Garnet added, “It’s a question of how much trouble it’s worth to eradicate a single point of defense.”
As the two men continued to pore over the map and discuss strategy, Flasch shifted closer to Danner and leaned over toward him.
“It’s sort of creepy, isn’t it?” Flasch murmured. “It’s like they share a brain.”
“That’s what’s creepy to you?” Danner murmured back. “Our commander and best friend discussing strategy with the soul of a dead man – who we both saw die by the way – trying to defend Heaven itself from an invasion of Hellish demons, and you’re worried about how alike they think?”
“Good point,” Flasch replied. “The demons sort of freak me out, too.”
On the other side of Danner, Trebor and Brican both snorted in amusement as they overheard the conversation through denarae kything.
“Flasch hasn’t changed, has he?” Trebor kythed into Danner’s mind.
“Would you really want him to?” Danner replied, winking at his friend.
“No.” Trebor paused, and his mental voice abruptly lost all humor. “You have, though, Danner. You’ve carried the guilt of my death around for a while now, and I can feel how it’s affected you.”
Danner shook his head slightly, a subconscious motion as he replied mentally.
“Seeing you here has helped a little bit, but that’s not something you shake off in a day, Treb,” Danner thought. “No matter how you look at it, I was responsible. I lost my head and charged in recklessly, and I wasn’t there at your side when I damn well should have been. I may have come to terms with your death, but not with my role in it.”
Trebor had no sensible reply to that.
After a few moments of listening to Gerard and Garnet continue their strategic byplay, Trebor kythed a mental nudge to Danner.
“How’s your immortal heritage doing these days?” he asked, and both men were quietly grateful for the change of topic.
“Stronger than ever,” Danner replied, “and that still sort of scares me. It continues to evolve and grow, and it seems the more I do with it, the more I realize I’m barely scratching the surface of what I might be. When I’m not actively engaged with it, I worry that it’s taking over my humanity.”
“And when you are engaged?” Trebor asked when Danner didn’t continue. “When your wings are asolved?”
Danner’s sigh was echoed in his thoughts.
“It’s like I’m bathing in pure power, and everything else sort of disappears,” Danner said. “I know the others have been worried about my being addicted to it, but I don’t think it’s that. I don’t feel the need to embrace the power when I’m normal, but the second I asolve my wings, when I’m filled with all that strength, it’s almost impossible to think like anything else – it becomes part of my thoughts, my body, my actions. It’s all I can do sometimes not to push through a wall or tear down a building just because I can.”
“What does Alicia think about it?” Trebor asked. “I heard she was pregnant, by the way. Congratulations, I think.”
“Thanks,” Danner replied dryly. “I don’t think she really understands this problem. I don’t think anybody does fully, except maybe my uncle. It’s not the sort of thing anyone can truly understand unless they’ve gone through it, and so far there’s just the two of us. You know it’s funny, he and I have never really talked about it to compare our experiences.”
“Should I bother to ask why?”
Danner snorted. “Well, I can only guess it’s because of how damn busy we’ve both been since the war in Lokka ended. We’ve all been working our asses off trying to rebuild and retrain Shadow Company, and Birch has been neck-deep in meetings trying to react to the war we finished and prepare for the one we’re entering now. He’s even been trying to record his journey into Hell.”
“Busy people,” Brican interjected into the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, you two, but you might want to pay attention now.”
“…and that’s where you come in,” Gerard was saying to Garnet. “Shadow Company is specially trained and more capable than any others here for this sort of thing. I’ll be counting on you to work with the angels and to help develop tactics to use for a new style of warfare.”
Garnet nodded.
“Mikal,” Gerard continued, “how capable is Uriel at command?” he asked, ignoring Uriel’s presence only a few yards away. The violet-winged Seraph arched an eyebrow in amusement.
“His Archangels have been the most successful force in Heaven since the invention of war,” Mikal said in a heavy tone. “During the Great Schism he was the best field commander we had.”
“Good,” Gerard said with a decisive nod. “Uriel, I want you to work with Shadow Company. Work on tactics with Garnet. Adapt his methods for use by angels, and work with him to put your experience and his battle ingenuity to good use. I don’t expect you’ll be working long with each other in the grand scheme, so do what you can as fast as you can.”
“Yes, sir,” Uriel said with no trace of mockery in his voice despite a gleam in his eye.
“You boys,” Gerard said, turning to Danner and the other Shadow Company officers, “get to your platoons and get them moving.” Unnoticed behind Gerard, Garnet tensed slightly but remained silent and unmoving as Gerard continued. “I want you on your way to the front lines an hour after first wake tomorrow.”
They all looked at Garnet, who returned their gaze with a flat stare.
“Well?” Gerard demanded when they made no reply.
“Yes, sir,” they said and immediately filed out of the tent. Trebor left with them.
Chapter 22
An important rule of command, from the book of Gerard: As a leader, you have a responsibility to your men that is at least as great as theirs to you. When a soldier approaches you with a question or a problem, don’t dismiss him out of hand, or soon enough he’ll do the same to you.
