The Restorer's Journey

by Sharon Hinck

  I’d seen him around before but never had any classes with him. He lived with a group of guys who had an off-campus apartment—one of those budget rooms where busy and broke college men could catch some sleep on a spring-busted couch before diving back into classes and work.

  I’d heard rumors he had floated into town one day a few years back and never talked about his past. Whatever he had run from, he looked as if his demons had followed him here.

  Maybe he noticed my stillness as the current of other bodies jostled past us and out the door. He looked up.

  I was instantly lost in grey-blue eyes. Someone bumped me, and I moved closer. Without my being aware that time had passed, the chapel emptied. The man looked at me quizzically, hiding the despair I’d glimpsed. He probably thought I was nuts. Maybe I was. After all, I needed to get started on a term paper at the library. But I couldn’t walk away. “Are you all right?” I asked him softly.

  His chin lifted. He was about to assure me he was fine and leave me feeling silly for asking. But then his look softened, and he seemed to make a decision. He moved over one chair, gesturing for me to sit down. I eased into the chair beside him and studied his profile as he stared at the cross at the front of the chapel.

  “Does He really offer it to anyone?” When he spoke, the voice was deeper and richer than I’d expected. My stomach tingled. I tried to focus on his question.

  “Offer what?”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The whole thing. Salvation. Forgiveness. Life.”

  My heart beat faster. I’d shared my faith with cult members who’d serenely waved me away. I’d badgered my freshman-year roommate, whose approach to life was, “Why let God-stuff spoil the fun?” I’d explained Jesus to round-eyed second graders in my Sunday school class. But I’d never seen hunger like this before.

  “Yes, of course it’s for anyone. That’s the point. It’s nothing we can earn or deserve.”

  He looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I understand that part. I’ve been sitting here week after week trying to figure it out. It’s just . . . I’m kind of a different case.”

  Compassion flooded me. “We all feel that way. We’re all sinners. Each of us has felt that the things we did were too horrible—that we must be the one person Christ can’t possibly redeem. But He can. He loves you . . .” I was off and running, but he shook his head with a bitter chuckle, and my words trailed away.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not sure this offer is for me.”

  I met his eyes. “It’s for every single person on this earth.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a sad smile. “Hence the dilemma.” The words were so quiet I could barely make them out, and they didn’t make any sense. But I wasn’t about to let this end here.

  I offered him my hand. “I’m Susan, by the way.”

  “I’m Mark. Nice to meet you, Susan By-the-way.” The teasing light in his eyes chased away his melancholy. My cheeks heated as he held on to my hand. His gaze grew more intense. “You really do know Him, don’t you?” He stood up and pulled me to my feet. “Could I buy you a hot chocolate?”

  I smiled and nodded. Term papers could wait. We scuffed through bright dried leaves to the student union, where we sipped watery cocoa that burned the roof of my mouth. Nothing had ever tasted so warm and rich to me before. Our words swirled around us, each gust of conversation like different colors of wind-tossed foliage. Even the silences were alive with discovery.

  Attraction had flared in both of us that day. While we each could soon catalog the appealing details in the other’s appearance, it was the hunger we recognized in each other that filled us with awe. Hunger to know the One who designed us and loved us. Hunger to seek out His purpose for us. I’d never met anyone who devoured the Bible like Mark did. He was able to memorize with an ease that astounded me.

  Yet he was also a practical man. He’d landed a job on campus helping the maintenance team and unleashed his gift of fixing things. By the time I met him, he had been hired for freelance building projects by half the professors. Bookcases, decks, play houses—he could create anything. He was also fascinated by the ways things worked. It wasn’t enough for him to take an Intro to Computers class. He had to take things apart and have excited conversations with friends about motherboards, poking around the insides of every gizmo he could get his hands on.

