The Restorer

by Sharon Hinck

  Her face brightened in recognition. “Tristan?” Then she disappeared back into herself.

  We continued to pray and sing and call to her. I felt like we were diving to rescue a drowning woman. We could drag her to the surface briefly, but then she would sink out of our reach again and again.

  At one point, I looked up and saw the bushy-browed healer that I met on my first visit here. He stepped into the room, anxious staff hovering behind him.

  I glared at him. If he tried to stop us now, he was in for a fight.

  He watched Tristan and Kendra for a moment and saw one of Kendra’s brief moments of coherence. He nodded to me and backed out of the room, shooing several attendants away from the entry. He slid the door closed.

  I released my grip on my sword hilt. I hadn’t even realized I had reached for it.

  Perhaps my own night of battling with the mist and lies helped me fight this. Perhaps it was one of those mysterious “Restorer powers” I was still discovering. Perhaps it was because the Rhusican who poisoned Kendra was dead. Whatever the reason, after more than an hour of fighting, Kendra began to improve rapidly.

  After she had been lucid for a long time, I took my gaze from Kendra and looked at Tristan. His eyes scanned every inch of her face in wonder, moisture glistening on his cheeks.

  I eased away, and neither of them noticed. I stood in the doorway and watched for a little longer, but Tristan didn’t need any more help. Slipping from the room, I closed the door behind me.

  In the hallway, I leaned against the wall and found that my legs refused to support me, so I sank down to the ground, hugged my knees, and let the tears come.

  A hand on my shoulder startled me. The old healer handed me a cup of something steaming and sweet, and I accepted it gratefully.

  He lowered himself, joints creaking, to sit beside me on the floor. “Were you injured?” His eyebrows joined into one bushy line as he frowned in concern.

  I glanced down at the blood on my clothes. I’d forgotten what I must look like. My sword work with Kieran seemed days ago. “No, I’m fine. I was just doing some training this morning. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  He waggled his brows. “You guardians keep us in business.”

  I wondered if I should explain that I wasn’t really a guardian but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Whatever potion the healer had given me to drink, I felt stronger with each sip. “I think she’s going to be okay now. Will you let Tristan take her home?”

  “Let me check on her. If there is no physical problem we need to keep an eye on, I think home would be the best place for her.” He paused for a moment. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m not really sure.” I shrugged. “I don’t think I did.”

  He nodded slowly, studying me. “We have other people here that we haven’t been able to help . . . perhaps later. . . ?” He left the question unfinished.

  I nodded. “Yes. If I can. Later.” I was too weary to think beyond today. But maybe I would find others I could help in coming days. Maybe that was my purpose here.

  And then can I go back to my family, Father? They need me, too.

  About an hour later, we emerged from the lodge. Tristan supported Kendra as she wobbled down the steps. I looked up at the sky, amazed that it was still light. I had expected to emerge into the darkness of late night. I felt so tired; it was hard to believe it was still the same day. Kendra’s gait was slow and uncertain, and Tristan finally scooped her into his arms and carried her along the trail. I followed behind, wishing I could curl up on a bed of pine needles under one of the trees to sleep.

  The joy and wonder at Payton and Tara’s home when Tristan arrived with Kendra in his arms was beautiful to watch. But I felt like I was seeing it from a distance. Fatigue left me disconnected. I could only summon enough energy to nod or shrug in answer to the questions and excitement. Tristan stayed glued to Kendra until she convinced him she would like to rest for a while. He carried her to their room, and even then he sat by her side while she slept.

  Just before nightfall, he slipped away to the caves to tell Kieran what had happened and to take him more supplies. When he arrived back home, he told me he had found the cave deserted. Kieran was gone, along with all his gear.

  That night, as I prayed for my family (Mark, Jake, Karen, Jon, and Anne), and my new family (Tristan, Kendra, Tara, Payton, little Dustin and Aubrey, and even Talia and Gareth), I added Kieran’s name to the list.

