The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (45 page)

“Where is the rest of the company?” Danner asked.

He had his answer before he’d even finished speaking. The
remainder of his and Trebor’s platoons launched themselves from the tops of the
trees and drifted unseen over the heads of the Merishank forces. Trebor’s
leftovers were wearing the cloaks Danner’s primary group had discarded for the
night. They landed and quickly assaulted the rear of the group. The soldiers
turned to respond, but the denarae had carved deeply into their ranks and
crippled the larger force.

Then Flasch’s platoon arrived and finalized the outcome of
the battle. They appeared from nowhere and were assaulting an unprotected flank
before the Merishank soldiers knew they were there. In just a few minutes, the
battle was all but over. Shadow Company left more than twenty of their number
lying dead on the snowy field, but they had defeated the larger force with
stunning results, and only a very few of the Merishank soldiers survived to
flee back to their camp.

Shadow Company picked up their fallen and pulled back into
the trees to recover and celebrate their victory.

Chapter
23

What lies beyond a goal?

- Violet Paladin Timothy
Weatherstone
,

“Time: Fact or Theory?” (85 AM)

- 1 -

The next morning, Shadow Company filtered through the woods
to the north and settled down to await further orders. Trebor and the paladins
made the rounds, healing a wide range of injuries suffered during the battle.
They buried their dead, and for the first time in more than a century, human
eyes were allowed to observe the denarae burial rites. There was nothing
bizarre or occult about them, but the denarae had been wary of humans for
centuries, and they viewed death and burial as a very private affair. Funerals
were attended only by family and close friends. Danner and the other humans
felt privileged to be included in such a solemn ceremony, which was as much a
celebration of the lives of the deceased as it was a mourning of their deaths.
Friends and comrades commended the fallen, and several were present who had
known one or more of the deceased since childhood, and they told stories to
remember the dead. There were a few tears, and everyone laughed appreciatively
or nodded respectfully as the past stories required.

Afterward, there were games and a celebration, but
absolutely no alcohol. While there was little to be had at any rate, Gerard had
forbidden
any
drinking in case the Merishank soldiers tried another
sortie into the woods. Despite Gerard’s caution, however, the Merishank camp
was in too much disarray from the night’s chaos to do more than look balefully
at the woods from a safe distance. The denarae posted a regular security of
sentries and retired for the night.

Upon waking, they moved further north so the command group
could rendezvous with Birch without leaving their company too far behind. Decisions
had to be made, and they needed the input of the Gray paladin.

As they approached, Danner recognized his uncle from a
distance by the fires burning in his eyes. Perhaps it was only his apprehension
of facing him again, but it seemed the flames burned more intensely than before
Birch had gone on his
jintaal
. He hadn’t noticed it the other night, but
he was almost certain something was different.

Standing next to Birch were Hoil, Moreen, and two other
paladins, a Blue and a Green. Danner strained briefly to remember their names,
then finally remembered them as Nuse
Rojena
and
Perklet
Perkal
. They approached Birch warily, not
knowing what his reaction might be. Or at least Danner and Trebor approached
him warily. Gerard stalked right up to Birch, stood belligerently in front of
him, and stared defiantly as if daring him to retaliate.

“Are we going to fight?” Gerard asked bluntly.

In response, Birch punched him in the jaw, not hard enough
to knock him down, but enough that Gerard staggered back a step and his ears
rang.

“Now we don’t have to,” Birch replied. “Unless you really
want to.”

“I’d win,” Gerard said, rubbing his jaw.

Then they smiled, though both men’s expressions were a bit
strained at first.

“I have several burning questions for you,” Birch said, “but
there’s one I want answered first. Unless my eyes were playing tricks from that
cheap shot you gave me, I saw an angel flying around last night during your
battle with that monstrous dakkan ─ the demon, I presume.”

“Demon it was,” Gerard replied, “and it was my hand that
delivered the killing stroke, thanks to the distraction your nephew provided.
Which leads to your question.”

