Wrath of the Greimere

by Case C. Capehart

  Raegith grabbed the captain by the armor, dragging him out into the open field as soldiers in the rear base far up the hill looked on.

  “Your men will be stripped naked and their armor repurposed for my warriors.” Raegith stopped and hauled the Captain to his knees. “I will separate their bones from their flesh and polish them to a brilliant white to decorate my new bridge. All who dare venture this close to my realm will know that this is my bridge… and they will know how I obtained it.”

  “We will stop you.” The Captain choked on the words, but courage returned to his eyes as he met Raegith’s glare.

  Raegith snarled. “You’ll try.”

  Flames raced along his leg and Raegith clipped the soldier’s head from his shoulders with a swiping kick.

  Helkree and Fenra came up beside him. Helkree looked out to the hill beyond, where the rear echelons scurried to retreat back across the fields of Rellizbix. “The bridge is ours, Grass-Hair. Do we pursue?”

  Raegith turned. “Fenra, Brimgor went into the river and downstream. Find him.”

  Fenra sprinted off to the West, following the river. He looked to Helkree and then back at the retreating force. “We came for the bridge. Now we have it. That’s enough for today.”

  Chapter 23

  Raegith and Helkree returned to the jubilant Greimere forces. Beretta had brought the support units across the bridge to tend to the wounded. Ariadne valiantly tried to ignore the dead Sabans and Faeir as she looked at Indie’s side. Brick and Stone Seers went about their work unfazed by the death around them. Chev’El walked from corpse to corpse, studying each for a fleeting second before moving on.

  “You’re looking for someone.” Raegith approached her. He felt guilt then, not for the dead, but for her and Ariadne. “I should have left you and the Mage behind. It was unfair to make you witness this.”

  “I don’t care, Grass-Hair.” She turned and stared at him. “Just because I didn’t want to fight, doesn’t mean I was against the battle. I am Greimere.”

  “But you knew soldiers… from your town.” Raegith looked around at the Sabans littering the field. “If they’re here, I would be willing to...”

  “He’s not here,” she interrupted. “I’ll return to my post among the scouting Kyudouka.”

  “Go.” Raegith waved the Twileen sniper off as Ariadne approached. “How is Indie?”

  “She nearly ripped herself in half doing what she did, but… I’ve never witnessed such strength.” Ariadne shook her head and met Raegith’s gaze. “The Helcat will live, but she must rest. And that is not why I came to you.”

  “I can probably guess why you did, though.” Raegith turned and walked to where the surrendering Mages were being held.

  Five Faeir towered above the Lokai warriors who held them at bay. Their hands were bound to keep them from casting magic, but Raegith suspected they could likely still do damage with bound wrists. One of the Mages, a young-looking male wearing fuchsia and yellow, sobbed. The others also wore troublesome faces, except for the oldest one in the middle. He met Raegith’s gaze for a moment and then his silvery gaze moved to Ariadne.

  “I came to you to beg for the lives of these Mages, Grass-Hair.” Ariadne dropped to her knees before Raegith and prostrated herself. “Please, Warlord… they have surrendered. They will not turn on you.”

  “Calm yourself, Mage. We have won the battle and I hold power over all of the Faeir before me.” Raegith took the measure of the older Mage in the middle of the line. “I am in the mood for giving chances.”

  “You are the Warlord of the Greimere? A Twileen?” The old Mage spoke directly to Raegith. “How curious the circumstances must have been to see you here. Even more curious that you hold within your ranks a pupil of mine.”

  Raegith brightened and looked down at Ariadne. “This old Faeir is your master?”

  “Vi-Sage Marcellus holds the rank of Colonel within the Mage Battalion. He is an honorable veteran.” Ariadne rose and turned, approaching the Mage. “Vi-Sage, if the Warlord grants your release, you will swear upon the Elements to return to Crystal Hearth and relieve yourself of duty to the army.”

  The Mage looked past her to Raegith. His face softened when he looked back to Ariadne. He bent close to her when he spoke. “I could not have chosen a better student to fit your position, Major. You must promise me that you will continue working on the young Warlord. I have witnessed his power. Your influence may be the only thing that can save our world.”

