Beyond the Hell Cliffs

by Case C. Capehart

  Chapter 3

  Raegith’s first contact with the group was its leader and his personal warden, a Paladin named Hemmil. Raegith’s mother had made only passing mention of the small sect of Holy Warriors in the Rellizbix Army. Paladins were as much chaplains as they were soldiers, given higher rank and status for their devotion to and knowledge of Fate. Their place in the histories was not well documented, however and most of Nuallan’s knowledge was from tall tales spun by travelling bards.

  Hemmil came through the unlocked doors of the keep with a purpose to his step and a very gruff attitude. Standing only to Raegith’s shoulders, Hemmil was wider than the king and his boots sounded like thunder on the stone floor of the entry hall. His yellow hair was pulled back and secured behind his head and his wide face was cleanly shaven and scarred. His plate armor was buffed to a high sheen and he wore the Loom of Fate, an emblem that denoted his status as a Paladin. He looked very serious.

  “Guards, quickly! We have a breach of security!” Raegith yelled as Hemmil approached him. “Arrest this atrociously dressed intruder, post haste! By the Fates, shield your eyes first; oh the agony!”

  “Listen boy, I’ve been warned of your smart mouth and I’m telling you now that I’ll have none of it,” Hemmil said, pulling a full leather skin from his side pouch and taking a swig before replacing it.

  “Ah, something to take the edge off…?” Raegith asked, looking past him to where the sunshine breached the doorway. “…at mid-morning?”

  Hemmil stepped in and caught Raegith in the face with a swift backhand that staggered him. “There’ll be one of those for every bit of filth from your mouth, lad! I believe in honor and discipline and you’ll oblige me on both or I’ll rip out your innards and work you like a puppet in battle. Now fetch your things for the road. And mind your words, they’re not needed for this task.”

  The outside world rocked Raegith’s ass off as soon as they were on the road. The air was cleaner, the colors were brighter and the sun on his face was damn near euphoric. He listened to the creatures of the forest and watched for things in the bush, not saying a word to his warden, which was probably for the better.

  Hemmil’s mood had gone from sour annoyance to rageful frustration after losing half the day just trying to teach the boy how to steer the extraordinarily docile pony that had been picked out for him. In the end, the Paladin had given up on instruction and settled for just tying Raegith’s pony off to his horse and leading it down the road.

  The day passed and after a few hours the two moved out of the forest and onto the plains, turning south just past noon. It was near dusk when they came upon the rest of the group that would accompany him. A fire burned in a central pit, over which a medium-sized game animal was roasting. Raegith had not eaten meat in over a year, when the guard captain shot a boar and took him a good slice of it. He mostly subsisted on grain and fruits brought from the closest village. Raegith scanned the camp as he was led in, his legs shaky from the horse ride. There were a few tents set up around the fire and only two men were outside, overseeing the meat.

  The largest man, a Saban with black hair and enough muscle to make a prized bull look weak, eyed him as he drank from a thick mug. He wore leather breeches and a vest and had a jagged scar running diagonally across his face. To the right of the giant Saban was another Saban in green and brown leather. He was of slender build for his race and looked like a small child next to the larger Saban. He was sipping from a gourd and attaching fletching to a fresh arrow. He had knife-cut, dust-colored hair and his eyes reflected eerily in the dark. The two men looked as if they were in the middle of a conversation that stopped as soon as Hemmil and his charge approached.

  “Boram, Tavin,” Hemmil said, acknowledging the two men. “I assume all preparations are complete and the area is secure.”

  “My traps are in place and Carver is prowling,” the slender man replied. “Pyrrhus assured me, boasted even, that he would sense anything that managed to breach my security. If something that good gets to us, then bitch at him.”

  “I’ll bitch at anyone who survives,” Hemmil growled. He then looked at the large Saban. “You don’t seem too busy.”

  “I’m cooking the meat,” Boram said into his mug. His voice was as deep as Raegith imagined it.

  “By order of the King, all enlisted personnel are expressly forbidden from consuming alcohol while on duty,” Hemmil said. “If you’re our new cook, then you’re on duty right now.”

