by Ed Gentry
At the top of the stairs, Taennen discovered a small door. He stopped and stared at the portal. It was like every other door he had seen in his life, but something at the back of his mind stayed his hand as he reached for the handle. He looked closely, seeing no inscriptions or obvious traps.
“You are wise to leave it,” came a voice from beside him.
Taennen spun to find the wizard Khatib hovering in midair next to him. Tight robes in shimmering shades of blue adorned the husky man. His narrow mustache and scraggly beard belied his age, but his dark, lined face showed the strain of many years of hard study. A missing finger and burn-scarred arms indicated years of wielding his art in the field of war for the glory of the rajah. Unlike many practitioners, Khatib had always enjoyed being in the field, commanding magic instead of just studying it.
“I’ve finished my examination of the citadel,” the wizard said. “I detected no traces of magic, except for within this tower. And it’s heavily enchanted.”
“Surely we can get inside,” Taennen said.
Khatib chuckled and drifted forward to alight on the stone floor, calling his hovering spell to an end. “Of course, sir. You simply need to know the means of entry.”
Khatib closed his eyes and his fingers began a dance, weaving all about but never touching the door. He spoke soft words that Taennen could not understand. The wizard opened his eyes and examined the door for a few moments, his smile growing wider and wider. “If only you could see what I’m seeing, Taennen.”
Taennen remembered his father telling him that there were ways of seeing magical spells in places that normal people could not see them. He often spoke of the incredible light thrown off by waiting magic in the devices he crafted.
“The marvel of this is that it can be dismissed,” Khatib said.
“Dismissed?”
“Whoever built this door knew that not everyone who would need to use this tower would be a master of the art,” he said, turning a pedagogical eye on Taennen. “I can lock or unlock it with the proper words. That will allow you poor souls unschooled in the Art to pass when you have need to do so.”
“Your spell revealed the words to you?”
“No, no. My spell showed me what is there. I was given the words before we left.”
“When Jhoqo received the order to secure Neversfall?” Taennen asked. Khatib nodded.
Which meant Jhoqo hadn’t trusted Taennen with the passphrase. With his performance on the mission, Taennen wasn’t sure he could blame his commander. He wanted to share in everything with Jhoqo, all of the responsibilities. But Jhoqo had judged him unfit in this case, and he was right.
“Unlock it, wizard,” Taennen said.
Khatib uttered a string of words in some arcane tongue. To Taennen’s eyes there was no change, but Khatib stepped aside and waved an arm toward the portal, inviting Taennen to enter. Taennen trusted the wizard and reached for the handle, pushing the door inward. His heart pounded against his chest. He had no idea what to expect beyond the door, but he was unable to contain his excitement at seeing it firsthand.
As the door swung open, the brightness of the circular room shocked his eyes. Taennen blinked several times, dancing afterimages in whites and pinks filling his vision. In sharp contrast to the dim stairwell, the room atop the tower was open, airy, and filled with sunlight. Instead of solid walls, it had only corner supports, holding up the roof, leaving the space between empty. Taennen stepped toward one of the window openings and looked out. The vast expanse of land opened before him, and he could see across the top of the Aerilpar, or at least part of it, to the east.
Taennen was put in mind of his training from his youth. One of his instructors had used tiny wooden models of soldiers, siege engines, even flora and fauna the size of garnishes to demonstrate mock battles. The world below him, the real world, was little more than that from his vantage point. He moved to the west window of the tower and looked down to see his fellow soldiers moving about the courtyard. He could barely make out details, their faces blurred by the distance to the ground. He moved back to the eastern window. The treetops of the Aerilpar became an ocean of green. He felt as though he were floating, lost amidst their waves.
Behind him, Khatib gasped. Taennen turned to see the man squinting as he stared at a stone table in front of one of the windows, identical to three other tables in front of the other windows. Taennen examined the table in front of him. Crystals, evenly spaced, seemed to grow from the stone tabletop. Some crystals were clusters of a dozen or more, others stood tall by themselves in a variety of shapes.
