Wrath of the Greimere

by Case C. Capehart

  “Is there an idea emerging soon, High Paladin, or is criticism all you have to offer?” Helfrick continued to stare at the man.

  Andronicus took in the attentive eyes of those around him and smiled. “Galveronne is a cage of unholy men and righteous jailers, your Highness. We know those jailers are dead and likely worse for the unholy men. If the prison is no longer ours, we don’t need to preserve it. Bring the walls down around them, Highness.”

  …

  Helfria stared at the empty seat at the head of the Caelum family table. Every Sunday evening, she ate dinner with her mother and siblings, but it had been months since her father joined them. Her mother busied herself with the other children and showed no worry over her husband’s absence. Her younger sister Helena gushed about her upcoming wedding and Elena made jokes about Helfria’s lack of husband. Lena, the middlemost sister, sat quietly. The lack of creativity with her sisters’ names alluded to the growing frustration her father had felt spawning female after female. His first and only son, Kranston, seemed to be the only one disturbed by the King’s absence.

  Helfria decided to distract the young boy. “Kranston, I hear you’re already taking up swordplay under Master Winston. Did father decide this?”

  “I, uh… no. You see-suh-see-suh-see…” Kranston struggled to get the words out of his mouth.

  Her mother sighed and pointed her spoon at the boy. “Slow it down in your mind, son. A prince can take his time to say what he needs to.”

  “I nuh-nuh-nuh...” Kranston growled and clenched his jaw. “…know. I’m-muh-muh trying.”

  Lena spoke up for her brother. “He’s mad because he can’t talk right. That’s why he’s taking up the sword with Master Winston. He’s not any good, though. All the other boys thrash him.”

  “Lena!” Kranston yelled at his sister and his grip on his spoon tightened.

  “It’s alright, Kranston. Strong men aren’t born; they become strong through will.” Helfria smiled at her bother and calmed him. “A Caelum does not let obstacles prevent them from being who they must be.”

  “Is that right, daughter? Like being a princess; that kind of obstacle?”

  Helfria winced at her mother’s tone, but the matriarch of the Caelum family continued unabashed. “I can’t stop hearing about the proud spinster who still carries the Caelum name halfway through her twenties and how she puffs her chest like a man among the Senate.”

  The Queen blew steam off the soup she spooned out and looked at Helfria sideways without tilting her head. “That’s not what the Fates gave you that chest for, dear.”

  Helfria groaned aloud as her sisters giggled. “Mother, I do not ‘puff’ my chest. I have a Faeir’s education, a Twileen’s skill with words and the blood of Throm Caelum in my veins. Yet I must be twice as cunning, twice as confident and twice as commanding as any of the men there, lest I be ignored outright. You’re upset that I’ve neglected my courtships? I wish that I had the time for them.”

  “So, marry a Senator.” The Queen dropped her spoon into the bowl before her and spread her arms, gesturing all around her. “You think I’ve had nothing to do with ruling this country? My words to your father carry more weight than his generals, and yet I managed to raise ten children. How did I have the time? Because I did not waste it going toe-to-toe with men who thought they were better than me.”

  “Perhaps you could use your weight to persuade father to join us, then.” Helfria swigged the rest of her wine and motioned for one of the servants to refill it.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “You’re even drinking like a man, now. I swear to the Fate of Death, if you burp at the table...”

  “Is there something you need, daughter?” Helfrick startled her as he shuffled into the dining hall. He looked about the table as his daughters bowed their heads. He stopped on Kranston, but did not linger to impart a single word to his heir before turning back to Helfria. “We need to talk business if you’re done harassing your poor mother. Meet me in my study.”

  Helfria finished her chicken quickly and excused herself from the table.

  Chapter 11

  From a hill just inside the tree line, perpendicular to the Rellizbix army, Raegith and his small army watched in awe as the bombardment of the prison commenced. As predicted, the Rellizbix army occupied the high ground north of the prison and wheeled two Witzer cannons into view. For nearly an hour the two cannons blasted at the walls with orange power zipping from the heavy tubes, devastating stone and mortar. The blasts fired more rapidly than Raegith remembered at the Citadel, but it was expected that the Rellizbix Army would continue perfecting their deadly weapon even after everyone assumed the wars were over for good.

