Wrath of the Greimere

by Case C. Capehart

  “Can’t say the bitch isn’t smart,” Helkree mumbled as she tipped the mug up.

  “Mostly intact?” Raegith asked, coming up to her.

  Helkree pointed at Fenra. “Talk to her.”

  Fenra shrugged at him. “He was making a scene. Bastard spit on me, so I bit his lips off.”

  “You… bit his lips off?”

  “Yeah, in front of his whole crew.” Fenra grinned. “Then Helkree gave them your note.”

  “Well, I bet they read it.”

  Raegith yelled for the others to get everything ready. Yumiko and Freya led their groups in unlocking the pens and pulling the men out of them. Over the course of a few weeks, Raegith’s warriors worked tirelessly to infiltrate all the nearby groups who had been at his meeting to kidnap the leaders along with a single witness. Bandits, Twileens, even the Crimson Banner had been hit.

  Izanami dragged Cressius the Nail out of the back of the cart, insisting he would last long enough for Raegith’s purpose. Then Raegith stood before a line of kneeling leaders.

  “If you’ve brought us here to kill us, then get on with it, traitor.” The leader of the Crimson Banner spoke up. “If your intent is to scare us into swearing allegiance, I should tell you I’ve seen scarier men than you.”

  “You know, I get that a lot— that I’m not very scary.” Raegith crouched down in front of the man. “I’m not offended, but I do worry about how well your brains work. Fear is a natural response; it’s our body identifying a threat and spurring us into acting to ensure our survival.”

  Raegith tilted his head sideways, as if finding something about the man that puzzled him. “If you haven’t recognized me as a threat by this point, it’s not because you’re brave.

  Raegith stood. “This isn’t an execution and I abhor torture; I don’t even think it works that well. I mean, once I start taking teeth out of your skull, you’ll tell me whatever you think will make me stop… or you’ll just spit that blood right back at me. That was my approach when Saban soldiers were torturing me.”

  “What are we here for then? You just like making people listen to you talk?”

  Raegith paused and looked at the Saban who spoke up. “Honestly, yes. I love making people listen to me talk. One of the perks of knowing multiple languages is that I can make all manner of people listen to me. It’s wonderful.”

  Raegith continued walking the line of prisoners. “Mostly you’re here because under your leadership, your organizations laughed at my offer. Some of you...”

  Raegith pointed at Cressius. “…even made very reckless counter offers. You’re now here because I want to give your people a chance to reconsider my offer.”

  “So you kidnap us, keep us in dog cages and you think that’s gonna change our minds?” The Crimson Banner leader laughed. “That just makes me want to kill you even more. How did you ever become a warlord? Are the Greimere really that stupid or are they just weak?”

  “There you go again with your malfunctioning brain.” Raegith leaned down at the Saban. “I don’t waste my time trying to convince stubborn leaders, Saban. You’re just one guy. I want all of the Crimson Banner to reconsider.”

  Raegith leaned away and strolled down the line of leaders. “But this kind of leniency can’t just be given away; not to you silly shits. My mercy is a responsibility to the Greimere, but to you people it’s a commodity. You’re here to purchase it.”

  The leader of the Oak Shadow tribe shook his head. “You want money? You’re Twileen, aren’t you? You should know our kind doesn’t accumulate wealth.”

  “The Coinsmen will pay!” One of the bandit leaders shuffled forward before Yumiko hauled him back in line.

  “Oh, you’re all going to pay… in blood.” Raegith walked over to a post with shackles secured to the top. “I was once tied to a post just like this by the 9th Regiment. In exchange for a comrade’s freedom, I took 9 lashes from a Saban soldier.

  “This is my one offer and I will not entertain the possibility of negotiation: each of you will take 9 lashes, as I once did, as payment for me extending a second offer to your people. I want all of you to understand that if you refuse to offer payment, you will die. And not just you; I know where your people are. I will eradicate them from this world.”

  Cressius the Nail stood up and took a step forward.

  “Oh, the carpenter is volunteering?” Raegith asked.

  “Hyuck you. Ah can take a hew hits hron your schrawny ash.” Without lips, Raegith had to guess at some of the words Cressius got out.

