The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War)
Page 54
Danner’s immortal strength put him in good stead as he lifted damned souls with one hand and hurled them twenty yards or more away. On several of them, he inflicted deep wounds by tearing into them with his fingers even as he clutched their flesh. At one point, Danner felt something hard against his back and he looked up to see the red Ash’Ailant. Only then did he realize that he couldn’t just flee the battle, something he’d been considering more and more often with the press of demons and damned souls all around him. If Danner left, there would be no one to defend the Stone, and one more of the precious keys to the Barrier would be destroyed.
The decision was soon taken out of his hands, however, when a group of a dozen drolkuls forced their way through the fray and assaulted Danner and the Stone. While six of them faced Danner to hold his attention, the other six moved around and approached from behind. By the time Danner had slain three of the drolkuls before him with his bare hands, the other six had begun pounding on the red angelstone with their four massive fists. Danner spun and punched one in the side of the head, and one of the drolkuls behind him grabbed Danner’s shoulder.
Danner grabbed two of the four wrists holding him and bent at the waist. With the drolkul hunched over and holding fast to him, Danner’s feet swept up over his shoulders, and he locked his ankles around the demon’s head and twisted. The demon’s neck snapped, which was not enough to kill it, but it bellowed in pain and let go of Danner. He dropped to the ground and saw a sword laying discarded nearby. Danner picked up the weapon and said a hurried prayer, hoping it would be enough to bless the weapon.
The sword bit into demonic flesh easily as Danner renewed his attack from the ground, and he cut down two of the demons nearest him so he could see what was going on with the Stone. What he saw made his heart sink.
The red Ash’Ailant was broken in half and lay tumbled to the ground. Two drolkuls stood over the ruby-colored shards, howling at the sky in triumph. Danner’s face twisted in hatred and he cut the feet off the nearest drolkul with one swipe, then severed its head as the demon crashed to the ground.
With nothing left to defend, Danner cut a clearing around himself and then leapt into the sky, feeling empty and suddenly worthless in the wake of his failure to defend the Ash’Ailant. His earlier sense of intoxicating power was replaced by a smoldering hatred for those who had proven him impotent.
A dakkan swooped by from overhead, and Danner recognized Garet jo’Meerkit and Michael sitting on the yellow beast’s back.
“To the orange Stone, Danner!” Garet called. “We may be too late already!”
And then it was a race between them as Danner pumped his wings to keep up with the larger dakkan. The two winged shapes sped across the length of the Barrier, crossing three of the courtyards before they reached the space where the orange Ash’Ailant was housed. A mob of demons was being pushed back by human and demi-human defenders, the foremost of which was comprised of the elven warriors under Siran. The remaining elves fought with the fury of three times their number, and it was largely due their efforts that the courtyard was not teeming with demons. A force of paladins was mixed in with them to deal with any actual demons that appeared, so the elves were free to concentrate on the damned souls that pressed against them.
But their efforts were already in vain. The orange Stone lay shattered and strewn about the small garden that surrounded the rock pillar. Siran and his elves had arrived too late to prevent its destruction, and had only been able to drive back the damned souls after the fact.
“We’re too late!” Michael cried in dismay as he, too, saw the broken pillar of angelstone. Garet’s dakkan was holding a steady hover over the courtyard as they surveyed the damage.
“There’s only three left,” Danner replied as he flew over to hover right next to the two mounted paladins. “If those fall, we’re finished.”
“Then we’d better see they don’t fall, don’t you agree?” Garet asked.
“I don’t see how we can last against this army,” Danner said wearily. “Even if we could muster all our might in one courtyard, they’ve got what looks like a thousand-to-one odds against us, and they don’t get tired. How in Heaven’s name can we beat an enemy like that?”
“Heaven’s name is exactly right, lad,” Garet replied firmly. “I imagine our ancestors asked themselves that very question when Hell first came to this world, and look how they prevailed. They drove the demons back and made the Barrier to keep the Merging in check. They succeeded, and so will we. Have faith, Danner.”
