Hunting The Three (The Barrier War)

by Moses, Brian J.

  Birch flipped the faerer card face-down and laid four on the table, and Danner cracked an eyebrow when he saw that Birch had the fours of Hell, Men, and Beasts. His other two cards, the drann and the thief, were set face-up and off to the side atop the discarded faerer.

  “Three fours,” Birch said needlessly. Not a strong hand, but not altogether a bad one either. If Danner hadn’t received a wild card, he would only have two pair, and Birch’s hand would have beaten his.

  But Danner played his hand, sure in the knowledge that he’d won. He flipped the Sal card face down and played the remaining five cards, with the God card on top; then the Aces (Men over Beasts), then the Jacks (Heaven over Men). Under one optional rule, the formation of cards was important when playing, and Danner had seen too many men lose a game they had in the bag just because they’d mislaid their cards. He’d cultivated the habit of laying his hand down following the Rule of Order, even when not playing by that variant.

  “Full house, Aces over Jacks, God’s up,” Danner said triumphantly. He saw surprise register on Birch’s face, and he felt a surge of satisfaction. Birch nodded, impressed, and handed his tablet to his nephew.

  Danner saw only two pebbles marked in the paladin’s lose column, and only the two in Danner’s own lose column, so he gave four pebbles from the bowl to his uncle. The rest went to Danner.

  “I think that just about wraps us up for the night,” Birch said. “I’d have a time of it trying to win all that back from you with only a handful of rocks to my name. Good play.”

  Danner flushed slightly under the praise.

  “And you, uncle,” he said. “I mostly blame luck. There were times there when I thought you could play against the devil himself and win.”

  Danner meant it to be a joke, but Birch’s face hardened to stone and his eyes flared open. For a moment, Danner thought he was the focus of the paladin’s intensity, and he moved slowly out of his uncle’s view. But Birch remained staring at empty space.

  “No, Danner,” Birch said softly after a moment. “Satan is all but impossible to beat at Dividha.”

  Danner stared in shock at his uncle.

  “You mean you… Satan… you played… you… Dividha…” he stammered.

  Birch turned and looked at him, then abruptly barked a sharp laugh. His face softened as he smiled.

  “You should see your face, Danner,” Birch laughed. “You shouldn’t be as gullible as that, nephew.” Birch’s laughter echoed off the nearby boulders.

  Danner flushed in embarrassment, but he was soon laughing along with his uncle. Birch clapped him in the shoulder and led him back closer to the fire.

  “Great joke, uncle,” Danner said with only a touch of sour sarcasm in his voice at being its butt. He walked around the fire to his chosen rock, and so he didn’t see Birch’s smile dissolve, and his voice was too soft for Danner to hear.

  As half-remembered nightmares that were all too real flashed through his mind, Birch whispered with a grim certainty, “Not all games are played with cards, lad.”

  Chapter 10

  Piety: Proper devotion to God. Between atheism and fanaticism lies the path of the Violet Facet.

  - “An Examination of Prismatic Virtue” (801 AM)

  - 1 -

  “What’s the plan, uncle?” Danner asked, leaning forward to cut more meat. Maran had caught a bird of some sort, which was now roasting slowly over their modest campfire. To Danner, it seemed impossible that something so small and scrawny could generate so much of such a delicious smell. He’d had no idea Maran was such a good cook, especially out away from civilization. The few times he’d been camping with the elf, they had subsisted on simple rations and foraged for edible plants.

  A few yards away, the one-eared elf was busy cleaning and preparing another bird.

  “Plan?”

  “Yeah, where are we going?” Danner asked, shrugging. “Might be nice to know.”

  “The plan,” Maran said, breaking in, “is to get as far away from Marash as we can, as quickly as possible. The rest is just incidentals.”

  Danner rolled his eyes, making sure Maran didn’t see the expression.

  “Alright, then, what are the incidentals?”

  Birch smiled and gave the elf a wry look. Then he shrugged, as if to comment on the strangeness of elves.

