Beyond the Hell Cliffs (2 page)

“
This isn’t a joke, Raegith,” Helfrick stated.  “The Greimere have not attacked us of their own accord in almost seven centuries.  This is a secret that few are aware of; even fewer than are aware of you.”

“
If not by their own accord, then by whose accord are they attacking?” Raegith asked.

“
We send them goods and valuables… the grains and crops here on the table; some up front, as a sign of good faith and the bulk of it after they have been beaten.  Life in the Greimere is difficult and harsh, even for ones as ferocious and uncivilized as our enemy.  We give the leaders the means to live comfortably and maintain rule over their subjects and in return they send warriors into our lands to wage war on the lower villages of Rellizbix.”

“
Over a thousand years without a loss to the Greimere…” Raegith muttered, struggling with the revelation his father was dropping on him.  “The last one happened when I was too young to remember, but mother said that it was terrifying.  Farmers in the south were slaughtered.  They reached so far inward that the fires could be seen from Leafblade Village on the Dragon Berm.  Thousands died before the army could break the assault.”

“
Most of the barbarians are as in the dark about the nature of these wars as our people,” Helfrick said, filling another mug.  “Don’t get me wrong, the mongrels put up a hell of a fight.  Their main force, the Rathgar, are never to be underestimated in battle.  A brutish race of muscle and teeth, their skin is dark and their hearts are darker.  A rogue group slipped through our formations during the last war and managed to sneak north of the Pisces River, far into Twileen territory before they were finally taken down by hunters dispatched from Broadhead.”

“
But they are set up to fail against Rellizbix,” Raegith confirmed, finally grasping what he was being told.  “We give supplies and resources to our enemy, bribing them to stage a fake war against us, so that we can what… keep the people in fear?  Is that what keeps our line in power?  Don’t you ever worry that the Greimere will one day send a serious war party to us?  Or if not that, blackmail you with releasing the truth?”

“That’s not how it works, boy,” Helfrick replied.  “
There are contingencies in place.  We wouldn’t just let something like that happen, even if it could; which it could not.  We’ve weakened the Greimere… made them dependent on our charity.  They are not a civilized people, as we are.  The Emperor and his cronies would lose power without our aid and the Empire would be thrown into chaos and disappear.”

“
So Greimere peasants are tricked into invading Rellizbix and killing our peasants?” Raegith asked, failing to keep the amusement from his voice.  “And it’s all completely orchestrated by the leaders of both sides… who are pretending to hate each other.”

“
I’ll not put up with your snide naivety, boy!” Helfrick grumbled.  “Like it or not, the kingdom depends on this charade!  It’s been this way for centuries and I will not be the king to break that tradition and doom my people.  I don’t like that our wars are rigged or that I must make diplomacy with vile creatures that are beneath me, but I am doing the best I can…”

“I’ll do it,” Raegith said, refilling his cup.  “I’m sure
I don’t need to tell you that I’m dying to leave this place, but I also want to help the kingdom if I can.  Despite our tense and often non-existent relationship, father, I wish to prove my worth.  This journey should be exciting and give me at least a modicum of training.  I am ready.”

“You will?” Helfr
ick asked.  “Of course you will; you’re a Caelum; you crave action as we all do!  You have taken the first step towards being an honorable Sab… citizen of Rellizbix, Raegith.”

“
Thank you, your majesty,” Raegith said with a smile.  “Now that we’ve settled that, let us drink and tell stories.  I can tell you of the time I chased a pole cat around the keep after it snuck in, once.  That’s about the most excitement I see here, so you might have to do the bulk of the story-telling.”

“I’m sorry, Raegith, but I cannot stay,” Helfrick said, averting his eyes.  “As you have so readily agreed, I must make plans at once. 
The sooner I do so, the sooner you will be free of this place and on your way to saving the nation.”

“But the Stoglia,” Raegith said
, barely containing his disappointment.  “I was under the impression that we were going to get drunk together and tell stories.  Did I put out too soon?  I can pretend to be more prudish…”

“I have no stories that would interest you, boy…” Helfrick said, downing his juice and eying the huge gourd.  “
You’ll enjoy freedom from this place much more than any old tales from me.  Best for both of us if we dropped pretenses and expedited your release from this place, wouldn’t you say?  The Stoglia is yours, a gift from the king.”

“And
not from a father to his son?” Raegith asked.

The king paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Of course… that too
.”

Helfrick did not see the hard look that overcame Raegith, nor the shudder that passed through him.  But in a moment Raegith regained the sly guise that he kept up at all times and was once again the witty brat his father knew him to be.  “There is nothing else I would as gladly have from you… except maybe a curvaceous young Saban willing to fulfill all of my…”

“That’s enough, Raegith!” Helfrick said.  “Your lustful thoughts must be put in check, lest yo
u make the same mistake I did.”

“No, I would hate to create such an
awkward blunder,” Raegith said coldly. 

“
Fulfill your duty with pride, Raegith,” Helfrick said. “And upon your return, I promise, you’ll be free to pursue whatever the Fates have in store for you.”

“
One last toast then, for the road?” Raegith asked. 

Helfrick lightened and filled his mug. “What shall we toast to, then?”

“To the journey,” Raegith said, raising his mug.  “May it give us both exactly what we need from it.”

“
It always does,” Helfrick said, crashing his mug into the other.  “I’ll drink to that.”

