The Restorer's Son, page 13
part #2 of The Sword of Lyric Series
“Tristan?” A chill crept under my skin. If this were a nightmare, he would turn and have the face of a monster, and I’d wake up in a cold sweat.
He didn’t turn. “I want you to leave.” His voice was low and raw. “Leave for Hazor. At least until you’re willing to tell the Council the truth.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I snapped. “I have to help. I’m not going to let Tag and Jameth be banished.”
Tristan turned slowly. He didn’t wear the face of a nightmare’s monster, but he had the eyes of a stranger. Remote. Dull. “You’ve done enough.”
“What?”
“Kieran, I told you after the battle that you needed to tell the Council you were the Restorer. None of this would have happened if you’d listened to me then.”
“So you’re mad that I didn’t take your advice?” I tried to laugh. “Come on. I’ve never listened to you.”
He didn’t smile. “Having you here makes all of Braide Wood a target. Anyone who talks to you risks banishment.”
“Tristan, I need to stay near because you are at risk already. I came here because you’re a target. Cameron is obsessed with destroying you.”
Tristan met my eyes. The muscles in his face were so tight I was surprised he managed to talk. “Don’t blame your choices on our friendship. You refused banishment because you have no respect for the Council and never have. It’s always been about doing things your own way.”
My own anger welled up to match his, but I pushed it down for a moment. “I want to be sure you and Kendra are safe.”
He stepped closer. “Protecting Kendra is my job, not yours. If you really care about her or anyone here, the best thing you can do is leave.”
I felt blood drain from my face. I took a step back and watched him, waiting for him to grin and admit he was stringing me along. It took a long moment for me to believe he was dead serious.
We’ve been like brothers for over thirty years. The plea shouted in my brain, but I wouldn’t voice it. “Why are you doing this?” I choked on the words.
“I’m not doing anything. You did it. You did it when you wouldn’t take your place as the Restorer. You did it when you broke into Lyric and helped the Kahlareans. You did it when you beat up guardians who were doing their job, and then ran. When you asked Jameth and Tag for help. When you lied to me.” The anger in his voice softened. “I’m sorry, Kieran.”
Rage rushed through me. I could take his nagging, his frustration toward me, and his play-by-the-rules stubbornness. But not pity. I won’t take pity from anyone. My hand moved to my sword hilt. Tristan’s eyes caught the movement. He sighed and shook his head.
It would have been better if he’d drawn his sword. All our lives we’d settled arguments with a good fight when needed. We were well matched. He was bigger and stronger, but I was quicker and more creative. Even as men, we’d sometimes crossed swords in anger—but always with the care that comes from knowing you’d rather die than see the other man hurt.
Now Tristan turned away.
“Fine. I’ll leave,” I said to his back. “I’m sure you’ll be joining me there soon, if Cameron gets his way. And you better warn Kendra when you’re banished, because he has plans for her.” I sneered the cruel words, hating myself as I did.
Tristan looked back at me, his eyes wide. It would have been kinder to stab him with my sword. The pain in his face would have been less.
I pushed aside my remorse. He was the one sending me away. “Thanks for the help, friend.” It took tremendous effort to keep my voice cold.
“Good-bye, Kieran.” He buried the flash of pain and turned aloof and hard. No better than the self-righteous, condescending councilmembers he served.
Long after his footsteps faded down the trail, I wandered to the boulder on the edge of the clearing and looked down at the homes of Braide Wood, numb.
“Good-bye,” I whispered.
Chapter
14
Susan
“Just say good-bye,” I muttered. Mark was engaging in the Council tradition of protracted leave-taking, and I’d already gnawed one fingernail to the quick.
“I appreciate your help with this,” Jorgen said again, grasping Mark’s forearm.
“I’ve been in your debt for many years. I would never refuse a request from my clan’s chief councilmember.” Mark’s fervent recommitment made me uneasy. I understood his sense of obligation and loyalty, but we had other priorities. Still, Jorgen’s nod of approval made Mark’s shoulders lift. His face had the youthful pride I had seen in Jake when he bragged about the notes his favorite teacher had given him on his last research paper.
“May the One guide your steps.” Jorgen walked with us to his office door.
“Amen.” I hadn’t meant for anyone to hear my dry exclamation, but Mark nudged an elbow into my ribs.
As soon as we were out in the hall, I gave vent to my frustration. “I thought we agreed to go to Braide Wood for help. I can’t believe—”
“It makes perfect sense. Susan, think about it.” Mark had the gleam again. The one that usually signaled a new home-remodeling scheme. This time the zeal in his eyes was even more dangerous.
Lord, I’ll let him tear the whole house down and rebuild it when we get home. Just don’t make me go though with this.
“I can’t write an epic song. I can’t even write a decent Christ-mas letter!” I started worrying another nail with my teeth.
“But it’s your place. Jorgen was right. They need to call an assembly and honor the One for the victory.” Mark’s face couldn’t have been more earnest. “Maybe this is why we were called back here. To finish it.”
Anxiety birthed anger. “We came back here to find Jake. Period. End of story.”
