Hunting The Three (The Barrier War)

by Moses, Brian J.

  “I’ve never seen you fight, sir, so I wouldn’t know.”

  Without a challenge or preamble, Morningham suddenly had a bowkur whistling toward Garnet. Danner hadn’t seen him carrying the wooden blade, but either Garnet had seen it or else he just had good reflexes. He blocked the weapon effortlessly and squared off against their instructor.

  Morningham pressed the attack. Most fighting the paladins used seemed to have a peculiar rhythm to the attacks, a steady beat in a series of moves until either a hit was scored or else the attack was driven back. Morningham seemed to have no particular rhythm or pattern, yet his attacks were all tightly controlled and precise. Garnet seemed baffled by the attacks at first, and Morningham scored several small hits as Garnet fought to adapt. After a minute or so, he was able to repel the scar-faced paladin and even managed to put him on the defensive once or twice.

  Then Morningham changed tactics and his attack style altered, and once again Garnet was fighting desperately to keep the wooden blade from scoring a serious blow. Then Garnet did the unexpected and simply ducked out of the way of one of Morningham’s blows instead of parrying the swing as he’d been doing. Morningham overextended ever so slightly, and Garnet snaked a foot out and tripped him.

  The Red paladin sprawled face-first in the dirt, cursing as he stood. An involuntary laugh erupted from all the trainees watching the spectacle, but the look on Morningham’s face instantly quelled the mirth and made Danner regret the outburst.

  “So you think that’s funny, eh?” Morningham barked. “Trainees! Grip your bowkurs by the hilt in one hand and grab the end of the blade in the other, then hold it at arm’s length. Do it now!” he commanded. In a moment, every trainee had followed his directions.

  “Now, every one of your lip-sucking scum will hold it there until I say otherwise, understand? If you’re not man enough to hold it anymore like that, hold it straight over your head with your arms fully outstretched. The boy who lets his arms drop a second before I tell him to will spend the rest of the day under my personal attention.”

  With that, Morningham stalked from the courtyard where they were training without a backward glance.

  At first, Danner didn’t feel anything from the strange order. Soon though, his wrists began to ache, then his forearms. When Morningham didn’t appear after several minutes, Danner’s arms began to burn from shoulder to fingertip. The blade started to wobble and drop, so Danner thrust his arms into the air and held the bowkur that way. Now his upper arms bore the brunt of the weight, and he started to sweat with the effort of holding it aloft.

  “Danner,” Garnet whispered, half-stepping closer to him. “Twist your arms a little bit so it feels like you’re trying to draw the bowkur from an imaginary sheath. Alternate like that, and it’ll take some of the strain off.”

  Danner nodded.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Garnet whispered, his voice low. “Now not only is Morningham in a foul mood, but the other trainees aren’t going to be too happy with me for this.”

  “Garnet, right now I’m not terribly happy with you, but I think it was worth it,” Danner said with a slight smile. “I think every man here wanted to be in your shoes when you sent that motherless bastard sprawling, and we can always stand a little more pain.”

  “I hope you’re not the only one who feels that way,” Garnet said doubtfully.

  “Trust me.”

  Danner had to shift the bowkur back down and then up once more before Morningham reappeared in the courtyard. The Red paladin was still fuming; the scars on his face stood out angrily and seemed to pulse with the man’s fury. His gaze passed over Danner without a change in expression, which was fine with him. Danner didn’t want to come under Morningham’s scrutiny when the man was in this foul a mood.

  “Alright then,” he yelled, then immediately hurried over to a trainee who had taken those words to mean he could relax.

  “Jorgins, you worthless piece of dakkan dung! Did I tell you to drop your weapon?” he yelled, his ugly face inches from the poor trainee’s.

  “No, s-sir.”

  “Well congratulations then, Jorgins,” Morningham said with mean-spirited glee, “you’ve just volunteered to be my personal errand boy for the day. First thing’s first, I need you to take this message to a paladin who’s waiting for it in that tower,” he said, pointing to the highest point in the complex. “And I’ll need you back at my side in twenty minutes. Now move, Jorgins! Move!”

