Wrath of the Greimere

by Case C. Capehart

  “They seem to be doing alright, though,” Nero said.

  “More than alright, I would hypothesize. Every piece of fine art, every heartbreaking ballad, every performance that has gutted me with unbridled emotion has come from Twileen origins. Saban generals enlist them to spin their tales of glory. Faeir Counselors adorn their spires with Twileen paintings. For all of our magic and might, the Sabans and Faeir cannot create beauty like these ridiculous Twileens.”

  Lieutenant Stratton looked over at Nero and nodded. “The girl will be alright. Her kind survive; it’s what they do, however inexplicably. They are blessed by the Fates and Elements both, for reasons unknown to any of us.”

  Nero left the Mage in order to take up his round of patrol around the town. Throughout the night, his squad caught brief glimpses of the creatures, but as Braap insisted, they never came into the light. They avoided it like acid and Nero could not think of a better symbol for the Greimere.

  They do not keep to the light. They know nothing of it, he thought. They know only death and darkness, the barbarians. Rellizbix is the light of the world and because of that, they wish to destroy us. But I won’t allow it.

  After numerous reports and fruitless investigations, dawn broke with no engagements. To Nero’s dismay, there were casualties. Several families stayed home instead of congregating at the square. Whether they sought to protect their family on their own or mistrusted the soldiers, the homes that did not bathe in firelight throughout the night were attacked. Nero’s shoulders slumped as the exhausted company filed past a small house bringing out the ravaged, lifeless body of a toddler wrapped in a bloodied cloak.

  Denizens took up residence in the Wilderness and raised families, despite all the dangers. These people had finally started to relax with Delta Company’s station, but catastrophe had struck them nonetheless. Worst of all, Nero did not know how they would combat this threat.

  Almost a full day had passed since they learned of the Gotamas loose within the town and no one had passed any word to Sevictus and Chev’El. They likely saw the great pyre and heard all of the commotion from their hill, but they had no idea what was happening. If any of the monsters had made their way up to the shack, the pair would be taken completely off guard.

  After the morning briefing, in which Sergeant Pledius addressed the imminent attack of the Greimere that the creatures signaled, Nero’s squad was directed to rack out. Nero took deep breaths just to keep his head up after two days without sleep and on constant patrol, but when he dropped to his cot in full armor and closed his eyes, all he could see was Chev’El’s lifeless, ravaged corpse.

  Nero took a few moments to steady his breathing and go over what he would say to Sergeant Pledius, then he rose and left the barracks. With an empty stomach and screaming feet, he made his way toward the command tent to inform Sergeant Pledius of his intent to travel to Sevictus’s shack and alert them to the danger. If he found nothing but corpses on that hill, he was prepared to forgo more sleep in order to bury them. No one else would.

  As he crossed the staging area, shouts went out and he followed the drowsy soldiers to meet Chev’El as she approached the company of soldiers.

  “Stand down,” Nero barked at the men. “She’s here for me.”

  “She’s entering Regimental Space,” Corporal Arigus, the leader of 2nd squad said, stiff-arming him. “You were ordered to rack out, Corporal. What are you still doing on your feet?”

  Nero looked down at the arm holding him back and then met eyes with the senior squad leader. Nero shared the same rank as Arigus, but the older man had at least four years of service on him and commanded more respect.

  “Holy shit. Corporal!”

  Both men turned to where Chev’El had dropped the canvas bag she carried over her shoulder. Grey, mottled flesh peaked out from the top of the bag as purple sludge oozed from it.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Arigus stared in disbelief at the creature within.

  “This thing harassed my goat all night,” Chev’El said, pulling back the sack to reveal an insectoid monster the size of a wild dog with a broad, helmet-like head and bulbous, green eyes. “I went outside to shoo it away and it grabbed me and tried to stab that stinger thing in me… so I killed the little fucker.”

  “You?” Corporal Arigus broke from his stupor to look the Twileen girl over. “How?”

  “I caught the stinger, pinned it with my boot and opened the sucker up with my skinning blade,” the girl replied. “It kept moving, even with its guts hanging out, so I flipped it, applied pressure with my knee and snapped off its forelegs. Without its ability to claw me, I just kept my weight on it until it bled out. How have you guys been dealing with them?”

  Several soldiers backed away from the girl and Arigus dropped his hand from Nero’s chest. “We… haven’t. You understand these things have killed four people so far, including one of our brothers?”

  “Oh no.” Chev’El looked to Nero. “If I had known, I would have come. Can I help?”

  “Bullshit. She must have caught it in a trap or something,” one of the privates said. “There’s no way this little girl killed one of those monsters.”

  Chev’El set her burning gaze on the soldier. “Maybe a monster to a coward, but to me it’s just another beast.”

  “Who are you calling a coward, treewalker?” The Private yelped, reaching for his sword.

  “Enough.” Corporal Arigus pointed at the private. “Check that sword arm, soldier.”

  “If you’re eager to fight someone, I think you’re going to get your chance real soon.” Chev’El looked back to Nero. “The dusks have been strange lately and it has Sevictus on edge. This thing confirmed what his scar told him; it’s not from our side of the Hell Cliffs and it didn’t get here on its own.”

