Read Online The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) by Brian J Moses - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian J Moses
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waitin ’ t’ fir thes place.”
Birch turned and looked at Benatrangin Moroken , more popularly called Ben, and frowned
slightly even as he tried not to smile. The dwarf seemed chronically incapable
of saying Birch’s name correctly. Birch supposed he was lucky the dwarf hadn’t
called him anything obscene or offensive.
“Ye hear me, Barf?”
Birch sighed.
Ben’s entire body was horrendously scarred, including his
throat, which made him all but unintelligible. With practice, Birch could make
out what the dwarf was trying to say, but sometimes it was difficult because
the same word rarely sounded exactly the same from his damaged voice. Some
words occasionally came through perfectly clear, too. Ben claimed the scars
were the result of an accidental keel-hauling he’d received when he was a “ mer pup o’ a dwerf ,” as he put
it. Apparently he’d gotten tangled up in a fishing line and yanked overboard,
and by the time they were able to pull him free, Ben was half-drowned and had
been dragged and scraped against most of the lower hull of the ship, which had
the usual coating of sharp barnacles every deep-sea vessel accumulated. Birch
thought it a miracle that Ben had even survived, much less that he was still so
physically capable.
“He’s right, Birch,” James said, laying a friendly hand on
his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Birch nodded, taking one final glance around the room before
allowing James to lead him from the hall. A platoon of dwarves entered somberly
after them and sprayed noxious liquids out of pump-driven barrels, preparing
the room for incineration. They followed Birch and the others all the way out,
coating every wall and floor. As they boarded the ship, flames roared through
the abandoned citadel, and the doors of Den-Furral were locked and sealed
against the living: a city entombed forever.
- 2 -
Their voyage was uneventful for the first week, with the
exception of Moreen’s unrelenting seasickness. Birch winced every time her face
turned green and she launched herself toward the side of the ship or the
nearest bucket. Most of the time she made it. For his part, Birch spent his time
either caring for Moreen or else talking with the other paladins.
Ben and Dennet Stonefist ,
a longtime friend to the Prismatic Order, were on another ship with Jerissa , the young dwarven princess suddenly turned
queen-in-waiting. Birch counted himself fortunate to escape the scarred dwarf
before Ben found something else to call Birch – something more creative.
Moreen’s dwarven friend Brit Grindstone was also on that ship, reacquainting
himself with his people. Brit had been among humans for several decades, rarely
in contact with another dwarf unless they happened to come into the inn Moreen
had owned. He’d been the bartender and sometime bouncer at the Dragoenix Inn,
which was now gone, destroyed by Sal’s rampage in Demar.
As he’d promised James, Birch tried to spend more time
around Vander and Perky. Perky was easy, since all Birch had to do was sit down
and work on polishing his armor, sharpening his sword, or any other manner of
chore. With a mere nod of invitation, the Green paladin would be nearby and mirroring
whatever activity Birch was doing. Perky was characteristically silent, and
Birch was as talkative as usual, which was to say not very. Usually Nuse would
be nearby, though, and the rail-thin Blue paladin made enough conversation for
all of them. Nuse Rojena was one of the oldest
paladins Birch had ever met, and his salt-and-pepper hair had mostly deserted
him, leaving a growing dome of skin atop his head. He had a sharp, dry sense of
humor that made him impossible not to like, even if you were the butt of his
jokes.
“Birch, you really shouldn’t stare quite so fiercely at the
deck when you’re sharpening your sword. I’d rather the whole ship didn’t burn
down around us just because old Fire Eyes glared at the wood.”
But try as he might, Birch could not get to know or
Birch turned and looked at Benatrangin Moroken , more popularly called Ben, and frowned
slightly even as he tried not to smile. The dwarf seemed chronically incapable
of saying Birch’s name correctly. Birch supposed he was lucky the dwarf hadn’t
called him anything obscene or offensive.
“Ye hear me, Barf?”
Birch sighed.
Ben’s entire body was horrendously scarred, including his
throat, which made him all but unintelligible. With practice, Birch could make
out what the dwarf was trying to say, but sometimes it was difficult because
the same word rarely sounded exactly the same from his damaged voice. Some
words occasionally came through perfectly clear, too. Ben claimed the scars
were the result of an accidental keel-hauling he’d received when he was a “ mer pup o’ a dwerf ,” as he put
it. Apparently he’d gotten tangled up in a fishing line and yanked overboard,
and by the time they were able to pull him free, Ben was half-drowned and had
been dragged and scraped against most of the lower hull of the ship, which had
the usual coating of sharp barnacles every deep-sea vessel accumulated. Birch
thought it a miracle that Ben had even survived, much less that he was still so
physically capable.
“He’s right, Birch,” James said, laying a friendly hand on
his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Birch nodded, taking one final glance around the room before
allowing James to lead him from the hall. A platoon of dwarves entered somberly
after them and sprayed noxious liquids out of pump-driven barrels, preparing
the room for incineration. They followed Birch and the others all the way out,
coating every wall and floor. As they boarded the ship, flames roared through
the abandoned citadel, and the doors of Den-Furral were locked and sealed
against the living: a city entombed forever.
- 2 -
Their voyage was uneventful for the first week, with the
exception of Moreen’s unrelenting seasickness. Birch winced every time her face
turned green and she launched herself toward the side of the ship or the
nearest bucket. Most of the time she made it. For his part, Birch spent his time
either caring for Moreen or else talking with the other paladins.
Ben and Dennet Stonefist ,
a longtime friend to the Prismatic Order, were on another ship with Jerissa , the young dwarven princess suddenly turned
queen-in-waiting. Birch counted himself fortunate to escape the scarred dwarf
before Ben found something else to call Birch – something more creative.
Moreen’s dwarven friend Brit Grindstone was also on that ship, reacquainting
himself with his people. Brit had been among humans for several decades, rarely
in contact with another dwarf unless they happened to come into the inn Moreen
had owned. He’d been the bartender and sometime bouncer at the Dragoenix Inn,
which was now gone, destroyed by Sal’s rampage in Demar.
As he’d promised James, Birch tried to spend more time
around Vander and Perky. Perky was easy, since all Birch had to do was sit down
and work on polishing his armor, sharpening his sword, or any other manner of
chore. With a mere nod of invitation, the Green paladin would be nearby and mirroring
whatever activity Birch was doing. Perky was characteristically silent, and
Birch was as talkative as usual, which was to say not very. Usually Nuse would
be nearby, though, and the rail-thin Blue paladin made enough conversation for
all of them. Nuse Rojena was one of the oldest
paladins Birch had ever met, and his salt-and-pepper hair had mostly deserted
him, leaving a growing dome of skin atop his head. He had a sharp, dry sense of
humor that made him impossible not to like, even if you were the butt of his
jokes.
“Birch, you really shouldn’t stare quite so fiercely at the
deck when you’re sharpening your sword. I’d rather the whole ship didn’t burn
down around us just because old Fire Eyes glared at the wood.”
But try as he might, Birch could not get to know or
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