The Forest at the Edge of the World (36 page)

A corporal pointed at the still body. “What do we do with that, sir?”

Captain Shin looked down at the Guarder. “He’s of no use to us now. Leave him for the buzzards and bears. Karna, now, before we lose the last one.”

Shin took off in an aimless jog into the trees with Karna right behind him. Perrin noticed that this time his lieutenant was much keener to follow him.

Perhaps, just perhaps, all the soldiers would see the need to fo
llow him into the forest.

After a minute they stopped jogging and looked around. The forest was absolutely still. Shin glanced behind them as Karna tried to look into the distance. There was no evidence of anyone an
ywhere.

“Do you think he heard what happened?” Karna whispered.

“How could he not?” Shin whispered back.

“It’s going to get dark soon,” Karna said.

“We have a little time yet. We’re not leaving until we have to.”

“Understood, sir.” Karna’s voice was a little shaky.

Shin turned to him and saw his lieutenant’s light brown skin had gone pale. “You all right?”

Karna shrugged. “Never did that before.”

“What, run into the forest? We’ve been doing that for the past few days now.” Shin surveyed the area again.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly.

“I know, Brillen,” Perrin whispered back. “I’ve threatened many men, but I’ve never been deadly.” He smiled grimly.

“Which one of us did it, do you think?”

Shin shook his head. “Maybe both of us. Does that help?”

“We each claim half a death?”

Perrin cringed and went back to examining the still trees around them. “Why are we here, Karna?”

“I’ve been wondering that for awhile, sir.”

Shin turned back to him. “Really? You don’t remember why you wanted to become an officer?”

Karna sighed. “I wanted to serve, to protect the citizens. I never wanted to . . .” He shrugged lamely.

Perrin sighed back. “I know, I know. None of us want to. But that’s part of the serving and protecting. Did we have any other option?”

“I suppose not. You
did
try to negotiate with him.”

“Always my greatest weakness,” Perrin admitted. “I’ve gone over a dozen scenarios in my head, but none of them end with him still talking. Maybe you should’ve conducted the negotiations.”

“You had a
dozen
more options?” Karna scoffed. “I still can’t think of one!”

“So that’s it, then,” Perrin said. “We did what we could, he forced our hands, and he lost the game. What more is there to say?”

Karna shook his head. “Nothing, sir. I still don’t feel any better, but there’s nothing more to say then . . . let’s go find that other Guarder.”

Perrin nodded and the two of them ventured deeper into the woods, keeping an eye on the sun that was close to setting.

-
--

Two men in mottled green and brown clothing sitting high in the trees watched as the two officers quietly walked below them. Neither of the men breathed or made a sound. When the captain and lieutenant had carefully picked their way past, the two men in the trees looked at each other.

One raised his eyebrows at the other.

The other man nodded back and broke into a big smile.

Then the two men saluted the captain.

-
--

Mahrree’s evening and night dragged. When she went to bed that night it was with a heavy heart and a fluttering belly. Anatomically, that put them at direct odds with other, so she hardly slept at all.

In the early morning she heard a noise from the kitchen. She i
nstinctively picked up the iron rod and crept down the stairs. Her weary and anxious mind played tricks with her depth perception, so the steps seemed to shift up and down. Growing more terrified by the moment, she thought she would become sick before reaching the bottom. Then she heard a noise come through the kitchen door which halted her in her tracks.

“Perrin!”

He stopped, looked up at her on the stairs and tried to give her a smile, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked terrible. His black hair was disheveled, his face was scratched and stubbly, his sleeveless undershirt was stained by dirt, sweat, and what Mahrree feared may have been dried blood, and his jacket, which already hung over a chair by the eating table, was caked in what looked like mud.

Still, she sighed and closed her eyes, feeling an immense wave of relief.

Then she felt another wave of
something else
that she chose to ignore.

She opened her eyes and tried not to stare at the filth on his used-to-be-white undershirt, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Oh Perrin! I’ve been so worried! It’s so good to—”

That’s when the
other
wave she was feeling refused to be ignored any longer. No matter how she fought it, she became sick all over the lower half of the stairs.

Perrin stood rigid in surprise.

Mortified, she winced at him as she wiped her chin.

“I have to admit,” he said unemotionally, “I’ve received better welcomes than that. I’ll get something to clean it up. You just stay right there.” He turned to the washing room.

“But Perrin—”

“Just stay!” he called back. “There’s no way you can make it down without, well,
slipping
or something.” He sounded as if he might be sick as well.

Mahrree slumped down on the still-clean steps, exhausted, e
mbarrassed, and feeling much, much better.

Perrin returned and tossed some washing rags up to her.

“I think we can meet somewhere in the middle. How long have you been sick?” His face reflected some worry as handed up to her one of the two tin buckets he brought. Then he squatted to begin his unpleasant task at the bottom stair.

Mahrree laughed weakly as she started to mop up. “Ever since you left. You know how people say they’re worried sick? Well, I think proved that statement to be true. Oh, but I’m so sorry. You look awful. You finally come home and then I do this to you—”

“It’s all right—part of our vows: Together, make the best times out of the worst.” His voice sounded a bit sharp.

“Perrin?” Mahrree stepped down a stair.

“Yes?” He didn’t look up from his work.

“Perrin,” Mahrree said more forcefully.