“They glow even to my eyes,” Taennen said. “What are they?” The crystals ranged in color from amber to red, green to chartreuse, blue to the dark of midnight.
“They control Neversfall,” Khatib said, kneeling before one of the tables. He ran his fingers along one of the crystals and giggled giddily. “Fascinating.”
“What do you mean?” Taennen asked.
The wizard moved to the table on the southern side and studied the crystals there for a few moments before grasping two of them and tracing patterns across their surfaces with his fingers.
“Would you like to see the Curnas?” Khatib asked, pointing toward the southern window.
“How do you mean?” Taennen said, turning to face where the man had indicated.
Taennen stepped backward when an image began to form before him where the southern window had been a moment before. The northern peaks of the Curna Mountains shone before his eyes, like a reflection on water but clearer and more distinct. The rocks and trees waved in pulsing rhythm, like an image on a sheet blown by the wind.
“How?” Taennen asked.
The view changed, moving even closer to the mountains. Taennen could see a bear scratching its flabby body on the trunk of a tree.
“That’s …” he said. “That’s over a hundred leagues away.”
Khatib nodded. “What better gift to grant a watch tower? ”
“You can do that in every direction?” he asked, spinning his gaze around the room.
“Yes.”
“Jhoqo will want to see this,” Taennen said.
“I’m sure he will,” Khatib said. “He was quite interested when they told us about it.”
Taennen eyed the man. “You knew of this too?”
Khatib shrugged but affirmed. “Just Jhoqo and myself. They felt we needed to know about the tools that would be at our disposal.”
Taennen thanked the man and started past him toward the stairs.
“Wait,” Khatib said. “It does so much more.”
Taennen turned to face the man. The wizard’s smile was contagious. His lined face shone with the merriment usually expressed by children showing off new toys.
“Like what?” Taennen asked.
Khatib waved him over to the northern window. The wizard’s hands darted among the crystals on the table, twisting some, pushing others. A low hum tickled Taennen’s ears as the crystals began to glow even more brightly.
The view through the northern window shifted, drawing in close and tight on a section of ground. Taennen blinked again, surprised by the closeness of the view. He could see individual rocks and flowering plants that dotted the plains.
“There—that large, light-colored rock,” Khatib said, pointing to the image in the window.
“Yes?”
“That rock lies approximately half a league away. Please use that spyglass of yours to locate it,” Khatib said.
Taennen drew out his spyglass and stepped toward the window. Khatib waved a hand and the closeup image shrank to consume half the window. Taennen stood next to the hovering image and looked out the unhindered portion of the window. He scanned the ground until he found the rock.
“I have it,” he said.
“Excellent. You have seen me use a spell before that emits small missiles of light?”
“Yes,” Taennen said.
“Watch the stone carefully,” Khatib said.
Taenn
en held his gaze on the rock. Behind him, Khatib murmured arcane words for a moment. A low buzzing sound vibrated in his ears but he held his gaze on the rock. A few heartbeats later, darts of light plowed into the rock, tossing it on its side, and left a blackened hole in the ground where the rock had been. Taennen jerked back a step withdrawing the spyglass from his eye.
“By all the One,” he said.
Khatib chuckled. “Fantastic, isn’t it?”
“The tower did that?”
“Oh no. I cast the spell as you have seen me do. The tower allowed me to do it from this distance with that level of accuracy,” Khatib said.
“You could kill a man that far away,” Taennen said.
“Oh, most definitely.”
Taennen turned to face the man. “What else?”
Khatib pointed to a cluster of crystals on the right side of the table. “I can open, close and lock the gate from here. And,” he said, pointing to another crystal, “sound an alarm here.” He shifted to another set of the crystals, “This one is how we report to command in Estagund.”
“This is amazing,” Taennen said. “Does each table contain the same controls?”
