Neversfall

by Ed Gentry

  Jhoqo’s arm found his shoulder, and the man whispered, “Go back to your quarters. We shall talk in the morning.”

  The fog of absolute sorrow had thinned, but Taennen knew he needed to rest. He would need his strength to find the killer of his friend and to protect the others who had followed him to Neversfall. As he lay down, he murmured a prayer of protection and caring to the Adama. He had not heard the prayer in many years, let alone invoked it. Like most Maquar, Taennen had come to pray for order and the law of the rajah at the end of each day. Order was a fine thing, but what Taennen wanted was justice and safety. His fellow soldiers needed aid, and he would do his best to be it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Taennen woke to the smell of fowl cooked with dried dates, the sweet and tart aromas, and the smell of roasting meat permeating the air. The dish basked in a thread of sunshine that crept into the room from the small high window. Taennen rolled out of bed, grasped the plate, and opened the door. He made it almost five steps before thinking of Loraica, but he did not stop or falter when he did. The image of her face in his mind helped to drive his step. He would avenge her.

  Outside, the sun had already baked away the morning mist. Half a dozen soldiers from both forces milled around the courtyard, listening to one of their fellows who gestured excitedly but spoke in hushed tones. The troops nodded their agreement or made clear their dissent with hissed objections. The speaker was a Durpari, one of the men Taennen had led to the wall during the last attack. He was a fine archer, and by the look of things, the same could be said of his oratory skills.

  Taennen walked toward the gathering, and the Durpari archer stopped speaking and greeted Taennen with a salute from some distance away, while motioning for the others to disperse.

  “Hold there, men,” Taennen said, returning the salute, his dish still in his hand.

  The soldiers all obeyed and held their salutes. “What’s this about?” Taennen asked no one in particular as he paced toward them.

  “Nothing, sir,” one of the Maquar barked.

  “Of course it’s ‘nothing, sir,’ ” Taennen said. He stopped and looked each soldier in the eyes. “I need to know before I can help.”

  The Durpari archer stepped forward, now standing crisp and tall as a soldier should, and said, “Sir, I was telling them that we shouldn’t be sending out more scouting parties.”

  “Of course we shouldn’t,” Taennen said. “The first one was slaughtered. We’re lucky to have any of them back.”

  “The first two patrols, sir,” the archer corrected.

  Taennen stopped moving and looked to the Durpari man. “Two? More soldiers were sent?”

  The man nodded. “Very late last night, sir.”

  “How many? ”

  “Three Durpari and three Maquar, sir,” the man said, his gaze holding Taennen’s. “Two of them survived, sir.”

  Taennen turned back toward his quarters, dismissing the gathered soldiers over his shoulder. They scattered in all directions, pleased to be excused. Taennen closed the door to his quarters and hurled his plate at the opposite wall. Dates splattered against the stone, sticking to it like smashed bugs.

  Taennen stood in his dim quarters and danced with a choice. He could go about his duties, or he could confront his commander about the man’s tactical error, for surely it could be called nothing else. Sending small units outside the walls was getting them killed by the strange intruders.

  Taennen thought of the formians and suppressed a shudder. Were the Maquar fools for keeping them alive? The beasts had proven themselves dangerous. They might be controlling the attackers this time. Taennen thought about Adeenya’s plan. The troops were surely whispering about the rumor she had started. If one of them were a traitor, he or she would have to make a move soon. Taennen hoped Adeenya had been able to watch the prison. He would have to find ways to do the same himself.

  Taennen dressed, hastily fastening his armor, slipping his boots on over his muscled calves, and sinking his khopesh into the sheath at his hip. He opened the door to the courtyard once again and took a deep breath. The air was dry and hot and stank of burnt wood from Loraica’s pyre. As he crossed the courtyard toward the building where Jhoqo had made his command headquarters, Taennen heard Loraica’s name whispered more than once, but he never broke his stride. Each utterance spurred him on harder. He arrived at the door and knocked.

  A passing Durpari soldier stopped and saluted. Taennen returned the gesture and faced the door again, waiting to be greeted by Jhoqo.

