The Restorer

by Sharon Hinck

  “What if it’s not worth the price?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. I looked at the sword in my hands and threw it down.

  Kieran was beside me in a second. He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back. His sword was cold against my throat.

  But my fear of him, and my rage, had all burned away. I felt charred and empty. “If you plan to experiment on what it takes to kill a Restorer, just get it over with,” I said wearily.

  He shoved me aside with an oath.

  I sank to my knees and hid my face in my hands. God, why have You left me here? What am I supposed to do? I’m in way over my head. Kieran had tried to rouse my killer instincts. In his own warped way, he was probably trying to be helpful. But all he’d done was reveal my despair. I couldn’t do this. Whatever was needed, I didn’t have it in me.

  As I confronted my inadequacies again, a breath of peace brushed against my thoughts. An inaudible voice whispered to my heart.

  I have used the small. I work through the weak.

  When I lifted my head, Kieran was sitting on the large boulder at the edge of the clearing, staring off into the distance. The forest was quiet, but I imagined I could still hear the echo of our swords clashing and Kieran’s sneering words floating around the clearing. I had a wicked thought that I could flick a boot knife from where I knelt, and he’d never be able to react in time. Disgusted, I shook that temptation out of my head and stood up. I walked over to the boulder and followed Kieran’s gaze. Through a cleft between two cliffs, we could just glimpse the roofs of the Braide Wood village far below us.

  His tension and dark edges had softened. He seemed wistful as he stared down at his home, as if he wanted to help his people but had cut himself off from them all for some unknown reason. I sank down onto the rock beside him.

  “Don’t give them false hopes,” Kieran said without looking at me.

  “Would you rather give them no hope?”

  “I’d rather they know the truth.” His voice was raw.

  “That they are alone, weak, with nothing to rely on but empty Verses?”

  He looked at me in surprise.

  Deep behind my insecurity and inadequacy, grew a small seed of stubborn faith. It was from this place that I had those dreams of great adventures that Mark loved to hear about, and from that strong spirit, I spoke with courage to the people in those dreams. From that same place, conviction welled up in me now. “Kieran, I know that’s what you believe. You’ve lost so much and you want to blame the One. He had the power to change things, and He didn’t. But you are not alone. He travels every dark road with you. And He hasn’t forgotten His people. He hasn’t forgotten you.” The power in those words came from beyond me.

  Kieran’s eyes widened, and he stood up, backing away from me.

  I had a glimpse of how fulfilling it was for Linette to sing Verses that held the power of the One. These weren’t my own words, and I saw them hit home. It was enough for now. The moment passed, and I took a slow breath. “I guess you’ll win your bet with Tristan.”

  “What?” Kieran still looked a little dazed.

  “You told him that if you decided I was hopeless, he’d have to give up on his plans.”

  He shook his head, dark hair brushing his temples. “Oh, you’re definitely hopeless with a sword. Tristan already knew that. But there are other kinds of strength. I think we’d better keep all our options open.”

  His acceptance, half-hearted as it was, warmed me. “But you’re still going to Hazor?”

  He stiffened at the mention of the enemy, and his momentary open mood vanished. I could almost hear steel transport doors dropping closed as he looked at me with stony eyes. He didn’t answer my question.

  I should have paid attention to the sudden chill, but I was feeling too confident. “Kieran, why don’t you stay and help the guardians?” Surely he was meant to be with his clan to help them face the danger that Tristan believed was coming. “Don’t you care about Braide Wood? Tristan needs all the help he can get right now.”

  Kieran continued to ignore me. He slid a dagger from the sheath on his boot and buffed it on his sleeve. “What did you hear about me going to Hazor?” He peered down the blade to assess its edge.

  “I heard you talking with Tristan. Don’t you realize how much it took for him to ask for your help?”

  Mark believed that if you threw enough power tools at a problem, you would always find a solution. I’ve always believed the same about words. If I kept talking long enough, I’d be able to convince Kieran to trust the Verses and stand with Tristan. I had felt the exhilarating power of words reaching him just moments ago. I could make it happen again.

