Wrath of the Greimere (Hell Cliffs Book 2)

by Case C. Capehart

  Helkree growled. “We’ve already done that. He got out and went right back to vandalizing stuff. Hitomi wants him kicked out on his own.”

  “Hitomi needs to calm down. I’m not kicking a Gimlet out of my empire for… this.” Raegith looked down at the yellow and purple eyes of the Gimlet. “Do you understand, Ardyx, that when you’re punished for something, you need to stop doing it?”

  “Ardyx try,” the Gimlet replied. “Ardyx try so hard, but things in head not go away. Things get stronger, then Ardyx have to make them to get them to go away.”

  Raegith looked back to Helkree. “Did you understand any of that?”

  “He’s a Gimlet. They don’t make any sense unless they’re a Boss and even then, it’s a stretch.” Helkree let go of Ardyx and motioned for two Lokai to take him. “Put him in a closet somewhere with his charcoal. He can amuse himself away from others.”

  “Crazy little guy.”

  Helkree stepped back into the hallway and then returned with a prisoner. He was short and slight and when he stepped into the light of the fire, Raegith rose in his seat.

  “Damn the Fates, what is this?” he chirped, slapping Yumiko on the ass to get her up off his lap.

  Raegith stood up and walked up to the man Helkree held captive. His light-brown hair hung about his shoulders, surrounding a beardless face. His ears were slightly pointed at the tips. His thin waist contrasted his broad shoulders and muscular arms. When he looked up to meet Raegith’s gaze, his golden eyes were large and almond-shaped with a minor slant.

  “You’re a half-breed, aren’t you?” Raegith asked. “Rung’un.”

  “I am.” His voice was lower-pitched than Raegith’s but it still had a softness to it. He had an accent that reminded Raegith of his mother.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I am Zurek, of Fallen Oak,” the man said.

  “Well, Zurek of Fallen Oak, you’ve come into some exceptional luck,” Raegith said. “The man who holds this prison; who holds your life in his hands, is also Rung’un. What do you think of that?”

  “I think this is the only time in my life being Rung’un has not been a curse, sir.”

  Raegith laughed and took a long drink before addressing the man again. “If you could have one last drink before your death, Zurek, would it be beer or wine?”

  Zurek took a quick breath and looked at the floor. “Um… wine I suppose.”

  He looked back up at Raegith. “The warden keeps a bottle of Caveux Unum behind one of the paintings in his office. No Rung’un in this world could dream of dying with a noble’s wine in his belly; he would lose his head on the steps of Thromdale for possessing it. That’s what I choose for my last drink. If I had that, I’d die well.”

  Raegith looked over at one of Kimura’s Naga assassins. “In the warden’s office, behind one of the paintings is a bottle of wine. Find it and bring it to me immediately.”

  Raegith returned to his chair and had Helkree bring the Rung’un to stand before him. After several minutes, the Naga returned with a dusty bottle with a black and gold label. Zurek’s eyes widened and a tiny smile formed at the corner of his mouth. Raegith dumped his mug and then dumped one of the others nearby, then filled them both with the wine.

  Raegith smelled the top of the mug and smiled. “A restrictive, noble wine, you say? My father, the King of Rellizbix brought me a noble wine once -- the day he tasked me with travelling to the Greimere. He said it was so precious that I could save for years and not afford it, even if they let me buy it. So besides that wonderful, Stoglia boonivarn, this will be the second time I’ve drank something that would piss off the...”

  Zurek took another breath and looked down at the ground again.

  “What?” Raegith asked, growing agitated. “What the hell is wrong with you now? I was in the middle of reminiscing with you.”

  “I don’t wish to offend you, sir,” he said, looking at the ground.

  “Zurek, I’m about to share this fancy-ass wine with you because of our shared heritage of ostracism. I promise I won’t be offended as long as you come out with it so I can get back to my toast, you interrupting asshole!”

  “Sir… Stoglia is shit wine,” Zurek said, refusing to meet eyes with him. “It’s mass grown in the Plains… sold in almost every town. Anyone can buy it.”

  Raegith looked around to see everyone else’s expressions, but none of them had any idea what the man had said.

