The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (65 page)

“Welcome, Birch,” Malith said. “The Gray paladin.”

A coward kills more quickly than a brave man, and a brazen man more
slowly.

- “Teachings of the Red Facet” (453 AM)

- 1 -

Malith gestured to the empty chair across from him.

“Please,” he said and gestured toward the wine.

His expression stony, Birch sat in the black metal chair.
His armor clinked slightly as he removed his gauntlet and lifted the nearest
glass to his lips. Never taking his burning eyes from Malith, Birch sipped the
red liquid without pausing or showing any sign of distrust.

“Bravo,” Malith said with a smile on his cruel face. “For a
moment I wondered if you might refuse. Being my enemy and all, you might
suspect poison.”

“You forget, Malith,” Birch replied, setting the glass back
down, “I know you. You’re a vicious, malicious, remorseless bastard, but if
you’re going to kill me, you wouldn’t poison me.”

“And I was afraid you didn’t like me anymore, Birch.” Malith
looked closely at him, then jolted in unfeigned surprise. “Sons of Hell, I
thought that was a trick of the light. What in Sin’s name is wrong with your
eyes?”

“A mark of my tenure with your new master, Malith,” Birch
said, his voice tight. “A man can’t come back from Hell without it leaving some
sort of mark on him. Or his sanity.”

Malith’s lip twitched in a ghost of a smile. Birch noticed
then that Malith was staring him in the eye, something Birch was no longer used
to since his return. People avoided meeting his gaze at all costs, unwilling to
face the images of Hellish torture it conjured in their minds. But Malith
looked at him calmly, giving no indication he experienced anything out of the
ordinary. Perhaps it was because Malith’s own eyes were altered. Birch
remembered his old rival as having dark blue eyes – very similar to Birch’s own
actually – back in the days of their paladin training. Now Malith’s irises were
a fathomless ebony that matched his pupils.

“When this is all over, you’ll have to tell me just how you
escaped,” Malith said. “Mephistopheles was quite upset. You can imagine his
rage when he discovered that one of his precious toys was missing, and then
just a few short years later his most valuable trophy was suddenly gone as
well. Yes, we know Kaelus just escaped, and we know he’s nearby,” Malith said
confidently.

Birch’s eyes tightened, the only visible sign of his
confusion.

“Oh, don’t be surprised,” Malith said, misreading Birch’s
facial expression. “We felt Kaelus’s presence today quite clearly, and I
wouldn’t be surprised if he’s allied himself with you for survival, based on
what Mephistopheles has told me of him. Half the demons in my army were ready
to charge the Barrier with every ounce of their strength if it meant bringing
him back to Mephistopheles. They’re all quite eager to please him and to prove
they had nothing to do with his escape. We know he had inside help, or else
he’d have escaped eons ago, and since no one in Hell is more powerful than
Mephistopheles, it’s only a matter of time before the perpetrator is caught and
obliterated.”

Birch’s thoughts spun frantically, sorting through his own
torturous memories and the half-memories he had from Kaelus’s presence within
him. Was it possible they didn’t know? Was Kaelus’s escape hidden just as
Birch’s had been? Why? And how had it gone undiscovered for so long?

“You’re silent,” Malith said, his black eyes narrowing as he
studied Birch’s preoccupation. “I wonder what could possibly be so engrossing
in that mortal little head of yours.”

“Just wishing I had the leisure to kill you now,” Birch
said.

Malith threw back his head and laughed, a chilling sound
devoid of any humor or joy. He lifted his glass and sipped slowly, appearing to
savor the dry taste of the red wine.

“An excellent vintage, don’t you agree?” Malith asked. “I
was surprised to find it among the supplies of the paladin army that crossed
over. It very nearly went to waste.”

Birch withheld a curse, knowing the Black paladin was only
trying to bait him.

“You know, I couldn’t believe my fortune when I learned it
was you who had escaped from Hell,” Malith said, his voice almost cheerful,
“and I was thrilled to learn of Gerard’s command and to see him leading that
little company of gray monkeys. Only he could have made those denarae beasts
into something like that.”

“He’s dead.”

“I assumed he was,” Malith said with a shrug. “When I run
someone through the heart with my sword, I tend to assume they won’t recover
from it.”

