The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War)

by Brian J Moses

  “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.

  “Welcome, Birch,” Malith said. “The Gray paladin.”

  Chapter 34

  A coward kills more quickly than a brave man, and a brazen man more slowly.

  - “Teachings of the Red Facet” (453 AM)

  - 1 -

  Malith gestured to the empty chair across from him.

  “Please,” he said and gestured toward the wine.

  His expression stony, Birch sat in the black metal chair. His armor clinked slightly as he removed his gauntlet and lifted the nearest glass to his lips. Never taking his burning eyes from Malith, Birch sipped the red liquid without pausing or showing any sign of distrust.

  “Bravo,” Malith said with a smile on his cruel face. “For a moment I wondered if you might refuse. Being my enemy and all, you might suspect poison.”

  “You forget, Malith,” Birch replied, setting the glass back down, “I know you. You’re a vicious, malicious, remorseless bastard, but if you’re going to kill me, you wouldn’t poison me.”

  “And I was afraid you didn’t like me anymore, Birch.” Malith looked closely at him, then jolted in unfeigned surprise. “Sons of Hell, I thought that was a trick of the light. What in Sin’s name is wrong with your eyes?”

  “A mark of my tenure with your new master, Malith,” Birch said, his voice tight. “A man can’t come back from Hell without it leaving some sort of mark on him. Or his sanity.”

  Malith’s lip twitched in a ghost of a smile. Birch noticed then that Malith was staring him in the eye, something Birch was no longer used to since his return. People avoided meeting his gaze at all costs, unwilling to face the images of Hellish torture it conjured in their minds. But Malith looked at him calmly, giving no indication he experienced anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was because Malith’s own eyes were altered. Birch remembered his old rival as having dark blue eyes – very similar to Birch’s own actually – back in the days of their paladin training. Now Malith’s irises were a fathomless ebony that matched his pupils.

  “When this is all over, you’ll have to tell me just how you escaped,” Malith said. “Mephistopheles was quite upset. You can imagine his rage when he discovered that one of his precious toys was missing, and then just a few short years later his most valuable trophy was suddenly gone as well. Yes, we know Kaelus just escaped, and we know he’s nearby,” Malith said confidently.

  Birch’s eyes tightened, the only visible sign of his confusion.

  “Oh, don’t be surprised,” Malith said, misreading Birch’s facial expression. “We felt Kaelus’s presence today quite clearly, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s allied himself with you for survival, based on what Mephistopheles has told me of him. Half the demons in my army were ready to charge the Barrier with every ounce of their strength if it meant bringing him back to Mephistopheles. They’re all quite eager to please him and to prove they h
ad nothing to do with his escape. We know he had inside help, or else he’d have escaped eons ago, and since no one in Hell is more powerful than Mephistopheles, it’s only a matter of time before the perpetrator is caught and obliterated.”

  Birch’s thoughts spun frantically, sorting through his own torturous memories and the half-memories he had from Kaelus’s presence within him. Was it possible they didn’t know? Was Kaelus’s escape hidden just as Birch’s had been? Why? And how had it gone undiscovered for so long?

  “You’re silent,” Malith said, his black eyes narrowing as he studied Birch’s preoccupation. “I wonder what could possibly be so engrossing in that mortal little head of yours.”

  “Just wishing I had the leisure to kill you now,” Birch said.

  Malith threw back his head and laughed, a chilling sound devoid of any humor or joy. He lifted his glass and sipped slowly, appearing to savor the dry taste of the red wine.

  “An excellent vintage, don’t you agree?” Malith asked. “I was surprised to find it among the supplies of the paladin army that crossed over. It very nearly went to waste.”

  Birch withheld a curse, knowing the Black paladin was only trying to bait him.

  “You know, I couldn’t believe my fortune when I learned it was you who had escaped from Hell,” Malith said, his voice almost cheerful, “and I was thrilled to learn of Gerard’s command and to see him leading that little company of gray monkeys. Only he could have made those denarae beasts into something like that.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I assumed he was,” Malith said with a shrug. “When I run someone through the heart with my sword, I tend to assume they won’t recover from it.”

  Birch’s fist tightened involuntarily around the wine glass, shattering it and driving slivers of wine-soaked glass into his palm.

  “Was it something I said?” Malith asked with feigned innocence.

  Malith had never before been so deliberately provocative, nor expressed overt racist opinions, which meant he was deliberately goading Birch. At the moment, Birch didn’t care. He gripped his sword and half stood, but Malith only looked at him contemptuously.

  “Would you care to test your mettle against me, Birch?” Malith said, his face alight in cruel anticipation. “You were never in the same league as Gerard and I, no matter how hard you worked at it. Oh yes, you were a better paladin all around, I think we all knew, but when it came to the sword, you were never even second-best. That spot was reserved for Gerard, and you saw how he met his end. Shall I do the same to you? Or shall I take your head? Maybe it doesn’t matter. I have my eyes on a bigger prize, and you’re just one more ordinary mortal, after all.”

  “So are you, Malith,” Birch said, his voice as scalding as his gaze. “One who died a long time ago, you just don’t know it yet.”

  Malith laughed. “It would be so easy, you know,” he said, baiting Birch and ignoring his interruption. “Oh, I’d have to explain to my master why I didn’t bring you back, like he wants, but he values me enough that I would escape punishment, and it would be so satisfying. Please, Birch. Do it.”

  For a moment, Birch seriously considered it. With Kaelus inside him, Birch knew he might stand a chance against Malith. But the Black paladin was right in saying he was much better than Birch, and he couldn’t take that chance. Given the opportunity, Malith would slay him without a second’s hesitation. Slowly, Birch released his sword and settled back into his chair.

