Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) (80 page)

“Halo Company,
charge!
”
Gerard bellowed and led the group of paladins into the confused group of
daemelans. They curved out from the wall and drew the demons away from the
gate, and when the daemelans turned to follow and engage, Marc and the men
inside rushed out and struck them from behind.

Unlike their
previous foes, however, the daemelans didn’t crumble under the pincer attack,
and instead they quickly reformed their ranks. After a few quick deaths, the
demons recovered and the tide began to turn against the mortals. Daemelans took
a particularly fierce joy in destroying the frail bodies of their mortal
opponents, and often settled for nothing less than a body split into at least
three pieces or crushed to a pulp. Despite the disparity in their numbers, the
sheer ferocity of the daemelans’ attacks threw back the combined forces of
denarae and paladins, and for only the second time in its short but glorious
history, Shadow Company was forced to flee the field of battle to escape
annihilation.

“Halo Company,
fall back by platoons and cover the denarae!” Gerard bellowed, blood running
down his head from a lucky shot. He was lucky it hadn’t taken his head off.
“Everyone into the palace!”

The denarae
reacted as one unit and carefully pulled back into the palace. The paladins in
Halo Company formed up and guarded their retreat. The holy warriors fared
little better against the demons, even though they wore thick platemail and
inflicted more damage than the denarae, who were not devoted warriors of God.
Paladins were cut down, gored, or crushed nearly as easily as the denarae, but
still they managed to pull back into the palace to limit the number of
daemelans who could approach at once. Gerard cycled the paladins from Halo
Company and spelled them with denarae when able, and they were able to take
down a couple of the massive demons, but more arrived to take their place.

Marc was panting
as he leaned against one of the demonstone walls. He was seriously regretting
having unhinged the door, which had deprived them of the possibility of closing
and possibly sealing the doors. Of course, given the strength and nature of
their foes, it likely wouldn’t have done any good.

They’re too
damn powerful!
he thought in despair.
Gerard either underestimated them,
or else he overestimated us.

Trebor came up
beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, but stayed silent. Marc looked up
at him with a wan smile that quickly faded.

“I could really
use one of Flasch’s stupid comments right about now,” Marc said and glanced
around for the nimble Violet paladin. He frowned when he didn’t see his friend
right away, and after a moment’s searching he stared at Trebor, who shook his
head.

“Not everyone
made it in,” the denarae told him apprehensively.

Marc looked at
the seething mass of demonic flesh held at bay by a much shorter wall of mortal
steel, unable to voice the sudden terror that swept over him.

Trebor’s voice
murmured ominously behind him, “Flasch is still outside somewhere.”

- 2 -

Garnet
dismounted from the buggy and spared a moment to take stock of their resources.
Somewhere behind them, two platoons were supposedly on their way along with
Siran and his elves, but there was no telling how long it would take for them
to catch up, or even if the barrier Birch had created would hold the daemelans
long enough. They couldn’t count on backup arriving.

Danner was
standing next to the buggy, wings dekinted, assessing the vehicle. He still had
a handful of explosives left in the back, but the buggy was nearly empty of
fuel. The frame was bent out of shape in places, the tires were still smoking,
and Danner announced they’d done something to the engine during their harrowing
entrance. The buggy was out of commission.

Their strike
force currently consisted of Garnet, Birch, Danner, Michael, Brican, and – if one
included dakkans – Selti in his dragon-like shape. Not exactly what Garnet had
been hoping for when they confronted the King of Hell.

“Well, as Gerard
says,” Garnet announced, “improvise, adapt, and overcome. This is what we’ve
got, so this will have to be enough.”

He glanced at
the others, who nodded in agreement.

“Let’s go.”

Garnet was only
halfway across the room when a piercing ring filled the hall. He spun around
just as Malith blinked into existence with six Black paladins on either side of
him. The Black Viscia blocked the door they had just come through. Garnet’s
eyes narrowed and he took a step toward the Black paladin.

