by Sharon Hinck
Most of the men focused inward, gathered in an uneven circle. Only a few stood apart, alert and on guard. But even they joined the singing. I eased my way toward the circle. The men on watch tracked me with their eyes but didn’t wave me back.
Was it their custom to have a morning worship time? If so, it was a somber start to the day. I could follow the words of the song now.
In the grey of our despair,
The One will bring a light,
When our battle ends,
And we face our longest night.
Sweet life or bitter death,
He yet remains our Tower,
Facing our last journey
Held by His love and power.
I stepped into a gap between two of the guardians and caught my breath.
Denniel’s body was on the ground, still garbed in a blood-soaked tunic, skin white and empty of life. His hands had been crossed over his heart. During my childhood battle with cancer, I’d shared a hospital room with boys who had looked almost this pale. Yet even then, the breath of struggle and fire of life animated their bodies.
This was like seeing a crumpled wrapper tossed aside, useless. I wanted to turn away. Arland’s accusation replayed in my mind. Was this man dead because of me? Was there anything I could have done differently? I forced myself to stay, letting the melancholy tune twist pain deep into my heart.
As the song finished, heavy, uneven voices joined in a creed I recognized from the Verses.
Awesome in majesty
Is the One eternal.
Perfect in His might and power,
The only truth and only source,
He made all that is and loves all He made;
His works are beyond our understanding.
Arland stepped forward with a small cloth-wrapped bundle and handed it to one of the younger men. “Safe journey to the Grey Hills. Let his family know we honored him in life and death.” Arland’s jaw shifted, and I thought he was going to say more, but he gave a terse nod, and the boy left immediately. Another of the men handed something to Arland. It was a small white block, similar to the light cubes some of the men from Rendor used. Arland crouched down and placed it under Denniel’s hands.
I shuddered as I watched him touching the lifeless shell of a man who had been sharpening his dagger, joking with friends, and tramping confidently through the ferns just yesterday.
Arland slid a lever on the side of the cube. “Go with the One,” he said. He pushed himself heavily to his feet and stepped back into the circle. A low hum rose from the object.
The buzzing reminded me of the portal, and panic flashed through me. I glanced around the circle of men.
They waited with somber faces, gazes fixed on Denniel. Light grew in the cube, from a soft glow to a blaze that seared my retinas. The humming built to a sharp crack.
I threw my arm over my face and turned my head away. When I squinted back to the clearing, all that was left was a small oval of ashes. No one else showed any surprise. One by one, men slipped away from the circle.
I stood frozen, staring at the grey dust, empty and shaken.
The sounds of morning chores and murmuring voices drifted from behind me.
Verses from my own world spun in my head. “To me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Brave words that I thought I’d always believed. After all, few of my friends had come as close to death as I had as a child. Cancer had forced me to do a lot of thinking about life and death, and I’d quoted those words many times, believing I understood them better than most. Now I tasted my own dread.
I wanted to beg one of the men to lead me to Lyric so I could find the portal and go home. Dad and I would formulate a new plan to find Mom, and the One could send someone else to fight Cameron and save Rendor.
Do You really want me here, God?
The clearing was silent and the morning air chill.
I took a shuddering breath and tore my eyes away from the bed of ashes.
Arland stood across the clearing from me, waiting. Everyone else had gone, but he watched me, arms crossed, expression shuttered. “Ready?”
I wanted to snarl at him, No, I’m not ready. I’m not ready to face the things that are happening. I’m not ready to fulfill this role. Instead, I nodded and turned to leave the clearing.
“Come with me.” Arland’s expression gave nothing away. “Keep quiet and pay attention.” I blinked at him, confused.
He stepped closer, impatience twitching his face. “Can you do that?” He studied my face. “Have you eaten?”
The thought of food made my stomach lurch. “No, thank you,” I managed.
I stuck close to Arland as he wound his way among the men.
“Any sign we’re being tracked?” he asked one of the guardians who had lagged behind to scout yesterday. At the negative reply, he sent the man back out to watch for any approaching trouble. “How are supplies?” he asked another.
“Low, as always,” came the curt answer.
Arland nodded. “Take three of the men with you to hunt, but don’t go near any villages.”
The man jumped up.
One by one, Arland interacted with each of the men, collecting information, issuing orders, even dispensing a quiet word of encouragement to some.
I shadowed him, flinching under curious stares and trying to absorb all I could.
“Wade, Ian,” he called at last. “With me.” Arland led us up the rocky ridgeline to a point where we could watch the campsite.
Wade’s genial energy was subdued this morning, but he gave me a smile and asked how I’d slept.
Ian scowled at me. “Do you think it’s wise discussing anything in front of the boy? He’s the one who knew where we were. A convenient ambush if you ask me.”
“I told you; he was with me.” Wade adjusted his bulk on a rock ledge and glared at Ian. “He means you no harm. You could just as well accuse me of telling Cameron where you were.”
Arland watched the argument, then shot a knowing look in my direction. “Ian, I understand your concerns. But right now”—he paused on the word—“he’s useful. The weapons the king’s guard used came from his home.”
