Chapter Two

Taennen fell into step behind his commander. He felt the anticipation in the air among his fellow Maquar. Jhoqo was a true orator, his many speeches worth the waits between and good for morale. Taennen glanced over his shoulder to the Durpari commander. She nodded tightly.

Taennen wondered at the woman’s inattentive expression. He needed no mirror to see the enthusiasm on his own face. He saw it reflected on the faces of his brothers. The Maquar stood rigid—disciplined but excited to hear their commander speak. His words led to their deeds and their deeds were great. Yet Adeenya and her troops stood quiet in body and spirit, their eyes seeming attentive but dull and lacking illumination. Was there a better moment in the life of a soldier than the one just before a mission?

He basked for a moment in the pride of knowing that when the troops heard their new mission, they would cheer. They would celebrate the opportunity to bring the rule of the Rajah to new places and people. They would revel in simply being soldiers, doing their duty and helping one another along the way. Taennen cast an eye back to Adeenya and wondered if she ever felt such joy. Probably not—she was still a mercenary. Soldiering was all about money to mercenaries.

Jhoqo paced before the soliders as the last few Durpari fell into their places. Next to one another, the differences between the two forces came into sharp focus. The bright, bold colors of the Maquar arranged next to the subdued appearances of the Durpari provided an extreme contrast. The Maquar looked ready to take the battlefield while the Durpari looked ready to skulk through city streets at night. The pride and joy of Estagund beside the best Durpar could offer.

Jhoqo stopped his pacing and raised his arms. “Brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters, let us take this moment to share in our joy of being given this awesome task. The One, the All, has come together and presented us with an opportunity to add our balance to the world. We will do just that!”

The Maquar slapped their gloves on the boiled leather of their bracers in response, though their demeanor never changed, their disciplined stance never wavered. Startled by the sound, several of the Durpari moved their hands instinctively to the hilts of their weapons, only to release them when they realized the source of the sounds. Taennen offered a reassuring smile to Adeenya, who had also started at the ritual applause.

Jhoqo continued. “We are in the most dangerous of the southern lands, my friends. It doesn’t take much of a fool to make a mistake in Veldorn that costs someone’s life.”

The Maquar again pounded their appreciative rhythm but stopped short when the sound of further pounding came from the Durpari ranks. Each Durpari soldier was slapping the shoulder of the nearest comrade. A moment of silence passed when the pounding stopped, and Jhoqo walked to stand before the Durpari, looking Adeenya in the eyes.

“You honor us, our Durpari brethren,” Jhoqo said, clapping Adeenya on the shoulder.

Adeenya bowed her head in thanks to the man.

“And you, my loyal Maquar. I would enter battle beside no one else!” Jhoqo said, turning from her.

The Maquar roared in return, a brief, violent burst chorus. Taennen felt a burr in his throat, but that only made him shout all the more.

Jhoqo continued, “We all know what awaits us in Veldorn. We will be in the land of beasts, my friends. We must defend ourselves. We may even have to kill!”

The pounding of fists and chests rattled in Taennen’s ears, the syncopation of solidarity. He hit himself harder, adding his own effort to the clatter. The troops of both countries seemed to pound all the harder, attempting to outdo one another in friendly competition. Taennen was proud to see the Maquar allowing the Durpari mercenaries to stand with them as though they were equals in a sign of solidarity.

“Let us do so together, as family, as a whole within the Adama,” Jhoqo said. “Let us defend one another against the monstrous hordes should they be fool enough to come against us!”

The reactionary noise hit a new level, and a few affirmative shouts joined the chorus. Jhoqo beamed as he paced before the gathering, his colors fluttering and chin held high.

“Come!” Jhoqo said. “We begin our journey together!”

Taennen saluted and turned to give orders for his troops to form up just as a loud horn sounded in the distance. The durir drew his weapon at the sound. Adeenya’s eyes widened and the Durpari leaped to their feet. Adeenya shouted a string of commands to her people.

