The Last Day (Book 8 Forest at the Edge)

By Trish Mercer

Salem has been preparing for this day for 165 years.
Everyone knows where to go: the Ancient Temple Site, which 27 years ago Guide Gleace saw in vision would be the place of refuge for Salemites fleeing ahead of the Army of Idumea.
They know how to go: follow the trees with “bear” slashed marks on the trail which General Perrin Shin and his family have faithfully marked for more than two decades.
And they know when to go: gray and black banners will fly over Salem indicating that Idumea is on the move. General Lemuel Thorne, desperate for food and farms, intends to take over Salem to create the largest kingdom the world has ever seen, and unwittingly causing the Last Day as he does so.
But no one knows what the "Last Day” means, and Shem wishes the Deliverer would show up and tell him what to do before the army arrives.
And no one knows if Young Pere, who’s reluctantly leading the army to Salem, will make it home, and Mahrree won't leave without her grandson.
And while nobody knows what The Writings refer to as "the coming Destruction," Young Pere is sure of one thing:
He's running out of time before that Destruction arrives.
Book 8 is the final in the "Forest at the Edge" series: Part fantasy, part adventure, part humor, part romance, part mystery all equates to a wholly entertaining and unique family saga.
You've never read anything quite like this before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trish Mercer
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463497333

Trish Mercer

Trish Strebel Mercer has been teaching writing, or editing graduate papers, or revising web content, or changing diapers since the early 1990’s. She earned a BA in English from Brigham Young University and an MA in Composition Theory and Rhetoric from Utah State University. She and her husband David have nine children and have raised them in Utah, Idaho, Maryland, Virginia, and South Carolina. Currently they live in the rural west and dream of the day they will be old enough to be campground managers in Yellowstone National Park.

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Copyright © 2018 Patricia Strebel Mercer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, and legally I have to write that even though deep down I think they’re really out there, so characters—feel free to contact me through my website below and let’s talk about how you got into my head and what else you’d like me to write.

Cover design by Trish Mercer. And even though it may not seem like it, there are two people in it. Check the D in the title very carefully, and you’ll see them, climbing up Rock Canyon in Provo, Utah.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is also available in print.

Other titles in the series:

The Forest at the Edge of the World

Soldier at the Door

The Mansions of Idumea

The Falcon in the Barn

Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti

The Flight of the Wounded Falcon

The Soldier in the Middle of the World

The Last Day

MAPS

A pronunciation guide to some of the more unusual names Idumea: i-doo-ME-uh

Mahrree: MARR-ee

Peto: PAY-toh

Jaytsy: JAYT-see

Lorixania: Lor-ix-ZYAN-ya

Hifadhi: Hi-FAHD-hee

Cephas: SEE-fus

Qayin: KAY-in

Trovato: troe-VAH-toe

Fadh: FOD

Boskos: BOSS-kose

Barnos: BARN-ose

Contents

The 30th Day of Planting

The 31st Day of Planting

The 32nd Day of Planting

The 33rd Day of Planting

The 34th Day of Planting—a very long day

The 35th Day of Planting

The 36th Day of Planting

The 37th Day of Planting

And then . . .

Where’s the Last Day of Pie?

Centuries later . . .

Epilogue

Five points . . .

Excerpts of TheWritings

Family Trees and Lines

Acknowledgements

About the Author

The Story of Young Pere

The 30th Day of Planting

It was the light that woke him up.

It was so unusual and bright and intrusive that there was no way he could have slept through it. It poured into the room through a crack in the curtains, like a sword slicing the darkness.

Young Perrin Shin sat up and looked around in the dim light of the room. Each of the cots surrounding him in Sergeant Major Poe Hili’s crowded bedroom was filled with an exhausted and smoky-smelling officer. As much as he wanted to throw open the curtains and feel the sunshine for the first time in thirteen days, he didn’t want to disrupt anyone’s sleep. Now was not the time to have people, especially officers, angry with him.

Private Shin crept quietly to the door and opened it.

Going somewhere? asked an enormous soldier posted in the hallway. Another on the other side of the door raised an eyebrow at him.

To the latrine.

"You’re supposed to go down the hall there to use the officers’ washroom. Can’t risk any trouble."

What that really meant was, they didn’t want to risk Private Shin running away instead of relieving himself. All Shin could think was that there were no windows in the hallway and certainly not in the washroom. The latrine, however, would have afforded a peek at the sun. But that would have to wait.

Then again, he’d spent nearly two weeks in almost complete darkness while confined to the dungeon below the tower, and the light filtering in around him was already overwhelming.

Reluctantly, he headed to the washroom but then realized it’d be the first time since he was released from the dungeon that he wouldn’t be standing in his own filth. That made him smile.

A few minutes later he made his way back to where Staff Sergeant Beaved and the two guards were waiting for him.

Beaved smiled. Ready for breakfast, Private Shin?

Yes, sir!

Come on. He led him to the main doors of the officers’ quarters. The general’s waiting for you in the command tower. You’ll eat with him there. He opened the doors and headed out to the compound.

The thought of facing General Thorne for the first time in nearly two weeks made Private Shin hesitate, but his yearning to be outside propelled him onward, the two massive guards on his heels. He stepped out into the sunshine that was just coming over the horizon—

And stopped, unable to continue.

It was like standing in the presence of the Creator.

The sun was so bright, warm, and inviting, as if welcoming him back. His eyes filled with tears and he felt the need to drop to his knees in worship. He wanted to rip open his uniform to expose every inch of flesh to the sunlight. Not caring who saw him or what they thought, he did the next best thing: he spread out his arms, closed his eyes, and let the tears wash down his cheeks as the light bathed him.

How was it that he never noticed before how glorious the sun was? How did he take it for granted for so many years?

Unable to ignore the urge anymore, he dropped to his knees and, disregarding the sniggers of soldiers around him, whispered the only word that came to his mind.

Papa!

---

Over and past the mountains, in the valley of Salem, Peto Shin looked up from his breakfast. He turned to the window and noticed the sun coming over the mountains that enclosed the huge valley—

And it hit him.

