by Sharon Hinck
Outrage wrenched through me, and common sense snapped like a thread. My father was no coward. I roared and drove my head into Ian’s chest with all the force I could muster, sending him crashing backward. I landed on top of him and slammed my head against his.
He flung me onto my back, my own weight crushing my tied arms. His knife was in his hand again. “Fine. We’ll settle it now.” His words were a strangled knot of fury. “For Ravon and Ailyn and the life they’ll never have together.” His hand drew back.
I braced for the strike of the blade.
“Hold.” Arland’s quiet command froze us in a lethal tableau.
Ian turned his head slowly and looked up at his commander, the blood haze clearing from his eyes. Arland offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. “I need him alive for now.” No rebuke, only sympathetic understanding. “I’ll watch him for this next leg of the march.” Ian gave me one more killing glare and fell in with the men who were moving out.
Arland stared down at me. “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
The injustice of that comment drove another muffled yell from my throat.
He lifted his dark eyebrows, unimpressed with my indignation. “On your feet.”
He offered no assistance as I rolled to my side and struggled to get my legs under me and stagger upright. Once I was standing, I glared at him, breathing hard through my nose.
“Any more tantrums, and I’ll let Ian practice his carving skills on you.” Arland’s mouth quirked in speculation. “What do you think he’ll do when he sees you heal?”
Horror washed through me again. They wouldn’t kill a Restorer, would they? I watched the men marching out, their frustration as ever-present as the heavy grey sky. Ian might. He was angry enough. And how long would it take to kill me? I remembered the stories about my grandfather Mikkel. They claimed he was stabbed fifty times or more.
My head drooped as I set out after the column of men. Arland followed at my heels. At least he didn’t shove me like Ian had.
Drizzle wafted down, and I savored the cool touch against all the aching scrapes and bruises that hadn’t finished healing. Soon the rain fell hard, and I struggled to keep my footing on slick rocks and hard-packed mud. My mind slipped along in a path as unforgiving as the landscape.
Nothing was going the way I’d planned. I still didn’t know if my mom had escaped Cameron and returned home safely. And what response had Lukyan received as he sent out word that the new Records were fakes? Was he all right? Had Linette made it safely back to Sidian? My mind dwelt on her for several bright minutes. I heard her words again. Jake, if the One has called you to be the new Restorer, He’ll show you what to do.
Show me. Please show me.
Tristan and Wade would join us soon. I needed to stay alive until then. They’d listen to me. We’d come up with a plan to stop Cameron and reclaim Rendor from the Kahlareans. I thought about Ian’s bitter anger. It was the Kahlareans who killed Ravon and my grandfather. We were all on the same side: Ian, the guardians, and I. Tristan would show Ian who the real enemy was. He’d convince Arland to trust the One.
Show me Your plan. Be with me.
Rain weighted my eyelashes, and I blinked against the cloud of water beating down in front of us. It seemed thicker than a normal downpour. I couldn’t see the other men up ahead. A fog swirled around my feet; the trail disappeared, and I slowed, confused. Mist welled up around me. I expected Arland to bark an order or jostle me onward, but he had vanished as well.
The mist wrapped around me like my favorite sweatshirt. I couldn’t step forward—didn’t know where forward was anymore. A sense of peace arrived with a soft pressure that drove me to my knees. I sank to the ground. This was the same holy presence I’d sensed in the grove outside of Lyric. I forgot my bound wrists, my bruises, the unjust anger that had lacerated me. My awareness filled with the One: the same One who inspired the awkward poems in my notebook at home; the One who breathed comfort into my heart those many nights in a hospital bed when I was a child; the One who was calling me to be a Restorer for my father’s people in this world.
I didn’t hear an audible voice, but He spoke anyway. As I thought about my mother, a stilling hand calmed my mind with an impression that it wasn’t my task. Instead, urgency pulsed through me to spread the news that Cameron’s Records were a lie. This time more direction unfolded.
