Ed Gentry - Neversfall

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.

Adeenya's blade sliced into the archer with all her anger, strength and weight, burying itself into his hipbone. The Chondathan man screamed for only a moment before Adeenya whirled about, sinking the blade into the top of his skull. She yanked the weapon free with a splash of sanguine fluid. The orir ran along the wall toward the corner, seeking her next target.

The bowman's scream had brought a temporary quiet to the courtyard, which she took advantage of, yelling to her comrades. "Do not leave the crowd! Hold your places! Let the crowd be your shield. Archers are on the walls! They will shoot down any who run!"

Though they could not see her in the dark, the rebels in the courtyard knew her voice and accepted the truth of her words. No more evidence than their fallen fellow and the arrows protruding from his corpse was needed. The Durpari cheered to hear her voice and tightened their formation, batting away anyone who attempted to get too close. The Maquar seemed to take heart as well, sending up cheers of their own. The tense, celebratory sounds were short-lived, cut off by a Durpari soldier's shout of pain as he slumped to the ground, his blood dripping from the blades of one of the Chondathans.

"No!" Jhoqo shouted in vain. The jumble of people in the courtyard roiled out of control into a chorus of steel on steel as every man and woman fought for their lives.

Adeenya's steps froze for a moment when the fighting began, but she quickly recovered and hurried along the outer wall. The bulk of the Maquar and Durpari forces were squaring off against the Chondathans and a few of their former comrades in the courtyard. Other Maquar and Durpari stood doing nothing, not sure which side to choose.

Already at least four dead lay on the ground, never to rise again. Crossbow bolts winged their way into the battle from unseen sources in the dark. If as many crossbowmen lay in wait along the northern and western wall as there had been on the eastern, the soldiers in the courtyard would not last long. For the sake of her comrades, Adeenya pressed on.

Jhoqo waded into the clashing soldiers, launching the pommel of his sword into the head of a nearby rebel Maquar. The soldier fell in a slump as consciousness fled him.

"Please!" he shouted. "Stop this now. We can still recover," he said.

The Maquar commander swung again, stealing the breath from another confrontational Maquar when the pommel of his blade connected with the man's gut.

Adeenya ran the entire length of the northern wall without finding any crossbowmen, but her luck did not hold as she turned onto the the western wall. In the darkness she could barely see him, but her eye caught a deadly shaft soaring into the back of a soldier in the courtyard.

Adeenya launched herself into the man who was already standing and ready for her. Their swords met, and both fighters gave way, steel grating on steel. Her opponent was Chondathan, an older man with wrinkles and scars covering his face and neck. She drove the falchion toward his chest with a blow he easily parried. She prepared herself for a counterattack that never came. The Chondathan paced side to side, awaiting her next strike. She feinted right at waist level before whipping her blade around high from his left. Again, the man deflected the blow and resumed his defensive posture. She lunged again, leading with her blade and attempted a punch with her off hand, leaving herself exposed for an attack.

Her foe made no move for her exposed belly, and she knew she had been fooled. She figured out his ploy a heartbeat too late as four Chondathans ran toward them from the south, grim-faced, with weapons drawn. Her lack of stealth on the northern wall had cost her, but she had no regrets. Her people in the courtyard needed her, and for them she had to do what she could, as long as she could. At least the Chondathans coming toward her were not firing into the crowd any longer.