It hit him with such force that he dropped his fork and covered his face with his hands. No one else noticed, too involved with their meal, but his wife did.

What is it, Peto? Lilla whispered anxiously.

Despite the clattering of dishes, noisy conversations, and scattered laughter, the word slid into his ear as a distinct plea, a hopeful declaration of Papa!

Peto trembled, unable to form the words. But realizing his wife’s grip on his arm was only going to grow more painful until he said something, he finally managed to whisper, Lilla, Young Pere’s been freed.

---

He would have knelt there for hours, but he couldn’t because a moment later he heard a familiar snicker.

"I guess being in the dungeon did do you some good, Shin."

The private opened his eyes, took a deep breath of sun-warmed air, which was still cold enough to show his breath, and turned to see General Thorne standing a few feet away, his left hand on his hip, waiting.

Now things were going to get complicated.

During his bath last night he understood why he was being released from the dungeon: he was to lead General Lemuel Thorne and the Army of Idumea to Salem. He couldn’t avoid doing so without losing his life.

Before he had dozed off, he pondered various strategies for handling the situation. With each scenario he heard Puggah whisper, That won’t work, but don’t worry—we have a plan . . .

But Private Shin had to do something.

He dropped his arms and got to his feet. Meekly he said, Yes, sir, to Thorne, then repeated the speech he had practiced. "I had a great deal of time to think while I was in the dungeon. I’m sorry, sir, for never revealing to you that I was from Salem. I just preferred being your son than being his grandson. I didn’t want to lose that. I lost it anyway, though." He looked down at his boots and hoped it had sounded sincere.

Thorne’s left hand came off his waist to push up Shin’s chin. He held Shin’s jaw firmly as he evaluated his cheeks and eyes, probably looking for signs of suffering. Thorne released him to shake the side of Shin’s jacket to see how loose it was.

Hmm, Thorne said after a moment. You look better than I expected but you’re at least a size smaller than you were.

Shin wasn’t about to tell the general about Qualipoe Hili, who was still asleep in his quarters after fighting the wildfire that ravaged part of the makeshift army encampment last night. For the past two weeks, Poe Hili had been smuggling Shin extra food when he delivered his rations. He even brought him a piece of jerky in the early hours of that morning.

I think the bath I took filled me up again a bit, sir. I’ve been feeling spongy.

Spongy, Thorne repeated. Funny. Cocking his head to the command tower, he said, Hungry?

Yes, sir. It hadn’t been that big of a piece of jerky.

Then let’s see if you’re strong enough to take the stairs. Your first climb of the day.

Shin followed General Thorne to the tower, deliberately turning his gaze away from the door that led to the records room and his old dungeon home beneath it. He was grateful to realize he could take the stairs so easily. Puggah’s daily calisthenics had kept him in shape, but as he reached the top he made sure he was panting a little for show.

Thorne gestured to the large desk that was laid out with a tall stack of pancakes, syrup, salted pork, and even a pitcher of milk. It was a shocking amount of food considering everyone was on rations. Thorne must have been confident they’d soon find Salem and its storehouses bursting with food, to feel he could be so indulgent for their last breakfast in Edge.

Buddy and Pal, Thorne’s clumsy and gangly teenage informants who had visited Private Shin frequently at the dungeon, sat at the other side of the desk. They were wearing big smiles, probably because the private smelled a whole better than he used to.

Take it slowly, Shin, he heard another voice.

He looked up to see Major Twigg smiling cautiously at him.

Men come out of there eating too quickly and they get sick, the major warned.

Thank you, sir.

Good to see you again, Twigg nodded.

Shin doubted that. Twigg’s tense demeanor caused his pale skin to always appear stretched too tight. Upon seeing Shin, the lines around Major Twigg’s mouth vanished completely and his jaw clenched. Twigg had never enjoyed being responsible for Thorne’s son.

Shin sat down and piled on the food, far too much, and did his best to not eat quickly but it was difficult.

Buddy and Pal chuckled at his enthusiasm as they filled up their plates. Apparently his new friends would be taking all their meals with him.

Thorne sat down on a chair near the desk and watched as Shin shoveled food into his mouth. Eventually he spoke.

"We leave in two hours and go straight north, climbing over the boulders. I anticipate making camp above the boulder line tonight, unless you know a way to make the journey easier for your fellow soldiers."

Shin gulped down some milk and immediately regretted it. His belly churned at its richness. Deciding it was a good time to let his stomach rest, he said to Thorne, "Sir, I don’t know of any other way. There were routes through the boulders, but after the eruption— He shrugged. I must confess that once I went up through the forest after I noticed it was dead. I couldn’t find any of the routes. They all collapsed. Climbing over the boulders is the only way."

Thorne tipped his head. Can’t take horses over the boulders, now, can we?

Shin shrugged. Perhaps that’s better. Where would you stable the horses? How would you feed them? There’s nothing growing on the mountains, sir. He glanced out the window to make sure of that, and his breath caught once again as the sun sparkled cheerfully.

Thorne studied him. You may have a point. Horses would make our journey faster, though.

But, sir, if you don’t know where you’re going, the speed in which you go doesn’t matter, does it?

So where are we going, Shin?

He turned back to his pancakes.

Sir? Buddy said timidly to the general. We can watch him now, sir. You can go back to work. We’ll keep him company.

From the corner of his eye, Private Shin could see the less-than-subtle wink Buddy sent to Thorne.

Thorne ignored his inept spy. I don’t understand why you insist on protecting them, Shin, he said calmly. In the past week and a half I’ve found a few more people who know about Salem. It’s hardly a place worth preserving. They kidnapped your mother Jaytsy and uncle Peto, and kept them in hiding all these years. They kidnapped Captain Lick’s father, who was also Lieutenant Kiah’s father, and forced him to Salem. For many years he tried to leave, but couldn’t. Shem Zenos himself saw to that. But finally Walickiah escaped, nearly losing his life to return to the world. So terrified he was of what he experienced in Salem that he was never fully himself again. When he finally died a few years ago, he was a broken and paranoid man. Tell me, Shin—why defend a place like that?

Shin only stared at his plate and chewed on a pancake while memorizing Thorne’s version of events: his already well-practiced story.