  The unfortunate trainee took off at a dead run, then screeched to a halt and ran back to take the slip of paper from Morningham’s hand. As Jorgins ran by, Danner saw tears in his eyes.

  “Poor guy,” Danner murmured.

  “Now then, the rest of you can drop your weapons now,” Morningham yelled. “Disperse and report to your regular training groups for the day’s exercises. Those of you who normally report to me will instead report to paladin Demmin here,” he said, clapping another Red on the shoulder. “Dismissed.”

  As the trainees milled about on their way to their destinations, several stopped by and discreetly clapped Garnet on the arm. Several glanced back to make sure Morningham wasn’t watching before doing so, but each comradely pat made Garnet lose a little of the gloom he’d felt since the encounter.

  Danner smiled at him. “See, I told you.”

  - 2 -

  Shortly after, in a meeting room, a dozen paladins, two from each Facet, sat around a long table. One of the Blues looked across the table at a Red.

  “So, Gerard, I hear one of the trainees had you taste dust,” the Blue said smiling.

  Morningham grinned in response. To any of his trainees, the expression would have looked strange, even alien. But to those in the room, who’d known him for years, a smile on his scarred and battered face was nothing new.

  “Yeah, the kid did well,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “Got in more hits than any I’ve seen in a long time, and this is his first day of practice. Even you weren’t that good, Bobby,” he said, pointing to the other Red in the room.

  “I’m still not that good, Gerard,” Bobby replied. “Any time I hit you it was probably more luck than from any skill on my part.”

  “Bah! You’re still not as good as you could be if you’d drop that ‘mindset’ babble and knuckle down to your blade-work.”

  “Fighting is only one part of a paladin’s life, even a Red’s, as you well know,” Bobby replied with a shrug. “Courage means more than just swinging a sword and not pissing your pants. There’s a lot to do with your state of mind; how you think and deal with things mentally. There’s a handful of lads I’ve seen who have the marks of a good Red, that young Garnet included.”

  “Aye, he’ll be a Red for sure,” one of the Oranges said. Harrack was the head of the trainees’ classes in history and general knowledge. “Doesn’t have the temperament for my line of training, nor the heart for justice, but maybe temperance. We’ll have to see how he turns a hand at healing, but he’s shown only the barest reflection for piety. Not that he’s irreligious, mind you,” he said, waving his hand, “but he doesn’t have that spark Vinder looks for.” This last was said with a deferential wave at the Violet next to him.

  Vinder nodded. “So far I’ve only got Harrack’s observations to work from. I’ll have my own as they move on with their training.”

  “What about his companions?” Bobby asked. “I see that big fellow always hanging around those other five.”

  “jo’Keer is a bit too quick for his own good, with a mouth to match, but fortunately he’s smart enough to keep it quiet when he needs go,” Morningham said. “I keep forgetting Tanus is even there, but he’ll last. Probably be one of yours, Harrack. I’m still trying to pin down Dok and Semnriak.”

  “That’s the tall one who threw me this morning then?” Bobby asked.

  “Aye,” Morningham replied with a wicked grin. “Dok’s the pale one. Keeps his ear to the ground and already knows some healing, so keep your eyes open for him, Killin,
” he said, glancing at a Green across the room.

  “I have high hopes for de’Valderat,” Morningham said. Danner, or any of the other trainees, would have been shocked to hear their instructor say that. It was a well-known fact among the barracks that Morningham seemed to have something out for Danner, and speculations as to the reason ranged from the mundane to the bizarre.

  “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and while he’s not the natural leader Garnet might turn out to be, he applies himself well and has good instincts,” Morningham continued. “I know Danner’s uncle, who asked me to keep a special eye out on his nephew. Thought he was asking me for a favor at first, and I kind of resented it, but I think now there was something more to it. I should have known better, coming from Birch.”

  “Did the Coalition ever reply to our queries about that attack?” a Green asked.

  “Bah, Coalition’s a bunch of useless mother-lovers who’re too scared of their own shadows to know when to flirt or fart,” Morningham said with a wave of his hand. “They denied any knowledge of the incident, and we don’t have anything but circumstantial evidence otherwise. Still, the last message I sent them should see the matter ended.”

