Perrin had been pacing impatiently when the messenger finally returned with the news he’d been hoping for.
“Moorland’s infested, sirs! And completely surprised and overrun! We’re encountering no resistance at all.” The private slid off his horse to take the fresh one waiting for him, but first he had to endure the overly enthusiastic slap on his back from Colonel Shin.
“YES!” Perrin cried and ran for his mount.
“Colonel?” Brillen said from the opening of the tent, his arms folded in a fair impersonation of Mr. Hegek when he waited beyond the school grounds for escaping twelve-year-olds. “And just where do you think you’re going?”
Perrin stopped at his horse and held up his hands. “Just instinct, Karna. Sorry.” He rubbed his forehead, kicked a rock into the ditch, and squatted, facing west. It was fully dark now and he strained to hear anything of the battle that might be ensuing.
“Anything else, Private?” he asked the young soldier who had mounted and was now wincing slightly at what was likely a large red welt on his back in the shape of a hand.
“No, sir, sorry. Captain Thorne sent me as soon as he was sure our surprise was complete. I’m to return now. Do you have any messages?”
“No, no. None at all.” Perrin stood back up. “Wait. Private, what size is your jacket?”
“My jacket, sir?”
Brillen chuckled. “Nice try, Colonel, but no one would believe you are the messenger. Off with you, Private. Come back as soon as you can before the colonel tears apart the camp waiting for more news.”
The private nodded and kicked his horse into a full run back to the west.
Perrin didn’t go back into the tent. Staring at his map of Moorland only made him want to get there. Even the bowmen he and Brillen had sent, their newest recruits, could venture further than the commander of the offensive.
He paced back and forth along the border of the farm while Brillen, seated on a stump outside the command tent, watched him. Mischievously, Perrin jumped across a ditch, then back again. He jumped over to the other side and grinned. “Look, Brillen,” he taunted. “I’m out of the farm!”
Brillen sighed. “Perrin, get back here. How old are you, anyway? Now, I won’t tell the Administrators, but I will tell your wife.”
Perrin jumped back across. “Hm. Very good. You certainly know how to threaten a man.” He kicked at another rock. They were becoming scarce in the farm this evening, so at least he was doing some good for someone.
“I should have insisted on updates every five minutes,” he said as he headed to the command tent.
“Colonel, everything is probably going better than we imagined. Look around you—no wounded yet, no additional messengers in a panic. I hate to tell you, but maybe your plan was perfect.”
Perrin stopped right in front of Brillen. “Of course it was perfect,” he said, affronted. “Every one of my plans has been perfect. You should know that.”
Brillen chuckled. “Oh, all of them perfect, eh? Let’s talk about some of those perfect plans, shall we? I seem to remember something about a captain dressed in all white heading out into the snowy woods to hunt himself some Guarders.”
Perrin didn’t even twitch. “Worked perfectly, didn’t it.”
“Except when said captain’s wife came to the surgery to take home his ‘slashed’ overcoat and jacket, only to find them in perfect condition.”
“She forgave me. Eventually,” Perrin said, the corner of his mouth tugging ever so slightly.
“Yes, yes, she did,” said Brillen, looking out into the darkness. “But I’ve always wondered how it came to be, in this perfect plan of yours, that I was rumored to have been running in the freezing night to the feed barns and back naked.”
Perrin snorted. “I never said naked in my cover story, Brillen. I gave you the dignity of wearing your shorts.”
“That’s not the version I heard,” said Brillen, a bit coldly.
Perrin squinted. “Mahrree told you I said you were naked?”
“Never heard it from Mahrree.” There was a glint of antipathy in the lieutenant colonel’s eyes. “Heard it from my dear bride. Apparently your wife spoke to my wife when we came up for the Remembrance Ceremony, and my wife asked me for a demonstration.”
“So did you?” Perrin’s mouth twitched.
“Colonel!” Karna said in feigned fury. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate topic for us to be discussing at this time.”
“So you did!” Perrin burst out laughing.
Brillen couldn’t keep his face sober any longer, and he began to chuckle.
Until they both heard the roar which interrupted their laughter.
Perplexed, they stared at each other in an attempt to discern what exactly it was that they heard.
It came like a roar of thunder, but more concentrated, and oddly, seemed to originate from the ground. Perrin spun to the west and Brillen leaped to his feet.
The sound grew louder, rumbled over the camp, and dissipated beyond them just as an orange glow began to lighten the sky in the west.
“What the slag was that?” Brillen exclaimed.
Perrin shook his head. “I have no idea. It sounded like one of the mud volcanoes when it erupts, but much louder.”
The two men looked at each other.
“An eruption?” Brillen scowled.
