The Deliverer

by Sharon Hinck

  Chapter

  13

  Susan

  The mewling was close. I pushed through a thatch of tall ferns and came out into another clearing, where years’ worth of pine needles coated the ground and tree branches stretched toward each other overhead. Nearby, a cluster of flattened ferns formed a large circle like the depressions marking places where deer had bedded down in the Midwest meadows back home. Did lehkan roam wild? They might have habits similar to deer. Too bad Mark wasn’t awake to ask.

  Listening, I stood motionless. Still no sign of a baby—human or otherwise. Time to head back. I shouldn’t explore any farther on my own, anyway. I turned and retraced a few steps.

  The tiny cry sounded again. I whirled in time to see branches of underbrush across the clearing stir in the dim light.

  “It’s okay,” I crooned. “You’re all right.” I took a few steps forward.

  The pine bedding shook as if an earthquake rippled beneath. What was happening? I grabbed a sapling for balance.

  Suddenly the pine needles sprayed in all directions as a nightmare creature lunged upward in one fluid movement. My heart slammed against my ribs, desperate for escape as strange pincers reached toward me from an eyeless face. The serpentine shape continued to rise until it wove back and forth in a cobra’s dance at the same height as my head. The most hideous centipede lurking in our basement was a cuddly pet compared to this.

  I backed up in slow motion. “Mark,” I croaked his name, but my lungs wouldn’t expand enough for me to call out.

  I inched another step away. “No, no, no.”

  The monster stretched to follow my backward progress. Its pincers clicked a bare inch from my face, emitting a weird chemical scent like the choking tang of chlorine and the cloying smell of varnish. Sideways jaws opened and viscous drool dripped from the fangs within.

  I eased back another foot. If I turned to run, would it pounce?

  Something crashed from a branch overhead, shoved me aside, and took my place in front of the giant centipede. I stumbled a few yards and hit the ground. Mark? No. This figure was smaller and wore the hooded mask and mottled grey of a Kahlarean assassin.

  “This is my hunt,” he hissed. He never took his eyes off the monster, but I felt the heat of his anger directed at me. “You find your own.”

  I rolled out of the way and ran back to Mark. He must have heard my body flailing through the underbrush, because he was already on his feet and rubbing his eyes.

  I threw myself at him. “We have to help him. There’s a . . . Back there . . . It’s going to kill him,” I gasped.

  Behind me a roar rattled the branches, countered by a rebellious shout. More thrashing. Mark reached for the light rod, which looked puny and inadequate as a weapon. “Susan, slow down. What happened?”

  An eerie whining sound rose in volume nearby and I thought better of my impulse to try to help the young assassin. I tugged Mark’s arm, now pulling him away from the fern patch. “We’d better get out of here.”

  My irritated rescuer chose that moment to storm into sight. In one hand, casually hanging by his side, he clutched a curved blade with the silhouette of an Alaskan ulu knife. Maroon fluid dripped from the sharp edge. “Why did you interfere with my hunt?”

  Mark quickly stepped between us. “We aren’t out here tracking.”

  The assassin glared. With his small physique and bluster, he appeared to be fairly young. He lifted the other hand from behind him, and brandished the cruel looking pincer he’d severed from his foe. “I tracked him for half a season. I’m the only one getting credit for this kill.”

  Mark gave a stiff nod. “Of course. We didn’t mean to interfere.”

  “Thanks for saving me,” I said, trying to be friendly.

  He only scowled.

  Silently, three more hooded shapes materialized from behind trees. One of them addressed the youth, his flat tone a weird contrast to his words. “Well done, Trennor. You’ve made your first kill.”

  The youth pointed toward us with his dripping weapon, the adrenaline from the hunt apparently still fueling him. He looked ready to sever my limbs next. “She almost warned it off.”

  “Stand down.” Even in the barely audible whisper of the older assassin, a rumble of authority ran through the air. “Return to the enclave and drain the venom. We’ll distill it tonight.”

  The youth rocked forward on his toes but then gave a stiff nod and raced off.

