The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (24 page)

“Exercise complete,” Danner announced. The two elves removed
their blindfolds and stared at him.

“You crossed just then,”
Shakir
said, making it almost a question. Danner nodded in reply.

“The snow, there,”
Tiroth
said,
pointing to where Danner had been standing when he’d made his mistake. Again,
Danner nodded.

“You’re good,”
Shakir
said. “Elven
trained.” That was
not
a question. The elves turned to each other and
began to converse in soft tones, completely ignoring the denarae company.

“Second platoon, rest for five minutes, then find me for
instruction on how to sneak without getting shot,” Danner ordered, then
returned to don his leather armor again.

- 3 -

For the next four weeks, they did nothing but train. When it
wasn’t stealth classes, they trained in armed and unarmed combat. Danner and
Flasch switched off teaching the denarae how to move silently, shuffling their
platoons out for weapons classes under Garnet and Gerard or unarmed classes
with Michael. The Yellow paladin had proved a quick study of paladin
hand-to-hand tactics, adding them to the martial arts and ground-fighting he
had learned as a child. As Garnet was an acknowledged master of the sword, so
Michael was a master with his hands and fists. He was the only one who could
pin both Gerard and Garnet on a consistent basis.

Marc and Trebor helped wherever they were needed, either
providing an extra pair of eyes, demonstrating combat moves they’d already
learned, healing those injured during training, or else watching over platoons
given a chance to rest. On rare occasions, they were called upon to physically
discipline a denarae who was disrespectful or derelict in his duties. Leaving
the rest of their unit under someone else’s care, they took not just the
denarae at fault, but his entire squad, and ran laps around the encampment
holding bowkurs above their heads. Soon discipline problems had all but
disappeared entirely.

As the denarae progressed and improved in their stealth
training, Gerard added new challenges for them to face. They wore padding to
simulate armor. Instead of just sneaking across a courtyard, he made them creep
through a section of the camp he ordered built like a maze using broad swaths
of cloth stretched between poles that could be rearranged at need to change the
course. Their goal was to find a brightly colored jug of water hidden somewhere
in the maze without being discovered. The two blindfolded elves stalked the
maze like snakes hunting mice, silent and efficient. Sometimes a denarae would
come out with the jug in hand without ever having seen the prowling elves. Most
of the time, however, they returned shame-faced and empty-handed with only a
new bruise or two to show for their troubles. As time went by, their odds of
success improved noticeably.

After several days of this, Gerard alternated platoons going
out into nearby woods and doing the same. Sometimes they worked during the day,
but more and more Gerard had them practicing at night, where their skin
coloration would lend them an advantage against enemy soldiers. Eventually,
they were able to move through even the forest without being shot by the elves,
who claimed that while they could still detect the movements of the denarae, it
would take some extremely sharp-eared humans to notice their presence, even
when the denarae were moving quickly.

Gerard had them train with survival methods on how to live
on scant rations and supplement their food by scrounging from the land, even in
the dead of winter. He taught them how to make small, one-squad camps that were
invisible to all but the most determined of searchers. When actual weapons,
winter gear, and armor were delivered ─ compliments of one properly cowed
and terrified quartermaster ─ the denarae were outfitted and trained how
to properly care for their equipment in cold weather.

The most daring of Gerard’s techniques, which only Danner’s
platoon received, was the use of the training cloaks they’d stolen. The cloaks
were dyed to blend with the shadows of the night, and the denarae learned how
to use them for limited gliding from the tops of trees and dropping from the
back of Gerard’s dakkan a few at a time. Any of Danner’s troops who couldn’t
master the techniques properly were transferred to another platoon and someone
more promising was brought in their place.

With their abilities of projecting and receiving thoughts,
the denarae quickly mastered using the cloaks – having someone there in their
mind coaching them along made coping with falling out of the sky much easier to
learn. Danner ruefully remembered his own training process when he’d been too
afraid of heights to approach the cloak training with anything other than trepidation.
The fact that he now had wings and could fly at will was dreadfully ironic and
occasioned a brief smile whenever he thought about it.

After several more days of training, their world changed
with the arrival of the Merishank army late one
Decaday
afternoon. They’d been aware of the sizeable force coming toward them and were
kept carefully appraised of its progress so they could react and deploy in
plenty of time. Gerard had no intention of cowering behind the walls, and
eventually he was forced to point out the stipulation in his terms of command
that gave him autonomy in the way he trained and deployed his company. By now,
every soul on Nocka had heard the name Shadow Company, and they all shook their
heads at the foolishness of not only arming denarae, but then expecting them to
fight effectively. On the rare occasion when any of the denarae had accompanied
an officer to the city to retrieve supplies, the citizens there treated them
harshly and spat or threw refuse at them. The city guard considered it a waste
of supplies to allow the denarae to stay outside the city, apparently waiting
to be butchered, when they could be put on the front walls inside the city and
spare the defenders some losses during the early days of what was quickly being
acknowledged as a Merishank offensive against Nocka. But they could do nothing
but grumble. And wait.

- 4 -

Gerard looked back at his company and felt a surge of
satisfaction. The encampment they’d occupied for the last month and more was now
dismantled and gone. Except for the inevitable trampling of the ground and
other indelible signs of their presence, there was nothing left behind to
indicate that a force of three hundred soldiers had been camped there before.
Gerard had ordered Danner to return his buggy to his gnomish friend in the
city, since it was too hard to effectively hide and would be all but impossible
to refuel. The shed for the buggy had been one of the last things to go, along
with Gerard’s command center and the barracks house for the last platoon
working there. The building materials they’d used for the camp had been
utilized in creating small strongholds and tree houses in the eastern woods to
which the denarae could retreat and regroup. It was from these posts that Gerard
planned on running his own private war.