  He looked back at Zurek. “Are you telling me that the boonivarn that my father, the King of Rellizbix droned on and on about and plied me with to accept a doomed mission beyond the Hell Cliffs… was cheap table wine?”

  “It… it’s the only thing I’ve ever been able to afford, sir,” Zurek said.

  Raegith leaned back in his chair and frowned. “That mother fucker. Well what about this shit? You’re sure this is the real deal?”

  “The warden was not a nobleman,” Zurek said. “There’s a reason he had it hidden.”

  Raegith handed him the mug. “Well, Zurek, I can’t promise you that you’ll make it out of here alive. I have a reputation to maintain among my people so I can’t afford to just free every prisoner I like, no matter how personable they are. So drink up and enjoy the insult you give all those cretins sitting high in their castles. I promise you, they won’t be sitting for long.”

  Zurek took a long drink and shuddered a bit. When he lowered the mug there was a smile on his face.

  Raegith took a drink as well, but nothing he tasted in the wine could compare to the flavors that danced on the tongue of a condemned man; he knew that much for sure.

  “Is it what you had hoped?” he asked. “You can die a happy man, now?”

  “I can,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “What did you do to wind up here, Zurek?” Raegith asked, looking up through the prison and waving his hand overhead. “I don’t imagine I’ll meet any others in this place who greet death with such dignity; any who are worthy of conversation.”

  “I was accused of stealing the creative property of Master Artisan Genovea and using it for personal gain.”

  “And what was old Genovea a master artisan of?”

  “He was the chief metallurgist of Leafblade, under whom I was apprenticed at the time,” Zurek said.

  Raegith choked on his drink and came out of his chair to approach Zurek. “Are you fucking kidding me, Zurek? A metallurgist? Don’t tell me you can make Twileen steel.”

  Zurek looked up from the ground and met his eyes. “I was only an assistant, but I had to learn all of the techniques to properly assist the Master Artisan. As a Rung’un, I could have never been put in charge of making it myself… until someone very rich and very important asked me to try and I got caught.”

  “So, you could make it if you tried?” Raegith asked, pressing closer and backing the man up against Helkree’s chest. “If you were not bound by the rules of Rellizbix and had the proper tools at your disposal…”

  “I would need Hermesium, sir,” Zurek replied, nervously trying not to turn his head into the breastplate that flanked it. “It’s very hard to come by, especially in the Wilderness. But… the weapons your people carry are iron, are they not?”

  “Most of them, yes. Some are steel… sort of.”

  “The swords carried by the guards, even the silverware in the guard’s mess hall, are better than what you have, but there is not enough of it by itself to arm everyone.” Zurek took another drink to steady himself. “With the iron in these walls, I could make the Saban steel here go a long way. It wouldn’t be pure steel, but it would be lighter and less brittle than what you’ve got.”

  Raegith grabbed the bottle and refilled Zurek’s mug. “And you can do that here, in this prison?”

  “I’ve worked at the forge out back, near the west wall,” he replied. “There’s an old smelter they haven’t used in many years, but I think I could get it up and running with some help.”

  Raegith backed up and looked around at the
celebrating Greimere. Their armor consisted mostly of beast leathers and bones. They armed themselves with antiques possessed by the Imperial Guards and repurposed farming equipment.

  “Tomorrow you take from among the prisoners whomever you need for assistants. Make them understand that this is a pardon, so if you owe favors, this should erase them.” Raegith turned to Zurek and stared him in the eyes. “Is it going to create a moral dilemma for you to put men to work under my command?”

  Zurek shook his head.

  “If I pardoned you of your crimes as the new warden of Galveronne, and asked you to pledge your life and loyalty to me, Warlord of the Greimere, to fight against and conquer the people of Rellizbix… would you do so?”

  Zurek dropped to his knees. “If you’re truly Rung’un, sir, you know how the Sabans and Twileens both revile my existence. They’ve kept my skills from growing, kept my heritage from me and thrown me in a prison to be forgotten.”

  He looked up at Raegith with hard eyes. “Give me a job… give me a purpose and I will forsake all ties to my people. Your enemies will be my enemies.”

