Beyond the Hell Cliffs (13 page)

Chapter 12

“Wake up, prince,” Ebriz whispered.  The wind was high when he opened his eyes and
cleared his vision.  “Torches below the ridge.  I think they’re here for us.”

Raegith had fallen asleep as the sky darkened.  He was still exhausted from the ordeal of the last few nights and he was beginning to feel ill.
  All about him the wind blew and he was disoriented.  Ebriz got him to his feet and they went to the Cliffs to inspect them.  Below, near the bottom of the ramp, several orange dots moved about.  It was too far to hear anything, even if the wind were not so loud.

“Are they not coming up?” Raegith asked, pulling his cloak tightly about him.

“Why would they?  I think they’re waiting on us to come down.”

“Now?
  At this time of night?” Raegith asked, the weariness leaking through his voice.

“They don’t operate like we do, Prince,” Ebriz replied.  “If we wait, we run the risk of them leaving.”

“Let’s get Zakk up.  Fates guide us that we don’t fall off this damned cliff trying to go meet our guide.”

“I’m already awake.”  Zakk
replied, fully clothed and ready to go forth.  “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The three of them descended the ramp, slowly.  Their only light went out several times and they had to struggle to light it on the windy face.  They would not try and navigate the ramp in the darkness.  It took over an hour to reach the bottom.  Raegith had trouble focusing and his head hurt.  He mindlessly followed Ebriz, unaware of how close they were getting or what was happening around him.  Drowsiness and muscle aches were making him miserable and he could only muster enough focus to keep his eyes on the back of the Twileen and keep walking.

Black animals scrambled at the bottom of the Cliffs as they drew close and Raegith wondered what kind of pets the Rathgar kept on them and if they were dangerous.  As they reached the last leg of the ramp, Ebriz slowed.  Raegith looked to see a short, ugly man covered in black fur with eerie purple and yellow eyes standing before them.  The creatures he glimpsed were not pets; they were some kind of short, crazy-looking people.

“Pasty-faces,” the man said.  His voice was
like a laughing dog and he spat on the ground after speaking.  “You signal Fibbitch.  Fibbitch here now.  Fibbitch and Gimlets take Pasty-faces to Citadel now.  Follow.”

“What the hell is that thing?” Raegith asked.  Zakk had her sword in her hand, But Ebriz barely seemed fazed.

“I believe that’s our guide.”

“That’s not a Rathgar, is it?”

“Fibbitch understand dumb Pasty-face!” the creature replied.  “Fibbitch not Rathgar.  Fibbitch is Gimlet.  Fibbitch take dumb Pasty-faces to see Rathgar.  Follow now!”

The Gimlet turned and began walking toward the other lights and Raegith saw that there were several of them.

“I don’t feel well, Ebriz,” Raegith said.

“You’re going to have to toughen up, Prince.  It won’t get any easier from here.  Just push through the pain.  I’m sure these things won’t make us trek all night.  Everything has to sleep, right?”

Ebriz was inaccurate in his assessment of the Gimlet’s behavior.  They continued walking until the sky brightened.  The sun did not shine in that place and it got only as bright as a rainy day.  Raegith was shuffling at that point, barely able to pick his feet up.  He heard the Gimlets chattering between themselves and was aware of Ebriz and Zakk having a conversation, but the minutes blurred for him and he felt himself drifting to sleep as he walked.

The wastelands of the South were harsher than Raegith could have imagined.  There seemed to be no water or plant life anywhere.  There were no trails or tracks left by creatures.  It was as if nothing lived there.  He thought he saw things move in the distance, but by the time he reached the area there was not even a sign of things passing.
  He felt hot and cold at the same time and he sweated constantly.  He did not want to drink when Ebriz told him to and when they finally took a break for a few minutes, he could not eat.  As they got into uneven terrain, Raegith missed his footing and fell hard.  The Gimlets, tireless striders, allowed them more of a rest and Zakk treated Raegith’s cuts with water and bandages.

