Flight of the Wounded Falcon

by Trish Mercer

Peto, Shem, Lek Zenos, Cambo Briter, and Relf Shin rode their nervous horses through Salem to the Idumean trail. The trembling had died down, and they surveyed the area as they galloped by houses and buildings.

  There was no major damage that they could discern that had occurred in the twenty minutes since the initial loud noise and rumbling had awakened everyone in the valley. All towers were flying the alarm banners, signaling that Salemites should be on alert and check on their neighbors, especially those ill with the pox. Cephas Briter stayed at the tower by their home to relay messages and make sure anyone needing assistance received it.

  The five men glanced at each other in apprehension as they felt the gloom in the air. While the sun rose to the left of them, an enormous gray-black cloud loomed to the right. A light breeze from the northeast seemed to gently push the cloud away from Salem, but it wasn’t strong enough to contain the entire mass of whatever it was that was growing. The air was far too heavy.

  Shem kept shaking his head as he watched it. “Never seen a cloud quite like that before,” he said more than once.

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, Uncle Shem,” Cambo said, “it’s not.”

  “Shem, I don’t think we should take too long,” Peto said as they turned the horses onto the trail heading up the mountain.

  “I wasn’t planning on it, Peto. Just long enough to see what’s happened. We should have a decent view from the first peak,” Shem assured him.

  “It’s Mount Deceit, isn’t it, Shem?” Peto asked.

  The four men looked at Shem, who was in the lead.

  Shem turned in his saddle. “I really don’t know yet.”

  Lek leaned over to his cousin Relf who rode next to him. “Where do you think Young Pere is?” he whispered.

  Relf sighed. “Don’t ask my father that question, please.”

  “Wasn’t planning to.”

  A while later the five men and horses broke through the thick forest and reached the top of the peak.

  “The cloud’s too immense,” Cambo said. “I can’t even make out Mount Deceit, or any of the peaks around it.”

  Relf squinted. “Wouldn’t it be around there?” he pointed to the base of the growing cloud.

  “It would be,” Shem said in a low voice, “if it were still there. Men, we’re looking at Mount Deceit, right now. It’s billowing above us.”

  “Papa, what do you mean?” Lek asked.

  Shem sighed. “The Moorland offensive. I saw an explosion like this. Two large buildings were filled with a black powder that the Guarders were developing. I threw a torch through the window of one of them, and a moment later the building went up. The cloud it produced looked exactly like that, but on a smaller scale. I went back the next morning, but there was nothing left. The cloud was the building, the Guarders, the soldiers—” His voice dropped off and he glanced sidewise at Peto.

  But Peto only stared at the mushroom cloud, rolling and churning. “It’s headed toward the villages of the world, isn’t it?” he mumbled. “Mount Deceit is right above Moorland. Remember, Shem? It smoked when we had the land tremor in Edge.”

  “Uncle Peto, what’s south of Moorland?” Cambo asked.

  “Mountseen and Quake are the closest. To the east, Rivers. To the west, Scrub and Sands. Further south is Midplain, Vines, Pools, then Idumea. Edge is slightly north and east.”

  “The cloud is moving directly south,” Shem said somberly. “If it comes down, it’ll do so over Quake, Rivers . . . maybe even Midplain. But it’s still growing. At this rate, it may come even over Salem.”

  “Then I suppose we best get back, warn Salem to move all animals into any available shelter,” Peto said, his voice pitching higher with agitation. “Gather in any crops we can. We may have only today to act. Dear Creator! And I thought everyone was coming out of Salem because of the pox! I thank Him none of you are still on the mountain, Relf.”

  Relf nodded. “I thought of that too, Papa. Seems as if the guide was correct again.”

  Shem closed his eyes briefly and swallowed.

  “Today the Thornes were to have midday meal with Muggah,” Relf reminded them, apologetically.

  Shem shook his head. “Not anymore. And until we know what this cloud means, they stay at the Second Resting Station. That’s their home for now. Everyone stays where they are!”

  “I’ll go break the news to them,” Peto said. “And at the first tower I come to I’ll send up a message for everyone to gather in animals and crops. The rest of you get back to the Eztates and tell everyone to help Deck round up the cattle and harvest whatever’s ready from the garden and orchard. There’s nothing more for us to do here.” Peto whipped Clark 14 around and headed at a fast gallop down the mountain.

  “Uncle Peto!” Lek called after him, but Shem caught his son’s arm. “Papa, I was going to suggest he go home and I go to the Thornes.”

  Shem shook his head. “He’s not only going to the Second Resting Station, Lek. He’s going to look. Just one more time.”

  ---

  There must have been sunlight by now, but it couldn’t penetrate the cloud that descended upon them. Corporal Shin kept his tightly woven blanket over his head like a tent and tried to figure out what direction he should go. It was impossible to see anything. Within minutes the cloud had overwhelmed them and continued to move south, like a hot, dirty blizzard.

  He’d barely gotten his pack and the blanket over his head when the cloud reached them. By then it was obvious it wasn’t snow, but ash and dirt and even bits of rock raining down.

  Hastily he pulled out his kerchief and wrapped it around his nose and mouth, tying it to filter out the dust, and trying to hold down his panic. He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him, and all that he did see was a rush of blue uniforms, turning gray, and running into each other in a frenzy.

  Make for the trees.

  Trees. No one would trample trees.

  But where were the trees? Corporal Shin closed his eyes and tried to orient himself, to discern from which way the cloud came, and which direction it seemed to be heading. He pivoted a quarter turn to keep his back to the direction of the warm breeze. Then he strode directly south to the cluster of trees he remembered seeing at breakfast.

  He stumbled over bodies and was once knocked down by a skittish horse, but he kept walking, struggling to remain calm.