  In the time it took for him to dodge around a tree and out of sight, the three other men surrounded us in complete silence.

  I pressed against Mark.

  “What are you?” One of the assassins poked at Mark’s chest with the tip of his dagger. At least it wasn’t a spiral-bladed venblade. But we knew these three had a hundred silent ways to kill their prey. Over the grey cloth that covered the lower half of his face, wrinkles spiked from eyes as pale and cold as sleet. An elderly assassin? A teacher? Maybe we had a prayer of talking our way out of this confrontation.

  Every muscle rigidly controlled, Mark matched the man’s low tone. “Wrongly banished. We’re traveling back to the clans. We mean no harm.”

  The man behind me patted my sleeves, my ankles. I flinched, but then followed Mark’s example and didn’t move.

  He moved on and searched Mark, taking the light rod from him and returning to a position behind us. “No weapons, Master Voronja.”

  From beneath his hood, the master’s pale eyes scanned us both and rested on my bare feet. “You travel light.” Was there a hint of amusement in his breathy voice? The whispery speech made it hard to interpret emotion. “And in dangerous country.”

  Mark sighed. “The Council had little mercy when they banished us. But we—”

  “Shall we practice our skills on them, Master?” The third man pulled a metal star from a fold in his tunic’s cloth belt, and spun it on his finger like a toy.

  “Apprentice, you were not addressed.” There was no mistaking the angry hiss from the master assassin.

  The apprentice quickly put away the shiny weapon and dipped his head.

  My mouth was dry as gauze as I tried to swallow the dread lodged in my throat. Every second we spent with these Kahlareans increased our risk. I focused on Master Voronja. “I wasn’t trying to warn that monster thing. I’m sorry if I interrupted your student’s hunt. He saved me, you know. Please accept our thanks. We need to leave now to reach the river borders and seek a hearing with our clan.”

  Mark shot me an incredulous glance, probably impressed at how adept I was becoming at spinning a cover story. I didn’t know if the banished were ever able to appeal the Council’s edict, but hopefully the Kahlareans wouldn’t know either.

  “Then I can assist you.” The master said in his raspy whisper. “We’ll escort you on the shortest route.”

  “But that’s . . .”

  “Through our enclave. Yes.”

  Shock made me stumble back a step and bump into the young assassin behind us. “No we can’t—” My protest died as a sharp blade pressed against my neck.

  “Rahn, did I order you to draw weapons?” The elder Kahlarean bit out his question. He sounded like a harried schoolteacher whose patience was wearing thin. That comparison eased some of my fear . . . until it occurred to me that an assassin out of patience wasn’t a comforting thought.

  “Apologies, Master.” The weapon withdrew as smoothly as it had appeared.

  Beside me Mark had stiffened, but now he took a steadying breath. He’d been ready to dive into a battle unarmed against three assassins. Even now, he was barely holding himself back. I needed to diffuse this. Fast.

  “I’m sure you and your students have important things to do.” I tried a winning smile and all but batted my eyelashes. “We’ll be fine. We got directions from someone back at Tremolite tribe, but we must not have cut far enough down from
the enclave. We didn’t mean to trespass. I’m sure you don’t like being disturbed during your lessons. One time I accidentally drove onto a military base training area near our house because I didn’t see the sign and—”

  The elder Kahlarean winced and turned toward Mark. “Does she always talk this much?”

  “We are trained to use only the words necessary,” Rahn piped up.

  I turned to glare at him. “Well I’m not in training to be an assassin, so I’ll use whatever words I think are helpful.”

  Rahn’s eyes widened, and he looked to his teacher in confusion.

  A snuffle of laughter drew my attention back to the master. He shook his head slowly.

  I cleared my throat. “Look, we really need to be going. Honestly, I don’t know how many different ways I can apologize. I only went into the clearing because—” I gasped. “I almost forgot. I think there’s a baby. Or a baby animal.” I ignored the assassins and grabbed Mark’s arm. “That’s what I went looking for. I heard someone crying. We need to go look. Maybe the big centipede thing didn’t get it . . .”

