by Sharon Hinck
Shouts. Clangs. Wails.
Once I cleared the buildings blocking my view, I saw a few lookouts stationed on the top of the wall. I ran up a narrow stairwell, startling a young messenger at the top of the steps.
“Have you seen the healer?” I asked, my chest heaving for air.
He moved aside. “Out there somewhere.”
I hurried to the curved parapets and peered out at the wide fields between Lyric and Corros, hoping I could locate her green tunic.
Under the dimming sky, lehkan charged in a chaos of spinning, snorting movement. I spotted Tristan and a cluster of his men, all mounted, all frantically holding back a much larger group of soldiers on lehkan.
The large cavalry could only mean Hazor. My blood chilled. I wanted to turn away from the lethal slashing of swords and the angry shrieks, but I scanned for the emblem of King Zarek in the distance. I had to know. After all this, would I still fall back into Bezreth’s hands?
I couldn’t let fear distract me. Squinting, I leaned forward, and my gaze slipped to the guardians on foot, fighting closer to the wall. Even though my purpose was to locate the healer, I found myself searching for someone else.
I spotted him not far from one of the hidden doors in the wall beneath me. Dark hair, lithe movements, sword darting with the skill he’d used when he sparred with Zarek.
Kieran was too reckless. He fought as if he didn’t care if he lived or died. My fingers squeezed the smooth white stone of the parapet, and I tasted blood as I bit my lip. Our last conversation had ended with me shoving him away, blaming him for the pain my memories caused. Would he die with that unfair accusation echoing in his heart? Holy One, not now. Please. Spare him.
With a few more breath-stealing clashes, he disarmed the man in front of him, then spun in and slammed him in the head, knocking him to the ground. I finally got a look at the enemy’s tunic.
The unconscious attacker wore the emblem of Corros.
Scanning the battlefield, my heart screamed a denial at what I witnessed. The men riding Hazorite lehkan were all from Corros. A neighboring clan. Our own people.
As the horror sank in, Kieran dragged his opponent toward the wall. He disappeared from sight just as another man charged toward him, sword raised.
At the far end of the field, one of the Corros riders pressed a signaler, and the screeching call drew the men back. The sky was darkening swiftly, and the attackers withdrew. The Lyric guardians also disengaged from battle, those on lehkan riding to pastureland outside the city, and those on foot making for the door.
The scramble of movement beneath me jarred me back to my purpose, and I hurried down the steps to find the healer. As people swept past me, keeping my feet took all my effort. Then I spotted her, examining a man supported by two other guardians. I pushed my way closer.
“Take this one to my house.” She turned and waved a few more limping men away from the wall, then pushed her hair off her face with a harried gesture. “Return to your homes. I’ll send an apprentice to you soon.”
She brightened when she saw me. “Linette! Well met. Have you come to help?”
I shook my head. “Lukyan is ill, having trouble breathing. I know you can’t come right now, but is there anything I can do to help him?”
A flash of sympathy warmed her face, but even while she gave me directions about which herbs he needed, she scurried from person to person, assessing and barking orders. “Send a messenger to me if he doesn’t improve by morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and hurried away before I could thank her.
“Linette? Messengers of the One, what do you think you’re doing?” Kieran’s angry shout spun me around.
He was scraped, torn, bloodied, but alive.
I dashed forward and threw my arms around him. “You’re not dead.”
He stiffened, then patted my back with jerky movements. I retreated, flushing, reminded of how I’d shouted at him in the garden.
“Where’s Nolan?” he asked sharply.
“Safe in the guardian tower. Lukyan is sick. I needed to find the healer.”
He gave an exasperated huff and turned toward the wall. The young guardian he’d disarmed earlier sat in a limp heap, wrists bound in front of him. Grabbing the man’s arm, he propelled him to his feet. “Move.” He frowned at me. “You, too.”
We made our way back to the city center, stopping at the healer’s home briefly so I could gather the proper herbs.
When we clambered down the steps to the beetle hole, Nolan faced us, sword at the ready, his arm trembling only a little.
