Neversfall

Chapter Sixteen

On unsteady legs, Adeenya crossed the squared-stone floor to the door. She eased herself to her knees and put her ear to the door, its cool smoothness soothing to her aching head. When no sound greeted her, she bent lower, attempting to look beneath the door through the narrow gap between floor and portal. Two pairs of boots stood a few paces away to the left of the door. Twisting her head, she put her ear toward the gap and heard voices, just above a whisper. Their unfamiliar tongue grated on her ears with guttural syllables and fricatives sprinkled throughout.

Adeenya rose to her feet, doing her best to be quiet. Her slow speed made her muscles strain, adding to her fatigue. She glanced around the room again, hoping she had missed something on her first check, but she saw the same bare walls and empty floor. Adeenya leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths before knocking on the door with the flat of her palm. The voices outside stopped, and scuffling boots sounded on the stone floor. Quick words were exchanged, and the door opened inward revealing two Chondathan soldiers. Both were of middling age, with the typical dark hair and heavy moustaches common among the newly arrived troops.

"What?" one of them asked, his sword in his hand but his posture relaxed.

"Why am I here?" Adeenya asked.

"Traitors belong in cells," said the other, his accent much less thick than his partner's.

Adeenya focused on the second man, noting his distinctive green eyes and soft, round face. "Traitor?"

The green-eyed man nodded and added, "Yes, traitor. We know you work with the savages."

"By whom have I been accused?" Adeenya asked, knowing the answer but wishing to keep the men engaged as long as possible so that she might discern more information.

The other man sneered and said, "The Maquar leader saw you kill the dwarf, girlie."

"He died, then?" she asked. She knew the wound she had delivered was not a small one, but it would have been possible to heal it.

The round-faced man nodded while the other chuckled, spitting something in his native tongue. Adeenya stepped back, her head shaking. The green-eyed man, the better speaker of the two, stepped into the room and put a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head and looked the man in the eyes.

"It will be all right. You will receive judgment. They will only make you work," the man said. "In our country, it would be much worse for you."

His emerald eyes smiled at her, nearly withdrawing her attention from the man behind him, who stood laughing at her plight. Adeenya placed her hand over the one on her shoulder and looked the man in the eyes. A snarl flashed on her lips as she squeezed his hand with all her strength and jerked his arm downward.

The smile fled the man's lips as Adeenya's knee slammed into his face. His wrist cracked under her grip. His head bounced off her knee, straightening his forcibly bent posture. Before the man could steady himself, Adeenya followed her assault with a fist to his nose that sent him spinning away behind a flowering spray of red.

She whirled to kick at his companion who was already on her. Her strong, slender leg arced toward the grinning man who caught her foot and gave it a hard yank with his left hand. He dropped his sword from his right hand and sent a balled fist into her gut. The force of his punch stole every bit of breath her lungs held.

He tossed her leg aside and punched her again, and this time his aim found her jaw. Gasping in pain, Adeenya fell to the floor. A gray dimness encircled her vision and grew darker each moment she held onto consciousness. As the darkness closed in around her, the first man with the kind green eyes stood and dusted himself off. Red-faced from his compatriot's chuckling, the man kicked Adeenya in the ribs with a resounding crunch.

The door slammed shut before her. Outside, she heard her chuckling assailant say to the green-eyed man, "That is twice now, my friend. You are slipping."

Adeenya pulled herself against the nearby wall and tried to relax her muscles. The pain was easier to take than she had expected. Her ribs ached. Her head throbbed. Had she a mirror, Adeenya was certain she would find bruises on the side of her face, likely blooming bright and colorful. They would fade into purples, greens, and then yellows. Would she still be trapped in this place then? Would she be alive long enough to see those ugly marks diminish?

The room had become very dark, not granted even the meager light that made it past the boarded window before her assault. Evening had settled. She wondered if the guards had changed. Even if so, it would do her little good. The previous guards would have warned the newcomers of her attempt to escape, making them wary of any further efforts.

