by Trish Mercer
“What now, Offra?” Perrin asked as patiently as he could.
“Captain Thorne again, sir,” said Offra apologetically. “He’s requesting once again that you send more soldiers—”
“And I’m saying once again, no. Has Zenos requested more?”
“No sir,” Offra smiled. “The commander in the field of battle has not seen a need for more guards for the innocent. He claims that everything we can control is under control.”
Perrin smirked back. “Then I second Zenos’s judgment; tell Thorne that. Also tell him that he can inform Barnie and Wibble and every other fool out there that we didn’t make this problem, nor will we resolve it. And be careful, Lieutenant,” Perrin added. “You’re the best training partner I’ve had and the Strongest Soldier Race is just a few weeks away.”
“And you’re ready for it, sir!” Offra headed down the stairs, passing a sergeant who came up, waving a note.
“Colonel, another house.” He handed the note to the corporal recording them at the other end of the desk.
Perrin stood up for a better view of the expanse of black, punctured by orange glows. “Over there, right?” he gestured to a section in the southwest. “Where exactly is it?”
“On 12th road, number 562.”
Perrin growled. “One that we helped rebuild, right?”
The sergeant growled back. “I made the doors myself, sir.”
“And what are those doors doing right now, Sergeant?”
“Burning, sir.”
Perrin rubbed his forehead. “Stupid. That makes what now, Corporal?” Although he could count the fires, some had already extinguished themselves.
The corporal looked down at his master list. “Thirteen, sir. Thirteen houses on fire, seven barns burning, four shops—wait, that’s six—”
“Enough, enough. Thank you.” He turned back to the sergeant. “They’re just letting it burn?”
“That’s what Zenos suggested. It was abandoned anyway.”
Perrin nodded. “Good. Remind everyone to keep their distance.”
“Thank you, Colonel. Appreciated, sir.” The sergeant saluted before heading back down the stairs in a quick jog.
Perrin turned back to the window to count the fires. Every tower, their own signal fires burning and the long orange banners hoisted at the tops, were calling for help. The soldiers manning them had been blowing their horns, the four-short pattern requesting assistance, until Perrin sent word for them to shove the horns in the corner for the night; some people were trying to sleep.
He’d sent help, along with Sergeant Major Zenos whom he thought would be more objective and compassionate. Perrin didn’t believe there were more than a dozen innocents in Edge tonight, and as raw and rough as his nerves were, he’d likely start a few fires himself just by snapping his fingers.
Shem was a far calmer, wiser man to put in charge. And the moment Captain Thorne declared it to be a battle situation—likely hoping to earn yet another shiny medal from his grandfather for leadership—Perrin knew that even the darkest situations had golden linings: Thorne had inadvertently put Shem in command over him.
That was the only thing that put a dim smile on Perrin’s face that night while Edge kicked and screamed and grabbed, trying to establish just who was the “closest friend or neighbor.”
Mahrree had left a short time ago, accompanied by four soldiers. She’d been listening to the reports coming in and watching the turmoil from the windows. Her words still echoed in his mind.
“I’ve lived here my entire life. But tonight, for the first time in forty-five years, I’m ashamed to say I’m Edgy!” She was reading a note about two men who fought over a horse. Both had pulled out their knives and clumsily lunged at each other. A third neighbor, watching their attempts, made off with the horse when the two men stumbled and plunged their knives into various body parts.
While they were sloppy, they were also effective. One had already died from a punctured lung, and his former friend was bleeding so profusely from his neck that the doctor didn’t think he would make it to morning.
“Perrin, who are these people? None of them match the memories I have of them.”
Perrin agreed. At first he was ashamed of them, then embarrassed for the village he had claimed as his own. But now he was furious. They were destroying houses they had helped build together and stealing goods that none of them needed.
Shem had come up a while ago to bring a report while Mahrree was there, and he told them that he watched two older women fighting over the most hideous hat in the world. The news he delivered after that, though, left Perrin nearly speechless.
“There’s a new problem, Colonel. It seems that many Edgers realized that their neighbors didn’t die, so they don’t have claim over anyone’s property. Therefore they’ve taken up looting houses anyway. It’s mostly in the south, but I’m sure within the hour someone in the north will get the same bright idea.”
“They’re . . . they’re . . .”
“Yep. Just taking what they want from the houses of the living. Hey, they want it, they’re entitled to it!”
That’s when Perrin insisted Mahrree go home, with additional reinforcements. While Deckett may not have felt his house was worth protecting, there were a few things in Perrin’s that he didn’t want touched.
He now looked out the window in the direction of their home, then at the Briter farm. There was a fire just one road away, and he prayed silently again that none would come any closer.
Several hours later, well past midnight, the reports finally slowed then stopped. Perrin posted himself at the compound’s gates to greet his soldiers as they trudged back in for what remained of the night.
“Good work, men. Thank you. Well done. Get to bed now,” Perrin said as they plodded past him and he patted a few on the back. “Shower first, if you want. You all deserve to sleep in a bit in the morning, don’t you think? Wake-up call will be postponed by one hour. Maybe even two.”