  “Rellizbix has been no home to men like us… but it soon will be.” Raegith grabbed the man by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet. “Tonight, you’ll drink with the Greimere and take a Greimere woman to bed. Tomorrow you’ll begin work on arming my warriors.”

  Raegith called for Beretta. The Infernal strolled out from the shadows to approach them. Beretta was the only one of her kind as far as anyone in the Greimere knew. Part woman and part living fire, green flames flowed from her scalp in place of hair and small, pellucid wings dripped blazing emerald drops to sizzle against the ground. “This is Zurek. He is Rung’un, like me, and he has pledged himself to me and to the Greimere. He is going to rebuild the smelter and make steel for our warriors. I want you and Magda and your Gimlets working on this tomorrow. You’ll be his translator until he can learn the Greimere tongue. Make sure none of the others mistake him for lunch.”

  “What are you? An Elemental?” Zurek asked, swaying from the alcohol. “Am I taking her to bed?”

  Raegith smiled at Beretta. “I wouldn’t advise it. She can help you find someone, I think.”

  “I am retainer to the Grass-Haired Demon, Warlord of the Greimere, and I am no Elemental. I am an Infernal.” Beretta said, leading Zurek away. “How hot will you need the smelter to be when it is finished?”

  Helkree approached Raegith as he sat back down. “You aren’t going to make a habit of this, are you?”

  “Of what?” he asked, waving Yumiko back over to his lap.

  “You just had a twenty-minute conversation with an enemy prisoner that no one else here could understand except Match-Head.” Helkree reached out and stiff-armed Yumiko in the chest before she hopped on top of Raegith. “I trust your judgment and don’t question you when you decide to spare a pink-fleshed little shit, but I don’t like standing to the side and staring at you like an idiot while it’s happening.”

  “Maybe Beretta could teach you how to speak the Rellizbix tongue.”

  Helkree growled.

  “What?” Raegith asked. “I spared the man because his situation was very similar to mine.”

  “Then why is he cowering inside a cell instead of leading an army?”

  “I didn’t say it was exactly like mine,” Raegith laughed. When Helkree kept staring at him, he dropped the smile. “The man can make steel, Helkree. He can turn those swords and these iron bars into Greimere weapons. At some point, once we have the material, he’s going to make us Twileen steel. The damage you could do with a pair of Twileen steel axes would be amazing.”

  “The kind of damage I could do with a toothpick would be amazing,” she grumbled.

  “You don’t want them? Fine. I’m sure Hitomi would jump on the chance for a new spear.”

  “Hitomi would jump on a lot of things for a new toy.” Helkree grabbed a mug from the table next to him and downed it. “And you’ve played with the new girl long enough. Finish your drink, Grass-Hair. I found the warden’s bed and it’s… fluffy.”

  Raegith looked her over and bit his lower lip. Yumiko was not going anywhere.

  “Another night, Reaper,” he said, looking over at her and nodding toward the fire. “Go find the others and have fun. You fought well today.”

  “Thank you, Grass-Hair,” she said, smiling at Helkree before turning and leaving.

  Raegith downed his wine and stood up, then stumbled forward.

  Helkree reached out and steadied him. “Am I going to have to carry you?”

  “Absolutely not. I would never overcome the embarrassment.” Raegith draped his arm over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Now let’s go see how much punishment that fluffy bed can endure.”

  Chapter 10

  Helfria Caelum followed her father in to the Senatorum and grumbled at the sight of High Paladin Andronicus among the other Senators who gathered. The armor-clad leader of the holy warriors had invaded the hearts of the public shortly after news broke of General Tiberius’s defeat in the Greimere, and then invaded the leadership of Rellizbix. The Paladin Commander, who had been initiated alongside her father, held antiquated beliefs on family and duty, which put him at odds with the first female leader in history.

  “Your Highness, you join us this evening?” the High Paladin asked, turning to meet the King. “I take it you’re feeling better, good enough to speak directly to your counsel instead of through the mouth of your daughter, at least?”

  Helfrick cut her off with a gesture before she could retort. “I am well, Andronicus; a status I will demonstrate on you in the courtyard the next time you insult my eldest.”