Birch’s fist tightened involuntarily around the wine glass,
shattering it and driving slivers of wine-soaked glass into his palm.

“Was it something I said?” Malith asked with feigned
innocence.

Malith had never before been so deliberately provocative,
nor expressed overt racist opinions, which meant he was deliberately goading
Birch. At the moment, Birch didn’t care. He gripped his sword and half stood,
but Malith only looked at him contemptuously.

“Would you care to test your mettle against me, Birch?”
Malith said, his face alight in cruel anticipation. “You were never in the same
league as Gerard and I, no matter how hard you worked at it. Oh yes, you were a
better paladin all around, I think we all knew, but when it came to the sword,
you were never even second-best. That spot was reserved for Gerard, and you saw
how he met his end. Shall I do the same to you? Or shall I take your head?
Maybe it doesn’t matter. I have my eyes on a bigger prize, and you’re just one
more ordinary mortal, after all.”

“So are you, Malith,” Birch said, his voice as scalding as
his gaze. “One who died a long time ago, you just don’t know it yet.”

Malith laughed. “It would be so easy, you know,” he said,
baiting Birch and ignoring his interruption. “Oh, I’d have to explain to my
master why I didn’t bring you back, like he wants, but he values me enough that
I would escape punishment, and it would be
so
satisfying. Please, Birch.
Do it.”

For a moment, Birch seriously considered it. With Kaelus
inside him, Birch knew he might stand a chance against Malith. But the Black
paladin was right in saying he was much better than Birch, and he couldn’t take
that chance. Given the opportunity, Malith would slay him without a second’s
hesitation. Slowly, Birch released his sword and settled back into his chair.

Malith watched him sit, not bothering to hide his
disappointment that Birch had backed down.

“Pity. Perhaps there is a good reason you no longer wear the
Red,” Malith said spitefully.

“There is a very good reason,” Birch said with a forced calm
he didn’t feel. “Just as there is a good reason you now wear the color you have
chosen.”

Malith was silent.

“What do you want, Malith?” Birch asked, deciding to cut
through the insults and double-talk. He firmly tugged his gauntlet back into
place and flexed his hand into a fist to settle it in place. “You didn’t ask
for me just to insult the memory of my friend, and don’t pretend you’re
offering terms of surrender,” he added as Malith opened his mouth to reply.

“Very well,” Malith replied. “I would offer them as a
formality, but take this as a threat I am more than capable of fulfilling. You
are all standing in my way. Mephistopheles wants something, and I’m going to
get it for him. There is no way you can stop me,” Malith said simply,
shrugging. “I don’t see why you should try. You’ve seen my army. You’ve seen
how ineffective your pitiful numbers are against it, and you of all people know
what the demons can do, now that I have brought them into play.

“There are no terms, there is no other option; you have no
hope of survival,” Malith continued. “Open your gates or I will tear them down.
Let my army through or we will dismantle the Barrier stone by stone if
necessary. Lay down your weapons or lay down your lives.” He shrugged. “Why
bother to struggle against the inevitable?”

Birch regarded him silently.

“And that, Malith, is exactly why you now wear black,” Birch
said. “It is the true reflection of your soul, I see. Is that how they broke
you? Convinced you there was no hope, that you had nothing to hold on to? Did
you cross a line and they told you you’d never be able to go back? Or was the
pain just too much for you to bear?”

Malith glared at him fiercely, then crashed his fist down on
the table, shattering his own glass and knocking the bottle to the ground.

“Was it something I said?” Birch asked mockingly.

“You act like I had a choice, Birch,” Malith growled.

“You could have fought.”

“They would have killed me.”

“Then you could have died,” Birch said grimly.

The two men stared at each other silently across the table.
When Malith showed no signs of responding, Birch decided to ask him something
he might never have the chance to ask anyone else: something he could only ask
of a paladin who had been to Hell.

“When they had you, when they were questioning you,” Birch
began cautiously, “did you ever speak with an invisible presence? A faceless
voice that only came in your blindness?”

Malith’s eyes tightened, no doubt trying to discern what
Birch was after with such a question.