Helfrick left Forster’s Keep and travelled back towards Thromdale, the shining capitol of Rellizbix and monument to his great ancestor.  He approached from the west, riding through the outlying houses and stalls at a relaxed pace.  The citizens on the west side of the city were mostly Twileen artisans and merchants.  They preferred to sleep later into the day than the Sabans and Faeir, so they put their homes in the morning shadow of the rising spires of Caelum Castle.  It was evening and the smells of spiced bread and roasting game filled the air.  Helfrick breathed deeply. 
Damn the Twileens are splendid cooks
he thought.  Besides being skilled hunters the Twileens were dealers in pleasure.  Food, drink and entertainment could all be found on the west side with the Twileens. Finding an educated one among the whole lot could take one all day, but no one came to the Twileen sector for studious endeavors.  That’s what the Faeir sector was for.

As Helfrick moved past the pubs and gaming houses and reached the walls of the inner city, his elite gu
ard greeted him and provided an escort.  Inside the walls of the capitol city was much more organized and formal.  Nobles and Citizens of influence lived within the walls.  There were not as many Twileens there.  Personal wealth and ambition were not natural elements of Twileen culture and therefore few had completed one of the passages to citizenship. 

Faeir and Sabans dominated that area of the capitol.  They walked the smooth roads
and greeted each other cordially, but quickly.  These were men and women who were educated or held positions of authority and power.  As Citizens, they were given the privilege of city life due to wealth, usefulness or veteran status.  These qualifiers were known as the Passage of Gold, the Passage of Skill and the Passage of Blood, respectively, and were the only way to gain citizenship in Rellizbix outside of nobility.  As Helfrick rode the path to his castle, he nodded at brightly attired officials and returned the salutes of the officers he passed.  He unconsciously slowed a bit when he saw the only group of people not dressed in expensive and vibrant clothing.

The granite-hued trousers and tunics of the Stone-Seers stood out for their contrasting subtlety.  Though they were all Faeir, their hair hung loosely about their shoulders and they stared downward, submissively, always simply looking at the ground before them.  If one had lifted their eyes to the king, he would be able to see the
solid, opaque eyes that distinguished them from the other, purer Faeir.  He would also have to put that poor soul to death instantly or risk reprisal from the Faeir Council. 

The Stone-Seers were considered inferior specimens and a curse upon their people from birth.  Helfrick did not fully understand the reason why these Faeir, with their solid-colored eyeballs
, were so disparaged; made to serve their masters unquestionably.  All he knew of them was that keeping them completely subservient was so important to the Faeir culture that the Council threatened outright mutiny every time a king proposed any kind of relief or liberation for them. He let the group pass on their way outside of the city walls, to where they all resided inside a locked compound on the east side of the wall. 

Finally he was inside his castle home and dismounting his horse to enter the side entrance, through the stables. 
Inside, he walked briskly to the war room, where several of his generals and advisors were awaiting him. 

General Eramus, a Faeir Adept, was the first to ask his question of the king.  Eramus was of the Flame Sect and was tall, even for his kind, with red and orange robes and yellow hair that spiked nearly a foot from his scalp.  Helfrick could not look at him without thinking how ridiculous it was for a grown man, an elder at that, to try to make
himself look so much like fire.  It was nearly laughable, but Eramus was a brilliant strategist and alchemist and was the most destructively powerful mage of the last crusade.  Helfrick had seen his power in action, as Eramus was attached to his regiment during the first clash and each one after that.  No one ever told him to his face how hilarious his fashion sense was.

“The boy has agreed then?” Eramus asked
, arms folded inside of his robes.

“It was never a question that he would,” Helfrick said.  “The boy is so attention-starved for fatherly affection that he gave in after only a few kind words and some cheap boonivarn
.”

“And he
knows what is expected of him?” Tiberius asked.  Tiberius was a Saban general and trusted confidant of the king.  He was a mountain on legs, standing nearly seven feet tall and the width of three Faeir.  Scars crisscrossed his face and bald head from all the times he would fling himself into battle in a blind frenzy.  He was brave and skilled, but most of all he was extremely loyal to the king.

“He knows
enough,” Helfrick said.  “Tiberius, I want the envoy put together by weeks end.  I want mostly Sabans on this detail… good men who can keep Raegith safe past the Hell Cliffs, but also those with stained reputations; men whose word means nothing to the people.  I would like you to find a Bard, but not one that brews.  I’d like him to have a Twileen to talk to, but I don’t need him getting sauced every night.”

“I know of one that can be trusted,”
Tiberius replied.  “He also has collateral that we can use against him, if it ever comes to that.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Helfrick said.  Then he remembered something else and turned back to the general.  “Do we have
a trainer that we can send?  A Paladin, preferably?  The boy wants to learn to fight.  I can’t see him with a hammer, like his father, but the sword and shield might be good for him.”

“That can be arranged, your majesty, but I do not know if it is wise to send one of our valuable Black Shirts off on this when we are so close to warring.”

“It doesn’t need to be a good trainer, Tiberius.  Raegith has lived with his nose in books all of his life.  His mother has apparently taught him to keep his body conditioned, but Nuallan is no warrior and I would prefer the boy never have to meet an enemy’s blade.  Just send someone who can teach him battle stances for all I care, as long as it is someone we can keep quiet afterwards.”

“And what of the Faeir’s representation in this journey?”
Eramus asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t even understand why you want the Faeir involved in this,
Eramus.  The Faeir have never wanted any part of this job before.”

“You send a half-Twileen bastard, to be accompanied by another Twileen on this quest,” Eramus stated.  The King was tall for a Saban, but the stringy Faeir sage still towered nearly a foot over him.  “With all due respect, your majesty, the Council will not allow such bias on any mission of worth, even such a soiled one as this.  I demand that a
Mage be sent to balance the equation.”

Helfrick gave the Mage a sid
eways glance. “Eramus, don’t take this as sarcasm on my part or anything, but technically the party responsible for this task has one and a half Twileens in its makeup.  How do you propose balancing that?  Do you happen to have a half Saban child that I don’t know about?”