“We meet again,
my old friends,” Malith sneered. “I must say, I never expected any of you to
get this far. Perhaps even Mephistopheles underestimated you. I’m disappointed
in him, but I must admit I’m rather glad I got to face you one last time before
the end. Both of you,” the Black paladin said, smirking at Birch and Garnet.
“Even as we speak, demons are assaulting Medina and will take possession of the
Throne of God at any moment. However brave your heroics in getting here, they
were never going to be enough. You’ve already lost.”

Birch looked at
his old comrade, now a mortal enemy, and shook his head sadly. Despite
everything Malith had done and despite the anger and hatred Birch felt for his
former comrade, recent experience had profoundly affected the Gray paladin, and
he no longer looked on Malith with the same eye of enmity.

“You know,
Malith, it’s not too late for you,” Birch said. He was picturing a kind-hearted
Green paladin and heard again what he’d said.
Even this I can love.

You set a
high bar to live up to, Perky,
Birch though fondly to his departed friend.

“Even the
blackest of hearts can be redeemed,” Birch went on. “You were once a paladin.
You were a mean bastard, but so was Gerard, and you were a soldier of God.
There’s got to be some part of you left who recognizes what you’ve become and
still yearns for the light.”

Malith laughed
scornfully.

“The light,
Birch? What is that light, I used to wonder, but now I know.” The Black shook
his head and curled his lips back in a sneer. “It is the light of obscurity,
blinding us to the world. That faith of ours, which I so diligently followed,
presents itself as the end of all answers and the only truth in existence. I
found another path, one I find eminently more suited to my beliefs and
personality.”

“Amazing how
often that happens, rather than the reverse,” Birch countered. Malith went on
as though he hadn’t even spoken.

“Tell me, old
friend
,
has your blind adherence to that stifling creed brought you any lasting
fulfillment? Has it even brought you a moment of happiness? I know you, Birch,
you and your devotion. Part of me even used to look up to you, in a way. But
for all you’ve done and all you’ve been, I bet you still haven’t even climbed
atop that woman of yours, have you?”

Birch’s fists
tightened, but his face remained impassive.

“My path just
seems to make more sense to me,” Malith said derisively. “I believe in power. I
believe in proving yourself. Mastering yourself. I believe in mastering others
who cannot live up to their own potential because they are weak. I believe that
those who are strong enough to rise to the top should rule from on high. We
were the best of men, and we put ourselves in service to the lowest and
weakest. We sacrificed our strength in defense of a God who cannot defend the
very seat of his own power.

“I had my eyes
opened, and I saw God’s impotence for what it is: weakness. I could never
follow such a God, and I don’t believe I ever have. I have found a new power to
devote myself to, and I defy you to pit the strength of your faith against the
strength of my blade. Prove me wrong.”

The Gray paladin
stared at Birch with a cocky half-smile on his face.

Always so
sure of himself,
Birch thought.
Always such a fool. He’s right, but he
doesn’t even know why.

“You are
correct, Malith, so far as your understanding goes,” Birch replied, and had the
satisfaction of seeing the Black paladin’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Malith
really
didn’t
understand how right he was, nor how pitifully wrong he
was. “You have found a faith suited to your beliefs, and I’d even agree with
you that your faith is just as valid as mine, if you still knew what faith was
and could embrace it. Perhaps if you knew the truth, if you could only remember
what He made you forget.”

He paused and
shook his head.

“What are you
blathering about, Birch?” Malith scoffed.

“You spoke with
Satan, Malith, and He warped you to His own ends, I’m sure,” Birch said sadly.
Then he added, “But then, I suppose the same could be said of me. We’ve both
made a deal with the Devil. The difference is, I remember mine and have
never
sacrificed virtue for convenience, nor stopped serving God. You gave Him up for
a different faith, and while I lament your fate, I cannot begrudge you what is,
in the end, a form of piety.”

Birch could feel
the others behind him staring at him in shock. Even he could barely believe
what he was saying, but it felt like the truth. It was something buried within
him he’d been struggling toward for years now, ever since his captivity in Hell
and his conversations with the Voice – with Satan.