Then they heard it again—another roar, but this time louder, bouncing off the mountains and echoing around them with frenetic force. The glowing orange grew rapidly into a massive smoking mushroom, propelled by a streak of fire rising bizarrely into the sky.
Perrin lunged for his horse, grabbed the reins, and mounted.
Brillen didn’t argue. He was right behind Colonel Shin, scrabbling onto his horse as well. Behind them a few dozen surgeons and aides came running for a clearer view of the oddity rising in the west, but Perrin and Brillen weren’t about to respond to their questions.
The two men dug in their heels, and the horses bounded eagerly over the ditch into the dark fields toward the streak of orange fire. While Perrin’s horse was the strongest one he could find for that venture, it wasn’t as fast as he wished. Still, it would carry him the distance at a full gallop.
Brillen kept pace next to him.
“I don’t think that was an eruption, Colonel,” he called from his horse. “I’ve never seen an eruption of fire before.”
“Me neither,” Perrin called back. “Watch for retreaters.”
“Are you planning to stop for them?”
“No. I’m not stopping until I reach the source of that flame, Brillen. Report me if you wish, but I don’t care. You can help the retreaters.”
“Don’t need to. The surgeons see what’s happening. They’ll get here. I’m supposed to stay by your side, Colonel, and that’s where I intend to stay!”
---
Shem could do nothing but stare in morbid fascination. All he did was throw the torch through the window.
It wasn’t even that big of a flame, either.
He’d even hesitated, riding by twice before guilt and duty convinced him to do it on his third pass.
He sat rooted on his horse which was growing hysterical, but nothing in Shem seemed capable of reacting. It didn’t matter that the ball of fire was growing above him, rising, billowing, expanding, so that the heat was now scorching his eyebrows—
“Zenos, MOVE!”
Someone grabbed the reins of his horse, and the animal whisked Shem away. He finally pulled his eyes from the fantastic eruption to see his rescuer, Captain Rigoff.
“What’s wrong with you? Got hit in the head?” Rigoff shouted as the men raced away from the fire.
“I just, I just was so surp—” That’s all he got out before another tremendous roar rose up behind them.
Both Rigoff and Zenos twisted in their saddles to see another ball of hot orange rise up behind them, far more massive than the first. Bits of rock, dirt, and burning splinters rained down upon them.
“Wha
t is that?!” Zenos shouted.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Rigoff called back, gesturing frantically to soldiers to run away. “Don’t think any of them will survive to tell us about it either. MOVE!”
---
Finding the glowing orange village in the dark was easy for Perrin and Brillen. A few hundred paces away from Moorland they encountered the first soldiers heading to the staging area, helped by aides. There were only a handful of injured, but as they sped past them in the dark, Perrin caught the scent of burned flesh and hair.
He glanced over at Brillen, and the cringe on his face told him Brillen smelled it too.
“It’s got to be some kind of fire, then,” Perrin called to him.
“Strangest fire I’ve ever seen!”
They rounded the small hill that sheltered the village and were greeted by a view so chaotic that they stopped the horses abruptly, unsure of where to go.
Flames were everywhere, burning buildings from the tops down. Men in black and blue ran in all directions. Some were on fire, but all were racing away from the black billowing smoke. The plume was so baffling that Perrin knew he had to get closer.
“Come on!” he yelled to Brillen and kicked his horse. The men dodged and weaved their mounts through the shouts and yells and debris. Perrin was sure he heard Yordin calling after him, but he ignored him and continued on to the bulging smoke.
He and Brillen dismounted about a hundred paces away and tied their skittish horses to a large green tree.
“Colonel, no!” came Shem’s voice from the chaos, and he appeared amidst the smoke and noise to pull them back. “It’s not stable!”
“What’s with that crater?” Perrin called over the commotion.
Shem shook his head. “It wasn’t a crater when we got here,” he yelled over the shouts of men and the crackles of fire. “It was a building. The two-level store. Stone, timber—I threw in the torch and . . . it just erupted!” He sounded apologetic. “Exploded!”
“I smell sulfur, but there are no hotpots around here!” Perrin yelled. “Briter didn’t say any were in the village.”
“This wasn’t natural, Colonel. We think they were making something they can explode themselves. It’s already blown twice. Rigoff and I just evacuated all the soldiers then you two come barging in here—” By now Shem had dragged them to their horses.
Brillen and Perrin snatched the reins of their animals who reared and whinnied in terror, and ran from the smoking pit toward the end of the road where several soldiers waited for them. But Perrin kept turning back to see the fire, trying to imagine the large building that used to be there and realizing that the structure laid in charred pieces all around him.
At end of the road his jog was interrupted by the shout of, “You’re in a lot of trouble, Colonel Shin.”
