Beyond the Hell Cliffs (20 page)

“By my hand as
Ruler of Rellizbix… King Helfrick Caelum.”

As if to reassure the three of their death sentence, the flame-headed woman turned the scroll around to reveal the king’s hand and seal.

“I don’t understand,” Ebriz replied, looking at Raegith.  “Why would he do such a thing?  His son is among us.”

“Bastard…son…” Raegith said, trailing off as his mind put all of the pieces together.  “It must cost a lot to keep a constant guard at Forster’s Keep… and the fear of anyone finding out about me…”

“No!  This is Helfrick Caelum!  This is the Golden-haired Prince of the Greimere War!  He would not do such a thing!” Ebriz protested.

“Such a thing as rig his own wars?” Zakk growled.  “Is this the same king who promotes self-righteous Faeir who have no trouble killing Paladins like my uncle?  Is this the same king who employs rapists and sadists in his glorious army?  Face it bard, a king who sets up
staged wars for his own gain is a king who would think nothing of sending his illegitimate son to die far away from anyone to see!”

“Beretta, I was not prepared for this,” the Empress said.  “What should I do?”

“Empress, please, give me time to explain,” Raegith pleaded.

“We should consult General Greela,” Beretta replied.  “Lock them in a cell until then.  This is rather unprecedented and we should not make a hasty decision.”

“What’s happening, Raegith?” Ebriz asked.  “Should I start praying?”

“They’re going to discuss what to do with us,” Raegith answered as they guards began to disarm them.  “
They’re taking us to some sort of prison to sort this all out.”

“What?  No!” Zakk screamed. 

The Rathgar holding Zakk grunted with some sort of impact and loosened his grip on the girl.  In a flash of movement, Zakk had her sword out and plunged it into the guard’s side, under his armor.  She spun around and sliced her blade along the arm of the Rathgar holding Ebriz, nearly severing it.  Other guards rushed in as Ebriz broke free of his captor, scaled the front of his massive chest and crushed his windpipe with one blow.

“No, stop!” Raegith yelled, horrified by the escalation of events.  The Rathgar holding
him, drove a foot into the back of his knee and dropped him to the ground, slamming a fist into the back of his head.  Raegith’s vision blurred, but he stayed conscious even after his face bounced against the floor.

Raegith looked up to see four Rathgar armed with spears surround Zakk and E
briz.  Zakk defended against two of them, parrying a thrust and slicing her attacker across the face.  Then she took a spear to the thigh that drove her to the ground.  Ebriz leapt over the spear in Zakk’s leg and careened into the Rathgar, a glint of steel in his hand and Zakk yanked the spear head free in time to dodge the blow from her side.  The third Rathgar missed her, but corrected his shot and swung the shaft into her temple.  Zakk howled with rage and spun through the blow, coming in on his flank.  Before she could reach him, the last standing Rathgar drilled her in the side, nearly cutting her in half.

Raegith was on his feet. 
His body was acting without thought, just as it had when he defended himself against the Saban soldier beside the carriage cell in south Rellizbix.  There was no time for fear or even strategy as he bolted forward and slammed into the Rathgar.  In his disoriented state, Raegith was easily overpowered by the large Rathgar and thrown clear of the fight.  Raegith rolled across the floor and saw Zakk grab the Rathgar by the armor, pull him in close and slip the blade of her sword through the top of his armor and past his collarbone.  She was a cornered beast and even as she lay on the floor, opened up at the waist by a spear and covered in blood, she still fought with precision that was burned into her by the Paladin Hemmil.

Then behind her, stepping
through the front door, a grizzled, grey-haired warrior in elaborate plate armor came forth.  He was flanked by other guards in different armor than the ones that had brought them in and in his hand was an enormous battle axe.  Raegith pointed at him and tried to yell, but there was no air in his lungs.  Zakk turned and screamed in hatred, lifting her sword above her head to engage the oncoming monster.  His axe pulverized her when it hit and sent her sword flying off into the distance. 

Raegith looked up at the warrior as he passed Zakk’s corpse and came right for him.  As he raised his axe to deliver the death blow, he looked up at the Empress, stopped and growled with annoyance.

