by Sharon Hinck
All the bits of clothing and weaponry I had collected along my way had also returned with me. My hand moved to my sword hilt, and I laughed. I drew the sword and looked at it under the bare light bulb.
It was plastic again.
I held it out for Mark to see. “This wouldn’t hold up long against the Hazorites.”
“Thank the One you won’t be needing a sword here.” Mark pulled me into a hug.
I laid the sword in the toy bin and took off my cloak and folded it over the other costumes, giving it a gentle pat. I slid off my gauntlets and smiled at them.
I was glad for the reminders of my time in the other world.
Time.
“Mark, what time is it? How much time went by?” I didn’t wait for his answer, but scrambled down the pull-down stairs. I sprinted to the kitchen. The clock flashed the date and time. Same day, 8:00 p.m.
I leaned against the counter, breathing hard. I felt lightheaded and bent farther forward.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked, coming up beside me.
“It’s still there. The pain. I guess that answers that question.” I tried to smile. “Just another souvenir I brought back.” Why would the same One that had provided Restorer powers allow this damage to remain and come through the portal with me? Although, it if saved Braide Wood, it was a small price to pay.
“You’re going to the doctor first thing Monday morning, all right?” Mark stood beside me and I turned and nuzzled my face against his chest.
He wrapped his arms around me and we stayed there until our breaths were rising and falling in unison. “I guess I should drive over to your mom’s and pick up Jon and Anne,” he said at last.
My eyes suddenly flooded with tears. The yearning for my children these past weeks had been an aching emptiness like that of the haunting, deserted streets of Shamgar. Deep fear had slithered through every thought of them. Until this moment, I hadn’t known if I would really find my way back—if I would ever see them again.
I grabbed the car keys from the pegs by the door and tossed them to Mark. “Let’s go. Hurry up.”
“Slow down, Mama Bear. I’ve missed them, too. But don’t you think we should change first?” Mark leaned against the kitchen counter, rugged, unshaven, sword at his side. He seemed larger—or our kitchen seemed smaller. He’d definitely raise some eyebrows marching up to my mom’s condo looking like that.
“Okay. We’ll get changed. But come on.” I grabbed Mark’s hand and hurried down the hall. In a few minutes I’d have Jon and Anne in my arms again—every squabbling, loose-toothed, sticky-with-jam inch of them. Then Jake would get home from work and Karen from Amanda’s, and we’d order pizza and let everyone stay up past bedtime. Joy spiraled its way up through my chest.
Then the hallway wavered.
I dropped Mark’s hand and grabbed the wall. “Whoa.”
“What’s wrong?” Mark quickly held me up.
I waited for the vertigo to pass. “Just lightheaded again. But that is not going to slow me down. I want to see the kids.”
“Sure.” Mark supported me subtly as we walked into our bedroom. “But you need to catch your breath. I’ll go get them, and you can take your time changing. Rest. Take a bath.”
Could I stand one more minute of waiting? Mark was already pulling on his jeans, leaving his Braide Wood clothes in a pile on the floor and his sword leaning against the wall. I sank onto the bed. Maybe a few minutes of rest would be a good idea.
“I suppose. But don’t let my mom talk you into a piece of pie or anything.” I curled up on the bed, amazed at how soft it felt.
Mark pulled a quilt up over me and gave me a quick kiss. “I promise. Sure you’re okay?”
“Mm hmm. Just tired. Hurry.”
I didn’t need to prod him further. He was as anxious to see the kids again as I was. Probably wanted to reassure himself that the life he’d built in this world was still in place. I closed my eyes as the kitchen door closed and his car pulled out of the driveway.
Then, despite my fatigue, my brain came fully awake. I was really home. I shoved away the quilt, too excited to lie around. I prowled restlessly through the kitchen and living room. It would take at least ten minutes each way, plus a few minutes of chatting with my mom, before Mark and the kids would get back. I should have gone with him.
