Neversfall

by Ed Gentry

The Durpari who had drawn his sword froze, surprise etched on his face. He held out his hand, palm facing front, and bent to place the sword on the ground. Rising, he nodded to Taennen, who lowered his own blade.

  The Durpari looked to Jhoqo and said, “Consider my blade on the ground a gesture of our cooperation. While we do not believe our honorable leader to be guilty of the crime you accuse her of, we wish for no further bloodshed or treasonous behavior. We will continue to serve with the righteous Maquar and help you secure this citadel. We will await her trial back home in Durpar.”

  Jhoqo smiled as the Durpari motioned to his comrades to keep their weapons sheathed. “Thank you, brothers. You honor us with your trust. The orir’s trial will be adjudicated fairly, I promise you this.”

  The speaker for the Durpari nodded and herded his men out of the crowd, leading them back to their barracks, no doubt to discuss what to do next. The Maquar in attendance muttered amongst themselves until Jhoqo dismissed them. The Chondathans present returned to their duties, all except Bascou.

  The bearded man approached Taennen and Jhoqo, his head shaking. “I cannot believe this,” he said with a smile. “She seemed such a good soldier.”

  Taennen wanted to slit the man’s throat even though his words complimented the woman. The young Maquar’s blood boiled at the thought of the Chondathan speaking of Adeenya at all. She was a soldier, and he was a darkblade unworthy of even her company. Taennen stayed his hand, however, staring straight ahead. He knew without a doubt that Jhoqo’s eyes were on him, and he needed to measure his actions. Jhoqo answered the Chondathan’s comment with something Taennen did not bother to hear.

  Taennen’s mind struggled with the idea that Adeenya was the traitor and wouldn’t accept it. He was more certain about her than he was about anyone else in the Citadel. If she had not betrayed them, then Jhoqo had been misled in what he had seen.

  Bascou said something else and offered a parting salute to the Maquar commander. Taennen fell in beside Jhoqo as the shorter man headed toward his command center. The courtyard, bustling with activity only a few days earlier, now felt deserted. The bulk of the troops had been assigned to the wall, watching the forest and plains around them in shifts, wary of the savages coming once again. They were hens trapped in a coop, but at least they were armed with swords to defend against the foxes. Neither spoke on their short trek to the command post, both knowing they would speak privately there.

  Jhoqo waited for Taennen to clear the doorway before closing the door. He sat in his chair near the map-covered table in the center of the room. He waved to a chair for Taennen, who refused, preferring to stand, arms dangling at his sides.

  “Speak,” Jhoqo said, undoing the upper chest strap on his armor.

  “Sir, are you—”

  “She is responsible for the dwarf’s death, son. Of that I am certain,” Jhoqo said.

  “She couldn’t have,” Taennen said.

  “I’ve had time to think this out,” Jhoqo said. “During the first fight here at the citadel, as we fought for our very lives, did you see her during the battle? Did you see her killing our enemies as our Maquar and Durpari brothers and sisters died?”

  “No sir, but I could not see the entire battlefield,” Taennen objected. “And neither could anyone else.”

  “I’m no fool, Taennen. I’ve spoken with others, and no one else saw her during that fight,” Jhoqo said with a sigh.

  “No one, sir? You’ve asked everyone?”

  “Don’t patronize me, son,” Jhoqo said. “And the night our own Loraica died? Where was she then?”

  Taennen shrugged, wishing he could answer the question.

  “And where did we find Loraica’s body?” Jhoqo asked.

  “Sir, Lori could not have been killed in Adeenya’s quarters. There wasn’t nearly enough blood there. Besides, only a half-wit would store her victim in her own quarters.”

  “I hoped that she had simply been mired in a dispute with the dwarf and that his death was an isolated incident,” Jhoqo said. “But the more I looked, the more I thought, and the more I realized the earlier tragedies of our betrayal seemed to fall into her lap.”

  Taennen did not move or speak.

  “You still don’t believe me?” Jhoqo asked, standing up and walking to meet Taennen face to face.

