Neversfall (28 page)

“Traitor!” Taennen said, glancing behind himself to see if anyone else was approaching.

“Traitor? No, no. I am doing my job, my duty. I am no traitor,” Bascou said. “I was hired for this.”

“Hired to secret away a hoard of weaponry under the citadel? Hired to kill Marlke?” Taennen said.

Bascou laughed for a moment, holding his palm out toward Taennen. “The dwarf? No, I did not kill that one. He was good, very useful. He gave us these dwarves. Very good in the caves, those little men. And those,” he said, pointing to some nearby crates, “they are not staying here. Not hoarding, no.”

Taennen felt strangely relieved that Marlke hadn’t died an innocent. Adeenya’s trap had worked, at least in part. It had caught the traitor. One traitor, Taennen realized. But if they weren’t stockpiling the weapons, then what was going

on? Taennen’s mind suddenly flashed to the map he had seen with Neversfall marked on it. He could see the proposed trade route from the southern lands to the north.

“You’re running weapons to the Mulhorandi for their war,” Taennen said.

Bascou smiled the smile of a teacher whose pupil has finally grasped something difficult.

Taennen looked around at the tunnels, the dark walls, and the cramped space. “Why here? Why underground? Neversfall is meant to be part of the trade route.”

Bascou nodded and said, “Oh, yes, the citadel will help many merchants take rugs, food, jars, and pretty little things women sew to the Mulhorandi.”

“But not weapons,” Taennen finished for him, remembering the trade laws of the southern nations. “It’s illegal to interfere in the Mulhorandi action. When the Estagundian and Durpari governments find out about this, you and your troops will spend many, many years in servitude, if you’re lucky.”

Bascou laughed. “I think not. You think, maybe, I organized all of this by myself?” he said, motioning to the encampment in the cavern.

Taennen stood stunned a moment before answering, “Who? Who hired you? One of the rajah’s opponents?”

Bascou smiled again but only shrugged.

“The Durpari leaders?”

Again, Bascou smiled.

Taennen’s mind struggled with the man’s words. His weapon hand dropped to his waist. The scraping of boots on stone returned his focus. Taennen’s khopesh rose in time to block a stabbing blow from Bascou’s sword, the two metals resonating in a single note of discord. Taennen hopped backward, assuming a defensive posture low to the ground.

He held his shield before him and readied his blade.

“Who killed Loraica? And Marlke? Who else is with you?” Taennen said.

“Other than my men?” Bascou asked, with his customary smirk.

“Who are they? Who are you?” Taennen asked.

“We are mercenaries,” Bascou replied as he began circling. “Men of commerce.” He held his sword before him, but Taennen did not miss the dagger in his offhand, though the man tried to hide it.

“The intruders, they’re your men,” Taennen said.

Bascou swung his sword in a feint Taennen easily recognized and sidestepped to allow himself to block the dagger thrust that followed the swipe. They stepped apart, circling one another again.

“Why? Why kill us like that? Why do that and then come into our midst as allies?” Taennen asked.

“I suggested that we kill you all, but I do not give the orders,” Bascou responded, stepping in with another clumsy blow that Taennen easily dodged. “I was no more pleased by the tactics we were forced to employ than anyone else.”

Taennen glanced past his opponent to the cavern camp and began stepping backwards. He wanted to lead the Chondathan man toward the smaller cavern away from the ears of the others.

“But you couldn’t attack us directly, not without a larger force. So you invented these barbarians and picked us off a few at a time in the damned forest,” Taennen said, launching his own unsuccessful feint.

Bascou answered with his own blows, no longer bothering with feints. His sword arced toward Taennen from the right. The Chondathan man spun with the attack, reversing the grip on the dagger in his left hand. Taennen

ducked the sword strike and parried the dagger. The small blade hurtled down the passage to land on the stone floor. Bascou offered a slight bow, drawing a short sword from his belt.

“Who is giving the orders? Who killed Loraica?” Taennen asked, still back-stepping toward the first cavern.

Bascou’s only answer was a growl as he leaped forward with his short sword, aiming for his opponent’s gut. Taennen was faster and he sliced at Bascou’s stomach, biting into the man’s armor but causing no serious injury.

“To the citadel! Go!” Bascou shouted past Taennen.

