Neversfall (22 page)

The forest around him had grown silent, only the buzzing

of insects to be heard. All around him the bodies of allies and enemies alike sprawled in the dirt and leaves. Only Taennen remained standing.

He found a pair of his Maquar comrades, sprawled near a tree, and was pleased to see they had found their ends fighting next to one another, defending one another until the very end. He offered quick prayers over their bodies, though he was no holy man. At a quick glance he counted eleven dead barbarians and his eight allies.

“Come, friend Taennen, we should return,” Bascou said behind him.

Taennen spun and faced the man, weapon in hand, unsure where he had come from. “Return? We must search for signs of where they make their camp. Surely there are tracks or something to indicate where they came from,” he said. “They killed our entire party. We have greatly diminished their numbers for certain. Now is the time to strike.”

Bascou shook his head and said, “No. We are in sorry shape. We need more men.”

Taennen looked Bascou over and saw no wounds at all. The man’s sword dripped with blood, but he looked as whole and hearty as when they had entered the forest. Taennen began to protest, but quieted when Bascou held up his hand.

“We return.”

“Our dead. We need to bring them back,” Taennen said.

“I am returning,” Bascou said. “You may do as you wish.”

Left with little choice, Taennen followed Bascou in shock. Soldiering was Taennen’s entire life, but he was accustomed to orders being sensible. Bascou’s unwillingness

to make fruitful the loss of so many lives was baffling. And his leaving fallen was an abomination.

Taennen walked beside the man but kept a wary eye on him. Nothing about the expedition had been right from the start. Now the Maquar and Durpari numbers were even further depleted, and Bascou did nothing about it. Did Jhoqo know Bascou was this type of man?

“How did you fare in the battle? Are you injured?” Taennen asked.

“Four fell to my blade,” Bascou said.

“And your health?”

“I am uninjured. You appear unharmed as well,” Bascou said. Taennen shook his head and pointed to several wounds. Bascou nodded. “You were brave indeed. That Maquar spirit—it is something to see.”

The late afternoon sun washed over Taennen out on the plains, and he soaked in the warmth, glad to be in the open again, away from the dark forest. The woods felt like his mind had for the last two days: murky and dark, full of things he did not understand or want to see. Things that, no matter how he resisted, held sway over his actions, forcing him into situations he couldn’t get himself out of. Though the grass was no higher than his knees, Taennen felt each blade as if it were a dark tree looming over his head.

+

“^ry tidy,” Jhoqo said, prying the sword from Adeenya’s limp hand. He nudged her body on the floor of the holding cell with his foot and sighed.

Marlke groaned as he rose to his feet, the motion causing his gut wound to spill forth a new gobbet of blood. “How was I to know that wench was here?” he asked, wobbling on unsteady legs before continuing. “I asked around for her, but no one had seen her. I figured she was off somewhere bossing someone else around, and this was the best time to handle things. I was trying to think ahead.”

“Thinking is exactly what you weren’t doing,” Jhoqo said.

“It doesn’t matter now. She’s out of our way. You know, I can’t say I’m sorry to see her go. Acting an underling to that one…” Marlke screwed up his face.

“Give me some rope. We need to bind her before she rouses,” the Maquar said as he knelt to position Adeenya’s arms behind her back.

“Tie her? Just kill her,” Marlke said.

Jhoqo said nothing.

Marlke pulled a coil of rope from his belt and tossed it to the man. Jhoqo proceeded to tightly tie the unconscious

woman’s wrists together. The dwarf slumped against the wall, his face taking on a dull pallor. He glared at the formians who stood silently in their cells as if the scene before them had not just played out.

“I’m going to enjoy gutting them too,” the dwarf said.

Jhoqo finished his knots, tugging on the bindings a few times, and stood, pleased with his work. He removed a pouch from his belt and fingered through its content for a moment before fishing out a small vial of brackish liquid. He placed the pouch back on his belt and uncorked the vial. His placid face wrinkled as the fumes from the vial hit his senses. He held the slender glass at arm’s lengths but still suffered from the scent. It smelled of cockroaches, like the acrid tang that comes from insects who live, eat and survive on death and filth.

“What are you doing?” Marlke asked.

“She could wake at any moment. We do not want that,” Jhoqo replied. “This will keep her down.”