Perrin shrugged guiltily at Major Yordin. “You try staying away from that,” he retorted as he mounted his horse, Karna and Zenos following him.
Grinning, Yordin leaned over from his mount and slapped Perrin on the back. “But I’m glad you’re here. This will be our little secret.” He glanced at the two young officers with him who nodded in agreement. “We need to head to the north,” Yordin told Perrin. “A mass of Guarders were seen running toward the forest there. We’ve already dispatched a couple hundred men to chase them. All seems clear here. The explosions took care of most of it for us.”
The officers rode at a fast gallop through the quiet road to the forest’s edge, passing several groups of soldiers on foot entering buildings to look for holdouts.
Perrin grumbling in frustration. It wasn’t supposed to be this messy. It was supposed to be swift, decisive, and humane, although they didn’t deserve that. The Guarders should have been eliminated by now. It all should have happened within minutes, with all Guarders summarily executed . . .
But this was sheer chaos.
Good thing the commander of the offensive showed up.
Within moments Perrin and his men came upon a broad field that stood as Moorland’s buffer between the village and the forest.
And that’s when Perrin’s heart caught in his throat.
Well over one hundred soldiers were on foot, battling just as many Guarders in black who were bafflingly armed with swords.
And, for half a second, Perrin hesitated.
While the men on horseback with him veered off to various parts of the field to render assistance, Perrin took in—for one horrible moment—the scope of the battle. The blades. The blood. The men in black. The men in blue. The running horses. The clanging steel. The blood. The fire spreading to the tops of the trees illuminating far too much of the field before Perrin, as if it were day. Bodies running. Bodies falling. Bodies bloodied—
Something in his chest clenched and shuddered, and he fought the urge to grab his chest in terror.
Because then Perrin knew what he needed to do. He grasped the ornate filling-gree hilt of General Shin’s sword—the one that had been waiting years to be initiated—and everything in Perrin’s world slowed down as if completely in his control.
Which, right now, it was.
Instinct took over as he drew the general’s sword. Its balance was perfect, the blade sharp and eager. Perrin kicked his mount and headed for a cluster of Guarders rushing a small group of soldiers. He overtook his soldiers and held out his father’s sword. A familiar rush of energy filled him as he turned the tip slightly and steadied his arm. The targets hurried to meet the blade, and it connected once, twice. He heard the unmistakable thud of bodies falling behind him and swung his horse back around for another pass, taking out two more men as his soldiers engaged the remaining three.
“Shin?!” he heard one of them call as he rode toward the trees and to another knot of Guarders slipping out of the forest. They ran straight for him. He cut his horse hard to the left, catching the furthermost Guarder with a slash across his throat, then dodged to the right to hit two more Guarders from behind. Three Guarders scattered before him, so he aimed his horse at the closest one and flattened him, while his two companions found themselves surrounded by more men in blue. Shin faced the forest again but saw no more bodies running to meet his father’s blade.
---
“No one said anything about the army attacking!” one man in black whimpered as he huffed his way into the forest. “Bad enough we live in rubble and trees, but now the army—”
“Shut up!” his companion hissed at him, although the complainer was simply stating what all ten in their group was thinking as they ran, panicked, into the forest. This wasn’t what they signed up for. And where was the gold?
“We’ll hide in here until the army gives up, then—”
As if hitting an invisible wall, the retreating men stopped, stunned.
Actually, they’d hit a line of what seemed to be trees but which abruptly thrust out arms and hit the men, dropping them into the dried leaves. They barely had time to shake off their astonishment to comprehend that they were now surrounded by men in green and brown mottled clothing. Dozens of them.
And that they were holding long knives.
“You’re not hiding anywhere,” rumbled one of them, a massive brute of a man if not actually a bear in a tunic and trousers. “Two options: go back out there and fight like . . . well, not sure if you’d know how real men fight, but you can pretend. Or, you stay in here with my friends and me.” He shifted his grip on the long knife.
Another man in green and brown spoke up, his words coming from somewhere behind the leaves that made up his hat. “Really the only option is, by whose hands do you wish to die?”
One of the men in black looked frantically from one camouflaged face to another. “Who are you?! Where’d you come from?”
The bear-man shrugged. “Looks like you’ll die here, and with a lot of unanswered questions.”
---
Perrin swiveled in his saddle to identify a new target.
Zenos had just leveled a Guarder, and by the
ungainly way he fell Perrin knew he was dead. Shem was already engaging another Guarder and likely didn’t notice his efficiency. Just beyond Shem, Perrin saw a young officer on foot, his sword clashing furiously with his opponent. He stepped awkwardly under the pressure of the more experienced man, who stumbled momentarily in his pursuit.
Perrin kicked his horse and headed for the officer who hadn’t noticed another Guarder creeping up behind him. Perrin aimed for that Guarder and rushed past the stunned figure of Lemuel Thorne.
