He stopped an arm’s length from where I sat. “Hello, Orah. Hello, Nathaniel. I’m glad to see you’ve returned.”
I stared at that face, reassessing it without the wounds, and brightened. “I know you. A fellow scholar. We studied together in the keep.”
The boy lowered himself into a chair, yelping in pain until he straightened his right knee with both hands.
The spinner hovered over him as if to protect him from further harm. “I see you remember Enoch, your former neighbor from Great Pond. Good. That will make it easier for you to believe his story, though I have to admit, I struggle to believe it myself. Like you, he went to the keep to learn from our past. One day, two weeks ago, we found Enoch by the side of the road to the west of town. He lay there half-dead, unable to walk another step or speak of what had happened. His body was broken, and he’d had no food for days. More than that, his eyes refused to focus, and he turned away and covered his face with his arms when anyone came near.
“As you can see, we’ve nursed him back to health, although he has a long way to go. Likely he’ll never be the same. Now that Enoch can speak for himself, I’ll let him tell his story.”
I checked around the table. Nathaniel had set his jaw, and Caleb had folded his thick hands so tightly that his knuckles whitened. I pictured his men training with sticks and wanted to train myself.
Only Kara looked calm, staring at the boy as if assessing his wounds.
The wounded scholar accepted some tea from the spinner and, after taking a few sips, set the cup down and faced me, as if he intended his story for me alone.
“At the time you left the keep, all who stayed there worked in harmony. The gray friars used the helpers to better understand what made temple magic work. When parts of the keep ceased to function, they learned to repair them. The vicars pondered how the Temple came into being and where it might have gone wrong, and the scholars studied whatever piqued our curiosity. You introduced me to the observatory, and like you, I developed a love of the stars.
“One day, a new set of vicars arrived with a column of deacons in tow, and took over control of the keep. Whereas each of us had studied as we saw fit before, now they limited what we learned. Entire sections were closed off, some helpers silenced, and many subjects forbidden as apostasy. The scholars were offered a harsh choice—swear obedience to the new grand vicar, or be driven from the keep.”
He lowered his eyes and stared into the golden liquid in his cup, as if searching for answers there.
I rested a hand on his arm, careful to find a spot with no bruise. “What happened?”
“I refused to leave. I told them the keepmasters built the keep to let free thought flow, and that its knowledge belonged to the people.”
He breathed in and out. Twice he tried to continue but stopped himself.
“We’re here to help you, Enoch. No one will hurt you.”
He looked up, and his eyes met mine. They were moist with tears.
“They took me into one of the bedchambers the gray friars had modified so the door locked from the outside. I stayed there alone for two days without food or water. Then the deacons came....” He shuddered, but a sudden strength seemed to fill him, a gathering of will. “Some of my fellow scholars snuck in one night, those who’d faked allegiance to the Temple to save themselves from my fate. They helped me escape.”
I waited for more, but Enoch had ceased to speak. It almost seemed he’d ceased to breathe. I drove my fingernails into the palms of my hands to stay under control. No need to upset him further. “Did they resume their teaching then, in violation of the truce?”
The young man stared at the surface of the table as if counting the knots in the wood.
“No teachings,” he said in little more than a whisper. “Nothing so benign.” He looked up at me with anguish in his eyes. “Only old-fashioned, darkness-inspired pain.”
Chapter 9 – Cudgels and Staves
For the next two days, we camped on the outskirts of Adamsville, restocking our supplies and resting our troops.
During that time, Kara pleaded with me to try her hand at mending. Through her winged bonnet, she’d controlled other machines, but this one required a special skill, appropriate for the complexity of the human body. She’d observed her grandfather use it many times and studied its workings in her lessons, but now she needed time to consult with the dreamers before attempting to heal Enoch’s wounds.
On the evening of the second day, she came to Nathaniel and me, her hair matted from where the sensors in her bonnet had pressed it flat. “I explained about the boy’s injuries as best I can without joining their minds in the dream, and they gave me instruction. I can gain no more from them in such a short time.”