“Do they work like syncbeams?” Wade jumped in. He looked at Ian. “We could build a disrupter like Skyler did at Morsal Plains.”
Three faces turned to me: one eager, one speculative, and one suspicious.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t think you can build a field like that. They aren’t like syncbeams. They work with a different kind of energy.” I floundered, doing my best to describe guns and how they worked. The three men were surprisingly patient with me. “What I don’t understand is how they have so many of them,” I said when they ran out of questions I could answer. “Cameron brought only a few bags of gear through the—that is . . .” I kicked at a pebble. “He couldn’t have that many. And he’ll run out of ammunition soon.”
“Unless that’s part of what he has all the transtechs doing,” Ian said. “I say we attack Cameron in Lyric now, before he can create more weapons.”
Wade shook his head. “We need to gather more men and wait for orders.”
Arland turned to me. “And what do you think, Jake?”
To Ian and Wade it sounded like an innocuous question. They didn’t recognize the challenge underneath his words. I wasn’t going to let Arland twist me in knots any longer. I sat up tall. “Wade, Tristan is going to meet us soon, right?”
Ian’s brows drew together, but Wade nodded. “We should get word by tomorrow.”
I faced Arland squarely. “So let’s wait for Tristan.” Tristan would help me find my mom. He’d tell me how and when to declare myself as the Restorer. He wouldn’t let Arland blame me for things that weren’t my fault.
The rugged guardian tipped his head in acknowledgement, but his eyes were hard. “A soun
d plan.”
“Unless he’s trying to keep us here so Cameron’s men can find us again,” Ian said.
Wade stiffened, ready to take up that argument.
“Ian,” Arland interrupted. “I’ve heard Jake has some transtech skills. I’m assigning him to assist you. You can keep an eye on him, and he can help you with repairs you’re making. And later today you can do some more sword training with him.”
My eyes widened. What was he thinking? Bad idea.
“I can work with the boy.” Wade rose.
I sighed with relief. Having a house protector came in handy sometimes.
“No, I need your help with something else. Ian will take care of him.” Arland’s voice was bland, but satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He nudged his chin in the direction of the path. “Head back to camp.”
Ian nodded at Arland, and then his eyes raked me. “Come on.”
Wade’s voice faded into grumbling noise as I followed Ian back down the ridge. He ignored the few guardians still busy around the clearing, led me into the cave, and overturned a large pack at my feet. A confusing array of gadgets and parts littered the hard ground. He sank to his knees and rummaged in a pouch for tools. “Get busy, Jake.”
I looked at the cave entrance, wondering how long a walk it was to Lyric.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” Ian’s tight voice did little to mask the seething anger he felt toward me.
All I could do for now was make myself useful. I sank to the cave floor and picked up a smooth white cylinder with a clip like a carabiner on one end. “What’s this?”
“It’s a signaler,” Ian said just as my finger found a recessed lever.
Instantly, a blaring shriek filled the cavern. Ian launched himself at me, knocking me to the ground.
The shock of the noise and the collision of my skull against rock left me stunned.
Ian pried the gadget from my hand and turned it off. He hauled me up by the front of my tunic as several men charged into the cave, swords drawn.
I squinted against the throbbing in my head.
Arland shouldered his way through the men. “What’s going on?”
Ian gave me a shake and turned to Arland. “He couldn’t get away to tell Cameron where we are, so he found another way to reveal our location.” Disgust dripped from his words, but the look he turned on the men was triumphant. “I told you we couldn’t trust him.”
Chapter
19
Jake
A semicircle of hardened faces stared at me with open animosity.
I searched for Wade but didn’t see him. Not a single ally in the group. This was not good.
Ian slid a dagger from his boot sheath, and his eyes glinted with the same sheen as the metal. A rumbling sound rose from the men like the growl of a hungry tiger. They were out for blood.
I wrenched free from Ian’s grip and darted past him, diving for the entrance to the cave.
Sinewy hands grabbed me with the same power they used when wielding swords and threw me back toward Ian.
“No!” I shouted. “It was an accident. He—”
Ian twisted my arm behind me and forced me to my knees. Arland braced one hand on the cave wall and watched impassively.
“Where’s Wade?” I writhed to untangle myself from Ian’s grip.
“Gag him,” Ian ordered.
“No. Just listen to me. I was only—”
Ian wrenched my arm harder.
I gasped, pain spiking through my shoulder.
One of the men pulled a strip of cloth over my mouth, the knot tangling in my hair as he jerked it tight. Ian bound my wrists behind me with a leather cord. Arland didn’t move as he watched my struggle. “I sent Wade to meet Tristan and bring him here.” Expressionless, he pushed away from the cave wall. “But now we won’t be able to wait. Break camp.” His calm order stirred instant activity as the men scattered. Ian’s blade pressed cold against my throat.
My wild pulse beat against the steel as if my artery were jumping out to meet it. I strained away, but Ian had a firm grip on my arm. My neck couldn’t bend any further.
The light from the entrance dimmed as Arland sauntered forward to stand over me, blocking the sight of the world beyond this cave.
