The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War)

by Brian J Moses

  Hoil paused as Birch staggered groggily to his knees.

  “So was it worth it, big brother?” he sneered drunkenly. “Have you sacrificed enough or will it never end until you end up spitted on some demon’s claws?”

  “Yes, it was worth it!” Birch screamed, his iron-like grip on his will faltering under Hoil’s brutal verbal onslaught. “Is that what you want to hear?” He rushed forward and swung double-fisted at Hoil, knocking his brother back. “If I could go back, I would still join the Prism, and I would still serve God as a paladin. It’s what I am. It’s who I am, Hoil. Sure, if I could go back, I would find a way to make time for Moreen, to give her the love she deserved or stay out of her life entirely. But I can’t go back, damn it! I have to live with the choices I made, and I have to believe they’re worth the price I’ve paid.

  “I was going to leave the Prism and go back to her,” Birch said desperately, and unshed tears brimmed around his eyes, burning his flesh with fiery agony that went unnoticed. “I was going to be everything I should have been long before, but the demons crossed, and I had one last duty to fulfill.”

  “There’s always something, isn’t there?” Hoil grumbled. Birch’s face screwed up angrily, and he punched Hoil in the head, knocking him down.

  “Bastard!”

  “Me? I’m a bastard?” Hoil roared, rolling away and getting to his hands and knees. He kicked out and swept Birch’s legs from under him, forcing the paladin to join him on the floor yet again. “That may well be, but you’re the one who’s been so blinded by his bloody holy quests and need to feel fulfilled that you can’t see it’s stolen your soul. Do you think you’re the only accursed paladin in the world? Others can handle this. The world will not collapse if you fail to go on this one journey.”

  “But what if it does?” Birch yelled, falling back as he tried to rise. He managed to get to his hands and knees, and the two brothers faced each other like two animals. Both were cut and bruised from their fight with blood streaming down their faces.

  “Damn it, Hoil, I’ve been there! I’ve been to Hell, and I was ripped apart and made to put myself back together so many times I can’t even remember!” Birch was shouting now. “They laughed when I couldn’t muster the strength to repair the damage they inflicted on me daily. They cut my eyes and shattered my legs, then left me to hang in a silence that nearly drove me mad.”

  “And yet you, the perfect paladin, withstood it all and remained firm to return home,” Hoil said snidely.

  “They broke me!” Birch howled, clenching his fists around a piece of wood until it shattered. Wisps of smoke curled up from the splintered pieces, which were blackened as though they’d survived a fire. “After six years, I couldn’t take any more. I healed myself each day because I didn’t know what else to do. A stronger man would have born the pain rather than give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, but I played into their hands each day because I couldn’t stand the pain. I gave them a weapon against me by acknowledging they hurt me. And by the end, I was ready to just let it all go. Six years of suffering collapsed on me in a day, and I was willing to accept any release, even death, if I could have found a way. They succeeded, Hoil,” Birch whispered harshly. “They broke me.”

  Hoil was silent a moment as his brother wept.

  “So, my brother is more than just a paladin after all,” Hoil said soberly. “He’s a human being.”

  “Yes, I’m human, damn it,” Birch said, finally looking up, “and I can’t let anyone else face that same torment I endured. That’s why I’m fighting this, no matter how much I want only to go live alone with Moreen for the rest of my life. I have to see the job done, and I have to be a part of it, because if I leave it to someone else and they fail, I’ll be faced with the knowledge that I could have done something and perhaps made a difference. If we fail, Hell will come to this world and everything I love, including Moreen, including you and Danner, my family, will be consumed by the flames of fury and torment. I will not let that happen, not while I still draw breath,” Birch swore as his eyes flashed painfully bright.

  “So that’s it. That’s what’s made you so damn insufferable since you returned.” Hoil finally understood his brother and the man he had become since his ordeal.

  “Yes,” Birch said, then collapsed to one side in exhaustion, too worn out to even keep himself upright. A thick swirl of spittle and blood pooled in his mouth, and he spit it out violently onto the floor.

