Gerard’s plan of psychological warfare was succeeding. The Merishank army had begun to take their single company seriously and was now afraid to approach the woods Shadow Company had made its own. Two hundred men had disappeared without a trace in the first day, compliments of Shadow Company, who suffered only a single loss. By the next week, another half-thousand fell in the woods, and Shadow Company lost no one. Of course it helped that they had six full paladins and one denarae with greater healing skills than any two of the paladins. Many who might otherwise have been lost were instead back on their feet and fighting within days or even hours.
Now the last remnants of a whole battalion ─ one thousand troops ─ were being wiped out by Garnet’s and Michael’s platoons. First and third platoons under Marc and Flasch were resting from the previous night’s excursion against the enemy, and second and fourth platoons were getting ready with Danner and Trebor to assault the enemy camp within the hour. Gerard would accompany them to provide transportation on his dakkan for Danner’s platoon in four shifts – carrying half a squad in each flight – and then the two platoons were on their own.
Gerard had structured the platoons to fit not only with his strategies, but also to match the strength and personality of the man in charge of each unit.
Danner’s platoon was by far the best at swift entry and retreat, and they were the most cunning at stealth and sabotage. Gerard had deliberately given him the best of the denarae suited to those tasks, and the Blue paladin had performed admirably in every task to date. They were particularly effective when paired with Trebor’s platoon, as they were now. The denarae officer was adept at leading his men through enemy lines and staging diversionary tactics from the most unlikely places. The strongest mind-readers were with him, and they slipped past sentries like they weren’t there at all.
Flasch and Marc were a strong pair also, more suited to defensive and support tactics. Flasch had the fleetest platoon and could move with astonishing speed to reinforce or cover any of the other units, and more than once it was only their speed that had saved an operation from a disastrous turn of battle. Flasch had a keen eye for seeing the details in a situation and making sure his platoon was in the exact spot necessary. Marc’s platoon was solid and could be relied upon to do anything required, but Marc showed little initiative and independent thought as a leader. He followed orders perfectly, but in unexpected situations, he spent too long trying to reason through a solution rather than reacting to the matter at hand as needed. The one man lost had been in his platoon and – in private – Gerard had made it quite plain to the Orange paladin that the loss was due almost entirely to his indecision.
Garnet was the most suited to lead, and there were standing orders that, should anything happen to Gerard, Garnet would assume command of the company. He was quick-witted on the battlefield, showed imagination in the command tent, and knew how to care for his troops. His platoon was composed of the strongest fighters, with Michael’s platoon a close second in offensive strength. They bore the brunt of any frontal assault necessary, including the mop-up action in which they were currently engaged. Gerard left that operation in their hands, knowing that if something went wrong, Garnet would be more than capable of handling it.
A lot of men had been killed in a short time, and he intended that many more would die, if that’s what it took to protect the city. It seemed men had been dying around him since the day he was born, and Gerard had killed quite a few of them himself, but this was different. Before, he’d killed men in self-defense, or because they’d been turned by a demon, and once in defense of a woman’s life. Now Gerard gave an order and hundreds of men were slaughtered, all in the name of defending a city that no sane man in the world should wish to harm.
Early into their campaign, Gerard had been confronted with his own reservations in the form of Flasch jo’Keer. It seemed appropriate that the morality of their actions was challenged by the Violet paladin amongst them, but even so, Gerard had been somewhat surprised it had been Flasch who had approached him.
- 2 -
“The Prism permits the killing of another mortal in cases of self-defense and protecting the life of another, though non-lethal resolution is preferred when possible,” Gerard replied offhandedly. “We’re protecting the city and all the innocents within.”
“You’re not my instructor anymore, sir,” Flasch replied grimly. “I read that page in our texts, too, and it sounds well and good. But we’re not holding a sword and shield over some old lady being assaulted in the street. Hundreds of men have died already, and you’re talking like killing them is a loophole, sir.”
Gerard regarded the Violet paladin with a flat stare. It was easy to forget Flasch was an intensely serious man underneath his antics and verbal flare. He was an inventive and solid commander, and if he was questioning their role in this war, others would be, too.
“No, Flasch, it’s not a loophole,” Gerard said finally, shaking his head. “I admit, I have a special place in my heart for Merishank, somewhere near rapists and men who beat children. Had my life not brought me to the Prism, I would probably be a commanding officer in the Sellan army, training soldiers to defend their homeland against the next incursion from those greedy, warmongering wankers. But like you, I was called to something higher, something beyond the more basic desires of my past.”
Gerard gestured in the general direction of the Merishank army.
“Somewhere out there are tens of thousands of men, blindly following orders that risk the safety of everyone in Nocka,” the Red paladin said. “Under other circumstances, and for any other city, we probably wouldn’t lift a finger to stop them. The Prism has, at times, offered sanctuary to those oppressed by an offending nation, but we have never placed ourselves directly in the path of a nation’s might. Against men, we have been ever the shield, never the sword.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if the Merishank army never lifts a finger to attack the city itself, despite their posturing and overt aggression. They don’t have to. Inaction can be a weapon all its own, and all they have to do is keep reinforcements from arriving. Hell, for all we know, the rank and file soldier has probably been told they’re defending the city from some other, mortal aggressor, since only an idiot would knowingly jeopardize the Barrier.”
