by Sharon Hinck
Breathing hard, I slammed my fists against the railing, then glared up into the open space. “The Verses say You care. Are they a lie?” I barely recognized the hoarse voice coming from my throat. Not a joyful singer anymore, only a brokenhearted woman.
“You took Dylan from me. And still I gave up everything to serve You. Did it matter to You at all? All that hard work, all those seasons in Hazor. They didn’t make any difference. We failed. So why did You send us?” I was shouting now, and the rage in my voice frightened me.
I drew in a sobbing breath. “Did I fail You? Did Kieran? Is that why so much went wrong?”
My whole body sagged under the feelings of betrayal. I wasn’t sure if I had betrayed Him or He had betrayed me, but the loss was an abyss, a dark pit that swallowed any meaning, any hope, any faith. All my life I’d turned to the One with my problems. Where could I go when He was the problem?
Nowhere.
I clung to the railing as if it could hold me back from the gaping emptiness in my soul.
Soft mist formed around me, the gentle touch of the One falling on my skin with no hint of rebuke or rejection. Peace called to me, coaxing me to unburden my heart. Slowly I dared more questions. “Why did You take Dylan? All this time I’ve tried to be strong, to believe there was some purpose only Your mind comprehended. But what if his death was random? What if You were looking away? What if You aren’t even there?
“And Hazor—I couldn’t help Kieran or the people . . . and You let me be taken captive.”
A shudder moved through my body, and only the supportive mist and my grip on the railing kept me upright on my knees. “Why? Even Lukyan can’t explain it. Have You rejected me? You let me forget everything. Even You.”
The last words came out as a gasp, the horror of that emptiness hitting me in the core and knocking the last breath of air from my lungs. “How could You allow that? How could You let me forget You?”
I never forgot you.
The words resonated so strongly in my heart, they were nearly audible.
Tears ran down my face. “I know. And You brought me home. But I don’t think I can bear the hurt all over again. How do I move forward without Dylan? How can I serve You when my heart is full of doubt?”
Now that I’d begun, I barely stopped for breath. “And the clans are in danger. Holy One, I’ve been so tangled in my own problems that I didn’t even ask Kieran about it. What are You planning to do to protect us? What do You want from me?”
I braced myself—ready for explicit directions, ready to embrace some new danger or difficulty.
Love.
The chief calling every clan member learned as a child. Too simple. I needed more details, specific guidance, steps of action.
Love.
“Of course I love You and seek to offer love toward others . . . but what do You want me to do?”
The mist thickened around me, soaking into my pores and stilling my fretful questions. As if a hand pushed aside the complex pattern of pieces on a table game, all my worries scattered in His presence.
As gently as a lullaby, yet as piercing as a guardian’s signaler, He spoke to me again.
Love.
I bowed my head and let the music of His voice swirl through my soul. A last strand of my rebellious mind protested. “It’s not that simple, not that easy.”
Never easy, but enough.
New tears welled in my eyes, less stinging now. “Yes,” I whispered, my anger spent. “Make me a vessel of Your love. Teach me, show me.”
The ache of loss still pulsed through me. My concern for the homeless boy still throbbed in my heart. Worry about the nations threatening our borders troubled me as well. Yet the many needs lost their power to overwhelm me. A deep passion to draw the clans’ focus back to the One burned in my bones—a familiar sensation, but somehow new and fresh, too. Back in Hazor I’d longed for a sense of purpose, and now He’d stirred that in me. Wrapped as I was in the sheltering presence of the One, faith returned. He would guide me in how to love Him and others in each of those situations.
As the mist lifted, I stood and raised my arms, reaching for His presence. Music welled in my heart and I sang a new song as the One provided the words.
May each beat of my heart sound in worship
Like drums calling people to praise;
May my voice and my life bring You glory,
Joining songs that the mountains raise.
