by Trish Mercer
Perrin was beginning to know the forest rather well. And it wasn't nearly as fearsome as he remembered it a year and a half ago. He thought of himself as a manifestation of snow as he moved quietly, looking for anything that would signal twelve Guarders had finally arrived. He'd plotted his course for this night, moving in erratic patterns that wouldn't suggest any kind of deliberate behavior to whoever might see him. He also stooped to avoid being recognized for his size, but he saw no one, again.
He knew he was effective, though. Several times during the past two nights he'd come within a stone's throw of his own soldiers, crouching at the edge of the forest like a snow-covered rock while his soldiers rode and walked right past him.
The forest had become familiar. Instead of feeling cold terror, he felt as if he'd come home. There was something about the trees that called to him like a foggy memory he'd forgotten. And that was what was so unnerving about the woods. He considered once asking his parents if there was any dormant Guarder blood in his veins. He suspected that's why all the family lines were lost after the Great War-to hide who was related to Guarders. But he could imagine the look of shock on his father's face should he ask such a question.
Instead, Perrin focused on the trees. Or rather, the areas behind, in front, and between the trees where no one normally looked. That's where he moved as well, so close to shrubs and pines to become part of the numerous boulders caked in frozen white. He was grateful he remembered to bring along a white scarf tonight, lifted from Mahrree's wardrobe, to wrap around his mouth and nose in order to trap his breath so he left no telling steam clouds behind. The only thing he couldn't control was the crunching of the snow underneath him. He practiced walking on his toes to minimize his impact, but he was a large man, and sticks even under a foot of snow still insisted on snapping with disturbing regularity.
As he crept and scanned the area, he felt the same unexpected sense of tranquility that surprisingly enveloped him the first night. He could stay there all Raining Season if necessary. He wouldn't mind at all.
---
One of the men in mottled white and gray clothing held out his arm to stop his companion. The group had dispersed from the steam vent high in the forest and now moved, two by two, throughout the trees just as they had the night before. This pair was close to the forest's edge and had watched the usual patrols of the soldiers. They also saw the other patrols, close to the tall timber walls of the fort, noticeable only to those who knew how to recognize the unnoticeable.
But this-this was completely unanticipated.
"What is that?" the man's companion breathed.
"Must be a soldier," the other one whispered in awe. "He has a bow and quiver."
"Is he one-"
"No, he's not! He's dressed in white."
The men froze in position as the large being continued to creep along, almost noiselessly, and turned down into a small ravine.
"Remarkable!" the first man exhaled.
"But if it's not . . . Wait a minute." The second man peered carefully. "Might that be-"
"Yes, it's him!"
"But why? How?"
"He must know," the first man sighed.
"What do we do?"
"Tell everyone!"
---
Perrin saw it out of the corner of his eye, but he needed to discern if the movement also saw him. He stopped, held his breath, and hoped that he looked like one of the boulders around him. Only his dark eyes were still exposed, and they shifted to look to his right.
Definitely movement-and human. The dark shadow was loping along an elevated ridge about sixty paces to the right of Perrin. His sloppy gait indicated he didn't know he was being watched.
"This is it." Perrin sighed, almost disappointed that this would be his last night in the forest. He slipped between two of the boulders, noiselessly took his bow off his arm, nocked an arrow, and took aim.
The figure in black stopped to look around.
"Always two together," Perrin whispered. "Waiting for your companion? I've got time." He shifted his aim to where the figure had come from.
A moment later another shadow burst out of the trees. He never heard the twang of the bowstring, but his companion saw him drop to the ground.
"One," Perrin whispered as he rapidly nocked the next arrow.
The first figure in black ran back to his fallen companion and dropped to his knees. Panicked at seeing the arrow protruding from the still body's chest, he scrambled back to his feet and looked anxiously around.
"Two," Perrin whispered as he released the arrow. It struck true with a muffled thud, felling the man on top of his companion.
The urge to run up to the ridge to see if they were dead or merely injured overwhelmed Perrin, but he knew he had to stay where he was, in case they moved in fours now, instead of twos.
He'd wondered how he'd respond to taking a life from a distance. Stabbing that Guarder with his sword a year and a half ago had felt as if he was stabbed himself. But this time, he wasn't even sure where he hit the men.
Mostly likely their chests, which was what he was aiming for. Neeks was right-the bow wasn't his strength, but he was a fair shot.
