,” Choke said.  “We also found a date tree.  You can eat once you’ve slaked your thirst.”

“I don’t want food or water!” she shouted.  She was sobbing a moment later.  “Did Lure suffer?”

“No,” Rukh said.  “I think he died instantly.”

“Good,” she nodded, wiping away her tears.  “Help me up.”

After she drank and ate, she was able to sit straighter and on her own.  Her clothes were a mess.  Her outer jacket was ripped into long ribbons along her left chest, shoulder, and back.  It was crusted in dried blood and so was the camouflage shirt she wore underneath.  The cuts she had suffered had been deep, and they still looked to be seeping blood.  Her pants and boots were worn and dusty but at least they were whole. 

She would
have trouble keeping up with him, and Rukh worried for her.  He had to put aside his pity, though.  “We need to get going soon,” he said.  “Choke says the Chims were called to someplace northwest of here, near the foothills of the Privations.  The Tigons lead them now, but who knows if the word’s gotten out to all of them.  They might still be hunting us.”

“And you’re going to Ashoka?”

Rukh nodded.  “No one else is left.  I have to warn the city.”

“What about Farn?”

“The Shylow broke his arm and the way his head bounced off the ground, he probably has a bad concussion to go with it.  I doubt he’s in any shape to try to make it home on his own.  He’d be dead in a day if he tried.”

“Like me.”

Rukh nodded.  “Like you.”

“I won’t be going with you,” Choke said.

Rukh hadn’t planned on taking the Bael with them anyway, and he was privately relieved Choke felt the same way.  How would he have explained or protected the Bael?  It was one thing for Rukh to relate all he had learned so far, but it would have been a disaster if he tried to bring a living Bael into Ashoka.  Choke
and
Rukh would have both been lynched within minutes.

“Where are you headed?” Rukh asked.

“The breeding caverns.  I don’t know if Mother has killed all Baels everywhere, but if She hasn’t, I have to warn them of what’s happened.”

“Welcome to our life.  We’ve had her unholy attention for two thousand years now,” Jessira muttered,
echoing Rukh’s earlier thoughts.

Choke glanced at her, sympathy on his face.  “I understand your sentiments,” Choke said.  “Perhaps some day, you will find a way to forgive us.”

“Not likely.”

Choke nodded.  “I know. 
Given how we’ve killed and hunted your kind, mercy might be too much to hope for.”  He turned to Rukh.  “I have to go.”

“Good luck to you then,” Rukh replied, surprised by how true the words felt.  He
did
wish the Bael good fortune.

Li-Choke smiled.  “Thank you,” he replied.  He stood
up, his whip coiled at his waist and his trident clutched in one hand.  “In another world we would be brothers.”

“And in a better world, we shall be.”  Rukh smiled at the young Bael’s astonishment.  “It is the correct response, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but how did you know?  Hume taught us that phrase.”

“It’s from the second stanza of
All Truths
, an antiphon dating from before the Night of Sorrows.”

Choke stroked his chin.  “I only know the one verse,” he said.  “It would be good to read it in
its entirety some day.”

“Perhaps one day you will.”

“Peace to you, brother,” Choke said.  With his final words, he left the glade.

Rukh turned, finding Jessira
glaring at him.

“So now you trust the Baels?
Like they’re worthy of brotherhood?” she asked.

“No, I don’t trust them,”
Rukh said, annoyed.  “He isn’t, and they aren’t, and none of them will ever be my brother.  I was just telling him where the words to his phrase come from.  That’s all.”

“And what about me?” Jessira asked.  “Am I also worthy of the great Kumma’s notion of brotherhood?  I am a ghrina, remember?”

Rukh gritted his teeth and managed to hold onto his patience.  He really didn’t want to have an argument right now.  “There is much in this world I would change if I could,” he said.  “I’m not your judge, and most everyone back home would think I’m no less Tainted than you.  I’m a Kumma who can Blend and has conspired with the Baels.”  He snorted in derision.  “I’m sure my people will find great fault with both those transgressions.”

“Then why save me
?  Won’t my presence in Ashoka be just another ‘transgression’?  Another reason for your people to consider you Tainted?”  She sounded honestly concerned for him, or at least curiuos as to his motivations.

He wished he
could
explain his feelings to her, but he couldn’t.  Even for him, they remained a jumbled mishmash of confusing motivations.

“I’m not the barbarian you seem to think I am.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Jessira said.

Rukh grimaced.  His patience left him,
and he was suddenly incensed by the whole situation.  He’d lost three friends last night; two of them had been as close to him as his own brother.  And a few weeks before, he’d seen three hundred Ashokans mauled and killed.  In their own way, they, too, had been like brothers, and he had been forced to listen as their killers feasted on their corpses.  He’d seen enough death, and he wanted to save a life.  So what if it happened to be the life of a ghrina?  Who was
she
to judge him or think so poorly of him?