The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series)

by Trish Mercer

  “Who is it?”

  She didn’t want to say it, but there was no other possibility. “Guarders.”

  Jaytsy whimpered.

  Another yell made them all flinch. It was Perrin, and he was overtaking the coach.

  “Father!” Jaytsy cried out.

  Mahrree muffled her with her hand, although she doubted Perrin would have heard her over the noise of the coach and the horses. “What do you expect him to do, come in here and hold you? He needs to do his duty. You do yours. Sit low and safe!”

  Mahrree sat back up and tried to see what was happening in front of them, if nothing else but to gauge if she should feel panicked or brave.

  She spied Perrin leaning toward the wagon with the Guarder on it, and a body flew off the side. Mahrree tried not to gasp, but she couldn’t help it. As they passed the body flopped by the side of the road, Mahrree saw in the quick moment that she could focus on it that it was dressed in soldier blue.

  Yes, she should feel panicked.

  Only one soldier was left on the wagon ahead with the Guarder, and Perrin was riding next to them on horseback. She tried to look ahead in the dark, but saw instead a leg start to come down off the top of their coach. The soldier sitting in relief driver position was making his way down the side.

  The soldier looked behind, and Mahrree turned to see Poe riding hard up to them holding the reins of another horse, presumably from the enemy. He came up alongside the coach and the soldier made a clumsy but safe landing on the spare horse. Together they rode up to the wagon and out of Mahrree’s view.

  She sat back, frustrated. “I have to know what’s happening! There’s an empty seat now up there,” she mused to herself and looked up as if she could see through the black siding.

  “Mother, you can NOT go up there!” Peto declared.

  “She’d never do that, Peto!” Jaytsy said.

  But Mahrree was already putting her head out the window trying to see the footholds the soldier used. She sat down again. “You’re right,” she said, partially disappointed but more relieved. “If I were wearing trousers I might be able to do it, and if the horses weren’t galloping. And if it wasn’t dark. And if I wasn’t terrified of the whole situation—”

  Several more shouts shut her mouth. One glimpse out the windows told them the coach was surrounded by men on horseback, all in black, perhaps as many as ten.

  Jaytsy screamed and ducked down again. Peto looked like he would be sick. Mahrree tried to pray, but all that would come out was, “Please, Creator! Please!”

  She watched out the window—this time trying to be discreet about it but likely failing—as another figure on horseback who proved to be her husband came into view with his sword drawn. In the dark it was hard to be sure, but Mahrree thought it was dirtied. She felt Peto and Jaytsy come to her side to watch, but she was too engrossed in what was going on to tell them to get back down.

  Perrin slashed at a rider nearest their door and the man fell from his horse without a sound.

  “That was quick,” Peto breathed, genuinely impressed.

  Another rider pulled out a sword and then fell from view.

  “No, I wanted to see that!” Peto moaned. He leaned out the window to see his father fight the Guarder behind them, but they were lost to the night.

  Before Mahrree could yank her son back to safety, a strange rocking motion shifted the coach, and Mahrree twisted to look out the other side. A dark rider had leaped onto the coach and was climbing up past the window.

  “What do they want with us?” Jaytsy whimpered.

  “They don’t want us, just the coach,” Mahrree said, not at all sure of her assessment. Now she wanted to cry out for Perrin, too. But she couldn’t let panicked win. Not yet.

  The coach bounced erratically, suggesting that the dark man and the lone driver were fighting on the top. The horses kept their gallop and Mahrree wondered if there was anything she could do.

  Poke the Guarder through the coach wall? Throw an apple at him? Mahrree’s bravery was woefully uncreative.

  The swaying stopped and a strange whoop came from above them.

  Mahrree looked out the window to see the body of another soldier falling away.

  That was it. The end. They’d lost control of the coach, and she and her children were now at the mercy of people who weren’t know for mercy . . .

  She sat down, sure that the terror on her face was evident even in the dark.

  “Mother, who’s driving the coach?” Peto asked, not too steadily.