That elicited a few exhausted cheers.
At the very end of the soldiers was Sergeant Major Zenos who assured a sooty Captain Thorne that he would make the final report to the colonel.
“Absolutely, Captain,” Perrin said with as much finality as he could generate.
But Thorne didn’t take the hint. “Sir,” he said, “I could’ve contained a few of those situations. I must protest that I was not given sufficient power to—”
“No, Thorne,” Perrin sighed. “No amount of power would have brought any of this to a safe and lasting resolution. Indeed, a show of force on our part would have increased the violence—”
“I believe you’re wrong, sir,” he said, with more gumption than he’d shown in several moons.
But before he could explain why, Perrin folded his arms. “Thorne, no one out there would have listened to a word you said. They already made their minds up—”
“But we could have made wiser decisions! We could have been fairer—”
“There was nothing fair about any of this, Thorne!” Perrin exploded, too tired to pretend that the inanity of the night hadn’t got to him. “I presented a fair proposal, they rejected it—”
“Well, it was a majority rule, Colonel—” Thorne started with the sticky insinuation that if the majority of villagers wanting something, it automatically was right.
Perrin never fell for that bullying tactic. “Mob rule, you mean.”
“Well then if you didn’t approve of it, you should have overturned it, sir!” Thorne threw his hands in the air. “That’s the power you have as commander—total control!”
“It was an uncontrollable situation, Captain!” Perrin gestured wildly back, regretting later that he didn’t smack the captain accidentally. “When the majority of people choose foolishly, then it’s best to take a step back so as to not get dragged down with them.”
“No! That’s not our job!” Thorne insisted. “You and I have higher sensibilities, enlightened minds, and we’re required to force the pe
ople to a better resolution—”
It must have been Perrin’s slacked jaw and astonished expression that caused Captain Thorne to stumble in his speech.
Perrin put his hands on his waist. “Force the people?
To a resolution you think acceptable, no doubt. Thorne, do you have any idea what happens then?”
“You truly get lasting peace!”
“You truly get lasting rebellion, Captain!”
“Respectfully, sir, I disagree,” and Thorne marched off into the compound.
Next to Perrin, Shem let out a low whistle. “I hope I’m long gone if he ever makes it to general,” he murmured as they watched the captain elbow his way through enlisted men to get to the showers.
“I’m never sure which captain’s going to show up each day,” Perrin murmured back. “The adulator or the underminer. He must get dizzy with how often he vacillates between the two.”
“Did he actually claim that he has higher sensibilities?”
“Yes,” Perrin sighed in worry. “And an enlightened mind. He said the same about me. However,” and a corner of his mouth went up into the smallest of smiles, “I noticed that he ignored you completely in that assessment. Did you annoy him at all this evening?”
“Me? Of course not. I was my usual charming self,” Shem sniffed. “Even when I reminded him in front of twenty enlisted men that I was the acting commander, I was entirely pleasant.”
Perrin snorted, grateful it was dark enough that the last soldiers in the compound couldn’t see his grin. “Come on, Zenos. We have reports to finish.”
A few minutes later they slumped into chairs in Perrin’s office, since “reports to finish” was code for, “Find a better place to talk.”
“What a senseless night,” Shem said, putting up a boot casually on the command desk. “After eight hours it appears the village has finally given up. Chief Barnie’s worried about the morning, though, but I can’t imagine there’s anything left unclaimed.” He shook his head. “Perrin, this was one of the strangest nights I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t even know who the enemy was most of the time.”
“We are our own enemies,” Perrin sighed back and started to straighten the stack of reports on his desk. He gave up and dropped them in frustration. “Shem, I feel like I don’t even know these people anymore. What happened to them?”
Shem pondered that. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. People I’ve seen laughing and working together for years were shouting and threatening each other with pitchforks and broomsticks over a bridle. But I’ve come to a conclusion. They can endure Guarder attacks, land tremors, destruction, imminent starvation, illness, and even the death of loved ones, but they can’t handle prosperity. Perhaps, Perrin, wealth is the greatest trial of them all.”
Perrin nodded. “Tonight I decided the most harmful sentences begin with, ‘I deserve.’ The other day I was reading The Writings and came across the passage that describes the Last Day. You know the part, where it talks about the destroyer taking out those who come against the people of the Creator?”
“I do.”
“Well, I sat thinking about that, wondering what the destroyer would be—”
Shem smiled slightly. “Yes, you would.”
Perrin ignored that. “Would it be an animal, or a person, or maybe even an illness, like the pox? But today I had another thought. Maybe it’s all of us. Maybe the true destroyer will be jealousy, because we kill each other over little things we think we deserve, destroying ourselves.”
“Interesting theory,” Shem said. “So how do we avoid being among the jealous ones who destroy each other?”
Perrin exhaled. “That’s the other thing I’ve been wondering about. How do I not get sucked into the same attitude?”
Shem didn’t answer him but smiled, almost knowingly.