Mark grabbed my shoulders. “Do you think I’ve forgotten? I know more about the dangers of this world than you ever will. Do you think I’m not terrified for him?”
I bit my lip, holding back more angry words.
“What good will it do to go to Braide Wood,” he said, “with Cameron’s guards trailing us everywhere?” His hands tightened on my arms. Then he realized what he was doing and let go abruptly.
He was right. Nothing was going as planned. Before we had even reached our borrowed rooms after the useless interview with Cameron, we noticed two uniformed guards following us. They stopped at a discreet distance when we did, but followed us when we continued. Finally, Mark confronted them and learned that they were assigned by the Lyric chief councilmember to “protect” us. And having Cameron’s thugs tailing us was only the first complication.
Jorgen had contacted us the next morning, before we could leave for Braide Wood, to let us know a special assembly was called to celebrate the victory at Morsal Plains. Apparently it was my job to share the song that would record the event in the oral history of the People.
“Mikkel didn’t have to compose an epic poem about the battle at Cauldron Falls,” I groused, incapable of letting the argument rest.
Mark’s expression hardened. “That’s because he was dead.”
His words slammed into my heart. I had a flash of clear vision and saw every bit of my thoughtless, self-absorbed, whining nature. My breath came out in an uneven gasp.
“I’m sorry.” I reached out to Mark and was relieved when he gathered me in with no hesitation. “He was a real hero,” I said into his chest as I hugged him. “I know he would have happily written a song if he could have.” Mark’s long-buried grief over his father’s death had resurfaced when he returned to this world. I couldn’t believe how insensitive I’d just been.
“Naw.” Mark rubbed his chin against the top of head. “He would have hated it, too.”
I looked up. His lopsided grin contained not only forgiveness for me, but also another step of healing for his old grief.
I smiled. “That makes me feel better.”
“It’ll only be a small delay.” Mark steered us onward down the hall. “Representatives will come to Lyric from each clan. Not everyone, like for the big gatherings, but odds are that Tristan will come. We can talk to him then.”
I rested my head against Mark’s shoulder as we walked. When we left the building, the two men from the Council Guard followed us again. They were different from the two yesterday, but every bit as dogged. I was tempted to stick out my tongue at them but just frowned instead. Mark wasn’t nearly as bothered by them. When we had had trouble sleeping last night, Mark told me more about his life in Lyric before he came to our world. He had lived with bodyguards for many years. From the time enemy nations first heard the prophecy that he would bring restoration to the People of the Verses, he had been a target. A couple of official guards were no big deal to him . . . even if they did report to Cameron.
When we were back at our rooms, with the annoying guards hovering in the outer hallway, the work began.
It was hard enough for me to figure out how to tell the story of Morsal Plains. Factoring in the lack of written language, I couldn’t even piece together phrases in a notebook. Fortunately Mark had the same uncanny gift as everyone in the clans. He memorized rapidly and accurately. He carried verbatim records of the Verses in his brain. As I discarded and selected new lines for the song, he would recite back everything I had composed so far. Slowly, the account took shape.
When we finished, it was late into the evening, and we sank onto our pallet, exhausted. We clung to each other and prayed, begging God to look out for Jake and protect him. We prayed for our other children, Karen, Jon, and Anne, and hoped that time had stopped moving for them back in our own world. We prayed for all our friends in this reality. For Jorgen and his leadership of Rendor clan and the integrity he brought to the Council. For Tristan as he worked to rebuild Braide Wood and the guardians after all their losses. For Linette as she faced long seasons of grief. For Kieran, wherever he was. We still hadn’t made sense of the strange bits of information we’d gathered, and couldn’t believe what Cameron had told us. We took turns, and our voices grew slower and softer. Longer pauses stretched between prayers.
We were both dozing when a thought flared in my mind. “Mark, what if Jake went somewhere else?”
“Hmm?” Mark adjusted the arm he had wrapped around me and rested his cheek on my head.
“Are you awake? I just thought of something.” I pulled away and waited until Mark’s eyes opened to half-mast. “Do you know for sure that the portal would have led him to Lyric?”
Mark’s eyelids lifted the rest of the way. “The stones were lined up correctly. They took me to the entry outside of Lyric when I came back for you. I set them the same way this time, and we both came to the same place.”
“But when I first came here,” I propped up on an elbow, “I was in Shamgar. What if we can’t find him because he came through to somewhere else?”
“No, no, no,” Mark mumbled. “You got pulled through when the stones weren’t lined up right. Besides, the Blue Knoll chief councilmember spoke to him.”
“Is he sure? Maybe it was some other blond teenage boy.” I sat up, holding fistfuls of the blanket. “And what if there are other worlds? What if he is in some totally different reality?”
Mark sighed and sat up, gathering me close. He smoothed the hair back from my face. “I don’t know if there are other realities or not. I don’t know if the portal stones could take someone to other places. But even if they can, I believe Jake is here somewhere. We’re doing everything we can.”
“You’re going to tell me to trust, aren’t you?” I sighed and let Mark massage some of the knots out of my neck and shoulders.
