Neversfall c-1

by Ed Gentry

  Though his stride was longer than the dwarves', Taennen's lungs and legs were burning with effort, and he slipped occasionally. His pursuers were accustomed to the tunnel, and the dwarves could see where they were going in the dark. The ground sloped up suddenly before him, promising entry to the surface world. Taennen scrambled the slanted wall of stone, his hands finding purchase at its top. He nearly sang out in joy as his fingers felt the the cool grass of the world above. Taennen pulled himself from the hole in the ground, emerging in the woods.

  Trickles of light from Lucha filtered down through the dense canopy, but compared to the tunnels, Taennen felt as though he stood next to a campfire merrily lighting the whole woods. The muscles in his legs felt refreshed as his jog became a sprint in the open, more familiar terrain. Though he dodged trees and the grasping tendrils of plants with every step, Taennen raced through the Aerilpar, confident he could outpace his pursuers. His mind turned to his next task, returning to Neversfall.

  Jhoqo needed to be warned-or did he? The thought troubled Taennen. Bascou had made it clear that others above him had ordered the illegal operation. Jhoqo had kept many things from Taennen in their time at Neversfall: the magic of the tower and Khatib's part in the plan, the location of Adeenya's holding cell, the call for the Chondathans, and who knew what else. Taennen's mind drifted to Jhoqo's speeches about free trade and loyalty to the Southern ways. Jhoqo's ideals were furthered by all of this. But killing his own men? Taennen wanted to deny it, to bury the thought and never see it again. But it stayed in his mind, outshining any other thoughts.

  Jhoqo was involved. There was little room for doubt. Those thoughts were obliterated as screams of terror from behind him drifted to his ears on the night wind.

  Taennen stood on the edge of a patch of Lucha's pale light as it caressed the forest floor. He remained still, listening for the direction of the wailing in the dark. The monsters of Veldorn, maybe? He could not waste time wondering. Neversfall would not be far, and he needed to get back there.

  To find what? he wondered. Adeenya would still be imprisoned. Jhoqo would still treat Taennen like a child, hiding away secrets he thought his son couldn't handle. Bascou would not be there, at least. The thought gave Taennen pause, and he quickly wiped away the tiny smile that came unbidden to his lips.

  The wailing had stopped, but the rustling of underbrush could be heard. Aerilpar came alive with sound at night, hunters stalking their prey, foragers gathering their stores, and close by, something killing something else whose screams caused gooseflesh to rise. The coppery smell of blood was detectable in the air. It was not an unfamiliar smell and not always an unwelcome one.

  Taennen ducked under a low branch and peered around the trunk of a massive, ancient tree. Twenty strides ahead, a clearing on the forest floor was a jumbled mess of sticks, leaves, and blood. Even in Lucha's pale light, the vivid red stood out against the green background of leaves and grasses. A night bird flapped its wings and departed from a nearby tree, but Taennen did not move, did not make a sound. Something or someone-likely several someones judging from the amount of blood-had died in that place not more than a few heartbeats earlier, yet there was no sign of anyone.

  Taennen skirted the clearing, sticking to the dense foliage where Lucha could not wrap him in so tight an embrace. The scene showed no trace of the victim or perpetrator of the incident, as though the forest had dined, and chewed before swallowing, leaving its slop everywhere. A black patch, no larger than a fist, marked a spot on the ground toward the center of the clearing showing that a torch had been dropped. Taennen slipped into the open area and knelt to examine the scorched dirt. He leaped to his feet as a familiar voice warbled into the night.

  "They are no longer a threat," Guk said, emerging from the darkness. Lucha's light shone on his carapace causing it to gleam unlike the torchlight ever had, shining points instead of waves.

  Weapon in hand, Taennen asked, "Who?"

  "Those who chased you," the formian replied.

  "You killed them? How many were there?"

  "Four dead, two escaped, one lives," Guk said, his mandibles chattering.

  "Why?" Taennen asked, returning his khopesh to his hip.

  "You would be dead otherwise." "But why save me?"

  "For your help," Guk said. "This is how you do things, we have seen."

