by Sharon Hinck
Now Kendra had been taken from him as well. How often did Skyler hike to the healer’s lodge and watch through a window as his daughter wasted away? Did he blame Tristan? Such loss would make anyone bitter.
Conversation rose and fell around the table, reminding me again of Mark’s office parties. Animated discussion about people and events I knew nothing about, inside jokes, and stray awkward glances my direction all sealed my feeling of isolation.
Finally, the food was eaten and voices stilled.
Tara had informed me earlier that after the evening meal came the traditional time of reciting Verses. At the time, I had looked forward to hearing more of the revered Songs. Payton began speaking with familiar ease, followed by some passages that the group spoke in unison. Other members around the table added their own recitations, but after a few minutes, my eyes glazed over. They spoke long lists of names, family trees, and brief histories that meant nothing to me. Maybe it was meaningful for them because some of those named were their great-grandparents, and the villages, rivers, and plains that were mentioned were familiar landmarks, but my foreign mind wandered.
When the Verses for the day were completed, Dustin and Aubrey were tucked in bed, and the table was cleared. Tristan leaned forward on his elbows and looked at his family and friends. Tension built in the room, and the curiosity that had been suppressed for social niceties demanded to be assuaged.
He began his story of finding me in the alley in Shamgar. I watched the people around the table as they listened intently, eyes on Tristan. When he told them my guess that I’d come from a different world, I waited for shock and disbelief to flare in their faces, but they all simply nodded.
Okay. Alternate universes didn’t faze them. My tight muscles relaxed, and I sat back into my chair. We had passed the hurdle that frightened me the most.
Then Tristan explained that I didn’t know how I arrived in the alley in Shamgar. Frowns formed on several faces. When he told them I had been crushed by a transport and healed—wounds, broken bones, and bruises—in only a short time, they looked at each other uneasily. When he reported that I’d been poisoned by a Rhusican and recovered, Tristan’s parents gasped, and his sister Talia pushed away from the table to pace. Agitation around the table built, like wind gusts on the leading edge of a storm.
My shoulders began to knot again. When Tristan shared his theory that I was a Restorer, the room exploded.
“You idiot! Do you have any idea what the Council will do when they find out?” Talia yelled at her brother. “What possessed you to bring her here?”
“You should send her to Cauldron Pass and let her fight.” Bekkah shouted her down.
“Just because that’s where Mikkel fought, that doesn’t mean she’s supposed to have the same role,” Tara said softly.
Gareth waved his arms and spoke over her. “Talia’s right.”
All the voices overlapped. Tristan pulled his hand through his hair in frustration.
I looked at the angry faces around the table and measured the distance to the door.
“How do we know she isn’t an agent of the Rhusicans, or a Hazorite spy?” Talia’s shrill tone rose above the others.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Tristan spoke first, momentarily silencing the others. “Even Kieran thinks she’s a Restorer. He’s not easy to fool.”
Payton and Tara murmured in agreement.
“But she could have clouded your minds,” Gareth said. “It could all be a trick.”
Talia nodded. “That’s why she came back from the voices—she’s really one of them.”
Terrific. Visions of Salem witch trials danced in my head.
“I’ve lived to see three Restorers.” Lukyan’s voice quavered, but all eyes immediately fixed on him. “Oren, Ilias, and Mikkel. They were all guardians first. They came from our people. They weren’t strangers.” He didn’t seem to be upset by that, just musing aloud.
“No, she isn’t the kind of Restorer we’re used to. But her people have Verses.” Linette’s high, clear voice cut through the murmurs. She smiled at me.
“Yes.” Tara folded her arms. “I don’t know what her purpose will be here, but she knows the One.”
“Easy to claim,” Bekkah muttered.
Linette seemed undisturbed. “Would you share some of your Verses?” she asked me shyly.
Eight pairs of eyes turned in my direction: rheumy blue eyes, clouded with age; cold brown eyes, reserved and uncertain; worried eyes; suspicious eyes.
God, where do I start?
I thought of the Songs shared after supper. What did I know that was similar? The second grade Sunday school class I taught recited the first part of the Christmas story in the pageant last year. I had those verses memorized.
“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)” Whew. That was a mouthful. I looked around the table and saw that I had their attention. They didn’t recognize the names, of course, but I could see from the nodding heads that the formula was familiar to them. Trouble was, I couldn’t remember the rest.
“Um . . . Joseph and Mary had to be taxed, so they went to Bethlehem, but she was about to have a baby, and there was no place for them to stay. They ended up in a stable, and that’s where the baby was born.” My palms were sweating, and I rubbed them together and pressed them into my lap.
Talia looked over at Gareth and rolled her eyes. Lukyan tilted his head and squinted. Bekkah shook her head and looked away.
I had to do better. They wanted the real verses.
God, I need some help here. Help me remember.