I got a drink of water in the kitchen and rubbed at a sticky spot of jam on the counter. Not so long ago, I’d been frustrated that I spent so much time cleaning up messes and muddling through tedious days. Now I felt incredible gratitude that I was back in my own home.
How had it all started? That’s right, my Bible study. I’d been feeling depressed about the unimportance of my life, while I read about everything Deborah did in the book of Judges.
A new burst of energy propelled me to the back hallway. That’s what I could do while I waited for Mark and the kids. I could finally initiate the attic get-away spot that Mark had made for me.
I climbed the pull-down stairs and settled in my chair. Taking a deep breath, I sat quietly as I had done with Lukyan once and thanked the One for the gift of life and for being with me each step of my journey.
When I opened my eyes, something glinted near the base of the sewing mannequin.
I crouched and ducked under the eaves to reach for it.
Jake’s iPod. That scamp had been up here snooping around. He must have dropped it after our family meeting, before he left for work.
I settled back into my chair and opened my journal. My finger traced the notes I had scribbled about being a heroic woman of God.
I grabbed a pen. “I surrender,” I wrote to God. “Help me follow you.” When Mark had built this hideaway, I had hoped it would provide me a place to get closer to God. My lips quirked. It didn’t work out quite the way I had expected—but that’s how a lot of life is. Unexpected.
I turned the page and my breath caught.
My pencil drawing covered the page. The “Oak of Susan” looked a lot like the gnarly-branched trees of the Lyric grove. And underneath were a few words in Jake’s unmistakable scrawl. Hey, mom. Cool sketch. Love ya, Jake.
He’d been up here. But it couldn’t have been before he left for work. He’d left right after the family meeting.
The kitchen door slammed. “Susan?” Mark thumped through the living room.
“Up here,” I called. He’d only been gone five minutes. Why was he back already?
He popped his head up through the floor opening. “Have you seen Jake? I was halfway to your mom’s when I realized his car was out in front of the house, so he must be home from
work. I thought I better come back and warn you so you could get changed before he sees you.”
“He can’t be here. There’s no music coming from his room.” The first thing Jake always did when he came home was to crank up his stereo.
“I’ll check.” Mark disappeared from view.
I picked up the iPod and turned it around in my hands. Slowly, I eased my way down the steps to the hall. Mark met me, shaking his head. The silence of the house closed in on me.
“Maybe he came home and thought no one was here and went for a walk,” Mark said.
Right. The day Jake went for a walk voluntarily would be the same day Karen decided to clean her room just for the fun of it. I checked the row of pegs by the kitchen door. “His keys are here. Even if a friend picked him up, he’d still have taken his house keys. He came home and didn’t go back out again.”
My heart was starting to pound. I ran to the stairs and scrambled into the attic. Mark was right behind me. The bare light bulb still cast a pool of light on my chair and end table. My journal still lay open on the table. I held the book up to Mark, my hands shaking. “He was up here in the attic. While we were gone. He got back from work and came up here.”
“The portal was open.” Mark too
k the journal, set it down and fumbled for my hands. We looked at each other in panic.
Mark took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll go through and find him. He must be somewhere in Lyric.” He was already pulling the stones out of hiding and positioning them.
My fear grew. There was no way I could watch my husband disappear through that portal. “We’re both going.” My voice shook, but I crossed my arms and stuck out my chin.
He glanced up at me and opened his mouth to argue, but then gave a staccato nod.
My mind raced. “Wait a second.” I ran downstairs to the phone. Urgency made me hit the wrong buttons twice, but I finally reached my mom. I asked if she could watch the kids a few more hours, trying to keep my voice breezy. Both Jon and Anne got on the line.
“I love you, kiddo-beans.” My throat went all thick, and I fought to hide the tears so I wouldn’t alarm them.
“We got bored with Crazy Eights and Go Fish,” Anne chirped.
“And Anne cheated,” Jon complained.
My heart swelled. Their bickering was the sweetest sound in the world.
“So grandma’s gonna teach us poker.” Anne smacked some carefree kisses through the phone. “Bye, Mommie. Love ya.”
