by Trish Mercer
“Several problems, men,” Thorne said in a low voice as he addressed the collected officers around him. The sun was trying to burn through the thick haze that still left everything in gray around them. There were nearly thirty officers and higher ranked enlisted men seated on logs pulled from the debris. The rest of the army that was healthy enough were fanned out looking for more survivors. A few hundred men lay on the drying mud, too weak to move. Midday meal, which should happen in a few short hours, was nowhere to be found.
“First, the supply barns on the border are mostly intact, but two have been cleaned out by panicking residents. Our soldiers stationed there have secured the others, but they had to kill many civilians to do so. That may cause a future relations problem until the details are clarified.”
The officers nodded, because each of them knew what “details are clarified” meant: the official story would be released when the best story could be devised.
“Second, there’s no available means to get the remaining supplies here. The lieutenant who arrived with the news came on the only horse he could find. Most succumbed to the ash. We’ll have to march the soldiers four miles south just to get them a meal.”
The officers groaned.
“Sir, so many of them are injured. How do we transport them?”
“The men are too weak. Most will never make it.”
“Can’t a few of the soldiers there be spared to bring us enough supplies to feed us for one meal? Then some more might be able to make it down there.”
“I already thought through those scenarios,” Thorne said tiredly, as if they were wasting his time. “Captain Lick didn’t think they could spare any men. Soldiers are digging out the survivors from the mudslide, and our fifty strongest are guarding the remaining food reserves from aggressive citizens.”
“What happened to the rest of the army?” another man dared to ask.
“Still looking for them,” the general admitted. “Just before the border, the mudslide expanded even more. They have the same problem we have, but with fewer soldiers to dig. It’s imperative we get down there as soon as possible to help.”
The officers shared the same look.
“General,” a colonel began bravely, “half these men can barely crawl. We’re running rapidly out of water. They’ll be dead by dinner, and you expect us to be at the Pools fort by then?”
“Province 2 fort,” Thorne corrected. “And they’ll make it with the proper motivation,” he said evenly. “Surviving is proper motivation.”
“That officer last night,” a major remembered, “the one who got everyone digging again. Where is he?” He looked around expectantly. “He knows how to motivate!”
A few of the men shifted uncomfortably and watched Thorne.
The general stared at the major. “He was no officer,” he said between clenched teeth.
“What? Really?”
“Really,” said Thorne heavily. “We have word that he’s nothing more than a corporal.”
The major prodded the officer next to him. “That was some corporal. Even I drew my sword—”
The officer he addressed widened his eyes in a warning, and the major’s enthusiasm faded as he realized Thorne was glaring at him.
“Third problem,” he said coolly, “is the identity of that corporal. I asked last night that he be tracked down, but none of you seem to be able to find him now. Certainly our sword-drawing soldier hasn’t vanished like a spirit now, has he?”
A staff sergeant cleared his throat. “Sir? I may have an idea as to who it is.”
Thorne looked at him hungrily.
“Sir,” he cleared his throat nervously again, “was he the one who, uh, who helped locate you?”
Thorne’s eyes pierced the man who was trying desperately not to revise the general’s now oft-repeated story. But more pressing was the need to identify the young man who hundreds of weary and injured men willingly followed into the dark.
“Perhaps,” said Thorne, aware that the officers were watching him intently. “He may be the one who aided in getting me to the bank.”
The sergeant grew pale.
“Quod,” one of the officers said. “What’s wrong? Do you know him?”
Sergeant Quod nodded slowly. “He, uh, he aided me as well. General, sir—he’s from your fort.”
“My fort?! Are you sure?”
Quod nodded again, and looked like he didn’t want to. “He said his name was . . . Corporal Shin.” He held his breath in anticipation.
The response from the officers was mixed. Several laughed at the name. A few others rolled their eyes, but many of them panicked.
Someone murmured, “Colonel Offra! Remember what Colonel Offra said? They were coming back!”
Thorne rose to his feet. “He’s just a corporal!” he barked. “There’s nothing to this . . . this rumor! Now, stop this! If I wanted terrified girls around me, I would have brought Major Kroop along!”
A few officers chortled, the rest fell silent.
Quod nodded vigorously. “Of course, of course. He did tell me he was fogged when he took the name. But then there was . . .” He stopped.
Thorne took a step toward him. “What? What else did he say? How long did the two of you talk?”
“Just for a few minutes, sir, while he was digging me out and examining my head. He, uh, he . . . said something odd.”
“Well? What?”
“Slow Growth Oak.”
“What?”
Quod looked anxiously around before continuing. “We were speculating about the mudslide, and Shin said he recognized one of the trees as a Slow Growth Oak, and that they grow only . . . in the forests.”
Now even some of the officers who had rolled their eyes stared at Sergeant Quod, along with everyone else.
Someone whispered, “Guarders! The Shins became Guarders!”
“It’s the only explanation—”
“STOP IT! NOW!” Thorne bellowed to the circle. “There are no Guarders! Haven’t been for years! They’re extinct! He knows the forest because we take our soldiers on drills there! Slow Growth Oak? What makes you think he didn’t make up the name? Yes, there are scrubby little oak trees on the edge of the forests where all soldiers can see them. What an uncreative name, made up by a boy who was recruited out of a fog and didn’t know any better than to take the name of Shin. He probably has a name for everything. Shiny Long Sword. Smelly Right Sock. Snotty Little Nose. It means nothing, men. I saw him last night as well. Agitated. Hungry. Ready for a fight. Exactly how I want my soldiers to be. Ready to run into the dark to find anything that moves. Ready to destroy anything that stands in his way. I assure you, his name is NOT Perrin Shin! Perrin Shin is DEAD! What you saw last night was nothing more than a boy who is a motivated, well-trained soldier from my fort eager for battle! Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” thirty voices rang out automatically.
Thorne turned slowly, meeting the eyes of each man. They each returned his solid gaze.
