Beyond the Hell Cliffs

by Case C. Capehart

  “I’ll meet you there this evening,” Helkree said softly. “I’ll not have some Gimlet scavenger putting me in his debt when I can see to myself well enough. Raegith, can I see your pack for a second?”

  Helkree reached into his pack and pulled out a leather water skin. She pulled the cork on it and sniffed the top, before smiling and replacing it. Raegith gave her a questioning look and when she smiled and winked back, he realized what was in the skin. His back tingled a bit at the memory, but she was off through the village before he could say anything to her. What would have happened if he would have pulled that skin out to drink from? He hoped she would have warned him had she seen him attempting that, but did not put a lot of faith in her integrity.

  Fibbitch got them a room in the inn, which looked to be the sturdiest building in the post. Fibbitch insisted that they all lay low while he retrieved some food for all of them, but Raegith was too curious. When Fibbitch was gone for too long, Raegith opened the door. Against the protests of Zakk and Ebriz, Raegith pulled up his hood and ventured out into the tavern area.

  To his astonishment, there were very few male Rathgar in the tavern. Women dominated the population inside and everywhere Raegith looked, a female form was eating or having a drink at the bar or singing in the corner. There were others besides Rathgar. A short, slender woman in the corner sat at a table with similar-looking folk. Her skin was dark grey and her white hair was shaved on one side and hung long over her face on the other side, revealing pointed ears, like a Twileen’s, only much longer. When she looked around, her violet eyes glowed faintly. Another female looked as if she was wearing a brown fur collar about her neck, but it was in fact a mane that ended at her collarbone. Her hair was short and spikey and she wore leather clothes that hugged a figure that reminded him of Zakk’s.

  In fact, the only male he could see inside the tavern was a very large warrior at a table surrounded by women. The Rathgar was the biggest man Raegith had ever seen, even larger than Boram. He was heavily scarred and his gut pushed out some and lacked definition, but he was still a fierce sight. His grey hair was shaved into a single strip down the middle of his scalp. He was laughing and drinking from a large, wooden mug and all of the women were fascinated by him and nearly fighting each other over their proximity to the man. Raegith felt a surge of jealousy at this sight. All he had ever really wanted in life was right there in front of him. The fantasy that was filling his mind as he stood in the middle of the tavern faded and he realized that the fearsome Rathgar warrior was staring right at him.

  The large man had stopped what he was doing and ignored the women at his side to glare at Raegith and the prince froze, trying to force air back into his lungs. The man raised his massive arm and slowly beckoned him. Raegith realized what a ridiculously horrible idea it was to enter the tavern at that moment. Maybe it was because of his confidence after killing the Grabber or maybe he was just becoming way too comfortable in the Greimere, but it did not occur to him how dangerous his presence in that outpost was until just then. Now it was too late and the large Rathgar was beginning to look agitated at his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, Raegith stepped forward and almost tripped. He righted his feet and forced himself to look calm as he approached the big man. He did not even know how to properly greet people in the Greimere.

  “You’re not a woman,” he said in a voice that sounded like a mountain crumbling to the ground. “If you were, no one in this bar would have paid you any mind, despite your odd look. They wouldn’t know a Saban if they saw one… but I would.”

  Raegith tightened every muscle in his body just to keep his bladder in check, but the man did not move to strike him. Some of the women halted their bickering to look at him, hearing what the warrior had just called him. Raegith saw fear on their faces, even in their own land.

  “I’ve seen your kind before, youngling,” the man continued. “I’ve put plenty under my axe, but on a grassy battlefield. Never have I seen one here… in the Greimere. Why am I seeing one now?”

  “You’re just lucky, I guess…” Raegith said, managing not to stutter. He motioned to the women crowded around the warrior. “… but I probably didn’t need to point that out to you, did I?”

