by Ed Gentry
"Thank you, friend. Your help is appreciated," Bascou said.
Taennen nodded, wondering at the man's accent. His vowels were stressed and accentuated, and his tongue rolled on his consonant combinations.
"I know this is a difficult situation for your men, needing help from outsiders," Bascou said.
Taennen replied, "Yes, it is hard for some."
"I wonder, though, if your message was received by them," the sellsword added, his lips parting in a smile that reminded Taennen of a teacher asking a question he knew a student could not answer correctly.
"They're good men. They'll come around."
Bascou's smile widened as he said, "Of course, of course. It is interesting to see how others lead, is it not? For instance, if one of my men had insulted you so," Bascou said, waving his hands before his face as if to ward against that situation, "I would have killed him and set an example for the rest of my men."
Taennen felt uncertain whether he should laugh at the man's posturing or take him seriously. He chose to stare ahead, attempting to show no reaction whatsoever.
Bascou's smile went crooked as he let out a small chuckle. "Very good, my friend," he said, grasping Taennen's forearm. "Thank you again."
"Of course," Taennen said, realizing he did not know by which title he should address the man. It did not matter, and he did not care. He wanted nothing so much as to be away from the man.
"I will see you in one bell's time at the front gate. It will be a pleasure to watch you at work," Bascou said with a slight bow. "It will be my honor to lead you into the wilds."
It seemed Jhoqo had found time to inform Bascou that Taennen would be joining him.
"I understand that you will be picking our party yourself," Bascou said.
"That's right."
"Good. I look forward to meeting the men and women you trust with your life," Bascou said.
"And your men? How many of them will be joining us?" Taennen asked.
"None," Bascou said.
"Excuse me?"
"Jhoqo insisted that I lead only you and the Durpari. He believes it will lay a foundation of trust between us, a bridge, you know," Bascou said. "And that it will show me your legendary skills."
"I see," Taennen said. "Very well. I will meet you at the front gate." chapter Thirteen
After what felt like an eternity of sitting behind the rough stone blocks in the corner of the dark prison, Adeenya was well past doubting her decision, her mind mired in regret. When the Maquar's cleric had entered the room with a pair of guards and administered her healing power to the injured formian, Adeenya had been convinced her ruse was about to be discovered.
Since that time, Adeenya had sat with her ear pressed against the front wall of the small building waiting- hoping-to hear the guards outside step away from their duty for a moment so that she might sneak away from her mistake. Duty, the goal she had held loftiest her entire life, was to be her undoing. These guards would never shirk theirs, would never leave their posts. Yet that was what she had to wait for. To leave, to simply stand and walk out the door when no one was aware of her presence in the structure would surely cause suspicion, and Adeenya knew all too well that she carried too much of that on her shoulders since Loraica's death. Adding any more might mean she would leave Neversfall as a prisoner instead of a soldier, if she left at all.
She glanced over the piled stones to see the big formian,
Guk facing her direction despite his blindfold. The absurdity of their mutual inaction, their refusal to interact with one another while locked together in the small room, struck her. She sat cross-legged, her back stooped and sore, waiting. The same duty that trapped her-those loyal guards-would also foil any attempts by the supposed traitor. She could not get past the guards to get out, and the traitor would have a hard time getting in. Unless, of course, the guards were part of the betrayal. If there even was a traitor, she reminded herself. But there had to be. Khatib, the pendant, the attacks-there was too much incongruity there to deny as coincidence.
The door to the building creaked open. The midday sunlight, highlighting the sheen on the carapaces of the formians, was dimmer than she expected. She had been in the room longer than she had realized.
She heard boots scrape against the stone floor, but the door blocked her view of the newcomer. The door shut, and as her eyes adjusted to the utter dimness of the prison once again, she fought the nerves igniting her entire body. They screamed at her to spring from her hiding place and run for the door, ruined purpose of duty or not, for surely a foiled plan would be easier to live with than being caught by the room's newest visitor. To her surprise, it was Jhoqo.