Kieran shoved his prisoner over to the wall and clamped an arm on his son’s shoulder. “Thank you for keeping them safe.”
The boy grew a few inches and nodded, while Caralad looked up from where he knelt beside Lukyan. I hurried over with the herbs, crushed them in the bottom of a mug and poured water over them. Lukyan’s breathing had already eased. Perhaps Caralad’s healing gifts had helped. But I was glad to have a concoction to offer as well.
My own breathing began to steady along with my mentor’s. We weren’t going to be run through by Hazorite soldiers or Corros traitors. At least not tonight.
Then heavy scuffling echoed from the top of the stairs. The weapons rack.
Our hiding place had been discovered.
Chapter
29
Linette
Booted tread sounded on the stairs, and Tristan stepped into view. He zeroed in on the table. “Any food left?”
“Took you long enough to get your mounts settled,” Kieran grumbled.
Tristan unbelted his sword and propped it against the wall. “They did well today. We’ve held the walls. For the time being.”
“Is it Hazor?” Nolan’s eyebrows pulled together as he threw a glance at the man slouched against the wall.
“Worse,” Kieran said tightly.
Tristan sank to the floor beside the low table and reached for the bowl of leftover kasaba mash. When no one would elaborate, Nolan shifted his weight. “Do you plan to tell us?”
Lukyan pushed up on his elbows, then managed to sit, resting his arms on the low table. “Don’t blame them, Nolan. Some events are so wrong that even giving words to them is a terrible burden.”
Tristan shot Lukyan a glance. “You know?”
“The Verses speak of a time of rebellion.” His voice held a tremor. “I’ve seen the time approaching.”
Kieran strode past me to snatch a bread loaf. “I hardly think this is some mystic destiny unfolding. Just Cameron causing more trouble.” Since my spontaneous expression of relief at the wall, he had apparently decided to ignore my existence. I did the same and passed a bowl of dried berries across the table.
Tristan scooped up a mouthful. “But I wouldn’t have believed I’d ever see clans fighting each other right outside the walls of Lyric.”
“And on the eve of the season-end gathering.” I looked at the prisoner, pleading for him to deny it. “You would attack your brothers and sisters who keep the worship tower for all the clans?”
“Lyric has hoarded the power for too long, songkeeper.” The man’s lips curled. “And when Tabor and Blue Knoll join us, Lyric will be ours.”
I sensed Kieran’s sudden stillness. He exchanged glances with Tristan.
Then, as if their captive realized he’d said too much, he clamped his jaw shut and scowled at the floor.
The small room seemed to close in further. More clans fighting each other? Dark spots flickered on the edges of my vision until I remembered to breathe. I gasped in some air. “It can’t be true. It can’t.”
Lukyan’s shoulders curved forward as sadness weighted him. Tristan shook his head but kept eating. Caralad turned to meet my gaze. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
My battered heart twisted. Our talk was upsetting him, even if he didn’t understand
. I gathered him close again and settled him in my lap.
“Who’s he?” Kieran asked.
“She found him,” Nolan piped up. “In the woods.”
Tristan’s chin came up. “In Braide Wood?” The bristles on his face seemed to stiffen in distrust. “He’s not from our clan.”
I rested my chin on Caralad’s soft curls and wrapped my arms more firmly around him. “Kieran, this is the boy I told you about. He started my healing. And that’s not all. Wade’s leg was crushed, and Caralad fixed him.”
“A healer? A new Restorer?” Tristan asked around another mouthful.
Kieran studied the child. “But where does he belong? What has he told you?”
I gently wiped away the trail of tears on Caralad’s cheeks. “He doesn’t speak.” I avoided looking at Kieran, but knew he was rolling his eyes. Well, too bad. I might be too trusting, but I’d rather be compassionate and naïve than cynical.
I looked around the cramped room. “I suppose we should head back to the songkeeper’s lodge if the danger is past.”