  The faint baby’s cry interrupted me.

  I froze and darted my gaze around the clearing. “Did you hear it? That’s what I heard before.”

  The young apprentice in front of us cupped both hands near his mouth and repeated the call, then snickered.

  “You?”

  He shook his head, but then glanced at his glowering master and stayed silent.

  “Trennor used the call to lure his prey. Scolopendra feed on the small and weak.” No traces of humor remained in the elder Kahlarean’s face. “Small wonder it came out of hiding to attack you.”

  I drew myself up, ready to respond to that insult, but couldn’t come up with a retort.

  The master took a step closer to Mark and sized him up. “We don’t allow unescorted strangers this close to the enclave. Only their corpses. Follow Rahn.”

  Mark’s skin looked as wan as the morning sky. “Allow us a moment to discuss this change in plans.”

  The Kahlarean tilted his head, then slipped a metallic straw from a hidden pocket of his tunic. “You know this weapon?”

  Mark’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  The master gestured us away with his arm. Mark grabbed me and pulled me a few dozen yards out of earshot. The Kahlareans never took their eyes off us.

  “What are our options?” I whispered.

  “We go with them and get away later, or we fight them now.” Mark’s expression was bleak as he glanced at the distant mountains.

  “Or we run.” I eased us another yard from the three.

  “That weapon . . . they’d dart us before we took two steps.”

  I shivered. “We need to pray.”

  Mark pulled his gaze away from the horizon and looked deep into my eyes. Love and appreciation kindled in his smile, and some of the hard lines of his face eased. “You’re right.” Ignoring the watching assassins, he rested his forehead against mine. “Holy One, we aren’t sure if our mistakes have led us to this place, or if it was Your first will for us. But either way, we trust Your love and mercy. We have no weapons, but if You call us to fight, we will. We see no escape, but know You can provide one. Please show us what to do.”

  Cold sweat beaded on Mark’s forehead where it pressed against mine. The grey mottled figures dominated my peripheral vision. But I shut out all distraction and asked the One to speak to my heart. The answer I sensed in my spirit sent a spiral of resistance through all my muscles. This doesn’t make sense. With effort, I took a deep breath. Yes, Lord. I’ll go on any road. But promise me You’re coming along.

  I looked up at Mark, and could tell from his frown that he had heard the same answer. “We go with them?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I think so. Maybe the One will show us a way to escape later.”

  Mark’s chest filled with new confidence and he managed a grin. “I never knew marrying you would be such an adventure.”

  I tried to smile. “Hey, you’re the one from another world or reality or time, or whatever.”

  Guilt clouded Mark’s eyes, and I regretted my wry comment. I put my hands behind his neck and pulled his head back down close to mine. “The One drew us here. He’s our protector. That’s not your job—not on your own anyway. What happened before . . .” Memories of the torture in Rhus burned through me in a sudden rush. I swallowed, mouth too dry to even whisper. “I don’t blame you.”

  He studied me, searching my eyes for truth. I met his gaze openly, letting my love for him shine in my face. The swell of tenderness erased the power of my fear for the moment, and washed away the haunting memories.

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” His deep voice rumbled.

  “No, you are.” I winked. “So let’s go be amazing together.”

  We walked back to the waiting assassins. With Mark’s hand warm around mine, I could face them without dread making my legs weak.

  “We accept your offer to guide us to the River Borders,” Mark said with quiet courage.

  “Yes, I heard.” The master assassin tucked away his dart weapon. “Interesting way to make a decision. Rahn, take point.” He stepped aside and gestured, revealing a glimpse of the venblade strapped to his wrist. “After you.”

  My eyes widened, and Mark and I exchanged a glance. Kahlareans must have much better hearing than we did. Or at least this one did. I thought we’d been far out of earshot. I’d have to be careful to guard every word—not one of my strengths.

