by Ed Gentry
"The intruders, they're your men," Taennen said.
Bascou swung his sword in a feint Taennen easily recognized and sidestepped to allow himself to block the dagger thrust that followed the swipe. They stepped apart, circling one another again.
"Why? Why kill us like that? Why do that and then come into our midst as allies?" Taennen asked.
"I suggested that we kill you all, but I do not give the orders," Bascou responded, stepping in with another clumsy blow that Taennen easily dodged. "I was no more pleased by the tactics we were forced to employ than anyone else."
Taennen glanced past his opponent to the cavern camp and began stepping backwards. He wanted to lead the Chondathan man toward the smaller cavern away from the ears of the others.
"But you couldn't attack us directly, not without a larger force. So you invented these barbarians and picked us off a few at a time in the damned forest," Taennen said, launching his own unsuccessful feint.
Bascou answered with his own blows, no longer bothering with feints. His sword arced toward Taennen from the right. The Chondathan man spun with the attack, reversing the grip on the dagger in his left hand. Taennen ducked the sword strike and parried the dagger. The small blade hurtled down the passage to land on the stone floor. Bascou offered a slight bow, drawing a short sword from his belt.
"Who is giving the orders? Who killed Loraica?" Taennen asked, still back-stepping toward the first cavern.
Bascou's only answer was a growl as he leaped forward with his short sword, aiming for his opponent's gut. Taennen was faster and he sliced at Bascou's stomach, biting into the man's armor but causing no serious injury.
"To the citadel! Go!" Bascou shouted past Taennen.
"Who?" Taennen shouted as he barreled into the Chondathan man, his shield slamming into Bascou's chest with a dull thud.
Taennen knew he would soon be surrounded by others from the cavern and he let his desperation lead him. Bascou twisted to his (eft after the initial impact, clearing himself of the tangle with the shield. As Taennen continued past him, Bascou sent his short sword slicing across the younger man's back, finding flesh. Taennen stifled his cry of pain but recovered his feet and spun to face Bascou. Voices shouted out rallying cries from the tents. Bascou grinned as Taennen charged him again.
Taennen's khopesh sliced only air as Bascou twisted and danced away on the balls of his feet. The Chondathan recovered and dived back into the fray only to be rebuffed by Taennen's shield. They circled one another again. Bascou grinned as the sound of footsteps on stone thundered from behind him.
Taennen batted Bascou's larger sword to the left with his shield and stepped closer to his opponent. Bascou fell for the trick, letting his sword go wide, stepping in with his shorter blade driving for Taennen's chest. Taennen held the long sword at bay with his shield but twisted the opposite direction. As he spun, his back facing his lunging foe, Taennen drove the khopesh into Bascou's hip, eliciting a foul scream from the man.
Bascou drew his short sword in as Taennen continued to spin away. The Chondathans blade found purchase in the Maquar's side but caused only a small wound before the two men separated. Taennen sidestepped through the dim tunnel as the cries of alarm from the larger cavern grew in intensity. Bascou's forces would be upon them any moment.
Ten paces from the northern tunnel where the two dwarves had gone, Bascou swept in with his long sword in a feint that Taennen easily knocked aside. Taennen raised his shield in anticipation of the short sword strike only to be fooled when Bascou threw the smaller blade. It sank into Taennen's left leg, provoking a grunt of pain, before slipping out and clattering to the floor.
Bascou shouted in victory as he swung his sword back toward his target. Taennen jumped over the man's blade, pushing off the wall with his injured leg. The pain blurred his vision as he drove the steel deep into Bascou's shoulder. Taennen plucked his blade from the bloody wound and landed hard, but kept his feet.
As Bascou growled in pain, he slashed at Taennen with his sword. Taennen knocked it aside and dodged the Chondathans counterattack.
Taennen turned and ran as hard as he could into the unlit northern tunnel. Behind him, Bascou called him a coward and gave chase. Taennen blundered through the dark passage until his feet found a puddle of water and he slipped, crashing to the ground in a heap. His cheek opened wide on a jagged edge of the stone floor as he landed. Breathing heavily, he scrambled to his feet and ran again.
