The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) Read online

Shem Zenos wrapped the thick overcoat around him and wished it actually rained in Raining Season. He reached the vent and sat down on a log.

  A moment later a large man joined him, sat on the log, and pulled off his thick gloves.

  “Vent seems to be hotter tonight,” he said to Shem.

  “Yes, and I’m grateful for that. The hike always feels further in the snow.” Shem broke out into another coughing fit.

  His companion pulled a flask from his hip. “Got what you need. Can’t have you giving away our position to soldiers on patrol.”

  “Thanks.” Shem pulled the cork from the flask and swallowed down the liquid. He paused only to say, “Still warm, too. Perfect.”

  “Works best that way. Too bad you can take the recipe down with you and sell it in the world. You’d be the richest man in the world simply because you have a cure for the cold.”

  “Well, we both know none of this has ever been about gold and silver,” Shem said, and he finished off the flask and handed it back.

  “I know you’re here for more than just a remedy. So how is he?”

  “Bad, Jothan. He even turned on Yung.”

  Jothan sighed. “The setbacks were to be expected. This season is always the worst, even for those not traumatized.”

  “I just hate seeing him like this,” Shem whispered. “I feel like my best friend has died.”

  Jothan nodded. “I hate to tell you what I must, then.”

  “Oh no,” Shem whispered. “What is it?”

  “They’re moving north. The activity is coming back here.”

  Shem moaned. “He can’t take it. He’ll crack.”

  “They’re taking over the abandoned houses in Moorland.”

  “Smart move,” Shem had to agree. “I wondered that they didn’t do it earlier. Snow must have driven them to it.”

  “Been waiting for reinforcements. Now that they’ve arrived, it’s time to strike again.”

  “It’s too soon, isn’t it?” Shem asked, with pleading in his voice. “We can’t end it for him yet, can we?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” said Jothan. “Keeping your route free is more important now than ever, now that we’ve lost Moorland. First group of the season’s coming in two weeks.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Shem sighed, “since I schedule everyone at the fort—still, despite Thorne’s meddling. It’s easy enough to keep the way clear.”

  “Good, and . . .” Jothan paused, “how are your other concerns?”

  “Well, Beneff is still as effective as a toothless dog, thankfully. But as for the other one? He’s still the most sniveling, insincere, beast of a boy I have ever met!”

  The large man chuckled. “Shem Zenos, I have never known you to dislike anyone. You actually loathe Captain Thorne.”

  “I do, may the Creator forgive me! Something about his smarmy ways just gets under my skin and . . .” He stopped when he realized his hands were outstretched in front of him, as if choking someone.

  Jothan smiled cautiously.

  “Why can’t I eliminate him?!” Shem exhaled. “Just bring him to the fresh spring? I haven’t had the pleasure of doing that for years.”

  Jothan eyed him. “You’re the one who received that answer.”

  Shem growled. “And the answer was, No. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.”

  “Sure you do. What would happen if the grandson of the High General suddenly vanished? Besides, you said yourself he’s not one of them. At least, not yet.”

  “And why is that?” Shem stared at the steam vent. “There are tests, but apparently he hasn’t passed them to know everything?”

  “There’s another reason you haven’t brought him out here yet.”

  “I know,” Shem groused, “but I have a hard time believing it.”

  The large man leaned back. “Truly, I’ve never seen anyone exasperate you so much as Lemuel Thorne. You really can’t believe that there’s hope for him?”

  Shem sighed. “You know, just a year ago the fort felt like a family. But now? Thorne undermines whatever I do.” He scoffed. “He simpers around Perrin, then adjusts everything from how the papers are stacked on the desk to how the armory is arranged, then glares at me as if to say, ‘Your days are over!’”

  Jothan blinked. “Are you . . . are you jealous? That’s not the Shem Zenos I know.”

  Shem growled. “I don’t know myself! He’s always saying things like, ‘Are you sure that’s the best strategy? When I was at Command School . . .’” Shem cracked his neck to ease the tension.

