The Deliverer

by Sharon Hinck

  I moved my chair around so I could face him. “So the blame for all the turmoil in the clans rests on your shoulders?”

  A reluctant smile tugged the side of his mouth, and he rubbed his beard. “When you put it that way…”

  “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Because it is. The One is our strong tower. Not a Restorer, not the Council, not the guardians . . . even one as important as you.”

  He chuckled. “You always knew the right thing to say. I’m glad that hasn’t changed.” He leaned forward, the humor fading, and he took one of my hands between his large, callused hands. “Linette—”

  The door slid open and Tara stepped outside. Wade dropped my hand and stood.

  “Almost dark,” Tara said quietly.

  “Thanks for the meal,” Wade told her. “Safe night to your house.” With a clumsy nod to us both, he strode away as quickly as if a swarm of stinging beetles were chasing him.

  I wasn’t sure why he left so abruptly, but I savored the warmth filling my heart. “Tara, I think I was able to help him. I felt like a true songkeeper again.”

  “Hmm.” She opened her mouth, but then seemed to decide not to comment. “Come inside. Lukyan wants to leave at first light. We need to pack some things for you and Caralad.”

  Contented warmth transformed into giddy excitement. Tomorrow I’d see the worship tower of Lyric. The sight would surely bring the last bit of memory back. I longed to gather with the other songkeepers and sleep on my pallet in the familiar songkeepers’ lodge, and to see Tristan again, and to finally be able to thank Kieran for bringing me home.

  My stomach gave a funny lurch. Of course I was eager to see Kieran. I’d never thanked him for getting me safely back home to Braide Wood. I only hoped that with all the political confusion in Lyric, Tristan and Kieran were staying out of trouble. I searched my memories of Kieran and shook my head. Somehow that seemed unlikely.

  Chapter

  24

  Susan

  “Mark! Jake!” I shouted until I was hoarse, but the roar of the river threw the words back in my face. Each rustle of leaves jerked my attention, half in hope of seeing Mark or Jake and half in terror of the assassins, rizzids, or bears that could lurk behind any tree. The ongoing danger and isolation of the thick, dark forest beat against me with as much force as the crashing water.

  Time to take stock and make a plan. I looked down at my mottled assassin’s tunic and pants. The soggy fabric clung to me. Hours ago I’d longed to escape the caves and see the soft overcast skies, but now I craved a glimpse of sunshine from my own world. The constant atmospheric ceiling hung flat and oppressive, and without any sunlight or breeze, my clothes would stay damp for hours. At least I had Voronja’s light, flexible footwear to give my feet some protection.

  Since my best guess was that Mark and Jake had emerged farther upstream, I’d need to hike that direction to find them. Of course, there was also the possibility that the channel that had veered off to the right had carried them into a deep airless conduit and to their deaths.

  Susan Mitchell, don’t you dare let your thoughts go there.

  Too late. A series of worst-case scenarios swirled through my mind.

  I shook the water from my hair and corralled my wayward thoughts. I had to find my husband and son. I began making my way along the rock-strewn river’s edge. Maybe physical exertion would help me shift my focus.

  Keep moving. Find Mark and Jake.

  This was a wild place and not well traveled. Back in the caverns, Jake had said the enclave was near Cauldron Falls. I knew the falls were about a half-day’s hike upstream from Rendor, but was I above the falls or somewhere downstream from them? If I were between Rendor and the falls, wouldn’t there be some sort of path? Perhaps I was in the unexplored wilds even farther upriver.

  Doesn’t matter where you are. Keep moving. Find Mark and Jake.

  The terrain climbed, and my muscles soon grew rubbery from fatigue. I stopped frequently to scan the river for any sign of my husband and son, and to watch for Kahlareans on the opposite bank.

  Over the rushing water, strange animal calls and rustling sounds carried from the dark tangled woods that crowded the banks. Each time I paused, my nerves stretched tighter. Each twig snap could be an assassin tracking me. Each strange howl could be one of the predators that lived in the wild outskirts of the clans. Too afraid to rest, I pushed onward.