  “I can’t believe those assholes fell for this twice,” Helkree said as they looked out at the demolished prison. “At least this time we didn’t have to waste potential warriors to do it.”

  “Hitomi always thinks of something, doesn’t she?” Yumiko said. “And you sent her away even though it was her idea to put the Saban soldiers in Rathgar leathers and shackle them to the ramparts.”

  “To whom else could I have entrusted such an important role? We cannot defeat such an army in open combat and we cannot take Ft. Augustus if it is full of soldiers.” Raegith turned to look at his group of Urufen, Rathgar and Lokai. “When Helfrick learns that not only was his siege defeated, but that his villages were razed at the same time, it will look like our army is much larger than it is.”

  Raegith turned to the black-cloaked figure beside him. “It looks like the firing is dying down enough, Izanami. Tell Magda that it’s time to pull the cavalry.”

  “As you wish, Grass-Hair,” she said.

  The witch breathed a green light into her open palms and then spoke into the swirling sphere, communicating with her imp. Izanami’s ability to communicate with others over a short distance using her imp gave Raegith an invaluable advantage. Within seconds Izanami was conveying Raegith’s orders to the one-eyed Helcat in her underground bunker on the south side of the prison.

  Raegith had ordered the bunker built a month ago when Hitomi came up with the plan to sacrifice the prison. Not only had she thought to sell the ruse with shackled Sabans in Rathgar clothing on the ramparts, but she had an idea to lure the horsemen from the ranks.

  A minute after Raegith gave the order, two dozen men in ragged clothing emerged from underground and ran screaming toward the tree line opposite the attack. In the fading light of dusk, the Saban prisoners would appear as fleeing Rathgar. Raegith counted on the commanders being under orders to take prisoners, if possible. He knew there were Faeir that could translate the Greimere tongue and Helfrick would want to learn all the information he could of this new threat.

  As expected, the cavalry broke off from the main assault force to cross the battlefield and intercept the fleeing men. At the same time, sections of infantry advanced toward the prison. With the structure of the building in ruins, they would clear the perimeter and finish off any survivors. In all likelihood, Raegith suspected the army would dig through the rubble looking for his body or some sign he was there. Helfrick would want proof of his demise this time.

  “There are still a lot of soldiers left by the cannons,” Yumiko pointed out.

  “Then they’re not completely stupid after all,” Helkree said with a grin. “Good. Torturing prisoners got old a month ago; I’m ready to kill something a little more lively.”

  “If they didn’t send everyone, it means they’re being cautious,” Raegith said. “I would have preferred reckless. This could be a harder battle than I had hoped.”

  “The advancing men are getting closer to the prison, Grass-Hair,” Brimgor said. “It is too late to hesitate. If we are going to attack, we need to move now.”

  “Kimura,” Raegith barked, bringing the Naga up to the front. “Your Naga have the way in behind them?”

  “We are ready to move on your command, Grass-Hair,” she replied.

  “Then take us in… swiftly.”


  Kimura whistled softly and took off into the woods with her fellow Naga. Each Naga wore on their back a patch of luminescent green paint that Izanami had concocted. Raegith’s counterstrike team kept the stealthy Lokai in sight as they moved quickly through the dark forest. The Urufen who could Turn ran beside their Lokai partners in Raegith’s cavalry squad, the Reapers.

  Raegith would have prayed to the Fates if he felt it would have done him any good. He did not know how the Saban-worshipped deities would react to his plea. According to the lessons his mother gave him, under Helfrick’s command, the Fates presided over the destinies of all creatures, even those in the Greimere. They were the ultimate equalizers of men and they ensured that everything remained balanced in Rellizbix, their favored land. He had been told they were the reason Rellizbix and more importantly, the Caelum Kings, had always triumphed over the Greimere invaders. His faith in the Fates had changed quite drastically when he learned the truth of Rellizbix’s continued victory.