Flasch nodded, and clearly he’d had the same thought, or something similar.
“But we both know this is different than anything our order has faced since its inception,” Gerard continued. “The stakes are too high.”
“Are we compromising our values to protect our values then, sir?” Flasch asked. “Danner once pointed out that saving a nation by sacrificing what made it great defeats the purpose. We are men of God, sworn to protect men of all races, and I have to ask if this is really what God intends for us.”
Gerard shook his head. “If God intended any of this, He’s got a funny way of telling people right from wrong. If only all our enemies in this life were demonspawn, the lines would be clear and we could lay down every night with a clean conscience. It’s not often our calling leads us to raise arms against our fellow men, and each time it happens we should question it.” He exhaled in grim thought. “This little war is made by demons, but with the hands of men, and men must bear the burden of setting it right. Sometimes protecting the innocent isn’t just holding a shield over their heads, it’s stabbing the bastard who’s attacking them.”
Gerard laid a hand on Flasch’s shoulder and gripped it firmly.
“I’m not brushing aside your concerns, Flasch,” he said, looking into the other paladin’s eyes. “It’s supposed to be hard, and we’re supposed to question it, lest we grow too used to the idea of killing each other. I’ve wondered myself if there’s not a better way we’ve overlooked, some strategy or tactic, some magic word that would bring them to their senses and avert a lot of needless bloodshed. You know as well as I do that all the city’s envoys, including those from the Prismatic Order, were either turned away without ever catchi
ng sight of an officer or killed outright. Right now, words aren’t an option, but give me a way to end this without killing another man and I’ll take it.”
Flasch nodded.
“Now leave me to some rest. Sleep is a weapon, too, and one I intend to hone for at least the next four hours.”
“I’ll pray on it, sir,” Flasch said. He gripped Gerard’s shoulder in return, then turned away. He paused at the doorway and looked back over his shoulder.
“Sir, may I ask you something… well, perhaps personal?”
Gerard nodded.
“What happened to your face?” Flasch asked. After a long pause, during which Gerard stared impassively at the other man, Flasch added, “Sir?”
“You asked,” he replied emotionlessly. “I never said I’d answer.”
- 3 -
“Sir, it’s time,” Danner said, breaking into Gerard’s reverie.
He looked up to see the Blue paladin leaning into the hut through the small doorway. The command structure where Gerard usually stayed was built high up in a tree and well-camouflaged, but was just barely large enough for him to live in comfortably. His six officers could stand shoulder-to-shoulder around the table that dominated the room, but beyond that there was only one area large enough for Gerard to stretch out to sleep on his cot. Two small candles burned in opposite corners, and a larger one stood in the middle of the table, illuminating the map laid there.
Gerard nodded and blew out the candle on the table and the smaller one closest to the door. The last would stay burning to guide him to sleep when he returned.
- 4 -
Danner glided down from the skies slowly, his eyes intent on the ground below as a half-squad of men drifted through the skies around him. He watched the deployment of the denarae already on the ground even as he stayed alert for any Merishank soldiers who might have spotted them and would give the alarm. Twelve denarae glided silently to the ground using the dyed training cloaks Gerard had confiscated, but Danner had a hard time picking them out of the dark night sky. He hoped the sentries below would have the same difficulty. The almost moonless night was essential to their mission, which depended on absolute secrecy. If they were discovered, their work might be suspected and their pain-staking efforts at sabotage would be corrected. Not only that, the enemy’s siege equipment would be better guarded, too.
He touched down lightly and dropped to the ground, listening for any sound of alarm. Danner heard nothing, not even the sound of his platoon settling to the ground around him. They were perfectly silent, and after a tense moment, Danner spared himself a brief, toothless smile. Then it was time to work.
Overhead reconnaissance provided from Gerard, combined with the mind-reading talents of Trebor’s platoon, had showed them where the siege equipment was being stored near the outskirts of the camp. So far, it had yet to be used because the Merishank army still occupied itself with settling in around Nocka. They seemed to be in no rush to assault the city, and they had not yet made any attempt at communicating with the defenders within. No demands, no ultimatums, no threats. Aside from their violent rejection of the envoys sent to treat with them, their presence outside the gates was their only indication of hostility. They had built storage sheds, warehouses, and several other structures from materials they had brought with them, but Shadow Company had disrupted many of their plans for using the forests for more building material, so the camp was only half-finished at best. Still, given the size of the army, it was like moving through a large town.
“First squad, deploy on the left,” Danner ordered, knowing his squad leaders were attuned to receive his thoughts. “Second squad, hold around me until first is in position, then advance and cover.”
Danner received mental confirmation from both leaders, then watched out of the corner of his eye as a group of shadows detached from the wall and slipped silently forward. Danner lost sight of them as they rounded a corner, and he waited breathlessly for the squad leader to send him notice they were in position.
