Beyond the Hell Cliffs

by Case C. Capehart

  “For Fate’s sake, Raegith, cover her!” Zakk said, shoulder checking him.

  “Take my cloak,” Raegith said, yanking the rolled canvas out of the straps on his pack. “It’s the best I can do for now. I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”

  “Me neither,” she said, taking the cloak from him and whipping it unrolled. “So, Pasty-face, was it? If my perky ass out on display isn’t what you need from me, what is?”

  “First I would have your name because I’m going to feel a bit silly if I have to continue calling you Happy Hole,” Raegith said. “Second, I want you to join us on our trip to the Citadel and teach me as much about Rathgar culture as you can. And my name is Raegith, not Pasty-face.”

  “Prince!” Ebriz exclaimed. “I don’t know the words you’re speaking, but you’re intentions are so transparent that I don’t need to. You mean to bring her with us? The woman does not know of our mission and we do not know anything about her except that she is being punished for something. She could be dangerous and we don’t need anyone else knowing about our mission. The king…”

  “The king is not here, Ebriz,” Raegith replied. “The king will get his war, just the same, but I will have knowledge of the Greimere. They’ve been our enemy for a millennium and we don’t know anything about them other than how they die. Aren’t you curious to know something of them? Haven’t you ever wondered what they’re like outside of war?”

  “We’re not here to make friends with the Greimere, Prince,” Ebriz said, drawing closer in case Fibbitch understood him. “They are not our friends and they don’t need to be. These Gimlets are a strange bunch and the Rathgar look like… well, you see what they look like and what they do to each other.”

  “Have you already forgotten what was done to us, Ebriz? It was not the Rathgar who nearly killed us,” Raegith argued. “Maybe… maybe we’ve been wrong for some time about these people.”

  “Maybe that fever is back again,” Ebriz mumbled.

  “I am Helkree of Edge,” she said, pulling the cloak over her shoulders and not making much of an effort in covering herself past that. “I’m not a historian on Rathgar society and I don’t read much, either. As far as being useful to the group; beyond fucking and murdering, I’m quite worthless.”

  “Okay, good to know,” Raegith replied. “Which one of those got you chained to a stone?”

  “Both,” she replied.

  “See, Happy Hole is worth nothing and we can’t even chain her back up,” Fibbitch said. “Probably have to kill her now.”

  “A frail Northerner, three Gimlets and… whatever the hell she’s supposed to be?” Helkree asked. “I need a laugh. Please tell me which one of you plans on killing me?”

  “No one is killing anyone,” Raegith said. He then gave Helkree a hard look. “You owe me a debt, though, and I will cut you open and tether you back to that rock by your innards if you fail to honor it. Do Rathgar understand this concept?”

  Helkree gave him a sneer, but with the dagger in his hand and the way he stood elevated on the balls of his feet, she was not as quick to disregard his words.

  “Yes, we understand honor, Northerner,” she replied guardedly. “We understand it more than your kind, by the stories I’ve heard.”

  “I don’t doubt that at all,” Raegith said, the memory of his betrayal putting a foul taste in his mouth. “Until we reach the Citadel or until you repay your debt by saving my life, you are bound to me.”

  “I hope you’re as tough as you pretend to be, Raegith,” Helkree replied. “You’ll need to be if you march on the Citadel.”

  The group continued on, although the Gimlets were clearly displeased with Raegith’s unfathomable decision to free the Happy Hole. Helkree taught Rathgar culture like a substitute teacher that learned the subject through conversations at a bar. She dwelled on menial details of complete unimportance and barely touched on the helpful things, although he did learn that all male Rathgar became guards or soldiers of some kind, while all other professions were taken up by Rathgar females and those of the other races.

