by Sharon Hinck
A blue beetle flew toward his mount’s face, and Wade swatted it away while his lehkan sidestepped. “So tell me some more about the guardians in your world.” Most of the clan had little curiosity about where I came from. Wade genuinely enjoyed hearing about my world—and it gave me a chance to keep a grip on my connection to it.
In my early days in Braide Wood, I wondered if my purpose would include bringing them some advance in technology or industry from my world that would remove the threat of the Hazorites or defeat the armies across the River Borders. I decided quickly that I was no Connecticut Yankee. I didn’t know how to create gunpowder, factories, or telegraphs, and they had no interest in those things, even if I did.
We continued to chat while we watched Tristan and his lehkan cavalry enact a mock battle. As I watched, I remembered something about the conversation I overheard between Tristan and Kieran.
“Wade, when Tristan found me, he was worried about taking on a student to train. Kieran said he lost one. What was he talking about?”
Wade’s genial expression disappeared. “That’s not for me to tell you. But whatever anyone else says, it was not Tristan’s mistake.” He wheeled his lehkan around and started back to the paddock. “The boy’s death was his own fault.”
The glimpse of icy indifference in the easygoing young guardian unsettled me. I let him go on alone and stayed astride Mara to watch Tristan drill his troops. He was a strong leader, and I understood how he’d inspired fierce loyalty and admiration in Wade. I sighed. Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed watching the group of rugged warriors as they trained. Tristan and his guardians evoked Arthurian legends and romantic epics. But I would have traded the whole plateau full of sword-wielding hunks for my power-tool-toting, suburban husband. Mark was mine. We belonged to the same world.
I nudged Mara into a springing leap away from the ridge. I was going mad from missing Mark and my children. “Mark, I’m going to find a way back to you.” I threw the promise toward the sky, the words falling behind as Mara galloped across the hill, racing the inevitable afternoon rain shower. Lord, are you listening? I need to get back to my family.
After a quick lunch with Tara, I hurried to Linette’s home. She had offered to teach me the Verses, and during the rainy hours each afternoon, I met with her to listen, learn, sing, and sometimes pray together.
Today, her eyes sparkled when she opened her door. “We aren’t staying here,” she said, wrapping a cloak around herself and bouncing with excitement. “Follow me.”
I had to move fast to keep up with her along the well-worn path that wound around several homes to a small cabin under a tree. Drizzle misted us as we arrived, but it seemed to do little to dampen Linette’s high spirits. She tapped on the door, shaking moisture off her cloak. “I know you’ve been worried about why you’re here. I know just the person to help.” Linette dropped her voice. “He sometimes hears directly from the One.” We heard a thin call of welcome from inside, and she slid the door open and pulled me in out of the rain.
Lukyan wore the shapeless tunic and trousers customary in the village, but he was also wrapped in a woven blanket that bunched around his thin shoulders. He sat near a large clay pot full of blue ferns, his hands resting tranquilly in his lap. Linette beamed like a little child, delighted in giving me a gift. “Lukyan has offered to meet with you today.” She ducked back out into the rain before I had a chance to respond, and Lukyan gestured to another chair, inviting me to draw it closer.
I hadn’t seen him since the meeting at Tristan’s home my first night in Braide Wood. “Thank you again for welcoming me at the meeting. They didn’t trust me until you did that.”
He smiled. “I could see that you were sent. What that means for our people, I cannot know right now. But Linette has told me that you struggle with that question.” He stopped smiling and his eyes softened with compassion. “Tell me what is on your heart,” he invited gently. His skin was like fragile parchment stretched over bone. Yet despite the frail appearance of his aging body, strength of spirit radiated from him, drawing me in. Here was a man who had walked with the One for many years.
I sensed from the core of my being that I could trust him, and I felt grateful that Linette had brought me here. Where could I begin? “I don’t know what everyone expects from me,” I blurted out at last. “They want a Restorer, but I’m just a soccer mom. I can’t do anything for them. I can’t help the guardians; I can’t turn people back to the Verses. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Now that I’d started, more words tumbled out. I told him about the pain I felt being wrenched away from my family. I admitted my fear that God had forgotten me or lost me. I confessed my confusion about this world, and my doubts about finding any purpose I could serve. And as I unraveled and examined them, one by one, all those emotions loosened their grip on me.
Lukyan listened with his whole body, leaning forward, nodding. He understood. He cared. He accepted.
After I had rambled on at length, the torrent of words slowed. I sat back with a sigh. The sound of light rain dripping from the eaves soothed me.
“Are you willing to walk any road that the One chooses for you?” Lukyan asked in a voice as soft as the rain.
“I’m willing to go where He sends me,” I said with conviction. “If He can use me for His purpose, there is nothing that would make me happier. I just want to know how long I’ll be here. If He would only tell me when I’ll be back with Mark and my children, then I could accept this.” The hint of a whine slipped into my voice.