Khatib nodded. “It was designed so that four masters of the Art,” he said with a slight bow, “could each defend one direction from the citadel. With these, I and three others could hold off an army trying to assault Neversfall without risking any of our soldiers in combat. Lucky me, I get it to myself for the nonce.”
Taennen gazed out the eastern window. “This is amazing. I would not trust it to be true had I not seen it for myself.”
“It is a powerful tool.”
“It provokes a frightening question,” Taennen said.
“Anyone can abuse power, Taennen, but I should hope you trust me,” the wizard said.
“Not that, Khatib. I mean, with all of this power at their disposal, what in the name of all the One could have possibly come to take the lost regiment?” Taennen said.
Khatib thought for a moment before saying, “Perhaps they too felt the price of hiring proper defenders was too high. Let’s hope we do a better job with what we’ve been allotted.”
Taennen gazed out over the Aerilpar, the dark space between the trees drawing his attention. He pointed to where he had seen the splash of color upon his arrival and said, “Show me the forest.”
The duty and sleeping assignments had been an easy matter. Adeenya was glad to know her guess about Loraica had been correct. The Maquar woman was not only a fine warrior but a well-organized and thoughtful planner as well. The two women had parted ways when Jhoqo had tasked Loraica with staffing the walls with guards and archers. At the same time, he’d asked Adeenya to check on the prisoners.
All around her the courtyard was alive with activity. Soldiers unloaded supplies and moved furniture from building to building to suit their purposes. Adeenya had left it to Marlke to spread the word about sleeping assignments. She strode toward the building that housed the strange formians and changed her mind, deciding first to visit the other prisoners.
The formians and goblins had been placed in Neversfall’s cells, while the humans resided in separate barracks under guard but not in cells as they had offered nothing but cooperation. Between the cell houses, Adeenya nodded to a pair of guards who manned a small patrol station. A small, round wall, looking like nothing so much as the top of a well, stood between each of the cell buildings. Guards could be stationed there to keep close eyes on the prisoners. Their presence, in spite of the intense security of the cell houses themselves, spoke volumes about the perceived dangers of the formians.
Adeenya accepted the salutes of the guards outside the small structure housing the humans and went inside. She paused a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, as the room’s tiny windows provided very little light. The place already smelled of sweat and felt twice as warm as outside from the lack of airflow and the number of bodies occupying the small space. The handful of humans milled about, talking in small groups or sleeping, presumably exhausted after what must have been a grueling march for most of them.
“Good day!” came the high voice of the halfling Corbrinn. He bounded up from a bed and came to greet her.
“Hello. Are they treating you well enough?” she asked, having no idea what to say.
The halfling laughed but nodded his head. “Well enough for a prisoner who ought not be one, I suppose.”
Adeenya began to apologize but stopped short when a high-pitched, repetitive screech issued from outside. She dashed out the door to see a crowd of men scrambling away from the northeast corner of the courtyard. The guards near her could offer no explanation, but she needed none as she caught sight of a man plummeting from the top of the wall to the inner grounds, an arrow in his neck. Adeenya started off toward the center of the courtyard to find out what was happening.
“Let me fight!” Corbrinn shouted, staying back from the guards outside the door but looking eager to leave the confines of the prison.
A few of the humans behind him shouted their agreement and offered to fight as well. Adeenya offered the halfling an apologetic look and ordered the guards to stay their post and defend the prisoners should it come to that.
She put them from her mind and dashed toward the towers. Who could be attacking? How could they know there was anyone in the fortress for them to attack so soon? Not for the first time since they’d arrived, Adeenya wondered what had happened to the forces that had occupied Neversfall. She hoped she’d stay alive long enough to ponder the question further.
