The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (48 page)

“
That
, O wise and noble Council, is why you were not
entrusted with this knowledge,” Gerard said scathingly. “You can barely be
trusted with the daily running of the Prismatic Order without fumbling the
responsibility in your efforts to hamstring all that is efficient and effective
in our strength. But to trust you with knowledge that could have brought about
the downfall of the mortal realm long ago had you screwed it up as badly as you
have everything else you touch? I would rather trust a room full of gnomes with
an explosive device. At least that would only destroy the gnomes and the
surrounding block. You would take the world with you to the grave given such
knowledge.”

The room was silent in the wake of Gerard’s scathing
denunciation. Several members of the Council stared at him in open-mouthed
astonishment, but two or three of the newest members were actually nodding in
agreement with him. Bart
Shivrey
and a few others
were, of course, stone-faced in affront and anger, and it was from there the
danger arose.

Bart cleared his throat angrily and shifted a few sheets of
paper closer to him.

“Whatever your feelings toward this Council, paladin
Morningham,” Bart said, “you will nevertheless obey its edicts.”

Gerard nodded. He wasn’t surprised at their lack of a
response. After such a heated outburst, however, the abrupt shift made Danner’s
head spin. Was no one going to address the verbal assault Gerard had just
launched against them?

“Now, to business,” a Red paladin said. He looked hesitantly
at the Blue paladin sitting next to Bart, then cleared his throat and looked
back at Gerard. “We’re going to be sending forces out beyond the front gates of
the Barrier to help curb the assault and hold the demons off from the walls.
We’re expecting casualties to be high, but we’re hoping the casualties in the
enemy ranks will be much higher. It’s just too much of a risk having them
assault the Barrier directly, especially now that we know of these
Ash’Ailant
.
We must put every obstacle we can between the demons and their objective, be it
wood or flesh, steel or stone.”

Bart opened his mouth, but Gerard cut him short.

“In that case, sir, Shadow Company requests the honor of
spearheading those forces,” Gerard said, his voice suddenly devoid of all
anger. His face was a mask of inscrutability, and he betrayed nothing of what
he was feeling or thinking.

Bart shut his mouth and looked surprised, then suspicious.

“Are the denarae ready for it?” a Violet paladin asked
dubiously.

“My
men
,” Gerard said pointedly, “are more than ready
to take their place as was first designed by this Council. You’ve never seen us
in battle, but I guarantee we’ll more than do our part.”

“Very well,” Bart said uneasily. It was obvious Gerard’s
voluntary participation came as a shock to him, and he was staring at Gerard as
though trying to read what was behind such a move.

“With your permission, gentlemen,” Gerard said. Before he
left, Bart cleared his throat to speak, a nasty gleam in his eye. The Yellow
paladin looked quickly down the line of paladins on the Council, catching each
one’s eye briefly.

“We’ll expect your men to move into position at dawn
tomorrow morning,” Bart said. Gerard froze near the door, his back to the
Council. “The other forces will arrive as able, but we need you in place
immediately, just in case the demons attack earlier than we expect.”

It was obvious what Bart was saying, and everyone in the
room knew it. Some of the paladins looked uncomfortable and threw apprehensive
glances at the Yellow paladin, but no one on the Council said anything to
contradict him. Gerard turned slowly and stared dangerously at Bart.

“What you’re doing is wrong,” Gerard said quietly, and the
soft tone of his voice made it all the more menacing because they all knew the
violence he was capable of unleashing, both physically and verbally. “I hope
you’re damned to Hell for this.”

“We’re only doing what’s best for all around,” Bart replied.

“You’re a liar, Bart, and when this is all over, you’d
better hope God gets to you before I do,” Gerard said. “He’s much more
forgiving than I am.”

“When the time comes, that’s between me and God, now isn’t
it?” Bart said haughtily, but his eyes shifted nervously to the other Council
members, seeking support. No one came to his aid, but no one said a word
against him either.