He'd expected to feel the crushing burden of taking a life to overwhelm him as it had when he and Karna killed the Guarder. But instead it hovered in the air as if it were a black cloud, knowing more was to come, so it was waiting until it could engulf him.
It was better that way, he reasoned. He wasn't finished for another ten men.
The forest remained silent and he looked around to orient himself. He was probably two miles west of Edge, and the men had been running from the west. Maybe several more pairs were on their way, or had already passed him below or above his point near the boulders.
A surge of heated dread rushed through Perrin. Targets might be slipping past him, or he might be surrounded and not even know it. It would take only two men to make it into Edge, to find his house-
He darted out of the cover of the boulders, not entirely sure where he was headed. He readied another arrow as he made his way through a thicket of trees, trying not to bump into any of them.
He stopped, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Think Perrin, think . . . don't panic, just think. How can you find them?"
Tracks.
He rolled his eyes. Yes, no problem tracking at night.
He peered into the dark forest and whispered, "Dear Creator, please guide me. Please save my family. And if it is Your will, let me walk out of here again."
It was in the corner of his eye that he noticed the movement. Without even thinking, he raised the bow with the arrow already in position and let it fly. It hit its target, barely fifty paces away. The man holding the jagged dagger fell to the ground with a soft thump.
Perrin already had the next arrow readied, waiting for his companion. A cascade of snow falling from a tree to his left spun him to look to see what caused it.
The black shadow burst out so fast that initially Perrin thought the tree was falling, until he saw a glint of steel right in his face. He fell backward as the weight of the Guarder pushed him down. The bow was no longer in his hands as he wrestled with the man, much smaller and weaker than him.
Perrin flipped the Guarder off of him, throwing him into the snow. As the Guarder rushed to stand up, Perrin lunged, pushing the man on to his stomach. Perrin kneeled down on his back, shoving his face into the hard snow. With his free hand, Perrin pulled out one of his long knives as the Guarder wriggled to free himself from suffocating. Perrin lay on top of the man, crushing him with his full weight.
With the blade of his long knife up against the Guarder's throat, he whispered in his ear, "Where are the others?" He yanked up his head to allow the man to answer.
"You'll never get out alive!"
"That's not what I asked. Where are the others?"
The man merely laughed.
Until Perrin cut his throat. "Four. And all of that was just to divert me from seeing your companions, wasn't it
?"
He stood up quickly and faced the forest. He barely registered that another man was rushing him until he felt the smack in his face. Instinctively, Perrin went on all fours and rolled down the ravine to a cluster of shrubs. There he stopped to look around to find his attacker.
He came trotting down the ravine, his jagged blade out and ready. Perrin charged up the slope, his own long knife still brandished.
The Guarder never had a chance. He was obviously not used to running in the snow, because his feet slipped out from underneath him, sending him sliding right into Perrin's blade.
"Five," he whispered as he dropped the body on to the ground. "Where's number six?" It took only a moment to discover him. Perrin beckoned him with his knife that was dripping red drops into the snow.
The man thirty paces away instead turned and ran to the south, toward Edge.
"Oh, no you don't!" Perrin took off in his own slip-sliding race toward the man who was narrower, swifter and unfortunately, more elusive. Perrin looked ahead through the trees to try to determine where he might be.
"Yes!" he whispered as he continued his pursuit. Karna should be about eighty paces away from where the Guarder would break from the forest in his race toward Edge.
Perrin stopped to catch his breath, and a second later the silence of the woods was broken by his ear-piercing whistle. He practiced it frequently as he strode along the forest's edge. He knew it carried far, because on several occasions when he puckered to the trees, a flock of birds would fly out in alarm, at least five hundred paces deep. He followed the long, high-pitched noise with three shorter whistles. Then he held his breath and waited for the response.
One quick whistle. Karna would be waiting.
Perrin bent over to slow his breathing and waited to hear if Karna was successful. About half a minute later Perrin heard shouts, the clang of metal, and a cheer that was immediately muffled, most likely by a sergeant's hand covering an over-eager private's mouth.
"What did I say about keeping it quiet?" he groaned silently at the premature victory. "Six more. Keep your eyes open!"
Six more.
---
"To the west! The west!" the man whispered hurriedly as he came upon three other companions. "He's taken down five, chased one to the soldiers."
Two of the men in white and gray mottled clothing looked at each other in surprise.
"Impressive," one of them said, "but he'll never get everyone."
