Birch automatically reached for his sword and let out an explosive curse as his fingers met only wood.
“I’ve only got my bowkur and no cloak,” he spat, his voice low and surprisingly fierce. He ignored the stunned looks Danner and Maran were directing toward him. He could explain to them later… perhaps. The elf held his bow and arrow ready, but Birch shook his head. They would be useless against this foe.
Birch turned to Selti and regarded his mount with a serious eye. “You’re going to have to take care of him for now, Selti,” he said grimly. “Drive him off if you can, because whatever demon it is, you can’t kill him yourself. If he’s as powerful as I think, he’s a shapeshifter, so if you can drive him to change to something land-bound, then maybe I can help fight him. But I can’t do any good up there without my sword and cloak. Do you understand?”
Selti nodded solemnly, sensing this was one of those times when his paladin truly wanted him to behave. When he gazed skyward, he saw the fire-red dakkan approaching quickly and knew he had to get airborne soon or else start at a serious disadvantage. Selti leapt into the sky with a screech, his tail nearly decapitating his paladin as it whipped by his head.
So intent was Birch on the fast-approaching flier, he didn’t notice the flashing tail. Even as he watched the red dakkan grow larger, something changed in his vision and he saw only a transparent outline of the beast. Inside hovered a shape Birch had fervently wished never to see again in his life, or his afterlife for that matter.
A diminutive, humanoid shape soared through the air, with smooth bark-like skin and needle-sharp teeth Birch had seen too many times in his dreams of late not to recognize.
“Sal,” he whispered. Or it could be Min or Ran; he knew it made no difference, but somehow Birch knew which one of The Three it was. But where are the other two? he asked silently, his thoughts all but paralyzed at the sight of even one of The Three in his world. “Merciful Lord, help us,” he prayed fervently.
- 4 -
Selti climbed high and climbed fast, knowing instinctively that he had to put distance between himself and the ground. Battle knowledge that had, until now, lain untapped within his bestial blood now surged to the forefront of his mind with an eagerness that surprised and excited him. Centuries of dakkans before him had fought and won – or fought and lost – battles with creatures of all sorts including their own kind, and their knowledge was imprinted as instinct in the minds and bodies of their children and their children’s children.
Now Selti tapped that hidden knowledge and raced toward the dakkan his paladin feared so much. That his paladin feared it at all was enough to give Selti pause. He knew this was no ordinary dakkan, which he somehow knew would work both for and against him. Selti was at a slight disadvantage because this fiery dakkan had an unholy power unknown in any mortal creature, its potency so great he could actually feel it as they drew closer to one another. It was also noticeably larger than the adolescent, gray dakkan.
But Selti held the advantage of his instincts and of a familiarity with his body that a creature in an unnatural shape could never possess. How he knew this was beyond the gray dakkan, but he accepted it with the willingness of animal instinct. Knowledge stirred within him, triggered by the mere presence of this demon and the impending combat.
In truth, this was Selti’s first battle.
The other dakkan roared deep in his throat, his eyes focused solely on the paladin and his companions on the ground below. Selti was being ignored completely, and he turned that to his immediate advantage.
Unmolested by his single-minded enemy, Selti was able to climb higher into the sky until he was above the red-scaled dakkan. Then, with a shriek, he plummeted toward the other, claws outstretched.
At the last second, the red dakkan realized his danger and looked up but, too late, Selti slammed into him with a fierce cry, clawing away as the other dakkan twisted to retaliate against the sudden onslaught. Selti’s claws dug fiercely into the red scales, and burning black blood spilled out from the wound and nearly washed over his claws. Selti jerked his talons back, instinctively knowing that to touch that blood would be to invite serious injury. Even so, his hardened talons smoked where they had pierced the false dakkan’s flesh, and he hissed at his opponent. Selti gouged deep furrows into the other’s side and back, then broke free before he could respond in kind.
Black blood and red scales fell like rain on the party below, and Selti crowed in exultation at the acidic scent of the other’s blood on the wind. Lest his excitement get the better of him, though, Selti turned to track the reaction of his opponent.