Adeenya pulled her legs in tight to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. She thought about all the times other warriors had told her that they felt naked without their armor and limbless without their weapons. She craved her armor worse than even her favorite food, but she did not feel naked without it. She desired her weapons more than any lover she had ever taken, but she did not feel limbless. Anger pervaded her mind, leaving room for little else and granting her protection and fury.

A voice outside the door spoke. She started when she heard a familiar booming voice answer the first. She uncoiled her body but stayed seated, ready to move quickly if necessary. Other voices answered the first and feet shuffled. The door before her opened, and torch light poured in, chasing away the darkness. Her anger seethed at the sight of the entrant as he placed a torch in a sconce on the wall.

"Good evening," Jhoqo said, closing the door behind him with one hand, the other riding the hilt of his sword. He wore a slight smile and soft eyes. He was in full dress- armor, rank insignia, and Maquar silks.

Adeenya met his gaze and did not falter, even when she heard the men on the other side of the door moving away, their feet pounding as they went down a flight of stairs. The muscles in her jaw flexed rapidly as she clenched, the pressure on her teeth growing almost unbearable. For his part, Jhoqo knelt and nodded toward her, as if he understood and forgave her reaction.

"I can only imagine what you're feeling now," the man said.

Adeenya sprang forward, her hands reaching toward the Maquar's neck. Jhoqo's head shook as he stepped into her attack and drove a fist into her stomach. She crumpled back to the floor, sputtering and gasping for air. He withdrew and crouched, watching her closely. She forced away the pain and drew a deep breath as she pushed herself back up against the wall. Her eyes found his again, his dark skin shimmering in the firelight from the torch.

"Please do not do that again," Jhoqo said. "I have no wish to harm you."

"Only to knock me out from behind? To blame me for Marlke's death? And what else?" Adeenya said. "What other invented crimes have you charged me with?"

"A few, all necessary," Jhoqo replied. "His death is the only one that you are guilty of."

"I was trying to stop him! Your interference is what killed him. Or maybe you finished him off yourself!"

"You caused his death," Jhoqo replied. "Whether directly or indirectly, you were the cause of his death. Had you not insisted upon setting a trap for the traitor, you would never have discovered Marlke at his work. Had you not found him, he would not be dead."

"That's the logic of someone seeking absolution if I've ever heard it," she said.

Jhoqo shrugged again, unimpressed with the distinction. "I let him die. You killed him," he said. "There is a difference."

"By the One and the All… you are mad," Adeenya said, her feet unconsciously pushing against the stone to move farther from the man.

Jhoqo smiled halfway and nodded as he moved himself to rest against the door, sitting opposite the woman. "Your words do not surprise me, but let me ask a question. Why did you become a mercenary?" he asked.

When she did not answer, he continued, "Did you wish to serve something greater than yourself? Though Durpar does not have a military institution in the same sense as my country, you mercenaries fill that void. Is that why you made your choice?"

Adeenya thought about the question and nodded. She saw an opportunity and could not pass it up.

"It is the same for most of us, I think," he said, offering a larger smile.

"Most of who?" she asked.

"Patriots, like you and I," he answered. "That's what we are, Adeenya. We love our countries, our people, our ways of life."

Her eyes wide, Adeenya said, "You're a murderer. You're no hero!"

"I said patriot," he replied, and added, "though I think history will remember me as a hero as well. How do you wish to be remembered, Adeenya? As a hero or a traitor?" Jhoqo asked, leaning toward her.

Adeenya hesitated, Jhoqo's grotesque nature growing clearer to her by the moment. Talk of patriots and heroes, love of country and fellow man-it made her stomach heave in protest to think of the man before her believing such things about himself, while the blood of his subordinates soaked the ground. His eyes shone back at her in the torchlight, and he clearly expected a response to his question.

"I'm no hero, " Adeenya said, "and I don't yet deserve to be remembered as one. Maybe I never will be," she said with a shrug before continuing. "And if you're what passes for a patriot, then I'd not call myself one in this life or any after."