  Ariadne looked at the Mage in horror and confusion. “You must swear, Vi-Sage.”

  The old Faeir gazed forward at the horizon, ignoring her words.

  “Well, it looks like the old man is finished with this conversation.” Raegith walked to one of the Gimlets collecting loot from the battlefield and pulled a sword from his arms. “But I bet at least one of you cowardly lot still has something to say.”

  Raegith strolled the line, awkwardly holding the sword. “I’m sure you have all noticed one of your own addressing me as her superior. Ariadne was once a prisoner. She has since proven herself in my eyes and now she is one of us. When I sack Thromdale and claim the Caelum throne for the Greimere, she will have a place at my side. So will the Twileen girl I know you all saw as well.”

  “Please, spare us, your majesty,” cried the sobbing Faeir.

  “Don’t,” Raegith huffed, pointing in his direction. “Don’t puss out on me just yet, Mage. I’m going to give you all an opportunity to join our empire.

  “There’s just one thing, though.” Raegith turned and walked away from them. “I want someone who really wants this spot. I’m going to need you to earn it.”

  Raegith turned and flicked the sword, blade-down, into the ground before the Mages. He looked across the faces of each Mage. “I need only one of you.”

  The Mages looked at each other and at the sword. They fidgeted and clenched their eyes closed and gnashed their teeth, but none of them went for the sword.

  Raegith grumbled. “I’m not going to let you use magic. You want to live? You kill your fellow Mages the old-fashioned way. I’m giving you to the count of ten.”

  Raegith began his count, but still none of the Faeir went for the sword. Two of them pleaded directly to Ariadne and she to him. “Grass-Hair, this is unnecessary. I can get them to swear allegiance like the Stone Seers.”

  Raegith turned on her. “I didn’t need your assistance with the Stone Seers. I treated them with respect; that is all it took to gain their loyalty. Gaining yours was more difficult by a large measure. Six.”

  “No.” Vi-Sage Marcellus bellowed his resistance and took a seat on the grass, crossing his legs and closing his eyes in meditation.

  The other Mages stared at him and the one continued bawling. Raegith continued the count as more from the Greimere gathered for the spectacle. At his command, five Naga took up positions behind the Mages and unsheathed their katanas. Kimura looked to Raegith with a grin and a wicked gleam in her eye as she stood over the sitting Vi-Sage.

  When Raegith reached eight the other Mages sat down and began praying as tears streamed down their oval faces. Greimere voices murmured all round Raegith as his warriors tried to figure out what the Mages were doing. The only Mage still standing when Raegith hit nine was the sobbing one.

  “Illicandus,” the Vi-Sage called.

  The young Mage shuddered as he wept. “But my mother…”

  “She would be proud, Illicandus.”

  At the Vi-Sage’s words, the young Mage sat down cross-legged and continued weeping with his eyes closed.

  “No one?” Raegith looked around at his men and women and then back to the Faeir. None of them moved for the sword.

  Raegith crouched in front of the old Faeir and stared into his eyes. “What is it you think you’re accomplishing here, old man? You think I won’t execute every one of you and leave your corpses to rot?”

  “I see the hate in your eyes, boy. I know what you’ll do.” The Vi-Sage did not flinch befo
re Raegith’s snarling visage. “We may be defeated, but we’re not going to make this easy for you.”

  Raegith rose and looked around. Before him sat a group of Faeir facing their deaths head-on. Behind them stood Lokai eager to put an end to their hated enemy and all around stood the Greimere who awaited him to show strength. The Vi-Sage guessed his motivation correctly: just one Faeir turning on the rest would have proved to everyone how dishonorable their lot was.

  “Ten. Kill them.” Raegith looked on as the Naga drove their katanas downward, between the neck and back of the Faeir, severing the spinal cord.

  The Faeir crumpled to the grass as the murmurs from the Greimere died down. Except for the incoming carrion birds, the field was quiet.

  “Why didn’t they fight?” Helkree asked aloud. “I would have killed the lot of them the instant you threw out the sword.”