“Colonel?!”
“Eyes forward, Captain!” Perrin ordered as he took out the Guarder behind Thorne, his now-lifeless body dropping.
Lemuel turned abruptly to see that the first Guarder had found his footing and was about to run him through. Thorne dodged out of the way, but the Guarder’s sword still caught him across his side. Thorne collapsed to the ground as Perrin cut his horse to the right and came upon the remaining Guarder. As the stallion leaped over the prone body of Thorne, Perrin leaned off to the side and ran through Thorne’s other Guarder who crumpled next to Lemuel.
Perrin came back around to see the young captain gasping and holding his side, his hand drenched in blood, and his terrified gaze fixed on the dead man in black who lay nearly on top of him. Lemuel stared up at Colonel Shin with awestruck surprise.
“Stay down,” he commanded. “I’ll be back for you.”
Thorne nodded wearily and let his head fall to the ground, but through the slits in his half-closed eyes he watched the colonel.
Perrin swung back to the field, satisfied that there were fewer men in black among the growing crowd of blue soldiers. But some of those Guarders were becoming brasher in their panic, and one had acquired a horse. That man was Perrin’s.
The Guarder was intent on reaching Gari Yordin who was already battling two men so he wasn’t aware of a third galloping up behind him.
Perrin roared to get his attention. The Guarder, just a few paces from Yordin, yanked his horse around to face Perrin instead. He charged, but Perrin darted his horse just out of his reach. He turned sharply to come behind the Guarder, slashed him across his back, and felt the old scar on his own back itch in approval. The wound Perrin inflicted, however, was incurable, and the Guarder tumbled off the trotting horse. Confident that there was one less threat in the world, Perrin spun to help Gari.
He caught up to him just as Gari received a deep swipe along his sword arm, and he dropped his weapon with a shout. Perrin rode to his right to catch the two Guarders between them. With a quick slash and another swipe, the Guarders fell lifeless to the ground.
Perrin rounded again, his father’s sword vibrating in his steady grip and ready for more exercise. But as he searched for a new target, there were no more men in dark clothing standing. Instead, only soldiers in blue remained upright, scanning the area cautiously, their swords and long knives at the ready. Guarder bodies—as well as a few groaning men in blue—littered the field.
Perrin spun to look into the blazing forest, but nothing more came running out of the smoke-filled woods.
He squinted into the shadows which danced erratically in the glow cast by the nearing fire, because he thought he saw something—some one—standing just behind a tree. If someone was there, they wouldn’t be for long. Perrin squinted harder, just to be sure, but when the smoke obscured his view, he gave up. The fire would either flush him out or consume him.
Facing the field again, Perrin did a quick head count. Dozens of soldiers were down, along with Thorne, but the majority were standing, panting, and now daring to smile at each other.
Perrin spied Gari Yordin holding his bleeding arm, still on his horse. A soldier on foot was straining to bind the major’s wound, but Yordin caught Perrin’s eye and grinned.
Hoof beats came up fast to Perrin’s side. He glanced at Shem and Brillen, then did a startled second look. Brillen was bleeding from his leg, his eyes were filled with pain, yet he too was smiling.
But Shem was pensive, studying Perrin and trying to read his mood. Perrin returned the gaze, hoping Shem would recognize that he was as firm and strong as ever, but he noticed the doubtful expression in his friend’s eyes. Their staring contest was interrupted by a triumphant roar.
Naturally, it was Gari. “If you won’t declare it, then I will, Colonel: the night is ours!”
The men cheered and Perrin finally smiled as well. “Only on this field, Yordin,” he said, trying to calm his own growing enthusiasm.
Guarder bodies were everywhere, more than he’d expected. Probably over one hundred in the field alone, and they’d passed dozens on the way. It was an infestation, and they had arrived just in time. His chest burned with the desire to roar back. Not only had they succeeded, he was still feeling as whole and solid as a boulder.
But it wasn’t the commander’s place to act like a relieved first year soldier. The offensive wasn’t over just yet.
“We need thirty men to stay here and to bring the injured back to the staging area,” he gestured to the field. “The rest of you will finish going through the houses, then meet back at the old fort at the front of village for new orders. I’ll oversee removing the wounded here. Zenos, you appeared uninjured. You can relieve Yordin.”
“No, he won’t,” Gari said cheerfully as he slipped off his horse to allow the soldier to properly wrap his gash. “But he can ride by my side. I’m not going back yet!”
Perrin eyed him. “You’re losing a lot of blood, Major. You’ll lose consciousness soon, too.”
“Tighter, man,” Gari said to his wound wrapper. “That’s better. Zenos will watch out for me, won’t you, Sergeant Major?”