Jhoqo nodded, easing away from her. He stared at her in silence for several moments before standing, his knees grinding a little and causing him to sigh. The short man moved to the wall against which she rested and placed his hand on the stone. Running his fingers along the rock, he smiled, tracing the tiny gaps where one stone met another.

"Do you know what makes stacked stones stand together as a wall?" Jhoqo asked, not looking at her.

"Patriotism?" Adeenya said, sarcastically.

Jhoqo's grin widened as he looked at her and said, "Of the builders who come together to craft the wall? That's true. But I mean in a broader sense."

Jhoqo ran a finger along the gaps between the stones again and spoke softly, "If you stack these stones directly atop one another, no matter how many columns, they will begin to waver and eventually tumble after you pile six, maybe seven of them high, will they not?

"However, if you place several side by side and a similar row atop those, but shifted one way or the other from those below so that the gaps no longer line up, you achieve more balance, but no permanency, solidity, or strength.

"The strength-what keeps them together-is the weight of them. The pressure is spread amongst them, each taking its fair share and passing the rest down to its neighbor," Jhoqo said, kneeling on the floor near her. "Like soldiers working together, they take everything they can handle and trust in their fellow soldiers, their brothers and sisters, to do the same. Given enough stones, no height is unreachable, no weight too much, no pressure too great. The same is true of soldiers and patriots."

She frowned and ran her fingers over the stone. His words were surprisingly moving. Despite the situation, she longed to feel the connection between them, but she felt only cold rock, well placed by hundreds if not thousands of workers, and likely magically enhanced to be sturdy and durable.

"So how does killing and falsely accusing allies and comrades make them stronger?" Adeenya asked.

Still kneeling, Jhoqo shook his head and replied, "You live for that sense of camaraderie that only a soldier knows. You thrive on holding the trust of others, grasping it with every ounce of your strength. You love freely giving your trust to those same brothers and sisters, to see them cradle your life in their capable arms."

Adeenya offered no response. They both knew what he said was true. The truth he spoke was the same for all soldiers.

"It's the same for me, sister," Jhoqo said. "But my love of my comrades has grown beyond just my fellow soldiers. That sense of glorious obligation you feel to your brothers in arms, I feel to my fellow countrymen, in fact, all southerners as a whole. Their pain is my agony, their triumph my joy."

Adeenya did not attempt to hide her laughter, letting it echo in the room, hoping more than anything to watch it float to his ears and crush his head with its melodious force and wrathful earnestness.

Jhoqo frowned and shook his head. "I thought that, of anyone here, of anyone I've met in a long time, you would understand. He had hoped you would too."

Adeenya sprang to her feet, her face flushing red as she said, "Taennen thought I would understand your rhetoric?"

Jhoqo took a single step back, his hand going to the hilt of his sword at the woman's sudden movement. When it was clear she was not advancing, her words seemed to sink in, and the man shook his head. "Taennen? Gods, no. He doesn't understand, either," Jhoqo said.

"Then who?" Adeenya asked. Without responding, Jhoqo moved toward the door. "Wait. Who was hoping I would understand?" she asked.

"It does not matter. He was wrong, for the first time since I've known him," Jhoqo responded.

"Sometimes we don't know ourselves as well as others in our lives do," Adeenya said. She had gone too far, pushed too hard. She needed to keep him talking until the time was right if she wanted to escape.

Jhoqo stopped a few paces from the door, his eyes narrowing as he faced her and said, "Yes, that is so."

Adeenya started to speak, but no words came. She ran her hands through her ruddy hair and leaned against the windowed wall. "Maybe this person of whom you speak…" she said, hoping Jhoqo would finish the thought.

When no response came, Adeenya looked up to find him staring hard at her. "When I started this mission, I thought I knew what being in the military meant," she said.

"And now?" Jhoqo responded.

"I don't… you were right, you know, when you said that I live for the camaraderie of this life. More than anything, I long for that sense of community, of knowing that the man next to me on that battle line is living as much for me as for himself," she said. "I thought I had that. Maybe I did, even, but when I saw your men, I knew there was more," she said. "I'm not going to pretend that I agreed with all of your decisions as their leader, but they followed you without question, and they really seemed to enjoy working side by side. They know one another, and they care about one another."