"Agreed," said another. "It's time. The rest should already be on the move."
The three other men nodded, stood up, and ran toward the west.
---
Perrin had been walking for ten minutes now, but saw no one else. He kept fighting down the fear that they'd slipped past him and were on his way to his house. But there were soldiers there, too, walking in quiet patrols through the neighborhoods. Another four would be dispatched to watch over his home specifically. Karna would have understood the three short whistles telling him the Guarders were in the forest, and this was not, repeat-not an exercise.
He nocked another arrow and held up the bow, stepping past boulders and staring into dark shadows.
---
They were in the clear, and they knew it. While the large man in white was wrestling one of their own in a ravine, their group of four in black moved above them, heading east before they turned south.
They still couldn't understand where the man like snow had come from, but that didn't matter. There was a mission to accomplish.
That's why they each stopped short, staring in astonishment at what blocked their path.
"What . . . what . . ." one of them stammered, but the other three had already turned and were running, chased by what appeared to be a mysterious hoard of men, dressed in gray and white.
They all ran west.
---
Perrin continued to step cautiously, looking down the shaft of his arrow. He twisted and strained to hear any sound. He'd already pushed back his furry hood and slipped the knitted cap up off his ears. Some time ago he lost Mahrree's white scarf, but she never wore it and wouldn't miss it. He was filled with a raging heat so strong he was surprised the snow didn't melt around him.
Six more.
They could be anywhere, within miles of his position. The longer he walked the more helpless he felt. They were gone, maybe even snuck past Neeks and Karna and the ninety soldiers patrolling between here and his home. All it would take was one determined, fierce man.
Mahrree better have put those iron bars back up in the windows. He'd have some angry words with Hycymum in the morning if-
Sure.
If a Guarder made it through, and the window and door reinforcements weren't in place, and his family were dead, yelling at his mother-in-law would be the first thing he'd do.
He shook that off, along with the thought that he should have run home and checked the windows and doors himself. All he could do now was watch, listen, pray, and hope that-
He blinked, and blinked again.
Two more men in black, running parallel to his position, were about to skirt the trees below him. He didn't wait for the moment, but released the arrow. A shout of agony told him he hit his target, but only wounded him.
"Go, go!" shouted the downed man, and Perrin quickly grabbed another arrow.
He let that one fly blindly, and it sailed without striking anything. Scanning the area for the unseen companion, he snagged another arrow out of his quiver.
A sound behind him spun him around. It was the other man in black running erratically, as if unsure whether to pursue his partner's attacker or head toward the village. Perrin ended his wondering with an arrow to his belly. A second arrow quickly followed to put him out of his misery.
"Eight!" Perrin whispered in momentary triumph, then looked back up to the man he had injured. Seeing no more movement, he jogged over to the site and noticed the man was obviously dead. Perrin stepped closer and saw where the arrow penetrated his body. Oddly, it was protruding out of his thigh-not a life-threatening hit.
Baffled, Perrin pushed over the man with his boot. When he saw his chest, he jumped back.
The man in black was lying in a fresh pool of blood, stemming from a chest wound.
He'd been stabbed.
---
Grandpy Neeks was right on top of the black shadow as he bolted from the forest. Quite literally on top of him. His horse had been acting skittish, and when the two figures in black broke in a dead run from the trees, Grandpy's mare reared and threw the master sergeant right on to the Guarder, sending them both sprawling into the snowy field.
Neeks acted as quickly as the startled Guarder. He had his long knife out from his boot slightly faster than the Guarder pulled his jagged dagger. Although Grandpy earned a nicked cheek and a gash in his arm, half a minute later the man in black was bleeding from an incurable throat injury.
Tracking down his partner took a bit longer.
Not that the soldiers were unprepared-six of them converged on his position, riding horses that had grown stiff with the cold. But the Guarder was shifty and elusive, darting and dodging then diving under a horse and through the line of six in a remarkable escape attempt.
That's why there was another line of eight soldiers waiting in the shadows of the fort wall. The foot chase would have been comical in any other circumstance, Neeks considered later, but as he held his bleeding arm shouting instructions at the soldiers that slipped left and right trying to catch the infiltrator, there was nothing amusing about their attempts.
But in the end they succeeded, three soldiers piling on top of the Guarder when he slid on a patch of ice, and each one of the corporals plunging their long knives into him.