“I love you, too.” Poker? I stared at the phone before setting it down and shook my head slowly as I headed back to the hall.
Mark came from the bedroom, back in his Braide Wood clothes, sword once again at his side.
“We’d better hurry,” I told him. “Jon and Anne need rescuing, too.”
I made one more call, to Karen’s friend, Amanda. Amanda’s mom said they had gone to a movie, and asked if Karen could spend the night. That taken care of, I followed Mark back up the stairs.
For a moment, a voice as subtle and dangerous as a Rhusican’s spoke into my mind. “It’s not fair. You just got back. You’ve done enough. You shouldn’t have another problem to face.” I pushed the thoughts aside and ducked under the eaves long enough to pry the lid off the “Dress-up” bin. I grabbed my cloak and the plastic sword.
Mark held out his hand to me, strength and trust drawn in hard-earned layers on his strong features.
My own faith swelled. I took a deep breath and stepped toward him and the portal.
Any road, Lord.
Continue the Adventure…
Check out the next book in the Sword of Lyric series.
The Restorer's Son (Sword of Lyric, Book 2)
Keep reading for a sample chapter of The Restorer's Son...
http://bit.ly/restorersson
About The Restorer's Son:
Chosen to save a people. Called to serve an enemy.
Plunged again into the gray world of Lyric and Hazor, Susan and Mark search frantically for their teenage son, Jake, as all signs hint that a trusted ally has betrayed them. Assassins, political intrigue, false leads, and near misses beset their path, which will lead them into the dark prisons of Hazor before the One’s purpose is revealed.
Cast out by those he trusts and preferring to cross swords with the One rather than yield to His will, Kieran flees to enemy Hazor, only to find that the One knows no borders. Pursued by his calling, Kieran finds a boy without a home, a king with burning questions, and a nation torn by darkness. As he embraces the tasks the One has set before him, this new Restorer learns that the One requires his all-perhaps even his life.
Get this book for Amazon Kindle:
http://bit.ly/restorersson
Enclave Publishing is the premier publisher of Christian speculative fiction.
Whether it’s Christian science fiction books you love, or fantasy, time travel, steampunk, alternate history, spiritual warfare, superhero, or technothriller—if it’s speculative and it comes from the Christian worldview, Enclave Publishing is there. Enclave Publishing is a small, independent press that strives to get Christian speculative fiction directly into the hands of the fans who love and devour great stories.
An enclave is a group of like-minded people in a place where they are surrounded by those who are not like-minded. It is not a place to hide, instead Enclave Publishing is a place where authors and fans of Christian Fantasy and Christian Science Fiction can come together and then go out and make a difference through worlds of words. Our stories can seem strange but underneath they contain powerful expressions of Redemption, Truth, and Hope.
Sign up to get updates about new Christian Fantasy and Science Fiction at www.EnclavePublishing.com.
Keep reading for a sample chapter of The Restorer's Son (Book 2 in The Sword of Lyric series)...
The Restorer's Son
(The Sword of Lyric, Book 2)
* * *
Chapter 1
KIERAN
“Hills of Hazor take you,” I swore for at least the tenth time since first light. My sword hacked at thick underbrush, but when I shouldered my way forward, a twig snapped back at my face. I cursed the day I’d met the last Restorer. It was because of her that I was battling through this forsaken forest below Cauldron Falls. My blade deserved a more substantial enemy.
A squint-eyed badger rambled out from a thornbush. Sniffing the air, it bristled and ducked back under cover. Wise plan. I was hungry. Stinging beetles landed on me from the low-hanging branches overhead. I swatted them away and stalked onward.
Why hadn’t I convinced Tristan to leave her in Shamgar when she first turned up? A witness to his crime, and he had brought her to our refuge in the deserted city. Typical. He was a naïve idiot sometimes.
She hadn’t looked very threatening that day—rain-soaked, bloody, and unconscious. If only I’d known then how much trouble she was capable of causing. What was that old saying? Don’t judge a rizzid’s menace until you see its teeth.
