by Trish Mercer
Perrin’s breathing quickened as the darkness filled every corner, every crack. It wasn’t his imagination, nor even hiding Guarders. It was something far more powerful, dark . . . and old.
“Be quiet!” he tremulously ordered.
Oh, so brave, Colonel. And with close to your last breath. You can’t keep this up. You even said so. They deserve better, and you know it. They deserve a husband and father who actually thinks about them. The fort deserves a leader, not a brooding shadow behind a desk. The world’s done with tolerating you, Perrin Shin. Do it a favor. end it for them, now.
Perrin found himself staring at the eating table. Or, more precisely, the secret drawer in the table. Without entirely wanting to, he walked over to it and pulled open the drawer.
The long knife.
He’d hidden it there before he and Mahrree were married, to give her access to a weapon. She never touched it, but Hogal Densal had once. Perrin had never used it either. The blade was perfectly sharp, and never initiated.
He should’ve remembered to tell Mahrree to hide this one, too.
Don’t disgrace Relf’s sword, Shin. Use the long knife instead. She may remember you better if you leave her less of a mess to clean up.
He didn’t really want to, yet he placed the sword on the table. He had hoped some of the heaviness surrounding him would leave with the blade, but it didn’t. Panting, he took up the long knife. His hand no longer trembled but clutched the knife solidly.
It would solve so many things. He was a burden, a weak, pathetic man who couldn’t defend even a mouse. They kept him out of pity.
He closed his eyes. “An object of pity. How’d I sink so low?”
Give them back their lives. Give them a future. Remove yourself from their world. They’ll get over it in a few days, then see the light again and sleep better, too. You know what to do with that knife, Shin. Act like a man and do it.
He stared at the blade, shifting his grip on the handle to change the angle of entry. For once he felt clear and focused. It could be over in just a flash, and then everything for everyone else would go back to normal and—
Something in the back corner of his brain tried to reach him. He froze in his position, him arm raised as it was a few nights ago—
The something came to him, like an old memory, accompanying a face he had seen only once, but never forgot. And there were words, repeating softly, again, and again. Even the cold around him seemed to be straining to hear it. By the fifth time he heard it distinctly.
May the Creator always bless and preserve this family.
Instantly Perrin remembered. Jaytsy was only a toddler, Peto an infant, and he and Mahrree had taken the children to the village green. An old man, as dark as the richest soils but faded with time, had caught Jaytsy as she ran off, and then he patted Peto until he fell asleep. Before he shuffled away, the old man put one hand on Perrin’s shoulder, the other on Mahrree’s, and said—
May the Creator always bless and preserve this family.
Perrin shook his head at the oddness of the unexpected memory. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he whispered.
Nothing. Just do it. Before they wake up. Go out as a man, with respect and honor and dignity. You know how. Just plunge it in your heart!
The darkness seemed now almost panicked, but Perrin couldn’t pause to consider why, because his knife hand began to tremble. Whether it was fighting him or trying to make him comply, he couldn’t tell.
The last hand that gripped the knife so nervously was Hogal Densal’s. He’d come to see Perrin in the surgery at the fort, after Perrin had chased down fourteen Guarders intent on reaching his baby and expecting wife. A slash in his back had just been stitched up by the surgeon when Hogal arrived. He sat down next to Perrin and pulled out that knife that he had tucked into his waistband ‘just in case.’
“Can’t seem to put it down,” he’d said, and Karna had taken it gently from him—
“Hogal!” Perrin now pleaded. “Dear Creator, help me!”
He is. This is His solution. Do it!
But a thought came to Perrin’s mind, placed there carefully, clearly, as one candle set in the middle of the night.
This isn’t the way the Creator works.
His gaze slid down the blade to see the woolen bracelet tied around his wrist, just above the sleeve of his night shirt. But the knotted wool was something more. It had power, power to remind him of something—or someone—he didn’t yet know. And in a way he felt it connecting him, binding him even, at the very moment he feared that his soul about to be ripped into two—
“Hogal!” Perrin gasped. “What do I do?”
Another memory came clearly to his mind, a conversation he and Hogal had days before Perrin was slashed along his back.
“I remember one evening when I was eighteen we were discussing the Refuser,” Perrin had told him.
Hogal had nodded slowly. “I remember that quite well, too. What did I say to you then?”
“That he was a son of the Creator, that he refused to take this test we are all in, and that many of the Creator’s children followed him into exile. They’re exiled here, in this world. While the Creator gave us this world, the Refuser stole it for himself and has sought to control and destroy those of us willing to take the test. He’s here now, with those who followed him, making this existence as miserable as possible.”
“Very good,” Hogal said. “But that wasn’t all I told you, was it, my boy?”
Perrin shook his head. “No. You said something else, something I’ve chosen to forget over the years, but keeps coming back at the most unexpected moments.”
“What did I tell you, Perrin?”
“That the Refuser knows me intimately. That while he hates all of us, he feels that hatred even more keenly for me. There are a few he most ardently seeks to destroy, and I am near the top of that list. The world really is out to get me. Why me, Hogal?”