  “We have everything under control, Denizen,” Corporal Arigus replied. “If you want to help, fetch wood. We’ll need it for the pyre again tonight. You and the woodsman are welcome to join us; we will protect you.”

  “That’s good of you, Saban, but I’ll be in the woods tonight just the same.” Chev’El kicked the dead creature at her feet and nodded at Nero. “The beast is yours to examine. Nature guide you all tonight.”

  “Are we just going to let her roam around in those woods, Corporal?” the uppity private asked as Chev’El turned and made her way to the north of the town. “Who knows what she’s up to out there?”

  Arigus ignored the young soldier and turned to Nero. “What’s the deal with that girl?”

  “I couldn’t explain Chev’El in a few sentences, Corporal. But I believe she killed that thing the way she said.” Nero stared after her for a moment before reaching down and gingerly scooping up the bag with the Gotamas. “That should tell you enough about her.”

  Chapter 6

  Nero woke in time for a late lunch, along with the rest of his squad. Exhaustion still lingered on their faces during chow. Nero longed to find a grassy spot in the sun’s warmth to nap in. Sergeant Pledius looked like he had not slept at all, but he still issued commands and heard every report given. After eating, Nero took a walk to keep his eyes open while the food settled.

  Villagers hauled wood toward the center of town and begged patrolling soldiers for information they didn’t have. Nero glanced at the gathering of Denizens at the far end of town, away from all the buildings and within a small, fenced area. Those who did not survive the night were being laid to rest. The sight of all the bowed heads and the single, wailing figure on her knees took him back to his boyhood.

  …

  Nero’s grandfather faced the sea, stone-faced, as his wife crumpled beside him. All around, his family wept and gripped each other as the Cleric commended the two, shrouded bodies before them to the Fates. Sunlight struggled through the thick, grey clouds behind them, making the freezing spray chill his skin beneath his thick, wool clothes. The sound of the waves drowned out the words from the Cleric, but he knew what the man’s presence meant. Soon the bodies would b
e in the ground, swallowed by dirt and rain, and his parents would be nothing more than memories his aunts and uncles told aloud.

  Nero had been nine years old when both of his parents had succumbed to the Sea Flu.

  His uncle Lium assured him that he would have a home with the rest of the Septimus family, that his grandfather would see to his needs and raise him as his parents. He knew better. Silas Septimus was a proud man who took great pride in the Septimus name. When his oldest daughter bore a son to a traveling merchant and passed on the merchant’s family name instead of Septimus, Silas never forgave her. Octavius Nero carried as much Septimus blood as any of his cousins, but they carried the Septimus name and he did not. That made all the difference to the man who took him in.

  Throughout his childhood, before he adopted the soldier’s tradition of going only by his surname, Octavius Nero took out his frustration with his grandfather by rebelling in any way he could. This culminated with his way of forever setting himself apart from the prestigious family.

  “I will not hear any more of this foolishness, Octavius,” Silas Septimus groaned. “You’re the oldest of the grandchildren; you will learn to trap lobster and crabs and trade fish as your uncles have… as I did. No one in this family is running off to fight the Greimere. You can fight the coyotes if you’re so inclined.”

  The other members of the family chuckled as they had dinner outside under the gazebo with the family brand, the “Double-S,” overhead. It was springtime outside the Port of Rialea on the Storm Line and the first picnic for the extended Septimus family.

  “It’s not foolishness, Grandfather,” Octavius Nero replied, pulling a sheet of paper out from his belt and lightly placing it on the table before him. “I told you I was serious and you ignored me. This is my recruitment pledge. It is signed and a copy has been sent to Thromdale to have my name added to the roster.”

  The entire table went silent.

  Octavius’s uncle Bacilius snatched the paper off the table and read through it.

  “What have you done?” he yelled once he reached the signature at the end. “This is authentic, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is,” Octavius said. “I told you… I told all of you that I was serious about this.”

  “Do you realize how much this is going to cost me, you selfish brat?” Silas asked, his tone dark and threatening. “It’s all coming out of your pay, however much it costs for me to invalidate your signature. Hopefully the word hasn’t gotten out yet, or the embarrassment we’ll all suffer over this-”

  “You cannot have a commitment rescinded without my consent, grandfather. They won’t accept it.”

  “Then you’ll consent!” The old patriarch roared and slammed his hand on the table. “You brought this on yourself; you’ll be the one to get yourself out of it! You’ll go into town and find the conniving recruiter that tricked you into signing away your life-”

  “I won’t,” Octavius said, unable to meet his grandfather’s eyes.

  “Octavius,” his grandmother said. “Don’t worry about the money; we’re not concerned with that. We’ll pay any price to keep you safe and no one is going to be embarrassed about this… mistake. It’s a mistake, is all. Octavius, we just don’t want you...”

  “…to die,” Silas interrupted, cutting off his wife’s gentle words. “That’s what will happen, boy. You’ll die… either in training or the first time they send you into the Wilderness against those beasts. I know soldiers from my business with Thromdale. They’re big, strong, brutish… able to hold a shield against the heavy axe-blows of the invaders. That’s not you, boy. You’re not capable of the things a soldier has to do.”