  Chapter

  14

  I woke the next morning before first light, probably because I had collapsed into exhausted sleep right after supper the night before. I stretched and yawned. Remembering Kendra’s expression as she emerged from the effects of the mind poison inspired a wide smile. Tristan’s face had reflected the adoration in his wife’s eyes, and their rescued love warmed me. Then my smile wilted. I missed Mark so much. In their room down the hallway, Tristan and Kendra were wrapped in each other’s arms. I wanted to feel only happiness for them, but envy surged into my thoughts anyway.

  Pulling on my clothes, I headed for a walk before the village stirred.

  I belted on my sword, though the hilt resting against my hip kept snagging my cloak. The sky was still dark grey, but there was enough light to see the trail. A short climb up the path would take me to a ridge overlooking Morsal Plains.

  As I walked, I inhaled a deep breath of morning air, then stopped. Something was wrong. A chemical scent disturbed the air. It reminded me of the mess I had created once by accidentally mixing bathroom cleaners. I ran back to the house to tell Tristan but then paused, uncertain. I didn’t want to disturb him. What if the smell was something normal to this world? I didn’t want to look like an idiot. I was finally beginning to fit in.

  I sniffed the air again and shivered. That could not be normal.

  Inside the house, I tapped on Tristan and Kendra’s door. It slid open in a few seconds, revealing a tousled but alert guardian with a boot knife in his hand.

  “What?” He rubbed sleep from his eyes when he saw me.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  He cast a worried look back at Kendra, but she was sleeping peacefully.

  “No. It’s outside. Please hurry.”

  He met me outside in less than a minute.

  “Do you smell that?” I asked him.

  He took a deep breath and looked at me, puzzled. “No. What do you smell?”

  I tried to explain, but he didn’t know what ammonia was, or any of the other chemicals from my world that I used to describe it.

  “Let’s check the overlook.” Tristan jogged up the path, which was growing clearer in the dawning light. I followed him, huffing and puffing. No one in this community would ever get heart disease with all the hiking and running they did. When we reached the ridgeline, Tristan scanned in all directions.

  I looked out toward Morsal Plains and grabbed his arm. “What are those?”

  Bulbous silver machines crawled through the fields. They looked like metallic beetles moving among the grain. Tristan squinted in the direction I was pointing but couldn’t see them. Stretching my heightened vision, I did my best to describe the scene.

  “Sounds like minitrans. But that doesn’t make any sense. They’re used in cities to move cargo, and they’re usually larger than what you’re describing. We don’t have any here. What are they doing?”

  I focused my gaze and was gradually able to see more and more detail. Some of the minitrans were spreading out through the fields, but many had stopped. A thin telescoping rod stretched up and out of each one . . . maybe ten feet into the air. Liquid sprayed out of the rod and coated the grain in all directions.

  “Tristan, you don’t use irrigation systems, do you?” He frowned at me in confusion, and I rephrased. “Do you ever need to spray water on the fields?”

  “It rains every day. Why would
we do that?”

  “Well, something is being sprayed out on the fields. That’s not normal, is it?”

  Tristan grabbed a palm-sized device from his belt and held it over his head. He squeezed it, producing a sharp, ringing tone that grew steadily in volume. It reminded me of the smoke alarm that I set off every time I baked cookies back home, only this sound wasn’t as shrill. It had a clearer, sweeter pitch, but there was no doubt that it was an alarm. I covered my ears as the sound grew. Everyone for miles would have heard that.

  Tristan released the signaler and hooked it back onto his belt. “We’ll take the lehkan. They’re faster, even though the trail is rough. Let’s go.”

  I never aspired to join a branch of the military, but if I ever had, I would have wanted a captain like Tristan. By the time we reached the paddock and saddled our lehkan, people milled everywhere. Tristan noticed Payton and called out to him.

  “Something is happening at Morsal Plains. I’ll send a messenger back when we know more.”