  “And if they don’t drop it?” This from a Blue at the far end of the table.

  “Then they’ll learn what it means to go against the Prism and those it protects,” Morningham replied darkly. He chuckled viciously. “I’m confident I was persuasive enough, though.”

  Just then there was a knock at the door, and one of the trainees, Jorgins, peeked his head.

  “Jorgins, didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Morningham roared, overturning his seat as he bolted to his feet. “Get your hide out in the hall and squat until I’m ready for you.”

  ‘Squatting’ entailed placing one’s back against the wall and maintaining a position that mimicked sitting in a chair. After only a few seconds, thighs and calves would be on fire, and holding it for any length of time was as much an effort of willpower as it was due to any sort of strength. Jorgins nodded wearily then shut the door behind him.

  Morningham waved at Bobby.

  “Give it a minute or so, then go let him relax,” he ordered. “I still have hope for that boy, if I can just get him to think straight and quit wiping his ass with his tears.”

  Bobby nodded with a slight smile, well used to Morningham’s brusque ways. However harsh his methods, he always looked after the welfare of the trainees, and no one was better at whipping them into shape. For most of the last decade, Morningham had been molding trainees, and no past instructor had better success. Bobby was sorry this would be Morningham’s last year in charge of training. He didn’t envy the man who would have to follow in Gerard’s footsteps, and Bobby just prayed it wasn’t him.

  He left the room while the others were discussing the training and went to offer some small comfort to the poor boy in the hall. As he shut the door, he heard one of the paladins within saying, “Now, the timing’s a bit rushed, but we need the space and can’t have a group of trainees underfoot, not now. We’re accelerating things anyway, so another trip…”

  - 3 -

  The boat pulled alongside the pier, and the seven paladins leapt from the gunwale and drifted silently to the docks below. A light rain had blown in from the east, prickling their skin with the wet drizzle as they touched down. The buildings were all made of stone, as befitted a dwarven city, with wide cobbled streets and perfectly spaced blocks.[43] The buildings outside the mountain fortress were primarily commercial in purpose; Dennet had told them nearly all the dwarves lived inside the mountain itself and used the outer structures as a market for trading with the other races.

  Garet motioned with two fingers, and Nuse and Wein ran to take positions behind a nearby stone hut. As soon as they were in position, Garet motioned again, and James and Vander moved on the other side of the street to take a spot one block ahead of the first pair. Ben and Dennet were still on the ship to act as guards in case they ran into trouble and needed to retreat to the boat. They had originally intended to bring the two dwarves with them, until Dennet had pointed out the complete inability of dwarves to move quickly and stealthily.

  “We’re either slow and silent or quick and cacophonous,” the dwarf quipped.

  “Let’s go,” Garet whispered. Birch and Perklet followed their larger companion down the center of the street. None of them were wearing their full-plate armor, but had opted instead for lighter and quieter armor made of leather. Garet still wore his massive chainmail, but it was muffled beneath a thick, leather tunic. Birch had his shield with him, as did Nuse and James. Selti slipped along the street, his claws making only a slight scrabble against the wet stone. Birch whistled slightly and motioned, and Selti darted forward and disappeared into the shadows. James’s orange-hued drann scampered off in another direction, while Nuse’s violet-banded hawk ghosted past on silent wings overhead.

  When they were two blocks ahead of James and Vander, the three paladins took up positions on either side of the street, flattened against the wall. Behind them, already in motion, Nuse and Wein padded along swiftly until they overtook Birch’s group. Garet motioned to them and held up two fingers, and they both nodded in response. They stopped two blocks ahead, followed quickly by Vander and James, who stopped two blocks further ahead.

  Garet nodded to Perklet and Birch, and the three of them set off again. Birch peered intently down each alley and street they passed, his burning gaze casting a strange orange glow in the misted rain in front of him. A sudden scraping to his right caused Birch to half-draw his sword, but he saw it was only Selti. The dakkan in drann shape chirped softly, letting him know he’d found nothing.

