The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (41 page)

“Now let’s grab Marc’s books, get back to the chapterhouse,
and pick up Gerard’s message. Garet will be waiting for us by the time we get
there.”

Garet was indeed waiting, but not to return them to their
camp. The entire complex was a flurry of activity with paladins rushing in
every direction at once. It was only through Trebor’s ability to locate
people’s thoughts that they were able to track down Garet at all.

“Boys, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you,” Garet said
when they found him. He was strapping himself into a suit of full platemail
armor, which Danner didn’t think the giant paladin even owned. He’d professed a
preference for chainmail when Danner had originally met him, and he’d never
seen him in anything else. “The Prismatic Council voted a ‘No’ for sneaking
into the camp to kill the demon, claiming there wasn’t enough evidence to prove
his identity, and they will not condone the outright murder of a man ‘just in
case.’”

“We sort of expected that,” Danner replied. “I’m just going
to assume they’re deliberately misunderstanding the concept of scratching him
up, as Michael put it, rather than just plain being too stupid to grasp the
idea. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt toward cowardly politicking over
rampant idiocy.”

“I second that,” Trebor chimed in.

 “Well, that’s just the tip of the mountain.”

“Why is everyone rushing around?” Trebor asked.

“That’s the rest of the mountain,” Garet replied. “An army
of demons just crossed the Merging,” he said bleakly. “They’re only moments
away from assaulting the Barrier, and the city defenders will be overwhelmed
unless we get there to help them.”

“Let’s get moving then,” Danner said urgently.

“No, not you two,” Garet said with a shake of his massive
head. “You get your hides back to Gerard and let him know what’s happened.
We’ve got reports of a small force of elves moving this way from the north, and
it’s my guess that’s your uncle, lad. You’re to carry orders to Gerard to meet
up with this force, establish their identity and intentions, and if it is
friendly, escort them to Nocka. He’s to get them past the Merishank army and
inside by any means necessary. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“What about the advisor?” Trebor asked.

“It seems to me I was supposed to order you not to do
something, but I must be slipping in my old age,” Garet said. “Whatever it was
couldn’t have been too important, otherwise I’m sure I would have remembered.
No doubt someone will remember for me, but by that time, you two will be back
in your camp, won’t you?”

“Bless you. Thanks, Garet,” Danner said with a smile.

“Don’t thank me yet, boys. I’ve got to go
fight
now, and I can’t spare the time to get you out of
here,” Garet said. “You’ll have to sneak out on your own.”

“Nothing easier,” Danner replied confidently.

“Well, get a move on then. And boys,” he said, “pray for us
all.”

“God help us all,” Danner said. “For God and for man.”

“For life,” they said together. Then Danner and Trebor
watched Garet’s back as he lumbered off quickly down the hallway.

“We’re going to fly out?” Trebor said, reading Danner’s
mind.

“Let’s get to the tower so no one sees us take off. There’s
enough cloud cover that unless someone’s looking right at us when we leave, we
should be able to reach concealment quickly enough.”

“Don’t talk, run.”

A man’s responsibilities are just as important as his rights.

- Denarae Proverb

- 1 -

Ran frowned as he received his report from the dybbuk. The
demon’s servant had given him disturbing news that the paladins were
considering a clandestine assault into his camp with the sole purpose of
assassinating him. That could be dealt with, perhaps, with enough security and
guards around him at all times. The holy warriors would be reluctant to slay
human lives unless absolutely necessary, but Ran could throw a thousand men in
their way, if necessary, to be slaughtered without a second thought.

Almost as disturbing was the report of the Orange paladin
who had arrived with those intent on the assassination. Vander Wayland, the
dybbuk had named him. That one knew too much already and had probably guessed
more. He would have to be dealt with soon, before he could uncover the identity
of Ran’s spy.

“That one is too
clever by far,”
Ran said telepathically to the dybbuk.
“I want him dealt with as soon as possible in an appropriately horrible
way. It must not draw attention to his theories or findings in any way, however,
and it cannot lead back to you. I don’t want another clever one picking up
where he left off. You are a valuable tool in my brothers’ absence.”