  Soon he found himself bumping into thick trunks and he sighed in relief. He turned and peered into the thick dust to see if anyone else could be helped, but he could hardly make out anything in the filthy fog.

  “Here!” Shin called out to whoever might be stumbling past. “Come into the trees! Hold on to a trunk! Follow my voice!” But there was too much noise drowning him out.

  Whatever wasn’t the panicked shouts of soldiers, now being punctuated with coughs as dust filled their lungs, was the loud whinnying of hundreds of horses stampeding through the camp. And below all of that was a deep rumbling noise that didn’t die away but kept reverberating like thunder in the dirt.

  In front of him, Shin could just make out people running. At one point, three men rushed past him, the middle one being supported. A horse bolted in front of them, slammed into a tree next to Shin, and stumbled off in terror into the thick dust. Shin looked down to the ground and could just make out the men in a heap.

  One got up and pulled up the middle man, while the third shouted at him from the ground. “I’m fine. Get him to the colonel then return for me!”

  The two men vanished into the dust, but the third remained on the ground trying feebly to stand.

  “Here!” Shin shouted. “Come over here! To the trees!”

  “I can’t,” the man called back, his voice tight and strained. “It’s my left shoulder . . . I think it’s dislocated.”

  “Then crawl!” Shin ordered. He kept his foot against the base of the tree, lay down on the ground, and stretched for the man’s right arm. “Right here! Reach for my hand.”

&n
bsp; But the man didn’t move as the sky grew nearly as dark as midnight. Shin, fearing he’d lose the man in the thickening cloud, lunged forward and grabbed his right arm. He dragged him into the safety of the trees just as the dust became so thick Shin could no longer see his foot at the trunk.

  “Good pull, soldier,” whispered the man with labored breathing, and he began to cough.

  “Where’s your kerchief?” Shin asked him. “If you still have it, you can tie it around your nose and mouth. It helps keep the dust out.”

  “It’s in my front jacket pocket. Get it. Do it.”

  Shin nodded, but realized the soldier couldn’t see him. “Of course. Where’s your jacket opening? Hold on . . . I think I’ve found it. Hold still a moment while I tie this around your face.” Shin felt around in the dark dust for the man’s ears and, after an awkward moment, got the kerchief tied around him.

  “Excellent,” said the man. “Now, you don’t by any chance know how to fix dislocated shoulders, do you?” he asked with pained skepticism.

  “Actually,” Shin said, “I’ve had two myself, and I know exactly what to do. My cousin is a doctor and he taught me a few things.”

  The man scoffed. “Are you serious? You think you know how to reset a shoulder?”

  “It’s not that hard, really. Just need to pull and lift.”

  “Soldier, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but strange times calls for stranger actions. Soldier—what’s your rank?”

  “Corporal.”

  “Creet, I really didn’t need to know that. A major or a captain I could deal with, but not even an officer? I’m impressed you’re not panicking.”

  Shin hadn’t asked the man’s rank, but it was obvious he wasn’t an enlisted man. He tried not to sound as insulted as he felt when he said, “It’s not my fault I’m not an officer, sir. And I’m all you have.”

  “That’s unfortunately true. I can’t even begin to imagine where the surgeons are,” he said with growing agitation. “I suppose I need you to try. I can’t continue like this. Creet, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this—”

  “You won’t regret it. By the count of five, you’ll be doing much better. Ready?”

  “No—”

  “Too late. One, two—”

  “Aaaaghh!”

  “Better, right?”

  “What happened to five?!” the man gasped.

  “I said ‘five’ to make you anticipate feeling pain then, not before. Something else I learned from my cousin. Here, let me feel that shoulder. Seems to be moving correctly.”

  “I’m impressed again. I think you actually fixed it.”

  “Now, you’re going to be sore for a while, but if you’re careful with it—don’t use it unnecessarily for a few days—it’ll heal fine—”

  “Don’t use it unnecessarily?!” The officer tried to bellow behind the kerchief. “Boy, do you have any idea what’s going on around us?”

  “Actually, I don’t, sir. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.”

  “Neither can I! So not using this arm is not an option, Corporal. We still have an offensive to begin—”

  “We’re still attacking Idumea?”

  “Absolutely! I’m beginning to believe in the spirits of the dead soldiers. Perhaps we have them to thank for this perfect cover, if we can make our way through it.”

  “But . . . but there’s no way to—”

  A shout came near them. “Sir? Sir?! Where are you? Sir!”

  “Here!” the officer shouted back. “By the trees!”

  “Sir, I didn’t mean to leave you, but—”

  “But nothing. I’m fine. Follow my voice. Watch out for the trunks. Where’s the colonel?”

  “Twenty-seven . . . twenty-eight . . . twenty-nine paces from here, sir. He’s got a chain of men that have found their way to the river.”

  “Excellent. Take me to him. We need to get some order here before we begin the march. We can regroup at the river and follow it south. Corporal,” the man said, turning to Shin, his arm bumping into him clumsily. “Good work. May have to put you in for a medal. Become a fort surgeon and serve at Province 8.”

  “Actually sir, I was hoping to—”

  “Sir!” the voice beyond the trees interrupted urgently, “I found you! Right here—take my arm before I lose my direction.”

  “Right,” the man said, leaving Shin. “No one’s going to start my greatest offensive without me . . .”

  “General?!” Shin cried out. “General Thorne?!”

  The men were gone in the black dust.

  “No!” Shin whimpered.

  Good work. You made an impression on him, twice. First with inventory and now with shoulders. Too bad he still doesn’t know who you are.

  ---

  Peto rode hard for the Second Resting Station near the entrance of the canyon. He slid off of Clark 14 near the barn, grabbed a length of rope waiting there, tied one end to the ring attached next to the barn door, and ran the other end of the rope to the main door of the Resting Station. They usually only did this in the Snowing Season for when blizzards came, but his mind was impressed with a blinding image very similar to a blizzard, except darker and warmer.