The courtyard erupted with activity as soldiers poured out of the small buildings and piled into the center of the citadel. A Durpari soldier, whom she couldn’t see clearly enough to identify, fell from the eastern wall near her as she ran. His body tumbled through the air to land face-down, an arrow protruding from his side. Adeenya sprinted toward the staircase that joined the eastern and southern walls. She shouted for soldiers to follow her as she ran. A handful, Maquar and Durpari, fell in behind her as she took the stairs two at a time. As she neared the top, Adeenya looked into the courtyard to see that the invaders had already penetrated its area. They wore dark clothing with fabric masks covering their faces. She scanned the courtyard and discovered the gates had been closed.
Adeenya set the thought aside as she drew her sword, reached the top of the stairs, and found herself standing face to face with a man covered in animal skins. She muscled hard to her left against her opponent, pushing the man back, and feigned a high strike with her sword. She longed for her spear, but she hadn’t been carrying it as she explored the citadel.
The mustached attacker swung a slender sword up high to block, hopping backward. Adeenya twisted her wrist, changing her blade’s direction and sending it into the meat of the man’s thigh. His scream rattled in her ear but she ignored it. She stabbed the blade into his stomach as he screamed again and doubled over. She pulled the sword free and turned to find a new foe before the man had even collapsed.
She caught a Durpari soldier out of the corner of her eye. The man stood over one body and was driving hard toward another enemy. Adeenya tried to size them up. All of the attackers wore animal hides, but they fought with obvious training and finesse.
An arrow flew past her head. She ducked low and saw the source of the shot. An archer was nocking another arrow some fifty paces away on the adjacent wall. Adeenya charged the man, knowing that he would get at least one more shot off before she reached him and that she could not let him loose another. She pumped her long legs hard and could feel the sweat trickling down her neck and back.
Running as hard as she could, she’d crossed only half the distance to the archer as he took aim, and she doubted the man would miss again. She pulled her arm back and threw her sword as hard as she could. It spun sideways through the air, a nimble hawk diving toward its prey, emitting a keening cry as it sailed. The blade bit into the man’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground, and she wasted no time. She ran for him,
pulled her sword from his body, and slashed it across his throat.
More soldiers joined her on the wall, and all the barbarians there were soon occupied in battle. She scanned the courtyard to see it filling with more invaders. They simply appeared, not seeming to arrive from anywhere. A half-dozen invaders ran up the stairs. They ran in formation, using complex tactics to cover one another, reloading their bows in rotation while one in the front and one in the back of their line wielded melee weapons to defend the archers. For the barbarians they dressed as, they used masterful tactics.
Adeenya lunged forward and sank the tip of her reclaimed sword into the side of a man at the front of the line. The stab elicited a growl of pain from the attacker, and he turned his attention to her, bringing his mace to bear.
She pulled her sword from him and sent the hilt of the weapon flying upward to smack her opponent’s chin. The man stopped his swing, looking stunned. Adeenya balled the fist of her off hand and punched first his jaw and then his throat, causing the man to step back and swat at her weapon as he gasped. Angered and unfocused, the man charged toward her. His momentum did her work for her and he impaled himself on her sword.
The orir pulled her weapon from his chest and slammed the hilt into the head of the next man in the formation, an archer who was dropping his bow and drawing a sword. Adeenya shook her stinging hand and blocked his attack after missing her first strike against him. The man pushed her sword away and landed a kick to her stomach. The air blasted from her lungs, Adeenya stepped back into the arms of another attacker. Heavy, muscular arms wrapped around her tightly as her previous opponent spun into a kick that crashed into her hip. She held her cry of pain, turning it into a growl as the man punched her.
She felt hands jabbing and prodding around her waist and into her pockets for a moment. Adeenya’s adrenaline surged at the probing hands, surprised they would attempt to take advantage of her during a battle. She struggled harder, determined to make their efforts costly. Adeenya would not be the willing victim they wanted her to be. The probing stopped but she was still bound in the arms of her captor. The attacker before her drew back his weapon to strike. She threw an elbow into the man holding her and stepped back on his foot. His binding grip holding her loosened just enough, and she broke free. The swordsman came at her, blade low. He darted in to strike Adeenya with his sword.