The Restorer's Son, page 5
part #2 of The Sword of Lyric Series
One of the men holding my arm barked an ugly laugh, but the young guardian who had pronounced the Council’s sentence turned to look at me. Blood-soaked and torn clothes would be rather conspicuous on a public transport. The guardians wanted to make this go as smoothly as possible. There was something almost taboo about exiling a person from the clans, and they wouldn’t want to draw attention.
The young guard drew his sword and jerked his head toward a nearby grove of trees. “Untie him and take him over there.” One of the men scowled, but there were four guardians against one unarmed prisoner, so he complied. The five of us stepped into the shelter of the trees.
A short time later, I slipped back out of the trees with my pack on my shoulders, my sword at my hip, and my dagger back in my boot sheath. No time to change my tunic. I’d have to worry about that later, before the scent of blood attracted scavengers. Right now my goal was speed. I wasn’t sure how long they’d all stay unconscious. I pressed my hand against a fresh wound on my arm. The young guard had gotten in a good slice, but it was already healing. I kept an eye on the clusters of people near the road and melted into the woods on the far side of Lyric. As soon as I was out of sight of the station, I ran.
It wasn’t my intention to go far. I needed to hide and make plans before I traveled much in any direction. Lyric was cupped by open rolling hills on two sides. Caradoc grazed the fields and few people inhabited those areas, but there wasn’t much cover. The woods on the far side of the city were the ones I had led the Kahlareans through. If the assassins decided to go home, they’d go back that way. If. It was more likely that they would be tracking me. I’d have to be sure I wasn’t followed before heading to Braide Wood. The last thing I wanted to do was lead them there.
That left me these woods. They were on the Braide Wood side of Lyric, but still a few days’ journey from my clan if I avoided transports. I plunged deeper into the forest and climbed to a ridgeline that would give me good warning of any approach. There I set up a hiding place. At a nearby stream I scooped water into my hand, gulping while staying alert for anything out of place around me. When the area looked safe, I risked plunging my whole head under the surface to scrub away blood and grime. It was a relief to peel away my tunic and grab fresh clothes from my pack. My mood lifted more when I found a spare scrambler and some other unconventional gear untouched in a hidden inner pocket of my pack. I unearthed the food the Council guard had provided and chewed on a small bread loaf.
Did I even need food now that I was a Restorer? If every injury healed, was it possible for me to starve? Susan might know, but she was back in her own strange world. I should have asked her more questions before she left. How did she control her intense sight and hearing? When she saw strange visions, how did she know it was guidance from the One and not insanity? How did she contain the horrible anger at being chosen for something she didn’t want to do?
Looking back on conversations with her, I couldn’t pinpoint a lot of anger toward the One. Oh, I’d seen her mad: irate with me the day we sparred—for trying to show her that you don’t pick up a sword unless you’re ready to kill; furious with Tristan and me for roughing up Nolan, the Hazorite messenger; livid at the plans Hazor had for Braide Wood’s children. But when she talked about the One, I didn’t hear anger. Occasionally her shoulders would sag with self-doubt. Other times she would get the same faraway look in her eyes that Linette often wore, and she’d straighten and almost glow as she talked.
Shortly before the battle with Hazor, Tristan had confided to Susan that Kahlarean assassins would be targeting her. It was one fear too many among all the dangers she faced. She looked at me with hollow eyes and reminded me that I’d predicted her death. She’d carried that comment around, letting it grate on her like sand in her boots. I didn’t know how to encourage her. Tristan was the one who always knew the right thing to say to frightened first-years on the eve of battle, but he was silent. So I asked her to recite some of her Verses. She assumed I was mocking her. Maybe I was.
But when she quoted something about faith and running a race, the transformation happened again. It was eerie. She swung from fear to hope to something beyond. I left the room, determined to keep far away from any One who could cause that much change in someone.
All these days later He still wasn’t getting the point. The One was amusing himself with a table game, but His black and white stones were real people. I didn’t want to be one of the stones He moved into play. I didn’t know how to convince Him to leave me alone. And I had the oddest craving to talk to Susan about it because I suspected that she might understand.
My only companions out here were the ground-crawlers and a few small scavengers. I constructed a bracken shield and positioned myself against a rock wall with an overhang, hidden from all but the most expert of trackers. I kept my sword in my hand. After the light faded to complete blackness, the air grew damp and chill. The heat of my resentment kept me warm. I sat awake, alert, and alone through the long night. First light made the indistinct line of ferns, brush, and tree limbs grow gradually visible again. The worst of night’s dangers past, I let myself doze. Once the gray glow of morning was well established, I checked that my location was secure, hid some of my gear, and headed back toward Lyric.
Everything in me wanted to run straight to Braide Wood and confer with Tristan, but first I needed to draw out the Kahlareans and make sure they weren’t a threat anymore. When in doubt, gather information—and I was dealing with a lot of doubt. Had the Lyric guardians found the Kahlareans? Did the Council Guard plan to hunt me? Did Cameron have the power to move against Tristan yet? Until I came up with answers, any step could be the wrong one. Lyric was the only place to find those answers.