Raegith turned to see Ebriz on the throne, holding the Empress in front of him.  A small, bloodied blade was at her throat.

“Beretta!” the warrior yelled in a gravelly voice.

“I cannot do anything about this, Greela,” the vassal replied calmly.  “Anything I do will end up burning the mistress.”

She switched languages to address Ebriz.
  “You’ve already sealed your fate by spilling Rathgar blood, Twileen.  Holding the Empress hostage only serves to aggravate your situation.  You will not be spared.”

“I don’t care about me, fire-monkey.  He
ehee, hey Raegith… I told you it was real, didn’t I.”  Ebriz laughed and looked at the prince while nodding in the vassal’s direction.  Then he turned back to Beretta and his smile dropped.  “One of us has spilled no blood at all… I beg you, spare the boy.”

With that, Ebriz dropped the knife to the floor and let go of the Empress.  As soon as she pulled away from him, the light-hearted bard was struck by the axe with such force that it picked him off of the throne and stuck him to the stone wall behind it.  Raegith could only look on
helplessly as his friend hung on the wall and groaned.

“
Holy fairy fuckers… why is this taking so long?” Ebriz exhaled and then his limbs slumped and he was gone.

The Rathgar warrior kicked Raegith’s arms out from under him and rolled him onto his back with his armored boot.  Raegith fought to keep from crying out as the warrior
stepped on his chest leaned his weight onto him, crushing the prince.  He held out his hand and one of the guards gave him a spear which was held up over Raegith’s face.

“Greela, stop!”

The warrior looked up and snarled at the Empress’ command, but did not disobey.  “Turn away if you do not wish to see, Mistress!”

“I said stop, Greela!”  The Empress was adamant and came forward, getting in the warrior’s intimidating face.  “Remove your boot from the Green-hair, now.”

Greela lifted his boot and Raegith sucked in air and coughed.  Then he was being hoisted up and held before the Empress, his arms cranked up behind his back so high that a yelp escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“Why does my vassal say
the short one wanted you spared so badly?” the Empress demanded.  “Why does she tell me they both referred to you as a bastard in the same breath as the Northern King?  Why does the Northern King want me to break tradition and kill the messengers?”

Greela hit him in the face so hard than his teeth rattled and then straightened it back toward the front, press
ing his cheeks between iron fingers.  “Answer the mistress, weakling!”

“I’m sure your majesty can figure this one out for
herself!” Raegith hissed between his teeth.

“So you are the King’s son, then,” she answered.  “Tainted blood… is not something nobles are likely to accept, on either side of the Cliffs.  That’s why you’re here, far away from anyone who might care who you are: to be erased.  That’s why I’m getting three carts worth of goods on top of the usual fare all of my ancestors received.”

“I’m glad someone is benefitting from my existence… finally,” Raegith said.  “Well what are you waiting for?  Get on with it!”

“No.”  The Empress walked back to the scroll and lifted it up as Greela brought Raegith forward to her.  “Your
pompous King does not even attempt pretense as he calls upon the bloodlust of my kind, does he?  It’s right here in his handwriting, bidding me to enjoy myself in the slaughter of three, barely-armed messengers, two of which are merely children.”

The Empress looked over the scroll for another moment and then violently tore at it and slung it across the room, forcing Beretta to duck to avoid being hit.  She stormed up to Raegith and Greela tightened his grip again.

“That’s what you think of us, isn’t it?  That’s what all of the pampered, sun-kissed cowards that inhabit your entire country think!  You kill us, over and over, for centuries and then leave us payment along the border after each defeat, like we’re whores!  You kill us, desecrate our bodies and then laugh as you plan the next war like a damned dinner party… and yet we’re the monsters?!”

The Empress slapped Raegith across the face, hard and shuddered with rage.  Greela released Raegith and the other guards held him as the general approached the Empress, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear.  The Empress closed her eyes and calmed.  When Greela finished, she shook her head and opened her eyes at Raegith.

