Beyond the Hell Cliffs (32 page)

Chapter 28

“So this is the foreigner from the Pit that everyone is talking about?  I thought he’d be bigger.”

“Lord Sethora of Spine, this is Raegith the Grass-Haired.  He is my guest and has earned his right to reside in Greimere, I should think, through trial of combat.  Or have you not heard what
is common knowledge among even Gimlets here in the Citadel?” Kalystra replied to the noble Rathgar in the fine furs.

             
Raegith had spoken to the Empress several times since he was allowed to view the library and each time he had pushed her towards turning the Empire into a self-sustaining one.  Finally, she had given in and convened the nobles and leaders of the Empire to present Raegith’s ideas to them.  As Raegith entered the spacious conference room deep inside the palace, he looked about a large, iron table to see several fair-skinned Rathgar, two Lokai and two Urufen.  They ranged in ages and style of clothing and Raegith was surprised by the rather skimpy animal skins the Urufen wore.  He had not seen too many Urufen outside of the Pit and Knot’s Outpost.

             
The one called Sethora of Spine was a grey-haired Rathgar who looked the closest to what Raegith could imagine as a Rathgar scholar.  He was leaner of build than others and his skin was unblemished and smooth.  He wore robes instead of breeches and his collar was made from some beast he had not encountered yet.  The Rathgar eyed him suspiciously, but as the guest of the Empress, the nobles and clan leaders abided his presence, although uncomfortably.

             
“Aye, Mistress, I have heard of his bouts in the Pit, but trial by combat was never intended for the damn enemy of our people.  Tis a strange loophole that allows him here, but we will all allow it if it pleases the Mistress.”

             
“He dresses like a Rathgar, does he?” One of the Urufen leaders spoke up.  “And he wears his hair in the warrior stripe.  I hear he even speaks the Greimere tongue.”

             
“He does,” Raegith replied to the leader with a grin.  Then he switched tongues and addressed the Urufen again.  “I could speak to you in your native tongue, as well, if you like?”

             
“Impressive,” the other, older Urufen rumbled.  “but I assume we were not brought here to see the Empress’s new toy.”

             
“That’s right.  We are in the middle of war, with this traitor’s people, and it is an affront that he is even here!”  A younger, harder-looking Rathgar now spoke.  His hissing voice was not full of tolerance like the others.  He was barely controlling his rage at Raegith’s presence.

             
“Gamalka of Thorn, I understand what this looks like, but…” Empress Kalystra said.

             
“Do you, Mistress?  I wonder, that you would bring this heathen to this table instead of hastening him to the Ledge of Tumbling Thoughts!”

             
“If you would allow me, I will explain why I have brought him here among you.”

             
“I bet I already know.  It’s not enough that the men from the north bend our empire over the bedpost; now they send one to bend our Empress over, as well!”

             
Kalystra tried to speak, but she was already being shut down by the laughter in the room.  These men had little respect for her outside of her position and although she spoke easily with her own guards and staff and even him, she seemed so much frailer in front of the other leaders.

             
“Aye, Gamalka!” one of the other Rathgar laughed.  “How we honor our ancestors!  We allow a woman on the throne and she rolls over and lifts her legs for the first pale brat that she sees!  A real helper, she is!”

             
“Beretta?” Kalystra asked, turning to her retainer to help her.

             
“I’ll take care of them and end the meeting, Mistress,” the Infernal answered, allowing her master to retreat from the humiliation she was suffering.

             
The heat in Raegith’s chest threatened to spill out of his lungs as lava from a hill in the Barren Wastes.  He had not even considered that the hostility shown towards females in that place would also include the Empress, but he should have seen it coming.  The Greimere would never rise above the shackles of Rellizbix while the Empress answered to these men.

             
“Nice to see that having your people fucked into the dirt hasn’t done anything to dampen your sense of humor,” Raegith laughed. 

The room grew silent and Kalystra looked shocked.