  “The incidentals,” Birch said pointedly, “are that we first head to Demar so I can let someone know I’m still alive, then in a day or so we’ll head south to Nocka by way of Lokana. I can’t imagine we left the city without someone noting our departure, so anywhere and everywhere in between, the incidentals involve avoiding Coalition members, eating and sleeping as necessary, and staying alive whenever possible. Questions?”

  Danner grinned at his uncle’s dry humor, but the expression soon faded.

  “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, uncle. And you, Maran,” Danner said morosely. “I’m glad my father sent you along.”

  Birch opened his mouth to reply, but stopped at Maran’s voice.

  “I do this not just for your father, friend though he is,” the soft-spoken elf said. “You are not just a to’vala, Danner, you are my to’vala. In some ways…” Maran trailed off, then shook his head.

  “Yes, my to’vala,” he repeated, then resumed preparing the food. Maran had trained him and taught Danner most of what he knew about being a thief, fighting, and getting by in the world, but he realized he still knew next to nothing about his father’s right-hand man.

  “I, too, do this for your sake, nephew,” Birch said after a moment of silence.

  Danner jerked his attention away from his curious study of the elf and looked expectantly at his uncle.

  “Next to Hoil, you are the only living blood I have.” Birch was silent a moment, as though considering. “Family is important to almost everyone, but to your father and I more than most. Growing up we lost our parents very early, and our half-sister not long after.”

  “I have an aunt?” Danner interrupted, stunned. His father had never mentioned a sister.

  “Had an aunt, yes, and don’t interrupt,” Birch said, mildly reproving. The understanding smile on his face took away any sting the reproach might have held. “Seriliya was her name, and she was only an infant when she died. Knowing your father, I’m not surprised he never mentioned her.

  “But as I was saying, with our parents gone, Hoil and I had only each other to rely on. We kept ourselves fed in our own ways, your father’s methods more clandestine than my own,” Birch said, shaking his head fondly. “I bought a small boat and ran a modest ferry service across the nearby lake. Even then Hoil and I were choosing different ways of life and growing apart, but through it all, we knew the other would always be there in a time of need. Your father helped me on more than one occasion with people jealous of my success, and I can scarcely count the nights he spent stretched out on a spare cot in my shack hiding from his own enemies.”

  Birch looked up and fixed Danner with a stare. His fiery gaze did not lock directly with Danner’s eyes, but rather he seemed focused on Danner’s forehead.

  “We had only each other, and we learned the value of a family bond, Danner. So when you find me here at your side, know that it’s but the least of anything I will do for you as my nephew. My family.”

  Danner’s throat was tight as his uncle fell silent, and he found himself unable to answer. Instead, he swallowed a lump and contented himself with a nod of acceptance. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he had words to do justice to the unwavering support his uncle had just expressed. It wasn’t even just what he’d said, it was the intensity Danner felt in the way Birch spoke. He could feel the depth of meaning and the import only hinted at by his uncle’s words.

  The silence was at last broken as Maran stood to place the last bird over the fire.

  “Ten minutes until it’s ready,” Maran said. For all the expression the elf showed, he might never have heard the paladin’s words.

  Danner looked back at his un
cle. The paladin smiled in the elf’s direction and winked at Danner, who knew that no words would ever be necessary.

  - 2 -

  Danner walked to his bedding, his body craving sleep. Maran was awake and had relieved him of the watch a few minutes before and, after taking care of his body’s needs, Danner was looking forward to a night of slumber. He glanced around the camp one last time and was unsurprised to find he couldn’t find Maran. The elf had melded with the night and would be impossible to find, even for Danner’s keen eyes.

  He unrolled the blankets Maran had brought for him, making sure he kept most of them underneath him. To do otherwise was to invite cramps – or worse – the next morning. Danner did not fondly remember his first night out in the open with Maran, when he hadn’t listened to the elf’s advice. With only one blanket beneath him to keep away leaves, the ground had greedily sucked away Danner’s body heat, leaving him sore to the point of near immobility the next morning.