"Your soldiers don't?" he asked.

"They do. We do," she said, sighing. "But part of me always wonders…"

"What?" he asked.

"They're mercenaries, more or less. Are they here solely for the coin?" she said, locking eyes with the man.

Jhoqo smiled and said, "And what's wrong with profiting from the work you do? A soldier works harder than any other person alive. My troops and I all benefit from our work."

She shook her head. "But you didn't join an outfit like the Maquar for that. You joined because you wanted to dedicate yourself to something bigger."

"But the two can go together," the Maquar said. "In fact, they must. That's what most people miss. That's what Taennen misses.

"Jeradeem Seltarir, father of the Adama, taught us that everything is part of everything else, no? That's why he was such a fine trader. He knew that the more business he did and the more coin he made, then the more he could spend to improve the lives of others, and the more he could pay the people in his own chaka," Jhoqo said, bending down to rest on his haunches. "Commerce is our lifeblood, and we must defend it."

"Taennen does not agree with you?" Adeenya asked.

Jhoqo sighed, settling on the floor, his legs crossing easily. If she wasn't careful and she ran, he would catch her with just as little effort. "It's not a matter of agreement, it is one of understanding. He has grown no closer to understanding during the past several years. I had hopes for him, but it appears Taennen will never be any more than he is now," Jhoqo said.

"And what is that?" she asked.

"Like most men, he is a tool, a device to carry out the commands of the craftsman who wields him." "So he's a good soldier?" she asked. "Excellent, I would say," Jhoqo replied.

"But?"

"A good soldier follows orders and even thinks creatively, but he is a tool. A good leader, on the other hand, needs to do more," Jhoqo said. "A good leader's orders can be mediocre, but he has the guts, the fortitude, and the assertiveness to give them and see them done."

"So Taennen is lacking confidence?" Adeenya asked, knowing the man's answer and finding herself grudgingly agreeing with him.

"Correct."

"What about his decision in the battle against the form-ians?" she asked.

"A costly one, to be sure," Jhoqo said. "However, if he had had the willpower to stand up to me when I addressed him about it, to stand by his decision and not even offer to defend it, then he would have shown more promise. As it was, he realized that he could not change things. Once he understood that, he did not mope on the subject further. A positive step, certainly."

"So your goal is to help your countrymen, not just your fellow Maquar?" Adeenya asked, eyes flicking to the door. The Chondathans' footsteps had not returned.

"To help all people of the Shining South, not just those from Estagund," Jhoqo said.

"How?"

"By opening new doors for them, by giving them new things to learn, new ideas to consider, and new trades to profit from," Jhoqo said.

Eyes squinted, Adeenya asked, "How do you manage that?"

Jhoqo smiled. "I'm afraid I can't share that with you." "How does letting Marlke die achieve that?" she said, peeling the accusatory tone from her voice.

The man took a deep breath and said, "Like Taennen, Marlke was a device, and he had served his purpose. He was no longer capable of adapting to the situation, changing to be useful. In fact, it was only in death that he could serve our cause one final time."

"Tell me about the cause," she said.

Jhoqo merely shook his head.

"Then how am I to learn about this way of being that you've shared with me?" she asked. She was losing him, and fast.

"You're probably not going to, nor do you even want to. You've only been asking in order to distract me and purchase some much needed time to think for yourself," he replied.

"You've made me think," she said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't matter," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I cannot take the chance of setting you free and I cannot kill you," Jhoqo said with a shrug before turning onto his side to prop himself to his feet. "He would never allow it. I would jeopardize my place in the coming era if I acted to bring about your demise."

Adeenya saw her opportunity and took it. Dashing forward as Jhoqo came to one knee, Adeenya plowed her shoulder into the side of the man's face, bouncing herself off the wall but forcing him to take most of the impact. Scrambling to her feet, she dived into him again, this time sending her knee into his chest, letting it continue upward into his throat as her right hand snatched for the hilt of his sword.

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.