“Too late.” Kieran leaned against the wall near the stairway. “It’s already dark. We’ll stay here until morning.”
I sighed, suddenly feeling the effects of the long day of travel followed by my emotional time at the worship tower, not to mention my race across the city. I wanted to curl up on the floor and sleep. Instead, I brought out more food for the men and began to roll out pallets on the limited floor space. Lukyan could have the spot along one wall, and I’d put Caralad and Nolan beside him—
“Get away from him!” Kieran’s shout made me turn.
Caralad stood right in front of the prisoner, his hand reaching out to offer a bread roll. Kieran grabbed Caralad roughly and swung him out of reach. I raced forward, snatched the boy away, and glared at Kieran. “Leave him alone. He was just being kind.”
Kieran’s eye twitched and he squeezed his forehead. “Linette, he’s—”
“My fault.” Tristan lurched to his feet. “Shouldn’t have left him here. The local guardians have returned by now. I’ll take our prisoner up to them.”
“I had some questions for him.” Kieran gritted the words out through his clenched jaw.
Tristan hauled the man from Corros to his feet. “I’ll take care of it. We’ll make plans when I get back.”
I adjusted Caralad in my arms so I could see if he was frightened by Kieran’s rough actions. Instead, the boy was beaming—beaming!—at Kieran as if recognizing an old friend.
Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure he’s not from Braide Wood clan? He looks familiar.”
Caralad rested his cheek against my shoulder, but continued to stare at Kieran with a wide grin. That settled it. The poor child must be simple.
Lukyan suddenly began coughing again, and I let the subject drop while I prepared him a mug of clavo steeped with herbs. After Tristan left with the prisoner, Kieran unwound enough to take off his sword and sit down. As he relaxed his continual alertness, dark shadows smudged the skin beneath his eyes and he kept rubbing his temples.
I quietly asked Nolan to entertain Caralad, then heated more clavo and brought a mug to Kieran. I eased to the floor beside him. “This might help.”
He frowned.
“Your headache,” I added.
He flashed a crooked smile. “This feels familiar.”
I shifted, moving to go clear the table, but he grabbed my arm. “I don’t need you taking care of me. Maybe you thought that was your job in Hazor, but—”
“Maybe we need you to take care of us.” I pried his hand off my arm. “Maybe the clans need you. And maybe you’ll have a better chance of helping us when your head isn’t throbbing and you can think straight.” I stormed away to finish clearing up. Lukyan made a sound almost like a chuckle, but when I looked at him, he appeared to be dozing, chin propped on his fists with eyes closed.
The clavo didn’t improve Kieran’s mood much. When the dishes were washed, I distributed blankets and settled onto a pallet, singing softly to Caralad until he fell asleep. Eventually Nolan and Lukyan joined him in settling down to sleep.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked softly. Kieran had ignored the pallets and sat in the doorway, leaning back against the frame, angled so he could watch the top of the stairs.
He shrugged. “You don’t repel an attack without injuries. I think they were testing the defenses. Could have been worse. Will be tomorrow.”
“And you think Cameron is involved?”
“He’s convinced his clan that they—and he—should be in power. And the Council—the ones who are left—are useless as always.” He sighed. “Get some sleep. Nothing we can do tonight.”
I dimmed the lightwall, curled up beside Caralad, and pulled a blanket over my shoulders, forcing my breathing into a slow and steady rhythm. The harder I tried to sleep, the more my mind wrestled with the dangers facing the clans. Power struggles weren’t unprecedented. Years ago two clans had withdrawn from the People of the Verses, but Markkel had managed to reunite them with the rest of the clans, and their balcony in the Council was no longer dark and empty. But to violently attack another clan? And during the end-of-season gathering, when the focus was supposed to be on worship? I closed my eyes and remembered the comforting presence of the One when He’d spoken to me in the tower. Everything in the world seemed to be fracturing, but He was my tower. Focusing on His goodness, I asked Him to quiet my heart and renew my trust.
