Neversfall (27 page)

+ + + + +

Taennen followed the formians as they scurried through the tunnels. Utterly blind in the absolute darkness, he listened for their soft, almost soundless footfalls. They had run several hundred paces, but they had not yet seen another light like the one at the tunnels entrance. Perhaps they were in an unused portion of the tunnels? The formians could be leading him anywhere. Taennen slowed his pace and came to a stop. Ahead, the formians halted as well.

“Come.” Guk’s voice floated out of the darkness.

“Where are we going?” Taennen asked.

“To the invaders.”

“Why would you take me there?”

Silence reigned for several moments before the telltale clacking of the formians’ mandibles echoed through the chamber, followed by Guk saying, “Because you freed us, as agreed.”

“But you make slaves of my people.”

Another long pause came before the formian spoke again. “We agreed. You free us, we show you the invaders. We gave you our word. Our word is law.”

Taennen had little choice but to accept the given intentions at face value or wander lost in the tark tunnels, so he

asked the formians to proceed and he fell in behind them. Extending both arms to let his fingers skim along the rocky walls to check his surroundings, Taennen felt safer, more grounded. He could smell fresh water even above the bitter scent of aged rock and the musty odor of the mildews and molds common underground.

The formians slowed down as the darkness began to break apart under the prying wisps of light ahead. Though not enough to distinguish any details, the dim magical light, like that near the tunnel entrance, allowed Taennen to make out shapes. He crept forward until he was looking past the formians into a large open area, a cave with a high ceiling and broad walls. Staying in the obscuring dark of the tunnel, Taennen squinted to make out details. Before he could focus, he felt a prodding at his back. He turned to face the creatures.

“Invaders are there. We are done,” Guk said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Taennen said. “Where will you go?”

Guk turned back. The low light seemed to flee from the formian’s face, which made addressing him difficult. “To join the others and look for more workers.”

The absurdity of what he was doing crashed down upon Taennen, but he did not dwell on it. He paused before saying thank you. He had no other words.

Guk simply turned and left, leading his people back through the tunnel. Taennen turned once again to examine the open area ahead of him. Clinging to the darkness of the tunnel, Taennen crept forward and scanned the area ahead.

The walls expanded to forty paces across, and the ceiling was perhaps half that in height. Two exit tunnels, one at the far end of the cave and the other to his right, caught

Taennen’s attention. The magical, smokeless torchlight was present though not plentiful, and no sounds came from the area. With little alternative, Taennen darted into the cave, coming to a stop against a wall in the nearest shadows.

He skirted the edge of the room sticking close to the wall, his feet shuffling on the ground. He followed the rounded perimeter to his right for several heartbeats. More than twenty crates over half a man long and as high as his knees were spread out before him, stacked in piles of two.

Watching both entrances, Taennen crouched and pried a lid off one of the boxes, cursing its squeaks. Swords of fine manufacture lay in the box, instruments of death waiting to fulfill their purpose. The slender blades were indicative of Durpari style.

Taennen moved to another box and found six score daggers, dull and ordinary, not for mercantile use. He glanced back at the swords and noted the same quality. No jewels shone in their hilts, no ornate filigree decorated the handles. The weapons were not intended to serve as display pieces in markets or on the walls of the wealthy. They were designed to display the blood of other men and women on a field of battle.

As he stepped toward another crate, Taennen heard voices from the other end of the cavern. He dashed to the shadows, not sparing the time to close the boxes of weapons. From the tunnel straight ahead, two figures entered the cavern.

At first it seemed as though the pair were speaking some other tongue, but as they came closer, Taennen realized they were speaking Common but at an amazing rate. One could not even finish a sentence before the other started speaking, and then the reverse became true. Though he could not follow the conversation entirely, it seemed they

were bickering over prices, for he heard almost as many numbers as words.

Stepping into the light of a torch in the wall, the two figures—dwarves, he determined—stopped and argued as they pointed to various crates. After several moments, one of the short folk tossed his hands into the air and nodded, causing the other to pump his fist in victory and pat his companion on the back. Together they stacked three of the crates and hefted the load between them, trudging back the way they had come, chatting and laughing as they did.