And just so you realize these aren’t isolated cases, Shin, Thorne continued, it’s recently come to my attention that Salem is holding others captive. Right now they’re holding my wife and her two oldest daughters. The one who came to visit us at the mansion was the lucky one who escaped. And even then she preferred dying in Edge than living in Salem. Now, why is that, Shin? What did Salem do to her, her sisters, and her mother? Lieutenant Kiah is the one who brought me that devastating news about my family. He also lost his life, preferring death in Edge to life in Salem.

Shin continued to eat pedantically, feeling the penetrating gaze of Thorne, Twigg, and now Poe Hili who had climbed the stairs to listen. Buddy and Pal slowed in their eating, and Beaved, standing in the corner, folded his arms and leaned against the wall. All of them were watching for his response.

So this was the story being told to all of the soldiers, the purpose for invading Salem, provided they could find it. Thorne had years of experience in creating a compelling tale, taking convenient truths and mixing them with lies for his own recipe of rubbish.

They abducted Eltana Yordin close to two years ago, Thorne continued in a low, steady voice, calculated to sound both concerned and furious. As if the poor woman hadn’t suffered enough with the tragic death of her husband Gari—

Shin noticed that Thorne didn’t mention that he was the one who arranged that tragic death.

—They came and stole her away, too. All I can figure is that it was to force her to pay for the crimes of her husband while he was a general in the world. Gari Yordin was a violent, fierce man, Shin. Many people lost their lives because of him.

Shin ate even slower but still didn’t look up, or he would have been tempted to say, But tens of thousands have lost their lives because of you, especially everyone over age fifty.

They’re holding my wife and daughters, Shin, Thorne continued, adding a slight tremor which almost sounded genuine. No ransom note, no reason, nothing. Just revenge. That’s all I can figure. His tone quavered for a family that he hadn’t thought of in years. I’m not going to allow that, Shin. Why Salemites feel justified in holding innocent women is beyond my imagination. Only a bitter, hateful society would do such a thing. Then again, look at what kind of men they produced.

Now his tone shifted to detached, with undercurrents of rage. Shem Zenos was the most evil, heartless man who ever came to Edge, Thorne declared. He destroyed the greatest man the army ever produced—your grandfather—by taking advantage of his trust and stealing away his wife.

Another shift, and Private Shin wished that he could have been taking notes. Thorne’s performance was masterful, and he sounded truly distraught as he reminisced.

"I knew them, Private. I sat in this very office and watched the two of them laugh like brothers, communicate with a silly secret system of winks and facial tics only they knew, and I saw just how much trust and love—yes, love—Perrin Shin felt for Shem Zenos."

Thorne changed again, now agitated. But Zenos made Perrin into a fool, Private. Tore out his heart and threw it in the mud. Zenos frequently went to their house supposedly bringing messages. But only Zenos knew how long Perrin would be away from his house so he could have Mahrree all to himself. I know, because I watched. I saw when Zenos left the fort and when he returned. He was with her more than Perrin was. Shem betrayed him in every way possible. That’s the kind of men Salem produces, Private. And those are the kind of men you’re trying to shield?

Shin pushed his food around his plate, making swirls in the syrup while the rest of the soldiers and officers held their breath waiting to hear what else Thorne would say, and if Shin would react.

The general’s performance was far from over. One question has been eating at me for the past twelve days, Private, Thorne continued. "Why did you leave? I can’t help but wonder what those people did to my son to force him away. They must have known who you were. What they thought of you because I was your father, I can’t imagine. I’ve stayed awake for nights sick with worry at what they must have done to my beautiful Jaytsy. What they must have done to you."

Shin struggled to keep his face still so that he wouldn’t scoff at the notion that Thorne was ever sick with worry over anyone.

How is it that they can so terrorize you that you flee to Edge with Amory—yes, I know about that, too. Thorne tried his best to sound sincere. She was married to a monster that she ran away from. What I can’t understand is, how is it that they can so abuse you as to make you risk your life to leave, yet now you can’t bring yourself to expose them? They don’t deserve your devotion. They deserve to be uncovered, to be cleansed by the Army of Idumea!

Shin answered nothing, privately musing how the army could cleanse anything. It was like expecting a mud bath to make you sparkly.

The entire army out there now knows about Salem and its evils, Thorne continued in a practiced tone that increased in volume and intensity. Every last man out there is willing to help me liberate my wife and daughters, to find and rescue Eltana Yordin and everyone else who’s a prisoner there. Every last man except you. Salem deserves my retribution for the mistreatment of my son! Salem must pay!

Thorne was on his feet now, gesturing furiously with his left arm while his dead right arm swung erratically as if wanting to assist.

I will see my wife and daughters freed, I promise you. I will not rest until they and Eltana Yordin and everyone else they’ve dragged away is breathing the sweet air of freedom again. You of all people should understand that today, Shin. I saw you out there, arms outstretched to feel the sun. How many people in Salem are suffering as you were? And for how long? Seasons? Years?

Clearly a response was expected, but Shin was too consumed in trying to spell his last name in the syrup on his plate before the gaps closed in.

You were down in the dungeon for only twelve days, Thorne tried again, but Salem’s been holding its victims for far longer. How can you refuse to help them, Shin, knowing how they suffer? This morning you felt how fantastic it is to be a free man. Why do you deny that to everyone else in Salem? Are you afraid? Is that it? Don’t you believe I can protect you?

Growing weary of this game, Shin sat perfectly still, unsure of what to say or do. Thorne had twisted Salem into an object deserving of destruction, and eighty thousand soldiers had no way of knowing it was yet another Thorney story. The general was brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Shin would have to be just that much more clever, somehow.

You’ll be safe, Shin, Thorne continued, his voice softening. "Those two guards at your door this morning? They weren’t there to prevent you from running; they were there to protect you. They’re at the bottom of the stairs right now, making sure no one can reach you who shouldn’t. Sergeant Beaved has put together a team of soldiers designated solely for your protection. These two fine privates seated across from you are part of that team, as well as a few others. Nine men, Shin! I’ve devoted nine men to staying by your side, protecting you, and helping you with anything. You can reveal Salem to us! No harm will come to you because of it. Please, son. Lek," Thorne leaned in close.

