“Fuck the hangin’,” the man yelled, raising his spear up.
Helfria reached for Gaius and screamed, ignoring the men grabbing her and pulling her away. She saw the men holding Gaius lean back and away from the spear as it jammed downward, followed by the sound of wood and iron crunching through a skull. Helfria stopped thrashing and looked onward.
The man hovering over Gaius leaned forward, driving the spear deeper, and then collapsed to the side. The arrow shaft protruded from the gushing hole it made in his face.
Gaius lay motionless where he had rolled to his side at the last minute as the other men looked around.
“Take your torches and leave these woods.”
The voice sounded neither feminine nor masculine and no one could tell where it originated from.
“Come out of them shadows, coward.” The burly man leading the group motioned for his men to spread out and find the mysterious archer.
Something blinked past Helfria and ruffled the greying hair at the man’s temple. He screamed and dropped to the ground, scrambling away and gripping the side of his head. Blood drooled between his fingers.
“I won’t tell you twice, Saban,” the voice said. “This is not your land; it’s mine.”
“You’re harborin’ a traitor.” The burly man got to his feet and backed away, calling his men with him. “They lied to us all.”
The men retreated and took off back from where they came. Helfria raced to Gaius and checked his face.
“He didn’t hit me. I rolled. It’s okay, Helfria.” Gaius calmed her then lied on his back. “Let me catch my breath.”
Helfria stood and looked about. One of the men had left a torch, but even in the light she could not locate their savior.
“Thank you. You saved us.”
“That warning went for you, as well,” the voice replied. “This isn’t your land. Go away.”
Helfria flinched at the cold tone, but did not respond. She and Gaius were still alive; that mattered more than anything else.
She went to Gaius and bent near him. “Rest is over, Gaius. We need to go.”
Her knee sunk into mud beside him and she noticed the red tint of the damp dirt. Gaius reached up and gripped her arm. “You go, Helfria. I think that dagger went a bit deeper than I first thought.”
In the dim light of the torch, she saw his normally tan face as pale as the full moon.
“Help,” Helfria screamed at the darkness. “Hey, we need help.”
She grabbed Gaius and tried to get him to his feet, but he would not help her. “Come on, Gaius. The settlement, remember? There’s got to be one out here.”
She looked around at the darkness again. “Hey, are you still there? Please, I need your help; he’s dying!”
No one answered her call, but no arrows came for her either. Helfria continued. “You can’t just save us then abandon us. You’re not a monster… or else you would have let them have us.”
Only the crickets answered her. Gaius pushed at her with weak arms, but she refused to leave him behind. “Answer me, damn you!”
“Be quiet.”
Helfria jolted at the voice at her side. A short, slender shadow stood right beside her, yet she had never noticed anyone approach.
“The jester wolves can hear you and they do not frighten as easily as Sabans.”
Helfria backed away as the figure bent near Gaius and felt his side. Their savior then retrieved the torch from the ground and knelt beside the two of them. “Hold his mouth. He’s not going to like this.”
“What?” Helfria asked.
As Gaius saw the torch, his eyes widened and he clasped her hand over the top of his mouth.
The figure pulled his tunic away from the wound at his side and thrust the lit torch into it. Gaius screamed under the grip of her hand and went rigid to keep from thrashing. Helfria stared on in horror as the smell of cooked flesh hit her nose. When the stranger pulled the extinguished torch free, Helfria turned her head away from Gaius and emptied her stomach.
“Torches aren’t ideal for that kind of thing… puts more shit in him than should be there,” the stranger said, pulling a hatchet free and going to a small tree. “I have a place not far. We’ll need to drag him. I’ll help you, though you seem a stronger and much younger woman than I.”
She hacked down two slender trees in seconds and quickly clipped off the limbs. Then she removed her cloak and tied it around the two poles, constructing a sled.
“You’re a Twileen girl,” Helfria said, trying to get a good look at the stranger in the moonlight. “You’re so skilled at the bow and woodsmanship.”