  Silas laughed, nudging Bacilius. “When we let him try to unload the traps full of lobsters, do you remember what happened? He could barely pull them to the front of the boat, he was so terrified. He thought the lobsters would tear his hands off.”

  “Unloading sea food and killing a man are two different chores, grandfather,” Octavius said, standing up. “In two days I will travel to Clearwall, attend the Departure Celebration and then march south with the rest of the recruits to Fort Draymmond.”

  “Let me tell you something, boy,” Silas said, pointing to everyone at the table. “Every adult here, every family member and in-law here that works for me is a Citizen of Rellizbix. None are Commoners. I have paid the required amount for the Passage of Gold for everyone here, just as I will for you when the time comes. If you think you can pull that kind of money as a soldier, you’re in for some major disappointment. That leaves the Passage of Skill and the Passage of Blood for you. You’re not skilled at anything but daydreaming and you need ten kills in the line of combat for the Passage of Blood. You think that’s in your cards, boy? You think you can put ten hulking, barbaric invaders under your blade without dying first?

  “The Septimus family are all patriots; we all contribute to the welfare of this great country, but we contribute to the commerce side. A Septimus is a businessman… always has been. I will not suffer the indignity of a Septimus remaining a commoner all his life because he tried to be something he’s not meant to be.”

  “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I bear the surname Nero, not Septimus,” Octavius said. “So, no one will ever know.”

  Octavius left the table and stormed off into the fields before the argument could continue. He walked out into the pasture until he reached the gate with the Double-S atop it. Just beyond was the barren road where he saw the group of soldiers who inspired him so long ago.

  A few moments later, he heard the footsteps of someone behind him. He did not need to turn around to know that it was his uncle Bacilius.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” he said, staring out at the road. “Grandfather may think I’m not meant for soldiering, but I know I’m not meant for this.”

  “I’ve known you wanted to be a soldier for nearly your entire life, Octavius,” Bacilius replied, coming up beside him and gazing out at the road. “I’m not going to talk you out of it. I just don’t think it’s a good idea and I think you’re going to find that out the hard way.”

  “I can make it, Bacilius,” Octavius said, looking over at his uncle. “I’m tougher than you and Grandfather think. I’ve just never been tested.”

  “Bullshit,” Bacilius spat. “You’re tested here every day, with every chore you take on. I hate to be cold, but you’re only adequate, Octavius. You can get basic things done around the docks with moderate reliability and speed. We’re all used to it and we accept that it’s just who you are.”

  Bacilius reached over and grabbed his nephew’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “But out here, if you lolligag or get distracted or forget your gear on your way out to the docks you just get yelled at and maybe humiliated a little bit. You do any of those things in the middle of a war and you’re just dead… that’s it. There’s no glory in that, Octavius.”

  “There’s no glory in being an adequate lobster trapper and getting my citizenship bought for me out of pity,” Octavius replied.

  His uncle scowled at him. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I wouldn’t count on getting a ride into town tomorrow.”

  Octavius turned and looked back out to the road as his uncle left him. He felt horrible inside. What should have made him feel elated had only turned his family against him and rotted his guts.

  …

  “Corporal.” Nero looked up to see one of the Privates from 2nd squad in the tower. “Can you come up here a second? I… I think I need someone else to look at this. I want to be sure I’m seeing it right.”

  Nero grabbed the first rung of the ladder and sighed. He did not have the energy to go climbing up a tower just to look at something, but the soldier looked concerned and there were no other leaders around.

  “Because I’m a good soldier,” Nero muttered as he climbed, directing his wrath at a grandfather halfway across the country from him. “You’ll all get to see when I come back as Sergeant Nero, veteran of the Gre
imere invasion to beat all invasions.”

  “It’s out there right at the tree line. The reflection caught my eye.” The private handed the spotting scope to Nero and pointed to what had him distressed to the south of the village.

  Nero scanned the edge of the forest, eager to get this over with and return to his squad. The town still had half a day of preparation and he intended 4th squad to spearhead the town defense that night. Thoughts of that evening distracted him so thoroughly that he looked right past the corpse. It took a moment to find it again.

  Up against a tree, dark brown gunk subduing the shine of his metal chestplate, sat a Saban soldier. His head lulled against his chest and he did not move. His arms stretched behind his back as if bound to the trunk. Nero noticed the leather riding breaches.

  The man was a scout; one he thought he remembered still being in the camp.

  “He’s one of ours,” Nero said, staring at the dead soldier. “Did we send riders out on patrol?”

  “At morning chow I saw Sergeant Pledius send another pair of scouts north. I assumed we were sending word to Ft. Augustus to let them know about the monsters.” This private reacted differently than the last one he shared a tower with the night before. The soldier came up beside him and stared out across the open area between the barracks and the forest. “If he’s here on the south side of the village…”

  Nero clapped the scope against the private’s chest and made for the counterweight drop. “It’s a message.”

  Chapter 7

  First Squad sped across the open plain, shields up and in arrow formation. Sergeant Pledius took point leading them into the forest, to the dead tree Nero pointed out.