  “Perhaps if Thorne’s incompetent,” Jothan said, “then maybe—”

  “That’s the worst part!” Shem nearly wailed. “That little . . .” he searched for an appropriate word until he finally settled on, “—thing isn’t that bad of an officer! The men listen to him, even though many of them are older and seem almost afraid of him. I’m too distracted myself to know why.”

  Jothan put a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

  Shem sighed. “It’s going to destroy Perrin, you know. Their return? He can’t do it alone, Jothan. I know our rules, but we have to help him! I’m refuse to lose him!”

  “We know,” Jothan squeezed his shoulder with so much reassurance that he accidentally left a bruise. “We don’t want to lose him either. We’ve already decided to help.”

  Shem sat up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. “Really?”

  “We have a slew of volunteers ready to man the forest and present obstacles. No one wants to lose them either, Shem.”

  Shem exhaled in relief. “Thank you! You know, if we could just end it for him earlier—”

  “No, Shem. A few more years, still.”

  Shem sagged again. “He won’t survive it—”

  “He will,” his companion said firmly. “It’s known he will. We need the colonel—and you—now more than ever before.”

  “I know, I know,” Shem confessed. “I just need to hear it one more time: he’s going to make it, isn’t he?”

  “They will all get there, Shem. Because of you. Hey, you’re not coughing anymore.”

  Shem smiled. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then get back to work, soldier.”

  ---

  When Perrin came to himself he was standing in the middle of the gathering room, his father’s sword in hand.

  “Oh, not again,” he whispered.

  It was the middle of the night and he was alone.

  “Well, that’s a first. I must either be getting quieter, or they’re sleeping through it.” He stared at the sword in the faint light from the slivers of the moons. He also noticed the thin soft chain which wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Its absence had forced him to shove the dream aside and slog to find reality.

  The silly thing had worked again.

  He trembled as he clutched the ornate hilt, unable to remember what sent him hurrying down the stairs.

  “I’m sick of this,” he whispered to the room. “Three seasons. How much more am I expected to put up with? Why me?” he demanded of the darkness. “Why ME?”

  He didn’t expect to get an answer, yet one came, heavy and thick, as if it were created by the night itself, blanketing him with cold terror.

  Why NOT you?

  Suffocating in the dark, he pondering the words. In case he hadn’t heard it before, it came again, sending a fresh chill down his back.

  Why NOT you? Because you’re special? The son of the High General? A colonel?

  “No,” he whispered. “I know I’m not special—”

  Oh, but you DO. Nothing should touch you. But you could have been a beggar in Idumea if it weren’t for your privileged birth. You deserve nothing. You’re no better than your lowest soldier. And you’re not beyond my touch, Shin.

  He gripped the sword tighter, as if that would give him power against the smothering sensation that was filling the room.

  Why bother? You can’t touch me. Why don’t you just give up? Three seasons, remember? What if it l
asts for three years? Three decades? Do you really want to endure this for the rest of your life?

  “It won’t be decades,” he declared with every bit of bravery he could borrow from his past. “I’ll conquer it. I’ll conquer you. I never quit—”

  Of course you do. You quit all the time. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of reason. You’ve stopped doing things before. And it turned out to be the right thing to do.

  “That’s different!” he insisted to the words that poured into his mind. They weren’t jumbled and confused as in a dream, but came from a deliberate consciousness, with distinct power. What kept that force from overwhelming him, he didn’t know. But his heart beat rapidly and he feared it was only a matter of time before the force pounced on him like a bored cat on a wounded creature.

  “There are times to quit,” he admitted, “but then there are times to fight to your very last breath!”

  So that’s what you think you’re doing? You’re not fighting, you pathetic son of Relf. You’re barely existing. Everyone has to do everything for you. Oversee the fort. Talk you into bed. Force you back in it again. Wake you up. Feed you. Next they’ll dress you, too, and take you to the washing room. You’ve become a burden. And what do you give them back? Nothing. How do you live with yourself? Oh wait, you don’t. You live in your dreams.

  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?”