A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (26 page)

Rukh didn’t bother answering.  Fight alongside a Bael?  He’d rather burn in the u
nholy hells of Suwraith’s pit.

Just then,
fast approaching from behind him came the sound of claws and hardened feet tearing at the ground along with hoarse cries and roars.  Fragging hell.  The Bael hadn’t been lying.  The damn Tigons really
were
coming up fast.

Rukh shifted position, moving to place the general between him and the onrushing Chimeras.  He Blended.  He felt a Link brush against his mind, and he locked in on it.  The world blurred briefly, as he Linked with Brand and the others.  He could see them
again.  They had stalked closer, remaining hidden as they took up positions behind and beside him.

“Stay Blended,”
Rukh commanded.  “Unleash Fireballs as soon as they are in range.”  He glanced back at the rocks.  “Where’s the woman?”

“The ghrina hides behind the boulders,” Farn said, contempt lacing his voice.

“Well, considering you wanted to kill her on sight, it’s probably not a bad decision,” Brand muttered.

Rukh glanced at the general, who still kneeled, trident still lying on the ground.  “Will you fight alongside
me?” he asked, flickering back into view as he let go his Blend.

The general smiled.  “If you allow it.  It would be my undying honor, something of which I’ve dreamed since my Nanna taught me in the crèche.”

Rukh cursed.  More Devesh-damned mysteries.  The Baels had nannas?  He thought the Baels were born of the dimwitted Bovars, Suwraith’s beasts of burden.  Was the Bael saying the Bovars could talk?  He exhaled in frustration.  Leave it be.

The Tigons had arrived.  They stumbled to an uncertain halt, their clawed feet digging into the ground.  Their ears, tented and peaked, twitched as they shuffled about nervously.  Their fur – some long, some short – varied in color and patterns with everything from a gold to a tabby to a pure white and black.  All were tall, taller than a Kumma, but stout through the chest and sinewy and lean through their hocked legs.  Their hands, similarly clawed like their feet, clenched and unclenched, althou
gh most were empty of weapons for now.  That would likely change very shortly.  Their wide, blunted faces wore identical looks of hunger as their vertically slitted eyes expanded as they took in the sight of Rukh standing next to the SarpanKum.

The general stood, taking up his trident, and Rukh quickly moved beyond the circle of his reach.

The lead Tigon stepped forward.  He was spotted in yellow and black rosettes, like a jaguar.  Though he must have been braver than his brethren, he was no less confused.  “Why not kill Human?” he asked.  “Mother kill all them.  Vermin.”

Rukh could barely understand the creature.  His mouth, full of daggered teeth, wasn’t meant for speech.

“Mother has a special role for this one.  He will be the means to our victory over Ashoka.”

Rukh forced himself not to look at the Bael.  Once more the creature was lying, this time to his
own warriors.  But, what was his ultimate ploy?  Surely he and the other Baels hadn’t been serious with all their talk about Hume and all the rest?

“We go Craven,” the Tigon said, sounding even more confused.  “Li-Reg said.”

“After Craven,” the Bael replied smoothly.

The Tigon lifted his snout to the air,
seemingly tasting it.  His jaguar-like visage lowered as his gaze came to rest upon the general.  The Tigon’s ears flattened and he snarled.  “Another Human nearby?”  He turned to face the rocks.  “Hiding.”

Suwraith’s spit.  The Chim must have seen through the ghrina’s Blend.  Well, there went that.  Rukh rolled his shoulders, loosening them.  Thirty Tigons against three Kummas and a Rahail.  Not great odds, but possible, especially if the Bael really did help
them out.

“Ready the Quad,” he whispered to the others.

The first Tigon again tasted the air again.  “Li-Dirge, what means this?”

“It means you should remember who commands.”

“Mother commands.  She hate Humans.  Not save them.”

The Tigons were working themselves into a killing fury.  Rukh could tell it, and apparently the general could as well.