“That’s a hard thing in times like this,” Danner said candidly.
“Faith is a hard thing at any time, lad, and if it isn’t, then it’s worthless,” Garet said. “If your faith isn’t tested, you can’t really know it’s true. This is our test, and I, for one, don’t plan to be on the losing end of this war.”
- 4 -
Marc led the group of paladins through the city with a sure sense of direction. He’d grown up in Nocka and knew how to get just about anywhere. The streets were laid out in his mind like a giant map, which he easily visualized and navigated. They moved swiftly, trying to reach the Barrier for some word as to the state of their defenses and the war at large.
Maki handed Marc the bundle of cloth he’d brought from the barracks, but Marc waved him toward one of the Council members. The Blue paladin looked at the cloth and, recognizing it immediately, looked questioningly at Marc.
“You’re going to need it when we arrive at the Barrier,” he said. “Consider it reparation and one of the hardest apologies you’ll ever have to make.”
The Blue nodded, immediately understanding. His face was sorrowful as he tucked the roll of cloth under one arm.
Just as they were about to cross a street intersection, one of the Violet paladins held up a hand and whispered for them to halt.
“What is it?” Marc asked
“Something feels wrong,” the Violet replied. “I feel wrong in here,” he said, tapping his steel-encased chest. Like the other paladins, Marc included, he was wearing plate armor marked with the Tricrus. Only Maki was without such armament, because of his recent ascension into the paladin ranks. Instead of plate armor, he wore a sturdy chainmail vest he’d dug up from some chest in the trainee barracks.
Marc frowned at the Violet’s warning, but he was unwilling to proceed without first checking it out. He motioned Daevis and another Red paladin forward, the only two Reds in the group.
“Cross the street carefully, and be on the lookout for anything wrong,” Marc told them in hushed tones. He found himself wishing for his company of denarae, who could probe the area with their minds and tell him if anything was amiss. But without them, he would make due with those he had at hand.
Daevis and the other Red crept forward with their swords drawn, and they made it halfway across the street before the Violet’s warning blossomed into violence. A drolkul burst from the ground as a dozen damned souls poured from a doorway into the street. Marc and the others rushed forward and cut them down quickly, but Daevis paid dearly for the assault. The Red paladin’s left arm was torn off above the elbow by the drolkul, and he went down in a spray of blood. Jatin rushed forward as soon as he was able and healed the wound, but Daevis was still left without his left arm. Some things were beyond even a Green paladin’s ability to heal.
“Let’s stop here for a while,” Marc said, but Daevis scowled and waved at him, fighting the exhaustion that normally followed intense healing.
“I’m fine,” he said. “The pain is bearable, thanks to Jatin.” Daevis grimaced, belying the intensity of the agony rippling through his body. “Damn demons must tunnel faster with their bare claws than a company of dwarves.”
Marc stared hard at Daevis, then at the hole in the ground from which the drolkul had erupted.
“Sin, San, and Satan’s teeth!” he exclaimed in frustration. “God curse me for a mud-brained fool. Why the Hell didn’t I see it before?”
“What?” Maki asked.
“Dwarves tunnel, and they built basements in nearly every house,” Marc continued. “They also built tunnels to connect a lot of their work places. I grew up here, so I’ve seen a lot of them. They run all throughout underneath the city like a second roadway. That’s how the demons got into the Prismatic headquarters so quickly!”
Marc let out a stream of curses and had to restrain himself from kicking or hitting the nearest thing, which happened to be Maki. The other paladins looked at him in surprise.
“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Marc spat. “Janice all but told me the answer, and I didn’t catch it. They’ve probably infiltrated half the basements in the city by now, and they’ll be massing for an attack any moment.”
“Should we go down into the tunnels and try to clear them?” someone asked, Marc couldn’t see who.