  My foot wobbled on a loose stone.

  Pay attention, Susan. This would be a bad place to twist an ankle.

  I focused on the uneven terrain until the sound of the river changed. I looked up to see a steep waterfall ahead. No cauldron shape welcomed the streaming water, so I couldn’t be sure that this was Cauldron Falls. More importantly, a cliff blocked my path, sheer and impassible.

  Panting hard, I cut inland, shoving aside thorny underbrush and searching for a way to continue upriver. In a minute the thick trees muted the sound of the water. No landmarks in any direction. If I kept scrambling through the woods, I’d be hopelessly lost.

  Maybe I could find a way to climb the wet stone cliff. I hurried back the way I’d come, breathing a prayer of thanks when the river came into view.

  I faced upstream again. The sheer rock face was as unforgiving as I’d remembered. I even dragged a few stones from the water’s edge and used them as an improvised stepladder. But there were no ledges, no handholds, nothing I could reach to make any progress.

  Fatigue caught up to me and I sank to my knees. “No! Lord, don’t do this to me. Not again. Don’t make me do this alone.”

  Tears felt hot against my face, my skin already damp from the spray of the waterfall. In the same way that a fresh loss resurrects old grief, this moment of helplessness battered me with memories of past battles: The terror and confusion that had choked me when I was first pulled through the portal. The waves of inadequacy that had churned in my chest as I revealed my Restorer status to the Council. The horrible loneliness of my captivity and torture in Rhus.

  Wasn’t there some vague theological theory that each battle, each wound, built new levels of faith and strength for future challenges? A truism that courage and confidence grew as they were tested? Only a few days ago, I’d been sitting in my living room chatting about the ways of God with Corina and Janet and Beth as we studied David. Someone had probably said something about trials building character.

  “It didn’t work!” I yelled up to the vacant sky. Instead of building confidence with each battle, I carried the scars of the past experiences and the moments I’d felt forsaken. My body was frailer. Even worse, fear had become a more ready companion because I knew more.

  Despair welled in my gut, and sobs shook me. I knew how much pain a human body could experience, I knew how evil an enemy’s intent could truly be, and I knew how lost and broken a mind could become under relentless attack.

  What else do you know?

  The gentle, inaudible voice interrupted my tears. I wanted to turn away—tried to allow the anger to deaden my heart. But the initial waves of emotion ebbed. I huddled on the ground, too drained by my own striving to do anything but squeeze my eyes closed and receive an Other perspective.

  New memories swam past. The unexpected allies and friends that had brought joy and hope to even the most frightening paths when I’d first arrived in Shamgar. The healing and transformation in Kendra and Wade as they were freed from Rhusican poison. And on the day I’d tasted impending death at Nicco’s hand, the glimpse of the Keeper of my soul ready to welcome me home.

  What else do you know?

  Strength trickled into my exhausted soul. I needed to affirm the truth out loud. “That You never left me. That I’d go through it all again if You asked.” I stood up and rubbed the moisture from my face. “And that I’ll never find courage looking inside myself. I need You.”

  I sighed, exhaling more of the frustration
and panic from my muscles. For now, I’d have to entrust Mark and Jake to the care of the One. “I trust You. Help me trust You more,” I whispered. “And guide my steps.”

  Since I couldn’t find a way upstream, the woods were too dense and dangerous, and Kahlarean enemies lurked on the other side of the river, that left downstream. A few more tears threatened as I began the tedious effort of retracing my steps, but I sniffed them back. If I were anywhere close in my guesses, I could reach Rendor by nightfall. I’d led the Rendor clan out of Rhus; they’d offer me aid. They could help me search for Mark and Jake.

  With that resolve, I made good progress and soon passed the place where I’d tumbled into the river. As I continued downstream, the gorge deepened, and soon I was hiking with my feet in the water, tall cliffs stretching above both banks. Stumbling over wet stones that had been polished smooth by years of pounding, I followed a bend in the river and the roar grew. Ahead of me, the river disappeared in a cloud of mist. The waterfall upstream had been a baby. This was the big daddy.

