by Sharon Hinck
I couldn’t pull my gaze away. He squinted with pain. When his eyes opened again, they were clouding. My grip on his shoulders tightened. I wanted to shake life back into him.
God, heal him! Do something.
Arland’s body arched. He struggled to control the pain and focused on me with all the power of a leader of men giving his last command. “I’ve seen enough Restorers come and go.” He gasped and fought to get the words out. The next words were whispered for me alone but were every bit as strong as a shout. “Stay around for more than one battle.”
He was dying. My reluctant ally, the leader of the guardians. I wanted to scream, make time stop, make this not be real. His eyes held me, demanding an answer.
I leaned closer. “I promise.”
His hand lifted, and I grasped it. He guided it to rest over his sword hilt. One more grimace flashed across his face. Could have been pain, or a triumphant grin. “Fight them, Jake.” Then he closed his eyes.
Behind me, one of the assassins whispered to his colleague, “Is he healing?”
“I didn’t try for a mortal wound. He must have already been damaged.” They studied my friend’s body like he was a formaldehyde-soaked cat in biology class.
Rage erased conscious thought. My hand closed over Arland’s sword, and I drew it in one smooth movement, lifting from my crouch and swinging it wide. I took out one Kahlarean with the first swing.
The others hissed and fell back.
A roar sprang from my throat, and I charged straight for one who wielded a drawn sword. I engaged him, and our swords crashed and scraped. I circled to keep from turning my back on the other two. Speed was my only chance.
With reckless fury, I knocked aside my opponent’s blade and lunged forward. The move left me open, but I didn’t care. I barely felt his sword score my leg as I moved in tight and killed him.
I shoved his body aside and faced the last two elite killers, one of whom had drawn a sword. I met his downward swing, instincts reacting with no time to spare. I countered strike after strike, looking for an opening and worrying about the second assassin who had drifted out of my sight line.
Every bit of training from the guardian tower months ago, each move I’d learned from my dad, every new trick I’d picked up from Arland—it all surged from my memory to serve me now. The assassin seemed to move in slow motion. His blade arced in a lateral swing, and I blocked, spun, and sliced deep into his sword arm. He fell back, and I charged forward to finish him.
As my feet carried me forward, something sharp pricked my left shoulder. Ignoring it, I stormed forward and managed to kill my opponent in a few more clumsy strokes.
I tossed back my sweat-soaked hair. My dad would have scolded me on my lack of finesse, but hey, it worked. I felt a grim satisfaction and none of the repulsion I’d labored under during the morning’s attack on Rendor.
Now I could spare a second to turn.
The last assassin had grabbed a sword from one of the dead Kahlareans and stood with eerie stillness, watching me. My shoulder throbbed, and I craned my head to check it. Silver gleamed from the narrow venblade wedged deep into my flesh.
My breathing kicked into frantic panting. I passed my sword over to my left hand so I could reach back to tug the dagger free. It fell from my nerveless fingers even as the sword slipped from my hand.
The assassin kept his distance, allowing his poison to do all the work. He would wait until I was completely paralyzed and then drag me away.
I stumbled to pick up Arland’s sword from the dust at my feet. His lifeless body shouted silently to me from its crumpled shape across the clearing. He had finally let himself believe in a new Restorer for his people. He had given his life so that I could defend the clans. I wouldn’t let him down.
Months ago—it felt like lifetimes ago—I had raised a can of soda in our kitchen on Ridgeview Drive and toasted, “To those who serve the One.”
On legs clumsy with creeping paralysis, I ran at the last assassin. “For the One!” I shouted the words, my throat raw with anguish and determination. He raised his sword to meet mine, his oversized eyes bulging. For precious seconds, sheer will held back the deadening toxin in my bloodstream.
It was long enough. If my earlier sword fighting was less than elegant, now it must have appeared comic. I drew wide, frantic curves through the air. The assassin was forced to block. We locked blades, and I squeezed upward, trapping his guard against mine and forcing our bodies close. I snarled into his face with my last bit of strength.
I released my sword.
His eyes squinted in a grin as he assumed my right hand was succumbing. I let him believe it and doubled over. My hand found my boot knife, safe in the sheath against my right ankle.
It was in my palm and thrusting up into the Kahlarean’s chest almost of its own volition. I don’t know where the strength came from, but the dagger did its work.
The hooded assassin clawed at the handle and fell back. My own body sank to the ground like melting wax.
I had a few seconds to relish my victory. I’d done it. The assassins were dead. Arland’s sacrifice wouldn’t be useless. I’d stopped them from taking the Restorer.
Paralysis advanced from my limbs toward my chest. Terror took over when my lungs refused to obey my demand to breathe. Grey shards of darkness jammed into my vision from all directions. A metallic tang filled my mouth like the aftertaste of penicillin.
God, don’t let any more of them come until I’m awake.
My body died by inches, and I felt it happen with hideous awareness—until the darkness won.
31
Jake
“Is he alive?” A soft voice tickled my consciousness.
Oh, Lord, don’t let it be more Kahlareans.
I struggled to force my eyes open. A guardian stood nearby, but he wasn’t looking at my body. He was speaking to one of our men who crouched beside Arland.