He could hear Bascou behind him, the footfalls echoing in the tunnel. Taennen had felt fear in battles before, even been convinced he would die, but he felt something new in that moment. Terror seized him, but it wasn't death that struck such great fear in him. It was not living long enough to see Bascou and anyone else responsible for the atrocities at the citadel get what they deserved.
Taennen slowed to a stop in the dark tunnel. He lowered himself, shield braced and blade ready, to meet Bascou's charge. The Chondathan man crashed into his shield, not expecting his prey to have stopped in the middle of the tunnel. Taennen landed hard on his back but rolled, launching Bascou over his head.
Bascou's momentum tossed the Chondathan farther down the passage to land on his face. Taennen was on his foe in a blink, straddling him with his shield brought to bear on the Chondathan's back. Bascou's breath sped from his lungs under the weight of the Maquar. Taennen laid his blade across the man's throat but did not apply the necessary pressure to break skin.
"Tell me who! Who sent you? Who is responsible for all this?" Taennen screamed, spraying angry spittle into the prone man's eyes."Who killed Loraica?"
Behind them, footfalls echoed through the tunnel, getting closer with every heartbeat. Bascou's face was turning red from the weight atop him, but he managed a strangled chuckle at the sound. Taennen listened over his shoulder and heard the figures bearing down. His anger bubbled over at the hated Chondathan leader and, for a moment, Taennen considered letting himself be captured if he would find the answers to his questions. He heard another laugh escape Bascou's lips and made his decision, pulling his khopesh across the man's throat. Bascou's laughter faded as his blood flowed over the stone and his eyes closed. Taennen jumped to his feet, dashing into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty
Adeenya's heart crowded her throat as a handful of the remaining Durpari soldiers drew their blades amidst the gathered troops. Instead of attacking, they clustered together in the space granted to them by the rest of the throng. A dozen Maquar did the same and joined their fellows in the center of the crowd. More Durpari fell into place as did more Maquar until almost thirty soldiers stood back to back, a circle inside the crowd. Only a handful of Maquar and Durpari remained on the outside, shouting their disbelief at their fellow soldiers for their apparent betrayal.
Jhoqo called for quiet once again and hopped down from his crates, walking toward the gathering. "Brothers, sisters… please, do not do this."
"Let us leave, and we will cause no harm," shouted one of the rebel Durpari.
Jhoqo stepped closer saying, "I cannot allow that. If you drop your weapons right now, I will not need to report this. You can still save yourselves from the charge of treason. Please, friends."
Despite herself, Adeenya believed the man was telling the truth. Even from her height atop the wall she could see that Jhoqo was troubled. His shoulders sagged and his face all but drooped, but his jaw remained resolute. He wanted peace with his soldiers, that much was clear. But she also had no doubt that he would wade through their blood if he needed to, and he would sleep fine after offering a few prayers for their departed souls.
Suddenly, her last opponent's words made sense. Jhoqo knew there would be resistance to his call for absolute loyalty, and he had planned ahead. He could not allow anyone to leave Neversfall, not with so many strange happenings. Crossbow assassins in lofty positions were the perfect solution, even if the potential rebels on the ground got the upper hand. No one could get to all of the crossbowmen to stop an inevitable massacre
from raining down. Cursing herself for having wasted time, Adeenya raced along the wall, hoping to stop as many of the crossbowmen as she could.
In the courtyard below, Jhoqo continued to move closer to the dissidents. "Please. I cannot beg, though I wish I could. I love each of you and do not wish you harm. Do not do this."
"Urir, something is very wrong here!" a tall Maquar in the middle shouted. "Taennen is not capable of what you say. You know this even better than I!"
"I thought so, too, brother, but even now he is sowing the seeds to undo all the work we've done here. He stands as an impediment to free trade and the Southern ways, son. You don't want to do that, too, do you?" Jhoqo said, his hands held away from the borrowed sword that hung on his belt.
"The Maquar have never killed one of our own, but you just told us to do that very thing!" the tall man said.
"No!" Jhoqo snapped. "I want him alive, but you know him. He will not allow himself to be captured."
