Beyond the Hell Cliffs

by Case C. Capehart

  Chapter 27

  “I hear you had a nice stroll with Beretta,” Kalystra said, joining Raegith in the library that evening. “She tells me you have been burning through our books at a scholar’s pace. Don’t you get bored?”

  “I used to live in a small keep in the middle of a forest.” Raegith looked up and turned in his seat to address her. “All I had were the histories of my people to keep me company. I’ve grown used to lengthy reading.”

  “The middle of a forest? I’ve never even seen a forest.”

  “Well, believe me, you would be sick of it after ten years, Empress.”

  “I doubt it,” she replied, pulling up a chair. “You’re lucky, Raegith. You’re noble without all the responsibility. You’ve lived in both the north and the south; been able to see the beauties and horrors of both. You can just sit down and read for hours without being interrupted by aides or servants bringing news of some urgent matter that only you can see to.”

  “You’re the only one here that thinks my life lucky, Empress,” Raegith laughed.

  “You are lucky, Raegith. I would give up my position and forsake the entire empire if I could journey into the north, past the cliffs. I wish I could drink water right from a stream without being poisoned and run naked over ground that would not try to prick my feet. I wish I could spend time among creatures that did not want to kill me. Sometimes I envy the warriors we send off, that they get to see such places, even if it is the last place they see.”

  “Then why not just leave and go there? There are no settlements right on the Hell Cliffs. If you were careful, you could make it pretty far into the north without anyone knowing you were there.”

  “I can’t just take off and leave my people. I have a responsibility to them; a responsibility to my lineage, to rule and keep the people of the Greimere. These are just dreams, Raegith. You’ve read the histories, or most of them already. You know the Empire will not survive without a ruler.”

  “I don’t know that at all and neither do you. I think that it might be tough at first, but the Empire can change. It can break away from the shackles Rellizbix has placed on it and be a true Empire and not an annex.”

  “You think we should stop going to war with Rellizbix? That we should break the treaty and forfeit our loot and payment?” Kalystra asked. She laughed and smoothed back her hair. “The king would send his army here to obliterate us before we could starve to death.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think the Rathgar are just horrible at agriculture, is all.”

  “The Rathgar are the dominant race of this entire land!”

  “Yes, you managed to conquer all of the other races here, but you’ve gained nothing from it in all of these centuries.” Raegith pulled a text from his pile on the table. “The Rathgar never evolved past a hunter/gatherer society because they were so good at warfare. They simply conquered the other races and then imposed their own lifestyle on them, to the detriment of all but one.”

  Raegith opened the book. It was a scholarly thesis on Gimlets that was heavy with dust. The spine cracked in two it was so dry.

  “This Magram guy, he wrote a bunch of stuff on Gimlets a few hundred years ago, but it looks like his thoughts were never looked into. Maybe he wasn’t popular or maybe he just did not…”

  “Magram was beheaded for heresy and treason,” Kalystra said. “That’s the only copy of his insane drivel left. He was not a very good Rathgar from what I’ve heard.”

  “He was smart, Kalystra. He found out that despite all of the horrors of this place; despite the need for even the Rathgar to group up behind walls against the fearsome beasts and vegetation here, the Gimlets were the only race that continued to thrive. Gimlets live outside the walls of outposts or the torches of settlements. They are the only race whose population is still growing.”

  “Gimlets are stupid! They barely have any rights. They’re nothing but scavengers and cowards.”

  “Precisely!” Raegith exclaimed. “So then how do they live on their own? How do they thrive so easily in such a harsh environment?”

  “Dumb luck.” Kalystra sighed. “And the fact that we don’t send them to the front lines in war. Maybe if they were dying as often as our warriors…”

  “No, that’s not it. Magram hypothesized that Gimlets are actually hyper-adaptive to their environments. The group of Gimlets that escorted us were all pretty dull creatures that could not even scout ahead without strict instruction, except for the boss. Fibbitch was much smarter than the other Gimlets; smarter than most prisoners in the Pit. I wondered why that was and so did Magram.