“Now,” the general said in a calmer tone. “First, let’s try to find some horses. There are farms around here. I want groups heading in all directions. Let’s commandeer whatever kind of transportation we can. Wagons, mules—anything that can help carry the wounded. Second, let’s do one final check of the river for survivors. If there are no more, order the men to rest until the transportation arrives. Third, inform the soldiers that a big meal is waiting for them at dinner time. All they have to do is walk to it. Four miles isn’t that far. Remind them they are building muscle. And fourth . . . each of you, and I mean each of you, watch for a tall man named Shin, perhaps still wearing a kerchief around his neck. I want him by my side. I will prove to you he is nothing more than a corporal.”
---
They’re coming to look for volunteers. Be one of them.
I don’t need your help, old man. I’m fine on my own.
They’re not afraid of you. They’re afraid of me. You really think that was you last night, rousing the ar
my? Where did all those words you shouted come from, Corporal?
Be quiet, old man.
Corporal Shin was digging, again, trying to pull out the boot of another soldier he’d just rescued. He had stripped off his jacket and undershirt that had dried stiffly, the heat of the day already making him sweat. The man he pulled out was crawling slowly to the camp, south of Shin’s location.
Shin looked up to check on his progress when he saw a young officer approaching. The dozen men digging in that area looked up as well.
“Soldiers!” called the officer. “Are any of you interested in doing something else? General Thorne is looking for volunteers to locate wagons and horses. We’re attempting to move everyone down to the fort at Province 2 where there’s plenty of food and water, but we need transportation for the wounded.”
“Where are we supposed to look?” Shin called back.
Volunteer. Volunteer.
“Farms,” announced the lieutenant. “We need a group from here to head to the northeast. We need to gather as many animals as possible.”
Go. Go. Go.
Shin threw down his stick and sighed at the voice in his ear. “I’ll go,” he said, trying to get up. But for some reason, his leg stiffened and he struggled to get up.
“Are you sure you’re strong enough, soldier?” the lieutenant eyed him.
Shin looked up as the officer walked over. “Don’t I look strong enough?”
The lieutenant winced as he assessed Shin’s muscular and bare upper body. “Of course, of course.” He wasn’t ready to take on a challenge, even if the challenger was stuck, sitting in mud.
Shin extended his leg to rub it. “Just a cramp. Are we going as a body, or individually?”
“As a group,” the lieutenant said. “You’re meeting over there by that lone pine tree. A captain will lead you.”
“I’ll go too,” said another soldier. His companion nodded as well.
“Good, good!” smiled the lieutenant as the two other soldiers stood up. He glanced back down at Shin who was reaching for his undershirt and jacket.
Shin glared up at him. “Anything else you have to say, sir?” he said as he slid on his dirty undershirt.
“No, not at all. What’s your rank, by the way?”
“Are all officers obsessed by that question?” Shin sneered. “Corporal, sir!”
The lieutenant licked his lips nervously. “Are you, uh, by any chance from . . . Province 8?”
“No!”
The lieutenant immediately relaxed. “Good luck to you, men. You’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Look for sources of water as well. What’s left of the river is nearly gone, as you can plainly see.”
---
Corporal Shin stood by the lone pine tree. Half of it was dried and dead, the other half looked like it would match it soon. Two dozen men stood with him, watching as a captain jogged over to them, dodging debris.
“Good, excellent,” he said with a firm nod of his head. “Keep your swords ready. Very few citizens understand the need of surrendering their animals and wagons to the greater good of the army. It’s up to us to help them understand that,” he said, resting his hand on his hilt. His soil-dark skin and hair had dried mud caking it, making him appear a much older man than he was. He was likely only in his late twenties, but was aged gray by the ash.
Shin folded his arms. “Exactly how do you expect us to help them understand, sir?”
“By whatever means necessary, soldier. Where’s your uniform?”
“Right here.” He held up his pack where he had stuffed his jacket. “It’s heavy with mud. I work better without it.”
“Where are you from, soldier?”
“Mountseen.” He’d decided earlier that answer would require less explanation. “Province 4.”
The captain smiled coldly. “You will get farther with the villagers if they see the uniform. People respect the uniform.”
“They also fear it, sir.”
“All the more reason to wear it when we near the farms, soldier.”
“Is fear the best way to proceed, sir?”
The captain blinked in surprise at the insubordinate behavior. “Soldier?”
“Aren’t these people frightened enough?” Shin pointed out. “Do we really need to come in and terrorize them for their last possessions?”
Now the captain folded his arms. “And what do you suggest? Walking up to their doors, knocking, and asking, ‘May I please borrow your lame mule? I have a few thousand men to move?’”
The other soldiers sniggered.
Shin was unmoved. “Why not?”
The captain scoffed. “Why not? I’ll tell you why not! Because they won’t agree!”
“How do you know?”
“Boy, what’s your rank?”
Shin sighed heavily at the useless question and glared at the captain. “Just a corporal. Sir.”
The captain raised an eyebrow at his defiant tone.
Shin matched his look. “All I’m suggesting, sir, is that we approach the farmers, explain the situation, then tell them that we’re taking their wagons and animals. If they want them back, they can come down to Province 2 in a few days and retrieve them. Saves us the bother.”
“You thought we were going to return their animals?” the captain scoffed again.
Shin shifted his stance. “No,” he lied, and repeated the words which came easily to his mind. “But consider this—right now we need the support of the villagers, don’t we? If we’re to invade Idumea successfully, wouldn’t it be smart to have local support? If we anger those living here, and if the offensive doesn’t go well, this will be our site of retreat. Wouldn’t it serve us better if the villagers see us as defenders of their homes instead of as aggressors on their farms? What if they’re led to believe we’re their last line of defense before the southern forces? Wouldn’t they eagerly hand over their wagons to keep the peace?”
The captain stared at him for several seconds, his jaw working.
Shin could tell the captain knew he was right. The words had flowed so effortlessly into his mind, there simply was no reasonable way to argue them.
“Corporal . . . what did you say your name was?”
“Briter. Corporal Lek Briter.” For once he remembered the name, and his jacket with the wrong name patch was securely in his pack.