“No, I am not the Northern King’s whore.  I am Kalystra of Black Talon and Empress of Greimere and I declare that the Northerners will get no more from me than they have ever received from any of my ancestors.  This one speaks our tongue and he is nobility.”

The Empress approached Raegith and stared hard into his eyes.  “We have
honor here in the Greimere Empire.  Your friends attacked us.  Had they not assumed the worst of us they might have lived.  You are still alive and you will stay that way because I wish you to see who we are… but everything here is earned, bastard son of the North.  You will earn your way to knowledge in the Pits.  Should you survive, then I will know you were worth saving.”

Chapter 17

Isidora
rode upon her warbird, staring up the road and scanning each new person that came over the hill from beneath her dusky hood.  Several people gave her a curious look as they passed, but none spoke to her.  It was not altogether odd for a Faeir to travel in the open as she did, but in her bland robe and common sandals, she was an odd sight to most.  Faeir were either brightly bedazzled in vibrant linens that reflected their patron element, or they were garbed in dull rags to reflect their station as Stone Seers.  Dressing somewhere in between was seen as conforming to Saban culture, which was deviant and disgraceful among Faeir.  Isidora was not enthused about her attire, but unlike most Faeir, she was not disgusted by it, either.  It was not a fashion statement; it was just part of her job.  She could not avoid being seen no matter how she dressed, as beautiful and alluring as she was, but in loose, dull clothing, she could avoid being recognized.

Beside her walked her Stone Seer companion, watching the road before him and not daring to look up to meet the eyes of anyone passing by
.  She could have brought an entire squadron of Saban soldiers loyal to the Council of Faeir, but she did not care for the company of Saban men and her work was much easier performed alone.  As she travelled the road, drinking from her decanter of water and watching a Saban lead a pack mule over the hill, she thought back to the events that had necessitated this chore.

Isidora
stood before the three Chief Councilors: Herod, Pelagius and Xenon and gave her report on the situation from which she had recently returned.

“The blood might have come out easily enough, but all of the other fluids and debris… the whole
place had to be cleansed with acid.”  Isidora grinned at the disgusted expressions of her superiors as she detailed the scene she arrived at when the Council sent her to investigate a report of deviant acts being committed between a Faeir noble and a Saban officer.  “We told the townsfolk it was all due to evil spirits.  I held a Soul Cleansing right in the middle of town, stripping General Jerod down to his skin and just doused the hell out of him with a bucket of water.  When I made it swirl around him and glow, the stupid peasants ate it up.  The General held a banquet, provided by us, to ease the fears and convince everyone that he was ‘morally clean’ now.  For the most part, it worked, but only after we helped him transfer to another station and reimbursed the town for all of the missing goats.”

“That seems like a lot of exp
ended resources for the Saban, Sage,” Herod commented.  He was the most critical of the Chiefs and rarely approved of anything she did.  “What of the Faeir woman who was a slave to this man’s demented desires?  Have you no sympathy for your own kind?”

“The Faeir
male
who was part of this debauchery was among the lowest rungs of our society; practically an orphan who managed to learn some crude magic and wanted status.  He wanted it so badly, he was willing to pleasure a Saban General, going to great lengths to do so.  He had his fun and now he’s dead.”

“
Isidora!  Tell me that you have not committed the sin of murdering another of your kind!” Xenon exclaimed, rising from his chair.

“
Of course not, Chief Councilor,” she replied calmly.  “The townspeople did that for us when I made it clear that the Faeir male was the one who subverted their poor General.”

“So you did choose a Saban over your own kind!”
Herod said, giving her a hard look.  “Yet you stand here, remorseless for your sin, and expect no consequence.”

“Chief
Councilors, I understand you do not keep up with the particulars of the Saban Regimes.  You have much more concerning matters to dwell upon, which is why I track them for you.  General Jerod is commander of the Fifth Regiment, which I am sure you recognize as the Regiment that...”

“…patrols the Cardinal Road,”
Pelagius finished, smiling at the other two Councilors.  “Gentlemen, with Jerod now in our debt, we now carry influence over the Sabans who protect our passage to and from the Crystalline Cathedral.  What significance is one deviant to that kind of power?”

