The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (7 page)

The thought of her sitting by the fire at their table…

…a glass of wine in hand… eyes longing… waiting…

…for him…

That had been enough to fuel Birch during his moments of
deepest despair and the torture he’d endured.

Since his return, Birch’s life had been a confused trek of
personal anguish. He’d gone home to see his brother Hoil and ended up leaving with
his nephew Danner in tow and on the run from the Men for Mankind Coalition.
Then Birch had returned to Demar to let Moreen know he still lived, but almost
immediately he’d had to leave to return to the Prism to hear their decision
about his future. On the road he’d been attacked by Sal, and recently he’d
learned the demon had also attacked Demar and nearly raped Moreen. She’d
realized what the demon really was and had followed Birch to Den-Furral to warn
him. Too late, she arrived the morning after he’d slain Sal, and Birch had
immediately asked her to journey with him. Being apart from Moreen was like
missing a piece of his soul, and he could no longer bear the pain of
separation.

Birch turned and walked into the room where he’d fought
Sal. There were no torches, but the room was revealed in stark detail to him.
Anyone else staring into the room would have seen only darkness, lit slightly
by a burning-orange light emanating from Birch’s eyes.

His eyes. Birch had been born with deep, dark-blue eyes.
But where once glinted dark, sapphire edges, there now burned Hellish flames
into which no man could force himself to gaze. Meeting Birch’s eyes directly
showed other men a glimpse of the fury of Hell and the pain and tortures Birch
had endured, and none could withstand his gaze for more than an instant. The
intensity of the flames had increased in recent days, ever since his battle
with the demon, and they now dominated his eyes and were all but impossible to
miss. Birch’s eyes were one of the things that marked him as something more
than just another paladin.

The other visible sign was his cloak. A paladin’s cloak
assumed the color of the Prismatic Facet the paladin most reflected – which of
the six primary virtues he most embodied. Seven colors, including white, but
Birch’s cloak was a dark, steely gray, which was unheard of in the Prism. No
one could explain it, least of all Birch, but he somehow knew it was linked to
the six years missing from his memory. Everything important seemed to be linked
to those years, or so it seemed to him, and it frustrated Birch to no end that
he couldn’t unlock those memories.

Birch stared a moment at the charred outline that was all
that remained of Sal, then he turned away. Stepping to the edge of the
battlements, Birch leapt off and glided slowly to the ground below, using the
blessed power of his cloak to slow his descent. On his way down, he passed over
the site where Wein Drolgis had died.

Wein had been a Violet paladin who had accompanied Birch and
the others on their
jintaal
, and somewhere along the line he’d developed
a personal hatred of Birch. They had since determined that he’d been under the
influence of one of The Three, because Wein had led Birch and Garet
jo’Meerkit
into a trap inside the dwarven citadel. Wein had
tried to kill Birch, but Garet fought him off while Birch stayed to deal with
Sal and a room full of lesser demons. In the explosion of Sal’s death, Wein had
been flung over the side of the battlements where he fell to his death on the
rocks below. Garet had been unable to save him.

Birch landed only a few yards from where Moreen was
standing, and he immediately moved to wrap his arms around her. She returned
his embrace enthusiastically, then she pushed him away and pointed imperiously
at a pile of heavy sacks that hadn’t yet been loaded.

“You promised you’d help load, Birch,” she said with mock
severity. “So load. Where have you been all morning? The tide turns in an hour
and we’re still not finished loading.”

“I was just looking around, love,” he said lightly, and
immediately her face softened. Not that she had actually been upset with him.
“I was up on the battlements.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I saw you. You spend far too
much time up there.”

Birch shrugged. “Being at the scene helps me to think about
what happened, to try and make sense of everything I saw and heard, everything
I felt and did.”

Moreen nodded, knowing better than most the inner turmoil
Birch faced.

“James was looking for you,” she said after a moment. “He’s
on board in the captain’s cabin.
He
hasn’t helped much this morning
either.”