Eventually, Tristan came back downstairs. By then I was nearly asleep, and too warm and settled in my nest to rouse. My messages to him from home could wait until morning. The gentle murmur of Tristan and Kieran’s low voices rose and fell as they discussed guardian assignments and strategies. I must have dozed, because some time later their topic had shifted.
“When are you going to do something about it?” Tristan asked.
“Leave it,” Kieran answered. “The clans are in crisis. I don’t need complications.”
Tristan snorted. “The clans are always in crisis. Don’t be a coward.”
I expected to hear the scuffle of a fight breaking out after that taunt, but Kieran just sighed. “It will never work. Look at me. She deserves better.”
Tristan lowered his voice, his next words barely audible. “She deserves someone who will protect her and cherish her and think about her obsessively . . . and we both know who that is.”
I bit my lip and slipped the blanket off my ear so I could hear better. Who were they talking about?
When Kieran didn’t respond, Tristan tried again. “It’s obvious she feels the same. Why can’t you allow yourself a little happiness?”
“I don’t care what you think you’ve seen. She loves Dylan. I can’t compete with that. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
She loves Dylan? They were talking about me? Kieran and me? Tristan was crazy, although not for the reasons Kieran was stating. He was the one who deserved better. Someone stronger, someone who could stand beside him the way Kendra did for Tristan.
“Look, I’m happy for you and Kendra,” Kieran said in a low rasp, “but I think becoming a father has made you a little touched in the head. Just because it worked for you doesn’t means it’s the right path for me.”
“You’re a father too,” Tristan answered quietly.
“Yet another reason to drop the subject. Nolan needs me. That’s enough responsibility.”
I coughed and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head, hoping they’d stop talking. It worked. Heavy silence covered the room. I clenched the fabric in one fist, twisting it in time with the tortuous twists in my heart. Of course I cared about Kieran. He’d been the One’s chosen Restorer and I’d been honored to help him. And yes, Tristan and Kendra had sometimes teased me about Kieran as if they’d seen more than friendship. And yes, if I were completely honest with myself, those confusing feeling
s I’d grappled with during our seasons in Hazor were probably . . .
Love.
I twisted the blanket more tightly. Why? Why had Tristan given voice to this? I’d been able to hold it at bay—in Hazor, and today when my memories and feelings had returned. Why had Tristan unlocked that door?
Kieran had made it clear that he didn’t feel the same. That’s enough responsibility, he’d said. He was right. I’d be nothing but a burden. He was older, experienced, a leader, a father, a warrior. I spent my life creating music and teaching the Verses. We couldn’t be more mismatched. Silent tears ran down my face. At least he didn’t know I’d heard.
As if the restless night hadn’t been bad enough, I woke in the morning to angry voices. Kieran, Tristan, Lukyan, and even Nolan talked over each other.
“If we lead a small band to beat them back . . .”
“We must invite all the clans . . . maybe the Council—”
“… and I’ll do reconnaissance and tell you . . .”
They sounded like they’d been at it awhile and hadn’t bothered to wake me. Or perhaps they’d just forgotten about me. I’d faced some difficult new days, but this was a day of despair and shame. Our clans were supposed to gather in worship today. Instead we were making battle plans. I moaned and felt a small hand press against my forehead. Caralad sat beside me, as if guarding me from the argument. His gentle touch comforted and strengthened me, and I sat up, pushing my hair away from my face.
“We have to go to the worship tower,” I said loudly.
The men turned to me with a mix of hopeful, quizzical, and exasperated expressions. I rose, wishing I didn’t feel so rumpled and disheveled. “It’s the feast day. We cannot neglect our worship. And we can’t take arms against our brothers.”
Tristan rubbed his short beard. “We could call for a parlay, but with Jake missing—”
“All the more reason.” I pressed a hand against the wall for support. The clans were understandably devastated at having yet another Restorer snatched from them in a time of need. Jake had had such a sweet, strong spirit. Back in Hazor I’d often talked to the One on his behalf, knowing the monumental challenges he faced. “When did he disappear? The emblem I made for him . . .”