Neversfall

by Ed Gentry

  Taennen sighed. “A fool and a criminal, I’m afraid, but everyone is due their moments of wisdom, I suppose.”

  “A criminal? Sounds like my father,” she said with a laugh which she cut short when she saw the look on her companion’s face. “Really … a criminal?”

  The man nodded, and she regretted her comment. “My apologies,” she said.

  “Mine’s just a merchant like everyone else’s.”

  Taennen chuckled. “Your family is one of the major chakas of Durpar. Everyone knows what they do.”

  Adeenya nodded and shrugged. Everyone knew of her family, but few actually knew them. Those who did rarely showed the kind of admiration she could see on Taennen’s face.

  “How did you end up working as a mercenary with a family legacy like yours?” Taennen said. “If I may ask, Orir.”

  She smiled. “I’m trading services instead of goods. What’s the difference? At least this way I had to rely on myself and no one else to get where I am,” she said. “I prefer it that way.”

  Taennen looked at her and tilted his head to one side. “Truly?”

  “When your father is a famous—infamous, really—merchant, you don’t see much of him. When you do, there’s a lot …”

  “To live up to?” Taennen asked.

  She nodded and gave a half-smile. “And to live down.”

  “Still … I’d love that life,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said. They were approaching the front of the lines. Jhoqo would need to be informed of the goblin’s death.

  “I meant no offense, Orir. I’ve just always dreamed of having an honest man as my father. Someone who held the Adama close to his heart and lived his life with it every day,” Taennen said.

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  Taennen smiled and said, “My father always said that phrase meant only one of two things: either the person didn’t understand, or they didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “He was quotable, wasn’t he?” Adeenya said with a smile.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You speak of him as a wise man, yet condemn him as a criminal,” she said.

  Taennen shrugged. “Wisdom does not equal prudence. That’s another of his.”

  “I’m sorry, Durir. That was much too personal of me,” she said.

  “No harm done, sir,” Taennen said. His pace slowed, and she matched him. She lifted her waterskin to her lips and took a long drink. She offered the skin to Taennen, who declined.

  “He was a tinkerer, I guess you could say. He made magical items for folks, mostly things to make life a little easier,” Taennen said.

  “Sounds like an honest living,” Adeenya said.

  “Aye, sir. It is, so long as you don’t use your talents to provide aid to criminals,” he said.

  Adeenya waited a moment before leaning in toward him to prompt more details. She didn’t need to.

  “There was this woman from Var,” he continued. “I remember she smelled of sage and lemons, and her clothing was spotless. Even her servant dressed better than I have in my entire life—silks and brocades and exotic fur trim. She came in to pick up her order—a pair of ruby earrings that my father had enchanted to help the wearer hear better. The woman tested the pieces and offered my father her praise and a bonus for the excellent work. I was always heartbright of him, but seeing this regal woman compliment him … I nearly swelled to bursting for him.”

  “That must have been a wonderful feeling,” Adeenya said.

  Taennen smiled wryly. “Yes, it was. Father asked the woman if her elderly mother, for whom the earrings had been made, could come by his shop sometime as he would like to make sure they were working well for her,” Taennen said. “I remember her laugh. It was like … like that twitching sound a hare makes when it eats, only louder. She said she would be sure to stop by her mother’s grave and ask the woman to come to his store. When father asked what she meant, the woman laughed harder and asked if he had really believed that story. When he said he had, the woman called him stupid, and even her servant sneered. She said a fool had never helped her beat her rivals in trade negotiations before, and she hoped he was honored to be the first.”

  “Eavesdropping? She wanted the earrings to help her eavesdrop on trade competitors?” Adeenya asked. “What did he do?”

  “He asked for them back, to reverse the sale, but she refused and left. He didn’t even try to stop her. Didn’t even go after her,” Taennen said.

  “And the authorities?” Adeenya said.

  “He never informed them,” Taennen said, shifting his gaze to the distant tree line.

  “Why? They would have believed him. There are trade dispute panels convened for situations like this,” she said.

