by Sharon Hinck
I tore my eyes away and looked up at him.
“It’s a syncbeam. Not the garbage they sold Cameron, either. This is the kind they’ll be using when they attack.”
“How did you get it?” I admired the jagged facets in the center of the weapon.
“Picked it up a couple days ago, when I was in Sidian.”
There was probably an interesting story behind that comment. I was sure the Hazorite army didn’t leave these lying around. “So you’ll show it to Skyler tomorrow?”
He nodded and put the syncbeam away.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re helping a lot of people, Kieran. I know things have been hard for you.”
“For pity’s sake,” he said, wincing. “I said I’d do it. Now would you please go away?” He slouched against the wall and closed his eyes again.
I looked at the mug in my hand and considered pouring the rest of the water over his head, but decided to quit while I was ahead.
Chapter
31
Mark was right. Time was relative. Now that every day was so vital, the hours hurtled ahead like a lehkan with no rider. Tristan guessed that we had about fifteen days to prepare, provided Hazor stuck to the timeline in their ultimatum. There was always the chance that they would discover that Braide Wood wasn’t going to meet their terms and attack early.
New guardians arrived daily, and the numbers swelled to nearly four hundred. Thanks to Mark’s work in Lyric, they came well supplied and organized. Still, from the information Kieran had gathered during his recent travels in Hazor and his interrogation of Nolan, he estimated that we could be outnumbered ten to one. Hazor would send at least two thousand troops from Sidian, and most likely other regiments as well. Kieran warned Tristan to prepare for an army of four thousand.
Tristan set up camps for the various clans in the woods near the lehkan plateau. Trying to keep the reinforcements hidden complicated the task. As training began in earnest, secrecy became a lost cause. If Hazorite spies crossed the mountains, they would see obvious signs that we were preparing for war.
Tristan sent out his own spies. Kieran wanted to go, but was too busy working with Skyler each day. Ever the pragmatist, he had found some way to get along with his father, so they could dissect the syncbeam and develop a defense. I guessed that it had been the allure of analyzing the syncbeam, rather than Kieran’s winning personality, that convinced Skyler to help. Kendra joined them. Apparently she also had a keen mind for technology. Every night I’d ask how the work was progressing. Though Kieran was too irritable and preoccupied to say much, Kendra told me she was sure they could come up with something if they had more time.
Guardian training was a happy surprise to me. I grew stronger and faster almost by the hour. More than that, I developed an instinct for sword work. On the first morning I joined the other guardians to train, I read mockery on the faces of some of the experienced troops. The skepticism disappeared within hours, and I never saw it again. Tristan started me on drills with first-years, but by afternoon had me sparring with some of his best men and women. The hint of Restorer skill that had flickered to life in the past, now blossomed into blazing power. I was clear, sharp, and agile, and my sword no longer felt heavy in my hand. The feeling of strength was exhilarating.
The training also gave me a place to focus my emotions. I missed my children and worried about them constantly. I also felt deep anger at Bekkah’s death and Dylan’s, at the ruined fields, and at the feeling of dread that had soaked into the life of the village along with the chemicals. I ached when I thought of Nolan and all the children in Hazor. Most of all, I missed Mark and worried about the Kahlarean assassins. Clanging my sword against an opponent’s again and again was the best remedy for my fears. My arm never seemed to grow tired. Even during the afternoon rain, when we skidded in mud under the low grey skies and maneuvered over the uneven terrain of the plateau, I never felt the cold or the recurring ache within my ribcage.
Walking back to Tara’s home in the evening, though, the odd weakness often returned. My chest hurt when I took a deep breath. Sometimes dizziness would hit me, and I’d stop and lean forward, hands grabbing my knees, trying to push the black spots away from my vision by sheer force of will. I faithfully downed mugs of the healer’s concoction each day, but it had been seven days now, and it didn’t seem to be helping.
One night as I prepared for bed, I realized I’d forgotten to drink my vile herbs. I padded out to the common room. Tristan and Kieran were at the table, speaking in low tones. Each night, when everyone else headed to bed, they would sit and strategize, sometimes pushing Dustin’s black and white pebbles around in patterns on the table.
“I’m guessing they’ll come at twilight. That’s their pattern,” Kieran was saying.
“How many, do you think?” Tristan asked. I assumed they were deep into their usual analysis of Hazor’s army. Then Kieran saw me and nudged Tristan. They both stopped talking.
I walked past them toward the kitchen, then pulled to a halt and turned back. “What’s wrong?”
Kieran shook his head.
Tristan sighed. “Come and sit down.”
I pulled out a chair and saw that the little stones from Dustin’s game weren’t on the table. I sat down slowly.
“The messenger from Lyric today—”
My heart stopped beating, and I grabbed Tristan’s arm. “Is Mark all right? What happened?”
“He’s fine,” Tristan said quickly. “There haven’t been any more attacks. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“But that’s the problem,” Kieran said. “No more attacks. Wade and Markkel even set up a trap . . . tried to draw them out. Nothing.”
“That’s good,” I said, glaring at him. Did he really think we needed more excitement?
