Hunting The Three (The Barrier War)

by Moses, Brian J.

  “Well, peasant?” he challenged. “You doubt me? Perhaps a thrashing will teach you to mind your betters.”

  With that, the man swept his cloak aside and drew his sword. The blade slipped free of the sheath with a whisper, but it seemed that once free, the sword took a life of its own and decided to continue moving. The blade flew from the paladin’s grasp, and the violet-cloaked man stuck his fingers in his mouth with a muttered curse.

  Birch raised the blade of his bowkur to the other man’s throat. In an eye-blink, Birch had crossed the fire and disarmed the belligerent paladin. He now stood between the flames and the violet-cloaked paladin, and in the shadows of his silhouette, Birch’s eyes blazed with their Hellish fury as he silently regarded the shocked warrior.

  “Draw undeserved steel against my nephew again, and it will not be just your sword you lose, brother,” Birch said, his voice calm, making it a statement of fact rather than a threat. Without the benefit of the firelight, he knew the other paladin couldn’t easily tell that the blade at his throat was made of wood and not steel, and he seemed unable to look away from Birch’s face.

  Terror trembled in the man’s eyes. Birch’s irritation grew as he realized anew the fear others felt at seeing his fiery eyes. His face turned sour, and the other paladin paled.

  “Who are you, to call us brother?” the Violet said haughtily, trying unsuccessfully to keep his fear from his voice.

  “I am Birch de’Valderat, formerly of the Red Facet,” Birch replied, leaving off his more recent Facet affiliation for the time being.

  “A cast out paladin,” the Orange paladin said sadly, shaking his head. “So rare, but it happens. I trust there were no hard feelings or additional penalties?” he asked. Neither he nor the Yellow paladin had drawn their own swords, but they had surreptitiously moved their hands toward their weapons. They wore them comfortably, and Danner had no doubt both men could draw their swords in the blink of an eye if needed.

  “A paladin on leave,” Birch corrected him. “My circumstances are… special.”

  “You wear no cloak, brother,” the Yellow paladin pointed out diplomatically. From his tone it was obvious he didn’t want to disbelieve Birch’s claim, but he wanted more proof than merely his word. “And if you truly are a paladin, then you must know that drawing a blade on a brother is strictly prohibited.”

  In response, Birch turned, lowered his bowkur, and held it into the light. All could see it was made of wood and doubtlessly they all had used such practice swords themselves during their training.

  “A bowkur is not, under Prismatic law, considered a blade unless used on a practice field,” Birch said evenly, “and if this is a practice field, then the laws about drawing on a fellow paladin are obviously moot. Unlike the stricture, for instance, governing drawing a blade on an unarmed opponent.”

  Birch did not look at the Violet paladin, but then he really didn’t have to. The Yellow paladin looked at Birch a moment, then suddenly smiled and held out his hand. Birch clasped it warmly, and only then did Danner and Maran finally relax.

  “Forgive our caution and rudeness,” the Yellow paladin said, flicking his eyes briefly to the Violet paladin nearby, who stiffened slightly at the rebuke and looked away. “We’re on edge and eager to return home.”

  “I suffer from the same feelings this evening, brother. Now then, invite the other three in and we’ll put this evening’s inauspicious beginning behind us and talk in peace,” Birch said, smiling easily.

  As he turned toward the fire, Maran saw the Violet paladin glaring at Birch’s back. The elf recognized the gleam in the man’s eye and made a mental note to warn both Danner and Birch that this man could, and probably would, be dangerous.

  - 3 -

  Danner gazed with interest at the paladins assembled around the fire. Feeling more secure with the extra half-dozen warriors around, Birch had directed Danner to build up the fire. His tone had been distracted and almost perfunctory. At first Danner had resented this, but when he was returning to the fire with the last load of wood he overhead Birch talking to the Yellow paladin.

  “…your nephew, he is also your squire?” the Yellow asked.[34]

  “It was in both our interests to travel together,” Birch answered with a shrug. “We’re on our way to Nocka now, and from there it’s up to him.”

