The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (51 page)

Why am I even doing this?
he asked himself, staring
silently into his reflected eyes for an answer that wouldn’t come.

He dressed in plate armor newly delivered the evening before
while they were at the chapterhouse – it was the first time he’d worn the full
trappings of a paladin. The
Tricrus
stood in raised relief on the
breastplate, gold against the shining steel. The steel
tassets
below his breastplate whispered as they brushed past each other, and he
shrugged his shoulders to settle the back plate. He secured his greaves and the
splinted vambraces
[25]
he’d commissioned so as not to overly restrict his movements.

Most of the rest of Danner’s armor was a thick, flexible
leather for the same reason. Danner felt more comfortable relying on his speed
and skill than fully encasing himself in steel. His sword hung loosely at his
side, and Danner lifted his shield and slid his arm slowly through the straps.
The metal spike on the bottom brushed against the ground, leaving a long line
in a layer of dirt. Danner stared at the line, then shifted his grip and made
two intersecting lines to cut the original into thirds, completing the holy symbol
on the ground.

Then he lifted his burgonet helmet, settled it firmly on his
head, and left his tent. A blast of winter air met him and dispelled any warmth
left in his body.

In the street before him, Caret had already formed up the
platoon, perfectly in line with the other five platoons from Shadow Company.
Danner’s friends were dressed in their own new armor, each wearing slightly
different combinations of plate, leather, and chain in keeping with their
fighting style and personal taste. Even Trebor wore a new steel cuirass and
greaves, but his armor lacked the decorative
Tricrus
emblazoned on the
chests of the paladins.

The denarae were dressed in the black, studded-leather armor
they customarily wore, and the sight made Danner’s chest ache not with pain,
but now with an intense feeling of pride. Never had he felt closer to or more
proud of his men, and he knew every one of them would fight to the end for the
honor of their unit. Gerard hadn’t bothered to ask if anyone wanted to back out
after word got out about their orders. It was a mark of the respect and trust
he’d built with his men that even posing the question would have been an
insult. Shadow Company wasn’t just Gerard’s, and it wasn’t Danner’s, and it
wasn’t the denarae’s. It was all of theirs together, and together they would
show the rest of the world what they had become.

Danner took his place at the head of his platoon and
received a brisk verbal report from his squad leaders. All were present and
accounted for. Danner performed an about-face, his blue cloak flaring, and
faced Gerard, who had just walked out of his own tent. Gerard was encased
almost entirely in gleaming platemail with an open-faced helmet that seemed to
draw focus to his steely, unwavering gaze.

Gerard was majestic in his authority, wearing the mantle of
leadership like an extra suit of armor wrapped protectively about him. His
scarred face no longer looked hideous, but like a promise of death for any who
dared to stand in his way. The Red paladin looked at each platoon leader as he
received their report, and nodded while holding their gaze. They all understood
his resolve and mirrored it in their hearts.

“Shadow Company, right face!” Gerard boomed. They all
complied in perfect unison, and one tremendous crack rang through the streets
as their heels snapped together.

“Forward, march!”

They marched forward in formation, the only time other than
their entrance to the city when they’d marched thus since their earliest weeks
of training. Defenders of every race stood by the sides of the street to watch
their procession, and every face was solemn. Word had already spread that
Shadow Company had volunteered to spearhead the units moving outside the wall,
and they all knew the denarae and their officers were going to face certain death.

Despite the weather, citizens who had been hiding terrified
in the cellars of their homes came up to watch the formation march past, and in
some a deep spark of pride and sorrow stirred deeply within them. Tears
streamed down faces as the denarae marched past, their heads held high, and it
was a surety that none who saw them would ever forget that moment.

Gerard had moved to the head of the column, and the six
platoon leaders were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder behind him. Between them,
two denarae marched, each holding a company standard aloft. The crossed white
sword and shepherd’s crook snapped and billowed in the crisp, pre-dawn breeze.
They moved sharply through the streets until they reached the gates leading to
the courtyard with the white Stone. The gates opened for them, and Shadow
Company filed into the courtyard and split in half, three platoons on each side
of the central pillar of gleaming white
angelstone
.
The inner gate shut behind them, and for a moment all was silent as they stood
confined by the courtyard.