He drummed his fingers on the table. “It means they know Markkel isn’t the Restorer.” He paused, and I looked at both men questioningly. Kieran leaned forward, and his voice was matter-of-fact. “It means they’ll be coming for you.”
I was still feeling the bravado of another great day of riding and sword fighting. “Let them come.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Kieran snapped.
I’d had it with his insults. All he did was mock and belittle me. I shoved my chair back and stalked away.
Kieran sprang up like a panther and blocked my path before I’d taken three steps. “Think. What will happen if they come for you here?”
I looked down the hallway to the back rooms. Tristan’s family. They were all in danger. My spine lost its stiffening, and I melted back into the chair. “Where should I go?”
“Don’t look like that,” Tristan said. “We’re not throwing you out the door. We just need to make a plan.” Kieran walked away to the kitchen, leaving Tristan to comfort me. “You’re safest during the day. They won’t attack when you’re surrounded by guardians. We think they’ll come at night. I can assign some of my best guardians to stay with you constantly. I want to move you out to the caves on the ridge.”
The common room had been my haven. Comfortable chairs, warm light panels hanging on each wall like artwork. Even some drooping wildflowers in a mug on the table. I loved this home. I sighed. “When?”
“Now.”
Kieran walked back into the room and handed me a steaming cup. I sniffed it. It was my medicine. Had he noticed I’d forgotten to take any today? He didn’t miss much.
“No,” Kieran said. “Better make it tomorrow, in daylight . . . and make sure everyone knows about it. You want to make it clear she’s not here anymore.”
Tristan nodded.
I drank a swallow of the bitter sludge and set the cup on the table. My hand shook, and I quickly pulled it into my lap. I had become two people. I was the Restorer. With a sword in my hand, I felt no fear. Strong and relentless, my presence inspired confidence in the other guardians. I could wh
eel my lehkan around with a nudge of my knee, raise my sword over my head and shout out one of the Verses. Hundreds of warriors would roar in answer and charge across the plateau. Watching them, I easily believed that somehow we would defend Braide Wood.
But I was also Susan. My eyes welled up when Tara told her grandchildren bedtime stories. Spiders scared me. I missed Mark and my children. And I was terrified at the thought of watching my friends die. The odds we faced were hopeless. And even when my faith was strong enough to believe the One could save us, I wasn’t totally sure that He would. He promised to be with us, but He gave no guarantees that everything would go the way I wanted. Lukyan would say that the “not knowing” was where my obedience was tested. I suddenly didn’t feel up to the test.
I lifted my eyes to look at Kieran, who was slumped in his chair again, across the table from me. “You said I’d die and cause the deaths of others,” I said softly. “Back in Shamgar. The day after I arrived. I heard you tell Tristan.”
“Do I look like a songkeeper or a prophet? What do I know?” he scoffed.
When I didn’t react to his attempt at humor, he shifted forward and leaned on his elbows. “Susan, tell me one of the Verses from your world.”
I rubbed my eyes and squinted at him. “But you don’t believe in the Verses.”
“What’s wrong? Can’t think of any?” he taunted.
“I’m not in the mood for your games.” I took another drink and thumped the mug back onto the table.
Kieran’s eyebrows lifted and he waited. Even Tristan watched me expectantly.
“Fine.” I closed my eyes and let my mind page through a mental Bible. Hebrews. Something in there about faith. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.” I started the words flippantly, but they coursed into my blood and I felt their power. I began to remember the ancients that this chapter commended: Abraham, Joseph, Moses, Gideon, Samson, Daniel. A roll call of faith.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith . . .” I opened my eyes. Warmth had filled me. These people still waited for their Deliverer. They didn’t know Him yet. But I did. And the One was big enough to work out His purposes, even in the frightening days ahead. I smiled.
“Thank you,” Tristan said quietly to his friend. Kieran nodded, but pushed his chair back and avoided my eyes. He had accomplished his goal. I wasn’t sinking into defeat anymore. But Kieran looked uneasy. The verses had unleashed the sense of the One’s presence. Even Kieran must have felt it. I smiled more widely.
Kieran refused to acknowledge me. “Give her some drills on Kahlarean weapons tomorrow.” He rose and practically ran from the room.
I swallowed the rest of my drink and looked at Tristan. “It’s going to be all right.”
He gave me a tired nod.
Staying up at the caves wasn’t as bad as I had expected. The walls were damp and there were bugs, but I was too tired by nightfall to pay much attention. The cave where I slept had a familiar reek; it smelled the way the lining of my kids’ boots do by the end of winter. I grew accustomed to the murky air—the hard part was the paradox of being lonely but never alone.
I wanted to spend time with Linette and visit Lukyan. I wanted to bake bread with Tara and chat with Kendra. But anyone I spent time with would be in danger. We didn’t know if the assassins were on their way or already here, watching my movements and waiting for the right moment to attack. I didn’t dare go near anyone in the village.
At the same time, three or four guardians, hand-picked by Tristan, constantly surrounded me. They stood guard at the caves and walked with me to training each morning. Even while we drilled, they followed me everywhere like a kite tail. For the first day or so, I was comforted by their presence. After a while, I felt claustrophobic.