Taennen’s eyes found his commander, who nodded once in permission of Taennen’s unspoken request. He scanned the area and spotted what he needed—all twelve hundred pounds of it. Taennen sprinted toward an unburdened brown and white pack horse and vaulted atop the creature with a shout. His heels dug into his mount’s side, and the horse dashed away. Usually loaded down with goods, the horse rarely had the opportunity to sprint, but unburdened now, the horse covered the ground quickly.

From the east, a Durpari soldier waving an unfamiliar signal flag sped toward him at an arrow’s pace. Though the man’s face was indistinguishable, Taennen felt the terror pouring off the runner, even from so far away. He looked over his shoulder, shouting.

“Threat to the east!” Another Maquar took up the call, carrying the news further into the ranks until all present had received the information.

Taennen kicked the horse into a gallop toward the fleeing soldier.

The thundering hooves became a war drum to his ears. No anger, hate, or violence bubbled in his mind, but rather adventure and opportunity. His father had always said that young men should fight every so often just to remind themselves that they could. Jhoqo disapproved of such philosophy. Taennen grinned a little and kicked ahead, his pulse pounding.

Fifteen paces from the fleeing soldier, Taennen could clearly see wounds on the man’s arms and neck, thin oozing cuts. The horn-blower rasped and wheezed, his lungs strained from running, but one word was clear: “Monsters.”

Taennen reined his mount to a stop next to the young soldier. The runner sucked hard for breath, collapsing against Taennen’s horse. Taennen looked back to see the rest of the Maquar and Durpari. They marched toward him but were still several long bowshots away.

“What’s the danger, soldier?” Taennen said.

The soldier tried to speak, but still Taennen could only make out that one word. Taennen reached down and turned the man’s face toward him. His eyes were glossy and distant, his pallid face streaked with blood. Taennen released him. Whatever had stricken so much fear into this man would not drive Taennen to the same state. He was Maquar.

The Durpari man pushed away from the horse and ran to the rest of the troops. The Durpari mercenaries had fallen in with the Maquar, both forces approaching but still some distance away. Taennen pulled his steed’s reins and turned the horse to take his place among his men. He froze in place when his ears began to vibrate with an unfamiliar sound. It felt like dozens of flies buzzed in unison inside his head. There was no pain, but the sound was discomfiting.

He stared toward the east, still unable to see what might be causing the sound. Taennen slid off the horse. Something was close. He jogged forward, coming to the top of a small hillock, and looked over its edge into the valley below. He nearly cried out. Behind him he heard the horse scream and take off towards the Maquar and Durpari. He shook his head to clear it, and glanced back at the fast approaching army.

“Sirs,” he said as Jhoqo and Adeenya reached him. “We have a problem.”

Below the gathered troops, at the bottom of the gently sloping hill and charging toward them, was an army of creatures. Taennen’s practiced eyes scanned the mobbing beasts. “Approximately fifty individuals,” he reported. “Maybe ten bugbears, another dozen goblins, a score of kobolds, more than a dozen humans and … by the One! A pair of girallons and a half-giant.” Jhoqo nodded, his brow furrowed, his mind already working on a strategy, Taennen was certain.

Goblins, bugbears and kobolds together, Taennen could accept, but never had he seen so many humans alongside the black-hearted creatures.

But that was not their greatest concern. What Taennen, and no doubt the others near him, found so amazing were the creatures behind that gathered mass.

Ranging in sizes that matched everything from a dog to a horse stood another twenty or so creatures, looking like twisted and mutilated centaurs crossed with insects. Taennen was reminded of desert ants, only these creatures were less graceful in appearance and many thousands of times larger. Their reddish brown flesh shimmered in the midday sun. They stood on four legs that bent at multiple joints. Two arms attached to shoulders topped by wicked, bony protrusions. Bulbous sacks erupted where their legs and backs met and carried short barbs on some of the creatures. There could be no doubt that they were pressing the other creatures, human and goblinoid alike, up the hill toward the waiting soldiers.

“What in all the order of the Adama are those?” someone from the ranks exclaimed.

