Beyond the Hell Cliffs

By Case C. Capehart

For Kristy and Jackson.

Chapter 1

Raegith Caelum was sixteen years old when King Helfrick travelled to Forster’s Keep, near Leafblade village, dismissed the guards standing watch, unlocked all of the doors, disabled the traps and visited him for the first time in just under two years.  Raegith had been kept in a secret building secluded in the Ivy Forests for most of his life, under constant guard for fear that the kingdom would find out about him.  It was bad enough that the people might think their new king had not been able to conquer his own lust or that his first-born son was born out of wedlock, but if it got out that he had bedded a Twileen it would paint him in such a poor light among his own race that he might never recover his grace.  It didn’t matter that the Twileen was a prostitute or that she was common, so much as it meant that the true heir to the throne might be biased toward one of the older races.  There had always been tension between the Twileen and Faeir races, well before the Greimere invaded the north.  When Throm Caelum began the lineage of kings that continued to that day, it was with the understanding that a Saban king would not hold favor to either side of the rift.  Essentially, the Faeir were fine with being ruled by someone, as long as it was not a Twileen and the Twileens felt the same way.

  At first, Helfrick thought that he might just be able to pay
off Raegith’s mother and sweep everything under the table.  Unfortunately Raegith figured out the truth and tried to use his royal heritage to get out of trouble after he was caught spying on a group of women bathing in a creek.  After that, Helfrick locked him away in Forster’s Keep and arranged for nearby villagers to deliver him food and supplies.  At thirteen, Raegith seduced a Twileen girl that was making his delivery and got her to help him escape.  It took two months of searching the entire forest and the basements of village homes before they stumbled upon him at the local tavern, drunk off his ass and trying to play a harpsichord.  After that, an all-male guard detail was assigned and no one was allowed to speak with Raegith unless his life was in danger.  His mother was only allowed to see him every six months and it was under constant guard.

As Helfrick entered the one-story house, he saw Raegith standing in the entryway, awaiting him.  Raegith
had grown into a man and despite his Twileen heritage, he looked mostly Saban.  He was more slender in build than his father, but just as tall and in his face he looked like a Caelum.  His dark green hair, an inauspicious hue that had only showed up in a handful of the Caelum line since Draymmond, hung past his shoulders and his emerald eyes nearly glowed with vibrancy.  He did have some noticeable Twileen traits, however.  Like other male Twileens, he had no facial hair and his lean, corded muscles hinted of speed and agility, unlike his barrel-chested father whose limbs were like tree trunks.  While his father wore the shiny armor of a royal paladin, Raegith wore loose, green trousers and a grey tunic tied with cord at the waist.  Raegith smirked with pleasure, sensing his father’s discomfort in seeing him and bowed deeply.

“Good morning, your majesty,” Raegith said.  “To what do I owe this honor?
  Wait, shall I guess?  I have another sister, is that it?”

“You never knew when to keep your mouth shut,
boy,” Helfrick growled, angered that he would be harassed about his inability to sire another son since Raegith.  “You’ve not accrued another half-sister.  I have been given a son, Krantson, who will be my heir.”

“My sincere congr
atulations, your majesty,” Raegith chuckled.  He raised his head and tilted it with amusement.  “It’s been nearly thirty years since the last invasion and your prince has only just been born.  Looks like you’re going to have to lead yet another war, maybe two in your advanced years before little brother is old enough to take the mantle of Prince.”

“I am not
on my deathbed yet, boy,” Helfrick huffed.  “I was just two years older than you when I lead the First Regiment out the gates of Thromdale and well into my thirties when I put Nogrin the Behemoth under my heel…”

“But you
were the Prince, not the King, your majesty,” Raegith cut in.  “Doesn’t royalty usually lead the charge?  We’ve had a Prince take part in battles throughout history, but rarely a king… until you, who have fought in two so far as one. Perhaps you could send the Princess?”

“Your wit is as sharp as a Twileen dagger, Raegith, that much is evident,” Helfrick replied
, even toned.  “And it appears your mother’s story-telling has become more historical in nature.  But I tell you this much: Rellizbix will sooner have a fourteen-year-old Saban Princess, of pure blood than a smart-assed, half-breed bastard for a king who has done nothing worthy of it.  What say you to that, boy?”

Raegith glared at the king for several moments before speaking softly and without guile.  “I would say that you should fight any future battles with your words, father, for they cut much deeper than your
sword ever could.”

“Then let’s have an end to this pissing contest, lad, and show me to your dining hall,” Helfrick said, nodding up the hallway of the keep.  “I have a gift for you.”

Raegith lightened at this and led the king through the hall and into his dining area, pulling a chair out at the table for him.  “I don’t see any half-clothed slave girls under your cloak, so you can understand if I am not entirely enthused at what you could have brought for me.”

“I see your focus on women has not faded in the slightest since you entered puberty,” Helfrick said as he sat down.

“If your intention was to keep my thoughts away from women and how best to get them in my bed, you should have locked me away before I knew what they were, your majesty,” Raegith replied. 

“Maybe this will take your mind off things a bit,” Helfrick said, pulling a gourd out of his side pack and plopped it onto the table.

Raegith’s eyes lit up as he stared at the green and yellow, head-sized ball that jiggled and made a sloshing sound as it steadied on top of the table.  “Is that a boonivarn?”

“From the Stoglia vineyard
in Clovernet,” Helfrick said, tapping it on the side.  “A girl-crazy brat like you would have to shovel shit in a stable for a year and a half to afford one of these, but even then you’d have to be someone of influence just to purchase one legally.  Go fetch us some mugs.”

