Neversfall

by Ed Gentry

  Adeenya did her best to hide her surprise. “Yes, I think so. Is that all, then?”

  Khatib smiled wide, his thin lips a mockery of the effort. “Yes, commander. I’ll take my leave, now,” the wizard said. He walked past her, giving a slight bow, and moved to the Maquar side of the camp.

  Adeenya watched him go, wondering if he had come on his own or if the Maquar commanders had sent him to spy. She pulled the amulet from her pocket and looked at her distorted reflection in the polished metal. Either way, it didn’t matter. She had no doubt they possessed a similar device to remain in contact with their people. She placed it once again in her pocket and moved to help her people finish setting their camp. She wanted half a bell to sit and think, to absorb everything going on around her, but there was never time for such a thing. She grinned to herself. She had grown so accustomed to living at a fast pace, she would probably fall apart if she ever had to slow down and think too hard about anything.

  Taennen navigated the uneven terrain of the camp, having shaken loose Loraica’s supportive arm. He passed the sand-colored tents, the cooking pots, and the supply corral on his way to the holding pens. The Maquar set up their camps the same way every time, leaving no need to learn a new layout.

  Stumbling as much as walking, he crossed the last several paces of the camp to the holding pens, which were nothing more than rope strung between thin poles sunk into the ground. The field did not lend itself well to keeping prisoners locked up. Taennen’s vision, still blurry from blood loss, picked Jhoqo out of the figures standing near the prisoners, and he approached his commanding officer.

  “Sir, Durir Tamoor reporting for duty,” he said. Taennen saluted, wavering unsteadily.

  Jhoqo turned and grabbed for Taennen, steadying the younger man. “You ought not be up and about yet, son.”

  Taennen turned and looked to the pen. Seated on the ground were a few goblins, kobolds, humans, and a halfling. In another pen nearby, the formians were bound at the wrists and there were strips of black cloth across their mouths and eyes. There were a few of the smallest, a handful of the pony-sized ant creatures—the guards eyed one of these as it had no mouth to gag—and the large one who had given Taennen the wound that now ached and pained him so.

  “What have they said, sir?” Taennen asked, never taking his eyes from the large creature.

  “This one’s been quite open, actually,” Jhoqo said, indicating the large one. “The formians have one goal and one goal only.”

  Taennen looked to the man steadying him and saw concern on Jhoqo’s face. “What is it, sir?”

  “To bring order to the world.” Jhoqo said. “And as best I can tell, they plan to do it by making slaves of us all.”

  Taennen stumbled, but Jhoqo did not let him fall. “Slaves? All of us?” Taennen asked and turned his eyes back to the creatures. “What of the other prisoners, sir? The humans and the halfling?”

  Jhoqo turned from the holding area and walked away slowly. Taennen followed him as best he could, the world still wobbling a little under his feet.

  “They say that they were slaves, put to work as manual laborers. They say the formians had some sort of control over them,” Jhoqo said quietly. “Hence, the blindfolds and gags. No telling what kind of magic they used to manage it.”

  Taennen nodded, the itching of the invasions into his own mind coming back to him. “I’d sooner die than be a slave to those things,” he spat.

  Jhoqo stopped and turned Taennen to face him. “It’s not that easy, boy. If they’re telling the truth, they had no choice.”

  Taennen nodded, remembering his own experience on the battlefield but not wishing to share it with his commander. A Maquar should not be so weak. But he had a duty to report all he knew. He took a deep breath. “Sir?”

  “Son?”

  “Sir, during the battle … that large formian … it did something. Or it tried to anyway.”

  Jhoqo stepped in close to Taennen. “Go on.”

  “I could feel it trying to convince me to help it, but it wasn’t speaking. In my mind, it just all seemed like such a good idea for a moment. It made sense to work with them instead of fighting them,” Taennen said. “But I fought it off, sir. I shoved it out of my mind. I wouldn’t have followed them.”