Lukyan smiled. “To not know is then part of the gift you offer Him. It is where your obedience is tested.”
My shoulders slumped. He was right. Back home, I kept begging God to use me, to show me His purpose. But no answers satisfied me. I suddenly saw how much of my service came with an “if.” I’ll support my husband if I feel loved and cherished. I’ll raise my children if I can feel fulfillment and respect. I’ll reach out to a friend if I can see results. And yes, I’ll even go through trials bravely—if I understand the purpose and value of them. Could I ever learn to walk a road that was not of my choosing, without even an explanation from God?
“How much do you trust His love?” Lukyan asked.
My eyes prickled, and I rubbed my nose, holding back the urge to dissolve into tears. “I don’t know,” I finally answered, my voice breaking. “I thought I knew, but . . . I’ve been learning how tiny my faith is.”
Age tremors shook Lukyan’s hands as he reached forward and took my hand in his. “Holy One of Susan’s world and ours, we come before you today in all our smallness,” he prayed. “Open our hearts to you. Let us see your love so we can walk forward without fear.” Then he stopped. We sat in a holy silence.
Tingles danced along my spine with the hint of the presence of One who was beyond all understanding. I expected Lukyan to say more, but he just rested, waiting. Soft splashes sounded outside as water dripped from pine boughs into waiting puddles. I closed my eyes and felt time slow down. The tightness around my temples eased as my breathing grew deeper and softer. The restless questions in my mind stopped hammering. For this one moment, I felt peace. It soaked deeply into my marrow, strengthening me. I don’t know how much time passed, but I finally opened my eyes. Lukyan released my hands, and I looked at him with awe. I couldn’t speak—it would have desecrated the experience we had just shared. He nodded to me in understanding, and I left in a silent daze.
I wandered among the trees, processing all the things I’d seen in myself and the precious gift of reassurance I felt. I dawdled on the path back toward Payton and Tara’s home. Wade had said he’d help me with my sword training before supper, so I stopped in to grab my pack. It held the wooden training swords that we used, along with my own real sword. Although Tristan insisted I wasn’t ready to train with it yet, I often dragged it along with me because it was a piece of home and seemed to give me courage.
I hesitated to interrupt, but I was eager to thank Linette for taking me to meet with Lukyan. And Wade was expecting me. So I brushed aside my shyness and walked toward them.
Wade never took his eyes off the man he was talking with, and Linette seemed to be staring at something in the distance. I tried to remember if the man standing in front of them was one of Wade’s relatives. I’d met some of the Braide Wood clan, but there were still many unfamiliar faces. This man looked older than Wade and Linette, with tightly curled red-blond hair framing a rounded face that made me think of a Raphael painting. The stranger ignored me. Wade was nodding sadly as the man spoke. “Of course they can’t expect you to do well in battle,” he said, his voice dripping with sympathy. “You’ll never have the skill of Tristan or the others.”
Tiny hairs on my arms stood up. I expected Linette to interrupt and disagree, but her face remained passive, eyes vacant. I had seen that empty expression one other time—on a frail woman in a small room at the healers’ lodge.
“Linette!” I shouted.
She didn’t respond, but the man standing in front of her did. He turned and looked into my face.
I sucked in a sharp breath that stuck in my chest. The straps of my pack slipped out of my hand, and it dropped to the ground.
The man’s irises were a vibrant aqua streaked with flickering verdigris. The variations of color made his eyes seem to twirl.
They drew me in, even as a cold, invisible hand gripped my throat. Recognition flared in my mind. This place of mental fog was painfully familiar. I tore my eyes away and looked down. The pommel of my sword poked out of the top of my pack. In a burst of panic, I grabbed the hilt, pulling the sword free and holding it in front of me.
The man’s placid face changed. Suddenly the light in his eyes captured me with hypnotic power, and the muscles around his grinning mouth pulled back, contorting his appearance. This was no Raphael angel. This was a gothic gargoyle. “We know you . . .” he said in a singsong voice.
“In the name of the One—get away from them!” I meant to shout, but the words came out as a choked cry.
To my horror, he began to laugh. Instead of one voice, I heard several—deep sneering laughter overlaid with high wailing cackles.
My sword shook. I wanted to throw it down and run, but I forced myself to step between the creature and my friends.
The eyes of the One
Are always on His people;
His arms surround us,
And we are not alone.
I quoted the song that Linette used to bring me back from the Rhusican poison. I wanted to sing the words, but could barely force sound out of my tight throat.
The laughter stopped. A growl of ugly and mindless rage rose from the man’s throat. Then, in the space between two heartbeats, he sprang forward—clawed hands reaching for my neck.