Rendor appeared like a photo in the mist—the clan I had never seen. Tall buildings of wood and clear windows rose up near a wide river. Homes stood empty. Kahlareans sauntered through the streets. Compelling purpose welled up inside me. The clan had to be rescued. No space remained in my thoughts for doubt. This was why He’d brought me here.
Deep breaths pulled the mist into my body until I was saturated with peace. Time stopped. Love wrapped around me and shut out all my confusion and fear.
The visions in the mist disappeared first; then the tufts of fog swirled away. I was kneeling on a rock-strewn trail again, rugged cliffs boxing me in from each side. Arland circled from behind and crouched down to face me.
I lifted my head, hoping he would think the moisture on my face was rain.
His cheeks were bloodless, eyes wide. “What was that? What happened?”
I could only shake my head, my own body still trembling with the awe of the One drawing close in a tangible way.
Arland pulled the gag away. I tried to answer him, but my throat was dry. He pulled out his canteen and guided some water into my mouth.
“Thank you.” I didn’t want to try to explain. I didn’t want his sneering rebukes to spoil the peace I still felt in my very lungs. “He was here. The One.”
Arland’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What did He show you?”
So much. So little that I could explain. I tried to shrug but winced at the pain in my shoulders. “Different things. But I know I’m meant to help Rendor.”
Arland studied me with a clenched jaw. “How?”
The edge of my mouth pulled up. “I don’t know.”
Weary lines added heaviness to Arland’s face. He was a guardian who had sworn to follow the Verses and protect his people. He had ridden with my mother to defeat Hazor. He was a good man baffled by the inexplicable disasters that had come in the past several seasons—not sure whom to trust. I got that.
“The One is with you.” I felt the steel of truth in my voice.
Arland sucked in a sharp breath as if I’d punched him. Then he reached forward, slid the gag back in place, and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. We’re falling behind.” But there was no harshness in his manner. I wondered if he could feel the peace that still beat inside my pulse.
After another hour, the rain stopped. The effects of my encounter began to lift, and I wished I could pull back the happy daze I’d experienced. I was hungry and exhausted, and my arms ached from their unnatural position. The terrain gave me no clue of where we were hiking.
Striding alongside me in grim silence, Arland had gone back to regarding me as a troublesome piece of cargo and finally left me in Ian’s care again. The last vestiges of my peace fled under Ian’s shoves and grumbled insults.
As the glow of reassurance from the One faded, I thought of Arland’s question: “How?” The One had confirmed that He was present and had given me a sense of His purpose for me. But why couldn’t He give me specifics to work with?
I still didn’t know when to declare myself as the Restorer. I didn’t know how to convince the men to take a stand against the Kahlareans. I didn’t know where my mother was, and the One’s reassurance that He was caring for her suddenly didn’t feel like enough.
Ian gave me a vicious jab, sending me stumbling forward again.
How? How exactly was I supposed to accomplish any grand purpose? I was bound and gagged and surrounded by men who believed I’d betrayed them—or hated me for other reasons.
Stay alive until Wade and Tristan catch up. Everything will be fine then.
Chapter
20
Jake
Arland relented enough to untie me at supper, keeping me separated from the rest of the men. He stood over me, sword drawn, as I choked down some stew and bread. My arms burned as circulation returned to them, but I fought to hide the pain.
“Does Wade know where to find us?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
Arland buffed an invisible smudge on his sword and then studied me. The crease in his forehead deepened. Finally he gave a small nod. “He knew where we’d head next. They should meet us here tomorrow.”
Hope revved up my pulse. “Where are we?”
Again, Arland considered before answering. “Near Corros.”
“Where Hazor rode out to attack Lyric?” My parents had filled me in on that event. I’d been in Lyric at the time, but couldn’t remember much because of Medea’s control over my mind during those days.
Arland nodded.