It wasn't until Neeks got the word that the Guarder was dead that he finally sat down in the snow and allowed a surgeon's assistant to wrap his arm with a bandage.
"We've got three so far tonight, Captain," he cringed as the dressing was wrapped tightly to
staunch the bleeding. "How many do you have?"
---
How did he get stabbed? Perrin wondered as he jogged toward the east again. That's where they came from, which means they must have gone past him, but were now coming back. But why? Why not just head to the village?
Perrin wished he'd looked around the ground for an explanation for the chest wound. Perhaps the Guarder had his dagger drawn and fell on it. Maybe there was a sharp tree branch that he was impaled upon. Maybe-
But Perrin hadn't seen any evidence, in the short shocked moments he stared in disbelief, of a weapon or bloodied branch. The snow underneath the man was wide and unbroken by anything except the pool of blood.
Someone had stabbed the Guarder.
Was it his companion, knowing he wouldn't be able to escape? Perrin couldn't remember seeing anything near the dead man, but perhaps his companion was sneaky.
Or maybe it was something-or someone-else.
---
"He doesn't know how many are left," one of the men in mottled white and gray whispered to his three companions as they jogged a safe distance behind the large man in white.
"He's not quitting, not yet."
"But someone has to get to-"
"Don't worry, they are."
"I just hope we brought enough," another man whispered.
"Don't worry," one of the men repeated. "We know how to count to fourteen. That's all that matters."
---
Four more, Perrin thought to himself. Four more. Maybe a pair or two had made it out beyond the forest, or all of them were already accounted for, and he was wasting his time.
That's why he was making his way to the edge, hoping to find good news . . . and the other quiver full of arrows he had Karna hide for him in a cavity of rock right inside the trees. He reached it in about five minutes, traded his empty quiver-most of the arrows had fallen out when he was wrestling the Guarder-and reminded himself that he still had four long knives. More than enough for four men.
At the border of the forest he whistled again, a short-four pattern. A moment later a sergeant came riding up to him, his eyes wide in surprise.
"You didn't see me like this," Captain Shin told him.
The sergeant nodded that he understood, then shook his head.
"Report!"
"We have three Guarders, sir. One that Karna brought down, another that wrestled with Neeks until he killed him-"
"Who killed who?" Perrin demanded.
"Neeks killed the Guarder," the sergeant clarified, still staring at the captain in white with red splatters on his rabbit fur that for some odd reason reminded the sergeant of butterflies. "Grandpy was injured, but will be fine. Caught the third man just outside the fort. He's dead, sir."
Perrin sighed. Two more, still out there. "Report to Karna. Tell him there are still two more, but I don't know where. Two more!"
"Sir, how do you know there are two-"
But the captain had already vanished back into the trees.
---
"Are you sure he said two more?" Karna asked the sergeant.
"Positive, sir. Captain Shin was very specific."
"Remember, sergeant: you didn't see him."
"But sir, I did! I saw-"
Lieutenant Karna's groan told the sergeant that he couldn't believe his eyes on a night like this.
"Ah. Sorry, sir. I already told the captain-that I didn't see-that I did not see him."
"That's right," Karna nodded. He looked up at the forest and rubbed his gloved hands together. "Two more. They could be anywhere. But at least we know where they're headed."
"There are ten around the house, sir. Do we need more?"
Karna shook his head. "We don't need Mrs. Shin waking up and seeing her home surrounded. Ten will be noisy enough. The more men we keep here, the fewer the chances they'll get near the village. Two more . . ."
---
In his heart Perrin was praying for guidance, but it felt wrong.
First, he wasn't on his knees with his head bowed-he was walking with his bow strung and his arrow searching for a new target.
Second, he struggled with the wording. Initially he prayed to find the last two men to kill, but those seemed to be entirely the wrong words to utter in a prayer.
Then he tried asking for guidance to stop the men, but the Creator certainly knew what Perrin meant by "stop."
He felt as if he traveled with a cloud following him, the horrible realization that so far ten men had died that night, seven by his hand. At some point the cloud would descend upon him, and he feared with what paralyzing power it might overtake him. He had to be successful before then. If there was any other way he could find and flush out the last two men without having to kill them, then maybe he could go home with a less heavy heart.
She could never know about tonight. He'd have to go home with a smile on his face and tell her cheerfully that the night training was over and she had back her husband. But he suspected he wasn't that good an actor.