“Girl, you say?” The Twileen stepped closer and handed her the long end of the sled. “Child, I am old enough to be your mother. Enough talking. We’ve a lot of ground to cover and I will leave him to the wolves if they come calling.”
Helfria helped load Gaius onto the sled and the two of them pulled him through the forest. She wanted to ask more of the mysterious woman or even just thank her for saving their lives, but the threat of wolves kept her mouth closed.
The trees stretched on for hours. Helfria yearned for a break, but dared not ask for one. Her hands ached from holding the rough bark and her legs wobbled from the strain of that entire night. The Twileen marched on beside her without a word. She moved so silently that if Helfria stared forward she could easily forget the woman’s presence.
Finally, trees gave way to open fields. As they kept going, Helfria realized they approached an odd spire in the middle of the field. The keep appeared of Saban construction with stone walls and blocky ramparts along the roof. She knew they neared Twileen territory, but she could not recollect any ancient forts this far out. Most of the old buildings housed nobility or guilds or historians hellbent on preservation. Yet here stood a Saban spire in disrepair with only a lone Twileen tending it.
“The embers in the hearth should still be warm. Coax a fire from them and take up the leather chair near it.” The Twileen directed her as soon as they entered the building. “Rest. I will take your man into the kitchen and do what I can for his injury. Don’t touch anything.”
Helfria watched as the woman dragged Gaius into a room with a large table and a wood-burning stove. She sent a prayer to the Fates and then went about her instructions. When a healthy fire burned in the hearth, she used a nearby wash basin to clean her hands and face. The chair near the hearth had seen plenty of use, but appeared fairly clean. She sunk into it as exhaustion overtook her.
Just before she drifted to sleep, she caught sight of the memorial along the wall: a silver sword planted blade-down into a block of stone. A placard graced the face of the stone block, but she could not read the letters. Sleep overtook her.
When Helfria awoke, the room remained dark with a hearth fire providing the only bit of light. She heard voices in the other room: one from the stranger, another from an older man. She lifted her head to see the woman thank an elderly Twileen with a large leather satchel as he left the spire.
Helfria tried to rise, but the aches in her arms and legs prevented her. “What time is it?”
The woman came to her side and gave her a warm mug of tea. “It’s nearly dusk. You’ve slept through the day, but you need more rest. Drink this.”
Helfria took a long drink and instantly felt a wave of drowsiness. “Wait, I can’t go back to sleep. Where is Gaius? Who was that old man?”
“Your man has a hell of a fight ahead of him.” The stranger had auburn hair and eyes like emeralds. Her face seemed young enough to be Helfria’s peer, yet the weariness in her eyes seemed that of an elder. “I have called a healer from town.”
Helfria pushed herself upright. “No… no healers. No one can know we’re here or they’ll come for us.”
The stranger pushed her back down as the drink stole her consciousness from her. “Trust me, Princess, I don’t want Sabans here anymore than you. Rest. I will keep you safe.”
Helfria went in and out as the shadows chased eac
h other across the wall and floor. Sometimes the hearth would smolder in the light of day. She would blink and then reveal a glowing fire in the dark.
Then she woke up and stayed that way. At some point, someone had moved her from the chair to a bed. Other than a slight crick in her neck, she felt wonderful.
Easing out of the bed, Helfria padded across the room to the door and looked out. She did not see anyone in the hall or the main room. Coming out into the room where she fell asleep, she immediately remembered the memorial and found it along the wall.
The Imperius Requiem; only a few dozen soldiers in all of history had received these, all posthumously. Her father had one made for Tiberius after the general’s corpse was returned for the man’s unyielding loyalty and bravery. Tiberius earned his by doing what no other general in hundreds of years had attempted: battling the Greimere in their own land. Helfria could not imagine what this one could have been presented for or why the stranger had it hidden away in this abandoned keep.