  “I asked him to report her. Begged him, actually,” Taennen said. “But he said we were too poor to lose the coin she had paid him. So he kept it. I knew it bothered him. It really showed. He aged several years in the few days after that incident.”

  “He felt guilty.”

  Taennen nodded. “But not enough to do the right thing.”

  “That must have been hard, growing up with a father you knew had done something illegal.”

  Taennen turned to look at her and she saw a buried anger there. “I didn’t. I was raised by the Maquar after that. By not reporting the crime, he committed one.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I reported him a tenday after it happened,” Taennen said.

  “You had him arrested?”

  “One day I realized I couldn’t live that way, and so I went to the local magistrate. A Maquar there on other business took my father into custody and offered me a place in the Maquar ranks,” Taennen said.

  Adeenya studied the young man. She’d had disputes with her father frequently, but betraying him, even if he had done something wrong … such extreme adherence to the law, such pragmatism, was unnatural. Taennen watched her. She schooled her face against her thoughts. “The Maquar was Jhoqo,” she said.

  “Yes. I left with him that day to train as a Maquar. Over the years we became close and he watched my progress. When I was ready for assignment, he made sure I wound up in his unit,” Taennen said with a smile. He seemed lighter and brighter when talking about his surrogate father than he had when talking about his birth father.

  “What happened to your father?”

  Taennen’s smile fell, and he turned away from her. “He was sentenced to hard labor for a year. I hear he lives in Kolapur now.”

  They walked in silence for a long time. The sun was well past its zenith, and they would camp soon.

  Adeenya could think of nothing to say to Taennen, her mind reeling from his revelation. Betraying his father seemed such a cold thing to do, but the man walking beside her was warm and kind. She knew him very little, but she saw that much for certain.

  She wondered how a such a simple incident had left him so single-minded in his dedication to truth. What had that cost him throughout his life? Certainly he had missed out on having his real father around, but it also must have made the rest of his life difficult. Life was full of situations that were best handled with restraint, flexibility, and openness. Had he developed those traits since his youth? Zealotry was dangerous, and Adeenya could not afford to take any chances. The question she needed to ask would cost her the bond she was forming with the man, but she was unwilling to risk not asking it.

  “Durir, do you think the prisoners are safe?” she said.

  Taennen stopped and turned to face her. “Sir?”

  The rest of the troops continued their march. When she was not moving with them, they looked like a parade. “Well, Durir, I’m sure your troops are well trained, but they’ve already killed one prisoner and injured another.”

  “With all due respect, sir, my troops said the prisoner was trying to escape,” he said. His tone was sharp and left no room to press.

  “Very well. I will trust your faith in them,” Adeenya said.

 
Taennen nodded. He sped his pace and grabbed one of the soldiers near him by the shoulder. “Go to the Durpari dorir. The dwarf. Tell him to send four soldiers, himself if he likes, to stand watch with our men over the prisoners.” The young man nodded and cast a glance to Adeenya before darting away.

  “That wasn’t necessary, Durir, but thank you,” she said.

  “A gesture of good will,” Taennen said. He offered a small smile, but his shoulders and arms were stiff and he kept his strident pace. Though her words had stung him, Adeenya knew her concern had been valid, and she was never one to back away from a gut instinct. The sparkling image from her youth of the Maquar faded a little more.

  Chapter Five

  Taennen walked between Jhoqo and Adeenya at the head of the marching lines, the thinning grass and hills ahead of them and the forest to their right. Taennen tried not to look at the Durpari woman.

  Taennen was responsible for his soldiers. Questioning their ability or behavior was the same as questioning his. He glanced at Adeenya and then at Jhoqo. His commander would tell him to ignore the orir’s doubt and to do his job as well as he always had. Taennen put aside the insult that itched at the edge of his pride and decided to do just that.

  “Durir, a moment,” Jhoqo said, his step slowing.

  Taennen matched his pace, and they fell back from the front of the line. Adeenya watched them for a moment before turning back to the front of the march.

