The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (38 page)

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Authors: Trish Mercer

Tags: #family saga, #christian fantasy, #ya fantasy, #christian adventure, #family adventure, #ya christian, #lds fantasy, #action adventure family, #fantasy christian ya family, #lds ya fantasy

BOOK: The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series)
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Dear Creator!” he
whimpered as his horse headed into the darkness unguided. It was
all the prayer he could muster. For several minutes the horse
galloped while Perrin tried to ease the thumping of his heart.
Completely disoriented and feeling a sufficient distance away from
the horrors, he finally reined his horse to a stop and closed his
eyes.


It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s
far behind me,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself that was
true. He focused on a point just above his heart where over a year
ago he felt his parents for the last time. “I’m alone. I was
victorious. I was right. They were doing worse things than raising
an army. I stopped them. It’s over. I’m a son of the
Creator—”

His horse pawed the ground restlessly as
Perrin continued to breathe and think and murmur to himself.

Eventually he opened his eyes. To his right
he saw the burning forest in a distance, and he turned the horse
around to face the east where Edge, the camp, and the sun would be.
He sighed and looked up at the stars.


Dear Creator, I need help.
You know it, and I’m asking—”

He lowered his head, ashamed at trying to
command the Great Commander.

Penitently he slid off the horse, went
immediately to his knees, but then collapsed on the dirt with his
cheek against the earth. There he laid, exhausted and
terrified—maybe for minutes or maybe for hours—before he found the
strength to speak.


Dear Creator, please,
please
help me,” he whispered. “I know I’m not worthy of
Your attention. This ground below me trembles when You command it,
but when You cause me to tremble I demand a reason for it. I’m
lower than this dirt, but still I beg for Your mercy. I’ve tried to
do Your will. I know You wanted us to make this attack, to destroy
whatever it was they were trying to make. But Creator, it’s now
destroying me. I can’t shake the images—”

He gasped and shuddered as they flooded his
mind again. “Mahrree!” he whispered and squeezed his eyes shut.

It was another horribly long minute or hour
before he continued.


Please help me hold it
together. My friends are injured, my brother had to end lives, and
our leadership is compromised. I don’t know who’s left and able to
lead these soldiers home. Please help me get myself together, get
the men back, and get me home. You’re the only one in charge,
You’re the only one with real power. I’m at Your mercy. Help me
finish Your will.”

He blew out another deep breath and felt his
lungs fill again, but something else filled him too.

The warmth that always remained near his
heart grew. A smile came across his face, but he didn’t know why.
And he didn’t have to know why—he just needed to accept it.

Breathing became easier and the pain in his
chest faded. Clear images of what needed to happen in the next
several hours came to his mind, as if he were seeing vivid drawings
in a book. And with that came the desire to get up and get to
work.

Never before had he sighed so loudly or with
such gratitude. Once again he was full and strong and unstoppable.
He was back.

Perrin got to his knees, brushed the dirt
from his cheek, and addressed the stars. “Well done, Sir! Thank
You!”

Grinning into the dark, he mounted his weary
but willing horse, and kicked it into a run to the east.

 

---

 

Shem had been growing more uneasy as the
darkness in the west revealed nothing but darkness. He and the rest
of the army had returned an hour ago, having found no more
Guarders. Moorland and the Guarders were utterly devastated.

When he strode into the command tent to
deliver the good news to the colonel, he was greeted by a lone
corporal manning the map.

Shem helped get the wounded to the surgeons
while always watching the west. He took care of his horse, glancing
behind him into the dark. He discussed the next moves with Fadh,
who was currently in command since he was the highest ranked
officer not injured, while keeping an eye on the glow of the
Moorland fires.

Major Fadh kept vigil too, waiting for
Colonel Shin to finally appear. The two men stood together now at
the ditch on the edge of the camp, scanning the darkness.


Did anyone see what
direction he went?” Fadh quietly asked Shem. “It’s been hours
now.”


The surgeons’ aides
thought he was right behind them.” Shem massaged his hands. “Five
more minutes, then I’ll go looking.”