  “I cook better with a beer in my hand.”

  “I don’t care, Boram,” Hemmil growled, growing more hostile. “Get rid of it… now.”

  Boram’s eyes narrowed and for a moment Raegith feared the two might come to blows. After a few seconds that passed like hours, the large man smiled, tilted his mug to the sky and seemed to inhale the entire contents in a second. Raegith didn’t even see him swallow; it all just poured right down into his gullet, like water into a bucket. Boram took a deep breath and then burped pugnaciously. It sounded like a god revealing himself and lasted for several heartbeats. The guards leaving Forster’s Keep probably heard it and it immediately filled Hemmil’s face with rage.

  Boram leaned in toward the fire and took a few sniffs. “Whadda’ya know. Dinner’s ready.”

  “Zakk,” Hemmil called out.

  “Sir!”

  Out of one of the tents a young, Saban boy in shiny armor appeared. He was clean-cut with flame-red hair and a bit small-framed compared to Hemmil. He also had a voice much higher than the gruff Paladin. The boy approached them quickly and bowed slightly. Up close, he looked even younger than Raegith.

  “This is the bastard,” Hemmil said.

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Raegith said, interrupting the Paladin and getting a stern look.

  “Show him to his tent… and watch him.”

  The boy named Zakk escorted him to the tent that he appeared from and opened the flap. Inside were three cots, a few packs and a map stapled to a flat board. In the corner was a sword and shield that looked quite new and unblemished, much like the boy’s armor. Zakk did not say a word to him as he showed him his cot and then returned to his side of the room, where he promptly began doing push-ups. Raegith just looked at him for a bit before shaking his head and lying down. Apparently he was going to be bunking with the two most humorless men he had ever met.

  After a few minutes, Hemmil slipped into the tent and Zakk immediately sprang to attention from the prone position he was in, in between sets. The warden had two plates of roasted meat with some bread. Raegith couldn’t help but sit up and look expectantly at the Paladin, hoping one of them was for him. Hemmil shoved one of the plates at Raegith and turned back at Zakk, handing him the second.

  “I have some other things to attend to, with the mage,” Hemmil said. “Eat and then hit the rack, both of you. We rise before the sun to begin training.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zakk said, remaining standing until Hemmil left.

  After the Paladin was out of the tent, Zakk sat down on his cot and quickly ate up the meal he had been given. Raegith tried starting up a conversation with the soldier, asking him a little about the mission, but it was quickly shot down. It was also made clear, in the soldier’s unusually high voice, that there would be no conversations between them and that he was here only to fulfill his duty and obey the commands of his superior.

  “What if your superior commands you to talk to me and carry a conversation?” Raegith asked. “What then?”

  “I would obey his command, as always,” the soldier responded.

  “You mean you would then carry a conversation with me?” Raegith pressed. “I doubt that you could, in which case you would be disobeying a direct order.”

  “Enough. I am perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation with a cretin like you, if I were commanded to.”

  “How dare you,” Raegith replied, raising his voice indignantly. “I’m a Caelum. I have royal blood. Are you saying that the revered Caelum line ar
e nothing but cretins? Does your commander out there know you hate the Saban king so?”

  “What? No… of course not,” Zakk stammered. “On my honor, that is not what I meant! I am a patriot!”

  “I want to believe you,” Raegith said, trying to calm the agitated soldier. “but these kind of things can quickly escalate into heresy and treason. It might be best if you just stop this unnecessary chatter and return to your duties.”

  “I think you’re… wait… I’m not conversing with you! You started this.”

  “Really, soldier, I must insist that you cease all attempts at conversation this instant,” Raegith said, turning and lying back against his cot with a satisfied grin. “I only do this for your own sake.”

  Raegith could not see the look on the soldier’s face, but by the sound of his armor clanking about in an aggressive manner, he imagined the boy was in a highly agitated state.

  The next day came early. Before the sun was even up, Hemmil was kicking Raegith’s cot and thrusting a bubbling mug of effervescent liquid in his face.

