by Sharon Hinck
Wade shook his head. “I say we move out. Gather more forces.”
Arland gave a sharp nod and issued quiet orders. A murmur rippled through the clearing. Soundless as ghosts, the men morphed from bored campers to an army ready to move. Game stones were kicked aside, gear was gathered, and camp broken. Arland led the men out through the same small break in the bracken where we had entered. Wade waited until the clearing was empty, scanned it a last time, and signaled me to head out.
The column of men wove along the blue band of foliage at the edge of the clearing, vague shapes against the thick trees. Distant homes studded the knoll. Were families in Blue Knoll facing the same struggles as the people in Braide Wood?
A sharp crack rang through the air. Someone must be shooting bear or other wildlife. Tara had mentioned that her husband was out on a hunting party. The men in front of me twisted their heads, squinting in all directions. It took me two full seconds to remember there weren’t guns in this world.
Or at least there hadn’t been before Cameron’s visit to our world.
Another shot split the air. “Get down!” I shouted, my voice sounding shrill in my own ears.
Wade grabbed my arm. “What is it?”
“Weapons.” I wrenched away from him and ran forward, waving to the men. “Down! Take cover!”
A sharp tear sounded as a bullet ripped through leaves and branches just over our heads. I ducked in reflex. The men closest to me finally grasped what I was shouting. They pulled deeper into the woods, using trees for protection. I jumped up to warn the others but was tackled from behind.
“Jake, stay down.” Wade’s bulk crushed the air from my lungs and the argument from my will. He jumped up and raced along the line of men. I lifted my head just enough to watch his progress. A volley of shots crackled, and my heart raced. One man jerked and fell. I scrambled to my feet to run toward him but was grabbed and pulled back.
“Those aren’t syncbeams.” Ian’s fierce growl came inches from my ear.
“No.” I shoved against him, but his grip didn’t loosen. “They’re guns. From my home. Let me go—I have to help.”
“Wade told you to stay down.” Ian didn’t care about protecting me. He just enjoyed hampering my efforts.
I craned my head around, searching for our attackers. My vision telescoped. Another Restorer gift. I squinted and spotted a flash of rust tunics. We were being fired on from the buildings on the edge of Blue Knoll.
More explosive pops filled the air, stirring memories of firecrackers in July.
“Take cover!” I shouted, straining to get my head above the underbrush before Ian pulled me back. “They’re behind the buildings!” Arland turned in my direction. He jerked, then stumbled back. He’d been hit too. Panic surged through me, and I wrestled against Ian. Wade guided Arland deeper into the woods in a bent-over sprint.
Ian stayed in a crouch as he dragged me back. I lurched to the side, frantic to run to the aid of the man who had fallen, but Ian grabbed me again with a curse. Wade burst from the trees and dove into the deep ferns. He threw the fallen guardian’s arms over his shoulder and dragged him to the relative safety of the woods.
“Pull back.” Wade’s deep voice resonated through the confusion of trees and underbrush. I couldn’t see Wade, but Ian guided me away from the clearing.
“Where are we going?” I panted.
“Just follow me. Can you do that much?” Ian’s voice was thick with disgust.
I was too shaken to respond in kind. “Yes. Go ahead.”
He turned and sprinted deeper into the woods, and I tore after him. Even supporting the wounded, these guys moved fast. I could have used them on my soccer team last year. I struggled to keep Ian in sight. Most of the men were stretched out far ahead of us somewhere. There was no trail. A twig whipped across my eyes, leaving a stinging scratch that began to heal even as I dodged the next tree.
I felt a presence loom up alongside me and glanced over, leading to another collision with a low branch. I shook it off and pushed my hood back so I could see better. Wade was matching my strides.
“You all right?” He was breathing hard.
“Yeah.” I jumped over a fallen tree. “How’s the guy”—I sucked in oxygen—“who got shot?”
“We’ve got him.” Not much information, but this wasn’t a great time for a discussion.