  Mahrree just shook her head. Another yell came, and she looked out the window to see her husband nearing. With a swipe of his sword, a Guarder riding right behind their back wheel fell from his horse, then another slash from Perrin caused the last Guarder on that side of the coach to vanish as well. Mahrree looked to the other side, but didn’t see anyone in view. The other riders must have gone up ahead.

  “Mahrree!” Perrin yelled.

  She stuck her head out the window.

  “Good—you’re still there.”

  Before she could ask him where in the world he thought she might’ve gone, he said, “You’re going to have to help me gain control of this coach.”

  “What?!”

  Perrin glanced up at the driver in black and shook his head. “No time!” He nudged his horse closer to the coach and leaned over.

  “I hate doing this,” he muttered as he tried to match the speed of his horse to the coach. “Always messed up in training. Never could get the timing . . . just . . . right.”

  He leaned, grabbed the handholds on either side the door, and left the horse successfully.

  “Ha! When it matters, I guess,” he said as his feet scrabbled to find the step.

  Mahrree and her children couldn’t even breathe.

  “Mahrree, watch how I go up, count to fifteen, then follow me. Have Peto hold the door so it won’t come back and hit you. You’ll have to take the reins while I secure the coach. Are you watching?”

  Mahrree spluttered for a moment before she managed a panicked, “Are you serious?”

  But Perrin was already inching his way to the front of the coach. He reached for the same holds the soldier had used a few minutes ago to climb up to the driving bench. Soon he was out of sight, and the coach swayed unpredictably again. A loud grunting noise above them fortunately didn’t sound like Perrin. It did, however, sound like Perrin punching someone in the gut.

  Mahrree sat with her mouth wide open, stunned, as Peto slowly counted.

  The coach bounced again.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  Jaytsy squeezed her hand, if in support or agreement, Mahrree wasn’t sure.

  “Thirteen . . . fourteen . . . fifteen. Mother, fifteen? I know I said otherwise, but Father’s waiting for help.”

  Peto sat up and swung the door open, then put his arm through the window to hold the door. “If you won’t go, I will,” he said, and Mahrree could tell he meant it.

  The mothering instinct finally took over, easily defeating panic that tried to take a stand against it. “Oh no you won’t, young man!”

  Another violent sway threw Mahrree toward the open door.

  “All right, all right! I’m going!” She cautiously turned to back out the door, feeling for the grips above. Firmly grasping the leather handles, she stepped out to the side of the coach.

  “Be careful, Mother!” cried Jaytsy unnecessarily.

  Even in the dark Mahrree could tell two men were wrestling on top of the coach. She focused instead on finding the holds, ignoring the cold wind and rocking that tried to toss her from the side. She put her foot on the first hold—a small block protruding from the side—and reached for the next one.

  “Not made for short women!” she yelled at the coach. As if in response, the coach hit a bump and propelled her upward enough to grab the block above. Not sure if she should feel grateful or disappointed, Mahrree firmed her grip. She knew she was going to make it up there; it was ju
st a matter of actually doing it.

  She refused to look up to see what was happening with her husband, but took the next hold up and placed her boot again, glad that the wind was blowing her skirt out of the way, then climbed again and again until she saw the empty driver’s seat in front of her. She crawled onto it and sighed in relief.

  “The reins!” she heard Perrin yell. Then she heard him grunt.

  Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, she told herself. She saw the ends of the reins just below her where the drivers’ feet were to rest. Laying down on the bench and reaching out her shaking hand, she snatched them with a triumphant, “Ha!”

  She sat up in the seat and the coach shifted again. Startled, she spun around to see her husband on all fours on the roof, grinning down at her. “Good job!”

  Mahrree exhaled and held the reins up to him. He shook his head.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, a little winded.

  “Then why aren’t you standing?”

  “Do you want to try to stand on a swaying coach? I’ll trade you!”

  She held the reins up to him again with a challenging smile, until she saw— “PERRIN!”

  He turned just in time to see another Guarder climbing up the side of the coach. Perrin’s swift kick in his face sent the dark man into the air and made Mahrree wince.

