The Forest at the Edge of the World(153)

It was better that way, he reasoned. He wasn’t finished for another ten men.

The forest remained silent, and he looked around to orient himself. He was probably two miles west of Edge, and the men had been running from the west. Maybe several more pairs were on their way, or had already passed him below or above his point near the boulders.

A surge of heated dread rushed through Perrin. Targets might be slipping past him, or he might be surrounded and not even know it. It would take only two men to make it into Edge, to find his house—

He darted out of the cover of the boulders, not entirely sure where he was headed. He readied another arrow as he made his way through a thicket of trees, trying not to bump into any of them.

He stopped, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Think Perrin, think . . . don’t panic, just think. How can you find them?”

Tracks.

He rolled his eyes. Yes, no problem tracking at night.

He peered into the dark forest and whispered, “Dear Creator, please guide me. Please save my family. And if it is Your will, let me walk out of here again.”

It was in the corner of his eye that he noticed the movement. Without even thinking, he raised the bow with the arrow already in position and let it fly. It hit its target, barely fifty paces away. The man holding the jagged dagger fell to the ground with a soft thump.

Perrin already had the next arrow readied, waiting for his companion. A cascade of snow falling from a tree to his left spun him to look to see what caused it.

The black shadow burst out so fast that initially Perrin thought the tree was falling, until he saw a glint of steel right in his face. He fell backwards as the weight of the Guarder pushed him down. The bow was no longer in his hands as he wrestled with the man, much smaller and weaker than him.

Perrin flipped the Guarder off of him, throwing him into the snow. As the Guarder rushed to stand up, Perrin lunged, pushing the man on to his stomach. Perrin kneeled down on his back, shoving his face into the hard snow. With his free hand, Perrin pulled out one of his long knives as the Guarder wriggled to free himself from suffocating. Perrin lay on top of the man, crushing him with his full weight.

With the blade of his long knife up against the Guarder’s throat, he whispered in his ear, “Where are the others?” He yanked up his head to allow the man to answer.

“You’ll never get out alive!”

“That’s not what I asked. Where are the others?”

The man merely laughed.

Until Perrin cut his throat. “Four. And all of that was just to divert me from seeing your companions, wasn’t it?”

He stood up quickly and faced the forest. He barely registered that another man was rushing him until he felt the smack in his face. Instinctively, Perrin went on all fours and rolled down the ravine to a cluster of shrubs. There he stopped to look around to find his attacker.

He came trotting down the ravine, his jagged blade out and ready. Perrin charged up the slope, his own long knife still brandished.

The Guarder never had a chance. He was obviously not used to running in the snow, because his feet slipped out from underneath him, sending him sliding right into Perrin’s blade.

“Five,” he whispered as he dropped the body on to the ground. “Where’s number six?” It took only a moment to discover him. Perrin beckoned him with his knife that was dripping red drops into the snow.

The man thirty paces away instead turned and ran to the south, towards Edge.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Perrin took off in his own slip-sliding race towards the man who was narrower, swifter and unfortunately, more elusive. Perrin looked ahead through the trees to try to determine where he might be.

“Yes!” he whispered as he continued his pursuit. Karna should be about eighty paces away from where the Guarder would break from the forest in his race towards Edge.

Perrin stopped to catch his breath, and a second later the silence of the woods was broken by his ear-piercing whistle. He practiced it frequently as he strode along the forest’s edge. He knew it carried far, because on several occasions when he puckered to the trees, a flock of birds would fly out in alarm, at least five hundred paces deep. He followed the long, high-pitched noise with three shorter whistles. Then he held his breath and waited for the response.

One quick whistle. Karna would be waiting.

Perrin bent over to slow his breathing and waited to hear if Karna was successful. About half a minute later Perrin heard shouts, the clang of metal, and a cheer that was immediately muffled, most likely by a sergeant’s hand covering an over-eager private’s mouth.

“What did I say about keeping it quiet?” he groaned silently at the premature victory. “Six more. Keep your eyes open!”