  The Rathgar just stared at him, unmoving and Raegith wanted to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see the deathblow coming. Then the Rathgar chuckled. It was a single chuckle, almost as if he were clearing his throat. Then he did it again and pounded the table, nearly sending Raegith through the roof with fright and scattering the women around them. The Rathgar’s laughter filled the bar and he wiped his face, his composure lost. He pointed at the chair opposite him and commanded Raegith to “sit.” Then he whispered to one of the dark-skinned, white-haired beauties and slapped her playfully on the ass as she strolled to the bar. She wore such tiny clothes that Raegith could see the bounce of her butt cheek and he found himself watching it all the way to the bar.

  “I’m too curious to kill you, youngling,” the man said, pulling his attention back from the girl’s rear end. “You’re an enemy to everyone here, yet you’re days deep into this territory, by yourself and you’ve got the balls to wander into a tavern with nothing more than a large hood and a prayer that no one takes a long look at you. I can honestly say that I never thought I would see this.”

  “Well, if we’re both being honest then, I’m not as brave as you might think,” Raegith replied. “I just couldn’t pass up a bar full of women, even with the threat of gruesome death.”

  The Rathgar laughed even more and the women around him began to ease in their tension some, but still regarded Raegith like a deadly serpent coiled before them.

  “I am Brimgor, Saban. Take off your hood and greet me. No one here will bother you while you sit at my table. They expect me to do it, but I don’t give a shit what they want.”

  Raegith removed his hood and several of the women whispered to each other. “My name is Raegith and I deeply appreciate your hospitality.”

  The women chattered even more at that. One even reached out to touch his hand before Brimgor slapped it and waved her off. The girl, who was one of the fur-collared types, retracted her hand, but kept her eyes on Raegith and even started to smile a bit when he returned the glance.

  “You’re not Saban after all,” Brimgor remarked, leaning forward and inspecting his face. “You’re something else, but still from the north, I assume.”

  The dark-skinned woman returned and placed a wooden mug full of black liquid in front of him, but a safe distance away from him. When Brimgor motioned to him, he reached out and slid it closer to him. Brimgor grabbed his own mug and extended it towards him.

  “Rack your mug, Raegith the Grass Haired and drink with me,” Brimgor commanded. “Then tell me why you’re really here so far from home and why you speak my tongue so well.”

  Raegith reached his mug out to touch to Brimgor’s, but the big man leaned forward ran rammed his mug into it, sloshing some of the liquid out and jarring Raegith. Then he laughed and tilted the mug up for a long drink. Raegith did the same and almost hurled. The liquid was stout and harsh and burned his throat as it went down. He coughed and sputtered and the blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy.

  “Yes, enjoy it, Raegith of the Grass Hair,” Brimgor howled. “Like everything else in this land, it’s rough and full of hate! Come, don’t hold back tonight! Brimgor is in a mood for drinking!”

  At three mugs of black ale, Raegith had spun a severely altered version of his story to Brimgor and anyone else who would listen, explaining how he had been freed from his prison and fled to the south with his friends, running into the Gimlets and being visited on the cliffs by the Dragon Queen. As his head began to float on the strong alcohol of the drink, his tale became more elaborate and more came to the table to listen. Raegith reveled in the company and several of the women at Brimgor’s side joined Raegith’s side at the Rathgar’s bidding. After the tale, Brimgor taught him a drinking song which turned into an anthem half the inn par
ticipated in by his fourth mug. By the time Fibbitch found him and dragged him off to his room, Raegith was on his fifth mug and was convinced he could see the future. By then, Brimgor had passed out on the floor of the bar, nearly crushing the petite woman that was under him at the time.

  Morning came quickly and Raegith felt as if someone was driving an axe blade through his skull. His mood was not helped by the scolding he received from Zakk, who did not appear to have had as awesome of a night as he had. He found and consumed a mug of water and a half loaf of bread, which he promptly puked up ten minutes later. As far as he knew, Helkree had not returned like she had told him, but before they could wonder where she was, three Rathgar in armor and drawn axes broke down his door and leveled their weapons at them. Raegith was hauled out of the inn and brought before a light-skinned, rather slender Rathgar with white hair and a contemptuous expression.