  Thank the One that He’d shown us what to do. If we’d tried to run or fight, we’d have had no element of surprise. But how being led into an assassin’s enclave is going to get us to Lyric, I can’t begin to figure out.

  Familiar frustration throbbed inside my skull as I trudged after the two apprentices. How often had I seen the quickest and best path to solve a problem, only to watch circumstances throw up a barrier? Each time, I would beg God to explain why He asked me to go the long way around when He had the power to bring an immediate solution.

  When Jake had battled leukemia, I knew God could touch the cells in his marrow and heal him in a millisecond. But if He chose not to do that, at least He could open up a space in the new cancer center in town. In full Technicolor, I saw the step-by-step best plan. But insurance wouldn’t okay it. Every day in the hospital chapel, I alternated between raging against the pain God was allowing, and tearful pleading and bargaining.

  I wanted the gift of the shortest and easiest path. Instead, He gave me the gift of holding me close and strengthening me for the hard path. It took me a long time to understand that both were gifts. And as I embraced the second, my need for the first lost its tormenting grip.

  My notebook sketch had seemed to warn that Jake was in danger. Every impulse had driven me to the portal, to Lyric, and to helping him whatever it took. Instead, we’d been snatched away without weapons or supplies, dropped in a cave in an enemy nation, and delivered into the hands of assassins who, should they learn our identities, would no doubt kill us in a slow agony of torture and despair. With every step, our search for Jake grew more impossible.

  Yet this is exactly when Your grace shines. As my feet kept moving across the cool moss, I chose not to imagine the difficulty of getting out of the enclave once we were taken there. With each footfall, I breathed another prayer. I trust You. I trust You.

  An hour of hiking brought us to the foot of the imposing hills. The terrain had changed, and I began to hobble as more and more rocks jabbed my tender feet.

  Mark stopped. “I know they’re too big, but take my shoes. If you tie them really tight, they might stay on.”

  “Keep moving,” the master assassin hissed.

  Mark turned to confront him. “She can’t go over these rocks in bare feet.” My reckless hero, ready to raise the ire of a killer because he hated seeing me in pain.


  Hooded eyes narrowed over the mask with unbending threat. “Move.”

  “Honey, I’m okay. Really.” I scampered ahead to prove my point, and to draw Mark away from his suicidal impulse to throw a punch.

  He caught up to me. “Hop on,” he said, offering his back.

  I hesitated, not wanting to be a burden.

  “Let me help,” he said quietly. “Please.”

  I wrapped my arms around Mark’s neck and rode piggyback as we continued deep into a rocky canyon.

  Around us rose sharp slopes coated with scree. The apprentices led us to the foot of a vertical rock face. I looked for a narrow tunnel or a hidden trail.

  Instead, Rahn grasped an almost invisible handhold and began to climb.

  I slid down from Mark’s back. “No. You can’t be serious. I can’t manage that.”

  Master Voronja didn’t argue. He simply slipped a venblade from its hidden sheath and pointed the twisted blade at me. “Climb.”

  Chapter

  14

  Linette

  If I only had half a day left to live, I didn’t want to spend it in these dim, littered alleys with their sour smells. Or with this rough, dark-eyed man who frightened me with his intensity.

  His name had already escaped me, but my distrust of him grew.

  “This way.” His grip on my arm made the words unnecessary. He slid open the door of a hovel wedged into the angled gap between two taller buildings.

  I held back. The small indoor space felt like a trap.

  He shoved me inside and closed the door before sliding the lever for the lightwalls.

  As soon as he let go of me, I rubbed my arm where his fingers had left bruising marks.

  The light faded up to reveal a dusty common room with a few stark chairs and a single small alcove in the back.

  A pack with a rolled blanket rested against the wall beside a sheathed sword.

  He unbuckled the shoulder fastenings of his leather armor and tossed it aside. All his movements seemed brusque, angry. He crouched and pulled a wad of clothes from the pack and tossed it at me. “You can change in there.” He nodded toward the back alcove, where a thin pallet filled half the floor space and a tattered curtain slouched at one side of the doorway.