The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (64 page)

James chuckled slightly.

“Maybe Vander’s better off where he is,” he said lightly.
James still felt pain over his friend’s death, but it had lessened considerably
over the last week. He imagined Vander running amok in whatever library Heaven
held, driving the immortals to distraction with his questions and thirst for
knowledge. That image alone did wonders to ameliorate his grief.

Danner was working on a question to ask his uncle about
Kaelus when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a burst of denarae
kything that made him start in surprise.

“Danner,”
Trebor
kythed,
“you’ve got a problem.”

“What?”

“Brican’s on his way
here, and something’s happened to Alicia,”
Trebor told him briskly.
“She’s been kidnapped.”

Danner stiffened and nearly bolted upright with a wordless
cry, causing everyone to stare at him in concern.

“Shut up, Danner!”
Trebor’s mental voice hissed.
“Just shut
up a moment and trust me.”

“Sorry, cramp,” Danner said lamely, then settled down again,
making a show of massaging his leg. Mentally, he was listening to Trebor and
trying to think straight at the same time, which was difficult in the sudden
wave of concern that had engulfed his thoughts.

“We don’t know how or
when it happened,”
Trebor was saying in Danner’s mind.
“Someone just appeared on our sentry lines, and Brican picked up the
maliciousness of his thoughts. When the sentries challenged him, he told them
to deliver a message. You have to go to an abandoned warehouse, but you’re
allowed to bring any two people from Shadow Company you wish. No one else is
allowed to know. If they see anyone but you and the two others, they’ll kill
her. If they learn you’ve told anyone else, she’s gone.”

“How the Hell would
they know if I told anyone?”
Danner asked angrily.

“I don’t know,”
Trebor replied.
“Brican is much better at
deep kything than most here, but even he couldn’t read a damn thing from the
man’s thoughts. They didn’t even get a look at his face. I think we may have
found that dybbuk creature that Marc told us about; the thing that killed
Vander.”

Danner ground his teeth in frustration, trying to maintain
an outward calm.

“Much as I’d love to,
I can’t take Garnet with me,”
Danner thought to Trebor.
“This has got to be a trap for me, and he’d
be the best person to have with me, but I can’t take him away from Shadow
Company in case there’s a battle while I’m gone. Anyway, she’s Marc’s sister.
I’ll take him.”

“And your second?”

“Will you come with
me?”

“You have to ask?”

“Then why’d you bring
it up in the first place?”

Trebor relayed the information to Marc, adding extra
emphasis that he needed to remain calm. Danner watched the Orange paladin
closely, and he saw his friend abruptly stiffen and look at Danner in alarm.
Danner nodded slowly.

“Trebor, go ahead and
tell Garnet,”
Danner said after a moment’s thought.
“There’s no way they can know if you tell him with kything. As long as
he keeps it to himself, there’s no danger, and he needs to know where we’re
going in case there’s an emergency.”

“We don’t get a rescue team, Danner,” Trebor replied.

“If we need one, then
we’re already
shneiked
,”
Danner thought.
“I’m just wondering why they’re trying to
split us up right now. He needs to be prepared in case something big happens.”

“Good thinking.”

“I just wish we had time to get our full armor back on,”
Danner thought in frustration. Of the three, only Marc still wore his plate
armor, and there was no plausible explanation for Trebor and Danner to go suit
up at the moment. They couldn’t risk the delay or the questions it would raise.
The leathers they wore now would have to suffice.

Danner chaffed for the few seconds it took Trebor to explain
the situation to Garnet. The large Red paladin showed no outward sign he was
receiving the troubling information from Trebor, but after a moment he looked
at Danner and nodded. When Brican arrived and made a show of whispering to
Danner, Trebor and Marc surreptitiously adjusted their armor and sat poised to
move out.

“We’re ready.”

“Danner,” Garnet said, casually stretching his arms until
his joints popped, “why don’t you take Trebor and Marc and get the buggy from
the chapterhouse?” Garnet said, giving them an excuse to leave as well as a
suggested course of action. “We’ve got a nice little camp running here, so
we’ve got a place to store it close at hand. You never know when it might come
in handy.”

