The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (36 page)

Hoil was deep into his sixth tankard when Birch arrived, and
whatever he was drinking reeked of alcohol. Birch sighed and ordered a less
robust drink for himself. The common room of the inn was deserted because of
the late hour ─ the sun would rise in only a few more hours ─ and
only a barkeeper and one maid were on duty. The girl could charitably be
described as plain-faced, which was probably why she was assigned such a dead
time of night to work, so Birch was sure to give her an extra tip when she
served him. She blushed at the gesture of kindness and bobbed a courtesy, then
hurried away.

“That was awfully nice of you,” Hoil said, his drunken voice
almost sneering. Birch frowned as he looked at his brother, judging just how
far gone he was into his drink. From the looks of it, Hoil should have stopped
after his fourth tankard. By the sixth, he was beyond tipsy and well into being
drunk, and like so many people, Hoil was not a pleasant person to be around
when he was in his cups.

“She looks like she could use a break,” Birch said with a
shrug.

“With a face like that, you bet she could,” Hoil said, then
chuckled at his own feeble joke. He lifted his tankard to his lips and frowned
as only a slow trickle poured into his mouth.

“Girl, bring me another drink,” he shouted. “Man can’t
celebrate his only son’s birthing day sober.”

Birch’s eyes tightened involuntarily as he regarded his
brother. He’d forgotten the date. Ignoring the “logic” of Hoil’s statement,
Birch knew it wasn’t Danner’s birth his brother was drinking to.

 “I think you’ve had enough, brother,” Birch said,
waving the girl away before she could comply with Hoil’s request.

“Damn you, Birch, I know my limits,” Hoil shouted, his voice
needlessly and abnormally loud in the empty room. “You’ve no right to mother
me, you sanctimonious
prat
.”

“You’re my brother, Hoil,” Birch said calmly. “That gives me
every right to look after your welfare.”

“I’ll be damned to Hell before I let you baby me,” Hoil
roared, thumping the table.

Birch glared at him in silence for a long moment. “First, I
am not babying you, but I would if you needed it,” Birch said, now growing
irritated. “And second, I’d be careful about where you damn yourself, lest it
come true.”

“That’s it!” Hoil shouted, taking Birch by surprise. “I’ve
had it with you!”

Before Birch could react, Hoil reached across the table and
slugged him in the jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. The sudden,
unprovoked violence of Hoil’s attack caught him off-guard, but he bounded back
to his feet quickly and glared angrily at his brother.

“What are you…” Birch said, then was cut off as Hoil tackled
him to the ground. Wood splintered as they mowed down the chair Birch had been
sitting in, and they crashed into a nearby table. Hoil deliberately pushed down
on Birch’s shoulders as they hit, cracking his head into the hardwood floor.

“You and your high and mighty, holy ways,” Hoil growled,
trying to pin Birch’s hands so he could thump him again. Birch tried to evade
his brother’s drunken grasp, but his head was spinning from the blow Hoil had
given him, and there were two images of his brother side-by-side in front of
him, with four waving and grasping hands.

“Always acting like you’re better, just because you lead a
more
pure
life,” Hoil said, spitting out the word like a curse. Birch
succeeded in pushing Hoil away, then backhanded his face and sent Hoil rolling
away. Birch stumbled to his knees, but Hoil recovered with surprising quickness
and charged into him. They fell to the ground again, but Birch rolled free
easily this time as Hoil staggered dizzily to his feet.

“We chose our paths, Hoil,” Birch said. He was more prepared
now, and when Hoil swung again, Birch turned the blow aside and punched his
brother in the belly. Hoil doubled over in front of Birch, gasping for breath.
“No one ever said I had to approve of yours, nor you of mine. But for what it’s
worth, I’m strangely proud…”

Hoil erupted up from his crouch with an uppercut that sent
Birch flying back into a table, which collapsed under the impact. Hoil had
barely heard a word Birch had said, concentrating instead on gaining his
breath. Now he stumbled closer and stood over the prone paladin.