  “Even the Treaty is guided by the Fates, Raegith,” Hemmil had told him once, after he brought up his concerns with the former Paladin on their journey south to the Hell Cliffs long ago. “Unlike the Spirit of the Forest or the Elementals, the Fates govern all men. If the Greimere continue to be bound by the Treaty, then by my faith, it is what they deserve.”

  “Hear this then, Fates,” Raegith whispered as he ran onward to flank the men of Rellizbix. “If you truly provide balance and govern the destiny of all men, then I say to you that the men of Rellizbix have had their time in the sun for long enough and have squandered your gifts. This is not balance! Give me victory. Give dominion of these lands to the Greimere. For if I fall here, on this night, then you do not serve balance or govern men equally… and I will seek you out in death and lay my judgment on you in place of these undeserving fools you shelter.”

  Whether the Fates were listening or ignoring him, the warriors reached the rally point deep inside the tree line to the north of the cannons without being noticed. Raegith took only a few moments to gather everyone. Unlike the Rellizbix army, he had no use for formations. Few Rathgar even carried shields. His warriors relied on speed and brutality, striking without warning and cleaving deep into the enemy before they could muster.

  “The tall ones with the stupid hair must be spared, but they are fragile and likely tired,” Raegith called out to his warriors. He turned to Izanami and her cadre of Lokai Witches. “Make your way in behind everyone else. Do not risk yourself in this battle; we need you for the next step.”

  Izanami nodded. Then Raegith gave the command.

  The Urufen Turned immediately and their Lokai partners mounted them, their spears at the ready. Fenra was beside him in an instant, the soft russet fur of her Turned form brushing his arm. He leapt atop her and the two of them bolted forward, followed closely by Helkree and Brimgor.

  The Greimere force burst through the trees and cleared the area between them and the Rellizbix soldiers in seconds. A few soldiers had turned around, likely moving to inspect the noise behind them. Most of the force gazed intently out toward where they assumed the only battle would take place.

  “Broosh!” he roared. His men and women repeated the war cry.

  Instead of tearing into the first soldier, Fenra jumped at the last moment, clearing his shield and charging through the hastily formed line. Behind him he heard Helkree and Freya on his heels. Brimgor immediately dismounted to hit the front line full force. The Lokai Reapers swept in right behind him to carve up the first defenders and charge through to Raegith.

  He wanted to look back, to make sure his people were not dying, but he could not divide his attention. Speed and shock were their only advantage in a battle. He already dodged arrows from a group of Hunters somewhere to the right, but the cannons were right in front of him… and the Mages were right beside them, sitting and leaning against cots.

  Then Raegith heard Freya yelp and hit the ground. Raegith could not stop himself. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Helkree go down in front of the dozen soldiers that were converging in his wake.

  Freya must have taken an arrow. Now both of them were at least wounded and in seconds they would be fallen upon by armed men. But as Helkree hit the ground, she rolled and came right up to her feet, both tomahawks out and ready. She had trained for so long on that mountain in the Greimere. Raegith knew what she could do in an ambush, but fighting a dozen armed men in a straight battle…

  Raegith turned his head. Speed and shock; he would lose both if he assisted Helkree and then they would all die. Helkree would never understand losing the battle for her sake. Raegith had to secure the Mages.

  Only a few soldiers guarded the Mages as Raegith reached the cannons. Everyone else formed up at the rear, giving the pretentious Faeir plenty of room. Raegith remembered Tavin explaining how the Faeir liked to keep to themselves; how, with few exceptions, they hated mingling with the other races. The enlisted men were used to keeping their distance from Battle Mages, even within a formation.

  Raegith charged the first soldier, an officer who moved to intercept him.

  “Fenra, change and cover me!” Raegith yelled, leaping off her.

  Fenra reverted back to her original form and fell in step behind him as he galloped toward the advancing officer. The Saban wore shiny armor and carried a longsword. Raegith never learned the army ranks and the only ones he knew were a few enlisted ones and Captain rank. This man had an unrecognized emblem on his shoulder, but he was older and confident. He must have been one of the commanders.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to move some more of your men forward?” Raegith called out to him as they closed the distance. “Maybe get one of those lazy Mages off their ass to back you up?”