They sat in silence for a few moments, until Perrin broke it with, “Did you ever read Terryp’s stories when you were a boy?”
Shem frowned briefly, wondering why the sudden change in topic. “Yes. I think my father still has my copy in his attic.”
“Ever wonder what a wapiti looks like? For real?”
Shem smiled, bemused. “For real?”
“They’re real, Shem. They have to be,” Perrin whispered longingly. “Why would someone take all that time to carve them at the ruins if they weren’t real?”
Shem shrugged. “I don’t know. But I highly doubt people rode them. Those long antlers would knock them off. I think Terryp made that part up, for the story. And who ever tried to ride a large deer around here?”
“For steering,” Perrin said, staring off into a corner, but seeing much further away. He had an odd, faint smile on his face as he held up his hands and guided something unseen. “Figured it out when I was young. The antlers were for steering the wapiti.”
Shem sat back, realizing that tonight Perrin wanted to be as far away from Edge as possible. Terryp’s western ruins was about as far as he could get.
“Did I ever tell you they named neighborhoods in Idumea after those animals?” Perrin said, still with an airy tone. “Wapiti Way—as if anyone would even recognize that a wapiti was in their way—and Elephant Elms, although those elms would never get as big as an elephant—”
“Those you could ride, I’d bet,” Shem said. “If they were real . . . which you also seem to believe.”
Perrin nodded slowly. “And Zebra Eztates, with a z in estates.” He scoffed lightly. “Such magnificent animals zebras must be, yet have only too-big houses named after them and with bad spelling to boot.”
“You sound like you believe they’re all alive and out there somewhere, Perrin.”
“They are,” Perrin breathed. “They have to be. Zebras.” He finally met Shem’s eyes in the glow of the single candle. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I was looking for zebras.”
Shem blinked. “Recently?”
“No, when I first came to Edge and went into the forests. This may sound silly but I thought, what better animal for the Guarders to ride than a striped horse? It would blend in perfectly with the shadows.”
“Did you see any?”
Perrin shook his head. “Knew I probably wouldn’t.” He gazed out the dark window. “Just . . . hoping, you know? That all of the stories might be real? Just some evidence.”
“What color of stripes should zebras have?”
“Black and white,” Perrin declared. “Mahrree thinks brown, but she had no appreciation for horses,” he chuckled sadly. “Black and white, Shem. Out there. Somewhere. There has to be more than just this, isn’t there?”
Again Shem smiled, almost knowingly. “Likely very far away, but of course, Perrin,” he said in the tones of a man telling his dying best friend that sure, he’d retrieve for him one of the moons. “Of course there is.”
---
Mahrree sat at the eating table with six candles in front of her, because on a night like tonight she hungered for light as she waited for Perrin to come home.
Jaytsy and Peto had gone to sleep some time ago, but Mahrree was reading the words of Guide Hierum, recorded before he was attacked and killed by the founders of Idumea. Tonight his reminder of how they spent their first six years of existence on that world was even more poignant and timely.
I warn you now that we cannot continue in the ways we are now. Our lives and existence on this world are not forever. An end will come.
In the arguing among our people I see the seeds of antipathy and apathy that will grow to destroy the world we are striving so hard to create. We’re drifting from the structure the Creator left us, and if we continue on this path our descendants will not be found faithful at the Last Day when the test ends. What we do today affects our children and their children. For their sakes, we can’t continue down this way you are planning. I know your secrets, and they will destroy us all. I beg you to abandon this!
You know as well as I do that the Last Day will find each one of us either facing the reward o
f Paradise to enjoy the company of our family and friends for the next one thousand years and beyond, or the misery of the Dark Deserts to endure the torture of knowing we failed to do His will.
When that Last Day comes, no one knows but our Creator, and its arrival will surprise those that fight against the Creator’s people.
On that day, do not be one of those surprised to find yourself on the wrong side.
On that day, do not find yourself with a blade in hand ready to charge your brother or sister.
On that day, be one of the many standing with the guide, having seen the signs, and recognizing what is coming.
Before the Last Day will be a land tremor more powerful than any ever experienced. It will awaken the largest mountain and change all that we know in the world. Those changes will bring famine, death, and desperation to the world. And that desperation will cause the world’s army to seek to destroy the faithful of the Creator.
Be among those faithful to the Creator!
Be among those standing firm for what you know, having not so quickly forgotten His words to us!
Be among those who see the marvelous deliverance from the enemy the Creator will send us! For He will send deliverance before He sends destruction to those who fight Him!
Don’t destroy His structure for our survival. What you’re planning to do will ruin—
And there it ended, his words and his life, as he tried to tell them they had to live as one big family or they’d destroy each other.
Just as they were tonight.
“We’ve forgotten,” Mahrree whispered miserably. “The world is just too loud, and The Writings too still and quiet. The world forces its way; the Creator never forces His will.” She rested her chin on her hand in defeat. “You saw how they responded to Perrin’s suggestion of giving the surplus to those in need,” Mahrree said to the dark. “Suddenly everyone became ‘needy’! Are we ever satisfied?”