The God of Evil.

“Believing and
following a creed of evil, however, doesn’t make it a proper thing, no matter
how valid your beliefs might be,” Birch went on. “Evil is still evil in and of
itself, and all men should turn from it whether they choose to follow God or
not. You mock the faith of your youth, but you’re so desperate to prove your
newfound beliefs are fulfilling, you’ve blinded yourself to everything you once
held so dear. You’ve lost the courage that so marked you, and now that it’s
gone you’ve convinced yourself it wasn’t all that important in the first place.
Maybe that helps soothe the wound, but the cut still lies festering beneath the
scab of your apostasy, and it will consume you one day.”

Malith laughed
again.

“This is too
rich,” he roared. “You, Birch, of all people, concerned over the state of my
soul?”

Garnet saw a shadow
move in the corridor beyond the Black paladins, but the flames and smoke still
roaring through the hallway made him doubt his own eyes.

“There is
something to be said for changing your beliefs, Birch,” Malith told him, still
smiling. “It offers a whole new perspective on things, especially your old
lifestyle. Do you realize that I…”

Malith’s words
choked off as a foot of steel ripped through his chest, speared his dead heart,
and split his sternum in half. The Black Viscia turned and saw Siran holding
the other end of his halven with a faintly disgusted look on his normally
impassive features.

“You both talk
too much,” Siran said reprovingly to Birch. He retracted his halven and, as
Malith slumped to the ground, attacked the nearest Black paladin before anyone
else had moved.

Behind Siran, a
group of elves streamed into the room and confronted the Black Viscia, who fell
back in disarray under the unexpected onslaught. Garnet saw a group of paladins
and denarae following behind the elves, but cries rang out in the hallway and
they turned to face some new menace in the palace corridor. A wild mixture of
drolkuls, childris, balrogs, imps, and even a few bloodhawks forced their way
into the room to reinforce the Black Viscia, who quickly regrouped and steadied
their battle line.

“Birch, Danner,
go!” Garnet shouted to them as he motioned Brican and Michael forward. “You two
deal with Mephistopheles, we’ll keep them off your backs.”

Danner looked at
him in concern, then nodded reluctantly.

“For God and for
man,” he said, saluting Garnet with his sword.

“For life,” all
of the paladins finished together. Uncle and nephew hurried to the unguarded
doors as Garnet plunged into the fray.

- 3 -

Birch crossed the
threshold first and felt a hundred memories wash over him; most were his own,
some were inherited from Kaelus. The Demon King’s throne room looked as it had
since its creation – a nightmare of horror so perverse it could only have come
from the mind of the lord of all demons.

Lesser demons
had been culled and sacrificed to their king’s glory, and their bones had been
used to layer every available surface of the massive throne room. Bones had
been elongated and fused together to create a ridged floor, and the demonstone
walls were pocked with thousands of alcoves containing skulls of every
conceivable size and shape, from fist-sized imp heads to massive daemelan
skulls. One demon skull was nearly twice as large as Birch was tall, and it
leered down from the wall with a vicious, tooth-filled grin.

Chandeliers of
skulls and bones hung on black steel chains from the vaulted ceiling – the ribs
of the vaults appeared to have been constructed from the appropriate bones of
the same titanic demon whose skull dominated the wall. Small pools of Hellfire
from the Dena-Fur burned in the lofty chandeliers and in channels cut in the
floor, casting a steady, furnace-like glow throughout the throne room.

Statues littered
the room depicting creatures in varying states of torture and agony, but Birch
was already well-aware that these statues were, in fact, demons and damned
souls who had been motionless for eons. Mephistopheles dominated their wills so
completely that they were no longer capable of movement beyond an occasional,
terrified shifting of their eyes, or perhaps a whimper of agony savored by
their captor. He was eerily reminded of his own immobility during their
confrontation with Maya.

In the center of
the room, Kaelus knelt on the bone floor, bound hand and foot by black shackles
that rippled with a blue-violet power. The captive demon’s back was to them,
and his head was bowed.