Jhoqo latched the door shut behind him. His eyes seemed locked on the formian prisoners. A long time passed before he stepped toward them and offered a greeting. None of the formians responded or even acknowledged his presence. Jhoqo withdrew a short sword from his belt and, through the bars, poked the piles of food left for the prisoners on the floor. He seemed to be checking to ensure their adequacy or freshness. He did the same to the small troughs of water provided for the prisoners.
Jhoqo looked back at the creatures and knelt down. He scrutinized the smallest and spoke, "You appear injured. How is this so?"
The silence after his deep voice was an enormous canyon, impossible to cross. He stood and hung his head with a sigh. "I have come on the most important matter between us. That is, of course, what we can do with you," Jhoqo said.
Again, no response came, and Adeenya leaned forward, anxious to hear more of the man's words. After keeping the information he had gathered about the formians from her, she wouldn't be surprised to find out he was still hiding more.
"I've come to leatn that you may have seen something during the attack on this place. Is that correct?" Jhoqo asked.
Guk gave no response.
Jhoqo shook his head. "I cannot help you if you do not speak to me," he said. Jhoqo swayed from one foot to the other for several quiet moments before turning to leave. His face was in a tight scowl as he approached the door.
Adeenya watched him through a small crack between some of the stones. His eyes drifted toward the piled rocks but did not tarry. He grasped the door handle and left the room. Adeenya shifted to place her ear on the wall again. She heard Jhoqo's voice as he spoke with the guards outside.
"Get some rest, soldiers. You've done well. I'll have your relief along shortly," the man said.
The guards affirmed the orders. Adeenya heard feet shuffling as they all moved away from the door. If the shift-change was so close, then she had lost track of time by more than she'd suspected. She thought about taking the chance to slip out, but her plan might have a chance to succeed now. With no guards outside the cells, the traitor might make a move. Adeenya stretched her tired legs as well as she could and readied herself.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun was past its zenith for the day, but still it poured the midday heat down upon Taennen as he marched behind Bascou. The Maquar durir glanced back toward the fortress. Though it was still only a few hundred paces away, he felt the tether of safety it provided him snap in his mind. To judge by the faces of the Maquar and Durpari with him, he was not alone. Eight soldiers plus himself and Bascou made a small force, especially with an enemy lurking somewhere just out of sight.
"There, do you think?" Bascou said, pointing to the border of the Aerilpar in the nearing distance.
He indicated a narrow parting in the otherwise thick, unrelenting line of trees at the edge of the forest. The trees to either side of the path stood tall and straight at their bases, their tops leaning in toward one another with centuries of branches weighing them down. The opening looked like nothing so much as the mouth of some cursed cave, beckoning fools to enter.
"It is the only break in the trees. Surely it must be what the invaders use to gain entrance to the forest," Taennen said.
"Exactly. We will find them quickly, will we not?" Bascou said with a smile.
> "But they will know the area and could be expecting us to take the most obvious path to find them. If we cut a path through another part of the forest, we could come at them from a different-" He stopped when the Chondathan leader waved him off.
"Quicker is better. We will find them faster if we go this way. We will go this way," Bascou said.
Taennen could think of a hundred arguments against the idea, but all were quelled by his training and, he could not deny, his thoughts of earning back Jhoqo's trust. Taennen nodded to Bascou and fell into step behind the man, marching toward the mouth of the forest.
As they entered, the dense foliage of the trees blocked the light, making the interior of the woods a world of night in the middle of the sun-drenched plains. They pushed through underbrush that, while mostly cleared, slowed their progress. As their eyes adjusted, the darkness was not as deep as it had seemed at first. Trickles of light filtered down through the canopy, and their ears filled with the sounds of the wild. On the plains silence reigned, but in the forest the sounds of beasts none of them had dreamed of held court. Men were trespassers in that kingdom.