  “Fates deceive me,” the man replied, slowing as he came within twenty yards. “To see a Twileen fighting alongside Greimere… what madness is this?”

  Raegith chuckled. “Take note of the hair, you fool. I lead the Greimere.”

  The man hesitated, seemingly jarred by the realization. Raegith took advantage of the moment. In an instant his arms erupted in flames and he vaulted forward.

  The officer had quick reflexes. He lifted his sword at the moment Raegith closed, causing him to spin to the right to avoid being skewered. Raegith spun through, barely missing the blade and kicked out into the Saban’s knee, buckling it to the side. The man grunted, but did not fall. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed Raegith, throwing his helmeted head forward at Raegith’s face.

  Raegith got his forearm up in time, cushioning the blow. It still hurt like hell and his arm snapped his head backward, but he remained conscious and he threw a right uppercut that caught the Saban directly under the chin.

  The soldier staggered backward, spitting blood and putting his sword up in defense. Raegith reached out and grabbed the blade, his flames glowing bright and protecting his hand. The Saban’s eyes widened as Raegith wrenched the sword to the side and slammed an overhead cross into his nose. He dropped the sword then, lurching backward with the blow. Raegith pushed forward, kicking him in the midsection to bend him forward. He reached over the Saban’s head to grab the back of his helmet at the neck and ripped it from his head. With his left hand, Raegith grabbed the man’s hair and then dropped his right elbow into the back of the soldier's skull, driving his face down into Raegith’s knee.

  The “Traumatic Press,” Raegith called it; he had used that move during his first Gulag in the Pit. He was young and weaker back then, but still took out teeth with it. Now he easily crushed the Saban’s skull.

  Raegith rolled the dead man off his knee and turned back to the Faeir.

  “General Arcturus!” some of them yelled as they struggled to their feet.

  Several of the other soldiers charged forward, but Raegith signaled and Fenra went on the move. With serrated, metal claws clenched in each fist, she sprinted forward and darted between the oncoming Sabans, dodging their swings and hamstringing them on her w
ay past. In seconds she reached the Faeir, leaving a trail of hobbled soldiers in her wake.

  The first one to his feet became the first to get hit. Fenra dove over the cot and tackled him. She tumbled over the top of him, grabbed the cot and swung it into another Mage who tried vainly to conjure fire. Then she had a blue-garbed Faeir up against the side of the nearby cannon and stabbed him through the shoulder with her claw.

  Raegith joined her and as the remaining soldiers converged on them, he grabbed an Aerial Mage, kicked her legs out from underneath her and grabbed her head in his hands.

  “Easy, men. Right there will do!” he yelled, torqueing the female Mage’s head enough to make her cry out. “This one’s special, isn’t she? Big-ass Totem like that… she’s probably a Major or something, huh?”

  “Who… who the hell are you?” one of the Saban’s with Sergeant rank asked, looking about confused. “You killed General Arcturus! You’re… a Twileen? Why are you doing this?”

  “Fling those swords out away from the Mages or I’ll rip her head clean off her skinny body,” Raegith yelled, casting a worried glance at the battle behind him. “Don’t try to rush us, either. I took out your General in seconds; it’ll only take a few more to cut through the lot of you and Fenra back there will tear through half of these Mages before any of you get past me.”

  Just then Fenra screamed in pain. Raegith turned to see who had gotten to her, but in the next second all his limbs were entwined with razor-barbed vines. He clenched his teeth through the pain of the barbs tearing into his flesh and kept a hold of the Mage, but the vines prohibited him from moving enough to kill her.

  “Lieutenant Exitor!” the Sergeant yelled, coming closer. “Thank the Fates you’re here, you tough bastard.”

  “I can’t keep this up for long, Sergeant.”

  Raegith looked to the right. The green-robed Faeir was only a few feet away from him, his fingers digging into the ground beside the cot he lay upon. He locked eyes with the Faeir.