  Maran had looked on knowingly, but said nothing.

  Danner settled himself in his blankets, shifting awkwardly until he removed a fist-sized rock from beneath his shoulders. He lobbed the stone into the distance and heard the alarmed whinny of horses. Grimacing, he pushed himself up onto his elbows to be sure he hadn’t hit any of their steeds.

  The horses were not in the direction of the rock, though, and Danner breathed a silent sigh of relief. Both were still tethered to a stake in the ground, chewing contentedly from their feedbags. Danner settled back to the ground, then sat bolt upright in shock.

  “Two…” he murmured, glancing about their camp in concern. He distinctly remembered having tethered three horses, one for each of them. Maran rode a beautiful black mare and Birch had ridden a dark gray stallion. Danner had been slung over the back of a dun-colored gelding. When they stopped for the night, Danner had used Maran’s stake to tether all three.

  But now only Maran and Danner’s horses were there. Birch’s stallion was nowhere to be seen.

  Danner slipped from his bed and stole silently toward the horses, too curious to stop and warn his uncle and Maran. If something had happened to Birch’s horse, Danner wanted to find out all he could before going to warn his uncle. Worse, the horse had obviously disappeared during Danner’s watch, so he was ultimately responsible for its fate.

  Danner stepped only on the low, flat stones that dotted the grass around their campsite, his body crouched so he was always below the larger boulders. If one of the leather ties was chewed or worn through, he had nothing worse to report than that Birch’s horse had freed itself and disappeared. But if the tie was gone altogether…

  When he reached the horses, Danner quieted them as he approached the stake. There was only evidence that two horses had ever been tied there, which meant that someone had stolen away with Birch’s horse. Danner cursed silently, then went in search of his uncle. He had no idea where Maran was, and he didn’t relish the thought of creeping around trying to attract his notice while avoiding any potential thieves still lurking about.

  The paladin had bedded down a short distance from the fire, claiming he produced enough body heat that staying near the embers would leave him in a pool of sweat. Danner stayed to the shadows of the rocks, not wanting to alert whomever had stolen the horse if they were still in the area. Perhaps they were observing the camp that very moment, waiting to abscond with yet another steed. Or perhaps they were going to attack.

  Danner quickened his pace, sacrificing the necessity for some noise in preference for speed. Even so, he produced barely more than a whisper of grass against his feet – Danner had been trained by Maran, who claimed that only a well-trained elf could move more silently than Danner when he focused properly on maintaining stealth.

  “Uncle?” he whispered softly. “Uncle Birch.”

  He reached the spot where Birch had bedded, but found no sign of his uncle. His blankets were stretched on the ground, and his saddle was laid out nearby, but the paladin was nowhere in sight. Danner looked around in desperation, hoping to see his uncle up and about somewhere.

  “Uncle?” Danner called again, his voice barely above a whisper. He was cut off by a hand over his mouth and an arm around his neck, and Danner was pulled back behind a large rock. He struggled a moment before a whispered voice called his name directly into his ear.

  “Uncle,” Danner breathed in relief, or tried to. Birch’s hand was still clamped across his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Birch asked, his voice still all but inaudible. Danner suppressed a shiver at the tone. Birch’s voice was like the blade of a sword: sharp, quick, and lethal.

  “The horses, uncle,” Danner replied when his uncle finally let go of his mouth. “There are only two horses. Yours is gone.”

  Birch spun him about and stared cryptically at him for a moment, his fiery gaze bathing Danner’s face in a ruddy glow, then he barked a soft laugh. Danner was amazed at the transformation in his uncle. Where seconds before his uncle had been deathly intent, his body taut as a bowstring, now he was relaxed and more resembled a loose rope. The change was so sudden and complete that it only served to make Danner more nervous and wary.

  For a moment he wondered whether he was wary of possible danger… or of his uncle.

  “Have no worry, nephew,” Birch said, his voice still soft but lacking its previous intensity, “my mount is fine. I released him for the night, but he’ll be back by morning when I need him.”