“Yes, we chose our paths, you self-righteous jackass,” Hoil
growled as he swayed slightly on his feet, “and look where yours took you. You
gave up your life, your family, and everything you ever loved, including
Moreen, to follow some God-damned quest that left you wandering and captive in
Hell for
twenty years!
Was it worth it? Was it worth leaving Moreen, the
love of your life, behind? Has it been worth leaving her home again and again
while you go gallivanting off on some holy quest or another?

“You’re so bloody selfish, always doing your duty for other
people only because it’s what
you
want to do. Did you ever once stop to
consider her? Did you think to tell
me
, your only remaining family, when
you left for that accursed pilgrimage of yours into Hell? I had to tell my son
that his uncle, whom he’d barely even met, had gone and got himself killed on
some random quest. Your own bloody Prism wouldn’t even tell me where you’d
gone.”

Hoil paused as Birch staggered groggily to his knees.

“So was it worth it,
big brother
?” he sneered
drunkenly. “Have you sacrificed enough or will it never end until you end up
spitted on some demon’s claws?”

“Yes, it was worth it!” Birch screamed, his iron-like grip
on his will faltering under Hoil’s brutal verbal onslaught. “Is that what you
want to hear?” He rushed forward and swung double-fisted at Hoil, knocking his
brother back. “If I could go back, I would still join the Prism, and I would
still serve God as a paladin. It’s what I am. It’s
who
I am, Hoil. Sure,
if I could go back, I would find a way to make time for Moreen, to give her the
love she deserved or stay out of her life entirely. But I can’t go back, damn
it! I have to live with the choices I made, and I have to believe they’re worth
the price I’ve paid.

“I was going to leave the Prism and go back to her,” Birch
said desperately, and unshed tears brimmed around his eyes, burning his flesh
with fiery agony that went unnoticed. “I was going to be everything I should
have been long before, but the demons crossed, and I had one last duty to
fulfill.”

“There’s always something, isn’t there?” Hoil grumbled.
Birch’s face screwed up angrily, and he punched Hoil in the head, knocking him
down.

“Bastard!”

“Me?
I’m
a bastard?” Hoil roared, rolling away and
getting to his hands and knees. He kicked out and swept Birch’s legs from under
him, forcing the paladin to join him on the floor yet again. “That may well be,
but you’re the one who’s been so blinded by his bloody holy quests and need to
feel
fulfilled
that you can’t see it’s stolen your soul. Do you think
you’re the only accursed paladin in the world? Others can handle this. The
world will not collapse if you fail to go on this one journey.”

“But what if it does?” Birch yelled, falling back as he
tried to rise. He managed to get to his hands and knees, and the two brothers
faced each other like two animals. Both were cut and bruised from their fight
with blood streaming down their faces.

“Damn it, Hoil, I’ve
been
there! I’ve
been
to
Hell, and I was ripped apart and made to put myself back together so many times
I can’t even remember!” Birch was shouting now. “They laughed when I couldn’t
muster the strength to repair the damage they inflicted on me daily. They cut
my eyes and shattered my legs, then left me to hang in a silence that nearly
drove me mad.”

“And yet you, the perfect paladin, withstood it all and
remained firm to return home,” Hoil said snidely.

“They broke me!” Birch howled, clenching his fists around a
piece of wood until it shattered. Wisps of smoke curled up from the splintered
pieces, which were blackened as though they’d survived a fire. “After six
years, I couldn’t take any more. I healed myself each day because I didn’t know
what else to do. A stronger man would have born the pain rather than give his
tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, but I played into their hands
each day because I couldn’t stand the pain. I gave them a weapon against me by
acknowledging they hurt me. And by the end, I was ready to just let it all go.
Six years of suffering collapsed on me in a day, and I was willing to accept
any release, even death, if I could have found a way. They succeeded, Hoil,”
Birch whispered harshly. “They broke me.”

Hoil was silent a moment as his brother wept.

“So, my brother is more than just a paladin after all,” Hoil
said soberly. “He’s a human being.”

“Yes, I’m human, damn it,” Birch said, finally looking up,
“and I can’t let anyone else face that same torment I endured. That’s why I’m
fighting this, no matter how much I want only to go live alone with Moreen for
the rest of my life. I have to see the job done, and I have to be a part of it,
because if I leave it to someone else and they fail, I’ll be faced with the
knowledge that I could have done something and perhaps made a difference. If we
fail, Hell will come to this world and everything I love, including Moreen, including
you and Danner, my family, will be consumed by the flames of fury and torment.
I will not let that happen, not while I still draw breath,” Birch swore as his
eyes flashed painfully bright.