“Bah!  Sabans are a temperamental breed,”
Herod said.  “How can we be assured that this General will not succumb to guilt and admit his deviance?  We cannot blackmail a man who admits his own fault and our cover-up of this matter could come to light!”

“General Jerrod’s guilt does not
seem to be of much issue, Councilors,” Isidora said.  “His acceptance of three Stone Seers is a testament to that.”

“He has Stone Seers? 
For what purpose?” Xenon asked.  Isidora raised an eyebrow at him and his expression turned to disgust.

“I have already recorded the three as missing, unbeknownst to the good General.  Should he decide to betray our generosity, it will not be difficult to prove him a kidnapper… or better yet, a murderer.”

“You have done more than we could hope for, Isidora,” Pelagius said, nodding with approval.  “You continue to help spread the influence of the Council.  Such loyalty is undeniable and also, quite rare these days.”

“Yes, quite rare,”
Xenon continued.  “The Council may command the loyalty of most Faeir and the compliance of many among the other races, but there are some that disgrace their heritage and swear absolute loyalty to the King.  We, the Council, are the voice of the Faeir, not the King!  It is detestable that any of our kind would hold a deeper commitment than to us!”

“Not like you,
Isidora,” Herod said, his golden, sap-colored eyes locking on her.  “It is no secret I disapprove of your methods, your attitude… your entire ideology.  All of it is questionable in my eyes.  One thing I cannot say is questionable, Isidora, is your loyalty.”

“You will not find one more loyal to the Council than I, Chief Councilor,”
Isidora replied, nodding her acceptance of his compliment.

“That is why we are entrusting this endeavor to you, Councilor
Isidora of the Aqua Sect.”  Herod rarely called anyone by their full title.  He considered his own Terrestrial Sect to be superior to all others and using someone’s full title was a sign of respect, which to him meant it should not be used for inferior beings. 

Isidora
was struck by anxiety immediately.  She had not felt nervousness like this since her initial application to the Council.  Something strange was about to happen.

“You are aware of the envoy that left for the Greimere Empire several months ago, yes?  I believe you deeply involved in that mission, were you not?”
Xenon asked.

“Of course,” she replied, thinking back to the Twileen she hired and assassinated in order to properly forge the king’s declaration.  She had worked with that fool Eramus for a month in order to set up the planned destruction of the envoy.  She was
not the agent who discovered the secret Treaty and informed the Council, but she was the one who informed the Council about the king’s son being on the mission, which ignited the Council’s plot.  It was to be the legacy that promoted her to Chief Councilor one day, after the Council successfully overthrew the rule of King Helfrick.

“There has been some… trouble with the envoy.  Apparently the group bumbled into
the 9
th
Regiment far to the south and an ignorant and overzealous fool of a Sage found them out.”

“The entire 9
th
Regiment knows of the envoy to the Greimere?” Isidora asked, overwhelmed by a mixture of dread and excitement.  Would she be sent to destroy an entire Regiment of Sabans?  Could she even manage that?

“Fortunately only a small group of soldiers loyal to the
Sage are aware,” Pelagius answered.  “The Saban’s of the 9
th
Regiment thought little of the group, but the Sage was more suspicious due to the prince’s affinity for some Stone Seer accompanying them.  The Sage ambushed the group, found items labeled in the Greimere language and branded them traitors, sending them to Galveronne.  A Faeir was killed in the ambush: the Stone Seer this bastard prince was infatuated with.”

“If only a few know of this, how are we advised of it?”
Isidora asked.

“The Faeir who captured them, a Vi-Sage Falfa, made it back to Thromdale,”
Herod answered.  “He wisely brought it to our attention first and we have managed to keep this information from the king so far.  That will not be the case for long, I imagine.”

“The Vi-Sage
informed us that one of the Envoy members escaped him through trickery.  The Mage who accompanied the envoy, Pyrrhus, pretended to be ignorant of the mission, helped Falfa capture his partners and then broke away from Falfa and fled.”

