The Forest at the Edge of the World

by Mercer, Trish

  Mal exhaled loudly. “Nearly half of our history has been dictated by your family, but no more. By nightfall, the world will find itself governed by a body of twenty-three experienced and wise professors from the University of Idumea. Tomorrow, the future of the world will be brighter because there will be no more Queruls or Orens in it!”

  “What do you mean?” Now it was Oren’s turn to tremble.

  Now he was sure this wasn’t going well, not at all.

  The scribe scribbled so frantically that flecks of ink splattered around his desk.

  “King Oren, today we are charging you with gross negligence and complete indifference towards the one million people of the world you have pledged to rule. You have done nothing to alleviate suffering, but instead increased it. You have not shielded your people from death, but brought more to them. You have not listened to their cries for help, but ignored them. We have not progressed under your rule, but have stagnated.”

  Oren wondered when he had done any of that. All he could remember doing was staying in the mansion and doing what kings do.

  Although he’d always been a bit vague as to what exactly that was—

  “I am here to inform you that you are not fit to lead this world,” Mal announced, “and that in your stead will be placed a body of administrators and a chairman who will govern and protect this world in the way it was meant to be ruled, supported by the Army of Idumea. We will be here for the people. Oren, if you believe in a creator, now would be the time to begin a conversation with him.”

  Oren’s tongue went limp as he watched the soldiers come around from behind the High General. He made a slight motion with his hand, and Oren could do nothing but watch the soldiers draw their swords. The scraping of the metal had always seemed to him a rather pretty noise, but today it seemed to scratch the inside of his ears.

  Ten men.

  There was a lot he knew he didn’t know. It was as if the rest of the world had an edge up on him. Maybe they had extra eyes, because they always saw more than him. Additional ears, to hear things he never picked up. And maybe even more in the head. Mal always shouted at him, Use your brains, Oren! That always worried him. He knew he had a brain, so did others have more than one?

  But there was one thing Oren did understand: the number of men in an execution squad. They used to be called killing squads in his grandparents’ days. The name change was supposed to make people feel better.

  As he stared at the ten approaching blades, he realized the change wasn’t helping.

  He hoped his cat would be all right. And the skunk—

  ---

  A few moments later Professor Mal—now Chairman of the Administrators Nicko Mal—smiled grimly as the body of their dead king slumped in his throne. Ten sword blades thrust simultaneously was humanely efficient.

  “Well,” the High General tilted his head, “that was simple.”

  Mal nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, all of this was far simpler than I ever imagined. Could portend of good things,” he muttered to himself, “or it could all prove to be disappointingly easy.”

  The High General glanced briefly at Mal’s unusual musings, then gestured to a waiting servant at a side entrance. “Call in someone to clean up this mess. Then you and the others may have whatever you can carry from King Oren’s private rooms, as agreed. But make sure that silk cloak he took is brought to me the moment it’s found. Chairman Mal will be presenting it to the surviving family of that dead silk seller when he announces the change in government this evening. You—”

  He pointed to the scribe, who had momentarily forgotten his duty and was staring at the growing pool of blood. He paled as he looked up into the terrible expression of the High General.

  “—You will show me that record before it goes out to the copiers. I want to verify every word.”

  The scribe whimpered his response, and the servant dashed off to find the cloak.

  Chairman Mal nodded. “Excellent, High General. I suppose that’s why I’m keeping you on.”

  The High General scoffed. “As if any of this would have happened without my help.”

  Mal smiled thinly. “And why you’ll also keep that mansion.”

  “You’ve taken care of his former friends?” the general asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “Only the two sons of that mistress had any possible claim. And since they were never legitimately his, the claim is weak. So weak that a couple of bags of gold quashed it completely. She left that mansion for good years ago, and neither she nor her sons will be coming back to take it from you.”

  “The way seems to be wide open, Nicko,” the general said plainly, “with only one man’s blood shed. Indeed, quite efficient.”

  Mal looked around the throne room. “This is too ostentatious for a gathering room, wouldn’t you say?”

  The High General didn’t even glance at it. “Perhaps better suited as an eating hall, or a—”

  “Library!” Mal whispered, his smile growing. “I own nearly every book ever created in the world. And my personal writings . . . there’s enough room here for those and more.”

  The High General sniffed. “Books. Thinking. This room won’t know how to react to such behavior. Never saw it before.”

  Chairman Mal’s grin chilled the throne room. “There are going to be all kinds of changes and progress made now, High General. The world will hardly know what to do with it all.”

  The High General looked askance at his new ruler, but said nothing.

  Mal turned slightly to a slender older sergeant, formerly the head of the king’s guard, who watched from a shadowed alcove.

  The sergeant nodded almost imperceptibly back.

  Stage One had begun.

  Chapter 2 ~ “I’m not about to argue who has the prettier hog.”