“Will you succeed?” Nathaniel said.
“I can’t be sure. Even the mentor sometimes failed, but we hauled the mending machine from across the sea to serve a purpose. From the rumors floating about the camp, we might have need for it soon. Better to test it now. Please let me try.”
I checked with Nathaniel. We’d crossed the ocean with a dream to bring back miracles to our people. How could we turn down this chance?
We both nodded.
Nathaniel narrowed his gaze so a wrinkle formed above the bridge of his nose. “You should make your first attempt away from curious eyes. Our people have struggled with the knowledge of the keep. Who can say how they’ll respond to the wonders of the dreamers? If you fail this first time, no need for them to watch.”
I stepped forward and brushed her arm. “We’ll wake before dawn. I’ll alert the spinner to have Enoch ready. Pick the most loyal of the bearers of the cube to stand guard at that time, those who can be trusted to keep quiet no matter what they see. That way, only a few will know.”
Before first light the next morning, while the troops still slept, Nathaniel placed Enoch on the spinner’s two-wheeled cart, normally used to transport spools of yarn, and wheeled him to the clearing at the outskirts of town. The stars had all but gone out, and a glow spread on the horizon, welcomed by the first notes of birdsong emerging from the trees.
The four bearers, handpicked by Kara, snapped to attention as we entered. They’d concealed Kara’s machines in the brush, covered by a thick blanket of spruce branches—all but the mending machine, which lay exposed at the ready.
On the way, I’d explained to Enoch what to expect. As a fellow scholar, he’d long since accepted the wonders made possible by science, yet his eyes widened when he took in the dreamers’ creation.
A tube stood at the center of the clearing, made of a clear, glossy material like the keepers’ scrolls and large enough to envelop a grown man. Before it lay a slab on wheels.
We placed Enoch on the slab, and Kara covered his eyes with a black cloth.
“Just relax,” she said. “You’ll feel some discomfort but nothing like the pain you’ve experienced until now.”
I patted his hand. “Soon, light willing, all will be well.”
Then I stepped away.
Kara donned her white bonnet with the flowered crest and the flaps like wings. She wiggled it around until the sensors properly set, and closed her eyes. A whirring filled the air, and the slab began to roll, inching Enoch head first into the tube.
A sound startled me from behind, the crack of a twig. I thought to turn, but the mending machine captured my eye. Just a squirrel, I told myself. Nothing more.
Though I’d witnessed a mending before, I held my breath.
Soon the tube surrounded Enoch, and a light flooded the space where he lay, brightening to an unbearable intensity and forcing me to look away. The stoic bearers fell back a step and raised their arms to shield their eyes.
A gasp rose behind me, or was it the breeze in the trees, muffled by the whirring of the machine? I cast a glance around to check, but half-blinded by the glow, I saw only shadows.
After a few minutes, the light dimmed and Enoch emerged from the tube. He glanced at me and took a trembling breath.
Tears flowed down his cheeks, making them glisten, but the tension that had racked his body was gone.
Sweat beaded on Kara’s forehead, but her eyes sparkled as she eased into a smile. “It worked.” She took a step toward me, but stumbled and almost fell.
I caught her in my arms.
On the walk back to town, I wheeled the empty cart, while Nathaniel supported a weakened Kara with one arm and a recovering Enoch with the other. By the time we reached the spinner’s home, the boy no longer needed help. The angry marks on his skin had faded, and he walked upright with a bounce in his step, appropriate for a man of his age.
When the spinner spotted us, his brows lifted, and he let out a silent whistle. “You said you crossed the ocean to find miracles beyond the keepmasters.”
I nodded with a smile. “And we succeeded.”
He prepared a hearty breakfast for us, with freshly baked bread, poached eggs and thick slices of ham. Nathaniel and I ate our fill, but Enoch and Kara devoured their meals and asked for more.