For hours Raegith
and Zakk and Ebriz walked south, following the Gimlets.  He had injured himself worse than he thought when he fell.  His right knee was bruised and swollen and both elbows were cut, as well as a gash above his eye that slowly seeped blood and yellowish liquid.  Though the temperature was mild, he was starting to shiver and sweat at the same time.  The three packs they carried had very little as far as medicine and Raegith wished for the eightieth time that Onyx was with them.

The look of the South did not get better; in fact it became more dangerous.  The creatures, who laughed and chattered throughout the march like children, led him into volcanic fields that spewed red-hot liquid into the air and kicked gasses out in exploding pockets.  The leader seemed confident in where to travel to avoid danger and the lack of fear by the others put Raegith’s doubts at ease, if only slightly.

The group did not clear the volcanic fields in one day.  As soon as the sky started to darken, the group halted and began to set up camp.  Within minutes it was already too dark to see the horizon line and before the group could erect their little camp, the only light was from the molten rivers.

The red lava created an
unnerving, yet magnificent sight at night.  Though it glowed bright red and orange, the light did not seem to travel far.  Instead of illuminating the night like a thousand fires, it smoldered dully, its ambience barely reaching further than dying embers from an abandoned camp fire.  For all the dark and dead wretchedness of the south, at night, there in those fields of magma and igniting gas pockets, it was a beautiful sight.  Raegith stared out at it in unblinking fascination.  Even the foulness in his stomach and the sweat coating his face and soaking his shirt seemed to fade away as he looked upon the glowing, exposed veins of the land.

“Magnificent,” he whispered.

“That?” Zakk asked.  “That is liquid death, Raegith.  It’s horrifying.  I can’t wait to be free of this place.”

The heat made Raegith sw
ay and he felt faint.  His head was pounding and when he reached up to feel his forehead, it felt like leather that had been baking in the sun all day.  He was feverish.  He tried to sleep, but his body ached worse and the nausea kept him curled up in a ball. 

Raegith
had been able to march for most of the day, but after so long on his feet, with his fever worsening by the hour, he had finally collapsed.  Zakk and Ebriz tried to carry him on their shoulders for a while, but it only made his condition worse and he blacked out.

The prince dozed.  In his fever dreams he confronted
Falfa and the others he wished dead, but he was too weak.  The old mage teased and tortured him.  At one point his father was there, but it was not the Saban king he knew.  Instead his father was an enormous serpent, with enormous, leather wings that dripped black ichor.  His mother was by his side, trying to defend him.  As the serpent king devoured his family, Falfa morphed into a giant beast made of fire and vines and in his teeth were the savaged remains of Onyx.

His former lover cried out to him as smaller Faeir danced upon her naked body and ravaged her
.  Flames crawled over her body, melting her flesh away until her body was a skeleton and her eyes burned holes into him.  He called out to her, tried to reach her, but then Falfa’s mighty jaws closed shut with a loud snap and she was gone.  Then there was darkness and he was left with only his hatred and loss.

Raegith opened his eyes as he felt the sled
the Gimlets had erected come to a stop.  He struggled, but the creatures had bound him tightly.  He had to get away from the flaming vine beast.  Or did he need to attack it?  Was the beast even real anymore?  Raegith was having difficulty determining what he had dreamed and what was real.  He saw the creatures, but they looked so much more sinister now.

His vision was coming and going, making it difficult to see where he was.  There was no lava anymore.  Instead, it looked as if they were someplace high up, on a ledge of some sort.  Raegith worried that he might fall off the ledge into oblivion and tried to struggle once more,
but a female voice soothed him.  Was it Onyx?  No, the voice wasn’t right.  He pictured Zakk, but Zakk was a man… and an asshole.  If he didn’t stop trying to steal Raegith’s manhood, then he would have to tell Hemmil.  But was Hemmil still around?  Did he run off with the others when they left him?  Had everyone left him?  He knew he was going to die out on that ledge, surrounded by hairy gremlins and a flame-headed siren.