Taennen had seen a wemic once, a leonine creature similar to the centaur-like ants below. The wemic had been beautiful and frightening at the same time, elegant death in motion. The same could not be said of these creatures. They moved with twitches and jerks, their gait uneven. Thin to the point of emaciation with hairs covering their legs, they clattered along with their stomping cohorts. They could not be creatures of this world. Where they came from was a mystery, but they did not belong in Veldorn, that much he knew.

“Something is terribly wrong,” Adeenya said.

“We should continue to the citadel,” Khatib advised. There was no fear in his voice, only practicality.

“I doubt they’ll let us just stroll by, wizard,” Marlke said.

“Soldiers!” Jhoqo shouted, drawing his broad falchion from its scabbard with a scrape. It shone bright with magic in the midday sun, a bright star against the dull plains of Veldorn.

“We are brothers and sisters in battle! Surely together there is no force to stop us on the face of Faerûn!” Jhoqo shouted. Maquar and Durpari alike shouted in response.

“For the Rajah!” Jhoqo shouted and turned to face Taennen and Adeenya. Through the cheering and scrapes of steel being pulled from sheath and scabbard, Jhoqo shouted to be heard. “Taennen, take half our men as yours to flank the left. Orir, take your men and circle around to flank them from the right. Terir, you’re with me.” He turned again and faced the gathered forces. “For the South! Clean every last beast from our path! None of my soldiers die today! Is that clear?”

Cheers erupted again. Taennen’s ears ached with the sound, but his heart raced with anticipation. He drew his khopesh.

“No prisoners, sir?” Adeenya asked.

Jhoqo turned from her and strode away without answering. Whether or not he had heard her question was unclear. For her part, Adeenya clenched her jaw, but she rallied her soldiers and drove them to the right.

She had a point, Taennen realized. Prisoners might be useful in gaining information. Perhaps this ragged army of creatures was somehow involved in the trouble—if there was any—at Neversfall. An army of beasts this organized could have taken the regiment by surprise.

Taennen threw his hands high, signaling for two of the four Maquar squads to follow him. He pushed his way left to approach the enemy from a flanking position. Once away from the other units, Taennen shouted to the men gathered about him. “Kill if you must, but if you can incapacitate an opponent to claim a captive, do so.”

The soldiers saluted. Seeing Jhoqo’s troops setting off down the hill to meet the charge, Taennen thrust his khopesh high and loosed an ululating war cry. His troops returned his cry as they charged down the hill, falling into position as they ran.

As they descended the hill, Taennen’s troops came into a wedge formation to punch through the enemy ranks and prevent the beasts from flanking Jhoqo’s men as they attacked the center. Taennen stayed behind the forward line of that wedge by several strides, out of the heaviest fighting, in order to better command his forces. Leading troops meant living long enough to make sure that you lost as few soldiers as possible. His secure position gave an advantage in this.

He watched the forward soldiers pouring down the hill and felt nostalgic. It wasn’t long ago that his place was in the action. Taennen held his shield and khopesh ready, looking for openings and opportunities to assist his soldiers.

With shouts of “For the rajah,” Taennen’s troops plunged into the fracas, scattering a group of goblins. The clatter of steel on steel made Taennen’s blood race, and his eyes devoured the battle scene before him. He watched for gaps in the lines of the wedge formation, shouting out directions to fill them as the fighting force plowed through the battle. He stepped over the corpse of a goblin as a line of blood sprayed across his chest from a nearby kill made by one of his soldiers.

A bugbear dodged through the formation of soldiers, its bulky body surprisingly nimble, and charged Taennen. The Maquar durir met the attack by launching his khopesh at the creature’s neck. The bugbear parried the blow with a strong upward sweep of its club. The blade carved into the club with a thunk. Taennen pivoted on his left foot, brought the blade around, and drove it into the bugbear’s groin.

The beast didn’t make a sound. It stumbled and fell forward as Taennen snarled and plunged his sword into the bugbear’s side.

“Right side! Disabling blows!” Taennen shouted. “Form up and get in there!” Two of his soldiers tightened their formation in response, without so much as a hesitation between swings.