“I really don’t know, Perrin.” Hogal had told him.“You must have a great future ahead of you. Enormous power, influence, abilities . . . the Refuser targets and attacks those who can do the most damage to him and his plans. You could take it as a great compliment that he hates you so much . . .”
“The Refuser,” Perrin murmured as he stared at the blade.
The darkness had a name.
Just do it! DO IT! It screamed at him, demanding his compliance.
“Hogal!” Perrin whispered frantically. “Ask the Creator what I should do to get rid of the Refuser. I can’t bear this—”
This is how you make things right. Quietly, discreetly, generously. Go out in a noble way. Do it, Shin!
Perrin stared at his own end, and didn’t want to be there—
Perrin.
The word came brightly to his mind, as if lump of hot sun had dropped out of the sky. The cold blanket smothering him skirted away, retreating to the edges of the room.
Perrin.
Fight!
He immediately dropped the knife on the table as heat surged around the room. Somehow it became brighter, and he could see every detail of the room with acute clarity.
“Get away from me!” he ordered the darkness. “Leave me alone! I will not quit! I’ll beat you! I’m not nothing. I am a son of the Creator, and I do not obey you!”
He took a deliberate step away from the table where the weapons lay. “Did you hear me? I refuse YOU! I refuse your intimidation, and I refuse your control of me. It stops NOW!” he bellowed to the edges of the room. “You’re nothing but a cowardly bully, preying upon a man in his dreams. But I know you now, and by the power of the Creator I command you to LEAVE MY HOUSE!”
The world fell still.
Soft silence filled every sharp gap, to overflowing.
His mind went quiet. Blissfully, mercifully, quiet.
He glared into the shadows and crevices and saw nothing.
It was gone. More importantly, he could feel it was gone. As cold and dark as the night was, the house
was as warm as if a fire was still raging in the hearth. Light filled the room, and for the first time in seasons, Perrin felt his shoulders relax.
Well done, my boy. Well done!
“Hogal!” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “Hogal, you were right. Then again, you always were. He’s after me. But I now I know how he works. Thank you. Thank you for coming.”
You called, my boy. The Creator’s been waiting for you to call. Took you a while. But then again, you always were slow to accept help.
For the first time in who knew how long, Perrin chuckled.
Then he collapsed on the sofa and sobbed into his hands.
He didn’t notice his daughter watching him through the crack in her door, wiping away her own tears. It’s impossible to sleep when one’s father is screaming at the shadows to leave. But it seemed that they did. Maybe, just maybe, he was defeating it. Whatever it was.
Nor did he see his son on the other side of the room, peering through the opening of his door. He sighed in relief and slipped back into his bed. He covered his face with his hands just like his father, and lay there quietly until dawn.
Perrin also didn’t realize his wife was at the top of the stairs, weeping silently.
“He’s coming back!” she whispered to the ceiling. “It’s him! Finally! Thank you!”
---
Perrin stood for a while in front of the door, finally knocked on it, and held his breath until it opened.
“Good afternoon, Rector Yung. Can I have those five minutes?”
Rector Yung grinned. “You can have ten. Even more, if you like. Please, come in, Colonel.”
Perrin stepped into the home that used to belong to Hogal and Tabbit. While the spare furniture was different, the house still had the same warm welcome it always had. He took off his cap and held it uneasily in his hands.
“Please, sit down, Colonel.” The rector pointed to the stuffed chair that was older than Perrin. Clean, but certainly the almost-last possession of a man who had the habit of giving nearly everything away.
“I won’t keep you long,” Perrin said, still standing, “I’m actually out making my rounds, but,” he faltered and cleared his throat. “For the past few days I’ve felt horrible about the way I treated you on Holy Day. Rector, I am very, very sorry.”
Rector Yung had been studying him from the moment he opened the door. “Oh, no need to apologize, Colonel. But I see something has changed since our last conversation.”
Perrin looked down at his cap. “Yes,” he said quietly.
“You had to fight, didn’t you?”
Perrin nodded.
“And this time, you won.”
Perrin looked up at him.
Yung was smiling.
“I did. For once.”
“I could see a difference in your eyes the moment I opened the door. Once again the man I’ve grown to respect stands before me!”
“You’re far too kind,” Perrin mumbled. “I didn’t hurt you at all, did I?”
Yung waved that away. “Merely a nudge.”
“Well,” Perrin chuckled sadly, “I’ve ‘nudged’ men out of my way who ended up with broken arms.”
Yung held up his tiny arms and flexed his nonexistent muscles. “See? Strong as ever.”
Perrin grinned. “Thank you,” he said. “Again.”
The rector took a step closer to him. “Perrin, you won a fantastic battle. The most decisive one you’ve ever faced. Everything changes now for you.”
“Battle? That suggests a war, Rector,” Perrin said. Hogal had given him similar counsel, years ago.
