Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) (20 page)

The Voice
sighed. “So untrusting, and so unoriginal. Why is it that all you mortals make
the same tiresome accusations? I can promise you no further torture or harm
will come from telling me. No other will even know.”

“You ask me
to take the word of a demon of Hell?” he asked, laughing scornfully.

“Come now,
paladin,” the Voice said. “Surely you can’t be afraid? What can you lose from
trusting me? If I lie, what torment can be inflicted upon you worse than you’ve
already endured? If I speak the truth, you lose nothing.”

“Why do you
want to know?”

“I’m
searching for something,” the Voice replied. “I’m searching for a certain
someone, and who knows, perhaps you may be the one. What is your name, mortal?”

“I am Birch
de’Valderat,” he replied.

“That’s not
the name your parents gave you though, is it?” the Voice asked.

“No, but it
is my name,” he said firmly.

“True. How
interesting. So you are Birch. A good start. What Facet of the Prism were you
initially, Birch de’Valderat?” the Voice asked. “Before you felt the Calling.”

“I was of the
Red Facet.”

“Ah, excellent,”
the Voice said. “I have always thought a Red would suit my purposes best. I
find your Orange paladins to be rather tiresome, as are the Greens. Worst of
all are the Violets with their constant ramblings about faith and babbling
about divine retribution. I must say, however, they are certainly the most
entertaining to see broken.”

Something in
the words emanating from the Voice sparked a memory, and he spat out a string
of curses.

“I know you
now! I remember you! You are Him. You are pure Evil!”

The Voice
laughed.

“There is no
such thing,” the Voice said. “I am not Evil. Don’t try to label what you don’t
truly understand, mortal.”

He was silent
for a long moment, turning over the different meanings of what he’d just heard,
his vehement reaction already forgotten.

Finally, he
said, “You are Satan.”

The Voice let
loose a long sigh that almost seemed to caress his ears with sinister
satisfaction.

“Ahh,” the
Voice sighed, “at last, perhaps, one who understands… or who might come to
understand.”

The Voice
chuckled. “You see, paladin, you
have
granted me satisfaction. You show
great promise, and that is a good thing, for both of us, if you turn out to be
the one I need. I think it best if you again forget all we have said, at least
until our next little chat.”

“Leave me in
my darkness, Satan,” he said wearily.

“Very well,
Birch de’Valderat,” the Voice said, “but rest assured, I shall return. For now,
forget, mortal. Forget.

“Forget.”

Metaphors – even light and dark, good and evil – were
never intended to be carried to an absolute interpretation. This is something
most elves have never understood.

- Do’n’El’Maran,

“Collected Accounts from the
Pandemonium War”

- 1 -

Three days
later, as the new week began, Shadow Company set out with an escort of five
hundred paladins; Brican referred to it as “traveling with a whole herd of holy
humans in a handbag.” Specifically, they traveled with four-hundred-ninety-nine
other paladins: eighty-three from each Facet, plus one Gray paladin.

The paladins had
yet again been placed under the command of Garet jo’Meerkit, who deferred
overall command of the expedition to his son, just as he had during their
demon-hunting expedition the previous week. A few of the paladins raised their
eyebrows in surprise at placing such command in the hands of one so young, but
nearly all of the paladins had fought on the walls during the Barrier War, and
they had seen Shadow Company in action both before and after the fall of Gerard
Morningham. It was no secret that Garnet had prevented the complete
annihilation of the forces on the Barrier by mounting a defense against demonic
forces set to ambush the defenders from within the city, pitting his
under-strength company against several times their number of demons and twisted
monstrosities that had once been men.

So while some
wondered about his age and the potentially critical nature of their mission,
few had any doubt that Garnet was capable of holding his command. Still, there
were those who chafed under the thought of ultimately following the orders of
someone half their age, but these few wisely kept their opinions to themselves
and raised no disputes. After all, the man technically in charge of their
massive
jintaal
– the man to whom they would have expressed their
discontent – was none other than Garnet’s father. Nevertheless, Garnet had some
of his denarae circulate through the camp at night and
listen in
for
thoughts of disgruntlement or resentment. Garnet had no fears of mutiny, of
course, but discontent could manifest in many ways that could prove dangerous
if they arose at the wrong moment.

