The Forest at the Edge of the World

by Mercer, Trish

  ---

  A week after the attacks ended, Captain Shin sat in his office in the command tower and reread the report from General Cush. He looked vainly for loopholes.

  Captain Shin,

  Your recommendations have been reviewed and discussed among the Command Board and Chairman Mal. We value your efforts to improve the Army of Idumea, but feel many of your ideas are premature or inappropriate.

  First, the uniform of the army will not change. While it does seem logical to create a field uniform that blends into the surroundings, the danger is that soldiers will attack their own, believing they are the enemy. The uniform is also one of the oldest and highest traditions the army has, dating back to the Great War, and altering it would be like altering the army—unacceptable.

  Captain Shin smirked. That wasn’t his father’s belief. Relf Shin held up the call for tradition as strongly as his son did.

  They tried to drop it on its head as often as possible.

  “Just create a field uniform,” Perrin grumbled. “Not something that looks like them. That would be as useless as the Guarders dressing up in blue uniforms!”

  Captain Shin sighed as he continued to read.

  While your suggestion to revive the suits of mail used in the Great War seems to have merit, the current attack strategies of the Guarders may not require such elaborate and expensive armor. Mail and shields were necessary when the enemy one hundred twenty years ago employed the extensive use of bows and arrows, as well as maces. But Guarders seem to be outfitted only with daggers and engage only in close combat.

  It is the opinion of the army leadership that even mail may not have prevented the injuries sustained by your men, nor would mail have afforded any protection to the soldier which the Guarder held hostage. No mail was ever made to extend to one’s throat.

  “But it could be!” Captain Shin said out loud to the paper. “And what makes you think they won’t start using arrows or maces?” He smacked the message in frustration. Also not his father’s opinion, he was sure. But what was the point of being High General when all the lesser generals and administrators controlled the army?

  Shin fumed when he read the next line again.

  As for breastplates and other shielding you suggested, while thick leather would be easier and less costly than mail, it is the opinion of the garrison that such defensive measures may alarm the citizenry, who are of the belief their soldiers are the bravest the world has ever produced, and are not in need of any such protection.

  “It would have put three more men to work in the village, making armor! But say what you mean, Cush,” he bellowed at the paper, “I’m a coward for wanting to preserve my soldiers. Oh, but wait. If I really was a coward, would I have suggested the next thing you’ve decided is also ‘inappropriate?!”

  As for beginning training within the forest itself, that too is contrary to anything we have ever done. The purpose of the army is to defend the citizenry of the world. We are not aggressors or pursuers. Your brash and reckless behavior in entering the forest—and remaining there—would suggest you are too aggressive to capably lead your fort.

  That last sentence must have been drafted by Nicko Mal himself. Professor Mal’s favorite line to describe Perrin back in Command School was “aggressively brash and reckless.” He grumbled again as he finished the message.

  We at the garrison realize this was your first encounter with Guarders, and the fact that your soldiers sustained no loss of life redeems your otherwise dangerous behavior. The command of the fort of Edge is still yours, but you are admonished to follow all established protocol in defending the village and fort, and in training the soldiers. You may, however, conduct training procedures along the edge of the forest, without actually entering into it. No one under any circumstances is to be allowed to enter the forests for any reasons. The risks are too great, the payoffs too small.

  If you find yourself unable to follow all of the established rules of the army, and insist on performing in a reckless manner, a new career will be decided for you.

  Captain Shin’s left hand formed a fist as he reread those words. That last sentence may have come from his father. Or perhaps even his mother, he considered with a dour smile. He sighed and reread the small note that had been attached under General Cush’s official signature.

  Take care of that wife of yours and keep her safe from the storms. The sky here is frequently cloudy and dark as of late.

  By the way, son—excellent work. RS.

  Perrin smiled, peeled the note off the wax attachment and slipped it into his pocket. Then he put the official message on top of the cabinets behind him, planning to “accidentally” nudge it later so that it would fall into the oblivion between the cabinet and the wall.

  He pulled out the next message from the packet from Idumea and reread it. He scratched his chin, still puzzled.

  Wiles was missing, and High General Shin had sent out yet another message to all forts asking them to inquire with their local law enforcers for additional clues as to what may have happened.

  Ever since the captain and the lieutenant emerged from the forest—filthy and scratched, but alive and defiant—and Perrin announced to Wiles and the master sergeant, “We can conquer that forest! I know it,” Wiles had been as pale as a first season private.

  Two days after the Guarder attack and the suicides of the prisoners, Wiles didn’t even send a messenger to explain his absence yet again in the tower.

  Perrin and Karna went looking for him and discovered him in his quarters, clutching his chest. They rushed him to the hospital wing and watched anxiously as the surgeon and his assistant tried to help the old sergeant major calm down his rapid breathing.

  That’s when the message arrived from Idumea, and was delivered to the captain at the hospital.

  Chairman Nicko Mal, concerned about the health of his old friend so near the forest, ordered that Wiles be returned to Idumea to retire immediately with full honors. The message was accompanied by release papers signed by the High General.