His eyes found only empty sky.
Selti hissed in confusion and frustration, casting all about him for some sign of the other dakkan. An enemy didn’t just disappear like that! He saw his paladin was bellowing something from the ground below, but Selti was too high to hear him. He swooped lower to hear, but stopped and cried out as fire erupted in his right wing.
Selti’s head whipped around, and he caught sight of the red dakkan hovering where he hadn’t been a second before, his teeth locked on the gray membrane of Selti’s wing. Selti pulled away in confusion, screaming as his wing tore in the other’s jaws. He beat his wings to put distance between them, but when he turned back the red dakkan was swiftly catching up with him.
His paladin’s words finally sunk into Selti’s head, and he snarled in anger at being duped. The paladin had been trying to tell him his opponent had shifted shapes, probably to something too small for Selti to see. Selti broke into a mischievously fierce grin. Two could play at that game.
He teased the other dakkan with mocking cries and hid any note of pain from his voice. It would never do to betray his bravado by revealing to his enemy that he’d nearly crippled Selti in one sudden attack. After a moment, his taunting worked and the red dakkan rushed him in a furious charge.
At the last possible second, Selti rolled back and pushed himself into a straight climb, withholding a screech of pain as his injured wing nearly gave out under the strain. At the same time, he made a swift transformation into his drann shape, making it appear to the other dakkan that he’d disappeared from sight.
Selti hovered right over the confused dakkan, who glanced about in fury for his seemingly vanished opponent. Foregoing a battle cry that might have warned his enemy, Selti reverted to his natural form and surged toward the fire-scaled dakkan.
This time there was no sense of warning, no last-minute twisting to save him from the brunt of Selti’s attack. The gray dakkan slammed full-force into his larger opponent and heard a satisfying crack of bone as the red’s spine snapped. The red dakkan bent in half the wrong way, his body contorted painfully into a saddle shape with Selti astride him. Selti ripped and tore at the muscles at the base of the other’s wings, slicing away goblets of sinew and hard muscle. Some of the black blood splashed onto his claws, forcing Selti to withdraw, but his opponent was already crippled.
The crimson dakkan screamed in pain and fell from the sky like a rock. His wings fluttered uselessly, no longer under the control of his shattered spine and torn muscles. His head turned to look Selti full in the face, and the gray dakkan saw pure hatred and an unholy loathing mirrored in eyes maddened by pain and fury.
And then the dakkan was changing, growing smaller and smaller as its form swiftly altered. Selti had the brief impression of gossamer insect wings and segmented legs before it vanished from his sight.
Chapter 18
Which marks a man or a people more: that which they include or that which they drive away? What they love, or what they fear and hate?
- Orange Paladin Karm Brighton,
“The Turning Millennium” (999 AM)
- 1 -
“What in San’s name was that?” Danner said explosively, shock making his voice ring unnaturally loud in the silence that followed the red dakkan’s disappearance. He winced at the jarring sound, but glared at Maran and Birch as though daring either to berate him. Both men were lost
in their own thoughts, though, and Danner doubted they’d even heard him.
The gray dakkan glided down from the sky and settled softly on the ground near Birch, a pained expression on its draconic visage. Danner looked at it, trying to imagine it the size of a cat.
“Selti?” he asked hoarsely. He cleared his throat, wishing fervently he could get control of his voice again. The dakkan looked at him and blinked, then Danner smiled slightly. There was no mistaking that mischievous gleam in the dakkan’s eye, however much larger that eye was now than the last time Danner had seen it.
“Yes, that’s Selti,” Birch said at last, walking toward his mount, “and he’s hurt.” He caressed the scaled neck gently, pulling the dakkan’s head toward him. Selti’s entire head was almost as long as the paladin was tall, but Birch handled the intimidating jaws and teeth with impunity.
“Can you shift to drann form, Selti?” Birch asked softly. “It will hurt, but you’ll be easier for me to heal.”