“Good,” he said quietly, seemingly relieved. “Briter, I’ll consider your suggestion. In fact, I’ll let you be the first one to try it out. If you succeed, we’ll continue with your plan. If you fail, all of us get to get in some sword practice.”
The soldiers laughed and fell into line behind the captain who started in a quick march northeast.
Shin stepped in at the end to follow the path made by the soldiers ahead of him trudging through the thick gray ash that was now drifting in the breeze like snow in the middle of Raining Season.
Well done, Young Pere! You listened to me precisely. That’s what makes an excellent soldier: obedience. Now, recommend turning north at those trees. Well, whatever’s left of them.
Shin was too tired to dismiss the insistent voice in his head. It was just easier to let it babble, and repeat it. It seemed to know what it was talking about.
Tell them you saw horses in the area on the way down.
We didn’t come down that way.
The captain joined from the west and isn’t going to know that now, is he?
Shin shrugged as they neared the clump of trunks that used to be tall maples. He broke ranks and jogged up to the captain.
“Sir? I recommend we head north here. I remember seeing a large herd of horses up some ways. When we were coming in,” he added awkwardly.
The captain looked around. “I’m not familiar with the area, so north we’ll try.”
Shin turned back to fall into line.
“Briter—wait. Walk with me, Corporal.”
Shin cringed but obediently took the spot next to the captain.
“What’s your s
trategy going to be, Briter, should we find animals there?”
“My strategy?” Shin thought quickly as he trudged through the grayness. “Walk up, tell them the need, and tell them how to get the animals back.”
The captain laughed shortly. “Just that easy, eh, boy?”
“May I borrow your jacket, sir? It may have more authority coming from a captain than a muddy corporal.”
The captain gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re rather larger than I am, Briter. Not sure the jacket would fit.”
“Do you think they’d really notice? Two dozen filthy soldiers standing at their front door? Their minds might be occupied by something more besides trying to find me a tailor.”
The captain laughed. “I like you, Briter. Quick mind! Not enough of your kind in the army. Honestly, I think you’re going to fail, and fail big, and I’m looking forward to your humiliation. But I always appreciate imaginative thinking. You can borrow my jacket for the first door. Let’s see just how well you do. In fact, how about we make a little wager?”
“I’m not much of a betting man, sir.”
“Oh, even better. Tell you what, Briter. For every horse you get from this first house, I will compose a verse of song in your honor.”
Shin glanced sideways at him. That was the oddest offer he’d ever heard. “Sir?”
One of the men behind him laughed. “Take it, Briter. Captain Nelt’s songs are the pride of the army!”
Another man called up, “Sir, did you write the one that begins, ‘There once was a brunette from Grasses?’”
The captain turned and lazily saluted the men trudging behind him. “I actually knew her, and every word is true, boys!”
The men sniggered.
Shin fought the blush. Every soldier knew that anatomically impossible song. The first time he heard it there were a few phrases that needed to be explained to him, and he regretted asking as soon as he learned their meanings.
The captain grinned at the men’s appreciation of his work. “Nice to hear that my lyrics have gotten around. And, Briter, if you fail, you’ll walk back to camp in your underwear, bottom only. Then I still get to make up a song. And it will begin, ‘There once was a snock named Briter, who didn’t know how to delight her. . .’”
The men behind them laughed. “Take it, Briter! I want to see and hear this!”
But Shin was intensely uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m not so sure—”
“That the song won’t be true, or that you’ll succeed? Neither am I.” He lowered his voice and put a friendly arm around him as they walked. “Now, Corporal, don’t you think we could use a little morale boost right now? A little distraction to keep our minds off of starving to death? Is that really too much to ask?” The captain jostled him significantly.
Shin gulped. “I’ll take the bet, sir,” he announced loudly.
The men behind them cheered.
“Sir,” called another soldier, “did you ever know the Slashing Sow? Ever make up a song about her?”
The captain shivered and released Shin to turn around. He walked backward as he spoke, nearly stumbling a few times in the ash. “If I did meet her, all of my songs would be pitched a lot higher. Ever since she started making the fort rounds, I vowed never to be alone with a beautiful blond woman. That’s good advice for all of you.”
Shin turned pink as he listened to the graphic descriptions of how one young woman with a saucy smile and an army-issued long knife demonstrated her hatred of the soldiers in the forts she visited. He tried to ignore the conversations as he scanned the horizon looking for anything that might promise a horse or two.
Ahead of them, the hazy gray air began to clear enough to reveal several long, low buildings. There seemed to be no movement outside, but a large house was off to the right of the buildings.
The captain guided the soldiers over to it, and Shin thought he heard a muffled whinny from the direction of the buildings covered in ash.
When they were about one hundred paces away, Nelt took off his jacket and handed it to the corporal.
“I suppose this is what they call a field promotion,” he smirked as Shin struggled to get the jacket on.
The sleeves were too short, as was the jacket length, but it buttoned up well enough. The other soldiers laughed at his arms poking out.
Shin raised an eyebrow at the captain who stood in his dirty white undershirt. “You’re out of uniform, soldier,” he said gravely.
Nelt pointed at him. “Don’t get too comfortable, Briter. You’ll be wearing far less when we walk back. I can hardly wait.”
Sending Nelt a smile far cockier and confident than he felt, Shin marched up to the front door of the house. The other soldiers followed in formation and waited on the stairs while Shin stood on the front porch. He knocked loudly and a moment later the door hesitantly opened.
“No . . . No!” shouted a man, trying to force the door shut on him. But Shin had already lunged into the opening, keeping the door open with his body, and caught the man by the shirt.
“No one’s here to hurt you! I give you my word as an officer of the army. Please just listen to me. Look, my sword is in my sheath. I’m empty-handed. Just listen for two minutes. That’s all I ask.”
Someone else seemed to be standing behind the door, and the man exchanged an inquiring look with whomever it is. He turned back at Shin, saw the futility of trying to shut the door, and nodded nervously.