- Garnet jo’Garet,
“The Warrior Mythos” (1030 AM)
- 1 -
Garnet watched the platoon maneuvers with a sharp eye, noting footwork, combat carriage, unit integrity… everything. Everything had to be perfect. He saw a denarae break formation for a brief moment and he snapped a thought that made the demi-human jump back into place a second before they crossed the imaginary line Garnet had drawn in the ground.
Uriel and a few of his Archangels hovered overhead observing. Half of the Seraph’s elite unit was still under Camael at another location, but Uriel had recalled these for cross-training with Shadow Company.
“Call the halt,” Garnet commanded mentally. The order was relayed at the speed of thought, and within two steps the two platoons weaving around each other snapped to a halt. A second later, they broke ranks and relaxed for the first time in hours. Garnet watched the scene with taut shoulders and was thinking furiously about just how long a break he could afford to give them before throwing them back into the drill.
“Garnet, can we talk?” Brican kythed to him.
“How important is it?” Garnet asked.
“Enough.”
Garnet weighed his desire to move on with training against his own weariness. In the two weeks since they’d left Medina – and Garnet had to remind himself that only a week had passed at home – he had grown increasingly exhausted no matter how much sleep he got. He thought perhaps he could sympathize with how Danner had been feeling in the days before Mikal’s appearance in their midst. Fortunately for him, Danner seemed to be sleeping just fine now. Garnet envied him.
Weariness temporarily won out over determination, and he was on the verge of calling the platoons to rest when he heard a scuffing sound behind him. Garnet turned and saw Siran standing quietly. The fact that Siran had made a noise at all told Garnet the scuffing sound had been deliberate to let him know the elf was there. Siran wore his typical, loose-fitting, black attire, and carried his ever-present halven in his right hand.
“Can it wait a minute, Brican?” Garnet asked, looking back
at his platoons and seeking out the denarae platoon leader in particular with his eyes. “Siran’s here.”
“It can wait for the moment.”
“Good.” Garnet sighed. “Go ahead and stand-down the platoons. We’re done for now. Get some food.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garnet turned back to Siran.
“Yes?” he asked wearily. “What’s on your mind, El’Siran?”
“I would speak with you of command,” the elven commander replied in his typically formal and quiet voice.
Garnet motioned for the elf to approach closer. Siran took three steps forward and stopped exactly two arms’ distance away, the traditional position of personal respect without intimacy among elves. For all that Garnet towered over the much shorter demi-human, Siran carried himself with such a quiet strength that Garnet felt he was looking at the elf at an equal height.
“We make good time,” Siran said, staring off into the distance toward their unseen destination.
Garnet nodded. “Mikal says he’s speeding our journey along many times faster than it seems and using his power to move us about through Heaven. Without him, it could literally take forever to get anywhere in the immortal plane.”
Siran turned to look back at Garnet.
“When my young king ordered me to lead a force of his Elan’Vital to aid the paladins and cross the Binding,” Siran said, his unwavering gaze locked on Garnet’s eyes, “I followed his orders without question. He is my king, and he directs me where to take his soldiers and whom we must fight.”
Garnet nodded, unsure where the elf was going with this line of thought.
“During the Barrier War, he commanded, I led and I fought. It is my place as a warrior.”
Garnet noticed the elf’s slight emphasis on that final word. They had talked many times on their journey to the Binding, and Garnet was coming to understand that in elven society, the term “warrior” meant something more than just a man with a sword in his hand. It was an ideal, a way of life that dealt with death. Slowly, Garnet had begun to appreciate this point of view and to realize just how closely it already fit with how he saw his role in life.
Siran blinked, slowly and deliberately.
“During the war, I observed your Gerard Morningham and his command over his company,” Siran went on, apparently oblivious to a new tension in Garnet’s shoulders. “I had never seen a finer commander of any race, and few warriors to equal his prowess. You are most fortunate to have whet your blade under his command and had the chance to learn so much from him.”
Garnet nodded. “So I’ve always felt. My father taught me how to handle a blade better than most men, but Gerard taught me how to fight. He forged me just as he forged our company.”
“Yes, his company,” Siran said. “Shadow Company, composed exclusively of denarae, save for its officer corps. The first unit of such cooperation in recorded history. Quite an accomplishment. The accolades and honors of the company were unheard of, their skills unmatched.”
Garnet looked away from Siran and focused on the nearest platoon of denarae. His men were relaxing and passing around provisions, talking in low voices about things only a warrior could know in ways only a warrior could appreciate. Without hearing their words, Garnet could hear their conversations like he was standing there amongst them.
I know them so well! He thought fervently to himself.
Aloud, he said, “We were unmatched during the Barrier War. Now we have a new war, and I think we’ll continue to be unmatched. We’ve rebuilt our numbers, and I’ve trained them well. My company is ready for anything, even learning new skills to take on the unexpected. We may all die of this accursed war, and if that’s our fate so be it, but I’ll be damned if it’s going to be from any weakness. ”
“And that is why we follow you,” Siran said softly. Garnet whipped his head back to stare in surprise at the elven commander.