I took a shuddering breath and held it, waiting.
The guardian’s angry curse gave me the answer.
I moaned.
Two dirty, bearded faces soon hovered over me. “Jake? What happened?”
I tried to shift, but my limbs still carried the frightening numbness of circulation pinched off.
My lips moved. I shaped my next moan into words. “Help me.”
One of the men knelt down next to me. “What can we do?”
Talking was getting easier. I told my head to lift and had slight success. “Arland. Get me over to him. Hurry.”
I wouldn’t give up hope. It had happened before. Kieran had died defending my mom. Then the One brought him back as the new Restorer. The men dragged me closer to Arland and propped me up. This time my hand obeyed my command, and I was able to reach out and rest it over Arland’s heart, though I still couldn’t feel the rough wet fabric beneath my fingers.
I dropped my head.
Lord, he’d be a much better Restorer than I ever would. I know that You couldn’t have meant for him to die. The guardians need him. I did what You asked. I told the songkeepers about the fake Records, and I led the men in saving Rendor. Take the signs away from me. Give them to him. Bring him back.
With a deep sigh, I raised my chin and opened my eyes, fully expecting color to wash across Arland’s face. My own body continued to restore, but Arland was as pale as a Kahlarean and as lifeless as the other corpses around the clearing.
I lifted my face higher, staring past overhanging pine branches and up to the thick grey sky. Desperation wrenched a cry from my soul. “Heal him!”
The two guardians near me edged back a few steps and exchanged a look. For the first time, I noticed several other men had been patrolling the clearing. They stopped and turned in our direction. I ignored them all.
My limbs functioning once again, I grabbed Arland’s shoulders. “You can’t go. You can’t. It’s
not supposed to be like this.” I closed my eyes and prayed again.
Finally, a guardian pried my fingers free and pulled me away. “Jake, what happened here?”
I forced myself to focus. They needed an explanation. The man helped me to my feet, and I gave him a terse summary of Ian’s treachery and my battle with the assassins. I wanted to throw myself over Arland and cry like a little kid, but when I looked at him again, resolve hardened in my muscles like cooling steel. “Send two of the men to search for Wade. Ian lured him away. Find out what happened.”
An older guardian, with grey streaking his beard, quickly signaled to his men, then turned back to me. “Once Arland knew we had things wrapped up in Rendor, he told us to gather supplies and come provide backup for you at the outpost. He set out ahead, and we never caught up to him. Do you think he suspected there’d be trouble?”
Grief battered my attempts to stay strong. “I don’t know. I don’t think he could have imagined that Ian would give me to the Kahlareans. But Arland saved my life. He distracted the assassins long enough to give me a chance.” My throat felt thick, and for a second I wondered if the venblade’s poison was flaring up again.
The old guardian stared at me. “What do we do now?”
Why was he asking me? I didn’t want to make decisions. I wanted to curl up in a ball. I ground my teeth together.
The two men returned, one of them supporting Wade, who stumbled into the clearing and looked at the carnage in a daze. “They ambushed me.” He pressed his hand against the back of his head. “Something crashed into the back of my head, and they must have thought I was dead. Jake, I’m sorry.”
I waved that aside. “Any sign of Ian’s men?”
The other guardian shook his head.
I brushed the back of my hand across my forehead, feeling the sensation of damp skin. The numbness was wearing off. “I don’t know if they were in it with Ian or if he just lured them away.” I stared at Ian’s body and fought the urge to kick him.
No time for tantrums. The men had lost their head guardian, and there was still a lot to take care of. My mind sharpened. “Okay, Wade and I will head back down and make sure everything is secure in Rendor. You men stay here and don’t let anything that moves cross that gap. I’ll send up more men before dark, and we’ll leave a dozen to replace you all tomorrow.”
Wade rubbed the back of his head. “And tomorrow?”
I gave him a level look. “We head to Lyric.”
The long hike back down to Rendor gave me time to plan. Wade dogged my steps but didn’t attempt any of his usual genial conversation. I tried to reassure him that he hadn’t failed as my protector. No one could have anticipated Ian’s plan. Nothing I said helped. His inability to protect me, plus the death of his captain, had crushed any playful energy out of him for the moment.
In contrast, my various wounds healed and the poison left my system. I had plenty of energy—and resolve.
When we reached the city, we found that the men had already established a base camp in several large central buildings. “Wade, I need to speak with the captains. Will you find them?”
He nodded, eager to do something helpful.
“Oh, and we need to pick six of the most reliable men in the guardians to send up to the outpost.” I rubbed my shoulder. It felt stiff. Maybe it was just tension.
Wade rattled off names and clans of several men. I nodded. “Fine. Whatever.”
Word spread that we were back, and the captains gathered in no time. Many of the other men hovered nearby as well. Let them listen. This affected them all.
No sense easing into the news. “Arland was killed by Kahlarean assassins. He gave his life to distract them enough to give me a chance.”
The men had seen so much horror they almost couldn’t absorb this added loss. They stared at me with battle-stained faces, expressions numb like they’d all been stabbed with venblades.
Wade stepped up beside me. “Ian made a deal with the Kahlareans—he betrayed Jake.”