  Kieran pulled a small stone from his pocket and began honing his dagger blade with smooth strokes. He didn’t seem to be listening. With a foot on the boulder, he braced one arm on his thigh, eyed the edge of the blade, and then polished it again on his sleeve.

  I kept talking—trying to conjure up a feeling of power in my words as I argued against whatever schemes would take him to Hazor.

  “Susan,” he interrupted me in mid-sentence. “Do you trust me?”

  I looked up at him, hopeful that my arguments had gotten through, but I couldn’t read his guarded expression. “Tristan does. He cares about you—so yeah, I trust you.”

  “Fine,” he said in a measured tone. “Because I’m going to tell you something that I want you to believe.”

  I nodded, watching him stroke his dagger slowly against his whetstone again.

  His next words were matter of fact. “I am not your ally. I could slit your throat and feel nothing.”

  I went very still. My eyes widened, and I stopped breathing.

  No hint of uncertainty moved on the hard lines of his face. His eyes were as empty as the grey overcast sky. “And that is exactly what I’ll do if you tell anyone about my trips to Hazor—or if you ever spy on me again.”

  Chapter

  13

  I jumped up, putting the boulder between us. As I absorbed his words, I waited for panic to grab me—or anger.

  Instead, something odd happened. In front of Kieran’s cold, angular face, floated another. This visage reflected a younger version of him, one with softer lines and an expression of deep pain and yearning. It was as if I was seeing him through someone else’s eyes.

  I blinked and the vision disappeared. Yet the impression stayed with me, stirring an odd mix of calm and sorrow. “You don’t need to be afraid.” I heard myself speaking and wondered where those words came from. “No one knows you’re here in Braide Wood, and I won’t tell anyone what I know.” I walked around the boulder to stand in front of him. Taking the dagger from his unresisting hand, I held it out between us, balanced across my palm.

  “It cuts both ways, Kieran.” I still didn’t fully understand what I was saying, but the words flowed from a compassion so strong that it made me ache. “You’ve made yourself believe that you don’t feel anything. Or that you only feel hate. That’s a lie. And it’s hurting you. You care about Tristan. You care about Kendra, your father, your whole village.”

  Kieran shook his head.

  I wasn’t finished. “You can hold everyone off with this.” I grasped the handle of his dagger. “Except One. Keep shutting Him out, and you’re only driving this into your own heart.” I offered the hilt to Kieran.

  He snatched it and slid it into his boot sheath with force. “Doesn’t worry me.” His words were clipped. “I don’t have a heart anymore.”

  “Right,” I scoffed. “You helped Tristan find the man who poisoned Kendra. You helped me when I found myself in Shamgar and feared I was insane. You came back to Braide Wood to check on the people you care about. I’m sorry, but you’re as human as the rest of us.” As I said the words, I realized they were true.

  Kieran exhaled with a huff and sat on the boulder, resting his forehead against his
fists.

  A last impulse stirred in me. I rested one hand on his head, the way I did when praying a blessing for my children at bedtime. “You don’t need to be afraid.” Those were the last words I felt compelled to speak—as if they came from somewhere else. With that, the powerful sense of seeing with other eyes and speaking with another’s voice faded away.

  Feeling shaken, I sank down next to Kieran on the boulder. Glancing over at him, I waited for my fear and anger to return. But I couldn’t forget the vision. I couldn’t shake off the truth of the words I had spoken. I wouldn’t see him in the same way ever again.

  “That wasn’t only you, was it?” Kieran looked at me sideways, head still in his hands.

  “Oh, no.” I gave him a rueful grin. “I guess it’s one of those Restorer things.”

  Kieran sighed and buried his face in his hands again, so his next words were muffled. “This is not what the last Restorer was like.”