Zenos nodded at Yordin. “Colonel Shin, why don’t you get Karna and the others back, now,” his voice heavy with meaning. “That Rivers captain can oversee things here. This fire will take over the rest of the village soon and there will be little left to find.” He gave Perrin another searching look.
It was one Perrin had seen every day for the past year, and alarmingly in the middle of the night in his house. While it was astonishingly presumptuous for a sergeant major to suggest the next procedures to the colonel, Yordin and Karna didn’t censure Zenos, but instead watched the colonel closely.
Perrin winked at Shem and sent him a quick facial tick that indicated that he was all right.
Shem’s shoulders relaxed and he offered a small smile back.
Yordin and Karna exchanged a relieved nod.
Perrin turned to the field of standing men. “How many of the Mountseen group? Excellent. Start locating our wounded. Those trained as surgeons’ aides from each fort—stay here with me. The rest of you follow Yordin and Zenos to help Fadh. And men,” Perrin said with a glint in his eyes, “I guarantee an extra day off when this is over to whomever picks the unconscious Major Yordin off the ground and brings him back to me before dawn.”
The soldiers laughed and Perrin sent one last appraising look to Gari who was helped on to his horse by his men.
“Remember, Colonel—you’re already in trouble! And now, we have witnesses.” Yordin grinned and kicked his horse, and a pack of soldiers followed him and Shem back to the village.
Perrin turned to Brillen who, upon closer inspection, looked worse than Gari. “You’re growing paler than me, Brillen. Get down. Let’s wrap that leg.”
Brillen merely nodded and practically fell off his horse. Perrin dismounted and rushed to his side to help him lay on the stubbly field. The thigh wound was deeper than he expected, and the dark blue cloth of his trousers was already saturated.
Perrin groaned when he realized the severity of the gash. “I’m so sorry, Brillen,” he whispered.
Karna’s eyes closed in pain and fatigue.
“This is all my fault. Aide!” Perrin called.
A soldier rushed to his side and opened his surgeon’s aide pack. Perrin pushed him out of the way and hurriedly dumped the contents of the bag on the ground. He grabbed a large wad of cotton and the so
ldier unfurled a long wrap.
“Colonel, please,” the aide said, clearly not pleased that someone was taking over his job. “I can do this. Go supervise the others.”
“No! I caused this, I fix this.”
The captain gently pushed the colonel away. “Sir, you’re not here, remember? I’ve been trained. You haven’t. Now, go supervise the others. Sir.”
“Go, Perrin,” whispered Brillen, his eyes still closed. “Doctoring is not your talent. Killing is. I noticed that you were as deadly as ever tonight, and I don’t want to die.”
The corner of Perrin’s mouth went up ever so slightly. He nodded and patted the captain on the arm, who was already cutting the drenched wool to expose the gash.
Perrin got to his feet. He had promised someone he would come back for him.
He jogged through the slain on the ground, his attention focused on the far side of the field. Soldiers were already attending to the injured, and placing small strips of white cloth by those who were dead. Not a single Guarder seemed to have survived—either because of the efficiency of the soldiers or the Guarders’ custom to commit suicide rather than be taken prisoner—but right now Perrin didn’t care about that. His mind was too preoccupied by what he might find when he reached his destination.
If Lemuel Thorne were dead, there would be a lot of questions to answer.
If he were alive, there would be even more.
He found the captain lying motionless in the brown grass, his eyes closed. As he stood over him, Perrin pushed a variety of thoughts from his mind, most of them not altruistic. He paused for a moment before reluctantly kneeling at Thorne’s side to place his fingers on his neck.
There was a pulse, slow and weak.
Perrin didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed.
He unbuttoned Thorne’s jacket. The gash had sliced neatly across the bottom of his ribs, and he had lost a lot of blood, drenching his formerly white undershirt. But the wound wasn’t deep and likely not life-threatening if taken care of quickly enough.
Again Perrin hesitated. Only for a fraction of a second, but it felt much longer than that.
He looked around the field and waved over an aide who was helping another soldier to stand up on a wrapped leg. The aide jogged over to him.
“Get the captain bandaged up. We need to start moving the men out of here. The wind’s shifting, and the smoke from the fires will soon grow too heavy to see clearly.”
The aide nodded and started to work on Thorne.
Almost an hour later Perrin watched as the last of the wounded were helped out of the field and onto litters and wagons to be sent to the staging area where surgeons were already at work. Brillen’s eyes were still closed and his face even grayer when his litter passed Perrin.
“Don’t worry, Colonel,” Karna’s captain assured him. “The surgeons at the camp will take care of him. He should be all right.”