  “Drink it quickly and then get your miserable self outside,” the gruff warden advised.

  “Did you stop to think that I might not be such a miserable self if it weren’t for your generous encouragement?” Raegith asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  Raegith started his first morning of training nursing a black eye and bruised cheekbones. The training was what any new soldier might expect. He stretched, ran and picked up heavy things only to put them right back down. Hemmil barked orders at him the entire time, which did not annoy him nearly as much as having Zakk next to him, following the same orders and doing a much better job at them even in full armor.

  “Am I supposed to be gaining anything particularly useful from having this asshole out here with me?” Raegith asked, pointing at Zakk in between exercises. “Is there some kind of lesson you’re teaching me here? I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need understanding!” Hemmil yelled. “Zakk runs circles around you because he doesn’t waste any effort trying to understand. He just hears an order and follows it!”

  “Yes, I’m sure he makes an excellent pet,” Raegith replied, stopping his exercises to catch his breath. “But hauling rocks around doesn’t make him a fighter, does it?”

  “No, I suppose you’re right,” Hemmil conceded, although Raegith did not feel as if the man was giving into his superior argument so much as setting up another lesson. “Private, the prince has asked a question and you are to answer it. By my command, close with and engage the prince.”

  “Sir!”

  Raegith turned to see Zakk approaching him in a guarded stance. “Aww, come on! He’s wearing full armor. If I hit him, I’ll break my hand.”

  “Then don’t hit him with your hand, dumbass!”

  Raegith looked around, but the only thing he could see was a stick that was right next to Zakk and the soldier was already picking it up. To his surprise, Zakk tossed it to him and then continued to approach.

  Raegith caught the stick, flipped it over to grasp it near the end and immediately lunged in to strike before giving Zakk the chance to react. He had gone through his morning exercises, the ones his mother showed him, at least once a week, without fail. He was about to show both of them just how much they had underestimated him.

  In the next instant, Zakk looped his arm around the stick, taking the blow to his armored torso as it glanced off his forearm and whipped his arm in a circle and up, ripping the weapon out of the prince’s hands. As the one arm was disarming Raegith, Zakk’s other arm was shooting out, planting a palm into the prince’s chest, knocking the air out of his unsuspecting lungs and sending him reeling backwards. Zakk did not relent and immediately pursued his target, slapping aside Raegith’s upheld arms, pulling him in close and pulverizing his stomach with punches before landing a devastating uppercut that nearly took his head off.

  Raegith’s feet left the ground as he fell to his back and a million specks of light exploded in his vision, which quickly left him momentarily blinded. Then the pain hit him and he could taste blood in his mouth. Zakk was wearing leather gloves, but it had felt like iron when he hit. Raegith just lay there, soaking in the pain and swallowing enough blood to hurt his stomach. Then, after a minute or so, when he was sure Zakk was not going to step in and finish him, he opened his eyes and sat up.

  His head hurt even worse when he did that and nausea threatened to empty his already barren stomach. Zakk was walking back to Hemmil, probably smiling in victory. He was one day into the journey that would make him a hero, but instead he was being made a laughing stock. It was his first real fight and the first punch he had taken and they both knew it. He imagined the two of them back at the tent later on that day, wallowing in silent satisfaction at putting the spoiled and sheltered prince in his place. They were probably not even taking his training or even his presence on this mission seriously.

  Just for the hell of it, and despite the tremendous amount of pain he was experiencing, Raegith got to his feet.

  “Hey, jack-ass… care to show me that again? I felt like I almost learned my lesson!”

  Zakk looked at Hemmil, who just nodded, before turning back to re-engage Raegith. Reaching down, Zakk reacquired the stick that Raegith had used on him before and tossed it back to him. Raegith simply swatted the stick away, keeping his eyes locked on Zakk. The soldier hesitated for a moment, shrugged and then closed with him. Raegith waited until Zakk was right up close before aiming for Zakk’s groin and throwing a swift kick.