I recognized the danger she posed when a deep scrape on her face healed. Instantly. Hairs on my neck pricked as if I’d touched a misaligned magchip. I’d heard the old stories, but never seen it happen. It had been years since our people had chased after a mythic Restorer, but I knew the signs.
Exactly the kind of problem we hadn’t needed. A Council spy or some other enemy would have been bad enough, but as I had watched her wounds vanish, I knew things were going to get very complicated.
And they did. I circled the trunk of a large spice tree and stopped. My hearing had grown unnaturally keen in the past days—keen enough, I hoped, to warn me if any Kahlareans lingered nearby. Cauldron Falls roared in the distance, and a few animals rustled in the damp leaves of the forest floor. Guardians from our clans patrolled the river below the falls. I should be able to hear or see some sign of them.
I frowned. Nothing.
I pulled another beetle off my arm and ground it under my heel, then pushed through a clump of bracken and caught a glimpse of the river. Water crashed from the hundred-foot falls and swirled in an angry mass at the base. The rocks had worn into a rounded bowl, earning the name Cauldron Falls. I hiked along the river’s edge, picking my way over the boulders and scanning the opposite bank. The river surged, wide and rough, a natural barrier to protect our lands. Unhappily, upstream from the falls the river narrowed, and a gap cut between steep rock cliffs. The pass provided a natural pathway into our lands.
The trail to the top of the falls rose steeply. I sheathed my sword and grabbed the rocks to pull myself up. A few stones dislodged beneath my boots and crashed down behind me. I climbed faster. This was a bad spot to be caught by an enemy.
The river border used to be easy to guard, but lately our patrols were in danger from syncbeams—long-range weapons the Kahlareans used from cover on their side of the river. Tristan was worried about an invasion, so I agreed to check things out. He probably figured my trip would follow some historic precedent because a past Restorer gave his life fighting off two hundred Kahlareans at Cauldron Falls. Tristan liked traditions.
When I reached the top of the falls, I settled on a boulder, pulled out my gourd of orberry juice, and savored the loneliness. At my feet the w
ater rushed by, violent and unpredictable, and I knew an instant kinship with the river.
The past few days had honed my irritation to a fine edge. After Susan and Markkel disappeared, Tristan begged me to present myself to the Council as the Restorer. I refused. He nagged. I snarled. Then he fought dirty. He sent my sister, Kendra, to talk to me. They’d been wearing me down. When I overheard Tristan talking about his concerns for the River Borders, I jumped at the excuse to leave. I couldn’t stand any more of their earnest trust in me. The hope in their faces. The expectations I could never fulfill. Spare me from Braide Wood’s overgrown reverence for the old myths. I wasn’t the Restorer they looked for. It was a cosmic joke—a worse joke than the last Restorer had been. Susan of Ridgeview Drive, she called herself. No clan I’d ever heard of.
I pushed myself back to my feet and headed upstream. With luck I’d reach the outpost before the afternoon rains. The sky pressed low in the flat gray tones of midday. The air was warmer than in Braide Wood, and my tunic soon clung to the sweat on my skin. I knelt by the river’s edge to splash cold water on my face, rub dirt from the stubble on my jaw, and rake some sticks and leaves from my hair. My black hair had always marked my status as an outsider. Even as a child I’d refused to hide my Hazorite blood. Instead I made the folk of Braide Wood even more uncomfortable by cropping my hair short, like the enemy Hazorites. It would have been impossible to hide anyway. Both Kendra and I took after our mother and had the thin frames and angled cheekbones of her heritage.
I straightened up and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of pine and the tangy bite of the golden spice trees. The nonstop roar of rushing water muted my chafing thoughts, and some of the knots in my back loosened. I rubbed the back of my neck. The cave where I slept last night had an uneven rock floor. I could have stayed in Rendor’s central city but decided I’d rather take my chances with the scavengers and bears than make conversation.