“Do you realize what’s happened?” Shin asked the man. “Do you understand that Mount Deceit has awakened? Has exploded?” he quickly amended.
The man nodded. “We suspected something like that, but weren’t sure.”
“Do you realize that you live only a few miles away from the border of Sargon?”
“Yes, obviously!”
“Do you have any idea what the condition of Idumea is in right now?”
“No. No one does.”
“Well, I do. We’ve received a report. An enormous mudslide, which took away our horses, has also taken away a great deal of their food stores. The people in Idumea are panicking. Many have already lost their lives rushing across the border to steal food from the fort at Province 2. Where do you think they will come next?”
The man gasped. “We don’t have any food! Not more than to get us by for a couple of days, then—”
A timid woman appeared behind him. “We don’t have enough for you, either!” she whimpered.
“I understand, ma’am. I’m not here for your food. We’re here to protect.”
The man scoffed. “Since when are Thorne’s men here to protect?”
Shin raised an admonishing eyebrow at him.
The man cowered. “I didn’t mean that, Captain. Dear Creator, please believe me! I—I—”
Shin held up his hand. “You’re feeling great anxiety and worry about this tremendously difficult situation. I understand completely. I’m not here to punish you, I’m here to help. We’re attempting to refortify the border. We have plenty of food, but it’s miles away. All I need is transportation. Horses. Wagons. Mules. Anything you have. The faster we can get there, the sooner we can ensure that no one from the south will be coming to break down your door.”
The man looked back at his wife.
She shrugged.
“We will relieve you of your animals only temporarily,” Shin told them. “We need them to get to the fort at Province 2. You’re free to come down in a couple of days and retrieve them.”
“You’re not keeping them?”
“Just borrowing, sir. So that we can fortify our border and keep you safe. Can I count on your help to keep you and your wife . . . and your daughter safe?”
The man looked behind him.
A teenage girl was standing at the bottom of a staircase, trembling at the captain whose large body held open the door.
The man turned back. “How many horses do you need?” he asked quietly.
Shin fought a smile. “How many do you have?”
&n
bsp; The man squinted. “Don’t you know where you are?”
“Not exactly. It’s been a disorienting couple of days,” he said with a faint smile.
The man smiled hesitantly back and opened the door a little more. “Actually, it’ll be easier on us if you do take them. Our hired hands didn’t come yesterday or today, and the three of us just can’t move that much feed. They’re already hungry again, but you could certainly take care of them. Come with me, Captain,” the man said, stepping out the front door. He hesitated when he saw the rest of the soldiers, but Shin put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The man looked back at him, nodded, and headed for one of the long, low buildings.
“Not sure you have enough hands with you here,” he said to Shin as they waded across what may have been a field, the real captain following closely behind.
The man walked up to the doors. Shin glanced up and saw the words of a sign faintly under the ash that caked it, and he began to smile. The man threw open the doors.
“Ah, Creet!” Captain Nelt gasped.
Shin grinned.
The Stables of Pools were filled to capacity. Two hundred horses pawed the ground, anxious to get out.
Welcome to the rest of Clark’s family. This is where my father always came for his horses. Try to find another large black horse, Captain.
The man sighed in resignation. “Take good care of them, will you? And the one hundred in the stable to the east? They’ll starve here anyway in the next few days. Please try to find them feed in Idumea. Now, Captain, my cousin down the road is a wainwright, or did you not know that he has a dozen wagons in his barns either?”
Shin patted the man on the back. “Excellent!” He turned to Captain Nelt and leered. “And just how many words rhyme with Briter, anyway?”
The rest of the soldiers guffawed as the captain shook his head in awe, gesturing helplessly. “I . . . I . . . Maybe there are spirits of the dead soldiers, boy, and they are with you. That’s all I can say.”
Just the spirit of one. And you’re welcome, by the way.
An hour and a half later Shin stood, still in the ill-fitting captain’s jacket, directing the last of the wagons and the riders for the last fifty horses from the distant barn. When the first four riders had returned to camp, each leading two additional horses and requesting two hundred men to come help, Thorne had initially scoffed, not believing in their good fortune.
But when he saw the eagerness of the men and the quality of horses they rode, and learned that Captain Nelt and the soldiers with him were trying to move feed for two hundred ninety more horses, he ordered five more officers and the ablest soldiers to head northeast.
One of the officers who accompanied the two hundred men took a close look at Shin when he arrived at the Stables of Pools, turned as gray as his uniform, and quickly walked away.
Shin recognized him as well—the colonel from the night before, the man he told to get out and get digging.
Captain Nelt directed the last soldiers who arrived in retrieving the horses and hitching up the wagons, so that Shin could return to the man and his wife watching from their front porch. Their daughter peered out from a nearby window, where her parents had made sure no soldiers would see her.
As he walked up the steps, Shin extended his hand to shake the stable owner’s hand.
“I appreciate your sacrifice and your trust in me,” Shin said. “You’re doing a great thing for the army today, and for Province 2.”
The man smiled faintly and took his hand. “Sure your name’s Nelt?” he nodded at the filthy label. “Sure it isn’t something else? Something else . . . pre-fog?” He pointed to Shin’s still-ragged tops of his ears.
“What do you mean?” Shin narrowed his eyes.
His wife nudged him and nodded.
“Nothing really,” said the man. “It’s just that you remind me of someone. Captain, do you know the real reason why I decided to give you the horses?”
Shin shook his head.
“It’s what you said, when you first came to the door. You said, Mount Deceit awakened.”
The corporal-captain didn’t know what to do with that.
“Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t give away your secret. I know men in the army aren’t supposed to put much stock in The Writings, but only a man familiar with them would say the mountain ‘awakened’. The first guide’s prophecy?”
“Who do I remind you of?” The words came out of Shin’s mouth before he even realized it. He held his breath in anticipation.
The man’s wife slipped him an old piece of parchment. He looked down, fingered it fondly, and looked back up. “Years ago,” he said in a whisper, “there was another officer who knew The Writings. He was the last great man in the army. You remind me so much of him. Even your face. When I was a boy, he came to our family stables a few times. His father was High General and came here frequently to select horses.