  Perrin thought the offer of retirement was a surprisingly benevolent gesture. But curiously Wiles’s breathing became even more labored, and his chest pains more severe, when he heard that Mal wanted to bring him home.

  Even though they lay him in the fort coach that evening to make his ride as comfortable as possible, the weakened Wiles seemed more restless than ever. They even sent a surgeon’s aid along to care for him during the long two nights and one day ride to Idumea.

  But when the coach arrived outside of Pools for another change of horses late at night, Wiles was no longer in the coach. His crate with his possessions was still in there, but no sergeant major.

  The soldiers driving the coach and the surgeon’s aid inside were baffled. They hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual, and when they changed horses outside of Vines, Wiles was finally sleeping on the carriage bench. The surgeon’s aid had nodded off to sleep for a well-deserved break, waking only when the carriage stopped for the next horse change.

  That was three days ago, and still nothing had been heard about the sergeant major. High General Shin had thoroughly interrogated the soldiers and the surgeon’s aid, and was confident all three men were as innocent as they trembled to be. Soldiers from Pools to Vines and even up to Midplain were dispatched to check the roads, thinking that perhaps Wiles had become disoriented and tried to leave the coach while it was moving, but they found no clues.

  That struck Perrin as exceptionally odd. The main road to Idumea was well-travelled. And even though the coach travelled at night, to get Wiles as quickly as possible to the surgeons at the garrison, it was difficult to imagine that no one would have noticed an old man’s body lying on the side of the road. At this time of year all the fields, farm after farm all the way to Idumea, were filled with workers bringing in the harvest.

  Wiles had simply vanished. Just like people had vanished years ago, when the Guarders were most active.

  Guarder snatched, as the more
paranoid liked to claim.

  A string of words he uttered just minutes ago replayed themselves suddenly in Perrin’s head. “Guarders dressing up in blue uniforms . . .”

  His stunned whisper faded into nothing.

  No.

  No. That couldn’t be possible. That wouldn’t be imagined. Wiles had been around for years. That would mean that anyone . . . any time . . . and they could be anywhere . . . then they could—

  He dropped the message as if it burned his fingers, and stared out at the forest for a very long time.

  ---

  That night he was very quiet as he lay in bed next to his wife.

  “You’ve been lost in thought all evening,” Mahrree gently prodded him. “What’s wrong?”

  It took him another minute to answer her. “Had a thought, earlier. At the fort.”

  Mahrree tried to keep her sigh quiet. Dawn was only about eight hours away, and at this rate it would take her hours to get him to articulate his thought. “About . . .?”

  “Wiles.”

  Ah, some progress, and faster than she expected. “About him still missing? About—”

  Another long pause. “Who he really was.”

  Now Mahrree went silent, lost in worry. “What do you mean?”

  “What if . . . what if he was one of them?”

  Mahrree huddled closer to her husband, and he put a protective arm around her. “But . . . but that wouldn’t make any sense. He’s been around for years, right? It’s not like he suddenly showed up volunteering to serve in the army.”

  Perrin’s shoulders relaxed. “True, true. He’s always been here. I keep reminding myself of that.”

  “Why would you have to remind yourself?” she asked, grateful he was holding her. “I mean, if you thought he was one of them, that would mean he infiltrated the army years ago. That he’s been living among us for decades. Why, why that’s ridiculous!” Her tone wasn’t as light as she hoped it would be.

  “Yes. Ridiculous,” he answered in a monotone. “But what if?”

  “Then . . . then . . . it’s all over!” she whimpered. “We have no hope! They know everything about us, they can destroy us in an instant—”

  “But they haven’t,” he reminded her. “If they really have infiltrated the army—the world—then why haven’t they taken us over? Why haven’t they destroyed us?”

  Mahrree sighed in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It never has, remember? No, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure—Wiles wasn’t one of them. None of them are among us. It was just a stray thought that I gave too much attention. Wiles was just a regular old man who met an unfortunate end. That’s all. Sorry to bother you with the idea. Good night, my darling wife.”

  Mahrree lay awake for hours listening to her husband softly snoring. Finally she decided that if he wasn’t worried, she shouldn’t be either.

  It was one of the worst nights she ever endured, and she wasn’t even nauseated.

  Chapter 20 ~ “Doorknob, I don’t want to see everything differently.”

  “I can’t stand it anymore,” Mahrree announced to Perrin over breakfast.

  He sighed and said, as he did each morning for the past four weeks. “Yes, my darling wife, you can. And you must.”

  “But why?” she whined.

  He put down his fork. “To be sure, remember? Just in case it’s not what we think?”

  She nibbled on her bread, the only thing she could tolerate in the mornings. “But what else could it be?”

  “I really don’t know.” He smiled. “For now it’s just our little secret. Rather fun to keep between just the two of us, isn’t it? Besides, you’d be heartbroken if you told everyone and suddenly it wasn’t going to happen, right?”

  “You’re right, you’re right.”

  “Love it when you have to admit that.” He chuckled as he took a big bite of potatoes.