  “I see.”

  The snatch of conversation suddenly set Danner’s head turning, as he finally began to think about what his future in Nocka might hold. For certain, he was fascinated by his uncle and wanted to know more about the paladins as a whole. Did his curiosity go far enough for him to enlist in the training regimen of the Order? Birch had mentioned there was a training session that had only recently begun.

  Danner put such thoughts to the back of his mind and, for the time being, concentrated on the six newcomers.

  The Yellow paladin was evidently the leader of the group, or at least its spokesperson. After Birch introduced Danner and Maran, the Yellow was more or less bound to do the same.

  “I am James Tarmin, of the Yellow Facet,” he said, bowing his head. “Beside me sits Vander Wayland of the Orange, and that giant over there is Garet jo’Meerkit of the Red. Across the fire are Perklet Perkal, or just Perky, of the Green and Wein Drolgis of the Violet, whom you found so charming earlier. And last and only sometimes least, Nuse Rojena of the Blue.”

  Each of the paladins nodded in turn as they were introduced. The middle-aged Green paladin, Perklet, flashed a quick grin at his name, but Wein scowled at the Yellow when he was introduced. As the last paladin, the Blue, lowered a canteen of water, Birch looked at him over the shield he was polishing and smiled

  “Noose? That’s a rather ominous name for a Blue paladin of justice, isn’t it?”

  “My, aren’t we original,” Nuse muttered good-naturedly, then he sighed theatrically. “I just don’t understand why men turn pale at the thought of me hearing pleas and passing judgments.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re so intimidating,” Garet said, gesturing.

  “Must be,” Nuse replied, then stood and made harsh faces while flexing his bony arms. The paladins chuckled at the sight of the thin man trying to look fierce.

  Nuse was a rake of a man and his arms, while doubtless possessing a wiry strength, were certainly nothing to fear from appearance alone. His face had laugh lines creased amidst the beginnings of a few wrinkles, and his salt and pepper hair was rapidly retreating from his forehead. But there was still life and energy sparkling in his eyes, and his face carried a quiet dignity matched only by his vivacity and spirit.

  By contrast, Garet was a mountain of muscle, easily half-again as heavy as any man there except Birch. Not only that, but he topped Birch by more than a head. Danner found himself wondering how any family could have afforded to feed such a giant.

  The other paladins were of slightly larger than average build, as befitted men who spent their lives carrying sword and shield. Four of the new paladins wore platemail with the Tricrus on the breastplate. Garet claimed that finding a blacksmith who could make a suit large enough to properly fit him was too much trouble, and Nuse maintained that putting full-plate armor on him would cause him to collapse under the strain. Instead, he wore a thick leather vest with steel studs flashing in the firelight, and the larger Red paladin wore a thigh-length chainmail vest. Just looking at the thick, steel links made Danner wince, thinking about how heavy it must be.

  Each man had brought with him a horse loaded with supplies and equipment. Garet’s steed was in proportion to its rider and topped the other horses by almost two hands. Some of the horses were apparently dakkans in an alternate form, others were true steeds. The paladins who rode horses had dakkans that had chosen other shapes, including a violet-banded hawk and a burnt-orange drann, which belonged to Nuse and James respectively.

  The group traded small talk for some time before Birch turned to James.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what is the object of your jintaal?�
��[35] Birch asked. The talk around the fire died, as though his words had been a call for silence rather than a regular question.

  James showed no sign of surprise that Birch had recognized the makeup of their party, or its purpose. Likewise, he showed no sign of having seen Wein’s scowl and the shake of his head.

  “We’re on our way back to Nocka after hunting down a small pocket of demons in the coast north of Paelta,” James answered easily. “San only knows where they came from, but it’s nothing unusual.”

  Danner frowned, confused. “I didn’t realize there were still demons on this side of the Merging,” he said. “How did they get here?”

  “Your nephew’s instruction seems a bit lax,” Wein said, barely concealing a sneer.

  “He’s only been in my company a week,” Birch said, shrugging. “One can’t teach everything at once. Perhaps you could aid me in this, brother.”