Shin bristled when he heard ‘son’ and ‘Lek’ again.

Let me give you back your rightful name. Tell me how to get to Salem and you can be Lek Thorne again. Together we can do amazing things for the world. We can rule it the way it was meant to be ruled! Trust your father. Don’t you trust your father?

Shin had heard so many things that were wrong that he wouldn’t even know how to begin to address them, but Thorne’s last question could be answered.

"Sir, I do trust my father," he whispered.

And? Thorne prodded.

Shin dropped his fork and rubbed his forehead in frustration, but hoped it would look like worry and fear.

General, Hili’s voice broke the thick silence. Consider that much of what you’ve just said to him is not something he’s heard before. Private, he said quietly, did you know about Thorne’s wife and daughters in Salem?

Focusing on his plate, Shin shook his head.

How about Mrs. Yordin? Or Lick’s father?

He shook his head again and held his forehead.

Sir, Hili turned to Thorne, give him some time to understand all of this. Let him consider and then, maybe, he’ll be more willing or able.

Able, he was already. But willing? Never.

Then again, if Young Pere gave the appearance of willing, then earned Thorne’s trust, and then sprung his trap, whatever trap that might be—

Shin, Thorne said, almost kindly, did you know about the nature of Salem?

It’s not the Salem I know, sir, Shin confessed to the table.

"So why did you leave, son?"

He shook his head.

Are you afraid to go back?

Another question he could answer honestly. He nodded.

He was afraid to face his family again. And the thought that it might happen with Thorne by his side had never occurred to him until that moment.

Already he could hear his mother’s loud sobs, see his father’s look of dismay, his siblings’ and cousins’ accusatory stares, his grandmother shake her head in disbelief that her grandson would be in the company of her greatest enemy. And what would Guide Zenos think of him?

No. Thorne must never make it to Salem. The army? Yes, that could somehow work. But Thorne?

Never.

Shin knew what he needed to do. Getting there, however, was going to be difficult.

Thorne sighed, realizing no further progress would be made and that they were wasting time. Finish eating. Then Beaved will take you to get acquainted with your security team. In two hours, we start climbing to Salem. I hope you’re ready. You’re leading the way.

---

It was an odd mix of feelings for Private Shin, to be freed from the dungeon and once again out in the world, cautiously walking on the icy patches to avoid the muddy sections of the dead forest, and feeling the sun trying feebly to warm the air that was still unseasonably cool. It was almost too many sensations after dark nothingness, and although he felt dazed by light and sounds, he reveled in the bombardment of his senses.

He chose his entrance to the forest deliberately: the new meadow his father had created last year. It would have been easier to pick his way through the deadened forest, like the majority of the army was. But Peto Shin had created this meadow as a diversion, sending a boulder at the top of it rolling down to trigger an avalanche of dead timbers which terrified the army. And it still did, judging by how many men purposely avoided the treefall area.

Into that scar which his father had inflicted on the forest, Shin willingly marched, his security team reluctantly following. Today, the messy and massive triangle-shape of felled trees was an arrow, pointing north to the boulder field, pointing to his home.

If it were just him heading north, the day would have been perfect. But knowing he was leading the army to that home sent his spirits to the bottom of his boots.

Something had to happen before he reached Salem. He just had to pay attention and wait for the right moment to . . . do whatever.

At the top of the triangular scar, Shin continued northward, eventually reaching the end of the trees and the beginning of the boulder field. He hadn’t dared look behind to see his massive audience following, but the army was a noisy bunch, crunching branches and shouting for no good reason. Their close presence hovered menacingly behind him, and they were all watching as he stopped to survey the vast boulder field before him.

His ‘security’ team of nine stood behind him, waiting for him to choose a route. Thorne lurked to the side like a stalking mountain lion, accompanied by Poe Hili and Amory. Gone was her typically revealing dresses; today she wore trousers, a man’s work shirt, and surprisingly sensible boots. Behind them, a dozen officers waited for Shin to choose a boulder and start heaving his dungeon-weakened body on to it.

Beyond, the eighty thousand soldiers waited for the tall private to make the first move, as if he had some bizarre and amazing skill and this would be his only performance.

He tipped his head at the immense obstacle before him, trying to delay as long as possible. It’s all the same, really, isn’t it? I mean, it’s just all house-sized boulders, with a few horse-sized boulders tossed in for variety. Not like there’s some perfect place to start—

So CLIMB already! Thorne thundered.

After jumping slightly, Shin made his way to a crevice between two boulders knowing that his heavy pack filled with rations, water flasks, a bedroll, and spare clothing would likely shift with each movement, potentially throwing him off balance and maybe off of the rock.

But this wasn’t a time for stage fright. He’d planned this performance and he hoped that the agonizingly long minutes he was currently spending—bracing and heaving and struggling—would convince the thousands behind him that climbing the boulder field would be a stupid and exhausting endeavor. Best to break their will before they even touched a rock.

Finally he was on top of the first rock, with about forty more ahead of him, and was wondering how he could make that take even longer when he heard a strange noise behind him. He glanced back to see that much of the army was cheering. He wasn’t used to being applauded in the world.

He waved, half in embarrassment, half in amusement, before turning back to the boulders and being purposely slow about selecting the next one.

"Everyone, get climbing!" Thorne bellowed, gesturing wildly with his left arm, and the cheering stopped. The first line of thousands of men apprehensively approached the boulders, trying to find the best place to grip the smooth rock.

Well, it was only a matter of time, Shin thought to himself. They’d realize that anywhere along the seven-mile-wide barrier was as good as any, and soon it’d be swarming with men in blue.

This isn’t so hard, he heard one of the massive guards behind him say. That one was called Iron. Or Hammer. While they weren’t quite as tall as Young Pere, the blond men were definitely beefy. The blacksmiths, perhaps in their late twenties, were perfectly suited for the rigors of the climb.

Speak for yourself! Ugh, the man in his mid-thirties who they called Teach groaned behind them. He was in for a very long day, with his paunchy belly and floppy body which saw no more exercise than what was required to slap a stick on a misbehaving boy’s arm. There’s got to be a smaller rock somewhere. Right over there. Look at that. Why didn’t we start over there?

