by Sharon Hinck
“Almost two watches through the night. It’s near morning.” Arland slumped against a boulder. He shifted and some light reached his features. It struck me that he was everything that polished, poised Cameron wasn’t. His face grooved from caring, Arland was unshaven, smudged—real. Thoughts of the Velveteen Rabbit hopped into my head. I decided my brain must be starved for oxygen.
Time for another cautious attempt at a deep breath. This one hurt a bit less. “Was I . . . ?”
“Dead?” Arland nodded. “As a skewered rizzid.”
I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or sorry about my recovery. It didn’t matter. I had to tell him what I knew and somehow take my place as the Restorer. I’d wasted too much time already. “I came to warn you. Cameron knows you’re here. He’s sending an army. We’ve got to move.”
His eyebrow lifted at the word “we,” but otherwise his expression was grim, closed. “Answer one question.”
I opened my mouth, but he held up his hand.
“One question. The truth. Did you tell Cameron we were camped near Corros Fields?”
I sat up and struggled to take a deeper breath. Coughs racked my chest. “Let me . . . explain. There’s so much—”
Arland’s hand slammed into my throat, pressing my head back against the cave wall. He held me in place with little effort. “Yes or no, Jake.”
“Yes.” I choked out the word.
He snatched his hand back and wiped it on his tunic, as if touching me had polluted him.
My own feelings of betrayal rose to meet his. “Don’t look at me like that.” I rubbed my throat. “I heard you.”
Arland’s disgust faltered for a second. “Heard me?”
My hand felt for the wound Ian had given me and came away sticky from the blood on my clothes. The gash in my tunic was a vivid reminder of Ian’s killing stroke, but the pain was almost gone now. I glared at the head guardian. “Yes. It’s one of the Restorer gifts. I could hear you when Wade got to camp. Ian wanted to kill me.” My fingers played with the damp fabric again. “And you were going to turn me over to Cameron. Even Wade didn’t try to protect me. So don’t go all righteous and indignant on me. You would have run too.”
Arland kneaded his shoulder and scowled. “I was trying to gauge where their loyalties were. If you had stuck around, you’d have heard Wade argue us into the ground trying to defend you. You’ve got a stubborn house protector there, and he doesn’t even know what you are.”
“No, but you do. And you were going to trade me—for what? A few lehkan or Cameron’s promise not to hunt you if you stayed far from the central clans?”
Arland looked toward the cave opening and didn’t answer.
My anger faded quickly. I couldn’t blame him for not trusting me. In his place, I’d have done the same. I sighed heavily and was glad to find I could breathe easily again. “Do they know?”
The guardian looked back at me sharply. “That you’re a Restorer?” He shook his head. “No, but they’ll be expecting a funeral at first light.” His eyes glinted, and his hand rested casually on his sword hilt on the ground near his side. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Of course, they won’t feel much sentiment in committing your soul to the One, but it would solve a lot of headaches.”
I thought of the funeral of the boy who had been shot—the light cube that burst into a nova and left nothing but ashes. Restorer healing wouldn’t bring me back from that.
Somehow, dying once already tonight had used up my capacity for fear. “You’d do that? You’d kill me and turn me into toast? Destroy a promised Restorer without even telling them who I am?”
His face went hard, and he didn’t answer.
I studied his eyes and tried to convince myself that he couldn’t do it. “Look, I don’t blame you. I was too scared to tell everyone what I am. But there’s something worse.” To have any chance of gaining Arland’s help, I needed to be honest. “I was going to leave. Go back to my home. Give up on being the Restorer.” My voice grew quieter with each phrase. “Cameron’s men found me.”
He snorted. The sneer on his face made it clear he despised me. “Sure, Jake. And you sent him after us the same day. Oh, and we’ve heard you were very comfortable in Lyric. Living like a prince.”
“They poisoned my mind.” Sickness welled up inside me. I spit the words out. “They controlled me. Medea . . . she’s a Rhusican. They were using me.”