Raegith went into the kitchen and retrieved two mugs from the cupboard.  When he returned, Helfrick was
holding a metal plate up to the light.  It was off- white in color and flawless.  Raegith placed a mug in front of the king and sat down opposite him with the other mug.

“Boy, do you have any idea what this is that I hold before me?” the king asked.  Raegith simply shook his head.  “This is
one of the most precious resources our world has ever seen.  Its cost is so great at this moment that only the extremely wealthy have enough to make any kind of use from it.  It’s nearly indestructible and has to be cut with extremely dangerous magic.  It was found while developing weapons for the war several decades ago.”

Helfrick put the metal plate back into his pouch and retrieved a handful of different seeds, scattering them upon the table.

“There’s wheat, barley, some corn variations… several fruit and vines… all highly drought and infestation resistant,” Helfrick said.  “They allow farmers to feed the kingdom with reliable consistency every year, putting more money into their hands and more food into the bellies of nobles and commoners alike.  All of them were created through research intended to boost the logistics of our troops during war; to lessen our reliance on supply lines.”

Raegith looked at his father as if the man were speaking a different language.

“These are inventions born from the need for better war-making, but have helped out our kingdom outside of military use, boy.  It’s not just the inventions created from military scientists, but the taxes we collect, the fervor of the workmen, the patriotism of the common man… they are all the offspring of war.  Rellizbix was created out of need, born from the sledge-turned-warhammer of Throm Caelum as he forged this country over the anvil of battle!  Without war, the people grow complacent, the research loses motivation and the taxes are not given as freely.  We live in such a peaceful and blissful land that without war there would be hardly any strife at all… or motivation.”

“Am I missing something?” Raegith asked, confused and eying the boonivarn gourd thirstily.  “Isn’t that the point of war?  To bring peace and end strife?  That’s why we drove the evil Greimere away, isn’t it?”

“
People may hate strife and war and all the evil that comes with it, Raegith, but they also need it.  They need it with every fiber of their being, the Sabans most of all.  Before the war our kind were nothing but peasants.  Now we are kings and nobles.  We have a purpose.  The war with the Greimere is our lifeline.”

Helfrick finally tapped the gourd with a spigot and rolled it upright. 
The two men opened the spigot and filled their mugs.  The aroma of the boonivarn juice was potent and Raegith coughed as he took his first swig.  The fermented juice was stout, but fruity and was a bronze color.  It was the first drink of alcohol Raegith had taken in years and his coughing fit amused Helfrick.

“It’s not
an ale to be chugged, boy,” Helfrick laughed.  “You don’t just come up to something of this quality and try to hump it into submission.  No, you get to know it, figure it out, get accustomed to it… and when you get a nice buzz about you, then you fuck it for all it’s worth!”

“Okay, when you say that… you’re
speaking metaphorically, right?” Raegith asked, wincing at the burn in his chest from the powerful juice.

“What?” Helfrick asked, distracted by his drink.

“Nothing,” Raegith replied, topping off his mug from the metal tap the king had plunged into the side of the gourd.  “So we need war to keep the kingdom running and the Sabans in power.  Okay, no big deal.  The war has carried on for centuries and doesn’t show any signs of stopping.  The beasts from beyond the Hell Cliffs keep coming for us and we keep beating them down.  It doesn’t really even seem like a contest anymore.”

Helfrick paused and stared into his mug, clearly uncomfortable with what he needed to say next.  After a few moments, he disregarded the love ballad he just spouted off about how to properly drink the Stoglia and downed his mug in a long pull.

“Despite what you might think or what your foolish mother tells you, I don’t enjoy letting my son rot out here,” Helfrick stated, refilling his mug.  “It’s not your fault that you’re… that you are what you are.  Had I kept myself pure, I would have had a Saban son the first time I tried; a Prince of Caelum blood to secure my legacy and to keep our people safe and content… as it should be.  Instead I produced a bastard son not even fully Saban and because I have forsaken my son, the gods have forsaken me, cursing me with daughter after daughter to remind me that the Prince of Caelum is already here and I spent my days trying to create a second one to cover for my failure.”

“Okay, I’m really glad you brought plenty of hooch,” Raegith said, drinking deep.

“You cannot be the King of Rellizbix, Raegith,” Helfrick said, staring his son in the eyes.  “But you have some Caelum blood in you and I would not see it wither and rust in confinement.  I would have you leave this place and travel out into the world on a journey of utmost importance.  In fact, it is the most important task in this kingdom.”

“The most important task in the kingdom is to defend it in battle!” Raegith said, excitedly.  “I know that much, father.”

“You don’t know as much as you think, Raegith,” Helfrick said.  “To fight a war, a war must first be ignited.  That is the most important task of Rellizbix.  Before that is complete, there can be no defense of the kingdom.”

Raegith
gave his father an alien look.  He had his concerns when the king showed up and it was not beyond the realm of his imagination that he might be coming to put an end to his bastard son once and for all.  Then, for an instant, he thought the king was allowing him the greatest honor a young boy could have in Rellizbix: to fight the Greimere.  Now he stood before the king of all Rellizbix, slightly buzzed and staring like an idiot.  For all the smart-assed replies he had thought of before, all he could get out was, “what?”

“
Word must be sent to the Greimere Empire to start the war,” Helfrick said, gauging the boy’s reaction. 

“You’re
joking,” Raegith laughed.  “I have to say, I didn’t take you for the trickster, but you pulled it off.  You had me going, you cruel devil.”