  Apparently crime was kept in check only by the Rathgar, who were highly honor-bound. Rathgar who broke their honor were treated very harshly. Do something dishonorable enough and you would be branded on your forehead and denied by everyone, which meant you could not buy supplies, be taken in by any caretakers or work any professions. Murder did not warrant as harsh of a punishment, although that was a matter of perspective, as many murderers were immediately executed. According to Helkree, a swift death was often preferable to starving on the streets with a penis burned into one’s forehead. Raegith assumed Helkree was either joking or the brand was merely phallic in design, but he couldn’t truly be sure, as odd as this place was.

  Helkree also tended to digress into tales of her glory. She told them about the time she was drunk and threw a table at some guy who may or may not have been cheating at cards. Then there was the time she got drunk and cleaved a box trotter, some kind of livestock animal, in half with one axe blow. The stories continued, all beginning with her starting level of intoxication and ending with someone getting “their shit kicked in.” Never once did she go into where she was from or what her childhood was like, though Raegith wasn’t sure he would understand anything she told him if she did. He had no idea how families worked among the Rathgar, or any other species or race in the Greimere Empire. The up-side to her constant stories was that when the sky began to darken, at its staggeringly rapid pace, Fibbitch looked about and let them know that they were much closer to their destination than he had planned and might be at the outpost by midday. The bad news was that he did not have any safe houses close enough for them to reach that night.

  “We’re on a main road, Gimlet,” Helkree said. “As close as we are to the borders, a good fire and all night watch should be enough to keep us alive.”

  “Dumb ox,” Fibbitch replied. “Nothing is so safe out in the open, no matter how close to the border we are. You know nothing.”

  “I managed to stay alive strapped to a fucking rock for half a week, little one,” Helkree said. “Gimlets are still easier targets than a shackled Rathgar. Maybe that’s why you fear the dark.”

  “We’ll take turns on watch and set out as soon as the sky lightens,” Raegith said. “The sooner we reach the outpost, the better.”

  “Says the pasty from Rellizbix with a freed Happy Hole in tow,” Fibbitch replied. “Scholar of Greimere he thinks he is now.”

  Raegith took up the first watch, mystified by the burning coil that Fibbitch produced from a bag carried by one of his men. It smelled horrid, but it burned bright and slowly, like a thick cigar sitting on a ledge. He did not seem all that surprised when Fibbitch told him that it was a turd from some beast of burden. The amazing lack of wood anywhere meant that the denizens of Greimere had to get creative with their sources of energy.

  After an hour, he decided to make use of his Grabber helmet to see what was around them. He scanned the desolate horizon, distancing himself from the group enough to keep the firelight from blinding him. They had finally moved out of the desert and into a wetter, bog-like area with short, thick plants and pockets of stagnant water. There were no tall trees anywhere in the south, probably from lack of sunlight, but according to Helkree and Fibbitch there were actually plants and vegetation the closer they got to the Citadel.

  He heard a footstep and turned back to see Helkree crouching halfway between him and the camp. She looked as if she was trying to listen to something and he could even see her nostrils flare. She crawled forward a bit and stopped again to test the air for scents or sounds. She was searching for Raegith.

  Raegith slipped his hand behind him and around the hilt of the short blade sheathed at the small of his back. He didn’t make any noise, but something caught the Rathgar’s attention and she crept forward some more, right in Raegith’s direction, and she didn’t stop. Raegith’s pulse quickened as he noticed the glint of light off something in her han
d and he slid the dagger out of his sheath. Helkree had his location then and she popped up to a crouch, now more desperate in getting to him. Using the night vision the helmet granted him to his advantage, Raegith set himself up in a defensive crouch and began to circle to her left, away from the blade she carried. She did not adjust, meaning that she was tracking him by something other than sight or noise. He hadn’t taken but two steps when she closed the gap, adjusted and pounced on him. Her aim was off, however, and he was able to roll out of her embrace and grab her arm, swinging her to the ground, face first. Raegith quickly stepped on the hand with the blade and dropped his knee into her back as he applied pressure to the wrist he had in his hand.

  “Ah, Raegith!” Helkree hissed. “Is that you? Shit, stop doing that!”

  “Of course it’s me,” Raegith replied. “Or was it someone else you came to assassinate? You shouldn’t have… ughn, what the?”