As I rose to clean the table, I heard a ruckus on the street outside and went to the door to check.
Micah, the boy from Temple City, stood in front grinning, surrounded by his friends. Behind him, dozens of troops had gathered in various stages of undress, wiping the sleep from their eyes, with more arriving by the second.
The boy crowed to the assembled. “I followed them to the place of miracles.” He pointed at Kara. “That’s the one. She donned a strange hat, closed her eyes, and prayed to the light. Then the power of the sun, giver of life, came down to the earth to heal the scholar.”
When Enoch joined me at my side, everyone raised their arms in celebration and a chant spread: “Praise the true light! Down with the vicars!”
Yet a different phrase worried me more—a muted murmur whispered in fear and awe: Seeker Magic.
***
My time in Adamsville proved a salve for my spirit. The latter days of spring had arrived, with milder weather, a gentle breeze and blue skies that brightened my mood. Nathaniel and I passed quiet nights together as guests in the spinner’s home, while our troop prepared for the next leg of our journey.
Enoch recovered from his abuse and became a prime spokesman for our cause. With his health restored, he spent his days mingling with the people and retelling his story. Their anger raged, just as their confidence in our leadership grew. The seekers brought miracles, they said, and under our banner, they’d vanquish their enemy and create a better life for all.
If only I had their faith.
Once I believed we had merely to reveal the truth and the people would rise up and change the world. Older now and bearing the scars of trials past, I knew better. Our future hovered like an indistinct thundercloud on the horizon, an impending storm. Light knew who or what would survive its fury.
How I longed to renounce the hard ground of the road, to stay in this soft bed with Nathaniel, freeze time and wish the world away. But no wish would rescue Thomas or save the keep.
On the third day, I convened the council to discuss our next move. We met in the town hall—Kara and Devorah, Caleb and the troop leaders, and Nathaniel and me.
I cleared the table, unrolled the map to the keep, and pointed to the spot marked Adamsville. “Here we sit. Rumors drifting our way say the vicars have concentrated their forces nearer the keep—for them, an obvious plan. We need to proceed on the road east with caution—at least until we learn more. Before the turn north to Bradford, we’ll pass two roads to the south, each leading to a different Temple City. Enoch slipped through the nearest and said it looked abandoned, but the fate of the second remains a mystery.”
I ran my finger along the paper, tracing the path to Bradford. “The trek to the crossroads takes six days for a small party traveling light, but will take our troop much longer. Since we know nothing of what awaits at the second Temple City, we should avoid it until we’re better prepared, heading north instead. Once in Bradford, we can rest and reorganize before facing our enemy for the first time. The town is remote but large enough to provide support. Moreover, its vicar is our friend, and will be a valuable adviser as we plan our next step. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded, all but Caleb.
He pulled the map closer and studied the terrain, following the road east until he stopped and lingered at the second Temple City. “If I understand you, our first encounter with the enemy may lie here. A horde such as ours cannot travel in stealth. We’ll announce our presence far in advance. These well-intentioned neighbors of yours are not ready for what might come.”
He folded his thick hands on the table and waited.
I recalled Thomas on our quest for the keep, constantly asking if we’d be safe. I kept reassuring him, but I turned out to be wrong. In the end, Nathaniel and I needed his help to save us.
I tempered my response. “That’s why I’m proposing we stay clear of the vicars and go north to Bradford.”
He shook his head and sighed. “You know this side of the ocean better than I do. I never met your vicars or deacons, but they seem a nasty lot. I’ll agree to this plan on two conditions. Let me arm our troop without constraint. Then on our trek, grant me two hours out of each day to train them. Best to plan for the worst.”
My mouth opened, but before I could respond, Nathaniel leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Think of the boy, Enoch. This is not the world we left.”
I pressed my lips together, glared at the map, and agreed to the plan. We’d ready our troop for the march to Bradford and, if need be, for war.