  “Sir, no one is in there,” the Durpari said.

  “Where’s the urir, soldier?” Taennen asked, facing the younger man.

  “On the north side of the central tower, sir, welcoming the new arrivals.”

  “New arrivals?”

  “The reinforcements, sir. They were sighted a short while ago. The urir will be introducing them soon.”

  Taennen dismissed the man if for no other reason than to hide the look of shock that he knew must have been riding his face. Jhoqo had sent for reinforcements only a day earlier—at least that was the earliest Taennen had heard of it. Taennen walked toward the central tower. He was comforted to see his face was not the only one showing surprise.

  His shock was replaced by doubt as uneasy thoughts crept into his mind. The newcomers were quick to arrive. Who could these reinforcements be? How did they arrive so quickly? He had not known of any military presence this far in the wilds.

  Then again, Taennen reminded himself, no one had known there were barbarians and man-sized ants roaming the area either.

  Adeenya saluted the guards and grasped the handle to the door of the prison housing the humans and the halfling. A pair of Durpari soldiers stood to either side of the door, looking tired.

  “Sir?” one, an older woman named Nooawala, said. “You won’t be attending the announcement of the new troops?”

  “No. Someone has to keep on schedule around here,” Adeenya said. The truth was, Adeenya needed to keep herself circulating near the formian cells to watch for trouble. The formians were guarded, of course, but Adeenya was unsure whom she could trust.

  Adeenya pushed the door open with a creak and stepped into the room. The sun poured in through the door. The men and women inside all looked her direction, shielding their eyes from the brightness. The small windows in the building kept the structure cool but were not made for lengthy time spent indoors. The prisoners flinched in the sunlight.

  Some of the prisoners greeted her and all appeared to be in good health. Though many glared at her as their captor, they seemed to be making the best of their situation, having divided the duties of daily life among themselves. One corner of the large room was for washing clothes, another for dishes, each making use of large buckets of grimy water. Everyone seemed to have a duty to attend. All except one.

  Corbrinn Tartevarr sprawled across his bed, as much as a halfling could sprawl, soaking up the sunlight streaming in through the door. Adeenya approached him, leaving the door open for the prisoners to enjoy the light and fresh air. None of them would try to escape. They were safer inside the confines of Neversfall than they would be out in the wilds, and they all knew it.

  The halfling still wore his hides but had stowed his furs somewhere, likely due to the heat. His eyes were closed, and he wore a broad grin as though dreaming pleasant dreams. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, but Adeenya knew he was not asleep. His stubby toes wiggled as she sat on the bed next to him.

  “You’ve heard about the second expedition being killed?” she said with little question in her voice.

  Corbrinn nodded but did not open his eyes or otherwise move.

  Adeenya watched the halfling, wondering if it was wise to consult him. She had believed him when he had claimed that he had lived most of his life in the wilds and knew Veldorn well. Adeenya felt too alone and isolated both inside and outside the citadel’s walls. Someone of Corbrinn’s experience was valuable, at least as far as the space outside the wal
ls mattered.

  “Have you ever heard of a group of humans living in the forest?” she asked. “How could they survive, let alone thrive enough to raid this fortress?”

  Corbrinn pulled himself up with a grunt and locked eyes with her. They shared the look for a few moments before he raised his eyebrows with a shrug as if to say “Good question.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, and gave him a pat on the leg before adding, “Thanks.”

  She rose to leave but was stopped by the halfling’s hand on her wrist. She turned back to look at him and saw his face held a serious demeanor.

  “They’ll pick you off a few at a time if you don’t find them,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I can find them,” Corbrinn said.

  She nodded again before turning to leave. Behind her, she heard the halfling’s bed creak as he lay back down and groaned a little as his back stretched.

  Adeenya faced Nooawala and said, “Be sure these prisoners get some fresh air and a little time out in the sunlight.”

  Nooawala began to object but stopped when Adeenya raised her hand. She headed toward the greeting of the newcomers to catch a glimpse. She could get close and still maintain her surveillance of the formian cells. With most of the fortress personnel distracted by the arrival of the reinforcements, this would be the ideal time for the traitor to make a move against the prisoners.