My voice was breathy and tentative, without the strong, clear tone a trained songkeeper should have. But I’d never sung with more truth. My very bones hummed a harmony. As I sang, images flooded my mind. The hand of the One protecting me, drawing me safely from Hazor. The faces of young messengers and women of Sidian absorbing the Verses. I saw Dylan, on his lehkan, turning his head in a moment of surprise and delight, as the One Himself beckoned. Dylan galloped to meet Him, toward a land of indescribable beauty and light.
For You’ve guided the days of Your children;
You carry us home from afar,
And my soul is restored in Your presence—
I seek only to be where You are.
Rejoice in the One who delivers,
For He lifts up the broken and weak.
You call me to serve You in love;
Your face will be all that I seek.
New tears flowed down my cheeks, but they were tears of mingled grief and resolve. As my love and trust rekindled, I longed to sing with more strength. My lone voice was so small in this grand space.
But Lukyan had taught me long ago that the One could take the smallest melody and build a strong chorus around it, if the music were true. The smallest life could produce magnificent worship when it was placed in His hands.
The mist was gone; the sky through the windows above was darkening. I drew a deep, steadying breath and stepped back from the podium. My calling awaited. I’d do all I could to fill this space with others for the season-end worship. I’d continue searching for a family for Caralad. I’d offer love to each person the One brought across my path, knowing that He would show me what that love should look like for each unique need.
Emerging from the tower, I’d only taken a few more steps when a shrill sound rose from the side of the city that faced Corros Fields. I stilled. A signaler. The pattern of staccato blasts indicated the most urgent of warnings: invasion.
Heart in my throat, I ran toward the lodge. I needed to get to Caralad and Lukyan. I’d only taken a few steps when another signaler sounded, then abruptly cut off. What was happening? Shopkeepers dashed into the street, leaving their empty stores, clamoring to each other for answers.
“Linette!” I heard my name called over the chaos. Kieran raced up to me, sword drawn. “Take cover in the guardian tower. Safest place. I’ve already sent Nolan there.”
I shook my head. “I have to get the boy I’m caring for. But I’ll take him there.”
He spared a terse nod and ran past me toward the far walls of the city.
I pushed my way past a group of anxious people in the main square and hurried toward the lodge.
A handful of first-year guardians charged from the training tower and raced past in the same direction Kieran had taken, a pitifully small band of reinforcements for the guardians on watch. Lukyan had told me that after Jake’s disappearance Lyric had been deserted by the guardians and first-years of other clans, breaking the system of interwoven assignments blending guardians from various clans into a cohesive force in Lyric.
At the songkeeper lodge I met a sealed door. “Let me in! It’s Linette!” I pounded the metal with one hand while fumbling for the release lever with the other. Locked. When had songkeepers ever locked their common room door?
“Out of my way,” an irritated elderly voice echoed from inside. The door slid open. Lukyan leaned heavily on his walking stick, glowering at the handful
of songkeepers clinging to each other near the door.
Caralad nestled in the arms of one of the women. Thankfully, he didn’t seem upset by the panic around him. When he saw me, he squirmed free and ran to me.
“We need to move to the guardian tower.” I had to shout to be heard as another signaler sounded near the front gates. “Kieran said it would be safer.”
Lukyan nodded, his face creased in sadness rather than fear. “Lead the way.”
“We aren’t going out there.” Havid stepped out of the group. “Especially not if she tells us to.” Her eyes skimmed over me coldly.
I had hoped the distrust wouldn’t follow me from Braide Wood. What had Havid told the other songkeepers that had stirred up this sudden animosity in the short time I’d been out? Frustration almost overwhelmed me. I gathered Caralad into my arms. “There isn’t time to argue. You don’t have to trust me. Trust Lukyan.”
“Why? He’s not a Lyric songkeeper,” another woman said shrilly.
So the factions had extended to the songkeepers as well as the guardians. They should be appreciating the fact that Lukyan had made the journey from Braide Wood when many of the other clans refused to send their songkeepers for the feast.
