Marlke spun, his axe dropping to his side in one hand. He looked at her as she stopped a few paces away and drew her sword. He shook his head and pushed a disgusted sigh past his thick lips. His weapon still hung at his side, the axe head clunking to the floor as he growled, 'Girl, what are you doing here?'
'Stopping a traitor,' she answered.
The dwarf looked over his shoulder at the formians before returning his eyes to her. Marlke's knuckles went white as he tightened his grip on the handle of his axe. He took a step forward and brought the large weapon before him, gripped in both hands. 'That's a shame.'
Adeenya sidestepped the dwarf's blow. His axe rang off the stone floor. Her body moved by instinct, her thoughts coming too slowly to save her. Marlke's axe split the air arcing toward her. She hopped back a step, avoiding the Strike. Coming to her senses, the anger of Marlke's betrayal settling over her like a persistent fog, Adeenya hissed. She launched her knee straight up into the flat of his axe and sent it high and away from her. At the same time, she thrust her sword low and right to score a hit in the dwarf s abdomen. He cursed aloud and sprang backward from the biting weapon.
'Always too clever for your own good, weren't you?' he said, adjusting his grip on his axe.
'The Maquar wizard?' Adeenya asked.
'Aye,' Marlke replied, a grin creeping onto his face.
'Who are the attackers to you? Why would you help them?'
The dwarf laughed as he circled to his right, spinning the axe in his hand. The head of the weapon caught one of the few beams of light in the room, and the resulting flash caused her to squint for a moment. Marlke leaped forward at that instant with a sweeping blow. She avoided the thrust with a twist of her body.
'They're nothing to me,' he said, circling to his left.
Adeenya matched his pace and counter-circled. 'Then why help them?'
'Why? For the coin, of course. Why else? Well… that and their help with killing my uncle,' the dwarf said.
Adeenya knew that Marlke was the only heir to the Gemstone Chaka's ruler. Were the venerable Stoutgut patron to die, Marlke would inherit complete control of the Gemstone Chaka's considerable holdings, not the least of which were their newly discovered mine and a seat on the ruling council.
'Why not just betray your uncle and kill him yourself? You're more than capable,' she spat.
Marlke rolled his eyes and said, 'Oh, yes, clean and easy is your view of me, isn't it?'
He stepped in, drawing the axe across her body in a short span. The blade bit at her armor, catching enough to send her into a half-spin. She recovered her feet and responded with a wide blow.
'Ah, but there's so much more at stake. That's your problem,' Marlke said. 'You're so busy fussing over the details of a thing, you can't see the big picture. Well, hear me when I tell you things are never that simple.'
'You'll forgive me if the lessons of a mad killer don't hold much weight with me,' she said, feigning another strike.
The dwarf did not oblige her attempt and merely chuckled. 'See, there you go again!' he said, slowing his pace and changing directions. 'A lesson is a thing to pay heed to, no matter where it comes from. And what's so mad about making coin?' 'Blood coin,' she said.
'Don't be so dramatic,' the dwarf replied, ceasing his circling. 'You've spent your fair share of the stuff that your daddy earned.'
Adeenya centered herself on him and stopped. Marlke gave her a grin before charging, pulling the axe back for a swipe. She drove forward to meet his charge until she saw his swing come toward her from behind his back. His face showed the strain of power he was putting into the blow. Her sword was no match to parry the axe with the dwarPs full strength behind it. Adeenya threw herself on her side, the world tilting in her eyes as she plummeted to the floor. The axe rang against the stone floor where she had been only a moment before. She landed hard on her right shoulder but twisted immediately to her back. She drove her short sword into the dwarPs belly between two horizontal bands of his layered armor before rolling away and finding her feet.
Marlke let go of his axe, the weapon clattering on the floor, and placed his hands on his wound as he staggered back. Adeenya came forward with her sword drawn back, ready to cleave his head from his shoulders if he came after her again. The dwarf stumbled and slid to the floor. Adeenya heard the door open behind her. Marlke's face turned from pain to amusement as his eyes looked past her. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see Jhoqo closing the door behind him.
'You've done well,' the Maquar urir said.
'Thanks, but she got me pretty good,' Marlke said.
Jhoqo shook his head and walked to stand next to Adeenya. 'I am sorry you were betrayed by this filthy ojbadu,' Jhoqo said to her.
Adeenya caught her breath, befuddled by the dwarfs answer to the man. She turned her gaze from Jhoqo's kind face to see Marlke coming to his feet, his brow furrowed. His eyes were not on her but on Jhoqo. She turned to look at the Maquar but suddenly her head was falling forward and a sharp pain shot across her neck. She hit the floor, face first, her head bouncing like a child's ball. Her final glimpse before blackness overtook her was Marlke's grin.
Chapter Fourteen
'To your left!' Taennen shouted to one of the Durpari soldiers still standing.
Too late. The man howled as a barbarian cleaved into his shoulder with a heavy axe. Taennen barreled into the attacker. The two fell in a tangle of limbs and weapons. Taennen rolled from the fracas to his feet before his opponent. With a quick slash, his khopesh took the barbarian's life.
Taennen spun to watch a Maquar, a man he'd known for four years, being run through with a spear. The durir moved toward his falling comrade, watching in horror as blood spouted out his mouth in gouts. Taennen dived blade-first into the attacker, sinking his khopesh in deep before springing away and into another barbarian. His new opponent landed a solid blow. Taennen's armor absorbed most of the damage though his ribs crackled with pain. He kicked his opponent's stomach. The man fell to the ground, breathless. A quick slice of Taennen's khopesh made certain he'd stay that way.
The coppery tang of spilled blood filled the small forest clearing. Taennen crouched in the dim light that filtered through the trees, sweat dripping from his brow.
The forest around him had grown silent, only the buzzing of insects to be heard. All around him the bodies of allies and enemies alike sprawled in the dirt and leaves. Only Taennen remained standing.
He found a pair of his Maquar comrades, sprawled near a tree, and was pleased to see they had found their ends fighting next to one another, defending one another until the very end. He offered quick prayers over their bodies, though he was no holy man. At a quick glance he counted eleven dead barbarians and his eight allies.
'Come, friend Taennen, we should return,' Bascou said behind him.
Taennen spun and faced the man, weapon in hand, unsure where he had come from. 'Return? We must search for signs of where they make their camp. Surely there are tracks or something to indicate where they came from,' he said. 'They killed our entire party. We have greatly diminished their numbers for certain. Now is the time to strike.'
Bascou shook his head and said, 'No. We are in sorry shape. We need more men.'
Taennen looked Bascou over and saw no wounds at all. The man's sword dripped with blood, but he looked as whole and hearty as when they had entered the forest. Taennen began to protest, but quieted when Bascou held up his hand.
'We return.'
'Our dead. We need to bring them back,' Taennen said.
'I am returning,' Bascou said. 'You may do as you wish.'
Left with little choice, Taennen followed Bascou in shock. Soldiering was Taennen's entire life, but he was accustomed to orders being sensible. Bascou's unwillingness to make fruitful the loss of so many lives was baffling. And his leaving fallen was an abomination.
Taennen walked beside the man but kept a wary eye on him. Nothing about the expedition had been right from the start. Now the Maquar and Durpari numbers were even further depleted, and Bascou did nothing about it.