He glanced up. “What?” His eyes were as clouded as the morning sky.

“What happened?” she whispered.

He was quiet for a moment. “We’ll talk when everything is . . . cleaner. Both of us,” and he gave her a half smile which improved his mouth, but not his murky eyes.

An hour later they sat at the table for breakfast. Perrin, now washed and shaved and in a new undershirt, gulped down his food as if he hadn’t eaten properly in days.

Mahrree still felt dizzy, and watching him made her lose whatever appetite she had. She nibbled her toast just for show.

“So,” she started when he’d finished half his breakfast, “what happened?”

“Just what I told you would happen,” he said brusquely between bites. “Guarders.”

Mahrree was taken aback by his abrupt manner. But maybe since he’d been an officer for the past four days and nights straight, his mind was still stuck there. “Really?”

He nodded, focused on his plate. “It seems they’ve been watching the fort for some time. Knew our patrols. Ambushed some of the men during the first night.”

“Oh no!” Mahrree breathed. “Are they . . .”

“Recovering,” he said tonelessly. “Some nasty gashes.”

“Is that why your clothes—”

“No,” he cut her off. “Soldiers were already at the surgeon’s when I got there.” He tore off another bite of bacon and studied the table.

Mahrree wondered how
skirt around his formal tone, but felt she was talking to a stranger. “So whose . . .” She couldn’t say the word “blood” without feeling queasy. She hadn’t seen more than some superficial cuts on him so she knew it wasn’t his.

“The Guarder’s.” 

She was  growing irritated with his pithy responses. “And how many were there?”

“At least ten, probably more. At least one escaped. Lost two in a crevice. Irretrievable.”

Maybe more details
weren’t
better, she considered as she cringed at the thought of the ground swallowing up men.

“They were testing our strength,” he added, stabbing at his food.

Eventually the story would all come out. Mahrree might have to get him more breakfast, though. “And how
is
your strength?”

“Not as good as I wished, but enough to impress the general.” He pushed around his food with his fork, never once looking at her. “We chased them nearly to Moorland. They have only a dozen so
ldiers based there, but most were on patrol where we needed them. They helped capture two more prisoners last night.” He attacked a fried potato.

“So you captured some?” She was impressed. “That’s never happened before.”

“That’s right,” he said dully as he jabbed a pancake.

“Have you learned anything yet?”

“No.”

“Are they uncooperative?”

“You could say that.” He took a long drink.

Mahrree sighed in annoyance. “So what does the Guarder look like who stained your uniform?”

“Dead.”

Mahrree dropped her toast.

Perrin glanced at her plate where it fell. Then he finally looked up at her with blank, cold eyes.

Steadily she asked, “By whose hand?”

“Unsure,” he said impassively. “He was holding a private hostage. Negotiations didn’t go well. When he became agitated, Karna and I both rushed him. There’s blood on both our swords. Satisfied?” he snapped.

Mahrree was startled by his sharpness. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I just . . .” She didn’t feel upset enough to cry, but oddly the tears were building rapidly and spilling down her face.

Perrin groaned in disgust and threw down his fork, which clattered on his almost empty plate. He rested his head in his hands with his elbows on the table and stared at it.

Mahrree watched him miserably, trying not to sniff out loud. She knew they’d have conflicts, but the tension at the table threa
tened to break it in half.

Their bliss was gone.

He was quiet for a full minute before he spoke. “It’s been a very long . . . my head’s so foggy that I don’t even know how many days.” He rubbed his eyes, his voice weary. “I need rest. I’ve put the master sergeant in charge for today since Wiles seems to have taken ill. I have to write a report for the High General. I’ve been surviving on rations and snatches of sleep. I don’t think well when I’m tired.”

Mahrree nodded that she understood, but didn’t dare speak. He was so distant, so unlike the man she fell in love with.

Perrin studied the table again. “Six prisoners, held separately. Brought them together after it was dark last night. We’d had them tied up, but undid them to walk them back to the fort. That was a mistake, because they did the strangest thing . . .” His voice trailed off.

Mahrree nervously chewed on her crust.

“They pulled out these small knives,” he continued haltingly. “Didn’t know they still had them. Then—they never said a word, just
looked
at each other. Then they . . .
gutted
each other. In front of all of us. Some strange, ritualistic manner. At the same time. As if they
had
to. Forced by . . . something. Before I realized what was happening, it was too late. All dead. Doesn’t make sense.”

Mahrree held her hand in front of her mouth, trying to calm the wave of nausea that tried to force its way upward. She couldn’t think of what to say to the horror her husband had witnessed.

“This isn’t . . . this isn’t the way Guarders behaved in the past,” he stammered as if betrayed by his training.

While she agreed—it was most horrific thing she’d ever
heard—she didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to be talking to her anyway, but was instead trying to sort out his own thoughts.

“Why . . . why suicide?” he asked the table. “Why . . . what
kind of thinking
has to go on in order to kill each other simultaneously? To be
feeling
the pain, to see the blade plunge . . .”

He made a thrusting and slicing motion in the air, and Mahrree squeezed her eyes shut too late.

“Then
still
continue with it? It was just . . .” He shook his head in dismay, then suddenly pressed his palms against his eyes, as if to force out the images he still saw.

Mahrree swallowed hard and her lower lip quivered in empathy. Of course he was short with her, and distant, and angry. How could he be anything else this morning?