“Wade, the weapons.” I slowed without realizing it, and Wade nudged me to pick up the pace. “They’re . . . from my . . . world.” The words came out in gasps as I pushed back into a sprint.
“You can explain later. Run.”
I dug in and ran.
The terrain grew more rugged. The men’s pace eventually slowed, but we kept traveling until it was nearly dark. Wade stayed close to me, although he jogged ahead a few times to confer with Arland. Two men dropped back to watch for signs of pursuit, but there were no further attacks.
“Where are we?” I asked Wade when rocky cliffs loomed over us.
He rubbed a tired hand over his dirt-streaked forehead. “Along the Hazor border. I doubt they’ll follow us here.”
Ian passed near us. “Why would they bother, when someone can keep them informed of where we are?” He shot me a dark look.
“Hey, I didn’t tell anyone—”
“Cameron already knew,” Wade said firmly. “I found out in Lyric. Jake had nothing to do with this.”
Arland called a halt and directed the men upward. It took some scrambling, but eventually we were all safely hidden in a large cave.
Wade signaled for me to follow him deeper into the cave. When I glanced back, Ian was talking to a cluster of men. Their eyes tracked me as I walked across the cave.
Farther back into the shelter, Arland crouched near the young guardian who had been most seriously wounded. Arland’s own sleeve was soaked in blood, but he ignored his injuries, working to stop the unconscious guardian’s bleeding.
The boy’s skin had the same pale translucence as the heat trivets scattered throughout our hiding place. His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged.
“Jake, you said the Council guard used weapons from your world. How do we help him?” Wade’s voice was quiet, but the words shook me.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
Arland glanced up, his eyes narrowed. “What caused this?”
I stammered an explanation about bullets and the damage they could cause. “If it’s still in there, we should try to get it out.”
Arland didn’t seem happy with that suggestion. He lifted the wad of cloth pressed to the boy’s chest, exposing an angry, gaping tear. Blood pooled thick and black, revealing glimpses of exposed muscle. Nothing like the small neat hole I would have expected. I pushed down the bile rising in my throat.
Wade knelt and stroked the boy’s hair back from his face, making crooning sounds. Before Arland could ask any more questions, the gasping breaths stopped. The body gave a shudder, sagged, became still. I looked away. Wade’s arm slipped around my shoulders, and he steered me out of the cave.
I huddled on a boulder and wrapped my arms around myself, still fighting back nausea.
Arland emerged from the cave and walked over to join us.
I looked up at him. “You just left him?”
“The men will take care of it.” Arland met my eyes, unflinching and cold, but I sensed the fierce sorrow and anger behind his words. I sensed it because I felt it too. I’d never seen someone die before. Everything inside me screamed that it was wrong. Senseless, a mistake, wrong, wrong, wrong. And I hadn’t even known his name.
“I tried to get to him. Ian wouldn’t let me.” It seemed desperately important to explain.
“I told you to stay down. Ian was following orders.” Wade was matter-of-fact.
“But—”
“Jake, we need to make plans. Arland seems to think we s
hould include you in this discussion.” I heard Wade’s thoughts behind his simple words: Don’t lose it now, Jake. Hold it together a little longer.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” My voice sounded small, but it didn’t quaver.
Arland settled heavily onto a large stone, bracing his injured arm against his chest. “Can we spare a messenger tomorrow?”
Wade nodded. “Should we set up a base here until we get word back?”
“It’s as good a place as any.”
I struggled to follow the conversation but realized I was confused about something.
“Wade? Who’s in command of this . . . well, whatever this group is now?”
He didn’t answer me, but exchanged looks with Arland.
“Wade is giving the orders.” A crooked smile softened the grim planes of Arland’s face. “But I don’t blame you for being confused. He’s not much older than you, is he?”
Wade made a low sound in his chest in protest. “Arland is the leader of the guardians. Or what’s left of us.”