Shin smirked as he heard another of his security team comfort Teach. It’s not so bad, once you look at the rocks in the right way.

And what way would that be, Cloud Man? Teach asked derisively.

Shin wondered why they called him that. He was just medium height, not tall enough to have his head ‘hit the clouds,’ and he was rather average in every way—his dark skin and short curly black hair looked like a fourth of the soldiers. While on the younger side, maybe only a couple years older than him, Shin would hardly have noticed Cloud Man if he didn’t speak. But as soon as he opened his mouth, Shin understood.

Think of the boulders as . . . brown clouds. Gray clouds. All kinds of shapes and bumps. They’ve fallen to the ground for us to explore. How nice!

Shin smiled when he heard Teach grunt as he attempted to scale another rock, but his smile faded when he saw Pal crawling over, probably to ingratiate himself once again.

Grassena survivor, Pal explained, jerking his head toward Cloud Man behind them. Vial head.

Cloud Man was now standing on a boulder taking deep breaths and grinning to the world.

There’s a surprising amount of them still around, Pal said quietly as if complaining to his best friend. They tried to scatter the vial heads through the ranks so that no one has an undue amount to deal with.

Shin glanced back to see if Buddy might be trying to join them for his attempt at friendliness, but instead noticed Teach lying on his stomach across a boulder, seemingly unable to find a hand or foothold. Then again, it wasn’t as if he was really trying.

Another soldier, with black hair, medium brown skin, and with a determined air about him, was trying to show Teach where to put his hands. They called him Reg, Shin remembered, meaning Regular Army.

You were one, too, weren’t you?

What? Shin said, realizing that Pal was still trying to get chummy with him. Oh, yeah. Grassena boy. For a time, yes.

They inched their way up a boulder. I never did the vials, Pal said conversationally, then hinted, I always wondered why people did them.

Not sure why I did them either. Shin hoped his curt tone might discourage Pal, but nope.

Maybe . . . maybe, Pal grunted as he squeezed into the crevice that Teach with his flabby middle would never visit, maybe to forget? Like past troubles, a disturbing childhood. I heard the vials do that.

I’m not sure. I forgot.

Funny, Pal said.

Shin nearly rolled his eyes, but instead looked up and did a double-take. How . . . how’d you get up there already?

The soldier standing on the boulder ahead of him sneered down, as if regarding a rotting corpse. It’s not really that difficult. Need a hand, Shin?

Pal shuddered next to him. "Snarl is surprising us daily with his abilities, he said under his breath. Looking up at the soldier, he said, Is rock climbing another skill?"

Snarl’s lips turned into an ugly smile, and Shin understood his nickname. He was maybe thirty years old, with deep-set eyes, greasy dirt-brown hair, and a pinched face that was difficult to look at for more than a couple of seconds. Scaling block walls up to a second level bedroom is far more difficult than this.

What were you doing climbing up to— Pal stopped, not wanting to know the answer.

Shin surveyed the rock before him. I don’t need your help, but I think Teach will need some soon. He glanced back to see Beaved and Reg rolling Teach off the boulder, effectively trapping him in the crevice behind. A loud moan came from the rock and Beaved shook his head in aggravation.

Snarl waved. Hammer, go get Teach. Throw him over your shoulder or something. I’ll keep an eye on Shin.

Think of them as clouds, Teach! came an encouraging voice. Doesn’t that ‘cloud’ jabbing into your back feel nice?

Shin heard chuckling on the other side. Buddy had finally joined them, encasing him in informants.

Look at Cloud Man jumping on these rocks. He must be part goat.

Probably his mother, Snarl sniggered. He turned to the rock before them, scanning the area. All clear, Shin-boy. You may climb without fear of running into anyone unpleasant.

Shin was sure he already had.

He heard protests behind. No, I will not be carried. Get your hands off of me! I can do this myself!

Shin finished scaling the boulder in front of him and turned around to see Teach thrown over the shoulder of Hammer.

Iron was leaning against a boulder and chuckling as Hammer tried to tackle the rock in front of him with the extra weight.

You’ll drop me, I know it! Teach bellowed, gripping Hammer in terror while also trying to find a way to get off of his shoulder.

Then move yourself! Sergeant Beaved shouted at him.

I will! I will! Just put me down. This is so undignified.

Cloud Man jumped to another boulder below Shin and started up it. Move along, Private! he called cheerfully. I can’t wait to see the view from the top!

Do you want to go ahead of me, Cloud Man?

Can I? Can I?

Shin grinned at his enthusiastic dog-like expression. Just stay out of Snarl’s way.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy . . . Cloud Man whispered excitedly as he easily made his way past and joined Snarl on the next level of boulders.

Snarl didn’t look pleased to have company.

Whew, Buddy exclaimed as he pulled his body out of a tight crevice. "This is going to get tiring. I’ve never done anything like this before. Have you, Shin? Have you ever climbed rock like this before when you were younger?"

Shin smiled internally. It wasn’t as if he had worried that the boredom he had experienced in the dungeon would continue once he was out, but he realized that between keeping an eye on Snarl, whose past life must have been unpleasantly interesting, and avoiding giving clues about his childhood to Thorne’s clumsy young spies, and watching the less-than-toned soldiers around him trying to extract themselves from crevices designed for skinnier men, and waiting for whatever unpredictable thing Cloud Man would do next . . . well, in the moments when he wasn’t fretting about leading the army to Salem, he’d be quite entertained.

---

The four men in gray and black mottled clothing hadn’t said a word for the past hour. Flat on their bellies, they peered from the overlook at the mouth of the canyon to watch the activity well below them at the boulder field. Once the first soldiers of thousands began swarming the rock, they knew.

It was starting.

One of the men pulled out a spyglass and focused on the soldiers in the lead. He held his breath as he searched the masses in blue clothing.

The three around him also tensed, waiting for the news.

Yes, the first man said. "It’s him." He exhaled in relief.