  Taennen spoke, already guessing the forthcoming response, "I helped you, so you helped me. That was your payment. We were even."

  "Yes, we were," Guk said. "Now we are not."

  Guk stood unmoving, awaiting Taennen's response, statuesque as was his custom. The thought of further obligation to the formians caused a roiling ripple to pass through Taennen's stomach. Before Taennen could speak, the other formians slinked out of the dark woods, one of the larger ones was carrying the unconscious victim of their attack. Guk motioned to the prisoner, and Taennen held his tongue, stepping over to inspect the man. His face was bloodied, but he was alive.

  "I have to get back to the citadel," Taennen said, stepping around Guk as he turned north. "I can't deal with him right now."

  "He will give you answers," Guk said. "He will tell you how to save your people in the stone building."

  Taennen took four steps and stopped. The Chondathans in the caverns would have notified their compatriots in the citadel that Taennen had discovered their plans. Walking into Neversfall would bring his death or imprisonment. The enemy held all the advantages. They occupied Neversfall, they had superior numbers, and, Taennen admitted again, it seemed as though they had Jhoqo on their side.

  Taennen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Feelings about his father's betrayal from many years prior bubbled up inside him, but he did his best to put them aside.

  A groan stirred Taennen from his thoughts. The Chondathan man wriggled in the arms of the formian, who set him on the ground. Taennen approached the man and knelt. The injured soldier lifted his head and blinked before bringing his hand to his eyes to wipe away the drying blood there. He groaned again and hissed as sweat from his hand found its way into the open wounds. He squinted, his focus finding Taennen, but said nothing.

  "Rhalov. That's your name, isn't it?" Taennen said, bending low to look the man in the eyes.

  The Chondathan nodded. Gashes lined his left cheek and he bled from several wounds on his back and legs. He was a sturdy man, but the many cuts and scratches had taken their toll and he was weak.

  "Your leader is dead, Rhalov. You know that, don't you?

  The man gave a slight nod as his lips pursed.

  "I killed him, and I'll do the same to you if you lie to me," Taennen said.

  The Chondathan coughed trying to laugh, blood-colored spittle gathering on his lips. Taennen growled and struck the man, bringing his humor to an end.

  "I need answers to questions. Make no mistake, I will do what it takes to get them," Taennen said.

  "You would not. You cannot fool me, Maquar," Rhalov said, rising to a seated position. He turned from Taennen and prodded his injuries.

  Taennen drew his arm back to strike the man again. He tried to bring to mind all the hard men he had known in his life, men of resolve who were not afraid to do whatever it took to get a job done. Taennen had always believed that, while those men had not been bad people, they'd had lower expectations of themselves than he had of himself. In that moment, he realized the limitations of such thinking. Doing what was necessary did not make one a bad person. The enjoyment he took from the death of Bascou-perhaps that made him a bad person. But could that single feeling, that one bit of pleasure, really unravel him as a person? Could it undo all the good he had accomplished in his life? Maybe good and evil weren't such clear-cut concepts. Perhaps they could not conform to such rigid definitions.

  None of that mattered: Taennen stood and stepped back from the Chondathan, who sneered at him. "You're right. I can't bring myself to murder or even hurt a helpless prisoner," Taennen said.

  "But I think I can see my way clear to l
etting them at you," Taennen said, motioning to the formians still gathered in a circle around them.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The cacophony of screams and weapons on weapons did not distract Adeenya in her charge. She was five steps away from stopping the actions of a madman, and she wondered how long she would live after ending Jhoqo's life. Surely an archer would cut her down or the Chondathans would swarm her. Four steps, and she thought about how her troops might escape this trap. Three steps, and Taennen entered her mind, his conjured smile lightening her grim mood even in what would likely be her last moments. Two steps before running her stolen blade through its rightful owner, Adeenya shifted her weight and fell to her right as Jhoqo spun to face her with a punch aimed at her face. She dodged the blow, hit the ground rolling, and found her feet fast.