The leader started a fire and lit some candles that were near some strange, tribal shrine.  A huge rock that was painted with crimson swirls and designs towered over him, with idols and pelts and skulls adorning its base.  Raegith was being sacrificed to something.  It was all over.  He howled with rage, cursed the Fates and struggled to free himself.  Finally the leader of the creatures came to his side and clubbed
him over the head with a stick, nearly knocking him unconscious.  Ebriz and Zakk argued with the creatures, but something stopped them from freeing him.  He was abandoned by everyone.

After the shrine was prepared, the creatures filed past him, patting him on the chest as they passed and left him. 
They walked down the incline that led to the ledge and soon they were gone, leaving him to await some demon or monster, or maybe even a god.  The flame-headed siren waited and he screamed at her, delirious with rage, but she simply turned and walked after the gremlins.  He was infuriated at what had become of him.  He had been so determined to exact revenge on his nation; so outraged at what they had done to him. 

The fever was making him delirious.  He was seeing things run past him.  The
shadows were longer every time he blinked.  It felt like a million bugs all over him and he screamed until his throat ached.  They had brought him all the way to the Greimere Empire to be sacrificed and he had bought it without question.  He had been told he was a prince and he carried the blood of royalty in his veins.  He had thought himself a hero, but now he was just a meal for whatever beast they were trying to appease.  Maybe there was no war at all.  Maybe his father had told him an elaborate hoax to lure him to the sacrificial altar.  It had all been a trick.  There was no glory to be had by him after all.

Wind picked up quickly and blew his hair about his face.  Then the impact of something large hit and bounced him atop his sled.  The beast was upon him. 
A figure approached him and knelt over his bound body.  The figure was feminine in form, with wide hips and small, naked breasts on a slender chest.  She looked scaly, however, like a snake, and her green and grey skin was hairless.  On her back, folding and curling inward, were a pair of bat-like wings.  She knelt over Raegith and stroked his cheek and her smile was full of sharp, interlocked teeth.

“A N
ortherner, they bring me?” the woman said in a hissing, reptilian voice that spoke in his language. “Such a treat, this is.  So rare you are, young thing, precious thing.  Are you Saban?  No.  Are you of the nature folk that hunt the forests?  You are certainly not one of the elemental-lovers, whose hubris is only matched by their physical frailty.  Something different, you are.”

“What are you, demon?” Raegith asked.  If he was going to be eaten, he would not do so cowardly or with trepidation.

“Demon I am to some, young thing,” the woman said.  “Angel to others.  Which one shall I be to you?  It depends on how you taste, it does.”

Raegith cried out in defiance as the woman opened her wicked maw and bent down to begin devouring his body.  He did not feel
her teeth on his skin, however.  A wet, forked tongue shot out from her mouth and ran along his neck and up to his ear.  It was a strange sensation, but more welcomed than being feasted upon.

“What is this taste?  You are no mere rarity; no odd mix of races.  I taste… nobility, no… legacy!”

The woman hissed loud enough to make Raegith flinch.  She crawled on top of him, straddling his helpless form.  She was much bigger than him, but weighed as much as a Twileen child.  He felt clawed hands roam over his chest and she grinded her hips into him, triggering a response, despite the anxiety he felt at the moment.

“What are you?  You must tell me now!”

“So you can know what it is you are eating?” Raegith replied.  “To Hell with you!”

“Eat you? 
No, not this one.  This one is too special; you must let me taste!”

Her face was so close to his, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face and smell the blood on her teeth from the last meal she had.
  It was all too much and his fevered brain could no longer deal with the stress of the woman’s teasing.  Raegith’s head lulled and he began to black out.

“What is this?  No!  How could I not see?” she wailed, climbing off of him immediately and putting a cold, scaled hand against his head.  “No, you cannot die.  There can be no taste if you are dead, young legacy!”

Raegith could not hear the rest of what she said.  He had already faded into the darkness and back to the dreams of flaming beasts and serpent kings.  This time there was something different.  A woman he had never seen before was there with him.  He could not see her clearly, but she was surrounded in light and her soft, wordless voice hummed to him and eased his fears.  She caressed him with light and washed the stench of fever from him.  His nightmare cleared and faded to something more pleasant and warm.  He felt himself floating in cool water, warm summer rain falling on his face and body.  The water reminded him of Onyx and he wept.