  One morning nearly two years after the loss of the king, in the Planting Season of 319, a small woman left her tiny house on the perimeter of the inconsequential village of Edge. She made her way to the schoolhouse where she taught two groups of children: little ones in the morning, teenagers in the afternoon. She rarely thought about the twenty-three administrators that now ruled, and likewise those administrators thought nothing of her at the northern edge of the world. She knew politicians were concerned about groups that carried influence and moved ideas. Individuals like her just made noise that was ignored or silenced. And the school teacher had no reason to think about men who lived so far away that they could never touch her.

  But all of that was about to change.

  Because of Captain Shin.

  The captain stared deep into the forest above Edge that spewed out hot water and stank of sulfur and hid the Guarders. The enemy secreted themselves among the vents of noxious gases where the remains of deer decayed. The dense woods extended from the marshy eastern shore all the way to the western deserts, one hundred miles wide and at least one mile deep, rising up to the base of the jagged mountains.

  And if the Guarders weren’t in the inhospitable forest, they were somehow beyond it in the massive boulder field before the mountains, with rocks as large as feed barns.

  And if they weren’t in the boulder field, they somehow managed an existence in the hostile terrain of the mountains that rose up as a menacing mistake of nature. Land should be flat, not misshapen into peaks. Everyone knew that.

  And at any time, according to the captured spy the High General interrogated, the Guarders would again begin their raids on the world.

  Instinctively the captain rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Shin glanced behind him to see where the new fort was from his current vantage point. He stood in a swath of land, a barren buffer a few hundred paces wide that lay before the farms and canals ringing the village of Edge. On the other side was the forest that served as the natural end to civilization.

  Decades ago, the villagers had been wise enough to not build anything right up against the territory of their enemy. Their foresight left plenty of room now for the fort, per
imeter walls, stables, and feed barns the Army of Idumea would need to defend the northernmost border of the world.

  The tall command tower, about four hundred paces away from the captain’s position, was built higher than the trees with walls that were more glass than wood. The window panes were blow thin and clear by the glass makers in Sands just for the army. The command tower afforded a perfect view of the area—forest and village—precisely as Captain Shin had planned.

  He turned to peer into the trees again, making notes with a sharpened piece of charcoal on a stack of thin papers. So far he had charted nearly two miles of the forest’s border, beginning at the far eastern edge where the impenetrable marshes led to the seas. At times he could see almost one hundred paces into the forest, but other sections were so dense with pines that he couldn’t see anything beyond what his arm could reach.

  Today he was surprised to find a seemingly fresh water spring bubbling up from just inside the forest and trickling out to the barren fields in which he stood, the runoff disappearing into a narrow crevice in the ground. The spring’s location would be suitable for watering the horses of the soldiers that soon would be arriving to patrol the forest’s edge. But first he’d watch the deer he observed drinking from it, just to make sure he didn’t find its corpse later.

  Captain Shin jotted down another note about a high spray of hot water he saw about thirty paces into the trees. He paused when he heard shuffling footsteps in the grasses behind him.

  “So, Captain Shin! Discover anything of interest today?”

  “Always,” he said distractedly, continuing to record his findings as the shuffling came to a stop. He glanced over to see a small old man craning to see what the captain was writing. He nodded in approval and looked into the forest himself.

  “Can I help you with something, Rector Densal?”

  The old man untied his thin leather jacket. His short cropped white beard and moustache framed his ready grin. For a rector, he had an alarming air of mischief about him, as if he was about to provide some help.

  And help, from such an elderly man, always strained the definition of the word.

  “Warming up nicely today, isn’t it Captain? I love Planting Season! It always seems to promise a hot Weeding Season.”

  “Rector?” the officer said pointedly, but hoped it sounded patient.

  The old man waggled his eyebrows. “I’ve come to help you, Captain.” He crouched, faced the forest, and started to whistle. “Here Guarders, Guarders! Nice Guarders. Come out, and old Hogal will give you something sweet for your surrender.”

  The captain raised one eyebrow. “That’s not helping.”

  Rector Densal stood back up. “Ah, well. Worth a try, my boy.”

  “That’s debatable.” Captain Shin rubbed his forehead. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I am rather busy. Was there anything else—”

  “Yes, yes! I told you, I’ve come to help. You see, dear Captain, you’ve been here for about a week and a half now, right?”

  “True,” he said slowly, suspecting this line of questioning was to get him into a habit of agreeing before the real issue surfaced.

  “And you’ve spent all that time either supervising fort construction, or making notes about the forest, right?”

  The captain folded his arms.

  “Well, the villagers are beginning to talk,” the rector said more soberly, but still with a spark of plotting in his eyes. “And, my boy, they’re a little worried. The army hasn’t stretched this far north since the Great War. Not even the kings bothered to travel the eighty miles to the Edge of the World. Sure, there was always a fort in Rivers, and a contingency in Mountseen, but here we’ve never had more than a handful of slow walking sergeants who sauntered through the markets during the day and drank in the tavern at night. But now the army is placing an entire fort here in Edge?”

  “As directed by the Administrators,” the captain reminded. “And never before has the Guarder threat been so clear.”

  The rector waved away the implied accusation. “They’ve been saying that forever. Been over thirty years since there was even a sighting of Guarders here. Before you were even born, I imagine.”