“What did the rodent say?” Gamalka asked, not even looking at Raegith.

“I said that you have taken so many Saban cocks that your farts sound like gusts of wind.”

Raegith managed to pull the Rathgar’s attention then, but took his insult a step further and blew him a kiss.

“I’ll rip your filthy heart out of your
chest right here, you miserable little shit!”

Gamalka rose up from his seat and the others edged back away from the raging man, but Raegith sat calmly in his seat.

“You don’t like the truth?  Or is it you don’t like hearing it from me?” Raegith asked.  He turned to the Lokai to his right.  “Maybe you could tell it to him?  Have the Lokai a higher pain tolerance or are you finished being whored out to your northern masters, as well?  What about you, Urufen?”

“Empress, I demand you execute this heathen at once!” Gamalka said. 
“Before I do it for you!”

Raegith stood up at that.

“I accept your offer!  In fact, I’m honored.” Raegith pushed his chair away and took a stance.  “Taking my life with your own hands is quite admirable, but openly challenging the current Lord of the Pit in unarmed combat… that’s something.”

“Your frivolous victories inside that prison do not impress me, worm!  I am Gamalka of…”

“Hey, asshole, stop talking and come execute me!  I warn you, though, that I do not hold back in combat.  You die quickly in the Pit when you hold back and I’m afraid I’m no longer capable of it.”

“
Raegith, that is enough.  These are the Greimere Nobility you are angering,” Kalystra said. 

“And you are the Empress of Greimere, Mistress.  Beretta, lock the doors.  This meeting is just beginning.”

Beretta flashed him a smile and turned to bar the doors to the conference room.  Gamalka and the Rathgar next to him cleared their chairs and came at Raegith.  Suddenly the air between them burst into flames and they stepped back.

“Lords, please take your seats and do not approach the Mistress with ill faces again.  I assure you, the next
warning will boil your guts.” Beretta’s fiery wings expanded and flexed, filling the room with green light.  The two Rathgar sat down and glared at the table in front of them.

“Well, this is quite a display, but I for one, do not abide threats… from anyone,” the older Urufen said.  He stood and looked at Raegith.  “I am Freydif
, chief of the Lupa Clan to the West and you don’t scare me, boy.  Nor does the demon behind you.”

“No, Chief, I see that I don’t,” Raegith replied.  “But it isn’t me that you should be scared of, not any of you.  Starvation, mutiny, fading from history… that is what should scare you.  That is your future here in the Greimere.”

Sethora of Spine had remained silent and calm during the confrontations, but now he spoke up.  “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about treading down this path that you all have been following for centuries.  You’re not blind; you’ve all been in on this stupid game probably since you were younger than me. 
You know what I’m talking about.  The Treaty.”

“The Treaty keeps us alive,
Grass-hair.  It provides us the means to rule over the tribes and villages; to keep order among the races.  Survival over all else, here in the Greimere; that is how we must live.  To our everlasting shame, the Treaty with Rellizbix ensures our survival.”

“The Treaty ensures your enslavement, Sethora of Spine.”

“It is nothing more than a transaction, you fools!” Gamalka groaned.  “The pale faces to the north pay for our services.  We provide them a good war, a good time for their warriors and they pay us for it.  That is it.  We are glorified mercenaries.”

“You have all been tricked into this, can’t you see that?” Raegith asked.  “You have been tricked so thoroughly that you are dependent on the lie they feed you.”

“What lie?” Freydif asked.

“The
Kings of Rellizbix have convinced you all that you need the Treaty to survive, but that could not be further from the truth.  The truth is that the Kings of Rellizbix, the Saban kings; they need you in order to maintain their rule in Rellizbix.  That is what your Empress has come to acknowledge and that is why you are all here tonight, suffering the likes of me.”

“He is right,” Kalystra affirmed, taking her seat.  “Raegith is not just a prisoner we happened upon from the north.  He is Raegith
Caelum, son of Helfrick Caelum.”