As he crept through the forest he felt a presence as if another cloud, larger and lighter, was coming to absorb the one that hung heavily over him. It was as if this cloud could cleanse his horror, allowing him to do what no one else in the village-or even the world-would dare to do.
In some way he felt his actions that night were good, even sanctioned, because he was preserving the innocent. It wasn't his choice to be out there taking lives; he was forced into it by others who were out to destroy his family. He was expected-required-to do this. And while the deaths tonight would remain in his memory forever, their heaviness would be nothing compared to the oppressive weight that the death of his wife, daughter, and unborn child would have caused.
He didn't choose his steps but let his boots go in whatever direction they led him, in a northeasterly direction, past the fort to the south, and toward some end.
---
Hogal couldn't sleep because of the cold steel next to his hip, he decided about three hours after he had lay down on the small sofa made up into a bed for him by Mahrree. Exactly how did Perrin walk around all day with something this cold, sharp, and threatening against his hip?
Hogal shifted the long knife frequently, trying to find a more comfortable position.
For a time he tried lying on his back with the long knife in his fist resting on his chest, but he couldn't decide which way the tip should be pointing.
Up toward his face seemed most ominous, especially if he should fall asleep, awake with a sneeze, and forget what was clenched his hands.
Pointing it downwards also seemed quite dangerous, for reasons his mind chose not to entertain for long.
Facing it toward the sofa felt rude-what if he accidentally cut the cloth?
And lying with the tip toward the door, and ready for anyone who may somehow barge through it, was simply too violent for the rector to consider.
Eventually he sat up, turning the knife over and over in his hands, wondering if this one had ever been used.
It was happening tonight, the 56th Day of Raining Season. That impression had come to him forcefully that evening, and just one look told his wife what he'd be doing that night and why. She answered nothing but retrieved his coat and gave him her scarf, along with a kiss.
Exactly what was he doing at the Shin home? What could he accomplish that one hundred soldiers and his brawny nephew couldn't? He put the bars up on the windows and secured the doors. Maybe that was enough. Maybe he wasn't there so much for Mahrree as he was for himself, to know that she and the next generation would survive the night.
Hogal eventually got up from the sofa and walked quietly to one of the front windows. He peered out the thick wavy glass hoping to see something, and hoping not to as well. After a few moments of his breath fogging up the glass, he noticed a dark smudge moving stealthily across the road.
He wiped the wavy glass and firmed his grip on the long knife.
The smudge paused in front of the house, looked to
ward it, and continued on again. Hogal noticed a glint of dim moons' light coming from the smudge's side. A sword. It was a soldier, patrolling the road. Another joined him, coming from a different direction.
Hogal exhaled so heavily that the entire window was nearly encased in his breath. The house was being watched, by men younger than him and with much larger pieces of sharpened metal.
He made his way back to the sofa and wrapped himself in the thick blanket. The fire was dying away on the hearth, but he didn't need it. No matter how warm the room was, he was filled with an inner chill that wouldn't subside until he saw his nephew come walking through the door. Hogal went back to what he was doing for the past three hours, the real reason he likely was there.
"Dear Creator, protect him, guide him, help him. He has no idea what he's up against, nor the great things that await him. Please watch over him, strengthen him, and send him help. Dear Creator, protect him . . ."
Upstairs, Jaytsy slept peacefully sprawled on Perrin's side of the bed. And, despite herself and her worry, Mahrree slept more soundly than she had since before she was expecting her firstborn.
She dreamed of children, gardens, and a large wooden house with window boxes filled with herb plants.
---
He was perspiring heavily now, the tension of the moment lasting excruciatingly minute after minute. He was getting closer to something, but to what he didn't know. Perrin only knew to let his boots guide him.
His hands began to feel cold, the nervous sweat of his palms seeping through the gloves and freezing. He frequently flexed his fingers on the bow to make sure they would still move properly for when he finally saw his last targets.
He wasn't normally the kind of man to fall prey to his anxiety, but he couldn't deny his increasing jitteriness. Passing a loud spout that shot hot water into the air more than irritated him. And the loud belching of the earth infuriatingly drowned out all kinds of sounds he needed to hear. Beyond him a few dozen paces was another gap in the ground that coughed constantly, again too loudly for him to notice anyone's footsteps.
But then again, the noise also masked his noise. Sweat trickled down his face, and he would have removed his knit cap except that he feared his black hair would stand out too much against the whiteness of the laden pine trees.
