Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge)

by Mercer, Trish

  He sighed loudly. “I’m completely lost now.”

  “We were talking, before I started doing After School Care, about Terryp. I told him about that mysterious fire after the Great War, and how all of Terryp’s writings were lost.”

  “So . . .” he said expectantly.

  “He said something extraordinary. It was something along the lines of, people don’t like to change what they know, even if they suspect it may be wrong. Even if the truth would be amazing.”

  “Poe’s a very smart boy. He has great potential, as long as he doesn’t listen to his mother too much.”

  “He was right,” Mahrree whispered. “People would rather live in lies.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Perrin said, turning back to pull twigs out of Barker’s fur again. “I think people live only what they know. If they know it’s a lie, they look for the truth.”

  “Like we’ve looked for the truth about Shem Zenos?” she reminded him glumly. As much as she wanted to, something inside wouldn’t let her suspicions go.

  Perrin growled quietly. “There’s no reason to investigate him further. There’s nothing to be found.”

  “So we like the truth we believe about him?”

  “Yes,” he conceded reluctantly. “But if something else comes up to cast doubt on him, I’ll be the first to look into it. I thought we were done talking about Zenos.”

  “We are,” she assured him. “But think about it in general—what if people find a new truth, and . . . it frightens them? What should they do?”

  He paused. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that.”

  “Neither had I. Until tonight,” she whispered. “You know something else I said to Poe? I told him how they had to drag Terryp away from the ruins, and that the entire experience nearly killed him.”

  “That’s true,” he said leadingly, waiting for what else was to come.

  “I told him that Terryp almost died from trying to understand a new truth, something that he thought could benefit everyone, and that people have given up their lives for far less important things than that.”

  “That’s also accurate,” Perrin agreed, his tone trying to encourage her to get to the point before morning.

  “But I didn’t tell him people also shrink away from the truth,” she said miserably, “unwilling to make the sacrifices needed to find it. Terryp was one of the few brave ones who did. The rest of us? Just cowards. I don’t mean you, I mean me.”

  Perrin was silent for a moment.

  “Either it’s because it’s very late, or because I’m very tired—and please know that I truly love you—but Mahrree, I really don’t understand you tonight.”

  She leaned against his chest. “I hope you never do.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Can I have that in writing?”

  ---

  A soldier came out of the fresh spring area. His jacket, which had been inside out a moment ago revealing a dull dark lining, was now on the correct way. The sword, which he left leaning against a tree in its sheath since running with it wasn’t practical, was replaced around his waist. He fastened the last silver button just as he stepped out from the cover of the trees.

  Three soldiers on horseback approached, stopped, and smirked at him.

  “Feeling better yet, Zenos?” asked a private. “Or do we need to do one more circuit and come back for you? I really hope you didn’t ruin the spring.”

  The two other soldiers sniggered.

  “No, no, I’m ready,” Shem said wearily. “And I stayed clear of the spring, I promise. Look, I appreciate you not saying anything to anyone. Kind of embarrassing, you know.”

  Another corporal chuckled. “Look at him, men. Breathing heavy, sweating, pale . . . I’ve seen it all before. I told you, Zenos: one should never eat anything presented on a stick. If the sausage is gray and wobbly, you should be asking why, not how much it costs. I don’t care how pretty the girl was selling it.”

  Zenos took the reins of his horse that had remained tethered to a tree for the past hour and a half.

  “You warned me, I’ll admit it,” he groaned. “And now I’m suffering for it. That should make you happy. And the worst part? She wasn’t even that pretty. When she smiled, her teeth were all black. Probably from eating the sausage.”

  The three soldiers laughed as Zenos mounted, grunting in discomfort.

  “Ugh. I now know why so many people refuse to eat pork.”

  “Poor Zenos,” said another corporal. “I guess this just proves you don’t have the guts to be a soldier!”

  The three soldiers laughed as Zenos winced.

  “Ha-ha. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  “About an hour!”

  “If you want to see what kind of guts I really have, I can take you to the evidence,” Zenos hinted.

  The corporal groaned. “I don’t want to be sick myself, Zenos. The look on your face is evidence enough.”

  The three soldiers chuckled.

  “At least the forest has fallen quiet again,” said the private. “Master Sergeant Neeks just sent out the word to bring all the extra patrols back in. Even the major’s given up and gone home. Nothing’s been moving for half an hour . . . except for Zenos’s bowels.”

  The three soldiers roared in laughter, while Shem shook his head.

  The stories he had to live with . . .

  ---

  In the forest a mass of bodies walked—quietly—away.

  Chapter 24 ~ “I’d rather fight

  the current.”

  “And how’s our patient this morning?” Brisack chirruped as he came into the grand bedroom.

  “You know how much I hate that,” Mal grumbled.

  “Yes, I do. That’s why I say it.” The doctor smiled as he set down his large bag on the side table and picked up the notes lying next to it. “My assistant who spent the night here said you were up very late again, reading. Now, what did we say about that?”

  “If you don’t stop that condescending attitude and quit treating me like a child,” Mal whispered, “I’ll have you removed!”