“Oh, I agree,” Gerard said, and one hand fell casually, even
absent-mindedly on the hilt of his sword, “but I’d be more than happy to help
you discuss it with Him personally, perhaps a bit ahead of schedule.”

With that, Gerard spun on his heel and walked calmly from
the room, Danner and the other Shadow Company paladins following in his wake.

“You know that’s a death sentence to anyone who goes
outside,” Garnet said once they had turned down another hallway, “especially
for us. The other forces will never show up, not if that one has his way.”

“I know,” Gerard replied, his voice cold.

“Then why?”

“Because they were going to send us out anyway,” Gerard
said, “that much was painfully obvious. At least this way we can save our honor
by facing our doom standing up, instead of being ordered forth like rebellious
children crawling on the ground. We may be slain, but I’ll be damned if I’m
going to die on my knees.”

Danner dared to ask, “Why are we even listening to them? The
Council has obviously lost its way or been corrupted worse than we knew. How
can we follow their orders, much less allow them to blindly dictate the
defenses of this city?”

Gerard was silent for a long moment before answering.

“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind, Danner,” the Red
paladin said in a low voice, “but right now, we need them… no Nocka needs them,
which means the entire world needs them. Demons are quite literally howling at
the gates, and we can’t afford the disruption in power by trying to overthrow
or remove the Council. Most of the city guard would side with them out of
well-intentioned ignorance, and we’d have a civil war among our brothers. We
absolutely
cannot
survive this war without paladins on the front lines,
and our deaths may be the price for unity.”

Gerard grimaced. “Like it or not, the Council’s word is
still law, and we either obey and face death or else disobey and face the
annihilation of everything we hold dear.”

Danner absorbed the other paladin’s grim words with a heavy
heart.

“I’m not going to die for them,” he said finally, jerking
his head back the way they’d come.

“It’s not for them, lad,” Gerard replied, shaking his head.
“It’s for the defenders of Nocka and their families. It’s for that lady friend
of yours, and for your father, and for everyone you’ve ever passed on the
street. It’s for the millions of innocent people out there in the world who
don’t even know you exist, nor that their continued survival might hinge on
your sword and shield. That’s what it means to be a paladin.”

Danner walked in silence, unable to think of a response.

“We’re really going to do this?” Trebor asked finally.

“Aye.”

Garnet sighed. “Where’s Flasch with an idiotic comment when
you need him?”

Love is perhaps the most complex virtue of all, for there are too many
definitions of the word for any one idea to simultaneously encompass them all.
In general, it is proper consideration for the self and others.

- “An Examination of Prismatic Virtue” (801 AM)

- 1 -

It was the calm before the storm. The eye of the hurricane.
The ebb before the wave.

Danner hated it. All the preparations had been made and
Shadow Company was ready to move out at a moment’s notice, but they wouldn’t
move, not until shortly before dawn, so they could take their place outside the
walls. His men had slept fitfully in shifts through the rest of the day, trying
to rest up for what was expected to be nothing more than a suicidal slaughter.
Their weapons and armor were cleansed and ready, lying near-at-hand and ready
to be girded on command.

Now the only thing left to do was wait, and waiting left Danner
too much time for thinking. He brooded in silence for nearly an hour before
deciding he needed to move about to clear his head. Danner stood and glanced
around and saw striding toward him the first and last person he wanted to
encounter.

“Uncle Birch,” he said in greeting. “I was just about to
take a walk…”

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” Birch said.

“Yeah, okay.”

Danner sent a mental message to Caret where he was going and
an order to let him know immediately if something came up that needed his attention,
then he walked away with his uncle. Soldiers made camp anywhere and everywhere
they could, with colors from Nocka and Merishank dominating the encampments.
Other nations’ livery flew from small enclaves mostly made up of honor guards
for visiting dignitaries and merchant guards drafted into defense. The two
paladins walked in silence through the tightly packed streets, moving gradually
toward a section that was more sparsely populated.

 “What’s on your mind, uncle?” Danner asked when they
were all but alone.