  Jhoqo bellowed his greeting to the gathered crowd—a crowd that had grown noticeably smaller since their arrival at Neversfall. Taennen did not know who to blame for the anger he felt at the deaths of his friends and comrades, so he chose to blame the citadel itself. Neversfall, its magical walls and towers, beacon of security and free trade. Taennen nearly spit as he scanned the stone walls of the place. Some good these walls had done the men and women who had died here, he thought.

  Jhoqo quieted those in attendance and began to speak. In a mellow, baritone voice he said, “Brothers and sisters, please hear me on this day. We have suffered much in our duty here in Neversfall. Undoubtedly, we shall suffer more still. But we are soldiers. Soldiers have duty, and we shall not fail in ours!”

  Subdued applause from the Durpari and palms slapping leather from the Maquar responded. Jhoqo hopped atop a crate he no doubt had had placed there so that he might look into the faces of everyone listening to him. He threw his arms out wide and puffed out his chest.

  “But we cannot do this alone. And thanks to the illustrious rajah, the government of Durpar, and of course, the All and the One, we need not. Today, friends to both Estagund and Durpar join us. With their help, we shall prevail in our mission here!” Jhoqo said with a flourish.

  He waved his arm in a beckoning motion, and three dozen men stepped into view from behind one of the nearby bunkhouses. They all wore black leather armor with thin cloaks in the shade of blue that the sky attains between dusk and nightfall on a warm summer night. Most wore thin beards and were fairer of skin, having a more honeyed hue.

  Taennen recognized them immediately: Chondathan mercenaries from the west on the Sea of Fallen Stars. He had met a few in his time.

  Instead of marching in rank and file, they walked in a triangular pattern with one man at the front and rows successively widening behind him. The foremost man was about the same height as Taennen, but he had a more muscular frame. His beard was trimmed and neat and he sported no moustache.

  Jhoqo motioned the man forward as waves of murmurs rippled through the gathered Maquar and Durpari. A nearby soldier caught Taennen’s eye and gave him a confused look, as if imploring his durir to explain what it could mean that western foreigners were meant to be their saviors. Taennen nodded to the man, unsure what else to do, and looked back toward the stranger.

  The newcomer joined Jhoqo on the crate and smiled, offering a tight wave much too practiced to be genuine. The Durpari were called mercenaries, but at least they worked for their government and people exclusively. The Chondathans, on the other hand, worked only for the right price, no matter whose gold paid them. They were truly mercenaries, soldiers-for-hire. Taennen’s mouth filled with a tang he found sickening. These men had no place in Neversfall.

  The murmurs quieted, and the stranger spoke in a thick accent of soft consonants and tight vowels. “Greetings friends. I am Bascou, commander of the rakrathen you see before you. We are honored to assist the great nations of Estagund and Durpar in their time of need.”

  At first, no response came. Jhoqo clapped alone in slow, measured beats until more joined in, and then nearly everyone’s hands were applauding. Taennen’s arms hung limply at his sides.

  “Bascou, may I present my second in command, Durir Taennen Tamoor,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen stepped toward the man and nodded, not offering his hand. His face was blank and he did not speak. Jhoqo narrowed his eyes at Taennen but never shed his smile. He turned to the crowd and said, “Please make our new brethren comfortable. Treat them as you would any comrade among you. Maquar, treat them as you would any other Maquar, Durpari, the same as you would another of your comrades-at-arms.”

  A tidal wave of whispers and murmurs rushed through the assembly. Soldiers huddled together in hurried dialogues, some gesticulating, others looking stunned. Jhoqo ignored the reaction, clapping Bascou on the shoulder, dismissing the man and motioning for one of the Maquar to show the newcomers to their quarters. Jhoqo and Taennen stepped down from the crate, and Jhoqo placed an arm around Taennen’s shoulders, walking with the younger man. Jhoqo smiled and waved at the gathered troops who were now whispering among themselves.