  Something slick slapped against Raegith’s back and it felt like little needles embedded into his skin. His mind went numb and he felt like he was drunk. He forgot what he was doing and let go of Helkree’s wrist, stumbling forward in his quickly debilitating state. He felt Helkree trip him, but he didn’t mind, even when his face hit the ground and bounced. He tried to say something, but it wasn’t coming out right.

  “Shit, you stupid elf, or whatever the hell you are,” he heard Helkree say, although it sounded slow and distant. “Give me that damned helmet so I can see… holy shit, that’s crystal fucking clear! Oh damn, you got a big one on you. Oh, I’m going to cut you up and sneak your juices into the city, my little precious.”

  Raegith was slightly aware of how little he was troubled by the idea of the Rathgar cutting him up into little pieces and using his “juices.” He did not seem to care at all about his impending doom. He was in bliss and had a hard-on strong enough to lift him off the ground at that point. He felt her blade digging into his back, slicing him into thin slivers of man-meat, but it didn’t hurt and he laughed, despite her telling him to shut up and covering his mouth with her hand. He was being murdered and could not give a shit.

  He blacked out for a bit and when he awoke, something was rocking him back and forth, digging his bare ass into the dirt. He was also aware of his hands up in the air and resting on something soft and pleasant. His hearing was the next thing to come back to him and he heard a heavy, rasping breath and then… a moan? He couldn’t see anything, but his awareness was coming back to him quickly now and he realized that the last thing he could remember was something life threatening. He dropped his hand and tried to get to his feet, but something heavy was on top of him.

  “What are you doing? I’m almost there!” Helkree huffed, pushing his back down to the ground and leaning forward so that her bare breasts brushed against him in rhythm. Raegith suddenly realized what was happening with shock, but wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. In his brief hesitation, Helkree’s bucking broke rhythm and she gripped his shoulders hard as she squeaked out a couple of quick, soft whimpers while grinding her hips down onto him.

  Raegith reached up and grabbed a fist full of her hair. Yanking backwards, he shoved her shoulder and rolled her off of him, jumping to his feet. He immediately tripped over his pants and fell back down again. He fumbled around, searching for his dagger on the ground, but he could not find it.

  “Aw, I guess you’re finally coming down, huh?” Helkree whispered gleefully.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” Raegith asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.

  “I saved your life is what,” Helkree said, her voice getting closer. “I had no idea you were even out here, but it’s a good thing I came hunting that kafkel when I did or you’d be walking off the side of a volcano or into the open mouth of some monster right now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Raegith asked, yanking his pants up. “I saw you come at me with a knife. You stalked me and attacked me, then… then you paralyzed me and started… oh Fates, my back! You were slicing up my back!”

  “Shut up,” Helkree said, right next to him. “For fuck’s sake, don’t wake everyone up. Here, take your hat back and sit down. You’re acting like an idiot.”

  With his helmet back, he could see Helkree grinning like a lunatic at him, but she no longer seemed like a threat, so Raegith found a rock close by and sat down on it. Helkree then sat next to him, although she had to tell him to lead her over to him, since she didn’t have night vision anymore. She explained that she was awake when Raegith left for what she assumed was to take a piss. Then she smelled a kafkel close by and decided to hunt it down. Kafkels were slug-like creatures the size of small dogs that vaulted at living things and when they connected, little needles on their underside attached them to their host. The needles secreted a poison that in her words, “got you wasted as shit” to the point where danger, pain and every other survival instinct was drowned out by bliss and apathy. A blissful host wouldn’t mind at all while the kafkel straight up digested it with the acids coating its skin. Sentient creatures would just walk or crawl around until they died from having a hole eaten through them or something killed them. The kafkel must have been right up on Raegith, because Helkree was trying to kill it when she accidentally stumbled upon him. The moist slap Raegith felt as he pinned her down was the kafkel launching itself into him.

