The Forest at the Edge of the World (40 page)

“Pere Shin’s grandson, yes.”

Hifadhi slowly shook his head. “That I lived to see this day . . .
His
grandson, going over the wall . . .” And he closed his eyes.

Gleace waited patiently, having seen him do this before.

Hifadhi’s eyes opened a few moments later. “Keep up the surveillance patrols for now. We don’t need anyone closer until it’s revealed that an intimate presence is required. I’m still not
entirely
sure about this one, but time will tell.” He smiled in amazement. “Walked into the forest . . . and
stayed there!
”

---

Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.

Nicko Mal stared at his companion, daring him to speak.

The second man looked back with a slightly amused expression.

Mal drummed his fingers on the armrest.

The second man took a risk. “It’s only because you said he always surprises you that I felt safe in speculating that Shin would succeed.”

“They didn’t even make it into the village because of
him!
” Mal fumed. That had been the true splinter in his foot that sent him into the tirade at the garrison. That, and the fact that Perrin wasn’t even injured in the forest beyond a few scratches. He took a deep breath to compose himself. “Shin was, however, a bit slow to respond initially. You must admit that.”

“Conceded.” His partner smiled.

“Perhaps it had something to do with him being a newlywed and living away from the fort. Unfortunate timing, I suppose,” Mal sniggered. “Perhaps this will remind him that duty comes before the wife! But there was that ten minutes.
Ten minutes
. Why didn’t they get into the village during that time?!”

“A new tactic,” the second man explained. “Eliminate the p
atrolling soldiers first. In Grasses there were several on patrol that nearly captured some of our men. We didn’t want that to happen again.”

Mal grunted. “But only two soldiers were injured in Edge. What about the rest?”

The middle-aged man fidgeted. “The patrols weren’t on a regular rotation. Up until last week, they were. It seems that only recently Shin varied the rotation times so that the patrols were unpredictable.”

Mal formed a fist. “Wiles was in charge of the patrols, was he not?”

“Apparently not even he was aware of the captain’s changes. The night of the attack, Shin himself briefed the sergeant on duty as how to stagger the patrols. As if he was concerned something like this could happen.”

“Did he somehow know we were coming?” Mal squinted.

The second man shrugged. “I think he was just being a thoughtful commander, anticipating the need. Perhaps he can think like a Guarder. No one knows whose ancestors were among the Guarders, after all. He seems to be one of those you predicted at the beginning would attempt to fight this on his own.”

Mal grumbled to himself.

“What I find intriguing,” his partner continued, “was his deliberate disobedience to the rules of engagement. Preliminary conclusion to our question: He
wasn’t
too comfortable, and marriage
has
made him an aggressive wolf to protect his mate.”

That brought Mal out of his sullenness. “Oh indeed,” he bri
stled. “Absolute disregard for anything he’d been trained to do! Pursuing into the woods like that—very brash! Very reckless! We must
not
lose containment!”

The second man suppressed a smile at Mal’s agitation. “I wished I could have seen Relf’s reaction to his son’s report. I’m a
ssuming General Cush included the admonition that no officers or soldiers return to the forest?”

“He did! Read the response myself. I’m sure the captain will r
eceive the message and he best heed it. We can’t have him changing the conventions of warfare and unraveling our work just because he has
an impulse!
”

Mal sighed, took another deep breath, then said steadily, “The fort in Trades is completed, and just in time to put extra soldiers around that gold mine. No one in the far south has had any encou
nters with Guarders, and the letter skimmers are spending too much time reading complaints from Trades, so we need to lighten their load and alleviate the pain of the complainers. The commander in Trades is a single man with no long-term interests in women. We’ll question his readiness for a time.”

The second man smirked at Mal’s shift in focus. But he had several strategies to turn it back again. First, bring up Perrin Shin.

Privately, the second man was conducting his own study: How quickly can one unhinge Nicko Mal?

“Perhaps if there had been some soldier deaths
in Edge
, or if the action was closer to
Perrin’s
home—”

“Next time it better be!” Mal snapped.

It is really just
that
easy—the second man made a mental note—to drive Mal to distraction.

Mal drummed his fingers on the armrest again, the raid on Trades already forgotten.

The second man smiled triumphantly to himself. It was fascinating to observe a man that could control the world, yet not himself. Maybe,
maybe
, he didn’t control the world as well as he thought either.

“So when activity returns to Edge, you want to create a situation that allows for a variety of observable responses?”

“Yes!” Mal exclaimed as if that was obvious. “You have ideas?”

“A few that I’m working on,” the second man assured. “I still have that map, you know. I have to confess,” he said thoughtfully, unable to resist pushing Mal just a bit further—for research, after all—“I find myself quite fascinated by the captain. I wonder how long he planned on entering the forest. He deserves a great deal of attention. Perhaps we should consider a closer presence for a time. Someone that can get—”

“I want Wiles OUT OF THERE!” Mal bellowed so loudly that his companion blinked in surprise. “I
knew
he wouldn’t be up to this assignment!”

The second man squinted. “Weren’t you the one who said he was ‘most fit’ for the assignment? Excellent work with the map and all?”

“He’s failed the oaths! Failed his duty! Just GET HIM OUT!”

---

Coaches travelling from Edge to Idumea pass many villages along the way, the wide cobblestone road lined with plenty of inns and taverns willing to take in weary travelers. In a hurry, the trip can be done in two straight days and a night, but rarely do people travel in such a grueling manner. One might die of the excessive distance.

Or of boredom.

Everyone knew that.

So the rest stations were established at intervals along the main road to provide comfort at an elevated price, with lumpy mattresses that felt like goose down after the jostling of the carriage, and gristly food that slid down mucus-lined throats where it met already naus
eated bellies whose owners would attribute their increased illness to the torturous ride rather than the “comfort” they paused for. In such a manner, the journey—for those brave enough or desperate enough to take it—could be extended for weeks, ensuring no one chanced death along the journey. Unless they stopped at a particularly scruffy place outside of Rivers.

But army coaches were different. No one was sure exactly how, but they
never
stopped. Rumor was that they had some kind of privy fashioned into the large black enclosures. But the owners of the comfort stops and taverns grumbled that wasn’t true. The soldiers that rode in the coaches simply had stronger willpower than the rest of the world, or did unmentionable things out the window when they passed the less populated areas. To see a dark army coach whisk by, being pulled by four horses which were changed exclusively at the forts or the Administrators’ larger messaging stations, was to know whatever men it was carrying were in a hurry.

But Sergeant Major Wiles wasn’t aware of any of this as he lay on the coach bench, unsure of his surroundings. Everything had ha
ppened so quickly, then slowly, then quickly again as if his mind couldn’t regulate the passage of time.

He was ill—that much he knew—then it was light and dark again, then he was put into the coach, then it rumbled for hours and minutes and days and seconds. All was dark inside the coach and out, and for a lucid moment he began to understand what was ha
ppening. He hated that moment, because up until then his mind had allowed him to entertain all kinds of possibilities.

But then the coach door swung open while it still continued at a fast pace along the cobblestones, and when Wiles saw the gloved hand reach in towards him, he knew what was coming.

He didn’t even have a chance to plead for his life. The oaths wouldn’t have allowed it, anyway. The oaths had demanded he do something else days ago, but he hadn’t. That’s why the massive man dressed in black was there—to fulfill the oaths.

He snatched Wiles easily out of the hurrying coach. The old sergeant major didn’t make any sound at all.

The coach continued on, the horses once again speeding up, perhaps sensing their load was now slightly lighter, and galloped their way in the dark towards Idumea.

---

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 r
eviewed 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 su
rroundings, 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.