“He’s in charge of the
jintaal
,” Birch said, smiling
slightly. Moreen was even
 
more lovely
when she was mad, even now when she was mostly joking. “He’s got more to worry
about than us peons.”

Birch easily hefted two burly sacks of grain and disappeared
into the ship before Moreen could say anything else. He loved her more than
life itself, and he couldn’t resist teasing her by not letting her get in the
last word. Behind him, Moreen held a scowl as long as she could before she
couldn’t help but smile after the man she loved.

- 2 -

When he had safely stowed the grain, Birch climbed to the
deck and entered the captain’s cabin. There he found James
Tarmin
and the ship’s captain leaning over a battered map. The charismatic Yellow
paladin was thumbing his chin in thought, and the dwarven captain was scowling
up at him at him, obviously irked by whatever they were discussing.

James was about average in height, but years of weapons
training and physical combat had given him an above-average build. He wasn’t as
large or muscular as Birch – who, in turn, was not as large or strong as their
companion Garet – but James was more a mediator and peacemaker than he was a
warrior. He could, however, still handle himself well in a fight.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to sail us around the world,
Captain,” James said reasonably. “The dwarves are relocating, and we’d like to
accompany them for a ways, that’s all. Dwarves are unparalleled masters of the
sea, and I can think of no safer means of continuing our journey than sailing
with you and your people.”

“I know what my people are doing, young paladin,” the dwarf
grumbled, somewhat mollified by James’s sincere flattery, “but this was
supposed to be a quick trip, then I could return to my usual routes of trade.
You’re asking me for a detour of a bloody month or more. It’ll be well into
winter before I can resume regular trade, and that will cost me greatly.”

“Princess
Jerissa
has already
granted you compensation for your time,” James replied, cutting in before the
dwarf could gain momentum with his arguments. “You’ll lose nothing, but gain
the gratitude of your nation.”

Birch listened for a few moments until James had persuaded
their captain, then he cleared his throat to get the Yellow paladin’s
attention.

“Ah, Birch, there you are,” James said with a pleased smile.
“I was just arranging our passage with the good captain here.”

“So I heard.”

“Walk with me. Captain,” James said, inclining his head
before they left the room. James and Birch walked onto the deck to the stern of
the ship and stood staring out toward the sea.

“Vander and I were talking, and we think we’ve come up with
something,” James said after a moment’s silence. “We compared the observations
of the dwarves and came up with a timetable for the attack here, then we
compared that against our own journey.” He shook his head as though in denial
of his own thoughts. “Birch, the Prismatic Council gave us this mission weeks
before any disturbance here on the island. Nothing happened here at the capital
until we were already on a ship heading this direction.”

“So?” Birch asked, not seeing what James was alarmed about.
“Maybe Sal arrived before the dwarves realized it, but still the reports of his
presence made it back to the Council.”

But James was already shaking his head again. “No, we looked
into that, and it doesn’t work out, because of the information Moreen gave us
about the attack on the Dragoenix Inn. We were already on the road when Sal
attacked, and while demons can move damn fast, it just doesn’t make sense for
him to have come here, flown to Demar to destroy the inn, then returned to
Den-Furral to attack the dwarves. The only way the Council could possibly have
known to send us here is if they had advance knowledge of the demon’s presence.
This place was a trap, apparently laid just for you. Combine that with the
mind-controlling abilities of The Three you were telling us about and some of
Wein’s
comments, and it points to some pretty disturbing
possibilities.”

“You think one of them has subverted the Council,” Birch
said flatly.

James nodded.

“It’s not unlikely,” Birch said softly, turning the
possibility about in his head and examining the ramifications, which were many
and none of them pleasant. “But if you’ve come to this conclusion, it begs the
question of why we’re taking such a long route home.”

“Because something’s happening in Merishank that I don’t
like,” James said darkly. “The last ship in brought disturbing rumors of a
buildup of military power, and they’re looking north now, not east. Wherever
their destination, Nocka is directly in their path.”