  “You and what army?” Brisack chuckled as he put down his assistant’s notes. “While you’re incapacitated, the High General reports to me. You know, he’s actually a rather pleasant man to deal with when you aren’t out to undermine him. We worked together quite well uncovering all the truth about those two lieutenants. Been a wonderful couple of weeks, I must say, and I thank you profusely for this opportunity.”

  “Not one of my best ideas,” Mal muttered.

  “Oh, I’m making a list of not your best ideas,” Brisack’s manner shifted sharply. “This isn’t going on it, though. So,” he said in his pleasant way again, “your appetite is returning, your color is better—I suppose I can allow you to resume some of your duties on a limited basis.”

  Mal only grunted.

  “Come on, Nicko. You know the routine. Wrist.”

  Mal kept his arm firmly on the bed until the doctor stepped over and his snapped his fingers. Reluctantly the Chairman lifted his arm.

  Instead of taking the proffered arm, the doctor instead grabbed the elaborate silk covers and threw them back with a flourish.

  “Ohh . . . Nicko, just how old are you? Seven? Look at this mess!”

  Mal groaned angrily as his stacks of notes—and even a quill with a small ink bottle—were discovered hiding in his massive bed which had doubled as his writing desk. The breeze caused by Brisack’s snatching of the blankets sent his piles into disarray, which Mal frantically tried to straighten again. Drops of black ink stained the creamy colored silk sheets in random patterns, as if the bed were bleeding blotchy words.

  “What did I say about exciting your heart?” Brisack snatched up a stack of notes and pages before Mal could reach them. “Rest, not agitation.”

  “This is restful!” Mal said, grabbing at the rest of the pages. “I’m bored to near insanity here.”

  “What is this?” Dr.
Brisack said, reading one of the parchments he snagged. “Messages? How many have you been sending out anyway?”

  “Just a few,” Mal confessed, slumping down, already exhausted from his brief morning workout. “Just to give me something to do. Exceptionally dull being laid up, you know! I’ve been thinking, and—”

  “I know what you’ve been thinking, Nicko.” Brisack sat down on a chair next to the bed. “When will you learn? The time’s not right, our methods aren’t yet perfected—”

  “No, the right man can do it!” Mal insisted, struggling to an upright position and feebly fighting the half dozen pillows behind him. “I’m sure of it. Sonoforen was all noise and no matter. He mistook obnoxiousness for bravery. But Dormin—that boy was thoughtful and clever. He even snuck a visit to his brother over a year ago, and no one ever saw him except one of my Command School spies. He’s our man, Doctor! He has the brains, the motivation, the need—he could do it!”

  Brisack shook his head slowly. “You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you? I’ve been intercepting your messages, you know. Two can play at that game. Gadiman’s so penitent and scared he’ll do anything I order. I think he’s still terrified you’re going to die and leave me in charge of the world. And then where will our dear Administrator of Loyalty be?”

  Chairman Mal stared at his blankets, frustrated.

  “But . . . I’ve been letting the messages go,” Brisack admitted. “If only to give you something to do. You’ve been sending very thorough descriptions of Dormin to every chief of enforcement and fort commander.”

  Mal slumped back into his pillows which nearly swallowed him. “Yes. So. What of it?”

  Brisack picked up his bag and opened it. “And I’ve been receiving the responses.”

  Mal tried to sit up again. “You?!”

  “Remember, I’m in control when you’re not,” Brisack said with such an overly happy grin that it committed a sneer.

  “And?!”

  Brisack rifled through the stack of pages he pulled out. “Actually, I’ve been watching for a letter from Mrs. Shin. The teacher scripts sent to Edge must have arrived shortly after your glorious failure, but she hasn’t sent a fifth letter. Either she’s too nervous about what happened at the fort or,” the doctor sighed sadly, “you’ve actually drowned the last swimming cat.”

  “That was the whole point, Brisack,” Mal stewed, gazing longingly at the pile of papers Brisack held just out of his reach.

  Brisack just shrugged. “Was rather looking forward to her response. Now, it’s all going to become dull again . . .”

  Mal growled to draw him out of his blank stare at a distant nothing. “What about the messages? Where’s Dormin?!”

  Brisack shook himself a little and focused on the stack in his hands, shuffling through it. “Trades is still looking, as is Orchards, no one in Sands or Quake, someone in Pools, but far too old, same in Midplain but far too young . . . ah, but then there’s this.”

  He held up a message.

  “Winds.”

  Mal tried vainly to snatch the message from Brisack. “What does it say?!”

  “Now, while I do recommend light exercise, this flailing of yours isn’t exactly what I had in mind—”

  “Read it!”

  Brisack cleared his throat with deliberate slowness. “Young man matching the description, about early to mid-twenties, was seen in Winds during the past year. Nephew of a rector’s wife—”

  “Yes, yes! Sonoforen said Dormin was talking with a rector!” Mal was practically salivating. “Could be pretending to be a relative!”

  “Nephew of a rector and his wife,” Brisack intoned, “The young man was working as a field laborer and helping to repair the washed out bridge along the Winds River. But, as of a few weeks now, all three of them have been missing. They’re looking again to appease you, but there’s simply no evidence.”

  Mal’s face drooped. “Missing?!”

