The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (18 page)

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t told so, but it is to give me time to visit my
family and pay my respects, I’m sure,” Maran said in an emotionless monotone.

“Will they see you?” Nuse asked.

“They will have little choice, however they may deny it,”
Maran replied. “My father, at least, may be glad for the contact, though he
will not acknowledge my presence. Perhaps my sister will deign to notice me, if
only to condemn me.”

“As you said before, not a happy homecoming,” Hoil said
sadly.

“Not as you’d think of it, no. But just seeing the crystal
pillars of El again has made this trip worthwhile to me.” There was a note of
near-reverence in Maran’s voice when he spoke of the pillars, and Birch assumed
he was talking about the glowing towers they’d seen from the river.

“Will you be going alone to see your family?” Birch asked.

“I would ask you, Birch and Hoil, to accompany me, if you
will,” Maran said after only a moment’s hesitation. His soft voice now betrayed
nothing of what he might be feeling within. “Birch, I would present you,
however indirectly, before my father as a forthright representative from the
Prismatic Council so you may lay the matter of your presence before him. Hoil,
I ask you because Birch will need a translator, and…” he hesitated, “and it is
proper to be accompanied by family.”

Birch realized Maran wasn’t just referencing the brothers’
family ties, but acknowledging a kinship between the elf and master thief that
tied them together. By the expression on Hoil’s face when he accepted Maran’s
request, Birch’s brother realized the same kinship and was both pleased and
honored by its presence. Birch was fast coming to realize the strength and
importance the elves placed on family, and not just on blood relations.

“What should Perky and I do while you’re gone?” Nuse asked.
“Assuming you’re either leaving very soon or tomorrow morning, what are our
options?”

Maran stared speculatively at the thin-boned Nuse and
Perklet, who was nearly as thin and even shorter than the Blue paladin.

“How attached are you to your humanity, paladin?” Maran
asked.

“I suppose I’m as attached to it as the next human,” Nuse
answered with a perfectly serious face. “It’s been with me so long, I’d feel
rather naked without it.”

“Have you ever considered becoming an elf?”

- 3 -

It was a meeting of shadows. One elf who did not exist met
with his superior, who was little more than rumor to all but the highest-placed
elves within their order. His face was insubstantial, his name forgotten long
ago by all who might have once known him as a man. The name by which he was now
known, the sole indicator of a living, breathing presence, was a thing of
legend, half-believed by many of the elves who used it, and nothing more than a
word to the rest.

But there was power in that word. Invoking his name was a
signal of membership in a society of shadows, and requesting to see him was a
password that was sent up through the chain of command. Only elves who had
achieved a master’s rank knew to invoke that name, much less knew how; the rest
knew only that when they heard it, they were to pass word to their superiors
and forget they’d ever heard its passage from mortal lips. Eventually, a master
placed in their hierarchy would receive the signal and contact the one they all
acknowledged as their true master. Such contacts were rare and carefully
obscured. To even hint at the master’s actual existence had cost many elves
dearly; some their lives, others merely their sanity.

He was the
Do’Valoren
.

The
Do’Valoren
knew of the
presence of the elf known as
Do’n’El’Maran
. Moreover,
he knew of his use of the
Do’Valoren’s
title in front
of humans, an offense normally punished by an order for a swift and
unquestioning execution. But the circumstances were different… Maran was
different, and the
Do’Valoren
made allowances.

It was this special treatment that baffled the other elf who
met with the
Do’Valoren
. No other elf in the history
of the clandestine existence of their order had ever been granted such a
reprieve of life, much less a seemingly permanent stay on death. Maran should
have been executed before ever leaving the elven isle in the first place, and
yet he was allowed to leave in safety. Likewise, he should have been slated for
assassination during his stay among humans, but again, no. In fact, word had
gone out that specifically forbade anyone from acting against him. Now he had
returned in the company of humans, three of whom were holy warriors who would
likely condemn and expose them. He spoke to them about secrets of the elven
society, their own order in particular, but still he drew breath to tell them
more.

Now, Maran’s death would not be enough. The paladins, too,
would have to die to protect their secrets. The possible repercussions of such
an action were terrible to imagine, however, which left them with a paradox of
death.

The elf was torn between questioning his master about the
strange exception Maran had become and staying quiet and accepting the strange decision.
On the one hand, he might one day inherit his master’s position and was curious
as to what possible circumstances could give one elf so much power and
leniency. On the other hand, he had been trained to remain silent and observe
to offer insight, not to question.

After all, even more so than his master, he did not and
could not exist.

“I can feel your question,” the
Do’Valoren
said. “I can hear the conflict of your mind. Your heart. Your very soul. It is
worthy. Ask.”

“Why him?” the elf asked. He knew the
Do’Valoren
would know the breadth and hidden depths of the question. Had he been able to
see his master’s eyes, he would have been peering intently, trying to read him
as he so easily read others.

A blackness beyond night surrounded the two non-entities,
enveloping them in their natural element. Darkness was their true home. They
did not fear the light, and they often walked there in the world of their
cousins. But even there, they remained blanketed in the perpetual Mist of
Shadows they cast over themselves. Both of them lay enshrouded now, as always,
deepening the already lightless shadows of their meeting place. No elves came
here, at least not those of the light. They were incapable of conceiving the
existence of this place, or of any like it. A cultural flaw the
Do’Valoren
and his predecessors had encouraged for
generations on end to protect their secrecy. Here, they were home. Here was
safe.

“He is unique,” the
Do’Valoren
replied. His voice was like a dark whisper, little more than a shadow itself,
yet every word impressed itself with intense force on the other elf’s ears and
mind. “He has a role to play in the future, and I would see him in a position
to accomplish it. He who was once
El’Maran
may yet
cross a line even I cannot ignore, but no action will be taken against him
unless I give the order. Be sure of that.”

