The Restorer's Journey

by Sharon Hinck

  A hand rested lightly on my head. “So much chaos.” Nicco’s voice was right above me and dripped with false sympathy.

  I squeezed my eyes more tightly closed.

  “Well, if you’re sure you don’t want her anymore,” he called to Medea.

  “She’s yours.” Her voice was already fading as she moved down the hall.

  I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through me.

  “Giving up already? This is too easy,” he sneered. The hand lifted from my head. “Pull yourself together. I’ll be back later.”

  I followed the sounds of his footsteps, the clatter of something falling, and the hiss of the door closing. After several deep breaths, I gathered the courage to see if he had really left.

  The relief of being alone again lasted only a few minutes. He’d be back. That knowledge propelled me to my feet to pace and pray. During my second circuit, I noticed an object on the floor. I blinked a few times, then crouched down, afraid to touch it. It took huge effort to dredge up a memory of where I’d seen it before.

  The remote to activate the door. Nicco wore it on his belt.

  I collapsed to my knees, gasping in air.

  He had dropped it when he left. He’d notice soon. No time to formulate a plan. I needed to take advantage of this miracle and run.

  I snatched up the small device and stumbled over to press my ear against the door but couldn’t tell if the hallway was empty. My thumb hit the remote, and I was out of the room before the door finished sliding up. There was no one in sight. Which way were the stairs? I chose a direction and ran, passing door after door. Then I skidded to a halt. How could I leave everyone else trapped in these rooms?

  Kieran’s words from when we’d escaped the prison in Sidian floated up from my memories: “You can’t help them all.”

  Maybe not, but at least I could give these captives the same chance I had.

  Despite my frantic attempts, the remote wouldn’t work on any other doors. Throwing glances over my shoulder, I studied the panel outside one of the rooms and slid recessed levers until the door began moving. I ran to the next door and did the same.

  A few people stumbled out into the hallway. Many cowered in their cells—men, women, even some children—each alone, each with haunted eyes and unsteady movements. Some had the distinctive angular cheekbones and dark hair of Hazorites. Others looked like they could be Mark’s distant cousins, with strong jaws and long wavy hair.

  I didn’t stop to coax them but raced to open each door as I made my way toward the stairs at the end of the hall. The stairway appeared empty. I listened for sounds below, but all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

  No time for caution. I ran down the stairs. My foot missed a step in my panic but caught the next with a jolt. Then I was through the archways and into the open air. One of the paths must lead to the tunnel, but every direction looked the same. The long underground passage probably wasn’t the best way to escape, anyway. If I could hide for a while, maybe I could find some other way out of Rhus.

  Aiming for the shelter of trees, my heart pounded with elation as well as fear. Freedom was an explosion of flavor, like biting into a dark chocolate filled with cherry liqueur. As I slipped into the deeper shadows of the woods, I heard raised voices by the conservatory. Those sounds faded quickly as I kept running. When my lungs burned from exertion, I stopped to rest a hand against a tree and wheeze in more air. The trees here were as smooth as green tapers, stretching dozens of feet upward before sending out narrow shoots of jade leaves from the top of the willowy trunk. Nothing gave me a clue about where to run next. I turned a slow circle, peering between the columns of deep green. Each direction looked identical.

  Fear screamed at me to keep running. Rational thought urged me to make a plan. Necessity forced the two to compromise. I turned Nicco’s remote in my hand. The clasp on one end had a sharp edge. Gouging it across one of the trunks, I was able to create a mark. A scent of mint hit my nose.

  I’ll be able to keep from going in circles. No, no—they’ll see the marks and use them to follow me.

  Arguments pounded back and forth with the rhythm of my breaths. I ignored them and ran forward, scraping another symbol into green bark. Minutes passed. The slender trunks grew closer together. After battling claustrophobia while weaving through the narrow gaps, I was forced to accept that I couldn’t go farther. The trees drew even nearer to each other, as dense and impenetrable as a hedgerow. I backtracked in frustration and set off in a direction perpendicular to my first course.