Then it came to him distinctly-the urge to turn to his right and look deep into the woods.
There they were running, two of them, as if being chased. They glanced behind them nervously, their pursuer as yet unseen by Perrin. He tensed again, in case a mountain lion or wolf appeared behind them. He could take out the attacking animal first-to make sure he didn't become its prey-then the Guarders.
He had such an unobstructed view of them, still about two hundred paces out and illuminated dimly by the light of the moons, that he smiled faintly at the singularity of the site. There couldn't be any other section of the entire forest so clear and devoid of trees.
He sighted in the men, running nearly in a panic as they approached him. Behind them he saw nothing threatening that needed his first arrow. Whatever had been pursuing had apparently broken off the chase. He took a deep breath, let out half of it, then released the arrow. It flew true, striking the first Guarder in the chest.
"Eleven!" Perrin whispered as he pulled out another arrow to nock.
But the same moons' light that illuminated the Guarder also shone down on Perrin. The Guarder cut hard to his left, ducking behind a cluster of boulders, and Perrin's arrow bounced harmlessly off of them.
He threw down his bow and pulled out one of his long knives. He dove behind a stand of scrubby shrubs and looked at either side of the boulders, waiting to see which way the Guarder would sneak out.
He waited for fifteen seconds. Thirty. Forty-five.
Nothing.
Either the Guarder was waiting for Perrin to reveal himself, or he had already slipped out of his hiding place and was coming around to meet the man in white.
Perrin spun around, his heart pounding near his throat, checking every shadow for someone to lunge out at him. "Guide me, guide me, guide me," he whispered, impatient to find the last threat to his wife and children.
Then he saw the movement that, under any other circumstance, he was sure he would have missed. But there it was, a black shadow in the distance taking off in a quiet jog down toward the south and the village.
The twelfth Guarder.
"I see you!" Perrin grinned furiously and took off in pursuit. He had so much pent up anxiety that it propelled him faster than any other being in the world.
The Guarder glanced behind him to see the man in white gaining on him, and took off in a zig-zagging pattern.
Perrin wasn't deterred. He kept on in a straight shot toward the man who was getting closer to the edge of the woods.
"Go on, run to my soldiers! In either case, number twelve, I win tonight!"
The man tried to cut around a large boulder, but he slipped, twisting his leg and going down in a loud grunt of pain.
Perrin was by his side just moments later, his blade brandished. He plunged it, almost too eagerly, into the Guarder's neck.
The man went limp.
Perrin leaped to his feet. "TWELVE!" he bellowed to the forest, his arms held up in triumph. Not only did he conquer the forest, he took out its greatest threat. Twelve fewer Guarders in the world to terrorize and threaten his family.
An odd noise traveled up to him from the forest, and he turned hear it. Every muscle tensed in preparation, but a moment later he relaxed.
It was cheering. The army had heard his shout of "Twelve" and was celebrating with him.
Perrin finally smiled and dropped to his knees a few paces away from the dead man. He looked up at the black sky speckled with stars, grinned, and bowed his head.
"Dear Creator, thank you!" he said quietly. "Thank you for preserving me, for allowing me to be successful, for-"
A twig snapped behind him, muffled under snow.
Never expose your back. Never expose your back!
He scrambled for one of his long knives, but the thick arm around his neck was faster. Perrin's fingers fumbled and dropped the blade. Instantly he felt his throat constrict as the arm tightened around him, and his training kicked in. Don't bother grabbing the arm choking him-pulling at it would only be in vain. Instead, find another way to divert the attacker.
Perrin groped around his waist to retrieve another long knife, but as soon as he gripped it he felt the familiar sensation of beginning to lose consciousness. Everything in the world of black shadows and white snow turned gray. The body behind him was exceptionally large and heavy, probably specifically matched for him.
Normally Perrin would have thrust the long knife up into the man's arm, causing him to release his grip. But Perrin could smell the thick black leather covering his attacker's arm like a shield.
Or like body armor, he thought in irritation. Exactly the kind he wanted to fit his soldiers with, but was forbidden to. The leather even appeared to be around the man's legs-Perrin's other possible place to stab. But he knew of one spot still likely exposed on the Guarder.
With his last bits of consciousness, Perrin lunged backward, trying to throw off his attacker's balance, and wished he wasn't still stuck on his knees. He was successful for only a moment, but it was enough to loosen the man's grip and allow Perrin a shortened gasp of air.