  “Who me? Oh, no; I’m not the one swinging the cane.” Raegith motioned to the women standing over the prisoners. “One of my Helcats has been begging me for that job.”

  Cressius spewed blood from between his teeth as he laughed. “A wonan cay’nin nee? Ah shit. I’ll nat through this.”

  “Fates, trying to understand your words is exhausting.” Raegith motioned for Helkree to bring the bandit leader forward and chain him to the post. “Were you saying that you are going to ‘nap through this?’ Well by all means, relax. This should be over in a moment.”

  Raegith chuckled as he walked away from Cressius and switched to the Greimere tongue. “Alright, Indie, get your stick. This dickhead thinks he’s about to take a nap.”

  “Is that what they call it here?” Indie picked up a fired-ash bat as thick as her forearm and stormed toward Cressius.

  “No, no, no! Hut the hyuck ish that? That’s not a wonan.” Cressius struggled against the restraints and the other leaders on the line grew deathly silent.

  “What’s he saying?” Indie asked as she squared up to the side of Cressius.

  “He’s making fun of you.” Raegith waved Cressius off and nodded at Indie. “He doesn’t believe you can hit a man hard enough to hurt.”

  Indie looked Cressius over and scowled at Raegith. “He looks really freaked out for someone talking shit.”

  “Indie, this is the guy who wanted to put my tits in a vice.” Helkree downed what appeared to be her fifth mug of grog. “Hit this weird motherfucker already before I fall asleep over here.”

  Indie looked down at Cressius, shrugging her shoulders. She drew the bat back then stepped into the swing. When the wood connected with Cressius, Raegith thought that Indie had snapped her bat in half on the first hit; but a moment later he realized the deafening crack came from Cressius’s spine.

  Cressius the Nail wailed and bit a chunk out of the post as Indie pulled the wooden stick from the mushy crater in his back. His legs went slack and his torso sagged against the post, held up only by the bindings at his wrist. Some of the leaders yelped; all of them scooted backward.

  Cressius did not stand back up.

  “Fates… I don’t think Cressius is going to be able to walk after this.” The leader of the Crimson Banner looked up at Raegith. “You’ve crippled the man.”

  “That was just the first lash. He’s got eight more coming to him.”

  “He’ll die,” another bandit said. “You’re going to kill him well before the last lash.”

  “I think you might be right.” Raegith smirked and then dropped the humor as he regarded the line of leaders. “When you all left my campfire laughing at the weakness of my Greimere, you scheduled this penance. That choice is over and done with. But the Greimere are nothing if not honorable. You still have one choice left: die bravely and save your people or die like a coward and doom them all.”

  “We are not bandits,” the chieftain of Oak Shadow cried, prostrating himself on the ground. “My tribe has done nothing to you. We did not swear violence on you. We wished only for what we have always sought: to be free from anyone’s rule but our own.”

  “Don’t abandon your self-respect, Chieftain. Not now, of all times.” Raegith stood over the Twileen and hauled him to his feet. “You didn’t come all the way to meet with me and then leave without a word because you valued your sovereignty. You left because the man you were too afraid of to ignore turned out to be a soft-spoken Rung�
��un. You saw others disrespecting me and decided to trust their assessment instead of your own. You are weak, Chieftain, but you have an opportunity to be brave and ensure your people gain a strong leader.”

  Raegith dropped the Twileen into the dirt. “Or you can continue to wallow and I will erase the Oak Shadow from existence and grant their lands to the Fallen Oak.”

  “The Fallen Oak?” The Chieftain’s voice trembled as he gawked at Raegith.

  “Master Kor’Rin sought to maintain sovereignty as well. Unlike you, he showed respect.” Raegith stared through the man. “He won’t be a part of this when I travel westward. I don’t even know where he lives.”

  …

  Chev’El sat down in front of the fire and rubbed her arms to gain warmth. Bits of bloody flesh still clung to them in places, but there was not enough clean water that night to get it all off and she did not have the energy to fetch more from the tributary.