Perrin nodded and gave him The Dinner smile, hoping it would mask the guilt he felt for yet again leading a willing and devoted Brillen somewhere Perrin wasn’t supposed to be. They had both been serving at the Fort at Edge for less than two seasons when Perrin had ordered a nervous Lieutenant Karna to follow him into the forest. Today Brillen had followed him willingly, and was seriously wounded for his loyalty.
Misplaced loyalty, Perrin sighed to himself. If Brillen Karna didn’t recover, or lost his leg . . .
Perrin shook the thought out of his head and watched as the rest of the soldiers were carried past him. When Thorne’s litter passed, Perrin only glanced his way. Lemuel was hazily conscious with a faraway look in his eyes. He’d survive.
With a heavy sigh, Perrin mounted his horse, a creature proving its worth that night. Perrin patted its neck gratefully; perhaps he’d finally found a horse he’d claim as his own. He looked around one more time, evaluating the remaining soldiers. The last aides went to find Yordin and his men still searching the houses with Fadh. Soon they, too, would be back at the staging area. Everyone alive was on their way out of Moorland.
Content that the field of battle was deserted except for the dead, Perrin quietly clucked to his able horse and set off for the crater that used to be a building.
---
“Come on,” one man in green mottled and brown clothing whispered to another. He glanced up nervously at the burning timbers above. Ash and sparks floated down, singeing their clothes with tiny holes. “We need to get out of here!”
“But Dormin, where’s he going?” asked his companion. “Shin’s headed the wrong way! He should be going out, not back into Moorland. We should do something.”
“You’ve done enough!” Dormin hissed in his ear. “I can’t believe he didn’t see you.”
His companion flushed with the growing heat and embarrassment. “I couldn’t help myself. There he sat on his horse peering in, and the next thing I know, I’m saluting him.”
“You’re not the first one to do that,” Dormin said, dragging him away from the flames and deeper into the forest. “I was surprised too. It’s been decades since I’ve seen Relf’s sword. I admit I felt the urge to salute as well. However, those who do so are usually hidden well away in the forest, not under burning embers threatening to expose them to his view!”
The other man blushed deeper. “I just didn’t expect to see him. He’s not supposed to be here, you know.”
“Yes, we know,” Dormin said, deftly winding his way along invisible paths, his companion struggling to keep up. “But beyond that tree line is no longer our jurisdiction. We accomplished what we came to do, and now it’s time for use to melt back into the forest.”
The second man followed him obediently, constantly looking back at what used to be Moorland.
“But where is he going?”
---
What used to be the village green was eerily quiet.
The fire traveled north through the forest, since there was little left to burn in Moorland. Yet still a few stubborn logs and planks refused to give up, and lit the way to the massive hole.
About a hundred paces away from the crater was a tree still standing. Well, significant parts of it were. Perrin tethered his remarkably calm horse to the remaining trunk before picking his way through the debris. He slowed as he neared the pit that now had only a fine wisp of smoke rising from it. The smell of sulfur still hung in the air, as well as a faint scent that reminded him of urine.
He crept over to the edge of the hole and peered in. The ground all around was relatively smooth, as if an enormous spoon had scraped out the contents in one scoop. He looked around the perimeter and noticed that the remains of the building were scattered from the crater in an almost uniform manner, with black lines and ash radiating outward.
Perrin kneeled on one knee, scraped up some of the black powder, and sniffed it. Definitely sulfur—
And then he understood.
He scrambled to his feet, panic rising and his lungs gasping for air.
They were trying to harness the power of the forests—
They were trying to make their own eruptions—
And they had succeeded.
He took a few stumbling steps back, his breathing rapid and shallow. If they could do this amount of damage here . . .
Images flashed across his mind that he couldn’t stop. All that he’d successfully fought for more than two moons was back, forcing him to see all new horrors.
Exploding eruptions in Edge. At the fort. His home. His family.
A sharp pain stabbed him in the chest, as if the knife he nearly plunged there was sticking out of his heart.
Perrin twisted away from the crater, closed his eyes, and gripped his head. “No, no, no,” he told himself, “Not real. Not happening anywhere else but here. You did it. You killed them. You killed them all. They killed themselves!”
Perrin fought to breathe more slowly, more meditatively. Feeling something hot near his feet, he opened his eyes to see a log smoldering by his boots
. Another smell reached him.
The object wasn’t a log.
“NO!” Perrin cried as nausea wrenched his stomach. Images clouded his vision, and he sprinted from the crater to his horse, leaping over debris and other objects he chose not to identify. He yanked the reins off of the tree and scrambled on to his steed. The pain in his chest intensified, and he pushed on his heart in a vain attempt to slow its beating.
“No, no, no. Only happening here. Get away from it! It can’t follow you,” he told himself as he kicked the horse and rode as fast as he dared from the village. “You killed them all. You didn’t even get a scratch! Mahrree will never know.”