  “I heard from one of my informants that there might be a Northerner in Knot’s Outpost,” the Rathgar said in a soft, pondering voice as he eyed the prince curiously. “What was even more interesting was that the Northerner was not shackled or attempting to hide in what is obviously enemy territory, but getting drunk and singing songs. As you can understand, I had to meet such a brave… no, not brave; unbelievably stupid man. Who… and what are you?”

  “I am Raegith, of Rellizbix and I am quite ill this morning, so you might want to back up in case I vomit on your nice robes.”

  “Alright, Raegith,” the Rathgar said. “My name is Veles of Fang and I am this post’s Overseer, appointed by her imminence, Empress Kalystra. I am in charge of everything and everyone in this outpost and I demand to know the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ regarding your presence this far into Greimere. I am prepared to have my men strip the flesh from your bones an inch at a time, starting with your eyelids, until I receive a satisfactory answer. Now how would you like to start this? With the truth, I hope.”

  “I was hoping to travel to the Citadel,” Raegith replied. “At that point I hoped to gain an epiphany that will give me all the answers that I do not currently have to give to you… Basically, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Hey, did you happen to see some little black critters with beady eyes and villainous grins? They can vouch for me.”

  “I see,” Veles replied with a small smile as he turned to the guard to his right. “Alright Dornan, as I said, we’ll start with the eyelids.”

  Zakk squirmed in the grip of one of the guards, clearly uncomfortable being at the mercy of soldiers again.

  “Hey, wait, just because it sounds absurd doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” Raegith pleaded as the mean-looking guard approached him with what looked like a pair of pliers. “Ask the Gimlets who brought me here.”

  “Oh yes, Gimlets; the most dimwitted, superstitious bunch of mongrels in the land! Their words don’t even hold the weight yours do. I could pay one an opal and they would say anything I told them. Dornan, the eyelids, please.”

  “Stay your hand, soldier!” a loud voice boomed. Raegith looked over to the inn to see Brimgor appear out of one of the shops near the tavern. He was shirtless in leather breeches and looked as if he could rip Veles in half without a thought. He strolled out to the Overseer and eyed Raegith before speaking.

  “Grass-hair, stand up. I am taking you from this outpost and to the Citadel myself.”

  “You will do no such thing, warrior,” Veles replied, waving his men to surround the huge Rathgar. “I don’t know who you could be that you do not recognize the robes of an Overseer or know what they mean, but no one does anything here unless I authorize it. Do you have a name, simpleton?”

  The Rathgar warrior huffed and leaned back with a smirk. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a medallion on a leather lanyard. As he pulled the leather string over his head and the metal emblem slapped against his massive chest, the surrounding guards took a step back and straightened. Veles’s eyes widened with disbelief and his entire expression changed. His posture straightened slowly and he gently raised his closed right fist to his left breast in salute. The warrior responded by slamming his own fist to his chest in a return salute that thundered across the walls of the surrounding buildings.

  “Forgive me, sir,” Veles said. “I did not know we had a revered Agillean among us this day. I did not even know we had a new Agillean, I have been here so long.”

  “I am the 93rd Agillean, Overseer,” the warrior announced. “I am too old for you to remember, most likely.”

  “I had no idea you were even alive, Agillean,” Veles replied. A look of confusion came over his face, as if he were trying to figure out some puzzle in his mind, but after a moment he focused and looked back at the large Rathgar. “As Overseer, I authorize any command you give, but if you will hear me, I strongly suggest that we interrogate this prisoner before he be allowed to leave… by your consideration, of course.”

  “Your suggestion is duly noted, Overseer, and I will make sure Empress Kalystra knows it was you who apprehended the intruder,” The Agillean said. “But they will not be interrogated or eviscerated here, by you. This Northerner is either a lunatic, or has a deep conviction to his cause to travel this far into enemy territory, don’t you think? Such a man would best be brought to the Citadel, not put beneath an Overseers boot heel.”

  “If he is a spy, or even plans an attack on the Empress…” Veles began, before the big warrior cut him off.