  Payton nodded his understanding and herded villagers out of the way of the guardians.

  Tristan snapped orders to several of his men, who carried them out without question or hesitation. Having someone in charge blunted the edge of the swelling panic. He didn’t bother with explanations as he signaled to several of the guardians to ride with us. I saw Wade in the confusion, and he gave me an eager grin.

  “Stay close to me,” Tristan ordered as he urged his mount forward.

  I followed him at a full gallop across the plateau until we had to slow our pace at the forest trail leading down toward Morsal Plains. The route was steep and twisting, and our lehkan slid and skittered their way along the switchbacks. When we reached the bottom, we charged full out again across an open field and up a hill. From the crest we would see all the rich farmland of the Morsal Plains stretched before us.

  To the right was the craggy mountain range that formed a barrier between Braide Wood and Hazor. Behind us, the steep slopes we had scrambled down were stippled in shades of green from the thick forest of Braide Wood. As we reached the top of the hill, the fumes hit us. An acrid chemical haze stung our eyes. The lehkan balked and tried to bolt. Unwilling to waste time fighting the wild-eyed beasts, we dismounted.

  The whole valley was filling with a yellow cloud. One of the minitrans rolled into an unoccupied field near us and stopped. Up close, I could see they were no larger than an oversized canister vacuum cleaner, but were self-propelled. Where had they come from?

  As the telescoping rod of the closest minitran shot into the air, Tristan ran toward the machine. Before he reached it, mist sprayed out—covering huge areas in all directions. Tristan tried to reach the rod, but as the liquid hit his clothes, it burned through in places, leaving angry welts on his skin. He grimaced in pain.

  I ran forward and grabbed him, pulling him back. Some of the mist hit my skin and scorched it like a splatter of hot bacon grease. The grain hissed as it shriveled and collapsed from the chemical burn. Once Tristan and I were out of range, I checked the blisters on our arms. Mine healed quickly. His didn’t.

  Tristan coughed from the smoke and fumes, but squinted into the fog, searching for a way to stop the machines. Another metallic beetle rolled past, ready to spew out venom.

  I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head, drew my sword, and charged at it, sending a quick and silent thanks to Wade. His gauntlets gave my hands some protection. I reached the nearest minitran right as it started spraying. Pain seared my skin wherever it was exposed.

  I’ll heal. I’ll heal. Ignore it.

  I swung my sword against the extending rod, jarring my arm. I swung again and again. It took several tries, but I managed to break it off at the base.

  The chemicals in the machine’s belly spilled out the hole where the rod had extended, but at least it didn’t throw more mist into the air. The ground under the minitran fizzed and boiled, but some areas of grain were spared.

  I ran toward another of the machines, ignoring the fiery damage that the mist was doing to my skin. Each machine I could destroy was another acre of grain spared. My eyes burned, and my ribs ached from coughing. My skin blistered even faster than it could heal. Too bad Kieran wasn’t here to see me now. I had no trouble feeling enough anger and hatred to keep my sword swinging. These hideous, bulging weapons were destroying the lifeblood of Braide Wood. But no amount of anger could keep me going indefinitely. Finally the coughing took over, and I couldn’t stagger forward any more.

  Strong hands pulled me back. Tristan. He had tied a strip of cloth over the lower half of his face, but was still coughing as well.

  “Susan, fall back!”

  “No, we have to—”

  “We tried. Too many guardians have been burned. I had to order them back. You did what you could. Fall back.”

  My eyes watered from the mist, and I kept them squeezed to a narrow slit as Tristan guided me back up the hill. Still, I kept looking back to watch the progress of the attack. Each automated machine dispensed its spray and then shut down, remaining like a scab in the center of the ruined field. Apparently the unmanned weapons were one-use only.

  Wade strode forward to meet us. “Why didn’t the outpost sound an alarm? Who’s on patrol right now?”