So we were close to Lyric. Maybe the guardians planned to follow Ian’s suggestion and attack Cameron in the capital.
Despite divulging that much information, Arland hadn’t softened toward me. He made sure the leather cords were firmly in place when he cinched me to a tree.
I spent a miserable night sitting braced against the trunk, dozing for a few seconds at a time before my head would bob forward and wake me again. It was worse than sleeping on the school bus during the cross-country drive to a youth group camping trip. My back cramped with pain. Ian had everyone convinced that I’d do all I could to call attention to our hiding place, so the wretched gag stayed in place, leaving my mouth pasty with a dry taste like burlap.
When the makeshift camp stirred to life the next morning, the hostile glares and threatening glowers fired my direction hit me with the sting of paintballs. I had assumed Arland kept me apart so I couldn’t win the men’s support or trust. But maybe he was just trying to keep me alive.
I hadn’t been particularly popular in high school. Not much of an athlete, except for using my speed and agility in soccer. Too straight-laced to fit with the fringe crowd. Too awkward by half. But, though I sometimes felt alienated or ignored, I’d never been despised by everyone around me like this.
They don’t know the truth about me. Their opinions don’t matter.
Still, their scorn made me shrink inside.
Arland’s mud-spattered boots planted themselves in my line of vision, and I forced my head up. He looked as grumpy as ever, but I was glad to see him. Sure, his power over my fate was a constant threat. But twice now he’d stopped Ian from killing me. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to write off the promised Restorer as he tried to be.
He untied me and led me through the woods that surrounded the camp to a stream, where he stood guard while I drank deeply and splashed a few layers of grime off my face and arms. He stayed alert, as if expecting me to attack or run. He had a lot more faith in my strength than I did.
I had no weapons, and my legs barely supported me. With the cords removed, ligature marks on my arms began to heal, but my muscles were slower to recover from the long, painful night.
Arland perched on a tree stump, spine relaxed, but eyes watchful. “We’ll stay here today to wait for Wade and Tristan.”
I was wary of how to respond. I shook wet hair back from my face and straightened, kneading a fist into my lower back. “Sounds good.”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Yesterday the men were distracted with the hike. But a few dozen angry guardians who feel betrayed and have time on their hands . . .”
It didn’t take much imagination to follow his thoughts. The cold water in my stomach hardened to ice. I looked at him more closely.
Hollow eyes burned in their sockets as if his sleep had been as poor as mine last night. He acknowledged my worry with a brief nod. “I’ll do what I can to keep you out of sight.”
That small hint of support thawed some of the chill in my gut.
True to his word, Arland positioned me deep under a wide-branched tree away from most of the activity in the improvised guardian base. When he tied me, he left a little more play in the cord. Then he held up the gag. I couldn’t restrain a moan.
He ignored that and pushed my head forward, knotting the fabric firmly in place. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself, understand?”
I could only nod.
Arland stalked away to organize the morning’s activities. He sent most of the men out foraging or patrolling but stayed within sight.
I whiled away time by experimenting with some of my heightened senses. I watched the progress of a shiny beetle deep in the woods on the far side of the clearing. Next I focused on quiet conversations I shouldn’t have been able to hear. At first, the jumble of voices made my head ache, but I kept practicing, directing my focus and learning to shut out extraneous sounds.
“I’ve family in Lyric,” one grizzled man was saying. “Hard to think of being this near to them.”
“Are we really that close?” Ian asked. He was reassembling a heat trivet, tools spread out around him on the ground. I’d made a point to keep track of Ian, and was relieved that so far he hadn’t even glanced in my direction.
“Mm-hmm.” The old man handed a long, metal-tipped tool to Ian. “Just over that ridge you’d see the open plains of Corros Fields.”
When I tired of eavesdropping on random conversations, I closed my eyes and talked to the One. I composed more verses to the poem I’d begun about Lyric. While I was wrestling with a phrase that wasn’t quite right, the earth vibrated with the pounding of approaching hooves.