  The main door opened as he finished tying off the rope.

  “Mrs. Thorne,” he said to her as he secured the knot. “Keep this rope here. If you can’t find your way to the barn, hold on to this and it will lead you directly to the door.”

  “Rector Shin, what’s happening?” she asked in a panic. “I’ve never felt such a land tremor before.” She stepped out onto the front porch and looked at the enormous plume rising in the sky. “What is that?!”

  Her daughters and son-in-law joined her on the porch, their mouths opened in awe.

  “It’s Mount Deceit,” Peto told them soberly. “I just came from that first peak there overlooking it. Guide Zenos thinks it’s an explosion, like he witnessed in Moorland, but on a much larger scale.”

  Mrs. Thorne covered her mouth. “We’ve been hiding in the cellar for the past hour. We came up when we heard the chimes from the tower. What does it mean?”

  “It means we need to act as if we can’t get outdoors for a few days. I need each of you to gather as many berries as you can from the bushes along the side of the building. There should be some ripening vegetables in the garden as well—”

  “I thought we were going to tour Salem today, and have midday meal with Mrs. Shin,” Priscill interrupted with a whine.

  Peto fought the urge to raise his eyebrows at her. “You’re staying here for now. Look at that cloud. It’s already starting to collapse on the side and seems to be rushing down to the world. Where do you think the rest of it may go?”

  The five of them stared.

  “But you’ll be safe here. Keep the windows shut. You can access the barn now, so you’ll still have the cow and the chickens. The cellar, as I’m sure you saw, is stocked with enough food for a year.”

  Delia began to breathe heavily. “But . . . but you said you were going to get us as far north as possible! Out of danger!”

  Peto took a deep breath himself. “I assure you, no one is coming up that canyon today. In fact, the suppliers we pulled out of Salem said it seemed as if the general was planning a big offensive to retake Idumea. He’s on his way south, not north. You are safe.”

  “Safe from that?!” Anoki exclaimed. “First you bring us to a valley plagued with pox, and now we’ve got a . . . a . . . I don’t even know what to call it headed in our direction! How is that a rescue?”

  Peto maintained his calm. “Where were you living one week ago?”

  “Outside of what was called Midplain,” Anoki snarled.

  “Do you want to take a guess as to which direction that collapsed plume is headed right now?”

  Versa had been watching it the entire time. “We have been rescued,” she said in an even tone. “It’s heading directly south. It must have covered Midplain by now. Maybe even Idumea. Maybe even
into the southern half of the world. I’d much rather be here.”

  Peto nodded.

  Priscill began to whimper.

  “None of that!” Versa said sharply. “We’ve faced far, far worse than this! Right, Mother? If we have to stay here, then I’m happy with that. This building is immense. When did we ever live in a home with ten bedrooms, Priscill? Most of the time we shared the same bed! And when was the last time we had such a food reserve, or chickens, or even a cow? No, Rector Shin, we’re living in luxury here. No sneaking back to rubbish heaps looking for a meal for us. I never understood much about a Creator, but I’m beginning to understand more. He moved us out of the greatest danger. Whatever danger He will not move us out of, He provides a way for us to endure it. And that’s what I am going to do. Now, Rector, you mentioned something about berry bushes? I plan to have fresh berries and eggs for breakfast. Anyone else?”

  Druses Thorne smiled proudly at her daughter who stood with her hands on her waist.

  Delia and Priscill looked at each other, then sullenly went back into the building.

  Versa’s husband sighed and headed for the barn.

  Peto winked at Versa. “You’ll do very well in Salem.”

  A moment later the two younger daughters came out with buckets. Without looking at their oldest sister, they sulked down the stairs and headed to the side of the building.

  Druses put her arm around her daughter. “Rector Shin, she should have been a general.”

  ---

  Peto was soon back on his horse heading for the canyon entrance. The tower banners hadn’t changed to signal that anyone was spotted coming from the canyon, but maybe the watchmen were looking at the farms around them for any sign of trouble.

  He rode up past the entrance to the narrow canyon where he had been just days before, his stomach then in knots praying to see not only one son but two.

  Again he stared at the empty canyon and squinted, hoping for something, that maybe he might have changed his mind, had a change of heart, and it wasn’t too late . . .

  A new rumble to the west stopped his fantasies. He abruptly swung Clark 14 around and spurred him into a run back into Salem. He still had twelve other children to care for.

  By the time he reached the western side of Salem, Clark 14 was foaming and flagging. He rode into a familiar barn and his son-in-law Con Cadby looked up at him in surprise.

  “Papa Peto! What are you doing here?”

  “Just checking on you all before I head back to the Eztates. I was also wondering if you would consider trading me horses? Fourteen’s been all over the lower half of Salem and he can’t take anymore. We can swap again when . . .” He paused, not knowing when he might see them again.

  “Of course, of course. I’ll saddle up the mare for you. She’s got GrayClark blood in her, too.”

  “Finish what you’re doing first,” Peto said, looking down at the make-shift pen with several lambs in it that Con was securing.

  “Sam and Papa are bringing in the rest,” Con told him. “We’re just getting the last of the ewes. But the rest of the sheep will have to stay outside, I’m afraid. There’s not enough room.”

  Peto scratched the head of a lamb who looked up at him and bleated softly. “The Creator will compensate our losses if He sees it necessary.”

  Con smiled. “I’m not worried, Papa. He always gives us more than we need. Were you planning to check on your daughters?”

  Peto nodded. “Lilla will feel much better if I return with news about them. Unless you need help here?”

  “No, we’ve got it under control.”

  Peto headed out of the barn and to the two houses that sat side by side. No one was in the front garden, but if they were paying attention to the banners, they should be in the back pulling out whatever was close to being ripe. That’s where Peto found Jori, on her knees, picking green tomatoes.

