Finally, they were together in a way they’d never before felt. They were complete.
- 2 -
Birch smiled as Selti soared up to greet him. The dakkan was still in his drann shape, and he settled on Birch’s shoulders and immediately set to rubbing Birch’s face and neck with the back of his scaled head. He appeared to have recovered fully from his injury with the exception of a long scar in the membrane of his wing, and Birch was once more in Perklet’s debt for healing his dakkan.
“And is Danner recovered, too?” Birch asked. Selti chirped in reply and bobbed his head.
“Good,” Birch said.
The Gray paladin was standing on the rear wall overlooking the courtyard with the white Ash’Ailant. It was, by far, the largest of the courtyards, so it held the most defenders. Birch hoped those numbers would prove a telling difference when things came to a head, which it seemed they might do at any moment.
Demons and damned souls continued to pour across the top of the Barrier, but for the time being the defenders were able to hold them at bay. Paladins on dakkan-back swept the skies overhead and attacked the creatures climbing the walls, knocking them to the ground with a well-placed swipe of a powerful tail or snapping one up to be ground between razor-sharp teeth. Garet flew his dakkan back and forth across the front of the Barrier in an endless cycle. The Red paladin struck out with his sword as his dakkan banked left and right, lopping demons to pieces and aiming to at least maim the creatures when he didn’t kill them outright. His yellow dakkan knocked demons and damned souls from the skies, turning nimbly and even using her wings as weapons at times.
“I bet you could do that just as well, Selti,” Birch said, reaching up a hand to scratch the cat-sized reptile beneath an eye-ridge. Selti crooned and leaned into the caress.
The few remaining gnomish flying machines also contributed to clearing the walls. The motorized gliders soared overhead and dropped streams of viscous liquid on the demons trying to climb the stone walls, melting flesh and eliciting howls of inhuman agony. The other gnomish machines, the fixed-wing contraptions, made their own runs against the creatures on the Barrier, flying in pairs with a steel cable stretched between them. Demons and damned souls were ripped from the wall and in some cases torn in half as the steel cables cut through their ranks.
Birch felt an odd detachment from the battle, as if he was merely an observer biding his time for something momentous. He didn’t know what it could possibly be, but he had the sense that if he involved himself in the chaotic tide below him, he would miss an important opportunity. Whatever it was, he felt powerless to resist the overwhelming calm and patience that flooded his being. He thought perhaps it was something from within - from Kaelus - but he didn’t know if he was blaming it on the demon as an excuse for something else.
“We’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure,” Birch murmured. Selti crooned questioningly. “No, not yet.”
He patted Selti reassuringly on one flank. Minutes stretched into hours, and still he remained poised, waiting for what was to come.
“Not yet.”
- 3 -
Malith watched the progress of the battle with a deep sense of satisfaction that was irritatingly tainted by his failure to capture Birch. He’d been so certain his old rival, if he could be called that, would fall to the press of demons Malith had prepared for him. That he had felled the angelic rescuer was only a small comfort; Malith couldn’t even be sure the thing was dead.
Something troubled Malith about his exchange with Birch, and it wasn’t the unexpected appearance of a heavenly being, nor Birch’s Hell-filled eyes. Something he’d said struck Malith and set him on edge, but he couldn’t think of what it might have been.
He shook his head. More likely he was anxious over his failure to deliver either of Mephistopheles’s prizes. No matter the course of the war, which was all but preordained, presenting the King of Hell with either Birch of Kaelus would have secured Mephistopheles’s favor for eons to come and left Malith all but unassailable by the demon lords and princes. Without them, all he had left was the war.
He cursed silently.
The assault on the Barrier should not have lasted as long as it had. He’d expected to overwhelm the defenders at Nocka in a few days, a week at the most. But the siege had protracted, and he’d had to waste far more of his forces than he liked just to secure the third and fourth Stones. All but one of the abominations he’d sent had been destroyed, which he certainly hadn’t been expecting. One he could have understood, two he could have borne without undue ire, but this? They took too much time to rebuild and replace to lose them so easily. The one survivor had been badly damaged by ballista bolts marked with the Tricrus and was only just now recovering from its wounds.
Arthryx the Bender had spent half an hour doubled over in an insincere show of humble apology for the failure of his creations. Malith had seriously considered slaying him, so great was his rage at their failure, but the demon was too valuable to destroy. And they had proved useful in destroying part of the Barrier and weakening the defenses enough for two more of the Ash’Ailant to be destroyed. In the end, Malith had spared Arthryx’s life out of practicality more than any sense of mercy.
Mercy was no longer in Malith’s being.
“Report, my general!”
Malith stumbled at the sudden mental issue from his master, Mephistopheles. Quickly he sought a solitary place in which he could sit comfortably while he communicated with the King of Hell.
“Master, the third and fourth Ash’Ailant have fallen, and the last three will fall soon,” Malith said quickly. Mephistopheles read his thoughts as well as everything else contained inside his mind and soul. There could be no hiding from the probing thoughts of the lord of demons, and Malith had long ago learned not to try.
“Enough with this skirmish,” Mephistopheles said impatiently. “When will the WAR commence? When will we reach our goal?”