But his companions were still anxious. Woodson, one of them began, "but if it’s him—"

To their astonishment, Woodson smiled. He rarely smiled. As the head of the scouting corps for Salem, he was responsible for everyone who was going in to the world and coming back out again. That he was smiling because tens of thousands of men in blue were invading the very forest where he was born over forty years ago befuddled his companions.

Even odder, Woodson was smiling at who was leading those soldiers in his forest—the same young man who had ruined Woodson’s reputation of never losing a scout, refugee, or Salemite. The Shins’ middle grandson had tricked Woodson to join his emergency scouting party to retrieve an ill rector, then that boy escaped into the world with another run-away from Salem, Amory Riling.

But right now, the deep lines on Woodson’s leathery-tanned face seemed cheerful.

That made his scouting corps nervous.

It’s him, Woodson repeated confidently. "And he’s unarmed. Take a look. He handed the glass to another man. Every soldier out there has got some kind of weapon stashed on him. But not him. The men around him, however, all have army-issued long-knives and swords. That’s important. That means something."

The scouts around him began to smile hesitantly as well.

One of them nodded. That means it’s time for you to go and make a report. Be careful, Woodson. We’ll stay here and track their progress for as long as we can.

But not for too long, Woodson whispered back. I can’t imagine where Thorne thinks all of them are going to camp tonight. But some might make it up to here before nightfall.

Understood.

Woodson and another scout slid backward from their position, wiping the ashy dirt behind them so as to make the earth look undisturbed. Once they reached the narrow ravine that opened to the canyon behind them, they stood up, sprinted along the narrow river bank to their horses, and raced for the hidden glacial fort.

---

Peto was in the orchard looking longingly at his trees. Still nothing: no buds, no blossoms—nothing.

It wasn’t too late yet. Something still might come, he kept telling himself. He caressed the trunk of one of his favorite peach trees and analyzed its branches.

Papa, a quiet voice said next to him, it’s all right. Think about it this way—if there’s no fruit, there’s no picking up mushy rotten peaches off the ground. There’s also no raccoons raiding the orchard, or bees bothering . . . Sakal’s voice trailed off, realizing that with no fruit there was also a lot more that would be suffering.

Peto smiled and put his arm around his thirteen-year-old daughter who regarded being outside as a punishment.

You’re right, Sakal! he said sunnily, knowing his children took their cues from his mood. Maybe the orchard just needs to rest for a year. You certainly won’t mind not coming out here and fighting the hornets for apples, now, will you?

Sakal leaned against him. That’s right, she said, borrowing his brightness. Besides, we have plenty of dried fruit.

Mmm, mmm! My favorite, Peto said, trying to sound sincere. Tough, chewy fruit, shriveled for traveling and storing convenience. So much better than having juice dribbling down your chin after you’ve bitten into a fresh peach.

Sakal grinned at his ridiculously merry tone. I’ll miss the blackberries, though, she confessed.

So you’ll appreciate them even more next year, right?

Right!

They strolled back to the house, the sun hovering in the mid-afternoon sky. A layer of brownish cloud looking like old ash was slipping in front of it, filtering out the sun’s brightest rays and causing the air to chill around them again. Peto felt Sakal shiver and he wrapped his arm tighter around her.

Where’s your coat?

I left it inside when I saw the sun was out. I thought it’d be warmer.

So did I. He rubbed her arm covered only by a thin cotton sleeve. Mid Planting Season was usually much warmer than this.

She snuggled closer as they walked, not only for warmth but for comfort. Papa, do you really think next year the world will remember how to warm up again?

"I have no way of knowing what the world will do, Sakal. I just have to hope it will. Hope can get us through a great many worrisome days."

Like today?

Oh, today’s not so bad, Peto said breezily. Usually the trees show signs of doing something by now, but if they need to rest this year after such a long snowing season, that’s all right. We have plenty to see us through, right? Right?

Sakal smiled at her father’s optimism. As long as he was cheerful, she could be, too.

The chimes from the nearby messenger tower caused them both to pause and watch the banners rise.

Red emergency banner. General’s banner—now the banner for Rector Peto Shin. Guide’s banner.

Sakal swallowed hard and watched her father’s face. Peto stared at the tower as the last signal went up.

Solid gray banner.

Peto couldn’t breathe. He’d seen that banner only once, more than twenty-five years ago, when his own father had delivered them to the towers. He knew it was only a matter of time before it was hoisted, but suddenly that time was right now, and the future was abruptly shortened.

Only his daughter clutching his arm shook him out of his astonishment.

Papa? Gray banner? Sakal asked nervously.

Yes, he said slowly, unable to pull his eyes away from it. After waiting for so many years for something to happen, it was happening.

It means that the Army of Idumea is on the move, he told her somberly. They’re on the boulders.

---

In the large pasture behind the Briters’ house, Deck, twenty-year-old Viddrow, and twelve-year-old Atlee were counting the expecting cows as their brother-in-law Lek, further up in the corral, marked them with a dab of yellow chalk on their rumps. The task wouldn’t take long since the herd was still only a few dozen animals, but they were smiling because all of the cows were expecting. The herd would be growing. Life was returning.

The four of them paused when they heard the chimes, and they watched the banners go up. Their smiles turned to worried frowns. Confused, Viddrow and Atlee looked at each other when they saw the gray banner rise. Lek dropped from the fence he was straddling and jogged over to them.

Gray banner? Viddrow asked his brother-in-law.

Lek looked at Deck who had turned white. Papa Deck?

Deck’s hand covered his mouth, dragging down his face. Yes, he whispered. Gray.

DECKETT!

Jaytsy was running from the back door, ten-year-old Yenali and nine-year-old Young Shem following on her heels.

Deckett! Do you see it?

Only when his wife was panicked did she call him by his full name. Deck caught her as she rushed through the gate. "Jaytsy, calm down. It’s only gray. It’s not black."

But Deck—

I know. I know what it means, but—

PETO! Jaytsy shouted when she saw her brother striding from his orchard to the lane that led to the Zenos’s house.

Peto waved. As soon as I know, I’ll tell you. Don’t panic.

Too late, Deck called back as Peto took off in a jog.

So what does a gray banner mean? Viddrow demanded.