“Susan, did you listen to the song you just wrote?” He edged me back down under the covers. “Listen.” And in a low, rumbling baritone, he sang for me. I heard the words as if I hadn’t lived through the story they told. Amazement over the miracles of the One swept through me. My eyes drifted closed, and no more panicked worries pierced the gradual quieting of my thoughts. If He could do all of that . . . It was the last thought I had before sleep claimed me.
“I wish Linette were here.” My fingers reached up to smooth back strands that were slipping out of my braid. “I thought they would send her.”
Messengers had gone out to tell all the clans about the assembly on this fourteenth day after the battle. Anyone who could be spared had traveled to Lyric to gather in the central tower for the unusual worship time. The Feast day gatherings were held at first light, but this assembly would be after lunch, to allow time for people to take transports from some of the outer clans. I’d spent the morning working with the musicians. They’d developed an accompaniment with ease. The old Welsh hymn-tune that I had chosen had a rolling melody that wasn’t terribly different from some of the other worship music I’d heard on Feast day.
Mark and I stood alone on a round dais. The musicians had gathered their instruments and moved to the eight arched entryways around the tower. They would call the people in from all directions. The last time I was here, I had watched this dais lift and rotate, allowing the thousands of people to see the songkeepers who led the worship. I hoped I wouldn’t get motion sickness.
I turned to ask Mark for the tenth time about one of the phrases I wasn’t sure of, when movement caught my eye. An elderly man made his way slowly across the wide, light-spangled floor of the tower. He paused and lifted his face to admire the vast space overhead.
I gasped. “Lukyan!” I scrambled from the dais and ran to greet him. He turned watery blue eyes toward me, and myriad lines splayed across his temples as he smiled. I hugged him.
His hands trembled with age as they touched my back. “The clan of Braide Wood sends you their blessing,” he said quietly.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” He leaned on my arm as we walked over to Mark. I thought of the long hike to the transport station from Braide Wood and marveled at the strength of will it would take a man of his years to make the trip.
“Mark, this is Lukyan, the eldest songkeeper of Braide Wood.” I blinked back tears. “My husband, Mark.”
Lukyan gave Mark a gentle nod. “Linette is working with the healers, but we knew a songkeeper from Braide Wood should be here today. May I assist you?”
Mark probably grasped the honor being given in that generous offer even better than I could. He helped Lukyan step up onto the dais. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I was worried she would bolt.”
Lukyan’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me. “Another road not of your choosing?”
“Exactly.” But the sharp tang of anxiety had faded with his presence, and I smiled. “Will you help me teach the song?”
“Of course.”
In the brief moments before the crowds began to gather, I taught him the words. As the musicians finished their call to worship and moved back to the area near the dais, Lukyan rested one quavering hand against my face.
“It’s only right to give honor to the One.”
“Soli Deo Gloria,” I whispered.
His eyebrows lifted in question.
“To Him alone be glory.”
The brightness of his answering smile and the warmth of Mark’s strong presence, enabled me to face the gathered clans and forget myself. I never even noticed the dais begin to move as I sang.
Hear, O nations, hear the glorious
Ways the One protects His own.
Hazor’s cry of war surrounded,
In our weakness we’re not alone.
Raise the Song of One who loves us,
One whose pow’r is without peer.
Trust not in weapons, kings, or hill-gods;
His deliverance is always near.
The chorus immediately repeated and thousands of voices joined mine. Then the instruments pulled back their volume, and I began the long series of verses. Mark had helped me include each of the clan names and the role it played. As I sang of how the Council sought guidance from the One and that He sent a Restorer from a distant land, I felt as if I were telling the story of someone else entirely.
In a sense, I was. This wasn’t my story. This wasn’t even the clans’ story. This was a grand, glorious celebration of the One involving Himself in the lives of the People He loves. My voice sounded breathy to my ears, but Lukyan’s reedy tenor and Mark’s baritone helped carry the words across the vast space of the tower.
Even the clans who refused to help were mentioned with gentle chiding. The temptation to ignore the Verses was addressed, in addition to a reminder of the danger that comes from trusting anyone but the One.
Guardians fought, Restorer riding,
Brave my soul, march on to die.
All the heavens joined the battle;
Light and heat were thrown from the sky.
Wake, oh wake, and see salvation
Driving hard across the plains.
Allies, strength, and swords hold true;
Fill the valley like cleansing rain.
I looked out over the faces of the People, and even though I had no more Restorer powers, a wave of love washed through me—like the visions that once gave me glimpses through the eyes of the One. The One who had created these People yearned to heal and deliver them. Despite my impatience to search for Jake, I was grateful Mark had insisted I honor Jorgen’s request. This song would be one more stitch in the weaving to bind this world into their Creator’s grace.
May they remember who You are, I prayed as the chorus rang again. Then I thought of my own immediate battle and bowed my head. Help me remember, too.
My chin came up, and I taught them the last verse.
Weep no more for the fallen warriors;
We, His children, rest in His arms.
Shout the Verses, bold with promise;
Day to day, He keeps us from harm.