“Who?” Taennen shouted as he barreled into the Chondathan man, his shield slamming into Bascou’s chest with a dull thud.

Taennen knew he would soon be surrounded by others from the cavern and he let his desperation lead him. Bascou twisted to his (eft after the initial impact, clearing himself of the tangle with the shield. As Taennen continued past him, Bascou sent his short sword slicing across the younger man’s back, finding flesh. Taennen stifled his cry of pain but recovered his feet and spun to face Bascou. Voices shouted out rallying cries from the tents. Bascou grinned as Taennen charged him again.

Taennen’s khopesh sliced only air as Bascou twisted and danced away on the balls of his feet. The Chondathan recovered and dived back into the fray only to be rebuffed by Taennen’s shield. They circled one another again. Bascou grinned as the sound of footsteps on stone thundered from behind him.

Taennen batted Bascou’s larger sword to the left with his shield and stepped closer to his opponent. Bascou fell for the trick, letting his sword go wide, stepping in with his shorter blade driving for Taennen’s chest. Taennen held the long

sword at bay with his shield but twisted the opposite direction. As he spun, his back facing his lunging foe, Taennen drove the khopesh into Bascou’s hip, eliciting a foul scream from the man.

Bascou drew his short sword in as Taennen continued to spin away. The Chondathans blade found purchase in the Maquar’s side but caused only a small wound before the two men separated. Taennen sidestepped through the dim tunnel as the cries of alarm from the larger cavern grew in intensity. Bascou’s forces would be upon them any moment.

Ten paces from the northern tunnel where the two dwarves had gone, Bascou swept in with his long sword in a feint that Taennen easily knocked aside. Taennen raised his shield in anticipation of the short sword strike only to be fooled when Bascou threw the smaller blade. It sank into Taennen’s left leg, provoking a grunt of pain, before slipping out and clattering to the floor.

Bascou shouted in victory as he swung his sword back toward his target. Taennen jumped over the man’s blade, pushing off the wall with his injured leg. The pain blurred his vision as he drove the steel deep into Bascou’s shoulder. Taennen plucked his blade from the bloody wound and landed hard, but kept his feet.

As Bascou growled in pain, he slashed at Taennen with his sword. Taennen knocked it aside and dodged the Chondathans counterattack.

Taennen turned and ran as hard as he could into the unlit northern tunnel. Behind him, Bascou called him a coward and gave chase. Taennen blundered through the dark passage until his feet found a puddle of water and he slipped, crashing to the ground in a heap. His cheek opened wide on a jagged edge of the stone floor as he

landed. Breathing heavily, he scrambled to his feet and ran again.

He could hear Bascou behind him, the footfalls echoing in the tunnel. Taennen had felt fear in battles before, even been convinced he would die, but he felt something new in that moment. Terror seized him, but it wasn’t death that struck such great fear in him. It was not living long enough to see Bascou and anyone else responsible for the atrocities at the citadel get what they deserved.

Taennen slowed to a stop in the dark tunnel. He lowered himself, shield braced and blade ready, to meet Bascou’s charge. The Chondathan man crashed into his shield, not expecting his prey to have stopped in the middle of the tunnel. Taennen landed hard on his back but rolled, launching Bascou over his head.

Bascou’s momentum tossed the Chondathan farther down the passage to land on his face. Taennen was on his foe in a blink, straddling him with his shield brought to bear on the Chondathan’s back. Bascou’s breath sped from his lungs under the weight of the Maquar. Taennen laid his blade across the man’s throat but did not apply the necessary pressure to break skin.

“Tell me who! Who sent you? Who is responsible for all this?” Taennen screamed, spraying angry spittle into the prone man’s eyes.”Who killed Loraica?”

Behind them, footfalls echoed through the tunnel, getting closer with every heartbeat. Bascou’s face was turning red from the weight atop him, but he managed a strangled chuckle at the sound. Taennen listened over his shoulder and heard the figures bearing down. His anger bubbled over at the hated Chondathan leader and, for a moment, Taennen considered letting himself be captured if he would find the answers to his questions. He heard another laugh

escape Bascou’s lips and made his decision, pulling his khopesh across the man’s throat. Bascou’s laughter faded as his blood flowed over the stone and his eyes closed. Taennen jumped to his feet, dashing into the darkness.