  “Jori, Jori . . . you’ll get stuck in that position.”

  “Papa! What are you doing over here?”

  “Making the rounds before that comes down,” he jerked a thumb behind him but didn’t bother to look.

  “Do you think it’s the prophecy?” Jori asked in a low voice. “Mount Deceit awakening? Uncle Shem’s dream?”

  Peto only sighed.

  Jori gulped. “That’s what we thought this morning too when we watched it. Then we panicked, then Con and Sam ran to get their father to retrieve the lambs from the hillside.”

  Peto squatted by her side and began to pick tomatoes. “It’ll be all right, Jori,” he said giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. “We’re ready. For anything.”

  Jori caught her father’s hand. “We know, Papa. We’re not afraid. Well, maybe a little . . .”

  Peto smiled. “Well, I’m afraid. About that,” he nodded to her swollen belly. “Jori, now really would not be a good time—”

  “As if I control when it comes?” she giggled worriedly. “Don’t worry, Papa. I still have about seven weeks to go.”

  Peto put his hand gently on her belly. “You heard that, right, Little One? Seven weeks. You can be late if you wish.”

  “Papa?” another voice called out, coming from one of the houses. Lori waved her empty buckets at him as she came to the garden. “Why are you here?”

  Peto nodded at her large belly. “Why do you think?” He stood up and gave his other twin daughter a quick kiss.

  “I have about nine more weeks, Papa. Long after that passes,” she said soberly, glancing at the black cloud coming nearer. She kneeled next to her sister and started picking more tomatoes.

  Peto helped. “Not if you keep doing this, girls,” he said. “I know how much you love to do everything together, but could you promise me, just this once—”

  Jori cut him off. “We will not deliver together, Papa, I promise. And not for several more weeks.”

  Peto had to be satisfied with that. “Where are your children?”

  “In my house, with Mama Weel,” Jori said.

  “Let me carry these in,” he said, picking up the full buckets. He headed to Jori’s house, and Weel opened the door as he approached.

  “Peto, certainly there are more important things for Rector Shin to be doing in an emergency than bringing in green tomatoes!”

  “Good morning to you too, Weel,” he said to the plump woman with dark hair pulled into a bun as he placed the buckets on the table. He squatted and held out his arms for his four grandchildren who swarmed him. “My family is just as vulnerable as any other. That’s what General Shin always said. I just wanted to make sure my daughters weren’t—”

  “Now don’t you worry, Peto,” Weel patted him on the shoulder while he kissed the little faces. “That’s why we’re here. We’ve got things under control. Looch even came up with a solution this morning.”

  Peto winced. “Looch? Really?” He knew all too well what kinds of solutions Looch came up with.

  Weel blushed. “We have all that cork in the barn for the jugs. He was thinking, maybe the boys could fashion a couple of corks for the girls to make sure . . .” She turned too red to finish.

  Peto suppressed a grin. “Tell me, Weel, when he samples the old grape juice, just how much does he drink?”

  Weel giggled and covered her face in embarrassment. “A little too much, I suppose. But that’s only a few times a season!”

  Peto stood up, folded his arms and put on a stern face. “So he came up with this idea to cork my daughters while NOT under the influence?”

  “He wasn’t being serious,” she squirmed. “Entirely.”

  Peto snorted.

  “Oh, you!” Weel slapped him on the arm as Peto broke into a grin.

  “Good old Looch,” he chuckled. “I can always count on him—and you—for a laugh. And I certainly needed one today. But maybe when all of this is over he and I will have to have another little chat.” He looked out the window at his daughters. “Thank you for being here,” he said somberly. “Keep a close eye on everyone
for me, will you?”

  “Of course,” she said, just as gravely, joining him to watch Lori and Jori snatching peppers and pulling up thin carrots. “Peto, I mourned for years that the Creator gave us only two sons. But then He made up for it with two wonderful daughters-in-law, and now with all these grandchildren and more on the way? I couldn’t love and worry about them more than if they were my own.”

  Peto turned to her. “I know. So does Lilla. And we appreciate that. Lilla will feel better knowing nothing else is arriving today.”

  Lori and Jori hurried to the house, their half-filled buckets wobbling. The worry on their faces alarmed Peto.

  “Something’s starting to come down, Papa,” Jori said breathlessly.

  “Looks like ash or dirt,” Lori said, holding up her hand and showing him small, gray bits. “You better get home before it gets worse.”

  Peto nodded and put a hand on each of his daughter’s bellies. “Just . . . stay,” was all he could say. His daughters each kissed him on his cheeks. He patted the four little heads below him, nodded once to Weel, then darted out the back door to the barn.

  ---

  Soldiers ran in panicked circles, rushing in every direction as swirling gray covered them, choked them, terrified them.

  Later, those who survived would remember stray thoughts as they hurried to nowhere. Thoughts that would tell them, Cover your nose and mouth! Use your blanket as a shelter. Do NOT go to the river! Forget your sword; grab that bacon instead!

  It was as if a general slipped briefly into their minds, ordering them to run over there, duck under there, and do not, do not go to the river.

  It was as if a man in white, just outside of their range of vision, stood calmly in the midst of confusion, completely unaffected, but directing traffic and issuing commands.

  Later, those who survived wished they had followed those commands more closely.

  Especially about taking the bacon.

  ---

  Corporal Shin crouched in the scanty shelter of the trees, his blanket over his head. He had jabbed a thick stick through one side of the blanket to hold it up like a tent. His back was to the direction the cloud had come, and he felt heat building up on it as the warm ash piled against him.

  The rumbling of the ground had subsided for now, and everything around him sounded muffled as it did during a heavy snowstorm. He heard only stray calls for help and occasional sobs of terror. It was frighteningly dark, despite being day.