  “Then you’re a fool, Birch,” Hoil said. “They didn’t break you.” He paused. “You once told me the exact number of days you were held captive. Why did you bother keeping track?”

  “I don’t know,” Birch said. “It gave me something to think about.”

  “Bah,” Hoil said, waving Birch’s statement aside. “You know exactly why. When your days and nights blend into one endless blur of torment and despair, it takes a special spirit and force of will to keep track of time in the face of that kind of misery. Believe me, I know, and… and you’re a stronger man than I.” Hoil stared at Birch intensely. “I moped for a month after my Alanna died, wracked by grief and guilt, but when it was over I couldn’t have told you whether I’d been lost in my pain for a week or a year. You endured six years of torment and counted every single last day. They didn’t break you, Birch. You did what you needed to survive.”

  Birch was silent.

  “And now you’ve been scarred but strengthened so much by the ordeal, you want to protect others from it, because you know deep down that so few other people – wings and demons, maybe nobody else – could have withstood what you did.”

  “If I could stop anyone else from going to Hell,” Birch began, his voice quiet, “if I could find a way to free those already trapped and tormented, I would sacrifice everything I am to do so. It’s more than I can bear to think of you or Moreen or anyone I know and love going there and enduring even a piece of my memories.” He looked sadly at Hoil. “All my life I’ve tried to live as God wills me, and according to everything I believe, my own brother is destined to reside in Hell when he dies. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, Hoil, and it pains me to know my failure to change your life’s course could result in eternal torment.”

  “But we all live according to our own choices,” Hoil said softly. “You can’t change anyone’s nature, Birch. If my life and my decisions lead me to Hell, that’s the payment I receive for my choices. No one made me steal, or lie, or cheat, or bribe, or any of the other questionable things I’ve done in my life. I’ve known they were illegal from the crib, but that’s where I felt my life was going. And look, I was blessed with a wonderful woman and a son who outdoes his old man on any given day and twice on Sabbatha. He’s a better man, especially by your standards, than I have ever been, and I’m proud of him. But had I not been a thief and been running from the authorities, I never would have met Alanna in the woods. How’s that for you?”

  “I know, Hoil,” Birch said wearily. “But you’re my brother, and I love you, and if there was even the tiniest thing I could do to ensure you don’t face Hell, I would do it in an instant.”

  “I know,” Hoil said, then he smiled through his cut and bleeding lip. “How’s this: if I survive whatever Hellish holocaust you’re expecting, I’ll turn over a new leaf and find some legal way to live my life. Maybe enough legality will offset what I’ve already done.”

  “It’s not the legality, it’s the morality,” Birch said, laughing slightly even though it hurt. “What’s legal is not always right…”

  “And what’s right is not always legal,” Hoil said, joining in his brother’s laughter. He grimaced slightly and absently probed his ribs where Birch had hit him. “How long ago did I tell you that?”

  “You were ten,” Birch said, “and you were trying to justify having stolen a pound of beef to feed us during the winter.”

  “I remember. And you, of course, went back and left a few anonymous coins by the man’s back door,” Hoil said with a smile
.

  “How did you know?”

  Hoil had the grace to blush. Or perhaps his face was just flushed from the alcohol still in his system.

  “I followed you and took it back,” Hoil admitted, then added defensively, “but that’s the money I used to buy you your first bowkur.”

  “The one made of birch wood, from which I took my name,” Birch said thoughtfully. “The one I used to save your life.”

  “Everything comes full circle, it seems,” Hoil commented. He paused thoughtfully, then added, “Maybe there is such a thing as destiny. Fate.”

  “Meaning I was supposed to be the one paladin to return from Hell?” Birch asked, arching an eyebrow. He had correctly followed Hoil’s line of thinking. Hoil nodded.