Take some men with you,
Zenos. He wouldn’t . . . he wouldn’t go
in
to the forest,
would he?” Fadh whispered, glancing at the trees burning in the
distance.

Shem stared in the same direction, his worry
doubling. “Why would he do that?”


Brillen told me that’s how
he and Shin first engaged the Guarders, years ago,” Fadh murmured,
as if concerned that any of the soldiers keeping a respectable
distance behind them might overhear. “You know him better than any
of us, Shem. What do you think?”

Calling him by his first name promoted Shem
to Fadh’s equal, and Shem appreciated the show of faith.

But that was the kind of man Fadh was; he
just didn’t know it.

Besides, considering the amount of officers
and older enlisted men wounded, the fact that Perrin was missing,
along with Beneff, and that Graeson Fadh had been serving in the
army for about a year less than Shem, and that the situation was
still considered a battle, Sergeant Major Shem Zenos was likely the
ablest senior soldier and therefore in charge of the offensive at
that moment.

But Shem didn’t want that distinction. He
only wanted his brother to come back. As he surveyed the burning
distance, the awful notion that Perrin might
not
return
entered his mind for the first time.


Shem,” Fadh said,
searching the dark for movement, “considering his past behavior,
maybe something in him snapped and he thought he needed to try
going into the forests again.”

Shem groaned. “This was too much, too soon. I
told him I didn’t think he wasn’t ready, but he insisted it had to
be now.”

Graeson Fadh squeezed his shoulder in a
brotherly manner, and Shem marveled at the familiarity of the
gesture. Then again, Shem knew Fadh well. Actually, he knew men
like him
very well.


I never doubted his timing
or his resolve, Shem,” Fadh confided. “Obviously he was right about
the attack tonight. I’m just worried now about
him
.”

Shem smiled dimly at that. Typical Fadh
response. But again, Graeson didn’t know that.

Shem’s smile dissolved as he realized Graeson
likely never
would
know, and once again the two worlds that
Shem tried to keep separate threatened to collide and create a
disaster in his mind.

There were enough disasters tonight already,
and Shem knew it was his growing dread for his best friend that
currently endangered his own ability to keep his thoughts
straight—

Out of the darkness came the sound of a horse
galloping. Graeson gripped Shem’s arm in hope. A large horse with
the larger figure of Colonel Shin emerged from the darkness, leaped
easily over the ditch, and continued past the two men and into the
camp.

Fadh burst into a grin. “Yes!” He shook
Shem’s shoulders enthusiastically and broke into a run after the
colonel.

Shem jogged after Perrin as well, trying to
discern his demeanor by the way he held himself. Too many things
could have gone wrong. It was too much stimulation for such an
imbalanced mind.

Perrin reined his horse once he was in the
middle of the tent village, and soldiers shouted in triumph at
their commander. As Perrin wheeled the horse around, Shem caught a
glimpse of his face.

Perrin was smiling.

No, not merely smiling: beaming, almost
glowing.

Shem halted his pursuit and watched.

Soldiers were rising to their feet, punching
the air, and shouting “Shin! Shin!” Even many of the wounded being
tended to on the southern side of the camp were trying to sit up,
or shouted from their prone positions. Somewhere Roarin’ Yordin
would be smacking the ground, Shem thought with a smile. His smile
grew as he watched his friend take the cheers, a little embarrassed
by the loud outpouring aimed his way.

Colonel Shin raised his hand in an effort to
quiet their roar, but it only made the men shout louder.

Shem chuckled as Perrin turned slightly pink.
He noticed that even the surgeons were chanting “Shin!” as they
wrapped wounds. A few calls of “General!” also punctured the
air.

Shem could only hope that Thorne was already
sedated.

Somehow Perrin spotted Shem in the crowd, and
for a moment their eyes met. Only Shem was adept enough at reading
Perrin’s face to recognize the shadow of darkness that flickered
across it.

Something
had
gone wrong, but Perrin
was on top of it.

In fact, right now he was on top of the
entire world, with a devoted army to make sure he stayed there.