“A few years before the officer was lost to the forest, the High General and his wife were killed in a most brutal manner. I was devastated by it. There was no family I respected more than theirs. I wrote the officer a letter, telling him how sorry I was about his parents. I was only nineteen years old. A season later he wrote me back. Can you imagine? A colonel in the army, writing back to a nobody boy like me. This is his note. I don’t know why I want you to see it, but I do. Here. Read it.”
Reluctantly, Shin took the old parchment. He opened it, trying to steady the shaking in his hands. His chest burned as he looked at the all-too familiar handwriting.
Roak, I’m sorry this note is coming to you so late. I haven’t been well, but I wanted you to know that I was grateful for your letter. At this difficult time in my life it means a great deal to me that people throughout the world share in my pain and are concerned about my family’s welfare.
You must be ready to take over the stables soon. You’re a bright young man with great potential. Always remember who you really are, and you’ll always succeed. I’ll be sure to recommend you to everyone I know looking for a horse. May the Creator remember you as you remember the Creator.
Perrin Shin
Shin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to get from the note. When he first opened it he half expected to read something significant and profound. Seeing words from Puggah written long before he was born was at first jarring, but as he reached the end it was just anticlimactic.
He folded the note again and handed it back to the man with a nod.
“Did you see how he signed it? Not Colonel Shin, but Perrin Shin. He didn’t care about the rank. I wasn’t the only one to get a note, either. Hundreds of people wrote him, and the story was everyone heard back from him. Some even heard from his son and daughter. Captain Nelt, this is the kind of officer you have the potential to become.”
Shin narrowed his eyes. “The kind who writes notes?” he said evenly.
“No, the kind who actually cares about his people! The kind who remembers people’s names and goals, and serves to make a world a place where it’s still possible to reach those goals. That’s what a truly great leader is. Not someone who takes over the world, but one who makes his corner of it better for his people. I feel that potential in you, Captain. I see it in your eyes.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You could become someone like Colonel Shin. We desperately need a man like him again. Thorne leads only because no one else dares to do it better.”
Shin’s jaw worked as if to hold back words and he took a formal stance. “Thank you again, sir. I wish you well in retrieving the horses.”
The man sighed, sure that the young officer didn’t understand his message. He slipped the note into his shirt pocket. “I always wanted to thank him somehow for all the business he sent my way. We doubled the size of the stables because of him. It’s a little late, but I hope I’ve repaid the debt today.”
The captain nodded, turned without another word, and jogged down the stairs to a large black horse. He mounted it easily, despite it not having a sad
dle, and waved again to the man and his wife on the porch before he kicked it into a trot.
You’ve repaid the debt, Roak, in more ways than you can imagine. That’s my grandson. That’s what you see in his eyes. I’m sure you’ll keep that in confidence. He’s lost right now, and keeps forgetting who he really is. Thank you for reminding him. You’re one of the few people left in the world who could. Beautiful stallion, by the way. Should have named him Clark.
The stable owner and his wife stood on the porch in profound silence for a full minute, watching as the last of their three hundred horses left into the gray bleak nothingness ahead.
Roak’s wife glanced around to make sure they were completely alone before making a little noise in her throat.
“Roak, have you ever thought of naming that horse . . . Clark?” she whispered.
He smiled softly. “Easier to call than Bucephalus, isn’t it? Shin looked good on him, didn’t he? There just might be hope for us yet, dearest.”
---
“Unbelievable!” Thorne said, his left hand on his waist, as he watched the procession of horses and wagons ride into the dusty camp.
A cheer rose up from the soldiers, and many of the wounded tried to sit up to see the sight.
Captain Nelt, still without his jacket, rode directly to Thorne and gave him a cheerful salute. “What do you think, General? Better than what we came with, wouldn’t you say?”
Thorne shook his head in amazement. “Nelt, you’re going to get a medal for this. We should be able to get all the wounded in to the fort at Province 2 within the hour! How did you do it?”
Nelt slid off the horse. “As much as I’d love to take credit for this, I can’t. It’s been all Briter’s doing.”
Thorne stopped watching the wagons coming in and turned sharply to the captain. “Briter? Briter who?”
“A corporal from Mountseen. Province 4,” he corrected himself. “He came along with us and made a little wager with me about being able to get a horse without swords. Well, he got three hundred, and now I have to make up a three-hundred-verse song! Composed the first four verses on the way back. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of good rhymes for Briter. Fighter, writer, biter—”
“Where’s your jacket, Nelt?” asked another officer.
“Funny thing, that,” Nelt said, nervously rubbing the curly black stubble on his chin. “If Briter lost, he was going to have to walk back here in only his bottom underwear—”
“Yep, that’s a Nelt bet all right.”
“But instead I’m the one coming back half undressed. He’s still wearing my jacket. Clever boy.”
Thorne stepped closer to the captain. “You let an enlisted man wear your uniform?”
Nelt folded his arms and boldly glared at the general. “To get into the house of the owner of the Stables at Pools, yes!”
Thorne narrowed his eyes. “Where’s this Briter?”
Nelt looked around. “Not sure, sir. He should be here soon. He was the last to leave, just behind me some ways.”
“Captain, Captain,” Thorne simpered, “you let an enlisted man take your uniform, he now has a horse, and you wonder where he’s gone? I can think of a few places!”
Captain Nelt wasn’t convinced. “Where’s he going to go, sir? To a tavern for mead?”
Several other officers stepped away from him. It was never a good idea to challenge General Thorne or question his judgment.
“There’s nothing out there!” Nelt continued recklessly. “Everything is dead, sir! He’ll be here. Now sir, do you wish me to begin moving the wounded?”
But half an hour later, when the most severely injured were loaded into the wagons, even Captain Nelt began to get nervous. Briter was nowhere to be seen.