  I’m free. That’s what matters. Just keep moving.

  Soon my path was blocked again, and I chose a new direction. I no longer bothered to scratch a mark in the trees. I was lost in a confusion of green pillars and the cloying scent of wintergreen. The bark was as smooth as bamboo—and impossible to climb—so I couldn’t get my bearings from a better vantage. At least there was no sound of pursuit. Perhaps a mile farther, when I paused to listen again, I heard flowing water. Desperate for an end to this forest, I aimed toward what I hoped was a river.

  The clearing appeared so suddenly that I stumbled into it before I realized the wall of trees had parted. Although a constant wall of atmosphere shrouded the sky, the effect of breaking out of the woods was almost like stepping into glaring sunlight. A fountain sent water cascading over double perpendicular arches into a pool contained by a ring of white marble. I inched forward, drawn by the promise of a cool drink. My head swiveled in all directions as I made sure that I was alone before plunging both hands into the fountain. The water tasted as good as I had imagined. After drinking my fill, I splashed my face. As I shook droplets off my eyelashes, I looked down into the still depths and saw my own reflection for the first time since my arrival in Rhus. My face was gaunt and pale, although that might have been an effect of the white marble beneath the water.

  Suddenly, as a ripple passed over the surface, two other faces appeared near mine in the water: Medea and Nicco. I shrieked and spun around. They stood on either side of me. I hadn’t heard them approach, or maybe they had been there all the time but clouded my mind so I couldn’t see them.

  Medea’s laughter sparkled like the clear water. “You’re right, Nicco. That was fun. Although the others won’t be happy about the effort it took to put everyone back.”

  He shrugged. “All right, I admit I didn’t expect that.” He turned to me with a smirk. “I’ll take that back now.”

  Lifting my hand, I realized I still clutched his remote. He pried it from my fingers and frowned at the green shreds of bark still clinging to the clasp.

  “You left it on purpose?” My voice was hoarse with despair. “Why?”

  “Entertainment,” Medea answered for him. She smiled at Nicco. “But now I need to go. I leave tomorrow and have things to take care of.” She turned and stepped away.

  “Medea, are you sure you’re done with her?”

  Her silvery laughter floated past. “Yes, yes. I told you. Do whatever you like.” She strolled around the fountain and disappeared into the trees. I edged silently backward, hoping to reach the other side of the clearing. I’d made it only a few yards, when Nicco turned his attention back to me. I froze, and his teeth appeared in a feral smile.

  “Come here,” he said quietly. I held my ground for a moment, testing the control of his words. It surprised me to discover he wasn’t compelling me forward but had simply asked. I looked toward the trees. How far could I get before he set loose the physical pain he could create? Instead of running away, I walked toward him, my stomach roiling.

  Nicco sank onto the low wall around the fountain and dangled a hand into the depths, lifting it to watch the water run through his fingers. My eyes followed the droplets as they slipped back into the safety of the pool. His fingers tightened into a fist, which he then braced against the low wall. He pulled his eyes away from the water and turned to
study me.

  “I’d like you to explain.” His tone was mild, which scared me. I didn’t feel an intrusion into my psyche yet and couldn’t read his mood. The times he had visited me in the past, he had been the most brutal when his expression was most bland.

  I swallowed hard. “Explain what?” My nerve endings tightened. He could attack my mind at any second. His momentary restraint chilled me.

  His tongue flicked over his lips as if he could taste my fear. “You had your opportunity to run, but you risked it by stopping to open other doors. Why?”

  I struggled to figure out what he wanted to hear, still reeling from the knowledge that this had all been another Rhusican game. When I didn’t answer quickly, his face clouded. “You made a lot of colleagues angry at me.” His voice turned silky and dangerous. “Was it to cause chaos? Slow down the search?”

  I drew a shaky breath. “No. I just couldn’t leave them.” My voice dropped to a miserable whisper. I stared at the spray of water in the center of the fountain. “No one should live like that. I had to try to help.”