  “Yes, sir,” Taennen said.

  Jhoqo said nothing for several moments before speaking. “Son, why are there mercenaries near my prisoners?”

  “Sir, the orir was concerned about their safety. There was an incident, sir. One of the goblin prisoners is dead.”

  “Explain, soldier,” Jhoqo said.

  “Sir, our people thought it was trying to escape. We think the formians were involved,” Taennen said.

  “That is unfortunate, but that does not explain why our duties are being performed by Durpari,” Jhoqo said. “Were my earlier misgivings about sharing information and responsibilities with the Durpari unclear, Durir?”

  “No, sir. Maquar still guard the prisoners, sir,” Taennen said.

  “I did not ask if they did. I can see they still do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jhoqo clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Son, we need to stay in control of this situation. Now our control is … less than total.”

  “I am sorry, sir,” Taennen said. His decision had been a rash one, like that which had cost the lives of his men. At this rate, he’d be demoted back to anhal by the time they reached Neversfall.

  “Son, you know that sometimes you have to trust what I say even if you don’t see the reason for it, don’t you?”

  “Sir, of course, sir.”

  “Taennen, do you trust me on this?”

  Taennen looked the man in the eyes. “Yes. You know I do.”

  “Good. Thank you for that.”

  “I’ll rescind the order, sir,” Taennen said.

  “No, no. That will put the orir on edge. I would rather have the Durpari settled, not wary,” Jhoqo said. “I simply don’t understand why you are second-guessing my commands. Have I done something to diminish your faith in me?”

  Taennen felt as though he had been hit in the gut with a club and said, “No, sir! Not at all, sir!”

  Jhoqo’s face hardened again as he said, “Then in the future, Durir, you will respect my wishes and not give orders which countermand mine, understood?”

  Taennen snapped to attention and said, “Yes, sir!”

  Taennen followed his commander and fell into step next to Adeenya. The woman gave a friendly nod, which Taennen returned. Had her doubt of him forced his hand? Had he given in to her only to prove her wrong, or did he believe it fair that her soldiers join in on guarding the prisoners? Taennen wasn’t sure and decided it didn’t matter since the time for doubt was past. He settled his mind into the march, an unconscious rhythm beating out in his mind as his feet made contact with the ground over and over.

  Jhoqo’s wisdom and helpful nature made the constant marching easier. Taennen listened as Jhoqo pointed to the trees looming in the distance at the edge of the Aerilpar. They were marching parallel to the woods, perhaps a dozen long bowshots from the treeline.

  Jhoqo spoke to all nearby, but seemed to focus his attention on Adeenya. “Do you see that darker patch of trees there to the left? The ones near the slight mound?” Jhoqo asked.

  Adeenya’s eyes followed the Maquar’s hand and she nodded.

  “Do you know why they are like that?” Jhoqo asked.

  Adeenya shook her head. She did not seem to think about it for even a moment. Taennen saw the annoyance on Jhoqo’s face, but the man said nothing ill of her lack of an attempt.

  Taennen stepped forward and said, “Is it because of heavy passage in that spot, sir? ”

  Jhoqo smiled and nodded. “That’s it exactly, son. Well done,” he said.

  Taennen returned the smile and fell back into his spot in the pacing order. He glanced at Adeenya, who had turned her eyes back to the horizon ahead, away from the treeline. “You see, the trees have been somewhat damaged by the constant passing of the foul beasts of the forest that they spend their resources repairing themselves rather than growing stronger, bigger and brighter,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen had assumed as much but it was good to hear his commander affirm his conclusions. “Fascinating, sir.”

  Jhoqo pointed to a crumbling hump of dirt near the passage. “Ah, further evidence of the beasts—that mound there … That’s probably their attempt at burying a kill or their own feces. Maybe others use it and it grows all the time, covering their filth,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen’s nose wrinkled, but he nodded. That made sense. Taennen glanced toward Adeenya again. She had moved several paces ahead, probably out of earshot. Her loss, he thought.