I wavered. As a young songkeeper, I’d been taught to bend, to serve, to cooperate. Taking a stand in opposition of the Lyric songkeepers went against my nature. But if Kieran said the guardian tower was the safest place, then I believed him.
“Lukyan and I are going to the guardian tower. I hope you’ll come with us.” Still cradling Caralad, I offered an elbow to Lukyan. He took my arm, and we walked outside. I didn’t look behind me, hoping at least a few of the others would follow. Instead the door slid closed with an angry thump.
I turned my focus to protecting the boy as the signalers abruptly stopped their clamor. “We’ll be all right,” I whispered in his ear. Lukyan’s steps wobbled, and his weight on my arm increased. I led us along the sides of the buildings; the open square felt too exposed. Our progress was painfully slow, but at last we reached the guardian tower.
Nolan met us in the entry hall, nervous energy shimmering from him in waves. “This way.” He led us to a back room, pushed aside a storage rack of weapons, and revealed hidden stairs. “You’ll be safe down there. I’ve got to go help my father.”
I grabbed his arm. “Wait. Did he ask you to join him at the wall?”
Nolan’s gaze skidded away. “He needs my help.” He tossed his bangs to the side in a gesture half sullen and half defiant.
Kieran wouldn’t want Nolan in the middle of the danger. But how to stop an eager youth from a reckless path? “You can’t leave us here. We need at least one person who can fight.”
Shifting his weight from side to side, Nolan frowned, indecision playing across his face. Lukyan leaned hard on his staff and began coughing, then raised a weak hand when he’d caught his breath. “Linette, we can’t keep a young warrior from the battle. Even if it means we are left defenseless.” He turned his head toward me so Nolan wouldn’t see the sparkle in his eyes.
I hid a grin, then gathered Caralad close. “Don’t be afraid,” I said to him, although the boy hadn’t shown a glimmer of fear. “If enemies break in here, I’ll find a way to protect you.”
Nolan made a sound of exasperation and cast one more look toward the hall. “Fine. I’ll stay with you. For now.” He waved us down the stairs, then slid the storage rack into place to hide the entry again and followed us, holding a light cube high enough to let us see our footing.
A cold chill breathed across the back of my neck; a flash of memory took me back to the steps beneath the shrine in Hazor. I’d fought hard to regain my memories, but there were a few I longed to forget.
Soft, chubby fingers touched my cheek. I looked down at the boy in my arms. Caralad’s dark eyes met mine with compassion beyond his years. “Everything will be all right,” I said firmly.
He smiled.
At the foot of the stairs, Nolan led us into a space the size of a large common room. A wall to the left held racks of swords, bootknives, baldrics, and leather gauntlets. A deep cubby on the right held shelves of supplies. Straight ahead of us I glimpsed a bathroom through an open sliding door. Rolled pallets were stacked around the room, and a low table in the center held several heat trivets. “What is this place?” I asked as I lowered Caralad to his feet.
Nolan turned on the heat trivets, filling the room with a softer light than his cube. “The guardians call it a beetle nest. You know, like where stinging beetles hide below ground if they’re threatened.”
We pulled some pallets closer to the table and sank down, except for Nolan, who kept prowling the room. “Even the first-year guardians don’t know about this one.” He paused by the rack of weapons and pulled out a knife to examine. If I didn’t keep him occupied, he’d dash out to fight beside Kieran.
“Are you hungry? It looks like there’s plenty to work with. I could make some supper.”
Food managed to distract him. I kept him busy helping me prepare a meal, although his constant fidgeting warned me I wouldn’t be able to hold him long. Even while we ate, his hand kept straying to his bootknife, and his gaze slid often to the door.
When Nolan had sopped up the last bit of his stew with a piece of bread, he uncrossed his legs, and pushed away from the table.
Before he could stand, Lukyan lifted a hand. “The Verses for the day.”
Nolan hesitated, then sank onto the pallet. He’d seen and heard enough about the One to honor our traditions, but his scowl made it clear to all of us how much he objected to hiding here instead of fighting alongside his father.