  Weariness attacked her as she warmed her limbs. All around, Rathgar and Lokai huddled around similar fires in the clearing. Blade Dancers stood along the outskirts, dancing in place to keep themselves awake. Everyone she exchanged glances with had dark circles under the eyes. They did not sleep long at night for fear their loved ones would haunt their dreams. Everyone worked through the day to keep their camp alive.

  Chev’El hunted from the early morning until noon and spent the remainder of the day helping dress her kills. The Rathgar and Urufen consumed a lot of meat and there were very few foragers remaining among the survivors of Fort Augustus. Tonight, like most nights, Chev’El sat alone at a fire after a full day’s work, dwelling on her strange fate. Like everyone else she grew up with, she had always been afraid of the Greimere. It seemed strange now that they would look at her with the same fear. Raegith accepting her into his empire did not change this. Enduring Helkree’s grueling tutelage, outlasting other Lokai and Rathgar women to earn the paw on her shoulder; none of that changed the way others looked at her. Her refusal to fight against Rellizbix or anyone else encouraged their suspicions about her loyalty.

  She did not blame them. Ariadne and Zurek weren’t responsible for a dozen Greimere deaths. They hadn’t nearly deprived the Greimere of a bonafide hero.

  Exhaustion clouded her senses to the point where she did not notice the person at her side until the mug of warm cider was thrust in front of her.

  Chev’El jerked away, her hand slipping involuntarily to her dagger.

  “Relax, Helcat.” Hitomi motioned at her with the mug and sat down beside her when she took it.

  For several moments, the two of them sat there staring at the fire. The silence between them lasted for so long Chev’El gave up wondering why the Greimere general had joined her and she began to nod off.

  “Grass-Hair tells me that I killed your father.”

  Chev’El jerked awake, but did not turn her head. She had put all thoughts of revenge out of her mind when she made the decision to become Greimere, but until now, Hitomi had made it easy by never speaking to her. Now the anger and hatred sparked back to life.

  “He tells me this is why you sought revenge.” Hitomi continued, but the two would not look at each other. “I have likely killed many fathers here. I don’t know if I would have remembered...”

  “You would have remembered.” Chev’El’s words came out with an unexpected tremble. “He wasn’t Twileen like me. He was Saban and he was alone in his cabin and he would have fought like a panther.”

  “Describe him to me,” Hitomi said.

  “Why should I?” Chev’El turned to her now and made sure she looked back. “What is this? Are you looking for a fight? Do you need me to finish what I started?”

  Hitomi did not attack or withdraw. She simply returned Chev’El’s glare with a stone face. “In one of my first raids, at the beginning of all this, a Saban stood his ground without fear. Unlike the rest of his kind, he did not run from the sight of us. He had seen our kind before.”

  “And you still murdered him.” Chev’El shook. A sudden and violent hatred replaced all the rage in her body and she contemplated challenging the Lokai general just to shut her up. “Sevictus stood his ground the first time your army came through and he survived. The Rathgar saw his courage and spared him. You should have spared him.”

  “The man with the silver hair and the scar over his eye.” Hitomi nodded. Chev’El had confirmed his identity for her, but the Lokai continued. “Grass-Hair was right; I killed your father. He fought with an axe… moved well for his age. He could not match me. I ended him quickly; no agony.”

  “Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” Chev’El asked. “Are you grateful to the one who killed Naoko?”

  Hitomi’s face darkened. “Naoko fought bravely and her enemy defiled her for it. Your father fought bravely and we honored him.”

  Hitomi growled and clenched her jaw. “Honor… for a Saban. This was difficult. Others did not want to. I demanded his body be placed inside. I forbade his things be taken or his home touched.

  “Your father fought us well…” Hitomi lifted her hand and curled her fingers inward toward her face. “Without disgust on his face. A good death, Chev’El.”

  Chev’El turned away as the tears threatened their way out. She didn’t want to think about her father then. Why was Hitomi bringing it up now when she was so tired?

  “Naoko reached out for me when she died.” Hitomi spoke again after a time. “She may wander the afterlife searching for me now. It took me a long time to understand that I loved her. Too long.”