  “Are you sure, uncle?” Danner asked dubiously, still shaken by the experience.

  Birch smiled slightly in response and nodded.

  “Go back to bed, Danner.”

  That said, Birch stepped back to his blankets and settled himself to the ground. He laid flat on his chest and covered himself with only a light blanket up to his shoulders. Birch whistled softly and a moment later Selti swooped into view, chirping merrily. Danner realized he hadn’t seen the drann, or rather the dakkan, all day or night. He started to ask his uncle, but Birch stopped him short.

  “Go to sleep, Danner,” Birch said, his voice just short of a command. “I’m not going to worry about keeping you in the saddle tomorrow just because you were foolish enough not to get any sleep tonight.”

  “Right.” Danner paused. “Good night, uncle.”

  “Good night, Danner.”

  Danner started away, but stopped when he heard Birch’s muffled voice. He took a few soft steps back, careful that his uncle wouldn’t hear him. He saw Selti curled up on Birch’s back. Apparently the two were used to the arrangement, for Birch showed no discomfort at having the drann-shaped dakkan atop him.

  Danner moved closer until he could make out Birch’s words.

  - 3 -

  “…dear Lord. I pray you grant me the strength to meet the coming days, the patience to see them through, and the wisdom to seek your truth in all I face. I cannot face this alone, and I need you by my side to comfort and guide me.”

  Danner realized his uncle was praying, and he suddenly felt very guilty about invading Birch’s privacy. He made no move to leave, though, fascinated by something far less formal than the rote prayers he usually heard uttered by the faithful. It was still a serious prayer, but Danner thought this more a personal preference of Birch’s than any devotional necessity. His uncle was a very… formidable person.

  “Lord, I ask that you look after my nephew,” Birch said, and Danner swallowed a lump in his throat. “He is young, and I fear he feels a terrible guilt because of his lost friend. Grant him your strength, and lead…” Birch stopped, sighing softly. When he spoke again, he seemed confused.

  “I don’t know what to do with him, Lord. I promised my brother I would not actively guide him toward your teachings, but I cannot do so and remain true to my vows. I’m not a Violet, with their gifts of evangelism, nor do I possess their unquestioning faith.” He paused as though getting back on track from a distraction. The air was tense, as though he wrestled with a thought, and when he spoke again, his tone had changed.r />
  “But what do I do about Danner? I love him as my blood, and I would see him drawn to you as I could not do with my own brother, but this is merely my own desire, which is against what I promised Hoil. Perhaps I must rely only on his natural curiosity and hope it will be enough to drive him to seek more. I pray this is in accordance with your plan; that I am doing the right thing.

  “I neither want to alienate him nor his father, and I fear the latter may be a lost cause for my own efforts. Not that I’ve lost hope for my brother, but I don’t know what it will take to lead him toward your light. Your truth.

  “Help me, Lord. Help me to do what is right by them both. I know my desires, and I can only hope they are in accordance with your divine plan. I trust you, Lord, I just…

  To Danner, it sounded as though Birch were sad, then desperate.

  “What do you want of me, Lord?” Birch pleaded quietly. Danner’s embarrassment grew at hearing such unadulterated emotion in his uncle’s voice. The paladin seemed so stoic and self-contained, hearing this display made Danner uncomfortably aware that he was eavesdropping on something private.

  “Why did I return where none have before? Why can’t I remember what happened to me? What more can I give?”

  Birch’s breath shuddered slightly as though fighting to maintain composure. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, and in a steady voice, he whispered, “For God. For man. For life.”

  Selti crooned softly from the paladin’s back, extending his neck to softly stroke his head against Birch’s cheek.

  Satisfied his uncle was finished, Danner crept silently away, humbled by what he had seen and heard. When he returned to his own bed, sleep was blessedly short in coming, but Danner’s dreams were filled with the soft sound of tears.

  When he woke the next morning, he was never sure if the weeping in his dream had been his uncle’s or his own.

  Chapter 11