I spent a day in the city, but stayed well clear of the central square. The hood of my cloak shielded me, and I made my way along back alleys, pausing often to listen for conversations. I heard too much about people’s tedious personal problems, but also gleaned a few important facts. Before nightfall I slipped out of the city. Hiking toward the ridge where I’d camped, I congratulated myself on a successful day—until the rustling of footsteps sounded behind me in the woods.
My heart pumped harder. Twigs snapped and leaves crackled. It wasn’t the Kahlareans. They’d never be that clumsy. Must be guardians, though it was strange for them to patrol outside Lyric so close to dark. Near my hiding place, I climbed a tree and kept watch to see who or what was approaching my campsite.
Chapter
6
Susan
Mark gripped my fingers with one hand and held his sword with the other, his bulk filling the tight space beneath our attic rafters. “Ready?”
A car horn sounded down the block, and the neighbor boy plucked out scales on a piano. The moon tossed squares of silver light through the attic window’s panes. Once we stepped through the portal, we’d be back in the place without sun or moon. A world with strange creatures, foreign rules, and frightening dangers.
Jake, why did you do this? I’m not ready to face this again.
I squared my shoulders under my rough-woven Braide Wood cloak. My fingers tightened around the toy sword I’d taken on my first journey. “Let’s go.”
Mark walked forward into the soft hum between the portal stones. I tried to match his confident stride but flinched as I waited for lightning to grab me in a fist as it had the first time.
Susan, get a grip. You have to find Jake.
I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and stepped forward.
Other than a little vertigo, my passage through the portal felt like a simple step into another room. My ears didn’t even roar from the pressure change.
Mark hadn’t fared as well. My steady-as-a-rock husband looked ashen in the pale morning light outside Lyric. He wavered on the mossy ground beneath our feet, reached for one of the smooth, braided tree trunks that surrounded us in the grove, and leaned heavily against it.
I grabbed his arm. “Are you all right?”
His eyes slowly focused, and awareness washed across his face.
“I’m fine.” He sheathed his sword and rubbed his temples, as if trying to press a flaring headache down to a dull throb.
I pressed my lips together and willed my pounding heartbeat to slow down. Coming back to Lyric had seemed like the obvious choice, but my stomach shifted as I looked around us. Gnarled spice trees formed grotesque sculptures of golden wood and perfumed the air with a hint of cinnamon. Beyond the grove the massive towers of Lyric glowed white as pearl in the dawn. A half-mile in the distance, the rippling pattern of the wall made the entire city shimmer like a heat mirage rising from the rolling gray-green hills.
I glanced down at the sword in my hand and gasped. “Mark, look!”
He squinted, still battling pain he was trying to hide, and raked a hand through his blond hair, where hints of silver flecked the curls at his temples.
I held up my sword. The weapon in my hand was a cracked plastic toy—the sword that had once blazed with reflected lightning during the battle of Morsal Plains. The sword of the Restorer.
Mark’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
I dropped the plastic sword and wrapped my arms around him, pulling comfort from the contour of his muscles and the rough fabric of his woven sweater.
After our adventures among the People of the Verses, I longed for our normal life with its comfortable pattern of kids’ soccer games, church potlucks, and family squabbles. Instead, within an hour of returning home we realized the unthinkable had occurred. Our college-aged son, Jake, had slipped through the open portal in the attic while we had been gone.
He squeezed me. “Susan, something’s wrong. Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
“We had to!” I pulled back to glare at him. “We couldn’t leave Jake alone here. There weren’t any options.”
“But . . .” Mark paused.
But we hadn’t bothered to ask. We hadn’t stopped to pray for guidance. We had seen a problem and stepped forward to fix it.
Tension built in my neck muscles. What was so terribly wrong with taking action? “I don’t care if we were supposed to come or not. We have to find Jake.” I kicked the toy weapon aside and wove around the trees, searching for any sign he was nearby. If I kept moving, I wouldn’t have to acknowledge the dark stubbornness taking hold in my spirit.
Mark stepped in behind me. His arms encircled me and stopped my pacing. His warm breath brushed my ear. “I know,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m worried too.”
If he had hinted at disapproval for my headstrong words, I might have shoved him back through the portal and charged headlong into a rescue on my own. Instead, his acceptance and understanding melted me. I turned in his arms and let him hold me again. His chest moved unevenly under my head.
I couldn’t throw away all the lessons learned in the past weeks. The People of the Verses had been watching for a promised Restorer to rise up and help them as they faced threats from surrounding nations. I was a hapless and inadequate answer to their need. Even so, the One had accomplished His purposes.
The victory was not without cost. I had seen brave guardians give their lives. I held my friend Linette when she learned her fiancé, Dylan, had been killed. I watched Mark struggle as he confronted his past and as he faced the fear that I might have to give my life. I suffered physical pain beyond description and struggled with doubt and despair that came close to crushing me when my mind was poisoned by a race of people who had the power to control thoughts and cloud spirits.
Through all the battles I began to understand more about the One and the depth of His love for the people here—and His love for me.
No, I couldn’t throw away the lessons learned now, no matter how much panic squeezed my ribs.
I drew a steadying breath. “What’s the plan?”