“Nocka is unassailable by universal acclaim, because of its
unique role and the Barrier,” Birch said, already realizing where James was
going, but he argued anyway, hoping he was wrong. “No army in the world would
dare attack that city, nor harm it through any means.”

“Normally I’d agree with you,” James said, nodding, “but
it’s unlikely The Three are to be found together, else we’d have found more
than just Sal here. Which tells me they’re split up and causing mischief, and
if one is in Nocka influencing the Prismatic Council, that leaves one of them
unaccounted for. They’ve already thrown the dwarven nation into chaos by
destroying the capital, which I imagine was the reason the trap was sprung here
rather than on the road somewhere. Two birds, one stone. Stirring Merishank
would be an ideal diversion and way to cause chaos, especially if they’re doing
what no one would ever expect. We should assume the one on the Council will
hinder the Prism’s involvement in any engagement, so if Merishank attacks
Nocka…”

“No one will stand against them but the city’s defenders,”
Birch finished for him. He shook his head. “It’s circumstantial and sketchy at
best, and I hate to say, but it all makes an unfortunate amount of sense. The
mere possibility that one of The Three is guiding the actions of a nation as
powerful as Merishank is disturbing, but to think of what he might actually do
with that power is downright terrifying. In that case, I’m glad of the route
you chose.”

“Vander’s the one who put it together,” James said, looking
at Birch with unusual intensity.

Birch shrugged. “He’s an Orange. That’s what they’re
supposed to do.”

“There was a lot more to it, Birch,” James said, obviously
trying to get something across to Birch. He wouldn’t belabor something like
this without a purpose. “You really don’t give him much credit.”

“I really don’t know him all that well, James,” Birch said a
bit defensively.

“And whose fault is that?”

It was a simple question, but once more, Birch saw to the
heart of James’s arguments and saw he was right.

“Mine, of course,” Birch said softly. His shoulders squirmed
slightly in a display of discomfort few besides James would have been allowed
to see. “He makes me edgy,” Birch said finally. “There’s something about him I
just don’t like.”

“Tell me,” James said. “I’ll not say a word to him, so
please don’t hold back.”

Birch frowned in thought, trying to pin down what it was
about the Orange paladin that set him on edge.

“He gives off this feeling that everything revolves around
his problems, and he seems almost secretive,” he said finally. “No, that’s not
right. It’s more that he thinks there’s things about him no one will
understand, so he doesn’t bother talking to anyone about them.” He knew Vander
was James’s friend, so Birch quickly added, “It’s nothing he really says, mind
you. It’s just a feeling I get from him.”

James sighed, then laughed softly in a bitter tone.

“Birch, believe me when I say that nobody else in the world
actually likes Vander Wayland. I’m the only person who really does, and I
honestly don’t expect that to change much any time between now and the day he
dies.”

“Why are you the only one who likes him?” Birch asked,
curious and almost offended in a way.

“It’s because I know his secret,” James said seriously, but
with a smile, “and once you know it, your dislike either becomes more intense
or it disappears entirely. If you figure it out, you’ll know what I’m talking
about.”

“So what’s his secret?”

“That’s for you to discover,” James replied. “Don’t bother
asking him, either, because he won’t know what you’re talking about.”

When Birch was silent, James turned to go. He took only two
steps before stopping, then he looked back over his shoulder.

“And terribly fierce as he is, you don’t have to be afraid
to talk to Perky either,” James said jokingly. “He and Garet are friends, but I
sometimes feel he gets a bit lonely, and he looks up to you.”

Birch nodded, smiling at the description of Perky as fierce.
Perky, or Perklet
Perkal
of the Green Facet as he was
properly named, was about as fierce as a baby rabbit, and made about as much
noise as one, too. Birch could probably count the number of times Perky had
spoken to the group on his fingers.

“Alright, I’ll see if I can’t be a bit more social with the
both of them,” Birch said. “I didn’t even realize I excluded them.”