  In the dismal brightness of my prison in Rhus, I smiled as I thought back to all the times I’d watched Mark bend his head over a project, forehead creased in concentration, a happy light in his eyes, oblivious to anything around him. Tenderness welled up inside me with the memories. I loved him. The secrets he hid from me about his past didn’t change that. I would jump at a chance for a twenty-five-cent Styrofoam cup of cocoa shared with him on a bright fall day.

  The door hissed open, jolting me from my contemplation. Nicco glared at me from the hall but didn’t come in. “Let’s go.”

  I stood up slowly, praying for courage.

  Father, if You aren’t sending rescue, help me die well.

  As we walked down the hall, I looked at all the doors. In this one corridor there were scores of other prisoners. And the building was large. They could be holding hundreds of people. The multiplication of all that suffering broke my heart, and I barely had the strength to keep walking.

  “Move. I have more important things to take care of today.” Nicco’s angry words covered something else. I glanced back at him. His bloodshot eyes darted from side to side, and his fingers twitched in a silent pattern as they hung by his sides.

  When we left the building, he gestured me to one of the paths. One part of me soaked in the sight of tall willowy trees and the beauty of the soft grey sky. Another part kept an eye on Nicco. He rubbed a hand over his face and muttered to himself.

  He led me to the courtyard where I had first entered Rhus. That day, he had lounged on a stone bench, leaping up to welcome Medea’s return. Today there was no languid confidence in him. He looked around as if expecting ghosts to haunt him from the trees.

  I was trying to draw strength to face my own death, but even so, his odd behavior piqued my curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

  His laugh was a bitter, strained sound. “You should know. It’s your fault.” He turned to me, eyes wild. “You let Him find me.” Rage twisted his face, and his shoulders hunched. Then, just as quickly, he backed away a few steps, looking frantically around the courtyard as if he heard something I didn’t. He clenched his fists and glared at me. “But I’ll fix it. I want you dead.” He spat the words with a conviction that let me know exactly how much he wanted that. Then he shifted into a cunning smirk. “But then He might stay. I can’t risk it. You brought it here, so you can take it with you.”

  What was he talking about? Some of his old sneering arrogance returned. He crossed his arms and waited. When I didn’t respond, he threw his arm wide and pointed to the stairs that led down into the tunnel. “Go!”

  He couldn’t mean it, could he? I had given up hope so thoroughly that I stared at him, numb. A warm breath of comprehension thawed some of my confusion. He wanted me to leave. Something about the One had shaken him so much, he wanted me out of Rhus.

  I can leave.

  I edged a step back. “Wait. Is this another game?” Not that it mattered. Any chance to get away from here was worth taking.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “What are you waiting for?” He ran to the top of the stairs. “Just go! Now!” He seemed so out of control, he looked like he might fling himself into the crevice if I didn’t leave.

  I took a slow breath. Maybe I should try one more time to explain that the One had always known where to find him and wouldn’t disappear with me. Maybe if Nicco could grasp the truth, it could change this whole warped culture.

  He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Medea shouldn’t have b
rought you. Always thinking she could handle things no one else could. But she had to have known.” He paced back and forth, muttering, laughing. He was barely touching reality anymore—a rock skipping over waves.

  He turned and noticed me again. “Get out!” His voice screeched, and he scampered away from the stairs, leaving me a clear path.

  I didn’t need an engraved invitation. It might be nobler for me to stay and try to reason with Nicco. Or this might be a trick. But I had expected to die, and now I had a chance to make my way through the tunnel and find my way home. Nothing else mattered.

  Hope gave strength to my frail body, and I hurried to the stairs. Three steps down, a picture appeared in my mind and slowed my feet. The building where they kept me. The long hall. All those doors.

  God, no. This is my chance. Let me run away.

  I worked my way down three more stairs. If I could get away, I could tell someone about all the prisoners here. Someone else could come and save them.

  The stirring inside my heart grew. The One had already sent someone to save them.

  Haven’t I been through enough? I could finally be free of this place. I’m not a Restorer anymore.

  But I’d been praying every day for these people, and now the One was prompting me. I couldn’t ignore it.