  Nicco stood, and I shifted my focus to him. He took a step closer, and I flinched.

  He’s going to kill me. Should I try to run, only to have him enjoy crushing me? Or should I summon the last fragment of courage in me and face this directly?

  “Look at me.” His soothing tone and false smile reminded me of Medea. My eyes met his. His irises glimmered like the water under the fountain. My heart lurched, and I couldn’t breathe.

  God, take care of Mark. Help him with the children when I don’t come back. Keep them–

  “No.” His word cracked.

  I blinked.

  He gentled his voice with effort. “You’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

  While a corner of my rational mind clamored in protest, my body obeyed his suggestion and my muscles relaxed. I hadn’t realized I had been trembling until it stopped. The terror leached away, water splashed calmingly nearby, and sweet notes echoed in the trees. Bird song? I sighed again.

  “Now,” Nicco said, “show me what you felt when you escaped.”

  Immediately the memory of fleeing my room played out. The blood-pumping panic welled back up, but I felt as if a hand pressed it aside. I relived the fumbling moments in the hallway, working to open the doors. Compassion burned as I worked my way down the hall, throwing levers. The hours of prayer for the unknown people who suffered in their cells had built a core of love in me.

  Faces swirled past, each one precious. The sense of seeing with Other eyes hit me, and I knew they were each cherished and would not be forgotten.

  Nicco turned away with a strangled sound, and the vivid memory stream jolted to a stop. I stumbled a few steps back, confused. His hold over my emotions slipped, and fear raced back into the front seat as he stared at the fountain and rubbed the back of his neck. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he wasn’t paying attention to me and seemed weakened.

  I ran. Adrenaline charged through me as I expected pain to grab me at any second. Instead, I reached the edge of the woods. Not daring to look back, I sprinted hard, dodging between narrow trunks, until everything was a blur of green. When the trees grew close, I switched direction but kept running. It didn’t matter where I was going, as long as it was away. My throat ached from panting, but when my legs threatened to give out, I pushed harder. Spotting a gap in the trees, I surged forward . . .

  . . . and into the clearing again. Nicco lounged against the fountain wall, arms crossed, looking bored. I stumbled to a stop as my burning muscles gave out, and I fell to my knees. Doubled over, breathing hard, I was powerless to run or fight anymore. I lifted my head with effort and glared at Nicco.

  “Is this all an illusion? The woods? The clearing?”

  He gave an amused shrug. “Not all. It’s a simple matter to steer you here.” He gave a hopeful grin. “Care to try again?”

  A snarl broke from my throat, and I willed myself to rise, only to fail. Nicco pushed off from the low wall around the fountain and walked toward me with his head tilted. He was soaking in the rush of my panicked flight and my kindling rage. Just to spite him, I took a calming breath and murmured a prayer. But as I refused to indulge my anger, only fear remained. Nicco read it too, and his smile grew as he stood over me.

  “No?” he mocked. “You’re sure you don’t want to run again?”

  Bitterness gagged me like a deep breath of smoke. I shook my head, unable to speak around the taste of ashes in my mouth.

  “Well, I don’t have time to look after Medea’s playthings, now that she’s done with you.” He pulled a cloth pouch from a pocket and slid it back to reveal a short-handled gold blade. I had forgotten that in spite of their mental powers, Rhusicans used more tangible weapons as well. The Rhusican that Tristan fought had been skilled with a sword. And I knew firsthand how lethal Medea was with a dagger.

  “You’ve been very entertaining.” Nicco’s eyes traveled over me, assessing targets. I imagined something like sympathy when he glanced at my face. “I won’t drag this out,” he said with what I suppose he meant to be kindness. I couldn’t manage to feel gratitude.

  He crouched down, grabbed my hair in his fist, and pulled my head back. I looked at him and saw my death. But in that moment, a liquid peace filled me from within. Beyond this enemy, his weapon, and the promise of death, I saw life. I knew its truth in my marrow.

  The knife flashed as Nicco lifted it. I looked up at the sky. Holy One, I’m going to see You face-to-face very soon. Then I closed my eyes and let the peace hold me.