Tears of pain and worry streaked down his face.
“Dear Creator!” he whimpered as his horse headed into the darkness unguided. It was all the prayer he could muster. For several minutes the horse galloped while Perrin tried to ease the thumping of his heart. Completely disoriented and feeling a sufficient distance away from the horrors, he finally reined his horse to a stop and closed his eyes.
“It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s far behind me,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself that was true. He focused on a point just above his heart where over a year ago he felt his parents for the last time. “I’m alone. I was victorious. I was right. They were doing worse things than raising an army. I stopped them. It’s over. I’m a son of the Creator—”
His horse pawed the ground restlessly as Perrin continued to breathe and think and murmur to himself.
Eventually he opened his eyes. To his right he saw the burning forest in a distance, and he turned the horse around to face the east where Edge, the camp, and the sun would be. He sighed and looked up at the stars.
“Dear Creator, I need help. You know it, and I’m asking—”
He lowered his head, ashamed at trying to command the Great Commander.
Penitently he slid off the horse, went immediately to his knees, but then collapsed on the dirt with his cheek against the earth. There he laid, exhausted and terrified—maybe for minutes or maybe for hours—before he found the strength to speak.
“Dear Creator, please, please help me,” he whispered. “I know I’m not worthy of Your attention. This ground below me trembles when You command it, but when You cause me to tremble I demand a reason for it. I’m lower than this dirt, but still I beg for Your mercy. I’ve tried to do Your will. I know You wanted us to make this attack, to destroy whatever it was they were trying to make. But Creator, it’s now destroying me. I can’t shake the images—”
He gasped and shuddered as they flooded his mind again. “Mahrree!” he whispered and squeezed his eyes shut.
It was another horribly long minute or hour before he continued.
“Please help me hold it together. My friends are injured, my brother had to end lives, and our leadership is compromised. I don’t know who’s left and able to lead these soldiers home. Please help me get myself together, get the men back, and get me home. You’re the only one in charge, You’re the only one with real power. I’m at Your mercy. Help me finish Your will.”
He blew out another deep breath and felt his lungs fill again, but something else filled him too.
The warmth that always remained near his heart grew. A smile came across his face, but he didn’t know why. And he didn’t have to know why—he just needed to accept it.
Breathing became easier and the pain in his chest faded. Clear images of what needed to happen in the next several hours came to his mind, as if he were seeing vivid drawings in a book. And with that came the desire to get up and get to work.
Never before had he sighed so loudly or with such gratitude. Once again he was full and strong and unstoppable. He was back.
Perrin got to his knees, brushed the dirt from his cheek, and addressed the stars. “Well done, Sir! Thank You!”
Grinning into the dark, he mounted his weary but willing horse, and kicked it into a run to the east.
---
Shem had been growing more uneasy as the darkness in the west revealed nothing but darkness. He and the rest of the army had returned an hour ago, having found no more Guarders. Moorland and the Guarders were utterly devastated.
When he strode into the command tent to deliver the good news to the colonel, he was greeted by a lone corporal manning the map.
Shem helped get the wounded to the surgeons while always watching the west. He took care of his horse, glancing behind him into the dark. He discussed the next moves with Fadh, who was currently in command since he was the highest ranked officer not injured, while keeping an eye on the glow of the Moorland fires.
Major Fadh kept vigil too, waiting for Colonel Shin to finally appear. The two men stood together now at the ditch on the edge of the camp, scanning the darkness.
“Did anyone see what direction he went?” Fadh quietly asked Shem. “It’s been hours now.”
“The surgeons’ aides thought he was right behind them.” Shem massaged his hands. “Five more minutes, then I’ll go looking.”
“Take some men with you, Zenos. He wouldn’t . . . he wouldn’t go in to the forest, would he?” Fadh whispered, glancing at the trees burning in the distance.
Shem stared in the same direction, his worry doubling. “Why would he do that?”
“Brillen told me that’s how he and Shin first engaged the Guarders, years ago,” Fadh murmured, as if concerned that any of the soldiers keeping a respectable distance behind them might overhear. “You know him better than any of us, Shem. What do you think?”
Calling him by his first name promoted Shem to Fadh’s equal, and Shem appreciated the show of faith.
But that was the kind of man Fadh was; he just didn’t know it.
Besides, considering the amount of officers and older enlisted men wounded, the fact that Perrin was missing, along with Beneff, and that Graeson Fadh had been serving in the army for about a year less than Shem, and that the situation was still considered a battle, Sergeant Major Shem Zenos was likely the ablest senior soldier and therefore in charge of the offensive at that moment.