  Chev’El thought of Nero then. She turned back to Hitomi, eager to switch the conversation elsewhere, to something less painful. “I can understand that feeling, Hitomi. Were you two friends in the Greimere?”

  “Friends?” Hitomi laughed and took a drink from her mug. Chev’El caught a glimmer from the flames against the corner of her eyes. “We came from very different places. Naoko was like you— trained by a wise hunter. I came from the Citadel. Men fucked me for money and then I went to prison.”

  “How did you come together then?”

  Hitomi took a deep breath and stared forward. “We found Naoko in a cage along with Magda and others. Naoko was tiny and weak but had volunteered for the army despite those failings. Instead, they enslaved and tortured her. We freed her and the others. Naoko used knowledge passed to her by her grandfather to train me with the spear.”

  Chev’El looked around at the Blade Dancers. “And the ones you freed became your Blade Dancers?”

  Chev’El looked back at Hitomi and froze. Reflective lines trailed down the Lokai’s cheeks and her jaw worked back and forth without words. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to...”

  Hitomi held up her hand and shook her head. “We had to fight in the Greimere just to exist. I trained those we freed as best I could. It wasn’t enough.”

  Hitomi drained her mug and refilled it from a pouch she kept at her side. After another long drink, she swallowed hard and continued staring at the flames. “Grass-Hair trusts me to lead, but I have lost… so many. Now Magda and Naoko are gone and I am still here. What have I done that I must remain here and watch all who trust me die?”

  Chev’El hurt with Hitomi, but the anger over her father would not subside so easily. “Why did you come to me? Why are you telling me this? Is it forgiveness you’re after?”

  Hitomi wiped her eyes and all sadness disappeared along with the moisture on her face. Once again, Hitomi became the hardened leader Chev’El recognized. “The Kyudoka need a new commander. Most of them respect you already. I want you to take Naoko’s position. It should go to another Helcat.”

  Before Chev’El could protest, Hitomi turned and retrieved something at her side; Naoko’s Gum Ash bow.

  “Naoko was the most precious thing I have ever wanted; I loved her more even than Grass-Hair.” Hitomi stared hard at Chev’El. “You will accept her bow and this is all I will ever say about where we stand. It is all that is needed.”

  Chev’El stood,
but her hands hesitated over the bow. With a deep breath, she took it. Hitomi did not say anything more. With a tight jaw, the Lokai warrior nodded, then turned with a brusque about-face leaving Chev’El alone with the last remnant of Naoko.

  …

  Raegith sat before the fire, the buzz from his grog setting in as his warriors pulled the last leader’s corpse off the post and tossed it on a disposal pyre away from the camp. Indie had become so worn out through the night that it took her six swings to kill the last man. A few of them faltered after seeing the bloody filth spilling out from the lower half of Cressius with each lash. Raegith laid the guilt on thick, making sure they went to the post. He loathed the idea of marching into a Twileen village to kill the inhabitants; it made his stomach threaten rebellion. That night in general sickened him, but the Greimere were desperate, which made Raegith desperate.

  “Bring the witnesses forward, into the light.” Raegith stirred, standing up and stretching.

  The witnesses were hauled to their feet and brought before him. He could smell the piss staining their clothing. One of them had puked all over himself.

  They looked at him the way a small child might take in the sight of a looming bear. One of the Twileens openly wept.

  “Relax, men. Thanks to the courage of your leaders, you’ve all been granted a second chance. The punishment is over for tonight, but you all are beseeched to return to your homes and make a decision.”

  Raegith nodded to his Helcats and they began to cut the bindings off the witnesses he had gathered.

  “You will bring my message to your people: All is forgiven. Pledge fealty to me and accept my protection from Rellizbix, or prepare for the Greimere to sweep over you like flames on dry grass.” Raegith paced the line, staring each of them in the eye. “These lands belong to the Greimere; I have taken them by conquest. There are no more Denizens; there is only the Greimere and the intruders upon my land.

  “When you have come to a decision, you will send a message back to me. Send a weapon, any kind, and I will know you have chosen to resist. Otherwise, if you accept my offer, you will send a woman.”