  “The Faeir are forbidden to kill their own.” Ariadne said in a soft, distant voice as she looked down upon the dead Mages. “Doing so would have damned them in the eyes of the Elementals.”

  She glared at Raegith then, failing to mask her disgust. “I cannot imagine a crueler test than to choose between death and dishonor.”

  Raegith stared at the Mage without saying anything. What if she was right? Perhaps he had gone too far with his hatred. He felt so certain at least one of the Faeir would turn on the others. How could a people who dragged men into the ground and enslaved an entire sect of their own kind know honor? How could an old Vi-Sage who had likely been pampered his whole life rebel in the face of his captor the same way Raegith had rebelled against his jailers in the Greimere?

  Raegith clenched his jaw against the conflict raging within him. “What are the funeral rites of your people, Ariadne?”

  “Fallen Mages are incinerated in the field,” she replied, her head lowered to conceal her anguished face.

  “Ask your fellow Greimere what you need of them to accomplish these rites.” Raegith walked past the Mage. “Your mentor showed great courage, Ariadne; courage I did not think the Faeir capable of. The Greimere will not dishonor this small rebellion.”

  A scream rang out on the other end of the bridge.

  “Grass-Hair! It’s Izanami!” Freya yelled, sprinting across the bridge. “She has Hitomi!”

  Helkree gawked at him as they recognized the agonizing cries of the Helcat. “Hitomi remained at the fort, didn’t she?”

  Raegith and Helkree pushed past the others racing toward the commotion.

  Izanami lay on the ground, gasping for air as her witches attended to her. Beside her, Hitomi wailed and clawed at the ground. Blood spotted her clothes, but she did not appear wounded. The Helcat clutched at her heart and collapsed.

  “What is happening?” Raegith yelled, staring at the two in shock.

  Izanami whispered to one of her witches who conveyed her words. “Mistress was alerted to combat by her imp and jumped back to the fort. She says it was under siege. She could not evacuate more than one. She chose Hitomi.”

  “Naoko!” Hitomi pushed her face into the grass and screamed.

  Raegith dropped beside her and scooped her into his arms. “What has happened, Hitomi? Breathe.”

  The Helcat could get no other words out through the sobs.

  “We’re under siege?” Kimura asked, pushing through the crowd. Her face drained of color and her eyes focused on the East. “Makata.”

  Before Raegith could stop her, the Naga commander broke into a sprint and disappeared into the woods. Raegith and Helkree yelled after her, but it did no good.

  “Shit!” Raegith cast about frantically. His gaze landed on Freya. “Freya, go. Get Kimura to Augustus but for hell’s sake don’t let her take on an army.”

  Freya and a handful of other Turned Urufen bolted after the Naga.

  Raegith got Hitomi to focus. “Who did this? Sabans? Mages?”

  Hitomi drew an hourglass symbol into the dirt with her shaking finger.

  Hitomi gripped his vest and nearly ripped it from his chest. “They’re different. We weren’t ready for this.”

  At her words, the warriors close enough to hear began to cry out and pass the word. In seconds chaos gripped the war party. Helkree shouted for order, but no one listened.

  “We have to get back to Augustus.” Raegith nearly choked on the words.

  “The Sabans will send scouts back. They’ll see we’ve abandoned the bridge and retake it.” Helkree growled and looked out past the river.

  Beretta took in the commotion. “Our home is being sacked, Helkree. Our young are being slaughtered. The army will not push on like this.”

  Helkree turned on her. “We won’t get this chance again. We lost too many warriors taking this bridge. They will have all died for nothing.”

  Raegith cut their argument short with a howl of rage that carried across the battlefield and silenced the crowd. All turned to him as his fists burned with blue flame and his strip of hair stood on end.

  “Assemble the war party. We’re going back.” He rose and looked at Beretta. “Burn the bridge and wait for Fenra to return with Brimgor. Rellizbix has outmaneuvered us.”

  Chapter 24

  Nero joined his brothers in the dry storage, climbing up from the tunnel below the floorboard. Paladin Layton had served as quartermaster inside Fort Augustus for 10 years. His knowledge of the centuries-old fort had been crucial in planning the assault. The contingent did not have the men or weapons to charge the front gate. Infiltrating through an emergency tunnel was the only way inside the walls.