  Tristan set his jaw. His red-rimmed eyes burned with a fear he tried to hide. “Bekkah is staying at the outpost. I’ve got to find a way around this to get to her.”

  “I’m coming.” I struggled to breathe between coughing fits.

  He nodded and scanned the valley, looking for a way to reach the outpost. Through the yellow fumes, I could see the crude shelter where guardians camped while monitoring this usually peaceful plot of land. The building was only a mile off, but we couldn’t reach it through the fields without being doused in chemicals and burned alive. We’d have to circle around, skirting the edge of the rocky cliffs to the north.

  “Do you see a way to the shelter?” Tristan squinted against the smoke and the painful blisters on his face.

  “Yes, but it’s a long way around. Can we use the lehkan?”

  Tristan nodded, and we stumbled back to our mounts. They fidgeted on the hill out of range of the smoke, pawing the ground, ears flicking forward and back. One of the first-years held their reins, murmuring calming words. Tristan issued orders to his men even as he mounted. He sent some northeast to where the forest poured down from Braide Wood and met the rocky Hazor mountains—the direction the minitrans seemed to have come from. Others were commanded to circle the far southern borders of the fields, on alert for enemies. Someone had set these monsters loose. He assigned a few to help the wounded back to the village.

  Tristan and I rode around the north edge of the fields, close to the looming darkness of the cliffs. The tears running down my face weren’t only caused by the chemicals. The beautiful farmland was already blackened and scarred as the weapons did their work. There was no way to stop them. I could have screamed with frustration. These fields had been ready for harvest. This was food for the people of Braide Wood and the surrounding area for the next full season. Worse yet, this destruction would affect more than one season’s crop. The chemicals continued to hiss as the foul mess soaked into the ground. The clan wouldn’t be able to farm here for years. The very earth was being murdered.

  I turned away from the ruined fields and set my focus determinedly on Tristan’s back. He must have had the right words to soothe his great, antlered lehkan, because somehow he steered him along the rim of the destruction. My doe, Mara, followed with only occasional skitters in random directions.

  My anxiety grew as we rode. As far as I knew, Bekkah was alone at the outpost. God, please let her be safe. She was smart and tough. She would have found a way to survive the chemical attack. I thought of her ready smile when we first met in the transport—teasing the men, resting her hand comfortably on her dagger hilt, telling me how she’d al
ways wanted to be a guardian. As we drew close to the outpost, we noticed black charred markings on some of the trees and even on the ground. When we reached the shelter, Tristan leapt off his mount and ran forward. It took me longer to dismount, but I hurried to join him. Someone lay face down on the ground several yards from the open door of the shelter. Full, chestnut hair gathered at the nape of her neck. Bekkah. The side of her face was blistered from the poison mist. She must have passed out from the fumes.

  I rolled her over before Tristan could stop me and then stumbled back with a gasp. A deep, charred wound marked her chest. She wasn’t unconscious. She was dead.

  “No,” I choked out. I fell to my knees next to her body.

  Tristan dragged me to my feet. “Long-range weapons,” he said, pulling me toward the shelter. He scanned the area around us as we ran. “Do you understand? Do you know what those are?”

  I understood all too well what long-range weapons were. I didn’t know what kinds were used in this world, but if that was what had killed Bekkah, they were clearly as deadly as any in my own world. I ran faster.

  As we stumbled into the shelter, we confronted another surprise.

  A young man with cropped black hair and foreign-looking clothes stood against the back wall of the room. Tristan drew his sword with a cry and stepped forward until the tip of the weapon hovered inches from the boy’s chest. The boy flinched, but didn’t try to run.

  “Tristan!” I was still having trouble breathing. “He’s not armed!” I tugged on Tristan’s sword arm, but it was like trying to move a gnarled branch of one of the broad trees that grew in the village.

  He didn’t budge. At least he stopped short of running the boy through. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  The boy swallowed and looked almost cross-eyed as he stared down Tristan’s sword.