Selti nodded slightly, then closed his eyes in concentration. Danner watched, amazed, as the enormous gray dakkan began to shrink before his eyes. In the space of a few heartbeats, Selti had transformed himself into the small drann that Danner had first seen.
“But I thought… your horse… the drann…” Danner stammered, trying to organize his thoughts. “I thought dakkans could only transform into one other shape,” he managed at last.
“Most dakkans yes,” Birch said absently, gathering the wounded Selti in his arms. The dakkan-turned-drann whimpered slightly, the edge of his right wing in tatters. “Selti is a bit special.” He held up a silencing hand toward Danner, who was about to question him again. “In a moment, nephew. First let me care for him.”
With a tender look in his fiery eyes, Birch gently rested his fingertips near the shredded membrane on Selti’s wing. He closed his eyes and whispered, his words too soft for Danner to hear. Then Selti’s face eased and the dakkan fell asleep in Birch’s arms. When the paladin removed his hand, the wing was whole once more.
“Thank you, Lord,” Birch murmured in relief that his healing had worked. He glanced up at Danner and Maran, who were watching him silently. “If you don’t mind, let’s rest in the woods there for the night while Selti recovers.”
Danner nodded then turned toward the trees. Maran caught his questioning eye, and the elf shrugged.
- 2 -
Birch looked at the slumbering drann and sighed, then turned his eyes back to his nephew and the elf. Night had fallen while they prepared their camp, and a small campfire burned merrily in between the three men. Selti was resting comfortably on Birch’s pack, dreaming whatever strange dreams come to dakkans.
Probably chasing an elusive sausage, Birch thought wryly. Danner cleared his throat, drawing Birch’s attention back to his nephew and his promise of an explanation.
“I don’t know for sure why Selti is so special,” Birch began, then stopped. “Well, I might have a guess, at least. Danner, you heard me tell your father about Selti’s mother, Sultana.” Danner nodded. “I won’t repeat the whole story, but for your sake, Maran, I’ll tell you some of it.
“Sultana was my mount before I went to Hell…”
As Birch told Maran briefly of Sultana’s death, Danner shivered at the way his uncle had spoken. …before I went to Hell… The words rang in Danner’s mind with a strange force, even though they were spoken softly and in an off-hand manner. Perhaps that was what disturbed Danner most of all.
The encounter with the red dakkan had shaken Birch profoundly, that much had been obvious to Danner. The sight of his uncle spitting curses seemed incongruous with the rock-hard, confident warrior Danner had seen so far. Now it seemed Birch had turned completely around and gone the other direction entirely, acting as though a trip to the depths of evil was something ordinary.
Maybe he’s just used to it by now, and it’s only me that’s reacting strangely to this, Danner thought. He would have followed this thought further, but Birch’s voice broke in, and he realized the paladin was finally explaining about his mount.
“When I discovered Selti near Sultana, I found the body of another infant dakkan inside her, dead at birth, if he’d ever lived at all,” Birch said. “I think he was stillborn. I don’t know this for certain, but I think part of Selti’s sibling stayed with him. There are rare times in the world where birth twins have a strange link with each other, and I think it likely Selti had something of the same. His impish behavior and seriousness are so complete, it’s like there are two different personalities at work in him. I’ve wondered if this isn’t some piece of that dead sibling.
“I think it’s that extra part that gives Selti his unique third-shape ability,” Birch finished thoughtfully, then added, “I don’t know that for certain, of course. It’s just my speculation. The circumstances of his birth are somewhat unique, having been born in Hell.”
“So all this time, your horse has been the dakkan,” Maran said softly. Danner thought he detected a distinct lack of surprise in the elf’s voice.
“No wonder you weren’t concerned when I told you he was missing,” Danner said, remembering the first night of their trip. “I wondered about that.”
“He changed shape once before,” Birch said, “when we were attacked by the Coalition soldiers. I imagine both of you were too distracted to notice.”
Danner smiled wryly and nodded, then glared when Maran calmly murmured, “I saw.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Danner demanded.