  “Maybe. It was because of your use of that bowkur that you caught the paladin’s eye, which made him take an interest in you and bring you in as his squire,” Hoil said. “Otherwise you might have stayed put at home, married Moreen, and been hip-deep in kids and running the Dragoenix Inn with her.”

  Birch stared at him, his expression unreadable.

  “When you think about it that way,” Hoil said, “it makes me more confident that the world will be safe, because you were the one chosen to save us. There’s nobody else I’d trust with the fate of the world… and the life of my son.”

  “You don’t know all the people in the world, Hoil,” Birch objected, nevertheless moved by his brother’s confidence.

  “I don’t have to,” Hoil said, reaching over to grasp Birch’s hand. “You’re the best.”

  Hoil looked at his brother’s bruised and bloody face and knew that his looked similarly abused. “Now let’s get up and stop arguing before somebody gets hurt.”

  The two staggered to their feet and looked at the chaos they had caused. One quarter of the common room had been destroyed in their brawl. Tables and chairs were shattered and splinters lay strewn about the floor. The brothers looked about, then looked at each other. First Hoil’s lips twitched, then Birch smiled, then they both burst out laughing.

  Hoil paid the bartender – who’d stayed safely back from the destruction – for the damages and apologized for the disarray, then the brothers threw their arms about each other’s shoulders and staggered up to their rooms.

  Chapter 19

  War is a pattern of behavior, and like most behaviors, it is only in a prolonged state that it becomes abnormal. Nowhere can this more clearly be seen than in the country of Merishank.

  - Orange Paladin Janek jo’Baerth,

  “A History of War” (969 AM)

  - 1 -

  Two days later, Danner was roughly awakened as someone lifted his bedroll from one side, which sent Danner tumbling out the other side onto the ground. He stumbled bleary-eyed to his feet, groping blindly for his sword to face the perceived threat. When his eyes and mind were clear, all he saw was Garnet.

  “Easy, Danner,” Garnet said with a chuckle. “I tried shaking you and calling your name to wake you up, but this was the only thing that worked. Sorry.”

  “No worries. I don’t think I’m permanently bruised,” Danner replied somewhat grumpily. He looked at the sky and estimated dawn was only an hour or so past, well before his scheduled time to rise. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Get cleaned up and meet in Gerard’s tree,” Garnet said. “And hurry. The shepherd summons his flock.”

  Danner broke through a thin layer of ice on a bucket of water and splashed his face. He gasped at the frigid temperature, but his thoughts were immediately swept clear from the morning fog of his abrupt waking. He looked outside of his lean-to and noted unhappily that it had snowed again last night. The temperature had warmed again after the snows over a month ago, then cooled with more snow, then warmed again. Marc said it had something to do with being so close to a large body of water ─ the Earthforge ─ and being at the base of the mountains. No one really cared about his explanation; they were just all annoyed at the fickleness of the weather.

  The ground had been clear of snow for several days, which had made their most recent excursion into the enemy camp possible. It was difficult to camouflage for the black night sky and the white snowy ground at the same time. But now, with a foot of snow laying on the ground, they would have to change their tactics again. He poked his head out one last time, holding his breath for the space of ten heartbeats to listen to the stillness of the woods.

  In the middle of a small army of mind-reading denarae, it was inconceivable that someone from the Merishank army could be nearby and might observe him, but the habit of stealth and caution had been drilled into him daily for weeks now, and even the simple task of relieving himself was done as quietly as possible.

  Danner threw on a double layer of clothes, then moved quickly through the snow to the base of a tree near Gerard’s. The tree had boards nailed to it haphazardly to create a ladder such as a child might make to climb to a tree fort, and some were even deliberately loose to create a derelict and unused appearance. Danner scaled the boards swiftly, then walked from branch to branch and tree to tree until he reached Gerard’s hut, which had no direct access from the ground. Remembering the ladder, Danner smiled briefly at the thought of a young Gerard Morningham building tree forts and playing at war with other children, then he soberly remembered that Gerard’s childhood had been a war, and it had not been playing.