Arland turned from a conversation with one of the men and drew his sword, running out to meet whoever was approaching. Ian abandoned his gear to watch Arland’s back. They left the clearing and my line of sight, but I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds. A lehkan skittered as it was reined in, and the thud of heavy feet hit the ground.
“Wade. Well met. Where’s Tristan?” Arland’s voice.
An exasperated sigh. “Not coming. Zarek has Sidian sealed up tight—nervous about the clans. Tristan got a messenger out to tell me, but he didn’t dare leave Kendra in Zarek’s power, and she can’t travel. Where’s Jake?”
Someone growled. Probably Ian.
Arland cut in smoothly. “I’ll fill you in. But first, what word did he send?”
“He appoints the command of the guardians to your care.” My imagination filled in the picture of Wade thrusting his shoulders back in respect. “He recommends going ahead with the plan, but leaves it to your discretion.”
“And you’ll follow me?” Arland asked in a measured tone.
“Of course.” Wade sounded confused. “Now where’s Jake?”
“Dead if I had my way,” Ian said. “We know he’s working for Cameron.” He gave a twisted account of what had happened yesterday, along with all his speculations of my intent to lead the king’s guards to them. Wade interrupted with questions.
Arland spoke low, and I strained to the limit of my hearing to catch his words. “I know you swore to protect his house. But your first loyalty is to our people. I can’t let Jake keep us from our plans.” The fact that there was genuine regret in Arland’s voice didn’t comfort me at all. He might shed a tear at my funeral, but I’d still be dead. “He’s a danger we can’t afford. I’m sorry.”
Come on, Wade. Tell him off. Remind him of everything my parents did for the clans. Or at least offer to take me away from here if they refuse to trust me.
Instead I heard a heavy sigh and Wade’s voice, subdued and weary: “I understand.”
My hope crumpled like a pop can crushed in an angry fist.
“Should I kill him now?” That was Ian.
“Or we could trade him to Cameron.” Arland’s voice was matter of fact. “Might buy us something we need. I have to think Cameron would pay well for the return of his ally. Might get him off our back for a time while we build our strength.” The shock broke my concentration, and I lost my link to the voices. But I’d heard enough.
I worked frantically at the cords around my wrists, scraping them against the bark and scouring layers of skin off my hands at the same time. I barely felt the pain, aware of nothing but the snap as one of the bindings broke. In seconds I scrambled free and ripped the gag from my mouth. I was deep enough in the shadows to avoid notice. The few men in the clearing hadn’t looked my way.
Darting from tree to tree, I skirted the camp. The old guardian who had been talking with Ian earlier had wandered away, so I risked a few steps forward to grab Ian’s pack. When he had dumped his pile of gadgets yesterday, a scrambler had rested in the mix of broken gear. Could come in handy. I threw the pack over one shoulder and headed for the ridge that was supposed to offer a view of Corros Fields.
Using my heightened senses, I slipped past two of the men patrolling the perimeter. As soon as I was far enough not to worry about silence, I flew into a desperate sprint. I had meant to pace myself, but I was too terrified for that.
The old guardian had been right. From the top of the ridge I could see the open fields and grey-green rolling hills of Corros. Far in the distance, the towers of Lyric pierced the horizon line.
With a mountain bike I could cut straight across and get there in a few hours. But I didn’t have my bike, and I didn’t dare venture into the open. Wade had a lehkan. I’d never be able to outrun him if I was spotted. And who knew what kind of patrols Cameron had on watch near Lyric?
I stayed along the forest’s edge and ran harder than I’d ever run in my life. When I couldn’t draw enough breath and my legs trembled, I paused to listen for sounds of pursuit. Soft rustles skittered through the underbrush, too distant and scattered to sort out. I tried to stretch my hearing further, but the sounds all blended into a mess of ambient noise. They could be right behind me or still at the camp.