The Maquar commander rolled Adeenya onto her back and moved his hand along her jaw, tracing the lines of her face. He pulled her chin down to open her mouth and tilted her head. Still shrinking from the nauseating odor of the vial himself, Jhoqo inclined the vial until a drop fell into Adeenya’s open mouth. Jhoqo gently closed her jaw and settled her head back to the floor.

“There. Now she won’t bother us for a while,” Jhoqo said. He turned to Marlke. “I find it hard to believe that working with her would have been unpleasant. By my observations she’s a fine officer, possessing a good head on her shoulders and strong—though certainly misled—morals.”

“Aye, good—she’s a wonderful person,” Marlke said. “Now, give me a hand, will you? I know you’ve got a lovely elixir somewhere in that pouch of yours. Let’s have it.”

“No,” Jhoqo said without looking at the dwarf. His eyes were trained on Adeenya, his hands on his hips. “I don’t think that would be prudent.”

“No? I’m bleeding out here,” Marlke said.

“How do you suggest I deal with this?” Jhoqo asked, pointing at Adeenya.-

Marlke’s face wrinkled as he said, “Deal with… you kill her, of course!”

Jhoqo shook his head. “Why would I do that? It will turn the rest of the Durpari against me and draw unnecessary attention,” he said. “Besides, she’s a fine officer, and that’s a terrible thing to waste.”

“Her men? Her? Once she’s dead, they’re my men!”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Jhoqo said. “Do you feel that you’ve earned the responsibility of leadership?”

“What are you doing?” Marlke said. “Give me that potion… I’m dying! I can already see two of you.” Marlke tried to climb to his feet, but his shaking arms would not lift him from the floor. He flopped back to the floor with a moan. A long moment passed as the dwarf rolled onto his side to once again look upon Jhoqo. The flush of his anger slowly drained away as his body lost blood. The puddle of his own gore grew around him, expanding every moment. The smooth stones resisted the fluid, spreading the crimson stain.

“Are there three of me yet, or does it only go to two?” Jhoqo asked. “I wouldn’t know as I’ve never died before. But that’s obvious, I suppose.”

“Help me,” Marlke stammered.

“Now, why would I do that?” Jhoqo asked. “If I let her live, I gain the chance to train a fine officer and show her the truth of the world. She’s partway there. I feel confident I can guide her the rest of the way.”

“If you let her live? What are you saying? She’ll tell everyone it was me in here, trying to kill the beasts.” “Of course she will. It’s the truth.” “They’ll lynch me!”

“It’s difficult to punish a dead man,” Jhoqo replied.

Marlke squinted and tried to push himself to a seated position, but his hands slipped in his own blood, slamming his chin hard to the floor. He rolled his head to one side and pleaded, “He won’t like me being dead, and you know it.”

Jhoqo smiled, ignoring the remark and said, “Besides, you do not have the trust of her men. Why would you? You’re incompetent. If she dies but you live, I will certainly lose control of them. They will be none too happy when I accuse her of being a traitor, but she will be alive to face a fair trial. That should keep them civil enough.”

“But you cuffed her on the head. Had to be you, she’ll see that,” Marlke said.

Jhoqo nodded and began to pace as he said, “True. I suppose. But then, to everyone else’s eyes, I wasn’t sure if both of you were involved or not. I was doing what I had to in order to protect the lives of our prisoners. I think they’ll understand. Even she’ll have to understand that I meant no harm.”

Marlke’s lips, turning a purplish blue, moved but no sound came at first. After a few attempts he managed to speak. “You can’t…” he started but was interrupted by a cough. “You can’t kill her, can you? He won’t let it happen,” he said through a bloody laugh. He licked the liquid life from his lips as his eyes fluttered. “Figures. Sentimental fool, that one.”

Jhoqo said, “True enough. You’re not entirely an idiot. You know what I dislike most about you, though? Your greed. It is boundless.”

At that, the dwarf s eyes shot open. “Me? What about you? You’re not getting paid?” he said, his words slow and beginning to slur.

Jhoqo paced back and forth in a tight circle before the dwarf and said, “Of course I am. I would be remiss in my duty as a citizen of the South to perform a job without compensation. However, you are a different matter. I am trying to open commerce, to see that every man, woman, and child in the Shining South gets an opportunity to seek their fortunes with a new and powerful ally and source of untapped wealth.”

