The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (60 page)

Perrin tilted his head at it. “Good choice of
a weapon, though, Deckett. Peto, never use a hatchet. You throw it
at someone and miss, then you’ve just given the enemy a new weapon.
Jaytsy, you could likely do some damage with that branch, but it
looks rather brittle, so one hit is all you’d get before it broke.
But Deckett, take a look at this.” He stepped back, drew his
father’s sword, and Mahrree took a few protective steps out of the
way.

As Deckett’s eyes bulged again, Perrin held
the gleaming sword out in front of him, pointed at the young
farmer’s chest. “See how long my reach is?”

Deckett swallowed and squeaked out a, “Yes,
sir?”

Jaytsy squeezed his arm. “I doubt he’s trying
to run you through tonight.”

“
No, I’m not. Now your
turn,” Perrin beckoned. “Hold out the pitchfork. No, don’t choke up
on it. Slide your hands down . . . a bit more. Now, aim it right
here,” and he gestured to his belly.

Shaking, but trying hard not to as he felt
Jaytsy watching him, Deckett held out the pitchfork parallel to the
ground. The four rusty-sharp tines were only inches away from the
colonel’s stomach.

“
Look at that, Deckett,”
Perrin said cheerfully, which, considering their positions, seemed
to Deckett completely inappropriate. “Your reach is longer than
mine. Do you realize what that means?”

“
No, sir, and I really
don’t want to—”

“
It means you have the
advantage, and four sharp points instead of my just one. Think of
the kind of damage you can do puncturing my lungs or gouging my
gut.”

“
Do I have to, sir? Think
about the damage?”

Perrin chuckled and sheathed his sword
again.

Deckett promptly put the tines of his
pitchfork in the air.

“
Deckett,” Perrin said,
taking the tool out of his hands, “I’m afraid you do. First lesson
in defense, since the road’s still quiet.”

Jaytsy and Mahrree exchanged a quick
smile.

Peto squatted, grinning that he wasn’t being
lectured for once.

“
Now when you hold out the
fork, lead with this hand,” Perrin repositioned Deckett’s unsteady
grip, “and stabilize with this hand. Then you can thrust, like
this. That’s right, son. Now—”

But Jaytsy didn’t hear anything else, because
her mind was repeating what she just heard her father call Deckett:
“son.”

He rarely called anyone “son.” Not with
that
tone of voice.

She clenched her hands into fists to keep
them from shaking in too much joy. All she could think as she
watched her father explain why stabbing in the chest likely will
get the tines stuck in the victim’s ribs, and watched Deckett grow
gray at the thought, was,
Father called him “son.”

It was only a moment later that six soldiers
arrived at the farm, jogging carefully through the plants to reach
the barn.

Perrin nodded to Deckett that the lesson was
over. “Maybe you want to help guard the house?”

Deckett shook his head. “No, sir. The
structure’s not important. They can take whatever if they happened
to come up here. The animals are what we’ll defend. All that I care
about is alive.”

Jaytsy beamed with pride, and when she turned
to look at her father, she noticed he was watching her and smiling
faintly.

He turned back to Deckett. “Well said,
son.”

Jaytsy was sure her chest would overheat at
any moment.

Perrin pointed to two sergeants. “I want you
to escort my daughter and son home, then stay posted at my house. I
doubt anything will happen, but remember: we’re protecting the
innocents. Protect those who don’t want any part of this.”

Mahrree kissed her children quickly, and
Jaytsy sent one last look back to Deckett as she started for
home.

He nodded once to her, adjusted his grip on
the pitchfork as Colonel Shin had showed him, and rooted himself
before the doors of his barn.

---

A minute later, as they headed again for the
fort, Mahrree squeezed Perrin’s arm. “You really don’t think
Deckett could ever use that pitchfork on another human, do
you?”

“
Of course not,” he said.
“There isn’t a drop of soldiering blood in that man.”

Mahrree smiled as they entered the compound.
“You sound a bit pleased by that.”

He bobbed his head back and forth, which was
his usual reaction when he didn’t want to articulate his
agreement.