  Following Garet’s directions, they cross-advanced down the street until they reached the entrance to the fortress of Den-Furral. The massive stone gates stood open, but at first glance it seemed the portcullis was closed. As they drew closer, they saw it was stopped two feet from the ground. Garet motioned to Birch and Perklet and pointed down, and the two responded immediately and slid quietly underneath the hanging iron grill. Birch glanced uneasily at the iron spikes above him and kept his shield between him and the sharp points, but the portcullis stayed firm and only creaked a little in the wind.

  Birch ducked into the nearby guardhouse and saw Perklet doing the same on the opposite side. There was no torch or other light, and he peeked in, then turned around, seeing nothing. Then he stopped and looked at a dark shadow on the floor. Water from the rain had seeped in through a crack somewhere and was running across the smooth stones toward the door. Mixed in with the water, though, was a dark red stain, which looked black in the dim light shed from Birch’s eyes.

  Birch followed the trail of water to its source and pulled aside a curtain, then clenched his jaw at the sight of a dwarf hanging by his feet. The halfling’s mouth was open in a silent scream, and blood still dripped slowly from his lips in thick, dark red rivulets. The dwarf was naked save for a loincloth, and parts of his flesh had been stripped away from his body. Half-congealed blood slowly trickled from the wounds and dripped sluggishly from his torn and ragged hair. Birch stared for a moment longer, then left.

  He left the guardhouse just as the last of his companions was sliding under the portcullis. Garet looked questioningly at Birch. The Gray paladin held up one finger, then swiped his fingers to the side and clenched his fist. Garet nodded.

  Perklet appeared a moment later, his face pale in the moonlight filtering through the clouds. He duplicated Birch’s gesture, but his hands were shaking badly. Again Garet nodded, this time in sympathy. His eyes were hard as he motioned for them all to gather close.

  “Birch, I want you and James on point, Birch forward,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Vander, you and Perklet are next, then me. Wein, you and Nuse are rearguard. Five yard spread, keep it quiet.”

  The others nodded. Birch and James exchanged a quick glance, then turned and started forward. Selti leapt up to Birch’s shoulder
and clung to the padding of his leather armor. The dakkan knew enough to stay silent without being told, for which Birch was grateful. The last thing he needed was to be worrying about Selti behaving himself.

  Birch moved slowly forward, his sword at the ready, and James walked a step behind and to the side of him. Birch grimaced at the itching in his hand. Whatever his allergy to his sword, it had somehow grown to the point where he no longer even had to be touching the hilt before it grew uncomfortable. Even through his thick leather gloves, Birch’s hand felt like he’d just dipped it in an anthill. If he held it long enough, it would grow to a burning sensation, and then it would be all he could do just to avoid dropping it in pain.

  For now, he endured the discomfort willingly. Whatever the danger ahead, he would be glad for his sword, he was sure.

  They crossed the courtyard quickly, staying to one side in the shadows. James and Nuse sent their dakkans aloft to recon the exterior of the fortress, but Birch opted to keep Selti close by. On the far side, they reached a set of double doors just tall enough for Birch to pass through without ducking, but too low for Garet by half a head. Fortunately the hallways were cut higher into the stone than the doorway, otherwise the massive Red paladin would have to stoop the entire time.

  Even so, the dimensions of the halls were cut for short, thick, dwarven bodies, which felt alien and disconcerting to the seven humans. Birch especially felt the tighter dimensions and was vividly aware of millions of tons of rock pressing in above him. He took a firm hold of his anxiety and buried it beneath his dire surety of what lay ahead. The hallways stank of death, and Birch feared they would find nothing but corpses.

  They moved down the hallway in a silence so thick Birch could cut it with his sword. He could just barely hear the sound of the light rain falling outside, but even that was less than a whisper on the wind. The paladins made little noise as they moved, save for the occasional clink from Garet’s chainmail coat.

  Whenever Birch and James passed a door, one of them would motion to the paladins behind them, who would then open the door and make a quick check within. After the fifth door, Garet motioned that he’d found more dwarves, but still no survivors of whatever fate had befallen the dwarven capital.