  “Sir, it’s just—”

  “You trusted her,” Jhoqo finished for him. “She didn’t seem capable of it.”

  Taennen nodded.

  “I know,” Jhoqo said. “The best thing we can do with this is take it as a lesson, son. People can always fool you. I know you liked the woman. Whether I showed it or not, I did too. I still think there’s hope for her, if you hear me out.”

  Taennen looked at the slight smile the man’s face held and asked, “Hope? What hope could she have?”

  “The Durpari might never allow her to serve again after her trial, but I would gladly find a place for her in our ranks, maybe even as our terir,” Jhoqo said.

  Expecting to feel pleased and relieved by the man’s words, Taennen was taken aback by his simmering anxiety and uncertainty. A former Durpari soldier, let alone soldier turned criminal, would never be allowed to serve in the Maquar, even if Jhoqo made the request to the highest echelons of command. Even considering such a thing was beyond the scope of reason.

  “Why would you do that?” Taennen asked.

  “We all have the capacity to change and grow and learn from everything we do. She can learn too,” Jhoqo said, taking a seat at the table.

  Jhoqo stared at the table before him, the look on his face caught somewhere between concentration and contentment, as though he were about to solve some great puzzle. It was a look Taennen had seen on his father’s face countless times as the man teased out new spells or formulae. In his right senses, Jhoqo would never make such an offer. Something was very wrong. If Adeenya was a traitor in league with Marlke, why would she go to such lengths to set a trap for him?

  “Is she with the other prisoners?” Taennen asked.

  hoqo shook his head. “That didn’t seem prudent.”

  They stood in silence several moments longer before Taennen took his leave. In the courtyard, the evening meal was being dished out, but he had no appetite. Clouds with bellies full with the promise of rain floated through the dark blue sky. The small gatherings of soldiers scattered about were quiet, conversation an art best left to those who were not awaiting more bad news.

  Taennen noticed a Chondathan soldier idling near the eastern tower that had been designed to serve as guest and dignitary quarters. Since arriving at Neversfall, the troops had not used it. Jhoqo would not have locked Adeenya away in one of the accessible buildings to prevent her own men from attempting to free her. Their goodwill would only last so long, Taennen knew, and if he knew, then Jhoqo knew. Eventually the Durpari would try to free her.

  There could be no other reason for the Chondathan’s presence near that tower. The man was trying to be inconspicuous but failing miserably at the pretense.

  Certain Jhoqo would have his rank for it, Taennen strode toward the door, deciding that hearing Adeenya’s side was worth the risk. The rules of his duty felt constricting. He needed to look at the bigger picture. For that, he needed to hear from Adeenya. Fairness in all things, as his father had often said.

  Taennen’s legs gained strength beneath him as they propelled him forward. He pushed past the door and strodeup the stairs. He heard the Chondathan outside the tower scrambling toward him from behind, but he did not stop.

  The stone steps unwound before him. He climbed one level, passing the platform that led to the first set of rooms, then another, and then he stopped counting. He would know the door he sought when he found it. More Chondathans would be there. His boots thundered on the stone, the echoes bouncing off the cylindrical walls and back to his ears in strange waves. As he approached another level, he heard the voice he had been expecting. “Turn around, young one,” Bascou said, starting down the stairs toward him.


  “I will speak with her,” Taennen said.

  “I’m afraid not,” Bascou said, as a pair of Chondathans peered over the walkway, weapons exposed.

  Taennen stopped. “What business do you have with her?” he asked.

  “It is not my business, but your own commander’s business that brings me here,” Bascou replied.

  “Jhoqo’s business is my business,” Taennen said.

  Bascou smiled and said, “Then perhaps you should talk to Jhoqo.”

  “I am his second-in-command,” Taennen replied. “Everywhere I step is with his authority.”

  “Perhaps your steps can no longer bear the weight of responsibility?” Bascou said, shrugging as a grin spread across his face.

  Taennen turned and paced down the stairs. He would not fight them until he knew what was going on. Any action he took other than walking away would be divisive and dangerous.