  “According to these notes, Gimlets will not mature intellectually while in groups with a leader; they don’t need to. As long as there is someone smarter to lead them, Gimlets will just do what they are told. But get one alone for a long enough period of time and they will evolve. Their minds will grow, they will find new ways of surviving and they will learn at an advanced pace. That’s how these ‘Boss’ Gimlets come about; they are abandoned or lost from the group and their physiology reacts in an incredible way in order to keep them alive.”

  “So you’re saying that Gimlets can get smarter if we dump them in the wild all alone?”

  “That’s only part of it. Gimlets, whether they’re ‘drones’ or ‘bosses,’ still adapt faster than other organisms. If anything, your disdain for their kind is the sole reason they are doing so well. Being outside of the Citadel, outside of civilizations and out on their own is making them stronger each generation. They are learning to use the things they find; creating newer ways to survive the environment… I notice none of your Rathgar have crossbows like the Gimlets have. Hell, I think we just discovered them a few years ago in Rellizbix and all Sabans do is figure out new toys for their fake war.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen those ridiculous little bow things they carry. What a cowardly weapon they are.”

  “There… right there!” Raegith exclaimed. “That’s why you cannot win a war against Rellizbix even if you tried, Empress!”

  “We cannot defeat Rellizbix because they outnumber us, they outmatch us and because they command us! You are angering me, Raegith.”

  Raegith knelt down in front of her and her brow furrowed. It looked like she was holding her breath.

  “Your Highness, do you know anything of the history of the Sabans?”

  “I, uh… Raegith, what are you doing?”

  “Empress, the Sabans were nothing more than farmers before the first invasion. They had no magic or affinity with nature like the Faeir and Twileen. To the older races of Rellizbix, they were not even worth speaking to.

  “Then the war came and the old races were annihilated by the Rathgar, another race that had no magic, but thought only of war and death. Against such an opponent, the Sabans stood their ground and the remaining races rallied behind them. The Sabans, a humble, unworthy race, were willing to do anything, accept help from anyone, use any weapon available to them to defeat the Rathgar… and they did.”

  “I… I did not know that,” Kalystra said, blushing. “Raegith, why are you still kneeling before me?”

  “Look, I know you are doing your best, Empress. You’re still so young, like me. Even in the middle of serious topics you break out in girlish behavior sometimes and I enjoy that, but you are still the Empress of Greimere and I am a servant to the Empire, like all others here. I don’t say any of this to anger you; I don’t pour through these pages to outwit you. I seek only to serve you better and you deserve to have an Empire that is truly yours. If I have to come off harsh or anger you to give this to you, I will.”

  “To have an empire that is truly mine, you say? Then do you mean to stay with me long enough to help me build this empire?”

  “Free my friends from the Pit, Empress, and I will give you my best. For now, though, I still have lots more to read.”

  “Then I will leave you,” Kalystra said, getting up from her chair. “It is late and I am departing for the Lokai settlements tomorrow
. I came here to let you know that before you distracted me. I will be gone for a few days. Beretta will see to your needs, as always.”

  “Good night, Empress,” Raegith said, flipping open to a bookmarked page on one of his larger tomes.”

  Chapter 28

  “So this is the foreigner from the Pit that everyone is talking about? I thought he’d be bigger.”

  “Lord Sethora of Spine, this is Raegith the Grass-Haired. He is my guest and has earned his right to reside in Greimere, I should think, through trial of combat. Or have you not heard what is common knowledge among even Gimlets here in the Citadel?” Kalystra replied to the noble Rathgar in the fine furs.

  Raegith had spoken to the Empress several times since he was allowed to view the library and each time he had pushed her towards turning the Empire into a self-sustaining one. Finally, she had given in and convened the nobles and leaders of the Empire to present Raegith’s ideas to them. As Raegith entered the spacious conference room deep inside the palace, he looked about a large, iron table to see several fair-skinned Rathgar, two Lokai and two Urufen. They ranged in ages and style of clothing and Raegith was surprised by the rather skimpy animal skins the Urufen wore. He had not seen too many Urufen outside of the Pit and Knot’s Outpost.