Chirping, squawking, buzzing, and something akin to the tittering of tiny children filled the air as Taennen brushed broad leaves from his path. Bascou navigated the lush forest well, flattening very little of the underbrush under his feet. Some of the other men were not as delicate, but Taennen did his best to follow the Chondathan leader's example. The shafts of light from above illuminated motes of pollen that scattered across the ocean of murky green. Insects-some so small they could not be seen, some species as large as a man's finger-darted through the air all around them, occasionally getting swatted away for having flown too close.
"I think I can see some sign of passage here," Bascou said in a low voice as he continued into the forest.
Taennen squinted and bent down to examine the underbrush as they passed, but he could not discern what signs the other man might have seen. The exotic plants rising from the ground looked defiantly intact, though the dim light made further detail difficult to discern. Their perfumes were overwhelming, some close to the scents of familiar spices, others so foreign and new that his nostrils flared in confusion at their scent.
Taennen stooped to examine the petals of a yellow flower the size of his fist. Bascou gripped his shoulder, stopping him, and motioned for him to stand. Seeing the man's fingers to his lips calling for silence, Taennen looked over Bascou's shoulder. The Maquar durir held his left hand up in a clenched fist, signaling to the other men to hold and make no noise. Focusing his eyes through the darkness, Taennen could not make out what Bascou saw. Perhaps the man was not sure himself. That notion was lent weight when the Chondathan man dropped to the ground before him.
Taennen dropped to a crouch in a blink and heard the thud of an impact behind him. Staying low, he turned to watch one of his fellow Maquar fall to the ground, a spear lancing his gut. One of the Durpari men fell next, an arrow piercing his cheek. The man's cry of pain was muffled by the arrow shaft blocking his tongue and clacking against his teeth. The rest of the soldiers all dived for the ground before scrambling toward the source of the projectiles, not ready to be motionless targets for their opponents.
Taennen stayed near Bascou, ready to defend the man. It was the place of any second-in-command on any given mission. He held his shield over his head and pulled his khopesh into his right hand. Sweat stung his eyes as he crawled through the foliage. He heard a volley of arrows followed by another shout of pain. Still on his belly, Taennen rounded the tree where he figured the spearman would be hiding, but he found nothing.
He scanned the immediate area for any sign of the enemies. Suddenly, one of his men's arms was struck by an axe lashing out from the darkness behind a low tree branch. The soldier's arm fell to the ground as he screamed and collapsed to the forest floor. The axe flashed again but missed a second soldier, who had thrown his weight backward and fallen to the ground to roll and come back to his feet a few paces away. Taennen dashed toward the tree, his shield and khopesh at the ready.
Taennen leaped for the branch, swiping at his foe with his blade. The enemy's axe rang out against Taennen's shield. At the same time, the khopesh dug into the soft flesh of the man's thigh. Pulling down hard as the man fell from his perch, Taennen slid his sword through flesh and sinew before wrenching it from the man's leg. His opponent hit the ground on his feet. The man was dressed in the same dark colors and mask as the invaders from the earlier attacks. The barbarian seemed not to notice his leg wound. He growled and charged Taennen.
Taennen deflected the first swipe of his opponent's axe with a clang. He sent the back of the khopesh across the barbarian's stomach, sending hot blood pouring over his hand. The enemy unleashed a howl of pain. Taennen stared down the axeman, who was barreling toward him with a bloodied blade in his hand. Taennen could hear the struggles of his companions all around him. He needed to end the fight quickly.
The barbarian's bright green eyes shone in a patch of light, peering above a kerchief that obscured most of his face. All of the wildmen wore similar masks.
The man came in for another blow. Taennen feigned a wide swing. His opponent rushed the opening, and Taennen easily dodged the man's axe. Sidestepping the blow and switching his shield to his right hand, Taennen reached out and yanked hard on the face covering with his left hand. His shield crunched into the man's shoulder. In the dim light, Taennen couldn't distinguish anything specific about the man's face-just that he was too pale for a southerner, and bearded.
Holding his shoulder in pain, the barbarian turned and ran into the forest. Taennen let the man go and dashed through the ground cover toward his men locked in combat.