Perrin was really beginning to hate the army. Fighting. Battles—
“Yes, it does,” Yung said solemnly. “A war in which you are one of the key players. The battle which you just won has changed the course of the war. For everyone.”
“But it hasn’t ended it, has it?”
Yung shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You’ll be fighting this war for a very long time. But now you know you’re stronger than it. You can defeat it, again and again.”
Perrin plopped despondently on the old chair which creaked in complaint. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
Rector Yung squatted in front of him, his tiny frame almost balled up. “Our entire existence is a war, Perrin. The conflict the Creator had with the Refuser has merely shifted to this world. But the fact is, you are now in command. Your instincts and decisions are impeccable. You’ll have far more success than failures in the future. Cling to those successes. Keep your family close. Keep Shem close. And just hold on. The Refuser would love to possess you. He nearly did, didn’t he? But you won that battle! Once again, you’re on the right path.”
Perrin sat thinking about that for a long time.
The rector waited patiently.
Finally Perrin looked him in the eye. “You would have liked my great uncle Hogal.”
Yung smiled. “I look forward to meeting him on the other side. I think I already know his voice.”
“Yes, you most definitely do,” Perrin agreed. “You know, this may sound incredibly selfish, but I get the feeling that maybe you’re in Edge just for me.”
Yung looked into his eyes with soul-penetrating power. “I get the feeling you may be right.”
Chapter 7 ~ “Is that my daughter out there?”
Planting Season came miraculously early in 336. Suddenly one day it was sunny, with a promise that the cold was gone for the season. Perhaps the Creator was making up for the late cold weather of last year, Mahrree considered, and the terrible darkness of the current Raining Season.
Perrin started changing a few weeks ago, after shouting at the darkness. He slept soundly without any secret assistance, smiled frequently, and once laughed so loud and long that Mahrree excused herself to go the washroom to weep for joy. When the sun burst out and the snows vanished almost overnight that week, Mahrree wondered if it wasn’t the world responding to Perrin’s reversal.
But Mahrree still had one concern: as soon as the snow was gone, so was her only daughter. Jaytsy claimed she was going to help Mrs. Briter with her massive garden, but Mahrree feared she was still hiding from the family.
For the moment, though, Jaytsy was home. Mahrree looked out the window at her daughter sitting on the log bench in the yard, mindlessly kicking little stones into the spit area.
Mahrree breathed the same prayer she had since last Weeding Season. “Please help her to find what she’s looking for. Please sustain her until then.”
It wasn’t fair. When Mahrree was a girl at least there were still ways to be entertained, girls to laugh with—or at, Mahrree thought guiltily. But Jaytsy was so alone. Nearly all of the activities her friends engaged in, Mahrree and Perrin wouldn’t allow. And now half of her classmates were hanging around the fort at the northeast entrance, wandering off with soldiers to secluded areas of the safer edges of the forest. That meant that “safe” was a very subjective term.
Jaytsy had maturely distanced herself from her classmates, but also seemed to have distanced herself from everyone else as well.
Mahrree suspected most of her daughter’s retreating had to do with Perrin’s erratic behavior, and Mahrree’s neglect of her children while she tried to help him. But he hadn’t interrogated any of them in weeks and had normal conversations again. That is, when he could find Jaytsy.
Mahrree feared she had missed some critical phase of her daughter’s life in the past year, and could never hope to cover the ground lost between them. She tried hard to think of what they could do together, but her mind was blank as she finished packing the meal for Jaytsy to bring to Perrin.
Maybe this was how Hycymum had felt with Mahrree after her father passed away, fearing they had nothing in common, trying to find ways to make her happy. They had plenty in common now.
But Mahrree couldn’t imagine waiting years to be close to her daughter again. Mahrree had been happy as a teen despite being alone. She loved nothing so much as her books
. They were like spending hours each day with her father.
And that, Mahrree concluded, was what Jaytsy needed—besides a real friend her age—time with her father to see that the best parts of him were back.
Perrin had changed his duty hours toward the end of Raining Season, on Yung’s recommendation. He now went to the fort at midday meal and stayed till nearly bedtime. Sleeping later in the mornings, then spending an hour alone thinking, reading, and just breathing in the sunshine in the back garden brightened him. When he came in for a late breakfast, and Mahrree kissed him on her way to school, his grin was as wide as ever.
Jaytsy needed to see him smiling like that. But she’d leave early for school each day, and for the Planting Season break she was gone before dawn. Mahrree couldn’t think of anything more miserable than sitting in dirt, alone.
Mahrree took the pail with Perrin’s dinner and walked it out to Jaytsy.
She looked up at her with a small smile. “Father’s dinner?”
“Yes. Enough for both of you. He really enjoys seeing you every day, you know. This has been a good system.”
“Yes, I know.” She took the pail without fully seeing it.
“He’s doing quite well today, Jayts. Again. Quite nearly his old self.” Mahrree simply couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Yes, I know,” Jaytsy repeated. “I best be going. He’ll be hungry. I’ll be home in an hour,” and she left through the back gate to the alley.