Shadow Company had exceeded his expectations at every turn
and often managed to outstrip what he’d dared to hope for in their training. It
would take more cunning and force than most commanders had ever seen to destroy
his one small company, and then only in head-to-head combat, which Gerard never
intended to allow. He’d learned the lessons of this type of war at his father’s
feet fighting the very same enemy that was now marching toward them. Guerilla
tactics would be their bread and butter, and soon the entire Merishank army
would come to fear and loathe the name Shadow Company.

Now two platoons were assembled at the edge of the woods
staring out impassively at the advance patrols of their opponents. Men on
horseback rode swiftly toward them, while another group rode toward the gates
of Nocka. On Gerard’s order, the remainder of his company would fall back into
the woods ─ where the others awaited them ─ and hide there until
called upon to act. Each platoon was to exist separately from the others and
have no physical or verbal contact unless absolutely necessary. In human
troops, this could have been dangerous, if not impossible to coordinate, but
the denarae ability to communicate telepathically ensured they could stay in
touch without unwanted contact.

But first, he wanted to make sure they were seen by the
Merishank army. He wanted them to know there was a force hiding so close, and
he wanted them to see his troops vanish into thin air. Let them wonder. He
wanted them to send troops to find them, and when they didn’t return, he wanted
them to send more. When they also didn’t return, then they would begin to worry
and then to fear. Gerard would use that fear to his advantage.

Gerard watched the diminishing distance between the horsemen
and his troops and tightened his eyes. He turned his head to the left and
locked eyes with Danner, then looked at Garnet on his other side. Both paladins
nodded, and Gerard nodded a silent reply.

“Shadow Company,” he barked loudly. “Let’s disappear.”

If elves were meant to live on the ground, God never would have created
trees.

- Elven Proverb

- 1 -

They spent the night in the earthy cave, much to Birch’s
discomfort. He’d asked if there was not someplace where he might stay that was
less enclosed, but Maran had regretfully disappointed him. The elves couldn’t
risk letting him sleep outside, and the spacious room they slept in was the
largest available to them. With Moreen by his side, Birch gritted his teeth and
forced himself into a state of relatively untroubled rest. Selti, who had
apparently decided to forgive Birch, curled up in the small of his back, and
the familiar sensation helped calm the Gray paladin.

The next morning, Birch felt as if half his night had been
spent in the half-sleep state where nameless fears carry over from nightmares
into the waking day. His first moments of wakefulness were thick with cobwebs
and vague feelings of unknown dread clinging to his mind. When he finally
opened his eyes, he was as tired as if he’d never slept at all.

Maran appeared at Birch’s side as he ate a sparse breakfast
of cheese and soup. The hot liquid coursing down his throat tingled slightly
and settled contentedly in his stomach, and the last of his unease was carried
away and forgotten when some unknown saint produced a mug of cahve for him.
Hoil’s appetite was clearly undaunted and undiminished by his surroundings, and
he wolfed down enough to feed a family of elves.

“When we leave today, I will be at your side giving you instructions,
but you won’t be able to see me,” Maran said without preamble. “I can make it
so no one else can hear me, but I’ll still need to speak softly. If anyone
tries to talk to you, pretend to be thinking through a translation, Hoil, but
be listening for what I tell you to say. You’ve learned to speak elven
proficiently from me over the years, and you’ll have a better chance of getting
it right than your brother, who is presumably unfamiliar with the language. If
there is any trouble at all, and if you value your lives, do not fight or even
draw steel unless I say otherwise. Flee if you’re able; if not, allow
yourselves to be captured, and I will free you soon after.

“We will be going some of the way through tunnels and secret
passageways, but when we climb back to the city, just pretend you know where
you’re going and try not to gawk. The last thing you need to do is draw
attention to yourselves.”

“Aren’t two humans going to draw attention as it is?” Birch
asked.

“We do sort of stand out,” Hoil added, glancing at the size
difference between the two tall, broad-shouldered humans compared to the
thinner, shorter elf.

“You will, of course,” Maran allowed, “but for this to work,
you will need to look like you belong, not some gawking bumpkin who sticks out
like a redwood in a maple forest.”

Hoil muttered something under his breath about elven
metaphors.

“How will we get past the guards at the gate?” Birch asked.
“I’m assuming not just anyone can walk in and request to see the king on a
moment’s notice.”

“No, but the guards won’t be a problem. Trust me.”

Hoil opened his mouth to question further, then shrugged.

“It’s your home,” he said. “I suppose you know best.”

“Your vote of confidence is overwhelming,” Maran said dryly.
“Now, let’s see how our other project is coming.”

They glanced to the other side of the room as a door opened,
and three elves stepped awkwardly into the room. Their movements lacked the
natural grace associated with elves, and they looked strangely nervous. Birch
stared only a moment before he recognized them and barked a laugh.

“Nuse, Perky, you make two of the most ungainly elves I’ve
ever seen,” Birch said. He looked at the third elf, who was a late addition to
their plan. “And Moreen, you’re just as beautiful as ever.”

“That is them under those pointy ears, isn’t it?” Hoil said,
joining Birch in his laughter. “I’ll be damned.”

“Hopefully not,” Birch murmured, his laughter briefly
changing to a sad smile. Hoil glared at him a moment, then turned back to the
disguised humans.

“What are they supposed to accomplish like that?” Hoil
asked. “I hardly think any of your people will take them for real elves,
waddling around like that. Or were you planning on having them sit on a tree
branch somewhere pretending to be decrepit beggars?”

“Decrepit?” Nuse said, feigning an injured tone. “It’s a
good thing you’re twice my size and strength, otherwise I’d thrash you for
that.”

Hoil chuckled.

“That ploy, while popular in human cities, is impossible
here, seeing as we have no beggars,” Maran said lightly.