Soldier at the Door(176)

But not Zenos. He actually did ponder the weightier things of life, and not once did Gizzada ever cross his mind.

But tonight something else would occupy him.

It wasn’t until his second hour along the dark forest’s edge that he saw his opportunity. While no other soldiers were near, Zenos clucked his horse to the fresh spring and tied him securely behind a boulder and out of sight. Then he lined himself up with the boulder and marched twenty-seven paces, turned, went another thirteen paces, turned again, and continued on until he saw the steam rising and the man waiting.

“What’re you doing here?” the startled man in green and brown mottled clothing asked Zenos. “Everything all right?”

“Nope,” Shem said, noticing that a few more camouflaged men came out of the shadows to greet him. “General Shin came in with eight guards, and two of them aren’t right. One called himself Xat, and the other, Heth—Dormin’s brother.”

The men looked at each other and nodded.

“Heth?” one large man said. “Definitely trouble. But two of them?”

Zenos sighed. “What should I do?”

“We’ll get working on a plan. In the meantime, do your best to keep a close eye on them.”

Zenos held out his hands, exasperated. “That’s it? Nothing else?”

One of the men gestured back to him in the same way. “We’ll be working on it! Now get back on duty!”



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It was well after midnight when Corporal Zenos, fresh off his shift, made his way from the stables to his barracks. The long, low building was attached to the guest and officers’ quarters by a wide hallway. That hallway also connected to the surgery wing, the mess hall, the command tower, and supply buildings, so that in the cold snows of Raining Season no one needed to walk outside unnecessarily. Wet, cold soldiers, Major Shin and the surgeon believed, frequently became sick, useless soldiers.

Slowly ambling to the barracks building, Shem was lost in thought—as he had been all evening—trying to understand how he would deal with the problem that two of High General Shin’s guards weren’t exactly there to guard him. How could he lure both of them to the forest, or away from the general?

He couldn’t handle this alone, but for now he had no choice. Help wouldn’t be coming until tomorrow, if those in the forest came up with a solution.

The towers were a bit bothersome.

Shem always felt so brave up in the forest, but down here much of his resolve slipped away, because he was alone. He couldn’t reveal his concerns to anyone. Once he considered heading over to Major Shin’s home, but how do you wake someone up in the middle of the night to say you have a “gut instinct” about something? The lieutenants were officers, after all.

So how in the world did Guarders infiltrate the Command School?!

Shem glanced up and was surprised to find himself heading towards the guest quarters, instead of his barracks. He shook his head and turned to the left. Consumed again by worry, he wandered.

He couldn’t let them succeed, at whatever—or whenever—it might be. He had to come up with plans himself, in case he didn’t have until tomorrow.

After several minutes Shem again looked up and blinked, stunned to find himself in front of the hall to the guest quarters again. Somehow he’d walked in a circle.

There are no coincidences.

There was a reason for this.

He swallowed hard and opened the door to the hallway of the guests’ quarters. He crept quietly into the dimly lit passage and shut the door noiselessly. Suddenly he felt an immense desire to get to another passage that intersected the main one. As he snuck down the corridor, he heard a slight sound coming from the hall he was approaching.

He peered around the corner and saw two dark figures standing before a door, as if in intense, quiet conversation.

Shem’s stomach twisted nauseatingly, but he also knew why he was there. He’d been directed. Reluctantly, he felt for the hilt of his sword, but instead remembered Major Shin’s advice. He didn’t have to kill them, only give them something to remember him by.

He’d never caused a death before. That was the real reason he hadn’t drawn his sword during the raid last season. He just couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

And he’d never tell anyone that. How could he be in his position and refuse to take a life?

Actually, that was an inaccurate phrase—take a life. It’s not as if one claims it for himself. Rather, it should be end a life. Everyone loses. Shem wore the sword only for show. And most days, he never slipped the long knife into his boots. He’d rather lose his own life before ending someone else’s.

But as his mouth went dry, he realized he might have to abandon his creed.