by Trish Mercer
Shem shrugged meekly. “Keep you out of trouble, I guess.”
“And I’m sure that’s precisely what some men in Idumea hope you’ll do,” said Perrin. “That new rank’s really your reward for controlling me this past year. You realize that, don’t you?”
Again Shem shrugged.
Perrin smiled at his friend’s modesty. “How was your afternoon yesterday?”
“Not as exciting as yours, I understand,” Shem chuckled.
Perrin sat back in his chair. “Idumea’s following me. If that jam were caused by anyone else besides that timid old rector . . .”
“Well, my afternoon was quite successful, as you saw in that report. The men seem eager and ready, we tried all the patterns you detailed, and had no problems executing any of them. On a larger scale it should be quite effective.”
“Good. Now, what I really need to know is,” he lowered his voice and glanced briefly at the wall, “how did our little Thorney friend out there do?”
“I hate to admit it, Perrin, but he did well. I was hoping he’d be a complete disaster, but when the pressure was on—even though it was pretend pressure—the men listened to him, and he thought well on his feet. I’m sorry I have nothing worse to report. I tried to make things difficult for him, really I did.”
Perrin chuckled. “I’m sure you did. Thank you for your attempts. Yordin wanted a report. I think Gari’s a little concerned about leading so many untested men. I’m going to recommend that Fadh be out there bringing up the rear. No need for him to sit with Karna and me warming our backsides in the tents.”
“Good idea,” Shem nodded. “I’m a little worried as well. But how else will they ever be tested?”
“At least you, Rigoff, and some of the older officers will be in the field with Yordin. That makes me feel a little more confident.” Perrin slapped the desk lightly. Thinking about Yordin always made him do that. “So, everyone will be back here in two days with their reports. Shem, I’m telling you this now because I want you to be prepared. I will call for the attack three days later.”
Shem’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think there are children in Moorland?”
“No. I just feel the answer’s no. But there is something there that needs to be taken care of as soon as possible.”
Shem nodded, but it seemed to Perrin that he was a bit uncertain. “You think you’ll be ready?” his new sergeant major asked.
“The forces are ready. We’re wasting time, every day. Who knows what the Guarders are planning. It needs to happen now.”
Shem thought for a moment. “Maybe I should restate my question. Perrin, do you think you are ready? The past season you’ve done so well, but being so near the action . . . you may even come in contact with a retreating Guarder, and I’m concerned that—”
“No, Shem,” said Perrin with as much determination as he could express. “It must happen now. We can’t wait. I know that, of a surety.”
The thoughts had been pouring into his mind for several days and nights. Timing was most important, but Perrin had no idea why. However, he saw it clearly in his mind, even the date when the offensive should take place: the 59th Day of Planting Season. The information came to him in a steady, calm manner so he was sure it was inspiration from the Creator.
“And it’s not my old paranoia talking, Shem, I promise. I’m feeling quite solid, and I even have a long run scheduled with Offra soon. Sounds like I’m doing well, right? So do you trust my judgment?”
Shem studied him for a moment before admitting, “Honestly, in the past year it’s been a little hard to do that. But lately you’re the same Perrin I’ve always trusted.”
“So who am I at this moment, Sergeant Major?”
“The commander of the offensive on Moorland, sir,” said the sergeant major cagily.
“And do you trust the commander?”
Shem offered a faint smile. “I really want to, Colonel. But to be honest, this sergeant major still thinks it’s too soon.”
Perrin leaned forward. “Then what about my brother? Does my brother believe I’m doing the right thing? Be my Guide, Shem.”
Shem’s smile turned downright embarrassed. “I could never be worthy to be a Guide, but Perrin—I’ve always trusted my brother.”
“Then I’m ready for the offensive, Shem. Are you?”
Shem nodded. “You keep yourself prepared, and I’ll make sure everyone is ready for the attack in five days.”
---
Later that evening Shem knocked on the back porch door of the Shins’ home using a rhythm—very unlike Thorne’s—that they would know it was him. A moment later the door opened and Mahrree beamed at him.
“Sorry to bother you so late, Mahrree,” Shem apologized as he stepped into the kitchen. “But I saw your light was on. Is Perrin still up?”
“No, he’s asleep,” Mahrree said. “Should I wake him?”
Shem scoffed. “Since when would I ask you to wake up Perrin when he’s sleeping soundly? No, it’s nothing too important. He wanted a report on movements east of Moorland, but I can just leave him a message on his desk.”
“It’s not bad news, is it?”
“No, actually quite good. Everything is quiet.”
“Good,” Mahrree sighed. “You know, I think Perrin overdid it today racing Lieutenant Offra. I’ve never seen him so worn out. I think he was trying to impress the younger men.”
Shem grinned, partly at the idea of Perrin running himself to exhaustion. “That’s what I heard, too. A sergeant told me they stumbled back to the fort pale and wheezing. I think poor Jon Offra overexerted himself, too. But they were also both smiling.”