The Bael smiled as he leveled his trident.  “There are greater mysteries in this world, oh foolish kitten, than your dim and empty head could ever hope to comprehend.”  The smile faded and a look of grim purpose stole over him.  “Remember who I am.  I am the SarpanKum, chosen by Mother Herself!  Who are you to gainsay Her will?  Stand down!”

The Tigons glanced at one another, their earlier anger fading away as they shuffled about in
uncertainty.

“Return to
the encampment and forget all you saw here.  Tell no one,” the Bael barked, his voice a whiplash command.  “Go!”

Long years of discipline and habit took hold.  The Tigons turned and began to shuffle away.  The general appeared to have convinced the cats to disengage, and Rukh relaxed, but his grip upon his sword remained firm.

As the Tigons retreated to the south, a Fireball exploded into their midst, and all became chaos.

Rukh spared a disbelieving glance at Farn, who was no longer Blended.  It had been him.  They’d been so close to walking out of this without a fight.  Fragging idiot!  Now, one or all of them might die here tonight.

“Form the Quad!” Rukh shouted.

The Tigons were on them before they could get off m
ore than another few Fireballs.

*****

J
essira peered over the small boulder behind which she hid, watching as the Kumma leader, the one named Rukh, steadily advanced on the Bael.  She hated to admit it, but the man was brave.  Foolish, but brave.

Kummas were supposed to be the foremost warri
ors of Arisa, and they might be, although Jessira figured their supposed skill was probably more than a little exaggerated – nobody could be
that
good.  Regardless of their reputation, they sure weren’t bright.  The best way to handle a Bael was with an arrow from a distance, preferably a very long distance.  Trying to take one on with a sword was madness, a guaranteed trip to the funeral pyre.

Although the other Purebloods didn’t look worri
ed.  They must be either too stupid or too ignorant to know any better.  It might even be their first battle.  She rolled her eyes, feeling contempt for the stupid jackholes.  At least they were alert and wary, even if nothing in their faces or stances indicated concern for their leader.  Or maybe they just hated him.  She glanced at the one who made her blood run cold, the one who looked at her as if she were a maggot in his meal.  He looked tense, and his hand was raised.  It glowed dimly.

Ah!  So the stories about Fireballs were
true!  In that case, their leader might be able to escape his idiotic decision with nothing worse than a singeing, depending on the aim of his fellow Kummas.

Jessira’s eyes narrowed, and she returned her attention to the Bael.  Something was happening.  The Bael had dropped his trident and
had bowed his head to the Kumma leader.  She couldn’t hear clearly, but it sounded as if the general had called the Kumma his brother and had offered his life to him.  That couldn’t be right.  She didn’t believe the Baels’ bilge water from earlier about brotherhood with Humanity and taking instruction from Hume.  They had been lying for some reason.  The only Humans the Chims didn’t automatically kill were those who chose servitude under Suwraith.

Her eyes widened with s
udden recognition.

What did she know of these men?  They were far out in the Wildness,
in the Hunters Flats, a place she knew Purebloods only traversed if part of a large group of warriors.  The nearest such caravan had been ambushed in the foothills of the Privation Mountains a few weeks back.  So then how were these men here alone within the Hunters Flats and meeting with Baels?

What
if these men were of the Sil Lor Kum?  It made sense.  Kummas who could Blend. The Human followers of the Sorrow Bringer were said to have powers, gifts given to them by Suwraith and possessed by no one else.

Jessira looked at the others in sudden revulsion as a knotted bramble of fear curled in her stomach.  What had she gotten herself into?  Baels who lied to the Queen
?  Men who might be Sil Lor Kum?  And a plan meant to destroy a city named Craven, a place that might or might not be her own home of Stronghold?  She had to get free.  Her brothers had to know what they faced.  She held back a sudden urge to jump and race away.  It wouldn’t have worked, and she knew it.  More likely, she would have been quickly recaptured, either by these men or the Chimeras or both.