  Malith watched him sit, not bothering to hide his disappointment that Birch had backed down.

  “Pity. Perhaps there is a good reason you no longer wear the Red,” Malith said spitefully.

  “There is a very good reason,” Birch said with a forced calm he didn’t feel. “Just as there is a good reason you now wear the color you have chosen.”

  Malith was silent.

  “What do you want, Malith?” Birch asked, deciding to cut through the insults and double-talk. He firmly tugged his gauntlet back into place and flexed his hand into a fist to settle it in place. “You didn’t ask for me just to insult the memory of my friend, and don’t pretend you’re offering terms of surrender,” he added as Malith opened his mouth to reply.

  “Very well,” Malith replied. “I would offer them as a formality, but take this as a threat I am more than capable of fulfilling. You are all standing in my way. Mephistopheles wants something, and I’m going to get it for him. There is no way you can stop me,” Malith said simply, shrugging. “I don’t see why you should try. You’ve seen my army. You’ve seen how ineffective your pitiful numbers are against it, and you of all people know what the demons can do, now that I have brought them into play.

  “There are no terms, there is no other option; you have no hope of survival,” Malith continued. “Open your gates or I will tear them down. Let my army through or we will dismantle the Barrier stone by stone if necessary. Lay down your weapons or lay down your lives.” He shrugged. “Why bother to struggle against the inevitable?”

  Birch regarded him silently.

  “And that, Malith, is exactly why you now wear black,” Birch said. “It is the true reflection of your soul, I see. Is that how they broke you? Convinced you there was no hope, that you had nothing to hold on to? Did you cross a line and they told you you’d never be able to go back? Or was the pain just too much for you to bear?”

  Malith glared at him fiercely, then crashed his fist down on the table, shattering his own glass and knocking the bottle to the ground.

  “Was it something I said?” Birch asked mockingly.

  “You act like I had a choice, Birch,” Malith growled.

  “You could have fought.”

  “They would have killed me.”

  “Then you could have died,” Birch said grimly.

  The two men stared at each other silently across the table. When Malith showed no signs of responding, Birch decided to ask him something he might never have the chance to ask anyone else: something he could only ask of a paladin who had been to Hell.

  “When they had you, when they were questioning you,” Birch began cautiously, “did you ever speak with an invisible presence? A faceless voice that only came in your blindness?”

  Malith’s eyes tightened, no doubt trying to discern what Birch was after with such a question.

  “No,” he replied. “Every torture I endured I faced with open eyes, every word spoken to me by an enemy whose face was marked for revenge. Every demon short of a demon lord or prince who so much as touched me has been repaid a thousand-fold.”

  Malith’s first word was a lie, but it was a lie he believed. After that, Birch stopped listening.

  Dividha was a popular game amongst the trainees during Birch’s youth, and while Malith was a skilled enough player, he had lacked the self-control necessary to avoid developing tells for other players to read. One game in particular sprang into Birch’s memory, the last in a series of late-night games near the end of their training. Malith had lost nearly all of his chips chasing bad bets and was desperate to reclaim his funds – something to do with a girl in Nocka. The size of the pot made him heedless, and he convinced himself his cards were good enough for a solid win. Each turn of the cards, each round of betting left him worse off than the last, and at each twist of the game, he must have told himself again that the hand was his. On the final bet, he recklessly threw every last coin he had into the pot and dared his fellows to challenge him. Without a second’s hesitation, Gerard called his bet and took every last penny for himself. The look on his face was a complete denial of reality, as if he really couldn’t comprehend that he’d lost.

  The Black paladin had spoken with Satan, Birch was sure of it. He was just as sure that Malith didn’t remember a second of it, at least not consciously. No doubt he’d been forced to forget just as Birch had.

  A part of him pitied Malith, and in a moment of weakness, Birch allowed that thought to show through. Malith saw it – and hated him for it.

  The two men locked
eyes and glared at each other across the table, until Birch heard a slurping sound beneath them. Selti was on the floor, eagerly lapping up the red wine spilled earlier.

  Malith’s eyes shifted to the new sound, and he saw the gray drann. With a movement too fast for Birch to follow, Malith swept his black sword out of the sheath and swung down at Selti. The table made his attack awkward, and Selti darted back quickly, but screeched in pain as Malith’s sword bit into his left wing, cutting through the membrane like paper.

  Birch reacted a split second later, his own sword clearing the sheath with a hissing sound. He burst out of his chair and knocked Malith’s sword away with his mailed fist in the same motion, then stood protectively over Selti as the gray dakkan cried and limped behind the Gray paladin.

  Malith backed away, his sword held ready as he watched Birch warily but without any real concern.

  “You’re doomed to failure, Birch,” Malith snarled, “and my master would have his prizes returned to him. For now, either prize will do. You asked what I wanted here. I remember how you were in training, always a step ahead in every way and knowing it, enjoying it. I knew when I sent that messenger that you would be just curious enough and just arrogant enough to come see me in person, alone.” The Black paladin laughed disdainfully. “You’re a fool, Birch. I’ll take you captive now and ransom you for Kaelus’s return. If that fails, Mephistopheles will merely take Kaelus back in his own time, but you will return to your torture cell and face an eternity of pain and torment.

  “Take him!” Malith shouted.

  The ground around Birch rumbled for a moment, then rock shards flew in every direction as drolkuls burst from the ground with demonic roars of fury. Birch spun and stabbed the nearest demon through the back of the head, then severed another’s arm. Drolkuls attacked him from all sides, their four grasping limbs reaching eagerly to catch hold of Birch. He left many of those claws flopping uselessly on the ground, their demonic owners howling in pain and fury until their fellows ripped them out of the way to attack Birch instead.