Hitomi took up a seat on the ground near him, but her gaze remained furtive and she tried not to look him in the eyes.
“Hitomi, I’m sorry about earlier.”
“It was my fault! I shouldn’t have hesitated. Look, I won’t hesitate now at all!”
Raegith grabbed her by the shoulders before she could disrobe again.
“You’re a Helcat, Hitomi, not a slave girl. Do you understand me? Helcats don’t go to their back on command; they go whenever they damn-well feel like it.”
Raegith let go of her, but kept his eyes locked with hers. “What happened tonight… what almost happened, was my weakness, not yours.”
“You’re not weak! You defeated all kinds of challengers in the Pit, Grass-hair. You protected all of us in there. You’re not weak!”
“There are different kinds of weaknesses, Hitomi. Where I come from, doing what I did; letting my anger rule me like that… that’s weakness. You deserve a strong leader; one that’s not going to lose his mind and attack you on a whim.”
“But I’m yours, Grass-hair. You scared me, is all, but you can have me if you want me. Without you, I would have gotten much worse from the Rathgar.”
“I didn’t protect you from those deranged fuckers just to become one myself.”
“You’re not like them, Grass-hair. You got a little crazy, but you’re different from anyone here. I figured that out in the Pit, sweating and bleeding on command for Helkree. I fought with everything in me to be one of your Helcats. I know some day I’ll end up just like Makat, but I won’t follow anyone else for the rest of my life.”
“You’re a good soldier, Hitomi. I won’t fail you, again.”
Hitomi crawled over to Raegith and slid on top of him, curling her hand in the strip of his hair. She leaned down and purred into his ear. “I can be really good, Grass-hair… if that’s what you want.”
She kissed him passionately, but after a moment he gently pushed her away.
“No, it’s okay. I want this, too!”
“Hitomi, please.” Raegith said, resisting her persistent efforts. “After everything that’s happened today and tonight… I don’t think I have this in me just now.”
“Do you… do you need me to help you out?” she asked, pointing downward.
“What? No, that’s not it. I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I wasn’t ready for all of this to happen. The Empress… there’s just a lot of things fighting in my head. I’m just not in the mood for anything right now.”
“You’re worried about the Empress?” Hitomi asked.
“She tricked me into escaping the Citadel because she knew I wouldn’t leave her otherwise.”
“Well, if we’re not going to fuck, can you just tell me what’s got you so upset that your snake won’t work?”
“Hey, it works; that’s not the issue,” Raegith replied, scowling at her. “And you don’t really want to sit here and listen to me grieve the woman who put you in the Pit to begin with.”
“If there’s a chance to know more about Grass-hair than the other Helcats, then I’m going to take it,” she smiled. “Anyways, you don’t tell boring stories.”
Chapter 31
Tiberius stood outside the entrance to the palace and surveyed the damage. Night had fallen but the city was bright with the flames of its destruction. The smoke smelled of final victory and the general smiled, looking out on a sight no other Saban before him had ever seen.
The Greimere’s fortress lay in ruin, its people dead or captive. He and a few of his men stood on the steps of the central palace of their greatest enemy and all around the men of the Rellizbix Army cheered. They had done it. They had eradicated the threat to their kingdom, once and for all and he had led them to it.
It was a more difficult fight than he had first imagined. They had gotten lost in the wastelands and were running low on water, but the Faeir had managed to find it. Even in that place, the elements called to them. The Twileen scouts had captured a few furry, black creatures that quickly gave up all kinds of information with a little prodding. Every night they spent there saw the loss of more men. It was as if the night itself just swallowed them up. Some were picked off by nocturnal creatures that danced around the fringes of the camp, while others simply dropped their gear and walked off into the darkness for no reason.
Halfway into the Greimere, a shadow crossed over the group and a dragon swept down, snatching men up with its claws and burning the center of the formation with green fire. On its next approach, they were able to turn one of the Witzer cannons on it, winging it and sending it spiraling over the horizon. Scouts found black blood, but no body. Footprints in the blood looked like that of a person.