A pair of goblins harried a soldier in the rear of the wedge. She plunged forward with her blade, aiming low for one’s legs instead of delivering a more deadly blow to the head or chest, and nicked one of her attacker’s knees. The little goblin leaped backward and its companion took advantage of the woman’s extension, driving a spear through her neck. Her mouth opened in a silent cry and blood spilled down her chest and arm.

Taennen dashed forward but had made only half the distance when another of the Maquar broke formation to come to her aid. The goblins met the newcomer with low slashes. The soldier parried them and launched one of the goblins several paces with a quick kick. The other creature latched onto the man’s leg and began climbing the soldier like a tree. The Maquar shifted his sword to his off hand and throttled the goblin, tossing it away. Before he could regain his defenses, the first goblin scrabbled toward him and drove a small axe into his gut. The Maquar shouted for help, but his fellows were engaged with enemies of their own.

Taennen reached the Maquar’s side and severed the goblin’s head with his blade while loosing a scream. The head fell to the ground, lips curved in a grim smile. Taennen took a step and continued the stroke into the other goblin, obliterating its abdomen. The Maquar wedge formation continued to gain ground, pushing through the gathered monsters and leaving Taennen and the two injured soldiers behind.

Taennen bent over the fallen woman to look for signs of life, but her chest did not move. The lake of blood spreading beneath her face left no doubt of her demise. Taennen choked back his anger at her death and turned his attention to the man who clutched his stomach and cursed the dead goblin. Taennen pried the man’s hands away to check the gushing wound. Reds and pinks of many shades greeted him, squirming organs like so many worms, leaking their precious fluids. Taennen pressed hard on the gaping hole causing the man to moan in pain.

“Cleric!” Taennen shouted before he turned back to see the Maquar’s face. “Hang on, soldier. We’ll get this taken care of. Hold that wound like it was a gift from the rajah himself!”

The soldier grimaced but mouthed his affirmation. Unable to help the man further, Taennen stood from the fallen soldier. He ran toward the rest of his troops to prevent the same fate from befalling them. Let the cleric get to him, Taennen prayed. The Maquar did not pay for resurrections.

The durir scanned the scene and watched in horror as, in the back of the formation, a half-giant nearly twice his height took the arm from one of his Maquar with a single stroke of her axe. Taennen roared a challenge to the creature, who trudged toward him instead of chasing the still-charging wedge. Taennen rolled to his left as the half-giant swung her huge axe at him. Her hulking muscles and dark brown skin seemed to soak up the sunlight. Her bald pate glistened with the fruit of her efforts and she swung the weapon slowly but with alacrity enough to do the job.

Taennen hopped to his feet and sprinted, circling behind the beastly woman. Teeth the size of Taennen’s fingers gnashed together as she spun her axe low behind him. Taennen stopped his run and jumped straight up, pulling his legs up tight to his body. The huge axe whirred by just as he pulled his feet from the ground, grain plucked before it could be cut by the scythe. He gained his feet and drove right with his khopesh, slashing the blade at the half-giant’s left side. The blow glanced off her hardened skin. Taennen grunted with frustration and shook off the pain in his wrist from the impact.

She turned to face him again without a sound. Taennen took two large steps back to escape the range of her terrible weapon. Her eyes were glassy and devoid of the battle rage he expected. She fought without anger or passion. She hefted the weapon above her head and drove down hard and straight, a blow easily dodged. Dirt sprayed as the axe head bit into the earth.

Before she could tug the heavy axe from the ground, Taennen was beside her, jabbing his khopesh at her. Twice his blade bit her before she wrenched her huge weapon from the soil, and twice it barely penetrated her rock-hard flesh. She pulled her weapon from the ground and straightened herself to stand tall again.

Taennen dashed behind her and jumped as high as he could, swinging his weapon like a pickaxe. He sank the curved end of the khopesh into her broad back and held tight to the hilt. His own weight on the blade tore at her flesh as he fell back to the ground. His blade slid down several inches, cutting a trail of pain, and the gash splashed blood. Still, his opponent made no scream of pain or any sound at all.