  Jhoqo nodded and stepped away, watching Taennen closely. Jhoqo had been the one consistent, solid influence in his life since Taennen had left his old life, and his father, behind. To see that immovable force waver with an uncertain look made Taennen shiver. Did the man think less of him? What could he do to ensure Jhoqo’s continued trust?

  “Sir, I thought you should know so we could be watchful,” Taennen said.

  Jhoqo nodded and said, “Well, let’s hope that the bindings we have on them make it impossible for them to try that again. I wouldn’t mention your experience to anyone else.”

  Taennen said nothing but wanted to know more about the formians. It had all seemed so sensible and logical, if even for those few moments.

  “I’ve not told the others about the domination plans of the formians yet. Only you, Loraica, and I know,” Jhoqo said.

  “And the Durpari commander, sir? ”

  “I’m just not sure yet. For now, we keep it between us.”

  Taennen nodded but said nothing.

  “You take issue with that, son?”

  “No, sir,” Taennen said.

  Jhoqo sighed. “I know they are our partners in this. Partners are well and good when there is danger to be faced and blood to be spilled, but I will not compromise the safety of Estagund until I know more about these Durpari mercenaries.”

  “Yes, sir,” Taennen said, lifting his gaze again. Jhoqo was right, of course. The Durpari had acquitted themselves well in the fight but they were an unknown element. They had no code or rules. They were not like the Maquar.

  “Very good,” Jhoqo said.

  “What do we do next, sir? What of Neversfall?”

  Jhoqo was looking to the ground but raised his eyes to meet Taennen’s. “What if it was these beasts that took it?”

  Taennen nodded. “We should be on our way, sir.”

  “Before we go,” Jhoqo said, turning a soft eye to Taennen, “I need you to tell me what happened out there.”

  “Sir?” Taennen said.

  “Son, you lost nearly a quarter of your men in that fight. Those are not acceptable losses and you know it.”

  “What?” Taennen’s legs went out from under him, and he fell to the ground. He watched in silence as the dust settled back around and on him, covering his shins in a light powder. Jhoqo offered his arm to help Taennen stand.

  “Who?” Taennen asked.

  “The terir has the list for you,” Jhoqo said. “I asked her not to inform you before we had a chance to speak.”

  Taennen accepted the man’s assistance and paid no mind to the dizziness as he stood. His eyes scanned the camp, looking for those he had led into the battle. The fight played out in his mind. He watched the deaths of the first two soldiers. Every commander had lost men under him—nothing could be done for that. But what if his idea of taking captives had cost his fellows their lives? He thought of the low strike the first woman had used. A few inches higher and the goblin would have been too dead to kill her.

  His thoughts were interrupted as Jhoqo leaned in close to him. The man’s face was grim and tight. “What happened?” Jhoqo repeated.

  Taennen focused on his commander and said, “Sir … I … I told my people to try to take prisoners if they could. I thought we could get some useful information out of them about Veldorn and maybe even Neversfall.”

  Jhoqo shook his head and said, “Durir, I’ve never been in a battle where every member of either side was killed. I knew we would have a few prisoners, that’s why I didn’t specifically request that any be taken. It’s a given in any battle and soldiers fight harder if they’re fighting to kill.”

  Taennen tried to pay attention but found his eyes wandering the camp for those w
ho had fought under him. Who hadn’t made it?

  Jhoqo grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and looked him hard in the eyes. “This sort of thing is why we must adhere to the chain of command so strictly, son. I’m disappointed in you. I had hoped for better from you in that fight. I lost men, too, son, but … by all the One,” Jhoqo said.

  “Sir …” Taennen said, his mind back on his situation. He winced away from the look of disappointment on his commander’s face and wondered if he had looked the same to his father all those years before.

  “Rest now, son. Just … leave me for a while,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen saluted and limped toward his tent, Jhoqo’s words stinging in his ears. The man he loved as a father was disappointed with him, much like Taennen had been with his own father. Taennen stopped his wobbling walk as the setting sun caught his eye. He wanted to wallow, to drown in the lament of his mistakes and the sorrow of the soldiers he lost. But he knew he could not.