  When he slipped his hand outside of his tent and plunged it into the ash, it went up past his wrist before his fingertips reached the ground. More was falling and swirling around him, and it created an odd combination: he was sweating but shivered as if it were snow.

  And he was completely alone.

  A while ago the call came for the soldiers to grab each other’s arms and head for the river. Shin had stood up to go, but an urgent voice forced him back down.

  NO! STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!

  So Shin sat down and waited for some kind of end which didn’t seem to be coming.

  More than once panic arose in his chest as if he was suffocating. That’s when he readjusted his kerchief and blanket shelter, to remind himself he had room to breathe, and that at some time the ash storm must stop. He tried desperately to think of things to occupy his mind, and to discern how long he’d been there. Maybe all day? Maybe just an hour? Where did all of this come from and why?

  And why now? The offensive couldn’t be happening. Nothing could be happening.

  Everything was too still.

  After General Thorne left and the call came to head for the river, Shin had heard muffled shouts and panicked voices for maybe fifteen more minutes.

  Then there was another rumbling noise that shook the ground again for at least a full minute . . .

  Then everything around him grew strangely silent.

  No one could have outrun the storm, he was sure. But where the thousands of soldiers and hundreds of horses disappeared to, he couldn’t imagine. All he knew was that he was alone in silence, and he didn’t like having only his thoughts for company.

  He tried to conjure up someone else. Major Kroop. Captain Lick. Even him. No one would come. The only thoughts were his own.

  What if I stop breathing?

  Who will ever know?

  What if I die here?

  What would Mama think? Papa? Muggah? Everyone in Salem? They would never know what happened to me. I would just be buried by this ash. What if no one ever found me? What if there is no one to look?

  I wanted that once. Just to be buried alive. The second day I was here. I don’t want that anymore. This can’t be the end. It’s too early. There’s too much to do. It can’t happen.

  You said you’d stay near me! Where are you? Why have you left me? Why did you die so easily?

  I won’t die easily! I refuse. I have too much to live for. I’m not really sure what right now, but . . . I just don’t want to go yet.

  I’m not ready.

  For one moment he had a hopeful thought. He almost went through with it, but felt utterly unworthy. He wanted to ask for help. If there was any time in his life he needed help, it was now. But he hadn’t spoken to Him since Puggah died. Why would He listen to him now?

  I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

  You are! All you need is desire to get ready, and you are. Come on, Young Pere! What are you waiting for? A sign? How about this?! Young Pere, are you hearing me? Young Pere!

  ---

  Please, dear Creator—please find him, preserve him if it is Your will. Keep him safe. Let this pass over him somehow. Please . . .

  Shem heard them as he rode his horse to the main storehouse in an ashy fall: dozens of family members praying for one boy who didn’t dare do it himself, too afraid to petition the One he refused.

  Young Pere was alive, terrified, lonely, and fearing what was coming next. Shem could see him clearly in his mind: huddled under an ash-covered blanket, surrounded by darkness. His hard heart was almost softening. Other emotions were finally rising up in him besides cynical arrogance. He was near panic.

  Shem smiled faintly.

  There was hope for him yet.

  ---

  Corporal Shin rocked slowly back and forth under his blanket, waiting, hoping, dreading.

  Now what. Now what. Now what.

  It had been hours. It had to be. He put his hand on the ground between his legs. It didn’t seem to be rumbling so much.

  I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t face Him. I can’t face Him. I can’t face Him.

  Can you talk to me?

  Yes, Puggah! Help me!

  Ask Him for help. He’s far more loving and patient than me, Young Pere. He can do far more than me. I’m just His messenger. He has the power. You were His long before you were mine. He’s waiting. Just ask Him. Ask Him for help.

  You do it.

  I can’t work this out for you. You have to do this yourself. I’ll stay by your side, but I don’t know why you fear. He’s not the Refuser. He’s the Creator. He loves you—

  Just be quiet. Just stop. Just stop. Just make this all stop.

  It will, in time. But this could be so much easier on you. Let the Creator lift these burdens.

  You said I won’t die, right?

  If you listen, you won’t.

  I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

  Ready for what? For your guilt to be eased? For your pain to be wiped away? To feel something more than anger and arrogance? To feel joy again?

  Please just stop. Just let it all stop. Please . . .

  Corporal Shin pressed his hands to his ears and rocked harder.

  Just let me get out . . . just let me get out . . . just let me get out . . . please, someone, help me . . .

  ---

  By midafternoon, the sky over Salem was nearly as dark as night, with ash falling everywhere. Mahrree glanced outside instinctively to see the sun
, but instead saw only gray, blanketing everything. It was several inches deep so far, and poor three-year-old Fennic snuck out earlier to try to make a snowman of it.

  Now all of the Shin, Briter, and Zenos children and grandchildren were in the Briter house. Shem said it was safer to keep everyone together for now, sharing the bedrooms, reading books, playing games, and trying to pretend nothing bizarre and terrifying was happening outside.

  Every half hour Mahrree sent another teenager out to measure the depth of the ash and bring in samples for them to analyze. It was, after all, their first volcanic explosion—or so she assumed—so they should be studying it.

  Mahrree guided the teenagers in trying to separate the samples into ash, small rock, and dirt, to see if the nature of the falling matter changed over time.

  Jaytsy helped the younger children try to find ways to turn it into art projects. Adding a bit of water made the ash turn into a thick, mortar-like sludge, which excited the little boys, but made Jaytsy and Mahrree look at each other in fear and pray fervently that no rain would be coming anytime soon. At least the light gray small rock that floated in the water was a fascinating diversion.

  Turning the explosion into a project made it seem less threatening in a small way. The surface academic approach, however, only masked the deeper sense of fear and growing panic everyone felt, but tried to dismiss.