Mahrree closed her eyes. “Shem, you have no idea how pleased I am to hear that he’s having fun again. Sounds so silly, but it’s so important.”
“Not silly at all. I agree. It’s wonderful to see him back to normal again. I need to get back to the fort. My shift’s not yet up—”
Mahrree took his arm. “Can you give me just a few minutes?”
He looked down at her small, soft hand on his muscled arm, and he tensed.
“I wanted your opinion: do you think he’s ready for this? Can Perrin handle being so close to the action? I know he won’t actually be in Moorland, but he’s going to see wounded and bloodshed and—” Her chin began to wobble.
Shem saw no other option but to put a comforting arm around her. “I’m worried about him too. He may witness soldiers that appear to him to be manifestations of his nightmares. But I can’t convince him to delay this.”
Mahrree rested her head against his chest and sniffed. “Nor can I. But I’ve also noticed he seems quite himself again. Still, I can’t help but worry.”
“I know,” Shem said, pulling back from her and removing his arm from her shoulders. “But he’s the colonel, and he’s in command, and we just need to trust him again. Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer—”
“Shem,” she gripped his arm again, “before you hurry off unnecessarily, just one more thing—this has been on my mind for some time, but . . . I haven’t thanked you yet. Not properly.”
“For what?” he said, a lump building in his throat.
She rolled her eyes. Her green-gray eyes that, for the first time in nearly a year, were sparkling again. She focused them solely on him. “For what? For this past year! Shem, you’ve done everything for us!” Her grip on his arm tightened, and she stepped closer.
Shem held his breath.
“For so many nights, for so many days, for staying by our side no matter what he did. For being his best friend—”
Shem tried to swallow down the lump.
“—for comforting our children . . . for comforting me.” She released his arm and took his face in both of her hands.
Shem froze.
She looked at him with such sincerity, such sisterly love.
“I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you. You’re truly one of the greatest men I’ve ever had the privilege to know.
I hope someday we can be worthy of your friendship.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Shem nodded dismissively and said, “I really need to go—”
She released his face and smirked. “You can’t take it, can you?”
“Pardon?”
She folded her arms and glared good-naturedly at him. “Someone thanking you? You’re too humble to accept even gratitude, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” His chuckle was strained as he said, “Mr. Humility. Good night, Mahrree.”
He turned abruptly and jogged out the back garden, Mahrree’s chuckles following him. He hopped over the fence, took the reins of his waiting horse, and mounted it without looking back to see if his best friend’s wife was still watching from the back porch. He rode up to the fort, returned his horse, jogged up to the command tower, left the note he promised he would on Perrin’s desk, told the sergeant on duty that he was ending his shift early for the night since the forests east of Moorland were quiet, then headed straight for the washing rooms. He undressed and stood in a stall underneath one of the showering pipes, turning on only the cold water. He closed his eyes and let the chill pour down on him, waiting for it to work.
Someone took the stall next to him. “Good evening, sir,” said one of the newest recruits. “Sir, that looks cold. Is the warm water pipe clogged again?”
“No, Private,” said Shem, not opening his eyes. “Plenty of warm water for you to wash off the day’s grime. I just prefer the cold.”
“Really, sir?” chirped the eager-to-learn soldier. “Do all sergeant majors prefer cold water?”
Shem didn’t want to acknowledge the ridiculous question, but he felt the young man waiting for his response. “Only the ones trying to be their best, Private. Especially before turning in for the night. It’s . . . restful. Distracting. Takes one’s mind away from other thoughts.”
“Interesting, sir.” He sounded worried.
“Been doing it off and on for fifteen years now, Private.”
“And it really works to relax you, sir?”
Shem sighed and opened his eyes. “Actually, no. Never has worked.” He reached up to turn off the water. “But someday, it just might. Good night, Private.” Shem grabbed a thick cloth, wrapped it around himself, and left the stall.
The private looked up at the water pipes, shrugged, turned on the cold, and shivered for five seconds before shutting it off.
---
Perrin rolled up the map and tucked it under his arm, ready to head for home. Everything was prepared—perfectly, he’d dare say—for tomorrow, and every last man was enthusiastic about the army’s first offensive.
Except for one.
Perrin sighed when he saw him come in his door. “And what do you want?”
Shem closed the door behind him. “Perrin, just tell me one last time: are you absolutely sure about tomorrow?”
“Yes, Shem,” he tried to say patiently. “Has anyone ever told you you’re like a mother hen?”
His friend began to smile. “Well, not exactly—”
“It’s NOT a compliment!”
Shem’s smile disappeared.
“You’re sounding like Mahrree now,” Perrin said. “You’ve been talking with her, haven’t you?” he accused with a twinkle in his eyes. “Alone? I can always tell, you know.”
Shem held his hands up in surrender. “She talked to me about some concerns about you.”
Perrin groaned. “Enough already. Would you two just trust me again? I’ve been put in charge of this endeavor, and I promise you, I take my orders only from the Creator.”
Shem dared to smile again. “You know, I actually believe that.”