  But another Guarder was climbing up the back, and still another on the side. Perrin stayed on his knees, drew his sword and Mahrree pivoted to the front. She couldn’t bear to watch him use the sword, or worse, see something used on him.

  Just keep control of the horses, she thought. Never mind this was only the third time in her life she had ever held the reins of horses, and that she really didn’t know what else to do but hold them firmly. She focused ahead at the teams in front of her, still in full gallop. In the dim light of the moons she could just make out the full and awful scope of the attack.

  The scenario playing out on the coach was being repeated two wagons in front of her, and, by the amount of horses she saw overtaking her, would be happening on nearly all of the wagons as well. Guarders and soldiers fighting for control of the caravan.

  “Dear Creator, will we lose everything?” She tried to concentrate on the wagon ahead of her to see who was controlling the horses. It occurred to her that if it were Guarders, they would have left the caravan by now. She prayed it was Hili or the relief driver of their coach holding the reins.

  Behind her she heard the furious clanking of steel, and worried tears washed down her face. As long as someone in black didn’t suddenly land next to her, her husband was prevailing.

  She chanced a look behind her just in time to see Perrin run his sword through another man, who fell ungainly from the coach. Mahrree thought she would retch, especially when she saw another Guarder who climbed up the side hit Perrin solidly in the jaw with his fist.

  “No, no, no, no!” Mahrree whispered to the horses as she turned quickly around.

  She felt a presence above and behind her, then suddenly next to her.

  It was a man. Wearing black.

  She screamed and the body flopped limply on her lap, unconscious, or worse.

  With a noise Mahrree remembered making only once before when she found a large centipede creeping through her little girl’s dinner, she flailed and kicked until the heavy body slumped to the other side of the bench. As she cowered on her end of the seat, she watched in horror as the man in black slowly, much too slowly, slid off the other side and into the darkness. A jolting of the coach’s back wheel suggested they’d run over him. For the third time in her life Mahrree made the same noise, which used every vowel sound in the alphabet, followed by a severe shudder.

  “Perrin!” she whimpered and saw another body tumble off a wagon further up ahead, seemingly dressed in black.

  There was another sway of their coach, another clang of steel behind her, and the suggestion of one more body falling off the side.

  “Wasn’t me!” Perrin shouted.

  One morbid side of her mind wished she was keeping tally of her husband’s kills. The other part of her mind recoiled at the word ‘kills.’

  Another body fell off another wagon somewhere ahead, but she kept her eyes forward. A distinct slicing sound behind her sent a spray of something onto her cloak and the seat next to her. She glanced down to see liquid shining in the dim moons’ light. Grimacing, she chanced a look behind her.

  Her husband cringed down at her and gestured with his sword that dripped again on the driver’s bench and her cloak. “Sorry about that. But it’s not mine. You’re doing well, by the way.” He turned and Mahrree saw him thrust with the sword again at someone just out of view.

  She looked straight ahead and tried to ignore the moaning sound that fortunately didn’t sound like her husband, followed by another muffled thud.

  I should’ve said that to him, she thought. You’re doing well. What I am doing but sitting here flinching and weeping?

  She felt a presence next to her again, but before she could cry out she realized this time it was her husband.

  “That’s the last of them back here,” he said as he positioned himself on the bench next to her. “I can’t see anything else coming up. But I need to get to the other wagons.”

  Mahrree fought the urge to throw her arms around her husband’s neck, because they weren’t out of trouble yet. “How? We can’t go any faster, and we can’t leave the road or we’ll end up in those freshly plowed fields that are now turning into freezing mud.”

  “I know, I know—let me think.” Perrin took the reins from his wife and scanned the dark scenery for any abandoned horses.

  The distant horn blast startled them both. They looked at each other expectantly, then heard the second long, loud tone.

  “The fort at Pools!” Perrin breathed.

  Cheers rose from the wagons ahead as Guarder horses came rushing back past the coach, with fresh soldiers and horses in close pursuit. Perrin joined the cheer, but Mahrree just held her head in relief.