Marlke coughed, trying to respond.

Jhoqo nodded and continued, “But you—you, dwarf, merely wish to control as large a portion of the wealth as you can get yout hands on. You would decrease worker wages, buy out competitors, and drive up your own prices, no doubt blaming the rise on growing production costs.”

“He won’t like it,” Marlke whispered, returning to his earlier line of reasoning.

Jhoqo ceased walking, knelt outside the puddle of blood and said, “I am confident that, were our employer here, he would agree with me. You are just not the patriot we thought you to be, and your service is no longer required. Besides, there won’t be much to be done about it in a few moments, will there?”

+ + + + +

Taennen followed Bascou back toward the citadel. The grass on the empty plains smelled dead and defeated under the scorching sun. Taennen glanced over his shoulder many times as he followed the man before him.

As they approached to within an arrow shot, the front gates cracked open for them. Bascou sang the praises of

the fallen men to those gathered just inside the citadel, proclaiming Taennen a warrior of unmatched prowess. The observers joined in his praise.

Their forces were waning, and soon there would be none of them left unless they could stem the tide of the invaders’ attacks. Taennen’s prowess didn’t matter if they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. He ignored the remarks and strode past Bascou, headed toward the building Jhoqo had designated for citadel operations.

Taennen’s mind wandered as he walked through the courtyard. He needed to have his wounds dressed, and his sword needed to be cleaned or he would risk damaging the fine blade. He needed to write letters to the families of the men lost on the patrol that day. He pictured Loraica’s face along with the rest of his fallen friends’ and focused his attention. Right then, he needed to speak to Jhoqo.

The list of concerns to bring before Jhoqo formed in his mind. He chose his words carefully to tread the fine line between being too lightly critical of Bascou, whom Jhoqo clearly believed in, and smearing the man unnecessarily to the point of closing Jhoqo’s mind to the possibilities he would present.

Thoughts still whirling, he knocked on his commander’s door. There were no guards on duty—not surprising, given the dwindling number of bodies still upright and breathing in the citadel. Jhoqo’s voiced beckoned him enter.

The late sun found every crevice it could to leak through and the room shone. Jhoqo sat behind the planning table, still covered with maps and notes on the geography and vegetation of the area. The commander held his head in his hands, not raising his eyes to greet his durir.

Still not moving, and speaking very slowly, Jhoqo asked, “Do you have word of the mission?”

“Aye, sir,” Taennen replied. “It’s not good.” Jhoqo lifted his face. “Taennen.” Aye, sir.

“I am glad you are well, son. Report.”

Taennen cleared his throat. “We lost all eight men.”

“And Bascou?”

Taennen wanted to roar in the face of his commander. Four of his own were dead, and their commander cared first and foremost about the foreigner?

“Alive, sir,” he said.

“You found them, then?” Jhoqo said.

“A contingent, not their base of operations if they even have one. Sir, we had the opportunity to learn more, but Bascou decided not to pursue the tracks of the enemy. That’s why I came, sir, I don’t think he—”

“I’m sure he had his reasons. Unfortunately, further issues have arisen,” Jhoqo said.

“Sir, we lost—”

“I heard you, Durir. Now, listen to me,” Jhoqo said as he slumped back into his chair. He pointed to another seat, but Taennen declined the offer. Jhoqo ran a hand through his dark hair and said, “There was a traitor in our midst, a saboteur. Two of them, it seems.”

Taennen stood silent. Jhoqo continued before the younger man could ask the obvious question.

“Marlke’s dead. Killed by his conspirator, whom I captured,” the commander said.

Taennen responded before the words had finished leaving the man’s mouth, “Who?”

“I’m sorry, son,” Jhoqo said, and Taennen felt his knees soften. “I know you had grown close with her.”

+ + + + +

Adeenya’s eyes flew open and then slammed closed just as quickly when a shaft of light in the room lanced them, sending a sharp pain through her skull. Her head jerked away from the brightness, eyes cracking open again. She pulled herself up to a sitting position on the floor. Her head ached, but a check at the source of pain showed no blood or severe injury, though a bruise would doubtless fill the space. There was blood on the floor, and her face throbbed. Her fingers found a large, sore crevice of a wound on her chin as well as a split lip. Her right cheek and eye were swelling even as she felt them. Her mouth tasted terrible.