Soft noises drew her attention to a far room and she moved to it. Opening the door, she gasped to find Gaius, shirtless, upon a table surrounded by leaves and burning incense. The man’s side seeped yellow fluid swirled with black blood from a stitched up wound on his side. Strange symbols were etched in purple ink around the wound and the room smelled of strong herbs.
“Fates, Gaius, what has she done to you?” Helfria whispered, moving closer to him.
“I’m saving his life.”
Helfria nearly stumbled over a side table with a suppressed a yelp. To her side not five feet away sat the stranger. Helfria knew the chair had been empty when she first entered, yet here this woman sat quietly drinking tea.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman said. “The magic comes naturally to some of us; so much so that we don’t even realize we’re using it.”
“What?” Helfria asked.
“A Twileen trick. It’s why you didn’t see me when you entered.” The stranger shook her head and took another sip, casting her gaze at Gaius. “His innards have gotten into his blood. The healer has faith that he will make it, but he needs peace to fight it. The spread and incense will keep him resting and calm. Don’t disturb him.”
She stood and walked toward the door without making a sound. “Follow me into the hearth room. We can speak there.”
Helfria sat down in the familiar chair across from the woman. She had so many questions about who the Twileen was, why she lived out here and especially what ties she had to the army that earned her an Imperius Requiem.
As the woman continued to stare at her with her large, emerald eyes, Helfria decided to start with the basic questions. “I apologize, but I have not had the chance to learn your name. You clearly know who I am.”
“I’ve seen you only once, but yes, I know who you are.” The woman cupped her mug before her and stared hard. “I’ve also learned of recent events that likely explain why you’re trekking through strange forests instead of sitting high atop a building in Thromdale.”
Helfria held her breath while the woman took a long sip without breaking eye contact. No other woman had intimidated her like this Twileen.
“It pains me greatly to learn of your father and the rest of your family,” the woman said.
Helfria felt the sting in her eyes, but she fought against it. She had cried enough along the way. Tears would not avenge her family.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Helfria nodded toward the mug of tea. “How strong is that?”
The woman cast a glance into her mug and sighed. With a soft kick, she swiveled the kettle arm over the fire. “If you had caught me just a few years before, I would have all the alcohol you would need to drown those memories. I rid this place of it when I finally found the courage to move on from my grief. The drink took me to some dark places, places I do not wish to return to. I do have something else that might help, though.”
“Thank you, um…?” Helfria replied.
“Nuallan,” the woman said, walking to the cupboard to retrieve a mug and a pouch. “You may not believe me Princess, but I knew your father. It has been years since we talked, and we did not part on the best terms, but I still mourn him.”
Hearing this made the curiosity in her boil over. She leaned out of the chair toward the memorial, squinting to see the writing on the placard. “I believe you, Nuallan. This memorial you have, in fact, proves it. May I ask what it’s for?”
“You won’t recognize the name on it,” Nuallan said, sitting down. “No one still living will. I didn’t even want the damn thing, but it’s too heavy to move.”
Helfria made out the lettering.
There can be no greater sacrifice than that
which keeps a nation safe.
May this symbol represent the gratitude of Rellizbix
for the sacrifice of your son,
Raegith.
Helfria’s breath caught in her chest as she reread the name at the end of the memorium. The Twileen picked up on her sudden apprehension and lowered her mug. The solemn look on the woman’s face fell away. What replaced it probably mirrored Helfria’s face as the two woman sat in shock.
“You?” Helfria looked the woman up and down, trying to assess what her father’s attraction must have been.
The words spilled out of Nuallan’s mouth. “Fates, he told you? When?”
Helfria struggled to keep breathing. She swallowed hard. “Before he died. He confessed it to me before sending me away to escape the Paladins.”
“You were there?” Nuallan leaned forward, wearing the concerned look of a mother and Helfria nearly broke.
