The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (43 page)

“And if they are?”

“That’s why we have Garnet and me along,” Gerard said. “If things
go wrong, we’re more than a match for anything we’ll find in the immediate
sense of guards, and Trebor’s and your boys should be able to give us enough
warning to abort or adapt as necessary.”

Before they left, Gerard insisted they all pray an
altiara
– the paladin rite of forgiveness. As
warriors of God, they were prohibited from needlessly killing another mortal,
and Gerard was certain some would die this night. Ever since his conversation
with Flasch, he encouraged the Shadow Company paladins to practice the prayer
any time they went into combat against the Merishank soldiers.

“Any time men kill men, it’s monstrous,” Gerard had told
them, “but that doesn’t require that we become monsters.”

After this final prayer, Gerard looked around, seeking any last-minute
inspiration or corrections. Seeing none, he whispered, “Let’s go,” and echoed
the command with his mind. From that point on, there were to be no verbal
commands. Everything was to be done via denarae kything, with Gerard, Danner,
and Garnet using Trebor as their go-between when necessary.

They were all dressed in gray clothing to blend with the
shadows and the mud-churned snow on the ground, and despite the frozen ground,
they moved soundlessly as they approached the outer limits of the Merishank
camp. Brican was on point with Trebor’s squad, but Trebor stayed behind with
the command group where he would be most effective. The denarae brought them
through the outer patrols and sentries with ease. They were well-practiced in
sneaking through the Merishank lines, and it seemed all their previous
excursions were nothing but practice runs for this one all-important mission.
Danner’s group had left their cloaks behind, with no need for them on this run,
and even the paladins had left their cloaks behind so they would camouflage
better.

They stayed low to the ground, alternating between a
crouching walk and a low-crawl with their bellies pressed to the ground. They
moved swiftly, because of their need to finish their mission and escape before
the sun rose and destroyed the cover of night. Fortunately they had plenty of
time.

“Command group, freeze and melt,”
Trebor kythed.
Immediately, Danner and the others stopped moving and shifted unobtrusively
into the nearest shadows. A soldier staggered past, thick with either sleep or
drink, and stopped briefly to sway in place. Just when Danner was considering a
stealthy attack to knock the man out, he shook his head and staggered off
toward a cluster of tents in the distance. When he was lost in the darkness, Trebor
gave the all-clear and they resumed their incursion.

They passed through the sentry lines in slightly more than
an hour’s time, which left them in good stead for the rest of their mission.
When they reached the first group of tents, Gerard passed the word for them to
split up and meet at a designated location approximately one hundred yards from
the command tent. The command group split up as well, each of them accompanied
by a denarae who would guide them along. Danner went with Trebor, as usual.

The two slipped through the flickering darkness like a pair
of shadows, moving from tent to tent on swift but silent feet. As they crossed
a wide gap between one section of the camp and the next, the nature of the camp
changed abruptly. On one side of the gap, it was the same camp they’d been
infiltrating for weeks and probably mimicked a million army encampments from a
hundred different nations across history. It was loosely organized and
haphazard, a place of controlled chaos and masculine showmanship. No doubt many
of the men in the First Merishank were consummate soldiers and had made their
life in service to their country. But it was clear many of the men were
conscripts or else men just serving a few years before they planned to leave
and get on with their lives.

That changed when they crossed the gap, and Danner had the
unmistakable impression that the men on the far side looked with some disdain
on their more slovenly compatriots and had insisted on the gap so as not to
contaminate their own encampment. As Danner and Trebor crept through the new
section, they were surrounded by the trappings of the Imperial Army, and the
camp itself was far cleaner and laid out in a more orderly fashion than the
previous areas Danner had reconnoitered. The sentries were more alert, the gear
was in better repair, and it seemed even the fires burned brighter somehow.
These were professional soldiers, men who had built their lives around a career
in the military and would serve their days until death or infirmity severed
their tenure.