  The mage Khatib stepped up next to Jhoqo, his hands cradling a parchment. “Sir, I do not wish to interrupt, but I have checked the maps. We should reach the citadel inside of two bells,” he said.

  “Excellent,” Taennen said with a smile.

  Next to him, having fallen back from her lead, Adeenya said, “Yes … excellent.”

  Jhoqo called for a stop after another half-league and took advantage of the break to move himself a little closer to the woods. Taennen gave the man his privacy and moved to check on the prisoners. Jhoqo clearly had a personal interest in the woods, and Taennen left him to it. He watched as his commander stood several hundred paces away and stared at the forest, his back to his troops. The soldiers took the time to rest, their feet no doubt pounding like Taennen’s from the long walk.

  After a short time, Jhoqo returned to them, and they resumed their march. The air was dry, and Taennen sipped from his waterskin frequently as the dust of the plains coated his tongue.

  The Maquar and Durpari, though not disdainful of one another, marched in separate groups with several paces between them. Adolescents at coming-of-age ceremonies could have learned much from the divisiveness the soldiers exhibited. Trust was difficult, he supposed. Their mission promised no shortage of danger, and the two forces would need to find some cohesion soon.

  “Orir,” Taennen said, stepping closer to Adeenya. “We must find a way for our people to bond. Their lives may well depend on it soon.”

  “I agree, Durir. Suggestions?”

  Jhoqo’s voice broke in as they crested a hill. “I think it may be moot for the moment. If this does not bring them together, I am uncertain what would.”

  Taennen followed Jhoqo’s gaze to where a form took shape in the distance. Tall and thin, it stood out dark and solid against the bright blue sky. It was farther off than his naked eye could distinguish, so he pulled a spyglass from his belt and held it to his eye. In the small circle of his view, Taennen saw it for the first time: Neversfall.

  Through the lens it appeared like some child’s construct of blocks. High walls on each side held what was lik
ely a large courtyard. Two lean towers stood on each side of a third, larger tower that rose into the sky to at least twice the height of the others. What could only be windows showed as dark spots at a distance. The wood came from the Aerilpar, no doubt, but the stone? Taennen had always heard that magic was involved in the making of the tower, and now, seeing the sheer size of the thing, he believed it.

  He handed the lens to Jhoqo who stared through it for a long time before returning it. Murmurs wove their way through the marching troops as the structure came into sight.

  “Very impressive,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen offered the spyglass to Adeenya who studied the citadel through the lens for several breaths before handing the spyglass back to him.

  “It makes you ponder how they craft such wonders, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  Taennen nodded.

  “Well, no time like the present to find out—right Durir?” Adeenya said, before turning to Jhoqo and saying loudly, “What’s our approach, sir?”

  Jhoqo called the troops to a halt with a wave of his arms and shouted orders that followed down the lines. “Take twenty people, half Maquar and half Durpari, and scout outside the citadel, around its perimeter.”

  Adeenya affirmed the order and saluted.

  Jhoqo looked to Taennen before he continued. “You will take ten more people, again from both parties, and secure the entrance. Once the perimeter is secure, scout the inside. The rest of us will stay here and guard the prisoners until you confirm the area is safe.”

  Taennen accepted the order and motioned for Adeenya to lead the way through the lines to choose their squads. Jhoqo barked orders for troops to form up and to secure the prisoners in a holding position.

  “Bright and true, Orir,” Taennen said as he walked beside the Durpari commander.

  “Thank you, Durir. Splitting our units into combined commands should yield some results as well,” she said.

  The two leaders chose twenty of their own soldiers and, after brief summations of special skills that existed among the troops, split them evenly. Adeenya rallied her new unit and began a wide circle to the west that would take them around the distant citadel. Taennen asked each of the Durpari soldiers in his command to state their names as a means of introduction. He repeated each name, hoping to commit it to memory. Impersonal commanders often led troops that did not care about their leader. Taennen never wanted to be that leader.