The paladins
rode either horses or dakkans – or dakkans that had changed into a horse shape
– and Flasch compared the effect to someone having taken a rainbow and
scrambled it all about to create a riot of mismatched colors.

Accompanying the
eight-hundred-man force was most of the support group for Shadow Company and
another platoon’s worth of cooks, smiths, and other tag-alongs that kept mostly
to the group of paladins. Alicia drove the gnomish buggy Danner had received
from his friend Faldergash, and she carried Brican’s pregnant wife Caeesha in
the buggy with her. The back was packed with some parting gifts from the gnome.
Danner hadn’t said, and Alicia hadn’t asked, but she assumed they were
explosives of some sort. Only Alicia’s own trust in the gnome’s handiwork let
her regard the bundles behind her with an easy mind. Moreen drove a second,
smaller buggy on loan from the gnome, one of his earlier, less sophisticated
models. Her vehicle was loaded with cooking implements and foodstuffs she
insisted on bringing for the outbound journey. On the return trip, Alicia and
Caeesha would be riding with her since Danner planned on taking his own buggy into
Heaven with him.

Two days out,
Danner and Birch were treated to a pleasant surprise when Danner’s father Hoil
met them on the road with a dozen cloaked figures behind him. Birch and Danner
rode forward to greet their kin and find out how and why he was there waiting
for them.

“You’ve grown,
boy,” Hoil said without preamble. “More of a man now than ever before.”

“Still not half
the man as my father, though,” Danner said with a grin. “At least not
physically.”

Hoil laughed
heartily.

“And you,
Birch,” he said, clasping arms with his brother, “how has life been treating
you since the war? I’ve only been back to the city twice since buying that
damned inn, which I certainly hope is working out well, considering what I paid
for it.”

“It’s working
out just perfect, dad,” Danner said.

“Good. Good to
hear it.”

Birch shifted in
his saddle, hoping he didn’t chafe Selti too badly with the newly purchased
leather. Selti was in his runner form now, and Birch could tell his mount was
eager for the day to be over so he could shift to his drann shape and find
someplace quiet to curl up with a few pieces of sausage and then sleep.

“I’m doing
passably well, brother,” Birch said. “We’ve got some things to discuss,” he
said with a meaningful stare, “but they can wait until later. You
are
, I
assume, planning on joining us.”

“Whatever gave
you that idea?” Hoil asked innocently.

“Well,” Danner
said with a shrug, “unless you’ve suddenly taken to traveling with a couple
hundred elves for a personal escort. I mean, you’re worth a lot, dad, but not
that
much.”

Hoil glared at
his son.

“How in San’s
name did you know about the others?” Hoil asked. “He said no one would ever be
able to spot them.”

“You forget who
trained me, dad,” Danner reminded him. “Maran was the absolute best, as you well
know.”

Hoil grimaced.
“Damned if that one didn’t just backfire on me. Well, yes, alright. Speaking of
Maran, these are a gift of sorts from his… from the young elven king. I think
you’ll recognize their commander.”

An elf appeared
beside Birch so suddenly he jerked in shock and quickly prevented Selti from
rearing in surprise. The gray horse glared at the elf, who stared back from
beneath a thick, forest-green hooded cloak. Eventually, it was Selti who looked
away first, then the elf tilted his head so they could all see beneath his
hood.

“El’Siran,”
Danner said with some surprise. “I didn’t think you survived the Barrier War.”

“It was a close
thing, young human,” Siran said softly. “It was not, it seems, my time to die.”

The elven
warrior fell silent and immediately walked away to rejoin the other elves who
had suddenly appeared and now waited on the road. The last time anyone had seen
Siran, he had single-handedly slain a group of childris demons making an
assault on the last of the
Ash’Ailant.
The last demon had survived to
destroy the Stone, however, and Siran was left crumpled and bleeding on the
cobbled stone of the courtyard.