  Over at the Shin house, Lilla, Calla, and Salema were cooking an enormous meal, hoping that the leftovers might keep them from having to cook again for some time, just in case in the future they may need to . . .

  And that was as far as anyone of them could guess. What would be in the future? How long might all of this continue for? A few hours? Weeks?

  It’d been a strange day, no doubt. Mahrree had never experienced anything quite like it, and by late afternoon she was still trying to sort out her emotions.

  When Shem and the boys had returned from seeing the mountain that morning, the adults had stood together discussing what to do next while the older children gathered in produce, chickens, goats, and calves. Deck had already set out to retrieve the cattle with Viddrow but came back too soon. Most of the cattle had stampeded in a panic up the mountainside, and Deck thought his efforts would be put to better use at home. He arrived shortly after Shem.

  “So how long will this last?” Deck asked Shem as they stood on the back porch sorting into piles whatever ripe vegetables the children could find. There wasn’t too much, though, only halfway through the growing season, and because they harvested every morning, they’d soon be finished.

  “I have no idea. No answers,” Shem said, visibly worried as he stared at a handful of peppers, unsure of what family basket to put them in.

  “That’s all right,” Calla said, setting a pepper into each basket. “We’re ready.”

  Lilla sighed and gestured with skinny cucumbers in each hand. “Ready for . . . for what?! Shem, what does this mean?” Lilla’s eyes kept darting to look at the barn, waiting for Peto to return.

  “Treat it like a blizzard?” he suggested. “Act as if we can’t get out for a few days, because we probably won’t be able to.”

  “Then when it ends—” Jaytsy started.

  “—If it ends,” Shem said darkly.

  Jaytsy’s face blanched. “You don’t think it will end?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know . . . I’m not getting anything yet,” Shem apologized. “I think we should prepare for the worst of anything. Let’s keep everyone together for now, as much as possible. I think Peto was going to check on Lori and Jori after he saw the Thornes. And then we’ll just . . .”

  Shem’s voice fading away had startled Mahrree ever since. She’d never seen him quite like that. He was still strong and confident, their ever-reliable guide, but even he seemed overwhelmed by the morning’s events.

  But Mahrree still didn’t feel his depth of worry. Initially, she’d been startled by the land tremor and amazed at the growing cloud, of course. But she didn’t think it could be too bad. No scientists in the world had ever thought too much about the volcano. All they ever knew of them was what Terryp and others had brought back from the etchings they had seen. Tall mountain, smoke coming out from the top, followed later by bigger crops. No one in Salem knew much more, either.

  When the first bits of not-snow began to fall before midday meal, she went outside, caught some, and looked at it closely. It was not lush soil. It was ash. She still didn’t feel any panic as Shem joined her.

  “Dear Creator!” he whispered as he looked up into the gray sky. “This is it, isn’t it?” he said, and not to her.

  “Shem?” Mahrree asked cautiously.

  He looked at her soberly. There was no playful twinkle in his eye. “Get inside, Mahrree. Perrin will never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

  “Shem, surely it can’t be that bad . . .”

  He didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at her. Mahrree had never seen him so serious.

  “Please get inside,” he said quietly. “And promise me you’ll not come back out again. I know you’re still as healthy and feisty as when you were thirty, but your lungs are seventy-three years old.”

  “Oh, Shem! Come now, I—”

  “Mahrree.” Something in his tone reminded Mahrree of when she was nine years old and teasing an older boy. Her father had used the same tone on her to send her to her room. Mahrree nodded slowly at Shem.

  “All right . . .”

  He gripped her arm and looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead turned her gently to the house.

  So that’s where she had stayed for the last few hours, trying to entertain her grandchildren with makeshift experiments and writing down speculations with them as to what might come next. She couldn’t hide away from them. Maybe today was why she had remained—to help her grandchildren through the weirdest day Salem had ever experienced.

  Peto had returned with news that Lori and Jori had promised not to deliver early, and that he’d told the Thornes they wouldn’t be traveling that day.

  Mahrree was secretly relieved. The plan had been for them to stop by the Eztates, but meeting the wife and daughters of Lemuel Thorne wasn’t something she’d been eager for, although Relf had assured her they were merely traumatized women. Mahrree hadn’t been in the mood for yet another ‘reunion’ of sorts today.

  As she looked out the window, it was obvious why the men weren’t supposed to be marking any trails this year. At first, everyone had assumed Shem had received that prompting after Young Pere took off because the pox had descended upon Salem. But it was also because Deceit did, as well.

  She noticed Calla, Lilla, Salema, and Peto trudging through the falling ash to the Briter house, with blankets draped over them as they carried covered baskets of food.

  And Mahrree felt the strangest spark of hope, again.

  Those random sparks, which lit her up throughout the day, were why she hadn’t been feeling the same level of dread that Shem or anyone else had experienced. And she was beginning to feel guilty about it.

  The first flicker of hope hit at the same time the land tremor did. For a few moments she thought she was back in Edge, and she was sure Perrin’s arms and body were wrapped protectively around her, but it was only the blanket. Yet the familiarity of the swaying bed had filled her with anticipation for something she couldn’t yet pinpoint.

  The flash of hope hit her again as she first looked outside that morning and saw the cloud growing. It was Mount Deceit. She knew it the moment she saw it.

  The third time she felt it was when she went back to her room on the pretext of changing out of her bed clothes, but instead pulled down her copy of The Writings. She hesitated before opening the pages, afraid that what she remembered may have changed since the last time she read the passage a couple of moons ago.

  But there it was, exactly as she had remembered it, the words of the first Great Guide.

  Before the Last Day
will be a land tremor more powerful than any ever experienced. It will awaken the largest mountain and change all that we know in the world. Those changes will bring famine, death, and desperation to the world. And that desperation will cause the world’s army to seek to destroy the faithful of the Creator.