Above them, a guard put his hand on the mechanism to raise
the outer gate. The silence before he lifted the lever was deafening and rang
heavily in Danner’s ears. Then a single, anonymous voice called out from the
wall.

“Send ‘
em
back to Hell, Shadow
Company!”

Thousands of voices from every race raised in a tumultuous
cheer, drowning out the thunderous grinding of the opening gates and the
portcullis as it lifted to allow them access to the plains beyond. Swords
clanged against shields. Spears thudded against the stones. Feet stomped. Hands
clapped. Voices shouted.

“Remember this moment, lads,” Gerard said when the grinding
of the gates had stopped. They could barely make out his words over the tumult.

He turned his head back over his shoulder.

“Forward at the double-time, march!”

Denarae streamed out the gate and poured onto the plain,
releasing a wordless battle cry that split the dark morning like a ray of
sunlight bursting through the inky darkness. Behind them, the gate rumbled
closed, cutting off the lingering echoes of the city’s cheer.

- 2 -

The morning sun brought with it the return of Hell’s armies.
Within an inch of sunlight over the battlements of the Barrier, dark shapes
writhed on the opposite horizon, seething like a churning wave of blackness
that hid in the last moments of the night’s shadow. Then as the line of
sunlight flashed over them, the wave unleashed and rushed forward with a howl
of fury.

“Trebor, relay,”
Gerard ordered sharply.
“Garnet hold the
center. Michael and Marc hold to his right. You and Danner on the left. Flasch
prowls the rear and cuts as necessary. End.”

Shadow Company deployed as ordered, reacting to the instant
of battle like an extension of Gerard’s mind and body. Orders were given with
the speed of thought, and bodies reacted with the speed of determination.
Overhead, ballista bolts fired and tore through the front ranks of the oncoming
horde. Gerard put two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly, and Sabor sped
down from the skies overhead, touching down just long enough for him to leap
aboard the fiery red dakkan. With no way to know when the demons would be
attacking again, he’d wanted to be on-hand to deploy his forces and be with
them until the last moment. Now, however, he needed to be airborne to help
direct them in the battle.

He looked down and noticed that no other forces from Nocka
were coming out to help defend the Barrier. Some units were lined up in the
courtyards as though ready to deploy, but as yet none of the gates were
opening. With the demons already on their way, now it was too late for anyone
else to come forth. Gerard withheld a curse, seeing that his worst predictions
were coming true. No help would arrive, and it was up to his men to keep
themselves alive. When and if he survived the battle, Gerard promised himself
he would confront the whole Prismatic Council and force them to pay for what
they’d done to his company – at the point of his sword if necessary. Had it not
been for the need for stability during a war, he might have done so already.

The front ranks of the four-legged monstrosities crashed
into Garnet’s platoon and broke like a black wave on a fortress of immoveable
stone. Gerard watched in satisfaction as Shadow Company withheld against the
onslaught for the first minute, then two, then five minutes. The first denarae
didn’t fall until they’d been fighting for twenty minutes, and Gerard cursed
grimly, hating even that one loss.

A dark blur swept past Gerard’s head, and belatedly he
remembered the winged beasts that accompanied their land-bound cousins. Gerard
reached for his sword, but realized it wasn’t necessary.
 
A flight of dakkans with paladins astride had
come sweeping down to surround him and drive off any who would attack Gerard.
He signaled thanks to the paladin leading his defenders; it wasn’t until he saw
the gray cloak that he realized it was Birch.