The threat from the Kahlareans didn’t seem real. For all we knew, the few assassins who had escaped from the attack on Mark had already retreated across the River Borders. I was much more focused on preparing for the war with Hazor.
Each morning I rode with Tristan as he spoke with the captains of each group of guardians. As he was the head guardian of the clan most directly threatened by the enemy, the Council had appointed him to lead this defense. But he took no satisfaction from the honor. In reality, until the moment arrived when he would ride into battle, leadership consisted mostly of arbitrating conflicts between clans, checking on weapons and supplies, planning our desperate strategy, and, above all, praying to the One for mercy and guidance. By his side every day, I saw the burden of leadership etched on his face and wondered if the lines of my own face were hardening as well.
Late one afternoon, Tristan asked me to sit in on his war council. Time was running out. “I got word from the patrol this morning. Hazor’s army is approaching. We ride out to meet them tomorrow,” he told me. Under a hastily constructed tent, soggy with afternoon rain, he and his captains pushed stones around in the dirt. They drew terrain lines and argued, heads together over diagrams of mountains, forests, and plains. Some of the captains were young. They were eager and restless, and suggested bold direct attacks. Others were grizzled and time-hardened. They understood the hopeless odds but chose to ignore them. They spoke of the need for a line of protection closer to the village, in case Hazor moved forward on two fronts. While the captains argued about whether they could spread their troops so thinly, I noticed how much they looked like Jon’s grade-school football team, huddled together and mapping out their plans. But some of the men in this group wouldn’t survive the face-off ahead. Maybe none of them would.
“What do you think?” Tristan’s voice snapped me back to attention. He was looking at me, hopeful for a little Restorer guidance.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know. Do what you think is best.” I saw discouragement in the heavy shoulders and downcast eyes around the tent. “Just put a sword in my hand and point me in the right direction,” I added with a grin. A few faces looked up, startled. A couple of the captains chuckled.
Tristan clapped a hand on my shoulder, almost as if I were one of them. “Not a bad motto.” He led me out of the tent and turned me over to my bodyguards. “Thank you for that. If you see or hear anything . . . I mean, if you sense any direction from the One . . .”
“I’ll tell you right away. But I haven’t.” I rubbed my neck, more out of habit than for any actual stiffness. “No visions. No voices. All I know is that we have to defend Braide Wood, and I know He’ll be with us. You’re doing what you can. We all are. That’s all we can do right now.”
He nodded and turned to go back into the tent.
I followed my contingent of guardians along the ridgeline toward the caves, lost in thought. As we drew closer to the clearing, the man in the lead shouted something, drew his sword, and raced forward. Blades clashed.
I raced toward the sound, bounding up the trail and into the clearing close on the heels of another of my guardian protectors. One of my men was sprawled on the ground, struggling to roll back onto his feet. His sword lay several yards away. A second guardian faced off against an attacker . . . who wasn’t a Kahlarean. He wasn’t even an attacker. It was Kieran, and he was grinning.
“Hold!” I shouted.
The guardian facing Kieran took a step back but kept his sword up.
“Your protectors are a little jumpy, aren’t they?” Kieran sheathed his sword.
“You could have told them who you were.” I strode forward. My protectors today were from Rendor clan and didn’t know him. “Put up your swords, he’s a friend,” I told them. “Heaven help us,” I added under my breath.
Kieran pulled the first man to his feet. �
��Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “Just keeping in practice.” The young Rendor guardian picked up his sword and glared at Kieran. My bodyguards moved off, checking the surroundings and keeping an uneasy watch on us. Kieran and I sat down on the boulder and looked down at the village roofs.
“You’re in a good mood today,” I said.
“We think we have it figured out. A way to project a field that will suppress the magchips in their syncbeams.” He continued explaining, and I suppose the words must have made sense to him, but I tuned him out. Skyler, Kendra, and Kieran had done nothing but work on the problem for days now. There was a fanatical gleam in his eyes. It reminded me of the excitement Mark had displayed when he figured out a way to rewire something in our house circuits, so we wouldn’t blow a fuse every time I turned on the toaster at the same time that the refrigerator was running.
“I lost you. Should I explain it again?”
“No. Please don’t,” I said quickly.
He grinned. “Kendra asked me to come. She wanted you to know we’ll be there tomorrow morning with our invention, out of sight on the edge of the forest.” His mood sobered. “She also said I should tell you to be careful . . . and to take care of Tristan for her.”
“Tell her I will.”
“Oh, and she sent you this.” Kieran handed me a palm-sized device with a loop for attaching it to a belt and a few hidden panels. It looked like a smooth, white skipping stone. “It’s a signaler. You press here to get it to sound.”
I turned it around in my hand. Tristan had carried a signaler that looked similar to this. With a nod, I linked it onto my belt and then looked back out over Braide Wood, swinging one leg against the boulder.
“Use it,” Kieran said.
I turned to look at him, forgetting what he had been talking about.
He frowned. “The signaler. Use it if you need help tomorrow.”