  Emerging into the courtyard below, Taennen was faced with several questions in his own mind. Was Adeenya a traitor? Was he misinterpreting all the evidence that cleared her? Was Jhoqo trying to oust him from his duties? Did his commander no longer trust him? Why would they deny him access to Adeenya? What could conversation with her possibly hurt? The final two questions decided all the rest for him. If she was guilty, there was no reason to hide her away. Only the voices of the innocent needed to be silenced by those they could harm with their words.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On unsteady legs, Adeenya crossed the squared-stone floor to the door. She eased herself to her knees and put her ear to the door, its cool smoothness soothing to her aching head. When no sound greeted her, she bent lower, attempting to look beneath the door through the narrow gap between floor and portal. Two pairs of boots stood a few paces away to the left of the door. Twisting her head, she put her ear toward the gap and heard voices, just above a whisper. Their unfamiliar tongue grated on her ears with guttural syllables and fricatives sprinkled throughout.

  Adeenya rose to her feet, doing her best to be quiet. Her slow speed made her muscles strain, adding to her fatigue. She glanced around the room again, hoping she had missed something on her first check, but she saw the same bare walls and empty floor. Adeenya leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths before knocking on the door with the flat of her palm. The voices outside stopped, and scuffling boots sounded on the stone floor. Quick words were exchanged, and the door opened inward revealing two Chondathan soldiers. Both were of middling age, with the typical dark hair and heavy moustaches common among the newly arrived troops.

  “What?” one of them asked, his sword in his hand but his posture relaxed.

  “Why am I here?” Adeenya asked.

  “Traitors belong in cells,” said the other, his accent much less thick than his partner’s.

  Adeenya focused on the second man, noting his distinctive green eyes and soft, round face. “Traitor?”

  The green-eyed man nodded and added, “Yes, traitor. We know you work with the savages.”

  “By whom have I been accused?” Adeenya asked, knowing the answer but wishing to keep the men engaged as long as possible so that she might discern more information.

  The other man sneered and said, “The Maquar leader saw you kill the dwarf, girlie.”

  “He died, then?” she asked. She knew the wound she had delivered was not a small one, but it would have been possible to heal it.

  The round-faced man nodded while the other chuckled, spitting something in his native tongue. Adeenya stepped back, her head shaking. The green-eyed man, the better speaker of the two, stepped into the room and put a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head and looked the man in the eyes.

  “It will be all right. You will receive judgment. They will only make you work,” the man said. “In our country, it would be much worse for you.”

  His emerald eyes smiled at her, nearly withdrawing her attention from the man behind him, who stood laughing at her plight. Adeenya placed her hand over the one on her shoulder and looked the man in the eyes. A snarl flashed on her lips as she squeezed his hand with all her strength and jerked his arm downward.

  The smile fled the man’s lips as Adeenya’s knee slammed into his face. His wrist cracked under her grip. His head bounced off her knee, straightening his forcibly bent posture. Before the man could steady himself, Adeenya followed her assault with a fist to his nose that sent him spinning away behind a flowering spray of red.

  She whirled to kick at his companion who was already on her. Her strong, slender leg arced toward the grinning man who caught her foot and gave it a hard yank with his left hand. He dropped his sword from his right hand and sent a balled fist into her gut. The force of his punch stole every bit of breath her lungs held.

  He tossed her leg aside and punched her again, and this time his aim found her jaw. Gasping in pain, Adeenya fell to the floor. A gray dimness encircled her vision and grew darker each moment she held onto consciousness. As the darkness closed in around her, the first man with the kind green eyes stood and dusted himself off. Red-faced from his compatriot’s chuckling, the man kicked Adeenya in the ribs with a resounding crunch.

  The door slammed shut before her. Outside, she heard her chuckling assailant say to the green-eyed man, “That is twice now, my friend. You are slipping.”