  I wanted to ask him about the other Restorer, but an inner nudging urged me to stop talking. For once, I paid attention and quietly watched a blue, feathered moth flutter in a random path around an overhanging branch. When it disappeared among the trees, I stood up and walked back into the clearing to retrieve my sword. Wiping the dust off with my sleeve, I stowed it in my pack. Without the ties to hold it in place, it threatened to cut a hole in the bottom as soon as I loaded the bag and lifted it.

  Kieran collected his sword and scabbard and returned them to the cave. When he came out, he watched me struggle with my pack. He shook his head and went back into the cave.

  I felt a flicker of annoyance at his exasperation. After all, he was the one that had cut the ties I had used to secure my sword until now.

  When he came out, he carried something in his hand. “Here. With war coming, you’d better learn to wear your sword.”

  I took the leather belt that he offered me and turned it in my hands, confused.

  “It’s a baldric.” He sounded irritated. “It crosses from shoulder to hip, and your sword fits here.” He dropped the wide leather across my shoulder and showed me how to position my sword at my hip, the belt and straps holding the hilt secure. “You should really get a sheath for it, but at least you can carry it now.”

  I was collecting quite an assortment of borrowed gear. Bekkah’s old boots gave me support for all the steep trails around Braide Wood. Wade’s gauntlets rested in the bottom of my pack. And now Kieran’s belt held my sword in place, so I could keep it close. “Thank you,” I said, strangely touched.

  I wanted to ask him what he planned to do next. I wanted to ask if the words I had spoken had made a difference to him. I wanted to encourage him to hike the trail down to the village with me. But I had spoken what I was meant to speak. It was time to go.

  Picking up my pack, I looked around the clearing. I couldn’t spot the trailhead. Which way had I entered? All the trees looked alike.

  Kieran gave me a shove in the right direction. “Watch your back,” he said automatically.

  I waved and headed down the trail.

  At the outskirts of the village, the trail intersected the footpath that led deeper into the woods toward the healers’ lodge. Tristan often used his midday break to walk there and stand outside the window of Kendra’s room, searching for any sign of hope. It was still early, and I decided to head that way. Maybe I’d softened Kieran enough for Tristan to convince him to help.

  I found the guardian sitting on the steps in front of the lodge, shoulders drooping, furrows cutting into his forehead as he stared at the woods. When he noticed me, his eyes widened.

  I glanced down at my torn and bloody clothes.

  Tristan spotted the baldric. “That’s Kieran’s. What happened? Duel to the death?” He was only half joking and looked worried.

  “A gift.” I shrugged, not wanting to explain more than that. “But I don’t think I’ll be training with him anymore.”

  Tristan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t ask any more questions. His gaze shifted out into the woods again, and his sadness settled back over him like a cloak.

  “How’s Kendra today?”

  “The same. She’s wasting away.”

  “There’s got to be something we can do.”

  He shook his head. “It won’t do any good. She won’t be coming back.”

  Those words. A chill grabbed me with the suddenness of an ice cream headache. “Tristan! Listen to yourself. I remember where I heard those words before. He said them. The Rhusican you killed.”

  Tristan looked up at me, confused.

  “Don’t you get it? They lie. They lie all the time. He convinced you there’s no hope, but it’s a lie. He planted that poison in your mind right before you killed him. I remember him saying it. But I didn’t know who he was then. Come on!”

  I grabbed his arm and tugged, urging him to his feet. He didn’t move fast enough for me as I hurried him into the lodge. “Take me to her room.”

  Doubt and hope battled across his face. If this were my first day in Braide Wood, he would have ignored me. But since then, I had shared Verses with his family, trained with the guardians, and killed a Rhusican who had threatened his friends.

  He didn’t respond quickly, but at last he nodded. “This way.” He led me down a hallway. When we reached her room, a young attendant approached us, blocking our way.

  “We need to see Kendra,” I said with certainty. I don’t know if it was the sword at my side or the blood and dirt on my clothes, but something made her step out of the way. I slid the door open.