“The tunnels are too extensive, and there aren’t enough of us,” Marc said. “Hell, it would probably take the entire Prism and half the defenders of Nocka to clear all the tunnels. Schneik! Let’s haul ass to the Barrier,” he said decisively. “We need to warn them to expect an attack from behind, or else we’re all doomed.”
Chapter 39
The Prismatic Council has come under fire for our indecisiveness and unwitting role in the Barrier War. It is no accident that the only member to fully admit this fault and seek no excuse is a Red paladin.
- Orange Paladin Francis de’Tieroth,
“Inter-Council Memo #143” (1013 AM)
- 1 -
“Garnet, Marc’s coming toward the Barrier quickly, and he’s got an emergency!”
Garnet heard the mental message from Brican and felt his stomach clench as he instinctively knew this heralded something potentially disastrous. He sent mental commands for all of Shadow Company to assemble, recalling Michael and Flasch from their places to the north and south. Danner followed with Michael, and Trebor was already nearby, so in only a few minutes the officers of Shadow Company had assembled, and the rest of their units were close behind them. Guilian passed the commands on to his platoon, and Jak still led Marc’s platoon in the Orange paladin’s absence.
“Brican what’s the word?” Garnet asked.
“The demons are burrowing under the city and have invaded a series of tunnels. They’ve amassed a small army behind us,” Brican reported, relaying Marc’s message even as he drew ever closer. Danner volunteered to go pick him up and fly him back, but Garnet decided Marc was close enough that it didn’t warrant Danner being cut off from the conversation while he was in immortal form.
“They could attack at any time, but in the meantime they’re no doubt slaughtering people in their homes.”
Garnet’s eyes tightened as he considered the possible death-toll Marc was projecting. It bordered on the unthinkable, at least when Garnet realized it was mostly women, children, and people too old to fight who would be at the demons’ nonexistent mercy. Thousands of soldiers had already fallen at the Barrier, but now it was civilians who would be slaughtered.
“I don’t know what we can do for them,” Garnet murmured, a comment echoed in his thoughts for all to hear. The denarae tuned in to his thoughts through their kything were all silent as they realized the harsh decision Garnet was facing. He could order them into the city to conduct a building-by-building search to eradicate the demons, which would take days, and they had hours at most before the demons assaulted the Barrier from within. At that point, the defenders would be crushed between two armies and ground to a bloody pulp. Any forces the defenders pulled off the wall to cover the east would weaken them on the Barrier to the west, and they could scarce afford the losses there.
Despite the thousands upon thousands of deaths in the city Garnet would be allowing, he had only one option, and that was to act in the interest of the greater goal of protecting the Barrier, and through it the world as a whole. The knowledge was bitter medicine for his conscience, but he faced it with the same force of determination and grit as had commanders for centuries. The greater good would be served, but it tore him apart to be the one to have to make that decision.
“We’ll set up here,” Garnet announced both vocally and mentally. His face was an unreadable mask, and he carefully masked his thoughts as best he could to prevent the denarae from reading the sense of self-loathing he felt. Garnet suddenly wished Gerard was there and still leading the company, so the decision would be on his mentor’s shoulders and not his.
“That’s the curse of command,” Trebor kythed into his mind. “We all trust you, and we know you’re doing what’s best.”
“Tell that to the people who are going to die,” Garnet thought bitterly, then ignored Trebor.
“Then let us take two or three platoons out to do what we can,” Trebor suggested, his mental voice irresistible. “We can save some of them.”
Garnet was tempted.
“No,” he thought reluctantly. “We’re only at half-strength as it is, and I need everyone here. When they come, there’s going to be one Hell of a hammer to pound against this anvil, and we might not make it otherwise.”
Trebor’s kything fell silent.
“Guilian, send a messenger to Siran and the elves,” Garnet ordered. “The defenders on the wall can hold their own now, but we need a small but potent force to deal with this. I can’t think of anyone better than the elves.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Relay from Danner,” Caret kythed to Garnet. “What about your father and his uncle and some of the other paladins? There are going to be demons in this group, and it’ll take more than the five of you to take them on.”