He knew he had only moments left. Perrin shifted his grip on the long knife and thrust it blindly behind him over his shoulder where he hoped his attacker wasn't expecting it.
Right into the Guarder's face.
He heard a low cry of pain in his ear, followed by a wheeze. The muscular arm around his neck suddenly released, and Perrin scrambled to his feet, coughing to refill his lungs.
He turned to face his attacker, a beast of man in black clothing who was bleeding heavily from a deep slash in his cheek and-surprisingly-was flat on his back in the snow.
Perrin's air-d
eprived head swirled, but he grabbed a tree branch with his free hand to steady himself. The man in the snow was lying far too still from having received just a knife in the cheek. Perrin kicked at his leg, but it didn't move. He glanced around and then took hesitant step toward the body.
The thirteenth Guarder was dead, because of a second gash near the base of his throat.
Perrin fought to regain control of his breathing. He had hit the man only once with his long knife-he knew that.
Yet there were two wounds on him.
Perrin looked wildly around. "What's this all about?" he shouted raspily, no longer worried about who else might be lurking in the forest. "Are you after my wife and children? Whose side are you on anyway? Show yourself!"
"Gladly," said a cold voice from behind another cluster of trees.
Guarder number fourteen.
He charged Perrin, his toothed blade out and ready. Perrin bent down, snatched another long knife from his boot, and readied his stance. Two blades in two fists.
With a screech, the man ran straight for Perrin, hacking wildly. Perrin sidestepped him, delivering a slash across the man's knife arm that barely penetrated his leather armor. Perrin firmed his stance once more as the enraged Guarder turned and ran toward him again, any discipline he may have had gone as he attacked with pure hatred and no strategy.
Perrin preferred it that way. Enraged men were easy to conquer; it was the ones who channeled that rage into calculated fury that made him nervous.
He stepped forward to meet the Guarder, but his foot hit a slick patch of hardened snow and he abruptly went down just as the Guarder came on him. Perrin struggled to right himself, but not before the Guarder slashed Perrin's back, cutting so deeply that immediately Perrin knew the white fur coat was damaged beyond repair. His back seared with hot pain that quickly numbed, his flesh gashed open and bleeding.
With a roar, he pushed himself upright again, both knives still in his hands, and lumbered after the Guarder who was turning for another run on the snowy man now bleeding red.
Perrin lunged toward him-faster than the Guarder expected-and thrust one blade into his neck, and the other into his chest. Perrin held his breath as he watched the Guarder take his last one.
This time Perrin didn't gloat as the body slumped at his feet. Instead he waited, listening for the trees or bushes to tell him there was still another one in hiding.
Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Two minutes.
The forest remained quiet, as did the soldiers at the edge of it. They must have heard his shouting and the Guarder's yells. And now they waited, wondering what had become of their captain.
The familiar tranquility of the forest returned to him, enveloping him with comfort and giving him the assurance that yes, the last threat had been eliminated.
"Thank you," he whispered to the black sky speckled with white stars. Then he called out hoarsely, "FOURTEEN!"
Again the cheer rose from the barren strip of land that bordered the forests.
Perrin flopped weakly against a tree with white bark. It was then that he remembered he was injured, the trunk of the tree pressing the fact vividly into his mind. Slowly he began to pull himself to his feet, feeling a sudden depth of exhaustion that he'd never before experienced. He took one last look around the forest that, barely two hours ago, had felt comforting.
Oddly, it still did.
He looked closely again at the body of the thirteenth Guarder and felt unnerved by the second wound that killed him. In the dim light it was evident the wound was left by a blade with a straight edge, not a jagged dagger like Guarder number fourteen had brandished.
Perrin felt a chill course through him, with an accompanying thought that he needed to get back to his soldiers, quickly, so they could tend to his injury. The mystery of the second slash on the thirteenth Guarder-along with the Guarder with the unexplained chest wound-would have to remain a mystery. A most confounding, overwhelming, fantastic one.
Perrin glanced around one last time, his head beginning to sway with the sensation of losing too much blood too quickly.
"Thank you," he said again to the forest, wondering if anyone was there to hear it. He stumbled south toward the sounds of cheering soldiers.
---
Back behind a clump of pines, a man in white and gray mottled clothing nodded. "You're welcome, sir. My pleasure and honor." He raised his hand, gashed and bleeding, to his forehead in salute.
So did the men behind him.