  The one called Sethora of Spine was a grey-haired Rathgar who looked the closest to what Raegith could imagine as a Rathgar scholar. He was leaner of build than others and his skin was unblemished and smooth. He wore robes instead of breeches and his collar was made from some beast he had not encountered yet. The Rathgar eyed him suspiciously, but as the guest of the Empress, the nobles and clan leaders abided his presence, although uncomfortably.

  “Aye, Mistress, I have heard of his bouts in the Pit, but trial by combat was never intended for the damn enemy of our people. Tis a strange loophole that allows him here, but we will all allow it if it pleases the Mistress.”

  “He dresses like a Rathgar, does he?” One of the Urufen leaders spoke up. “And he wears his hair in the warrior stripe. I hear he even speaks the Greimere tongue.”

  “He does,” Raegith replied to the leader with a grin. Then he switched tongues and addressed the Urufen again. “I could speak to you in your native tongue, as well, if you like?”

  “Impressive,” the other, older Urufen rumbled. “but I assume we were not brought here to see the Empress’s new toy.”

  “That’s right. We are in the middle of war, with this traitor’s people, and it is an affront that he is even here!” A younger, harder-looking Rathgar now spoke. His hissing voice was not full of tolerance like the others. He was barely controlling his rage at Raegith’s presence.

  “Gamalka of Thorn, I understand what this looks like, but…” Empress Kalystra said.

  “Do you, Mistress? I wonder, that you would bring this heathen to this table instead of hastening him to the Ledge of Tumbling Thoughts!”

  “If you would allow me, I will explain why I have brought him here among you.”

  “I bet I already know. It’s not enough that the men from the north bend our empire over the bedpost; now they send one to bend our Empress over, as well!”

  Kalystra tried to speak, but she was already being shut down by the laughter in the room. These men had little respect for her outside of her position and although she spoke easily with her own guards and staff and even him, she seemed so much frailer in front of the other leaders.

  “Aye, Gamalka!” one of the other Rathgar laughed. “How we honor our ancestors! We allow a woman on the throne and she rolls over and lifts her legs for the first pale brat that she sees! A real helper, she is!”

  “Beretta?” Kalystra asked, turning to her retainer to help her.

  “I’ll take care of them and end the meeting, Mistress,” the Infernal answered, allowing her master to retreat from the humiliation she was suffering.

  The heat in Raegith’s chest threatened to spill out of his lungs as lava from a hill in the Barren Wastes. He had not even considered that the hostility shown towards females in that place would also include the Empress, but he should have seen it coming. The Greimere would never rise above the shackles of Rellizbix while the Empress answered to these men.

  “Nice to see that having your people fucked into the dirt hasn’t done anything to dampen your sense of humor,” Raegith laughed.

  The room grew silent and Kalystra looked shocked.

  “What did the rodent say?” Gamalka asked, not even looking at Raegith.

  “I said that you have taken so many Saban cocks that your farts sound like gusts of wind.”

  Raegith managed to pull the Rathgar’s attention then, but took his insult a step further and blew him a kiss.

  “I’ll rip your filthy heart out of your chest right here, you miserable little shit!”

  Gamalka rose up from his seat and the others edged back away from the raging man, but Raegith sat calmly in his seat.

  “You don’t like the truth? Or is it you don’t like hearing it from me?” Raegith asked. He turned to the Lokai to his right. “Maybe you could tell it to him? Have the Lokai a higher pain tolerance or are you finished being whored out to your northern masters, as well? What about you, Urufen?”

  “Empress, I demand you execute this heathen at once!” Gamalka said. “Before I do it for you!”

  Raegith stood up at that.

  “I accept your offer! In fact, I’m honored.” Raegith pushed his chair away and took a stance. “Taking my life with your own hands is quite admirable, but openly challenging the current Lord of the Pit in unarmed combat… that’s something.”