Trebor located Gerard, and within a few minutes the command
group had reassembled. Ten minutes later, the last of the denarae checked in,
and they were ready for their final approach.

“Brican, take point,”
Gerard ordered via Trebor’s kything.
“Trebor
and Danner, you’re next. Signal me when you’re in position and you’ve inspected
the scene. Shadow Company, spread out and conceal yourselves nearby. Report
anything that seems out of place or abnormal. I don’t trust this to come off
without a hitch. Garnet, you’re with me.”

They all replied in the affirmative, then moved to carry out
his orders. Brican melted into the shadows, which accepted him like one of
their own. He passed word to Trebor and Danner, who followed carefully after.

The command tent was fifty feet across and probably had
multiple divisions within. By misfortune, none of the denarae had ever been
able to get an accurate kythe from any of the upper echelons of the Merishank
leadership, so they didn’t know exactly what the inside of the tent looked
like. It was the major weakness of their plan. If they couldn’t find the demon
in time, or if they were discovered while searching the tent, the alarm would
be given, and they would probably be slaughtered.

“Four guards outside,”
Trebor reported to Gerard.
“The
next-nearest guards are fifty feet away. A dozen of them. Brican reads ten men
inside.”

“Can he get a layout
of the tent?”
Gerard asked.

“No,”
Trebor said,
and heard Gerard’s mental curse.
“They
would have to be thinking about their surroundings for him to get it. A deeper
kythe would work, but it might alert the demon if he’s controlling their minds.
He said they’re really not thinking about anything, like their minds are
blank.”

“Understood. Garnet
and I are moving in now,”
Gerard thought.
“Find me ten men to accompany us into the tent. I want them able to
mindblast
the guards inside and out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Since their accidental discovery of the overwhelming effects
of the tight denarae kythe – the
mindblast
as it was
colloquially known, thanks to Flasch – Trebor had experimented with it on his
friends, satisfying his theory that it was not a side-effect unique to Danner,
but something that occurred in any human. His friends had headaches for an hour
afterwards, but they’d found that with a kythe focused tightly enough, a
trained denarae with a strong enough gift for kything could render a human
unconscious for a short period of time. At the very least, the pain it caused
was disorienting and gave an advantage to an attacker. The concentration required
to do it well prevented it from being something they could readily use in the
middle of a fight, but as a precursor to combat, it had the potential to give
them a significant edge.

“Ready, sir,”
Trebor reported when the last of the
assigned denarae had reported in position.

“Now!”

A moment later, the four guards outside the tent dropped
their swords and clutched their heads, but it was already too late. Before they
had a chance to even cry out, they were toppling forward. Denarae rushed from
nearby shadows and caught them before they crashed to the ground, which would
have revealed their presence. Fortunately the ground outside the tent was still
piled with snow and had muffled the sound of their weapons being dropped.

The guards were laid carefully on the ground, but Danner,
Trebor, Garnet, and Gerard were already hurtling past them into the tent.
Shadow Company soldiers followed on their heels, and entered the room already
blasting out with their focused
kythes
.

- 2 -

As Danner entered, he saw there were no divisions in the
tent. It was one large room, and strangely enough there was no furniture. The
ten men inside were already standing rigidly still when the denarae entered
behind Danner, and they toppled to the ground without making a sound. Something
about their statue-like stance disturbed Danner, and he looked around
carefully.

“Something’s wrong,” he said in a low voice, ignoring the
order for verbal silence.

Inhuman laughter echoed from the air around them, and the
high top of the tent rustled as though a thousand birds were trapped within the
tent, endlessly circling and buffeting against the canvas in an attempt to
escape. Danner heard a noise like a hundred cats screeching and hissing in an
awful cacophony. There were dozens of holes in the roof of the tent, as though
those same cats had been clawing at the canvas.

“Right you are, young paladin,” the voice said, and to
Danner it sounded the same as the voice he’d heard months before in the
Prismatic headquarters. It was the voice of one of The Three. Tiny puffs of
dirt accompanied soft thuds on the ground, and Danner’s eyes widened as he
searched for the threat he knew was present.