"No, sir! I will not kill him," the tall man replied, and a chorus of agreement joined his voice from those around him. "You should not be asking us to do that!"
Jhoqo waited for the noise to subside before saying, "Don't make me do this, friends. I want everyone here to remain alive to see the glorious future of our lands. Some of you have been with me longer even than Taennen. You've always trusted me. I ask you for that again."
Waving their weapons to keep the loyalists at bay, the inner circle of Maquar and Durpari soldiers pushed as one to move toward the main gate of the citadel. Their shuffling feet sounded like cattle skittering from the brand. A trio of Chondathans along the edge of the conflict drew their swords and stood together, a bladed barrier against the shifting mass of dissenters, who ceased their progress at the gesture. The Chondathans yelled for their surrender, the Maquar and Durpari shouted their refusal, and Jhoqo tried impotently to wade into the growing scuffle.
Adeenya wanted to join them, to help them rail against Jhoqo and the Chondathans. But she knew that one more body would do little good in the courtyard. The best thing she could do at that moment was to take out the crossbowmen.
She ran toward her next target-the bowman in the dark patch ahead of her. She entered the dim space, Jhoqo's falchion drawn back for a wild swing. She took some small comfort that the noise in the courtyard likely masked her brash approach. The assassin lay flat atop the wall, half a dozen paces before her, taking aim on the crowd.
Below, one of the Durpari soldiers squeezed past the Chondathans and dashed across the courtyard toward the gate. The bowman fired a breath before Adeenya's feet left the ground in her leap toward him. The bolt flew true, piercing the young Durpari in the leg. He stumbled and fell but quickly came to his feet and resumed his escape. He made another three paces before a second arrow from the opposite side of the courtyard found his throat, dropping him.
Adeenya's blade sliced into the archer with all her anger, strength and weight, burying itself into his hipbone. The Chondathan man screamed for only a moment before Adeenya whirled about, sinking the blade into the top of his skull. She yanked the weapon free with a splash of sanguine fluid. The orir ran along the wall toward the corner, seeking her next target.
The bowman's scream had brought a temporary quiet to the courtyard, which she took advantage of, yelling to her comrades. "Do not leave the crowd! Hold your places! Let the crowd be your shield. Archers are on the walls! They will shoot down any who run!"
Though they could not see her in the dark, the rebels in the courtyard knew her voice and accepted the truth of her words. No more evidence than their fallen fellow and the arrows protruding from his corpse was needed. The Durpari cheered to hear her voice and tightened their formation, batting away anyone who attempted to get too close. The Maquar seemed to take heart as well, sending up cheers of their own. The tense, celebratory sounds were short-lived, cut off by a Durpari soldier's shout of pain as he slumped to the ground, his blood dripping from the blades of one of the Chondathans.
"No!" Jhoqo shouted in vain. The jumble of people in the courtyard roiled out of control into a chorus of steel on steel as every man and woman fought for their lives.
Adeenya's steps froze for a moment when the fighting began, but she quickly recovered and hurried along the outer wall. The bulk of the Maquar and Durpari forces were squaring off against the Chondathans and a few of their former comrades in the courtyard. Other Maquar and Durpari stood doing nothing, not sure which side to choose.
Already at least four dead lay on the ground, never to rise again. Crossbow bolts winged their way into the battle from unseen sources in the dark. If as many crossbowmen lay in wait along the northern and western wall as there had been on the eastern, the soldiers in the courtyard would not last long. For the sake of her comrades, Adeenya pressed on.
Jhoqo waded into the clashing soldiers, launching the pommel of his sword into the head of a nearby rebel Maquar. The soldier fell in a slump as consciousness fled him.
"Please!" he shouted. "Stop this now. We can still recover," he said.
The Maquar commander swung again, stealing the breath from another confrontational Maquar when the pommel of his blade connected with the man's gut.
Adeenya ran the entire length of the northern wall without finding any crossbowmen, but her luck did not hold as she turned onto the the western wall. In the darkness she could barely see him, but her eye caught a deadly shaft soaring into the back of a soldier in the courtyard.