That stirred grunts of shock and disbelief. I lifted a hand. “I understand his reasons. He knew that the Kahlareans had killed others in their obsession to capture a Restorer, ever since the time of Mikkel. He thought he could keep the clans safe if he turned me over to them. In his mind it was a fair trade.”
“What happened to the assassins?”
Wade puffed out his chest. “Jake killed them. All four of them.”
Eyes widened, and even some of the oldest and grimmest of the guardian captains nodded.
I’d finally earned their respect, but I had more important issues to focus on. “Ian thought his plan could protect the clans. Cameron thought surrendering Rendor to Kahlarea would protect the clans. He thinks forbidden weapons will help us keep up with our enemies. He’s wrong. The One is our protector. Not schemes, not deals, not new weapons.”
Power surged through my words as it had in the clearing above Braide Wood. I should have been more nervous addressing the leaders of the guardians. They hadn’t been impressed with me in the past, nor was losing their very capable leader because of me likely to change their minds.
Yet they hung on every word, and I knew they would follow me.
“We’ve regained Rendor because the One was with us. Now it’s time to find out what Medea did with all the clan who were still living here. Tomorrow I’m going to Lyric. Are you with me?”
“The Restorer!” called a reedy voice from behind a group of men. It was the young messenger I had helped earlier.
“The Restorer!” the rest of the men echoed in a deep shout.
I drew the captains in closer and sketched out my plans. Reinforcements needed to be sent up the pass. Wade had found four of the six men he recommended. Of the remaining two, one had died in a syncbeam blast, the other was crippled by a sword wound to the leg. A captain from Blue Knoll suggested a few other men, and Wade went off to send them on their way.
“We also need to send four men to carry down the two bodies.” I was mentally ticking off things we had to do before nightfall.
“Two?” one of the men asked. His snarl told me he’d just as soon leave Ian’s body to the bears and ground-crawlers.
“You heard me. Arland and Ian. We’ll have the funeral at first light. For them and the others who fell today.”
The captains filled me in on what they’d already set up. One building was converted to a makeshift healer’s lodge, although we didn’t have any healers with us. The messenger offered to head to the nearest village to find one. I sent him on his way but told him to keep our victory a secret for now. The next few days would be dangerous enough. Secrecy gave us an edge.
Several of the men from Rendor volunteered to stay and guard their reclaimed city. It took some hard math to be sure we’d have enough men left to patrol the pass at the falls and hold the city in case Cameron’s guards followed us or Kahlareans who’d escaped the battle regrouped.
With casualties and the division of our troops, we were left with about forty men to march on to Lyric. “And the lehkan troops will reach the plains outside Rendor by tomorrow,” the Blue Knoll captain said.
I brightened at that reminder. We finished making plans for the next day, and the captains scattered to continue their work.
“Jake, this way.” Wade had been busy while I met with the captains. He’d found an empty house near the buildings where the rest of the guardians were camped. I stumbled after him, weak with sudden exhaustion. He slapped an encouraging paw against my back and nearly knocked me over. “I found your gear. They’ve moved all the supplies up from the transport station. I figured you’d want to change.”
I looked down at my tunic. Syncbeam burns, blood, and dirt covered the fabric. I managed a grin. “Now why would you think that?”
Wade steered me to a washroom down the hall and left me in peace.
Running wate
r. I let it pour over my hands: clear, moving forward, like the river. It mesmerized me.
Until something thumped against the door. “Jake, I’m fixing us some supper. You almost done?” Wade bellowed loudly enough to pull me out of my fugue.
“Yeah. Be right there.” I cleaned up and hurried out to the common room.
Wade shoved a mug of clavo into my hands, spicy enough to make me sneeze. It had cooled, so I guzzled it to the last drop and realized I was hungry. The thought surprised me. It felt disrespectful to have a normal appetite after this day of violence and loss. But Wade was digging in, so I did too. I hadn’t eaten breakfast—way too on edge. We’d fought nonstop since then. My body had healed from grave wounds more than once. I was starving.
After my third helping of stew, Wade raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Finally, I leaned my elbows on the table and relaxed. The room seemed to be shifting slightly. It was like getting off a wild ride at the amusement park. For the first few steps afterward, the whole earth wobbled. Now that I wasn’t fighting, hiking, or making speeches, I noticed how off-center everything seemed.
I wrinkled my forehead. If I concentrated really hard, everything would stop moving for a few seconds.
“Wade, why did the men listen to my plans and agree to follow me?”
He tilted his chair back and gave me a genuine smile. “Jake, anyone could see it.”
“See what?”
“That the One is with you. They know you’re the Restorer now, even if you weren’t confirmed by the Council. You fought with them today. You convinced us all to come here. We won a battle we shouldn’t have been able to win. Of course they’ll follow you.”
He said some more things, but the tabletop had edged closer to me. It looked comfortable; I rested my forehead against it for just a second. From a distance, I heard Wade’s low chuckle. “I guess even Restorers need sleep, eh?”
It took superhuman effort to stagger into a side bedroom and collapse onto a pallet. Wade called from the hallway, “You can sleep. I’ve arranged for a watch.”