Before Danner could look further, his wrist burned and he
cried out as three claw marks appeared from nowhere, ripping through his
leather sleeves like paper. Blood welled, and the skin around the wounds
immediately turned an angry red color. The others in his group cried out and
clutched similar wounds that appeared at random around their bodies. One
denarae cried out and reached as though to pull something from his shoulders,
but his hands clutched empty air – or so it looked at first glance.

“Invisible demons,” Gerard cried out, swinging at a spot
near his ankle where a fresh wound had just opened. A severed claw suddenly
appeared by his foot, then it evaporated in a thick black smoke. A horrible
wailing filled the air, and Danner heard something scrambling awkwardly around
in agony.

The others tried to emulate Gerard’s lucky swing, but
succeeded only in slashing at empty air. The invisible demons were more careful
after Gerard’s attack, and they darted in to attack and then dodged away before
the humans and denarae could react.

“Danner,”
Trebor
kythed,
“turn on your wings! Brican, push
through Danner’s barrier and send me his vision.”

Not seeing what good it could do, Danner nevertheless
concentrated briefly and asolved his wings. Immediately, the room was filled
with several dozen cat-sized demons, darting about his friends and grinning
maliciously as they inflicted small but painful wounds at will.

“Yes!”
Trebor exulted, and swung unerringly at the
nearest demon, cutting it in half. Soon, all of the denarae in the room were
attacking the demons. Danner joined in, belatedly realizing the denarae were
looking through his mind to see what he saw. They adapted their attacks to
compensate for his perspective, which was much like trying to attack while
looking in a mirror. The demons injured by the denarae quickly healed themselves,
even the one bisected by Trebor, but those attacked by the three paladins
disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The denarae were still able to slow and
distract the demons until the paladins could finish them off, and the creatures
were decimated before they realized what was happening. Within a minute of
Danner unfurling his wings, the last of the demons was so much smoke
dissipating in the air.

“Pathetic,” Gerard yelled into the tent. “Is that all you
could gather on short notice, or were these just pets you kept about, demon?”

“How?” the disembodied voice howled. “What are you?”

Danner quickly scanned the massive tent and saw a
child-sized demon crouched in one corner. It was gray-skinned and hairless,
with smooth flesh that nevertheless looked like the rough bark from an oak
tree. Elongated, pointy ears stood out from a round head, and tiny, needle-like
teeth were bared behind wide lips as the demon snarled at Danner.

“I’m the guy who destroyed your brother,” Danner said.
“Nephew to Birch, the Gray paladin, who slew your other misbegotten sibling.
The Three are broken, and now to be destroyed.”

The demon howled in outrage, maddened by the revelation of
Danner’s identity as the murderer of its brother. Ran ─ Danner wasn’t
sure how he knew this one’s name, but he did ─ stepped from the corner
and crouched to the ground. His body began to pulse and writhe grotesquely, and
in the space of three heartbeats he’d changed into a full-sized, black dakkan
in dragon form. And still he grew. He ripped through the tent and flung the
material free with a shake of his head, then bellowed deafeningly. When he was
twice as large as a normal dakkan, Ran roared a challenge and darted his head
toward Danner.

“Can you see it?” Danner shouted as he leapt out of the way,
narrowly avoiding teeth as long as he was tall. Ran’s head crashed into the
ground, knocking most of the denarae from their feet in a spray of earth and
snow.

“Yes,” Garnet shouted in reply, his eyes wide.

“Then kill it!” Gerard ordered brusquely.

Those denarae who had retained their footing rushed forward,
but three were crushed as Ran stomped a massive paw into the ground. He raised
his black talons, dripping with blood, and roared into the sky. The last two
who had attacked reached his hind leg and struck with their swords, but the
metal just bounced off like they were attacking a stone wall.