Nelt began to feel uncomfortable without his jacket, and wished briefly he had taken Briter’s out of his pack to wear instead of letting the corporal carry it. Thorne glaring at him didn’t help much, either. If Briter did find mead, Nelt thought, he better be bringing some back to his captain.
The scouts that Thorne sent down the river returned with news of a route they found to get to the fort, but it was going to take much longer than they anticipated to pick through the debris that seemed to extend forever to the east and west.
Thorne called together the officers again before sending on the wounded.
“Word is, they’ll be able to get down the more severely wounded there in about three to four hours, in time for dinner. But there’s not enough room to carry everyone. The soldiers who are too weak to walk will have to wait until morning.”
The officers groaned.
“General, they won’t be able to make it,” one of them said. “The river’s gone dry, we haven’t eaten at all today—morning may be too late for some of them.”
“We’ll eat,” Thorne assured them. “The wagons will come back tonight with supplies. It’ll be enough to get those who remain through the night.”
“But what about the horses?” asked another officer. “In this dusty ash, they’re going to need something to drink as well, or we’re going to have more corpses in the morning . . .” He drifted off when he noticed Thorne clenching and unclenching his fist, and the bulging vein in his forehead.
“Yes, thank you, Major,” the general began again in his sappy tone. “None of us have realized that, I’m sure. Do you have any other good news to point out for us? That perhaps all the villages north of us are devastated? That perhaps people and animals are starving and dying of thirst all over the world? Is there anything else?”
The major wasn’t in any condition to match the general’s sarcasm. He shook his head contritely and examined his boots instead.
“Now,” the general began again, “first priority is to get the wagons moving. Next is to locate water. It seems the springs around here are dry. We should use every last soldier and—hey! Hey!”
The officers turned to see what Thorne was yelling at. Down the line of wagons, wounded soldiers were being removed from a wagon, and two empty ones were being driven east in a trot, disappearing in clouds of ash.
Thorne jogged to the emptying wagon, his officers on his heels. “What’s going on here?”
“Water, sir!” said a soldier, holding the reins to a team. “We just received word that there’s a fresh spring, so we’re taking the wagons to fill them up. Look how tight the workmanship is on these beds. Watertight! Permission to retrieve water, sir?”
“Who gave the command to the other wagons?”
“A captain, sir. On a black horse. You can see him riding off in the distance there. Nelt, I believe, sir.”
Thorne spun around to face the real Captain Nelt who was trying to make out his imposter in the hazy distance.
“That’s right,” Nelt smiled uneasily. “We did tell them to look for sources of fresh water. In the excitement of getting the horses, I forget the other order. But Briter didn’t. Guess I’ll have to add another verse. I was looking for an excuse to use the word ‘blighter’ anyway.”
Thorne ran his hand roughly through his hair.
The soldier holding the reins nodded hopefully in the direction of the spring.
“Permission granted to go get water!” Thorne barked.
The soldier slapped the horses and followed in pursuit.
“Nelt!” Thorne yelled, even though the captain was only two feet away. “Follow them, get back your jacket, and bring me that corporal!”
Nelt saluted and took the reins of a horse offered by a colonel.
A thought occurred to him as details of the day’s events presented themselves in his mind. Before he mounted, he stepped over to Thorne who was watching the wagons head off in the dusty distance.
“Sir,” Nelt said in a low voice, “I hadn’t heard yet, but have we located Corporal Shin?”
Thorne didn’t need to say anything. His furious eyes were answer enough.
Nelt gulped, mounted, and spurred the horse into a run east.
---
The soldiers jumped off the wagons and obediently took off their boots, submerged them in the runoff of the large blue pool sheltered by a series of large and precisely stacked rocks, and began to scrub the leather with their hands. The captain already had his boots cleaned and was filling them with water from another runoff point, then pouring the water into the wagon.
“As clean as this, men!” he held up his spot-free boots.
“Sir, wouldn’t it be easier to bring the horses and men here?”
“The horses will muddy it. It’d be contaminated before the first horse finished drinking. And I fear some of the soldiers will be so eager they’ll not restrain themselves. This will initially take longer, I agree, but at least everyone will be filled.” He submerged his boots again into the runoff of the spring.
He looked up to see a third wagon arrive, and a jacketless rider on a horse next to it. The captain stood up, dumped the water into the wagon bed, and put his boots carefully on the edge. He began to take off his ill-fitting jacket as the rider slid off his horse and jogged over to him.
“Sorry about the jacket sir, but I—”
Nelt ran past Shin, searching the area. He found what he wanted on a large rock that had been brushed clean of ash, and snatched up the corporal’s pack.
Anxiously, Shin walked over to him. “Captain, what are you looking for?”
Nelt opened the pack and yanked out the muddy jacket. He dropped the pack in the ash and unfurled the jacket to find the name patch, caked in gray, but readable.
SHIN.
Nelt gripped the jacket. “Come with me, boy!”
“But sir, we need to keep the spring clear—”
“Lieutenant!” Nelt shouted at a young officer cleaning his boots. “You are now in charge of this spring. Keep it pure and supervise the filling of the wagons. This soldier and I need to discuss a few things!”
Nelt grabbed Shin by the arm and dug his fingers into his muscle.
“This way, Shin,” he whispered fiercely, directing him to a pile of large rocks and dying shrubs about fifty paces from the spring.
“Captain Nelt, I’m sorry but—”
“Shut up until we’re clear of the men,” Nelt hissed.
He marched Shin as quickly as he could to the rocks, never releasing his grip. Only after they were on the other side of the outcropping and out of view did he let Shin go before slamming him into a boulder.
“Just who are you? The honest truth now!”
“I was coming out of a fog when I was recruited,” Shin tried not to stammer. “I gave my name as Pere Shin.”
“Why?”
Shin shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why I did a lot of things that week, sir. Ever taken the vials?”
“I’m not on trial here, boy! You are, or will be!” He shoved him against the rock again as if worried he’d make a run for it. “What’s your real name? Your family?”