“Of course.”

“Do I hear relief or regret in your voice?”

The elf nearly jumped in surprise, so accurately had his
master read him.

“Both,” he admitted immediately. “That anyone should have
been indulged as he has is beyond my ability to understand. Yet who am I to
question you, and should I not feel relief he may yet serve us?”

The
Do’Valoren
chuckled dryly.

“Should you not indeed? You did, after all, train him. He
was and is your
to’vala
. I should think you are quite
pleased that he may serve some role vital enough for me to spare his life so
willingly.”

“He was the best,” the elf said proudly, “and I was honored
to have trained him. And of course, he
is
unique.”

“And therein lies both his use and his danger,” the
Do’Valoren
said.

A deep silence settled between the two elves.

“What will the boy do?” the
Do’Valoren
asked. “You are sure he doesn’t know the truth?”

“Just as the one was my
to’vala
,
so is the boy,” the elf replied. “He trusts me above all others, and is unaware
of his twisted heritage. As to what he will do, I think we can count on his
cooperation.”

“Now is not the time to think, but to know. Our safety,
indeed the very legacy we have spent our lifetimes upholding, lies in jeopardy.”
The
Do’Valoren’s
voice was chill, made all the more
terrible by the burning import of his words. “We are in the dangerous position
of knowing what will happen, but seeing the greater good that will come from
the unthinkable. When the time comes, we must be ready, and that boy is the
key.”

“He will be ready, I promise you.”

“If he is not, he will die, and his life is yours.”

He nodded

Another silence grew in the darkness. Again, it was broken
by the master.

“You will, of course, be present when he confronts his
father,” the
Do’Valoren
said. “You must devote
yourself doubly now, to the boy and to him. He must learn the truth, and his
efforts could be of great use to us. As you say, he was the best. I am also
interested in the humans and their purpose here. What role do they play now,
and what role might they play in the future? For us?”

“I will glean all I can.”

There was a slight pause, as if in hesitation. “You
understand the dangers of his talking to the boy? It cannot be avoided, but he
may be tempted to reveal certain truths. Doing so will cross the lines we spoke
of, in which case you must take immediate action.”

“If those lines are crossed, I will kill him myself.”

And then no more words were necessary. The master
disappeared between the passing of one wind and the breath of another, and with
less noise. The other melted into the shadows of which he was already a part,
and then he was gone. They left no trace of their presence, no sign anyone had
been there at all, not even the breath of a whisper on the breeze.

Neither elf existed, and no meeting had ever taken place.

Improvise, adapt, and overcome.

- Gerard Morningham,

“A Treatise on Modern Warfare” (991 AM)

- 1 -

Over the next several days, Danner was forced to reevaluate
his opinion of Gerard Morningham. Their commanding officer and former
instructor quickly underwent a startling transformation: before, he’d been the
harsh, aloof, and demanding man they’d come to both hate and grudgingly
appreciate; now the hatred melted away leaving only a healthy respect and a
sort of awe for the sheer presence and ability the man had at his command. He
now spoke to them almost as equals, for they were paladins in their own right ─
all but Trebor, who was nevertheless included in this newfound companionship ─
and they became privy to the ins and outs of training and command necessary to
mold men into fighting units. Now included in the inner circle of command, they
witnessed his leadership from a whole new perspective.

The Red paladin immediately demonstrated he was as much a
genius at leading and training troops in a military setting as he’d been at
shaping trainees into paladins. Indeed, he revealed to them that his father had
been a ranking officer in
Sellan
army, and until his
father’s death, he’d grown up in an officer’s tent during the Third Merishank
War,
[17]
absorbing everything his father did and said.

During their first meeting, before they even had a chance to
ask, Gerard had addressed the simple question, “Why us?”

“Look, boys,” the Red paladin said with little preamble,
“I’ll be honest, this situation is not one I’d have chosen for myself, nor is
it likely what you were expecting. We all know your training was rushed, and we
all know why. You’re all still raw as far as I’m concerned, and under other
circumstances I might have chosen several more experienced paladins to help me
lead this group. But I’ve seen you work together first-hand, and I have to say,
I’ve never trained a more balanced, cohesive group of friends in all my years
as Training Master. You’ve still got some growing up to do, but I’ve seen the
potential you each have to grow into your Facets, and you’re what they had in
mind when they crafted the
jintaal
as a balanced representation of the
entire Prism. For what I have planned, I want younger, open minds that aren’t
cluttered up with years of drivel and half-assed training. What you all
received was abbreviated and rushed, but it was focused and purpose-driven.

“The fact that one of you is a denarae just sweetens the
deal as far as I’m concerned, given the demographics I’m about to face. Even
so, I chose you all because of what you’ve done and what I believe you can do.”

Before accepting their commissions under the older paladin,
Danner and his friends had discussed what they would tell him about the
denarae. They quickly decided the only way for Gerard to effectively lead and
train them was for him to know the truth. After Trebor reported for duty, the
first words out of his mouth were to tell the Red paladin about the unique
mental abilities of the denarae. Gerard had immediately seen the potential of
these abilities in both social and military matters.

“Imagine soldiers with the ability to creep through enemy
lines because they can pinpoint every sentry through his thoughts,” Gerard
said, his face and thoughts focused. “Denarae skin coloration already offers
camouflage at night. You tell me most of those here already have some skill at
fighting? We’ll see soon enough. How skillful are they at moving silently? No,
not something I’d expect you to know yet, but my bet is enough of them for my
purposes. Yes, a command of crack troops able to communicate with each other
nonverbally. No misinterpretation of orders. No flubbed operations because someone
starts before the others are ready. Perfect coordination. Do you realize the
weapon you’ve just handed me?”