“I was.” Helfria knew what would follow the words if she kept talking. “I never even saw my sisters before they were gone. I couldn’t even bring myself to speak as they threw my mother from the castle window. I didn’t say goodbye to any of them. I didn’t say goodbye to my father. The whole day… it all happened so fast.”
Nuallan slid out of her chair and crossed the space between them. Putting her arm around Helfria the Twileen pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Due to the size difference, the woman’s embrace felt like a hug from one of her younger sisters and all Helfria’s defenses fell away. For minutes, Nuallan held her close as she wept.
This time the string of images and coinciding feelings swept over her in a strong but fast wave and then they were gone. Helfria pulled away and Nuallan went back to her chair. Helfria wiped away the tears in her eyes and in the next minute, only a runny nose signified that she had been crying at all.
“I never got to say goodbye to my son, either,” Nuallan said, breaking the silence. “He was so eager to please Helfrick; to do something important. To this day, I don’t know what it was your father had him doing or what went wrong. I didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to come back here, to the last place that I saw my son and drink myself into oblivion.”
Nuallan put on a glove and pulled the kettle off the fire as it began to steam. She scooped some dried leaves into a vented spoon and dipped it into a freshly poured mug. “Wherever he was when it happened, I just hope he wasn’t alone. I hope he wasn’t scared.”
Helfria’s head spun. Her father had known that Raegith was alive for years now. Not only had he not said anything to her, but he continued to let this poor woman mourn her son. Her father had committed a lot of sins, most of which she was only now learning, but this one would not stand.
“This must be the Fates at work,” she said, taking the mug from her. “I have no other way of explaining it.”
“I know,” Nuallan replied, looking into her own mug. “That the two of us might be brought together in our grief-“
“That’s not what I meant, Nuallan.” Helfria cut the woman off, causing her to look up with surprise. Helfria continued. She could not bring back her family, but she could set one of her father’s atrocities right. “When my father sent me away, it wasn’t into hiding. He intended for me to go to a specific place; to a specific person who might pro
tect me against the Paladins who would continue to hunt me.”
Helfria reached over and took the woman’s hand. “This is going to be hard for you to hear. Raegith’s existence was not my father’s only revelation. He told me what became of my older brother; what became of Raegith.”
“I don’t want to hear this, Princess,” Nuallan brushed her hand aside and stood. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I have already made peace with this.”
“Raegith is alive.” Helfria stood and hesitated when Nuallan froze staring forward. “He’s alive, Nuallan, and he’s my only chance at survival. He’s my family’s only hope for vengeance.”
“That’s not possible.” Nuallan stepped back and looked around as if she were about to panic. “No. Your father must have been delirious when he told you this. If Raegith were alive, he would have come back to me.”
“He can’t. We have to go to him.” Helfria stared Nuallan in the eyes. “Raegith was sent by my father to the Greimere on a diplomatic mission and something went wrong. My father thought he was dead until a few years ago when our armies were defeated in the Greimere and our Command General’s armor was returned with a message. The message was from Raegith.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Nuallan yelled. “Where is my son? Are you saying the Greimere have him? Why would they keep him alive?”
“Because he’s leading them,” Helfria replied.
“Leading them?” Nuallan slapped her hands against the table, startling Helfria. “What is this? What game are you playing at, girl? How could my half-Saban son lead an army? He was a boy when Helfrick put him in here. He’d never even held a sword. He doesn’t speak the Greimere language.”
“I know how unbelievable this sounds, but my father would not put me in danger just to keep a lie going. No one knows how, but at some point in the 10 years before he reappeared, Raegith replaced the Greimere Emperor. He ambushed the 1st and 9th Regiments in the Greimere, invaded Rellizbix and now holds nearly everything below the Pisces.”
“This is too much. It’s nonsense. The Greimere are barbarians who kill everything good.” Nuallan paced the side of the room. She looked up at Helfria. “What did you mean when you said we need to go to him?”
Wrath of the Greimere Page 31