“Only person
I’ve ever met who’s even less talkative than Maran was,” Hoil muttered when the
elf was – he hoped – safely out of earshot.

“How is Maran,
by the way?” Danner asked. “Have you heard anything from him since… you know?”

Hoil shook his
head. “He more or less dropped out of existence when he accepted his current
position. I would never jeopardize his identity or safety by making any sort of
inquiry, even if I knew who to ask. I imagine if there was anything important
he needed to tell me, he’d find some way.”

Danner quirked
an eyebrow. “So where did the elves come from then?”

“I won’t pretend
to know how they knew, but the other day Siran showed up at my door and said I
should come with him with all speed, prepared for a long journey,” Hoil said.
“Gave me a scroll written by the king himself, directing Siran to contact me
and through me, place himself and his warriors at the disposal of the force of
paladins marching on Heaven. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued, and I
could hardly resist going along with him. We practically
flew
across the
countryside trying to beat you here.”

Danner grinned
at the expression on his father’s face. Then he looked a little deeper, and saw
that beneath his grinning and jovial exterior, his father was hiding a
deep-seated anxiety: sort of a worrisome fear and eager exuberance all rolled
into one.

What is going
on with my dad?
Danner wondered.

“So, Birch, is
Moreen around here somewhere?” Hoil asked. “I reckon whatever campfire she’ll
be running tonight will have the best food, and I want to put in my claim early
for a share.”

- 2 -

That night, around
the campfire, Hoil regaled a group of paladins and women with stories of his
latest financial endeavors.

“I went in with
that gnome friend of yours, Danner,” Hoil said, “and already we’re getting set
to make a killing. Seems he stumbled on a way to keep things cold and all but
frozen while doing his
fire
experiments – he
is
a gnome, after
all – so with summer fast approaching, I figure we’ll do quite well in the
commodity of cold.

“Of course, it’s
not all quick and easy cash,” Hoil said, wagging a finger. “Hard work,
research, and development are going into making this a profitable enterprise.
Faldergash nearly lost his whole beard a couple weeks ago. Froze it solid
playing with some of his chemicals, then lost half the fur on his chin when he
bumped into a wall and snapped it off.

“Why, not two
days ago, he drenched his laboratory floor with some strange liquid that
evaporated all by itself in a few seconds,” Hoil continued. He shook his head
in disbelief. “Damndest thing I ever saw. I couldn’t see Faldergash through
some of the vapor, and I worried I’d lost the little gnome.”

They all
chuckled at the comic dismay on Hoil’s face.

“It sounds to me
like Fal’s doing all the hard work, dad,” Danner said. “Where’s your hard work?

“Why, convincing
Faldergash to market his inventions in the first place,” Hoil exclaimed. “Would
you believe that chubby little fellow was going to donate his ideas to some
non-profit scientific research group in Nocka? Who ever heard of such a thing?”

While Hoil
griped about the utter lack of financial ingenuity in the gnomish populace,
Danner left the fire and wandered past several other fires.

Guilian was
sitting at a fire with a small group of denarae from his platoon, a slight
smile on his face as he listened to the others talking. Danner was almost
surprised to see his fellow officer so relaxed; Guilian always seemed to
standoffish and almost tense around others, even his own people.

A young, human
woman walked by the fire, and Danner vaguely recognized her as one of the
housemaids working at the Iron Axe Inn. She paused ever so slightly in the
light of the fire, then walked off unhurriedly. When Danner looked back at the
denarae around the fire, Guilian was nowhere to be found. Danner glanced around
and saw the denarae officer walking away from the fire in the same direction as
where the housemaid had vanished into the darkness.

Guilian and a
human?
Danner marveled. He frowned at his own wonder. So what if a denarae
took a human woman around. It wasn’t a problem… was it? Danner felt a sort of
inner recoil at the concept, and that made him uncomfortable. He shut the dark,
guilty feeling away and moved on.