He leaned back and quirked his brows as if he were indulging a teller of fairy tales.
I pushed myself to my feet, crouching to avoid hitting my head on the low ceiling of the cave. “Fine. Believe what you want. But we do have to get out of here before Cameron’s army comes.” I took a deep breath. “And it’s time for me to tell the guardians who I am.”
Arland gave a bark of laughter. He sprang to his feet and gestured toward the cave entrance with a mocking bow. “Be my guest.”
He didn’t think I would do it. And he wasn’t going to make this any easier. No problem. I was following the One who had called me to this role. If He could bring me back from death and guide me along dark trails to find the guardians, I could trust Him to help me now.
I ducked under the rock of the cave entrance and stepped into the clearing. Pale half-light revealed lumpy forms everywhere I turned. At first I thought I wasn’t above Braide Wood after all. Everything looked unfamiliar until I spotted the entrance to the large cave where I had slept one night waiting for Wade. Slowly, the confusing shapes coalesced into sleeping men.
Back in Lyric, I’d overheard agitated conversations about the growing number of renegade guardians. When Cameron had first come to power, some of the guardians simply faded into the wild. They didn’t want to serve him but wouldn’t risk opposing him when the new Records said he was destined to be their king. But as the Kahlareans threatened to move farther into the clans and word spread that the new Records might be fakes, more men joined Arland every day. Cameron had raged at leaders of the king’s guard, demanding they track down and eliminate this threat.
But those snatches of conversations hadn’t prepared me for the size of the guardian band now. There had to be more than a hundred men piled in snoring heaps around the clearing. And who knew how many were in the large cave or sheltered under the trees.
My resolve bled away. What was my next move? I took a few steps forward and then looked back.
Arland leaned against the rock face near the small cave entrance. His eyes burned into me, the way Mr. Weldman’s once did in Honors Lit when he made me read my essay to the class.
“Hey! Did you get here yesterday?” The friendly voice belonged to a wiry man only a few years older than me. He stepped around a huddle of sleeping bodies as he made his way across the clearing toward me.
I shook my head. “I came in last night.” I didn’t recognize him from when I’d last camped with this group.
“You traveled at night?” His voice jumped in volume, and several men muttered in complaint. Others stirred and looked around. Dawn was peeling darkness off the clearing.
At least he didn’t assume I was an enemy. I was warmed by his acceptance of me as another guardian coming to join their cause. “I had to. I had urgent news for you.”
“It’s Jake!” One of the men across the clearing scrambled to his feet. He lurched toward me. “Traitor!” In moments the whole camp was stirring.
The hundred men looked like twice that much, as some of them rose from their blankets.
I squared my shoulders and raised my voice. “I’ve come to warn you. Cameron is sending his army after you.”
“So you led him to us again?”
“When did you get here?”
“Where were you hiding?”
Angry voices advanced on me, along with some of the men.
I glanced back at Arland. Arms crossed, expressionless, he did nothing but watch. N
o help there. I drew myself up. “I hiked from the transport in the middle of the night.”
“Impossible.” One of the older men spat on the ground.
“He must have been hiding in the village. Kill him before he can get word out to the king.” The men who had met me earlier continued to spew helpful comments, while the newer members of the group nudged each other and murmured questions.
Fear pushed at me, but I pushed back. “Ian knows when I arrived.”
Someone called for him, and he elbowed his way through a tangle of men. “What’s going on? I was on watch half the night. Can’t you let a man get some sleep?” He stepped forward and spotted me. His muscles locked up, and his chest caught mid-breath.
“Is it true?” one of the men asked Ian. “Did he arrive last night?”
Ian didn’t answer. His gaze tracked over the blood on my tunic, the rip in the fabric.
I stepped closer to him. I didn’t like moving farther into the middle of the clearing, surrounded by hostile glares, but Ian wasn’t moving, so I got close enough for him to smell the blood on my clothes. “Tell them.”