  "I will have my sword back now," Jhoqo said, striding toward her as he drew the smaller sword at his belt. The sweat on his brow shone in the torchlight, causing the lines on his furrowed brow to give off sickly light.

  Adeenya batted aside the man's first sword strike but could not dodge the kick that followed the blow, causing her knee to buckle under his boot. Jhoqo reversed his hand, the butt of his hilt careening toward Adeenya's head. She let the momentum of her fall carry her to the ground so that Jhoqo's second blow passed overhead.

  Adeenya spun onto her side, her legs kicking up the dry dirt, and kicked Jhoqo's shin. The man kept his feet but jumped backward to avoid becoming tangled in her legs. She came to her feet poised and on the defensive. The battle beside her raged with nearly a dozen bodies littering the courtyard, mostly rebel Durpari and Maquar who were still trapped in the middle of the mass of writhing fighters.

  "His faith in your determination was deserved, but coming back here was mad," Jhoqo said, wading into her with a flurry of blows from his long sword. "I think he would be disappointed in your tactical choice."

  Deflecting each attack with a turn of the man's wide blade, Adeenya said, "My father does not know me as well as he thinks."

  For the first time since she had met the man, Jhoqo's face showed surprise at her revelation about the unnamed agent to whom Jhoqo had alluded. To her dismay, though, it did not stop him. Jhoqo's sword dived toward her belly, slipping past her defenses. She pulled her waist back to let the blade slide past and cursed as Jhoqo changed his sword's direction, sending the hilt into her face. She stumbled backward, blood trickling from the fresh cut on her cheek. Adeenya stepped back from the engagement wondering why her opponent had not finished her while she was stunned.

  "You cannot harm me, can you?" she shouted at the man. "My father would have your hide!"

  "I do not kill you out of respect for the man. That is all," Jhoqo replied.

  Adeenya laughed. "You have no power. You have no command! You're a tool, just like you said Taennen was. My father wields you no differently than you claim to have wielded Taennen."

  Jhoqo did not leap for the bait, remaining calm and watching her every move.

  "What's he paying you? Is it as least as much as my allowance growing up?" she said with a sharp laugh.

  Again, Jhoqo did nothing and moved with her as she tried to find an advantage. The man was disciplined and Adeenya knew her barbs would find no purchase on his slippery ego.

  Adeenya slid her right foot forward in the feint of a thrust. Jhoqo turned sideways, minimizing her tatget, and brought his blade up to defend just as she had hoped. She shifted her weight to her right foot and twisted to her right in a leap. Her left leg went backward in an arc until that foot found the ground, her back momentarily to Jhoqo. Completing the spin she faced him again, their positions parallel to the battle beside them. She evaded his retaliatory strike. His furrowed brow brought a grin to her lips.

  Jhoqo sent his blade toward Adeenya in a wide arc.

  When she blocked with his falchion, the urir twisted his blade under the larger weapon and pulled back hard. Adeenya hissed as the sword flew from her hand to land in Jhoqo's empty one. He tossed the smaller blade he had been using to her, shifting the falchion to his proper hand. She did not try to hide her surprise that he had rearmed her. Jhoqo gripped his returned blade and smiled, welcoming back a lost limb. His men in the courtyard were holding the rebellious faction at bay, though more of the Chondathans had died.

  "Help me stop them," he said to Adeenya, pointing past her to the roiling mass of fighters.

  "Stop your own people so that the Chondathans can slaughter them?" she spat.

  "All of them! Help me stop all of them. No one needs to be dying," he said.

  Adeenya squinted, her sword hand lowering for a moment before resuming its guarded position. Maybe she could see the sense of it. With her help, Jhoqo could put an end to all of this madness and help his soldiers and even the Durpari to see the truth of things, to help him build the future. He smiled at her and drew his arms out wide. Adeenya stared for a few moments before lunging forward in an obvious feint, and then turning to dash into the warring crowd before Jhoqo could recover from his dodge and stop her.

  "No!" he shouted, chasing her into the mass of bodies, both living and dead.

  Adeenya was slim and nimble and easily made her way through the crowd, while behind her Jhoqo was forced to crash through, shoving aside Chondathan, Maquar, and Durpari alike.