“Describe to me some of the abilities you have from your
heritage,” Birch said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at Danner, but instead
kept his gaze focused ahead. The orange glow from his eyes was visible in the
lightless alley into which they’d turned, and Danner shivered in spite of
himself.

“Well, aside from the wings themselves, which let me fly,
I’ve got tremendous strength, and I can understand and translate the immortal
language,” Danner said. He frowned in thought. “Some things, like the strength,
are only evident when my wings are switched on, but other things like
understanding the immortal language are there all the time.

“It seems to me that I know things, too,” he continued,
“things about the immortals and about Heaven and Hell that I never actually
learned. When I was taking classes with the Prism, it sometimes felt more like
reminding me of things I already knew but had forgotten. I knew Ran’s name when
we were fighting him the other night, even though there’s no real way to tell the
difference between any of The Three.”

Danner shrugged. “Stuff like that.”

“What about your ability to heal?” Birch asked.

“It’s rather sporadic,” Danner said with a grimace, “but
when it works it works really well almost in spite of myself. My instructors
told me to stick to terminal cases, where I would either heal the patients
outright or kill them, leaving them no worse off than before.”

Birch smiled briefly, but the expression faded in a few
seconds.

“Do you ever feel there’s something blocking you, or
lessening your ability to heal?”

“No, not really,” Danner said. “I don’t have much experience
to compare it to, but it’s more like it’s either there or not. I found it’s a
lot easier to heal when I have my wings asolved.”

“Asolved?” Birch asked.

“Or turned on, as Flasch says,” Danner said. “
Asolving
and
dekinting
. Marc
found the proper terminology in some text somewhere. Oh, and when they’re on,
I’m impervious to physical damage. Sometimes it still hurts a little bit, but
Garnet laid me flat with one blow of his sword and didn’t leave a mark. Ran was
able to damage me plenty enough, but I suppose that makes sense since he was a
demon.”

Birch hummed in thought, but was otherwise silent.

“Why do you ask?” Danner said.

“What? Nothing you need to worry about now, Danner,” Birch
replied. “I’m trying to work some things out, and some possibilities are fairly
disturbing. I want to be sure before I bring them up with other people.”

Danner shrugged, troubled by his uncle’s recalcitrance.
“Okay, if you say so.”

“Now what’s been on your mind, nephew?” Birch asked
suddenly, catching Danner by surprise.

“Me? Oh, nothing, really.”

“You nearly ran away when you saw me coming toward you,”
Birch said in disagreement. “What’s wrong?”

Danner was silent as they walked, weighing how much he
wanted to tell Birch and how to present it.

“Uncle Birch, how long have you been with Moreen?” he asked,
now taking his uncle by surprise.

“Mo? Since I was about your age,” Birch replied. “We started
seeing each other a month or so before Hoil met your mother.”

“You were together twelve years before you crossed the
Merging?” Danner asked incredulously.

Birch shook his head. “Thirteen, by my reckoning. You were
seven.”

“And not married?” Danner mused. “It’s a wonder she waited
that long, much less while you were in Hell.” He looked guiltily at Birch. “I’m
sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“Don’t be, it’s a valid point,” Birch acceded, his voice
neutral. “She and I have been over this topic more than once in recent weeks. I
can only thank God she saw something she wanted in me she couldn’t find
elsewhere, and Moreen is not the type of woman to settle. There have been any
number of suitors over the years, but in her own words, none of them was me. Mo
is patient beyond reckoning, but she gets what she wants.”

Danner stared at his uncle. The Gray paladin returned his
gaze evenly, not quite meeting his eyes. Finally Danner looked away, suddenly
uncomfortable.

“And how old were you when you two first… um…” Danner made a
few vague gestures with his hands, and he was faintly surprised his face didn’t
catch fire, it felt so hot with embarrassment. “What I mean is, uh…”

“When were we first intimate?”

“Yeah, but um…”

“You’re asking when we first had sex,” Birch said flatly.
Danner cringed inwardly, wondering if he’d touched on a private delicacy his
uncle might not want to talk about.