“No,” he replied. “Every torture I endured I faced with open
eyes, every word spoken to me by an enemy whose face was marked for revenge.
Every demon short of a demon lord or prince who so much as touched me has been
repaid a thousand-fold.”

Malith’s first word was a lie, but it was a lie he believed.
After that, Birch stopped listening.

Dividha
was a popular game amongst the trainees
during Birch’s youth, and while Malith was a skilled enough player, he had
lacked the self-control necessary to avoid developing tells for other players
to read. One game in particular sprang into Birch’s memory, the last in a
series of late-night games near the end of their training. Malith had lost
nearly all of his chips chasing bad bets and was desperate to reclaim his funds
– something to do with a girl in Nocka. The size of the pot made him heedless,
and he convinced himself his cards were good enough for a solid win. Each turn
of the cards, each round of betting left him worse off than the last, and at
each twist of the game, he must have told himself again that the hand was his.
On the final bet, he recklessly threw every last coin he had into the pot and
dared his fellows to challenge him. Without a second’s hesitation, Gerard
called his bet and took every last penny for himself. The look on his face was
a complete denial of reality, as if he really couldn’t comprehend that he’d
lost.

The Black paladin had spoken with Satan, Birch was sure of
it. He was just as sure that Malith didn’t remember a second of it, at least
not consciously. No doubt he’d been forced to forget just as Birch had.

A part of him pitied Malith, and in a moment of weakness,
Birch allowed that thought to show through. Malith saw it – and hated him for
it.

The two men locked eyes and glared at each other across the
table, until Birch heard a slurping sound beneath them. Selti was on the floor,
eagerly lapping up the red wine spilled earlier.

Malith’s eyes shifted to the new sound, and he saw the gray
drann. With a movement too fast for Birch to follow, Malith swept his black
sword out of the sheath and swung down at Selti. The table made his attack
awkward, and Selti darted back quickly, but screeched in pain as Malith’s sword
bit into his left wing, cutting through the membrane like paper.

Birch reacted a split second later, his own sword clearing
the sheath with a hissing sound. He burst out of his chair and knocked Malith’s
sword away with his mailed fist in the same motion, then stood protectively
over Selti as the gray dakkan cried and limped behind the Gray paladin.

Malith backed away, his sword held ready as he watched Birch
warily but without any real concern.

“You’re doomed to failure, Birch,” Malith snarled, “and my
master would have his prizes returned to him. For now, either prize will do.
You asked what I wanted here. I remember how you were in training, always a
step ahead in every way and knowing it, enjoying it. I knew when I sent that
messenger that you would be just curious enough and just arrogant enough to
come see me in person, alone.” The Black paladin laughed disdainfully. “You’re
a fool, Birch. I’ll take
you
captive now and ransom you for Kaelus’s
return. If that fails, Mephistopheles will merely take Kaelus back in his own
time, but you will return to your torture cell and face an eternity of pain and
torment.

“Take him!” Malith shouted.

The ground around Birch rumbled for a moment, then rock shards
flew in every direction as drolkuls burst from the ground with demonic roars of
fury. Birch spun and stabbed the nearest demon through the back of the head,
then severed another’s arm. Drolkuls attacked him from all sides, their four
grasping limbs reaching eagerly to catch hold of Birch. He left many of those
claws flopping uselessly on the ground, their demonic owners howling in pain
and fury until their fellows ripped them out of the way to attack Birch
instead.

Selti dodged Birch’s feet as best he could, whimpering in a
pain so great he couldn’t concentrate enough to change shape and help his
paladin fight. Selti watched, helpless, as the press of demons grew
overwhelming and Birch was enclosed on all sides.

- 2 -

Danner slid behind the wheel and sent the buggy’s engine
roaring to life. Marc leapt into the back, and Trebor jumped over Danner’s head
and landed in the front passenger’s seat. Before the other two were settled,
Danner slammed his foot onto the accelerator and they sped from the shed in a squeal
of smoke and fumes. They raced past the guard at the chapterhouse gates, then
Danner whipped the wheel to the side. The buggy tipped up on two wheels as they
turned the sharp corner, and the two airborne wheels came down on the wall of a
narrow alley. The supine body of a drunken human passed under the chassis of
the vehicle, but they were gone before he could focus his bleary eyes on the
vanished buggy.