  He knocked, then entered without waiting for permission. The other officers of Shadow Company were already assembled, looking just as upset at the early hour and the snowy ground as Danner was. The only exception was Gerard, who was too focused for such trifling concerns to upset him.

  “You look like Hell, Danner,” Gerard said in greeting without a hint of banter in his voice.

  “You’re not a pretty sight yourself, sir,” he replied, saluting briefly.

  Gerard returned his salute, then leaned over the map and table, balancing on his fists.

  “Gentlemen, we have a situation,” he said without further amenity. “On my morning recon flight, I saw a group of three paladins coming up from the south behind the Merishank army. They’re trying to sneak through or around it, but I don’t think they’re going to have much luck. The Merishank patrols are too heavy for anyone but Shadow Company, and they’re sure to be caught.”

  “You want us to bring them in,” Garnet said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Exactly.”

  “Do they have dakkans?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, two at least.”

  “Why don’t they fly them over the army then?”

  “I must have forgotten to ask them during the extensive conversation we were holding a thousand feet from each other,” Gerard replied sarcastically. “I couldn’t exactly land Sabor in full view of the Merishank army.” Michael flushed and nodded at the rebuke. Gerard turned to the group at large.

  “Trebor and Danner will make initial contact. Garnet and Michael, you’ll follow from the east, ready to cover them if necessary. Marc, Flasch, you’ll stay here ready to deploy at a moment’s notice wherever I need you. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied.

  “Good. Get your platoons moving. We’ve only got a short time before they reach the edge of the Merishank patrols.”

  Danner and the others hurried from the shack and leapt from the tree-cradled hut. Danner followed Trebor to the ground, and they ran together to where their platoons were secreted. Trebor sent mental commands ahead, and Danner made contact with the sentries on duty in his own platoon. By the time they arrived, both their units were geared up and already beginning to move out.

  They spread out and wove through the trees silently as a force of habit, and on their way they passed Marc and Flasch’s platoons already setting themselves up for immediate deployment. At the southern edge of the woods, they passed Garnet and Michael’s troops, who were waiting for them before advancing. Danner and Trebor overtook them and their platoons hurried toward where the paladins had last been seen.

&n
bsp; “Caret, take the platoon forward,” Danner ordered mentally, stopping before he left the woods. “I’m going aloft for visual confirmation. I’ll send orders from there and join you soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Danner asolved his wings and flew up through the concealment of the trees until he cleared the canopy. He maneuvered for a clear line of sight around the tallest trees, then dekinted and relied on his cloak to glide slowly downward. Meanwhile, he searched the landscape below him until he saw five distant shapes taking cover behind a large outcropping of rock. Three of the shapes were men, the other two were dakkans in runner form. He’d found the paladins.

  A smear on the white landscape caught his eye, and he saw a patrol of at least fifty men trotting in formation close to where the paladins were hidden, a long trail of churned mud and snow left in their wake. In another few minutes, they would overtake the holy warriors and inevitably discover them.

  Danner relayed quick directions to his platoon and to Trebor, then glided down and sprinted to rendezvous with his men. When he landed and caught up to his men, they were less than a minute’s hard run away from the rocks where the paladins were hiding. They ran forward, Danner in the lead with his blue cloak trailing behind him in the wind. He wanted them to see him first and recognize a fellow paladin so they wouldn’t be alarmed. When he drew closer, Danner nearly tripped in surprise.

  “James?” he said, when he was close enough to not have to shout. “Vander? Garet?”

  “Young de’Valderat,” James replied, smiling. “Or should I now say, brother? You’ve finished your training already?”

  “Desperate times,” Danner said by way of answer. “For God and for man,” and the other three joined in saying, “For life.”

  “You’re in trouble, gentlemen,” Danner said, shaking hands quickly with each man. Vander had a large bundle of cloth in his arms that emitted an occasional whimper, but Danner couldn’t see what was within. “There’s a patrol of fifty foot heading this way.”