I didn’t blame him. I wanted to know what was happening. If I didn’t have Lukyan and the two boys to care for, I’d have followed Kieran to the city walls to find out what sort of invasion we faced.
Caralad, seated beside me, patted my arm. Then he stood, circled to the other side of the table, and settled down beside Nolan. His presence softened Nolan’s scowl as Lukyan led us in the creed. Caralad remained silent, but his face glowed as the rest of us quietly spoke the words. We reached the last part of the creed.
“We wait in the darkness for the One who brings light.”
Never had the words felt more true. We huddled in a beetle hole with enemies advancing. What battles were being waged at the walls?
Lukyan continued reciting the day’s Verses, but broke off mid-sentence as another coughing fit grabbed him—this time not feigned. He wheezed as he tried to catch his breath, and I rushed to his side, touching his face to check for fever. His skin was cold and clammy, muscles on his neck straining as he struggled for air. He pressed his hands to his heart as if coaxing his lungs to work again.
“Perhaps . . . you . . . will have to . . . recite.” His mouth lifted, but then grimaced and he doubled over.
“What do you need? How can I help?” I eased him to a blanket on the floor and offered him water.
His gaze grew unfocused. “Not . . . time . . .” Then his lips moved without sound.
“Nolan, give me your bootknife.”
Already alarmed at Lukyan’s struggle, the youth’s eyes grew even wider at my sharp command.
“Now!”
He pulled out his dagger and handed it to me, hilt first. “What are you—?”
“I’m going to find the Lyric healer. Lukyan needs help.”
“I could go,” he offered. “If you tell me where to find him.”
“Her. I know her, so it will be quicker for me. You need to protect Lukyan and Caralad until I get back.”
Lukyan shook his head, but another coughing fit left him too weak to argue. Nolan swayed from foot to foot, but finally nodded. He grabbed one of the swords from the storage cubby and escorted me up the stairs. Once he was sure that no enemies lurked in the guardian tower, he motioned for me to leave our hiding place. “He’ll
kill me if anything bad happens to you,” he muttered.
Anxiety shadowed his face as he ducked his head down in a familiar uneasy gesture.
I took a moment to lift his chin and meet his gaze. “I’ll be fine. Take care of them. You can do this.”
His deep brown eyes shone with determination. He squared his jaw in a gesture so like his father that I caught my breath. Holy One, this boy is so precious. Keep him safe. Keep them all safe.
Then I ran.
Chapter
28
Linette
With everyone hiding from the threatened invasion, the plaza was deserted in the evening dusk. Instead of the warm glow of light walls spilling into the street through inviting doorways, every home turned a closed and fearful face at anyone foolish enough to venture out. Touching Nolan’s bootknife secured in my belt, I gathered up my songkeeper robe in my other hand and raced even faster to the healer’s home.
My frantic pounding on the door produced no response, so, ignoring ceremony, I slid the door aside and entered. Scanners and bandages littered a nearby table, as if the healer had been called away in a hurry. Of course. She was probably at the battle. I wouldn’t divert her from her important work. I only needed her to tell me what herbs could help Lukyan.
Footsteps scraped outside and I spun, fumbling for the dagger.
A young Lyric guardian stumbled inside, clutching his arm. Seeing his eyes move to my knife, I hastily sheathed it and pulled out a chair for him, glancing helplessly at the herbs and containers filling the shelves. “She’s not here.”
He nodded. “She’s at the wall. Corros side. She sent me to wait for her here.”
Torn between Lukyan’s need and the wounded man before me, I picked up a rolled bandage and passed it from hand to hand. “I need to find her. It’s urgent.”
He waved me away with his good arm. “I know where she keeps the orberry wine. I’ll be fine. Go.”
Halfway on my run to the far side of the city, I realized I should have asked him the status of the battle. Well, I’d know soon enough. The eerie silence of empty streets gave way to growing sounds, muffled by the tall protective walls of Lyric.