  “Your frivolous victories inside that prison do not impress me, worm! I am Gamalka of…”

  “Hey, asshole, stop talking and come execute me! I warn you, though, that I do not hold back in combat. You die quickly in the Pit when you hold back and I’m afraid I’m no longer capable of it.”

  “Raegith, that is enough. These are the Greimere Nobility you are angering,” Kalystra said.

  “And you are the Empress of Greimere, Mistress. Beretta, lock the doors. This meeting is just beginning.”

  Beretta flashed him a smile and turned to bar the doors to the conference room. Gamalka and the Rathgar next to him cleared their chairs and came at Raegith. Suddenly the air between them burst into flames and they stepped back.

  “Lords, please take your seats and do not approach the Mistress with ill faces again. I assure you, the next warning will boil your guts.” Beretta’s fiery wings expanded and flexed, filling the room with green light. The two Rathgar sat down and glared at the table in front of them.

  “Well, this is quite a display, but I for one, do not abide threats… from anyone,” the older Urufen said. He stood and looked at Raegith. “I am Freydif, chief of the Lupa Clan to the West and you don’t scare me, boy. Nor does the demon behind you.”

  “No, Chief, I see that I don’t,” Raegith replied. “But it isn’t me that you should be scared of, not any of you. Starvation, mutiny, fading from history… that is what should scare you. That is your future here in the Greimere.”

  Sethora of Spine had remained silent and calm during the confrontations, but now he spoke up. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about treading down this path that you all have been following for centuries. You’re not blind; you’ve all been in on this stupid game probably since you were younger than me. You know what I’m talking about. The Treaty.”

  “The Treaty keeps us alive, Grass-hair. It provides us the means to rule over the tribes and villages; to keep order among the races. Survival over all else, here in the Greimere; that is how we must live. To our everlasting shame, the Treaty with Rellizbix ensures our survival.”

  “The Treaty ensures your enslavement, Sethora of Spine.”

  “It is nothing more than a transaction, you fools!” Gamalka groaned. “The pale faces to the north pay for our services. We provide them a good war, a good time for their warriors and they pay us for it. That
is it. We are glorified mercenaries.”

  “You have all been tricked into this, can’t you see that?” Raegith asked. “You have been tricked so thoroughly that you are dependent on the lie they feed you.”

  “What lie?” Freydif asked.

  “The Kings of Rellizbix have convinced you all that you need the Treaty to survive, but that could not be further from the truth. The truth is that the Kings of Rellizbix, the Saban kings; they need you in order to maintain their rule in Rellizbix. That is what your Empress has come to acknowledge and that is why you are all here tonight, suffering the likes of me.”

  “He is right,” Kalystra affirmed, taking her seat. “Raegith is not just a prisoner we happened upon from the north. He is Raegith Caelum, son of Helfrick Caelum.”

  “The Golden-haired Prince?” Sethora asked, leaning forward to look closely at Raegith. “Empress, why do you have this boy here, among us? What have you done?”

  “You brainwashed the prince of the north, you fool?” Gamalka yelped, standing up again. “You may have doomed us all!”

  “I am not brainwashed, nor am I the prince. My father sent me here under false pretenses… to execute me.” Raegith turned to the Empress. “The Mistress spared me and sent me to the Pit, not simply to allow me an opportunity to live and earn my place in the Empire, but to open my eyes to the strife of this land and the people. I am not Caelum, gentlemen, I am one of you.”

  “Interesting proclamation, but I sparsely believe one year in the Pit would turn you away from your own people. Why would we listen to you?” Freydif asked.

  “It costs you nothing but time. Listen to me and then listen to your Empress, and then make your decision. The Empress is much more astute than any of you give her credit. She wants nothing more than a stronger Empire, as should you all.”

  “So you claim that your father needs our war to survive, just as we need his charity?” Gamalka asked. “What could the king of Rellizbix possibly want for in those lands?”

  “Sabans are only useful for manual labor and killing Rathgar. One of those can make you a king and one cannot. Rellizbix rallies behind the Saban king because the Twileens and Faeir cannot defeat you without the Sabans, but without the threat of war, the legitimacy of the Saban king is compromised.