“I have already hidden
away several of the key texts as you ordered, master,”
the dybbuk said.
“Some were missing, and I have yet to
discover their whereabouts.”

“How many paladins do you have left under your control?”
Ran asked, even though he already knew the answer. He was just frustrated.

“The young paladins
removed all but one of my resources, and it is he whom I now occupy, master,”
the dybbuk reported apologetically.
“I do
have some influence through other means, however. The others live still
somewhere, but my connection to them has been severed and I cannot sense them.
I also cannot, as you know, control more unless you pass them to me.”

“We’re too far apart
for me to do that,”
Ran snapped,
“and
I must remain close to maintain my hold over so many at once, else I’d simply
fly to you now.
Were
I able, I would willingly pass
control of these buffoons to you so I could concentrate on more important
matters. The hated paladin’s arrival, for example.”

The dybbuk had reported that the Gray paladin, who had
escaped from Hell and been a part of The Three’s mission to the mortal plane,
was soon to arrive. Ran feared and hated that one above all others, with the
possible exception of the holy presence he’d felt in his camp the other night.
If those two were to join together and attack Ran, he would have little chance
of surviving, of that he was sure.

Ran had already considered abandoning his place in the
Merishank army and seeking a more suitably anonymous role, but Mephistopheles
would not hesitate to destroy him for such a betrayal. The demon was bereft of
his brothers, but he had no wish to join them in oblivion.

“When the paladin
arrives, I can ensure he remains delayed with reports and other such hindrances
as needed,”
the dybbuk suggested.

“That will only do me
good if he goes into the city first,”
Ran said irritably.
“If he has learned of my presence, however,
he will come for me now. It is his quest and his duty, thanks to you.”

“How then may I be of service, master?”
the dybbuk
asked humbly – and tactfully not pointing out that it was Ran’s own brother who
orchestrated the plot to send the paladin hunting after The Three.

The plan had failed on so many fronts, primarily because The
Three were not used to dealing with mortals, nor with the travails of travel in
Lokka. Travel in Hell was as much an act of will as one of motion, and local
weather was controllable by any demon of sufficient strength. There was no need
to account for storms, damaged vessels, human frailty at sea, or any number of
other frustrations that could wreak havoc on the best-laid plans.

Ran’s brother Min had once controlled a paladin accompanying
the Gray one, and he was to be used as a knife in the dark or a sword in the
back at an opportune time. Sal had spared the life of the Gray paladin’s woman,
intending to take her at a later time and break her will. Two key tools ready for
use, but madness had taken one, and poor planning removed the other from
consideration. In the end, delays in travel had forced their hand: the fall of
the dwarven nation and the resulting chaos took precedence over one man’s
death, and Sal’s efforts in gathering lesser demons nearly went to waste. The
trap they sprung on the Gray paladin was less effective than it might have
been, and their mad paladin had lost his life without destroying even one of
his fellows.

Centuries of planning had been rapidly devastated, and their
mission still lay unfulfilled. Sal’s next step would have been to journey to
the elven islands and foment chaos there to prevent them from sending any
reinforcements to Nocka. Elven warriors were second-to-none in Lokka, and a
significant force would hinder the demons’ efforts in the coming war. Too many
plans were unraveling, and one more failure would likely result in Ran’s
obliteration.

His thoughts churned, maddeningly alone in the absence of
his brothers’ presence.

“Slay the Orange
paladin at the first suitable opportunity and continue your efforts of
disrupting the Council and the city defenders,”
Ran said finally.
“I will contact you when I have further
orders. In the meantime, seek to contact the mortal Mephistopheles has placed in
charge of his army. Malith. He may have need of you.”

“Yes, master.”

Ran broke the mental link and moved to sit in a chair in the
corner of his tent. He wrapped himself in a thick black cloak and sat brooding,
laying plans to ensure that he survived long enough to see the accursed mortal
light of the next day.