“The Golden-haired Prince?”
Sethora asked, leaning forward to look closely at Raegith.  “Empress, why do you have this boy here, among us?  What have you done?”

“You brainwashed the prince of the north, you fool?” Gamalka yelped, standing up again.  “You may have doomed us all!”

“I am not brainwashed, nor am I the prince.  My father sent me here under false pretenses… to execute me.”  Raegith turned to the Empress.  “The Mistress spared me and sent me to the Pit, not simply to allow me an opportunity to live and earn my place in the Empire, but to open my eyes to the strife of this land and the people.  I am not Caelum, gentlemen, I am one of you.”

“Interesting proclamation, but I sparsely believe one year in the Pit would turn you away from your own people.  Why would we listen to you?” Freydif asked.

“It costs you nothing but time.  Listen to me and then listen to your Empress, and then make your decision.  The Empress is much more astute than any of you give her credit.  She wants nothing more than a stronger Empire, as should you all.”

“So
you claim that your father needs our war to survive, just as we need his charity?” Gamalka asked.  “What could the king of Rellizbix possibly want for in those lands?”

“Sabans are only useful for manual labor and killing Rathgar.  One of those can make you a king and one cannot.  Rellizbix rallies behind the Saban king because the Twileens and Faeir cannot defeat you without the Sabans, but without the threat of war, the legitimacy of the Saban king is compromised.

“The Faeir do not enjoy being ruled and the Twileens hate paying taxes to fund the military.  Both races would abandon the kingdom if they believed it was no longer necessary and the king would have to let them or force them under his control.”

“So the king dominates the other two races and maintains rule.  It is not so hard.  We have managed here.”

“Have you, Gamalka?”  One of the Lokai, a silent, robed man with white eyebrows spoke up for the first time.  “Is that so true, or maybe you are completely ignorant of the Junrei’Sha converting and stealing away every Lokai in your dominion?  Even those of my kind who do not join the Path still flee to the Citadel, getting swallowed up by the darkness trying to get away from the iron boot-heel of the Rathgar.”

“The darkness is not feared in the north, Gamalka of Thorn,” Raegith said.  “The people do not need the protection of the Sabans against it.  Rathgar men are the only warriors; the only ones with real weapons and armor, anyway.  It makes everyone else rely on you, but it hinders your fighting power so much.

“The Lokai can fight… I know the Urufen are vicious combatants from my time in the Pit; your women have no skill but have been whipped and beaten into living iron with souls made of Hellfire.  Why do they not fight?”

“We would never allow such a thing!” Gamalka exclaimed.

“Because
they
won’t allow you to!” Raegith roared, slamming his fist on the table.  “You’re all so deceived that you think you’re the ones who created these rules, but they were all created by the men of Rellizbix… to handicap you!

“Before the treaty, back when the Greimere Empire threatened to burn the entire world to ash just for the thrill of it, your armies were a mass of races.  In the days of Garathar of Madness and Ferangeth the Executioner, the hordes beheld Lokai assassins dressed in all black,
flinging blades in all directions.  Urufen warriors shed their clothes in the middle of battle and erupted into giant beasts that hunted and tore the throats of their prey and pissed on their corpses.  Rathgar females, bare-breasted and screaming like ghouls, cleaved the heads off of men and threw them over the walls of the Faeir campuses.  And at the front lines of every skirmish, Rathgar berserkers, each one with the might of an Agillean, tearing down gates with their teeth and spitting the splinters like arrows!”

“Yes!” Sethora
bellowed, slamming the table with excitement.  “Tell us more!  And then what happened?”

“And then you lost,” Raegith said, sapping all of the excitement out of the eyes of the nobles.  “Time and time again, the desperation of three scared races defending themselves against savage monsters prevailed, each victory giving them more confidence until the spite and fury of the Greimere hordes cooled and you gave up on conquering the north.  It was a harsh lesson for your warlords and they handled defeat poorly, as Rathgar tend to do.