When they finally hit an outpost, the men were ready to fight something tangible. The inhabitants did not stand a chance and the few prisoners taken were forced to give up the route to the capitol of the empire. They called it the Citadel. That made Tiberius laugh. Their Citadel was nothing compared to the majesty of Thromdale and he smashed their walls with the mighty blasts of the Witzer cannons for their hubris.
The Witzers were magnificent. Three cannons, each powered by half a dozen Mages, all channeling their destructive magic into one funnel that turned it all into a giant blast of pure energy. It obliterated the front gate and laid waste to the walls, creating several openings for his men to pour through. The disorganized resistance inside the walls was pathetic. His troops sustained minimal losses. Tiberius had to ride hard just to reach the front of the assault once it had started, his men pushed onward so unimpeded.
Now he stood at the center of the city, on the steps of its palace, with the few they had found inside kneeling behind him. Tiberius turned and looked at the grey-haired Rathgar in the sinister armor. Six Saban Shield-bearers in full armor were cut down by the warrior’s massive axe in an instant. Even Tiberius had taken caution when confronted by the beast of a man.
In a heavily defended room inside the palace is where he lost the bulk of his men. The guards there, in their purple and black armor, were much nastier than the brown-garbed ones in the street. It took three pushes just to breach the door. Tiberius was considering rolling one of the Witzer cannons up to it and just blasting through all of them. He wanted the Emperor alive, though. He wanted to look in the cretin’s eyes and see what kind of villain would execute defenseless ambassadors on an official errand.
Tiberius himself had disarmed the grey-haired warrior, facing off against him in single combat. He had a new scar on his face and a few broken ribs to show for it, but in the end he had overcome the Rathgar without killing him.
He turned to Vi-Sage Malthus. “Have you figured out which one of them is the Emperor, yet? Don’t tell me it’s the Beast. I don’t believe that their monarch is that skilled.”
“Ours certainly is,” Malthus replied.
“I’m going to pretend that I did not just hear you compare a Rathgar puke to our king, Malthus. Now point him out to me.”
“There is no Emperor, from what I can surmise.” The Faeir pointed to the crest on the lone female warrior’s armor. “This one here is wearing the Imperial crest. I’ve seen it in my studies… an illustration of it, of course.”
“You’re telling me that you think this girl is the ruler of the Greimere Empire? It must be a ruse.”
“No, I don’t think it is. You see, the Rathgar have not used females in combat for centuries. At the College, there have been several studies based off of evidence provided by artifacts and interrogations of war prisoners that point towards a forbidding of females in war roles. As we saw earlier, there are many, many more females inside these walls than males and none of them had conventional weapons, armor or any form of organization.”
“Vi-Sage, I’m looking right at a damned female in armor who swung a sword at us not an hour earlier. What are you getting at with this?”
“If such a rule was in place, the only exception would be for a ruler. We have studies that show the Rathgar revere
a good death. It’s why they rarely flee in combat, even when we outnumber them heartily.”
“Yes, they’re a worthy opponent in that respect, at least.”
“Well it would make sense that they would want a good death for their ruler, as well. Only at this point, the ruler happens to be female, so…”
“So they break the rule and fit her with armor, even though she’s but a girl.”
Tiberius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This place is completely barren, Malthus. The entire time we’ve been here, have you even seen a patch of green?”
“Sir?” Malthus asked.
“Grass… where is he? What is he? Something has been troubling me for some time about this figure that we have yet to run into.”
“Sir, I’m sure it was either a legend or…” Malthus began.
“They don’t have grass here, Malthus! Why would they call someone that? It doesn’t make any sense, unless they were insulting him; they weren’t.”
“They’re Rathgar, General. They’re not intelligent.”
“Exactly my point, Vi-Sage. They lack creativity, so any moniker they give is going to be blunt.” Tiberius turned to the prisoners. “Ask them who this Grass fellow is, Malthus. Why has he not shown himself?”