“Jake?” The hard anger that usually furrowed his face was washed away by shock.
In that moment, his resemblance to my dad startled me again. The thought was disorienting. “Yes. Tell them.”
The men shuffled, and some edged forward, nudging each other and murmuring. Several men looked over to Arland, but he refused to react.
Ian cleared his throat. “Jake stumbled into our camp during the first watch.”
A mumble of questions and comments welled up, then died back.
I met Ian’s eyes. “Tell them the rest.”
His gaze flicked over me again, and he pulled out his boot knife as if to check that it was still real. “I killed him.” There was no apology in his voice, only shock.
Stunned silence held the clearing for a few heartbeats. Then an explosion of mutters, questions, and debate erupted as all of the men demanded explanations at once.
“Ian, can I borrow your dagger?” I asked.
He hesitated, then handed the blade to me and shuffled back several paces.
I held the blade above my head until the noise in the clearing died down. Tired, grubby, bewildered faces focused on me.
Time to speak. “In every time of great need, a Restorer is sent to fight for the people and help the guardians. The Restorer is empowered with gifts to defeat our enemies and turn the people’s hearts back to the Verses.” They weren’t an easy audience. I’d better make this good. Gritting my teeth, I held up my free hand and sliced deeply across my palm with Ian’s knife.
Blood ran down my arm; some dripped onto the hard-packed dirt. I turned slowly, letting them all see the wound. The entire clearing held its breath.
I wiped my hand against my tunic and held it up again. The long gash was gone.
“The One has sent me to help you. To return the clans to the true Verses. To rescue Rendor and push back the Kahlareans. Some of you know me already. I am Jake, son of Markkel, son of Mikkel of Rendor. I am a Restorer.”
Relief surged through me as I spoke. They’d believe me, or they wouldn’t. They’d fight alongside me, or they’d kill me. At least I had done what I was supposed to do.
Silence weighted the air.
“How can you be?” A grizzled warrior, older than my parents, limped forward. “The new Records say there will be no more Restorers.”
“The new Records are a lie. Cameron created them to deceive you.” I held up my hand again. “Look at the sign.”
Ian tossed his head back. “You all know that when I leave an enemy dead, he’s dead. I don’t know what we should do about him,” he growled, “but it’s true that he came back.”
“Then he must be a Restorer.” Wade’s deep-chested voice rang through the clearing. Others stepped aside as he came forward to stand beside me. “I guarded the house of his parents. I knew his mother. I rode with his father.” He rested a hand on his sword hilt. “And I’ll defend him. But I didn’t know he was a Restorer until now.” A measure of hurt muted his voice.
“You betrayed us to the king’s guard!” someone shouted. Murmuring and rancor bubbled up like lava. Wade stepped closer to me.
“No. They twisted my mind.” I pushed my hair back. “Cameron and his guard are no friends of mine. I want to stop them from corrupting the Verses.”
A young eager-looking guardian had been watching, chin in hand. He jumped to his feet. “Then you’ll lead us in attacking Lyric. Time to kill the king!”
Other excited voices joined his, chanting for Cameron’s death.
At least they weren’t calling for mine. It would be easy to be swept into their enthusiasm. For this second, they were united and willing to accept me.
The men had been glancing over at Arland, but he had held back, letting them come to their own conclusions. Now he pushed away from the rock wall and looked at his men.
“We’re going to ride against Lyric. Breach the walls, use the secret doors, charge the tunnel.” His voice was low and compelling and grew in force as he spoke. “Cameron and the king’s guards are like a nest of stinging beetles inside a tree. We need to crush them before they destroy the whole trunk from the inside.”
The men cheered.
Follow Me.
The quiet reminder breathed into my mind. I saw the gap at Cauldron Falls. I saw the central city of Rendor that had haunted my dreams. From my first hour through the portal, the One had urged me in that direction. I bit my lip, scared again by what I was about to say. I took a slow breath.