  Brisack nodded as he continued to summarize the message. “No sign of forced entry or mischief at the house. Chief of enforcement initially surmised that the nephew had taken his aunt and uncle to see the work he was doing on the bridge. There was a minor flash flood in the area after a heavy rainstorm, and perhaps they fell in and were washed away. Their bodies would be out to sea by now.”

  Mal fell back into his pillows again. “No, no, tell them to keep searching! Maybe they just went on holiday or something!”

  Brisack shook his head as he scanned the message. “They had an extensive garden and many chickens. Whenever they went somewhere even only for a day, they asked a neighbor to keep an eye on their property. The neighbors said no one spoke to them. The three of them just vanished.”

  “No, no . . . there must be something more,” Mal said in a stunning display of desperation.

  Brisack sighed. “One of the neighbors did, however, mention that late at night he thought he saw someone entering the house before they were discovered missing. The neighbor was getting in a cat and wasn’t sure of what he’d seen. Then again, there were always people going to the rector’s at odd hours of the night, trying to get advice without anyone knowing. But they have no further leads.”

  “So nothing?” Mal whimpered.

  Brisack shook his head as he folded the message. “Just assume Dormin is gone, Nicko. I never met the boy, but from what I’ve heard about him, he wasn’t as throne hungry as his brother. It is peculiar, though,” he said, unfolding the message again. “Almost reminds me of . . .”

  “Reminds you of what?” Mal asked Brisack when he didn’t complete his sentence.

  “A few times,” Brisack whispered, “people have vanished. No chief of enforcement likes to keep records of his failures, but people have gone missing before. Occasionally I’ve been asked to look for clues, or evidence of trauma or blood, but in the cases I investigated we never found anything suspicious. Only a woman, or a man, or a family suddenly . . . gone. Rumor always was that it was Guarders.”

  Mal scoffed. “Someone loses a nugget of gold, or just a sock goes missing from the line, and a Guarder’s always blamed! They’ve always been convenient. Of course now with our abandoning them, the next time something goes missing it just might be Guarders!” He smiled smugly, already recovering from his disappointment about Dormin. “Rather looking forward to this new strategy of ours.”

  Brisack didn’t even comment about Mal trying to share credit for their new plan.

  “What is it?” Mal asked.

  “Where do they go, Nicko?” the doctor whispered. “The people that vanish? They can’t all be washed out to sea. Winds, Waves, Flax—they’re all along the rivers. You think someone would notice their bodies.”

  Mal shrugged that off. “People fall into all kinds of things. There was that young man and his girlfriend that fell into one of the larger hot pools last year and died. People have accidents, or maybe committed a crime and have run away to another village to not be caught, or maybe a former lover abducts them . . . so many possibilities. And I’m sure a few people actually do fall into the rivers.”

  “What if they don’t, Nicko?” Brisack said quietly. “What if there really is someone taking them?”

  “For what purpose?” Mal scoffed. “Who would want extra people? Who else is there?”

  Brisack leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. “Nicko, just consider—what if there is someone else out there? What if our men aren’t the only ones in the forests?”

  “I’d say you need some bed rest, Dr. Brisack!” Mal sneered.

  Brisack earnestness remained. “But what if, Nicko? We’re never sure of how many we have anyway. We can’t risk keeping written records, and communications have always been poor—”

  “It’s impossible, Doctor! Even if we had someone that’s gone rogue up there, why would they? Impossible!”

  “I’m sorry to confess,” Brisack whispered, “that the older I get, the less I think things are impossible.”

  ---

  Dormin
, the last son of King Oren, stopped, no longer unable to walk. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare.

  Rector and Mrs. Yung chuckled. They’d been anticipating this moment, and they weren’t disappointed. Then again, they never were.

  They stood behind the young man, just waiting.

  ---

  At the same moment on that clear, cool Harvest afternoon, Mahrree looked up from her chore of hanging the laundry out to dry. She felt an unexpected urge to look at the mountains—really look at the mountains.

  A mistake of nature. Land should be flat. Everyone knew that.

  But why?

  She turned her back to the jagged peaks topped with early snow, the boulder field at the base of them that stretched from the east to the west with rock as big as barns, and ignored the mile wide forest that led up to those boulders. So many borders, so many barriers.

  But they all refused to be ignored.

  She put another cleaned, wet changing cloth on the line and pinned it in place.

  The mountains called silently to her.

  She flung a pair of long hose over the rope.

  The boulders beckoned to her.

  She took her husband’s undershirt and draped it next to her son’s sleeping gown.

  The forest invited her to turn and notice it again.

  She sighed, then pivoted to face north to take in the fiercest enemy of the Army of Idumea. No one ever looks at the mountains, she knew. They merely glanced at them, but never stopped to see the details, to notice the grooves where pine trees grew straight and tall until they reached some invisible border high on the mountain where no more trees grew.

  It was the first time Mahrree ever noticed that.

  She also noticed the sunshine glinting on what must have been a trickle of water coming down one side, following the contours of the rock. She saw shrubs that didn’t grow down where she lived, and grasses turning brown in the growing cold, and patches of yellow that may have been late-season flowers, and . . .