“
So I’m guessing,” Mahrree
continued, “that you went through that little lesson on how farm
implements can cause injury or death because you were stalling
until the soldiers arrived?”

“
Once again you show the
insight that very few officers possess. None of those three had any
hope of holding anyone off, nor do I think they’ll have to,
either.”

“
But it was nice to see
them try,” Mahrree said as they started up the stairs to the
tower.

“
Now I’m questioning your
insight, because Mahrree, it’s not,” he said darkly. “Not
nice
to see them holding weapons at all.”

“
You’re right,” she
murmured apologetically. “That was a stupid thing to
say.”

Chapter 23
~
“The most harmful sentences begin with,
‘I
deserve . . .’
”

S
hem and one-fourth
of the army rode their fastest to the blazing fire. It was the
first but likely not the last. Already he had passed several
villagers with torches running to another abandoned house, and had
dispatched one of his sergeants and ten to monitor the situation.
Behind him were three more sergeants with their tens, and they
joined Captain Thorne with his twenty, already calling for fire
wagons.

“
Disregard that order!”
Sergeant Major Zenos yelled.

Thorne, on his feet with his sword drawn,
spun to face him. “What?! Zenos, that barn will burn to the
ground!”

“
Let it,” Shem said,
dismounting and drawing his weapon. “It’s a hay fire and impossible
to extinguish. Besides, you heard Colonel Shin’s orders: defend
only the innocent, stay out of the fights!”

Thorne gestured furiously to the fire behind
him. “Even if the fights start a fire?”

“
Especially. If you see
livestock in danger, or people who need help getting out the way,
then by all means help! Otherwise, we stay out of it.”

“
I don’t think so,
Sergeant,” Thorne announced and turned on his heel.

Until Zenos shouted, “Thorne! About
face!”

Habit made Thorne spin around, and when he
realized he’d automatically obeyed the sergeant major he
glowered.

Zenos pointed with his sword. “Thorne, you
will do exactly as Colonel Shin has commanded. And you will notice
that we have swords drawn. Thorne, what does that dictate about the
situation?”

Thorne swallowed as if gagging on something
nasty, and glanced around at the enlisted men who watched the
officer closely. “Means battle situation.”

“
Battle situation . . .”
Zenos repeated and tilted his head waiting for Thorne to finish
properly.

Thorne’s jaw shifted. “Battle situation . . .
sir
.”

“
That’s right,” Zenos said,
smiling inwardly at how much pain Lemuel’s eyes registered as
protocol required that he direct that
sir
to Shem. “Since
I’m on the field in the
battle situation,
and I’ve been
serving longer than any man besides Colonel Shin, I am in
command—here and now—and I will enforce every order of Colonel
Shin. Is that clear,
soldier
?”

Thorne’s knuckles turned white as he gripped
his hilt. But no matter how enraged he was, there was no other
response than, “Yes . . . sir.” There were far too many
witnesses.

Zenos nodded once. To a sergeant of one group
of ten he said, “Head to the southwest section. There are at least
two houses empty there. Protect the innocent, stay out of the
fighting.”

“
Yes, sir!” The sergeant
grinned broadly and took off with his soldiers in pursuit, but not
without first sending the captain a filthy look.

Zenos pretended not to notice as he gave
directions to the other sergeants and their tens, and finally
turned to a steaming Thorne.

“
Keep your twenty in the
area, Captain,” Zenos used his most commanding tone. “This is a
central location, and you can send out soldiers in twos and fours
as needed. Protect the innocent—”

“
We know, we know!” Thorne
seethed.

Shem arched an admonishing eyebrow at the
captain. He folded his arms, a rather difficult thing to do while
holding one’s sword, but Shem wasn’t going to sheath it for
anything. Not so much that he needed it to defend himself, but
because he didn’t want there to be any question that this was not a
battle situation. In fact, Shem had practiced holding his sword and
folding his arms just for such an occasion. Yes, he knew he had odd
hobbies.