Lek looked at his in-laws. It means the army of Idumea is moving beyond Edge. They’re climbing the boulder field.

Jaytsy turned to her husband. Go. Follow Peto. Find out what’s happening—

Deck tried his best calming tone, the one he used for the most agitated cows. The messenger with the details won’t arrive for at least another ten or fifteen minutes. This doesn’t mean they’re invading; it only means they are on the move. Perrin made all sorts of gray banners, if I remember correctly, to designate what the army was doing and where. As long as the banners remain gray, we’re fine. Viddrow can keep planning his wedding and you can keep worrying about making the dinner afterward with the new in-laws.

That’s still six weeks away, Deck, Jaytsy said. Will our son still get to take his bride in six weeks?

Viddrow shifted nervously, his gaze darting between his father and mother. Yenali and Young Shem whimpered quietly.

Deck turned to his fourth son. All you really need is to hold her hands while Rector Shin says a few words. No huge gathering, no big meal—you don’t even need your house finished. You can stay with us.

Papa, Viddrow said, growing restless, she won’t know what gray means. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go—

Lek patted him on the back as Deck said, Her parents will know what a gray banner means. Tell her we can do it here or at her parents’ house. Tonight, even. It doesn’t matter where, just as long as it gets done.

Viddrow took off for the barn. A moment later he was riding Clark 14, bareback, to the southern part of Salem where his fiancé lived.

---

In the Shins’ home, Lilla stood at the large front window staring at the tower. Sakal, eleven-year-old Centia, and nine-year-old Morah were by her side.

"I never thought I would see it. I mean, I knew someday I’d see it. Again. Not just when Papa Pere had them laid out on the eating table explaining why he chose gray to represent Idumea, but I just didn’t think it would be now. I mean, with everything and all, it only makes sense that I should see it again, but to actually see it, up there, flying on the tower . . ."

Mahrree smiled at her babbling daughter-in-law. She wrapped an arm around fifteen-year-old Kew who stood close to his grandmother in case she needed supporting. She was strong and steady, but she wanted Kew to feel useful anyway.

Remember, Lilla—it only means the army is moving. It doesn’t mean it’s being successful. I can just imagine them trying to climb those boulders! she chuckled. Kind of wish I could see them flopping like lost fish on the rocks.

She watched the previously-unused banner, still with creases in it from its many years of being folded, flapping in the breeze.

Perrin had folded it. Those creases were because of him.

She knew her smile was growing, and it was terrible to be so happy at a time like this, but she couldn’t help it.

Perrin was now climbing the boulders, on his way back to her.

---

Shem saw the banners flying all over Salem. It was impossible to miss them. He was visiting a rectory on the eastern side when he heard the chimes. He didn’t worry about it until a dozen Salemites came storming into the rector’s house where he was visiting.

Guide! Gray banner! What does it mean?

Shem was startled, but only for a moment. He knew full well it was coming, he just didn’t know what day. He rushed out the door and looked at the nearest tower. Boulders, he whispered to the crowd pressing around him.

We’ll get your horse, Guide, the rector said and gestured to his son to retrieve Shem’s mount.

He raced Silver home, hoping to be there when the messenger from the glacial fort arrived. As he rode up to the barn he shared with his married sons Lek and Boskos, he could see a small crowd of family and neighbors watching for him. He left Silver in a stall, rushed out of the barn, and over to Peto at his front porch.

No messenger yet, Peto said, but should be soon—

As if waiting for those words, the sound of another set of hooves came down the lane. Everyone turned to see a young man dressed in mottled gray and black, riding fast.

He rushed straight for Shem, a folded parchment in his outstretched hand. Guide, for you!

As I assumed. Shem smiled calmly and gestured to his sixteen-year-old daughter. Huldah, get him something to eat—

But, Guide, I’m supposed to return with a response—

I know, Shem said patiently. But a response may take a few minutes to compose. Rector Shin? Follow me to my office, please.

Uncle Shem! Cephas called after him. Don’t we get to hear the message?

Eventually. Rector?

The two men strode into the house to hear Calla say to the growing crowd, How about we all sit down on the front steps?

Shem could feel the tension of everyone following him in the form of Peto as they made their way to his large office at the back of the house.

Trying to keep his own worry contained, Shem sat behind his desk as Peto grabbed a nearby chair. He sat down hard and bounced his leg nervously.

Shem opened the message and read.

Peto’s leg bouncing increased in tempo and severity.

Shem nodded slowly, then stopped reading.

Now Peto’s chair began to creak in time.

Shem glanced at Peto and finally folded the message—

You’re killing me, here! Peto barked.

Shem smiled. I never kill anyone if I can avoid it. I just give people something to remember me by. Perrin’s advice—

"SHEM!"

Shem chuckled apologetically, then sobered. Last night, the entire army of Idumea gathered in Edge and promptly started a fire which burned a big section of tents well into the night. I think that’s the haze we see in the sky now. Then, before midday meal today, the army began to scale the boulder field.

Peto sat back, deflated. How many?

Remarkable, really. By the scouts’ estimates, at least eighty thousand soldiers—

"Eighty THOUSAND? Where’d they get them all?"

My guess is they conscripted most of the able-bodied men.

"But eighty THOUSAND?"

Yes, Peto. Say it as often as you wish, the number will not change. And Peto, that’s the correct number.

The correct number? What do you mean?

Shem pulled out the copy of The Writings that sat on his desk, the margins filled with his notes and thoughts. He opened to the back of the book, to Hew Gleace’s vision. You were there, Peto. Hew saw fifty thousand marching into the dead valley before the ancient temple ruin—

But there’s EIGHTY THOUSAND now!

And one third ‘Lost to fear’?

Peto sagged. Two-thirds of eighty thousand is . . . about fifty-three thousand. He closed his eyes. "Shem, is this it?"

"I don’t know, Peto, I really don’t. But it’s looking like it."

Peto opened his eyes because Salem’s planning rector began to consider logistics. Where are they all going to camp?

Shem held up the message. That’s what the scouts are wondering. I suspect most of the men won’t make it over the rock tonight and will sleep in the crevices.