“If the portal isn’t stable, we’d better find Jake and get home. Fast.”
How much time had passed here? I felt a wave of jet lag. Mark’s theories about the flow of time between the two realities—our world and this other place that had birthed him—always gave me a headache. I had enough trouble figuring out daylight savings time. We had left our world in the late evening, but it was dawn over Lyric. Exhaustion muddled my brain cells. “He can’t have too much of a head start. You said time moves slowly in the reality that we aren’t a part of. Right?”
“I’m not sure,” Mark said quietly. “Maybe he’s been here for a few minutes. Maybe days. Maybe . . .”
My chest tightened, and I forced a deep breath. “Well, he’s not here by the portal. Which way would he have gone?”
Mark crouched down, touching the moss-covered earth, scanning for footprints. He shook his head and straightened, brushing off his hands. “I can’t spot anything useful. But I think he’d head for the city.”
Mark’s strong profile turned toward the distant walls, and energy seemed to fill him as he focused on solving the immediate problem. My husband the fixer. As long as he was doing something tangible, he was happy. No matter how formidable the challenge, he could shut out all the dire possibilities that my less linear mind entertained.
“Makes sense. Lead on.”
“We’ll circle the city and come in the entry tunnel. That’s what Jake would have done. He wouldn’t know how to find the hidden doors or unscramble the locks.”
Mark’s long strides left me puffing for breath behind him. We came in from the far side of the city—the Hazor side. Since this world had no visible sun to rise and set, they didn’t reference compass points; but by my mental map, we were north of the city. Behind us plains stretched out beyond the grove. Longhaired caradoc grazed on the gentle hills, looking more like unkempt sheepdogs than the sheep-like grazing animals they were.
I caught Mark’s optimism. “If Jake went in the main entrance, people would have noticed him.”
Mark’s steps faltered. “I hope not. Any stranger is always brought to the chief councilmember of Lyric to be questioned.”
I stopped dead, my heart stuttering against my ribs. “Cameron?” I knew firsthand what desperate lengths Cameron would employ to keep his position of power on the Council. If Jake were brought to him—
“Hurry!” My jaw tightened. I reached instinctively for my sword and frowned as my hand discovered the empty space at my hip.
We ran, following the undulating wall that stretched for at least a half mile. I doubled over to catch my breath long before we rounded the corner toward the front entrance.
Mark stopped and turned. “Wait at the grove. I’ll go into the city and find him.”
I shook my head and straightened, still gasping for air. “We’re sticking together.”
“Fine.” He reached for my hand with a wry grin. “I know better than to argue when you’re this determined.”
Determined? He hadn’t begun to see determined. I’d lost the special Restorer strength that had been my gift during my last visit. I was an out-of-shape mom with no abilities to heal, no keen vision or hearing, and no sword. But if Cameron had done anything to Jake, I would tear him apart with my bare hands.
“How can it be this hard to find one teenager?” My worry over Jake made me snap at the closest target: Mark.
“Lyric is a big city,” he said without looking at me. A man in a rust-colored tunic emerged from a nearby building. My husband grabbed my arm and pulled me down a side street into one of the little fern-covered parks that dotted the town.
All day we’d been avoiding anyone on the Council, while asking strangers near the central square if they had seen a tall, blond youth wearing strange clothes.
“Susan, we need to talk to Jorgen.” Mark tugged me down beside him on a bench. We rested a moment, hidden by a row of hedges trimmed with the same scalloped rim as the Lyric walls.
“No. Once someone on the Council knows we’re back . . .” I swallowed. I had thought we were done with all this. The confusing loyalties and duties. The obligations that came as our lives entangled with those of the people of this world. A minitran scooted past our hidden alcove on the road, carrying cargo on its automated way to a nearby storefront. My eyes stung with the memory of similar machines spewing chemicals onto the fields near Braide Wood, crippling the land and the people’s livelihood. I tasted the memory of ammonia fumes in the back of my throat. I didn’t want to be pulled back into battles I had no strength to fight.
Two women walked past just beyond the hedges, their conversation hushed but still audible. “You’d think they’d have announced a gathering before now. It’s been over a week since Morsal Plains.”
Over a week? We’d left the morning after the battle and been away less than an hour.
“Maybe they know we don’t feel like celebrating. Davis’s cousin was killed. And my friend from Ferntwine lost her brother.”
“Every clan there lost guardians. But they protected Braide Wood. And I heard . . .”
I stretched my hearing as they walked out of range and then remembered I’d lost that skill.
Mark took my hand and drew absent circles on my palm with his finger. “Jake wouldn’t know what to do, who to trust. We know he arrived before we went home through the portal, so we know he has over a week’s head start on us. Maybe that’s why no one remembers seeing him. There was probably a lot of chaos in Lyric around the time of the Morsal Plains battle.”
“How can you stay so calm? He’s been alone here for days.”
He looked out at the road. “I’m relieved. It could have been years.”
A hollow ache sucked my stomach toward my spine. “We could have lost him forever.” We still might. This world was full of dangers. What if he’d wandered north of Lyric and into Hazor? What if he’d explored the woods and been attacked by bears or rizzids or any of the other scavengers that made travel risky?