  Chapter

  16

  Susan

  Some part of me was aware of the drizzle that began to fall, brushing my closed eyelids like soft tears. It must be afternoon. Serenity protected my heart like gauze. The struggle would be over soon. Alongside peace, poignant sorrow played out a montage of my family. Mark with sawdust adorning his flannel shirt, grinning as he showed off a new set of shelves. Jake racing down the field after a soccer ball. Karen’s wry smile among the piles of free-form laundry sculpture in her room. Jon building Legos, and Anne skipping toward me. All their dear faces around the supper table. I could hear the laughter and the clink of silverware and smell the lasagna and garlic bread. I hated thinking that they would never know what had happened to me.

  Thank You, Lord. You blessed me with so much. Give me courage now.

  The memories and prayers flashed through me in seconds. Gratitude, love, longing, and loss swirled together, and still the peace held me. Nicco’s hand twisted harder in my hair and my eyes stung. I held my breath and waited. He drew in a sharp breath as he prepared to strike. Did he plan to slit my throat, or stab me in the heart the way Medea had done?

  Suddenly, he released me with a shove that knocked me sideways to the ground. My eyes opened and I stared up at him, confused.

  “What was that?” Nicco’s face twisted with fury. He backed up a few paces but then stepped close again, waving his dagger while his other hand raked through his hair. He towered over me, stormed away a few yards, and then came striding back. “Get up.”

  I didn’t move fast enough, and a vise like a migraine pierced through my temples. He hadn’t touched me, but the pain was as fierce as any physical attack. I grabbed my head and moaned.

  “Get up!”

  I’d never heard him shout before, and the force of his words along with the physical torment he projected shook my whole body. A strangled scream echoed from somewhere far away; then I realized it was mine.

  The pain cut out as abruptly as it had hit. My hands pressed against the damp ground, seeking a touchstone to reality, to sanity. I stumbled to my feet. Nausea rocked me, and I staggered toward the fountain, sinking onto the wall. I doubled over, hugged my stomach, and waited for the vertigo to pass. When I could finally open my eyes again, Nicco sat near me. He was completely calm no
w, but his burst of temper had been real. Something had upset him.

  Good.

  He put his weapon away in its cloth sheath. The rain fell in earnest now, creating competing ripples in the pool of the fountain. Nicco’s hair was matted, and he seemed oblivious to his wet clothes.

  He frowned at me. “Let’s go.”

  No explanation. He had been about to kill me, and now all he said was, “Let’s go”? He could at least ask if I were able to move yet—which I highly doubted. I felt as weak as if I’d had a bout of food poisoning; I didn’t trust that my legs would hold me.

  Resentment hummed in my gut. “You weren’t going to kill me? It was just another game?”

  “Not a game,” he said coldly but gave no further indication of why I still lived or what he planned now. The peace that had protected me was gone—a soft bubble that had evaporated when no longer needed. I tried to conjure it back, but it eluded me.

  Nicco led me across the clearing and through the woods a short distance. We stepped out into the open terraces in front of the conservatory building. I thought I had traveled miles in my wild run, but in reality I hadn’t gotten anywhere. As I followed him up the stairs, my shoulders sagged at the futility of my escape. I crossed the threshold of my cell without protest. The last glimpse I had of the world beyond my tiny room was Nicco’s face. His expression unreadable, he stared at me until the door slid down and hid him from view.

  Capture should have devastated me. Instead, all I felt was tired relief. The heart-pounding terror of being hunted, the stress of trying to make a plan—I was glad it was over. Several times as a girl, I had snuck a book from my dad’s collection of World War II prisoner escape stories. I remember being surprised by how often Allied soldiers talked about a powerful compulsion to surrender themselves. Standing on a German train platform with carefully forged papers, some men would be so overwhelmed by the fear of discovery that they wanted to walk up to a soldier, hands raised, and announce their identity. It never had made sense to me until now. I sank onto a chair, drained, and forced myself to look away from the door.