Taennen’s heart sank. An opponent who felt no pain could fight forever. What drove these monsters so inexorably through the battle that they would not scream?

The enormous woman turned to him with her freed weapon, her face going slowly pale from blood loss. Her eyes were vacant and hollow. It was not just as though she felt no pain, but as though she felt nothing at all.

She drove her axe in hard on Taennen’s right, and he prepared for the feint, assuming she would pull the weapon short and sweep it up toward him. The attack was no feint, though, and Taennen dodged the blow by leaning back. His opponent’s lack of tactics only furthered his befuddlement. He pushed forward, shoving her arm hard against her stomach with his shield as he sent the khopesh at her chest with a mighty swing. The blow sank deep, dropping the half-giant to her knees. As she fell forward, Taennen jumped out of the way. Her face hit the dirt, her life over—and she had never once made a sound.

On the other side of the battle, Adeenya drove her spear into her opponent’s throat, finishing off the little goblin before she brought the blunt end of her weapon up in an arc to smash into the jaw of a nearby hulking girallon. The apelike creature turned from its opponent and its four arms grabbed for her. She brought the sharp end of her spear around and thrust it into the creature’s chest. As the spear sank deep into the beast, the wild thing tried to drive on. The force of its ferocity lifted Adeenya from her feet and drove her back, legs flailing in the air. She released her grip on her spear and rolled to her right. The creature continued a few steps and then turned to charge again, Adeenya’s spear still protruding from its chest. Blood poured from the wound, but the girallon did not stop, tear the weapon out, or even howl in pain.

She let the creature come at her, grabbing her spear and yanking it out as it ran by. She pivoted on one foot, spinning around to crack the pole of the spear across the beast’s back. The girallon stumbled forward but did not fall. Adeenya charged but pulled up short when a yell to her right caught her attention. She turned to see one of her men being pressed by four spindly goblins. Her lines were falling apart. She left off the wounded girallon and raced toward her soldiers.

With a few well-placed thrusts, she helped the soldier make quick work of the goblins and turned to find her girallon opponent again. Her heart sank when her eyes fell upon it. The hairy beast had gotten its second wind. Its upper arms wrapped around one of her soldiers, crushing the air from the man’s lungs, while the claws on its lower arms tore viciously into his stomach and sides causing a shower of blood. His entrails raced down his dangling legs and fell to the ground, sending up clouds of dust.

Adeenya sprinted to the scene, using her momentum to thrust her spear into the girallon’s side. The spear pierced through organs and erupted out the far side of the beast. Still, the creature lurched around to face her without a sound. Nothing in nature she had ever seen or heard of could hold its tongue against such a strike.

Adeenya yanked the spear out and drew the bloodied weapon over her head as far as she could before leaping into the air and plunging its pointed tip downward. It sank through the creature’s shoulder, into its torso. The beast convulsed, dropping its shredded victim to the ground. The girallon managed a weak swipe of its paws at her to no avail. Adeenya left the spear in the creature until it hit the ground and stopped moving. She spared a glance to the dead Durpari at her feet, his death—as most all their deaths could be—a tally in Durpar’s books. She said a quiet apology that she could not give his death more reason or purpose. She wrenched the weapon free and shouted for her troops to continue their push through the back ranks of the beastly army. The Maquar were cutting through the lines on the opposite side. The Southern forces had the creatures in a pincer movement and would meet in the bloody middle soon.

At the rear of the monstrous army, just ahead of Taennen’s beleagured forces, the ant creatures were calmly watching the battle. The largest one on the field was the size of a horse and its skin was darker in color than that of the rest of its kin. It had fingered hands, unlike its clawed cohorts. The creature wore a bronze helmet on its head, and its antennae twitched endlessly. Taennen’s stomach lurched. He broke formation and ran toward the monsters without a spare thought.

The creature’s spear met his sword almost as soon as it was raised. The beast turned slowly from the battle to regard Taennen with cold, alien eyes. Taennen roared and swung the khopesh into its legs, but again the spear met the blow.