  Captain Shin squinted at the old man. “I told you last week what the High General learned, Densal. You doubt the judgment of the High General?”

  Hogal Densal waved that off with his other hand. “Of course not, but what I’m suggesting is, I doubt anything is going to come through those trees in the next few days. Have you seen anything yet?”

  “No,” the captain admitted, “but the Guarders are extraordinarily skilled at concealing themselves. The High General wants me to get to know this forest as well as I can.”

  Rector Densal smiled, and the captain wondered if he had just stepped into the old man’s plan. “Now, not having served in the army, I wouldn’t know, but I suspect the High General also wants you to get to know the village. Maybe sent you off with an admonition to win the hearts and minds of the people, become part of the community so they’ll more easily embrace the idea of a fort?” He waggled his eyebrows again.

  Captain Shin sighed. “He did.”

  “Then that’s how I’m going to help you, my boy!” He patted the captain’s back in a fatherly manner. “I have a proposal: in three days’ time you will come to the amphitheater at the village green after dinner and be the night’s guest debater.”

  Captain Shin groaned. “Ah, no, no, no. I’m not going to—”

  “Are you scared, Captain?”

  “Of course not! It’s just, what kind of debates would a place like Edge have? I’m not about to argue who has the prettier hog.”

  Rector Densal glared at him good-naturedly. “We do have other issues, you know. We may not be as sophisticated as Idumea, but we have a few thinkers among us. A few that might even make you think! I can assure you a most interesting time.”

  The captain put a large hand on the small rector’s shoulder. “I appreciate the offer, but it just wouldn’t be fair to humiliate the revered rector in front of the entire village.”

  Insulted, the rector shook a wrinkled finger at him. “First of all, it won’t be the entire village. Maybe just five hundred. Everyone else is helping with the planting. Second, I don’t take to the platform anymore. And third, what makes you think you’d win?!”

  The captain leaned closer. “I always win.”

  “Ha! Not in three days’ time you won’t. That is, unless you choose not to come because you’re not up to the challenge . . .” He shrugged in what he likely thought was a casual oh well manner, but the stiffness of his shoulders demonstrated he hadn’t practiced it enough.

  Captain Shin glared, but he wasn’t entirely annoyed. “That’s the oldest trick there is, Densal. Daring me into accepting.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Maybe.”

  Rector Densal grinned again. “I have just the opponent: the old school teacher. She delights in showing up overly-confident young men. She’ll jump at the chance of humiliating an officer of the Army of Idumea. And when you graciously concede—” he ignored the captain’s scoff, “—that she’s the more skilled debater, I promise the villagers of Edge will have a new respect for you. Acknowledge that Edgers are still superior. They like those kind of reminders, you know.”

  The captain raised his menacing eyebrow again. “Concede?”

  “After a good show, mind you,” the rector assured him enthusiastically. “Let the villagers see you, hear you, know you, and then pity you. You’ll be one of them by the end of Planting Season.”

  The captain took in a deep breath, accentuating his broad chest.

  The rector smiled and pointed at the large officer. “Good, good. Try to look handsome. That will help impress them.”

  The captain reluctantly smiled back. “How could I possibly not?”

  Rector Densal rubbed his bearded chin. “Clean uniform,” he gestured to the captain’s pristine, tightly woven dark blue woolen jacket and tro
users. “But maybe not the dress uniform—too intimidating. Clean shaven,” he pointed to the captain’s exceptionally smooth chin and upper lip, as all members of the army were to have, “and . . . don’t wear the cap. Let the many unmarried women we have in Edge see that perfectly trimmed black hair of yours.”

  The captain groaned. It must have been a common trait in rectors—a result of the calling—to try to change the condition of every single person they encounter. “I’m not here to find any unmarried women, Rector.”

  “Even if they get lost? I think finding them would be your responsibility.” Densal chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Just let them admire such a cut of a man—that’s a good way to win hearts, Captain Shin! The minds—they might follow later.”

  Captain Shin couldn’t help but chuckle. “All right, Hogal. Three days. The old school teacher. Impress the village, then let the naive woman think she’s won.”

  “Wonderful, my boy! I look forward to it!” Hogal Densal slapped him on the back again and started to shuffle away.

  Captain Shin turned again to study the forest and promptly forgot about his promise. He didn’t need to prepare for a debate. He never did, anyway. He’d just stand up there like he always did, his presence and size easily intimidating every opponent. Just a few well-stated comments and he’d have the debate all wrapped up. Right now he had far more pressing matters on his mind—a forest to know, a village to protect, and a High General to impress.

  ---

  It was an intense staring match, but only one side knew it was happening.

  The two brown-skinned men wearing green mottled tunics and trousers stood motionless in a thick stand of pines. They were surprised—not that someone was at the edge of the forest, but that someone was actually peering in. No one had done that in nearly 120 years. They didn’t expect the officer to see them, but it was the first time anyone had ever tried.

  They didn’t move or make a sound, but watched as the captain slowly continued his way down the tree line.