Adeenya launched herself into the man who was already standing and ready for her. Their swords met, and both fighters gave way, steel grating on steel. Her opponent was Chondathan, an older man with wrinkles and scars covering his face and neck. She drove the falchion toward his chest with a blow he easily parried. She prepared herself for a counterattack that never came. The Chondathan paced side to side, awaiting her next strike. She feinted right at waist level before whipping her blade around high from his left. Again, the man deflected the blow and resumed his defensive posture. She lunged again, leading with her blade and attempted a punch with her off hand, leaving herself exposed for an attack.
Her foe made no move for her exposed belly, and she knew she had been fooled. She figured out his ploy a heartbeat too late as four Chondathans ran toward them from the south, grim-faced, with weapons drawn. Her lack of stealth on the northern wall had cost her, but she had no regrets. Her people in the courtyard needed her, and for them she had to do what she could, as long as she could. At least the Chondathans coming toward her were not firing into the crowd any longer.
Below, the resistance was not faring well. Three more had dropped to Chondathan blades while only two of the northerners had fallen.
Adeenya's opponent smiled as his comrades came closer. He still refused to attack her. She glanced between the on-rushers and the gate and back again. The choice was easy. Striking out with a feint, Adeenya withdrew her attack. She turned to run back to the northwest corner of the citadel, to the stairs. Her opponent shouted to his approaching fellows to give chase, and he did the same.
Adeenya reached the stairs and vaulted down them in five leaping steps. She sprinted across the courtyard toward the fray, bearing Jhoqo's sword poised to strike. She charged for the Maquar urir, whose back was facing her.
The guilt of running through an unprepared man from behind tried to tangle her legs, to squeeze her lungs, but failed. She pushed past her emotions and charged ahead. If Jhoqo were dead, the insanity before her would end, the Chondathans would crumble without their wrangler. Pity struck her next-pity for Taennen for the father he was about to lose, and even pity for Jhoqo, who was only doing what he thought right. She batted aside the feelings and focused on her strike. Six steps away, Adeenya gripped the hilt of the falchion with both hands and steadied the blade before her, aiming for the small of Jhoqo's back.
The dank tunnel air was thick, like water in his lungs, as Taennen ran. His feet threatened to slip with every step. The many wounds on Taennen's body throbbed and
ached, but his hands hurt the most. Those hands had taken the life of a fellow officer, even if that officer were from another nation and a traitor besides. He knew Bascou was a criminal, but what did it mean that he had orders from higher up? Were his actions still a crime, if those in charge had ordered him to do so? Taennen had killed a man who followed orders, just as he himself always had.
His hands ached with each thought, but the pleasure, the thrill he took in ending Bascou's life made him want to howl in distress. He had wanted to do it, had enjoyed it. What concerned him was the thrill he got from it. He had seen bloodlust in the eyes of foes before but never thought he would feel it himself.
But in the end Bascou had needed to die. Taennen found comfort in that thought and found himself comfortable with it. There was nothing evil in understanding that an enemy was too dangerous to live. For the greater good of all southerners, Bascou's part in this scheme had needed to end. The shiver of freedom he felt from it, the itch of happiness-that bothered him. That was not fine and well. Maybe it never would be.
As the thrill settled, he hoped he never would feel such bloodlust again. The scraping of boots on stone drew closer and he decided he would have to reconcile those feelings later, if he survived.
He had turned left at two different intersections of the tunnels and hoped he was headed south again. There had to be an alternate route back to the spot where he had entered the passages. The dark walls rushed by as he ran, his ears marking the distance better than his eyes in the darkness. He might have smashed face-first into a wall at any moment, but still he moved as fast as his legs would carry him. Taennen felt more than saw the tunnel curve left ahead and changed course without falling.
Not more than thirty strides after the turn, the light from a magical torch glowed dimly at the next intersection. The direction the light came from was indistinct, keeping its origin a secret amid the dark rock. Taennen went right, his left foot pushing off the opposite wall as he made the sharp turn. The darkness soon swallowed him up, evidence that the light had been to the left. The hunters still behind him, he continued south with no time to lament his choice. His only hope was that the tunnel would let out somewhere outside the citadel.