Men, men!” Colonel Shin
tried to shout over the chants of “Shin!” that continued to pummel
him. “Please! It’s the middle of the night, you know. Some drowsy
officer in Idumea’s trying to sleep, and your racket will startle
him off of his desk.”

The shouting dissolved into laughter as the
combined armies looked with admiration at the mastermind of the
offensive.


You’ve all done remarkably
well,” he announced to them. “I’m astounded and impressed at our
victory. Each one of you will be able to boast to your
grandchildren that you were at the Moorland Offensive—the attack
that devastated the Guarders, that destroyed their secret weapon,
and finally brought peace to our world.”

That started the cheering all over again,
with Colonel Shin vainly trying to quiet it. For once no one felt
like obeying the colonel. Then again, the colonel wasn’t
ordering
them to settle down.

Shem folded his arms and watched with amused
approval. After such a miserable year, Perrin Shin deserved to feel
a little success.

The colonel called again over the shouts of
the army. “Now, that’s not to say this offensive was executed
perfectly. I’ve discovered deviations to my plan which I’ll discuss
with your commanders. However,” he paused as he glanced around at
the dirty, burned, and bloodied soldiers that looked up at him with
reverent awe, “this isn’t the time for admonishment, but for
celebration. Men, I couldn’t be prouder of you tonight. And more
importantly, the Creator is pleased with you too. Well done!”

Before he could direct his horse over to the
makeshift stables, he was swarmed with eager soldiers who forgot
all protocol and tried to reach up to shake his hand, slap him on
the leg, or—more appropriately—salute him.

Shem grinned at Perrin’s futile efforts to
slip away. “Just enjoy the moment,
General
Shin,” he
whispered as the soldiers mobbed him. “And that title is coming, my
brother. But I must inform you, it’ll be yours in a way, and at a
time, that you’ll never suspect.”

 

 

Chapter 15
~
“Seeing as how some people weren’t where they were
supposed to be . . .”

 

 

P
errin evaluated the
eleven men surrounding the map just as dawn peeked over the
horizon. Most of them had a couple hours of sleep, but it wasn’t
enough. The map was now on the ground of the command tent to afford
every man a clear view, with the colonel towering over almost all
of them.


Look, maybe we should do
the briefing individually—”


No!” Gari Yordin called
feebly from his horizontal position on a litter. He made an attempt
to slap the side of the tent in emphasis, but the canvas merely
gave way.


Sir?” His assistant next
to him on the ground held up his hand.

The major smacked that instead. “Well landed,
Burk,” he said, pleased with the smacking effect. He looked up to
Perrin who was trying to hide a smile. “We started this together,
we finish together!”

Brillen Karna, also on the ground, nodded
wearily. He was propped up against a stump on his left with Shem on
his right, who sat next to him as a support. Brillen’s normally
light brown face was pale from loss of blood, and his leg was
bandaged extensively. Still, he proclaimed, albeit weakly, “Hear,
hear!”

Out of loyalty, the officers’ assistants also
sat on the ground taking notes and offering support to their
injured commanders.

Perrin glanced at Graeson Fadh, the only
other uninjured officer, standing next to him.

Fadh shrugged. “Whatever they want, sir.”

Only a faint moaning sound came from the
vicinity of Lemuel Thorne. He was slumped awkwardly on the other
side of Zenos, his head propped up slightly against Shem’s arm, but
lolling back and forth as he moved in and out of consciousness.
Shem leaned toward Brillen in a pretense to help him sit more
comfortably, and the young captain flopped to the ground with
another groan.

Shem quickly looked around apologetically at
the other soldiers, on his face an overly dramatic expression
worthy of the amphitheater that conveyed,
Ooh, did I do
that
?

Several men snorted.

Perrin shook his head slowly at Thorne. “How
much sedation did they give him, anyway?”

Shem grinned slyly. “It seems our brave
captain has a thing about needles. When he heard how much stitching
the surgeon planned to do, he nearly passed out all on his own. He
asked for as much sedation as possible so he wouldn’t feel anything
for a very long time. That’s why he’s not
entirely
with us
yet.”

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