Malthus spoke to the Empress and then to the large warrior. Neither of them spoke. Tiberius immediately drew his sword and put it at the girl’s neck.
“Tell this fool that his Empress will die a humiliating and dishonorable death, full of screams, if he does not answer me,” he said, looking at the warrior.
Malthus translated the general’s request and the warrior looked at his Empress and dropped his head. When he began to speak, the girl yelled in protest, but Tiberius backhanded her, nearly knocking her unconscious.
“Continue!” he yelled at the warrior.
The warrior did not speak much, but what he said made Malthus turn pale. When the warrior had finished, Malthus just stood there.
“Well?” Tiberius asked.
“Sir, I’m not sure if this is supposed to be some kind of joke on their part… maybe a form of resistance…”
“What the hell did he say?” Tiberius roared.
“The one they refer to as Grass… he says he is a boy from the north. The warrior refers to him as a foreigner with hair like grass. He says that we sent him here and asked the Empress to kill him, but the Empress showed him mercy.”
Tiberius froze. No battle scene in his life sent the kind of chills through him as those words did.
“How long ago was this, Malthus? Ask him?”
“A year ago. He has already said.” Malthus was growing suspicious. “Sir, do you know what he is talking about?”
Tiberius stood without speaking. He knew exactly what the warrior was talking about. There was only one plausible reason anyone from the north would be in the Greimere and among the envoy was a boy whose hair was as green as springtime grass.
He and two others among the men he brought with him were the only ones who knew of the Treaty and of the king’s bastard son. His army had destroyed the invasion, marched on the Citadel and ruined the Treaty that had sustained the Caelum rule all to avenge the death of Raegith Caelum and now there was a chance that the boy was alive. Not just alive, though, but infamous among the enemy. The prisoners he had captured in the Wilderness revered him; claimed he would seek vengeance against Rellizbix.
The boy had Caelum blood in him and despite being half Twileen, he was the first-born son of Helfrick Caelum. If the Fates guarded anyone in such a harsh land, it would be the boy. Leadership through power, the heritage of Throm Caelum, had shown itself in the bastard just as it had in Helfrick and all the kings before him; only it was not the people of Rellizbix that the boy inspired. Raegith’s possible survival was not a relief to the general, though. In his mind, two scenarios unfolded.
In one, Tiberius scoured the Greimere, sending scouts and squadrons to every known corner and using up all the resources they had trying to track the boy down. Then, when he was found, half of the Rellizbix Army would know the truth about their king. Even if he tried to keep it a secret, the men would not be so stupid as to think he would risk all of their lives in such a place just to find a single, insignificant boy. There would be endless questions and speculation and eventually it would be discovered. Helfrick would have his son back, but his reputation would be ruined and the Faeir would be more hostile than ever before. Then there would be the inevitable inquiries over what the boy was doing in the Greimere to begin with. The entire Treaty could be uncovered and exposed.
In the other scenario, Tiberius left the Greimere victorious over the Empire. The boy, if still alive, would remain in enemy territory, his fate unknown to anyone but Tiberius. Tiberius would lie to his king, the first time he had ever done so, but Helfrick would know that his son was avenged and could move on from his grief. Without the Treaty and wars, Rellizbix would struggle; the Sabans would struggle. Helfrick was a strong leader, though. He would see them through and his true heir would be recognized without question. Deep in the Greimere, no one would ever know about the boy or the king’s indiscretion with the Twileen whore. All he had to do was lie to his king.
“Sir, do you know what the Rathgar is speaking of?” Malthus asked impatiently.
“No,” Tiberius said, making his decision. “As you said, Vi-Sage… these savages are ignorant and defiant. He’s making fun of us.”
“Would you like me to conduct a more thorough interrogation of the prisoners?” Malthus asked.
“No. We’re done here.” Tiberius paused and gazed at the warrior. “The men need an undisputed victory; something to show them that we’ve finally won against these brutes and heathens. Let’s get this place cleared and all of the men assembled. I want them all to see this.