  Zakk was as quick to defend the blow as any man… too quick. Raegith feigned an attack that Zakk would have expected from an inexperienced fighter like himself and opened up his actual target. As the soldier blocked the approaching groin shot, Raegith snapped out his hand as if he were flinging a persistent booger and poked Zakk in the eye.

  Zakk cried out and his hands went right for his face, but Raegith grabbed his left hand, yanked it away while he reared back and slapped Zakk right across the face, open-handed and slathered with humiliation. The blow resounded like thunder on the plains, at least to Raegith’s ears.

  “Educated!” Raegith yelled as Zakk reeled from the stinging rebuke.

  Raegith did not have much time to celebrate. Though he opted for the most humiliating assault he could think of, the slap was in no way debilitating to the trained soldier and Zakk quickly countered by grabbing the rejoicing nitwit by the collar. He yanked Raegith into him and the top of his head met the prince’s already softened face.

  By the time Raegith woke up it was already noon and the group was in the midst of travel.

  “He’s awake!” a strange voice called out as Raegith roused from his coma. A new face hovered over his, looking him over with a grin.

  It was a Twileen man, of about middle age, as far as Raegith could tell. He had dark brown hair, a sly face and gleaming amber eyes. On his head was a green, pointy hat with an odd bend at the tip. Raegith noticed that his face, though a bit numb, did not feel nearly as horrible as he remembered it should feel. He was also surprised his eyes were opening at all after the vicious headbutt Zakk had given him.

  “Ya look a bit confused, boy,” The Twileen said in a somewhat musical tone. “Also, a bit muddled, jumbled, disorderly and disorganized, but by disorganized I don’t mean de-organized, because as the doctor assured us all, whence we put you back together, that all the organs were there, ya see, and seein’ that there was a great lack of spare parts upon your re-assembly and seein’ that you are, in fact, seein’ right now, we can discern that you are… alive!”

  Raegith reached up to the man’s face and felt it to see if he was dreaming. The man gave him a funny look, probably just as confused now as he was, before biting one of Raegith’s fingers. Raegith jerked his finger back and barely mumbled an “Ow.” The strange Twileen man just continued to look at him as if he were a peculiar new life form.

  “What the hell is this?” Raegith asked.

 
“This is reality, boy.”

  Raegith gave the man a flat look. Whoever this clown was, he didn’t appear to be a great source of information. The man noticed the look and probably guessed what it meant, because he just smiled and lifted Raegith to a sitting position. The prince tried to resist, knowing what kind of pain was in store for him, but to his surprise he felt perfectly fine and the only pain was to his eyes when he took in the brightness of the sunny day.

  He was sitting atop a cart being pulled by a horse. The plains stretched out in all directions, the sea of deep green only interrupted by patches of shrubs or shady trees. It was spring, as far as Raegith knew, and everything was vibrant and alive. Across the road a pair of rodents with huge, bushy tails chased each other and quickly disappeared into the thick weeds that would have reached his hip if he were walking. Raegith had very little experience with flora or fauna and the image of such a great, open space made him a bit dizzy after so long inside an enclosed keep.

  “Where are we?” Raegith asked, not daring to take his eyes off the picturesque scene before him.

  “That’s a bit of a tough one,” the man said. “An easier question might be: where are we not?”

  “Okay, where aren’t we?”

  “We’re not at the Hell Cliffs,” the man replied.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Raegith turned back to look at the man who was squatting down beside him in the cart. “Ya know, you don’t strike me as particularly helpful, which means I am an absolute idiot for continuing to try, but… can I ask who you are and why you’re lording over me at the moment?”

  “Of course, boy, you can ask whatever you like.”

  Raegith slapped his hand over his face in frustration.

  “Who are you and why are you lording over me at the moment?”

  “Ebriz Leafcutter, at your service, milord!” the man said, nodding his head toward the prince. “And I’m lording over you because the good Paladin wanted someone to keep an eye on you after Lady Onyx fixed your face and because you are a peculiar breed of prince and I was more than a bit curious as to what you might be all about.”