But Shem didn’t want that distinction. He only wanted his brother to come back. As he surveyed the burning distance, the awful notion that Perrin might not return entered his mind for the first time.
“Shem,” Fadh said, searching the dark for movement, “considering his past behavior, maybe something in him snapped and he thought he needed to try going into the forests again.”
Shem groaned. “This was too much, too soon. I told him I didn’t think he wasn’t ready, but he insisted it had to be now.”
Graeson Fadh squeezed his shoulder in a brotherly manner, and Shem marveled at the familiarity of the gesture. Then again, Shem knew Fadh well. Actually, he knew men like him very well.
“I never doubted his timing or his resolve, Shem,” Fadh confided. “Obviously he was right about the attack tonight. I’m just worried now about him.”
Shem smiled dimly at that. Typical Fadh response. But again, Graeson didn’t know that.
Shem’s smile dissolved as he realized Graeson likely never would know, and once again the two worlds that Shem tried to keep separate threatened to collide and create a disaster in his mind.
There were enough disasters tonight already, and Shem knew it was his growing dread for his best friend that currently endangered his own ability to keep his thoughts straight—
Out of the darkness came the sound of a horse galloping. Graeson gripped Shem’s arm in hope. A large horse with the larger figure of Colonel Shin emerged from the darkness, leaped easily over the ditch, and continued past the two men and into the camp.
Fadh burst into a grin. “Yes!” He shook Shem’s shoulders enthusiastically and broke into a run after the colonel.
Shem jogged after Perrin as well, trying to discern his demeanor by the way he held himself. Too many things could have gone wrong. It was too much stimulation for such an imbalanced mind.
Perrin reined his horse once he was i
n the middle of the tent village, and soldiers shouted in triumph at their commander. As Perrin wheeled the horse around, Shem caught a glimpse of his face.
Perrin was smiling.
No, not merely smiling: beaming, almost glowing.
Shem halted his pursuit and watched.
Soldiers were rising to their feet, punching the air, and shouting “Shin! Shin!” Even many of the wounded being tended to on the southern side of the camp were trying to sit up, or shouted from their prone positions. Somewhere Roarin’ Yordin would be smacking the ground, Shem thought with a smile. His smile grew as he watched his friend take the cheers, a little embarrassed by the loud outpouring aimed his way.
Colonel Shin raised his hand in an effort to quiet their roar, but it only made the men shout louder.
Shem chuckled as Perrin turned slightly pink. He noticed that even the surgeons were chanting “Shin!” as they wrapped wounds. A few calls of “General!” also punctured the air.
Shem could only hope that Thorne was already sedated.
Somehow Perrin spotted Shem in the crowd, and for a moment their eyes met. Only Shem was adept enough at reading Perrin’s face to recognize the shadow of darkness that flickered across it.
Something had gone wrong, but Perrin was on top of it.
In fact, right now he was on top of the entire world, with a devoted army to make sure he stayed there.
“Men, men!” Colonel Shin tried to shout over the chants of “Shin!” that continued to pummel him. “Please! It’s the middle of the night, you know. Some drowsy officer in Idumea’s trying to sleep, and your racket will startle him off of his desk.”
The shouting dissolved into laughter as the combined armies looked with admiration at the mastermind of the offensive.
“You’ve all done remarkably well,” he announced to them. “I’m astounded and impressed at our victory. Each one of you will be able to boast to your grandchildren that you were at the Moorland Offensive—the attack that devastated the Guarders, that destroyed their secret weapon, and finally brought peace to our world.”
That started the cheering all over again, with Colonel Shin vainly trying to quiet it. For once no one felt like obeying the colonel. Then again, the colonel wasn’t ordering them to settle down.
Shem folded his arms and watched with amused approval. After such a miserable year, Perrin Shin deserved to feel a little success.
The colonel called again over the shouts of the army. “Now, that’s not to say this offensive was executed perfectly. I’ve discovered deviations to my plan which I’ll discuss with your commanders. However,” he paused as he glanced around at the dirty, burned, and bloodied soldiers that looked up at him with reverent awe, “this isn’t the time for admonishment, but for celebration. Men, I couldn’t be prouder of you tonight. And more importantly, the Creator is pleased with you too. Well done!”
Before he could direct his horse over to the makeshift stables, he was swarmed with eager soldiers who forgot all protocol and tried to reach up to shake his hand, slap him on the leg, or—more appropriately—salute him.
Shem grinned at Perrin’s futile efforts to slip away. “Just enjoy the moment, General Shin,” he whispered as the soldiers mobbed him. “And that title is coming, my brother. But I must inform you, it’ll be yours in a way, and at a time, that you’ll never suspect.”
Chapter 15 ~ “Seeing as how some people weren’t where they were supposed to be . . .”