What in the All and the One were dwarves doing there? He remained in the comfortable shadows and made his way to the eastern tunnel. The passage was well lit, the magical light burning away the darkness and the security it afforded him. Slipping his khopesh from its sheath and lifting his shield to his chest, Taennen crept forward. The air was warm and moist. His skin was sticky and clammy, from both the air and the nervous sweat he shed.

Thirty paces in, the passage opened into another cavern, this one many times the size of the first and crowded with much more than crates. Taennen’s eyes went wide at the sight before him as he stepped into the massive space before realizing he was out in the open. He quickly stepped back to lean against the passage wall.

At least two dozen large tents and semi-permanent structures filled the cavern. Dwarves and humans swarmed about, moving from tent to tent, some carrying crates, some barking orders to others constructing more of the shacks, and a few tables of dwarves drinking and gambling at a game Taennen did not recognize.

With better visibility from many magical torches, Taennen could see the markings on the armor of some of

the dwarves and recognized the symbol as the same one Marlke had worn, the mark of the Gemstone Chaka. Some of the humans wore the familiar clothing of the barbarians who had plagued Neversfall with their attacks and wiped out so many of Taennen’s comrades. Two humans exited the largest tent in the cavern, and Taennen restrained himself from shouting out when he saw they wore Chondathan uniforms.

He stood there watching for several breaths.The Chondathans were allied with the attackers who had killed so many of his friends. His body began to tremble with rage. Taennen’s breath caught when he asked himself if Jhoqo knew about the Chondathans. Taennen was driven from his baffled reverie when he heard the scraping of steel behind him.

+ + + + +

The twang of the crossbow string found Adeenya’s ears at the same time the pain in her thigh pulsed. When she next stepped on her newly injured leg, Adeenya stifled a scream but continued forward, arcing her blade toward the shooter. Eyes wide, he rolled clear of the strike. She redirected the huge falchion before it struck the stone where her target had just been. She swung the weapon around, and it struck the crossbow the man had tossed aside as he was drawing his sword.

Adeenya grunted through her pain and thrust into the man, who slid aside trying for a chop of his own across her midsection. Adeenya threw her weight to her right, avoiding the attack, and then overextended herself attempting to send her blade into the guard. No inexperienced fool, he hopped backward. In doing so, he granted Adeenya the

time she needed to recover from her risky move. Facing one another, they stepped around each other, neither one attacking. Down below, a new wave of sound erupted from the gathered crowd. With a glance, Adeenya saw that the middle of the crowd parted from the back to the front allowing Jhoqo through, escorted by two Chondathans.

Adeenya’s opponent grinned and lowered his sword, though not all the way. “It’s too late. You cannot stop all of us. Let’s just walk down there together and see him.”

“All of us?” Adeenya asked.

The man’s grin widened for a moment before Adeenya lunged forward, her falchion entering the soft spot under his chin. Warm blood splashed her face as she turned away, eyes closed. She heard tiny gurgling noises as she withdrew her blade from the body before it slumped to the ground.

Adeenya turned to face the courtyard where Jhoqo was stepping onto the crates, waving for the crowd’s attention. She needed a plan and needed it quickly.

Below, Adeenya could then hear Jhoqo speaking to the gathered crowd. “My brothers and sisters, I come to you with more grievous news and a choice that I, unfortunately, must ask you to make. The traitor, Adeenya, has escaped.”

Adeenya watched from her perch on the wall as the Chondathans in the crowd roared their displeasure, the Maquar murmured among themselves, and the Durpari stood silent.

“Fear not, for she will be found before she can kill again!” Jhoqo said to the cheering Chondathans who outnumbered the Maquar and Durpari combined.

Jhoqo waved for quiet before continuing, “These are difficult times, friends, when one of our own might turn her back on everything we fight and die for. And what is that? What drew each of us to this life?”