  I braced my hands against the cool marble wall beside the stairs and took several slow breaths. Fists clenched, I turned and climbed back up the stairs. Nicco backed away, wild-eyed. “What are you doing? Go away!”

  Lord, show me what to do.

  “I will.” My soothing voice used to work when Anne had slipped into the insanity of a tantrum. Sometimes. Maybe it could also work on insane Rhusicans.

  Nicco lurched, as if he planned to push me over the edge. Then he jerked to a stop and backpedaled. He snarled. “What do you want?”

  He would do anything to get me away from Rhus. In his twisted mind, I had come to symbolize One that he couldn’t control. I braced myself. “The other prisoners. Let them come with me.”

  His mouth opened and shut but didn’t make a sound. He drew himself up, lifted a fist, and took a step toward me. Then he pivoted and paced away, the fist moving to press against his temple. He shook his head from side to side like a dog with a bone caught in its throat. I could almost pity him. Almost.

  He froze and looked back at me over his shoulder. A semi-rational gleam lit his eyes. “You promise you’ll take them and leave?”

  He was too eager. Either the One had gotten under his skin more deeply than I could imagine, or he was like Medea, slipping in and out of lucid thought.

  I hesitated. What tricks and traps lay ahead of me? “Yes. Free them all. All of them. I’ll take them with me.”

  He relaxed. A smug smile grew across his face. “Wait here. Or leave. I don’t care. I’ll bring them.” He strode from the courtyard, laughing out loud.

  My shrunken stomach knotted. Maybe I should go with him and make sure he kept his word. Of course, if he changed his mind, there wasn’t a thing I could do. Besides, I craved my nearness to the tunnel and freedom.

  I walked to the edge and stared into the crevice. How would I manage the long hike through the tunnel? Could I convince Nicco to give us some supplies? I paced the courtyard, rubbing my arms.

  When Nicco bounded back into sight, his eyes held a mad glint, and I decided not to press my luck.

  He skidded to a stop and crossed his arms. “Still here? Well, you can go now.” His words dripped with vicious satisfaction.

  A stream of thin, dazed captives limped into the courtyard. Dozens of them. Scores. I gave up trying to count. Exhaustion and confusion colored some faces. Others wore vacant stares. Few even showed interest in their surroundings. Some could barely hobble forward.

  “There you go.” Nicco waved a careless hand in the air. “We were done with this bunch anyway. You’ll save us some trouble if you take them out into the deserts near Shamgar and let them die there.” Nicco’s earlier agitation had disappeared. He was enjoying himself.

  I didn’t waste time responding to him. I ran to the closest children, crouched down, and hugged them. “It’s all right. We’re going home now.” I crooned to one little girl until her eyes began to focus. I gently pulled an old woman toward her. “Here, you can help her down the stairs.” The woman squinted at me, bewildered, but held the girl’s hand when I placed it in hers. I moved along the line, explaining, reassuring. “We’re leaving. Be strong a little longer.”

  Some family members found each other and clung in numb recognition. Most stood mute, staring at the ground. Several dark-haired Hazorites ignored my attempts to talk with them. They skirted around me and hurried past the others to take the stairs. “We should stay together,” I called. But they were gone. It was just as well. Shepherding these tattered refugees would be challenging enough.

  I approached one woman who was looking around her with at least partial interest. “What’s your name?”

  “Aiyliss from Rendor clan.” She blinked in confusion as she watched the milling bodies in the courtyard. “Most of us are from Rendor.”

  I scanned the courtyard. More white tunics wandered in from the path. Behind them I saw the vibrant clothes of other Rhusicans. Nicco may have decided it was time to empty their conservatory, but the others might not agree. We needed to get out of here.

  “Aiyliss, help me keep everyone moving. Down the stairs and through the tunnel. Just tell them to keep walking as fast as they can. Let’s try to pair up some of the stronger ones with anyone too weak to travel.” She stared at me, comprehension budding with painful slowness. Then she nodded and moved to help me. Even after I recruited the most alert men and women to help, it was a difficult process. More Rhusicans filed into the courtyard, stood along the sides, and watched in silence.