I closed my eyes. An image emerged of little cartoon figures standing around a small but brave evergreen with its trunk wrapped in a blue blanket. A Charlie Brown Christmas. My kids watched it every year. I smiled to think of them all—even Jake—gathered around the TV with mugs of hot cocoa and blankets, the lights from our Christmas tree counterpointing the glow of the screen. In my mind, Linus recited the Christmas story. I took a breath and started again.
“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”
The words were flowing now.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” I stopped. It was all I could recite from memory.
The room was silent. Lukyan’s head nodded, his eyes unfocused, as if he were lost in a dream.
“Who was that Savior? One of your people’s Restorers?” Tara asked, her tone reverent.
I shook my head. “No. These are our Verses that tell about the one you call Deliverer. In my world, the Deliverer has come.”
I expected another outburst of questions, but there was a holy stillness around the room.
Most of the faces turned toward Lukyan, waiting for his response.
The old man rested his fingertips on the table, lightly tapping them, like a seismic measuring device. Then he flattened his palms against the wood surface and sat up straighter. He looked into my face, and his soft smile caused a starburst of lines around his eyes.
“You want to know if she is a Restorer. I can’t answer that. Her deeds will reveal that in the days to come. But you also feared she was a danger to our people. That fear I can answer.” He turned to Tristan with a slight frow
n. “Don’t doubt what your heart revealed to you.”
Lukyan pushed against the table to help himself stand. “In the name of the One who sent you, we welcome you to make your home among us. May He guide your steps and preserve us all from darkness.”
“So shall it be,” the group murmured in unison. I looked around the table. Tara and Linette smiled broadly. Bekkah looked thoughtful.
My throat thickened. “Thank you.” I wished I could think of a blessing to offer back to them, but nothing came to me. I sank farther back into my chair, feeling drained.
“So, now what?” Gareth asked Tristan.
“All the other Restorers were guardians, so I assume she should start training,” Tristan said with a shrug.
“I can take on a student,” Bekkah said.
“I could think of no one better.” He gave her a grateful smile.
“My Morsal Plains rotation begins tomorrow, but when that’s finished, I’ll work with her.” Bekkah sized me up, assessing my strength. I wished I had kept up with my exercise classes at the YMCA. She didn’t look impressed.
“I’ll send word to your captain,” Tristan said, “and see if I can get you off before the season end. In the meantime, I’ll start her training. But we’ll have to keep her out of sight. Spread the word she’s still recovering from the plague. I’d like to keep her away from Lyric as long as possible.”
“And keep yourself from Lyric as well.” Payton smiled, but worry lines tightened around his eyes.
Perhaps having my future discussed and decided by committee should have bothered me. But after the past few incomprehensible days, it felt wonderful to let go of the responsibility to figure anything out. I listened to voices flowing around me and didn’t bother to follow the discussions.
“Speaking of Lyric,” Gareth said loudly, “what are we going to do about the Council?”
Everyone froze. It was the sudden silence that caught my attention.
Talia swatted her husband’s arm and whispered something in his ear. Tristan turned from his conversation with Bekkah and looked at Gareth, and then at me.
“I think Susan has had enough to deal with today.” Tristan met Payton’s eyes.
“You’re right.” Payton nodded and spoke up quickly. “Talia, would you show Susan where she can sleep tonight?”
Talia sniffed and pushed her chair back.
I looked over at Tristan, ready to argue.
“Susan, go get some rest. We have things to discuss that you don’t need to know about right now.”
My earlier feelings of warmth and acceptance drained away as I rose to follow Talia. They’d relegated me to the level of Dustin and Aubrey—a child who shouldn’t be kept up past her bedtime. It became clear to me that they may have accepted my presence in their home, but they didn’t really trust me.
Talia showed me to a pallet in a back room and left without a word. I curled up, and loneliness lowered down on me like a suffocating blanket. I saw again the horrible grey mist that the Rhusican poison had stirred in my mind yesterday.
“Lord, give me words to fight this,” I whispered.
A memory surfaced of Jon standing near the refrigerator with a fistful of homework papers. His nine-year-old voice had rattled off words in one long stream. “Psalm 16:11, ‘You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.’” He had paused a moment to catch his breath. “Mom, when do we get those presents?”
“Presents?” I had asked him, confused,
“Yeah, you know: ‘You will fill me with joy in your presents.’ When do we get them?” I had laughed, hugged him, and grabbed a pen from the counter to sign his school worksheet.
The memory drifted away.
“You will fill me with joy in your presence.”
I felt so lost. Was I really still in His presence? I didn’t belong in this world. Had I slipped through some cosmic tear into a place where He couldn’t find me anymore? If He were really here, wouldn’t He have noticed by now that something was wrong? Wouldn’t He have taken me home to where I belonged?
Are you here, Lord?