Gerard reached down to a strap behind his right leg and
pulled out a massive recurved bow, then reached to the other side and drew an
arrow with a shaft half an inch thick. It was not the most accurate of
missiles, but with the force of the bow behind it, almost any shot he fired
would kill or maim whatever it hit. Gerard steered Sabor to the side, allowing
him a clear lane of fire to the ground. He shot arrow after arrow into the dark
mass that broke itself upon the wedge of Shadow Company, doing what he could
from aloft to aid his troops on the ground. But always he watched the condition
of his forces, staying alert for a weakening in their defenses.

“
Derut
,”
Gerard thought,
naming his contact within Flasch’s platoon; Trebor would be too involved to
worry about passing on Gerard’s orders.
“Relay to Flasch. Send squads to
reinforce Michael. End. Relay to Michael. Send one squad back to rest when
Flasch arrives. Cycle the next squad after five minutes. End.”

Gerard watched as Flasch’s platoon moved out barely a second
later.
Derut
had been relaying Gerard’s orders even
while listening to the rest, speeding the efficiency of the maneuver. Below,
Gerard knew denarae were talking with each other mentally to coordinate their
exchange on the lines to ensure there were no gaps for the enemy to exploit.
Five minutes later, they repeated the process and completed Gerard’s orders. He
then sent another message for Flasch to repeat the process with Danner’s
platoon, then with Trebor and Marc, and finally with Garnet. They moved like
coordinated muscles of a single living body, working flawlessly together with
impeccable results. Gerard hoped the bastards who thought he’d be easy prey
were watching. They would see just how hard it would be to destroy the entity
which Gerard had wrought in Shadow Company.

It wasn’t until another hour had gone by that the second
denarae fell to the ravening claws of the demonic horde. By noon, only four had
been slain. Trebor periodically left the battle long enough to heal any wounds
inflicted by the beasts they fought, which helped to keep the casualties to a
bare minimum. Two hours after the sun reached its zenith, the demonic
monstrosities were breaking before they even reached the implacable company
that stood resolute before the central gate of the Barrier, preferring instead
to scale the walls and assault the defenders within, who were much easier prey.

After allowing Shadow Company to recover in the relative
calm, Gerard adjusted his tactics accordingly, expanding and contracting the
company by flowing Flasch’s platoon into the line to add strength and size as
they spread out in a wedge to engage an enemy that no longer wanted to face
them. When they clashed with the inhuman foes, they slowly pulled back, drawing
their enemies with them in a maddened frenzy.

Periodically, Gerard had them resume their standard, smaller
wedge shape and cycled squads out to allow them to rest in the bubble of safety
provided by their fellows. Without the rage of battle that had first consumed
them, they were at least able to breathe, and some even wolfed down a few bits
of food and water in those scant, but crucial, minutes. And then it was back to
the front as they moved out to once more engage their enemies. The day burned
on, promising no break in the fighting and death.

- 3 -

The fighting lasted all through the day and night and into
the next morning without abating. Defenders on the walls of the Barrier put
forth ample torches and gnomish lamps to keep the land around their small
company illuminated, and at Gerard’s order they periodically sent volleys of
flaming arrows into the plains beyond. The pinpoints of light often illuminated
nearby enemies, and many arrows blindly struck targets. Three more denarae
fell, but by the end of the second day they had accounted for several thousand
of the enemy creatures to their seven deaths. Truly they were an elite force,
and no one who saw them in action doubted this for a moment.

Had they been fighting mortal warriors equipped with weapons
and armor, the death-rate among the denarae would no doubt have been much
higher. But the unarmored, unarmed creatures had only their skin and claws, and
they were easy prey for Gerard’s well-armed and well-trained unit.

The creatures slowed their assault during the second night,
allowing Shadow Company to fall back to within the central courtyard. They
collapsed and enjoyed a much-needed and well-earned sleep. Far too soon,
however, they were roused with the dawning of the third day and ran back
through the gates to engage the enemy forces. A company of
Nocka’s
defenders moved as if to follow them out, but the demons were on the Barrier
too soon and the gates slammed shut to protect the city within. If orders had
ever been passed for other units to finally join them, they were never acted
upon.