“Any time now, Master,” Malith said. “My forces within the city are ready to assault, and the defenders will soon be crushed. Then the Stones will be destroyed, and we can proceed to the true conquest.”
“I have your every assurance that you will succeed then,” Mephistopheles said. “I will not tolerate any further failure. Even you, my general, are not so secure in your place that I cannot have you replaced. Should you fail and displease me again, I will throw you to the hellhounds and let them feast on your soul for eternity.”
Malith knew a very real fear, which he quickly brushed aside in a show of confidence.
“I will personally lead the final assault and destroy the last Ash’Ailant with my own hands,” Malith declared quietly. “There will be no failure.”
“As you say, my general,” Mephistopheles said. “For on the other side of failure is oblivion.”
Mephistopheles broke the contact, leaving Malith trembling slightly. He considered the possibility that he might still displease his master and earn a most severe punishment. Malith ran over every aspect of his battle plan in his mind, letting the details and surety of victory comfort him and wash away his fears of mortality.
He would not, could not fail. Mephistopheles would have his victory, and then his war and conquest. Malith would be exalted above all other men. He stood with a sense of renewed confidence and invincibility and strode from the tent where he’d sought solitude.
“Ready the entire army,” Malith ordered a trio of messengers who crouched nearby, “and send word to our forces within the city. They are to attack at dawn and grind the mortals to dust between them. I want drolkuls above and below the ground, damned souls and gremlins in the air, and balrogs driving the assaults on every gate. Use the last abomination to destroy the third gate first, then the fifth gate if he survives. Leave the central gate to the end. If the abomination survives that long, fine. If not, I want my battering ram manned and positioned to assault the center gate.”
Malith paused, considering. “And I want the childris to join this assault,”
he said finally. “They’ve been largely held in reserve against a final need, now I want them seen in the fore to inspire fear and unleash terror and destruction.
“Send word to the remaining Black Viscia as well,” Malith ordered. “They are to assemble and meet me near my battering ram. Go!”
The three messengers departed swiftly, each on a separate course to relay his orders. Malith smiled once more in anticipation.
The Barrier would fall before the sun reached its zenith.
Chapter 40
The protection of the innocent takes precedence over the punishment of the guilty.
- “Teachings of the Blue Facet” (456 AM)
- 1 -
When the attack came, Garnet and Shadow Company were as prepared as they could be, given the circumstances. Siran and the elven company were massed at the center of the main street leading to the Barrier, where they assumed the demons would concentrate their assault. Garnet had appropriated explosives from the gnomish crews and used them to collapse several buildings to block streets. His hope was that at least some of the demons and damned souls would funnel into the lanes guarded by the elves and denarae rather than simply climbing over the obstacles.
Garnet had also convinced several human and dwarven regiments to help him, and had placed them at other streets. In case the barricades didn’t work, he left some of these units to stand vigil near the lanes where they had collapsed the buildings, but if a concentrated force came over any of those streets, the small groups of protectors would be easily overwhelmed.
They had passed the night in shifts, and while some slept, others either kept watch or worked to bolster their defenses. As dawn neared, few had managed more than a few hours of sleep – enough to stave off exhaustion, but not enough to slake the craving their bodies felt after the toll of the last few days. Garnet told himself it would be enough.
Guilian and Marc’s platoons were placed on streets flanking Siran’s elves, where they could do the most good in case of a strong central assault. Michael was the furthest away, on the far side of three human units and one dwarven platoon. The Yellow paladin was the best and most self-sufficient of Garnet’s commanders, so Garnet felt confident in leaving his friend as cut off as he was.
Flasch was fulfilling his standard role of being everywhere he needed to be, which usually involved being in two to three places at once. The swift, wiry paladin was incredibly adept at breaking his unit into smaller chunks and inserting them in four or more places at the same time. His nimble mind was capable of following and directing each unit, a feat Garnet wished he could do as well. But then, that’s why he had the men he did in charge. He trusted them to lead and do their jobs.
Danner and Trebor were up to their usual vanishing act and were playing hide-and-seek on the rooftops. The demons and damned souls were harder to track and number than the mortal enemies Shadow Company had faced in the past, so the two companies were running and leaping about the ceiling of the city taking estimates and sending reports of their route and progress toward the Barrier. With the losses Shadow Company had suffered, there were enough training cloaks to outfit the survivors of both platoons rather than just Danner’s, as had been the case when they were at full strength. When the battle started, they would jump down at their own discretion - or Garnet’s hurried command if things got out of hand - to bring the most amount of damage possible to their enemies.
That was a lesson they’d all learned from Gerard. You didn’t need to strike to win every time. Inflict pain, deliver chaos, and bite off whatever chunks of the enemy you could chew…then fade away. And then, when they were worn down and wary, strike in force and crush them beneath your heel.
Trebor made contact with Garnet with the simple message, “They’re coming.”