And there it was. Danner gulped and stared apprehensively at
his father.

“It’s alright, lad,” Gerard said. “No one ever gained a damn
thing by running from the truth.”

“What’s this about?” Hoil asked suspiciously.

“Everyone here can be trusted, Danner, if that’s your
worry,” Birch said, seeing but not understanding the worried look on his
nephew’s face.

Danner nodded. A brief thought was all it took to enable the
glowing wings to appear from his back. Those who hadn’t seen them before took a
step back in shock, and Hoil looked faint. His skin was pale, and he stared at
his son with wild eyes.

“Danner?” Hoil asked.

“It’s still me, dad,” Danner replied, somewhat sorrowfully.
He dekinted his wings and for once was not assailed by the feeling that he was
somehow less of a man than he’d been the moment before. He was too confused by
the jumble of emotions running through him.

“I think we need to have a little talk about mom,” Danner
said.

- 2 -

Their explanation lasted well into the afternoon, and their
discussion lasted through the sun’s slow descent and the gradual conquest of
darkness. Gerard stayed for the first several hours and offered what help he
could, then left with Garnet, Michael, and Trebor to go speak with the
Merishank officers. They took with them an escort of two platoons from Shadow
Company, and they flew a white flag beside the company standard. For those who
stayed behind, there was only one topic of conversation.

Alanna de’Valderat.

Danner’s mother. Hoil’s wife.

An immortal.

“And you had no idea?” Marc asked. He was the only Orange
paladin present and, despite his young age, he’d read an impressive assortment
of texts, particularly those dealing with immortals. Marc read voraciously, and
he’d thought the upcoming crisis was a good enough reason to know all he could
about the immortals, both good and evil. Fortunately, the paladin chapterhouse
in Nocka had the best selection in the world on that particular topic.

The group was sitting around a small fire, on which Moreen
was making a pot of cahve for them to drink. Danner and the others had brought
their own food and supplies, and they ate a light meal as they talked.

“Lad, believe me,” Hoil said, a bit exasperated, “if I’d
known my wife was an honest-to-God angel, I wouldn’t be looking like I’d just
gotten knocked in the chest with a tree!”

Marc nodded, unembarrassed.

“That confirms certain indications that the immortals could
temporarily cast off signs of their immortality, so they appeared just like
us,” Marc said. “Sort of like Danner turning on and off his wings.”

“Ha! I knew that term would stick,” Flasch muttered just loudly
enough for his friends to overhear. Danner glared at him good-naturedly, but
let it pass.

“Damned if that wasn’t the greatest shock I’ve ever seen,”
Hoil muttered. “Always knew you were too good for my line of work, boy. Didn’t
think you were
that
good, though.”

Hoil chuckled weakly at his own joke.

“Please, dad, this hasn’t been easy on me either,” Danner
said. “I think if it hadn’t been for my friends sticking by my side, I never
would have come to grips with what I am. But facing you about it has been my
greatest fear.” Hoil blinked in surprised, then silently shook his head. Danner
breathed deeply. “Just how did you meet mom?”

When Hoil was silent a moment, Birch answered for him.

“He was running from the
deron’dala
,
and they were too close on his heels for him to stop by and shack up with me,
as was his habit,” Birch said. “So instead he ran to the woods nearby and hid…”

“I can tell my own damn story,” Hoil said irritably, shaking
his head to clear whatever thoughts had been monopolizing his attention. “But
thank you.”

Birch nodded, smiling faintly.

“So yes, I ran for the woods and hid out there in a tree
house your uncle and I used to play in when we were younger,” Hoil said. “There
wasn’t much left to it, but there was just enough there for me to hide away
until the
deron’dala
passed beneath me. Seeing no
point in returning to town just then, I settled down to take a nap.”

Hoil paused briefly, and a misty look settled in his eyes as
he stared absently at the fire.