  “No demonstration is necessary, Highness.” Andronicus never lost his smug grimace under any circumstance. No matter how heated the argument, no matter what emotions lay beneath the grin, he always pushed his cheeks up to his eyes while keeping his lips pressed tight. A slight tilt of his head to the left gave the only indication that anything said had reached him.

  “General Regulus, you have an urgent report?”

  King Helfrick bestowed command of the Rellizbix Army to the veteran 4th Regimental Commander upon news of General Tiberius’s defeat. Since then, he had overseen all military operations. In Helfria’s opinion, the stiff soldier did not have the gumption to replace Tiberius. He could not convey an honest opinion to her father like the King’s oldest friend and so any good ideas the general might have had were overshadowed by the braggadocios advice of Andronicus.

  “Sir, we have a prison convoy that is overdue by three months. I waited a month because travel across the Pisces is difficult right now and then sent a scout after two. Neither the scout, nor the convoy has returned.”

  “The Sea Bitch,” Senator Otho spat as he glared at the Faeir Counselors in attendance. “I bet it’s her. She’s been screwing with Saban and Twileen ports up and down the Storm Line for months. Citizens, Commoners; hell, even Denizens are losing cargo to her pirates.”

  “What exactly do we have the 2nd Regiment for, if not to ensure the safety of our sea-faring populace?” Counselor Xenon looked to King Helfrick instead of meeting Otho’s gaze. “Besides, I doubt that traitor is the one responsible for our missing convoy and scout. The men they escorted to Galveronne would not have been suitable for recruitment.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you, Counselor? She was once an esteemed and trusted member of your order, wasn’t she?” While he showed annoyance at Helfria’s station, Andronicus conveyed open hatred for the Faeir. Helfria felt the man would suffer all of her sisters at the table rather than one Faeir Counselor. “A female Sage with such prodigious skill that she joined the Counsel in her youth before turning criminal. How did she escape, again? By murdering another Faeir with water from a sink? Now she has an ocean at her command and hatred fueling her magic. It’s no wonder our men are having difficulty with her. Your kind can be monsters if given the chance.”

  “How dare you.” Counselor Herod popped up
from his seat and shouted. “Centuries of peace between Saban and Faeir and you demonize us over a single rogue? We could never have foreseen the depths of Isadora’s sacrilege.”

  “I see you as Fateless heathens, Counselor, but I would never lie and assume you to be stupid,” Andronicus replied. “So, I doubt heartily that you remained completely ignorant of her.”

  “Enough of this digression. If not the Sea Bitch, then what has become of my convoy?” Helfrick’s voice boomed, but Helfria missed the fire in it. Her father had withdrawn since Tiberius’s death. Even when he attended meetings his mannerisms indicated he was not really there.

  General Regulus cleared his throat. “We do not have an abundance of enemies with this kind of bravado, sir. If we rule out the Sea Bitch-”

  “Greimere.” Andronicus cut into the general’s sentence, once again displaying his dominance over the veteran officer. “They’re here and likely at Galveronne.”

  “The prison? Why there?” Otho openly gawked at the idea.

  The grin on the High Paladin’s face arched higher as he bathed in the Senate’s attention. “The Greimere aren’t here to raid villages this time; they’re here for conquest. They need a base of operations… something defendable. In the Wilderness, their choices are Ft. Draymmond and Ft. Augustus, both of which are equipped against sieges and staffed by Regiments. The prison, however, is like a fort, albeit one where all the weapons are pointed inward.”

  “Fates! Galveronne guard details aren’t Regimental soldiers; they’re trained for containment. They’ll be slaughtered.” Regulus turned to the king. “I should have anticipated a move like this. I take responsibility.”

  “Nonsense, General. The fault here lies with all of us and our complacency.” Andronicus earned Helfrick’s glare at these words, but the attention from the Saban and Twileen Senators kept him going. “Let’s all be honest here, before the eyes of the Fates. We’re accustomed to fighting a weak, disorganized gaggle. It has clouded our strategy and allowed a smarter, more determined enemy to emerge. We must stop underestimating them, immediately.”