  Every time I glanced their direction, anxiety clawed at me. At any moment, they could grab our minds, force us back. I physically shoved some of the slowest toward the stairs. “Keep moving. Keep moving. You’re going to be okay. This way.”

  The process seemed to take forever, but eventually I was the only prisoner still standing at the top of the stairs. I wasn’t entirely sure the whole scene wasn’t a Rhusican mind game. I looked at Nicco, wondering if even now he’d stop me from leaving. He just grinned in sour relief.

  “Don’t come back. And if you happen to meet up with Medea before you die, tell her to bring some stronger guests next time.” He sneered in the direction of the stairs. “That bunch wasn’t worth the trouble.”

  Even with freedom calling from the stairs, I hesitated, glancing at the Rhusicans standing behind Nicco. “Why? Why are they letting us go?”

  Rage contorted his face. “Our people are dying because of the poison you brought. You and the others who follow the One. The power. The glimpses of Him. We’ve needed more and more energy to control it once it touched our minds.”

  I stared at the bright-clad Rhusicans. They were more hollow than the starved prisoners making their way down the stairs. Beauty without substance, empty of anything except satisfying their own whims and creating their own realities.

  Nicco stepped close to me and snarled in a whisper, “The older ones have gotten confused. Their minds break apart sooner now.”

  Compassion flooded me with a tidal surge. I pulled away from Nicco and faced the others, my spine drawing up tall. “There is One who knows you. He understands the skills you have, and the limitations.”

  Would even one of them listen or understand? If so, all the weeks here would mean something. “You aren’t toys and playthings to Him. He cares about you. If you would open your mind to truth, His presence wouldn’t be dangerous to you.”

  The row of men and women watched me, impassive as a shelf of porcelain dolls. Nicco growled and stepped in front of me. “We delve into minds. It gives us strength. We steer others to our will. It’s all we have. We’ll
never give that up.”

  He had mocked me, tormented me, and dissected my mind as if it were a frog in biology class. But the One filled me with pity for him. “Nicco, I’ve talked to the One about you. Every day you had me locked up, I asked Him to reveal Himself to you and your people. He’s answering. Don’t be afraid.”

  His nostrils flared and he spoke through a tight jaw. “Get out. Now.”

  A malevolent thread of thought pierced into my mind: He wanted to kill me. He wanted it with a passion beyond lust or greed. Only a thin barrier of fear held him back.

  Lord, can I go now?

  Inner prompting pushed with the strength of a hand between my shoulder blades. Time to go. I backed toward the cleft in the ground. “May the words of the One burn in your hearts until you know His love.” My voice choked. Everything inside me wanted these people to be free, but I’d done what I could. I turned and ran down the stairs. Time to put Rhus behind me and fight to survive the journey ahead.

  29

  Jake

  A hefty Kahlarean soldier leapt over a log and slammed into me.

  I hate this.

  The realization built while my arm kept swinging. I whacked, dodged, parried, killed, and ran forward to do it all again.

  Why had I imagined this would be thrilling and noble? Playing at swords with my dad had been fun. Dreams of being the hero who would free Rendor had given me a warm glow. There was some wonderful symmetry to it all. My grandfather had pushed the Kahlarean army back at Cauldron Falls. My father had to leave his world because of Kahlarean assassins. Now I could be the ultimate champion to save the clans once and for all. Visions had shown me standing at the pass.

  But none of this felt the way I’d expected. We might liberate Rendor, but for what? The people were gone. How was I making any difference?

  A Kahlarean a few yards away lifted his sword to hack into a guardian who was busy fighting someone else. I charged into him, my shoulder bruising into his breastplate. He hit the ground, and my sword swung through in a strong arc. He died with a shriek. Another sound to haunt my nightmares.