“No.”
Only a few men nearby heard me and turned to stare.
I tried again, louder. “No. You can’t attack Lyric.” The vibration of their frustration rumbled like the low growl of an angry pit bull. “It would lead to civil war.”
“You support Cameron as king?” The shrill voice of a boy my age piped from the back of the pack.
I shook my head. “He had no right to become king. He lied about the Records. But he was one of your Council. It’s the job of the guardians to serve the Council. Let the One take care of Cameron. He won’t be able to hold on to power much longer.”
If only I could get them to trust, to understand. I turned to Arland, holding a hand out in a plea. “The One sent me to help you, and I have to follow Him.”
The planes on Arland’s face were stiff, immovable. He didn’t care about any direction I had from the One. He saw only a challenge to his control. I wanted his understanding. I needed his support. The men needed his leadership.
I forced myself to meet his eyes—to hide nothing. “We have to save Rendor.” I didn’t understand the passion that welled up inside me. I didn’t know where the feeling was coming from, but I let it pour out. “You have enough men. The One has sent you a Restorer. Let’s push the Kahlareans back across Cauldron Falls.”
“Have you ever faced a Kahlarean in battle? Do you know anything about their weapons?” A voice called out the challenge behind me, but I kept looking at Arland. He met my stare, resisting me, resisting the One who sent me.
Another of the men called out with a sneer: “If you’ve been sent to help us, then ride with us to Lyric. Lure Cameron out. From what we’ve heard, he trusts you.”
I shook my head, frustration growing.
Holy One, speak to these men.
My eyes drifted to Wade. He had a spare blade strapped in a sheath on his back: my father’s sword.
Wade saw my glance. Planting his legs wide, he reached back, drew the sword, and offered it to me hilt first.
I raised the sword and faced the men. “My grandfather died at Cauldron Falls, and the Kahlareans were defeated. He was a Restorer and glad to give his life for the People of the Verses. So am I. I want to fight with you, in the power of the One, and free Rendor. We can drive
the Kahlareans back across the River Borders. But if you won’t go with me”—I pivoted slowly, looked hard at all of the men, and finished by staring deep into Arland’s eyes—“I’ll go alone. I’ll fight them with every breath in my body, because that’s what the One has asked me to do.”
Then I braced myself and waited to see what Arland would decide.
25
Jake
The strength of my words startled me. Hard to believe this pledge had come from my mouth. I didn’t even know how to get to Rendor. Yet fire burned in my bones, directing the words. I felt their power. I saw their impact.
Men lounging on the ground rose to their feet. Others shifted uneasily and looked away. Sneers transformed into cautious attention. Their faces showed the transition in their thoughts: Is it possible? If the One has sent a Restorer, maybe we can dare to hope again.
They waited for Arland to answer me. Scores of eyes darted between us, measuring, weighing.
A grumbling voice piped up from behind me. “High time someone did something for Rendor.”
I whirled to stare at Ian. Talk about an unlikely ally.
He shrugged gloomily. “After all, what difference will it make whether we die by the king’s new guns or by Kahlarean syncbeams and venblades?”
At that cheerful assessment, the men began to mutter and argue again.
Arland shot an annoyed glare at Ian, then stepped forward. “Prepare to move out.” He didn’t enter the debate, didn’t indicate which destination he would choose. Every guardian in the clearing leapt into action.
I watched the organized chaos with admiration.
Arland grabbed my arm and pulled me off to one side of the clearing. Although he’d been stoic as he spoke to the men, his eyes blazed into me now. “This is your plan? Stir up mutiny? Cause the men to debate the best of hopeless options?”
“No! Arland, I’m just telling you what the One has called me to do.”
He jerked my arm. “What if you’re hearing wrong? You’ll ride to Rendor and die. Your death would be a waste.” His eyes burned, not with anger but with his passion to protect every life: the People, the guardians, even the Restorer.