  Kendra looked the way I remembered: gaunt, empty, beautiful. Someone had braided her long black hair today. Her eyes were still vacant, and her hands still moved in a desperate pattern.

  I knelt in front of her chair. Tristan hovered in the doorway, fear and longing in his face. He was putting a lot of trust in me.

  Lord, don’t let me get in Your way. “Come here,” I said to Tristan. He put a lot of value in obeying the rules, and he had been told to stay out of Kendra’s room. It took tremendous effort for him to walk forward.

  As I watched him, I had a flash of insight. “Tristan, we need to free you from your poison first. Tell me a verse about the One. About how He can do anything.”

  He just shook his head. His gaze never left Kendra as hopelessness took hold of his heart again.

  I rested my hand on my sword hilt. This time I wasn’t even surprised when a verse came to my mind—a song our youth leader composed for Vacation Bible School. Jon and Anne had marched around the house last summer singing it until I was sick of hearing it.

  “Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head,” I sang, feeling my way along the melody. “Tristan, sing it with me.” He glanced up at me, and I held his gaze and sang again. He began to mouth the words as he learned them. Finally he sang with me in a gravelly voice that sounded more glorious to me than any Italian tenor ever could.

  I could actually see the despair wash from his face. He shook himself and blinked, as if waking up from a nap. I saw it in his face a second before he said it.

  “She can return.” Tristan’s voice was as strong as when he ordered his guardians in lehkan maneuvers. His eyes lit up. “What should we do?”

  I didn’t want to take this risk. I was terrified of letting him down. Wouldn’t sending for Lukyan or Linette be a better idea? But recent days had taught me a little about obedience. I was meant to be here. “Talk to the One.”

  He dropped to his knees near Kendra, resting a hand on her shoulder. His lips moved in silence, and he kept his eyes open, watching Kendra’s face.

  “Kendra,” I coaxed, “please come back. I know you feel lost in the mist, but you aren’t alone. We’re here.” I prayed for guidance and reached out to take her hands, stopping their frantic weavings. Her body stiffen
ed as I held her hands still.

  I can’t do this, God. Help me.

  “Be still, and know that I am God.” The words sprang to my mind, and I chanted them softly. I felt the strength of the One flow into me as I repeated the words. Soon another verse came to mind: “I am the Lord that healeth thee.” I gave it a simple melody, and the words floated in the air around us.

  Kendra began to tremble.

  I held on and kept singing.

  “Hurry!” she shouted. Her voice sounded rough from lack of use. She jerked in her chair, falling to the side. Tristan caught her and held her close.

  “They’re coming!” she screamed. “Faster! You have to do more! It’s not enough.”

  The power and urgency of her words hit me like a physical force, and I sat back on my heels, my heart pounding. Tristan put his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

  I took a deep breath, feeling determination flow into me along with the air. Grabbing Kendra’s hands again, I looked into her clouded eyes. “The man who gave you these lies is dead. His words have no power. He’s gone. His lies have no more power over you.”

  A glimmer of awareness flared in her eyes before she began to thrash and fight.

  I kept reciting every Verse from this world and mine that I could remember. I sang songs about peace and trust, about healing and redemption.

  She was so thin and weak that Tristan easily held her to keep her from hurting herself. Last week, I had seen Tristan free a lehkan fawn from a bramble of thorns. The animal had struggled and bucked, sides heaving and eyes rolling. Tristan used his bulk to hold it down, talking in a calm, soothing voice as he cut away branches with his boot-knife. When it was finally free, the fawn stood before him, trembling and scratched. But it didn’t flinch when he held out his hand to stroke the soft fur of its neck.

  He used the same voice now, cradling his wife in his arms and murmuring words with his face pressed against hers. He hadn’t been able to touch her for so long. Now it was as if he wanted to soak her right in through his skin. When exhaustion finally ended her flailing and screaming, Tristan took his hand from her mouth and turned her sideways in his arms so she could look up into his eyes.