“See to it, Brican,” Garnet ordered, “and give me an update on Marc.”
“I’m right here,” Marc yelled as he ran toward them from a nearby alley. He was followed by ten other paladins, about half of whom Garnet recognized from the Prismatic Council.
“What happened?” Garnet asked.
“The demons attacked the chapterhouse,” Marc said. “Hard.”
“Alicia?” Danner asked in concern. The moonlight lent an alien cast to his features, and he looked almost elven under their light.
“She’s safe,” Marc reassured him. “I sent her and Janice to Faldergash’s place with a Blue paladin as an escort. Don’t ask,” Marc said to Garnet, who looked at him in surprise at the mention of Janice. The exotic dancer was well-known to Garnet and their friends, as was Marc’s interest in her.
“The dybbuk has been dealt with, but two thirds of the Council was slain, and just about every paladin in the compound,” Marc said grimly. “This is all that’s left.”
Garnet looked at the remnants of the Council with flinty eyes, his hostility apparent in every inch of his body. They faced him humbly, but with dignity, and they eyed Garnet with respect.
“We know you have no cause to bear us any good will,” one of the Reds said, and Garnet recognized him as Daevis. The Red paladin was missing an arm, and it had come from recent combat by the looks of it. “We have acted horribly and dishonorably toward your company and your friend, and I can only extend our sincerest apologies and beg your forgiveness.”
This last was pointedly directed toward Trebor, who stared at the paladins with an expression that mirrored Garnet’s hostility. Trebor had borne the brunt of their racial bigotry, and these men were the reason he was not currently a member of the Prismatic Order.
“Before you find out for yourself, Treb,” Marc said, “they were largely blackmailed into doing everything we’ve so cursed them for. Your expulsion, Gerard’s supposed disgrace in being assigned to the denarae, even our being placed outside the Barrier. It was all due to the dybbuk and one other holding things over them. But that’s all past, and they’re here to do what they can to atone.”
That said, a Blue council member unfurled a long
piece of thick, off-white fabric and let it flutter in the breeze. Garnet recognized it immediately, for he had worn just such a cloak for a brief instant before it changed into the crimson-colored cloak he now wore.
“This comes with our blessing and apologies,” the Blue paladin said.
Trebor stared at the proffered cloak, and slowly his hands started to tremble. He swallowed hard, and Garnet saw a single tear well up in his eye and course down the gray skin of his cheek. Wordlessly, he reached for the cloak and took it in his hands. He stared at the cloak in silence, fingering the material as though unable to believe it was real.
“Tradition states that a paladin place it on your shoulders,” Daevis said. He took the cloak from Trebor’s numb fingers and awkwardly threw it about his shoulders and fastened it in place. With his single hand, Daevis smoothed the material, then he stepped back as a verdant wave swept over Trebor’s shoulders and down to his feet. Without any real surprise, Garnet smiled as his friend was silently announced into the Green Facet.
A spontaneous cheer erupted from the throats of every denarae and human in Shadow Company, and Garnet yelled just as fiercely and joyously as the rest. Most of them had tears in their eyes, and Garnet could practically feel the mental congratulations being showered upon Trebor. Danner and the other humans embraced their friend and wept unashamedly in shared joy.
Garnet lifted Trebor into a bear hug and hoisted the world’s first denarae paladin into the air above them all. Trebor’s face was streaked with tears, and he stared at the sea of jubilant faces with unrestrained exuberance. When Garnet let him down, Danner, Marc, Michael, and Flasch stood beside Trebor, and the six paladins embraced again fiercely.
Flasch looked at Trebor and grinned. “Now how embarrassing would that have been if it hadn’t changed?” Garnet slapped the Violet paladin upside the head, and they all laughed, none harder than Trebor.