  Nero gazed down at the two Gremeire corpses on the floor. One was a Darkling like the kind who killed his company. The other looked practically bestial with a band of fur ringing his collar and clawed fingers twisted in death. Fresh blood pooled underneath them. They had been unlucky enough to be in the storage room when the first Paladins entered. Soon enough every Greimere would be the same.

  On the commander’s word, the Paladins surged through the door of the storage and into the alleys of the fort away from the ramparts with archers atop them. Cries in foreign tongues sounded out and were silenced. Greimere creatures of different races exited buildings and rounded corners, curious about the uproar, but were swiftly cut down.

  A female Darkling with a spear intercepted Nero’s group, blindsiding them. Time slowed down as the Darkling’s spear shot toward him. Even as fear flooded his mind and all the doubts of his past resurfaced, his sword arm cocked behind him for the return blow. Nero missed being skewered by inches, but the warrior looked at the Paladin to the right instead of at him. He recognized the opening as she corrected and aimed at his fellow Paladin.

  This time hesitation did not lock his arm in place. With a swing, Nero cleaved the warrior’s head from her neck. He kicked her headless body over and pivoted to cover their side. The female was alone.

  “Nero.” The Paladin in front of him nodded at him before their group continued.

  His group made their way to the north complexes to join the Vanguard. They expected the most fighting to be there, as the barracks lay in that complex. A horn sounded five minutes into their assault. Already the sounds of clashes filled the afternoon air. Nero worried for his brothers, but forced himself to focus on the road ahead. Once the warriors were taken out, the fort would be at their mercy.

  Nero had no mercy to give.

  Inside the walls of the fort, chaos grew among the Greimere. Nero’s group moved as one and easily overwhelmed the pairs of spear warriors. They raised their shields each time they broke from cover. Only once did an arrow ping off one of them.

  The Judge had been right about resistance at the north complex. Paladins pushed their shield wall against a line of spear warriors and Rathgar with axes. On the rampart behind them, a group of Darklings with longbows pinned his brothers down. Nero’s eyes found the leader of the archers and recognized her black hair and petite frame.

  This Darkling had been with the group who killed his company. She had downed his men with bla
ck arrows and laughed as the blue-haired leader made a fool of him.

  “The rampart. We need to clear out those archers.” Nero directed his team to the right stairwell.

  They pushed forward, using buildings for cover. Nero heard a shout as they reached the stairs and turned with his shield. “Turtle!”

  The others turned with him in practiced discipline. The barrage of arrows felled against their steel shields, but one of his men faltered as he took an arrow in the leg.

  “Janis, roll off the edge,” Nero called to the downed Paladin. “The rest— charge.”

  The team surged forward, intent on reaching the archers before they could load the next volley. As he ran, a black arrow sailed past him. Behind him, he heard the gurgle of blood rushing from his brother’s throat. The sound pulled memories of his first battle and Bayle dying behind him, but he did not stop to turn. The small archer had already fired a second arrow. Her speed and accuracy put the entire contingent at risk.

  The gap between them might as well have been a mile. She would pick off every member of his team before he reached her.

  Sliding his sword into the rack between his shield and forearm, Nero pulled the ceremonial hammer from his belt. Pulling his shield aside, Nero opened himself up for an arrow to the face, but the dark-haired archer had already fired and moved to nock her next. Nero hurled the hammer through the air with practiced aim.

  The blunt end slammed into the open chest of the archer, flattening her. She had been too busy readying her arrow to dodge. Or maybe having a projectile coming back at her had been too unexpected. Either way, the morale of the other archers immediately broke as they converged to cover their leader. On the other side of the rampart, another Paladin team had taken the stairs.

  Nero’s team closed in on the archers, putting them down with swords. At close range, the Darkling’s bows did them little good and the Paladins bore skill made through thousands of training hours. Nero pushed past the others, his heart filled with greed. He had to be the one to kill the leader— not just for personal glory, but to avenge Delta Company.