“Don’t do this. You know it’s not true.” Those were the words I tried to speak, but only a muffled groan made it past the gag. What were they thinking? Ian had heard me ask what the signaler was. He knew I didn’t mean to set it off. Why was he doing this? And was Arland going to let Ian slit my throat? Grey static flickered around the edge of my vision, and I tried to draw in more air through my nose. This wasn’t fair.
“We can leave his body here,” Ian said. “A message for Cameron’s men when they show up.”
I screamed against the fabric in my mouth.
Arland cuffed me with an almost casual blow, knocking me to the ground and away from Ian’s knife. “No, he knew about the long-range weapons. He may know more about Cameron’s plans. Bring him.”
Ian hissed a protest but yanked me to my feet.
My own aggravation matched Ian’s and then some. Arland had just admitted I’d told them everything I knew about Cameron’s weapons. Didn’t that prove I was helping them? Ian might believe I was a king’s spy, but Arland had to know better. He knew who I really was. Why wasn’t he defending me? Was he still trying to force my hand?
Ian shoved me out of the cave. Hunting parties and scouts raced into the clearing. They’d heard the signal and thought it was a call to arms. Arland explained what had happened and the necessity for another fast relocation. Most of the men jumped into urgent preparations to hit the trail again, but more bitter glares were directed at me. If I could just explain the truth.
I tugged frantically at the binding on my wrist and bucked against Ian’s grip on my arms, almost breaking free from him.
He shifted his hold and punched me square in the stomach.
I doubled over, choking for breath against the gag.
Arland turned from jamming gear into a pack and watched my struggle with Ian. He strode over and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head up so his bleak eyes could meet mine. “You had your chance to tell the truth.” His voice was soft, but veins pulsed at his temples.
We both knew it was an excuse. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d told all the men about my Restorer signs earlier—my very existence infuriated Arland. Why? I wasn’t much, but the One had sent me. Why couldn’t he take that as a sign of hope?
He didn’t flinch from the desperation in my eyes. “Keep him alive,” he told Ian. “That shouldn’t be too hard,” he added in a sour undertone meant for only my ears. Then he called to the men. “Move out.”
Ian seemed to delight in my struggle on the rugged climb down from the camp. Without my hands for support, I skidded several times on the steep terrain, my body coming down hard against rocks with no way to break my fall. Things didn’t improve as we began a fast-paced hike through jagged canyons. Every time my steps lagged, Ian shoved me hard enough to crash me to my knees. I considered trying to break away and run, but he was looking for excuses to hurt me. Too many more injuries, and it would become obvious I was healing.
I used to love watching police dramas on television. I’d sympathize with the cop on the side of justice who went a bit far in roughing up a criminal. After all, he knew the guy was guilty as sin and deserved much worse, and he was only trying to solve the crime. I suddenly felt a new sympathy for the bad guys.
We stopped for a brief rest, and Ian pulled the gag down long enough to give me some water.
“Thank you,” I rasped.
He started to tug the fabric back into place.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I blurted out. “If you’re from Rendor, you had to have known my dad.”
He tightened the g
ag with unnecessary force. “Oh, yes. I knew your father well. Though how he has a child your age . . .” He swigged from his water gourd. “He was your age when he disappeared from Lyric. That was three years ago.”
I mumbled against the cloth in my mouth and bobbed my head.
He ignored my gestured offer to explain. Since Arland wasn’t calling everyone forward yet, Ian pulled his dagger from its sheath and grabbed a twig to whittle. He peeled long strips away with the blade. It seemed to soothe him.
At least he wasn’t releasing his stress by testing his knife on me.
“Has your father told you about Ravon?”
I searched my memory. I couldn’t place the name. Was it a clan? A city? I gave a tentative shake of my head.
Ian dug a deep gouge from the wood, jaw clenched. “When your father ran from his guardian training and went to apprentice with the Council in Rendor, he was assigned a house protector. Kahlareans had been after him for years.”
Okay, I knew some of the story.
“Ravon was a good man. My sister met him during his second-year training in Rendor. I’d never seen her so happy. They were planning to wed, but first Ravon needed to finish his assignment in Lyric.” Ian paused to look at me. “Guarding your father.”
Eyes wide, I leaned forward. For the first time, I could see beyond his bitter anger and disgust. A festering injury was fueling it.
“Ravon never returned. He was killed by a Kahlarean venblade that was meant for your father. My sister still grieves for him.”
I listened, helpless. With the stupid gag in place, I couldn’t even tell him how sorry I was.
He snapped the remains of the twig and tossed it aside. “Next we heard, Markkel had disappeared. Run away somewhere. It was all for nothing.” He sheathed his boot knife and launched to his feet. He hoisted me up by my arms. They screamed in protest, strained and numb from being tied so long. “And now you come along claiming to be his son.”
I made a sound in my throat and nodded my head.
Ian snorted. “Yeah, Wade explained it. Even if it’s true, forgive me for not being thrilled to have you turn up.” His tone darkened. “I have a score to settle with your father. Since the coward’s not here, I’ll have to make due with his son.”