“You have surpassed your mentor with the blade, and you have trained your company well,” Siran said. “You are a commander worth following, and thus from you, others will take their lead, no matter their race, strength, or hierarchy. Where you lead, we follow. Where you stand, we stand. Where you yield,” and here Siran paused and turned to look at the same platoon Garnet had observed only a moment before, “we yield.”
Siran turned back to regard Garnet with piercing, crystal-blue eyes. For a long moment, human and elf remained silent as they probed the depths of the other’s eyes, each trying to read the man and mind contained within. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Siran nodded respectfully and left without saying another word.
Garnet pored over the conversation carefully, searching out his reactions and trying to discern the extent of the elf’s message to him. An hour passed without his noticing. It wasn’t until Brican brought him a roll and a flask of water that Garnet realized he was still standing in the same place, staring at nothing in particular.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the rations. “Sorry, just woolgathering, I suppose.”
Brican grinned. “How honest. A lesser man might have said he was strategizing or contemplating the meaning of life.”
Garnet snorted. “That one’s easy. According to Trames, the meaning of life is living.”
“How nice,” Brican said. “That’s one down. Now if we can just get the old man to tell us how to win this war, we’ll be in good shape.”
Garnet allowed himself a brief laugh and took comfort in the momentary release. He rolled his neck to ease some of the tightness in his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his attention to Brican, “you wanted to talk with me about something important. I’m all ears.”
Brican glanced toward the elven encampment and smiled faintly.
“Actually, I think it sort of worked itself out in the meantime,” he said. He looked at Garnet. “We’re all rested and fed. We augmented our water supply with some of the water from yonder Philion River, which seems to work okay, so we’re in good shape. Your company is ready to move out anytime, sir.”
Your company, Garnet thought. My company.
“Get us underway,” Garnet ordered. “Continue to follow the Philion, now that we’ve come to it.” Brican turned to go, but sensed Garnet had something else to say. He looked back over his shoulder at Garnet. Garnet was staring at the cloudy sky watching a single-file column of angels fly overhead. The angels wove in complex formations and doubled back repeatedly on themselves, but they never broke the single-file, ordered precision of their flight.
“Ask Uriel to meet me on the banks of the Philion while we march,” Garnet said. He smiled as he looked down and stared at the distant river. “Birch and Kaelus, too. I want to try something.”
- 2 -
Three days later, Shadow Company came within sight of their destination. The sky slowly darkened on the horizon until, within an hour, the distant clouds were black and thunderous. Behind them stretched an eternity of milky white placidity, while before them stretched an equally infinite sky of sunless night, and above them churned a roiling, rainless storm front. Lightning flashed with such regularity that there was always at least one powerful bolt visible somewhere in the sky.
“Hazardous flying,” Brican remarked dryly as he rode beside Danner in his buggy.
“Not that you’ll have to worry about that,” Danner said, keeping a nervous eye on the storm overhead. “It’s my boys that’ll be up in it, when the time comes.”
He glanced about, struck by a sudden thought.
“Has anyone seen my dad lately?” Danner asked.
“I passed him on my way to the buggy a few hours ago,” Marc said.
“What was he doing?”
“Looking for someone, I think,” Marc replied. He shrugged. “He was asking questions of some of the angels, I think. I really didn’t pay it that much mind, I just overheard him in passing.”
Danner frowned, then shook his head and focused on his driving.
Danner kept the engine
running at a low speed – the entire expedition had slowed at the sight of the lightning battle overhead, and Danner had already nearly run over a slow-moving dakkan’s tail. Since then, he kept it on the slow side, despite his well-known penchant for speed and stunts.
A pair of dakkans trotted past; the paladins riding them waved a quick salute to their brethren in the buggy, then hurried on. Behind them, Marc and Flasch rode in the back of the buggy muttering to themselves.
“What’s that back there?” Danner asked when he heard his name.
“Marc says you’re driving like an old, blind woman,” Trebor said.
“Sorry, Marc, but when I drive faster, Trebor starts squealing like a little girl,” Danner called back over his shoulder.
“Funny,” Trebor said, faking a glower. “Very funny.”
Ahead of them, Garnet leapt from the back of a low-flying dakkan and glided down to the cloudy ground. Danner pulled up next to their friend and looked up expectantly.
“We’ve got about a half-hour until we reach the rear guard,” Garnet said. “They look pretty beat up, and Gerard and I agree they won’t last much longer. The paladins will take point, and I want Shadow Company on the left flank. Siran and his elves will cover the right.”
“Formation?” Flasch asked as he stood and leapt out of the buggy.
“Variable pattern Dakkan,” Garnet replied. “Brican, relay that to the other commanders, I want Red and Yellow out holding our front, but if things turn sour I’ll need Orange in reserve to hold the line while we regroup. Flasch, be ready for anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Trebor, you remember how to drive this thing?” Danner asked as he idled the engine and climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Good. Take the wheel.”
“Treb,” Garnet said, “I want you with Gerard. You’re my relay man from the command tent. Keep me posted on everything that’s going on, not just orders for Shadow Company.”
“I’m on it,” Trebor said. He threw a quick wave at Danner and the others, then revved the engine and sped off toward where Gerard and Mikal would be.
Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) Page 30