“
Thorne, I’m
so glad
that you know. Now, I will be surveying the village and reassigning
soldiers as needed. Shin’s agreed to send one hundred to
help—”

“
Why not the entire army?”
Thorne demanded. “We could—”

“—
Get into a whole lotta
trouble we don’t want, Thorne!” Shem countered, with additional
layers of meaning on top. “Now, as I was saying,” he did his best
to leer at the insubordinate captain while ignoring the encouraging
grins of his fellow enlisted men behind the hated officer, “I will
reassign soldiers as needed, so make sure you’re aware of where
yours are at all times, should I need a few.”

Grumbling under his breath Thorne turned to
leave, but Shem grabbed his arm and snapped him back. To Thorne’s
affronted expression, Shem said, “I didn’t hear your response,
soldier!”

Behind Thorne a few enlisted men punched the
air in fiendish pleasure, because they knew what Thorne would have
to say next.

Captain Thorne squinted, livid, before
saying, “Yes . . .
sir
.”

Zenos gave him his most generous smile, as if
releasing a school boy who’d finally learned his lesson. “Off you
go then, Thorne!”

As Shem sheathed his weapon—only for the
moment while he mounted his horse again—Thorne murmured, “Slagging
Zenos!” as he stormed off, without any semblance of a salute.

The sound of twenty enlisted men sucking
their breath through their teeth slowed down his stalking,
momentarily.

But Zenos only called, “I heard that. And
I’ll remember it, Thorne. I’ll remember.”

Accompanied by two privates, Shem rode off to
the east where he knew a large home would be the site of
contention. He wasn’t surprised but disappointed when he found a
raging argument between two families.

Obediently the six soldiers there guarded a
nearby house sheltering residents from Moorland while they watched
the feud.

Shem reined his horse to a stop several paces
away from the screaming neighbors, and they all turned to him first
with annoyance, then with hope for allegiance.

“
Sergeant Zenos, explain to
these imbeciles how
we’re
the closer neighbor! I walked out
the distance myself!” one man insisted.

His neighbor scoffed. “Oh yeah? What’s his
first name—”

Shem drew his sword, the antidote to all
arguments. The Edgers stared anxiously at him. “Nope,” he said
simply. “I’m not going to argue for either of you. But I will tell
you to let that little girl get out and stand over there by my
soldiers so she’s safe from whatever stupid thing you’re all about
to do next.”

The mother harrumphed, but the girl, about
eleven years old, gratefully skitted away to the soldiers posted at
the other house.

“
Thank you! Not like I want
to take care of even more sheep.”

Shem smiled sadly and was about to say
something more to the adults shouting again about who should claim
the former shepherd’s home, when a movement behind it caught his
eye. He nodded to the privates to remain there, and he wheeled his
horse around and kicked it to trot around the sheepfold where
several dozen animals bleated at him. The movement he noticed
wasn’t wild dogs, but something even more menacing; thieves of the
two-legged kind.

He wasn’t surprised, but again disappointed.
While two families bickered in the front, another family was
raiding the house from behind. Shem saw a boy of about seven come
running out of the back of the house, grinning and cradling an iron
pot containing several silver utensils. His younger brother burst
out as well, triumphantly displaying a—

Shem blinked to make sure he saw it correctly
in the dim light. Yes, it was an old chicken carcass, likely the
dead owner’s last meal some weeks ago. Still his parents cheered
his efforts, until they noticed the sergeant major glaring at
them.

The father stood tall and defiant. “No one
wants these, Zenos.”

Shem scoffed at that. “Not the carcass, no.
But someone would want the other boy’s haul, and you’ve taught them
to steal—”

“
We’ve taught our sons how
to get what we deserve!” the father countered.

“
Yes,” Shem said steadily,
“I can think of all kinds of things you deserve right now, but
instead I’ll advise you to get those boys inside where it’s safe!
And in your OWN house!”

The man smiled slyly at him. “I don’t want
this house. I’ve got everything I need.” He took the carcass from
his little boy and tossed it over to a milk cart. But it wasn’t
hauling milk and cheese tonight; it was loaded with all kinds of
shiny baubles, proudly topped with a chicken skeleton.