“Yes, sir,” Danner replied, unable to hide the gratitude in
his voice.

Trebor, Danner, and Marc grabbed their weapons nonchalantly
and started to walk away from the group.

“Hey, come on,” Marc said suddenly with feigned
cheerfulness. “It’s not too far. I’ll race you.” With that, Marc bolted
forward, Trebor and Danner only a half-step behind him.

- 2 -

Hoil watched Danner race off into the night and frowned. The
implications of his son fighting in a war had come slowly to Hoil and, while he
knew Danner was a good swordsman and more capable than most, the fact remained
that Hoil’s only child was facing down hordes of demons and could very well end
up spitted on their ravening claws.

It suddenly seemed important that Hoil spend time with his
son, which he found ironic in light of his having kicked Danner out of his
house when he was only eleven to learn his own way through life. Hoil had made
it clear Danner would always have a place to come for solace when necessary,
but he also made it just as clear that he expected Danner to provide for
himself and not trust his father to make the world a nice place for him. It was
a harsh lesson, and for the first time in his life, Hoil was seriously
regretting all the lost time he’d missed from his son’s life.

Danner had changed drastically in the last few months alone,
and Hoil barely knew the man he’d become almost overnight. Apparently he had a
woman in his life now, and Hoil had belatedly realized Danner was of an age
where he might be thinking about getting married. Oh, he was still on the young
end of the marital spectrum, to be sure, but men had done sillier things in the
name of love. Hoil had already been married for almost two years when he was
his son’s age, in fact. If Danner got married soon, he might even have children
within a few years, which would catapult Hoil into the realm of
grand-fatherhood. Hoil decided he’d like to know who his son was before he had
to start worrying about meeting Danner’s
own
sons.

Death and new life, both possibilities disturbed Hoil as he
realized how little he knew of his son just then.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two
paladins, a Yellow and a Red who identified themselves as part of the Prismatic
Council.

“Paladin de’Valderat,” the Yellow said.

“I’m here,” Birch replied neutrally. He didn’t anticipate
any word they could possibly want to bring him here in the middle of the
denarae camp, and at such a late hour, but the sentries had let the men
through, so obviously they bore no malicious intent, or else someone would have
warned him, he was sure. The denarae ability to communicate telepathically was
a handy tool, he had to admit, and it was obvious why they’d kept it hidden for
so long.

“The Council is faced with a difficult position which
apparently only you can alleviate,” the Yellow said.

Birch raised an eyebrow. The Yellow paladin shied away from
the burning gaze that was more fully revealed by the facial gesture, and he
stared at his palms a moment with something like fear before he collected
himself and continued.

“A demon walked forward an hour ago under a white flag,
asking for parlay,” he said, “but it seems they will only speak with you, the
Gray paladin. Naturally, with the concerns many of the Council feel about your,
uh… recent, um… display, there is some hesitation about allowing you to go
alone and speak with them.”

“They want me to come alone?” Birch asked.

“The demon said the general of their army, Malith, will
speak with you one-on-one within sight of the Barrier,” the Red Council member
said. “We don’t know whether he is going to present terms of surrender, which
we will naturally reject, or if he has some other purpose in mind, but we are
reluctant to let any opportunity to communicate with them pass us by.”

“Malith won’t present terms of surrender, unless as a
formality or as an insult,” Birch said, his face bleak. “I guarantee you that.
So wherein lies your dilemma, gentlemen?”

“We two are here without the assent of the Council,” the
Yellow said quickly, and now Birch thought he understood the man’s nervousness.

“We don’t think you’re under a demon’s influence, or have
turned traitor, or any of the other rubbish some of the Council members are
saying about you,” the Red said. “What you
are,
however, is the only man
they’ll talk to. We came to ask you personally, before the Council makes a
decision and tries to order you one way or the other.”