Adeenya’s heart crowded her throat as a handful of the remaining Durpari soldiers drew their blades amidst the gathered troops. Instead of attacking, they clustered together in the space granted to them by the rest of the throng. A dozen Maquar did the same and joined their fellows in the center of the crowd. More Durpari fell into place as did more Maquar until almost thirty soldiers stood back to back, a circle inside the crowd. Only a handful of Maquar and Durpari remained on the outside, shouting their disbelief at their fellow soldiers for their apparent betrayal.

Jhoqo called for quiet once again and hopped down from his crates, walking toward the gathering. “Brothers, sisters… please, do not do this.”

“Let us leave, and we will cause no harm,” shouted one of the rebel Durpari.

Jhoqo stepped closer saying, “I cannot allow that. If you drop your weapons right now, I will not need to report this. You can still save yourselves from the charge of treason. Please, friends.”

Despite herself, Adeenya believed the man was telling the truth. Even from her height atop the wall she could see

that Jhoqo was troubled. His shoulders sagged and his face all but drooped, but his jaw remained resolute. He wanted peace with his soldiers, that much was clear. But she also had no doubt that he would wade through their blood if he needed to, and he would sleep fine after offering a few prayers for their departed souls.

Suddenly, her last opponent’s words made sense. Jhoqo knew there would be resistance to his call for absolute loyalty, and he had planned ahead. He could not allow anyone to leave Neversfall, not with so many strange happenings. Crossbow assassins in lofty positions were the perfect solution, even if the potential rebels on the ground got the upper hand. No one could get to all of the crossbowmen to stop an inevitable massacre from raining down. Cursing herself for having wasted time, Adeenya raced along the wall, hoping to stop as many of the crossbowmen as she could.

In the courtyard below, Jhoqo continued to move closer to the dissidents. “Please. I cannot beg, though I wish I could. I love each of you and do not wish you harm. Do not do this.”

“Urir, something is very wrong here!” a tall Maquar in the middle shouted. “Taennen is not capable of what you say. You know this even better than I!”

“I thought so, too, brother, but even now he is sowing the seeds to undo all the work we’ve done here. He stands as an impediment to free trade and the Southern ways, son. You don’t want to do that, too, do you?” Jhoqo said, his hands held away from the borrowed sword that hung on his belt.

“The Maquar have never killed one of our own, but you just told us to do that very thing!” the tall man said.

“No!” Jhoqo snapped. “I want him alive, but you know him. He will not allow himself to be captured.”

“No, sir! I will not kill him,” the tall man replied, and a chorus of agreement joined his voice from those around him. “You should not be asking us to do that!”

Jhoqo waited for the noise to subside before saying, “Don’t make me do this, friends. I want everyone here to remain alive to see the glorious future of our lands. Some of you have been with me longer even than Taennen. You’ve always trusted me. I ask you for that again.”

Waving their weapons to keep the loyalists at bay, the inner circle of Maquar and Durpari soldiers pushed as one to move toward the main gate of the citadel. Their shuffling feet sounded like cattle skittering from the brand. A trio of Chondathans along the edge of the conflict drew their swords and stood together, a bladed barrier against the shifting mass of dissenters, who ceased their progress at the gesture. The Chondathans yelled for their surrender, the Maquar and Durpari shouted their refusal, and Jhoqo tried impotently to wade into the growing scuffle.

Adeenya wanted to join them, to help them rail against Jhoqo and the Chondathans. But she knew that one more body would do little good in the courtyard. The best thing she could do at that moment was to take out the crossbowmen.

She ran toward her next target—the bowman in the dark patch ahead of her. She entered the dim space, Jhoqo’s falchion drawn back for a wild swing. She took some small comfort that the noise in the courtyard likely masked her brash approach. The assassin lay flat atop the wall, half a dozen paces before her, taking aim on the crowd.

Below, one of the Durpari soldiers squeezed past the Chondathans and dashed across the courtyard toward the gate. The bowman fired a breath before Adeenya’s feet left the ground in her leap toward him. The bolt flew true,

piercing the young Durpari in the leg. He stumbled and fell but quickly came to his feet and resumed his escape. He made another three paces before a second arrow from the opposite side of the courtyard found his throat, dropping him.