  "To me!" Adeenya shouted. "For the Shining South!"

  The orir gutted a Chondathan before cuffing another on the head, sending both men to the ground. She was shouting for the rebels to rally around her, and they came. Soldier by soldier they made their way toward her, tightening their circle of solidarity in the writhing mass of battle. chapter Tuuenty-one

  Mulling her blade from the thigh of one of the Chondathan soldiers, Adeenya looked past the clash in which she had become embroiled, at the front gate of Neversfall. The dark night could not hide that the portal had been opened. The remaining loyal Durpari and Maquar soldiers rallied behind her. Many had fallen in the skirmish, but, functioning as a cohesive unit, they were fending off the Chondathans and evening the numbers. Adeenya kept several of her compatriots close as she slashed through the opposition, trying to wound her foes enough to remove them as obstacles.

  Her newly formed army was nearly free of the swarm of Chondathans and nearing the gate when she spotted those who had opened it. Two of the Chondathan soldiers ran across the courtyard toward the battle, though they already bore many wounds. Leaves and grass stuck out of their armor at their joints. Their presence did not change her plan, so she pressed on, running her blade lengthwise down the exposed arm of another enemy soldier, who leaped out of her way after the cut. She continued to shout, encouraging those behind her to keep in step, to move in unison and march toward the gate to freedom.

  Shouts from behind told of a break in the Chondathan mob, and Adeenya ordered speed in the evacuation. Her orders rippled through the crowd as others repeated her shouted commands. As a group, the rebel Maquar and Durpari turned their tactical maneuver into a running retreat. The surprised Chondathans waited a heartbeat too long, and most of Adeenya's followers escaped their reach. A handful stayed behind to serve as human dams against the onslaught, sacrificing their own lives to cover the exit of their comrades.

  At the head of the fleeing force, Adeenya sprinted toward the gate that was already being closed by unseen hands. The two Chondathans who had just entered turned and ran out of the path of the stampede. Dust floated into the night air as the soldiers ran as hard as they could, fleeing the fortress they had come to defend. No one understood what had happened, but everyone knew that something was wrong. Their experience at the citadel had been strange and ill-fated, so much so that seasoned veterans who would never have imagined fleeing from a fight did so with abandon simply to escape a situation they did not understand.

  Chondathan soldiers were closing the gate, standing on both sides. Adeenya barked the order to cut them down, and ordered the nearest soldier to her, a Maquar man, to keep the troops moving. She broke off from
the pack and steered herself toward one of the small buildings nearby. A handful of the Maquar and Durpari saw her intention and left ranks to assist, covering her from their pursuers. Adeenya ran to the door, slamming into it with her unbreakable momentum. The door burst open, revealing the prisoners within.

  Several Chondathans veered from the hunt of the larger force and approached fast. A dozen former captives, all anxious for their freedom and perhaps a taste of revenge, bolstered the rebel defenders. Corbrinn, at the lead, quickly-disarmed the nearest enemy and used the Chondathans own dagger against the man. Former prisoners, Maquar, and Durpari all fled out the gate into the flatlands beyond, only a few steps behind the larger portion of their group. By the time the last of them passed through, the first were already invisible, swallowed up by the pitch black of night.

  Adeenya was the last to leave, her long legs easily catching her up to the bulk of the pack and quickly to the fore. The soldiers ran for several breaths until even their conditioned and honed bodies ached, and the undernourished prisoners begged for a halt. Slowing their pace, Adeenya steered them toward the Aerilpar against the objections of several of the soldiers. She insisted they would need the cover and secrecy the forest could provide. Those who were still not convinced did not argue further as arrows from the chasing enemy began to fall.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The formian who had carried the wounded soldier moved out of the darkness toward the sitting Chondathan man. The mercenary gaped at the creature, his eyes wide.

  "What in all the hells?" the man said, pushing himself away.

  A storm destroys a home not because it chooses to, but because it simply exists. The large formian gave much the same impression as he lifted the Chondathan man into the air with strange, double-clawed hands and began to apply pressure.