  His father had told him to attach his hopes and dreams to the rising sun and let the setting sun take away his pain, fear, and sadness. That way, he had said, every day was new. Taennen stared at the orange and red hues of the horizon and did just that. Ironic, he thought, that something his father had taught him long ago would come to him when he needed it most.

  “Let me help you,” Loraica said beside him, drawing him from his memories.

  He accepted her arm, and together they walked to his tent. The Maquar they passed whispered to one another as they continued their work. The air was filled with the scent of mucjara soup, a staple among the Maquar. The citrus scent itched at his nose and his stomach growled despite the pain from his wound.

  “You should have told me before I talked to him,” Taennen said.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t,” Loraica said. After a moment she continued. “What did he do?”

  “Nothing,” Taennen said.

  “Nothing? What do you mean?”

  “I mean nothing. He told me what I needed to know, and that was all.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That I acted foolishly and that I need to be a better soldier if I don’t want more lives on my head, Terir.”

  Loraica stiffened at her title but said nothing.

  “I’ll take the list now.”

  “You should rest tonight,” she said.

  “I have letters to write to the families of our fallen, Terir. I’ll have the list now,” he said.

  Loraica paused in her steps to look him in the eyes. “Aye, sir.” She pulled a parchment from her belt and offered it to him.

  Taennen took the list and released his grip on Loraica. “Thank you, Loraica. I can manage it from here.”

  Loraica studied him a moment longer. “Yes, sir. Rest well.”

  “And you, Terir.”

  Being so stern with Loraica felt like lying. Even through rigid military training they had always been close and had been a source of support, a stable rock of sanity for one another their entire careers. But as he stumbled into his tent and read the names from the list by the low light of a candle, Taennen knew Jhoqo was right. Soldiers followed the chain of command so strictly for a reason, and Taennen had failed to follow his orders. He had taken it upon himself to win information and, he admitted to himself, Jhoqo’s admiration by trying to take prisoners. It had cost him the lives of his men and the trust of his commander. It would not happen again.

  The sound of gravel grinding under booted feet woke Taennen from his restless sleep. He could only guess the time, but the sun was nowhere near relieving Lucha of her nightly travels. Taennen took in a slow breath and held it to better hear. The grinding sound repeated. Someone was pacing outside his tent. Taennen released his breath and rolled from his cot. His stomach jarred him more fully awake with a jolt of pain. He covered himself with a light brown tunic and grabbed his khopesh. The pacing continued outside, but there were no other sounds, no indication of an invasion of the campsite. If hostile, the person outside his tent was either slow or foolhardy. Few enemies were ever gracious enough to be both.

  Taennen stepped beyond the flap of his tent. A tall, thick man stood a few strides away, his pacing stopped. Haddar had been with the Maquar for a very long time, longer than Taennen. His rank of muzahar was well earned. He was known by all for his skill with the scimitar, and his drinking prowess was equally legendary. He stood with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. He was fully dressed, including his leather armor and his blade hung at his belt.

  “Muzahar,” Taennen said.

  “They are dishonored,” Haddar said. “Wajde is dishonored.”

  Wajde, one of the men lost under Taennen’s command that day, had been Haddar’s cousin and closest friend. Taennen felt his loss more than any other, as Wajde had been a guide and aide to Taennen since his youth. As much as Jhoqo had been like a father, Wajde had been an uncle. Where Haddar was gruff and firm, Wajde was warm and patient.

  “I would gladly give my life for his honor, Haddar, if I could,” Taennen said. “It is a dangerous life we lead, and my actions did not help matters.”

  “Wajde knew he could die in battle. We all know that!” Haddar said.

  “I led them and it is—” Taennen started.

  “I do not question your ability!” Haddar said.

  Taennen frowned. “What, then?”

  “Your mistake went unpunished!” Haddar said. “The honor of the dead demands a price be exacted. The urir should have done that, but no! You are like his own blood, his child of favor! He could never punish you. If any other man had led your troops into that fight with such a disastrous result, what would have happened? What would Jhoqo have done to him?”