  “Then I, not Veles of Fang, will be held responsible,” the Agillean said. “You’ve done your job well, Overseer, none could say different. I am requesting that you let me take personal responsibility for this invader, as a favor to an Agillean.”

  Veles took on a look of intrigue and looked back at Raegith while touching his lips with a finger in thought. “Of course, Agillean,” he replied. “It would be my honor. I shall keep the foreigners under supervision as you finish preparing for your travels.”

  “Good, I won’t be long,” he said, turning to return to the inn. “Allow them to collect their things.”

  A Rathgar guard escorted Raegith into the inn, where he gathered his belongings and brought them back out to the road to await the Agillean. When Brimgor came back out, he faltered a bit on the steps, but straightened himself and paced right for Veles. With another salute, he took charge of the three foreigners and led them out of the village, promising to return at some point so that he could return the favor to Veles. Raegith wondered what had become of Fibbitch and his men or even Helkree, who had not returned as she said she would. Neither was a huge loss now that he had some form of revered warrior leading him to the Citadel, but Raegith felt remorse in leaving them behind.

  “What is going on, Raegith?” Zakk asked. So comfortable was he in his ability to converse with the natives that he sometimes forgot that she could not understand anything that was being said.

  “We were almost skinned alive… starting with our eyelids, but this guy saved us.”

  “Fates…” Ebriz sighed, gripping his chest. “I really should have stayed at home.”

  “How do you know he saved us and isn’t just leading us away from the town to rape us without any witnesses?” Zakk asked, adjusting the sword on her hip.

  “From the way the others acted around him, I doubt he would have cared about any witnesses.”

  About an hour into the trek to the Citadel, the Rathgar slowed, looked around at the rocky formations surrounding the road they followed and called out.

  “I know you’re up there, little harlot,” he bellowed. “How much longer do you intend for me to walk with these fools before I’ve earned what you promised?”

  A shadow moved from behind a rock and a familiar cloak rose up from behind it and moved down the hill, the sound of muffled armor moving underneath. Helkree pulled back her cowl as she reached the two and she smiled at Raegith. The sight of her seemed to make him anxious and he eagerly stretched his arm out to her, looking a lot less regal than he had in front of Veles. Helkree regarded him sourly and then took Rae
gith’s water skin out from under her cloak and passed it to the warrior. Relief washed over his face, but then he tested the weight and frowned.

  “Is this it?” he asked. “You led me to believe there was more last night. Plus, I didn’t think I would have to talk down a damn Overseer, either. That should be worth more!”

  “You stupid drunk,” Helkree growled. “You must have conveniently forgotten that enormous bar tab you ran up last night after you accepted my offer. How do you think that got paid? This is what’s left after I had to sell five ounces just to get you square with the innkeeper.”

  “Damn you, woman, I am an Agillean…” The Rathgar roared.

  “You were an Agillean,” Helkree said, cutting him off. “That was half a century and a hundred kegs ago, old man. We’re all damn lucky that the Overseer didn’t know anything about you; that or he didn’t realize that the 93rd Agillean was Brimgor the Forgotten. If you can ration it, this should last you a month.”

  “A month my face!” Brimgor huffed. “I’ve burned out my tolerance to Kafkel years ago. It’ll take half an ounce just to make my head swim. I couldn’t make this last a week!”

  “How is that my problem?” Helkree asked. “Look, it’s this or nothing and you can’t just take us back to Knot’s. The Overseer catches you with this and not even your status as Agillean will save you. So what’s it going to be?”

  “I’ll take what you offer, wench,” Brimgor sighed. “I’m appalled by your lack of respect for my title and I’m sure your family would be, too.”

  “My family would give less of a fuck than I do, if they had the breath for it,” Helkree replied, waving him off. She turned to Raegith and smiled again. “I’m sorry for not joining you sooner, but I thought enlisting the services of an old warrior might serve us well. It’s a good thing I did, or you might be missing a pair of eyelids right now.”

  “I see you’ve managed to find some armor,” Raegith said. “I knew you would be of more use than you claimed.”