Chapter 13 ~ “And then by tomorrow, we’ll have some very fascinating results.”
“Seriously,” the older balding man sighed loudly at the men gathered around him, “how difficult is it for you to put it all together? I sent you,” he pointed at a hefty man who blushed, “one section to accomplish, then I told you—”
A slender man looked down at his feet and fidgeted.
“—specifically what materials to gather, and sent an order to . . . where are you?”
He looked around until he found the offender hiding behind a taller man who also wore a sheepish expression.
“Ah, yes you—sent an order to you with timings and . . . you!” He jabbed an accusatory finger at another man who tried to appear stoic. “I explained personally to you how it all goes together! Now, how is it that one brilliant man like me can figure all of this out, create detailed descriptions, and send it to semi-competent creatures who then bungle it all up? Does this mean that ten of you aren’t equal to one of me? Fascinating,” he mumbled as he sifted through the confused notes. “May have to create some speculations about the ineptitude of committee work when I finally get this mess straightened out. Look,” he announced to the men again. “It’s really quite simple, and you nearly have it all correct—”
“Why didn’t you just send us all the entire plan to begin with?” asked the attempting-to-be-stoic man.
The balding man looked up at the ceiling. “They really are that dense, aren’t they?” he asked the building. Dropping his gaze to those surrounding him he said, “What do you think? All of this information in the hands of just one man? Or several? What if it were intercepted before it reached here?”
“No one would have been able to figure it out,” someone bravely murmured.
The balding man squinted. “An intelligent man could! Now, since some of this was done correctly, I can salvage this. And then by tomorrow, we’ll have some very fascinating results. Very fascinating indeed. We just might change the entire world . . .”
---
On the morning of the 59th Day of Planting Season, 336, Perrin tried to leave the house early in the morning by the kitchen door but was held back by his wife.
“I promised you already that I won’t go beyond the border of the farm, I’ll be miles away from the fighting, and nothing—absolutely nothing—will go wrong,” he told Mahrree as she kept her arms wrapped around him, her face pressed against his chest.
“Just let me go with you,” she pleaded. “I’ll stay back at the farm and help the surgeons with the injured. You can’t promise nothing will go wrong. Shem warned me that—”
“You need to stop listening to Shem, Mahrree!” He held her at arm’s length and stooped to look at her straight in the eyes. “When the two of you start nattering together—”
Her chin quivered.
“I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m tired of being pecked at! Karna will be at my side the entire offensive. He knows what to watch for, and he’ll send you a messenger if I go berserk, all right?” he said, shaking her a little. “And honestly, a little berserk might be exactly what this offensive needs. Ever consider that?”
To his surprise she chuckled sadly. “All right, all right, Colonel Berserk. Go play. I’ll sit here with your children for the next three days fretting and worrying, but you have fun now.”
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?” He shook her again.
“You have a strange way of showing it, Mr. Shin.”
He pulled her in for a kiss long enough that Peto, who was walking in for his last goodbye, grimaced before turning around.
“Give them a few minutes, Jayts. You don’t want to come in here—trust me.”
“Poor boy,” Mahrree laughed to her husband as she reluctantly stepped back. “He has the worst timing in the world. By the way, I do know you love me. I love you, too.”
“I know. And I will be fine.”
Mahrree sighed. “Please come home to me.”
“You can’t get rid of me too easily, woman.”
After good-byes to his children he mounted his horse waiting in the alley and rode to the fort with two eager sergeants.
He took only a moment to run up the stairs of the command tower. He smiled at Hycymum’s purple banner with the word Ed
ge stitched in brilliant yellow, took it off the wall, and bundled it under his arm. “This offensive is for Edgers, after all,” he murmured.
He jogged over to the supply building, took a pole he prepared earlier, and attached the banner to it. Grinning, he positioned it in the saddle bag on his horse where it could flap for everyone to see.
“Don’t want anyone getting lost now, do we?” he said cheerily to a corporal who eyed the bright and slightly garish banner.
An hour later two hundred men rode from the fort straight to the west and the staging area for the offensive. Nothing could wipe the smile from Perrin’s face. Not even Captain Thorne who rode on his right and frequently looked behind him to make sure the soldiers stayed in formation. The fort didn’t have enough horses for each man going to Moorland, so many were borrowed from the village, and Thorne—being the horse man he claimed to be—was put in charge of making sure none was lost. Perrin noticed that Sergeant Major Zenos, on his left, however, kept watching Perrin from the corner of his eye.
As they neared the barren farm waiting to be flattened under so many boots and hooves, Perrin spotted a cloud of dust rising in the southwest. Soon it revealed several hundred men, led by a beaming Major Fadh. Before Perrin had the chance to absorb the fantastic scene of three hundred men plus their horses and wagons, to the south arose another massive cloud, eventually producing Major Yordin and Lieutenant Colonel Karna, who combined their six hundred men and rode together, trampling all kinds of terrain for several miles, and grinning all the way.