“But Wade has been bringing us orders from one of the head guardians—the one who kept us together when the guardians were disbanded. The man that these men are here to follow,” Arland said.
It began to make sense. “Tristan?”
“Told you he’s smarter than he looks.” Arland shifted his weight and looked at Wade. “Do we go ahead with the plan?”
Wade shrugged. “I don’t see any other choice. Once Tristan rejoins us and we build our force, we’ll have at least a chance.” Wade cuffed my shoulder. “Every sword arm helps, right, Jake?”
Arland’s eyes narrowed as he watched me. He was waiting for me to tell Wade that I was more than one spare sword arm—that I was the Restorer. I couldn’t do it. Wade didn’t have a bit of guile in him and would never keep my secret. The thought of the men’s response to my claim paralyzed me. I hadn’t been of any use at all in this first skirmish. How on earth was I going to win their trust and convince them to fight for Rendor? Wade had already warned me not to talk about hearing from the One, and he didn’t know the worst of it.
I gave a small shake of my head, and Arland frowned.
“So,” Wade said, “a messenger tomorrow to Tristan. We’ll send out what word we can and keep gathering men.” Wade paced the hard-packed earth with an eager energy that amazed me. “Let’s get some rest.”
“We’ll be along in a minute,” Arland said smoothly. “Jake, will you help me tie up this scratch?” I winced at the amount of blood soaking his tunic sleeve but nodded. Wade called an easy “good night” and headed back toward the cave.
Arland watched him stride away with affection on his face. “I think even when he’s old, he’ll still be young.” Then he turned his attention to me, and the temperature of his gaze dropped twenty degrees. “You, on the other hand—who are you really, Jake?”
His eyes were full of angry questions. A shiver ran through me. I’d told him the truth outside the caves at Braide Wood.
I didn’t have any other answers.
Chapter
18
Jake
“Am I really supposed to believe that you’re the Restorer?” Arland muttered the words to himself. A bitter smile twisted his face. “Another hero to desert us?”
I didn’t try to answer. So far he’d kept my secret, but he wasn’t happy about it. My best plan was to bind his arm and then stay out of his way.
He shrugged out of his leather vest, grimacing as he moved his shoulder.
I helped him peel his tunic away from the clotted wound on his arm. He handed me the small gourd from his belt, and I used the liquid to blot away some of the blood.
A pungent smell of alcohol hit my nose. “This isn’t water.”
“No, it’s better. Save some for where it’ll do more good.” He grabbed it back from me and took a long swallow, then offered it to me.
I shook my head and returned to my examination of his wound. As far as I could tell, the bullet had only grazed him. I wasn’t about to poke around for any sign of it lodged in his flesh, so I wrapped his upper arm with a fresh strip of cloth.
He didn’t flinch as I tied it off, but when I looked up, he was studying me through hooded eyes. “Too bad I can’t use your little trick,” he said. “Must be handy. Instant healing of battle wounds.”
The cold glint in his eyes scared me. I handed him his tunic and backed toward the cave, muttering something about letting me know if he needed help changing the dressing tomorrow. I made it only a few steps.
“Jake”—there was nothing of Wade’s genial manner in the man—“come here and sit down.”
Why had I been confused about the true leader of this group? Wade might act as Tristan’s proxy, but Arland carried the confidence of experience and keen alertness to everything around him. His face was forged into a mask of grim determination that reminded me of Tristan. But instead of Tristan’s staunch faith, Arland lived in a vortex of angry desperation.
“Not experienced at obeying orders yet, are you.” No inflection.
Was he thinking of my attempts to help outside of Blue Knoll? I dragged my feet back toward him and slumped onto a boulder nearby. “I know that Wade told me to stay down when the shooting started.” I braced one foot on the rock and hugged my knee. “But I wanted to help. You know what I am. I wouldn’t have been permanently injured.”