Jhoqo paced across the crates looking at the crowd. “We love the South. We love its people. Though we hail from different countries, we are the same people! We love the same things, believe in the same principles. Everything is connected—the Adama has taught us that. Every bit of life you give to the South helps someone else. But the opposite is true too. If you spend your time and energy fighting against the South and her children, then we all feel that! It hurts us all!” More cheers, as well as the mixed reactions of the original forces, greeted him.

Adeenya continued skulking across the wall even as a Chondathan rushed into the courtyard below, running directly to Jhoqo’s side. The Maquar urir bent low and listened to the man before nodding and motioning for four of the Chondathan to follow the messenger. Adeenya stopped and listened as Jhoqo stood tall again.

“Friends, I am sorry to say that I have just learned that there was a third traitor working with Marlke and Adeenya, another who wanted to harm us,” Jhoqo said, causing the crowd to go silent quickly. “This news both saddens and shames me as the conspirator is none other than the man I’ve raised as my own son for many years.”

The gathered throng erupted with noise and motion. The Chondathan howled, the Durpari began to shove their way out of the crowd, and the Maquar shouted their protests. Jhoqo bellowed for some semblance of order, and the Chondathan soldiers began corralling the Durpari, keeping them from leaving the gathering.

“Maquar, silence!” Jhoqo shouted, this time achieving the desired effect. The soldiers quieted, but the tension was still palpable, even to Adeenya from her place on the wall.

“My friends, I know how you must feel,” Jhoqo said,

his head hung low. “We trusted Taennen. We loved him as brother and son. We fought with him, saved his life, and were saved by him in turn. I loved him as my own, but I have been offered damning proof.”

Adeenya could not guess what proof Jhoqo might have. She knew that for the man to take such extreme action, Taennen must have discovered something important. She hoped the younger man was not in custody as she had been. She had no clues as to what Jhoqo’s plan might be, but she felt both hope and fear that Taennen might have stumbled upon it. She needed to find him quickly. Amid protests, Jhoqo spoke again.

“Brothers and sisters, can’t you see how fragile we are here? We are besieged by an enemy we cannot even find, while they slowly eat away at us, deep in this hostile environment. We have only one another to depend upon. For one another we must live, for the South we must work! This place, this Neversfall, will be a shining beacon to the Southern ways—to fairness, to connectedness, and to commerce. To everything that makes us who we are. But to do that, friends, I need your help! I need to know who my family is, who my fellow patriots are.”

Quiet fell over the crowd again, though Adeenya thought they were stunned by Jhoqo’s words as much as they were interested in what the man had said. The Chondathans were surveying the other two groups. Jhoqo was pacing his stage like the best showmen in the Durpari carnivals. His gestures were large and flowing, his arms emoting along with his words.

“I ask you here and now to help me, to prove your loyalty. Search this citadel, search for Taennen and Adeenya,” Jhoqo said. The reactions to his request ranged from cheers to nods to silence and scowls. He finished by saying, “They

are betrayers desperate to escape. They may do things you find unthinkable. You are hereby authorized to bring them to me by any means necessary.”

Jhoqo’s last four words washed over the crowd like blasphemy in a holy congregation. Several of the Maquar and Durpari tried to push to their way out of the crowd, while a few of each group shouted at the rest. Division was an effective tactic, and Adeenya had to admit that Jhoqo was using it well. Perhaps he could not sway all the troops, but those who wouldn’t come to his side only made his claim of betrayal more convincing in the eyes of those who did.

The Chondathans fanned the flames of anger, pushing both Maquar and Durpari alike, shoving them back to the center of the crowd. The shouts grew primal, the soldiers became wild animals grunting and butting heads. The volume rose well beyond Jhoqo’s shouts. Nothing comprehensible could be heard until one undeniable sound rose above the others: the ringing scrape of swords being drawn from their scabbards simultaneously in the warm night air, as crisp and clear as a bell.

#

Xaennen ducked into a roll that brought him back up racing the opposite direction. He came to his feet, blade in hand, and saw Bascou, holding his sword before him, a smile on his face.

“Hello, my friend,” the man said. “You should not be here, I think.”