Chapter
11
Each morning, I felt a little less confusion in my first moments of wakefulness. I grew to expect the coarse fabric of a pallet under my cheek and the rich aroma of steeping clavo. I no longer felt alarm when my reaching hand couldn’t find Mark’s flannel-clad body next to me, but each morning, the grief of his absence hurt me all over again.
As weeks passed, my days settled into a routine. My mornings were devoted to guardian training. After the first week, Tristan decided Wade’s arm was well enough to handle some basic sparring and recruited him to work with me. Each day, Tristan would meet with us and supervise drills for a while. Then he’d tell Wade what to work on and disappear to take care of the guardian business he had set aside for two seasons.
Painfully eager to please, Wade seemed almost to burst with pride at performing this special service for Tristan. His boyish humor kept me from giving in to total frustration as I tried to develop skills never needed at the grocery store or at church potlucks. Achieving the lethal proficiency of the guardians would take decades, and I didn’t plan to be here that long. However, no one knew what else to do with me.
“That wasn’t bad,” Wade said as he rolled to his feet. This morning he was teaching me how to pivot to the side and flip him in an attack from behind.
“Only because you helped.”
He grinned. “So try it again, and this time I won’t make it so easy.”
“After a break?” I dusted my hands off on my pant legs, caught the canteen that Wade tossed me, and guzzled some water. “Wade, don’t your people have any better weapons than swords and knives? You’ve got all kinds of other technology.”
He grabbed the canteen from me and took a few steps back. “What are you saying?” His voice had lost its usual warmth.
“Nothing. I just wondered if there was something I’d be better at, that’s all.”
“I don’t know what you mean. The Songs tell us to fight with our swords and the power of the Verses. Anything else is forbidden.” He stuck out his chin, daring me to argue.
“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t understand.” I seemed to be saying that a lot in the past few weeks. “Never mind. Show me that move again.”
After enduring a few hours of sparring, elementary weapons training, and basic survival lore, I was rewarded with my favorite part of the day.
Wade and I hiked over the ridge to a plateau curving around one edge of Braide Wood. In the high pastures, the clan kept a large herd of lehkan. These creatures looked like elk and stood about as tall; but unlike elk, they grew long, llama-soft coats. I was tempted to see them as cuddly pets, but guardians rode the male lehkan into battle, and the animals were trained to use their fierce antlers as weapons. I was given a limpid-eyed doe to prevent me from impaling myself on antlers.
To my surprise, I took to riding and outgrew my initial clumsiness after a few days. The slim leather saddle reminded me of an English riding saddle. The lehkan were guided with leg commands, leaving the warrior’s arms free for weapons. Holding my seat at a walk wasn’t too difficult. Even at a canter they had a rolling gait that I could handle in the saddle—as long as I ignored the incredible speed at which the turf flew past us. Unfortunately, the lehkan had a tendency to spring, deer-like, in any direction when startled. For the first several days, I was grateful for my ability to heal quickly, as I was catapulted to the ground over and over. But as I worked daily with my doe, Mara, I learned to feel the coiling of muscles that signaled she was about to spring, and I spent more time in the saddle than on the ground.
Learning to ride also provided the benefit of being able to explore more of the area around Braide Wood. I looked forward to those midday rides and conversatio
ns with Wade. He knew each family in Braide Wood clan and filled me in on the interconnections and histories of the people who lived here. He also explained more to me about Tristan’s role. He was a captain responsible for about one hundred guardians, including some from Rendor, Lyric, and Blue Knoll clans. In times of war, he would lead the Braide Wood guardians, which included several nearby communities besides our village.
Wade tried to explain the complex system that governed the assignments of guardians. The Council had developed a plan to centralize control by assigning some guardians to serve under captains from different clans. That was why Bekkah, who was from Braide Wood, wasn’t under Tristan’s captaincy, but served under the leadership of the Rendor head guardian to whom she sent her reports from her patrol of the border near Morsal Plains. I supposed the theory was sound. There was less chance for infighting between the various clans of the People of the Verses. Still, based on the little I knew of the Council, the thought of them dividing and controlling all the guardians made me uneasy.
I pushed the thought aside as we rode over a low ridge and the plateau stretched below us. Paddocks nestled against a rock wall along one side of the plateau, and nearby, a few long lodges provided shelter for guardians on rotating assignment from other clans. Tristan was drilling a group of about twenty riders on lehkan. It took my breath away to watch them wheel around in formation and thunder across the plateau.
As we sat astride our own mounts, watching from a safe distance, Wade shifted in his saddle. I could see how he ached to be part of that group of riders, and I realized what a sacrifice he was making by taking on the job of babysitting a stranger.
“Tristan told me Bekkah will be back from her patrol soon,” I said.
He nodded, then looked at me sideways. “It’s been an honor to assist you.” He rubbed his short beard. “But I’ve never spent time training someone before. I don’t think it’s my best skill.”
I hid a smile. “Wade, I’m grateful for your help. It’s not your fault I’m not guardian material.”