Garnet’s hands tightened on his sword hilt. The weapon was point-first in the ground, and his fist gripped it with knuckle-whitening force as he restrained himself from joining the coming fight. Yet another lesson from Gerard: you can’t command from the thick of battle. A commander’s place was away from the immediate conflict whenever possible, overseeing his troops and guiding their actions to preserve their welfare. Garnet’s time to fight would come, but not yet. Eventually he might be faced with the same choice Gerard had made, to join the fighting when his presence as an observer could do little good, whereas his sword would help save lives if things reached the point of true desperation.
Gerard had either forgotten that lesson or else ignored it – he’d had no place on the battlefield when he descended from his dakkan. It was a harsh truth to see in a man Garnet held so much respect for, but it was a truth nonetheless. When Gerard descended to the battle, he’d ceased to be a leader and had become one of his own soldiers on the line, and he’d paid for it with his life. Leading from the front was a key aspect of everything Gerard had instilled in them, but at a certain point in the command structure it became impossible and foolhardy. Had he remained aloft and aloof, Malith would never have come anywhere near him and he’d likely still be alive. Still, it had been his choice to face the Black paladin, and placed in a similar situation, Garnet couldn’t promise himself he’d choose differently.
And so despite his urge to stand beside his friends, Garnet remained in his place atop a pile of rubble that let him see nearly the entire stretch of the coming battle. He wished he had a dakkan of his own to ride, but until Birch and Garet arrived with reinforcements, Garnet was stuck on the ground with no alternative.
“Sorry, Garnet, I meant your father and the paladins were coming, not the demons,” Trebor kythed in apology, and Garnet didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “Although I suppose you could just as easily take it to mean the demons. They’ll be at your position in T-minus five minutes. You should be able to hear them soon, and they’ll have the morning sun at their backs. Danner’s got Caret making one final sweep of the more distant areas to see if this is all of them.”
Even as Trebor broke the contact of his kythe, Garnet could hear a thunder building in the distance. The low rumble was punctuated by Hellish roars as demons bellowed commands to their twisted underlings.
Garnet had forgotten about his father until the massive Red paladin clapped a hand on Garnet’s shoulder and looked at his son with a grim smile.
“You’ve done well here, lad,” Garet said approvingly. “I’ve brought a dozen paladins with me, all capable fighters.”
“Birch?” Garnet asked, knowing Danner would want to know.
Garet shook his head.
“He’s occupied with only God knows what,” Garet said, covering for the Gray paladin. In truth, Garet was frustrated by the complete lack of interest or response he’d gleaned from Birch. The Gray paladin was still standing atop the back wall of the Barrier, just staring at the battle and the people dying around him as if he didn’t care a whit. Garet knew that wasn’t true, and something important must be going on for Birch to ignore the fighting and the suffering, but Garet was damned if he knew what it was. And because he didn’t know, he was angry.
“They may need him more there than even we do here,” Garnet allowed. Then he gestured with one hand toward the rooftops. “I just got word from Trebor that the demons will be here within a couple minutes. Will you take me aloft?”
“Of course.”
Garnet leapt onto the yellow dakkan’s back an instant after his father, and the two were in the air with a few powerful beats of Shelly’s wings. From this height, Garnet could see the black flow that was seeping steadily toward the Barrier like a wash of filth following the tunnels of a sewer. Rays from the rising sun chased them through the streets, and the demons charged forward frantically as though being lashed and driven by the dawning sun. They turned aside at the barricades Garnet had erected, and only a token force of damned souls and demons bothered to crest the toppled buildings. They were immediately set upon by the small groups Garnet had left there, but before he could ascertain their effectiveness in holding back the small force, the main body
reached Siran and charged howling into the fray.
Garnet directed his father to fly him over the southernmost section of their defenses and saw that Michael had also been hit hard, but was holding firm. Atop the nearby roofs, Garnet saw the denarae from Trebor and Danner’s platoons spread out and peering down into the streets, allowing their leaders to see through their minds to observe all of the battle at once so they could determine the best point of entry.
Garet steered back to the north, and Garnet was just beginning to congratulate himself on the beginnings of a well-run defense when Brican’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“Relay from Danner,” Brican kythed, his mental voice hurried. “Caret has found another, much smaller, group of demons whose sole occupation seems to be slaughtering people in their homes.”
Perhaps by accident, Garnet received a mental image from Brican that was quite obviously what Caret had witnessed or was seeing even now. A drolkul was pulling a woman from her home into the street, ignoring her pleas for mercy and cries of terror. Demons seemed to have no lust for humans, at least in the carnal sense. Instead, the drolkul slaked a thirst for blood as he tore the woman to pieces and drank crimson fluid from her severed limbs. Garnet nearly threw up over the side of his father’s dakkan before the mental image was abruptly cut off.
He didn’t even stop to think.
“Trebor!” he yelled in his thoughts.
“Yes, sir!” Trebor replied grimly. “And Danner?”
“Leave him here,” Garnet replied reluctantly but without hesitation. “I need at least one of you assaulting from above.”
“Understood,” Trebor replied, but Garnet could tell he was dissatisfied.
“To Hell with it, both of you go,” Garnet said, squashing a flood of doubts and second-guesses that nearly smothered his ability to think. “Do what you can, and I’ll make do here.”
The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) Page 55