No matter what attack Taennen attempted, the alien beast seemed to know what he was going to do. He dived over an incoming blow and rolled to come behind the beast. He almost cackled with glee as he thrust forward immediately, sure he had the creature by surprise. But somehow it twisted and contorted its torso so that it met his attack with a counter that sent his weapon hand high and found his own torso shying away from a spear point it could not avoid. The wooden weapon sank into his shoulder and Taennen screamed.

He leaped back, the weapon making a wet sucking noise as it exited his flesh. He fought the pain, focusing on what he had learned about his opponents in the course of the battle. Where the other opponents he had faced that day had seemed unskilled to unusual levels with their slow, lumbering ways, this ant-thing seemed far above his aptitude. It was as if the creature had eyes all over, watching everything Taennen did even when it was not facing him.

Taennen glanced around the battlefield hoping to find some advantage and noticed that most of the beasts—including many of the enemy humans—were dead or dying. Yet many of the ant creatures still stood. Maquar and Durpari alike were now engaging the ants, giving the combined army the tactical advantage of outnumbering their enemies. Taennen’s troops had split their wedge formation and spread themselves out to cover one portion of the field. Their battles had drawn them apart, and he cursed himself for not having watched over them more closely, keeping them together.

He locked eyes with the alien foe and nearly felt his heart stop.

He saw himself working hand in hand with the ants to bring about order and sense to a chaotic world. He was the key, the instrument that could finally stop the terrible randomness and furious meaninglessness of the world. Faerûn would be a better, more ordered place if only he went with them. Together they could make the world lawful and productive, a goal he had long dreamed of making a reality.

Taennen stumbled over a jagged rock the size of his fist. The pain jarred him, drawing his attention away from these new thoughts. He looked with awe at the creature before him. It had been in his head. The images of working with the foul things kept rising in his thoughts and he howled with anger. He drove forward with another attack. The ant matched him, blow for blow.

The clattering din ebbed. Taennen could hear only his own weapon clashing with his opponent’s. Several Maquar surrounded the monster. It warded them off with a quick slash before continuing to try to penetrate Taennen’s defenses.

“Surrender!” Adeenya shouted, approaching the fight.

Taennen saw a flash of movement from his opponent before several of the Maquar leaped to action, tackling the large beast. Taennen felt pain in his stomach and looked down. He watched blood dribble out and splash to the dirt below, the crimson turning black as it mixed with the brown earth. He heard shouts for help but they were muted, as if underwater. Taennen could no longer feel his legs. He lost his breath as his body crashed to the ground.

Taennen saw the glint of Jhoqo’s magical falchion swinging for the ant’s neck as several other soldiers restrained the beast. The blade missed as Adeenya barreled into Jhoqo, making his swing impossible. The two leaders crashed into the ground together. Jhoqo hurled Adeenya from atop him and jumped to his feet, weapon in hand.

“Urir! It’s over,” Adeenya said, placing her spear before her.

Jhoqo snarled and stepped toward her, his arm drawing back for a blow. Adeenya swung the spear between them.

“It’s over,” Adeenya said, motioning to the large ant-creature. The beast had ceased struggling and was being bound by a pair of the Maquar as she spoke. “It might have information we need, sir,” Adeenya said, her weapon still ready.

Khatib stepped next to Jhoqo and spoke. His voice was soft but carried nonetheless. “She speaks truly, sir. It helps us alive and does us no good dead. It is well in hand.”

Jhoqo stared at the woman for a long moment before turning his gaze to his durir. Taennen nodded, his head spinning out of control with each motion. Vengeance was not as important as useful information. Jhoqo would realize that, once his fear for Taennen had settled in his mind. The commander of the Maquar withdrew his weapon and turned to survey the battlefield. As Adeenya bent to help Taennen, he looked at the creature he had been fighting. Its face was alien and strange, sculpted of what seemed like impossible angles. His head swam and he could ponder no more as the voices around him became echoes and his eyes closed beyond his control.