“Moving out now, sir,” the second squad leader reported. Danner moved with them, weaving in and out of the shadows around them with silent efficiency. The white snow had long since been churned into the mud to create a dark, frozen, muddy sludge, so Danner’s face and hands had been darkened with soot to resemble the natural camouflage of the denarae’s dark skin. There was a running joke that he was just trying to make himself look more like his soldiers to make them like him better.
The truth was, his men respected him as much as he did them, and they would guard each other’s lives and secrets at all costs. The secret of Danner’s parentage had slipped out, as Trebor had warned it would, but by that time his men were all solidly behind him. If nothing else, they recognized that it was no less a secret than the kything abilities of their entire race, which Danner was already pledged to help protect.
“Sentry walking this way.” Danner melted into the shadows at the mental warning and closed his eyes to mere slits as he watched the sentry stroll past unconcerned. Their job would be much easier to perform if they could remove the threat of sentries (by removing the sentries themselves), but doing so would negate the intent of their mission.
“All clear.”
“Proceed,” Danner ordered.
His platoon moved forward and within a few minutes they had reached the block of warehouses with the materials that would soon be used to construct siege engines. Danner surveyed the area quickly and found the group of openings thirty feet up that served as ventilation to supply fresh air to the workers inside. He sent a mental command, and two denarae stepped forward on either side of him. Danner and the denarae pair each wrapped two long ropes around their waists, then began examining the log wall for adequate hand- and footholds. They climbed quickly but carefully, as concerned with making noise that might reveal their presence as they were with scaling the wall swiftly. Then they were in the openings, and they quickly and quietly drove anchors into the inside and outside faces of the wall. When he was sure they were secure, Danner ordered them to tie off their ropes and drop the ends to those waiting below.
Denarae scrambled up the lines and dropped from the windows to glide slowly to the floor below. Six denarae stayed above to coil the ropes. When they were finished, they lashed the ropes to cleats secured to harnesses they wore and lowered themselves a few feet into the room to dangle just below the windows. They were now hidden from outside view, and they had no silhouettes to reveal their presence to anyone still inside. When the time came, they could easily raise themselves back to the windows and lower the rest of the rope to their fellows below.
All this, Danner knew, was going on behind and above him. He trusted his men to do their work, freeing him to concentrate on the matter at hand – he received only a brief kythe confirming when they were all in place. The remainder of his platoon slipped through the darkened warehouse and sent him mental images of what equipment was stored there. Danner responded with orders on which things needed to be sabotaged to ensure their handiwork wasn’t discovered while maximizing the amount of damage to the people using the siege engines. A catapult that flew apart when used could be a very dangerous thing.
They made short work of the warehouse, but it was still taking longer than he would have liked. There was just too much equipment to sort through, and they couldn’t plan on taking another night to come back and finish their work. They had one shot at doing this. Any further attempts increased their chances of being discovered and their work brought to naught.
Four hours later, they were just finishing the third out of the five warehouses when Danner was forced to curtail their endeavors. They had to start back with enough time to not lose the cover of darkness, lest their presence be discovered. And just to be sure their work here was not suspected, even should they be noticed, their extraction point was halfway across the camp from their current location. Which was why they would soon be meeting their guides.
Like a pack of gray ghosts, they slipped from the
third warehouse toward their rendezvous with Trebor’s platoon. Danner heard his friend’s voice in his mind as they got closer, telling them where to go and how to avoid most of the sentries they would come across. Soon enough, Danner was at Trebor’s side and gripping his shoulder in greeting.
“Are you boys ready to get out of here?” Trebor asked him.
“Lead the way.”
“Fourth platoon,” Trebor kythed so everyone would hear him, “find your designated partner in second platoon and begin extraction, two groups at a time, four-minute intervals. Move.”
Denarae paired up and prepared themselves to move out. Danner could only see a dozen or so pairs from where he was. The rest were huddled in shadows within a hundred-yard radius so they wouldn’t be too densely packed lest they be discovered. The first pair to move out was Brican Dok – Trebor’s cousin and first squad leader – and Caret Janah, who led Danner’s first squad. Brican was Trebor’s best sneak, had the strongest kything abilities in their company, and could sense people’s thoughts at a much greater distance than most other denarae. Trebor’s platoon had already mapped out sentry locations and patterns for their path of extraction, but Brican would send back any word of aberrations in those patterns. Caret was just as intelligent and almost as strong a leader and would direct the movements of the denarae once they were clear of the camp, leaving Brican free to continue kything. Danner and Trebor were a pair, which in a lesser group of soldiers would have been call for disaster to leave both leaders in the same location moving together. But the two were a well-practiced duo, and if anything happened to them, the denarae under them were more than capable of completing the assigned mission and leading themselves to safety.
“Bad news for the Shepard on our recon efforts,” Trebor kythed to Danner as they waited.
“The Imperial Army?” Danner surmised.
“We confirmed their presence, but that’s about all,” Trebor replied, and Danner could hear the chagrin in his mental voice. “Gerard said they would only be here if they were protecting someone in the imperial family, but we couldn’t get close enough to kythe anyone who knew anything more than that there’s a ‘special guest’ somewhere. No names, no specifics.”
The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) Page 25