“And Wade doesn’t know that.” Now Arland’s voice was silky. “You said you would tell him. I thought you had by now.”
I swallowed hard. “I . . . I told Lukyan. He’s helping me. But I—”
“A songkeeper? I’m sure that will be a huge help.”
I winced but didn’t argue.
“And in the meantime, if Wade had known the truth, he wouldn’t have ordered you to stay down.” His voice was harsher now. “Maybe you could have saved Denniel.”
“Who?”
Arland pushed to his feet and towered over me. “The boy who was killed. The boy we carried through a half-day’s march and watched die.”
His words impaled me. I sucked in a breath and felt dizzy. Was he right? Was it my fault someone had died today?
He leaned close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath and see the hard lines of his face in the deepening twilight. “Did you tell the king’s guard where we were heading?”
My stomach lurched. “No! Wade told you—”
“Wade is only interested in protecting you.”
“Not if he thought I’d betray you. He knows he can trust me.”
Arland’s face twisted in a snarl. “But he doesn’t know everything, does he?” His look lashed me, his voice scathing. “So this is what the One sends us now.”
I leaned back, reeling from his accusations.
He laughed, an ugly sound. “I thought the One had forgotten us, but it seems the truth is worse: He’s mocking us.”
“No. He cares about you—”
“Like your mother cared about us. But where is she now?”
Yes, where was she? Worry distracted me from Arland’s tirade. If Wade was right and Cameron didn’t have her in Lyric, what had happened to her? How would I find her? I’d need help from these men.
“Or Kieran?” Arland demanded. “Deserted us just like the One has.”
My eyes burned, and I blinked fiercely. I could barely choke my words out. “You’re wrong. Mikkel, my mom, Kieran—they were sent to help, and they did. But they’re only human. Mikkel died, my mom had to go home, Kieran was sent to Hazor. They did what the One asked of them.”
Arland pulled back. “So now He sends you?”
I stared at the ground. It was ridiculous. I saw myself in his eyes: a scrawny kid who barely knew any of the history of this world and was too timid to tell anyone about the Restorer signs. “If I tell Wade, he’ll tell
the rest of the men.” I hated the weakness in my voice. “They still think the new Records are true and there can’t be any more Restorers. Is this the best time to tell them? Will it help?” I looked up at Arland. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it.”
He frowned down at me, judging my sincerity, sorting out his anger toward the One and his frustration with me. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know.” The tension in his muscles softened a fraction. He turned away, and a long silence stretched between us. “I rode with her, you know.”
My jaw dropped open. “At the battle of Morsal Plains?”
He nodded. “Most of these men followed her against Hazor.” He gazed toward the cave, his voice growing quiet, edged with awe. “The things that happened that day . . .”
I wanted to hear more but didn’t dare break into his thoughts.
He drew a slow deep breath. “We haven’t forgotten. But so much has gone wrong since then.” He adjusted the bandage on his arm and turned back to me. “Tomorrow I want to hear everything you can tell me about Cameron’s new weapons.” His tone was brisk, and I felt as though a shadow had passed by. “Go get some rest.”
Relieved to have survived the conversation, I scrambled to my feet and started past him to the cave entrance. His hand snaked out and grabbed my arm. “Oh, and Jake . . .” His fingers dug into my bicep as he jerked me to face him. “If I find out you betrayed us, I’ll cut you into so many pieces that no Restorer power will be able to put you back together.”
A haunting melody woke me the next day. I rubbed sand-crusted eyes and looked around the cave. I was alone. No one had bothered to rouse me from where I had huddled under my blanket against the far wall of the cavern. So much for winning the trust of this group. A plaintive tenor voice warbled from outside. The minor key and the flickering phrase endings reminded me of an Appalachian folk song we learned in chorus my senior year.
I rolled to my feet, dusted grit from my clothes, and cautiously ducked out into the morning light. More voices had joined the first. I followed the sound to an open area around the side of the cave.