  A few moments later an officer rode up to the coach and turned his horse to match their pace.

  “Colonel Shin? I’m Captain Lebs. We’re here to escort you to the fort and attend to your wounded.”

  “Thank you, Captain!” Perrin saluted cheerfully.

  Mahrree patted her chest to catch her breath before turning to call down to the coach. “Are you two all right in there? We should be at the fort soon.”

  There was no response.

  “Peto! Jaytsy!” Mahrree screamed. “Answer me!”

  Perrin looked at her, alarmed.

  “Fine, Mother! We’re fine,” Peto’s muffled voice finally came back up to them. “Just a little, um, buried. Seems the crate of dresses Grandmother packed wasn’t secure. Just a small nightmare, covering me in silks . . .”

  Jaytsy’s nervous laugh rose up. “He looks lovely, Mother. Peto in pink. I wish there was more light in here.”

  “Dresses?” Perrin asked Mahrree. “With the need for food you packed dresses?”

  “Your mother packed dresses, and lots of food,” Mahrree clarified. “She thought women in Edge might need some new clothing. Quite a gesture on her part when you think about it. I think she gave us nearly everything she owned.”

  By the time they reached the fort, Peto and Jaytsy had managed to pack most of the dresses back into the crate that had been perched on the seat opposite of them. As the coach pulled through the fort’s gates, Colonel Snyd was waiting with a lantern in one hand, and his sword in the other. When he recognized the Shins, his stance relaxed and he sheathed his weapon. The wagon drivers pulled over to the stables to inspect the condition of the horses and wagons, but Perrin stopped the coach in front of the command office, slid off the bench and helped Mahrree down.

  Snyd shook his head. “You looked a sight neater last night, Colonel Shin. The only thing messing up your uniform was a baby, not—”

  Instead of fin
ishing his sentence, the colonel held the lantern higher. Mahrree saw splatters and smears on her husband’s riding coat that she hadn’t noticed before. She quickly looked down to avoid seeing more blood, but discovered a few drying spots on her cloak instead.

  Colonel Snyd smiled sympathetically. “Mrs. Shin, I didn’t expect we’d meet again so soon. I certainly hope your ride here was . . . well,” he raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “What can I say?”

  Colonel Shin shook his hand. “I can say thank you, Colonel Snyd. Your men came just in time.”

  Jaytsy and Peto tumbled out of the coach and hurried over to their father.

  Snyd chuckled in understanding as they each gripped one of Perrin’s arms. “Quite an evening you two have had,” Snyd said. “Two exciting nights in a row, eh?”

  “Father was more entertaining tonight than last night,” Peto said. “I counted thirteen.”

  “Thirteen what?” Mahrree asked.

  Perrin leaned over to him. “I think you missed three,” he whispered.

  Mahrree pressed her hands to her temples and groaned quietly. “Colonel, is there a washing room I could go for a few minutes to freshen up?”

  “Of course,” he said gesturing to the open door behind him. “Sergeant Oblong,” he called to a waiting soldier, “show Mrs. Shin and her daughter to the guest washing rooms. See to it that they have some warm water, too.”

  Mahrree nearly wept to see a cheerful and familiar face approach them.

  “If you’ll follow me, ma’am,” Oblong said as he led them down a wide corridor. He pushed open a door for them. “Clean towels are over there, and I’ll go fetch you the water. And please tell Colonel Shin it worked,” he added in an urgent whisper. “I’m being promoted next week!”

  ---

  Only after Mahrree and Jaytsy, now willing to hang on her mother for comfort, left to enter the fort did Perrin turn to his son.

  “First, counting kills is not some kind of competition—”

  “And second,” Snyd said, “never discuss the number in front of the women.”

  Perrin pointed at him. “Right.”

  “So it was that bad, Colonel Shin?” Snyd asked, nodding at his bloodied coat and leading him and Peto into his command office. Peto took a chair by the door to watch the changing of the horses across the compound.