  But she was fixated on the first line, about a land tremor more powerful than ever before. She felt such a surge of excitement that she could hardly contain herself. She knew she had to calm down before returning to the family, because they wouldn’t understand her response.

  Because it was The Last Day. It was coming—it had to be! And the coming of The Last Day would also signal the coming of her husband.

  How could she not be thrilled to see the mountain explode and the world come to an end?!

  It was a terrible way to look at it, she knew. All kinds of destruction and problems would occur first, it was obvious. But as she sat in her bedroom and spied Perrin’s old colonel’s jacket hanging in the wardrobe, she couldn’t erase her grin. They’d be in each other’s arms before she knew it!

  However, she couldn’t go out to her family in such a state of giddiness. She composed herself, knelt down and prayed for understanding, for help, and most importantly, for her grandson who was still down there. He needed to come home before it all ended, somehow.

  Honri had hurried over to the house shortly after that, coming straight to Mahrree’s wing, anxiety all over his face.

  “Are you all right? Nervous? Worried?” he asked her.

  Even when he was concerned, his dimples had a way of appearing in the most charming of ways. To his surprise, she had invited him in, shut the door behind him and smiled eagerly. “Honri, do you realize what’s happening?”

  “Not exactly, but I have an idea—”

  “Honri, it’s Deceit! It has to be!”

  He bobbed his head. “Well, that was the possibility I was—”

  “No, do you really realize what this means?”

  Tipping his head, he evaluated her critically. “Mahrree, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! That’s just it! Honri,” she whispered conspiratorially, “This is the end!”

  It was her squealing in delight that startled him.

  With his eyes bulging in alarm, he said, enunciating every word, “Stay . . . right . . . here. I’m . . . going . . . to get . . . Boskos—”

  “No, no, no, Honri! I’m fine, and I didn’t hit my head or anything. Don’t you get it? Honri, they’ll be on their way back to us, very soon!”

  Still watching her guardedly, he said, “They who?”

  “Nan and Perrin!”

  Everything about him drooped. “Oh, Mahrree, Mahrree . . . This isn’t what you think—”

  She threw her hands up in the air. Of everyone, she expected him to see it as fast as she had. “It’s in The Writings. You know it as well as I do. This is the beginning of the end!”

  He took her by the arms, the look in his eyes suggesting he was still thinking of retrieving a doctor to take a look at her. “Mahrree, we have stored enough food for four years. Why have we stored so much, except that we might need that much to get us through this crisis? The Last Day—that’s what you think this signals? It might not. My dear Mahrree, I don’t think it’s going to happen as quickly as you think it will. Is this . . . is this why you wouldn’t let me propose to you a few weeks ago? Wait. It doesn’t add up. Why did you think then that The Last Day is around the corner now?”

  “Because it is!” she beamed.

  His countenance fell even more. “Oh, Mahrree, my dear Mahrree . . .”

  Annoyed with his pessimism and misplaced sympathy, she assured her one-time hopeful that she was fine and that he could go back to his own family. But Honri was insightful and clever, and soon—very soon—he’d realize, too, that The Last Day and their deceased spouses were just right around the corner, and he wouldn’t have to keep coming by each day with that pitiful hope in his eyes.

  For the next many hours, Mahrree tried to quell her enthusiasm so as to not alarm anyone else, but inside her joy bubbled with more heat than any old hotpot in Edge ever had.

  She even took to talking to the grandchildren again, partly because she had to help keep them occupied during this strange day, and partly because she realized something: this close to the end, what lasting harm could she possibly do to any of them?

  ---

  Shem returned from the storehouse late that afternoon just as everyone was settling down to eat at the table, on the floor, in the gathering room, or wherever there was space. He came in the back door and smiled at the sight of all the bodies. The three combined families created a small roar of their own as they helped themselves to the food on the side table and stepped over each other to find a place to sit. There was much more laughter than Shem expected to hear, and it put a grin on his face. Maybe he wouldn’t need to get little Plump Perrin, or the newborn baby girls of Barnos and Ivy, or Relf or Mattilin, to snuggle with him today after all.

  Calla came to his side as he stood against the wall. “Everyone taken care of?” she asked.

  He gave her a quick kiss and put his arm around her. “Yes, my love. No one else seems to be in need. They’re just riding it out now. How’s everyone here?”

  “Mostly fine. Mahrree and Jaytsy have kept the children occupied with projects. They’ve done a good job keeping cheerful about it all. It almost feels like a celebration day, and Mahrree almost seems back to her normal self again.”

  Shem looked at her in surprise. “Really? I thought she might be in a panic.”

  Calla shrugged. “So did I, but she’s not. Honestly, she’s been a little odd all day, but grief does strange things to people. She’s actually talking and interacting with everyone, for once. Maybe because she had no choice; she’s stuck here at the Briters like everyone else. But,” she whispered, “Peto and Lilla? They’re not doing well at all. They’ve put on brave smiles, but I’ve never known either of them to be so quiet. The only ones talking in their kitchen while we cooked earlier were Salema and me. They’re still in Jaytsy’s kitchen, alone. Said they don’t feel like eating yet. Shemmy, do you know anything that might help them?”

  “Young Pere’s still alive,” he whispered back. “In a terrible position, but it’s survivable.”

  Calla sighed in relief. “Go. Tell them. I’ll get you a plate of food ready in the meantime, just in case you’re called away again. I don’t want you to be hungry.”

  Shem caught her in a hug. “I’m not planning on leaving you again today. Twice is enough. I need to take care of my family too. The last tower message was for everyone to stay inside with the windows and doors sealed. I don’t want anyone outside breathing this. I even ordered the tower messengers to take cover until it stops. I’m staying here and taking care of you.”