“It was not my place,” he replied evenly. “Another’s secrets are not for me to pry into, unless it’s the secrets of their valuables. Then I’ll pry all I like.”
Danner glared at him a moment, then finally couldn’t hold the hard stare any longer. He started laughing, and he even saw his uncle joined in the joke.
After a moment, though, their laughter died and all three stared soberly into the flames of their small campfire. It was a long moment before Danner broke the silence.
“What was that thing today, uncle?” he asked. He looked up and found Birch’s eyes staring at him intently across the fire. Danner had seen men’s eyes reflect the flames of a fire before, but the sight of his uncle completely unnerved him. The flames there burned with their own intensity, seeming to overpower the fire burning between nephew and uncle.
“I won’t insult either of you by trying to pretend it was a normal dakkan,” Birch said, his voice breaking the uneasiness Danner was feeling. “It was the source of that strange feeling I had, and yes, it was indeed a powerful demon from Hell.” Birch sighed heavily and was silent a moment, as though unsure of whether he should continue. Then he blinked and stared intently at Danner.
“It was one of The Three,” he said at last. “I encountered them once in Hell, just in passing, and where goes one, go all three. I only sensed the one, however, which means the other two are somewhere out in the world.”
“Does that mean the Merging is weakening?” Danner asked, his voice barely a whisper. “If it’s weakening, then the demons of Hell…” he trailed off.
“Will be able to cross and overrun this world,” Birch finished. “Yes, Danner. Now you see why I feared that dakkan’s presence, even before we knew what it was. And why I…” Birch stopped, staring off into the darkness.
“What, not the demon again?” Danner asked fearfully, turning to look into the inky blackness.
“Shh,” Birch warned, holding up a silencing hand. The silence stretched for a timeless moment, then at last Birch’s face relaxed, and he smiled sadly.
A second later, a voice called from the darkness.
“Hail, the campfire!”
“Hail, warriors of God,” Birch replied, ignoring the uneasy glance of his nephew.
It wasn’t until the origin of the new voice stepped into the light of the fire that Danner understood why his uncle was unconcerned. The stranger was a paladin.
Or rather, the strangers were paladins. Two men appeared behind the f
irst, their faces wary as they glanced about the meager camp. The foremost man wore a cloak of brilliant yellow; the two men behind him wore orange and violet in turn.
“Greetings, brothers,” Birch said, standing. Danner hastily followed suit and saw that Maran was already ahead of him.
“Please, bring your companions into the light,” Birch said, motioning broadly. “I assure you all will be safe.”
“There are but the three of us,” the man in violet began, but Danner could tell he was lying, badly. The three paladins were confident in their approach – they obviously weren’t taking chances, but neither did they view two humans and an elf as a threat.
Danner suddenly realized that none of the men had apparently noticed his uncle’s eyes, and if they had they likely assumed it was nothing more than the reflection of the fire. Certainly none had shown any sign of having noticed. Danner felt a guilty flush of pleasure at the thought that he’d enjoy seeing their reactions to the paladin’s eyes.
Birch shook his head. “Paladins of blue, red, and green remain hidden in the night in case of danger. I say again, bring them forward and share our meager fire.”
“And I say again, there are but three of us before you,” the man in violet said.
“What a piss-poor liar,” Danner heard a voice mutter, then realized it was his own, vocalizing his thoughts. He snapped his mouth shut. Too late, he saw that the paladins had heard his remark and were now staring at him, particularly the violet-cloaked one Danner had addressed.
“You doubt my word?” he said, his voice indignant.
“I should think you could take it as a compliment,” Birch remarked lightly, his hand slipping unnoticed to his waist and the wooden sword there. “After all, truth is highly praised within the Prism, and you do walk a very fine line of truth, brother. As you say, there are but three of you before us, but you say nothing of how many are not before us.”
The man in violet either did not notice Birch’s reference or else deliberately ignored his words. His attention seemed focused entirely on Danner.
Hunting The Three (The Barrier War) Page 20