  Shortly before the falls, the wall of stone flanking me gradually lowered and the banks widened, and I gratefully edged several yards from the rushing water. It seemed to reach for my ankles as if it longed to scoop me up and toss me into the churning waves.

  Would I need to head inland to find a trail down the cliffs that guarded the cupped cauldron below? Maybe I could—

  A shrill whistle shrieked over the sound of the falls. I froze, confused. Fire alarm? Siren? After a few seconds, I remembered. A signaler! Someone from the clans was nearby. I took a step toward the sound.

  A heavy object barreled into me from behind, knocking me to the ground with a crash that stole all the breath from my lungs. The unknown weight landed on top of me, holding me down. Panic turned me into a squirming bundle of elbows and heels, but I couldn’t get away, couldn’t even see my assailant. Was a bear about to claw me in two?

  The weight shifted, hands grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. I twisted my head, and almost laughed in relief. Not a bear. Not a Kahlarean. A fresh-faced young man in the garb of a clan guardian had tackled me.

  Another ran forward, sword drawn. “Search for weapons. And careful.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, relief surging through me. I’d finally found allies.

  The second youth raised the point of his sword to my throat. “Silence.”

  When his colleague finished searching me for weapons, he dragged me to a clearing. We stopped before a wooden shelter similar to the outpost I’d once visited at Morsal Plains. I’d heard about the guardian outpost at Cauldron Falls, the place where Linette’s fiancé Dylan had been killed by Kahlareans with syncbeams, and where Kieran had discovered another incursion into the clans by assassins. No wonder these young guardians were jumpy. And I wore the clothes of an assassin. My relief muted, and I chewed my lip, wondering how to handle this.

  “Look, I know you’re probably first-years, but even so, you have to know I don’t look like a Kahlarean.”

  They ignored me. “Chell, what do we do?” The guardian who had tackled me kept a firm grip on both my arms.

  “She’s trying to sneak into the clans. We should run her through.”

  “Or not,” I muttered, keeping a close eye on Chell’s sword.

  “But she looks harmless.” The younger man finally released me and stepped around to stand beside Chell and study me.

  “What better trick?” Chell growled.

  Time to settle this argument. “Guardians of the clans, well met. I’m Susan. The Restorer who rode against Hazor.”

  The youth’s stubbled jaw dropped, his mouth gaping. His companion gave a bark of laughter, but my attacker soon closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, assessing me. “Well met,” he said at last, extending a hand. “I’m Dardon of Sanborn clan—”

  Chell cut him off. “That’s impossible. My older brother rode with the Restorer. She was”—his gaze skimmed me with disdain—“tall, strong, fearless.”

  “No she wasn’t.” My temper rose. “I wasn’t. I knew I was inadequate for the call, but the One used me anyway.”

  “Not another word,” Chell snapped. He turned to Dardon. “Don’t talk to her. You know that’s how the Rhusicans poison people.”

  My heart sank as I saw doubt enter Dardon’s eyes. “Look, I realize I startled you both. I’ll explain later, but my husband and son are lost upstream. I need help.”

  “See.” Chell raised his sword point to my chest. “Her purpose is to lure us from our post.” He strode away a few paces and scanned the view of the river through the trees.

  “I’m not a Rhusican. I’m not a Kahlarean. I’m Susan of Braide Wood, friend of Tristan and Lukyan and—”

  “The songkeeper?” Dardon’s face puckered with worry. “Chell, if she knows the Songs . . . if she’s telling the truth . . .”

  Clearly Chell was the senior guardian. I needed to win him over.

  “Chell, you’re right. You can’t leave the pass undefended. I just escaped from Kahlareans and they might come this way.

  Chell scoffed. “You? Escaped Kahlareans? Dardon, take her downriver and send back reinforcements. Let the Rendor councilmembers figure out what to do with her.”

  “No! Can’t you just use that signaler thingy to get help? We need to find Mark and Jake.”

  Both men froze. “Jake?” Dardon asked, eyes wide.

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose. We were wasting precious time. I needed to organize a search. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Jake. The new Restorer. We escaped the Kahlareans, but we’ve gotten separated.”