“So that’s it. That’s what’s made you so damn insufferable since
you returned.” Hoil finally understood his brother and the man he had become
since his ordeal.

“Yes,” Birch said, then collapsed to one side in exhaustion,
too worn out to even keep himself upright. A thick swirl of spittle and blood
pooled in his mouth, and he spit it out violently onto the floor.

“Then you’re a fool, Birch,” Hoil said. “They didn’t break
you.” He paused. “You once told me the exact number of days you were held
captive. Why did you bother keeping track?”

“I don’t know,” Birch said. “It gave me something to think
about.”

“Bah,” Hoil said, waving Birch’s statement aside. “You know
exactly why. When your days and nights blend into one endless blur of torment
and despair, it takes a special spirit and force of will to keep track of time
in the face of that kind of misery. Believe me, I know, and… and you’re a
stronger man than I.” Hoil stared at Birch intensely. “I moped for a month
after my Alanna died, wracked by grief and guilt, but when it was over I
couldn’t have told you whether I’d been lost in my pain for a week or a year.
You endured six years of torment and counted every single last day. They didn’t
break you, Birch. You did what you needed to survive.”

Birch was silent.

“And now you’ve been scarred but strengthened so much by the
ordeal, you want to protect others from it, because you know deep down that so
few other people – wings and demons, maybe nobody else – could have withstood
what you did.”

“If I could stop anyone else from going to Hell,” Birch
began, his voice quiet, “if I could find a way to free those already trapped
and tormented, I would sacrifice everything I am to do so. It’s more than I can
bear to think of you or Moreen or anyone I know and love going there and
enduring even a piece of my memories.” He looked sadly at Hoil. “All my life
I’ve tried to live as God wills me, and according to everything I believe, my
own brother is destined to reside in Hell when he dies. I’ve only ever wanted
the best for you, Hoil, and it pains me to know my failure to change your life’s
course could result in eternal torment.”

“But we all live according to our own choices,” Hoil said
softly. “You can’t change anyone’s nature, Birch. If my life and my decisions
lead me to Hell, that’s the payment I receive for my choices. No one made me
steal, or lie, or cheat, or bribe, or any of the other questionable things I’ve
done in my life. I’ve known they were illegal from the crib, but that’s where I
felt my life was going. And look, I was blessed with a wonderful woman and a
son who outdoes his old man on any given day and twice on Sabbatha. He’s a
better man, especially by your standards, than I have ever been, and I’m proud
of him. But had I not been a thief and been running from the authorities, I
never would have met Alanna in the woods. How’s that for you?”

“I know, Hoil,” Birch said wearily. “But you’re my brother,
and I love you, and if there was even the tiniest thing I could do to ensure
you don’t face Hell, I would do it in an instant.”

“I know,” Hoil said, then he smiled through his cut and
bleeding lip. “How’s this: if I survive whatever Hellish holocaust you’re
expecting, I’ll turn over a new leaf and find some legal way to live my life.
Maybe enough legality will offset what I’ve already done.”

“It’s not the legality, it’s the morality,” Birch said,
laughing slightly even though it hurt. “What’s legal is not always right…”

“And what’s right is not always legal,” Hoil said, joining
in his brother’s laughter. He grimaced slightly and absently probed his ribs
where Birch had hit him. “How long ago did I tell you that?”

“You were ten,” Birch said, “and you were trying to justify
having stolen a pound of beef to feed us during the winter.”

“I remember. And you, of course, went back and left a few
anonymous coins by the man’s back door,” Hoil said with a smile.

“How did you know?”

Hoil had the grace to blush. Or perhaps his face was just
flushed from the alcohol still in his system.

“I followed you and took it back,” Hoil admitted, then added
defensively, “but that’s the money I used to buy you your first bowkur.”

“The one made of birch wood, from which I took my name,”
Birch said thoughtfully. “The one I used to save your life.”