  Calla kissed him. “I don’t mind sharing you with Salem. But if you can stay, I can deal with that too!”

  Shem squeezed her tightly. “Do you know what an amazing wife you are? You never complain.”

  Calla smiled. “It’s easy to be an amazing wife when I have an amazing husband—”

  “And it’d be amazing to eat without all this syrup pouring around me,” Zaddick complained as he sat down on the floor in front of his parents and dug into his meal. “Please Papa, Mama—get something to eat so you stop talking.”

  Shem gave him a playful kick. “No wonder you’re not courting anyone. Twenty-one years old and you still don’t understand anything about women and love.”

  “I understand I prefer a little vinegar in a female instead of all this sugar,” he said, shoving a bite of spicy squash into his mouth. “Salem just breeds them too sweet.”

  Calla chuckled. “Go to the kitchen, Shem. I’ll wait to eat with you.”

  Shem stepped carefully through the mass of children and adults, weaving his way to the kitchen. He stopped briefly to take Mahrree by the arm.

  “Have you been a good girl?” he demanded playfully.
>
  “I haven’t been outside, Mr. Zenos!” and she winked at him.

  Calla was right—Mahrree was smiling easily, a real smile, not The Dinner smile she’d been wearing for almost a year, as she helped a great-grandchild fill her plate. He wondered briefly about her happy nature before he slipped through the door of the kitchen.

  He stopped abruptly when he found Peto and Lilla in an embrace. They quickly pulled apart when they saw him, and Lilla wiped her eyes with a cloth.

  “I’m sorry,” Shem said, continuing over to them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  They tried to give him brave smiles, but their faces were etched with worry. A memory came back to him and he knew exactly what he was supposed to do with it.

  “This wasn’t like many years ago,” he said, “when a certain set of parents were far away at Terryp’s ruins for their twentieth anniversary, and a certain young woman who was supposed to be at my house helping her sister with her first newborn was rarely there . . .”

  Their faces immediately softened. Lilla blushed and Peto grinned as he looked down at the floor.

  “As I recall,” Shem continued, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, “the instructions left for Jaytsy, Deck, Calla, and me were to watch you two like hawks, because Mahrree suspected something might be going on between you two mice, but the problem was we could never find you. Peto? Lilla? Always gone, and at the same time.”

  In spite of herself, Lilla began to giggle and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Until one afternoon when I came by the house to get a map from Perrin’s office and heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen—”

  Peto was now chuckling and Lilla was bright red.

  “So I walked into the kitchen, not sure what I’d find in Perrin and Mahrree’s absence, but certainly not expecting to see my sister-in-law and my nephew locked in a most passionate embrace by the sink. That wasn’t the pipes making slurping noises.”

  Lilla covered her face with her hands as she snorted, and Peto shook his head. “All right, Shem. Enough now—”

  “Oh, no, not yet,” Shem grinned, never one to not finish a story, “because just the very night before I’d had a conversation with said nephew telling him that if he was interested in courting Miss Trovato, I could give him some advice. And what was the response? Ah, hold on . . . let me remember . . .”

  “Shem—”

  “No, no, Peto, it’s coming to me . . . it was . . . that’s right: ‘Shem, I’m just not interested in girls right now. Maybe someday, but right now I just want to keep all my options open.’”

  Lilla was fully giggling into her hands.

  Peto grinned. “Well, I wasn’t interested in girls. I was interested in one woman.” He reached out and pulled Lilla into him.

  “Well it was still quite a surprise for me to walk into the kitchen and realize that both of you were more interested, as you put it, than any of us had suspected!”

  Peto chuckled as Lilla shook in silent laughter against his chest.

  “Shem, I was so embarrassed that you caught us!” Lilla finally managed to say. “And then I thought, He’s going to go home and tell my sister! That put me into a panic. I was afraid you would send me back to Norden. But Shem, the look on your face? I’d never seen anything so funny!”

  “It was a look of absolute shock, wasn’t it?” Peto asked his wife thoughtfully.

  “That was because I stood there watching you two for about fifteen seconds, too stunned to move or make a sound, before you even noticed I was there!” Shem grinned. “I kept thinking, This is not Peto, is it? With Lilla? Kissing in the Shins’ kitchen? And look, here you are again, now alone in the Briters’. What is it with you two and kitchens? Go back to your own. You can have some privacy!”

  Peto and Lilla laughed as Shem grinned at them. “By the way Lilla, I was ready to send you back to Norden until Perrin and Mahrree returned. I wasn’t sure how much I could trust young Peto here without his father breathing down his neck. But Calla said she’d take care of things.”

  Peto smirked painfully. “She did. We had a little talk that evening, just her and me. For such a calm and soft-spoken woman, Calla can be very direct. I’ve used some of her phrases on our own children.”

  Shem grinned. “Speaking of Calla, she’s worried about you again. Both of you.”

  The three of them stood in the kitchen for a moment, their smiles fading.

  Shem broke the silence. “So how are you two?”

  “I just can’t stop thinking about—” Lilla began, then looked out at the ash storm and sighed, resting her head against Peto.

  “I know,” Shem said quietly. “But I can tell both of you this—I know he’s still alive.”

  “Really?” Peto said, almost not daring to hope.

  “I was given a glimpse of him. He’s in the middle of it, but he can get out. And he’s not alone. He is listening to Perrin.”

  Lilla burst into tears as Peto hugged her again.

  “Thank you,” Peto whispered to Shem.

  Shem nodded. “So the two of you should end your fasting and get something to eat. We’re going to need all our strength once this stops coming down. There’ll be a tremendous amount of clean-up to do.”

  “How did you know we were fasting?” Peto asked quietly.

  “That’s what I’d be doing if my son were trapped in the world.”

  Chapter 35--“Where are the other soldiers?”