“When I woke up, there she was,” Hoil said softly. “Walking
around on the ground below me as if she was searching for something in the
shrubs. From my first glimpse, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was
absolutely radiant, I tell you. Sparkling blonde hair that gleamed even in the
shadows. That was one thing about her. No matter where she stood, no matter how
little light there was in the room, somehow it always shone on her hair and
made it glow. Bet you didn’t know that, boy.”

Danner swallowed a lump in his throat at the naked emotion
in his father’s voice.

“No, dad,” he said, his voice thick. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, anyway, I stayed up in my tree, at first because I
didn’t want to take my eyes off her, then because I didn’t want to scare her
away, and finally because I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to someone
that beautiful,” Hoil said. “I never had the ease of talking to women that
Birch had. I thought maybe after a while she’d move on, then I could scramble
down the tree and pretend to sort of stumble on her. That way at least I
wouldn’t have to explain why I was hiding up in a tree.

“But she didn’t leave. She just kept searching the area.
Whatever she’d lost, she apparently knew it was nearby, and so finally I
decided I had to go down,” Hoil said. He stopped again, thinking silently. Then
he barked a laugh. “You know, you think I’d remember the first thing I said to
her, but I can’t for the life of me think of it. I swung down, and I remember
she was startled, but she wasn’t afraid. I don’t think she was ever afraid of anything
her whole life,” Hoil said, smiling fondly. “Here I was, a hulking, imposing
stranger swinging down from a tree, and she just looked at me as calm as though
I were a harmless puppy. I offered to help her look for whatever it was, but
she told me that wasn’t necessary and she would be going to Demar.

“Naturally, I didn’t want to let her go
that
easily,
so I offered to escort her and she accepted without a second thought,” Hoil
said, “like she knew she could trust me. She didn’t have a place to stay, so I
gave her the extra room at Birch’s place, and I slept on the floor in his
common room.”

“Yes, rather nice of you to loan out
my
home while I
wasn’t even there,” Birch said with a laugh in his voice.

“You expect me to have taken her to the rat hole I lived in
the first time I met her?” Hoil said in mock indignation. They all laughed, and
it helped to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere that had been building around
Hoil’s emotional telling.

“She stayed the night there,” Hoil continued. “It wasn’t
until the next morning I realized I hadn’t even asked her name. Alanna. I’d
never heard such a lovely name, and it still hurts me to hear it now. San, I
loved that woman.

“She didn’t have a job, but I sort of took her in as a maid,
paid her what I could afford, and gave her food and lodging ─ she didn’t
even mind the run-down place I lived in, but she did a tender job of touching
the place up, that’s for sure. She moved in just as naturally as though she’d
lived there her whole life, and after only a couple weeks, I wondered how I’d
gotten along without her.”

Once more, Hoil stopped and stared fondly into the flames,
reliving memories only he could see and hear in his mind. When the silence
stretched out, Birch cleared his throat, and Hoil snapped back from the past.

“Ahem, well, to make a long story short…”

“Too late,” Flasch said softly. Without Garnet around,
Danner reached over and slapped him upside the head.

Hoil glared at Flasch, who feigned innocence.

“She lived with me for nearly a year before I summoned the
courage to ask her out in a romantic capacity, and two more years before we
were married,” Hoil said, his voice hoarse. “Three years later, you were born,
Danner, and she died almost immediately after the birthing. She held you once,
though. Just once before she was gone. She was with me for such a short time,
but I loved her every moment.

“So many times I tried to tell her what she meant to me, but
I could never find the words. I used to say her name. Just that. Just her name.
I’d put every ounce of feeling I could into that one word. And I’d see by the
sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips that I’d succeeded. Those smiles
didn’t make my day or my week, they made my whole life.”

Hoil looked up at Danner and smiled, and Danner was
surprised to see tears gleaming in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time
his father had cried, much less where Danner might have seen him. Impulsively,
Danner leaned closer and hugged his father. Deft, powerful hands wrapped around
Danner, and father and son embraced in a timeless moment of silence. Finally
Danner leaned back and settled on the ground near his father’s feet.

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