  “Do you believe, even for a moment, that I asked to be absolved?” Taennen said.

  Haddar stared at him, his chest heaving and his hands clenched. From nearby tents, heads peered out at the commotion, and whispers filled the tense air. Another muzahar approached the two men from behind Haddar, motioning to Taennen that she could subdue him, but Taennen waved her away and motioned for everyone watching to return to their tents.

  After a few moments, Haddar stepped in close to Taennen and grabbed the younger man by the shoulders. His grip was like iron and his breath was hot on Taennen’s face. Haddar snatched the back of Taennen’s neck and squeezed hard drawing him closer to his face.

  Taennen looked at Haddar’s curled fist and nodded. “Exact the toll for them,” he said.

  Haddar’s face twisted, but his grip relaxed. “No. I will not. Because Wajde loved you like his own and because you wish for me to do it,” Haddar said. “Better for you to live without the absolution.”

  “What in all the …?” came Loraica’s voice from nearby. “Muzahar!”

  “Terir,” Haddar said, releasing his hold on Taennen as he stepped back.

  “Taennen, are you all right?” she asked.

  Taennen nodded and turned his eyes to the ground. The weight of Haddar’s words pressed down upon him, and he forgot the pain in his stomach and the new ones in his shoulders.

  “Explain yourself, Muzahar,” Loraica said to Haddar.

  “No,” Taennen said. “It’s fine, Terir. Everything’s fine.”

  “Sir, I just saw him—”

  “He did nothing. Let him be,” Taennen said as he turned back toward his tent.

  Loraica sighed but nodded to Haddar who narrowed his eyes and screwed up his face tightly. “I have wronged a commanding officer, Terir. What is my punishment?”

  “You heard the durir, soldier. Back to bunk,” Loraica said.

  “Sir, I assaulted an officer. I am to be reprimanded, at the least,” Haddar said. The warble in his voice could not be mistaken. Without punishment, he had no discipline, no honor.

  “Back to bunk,” Loraica repeated.

  “Wait,” Taennen said, facing the man again.

  Haddar stood at attention, unmoving, his gaze distant. Taennen watched the man for several moments before movin
g to stand before him. Haddar’s jaw clenched with tension, but he did not flinch.

  Taennen stepped back from the muscular man and drew his right arm high over his left shoulder. He sent the back of his hand searing across Haddar’s cheek. The blow sounded with a snap, but still Haddar did not react.

  “You are dismissed, Muzahar,” Taennen said.

  “Yes, sir,” Haddar said. He nodded, his eyes thankful, and marched away toward his tent.

  “Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Loraica asked. “I thought you said he didn’t do anything. So why did you punish him?”

  “Because I care for him as we care for all of our soldiers, Terir,” Taennen said. “Good night, Loraica.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Taennen passed into his tent and lowered himself onto his cot. He cradled his right hand, still stinging from the impact with Haddar’s face, and wished Jhoqo had done the same for him. He thought of Wajde and of the mistakes he would never make again.

  Chapter Four

  Adeenya spotted Taennen in the marching lines. He looked better in the morning light, though it was obvious his wounds still pained him. She fell into step next to him. He gave her a small smile and saluted.

  “Durir, it pleases me to see you’re well. Be at ease,” she said, returning the salute.

  Taennen dropped his arm to his side. “Thank you. What can I do for you, Orir?”

  “I wanted to see how you were recovering,” she said.

  Taennen nodded. “Fine, thank you. I hope the battle went well for you and yours, sir,” he said.

  Adeenya nodded. “As well as any fight can,” she said, her lips forming a tight smile.

  Taennen raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

  “No fight is a good fight, Durir Tamoor.” Her goal had not been to remind him of his losses, but by the look on his face, she clearly had. Regrettable but she had no time to worry about such things.

  “That seems a strange attitude for a mercenary,” Taennen said, “if I may say so, Orir.”