“A wise choice, my brothers,” Birch said. He stood slowly.
“Well, if Malith will see me alone, then I suppose I had better not disappoint
him. When are we to meet?”

“He is waiting there now,” the Red replied. “We can just see
him from the wall. He’s close enough that we can get help to you within a few
minutes if it becomes necessary.”

Birch looked at those around him, lastly at Moreen. He saw
the concern in her eyes but knew she would do nothing to stop him. Almost he
changed his mind and decided not to go. Malith would undoubtedly have something
in mind, and Birch was sure the Black paladin would try to double-cross him.
Birch leaned down and kissed Moreen tenderly.

“I’ll come back to you soon,” he whispered in her ear, then
left before he could change his mind.

Behind him, he heard Garnet say in a low voice to Flasch,
“…not a coincidence. Start getting everyone ready.”

The Council members left with Birch, but only went with him
for a block or so before they begged off so they wouldn’t be seen with him.
Birch looked pointedly at the Red paladin with thinly veiled contempt, but
waved them away. When he approached the gates, the guards were reluctant to let
him through.

“Look, you can either open the gates for me, or I’ll just
climb up and jump over the wall to get down,” Birch told the officer on duty.
“I’d rather save myself the exertion. Just open it wide enough for me to get
out. The army’s not close enough to run through in the next thirty seconds.”

“But, sir, I…” the guard stammered.

“Just do it,” Birch told him firmly. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

A minute later, Birch was standing outside the Barrier as
the gate rumbled shut behind him. A low screech erupted almost right beside his
ear, and Birch turned just as Selti, in his drann shape, flared his wings and
settled on Birch’s shoulder. The gray dakkan glared at Birch angrily.

“Well don’t get mad at me,” Birch told him. “If you were
around more often, you wouldn’t get left behind when little surprises like this
crop up. I didn’t have time to go chase you down.”

Selti stared at him a moment longer, then rubbed his head
against the back of Birch’s neck, letting Birch know he was forgiven for his
lapse of consideration. Birch sighed in exasperation, then reached up his free
hand to scratch Selti beneath the chin.

“You will have to walk once we get there, though,” Birch
said. “I can’t have my sword arm hampered, just in case.”

Selti abruptly pulled away from Birch’s hand and leapt into
the air, deliberately thumping Birch in the head with his tail. Selti landed on
the ground a few yards ahead and looked back at Birch as if impatient.

“It’s a good thing you’re reliable when it’s important,”
Birch said, rubbing his head. “Otherwise I’d have let some other fool paladin
take up with you and wish him better luck than I.”

Both of them knew that was a lie and an impossibility – the
bond between them was far too strong, more so even than Birch’s bond with
Selti’s mother had been. Selti was by far the most intelligent dakkan Birch had
ever seen, and he seemed to understand most of what was said to him, making him
a valuable friend and a useful mount. Still, Birch felt better after voicing
his irritation to the dakkan.

In the distance, Birch saw a black shape sticking up from
the ground, lit by Hellfire torches in several places. As he drew closer, he
saw it was a large pavilion supported by black metal rods. A single glance at
the material told him it was stitched together from the flayed skin from some
hapless creatures, probably lesser demons who had displeased their master.
While Birch felt no unease about the grisly source of his surroundings, he
nevertheless frowned at the sight. The two Council members hadn’t mentioned
anything about a pavilion. There were no walls, just a high canopied ceiling,
but especially with the darkening night, it might make seeing what happened
more difficult from the Barrier. It would also make seeing beyond the pavilion
and its torches all but impossible for those within, but Birch doubted he’d
have a problem on account of his night vision, which he now knew to be
demonically enhanced by Kaelus’s presence within him. If this was a trap, and
Malith was counting on blinding Birch to his surroundings, Birch’s former
brother paladin would be sorely disappointed.

Birch crossed the space to the pavilion without incident,
and seated within was none other than Malith. The Black paladin sat before a
metal table with a bottle of wine, two glasses already filled, and one other
metal chair for Birch.