Ahead of him, one of the remaining Durpari took a spear to the stomach. Taennen leaped and kicked the enemy's chest, sending him tumbling away. Taennen landed and headed for a tall spear-wielder who menaced one of the Maquar.
The spearman thrust at Taennen, ignoring his previous target. Taennen swept his weapon toward his enemy's gut, but he missed. He brought the concave edge of his khopesh around and down hard on the spear shaft. The wood of the long weapon splintered and shattered with a snap.
The wildman's eyes widened, but his surprise did not stay his hand. He dropped the remains of his weapon and drew a short sword from the back of his belt. Before he could bring the blade to bear, Taennen swung his own weapon up, twisting it in his hand. The end of the khopesh bit into the man's groin, eliciting an inhuman yelp, and sent the man to the ground. Taennen bent and slid the rounded side of his blade across the man's throat to end his pain and the threat to Taennen's squad.
+ chapter Fourteen
Not l°ng afrer Jhoqo had gone, the door squeaked open. Adeenya tensed the muscles in her legs, ready to spring. Footsteps, heavy by nature, slow by effort, tapped across the hard floor at a pace that indicated no hurry. Adeenya leaned toward the low stone wall, moving slowly so as to produce no noise. She closed her left eye and peered through a crack between the blocks.
A stubby man with light hair greeted her eyes, the familiar armor recognizable even from the back. She could not see his face, but she had no doubt. There, wielding his axe a pace from the big formian, was Marlke. He shook the wrist of his free hand and popped his knuckles. Marike moved to the heavy ring of keys hanging on the wall farthest from the cells.
Questions about his motives ripped through Adeenya's mind, but she knew no answer would satisfy her. She wanted to see the dwarf s face, hoping that he was staring at his intended victims with remorse even before the deed was done. Though she had not known her second-in-command long, she had grown to trust the moody dwarf. It might have been selfish, but that betrayal was what hurt her the most.
Adeenya sprang from her crouch and over the stone wall in one motion, already running when her feet hit the floor. "Stop!"
Marlke spun, his axe dropping to his side in one hand. He looked at her as she stopped a few paces away and drew her sword. He shook his head and pushed
a disgusted sigh past his thick lips. His weapon still hung at his side, the axe head clunking to the floor as he growled, "Girl, what are you doing here?"
"Stopping a traitor," she answered.
The dwarf looked over his shoulder at the formians before returning his eyes to her. Marlke's knuckles went white as he tightened his grip on the handle of his axe. He took a step forward and brought the large weapon before him, gripped in both hands. "That's a shame."
Adeenya sidestepped the dwarf's blow. His axe rang off the stone floor. Her body moved by instinct, her thoughts coming too slowly to save her. Marlke's axe split the air arcing toward her. She hopped back a step, avoiding the Strike. Coming to her senses, the anger of Marlke's betrayal settling over her like a persistent fog, Adeenya hissed. She launched her knee straight up into the flat of his axe and sent it high and away from her. At the same time, she thrust her sword low and right to score a hit in the dwarf s abdomen. He cursed aloud and sprang backward from the biting weapon.
"Always too clever for your own good, weren't you?" he said, adjusting his grip on his axe.
"The Maquar wizard?" Adeenya asked.
"Aye," Marlke replied, a grin creeping onto his face.
"Who are the attackers to you? Why would you help them?"
The dwarf laughed as he circled to his right, spinning the axe in his hand. The head of the weapon caught one of the few beams of light in the room, and the resulting flash caused her to squint for a moment. Marlke leaped forward at that instant with a sweeping blow. She avoided the thrust with a twist of her body.
"They're nothing to me," he said, circling to his left.
Adeenya matched his pace and counter-circled. "Then why help them?"
"Why? For the coin, of course. Why else? Well… that and their help with killing my uncle," the dwarf said.
Adeenya knew that Marlke was the only heir to the Gemstone Chaka's ruler. Were the venerable Stoutgut patron to die, Marlke would inherit complete control of the Gemstone Chaka's considerable holdings, not the least of which were their newly discovered mine and a seat on the ruling council.