The Forest at the Edge of the World(5)

Chapter 2 ~ “I’m not about to argue who has the prettier hog.”





One morning nearly two years after the loss of the king, in the Planting Season of 319, a small woman left her tiny house on the perimeter of the inconsequential village of Edge. She made her way to the schoolhouse where she taught two groups of children: little ones in the morning, teenagers in the afternoon. She rarely thought about the twenty-three administrators that now ruled, and likewise those administrators thought nothing of her at the northern edge of the world. She knew politicians were concerned about groups that carried influence and moved ideas. Individuals like her just made noise that was ignored or silenced. And the school teacher had no reason to think about men who lived so far away that they could never touch her.

But all of that was about to change.

Because of Captain Shin.

The captain stared deep into the forest above Edge that spewed out hot water and stank of sulfur and hid the Guarders. The enemy secreted themselves among the vents of noxious gases where the remains of deer decayed. The dense woods extended from the marshy eastern shore all the way to the western deserts, one hundred miles wide and at least one mile deep, rising up to the base of the jagged mountains.

And if the Guarders weren’t in the inhospitable forest, they were somehow beyond it in the massive boulder field before the mountains, with rocks as large as feed barns.

And if they weren’t in the boulder field, they somehow managed an existence in the hostile terrain of the mountains that rose up as a menacing mistake of nature. Land should be flat, not misshapen into peaks. Everyone knew that.

And at any time, according to the captured spy the High General interrogated, the Guarders would again begin their raids on the world.

Instinctively the captain rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Shin glanced behind him to see where the new fort was from his current vantage point. He stood in a swath of land, a barren buffer a few hundred paces wide that lay before the farms and canals ringing the village of Edge. On the other side was the forest that served as the natural end to civilization.

Decades ago, the villagers had been wise enough to not build anything right up against the territory of their enemy. Their foresight left plenty of room now for the fort, perimeter walls, stables, and feed barns the Army of Idumea would need to defend the northernmost border of the world.

The tall command tower, about four hundred paces away from the captain’s position, was built higher than the trees with walls that were more glass than wood. The window panes were blow thin and clear by the glass makers in Sands just for the army. The command tower afforded a perfect view of the area—forest and village—precisely as Captain Shin had planned.

He turned to peer into the trees again, making notes with a sharpened piece of charcoal on a stack of thin papers. So far he had charted nearly two miles of the forest’s border, beginning at the far eastern edge where the impenetrable marshes led to the seas. At times he could see almost one hundred paces into the forest, but other sections were so dense with pines that he couldn’t see anything beyond what his arm could reach.

Today he was surprised to find a seemingly fresh water spring bubbling up from just inside the forest and trickling out to the barren fields in which he stood, the runoff disappearing into a narrow crevice in the ground. The spring’s location would be suitable for watering the horses of the soldiers that soon would be arriving to patrol the forest’s edge. But first he’d watch the deer he observed drinking from it, just to make sure he didn’t find its corpse later.

Captain Shin jotted down another note about a high spray of hot water he saw about thirty paces into the trees. He paused when he heard shuffling footsteps in the grasses behind him.

“So, Captain Shin! Discover anything of interest today?”

“Always,” he said distractedly, continuing to record his findings as the shuffling came to a stop. He glanced over to see a small old man craning to see what the captain was writing. He nodded in approval and looked into the forest himself.

“Can I help you with something, Rector Densal?”

The old man untied his thin leather jacket. His short cropped white beard and moustache framed his ready grin. For a rector, he had an alarming air of mischief about him, as if he was about to provide some help.

And help, from such an elderly man, always strained the definition of the word.

“Warming up nicely today, isn’t it Captain? I love Planting Season! It always seems to promise a hot Weeding Season.”

“Rector?” the officer said pointedly, but hoped it sounded patient.

The old man waggled his eyebrows. “I’ve come to help you, Captain.” He crouched, faced the forest, and started to whistle. “Here Guarders, Guarders! Nice Guarders. Come out, and old Hogal will give you something sweet for your surrender.”