  Dardon looked impressed. “How would she know he’s missing if she’s not from the clans?”

  “She’d know if she worked with the enemies who made him disappear,” Chell said.

  Kieran would love this guy. He had buckets of suspicion and more to spare.

  A raindrop hit my nose, soon joined by others. Rain always fell after midday. Time was shorter than I’d realized to find Mark and Jake before nightfall. “Fine. Dardon can take me to Rendor. They’ll recognize me and we can gather more help.”

  “I’m thrilled you agree with my decision.” Chell turned to Dardon. “Don’t trust anything she says. And just in case it is true that Kahlareans plan to cross, bring back all the guardians Rendor can spare.”

  Dardon grabbed a pack from the shelter and hoisted it over his shoulder. He took my arm and pulled me across the clearing. A small trail led downstream and he pushed me ahead of him. “Move,” he said.

  I seemed to spend more of my time in this world as a prisoner than a guest. So unfair. I walked quickly along the trail. Branches wove overhead, blocking some of the rain, but I was soon soaked again. “You wouldn’t have a spare cloak, would you?” I tossed over my shoulder.

  “Don’t talk. Keep moving.”

  The young guardian was taking his commission seriously. “Which clan did you say you’re from? Did you ever meet Tristan of Braide Wood? I was wondering how he and—”

  Dardon shoved me, and I stumbled a few steps before resuming a steady pace. “Quiet.”

  Quiet? Anxiety about Mark and Jake twisted every nerve, and conversation was my only distraction. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a Rhusican. I’m just Susan. My husband and son are lost somewhere above the falls, and . . .”

  My voice choked off. I cleared my throat and blinked back the worry that stung my eyes. Weariness hit me in a heavy wave. I suddenly felt every punishing bruise inflicted by the violent ride through rocky channels and the fall into the river. My stomach ached from coughing up water and the emptiness of too many hours without food. Trudging onward, I shoved dripping hair off my face and sniffed. “I just want to know they’re all right. They have to be all right.” My voice sounded small. No wonder Chell found it impossible to believe I had been Susan the Restorer.

&
nbsp; “Wait.”

  I turned. Dardon shrugged off his pack and rummaged for a moment, then tossed me a square of fabric. I shook it out. A cloak.

  “Thank you.” What had prompted his change of heart? I searched his face for a clue.

  He shuffled a foot against the damp leaves and shrugged one shoulder. “Can we move now?”

  It was amazing how much difference a small kindness could make. My muscles found new energy, and even the gnawing anxiety in my stomach eased. I picked up the pace. Dardon’s attitude changed subtly too.

  “Why were you traveling with no gear?” Instead of scoffing, his words held only curiosity and hint of concern.

  “Good question. ‘Take nothing for the journey—no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra tunic,’” I said under my breath.

  “What?” He stayed close behind me on the narrow path, following easily.

  “I don’t know,” I said more audibly. “Perhaps the One knows that if I travel without anything else to rely on, I’ll learn to rely more deeply on Him.”

  Dardon snorted. “You sound like a songkeeper.”

  That surprised a genuine laugh from me. “I wish.” Lukyan had guided me through my confusion and fears. Linette had offered acceptance and friendship when others doubted me. The grace and love of the One shone in them. With our urgent escape, I’d had no opportunity to hear news from Jake about everyone I loved in the clans. Maybe I could finally get caught up. “Do you know Lukyan? The elder songkeeper of Braide Wood? Do you know how he is? Or Linette? She was in Hazor with Kieran. Do you know how they are?”

  I glanced back over my shoulder to find Dardon’s expression shuttered. “I . . . I don’t think we should be talking until I know you aren’t an enemy.”

  Why couldn’t I have run into a guardian like affable Wade? If I saw Tristan again, I’d have to tell him the young guardians were doing a better job of being alert to threat. That was a good thing, but for some reason, the thought made me sad. In recent years the People of the Verses had been battered by enemies, confused by corrupt leaders, and seen their faith shaken by false Verses and unusual and short-term Restorers.