  “Those bastards are worth good coin to the right people,” Helkree said. “I was going to cut it up and hide it in one of the Gimlet’s packs in case we got pinched. So when you heard me say I was going to slice you up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Okay, I can see how I misunderstood what was going on at that point,” Raegith said. “but how did fucking me while I was poisoned come into play and why?”

  “That was your idea,” Helkree replied. “I was just going to remove the kafkel and drag you back to camp, but you rolled over and started getting handsy. I tried to brush you off. You’re the one who yanked down your pants and pulled out a flesh sword the size of my arm. How was I supposed to say no to that?”

  “I did what?” Raegith said. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You were barely coherent,” Helkree laughed.

  “I’d feel a lot better about you taking advantage of me if you hadn’t spent the day describing your trend of killing everyone you’ve slept with,” Raegith said.

  Helkree was strangely silent for a moment and Raegith turned to see that her smile had faded and a more settled look had come over her. She almost looked hurt.

  “It’s not like that’s a rule I follow or anything,” she said. “That’s just how life likes to turn out on me. I’m unlucky, I guess.”

  “Not as much as the ones that are dead,” Raegith said, immediately wondering why he felt so easy talking to her.

  “Good point,” Helkree replied. “I’ve been lucky enough to survive in a world that doesn’t want me, but sometimes that doesn’t feel so lucky to me, you know?”

  “I have a pretty good idea what you mean. My friends and I lost our entire party before we even crossed into your lands. The girl, Zakk, isn’t taking it very well.”

  “She’s going to be pissed about this, won’t she?” Helkree laughed. “As if she didn’t already have enough to be jealous of. How old do your women have to be before their breasts come in? Or do they?”

  “She has breasts,” Raegith replied, looking Helkree over again. “Maybe not mountains like yours, but they’re there. Besides, it’s not that kind of partnership between us. She is a sister to me.”

  “She looks more like a brother.”

  “Let’s get back to camp,” Raegith said. “I’m not in any shape to keep watch at this point.”

  Chapter 15

  The group reached the first outpost before midday, just as Fibbitch said they would. Helkree continued to provide them with stories and lore that might have been made up for the absurdity of it and Fibbitch rolled his eyes or shook his head every few minutes with each presentation of facts f
rom the Rathgar. Her every gesture opened the cloak enough for anyone looking to get an eye-full, but by then everyone was quite accustomed to her nudity. As they reached the outskirts of the small village, Helkree became less animated and drew her cloak close about her. With her hood up, she was silent and withdrawn; a completely different person than what they were used to. Raegith surmised that Helkree was not as welcome among civilization and was probably an outcast like Onyx had been.

  The outpost was not as Raegith imagined. He had the expectation of a bustling village overpopulated by hideous creatures and vile cretins; of a place governed by chaos, where just being there was living dangerously. He thought there would be huge spires that dripped blood and lesser beings being tormented in the streets. The books he had read painted such a horrendous picture of what the inhabitants of Greimere were like, that Raegith had naturally inserted things from his nightmares into the land. To his surprise, the outpost, which was considered a major population center by Helkree, was more like an impoverished ghetto. Very few buildings looked structurally sound and most of the houses were nothing more than flimsy, huts made from salvaged material slapped together. The entire place was not much bigger than a medium Twileen village and the smell of decay hit them well before they reached the outskirts.

  As they neared the first houses, an enormous Rathgar in leather and mail armor approached them and motioned them to a halt. He was a dark green color and looked very menacing, but his expression was a simple one and he seemed very confused about the company before him. He recognized Fibbitch and tried to ask him about his company, but Fibbitch waved him off without speaking. When the Rathgar refused to let him pass, the Gimlet sighed and produced a shiny, black coin and held it up to him. The Rathgar grabbed the coin and eyed it closely before smiling and waving them on.

  “Fibbitch better get reimbursed for that opal once Pasties are brought to Empress,” Fibbitch grumbled. “Fibbitch get us somewhere to sleep and the Happy Hole some clothes. The inn up here a bit…”