  “Talk to Vander, he’s the Orange,” Wein said, waving his hand in dismissal.

  “Indeed,” Birch replied, careful to keep his tone and face neutral. Inside, he was frowning that a paladin should be allowed to conduct himself in such a rude manner. To say nothing of his being a Violet: paladins who were supposed to be the evangelists and draw others toward the light. With an attitude like that, the only thing Wein would draw would be a reprimand, or perhaps a thrown stone.

  “Vander would be the better choice, yes,” James interjected. “After all, our Facet reflects the virtue of our greatest strength, but says nothing about a paladin’s strength or weakness in the others – such as love or temperance.” James never once looked at Wein, but the Violet paladin flushed at the intended reprimand and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  Birch wanted to smile at James’s diplomacy, but instead he turned to Vander.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, brother, instructing my nephew,” he said. “Certainly your explanation would be best.”

  Vander nodded quietly, then turned to Danner. The young thief groaned inwardly, recognizing the didactic look on the paladin’s face. How did I suddenly get myself into this? Danner asked silently.

  “When the Merging was first created in the sixth year of this age, demons and creatures of all sorts crossed from Hell into this world,” Vander said. Danner was grateful his voice had none of the dry, lecturing qualities he normally associated with an instructor. After a moment, he even found himself caught up in the Orange paladin’s tale.

  “Childris, drolkuls, imps, bloodhawks, gremlins, and balrogs crossed over with the other hordes of demons, too many types to count or describe. For over a decade, the entire world suffered from their presence on our plane. Then finally the paladins rallied in strength and pushed the demons back to their home or else destroyed them in the attempt.

  “Try as they might,” the Orange continued, “there was no conceivable way to catch every last spawn of Hell that had crossed over. So when the Barrier was created, it left an unknown number of creatures trapped on our world. Since then, a part of each paladin’s sacred duty is to hunt down and destroy any demons where he may find them. If a pocket of them is found, a jintaal is gathered and assigned to hunt them down, such as we have done.

  “No one knows for sure if the creatures breed somehow to keep their population up or whether there were just hundreds of thousands left behind that have lasted throughout the centuries. Some scholars have their suspicions, and I’ve read…”

  Vander trailed off, leaving him staring absently at the fire, lost in thought.

  “Thank you,” Danner said softly, daring to break the silence that followed.

  “And now, brother,” James said, “I find myself intensely curious as to what you’re doing in the middle of nowhere with a drann-dakkan who is, unless I miss my guess, resting after being healed, an elf, and a might-be-squire, your nephew. Although I must say, what’s really got me curious is your lack of a sword and cloak.”

  Left unsaid, but hovering in between each word, was the question of Birch’s eyes. The other paladins would have been blind not to have noticed them, but so far they had been polite enough not to mention them. All had taken their turn staring though, and Danner felt the time was fast approaching when even courtesy would not keep the men from asking.

  Birch glanced at each paladin briefly, never quite making eye contact, then he resumed polishing his shield.

  “I would guess you have been gone for some time away from Nocka,” Birch said softly.

  “That’s right,” James replied. “Some of us live nearby, however.”

  “But you must have heard rumors about the paladin who came back across the Merging.”

  “What paladin hasn’t?” Wein snorted, then abruptly he stopped, staring at Birch in awe tinged with horror. “No…”

  Birch smiled briefly at him, but the Violet paladin’s reaction only reminded Birch of how the paladins in Nocka had initially reacted to his eyes.

  “So you claim to be the one,” James murmured, stroking his thin beard. He gazed at Birch intently, studying his face and, more importantly, his eyes. Around the fire, the paladins stared at Birch in varying mixtures of reverence and fear. “I understood you were still recovering in Nocka.”

  “I was given leave to tell my family I was still alive,” Birch said without giving any indication of his thoughts or feelings. “After being gone ten years or so, I was counted as well dead. Even my nephew here was told by his father I was gone for good.”

  Six sets of eyes turned briefly to Danner but just as quickly snapped back to Birch.

