Ed Gentry - Neversfall

Shuffling sounds outside the door told her the guards had returned and heard the ruckus inside. Without regard for stealth, she unsheathed the man's enormous falchion and kicked him in the jaw. The footsteps outside were just beyond the door. She had to move quickly.

Adeenya drew the sword high over her head. She felt something in her hands, a thrumming that urged her forward. The enchanted blade pulsed with power. She charged forward, the sword plunging ahead, biting into and through the wooden door with a loud report. Splinters flew outward, blasting the passageway beyond.

Adeenya barked in pain at the vibration running through her arms. With no time to see if her captor was still prone from the beating, Adeenya ran from the room, shoving past the surprised guards, and sprinted down the stairs. The hammering footsteps of the guards chasing her drove her on. She had no idea where she would go or what she would do, but freedom beckoned and she kept on running.

Since he had arrived at the citadel, Taennen Tamoor had seen things he never would have believed possible and felt things he hoped never to feel again. He pushed open the door to the massive tower known as Neversfall and trudged up the stairs. A thousand shades of gray and black unwound before him as he climbed the steps. Lucha's light, filtered by the approaching clouds, aided the torches hung on the walls in guiding him. Upon reaching the top, he stepped into the tower room as delicately as if he were walking a tightrope. Khatib's face smiled at him in his mind as Taennen stood in front of one of the enormous viewing portals.

The Aerilpar forest looked closer and more real from that height than it had when he had been among its trees. The woods stretched before him as far as he could see, and somewhere beyond were the Giant's Belt Mountains. Nothing else was in sight, like being in the middle of the sea with only water around you. Each hillock of the plains was like a wave meandering on its way to a hidden shore. The only islands in the sea were Neversfall and the Aerilpar. Taennen scanned the forest for a long while.

Taennen had heard that when certain tracking animals were given a scent and ordered to chase it, they were overcome with a kind of frantic fever that forced them to chase the scent until they found its source, no matter the cost. He recalled one story in which a man's hunting dog had chased the smell of a wanted criminal-a young man who had raped the hunter's daughter-for nearly three days straight, leaving the hunter far behind halfway through the first day. The hunter had, so the story went, camped and rested, following the tracks of his companion until he came upon the loyal creature. Weakened from a lack of food, covered in cuts and sores from its long journey, the dog had died, literally running itself to death in pursuit of its quarry. The hunter was saddened but was filled with pride in and thankfulness for his friend, for the dog had insured that the man would have his vengeance. No more than two bowshots away from the poor animal lay the criminal in a pool of his own dried blood, his legs rendered useless by the dog's attacks.

Taennen felt as though he was beginning to understand the dog. Certain he had figured out something important, he ran through the citadel of Neversfall toward the only other potential source of information that might assist him. The night was warm, and sweat streamed down his face as he made his way toward the building that held the prisoners. Two of the Chondathan guards stood outside the structure, conversing quietly, their casual stance an insult to anyone who had ever served in a legitimate military unit. Taennen slowed his pace to model confidence without concern. He nodded to each guard in turn and reached for the door.

When the guards stepped together, shoulders touching in the middle to block his entry, Taennen said, "I'm to further interrogate the prisoners."

"No one's to see them," the shorter Chondathan said, his compatriot nodding his agreement.

Taennen allowed his anger to ride across his face. He would not be denied access to his own prisoners by a Chondathan. He placed his hand on the hilt of his khopesh and leaned in close to the man who had spoken. Before he could speak, both guards had drawn their weapons and were snapping at him in their native tongue. Seeing the shorter man's daggers and the other's long sword waving in his face, Taennen took two steps back, raising his empty hand into the air.

"No one sees them," the Chondathan repeated.

Taennen's eyes narrowed as he said, "We'll see."

The guards traded looks and a few foreign words before facing him again, the previous speaker saying, "Do as you will."

Taennen eyed each man and walked south of the building, turning past the next structure. He quickened his pace but tried to keep his step light as he went around the back of the quarters to come up behind the jail. Stretching his body, standing on the tips of his toes, Taennen tried to reach the narrow windows in the wall to no avail.

Summoning every lesson on stealth he had ever learned, Taennen lowered himself to the dirt and slid under the building, through the trench in the ground. He pushed on the stone floor above him, checking for loose slabs, but found none.

Slipping his khopesh from his belt, Taennen made his way toward the front of the jail. He reached the front corner of the building, took a deep breath, and began to move into view of the guards, ready to charge and catch them unaware. He felt certain he could get past the guards, although perhaps not without seriously harming them.

As he put his plan into motion, shouts emanated from the central courtyard in the strange Chondathan tongue.

The two guards, mere paces from him, acknowledged the calls and ran toward the source of the commotion. Taennen did not pause to wonder what the trouble was. A gift was a gift, his father had always said.

Taennen darted to the door. The fetid smell of the place had not improved since his last visit, and his nose burned with the acidic taint of waste. Some small corner in the back of his mind made note to reprimand the guards for not having followed his earlier orders to improve conditions for the formians.

"Guk!" Taennen whispered.

No response came and Taennen blinked, his eyes adjusting to dim light. Before him, standing in the very spot where he had last seen the creature, the large formian turned his head toward Taennen, his head cocked to one side. Taennen stepped in close and pulled off the creature's gag and blindfold, his nose a mere handspan from the formians clattering mouth appendages, even though the bars separated them. The strange, hardened flesh that covered Guk's body glistened in the torchlight, seeming radiant when compared to its dull appearance in the open sunlight of the battlefield where they had originally met.

"It was the dwarf, Marlke, you saw go into the tower," Taennen said with no hint of a question in his tone.

"Yes," Guk said.

The formians utter lack of an attempt to bluff, to strengthen his bargaining position, caused Taennen to step away from the creature. The otherworldly nature of the formian had never been so apparent, and Taennen suddenly felt ill-equipped to relate to Guk on even the most basic level. He stammered for a moment before gathering his wits and stepping forward again to stand face to face with the formian.

"The dwarf is dead," Taennen said. "Did you see anyone else go into the tower? Did you see anyone else talking with the dwarf?"

"No," Guk said. His antennae twitched as if considering a puzzle or some other curiosity.

"Your freedom… do you still want that?" Taennen asked.

Guk offered a simple nod, displaying no emotion.

Taennen felt a wave of relief, finally getting something positive from the strange captive. Though the thought of dangling freedom before a prisoner made his stomach roil, Taennen had no other bargaining chips.