“Lek Briter, sir. From Mountseen.” He recited the story he’d made up many moons ago. “Distantly related to the Briter who married into the Shin family. If I had a needle and thread, I’d change the Shin name on my uniform this instant, sir, to Briter.”
Captain Nelt snatched his jacket out of Shin’s hands and gave him back his own jacket. “Put it on. Now. NOW!”
Shin jumped and slipped on his jacket.
Nelt shook his head as he put on his own. “I don’t know what to do with you, I really don’t. You’re the one last night who ordered everyone to dig, right?”
Shin nodded, bashfully.
“Did you also pull Thorne from the mud?”
He nodded again.
“He didn’t dig himself out, now, did he?”
Shin hesitated, then shook his head.
“Of course he didn’t. And now, you’ve found us three hundred horses, thirty wagons, and a fresh spring. Creet, boy . . . how much more upstaging of General Thorne do you think he’ll take?”
Trembling, Shin finished the last button his jacket. “I’m sorry, sir? I don’t understand—”
“You’re saving the army, boy!” Nelt threw his hands in the air.
Actually, I’m saving the army . . .
“You’re doing the general’s job better than he is!”
Anyone could do his job better than he is . . .
“Tell me, boy, how long have you been serving?”
“A little more than three seasons, sir,” he confessed meekly.
“Three seasons? You’re not even supposed to be out here!”
“I snuck in, sir.”
Nelt rolled his eyes. “How old are you, Briter-Shin?”
“Eighteen, sir. I’ll be nineteen near the beginning of Harvest.”
Nelt covered his face with his hands. “Eighteen. Creet and all that’s in Creation . . . I thought you were at least five years older.” He dropped his hands. “Do you have any idea what kinds of problems you’ve made for yourself?! I like you, boy, I really do. You have great potential, and truthfully, I don’t know if I could’ve gotten those horses. No one else has found any springs still with water—how did you do that, anyway?”
Shin licked his lips nervously. “My father. Kind of a survivalist. Has a way of finding anything, and he taught me a few things.”
Like how to listen to your grandfather when he tells you to head southwest to find one of the hundreds of reasons why this place was named ‘Pools’ in the first place . . .
Nelt studied him. “What are we going to do with you? Thorne wants you at his side immediately, and it’s not to congratulate you. Half of the officers think you’re him, and I should’ve identified you before I took you away from the camp, but you lied to me!”
Shin was confused. “Him? What do you mean, him?”
Nelt sighed. “Some of the officers, those who knew Colonel Offra, sometimes listened too much to him. He used to say Colonel Perrin Shin was going to return to get his revenge.”
This looks like revenge?
Shin nodded slowly. “I’ve heard a little of that. No one will tell me the full story, though.”
Nelt scoffed. “Because they’re too afraid of it, and because that’s all there is to the story. What fort are you assigned to? Truthfully?”
“Province 8, sir,” he whispered. “Edge.”
“Of course,” Nelt groaned. “Tell me, how much do you know of Major Kroop?”
“Only that he’s bad with numbers and a little skittish.”
Nelt laughed mirthlessly. “Looking at you, I can imagine! Look, Corporal, you may not realize this, but from what I’ve heard you bear a remarkable resemblance to the dead colonel. I never met him. Well, supposedly I did, but I don’t count it. He was at some fancy dinner my parents attended when I was a baby. He put me to sleep while my parents danced the night away. Favorite family story for years,” he waved it off.
He was a cute little boy. Gummed up my medals. Has more hair now . . .
“But Kroop knew him, all too well. Rumor was he was in quite a state of anxiety for several weeks after meeting someone who he thought was the colonel come back from the dead. Must have been you. I don’t buy into the stories of the spirits, but many of the officers do. They’re beginning to think Kroop was right this time. Colonel Shin had a way of taking care of his men and citizens that Thorne only wishes he could do—”
You’re welcome.
“—And now here you show up, this mere corporal, with that name stitched on your jacket, doing everything that Colonel Shin would’ve done, and Thorne is left looking like a lost private who’s half a day late to his first duty shift!”
Shin sighed in anguish. “But . . .
but that’s not been my intention, Captain! I only want to help! I want to be the youngest sergeant major in the army, and I want to serve under General Thorne. I’m trying to help him. I can’t figure out why he doesn’t do the obvious. I just want to impress him—”
“Oh, you’ve impressed him all right!” Nelt scoffed.
“Captain, I just want to go to Idumea, and I want to fight in a battle! Thorne won’t act fast enough, so I do. I just want to fight! That’s all I care about!”
Something in Nelt’s expression softened. “I believe you, Briter. But no matter how noble your intentions, Thorne’s only going to see you as a threat, and he doesn’t deal kindly with threats.”
Shin ran his hands worriedly through his dusty hair, almost ready to pull it out in chunks. “Captain, what am I going to do?!”
You have a source of water. Go get a very long drink. You have a horse. Ride hard to Roak, and he will give you supplies. The canal system to the east is dried out because of the eruption. Follow it to Edge, then go home, Young Pere. This is your last opportunity.
Nelt sighed and leaned against the boulder. “I really don’t know what to do, Corporal. I don’t want to hand you over. This army needs you, but Thorne will never see it that way.”
Why do you think I got you a horse? Showed you where the water is? Everything I’ve done to help Thorne’s army is to help YOU escape from him!
“But, Captain, wouldn’t the men be angry if Thorne did something to me? I mean, if you really do think I’m, I’m saving the army,” he stumbled on the words because of the incessant nagging that General Shin was saving the army, “wouldn’t others see it that way as well? Wouldn’t others defend me?”
You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Tell him, Nelt.
“Obviously you have no idea who you’re dealing with, Corporal Lek Briter Shin,” said Nelt. “When Thorne doesn’t like the way things are going, he forces a change. That means ‘clarifying the facts’ and eliminating people. He knows what he wants, and he won’t let anyone get in his way.”
Shin suddenly felt like a very large target. “So what do I do?”
Go home, Young Pere. The mountain pass is ashy, but you could make it.