Not a pleasant way to pass the night, Peto scoffed.

Feel badly for them?

Hardly!

Shem smirked. The scouts are watching their progress. We can expect updates every few hours. Once the army has cleared the boulder field, the scouts will fly the next gray banner signaling that they’re in the canyon.

Hmm, Peto said. I’ll have to pull out the general’s notes to see which gray pattern designates ‘Army in canyon.’ Shem, should we consider . . .

Moving the people? he guessed. I think it’s a little premature. The army may give up and turn back. Not until they approach the glacial valley will I give the order to start for the ancient temple site.

That’s what Father would have done. Peto stood up, assuming they were done.

Sit down, Peto.

Worried, Peto slowly sat down again. What have you not told me yet?

Shem paused. I don’t think you should share this with Lilla yet, but—

Is it Young Pere?

Shem nodded. They’ve spotted him. He was the first one on the boulders.

Peto closed his eyes again. No . . . no . . . no . . .

But Peto, I don’t think it was his choice.

The optimism in Shem’s tone made Peto open his eyes. What makes you say that?

The scouts didn’t see him carrying a weapon. Everyone wore either a sword or a long knife, but Young Pere didn’t wear a belt or sheath of any kind, and he was surrounded by armed men.

Weighing that information, Peto looked out the window. They released him early this morning.

I know. I felt it.

So what did they promise him to get him to cooperate?

"Maybe he isn’t cooperating, Shem suggested. Maybe that’s why he was locked up in the first place. He might be on our side."

Peto shifted his gaze to Shem and chanced a smile. Maybe he can get them lost?

Maybe he can buy us time, Shem agreed.

But, Peto’s hope was short-lived, "if he wastes too much time or pushes Thorne too much, then Thorne will become irritated—"

Then again, Peto, maybe not . . .

Peto never did understand why some people enjoyed suspense. The few books of that nature that he took the time to read created in him an urgency he didn’t appreciate, and he’d always thumb to the back of the book to see how it all ended before he’d invest any more time in it.

He desperately wished that today he had The Story of Young Perrin Shin in his hands so he could see how it would all end.

Shem broke into his brooding with, He’s still alive, Peto.

But for how long, Shem?

---

Versa knocked on the front door, and a moment later it swung open.

Mrs. Kiah! I mean, Miss Thorne. Or is it—

Versa, she said to her new rector’s wife, a kind woman with a perpetual smile. Just Versa, now.

The rector’s wife smiled wider. Understood. What can we do for you?

Versa gestured to the tower in the distance, the northernmost one built. "What does that mean?"

A voice from behind the rector’s wife called, Found it! I knew it was in that file somewhere, I just had to . . . ah, Mrs. Ki—I mean, Versa.

Hello, Rector. I was just wondering about— She cocked her head to the tower flying the gray banner.

Aren’t we all! he exclaimed, waving a large sheet of parchment covered with writing. Come in, come in. Three of our children ran down to the tower to get the official word, but I knew I had the information somewhere in my office.

Versa followed the rector and his wife into their gathering room. There are quite a few people collecting at the tower, she told them. I just didn’t feel like walking all the way over there. Crowds and such, you know, her voice quieted. In case it means . . .

They knew her story so she didn’t bother to finish her explanation. Instead, she plopped on their sofa and sighed.

The rector’s wife sat next to her and patted her leg. Don’t you worry about anything or anyone, Sweety. You can’t get further away from the world than here.

The rector nodded. "No one here cares who your father is, Versa. We care only for you. I think you might find this interesting." He handed her the parchment and sat down next to her.

Banner codes?

"Yes, in his handwriting, the rector said reverently. General Perrin Shin. I went with my father to the meeting the general called when he visited. I was around your age. He gave one of these charts to every rector. This was in my father’s possession until I took over the rectory when he died. We have all of the banners memorized, except for these. He took the parchment and turned it over. The Gray Side, the general called it. He didn’t want anyone overly concerned with these until the time was necessary, so he wrote those codes on the opposite side."

Versa stared intently at banner signals in the general’s writing.

Solid gray—Army of Idumea attempting to breach the boulder field.

Versa exhaled, as did the rector and his wife.

"Just how bad are those boulders?" the wife asked nervously.

Very, Versa told her. They’re enormous, like thousands of elephants turned to stone and stacked precariously upon each other.

The rector smiled at her description. Been reading about the expeditions to the far west, I see.

Versa smiled faintly back. "Actually, I’ve been reading Terryp’s Stories of the World. I needed something fanciful to distract me."

Well, I imagine Rector Shin and the Guide will be sending further details once they have them, the rector said. As soon as I receive word, I’ll be sure to let you and your mother and sister know what’s happening.

Thank you, Rector. Versa sighed and read the rest of the codes.

Striped gray—army in the canyon.

Mottled gray—army at the glacial fort.

Spotted gray—army approaching Salem.

Black with white sword—evacuate your area immediately

Solid black—army has entered Salem

I don’t think we need to worry until we see the mottled gray banners, the rector decided. The army may give up well before then.

But still, his wife said, this would be a good opportunity to tell all the families in the rectory to check their travel packs and make sure they’re not in need of anything. As her husband nodded in agreement and made a note, his wife continued. Versa, your family each has a pack, right?

Versa nodded blankly.

Picking up on her silent cues, the rector’s wife patted her leg again. How are you doing, dear? Really?

All right, I suppose, she said distractedly, still staring at General Shin’s writing. She felt oddly connected to it, probably because it was signaling what her father was up to. Still, there was something about General Shin’s hand that almost beckoned to her.

It seems that a few weeks after the request has been granted the reality of it all sinks in, the rector prodded gently.

Versa bobbed her head, because that was also at the back of her mind, trying to push forward for no good reason. I don’t know why it should bother me. I’m the one who requested the termination of marriage.

But it doesn’t mean you’re entirely happy about it.

My marriage didn’t even last seven moons, Versa exhaled in disgust. Although Guide Zenos said he thought it was a miracle it lasted that long. She chuckled sadly. It’s not that I really loved him. Not the kind of love I see here. It’s just—

When she didn’t finish, the rector’s wife suggested,