  Mahrree looked away from his plate filled with bacon, potatoes, and scrambled eggs. It was a good thing he was adept at cooking himself a big breakfast each morning.

  Strangely, she found herself repulsed by the texture of food. And the smell of food. And the taste of food—

  “Four more weeks, Mahrree. That’s all. That’s what we decided, remember?”

  “I remember, I remember.”

  It was the most sensible thing, but she simply didn’t feel sensible. She alternated between feeling joyful and jubilant, and woozy and weepy. But, in an effort to feign sensibility, she behaved as if she felt fine even though she was sick each morning and dizzy each afternoon.

  But sometimes what she felt was overwhelming. Whenever she saw anything remotely sentimental she began to tear up. Just last week Mahrree and Perrin went out for an evening stroll to enjoy the Harvest Season air when she noticed a little boy on the side of the road playing with a tiny kitten. Just as Perrin started to pull her away, she broke out of his grip and rushed over to croon at the scene. She knew her behavior was completely irrational, but the little boy and kitten were just so cute!

  “Cute?” Perrin mumbled as he led her away. “Since when do you use the word ‘cute’?”

  “Should I have said ‘adorable’?”

  “Neither of those words was on my mother’s list.”

  After that, Perrin began to develop avoidance strategies, or so Mahrree assumed that might be the official term for his behavior. On Holy Day yesterday, a new mother offered to let Mahrree hold her baby girl at the meeting. The infant was in her arms for only a minute when Mahrree began to sniff and grow weepy.

  “Ah, must be those allergies, again, huh Mahrree? We better get you home,” Perrin said with a tone of hinting. “Before your eyes puff up again. Oh dear, looks like they already are. Let’s get going before you bloat and frighten that baby. Now.”

  Mahrree noticed several of the older women smiling in her direction as they quickly left. They weren’t fooling them, and the fact that they suspected what Mahrree and Perrin suspected filled her with even more hope that all their suspicions were correct.

  ---

  Lieutenant Heth heard the quiet knock on the door, but suspected it was for a room further down the dormitory. At such a late hour, there was only one kind of visitor that would dare lurk in the halls. And she was obviously lost.

  It wasn’t until the third time he heard the soft knock that he began to suspect it was for his room. His roommates were snoring, so obviously none of them were expecting someone. Reluctantly he got out of his bed, lit a candle, and snuck over to the door. When he opened it, he sneered.

  “What are you doing here?!” He looked his visitor up and down with a critical eye.

  “Nice to see you too, Sonoforen,” Dormin whispered as he ducked into the room.

  “Hey, I didn’t invite you in.”

  “Shh. And don’t worry, I’m not looking for a place to sleep in Idumea. I just wanted to talk to you. Some place private?”

  Heth sighed and gestured to his bed. “My roommates could sleep through a wrestling match. I know that for a fact,” he sniggered quietly.

  His brother sat on the edge of the bed without commenting.

  Heth sat a few feet away from him. “So what do you want?”

  “To know what you’re doing,” Dormin said. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”

  “And that brought you all the way to Idumea? I thought you were afraid to be seen.” In the dim light he eyed his younger brother’s dark concealing and ill-fitting clothes, untrimmed blonde hair that was covered by a sloppy hat, and scruffy boots. “You look like a rubbish remover.”

  “That’s because I am. And yes, I am worried about being recognized. I move only at night. Twice I’ve been stopped by soldiers wondering what I was up to.”

  “Hope you gave them an interesting story to think about during their long night shifts,” Heth leered.

  Dormin sighed. “You always were so simple-minded. I don’t know why I bother.”

  “I don’t either.
So leave.”

  Dormin folded his hands. “I promised someone I would at least try. Sonoforen—”

  “It’s Heth, now.”

  His brother rolled his eyes. “Call yourself whatever you want, it doesn’t change who you are unless you change yourself.”

  “And you never made any sense,” Heth rolled his eyes back. “Look, I’ve got early classes—”

  “Yes, exactly how are you paying for all of this?”

  “How did you even know I was here?”

  “There was a message delivered to our aunt’s house from Chairman Mal, of all people, asking how I was doing. He said you were in Command School! I don’t get it—how are you paying for this?”

  “Gold,” Heth said easily.

  “Whose?”

  “Mine. Never told you this, but I had a stash, as the Little King. Great Grandmother set it aside for me, in case I should ever need it. After mother died, I decided I needed it. Apparently Great Grandmother didn’t leave any gold for you.”

  Dormin sighed. “Figures. Where was it hiding?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “So there’s more?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

  “Not really. I don’t need it. I’m just glad to hear that . . .” Dormin paused to find the right words, “you’re doing something useful with your life, finding a way to be productive, to return to the civilization that has given you so much.”

  His brother scoffed. “Doormat, you sound like an old man, you know that?”

  “Maybe it’s because I’ve been spending a lot of time with an old man.”

  Heth sneered. “Really? Why? Can’t get any girls to talk to you.”

  Dormin took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Knew this was going to be useless—”