“And see if we can find anything around this Fate-forsaken place to make a pole out of.”
Chapter 32
The Rellizbix Army stayed only two days before departing and returning to the north. It took another three days for the fires to burn themselves out. By the time Raegith returned to the once mighty city, it was a massive, smoldering ruin. The Spire had somehow been toppled and looked like a broken, rusted nail rising a few feet above the surrounding mess.
There were survivors; lots of them. Those who managed to escape had waited until the army had left before returning. Others had simply heard of the invasion and made the journey to see for themselves or to find relatives and loved ones. A week after the walls were blown down, throngs of people wandered back into the city from all around. Raegith and the Helcats were among them.
Beretta had insisted that they continue on to Lord Kensei’s domain in the west, but Raegith would not abandon the Citadel without learning what had become of the Empress. When the group of refugees they were travelling with were hailed by an advance group from Lord Kensei’s personal guard, Raegith was able to convince them all to return. None of them, least of all Raegith, were prepared for the destruction they found as they approached the city.
“How is this possible?” Beretta asked. “The walls are… gone. Everything is gone. It’s as if some terrible demon stomped the entire city underneath his foot.”
“How can the northerners have this much strength?” Indie asked. “This much power… they had this all along, Grass-hair?”
“I don’t think so,” Raegith replied. “I… I don’t know. I’ve only read about the wars in books and it was nothing like… it was all stories of glory and valor. I never imagined something like this.”
“So the Grass-hair was right about them.” Goji, the leader of Kensei’s guard came up beside them. He was a young Lokai in normal clothing, as Lokai were not allowed to wear armor. He hid several blades on him, however, and carried himself like a warrior. He was the one who recognized Raegith from the time he escorted Kensei into the capitol. “They’ve been toying with us for ages, haven’t they? At any moment they’ve been able to just come in here and destroy us… overnight.”
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“Well, I think all of our questions have been answered, then. Can we get the fuck out of here now?” Helkree asked.
Raegith did not answer. He walked faster, nearly running. In his mind he was already minimizing the damage; trying to convince himself of the mercy of Rellizbix. They would not have killed her. They crushed the buildings and walls, sure, but they didn’t kill her. They had no reason to. Even if they killed most of the people, they would not just leave this place without its Empress. They’re not that cruel.
He reinforced this idea over and over in his mind as he climbed over a low spot in the rubble that was once a wall. He told himself that the Saban in charge would respect royalty, even in the Greimere. He even started making excuses for the soldiers that had beaten him and raped Zakk, rationalizing that they were simply deviants to begin with. He sold himself on the idea that his people could never doom an entire nation.
When reason could not ease the dread that poisoned his gut and threatened to upturn his meager breakfast, he turned to the Fates. He pleaded for a reunion with Kalystra and threatened them if they did not deliver. You cannot do this to me twice, damn you! You’ve already taken Onyx from me! You cannot take Kalystra, as well!
The others were jogging to keep up with him as he strode through the destruction, pushing shocked survivors aside to reach the capitol. He shut out all of the rubble and scattered fires that starved on the charred remains of houses and shops. He did not need more to distract him; to remind him of how futile his pleas were. He did not need the grisly scene around him to suck away his resolve and demolish the hope he fed so desperately to keep alive.
The Spire was just ahead and he could hear people speaking and yelling. He couldn’t make out the words or the tone, but he did not want to. His reward for so much pain and loss was just ahead. In that moment, as he came upon the ruined palace, he felt renewed. Smiling, he realized that everything he was thinking the whole way into the Citadel was true. The Sabans revered royalty and honor. They would not do anything to hinder their reputation, even among their enemy and the Fates would not abandon him just because he no longer lived in Rellizbix. All he needed to do was pass through the crowd ahead and he would be reunited with his love and they would rebuild the Empire, together, just as they had planned.
Beyond the Hell Cliffs Page 33