Nelt rubbed his chin so ferociously he wouldn’t have needed a razor when he found one. “I’m now in this as deep as you are, Corporal. Thorne expects me to bring you back to him immediately. Already I’ve hesitated far too long.”
Just get on the horse and RIDE!
“Then we . . . change things to work for us,” Shin said desperately. He remembered his conversation with Amory last year at the glacial fort. “Transform the truth. Change the water to steam—”
Nelt stopped rubbing. “What are you talking about?”
“You said Thorne changes things to how he wants them. Can’t we do something the same? Create our own story about . . . all of this?” Shin gestured wildly.
Nelt narrowed his eyes. “Corporal, I don’t think well when I’m hungry and thirsty, and right now I’m so light-headed you almost sound reasonable. Any ideas?”
Better not be any other ideas than running away, right NOW! Young Pere, time’s running out. Thorne’s on his way to find the spring. GO!
Shin gripped the sides of his head. “Just be quiet for once!” he roared to the incessant voice in his head.
Captain Nelt took a surprised step backwards. “What did you just say to me, Corporal?”
Shin stared at the captain in horror. He didn’t realize he’d said the words out loud that his mind kept repeating.
“No, sir . . . not you! I’m sorry! I’m a little weary myself, sir. Lack of sleep, no water—I think I’m hearing voices sometimes. I just need a drink—”
Nelt slapped him hard on the back. “Lek—Shin—Briter, whatever the slag is your name, Corporal, that’s it!”
“What?”
“Our story, boy! Our story! Look, half those officers believe in spirits of the dead soldiers, so let’s use that!”
Shin began to smile. “Yes . . . of course! So . . . what are the stories, anyway?”
Nelt grinned. “Whatever we want them to be! Personally, I think they are flashbacks affecting those who’ve been fogged too much—and you’ve been fogged before, right? I can see it on your ears. Perfect! Apparently men see ghosts in front of them telling them what to do. Usually it’s stupid things like getting branded or propositioning some sow hanging out at the back entrance, but sometimes soldiers think they hear and see things that actually help them. Well, Corporal Shin, that’s what’s happened to you! You’ve been influenced by . . . who’s been influencing you?”
Shin gave him half a smile. “Guess we shouldn’t say Colonel Perrin Shin, should we?”
If ever you wanted the definition of irony, Young Pere, that wouldn’t be it.
Nelt barked a short laugh. “No! Definitely a bad choice. But . . . someone who used to be here in this area and knows how to find things . . . someone who’d appeal to Thorne . . . someone who—”
Nelt burst into a huge grin.
“Remember this description: average height, heavy-set . . . oh, who am I kidding, he was fat. Dark hair, balding on top, thin beard and mustache, pale skin. Repeat it back to me.”
“Average height, fat, dark hair what there is of it, facial hair, pale.”
“Excellent. That’s your inspiration: High General Cush.”
WHAT?!
“Who?”
“Thorne’s maternal grandfather and aid for many years to High General Relf Shin,” Nelt explained. “Cush served only a year or two as High General before he died, because some speculated his son-in-law Qayin Thorne did him in. That was Lemuel’s father. Cush would eat anything, no matter how off it tasted. Thorne could have easily poisoned him. Yes . . . Briter, this could work! He’d want revenge as well. He’s the one who’s been leading you. Led you to find his grandson Lemuel trapped in the mud. Led you to find horses and led you to find the spring. And now he’s going to lead you and his grandson Lemuel Thorne to reclaim Idumea!”
I will NOT lead you in the name of Cush! Go home now, Young Pere! I will not help you beyond what the Creator will allow me to do.
Shin smiled in relief. “You know, you know . . . this could work? If I go to Thorne acting, I don’t know, emotional? Say I didn’t know who it was that was helping me until you told me? How did you know what Cush looks like?”
Nelt waved his hand. “Painting of him hanging up in the command school at Province 4. Thorne took it from Idumea, along with other things, when he was in possession of the city a few years ago. Emotional is good. Can you also fake a re-fog? You know, fall on the ground weeping or something? Pretend to be talking to a toad?”
Shin grinned. “I think I can pull that off. Five of my men gave me plenty of experience. I can fake it.”
“Good, good,” Nelt rubbed his hands together in planning. “You haven’t been able to remember your name too well, either. You don’t remember your rank or your place. Trauma from the mudslide, or something like that—it triggered the re-fog. You’ve been acting erratically for the past two days, but no one’s been around you long enough to notice it. Except for me. I saw it earlier, but didn’t say anything to the soldiers who went with us because I didn’t want to alarm them.”
Shin pointed at him. “That’s why you had me walk with you to the stables and never left my side. To keep an eye on me.”
“Yes!” Nelt grabbed him by the arms and shook him. “That’s it! You were mumbling to someone . . . talking to someone. I was trying to figure out who. It wasn’t until we came to these rocks that you finally described to me who you see in the hazy mist, who’s been talking to you since the explosion. Slag, I’m not sure what Cush sounded like . . .”
“Just ideas. He just gives me ideas in my head. That should be good enough. Along with the physical description.”
“Ah, Briter, we make a great team!” Nelt leaned around the large rock and shrubs, and looked to the spring. “Slag, we’ve got
a mob growing.”
Shin took a quick look as well. “Thorne’s with them, I’m sure.”
Nelt took a deep breath and looked at Shin. “Are you ready, boy? Ready to give the performance of your life? Because if you don’t pull this off, it will be your life,” he said severely. “And maybe mine.”
Shin’s chin began to quiver and his shoulders shook. “I’m so glad you found me, Captain. I’ve been so scared here alone! I can’t find him anymore. The big man? He’s gone! Captain, can you help me find him? Please?”
“Shin,” Nelt whispered, “I’ve never said this to another man, but I love you. I’m going to have to add another verse. Now let’s go fix this mess.”
He stepped around the rock to face the men gathering at the spring. “Is Thorne there?” he yelled. “I have someone he’s going to want to meet.”
Chapter 37--“I think I know who he is.”