  “When I left home, he accompanied me as I set out for Nocka, where the Prismatic Council is currently deciding my fate.” Birch said this matter-of-factly, inwardly knowing that he fully intended on leaving the Prism and going back to Moreen.

  Just thinking about Moreen made Birch’s chest tighten, and he hastily averted his thoughts. He glanced over at Selti, and suddenly the day’s events returned to him.

  “Brothers,” he said urgently, “I have a request of you.”

  “Anything within our power, of course,” James replied, surprised at the sudden intensity in Birch’s voice.

  “I ask that you escort the three of us to Nocka with all possible speed,” Birch said. “I have dire news the Prismatic Council must be made aware of immediately.”

  Before the other paladins could ask, Birch locked eyes with James and saw the Yellow paladin flinch. He paled, but did not look away.

  Birch’s voice was a hard, low tone, yet each man heard him as though he had roared in his ear.

  “The Three have crossed the Merging.”

  Chapter 19

  What is the first instinct?

  -Survival.

  What are the methods of survival?

  -Emulation. Adaptation. Innovation.

  What is the source of survival?

  -Nature.

  What is the goal of survival?

  -Life

  What is the end of survival?

  -Eternity

  Riddle: What is salvation?

  -Answer: Survival beyond the here and now.

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

  - 1 -

  For the rest of the evening, Birch did what he could to answer the questions of the other paladins. Their reactions varied from shock to outright disbelief, but in the end all seemed to accept his warning. After an hour of discussing the proper course of action, James, as leader of the jintaal, agreed to escort the three of them to Nocka as swiftly as their mounts could ride.

  Having at least convinced them of the possible danger, Birch pled weariness and turned in for the night. He was tired, but more than that, Birch wanted to escape the stares of his fellow paladins.

  Is this how they will all stare? he wondered as he settled himself into his blankets stretched out on his chest. He turned his head away from the fire. The paladins he’d met and talked to in Nocka during his recovery had reacted much the same way: filled with awe but unable to hide their fear.

  H
ere stands before you the one and only man to ever brave the depths of Hell and return to tell of it. Surely, he must embody all the paladins hold dear. The quintessential soldier of God!

  But see how his eyes burn when he stares at you. See the Hellish gleam that smolders there and gaze into the depths if you dare. See the eternal torments he had to endure that could be your fate. See and beware!

  Come, children, stare at the three-eyed, horned beast in his cage! See how powerful it is and fear its freakish horror! Birch thought in disgust.

  Sensing his paladin’s distress, Selti stirred in his rest and clamored to where Birch lay. The gray drann slipped onto Birch’s back and nestled himself comfortably in his usual sleeping position. Once settled, he extended his neck and crooned softly in Birch’s ear.

  “Yes, Selti, I’m glad you’re recovered,” Birch said softly. He reached up a hand and scratched the drann-shaped dakkan under his eye. Selti crooned in pleasure and Birch laughed softly at the sound.

  “Trying to make me feel better, eh?” he said, hiding a smile. “Well, your mother was good at that, too.”

  At the thought of Sultana, Birch’s smile disappeared, and he settled himself in for sleep. Selti sighed as his paladin’s fingers fell still, and he curled up with a disgruntled snort that knocked Birch’s cropped ponytail from his shoulder. With a final croon, Selti closed his ruby eyes and fell asleep.

  - 2 -

  He pushed himself up from the ground with a surge of energy he didn’t have and turned toward his mount. Sultana was bleeding from a dozen minor cuts where the hellhounds had burned her flesh with their claws, but there didn’t seem to be anything serious.

  “Thank God.”

  Twelve years they’d been there, in Hell. He realized he’d spent enough time in Hell to equal nearly half his life in the mortal world. Strangely, he didn’t feel or look a day over thirty. The dwarven day-counter he’d purchased was worth the space it took in his pack. There was an odd comfort in the passage of time back home, even as the ticking seconds meant that much more time spent away. No matter how much he wanted to go back, still something drove him ever onward, deeper into Hell and farther from the life he’d left behind. From Moreen.