Patience
was required.  She would have to wait for the proper moment.  She turned slightly in order to better study the men holding her.  Good.  None of them were watching her.  Despite her earlier vow to the Kumma leader, she didn’t feel beholden to it; not if he was Sil Lor Kum.  First chance to run, she would take it.

A shocked hiss from the Rahail drew her attention back to the Bael and the Kumma.  Rukh had stepped behind the general.

Jessira frowned.  Where had all the Tigons come from?

She watched as the other three – the two Kummas and the Rahail – left the shelter of the boulders and slowly advanced, taking up positions next to and behind their leader. 
She remained Linked to their Blends and watched as all held up hands that glowed.

Jessira sat back on her heels.

So.  The Rahail had the gifts of a Kumma. 

It was a certainty then.  These men
were
Sil Lor Kum.  Time to go.  She prepared to crawl back to her brothers when a scream rent the air, followed by an explosion.

She froze in place and risked a look over the boulders.  Her eyes widened.

The Tigons were attacking their general.  And the Purebloods fought with him, which meant they would all be dead soon.  The Tigons were too tough.  They were best faced by a large group of warriors, hopefully with a sizeable advantage in numbers.  The Purebloods must not have been taught that lesson.  They had waded straight into the heart of the fight, to where the Tigons were massed most thickly.  They were fearless, she had to admit, but courage alone wouldn’t save them.  They would all be dead inside of…her thoughts broke apart as details of the battle took shape.

“Holy Father,” Jessira murmured in awe.

The Rahail was good.  Before tonight, she would have said he was as good as anyone she’d ever seen, even her brother Cedar, one of the finest warriors in Stronghold, but the Kummas were something else entirely.  They could
fight. 
Their movements were liquid.  They flowed across the ground, dancing with a graceful, eye-blurring speed and precision.  Their technique was perfect, and they utterly devastated the Tigons.  Wherever they went, the Chimeras fell.  And they weren’t deadly with just their swords.  Fireballs screamed through the air, killing and maiming the Tigons, decimating their numbers.

It seemed the Kummas were everything the legends said.  Jessira was suddenly glad she and her brothers hadn’t somehow stumbled upon these men.  She would never hav
e wanted to face them in battle.

In moments, nearly
all of the Tigons were either dead or dying.  Only a few were left standing.  Three Chimeras encircled the leader of the Kummas, Rukh, and his men weren’t close enough to offer him support.  He never needed it.  The Kumma took the fight to the Tigons, and in the space of three breaths, all three of the creatures were down and dead.

It had been a slash across the throat of one Chim before the beast could even get his blade up.  A hamstring cut to another followed by the decapitation of the third.  The Kumma had returned to the disabled Tigon
.  A straight thrust through the beast’s armor and into its heart and the battle was over.  All three blows had been perfectly placed and delivered with a speed and power that Jessira had never believed possible.

“Unholy h
ells, they’re good, aren’t they?” Lure asked, suddenly appearing at her side as he crouched down next to her.

Jessira was momentarily startled but quickly regained her composure.

The Purebloods were the deadliest fighters Jessira had ever seen, but now wasn’t the time to discuss or admire their skill.  They might very well be the enemy of all Humanity.  At the least, they were Purebloods, which meant they were certainly the enemy of her kind, the OutCaste.  No matter how it was measured, they sure weren’t friends, not by a long sight.  She and her brothers had to flee if they wanted to get out of this situation alive.  Stronghold needed to learn what they had discovered.

Jessira urged Lure into motion, back toward
Cedar, who still huddled behind the hummock.  “Move.  We have to get out of here,” she said to her older brother when they reached his side.

“Why?”

“The Purebloods…I think they might be Sil Lor Kum,” Jessira said, quickly explaining her reasoning.  “If we don’t back our butts out of here right now, we might not ever be able to.  We can’t hide.  The Rahail can sense our Blends better than we can.  And you just saw what the Kummas are capable of.”