***
When I awoke on the morning of the fourth day, Nathaniel had donned his travel tunic and was filling his pack. His face had turned grim.
I stretched my arms overhead in a yawn. “Do we have to be up so soon?”
He came to my side, rested a hand on my cheek, and kissed me. “Time to muster the troops. The usurper won’t yield while we idle away here.”
Our original trek from Adamsville to the crossroads had taken six days, but now took twice as long. With so many, we needed more time to gather provisions, eat meals, and layout our camps. The training of the troops also consumed more hours than expected. Caleb had too few instructors, and the children of the light, after a thousand years of temple-imposed peace, had proven less than adept students in the art of war.
When Zachariah saw the others arming, he begged for a weapon as well.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
He glared at me and rocked on his toes to appear taller. “I’m ten years old now, big enough to fight the bad men.”
I smiled at him, so impulsive... like a young Nathaniel. “Your flute does more than any weapon. A weapon strengthens only one, but your music strengthens all.”
After that, he puffed out his chest and played his tune with such passion that the birds seemed to join in, adding their chirping to his marching song.
Nothing stopped Nathaniel from joining those who bore arms. He now carried a stave as tall as his chin and as thick as my wrist. Jacob had helped him carve handgrips in the center, complete with notches for each finger, so it would hold firm when swung with force or struck in return, but as a concession to me, he’d refrained from sharpening the point. With its dull tip, it remained a formidable weapon, but mainly for defense.
As we marched, I gaped in horror as he and the other would-be warriors adopted the look of revelers at festival, flaunting their staves and sharpened picks and axes, laughing and joking as they paraded along.
What had I wrought?
An unsettling foreboding came over me. I tossed and turned at night, haunted by nightmares: of a panel of vicars sitting in judgment on a high bench; of drab stone walls etched by decay and iron doors with deacons lurking on the far side; of my own neighbors gazing at me glassy-eyed in the dim light of dawn while the voice from the sun icon called for our stoning; of rocks the size of apples grasped in their hands.
I longed to share my fears with someone, but in whom could I confide? A lea
der leads alone, and must show nothing but confidence in the mission, so I maintained the mask and hid the doubting little girl who lurked behind, revealing her to no one—no one but my best friend who’d known me since birth.
Yet with so much to do, Nathaniel and I had little time together, each of us occupied with the tasks of guiding our would-be army. I spent my evenings wandering through the camp and spreading words of encouragement, while he went off to who-knows-where. In our few moments before sleep, I’d try to ask what he’d done.
He’d glare at me, tense and tight-lipped. “A bit of this and a bit of that. Anything to help the troops.” Then his eyes drifted to the corners, and he turned away.
By day, when we marched, I took to eying the edge of the trail. At one point, past the first turn south, the road narrowed. Gnarly roots on either side crept inward, and the shadows of late afternoon cast a pall over our troop.
I froze in place, sniffing the air and glancing from side to side at the tree line. A gust kicked up, cutting through the branches and making the leaves around me tremble.
A crack in the brush startled me, and I stumbled back a step, bumping into Nathaniel.
He reached out to catch me and waved at the undergrowth. “Just a squirrel, Orah. Nothing more.”
I turned to him and held on. “Ever since we rummaged through the ruins of Temple City, I’ve been dreaming of our prison stay.”
His grin turned into a grimace, and he nodded. “I’ve been dreaming too.”
I thought of Enoch in the deacons’ hands, and shivered. “If we’re caught again....”
He stared into the distance and tightened his grip on the stave. “Our new captors won’t be so kind.”
Two more days passed, and my mood brightened. According to the landmarks on my map, the road to Bradford lay only hours ahead. Once we turned north, we’d put distance between ourselves and temple power. I became encouraged this leg of our journey would end without incident, and looked forward to hearing the wisdom of the vicar of Bradford. I insisted we press on without rest, hoping to make camp at the crossroads before dark.
The Light of Reason (The Seekers Book 3) Page 6