  Still smiling, he growled into Taennen’s ear, “That will not do, Durir.”

  Taennen glanced over his shoulder to see the crowd dispersing, breaking into small clusters of soldiers, all still talking among themselves. Looking back to Jhoqo’s face, Taennen saw his phony smile, but he did not miss the anger burning in the man’s eyes.

  “That was inappropriate,” Jhoqo said.

  Taennen flashed back to his youth, to Jhoqo schooling him in proper etiquette while he was being introduced to the upper echelon members of the Maquar. Taennen felt all the more confused by the regression of their roles. Confusion gave way to frustration. Frustration hinted at anger like red skin around a wound hints at infection.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Taennen asked, more loudly than he intended.

  Jhoqo stopped their stroll and turned to face his second. “Your behavior was unacceptable. Bascou and his men are here to help us, yet you just treated him as though he were somehow outside the oneness, something less than part of the whole.”

  Jhoqo’s face softened as he spoke the last words, but Taennen did not relent. He slid the man’s arm from his shoulder and said, “Sir, you just told your men—the brothers you trust with your life—to extend that fellowship to complete strangers.”

  A snarl overtook Jhoqo’s face as he said, “I am your urir. You will show me and those I deem worthy more respect than that.”

  “Are we done, sir? Am I dismissed, sir?” Taennen felt like a child again, frustrated by his father’s answer of “because I said so.”

  Jhoqo took a step back, letting out a deep breath. He turned soft eyes to Taennen and said, “Son, I need your help on this. I know my command may not make sense, but we must have unity with these new men if any of us hope to survive. You see that, don’t you?”

  “You’ve known your men for years and these Chondathans for moments, sir.”

  Jhoqo nodded and said, “I know, but I see no other way to do this. We need to trust these men, and they need to trust us.”

  Taennen’s stance relaxed as he said, “Yes, sir. Am I dismissed?”

  “No,” Jhoqo said. “We are sending out another patrol expedition.”

  “Sir?” Taennen said. He could not hide his surprise. “Is that wise?”

  “You heard me, Durir.”

  Arguing would get him nowhere, Taennen knew. Instead, he did the only thing that might help the situation. “Let me lead
it, sir.”

  Jhoqo cocked an eyebrow before shaking his head. “I don’t think so, son.”

  “Let me prove myself, sir. I know I’ve been out of order, and I want to fix that,” he said. If Jhoqo insisted on sending out more men, then Taennen would make sure they all came back alive. Jhoqo got his scouting mission, Taennen a sense of control returned to him. Everyone would win.

  Jhoqo stared at him for a long while. His face softened, and his voice was low. “You may join the expedition, but you will not lead it.”

  “Who will, sir?”

  “Bascou,” Jhoqo said.

  “Is the Chondathan to outrank me in operations here at Neversfall?” Taennen asked.

  “You are my durir, Taennen. You know that,” Jhoqo responded. “But Bascou leads this patrol. We need to establish him and his men among our ranks. I see no better way right now.”

  “Yes, sir. I will serve him as best I can.”

  Jhoqo’s lips curled into a small smile. “I know you will, son. I have no doubt.”

  “When does the patrol leave, sir?”

  “Next bell,” Jhoqo said, a softer gaze locked on Taennen.

  “I’ll do a quick check of things around here, sir, and then I’ll convene with the Chondathan. Will he be picking the patrol members?”

  Jhoqo thought for a moment. “Why don’t you select four Durpari and four Maquar for him? You know the personnel better.”

  “Yes, sir,” Taennen said.

  Jhoqo placed his hands on Taennen’s shoulders. “You make me heartbright, son.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Taennen said. Jhoqo’s eyes did not hold pride. They looked sad. Jhoqo returned Taennen’s salute and moved toward his quarters.

  Taennen needed to speak to Adeenya. She would be continuing her surveillance of the prisoners. He was more certain than ever that her plan should be carried out. Even if fruitless, her plan was trying to accomplish something important. What was Jhoqo’s plan doing? Taennen didn’t know. He hoped his commander did.