- 2 -

Birch stared at the road ahead with a feeling of dread. The
Merishank army was already camped outside Nocka, blocking their way into the
city. Nighttime was quickly approaching, which would help their chances of
getting closer without being detected, but he was at a loss of how to get into
the city. He could always leave the elves in hiding and fly in with Moreen on
Selti while Perky and Nuse used their own dakkans and brought Hoil, but if the
elves were discovered, they would inevitably be attacked and annihilated by the
overwhelming human force.

Siran had assured Birch his elves could get inside on their
own if needed, but Birch foresaw too many opportunities for misunderstanding
and disaster to risk that just yet. For now, the elves had gone to ground and
were hiding amidst the landscape with ease. Birch could have wandered across
the entire area and not known that a hundred elves were within a stone’s throw
of him. The elves were at home with the natural world, and they knew their
craft.

 “Birch, someone’s coming,” Nuse said. “Look over there
and see.”

Birch looked to his left and saw a flaming red dakkan
soaring through the sky so high he was little more than a speck of winged color
in their sight. Then it abruptly turned and flew away, back toward the woods.

“Never mind,” Nuse said. “Must be a wild one.”

“No, look closer,” Birch corrected him. Gliding through the
air were three humanoid shapes, cloaks billowing out behind them. As they got closer,
Birch saw one was blue, one red, and the third was a gray-dyed cloak of lesser
quality like those used by trainees. The three bodies disappeared behind a
hill, and a few moments later they came running into sight.

“Get everyone together, and please tell my brother to find
me,” Birch said. “I think he’ll want to be there.”

Birch had already recognized two of the three figures, and
his face broke into an unaccustomed grin. He left Nuse behind and quickly
strode to meet his old friend and his nephew.

“Danner, Gerard,” he said, clasping hands warmly with each.
Birch was wearing full armor, but neither of the other two were, and he would
have crushed them had he embraced them as he wished. “I can’t tell you how good
it is to see both of you, much less together.”

Birch smiled in approval of the blue cloak on Danner’s back.
Before he could say more, however, Hoil appeared and hoisted his son off his
feet into a fierce bear hug. Danner’s breath left him in a whoosh of air, and
he awkwardly patted his father’s back and tried to convince Hoil to let him go.

“Hoil, you’re going to kill the boy in your happiness,”
Gerard said.

Hoil let Danner go, but his face was bright red and beaming
with pride and pleasure. Danner’s fears about his father’s approval melted away
as Hoil clapped a hand on each of Danner’s shoulders, gripping the blue
material in his strong fingers.

“I’m happy to see you’ve done something with yourself, boy…
Danner,” Hoil said. “Far too respectable an occupation for your old man, you
understand, but I think it’ll do for you.” He paused. “You wear it well, son.”

Danner wiped tears from his eyes.

“Thanks, dad. I… Thanks.”

“I don’t mean to break up the family reunion before it
reaches the cloying stage, but I’m afraid we’re not on a social visit,” Gerard
reminded them brusquely. “There’s work yet to be done tonight.”

Hoil scowled at the Red paladin. “I know it’s been a while,
Gerard, but were you always
this
much of a curmudgeon?”

“You were saying, sir?” Danner said before Gerard could
reply.

“What’s this?” Birch asked.

“One of The Three is sitting in the middle of that camp,
directing its efforts against Nocka,” Gerard said. “He’s posing as an advisor
to the emperor of Merishank, but James
Tarmin
and the
others found him out and reported to the Council earlier this afternoon.”

“So they returned safely,” Birch said, relieved.

“Aye, they did,” Gerard said, “but the Council claims
there’s not enough evidence to justify the assassination of the advisor. I
haven’t received any official orders
not
to kill him yet, though, thanks
to the speed of my young messengers here,” he said, indicating Danner and
Trebor, “so we’re going to move in tonight before the Council has a chance to
bind our hands.”