“I know of
Pyrrhus,” Isidora said.  “He’s not the kind for fleeing unless there is a plan behind it.  He is skilled and very crafty.”

“He is a
Caelum Loyalist!” Herod exclaimed.  “He is loyal to the king over his Council and therefore lacks the conviction of a true Faeir.  Despite your observation, it is more likely that he fled to save his own skin!”

Pelagius spoke over his excited collegue. 
“Vi-Sage Falfa brought most of the offerings back with him, but the forged Declaration of War was not among them.  It is either among the ones sent to Galveronne or the Mage Pyrrhus has it in his possession.  We need you to travel to the south, to Galveronne and reclaim it.”

“There can be no evidence of our plot,
Isidora,” Pelagius said.  “All who are involved must be dealt with in a manner that prevents this from ever coming to light.”

“What are you asking me to do, specifically, Chief Councilors?”
Isidora wanted to be very clear about her mission, though she already knew what they were asking of her.

“It is not enough to reclaim the Declaration,”
Herod explained.  “Everyone who is aware of its existence must be dealt with… even Pyrrhus.”

“We understand the conflict of faith this may produce for you…”
Xenon said.

“No, I have no conflicts about my duty, Chief Councilor,”
Isidora replied.  “My faith in the Council’s decision is strong.  I will see this done.”

“The king is unaware of his son and the envoy being sentenced to Galveronne, but it is inevitable that such information will reach him.  Our plot to have the Greimere Emperor assassinate the boy for us is over.  Now we must control the damage and bide our time.”

“I will not fail you, Councilors.”  Isidora bowed and exited the Assembly room.  The next day she and her Stone Seer, Filth, were on the road leading south out of Thromdale and the Councilors were on their way back to the East, to return to the Crystalline Cathedral.

So caught up in her thoughts was she, that she nearly missed the familiar,
brilliant-orange garb of the Flame Sect that was about to pass her.  She looked up to see a haggard, weary face, but one that she recognized.  She reined her mount in and blocked the road before the Faeir could be past her.

“Excuse me… uh, noble lady?” the Faeir man asked, annoyed and confused by her actions and her clothing.  “I need to pass.”

“Is that you, Pyrrhus?” Isidora asked, lifting her hood.  Her shimmering hair fell about her face and she shook it away, coyly.  “What are you doing here?”

“Lady
Isidora, I did not recognize you!” Pyrrhus said, taken aback by her appearance.  “You’re certainly downplaying your best features this afternoon.”

“I’m on business that necessitates discretion.  I’m sure you can appreciate that kind of business, yes?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Councilor,” Pyrrhus replied, suspiciously.  He moved to go around her.  “I apologize, but I cannot socialize at the moment.   I have extremely urgent business in Thromdale.”

“You go to inform the king of the envoy’s failure?”
Isidora asked, looking about to make sure no one else heard her.  She looked down at Filth.  “Turn and mute.”

“How?
  How does the Council already know of something like that?” Pyrrhus asked, no longer in as much of a hurry.  “And there is no failure… only a minor setback.”

“Please,
Pyrrhus, the Council is near omniscient,” Isidora said.  “Besides, you did little to keep Vi-Sage Falfa from running back to Thromdale, screaming about traitors.  It is the will of the Elements that we were able to intercept him before any real damage was done.”

“Falfa!
  There was nothing more I could do about him at the moment.  Has the lunatic been debriefed?”

“The situation has been handled, but it seems things are not completely what we imagined them to be if you are here on the road into Thromdale.  Let us move away into the trees, lest every imbecile merchant be privy to our conversation.”

The three of them moved off into the woods and away from the road and any travelers.  Pyrrhus looked exhausted and he kept glancing back at the road and asking if they were far enough.  Isidora took them deeper into the trees until they came upon a small pond.

“The Council believed you to have fled in fear of Falfa,
Pyrrhus.  They believe you abandoned your post and that the envoy is rotting in Galveronne.  In fact, I am on my way there now to secure their release.  I knew all along that one such as yourself would not flee, however.  It looks as if I was correct.  Tell me what happened, Pyrrhus… and here, have some water.  You look drained.”