  Adeenya pulled herself against the nearby wall and tried to relax her muscles. The pain was easier to take than she had expected. Her ribs ached. Her head throbbed. Had she a mirror, Adeenya was certain she would find bruises on the side of her face, likely blooming bright and colorful. They would fade into purples, greens, and then yellows. Would she still be trapped in this place then? Would she be alive long enough to see those ugly marks diminish?

  The room had become very dark, not granted even the meager light that made it past the boarded window before her assault. Evening had settled. She wondered if the guards had changed. Even if so, it would do her little good. The previous guards would have warned the newcomers of her attempt to escape, making them wary of any further efforts.

  Adeenya pulled her legs in tight to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. She thought about all the times other warriors had told her that they felt naked without their armor and limbless without their weapons. She craved her armor worse than even her favorite food, but she did not feel naked without it. She desired her weapons more than any lover she had ever taken, but she did not feel limbless. Anger pervaded her mind, leaving room for little else and granting her protection and fury.

  A voice outside the door spoke. She started when she heard a familiar booming voice answer the first. She uncoiled her body but stayed seated, ready to move quickly if necessary. Other voices answered the first and feet shuffled. The door before her opened, and torch light poured in, chasing away the darkness. Her anger seethed at the sight of the entrant as he placed a torch in a sconce on the wall.

  “Good evening,” Jhoqo said, closing the door behind him with one hand, the other riding the hilt of his sword. He wore a slight smile and soft eyes. He was in full dress—armor, rank insignia, and Maquar silks.

  Adeenya met his gaze and did not falter, even when she heard the men on the other side of the door moving away, their feet pounding as they went down a flight of stairs. The muscles in her jaw flexed rapidly as she clenched, the pressure on her teeth growing almost unbearable. For his part, Jhoqo knelt and nodded toward her, as if he understood and forgave her reaction.

  “I can only imagine what you’re feeling now,” the man said.

  Adeenya sprang forward, her hands reaching toward the Maquar’s neck. Jhoqo’s head shook as he stepped into her attack and drove a fist into her stomach. She crumpled back to the floor, sputtering and gasping for air. He withdrew and crouched, watching her closely. She forced away the pain and drew a deep breath as she pushed herself back up against the wall. Her eyes found his again, his dark skin shimmering in the firelight from the torch.

  “Please do not do that again,” Jhoqo said.
“I have no wish to harm you.”

  “Only to knock me out from behind? To blame me for Marlke’s death? And what else?” Adeenya said. “What other invented crimes have you charged me with?”

  “A few, all necessary,” Jhoqo replied. “His death is the only one that you are guilty of.”

  “I was trying to stop him! Your interference is what killed him. Or maybe you finished him off yourself!”

  “You caused his death,” Jhoqo replied. “Whether directly or indirectly, you were the cause of his death. Had you not insisted upon setting a trap for the traitor, you would never have discovered Marlke at his work. Had you not found him, he would not be dead.”

  “That’s the logic of someone seeking absolution if I’ve ever heard it,” she said.

  Jhoqo shrugged again, unimpressed with the distinction. “I let him die. You killed him,” he said. “There is a difference.”

  “By the One and the All … you are mad,” Adeenya said, her feet unconsciously pushing against the stone to move farther from the man.

  Jhoqo smiled halfway and nodded as he moved himself to rest against the door, sitting opposite the woman. “Your words do not surprise me, but let me ask a question. Why did you become a mercenary?” he asked.

  When she did not answer, he continued, “Did you wish to serve something greater than yourself? Though Durpar does not have a military institution in the same sense as my country, you mercenaries fill that void. Is that why you made your choice?”

  Adeenya thought about the question and nodded. She saw an opportunity and could not pass it up.

  “It is the same for most of us, I think,” he said, offering a larger smile.

  “Most of who?” she asked.

  “Patriots, like you and I,” he answered. “That’s what we are, Adeenya. We love our countries, our people, our ways of life.”

  Her eyes wide, Adeenya said, “You’re a murderer. You’re no hero!”

  “I said patriot,” he replied, and added, “though I think history will remember me as a hero as well. How do you wish to be remembered, Adeenya? As a hero or a traitor?” Jhoqo asked, leaning toward her.