I thrust my sword out by pure reflex and squeezed my eyes shut.
Someone wailed, and overpowering weight pushed against my arms. Somehow my hands kept their grip on the sword even as the hilt pressed back against them, forcing me to the ground. I heard someone screaming as I fell and smelled the stench of blood and something sour as bile. I turned my head toward the wholesome scent of wet dirt. Something was crushing my ribs. Moisture seeped into my clothes. Under my ear the ground trembled as footsteps ran in my direction.
“Get off her!” Bekkah was shouting. Mercifully, someone pulled the weight away. As it rolled off of me, I opened my eyes a slit.
“Susan! Can you hear me?” Bekkah’s worried face floated over me. Why was she here? She was supposed to be on patrol at the outpost by Morsal Plains.
“Is she alive?” Another voice sounded nearby—Kyle, the young transtech who’d traveled with us on the trip from Ferntwine.
My throat had been so twisted by fear that it took a moment to get the words out. “I’m fine,” I said at last, my voice hoarse.
“Don’t move,” Bekkah ordered in her guardian voice. She turned and issued commands to someone else.
I ignored her and eased myself up onto one elbow. Looking down, I saw that the liquid seeping through my clothes was blood. I was covered in it. I waited for the shock to wear off and the pain to flare, telling me where I was injured. But nothing happened. Nothing hurt. Finally, I realized the blood wasn’t mine. Somehow that was even worse. My stomach twisted.
“Get it off me. Get it off me.” I pulled the wet tunic away from my skin.
“Susan, I told you not to move.” Bekkah was white. Although she spoke with deliberate calm, the muscles around her eyes were tense with worry.
I pushed myself farther up. “I’m not hurt.”
Wade and Linette were still sitting on the bench, looking confused, but no longer in the Rhusican’s thrall. A few neighbors had come out of their homes and stood nearby. Wade’s little sister peeked out of the door of her home before someone pulled her back inside.
I turned to my other side and looked past Bekkah.
The Rhusican’s body rested on the ground with my sword wedged into its chest. The young guardian kneeling by it looked at Bekkah. “He’s dead.” The guardian’s voice was impassive, but the glance he sent my way held alarm.
I edged myself away. “Bekkah, help me up.”
She started to argue with me.
I grabbed her arm. “Please. I’m going to be sick.”
A glint of humor flickered in her eyes as she let me pull myself up. With an arm around my waist, she guided me quickly into Wade’s home and to their washroom.
I waved her away and stumbled into the small room. I doubled over, retching. As soon as it stopped, I pulled the bloody tunic over my head and dropped it on the floor, kicking it toward the corner of the small room. The sour smell started me gagging again. It was several minutes before I was able to splash my face with cold water, wrap myself in a blanket from the washroom shelf, and wobble back out to the common room.
Bekkah chased Wade’s little sister from the room and sized me up. “Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so.” I hoped she wasn’t going to comment on my weak stomach.
“Good. Please sit down.”
I was happy to collapse into a chair. My knees were shaking, and I felt dizzy.
Bekkah signaled to someone near the door. Kyle walked in, his expression as hostile as it had been the morning after our group had been attacked by the bear. “Kyle is here as a witness,” Bekkah said in a crisp, detached tone.
Realization began to sink in. If this were a crime drama, she’d be reading me my rights. I didn’t know how to respond. Had I really killed someone? Could I have a nightmare within a delusion? I moaned.
“Susan,” she tried again, “I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer truthfully. Kyle is here to verify what you tell me. Do you understand?”
I nodded, numb.
“All right.” Bekkah took a deep breath. “What happened?”
As simply as I could, I explained everything—although I didn’t mention how the Rhusican had claimed to know me. I told her how it had fixed me with its eyes, how its face had contorted, and how it had leaped at me. When I explained that I closed my eyes and threw my sword up in front of me, Bekkah’s stern frown relaxed for a moment, and she rubbed her hand over her mouth. Embarrassment warmed my face as I realized she was trying not to laugh.
Bekkah turned to Kyle. “What did you see?”
He might not have liked me very much, but he quickly corroborated my story. I was thankful he had been nearby and seen the man throw himself at me. Bekkah asked Kyle a few questions, but I stopped paying attention.
“Susan?”
I jumped.
Bekkah was looking at me as if she had called my name several times already. I had drifted away.
“It’s shock,” she said, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s normal. You’ll be fine.” She turned to talk to someone else, and a short while later, Wade’s young sister pressed a warm mug of clavo into my hands.
I held it to my lips, but my hands were shaking, so I gave it back.
“Can I talk to her?” Wade’s voice came from somewhere in the room. Bekkah stepped away, and Wade crouched down in front of my chair. “Susan, are you all right? I’m so sorry. I was . . . it was . . .” He stammered to a halt.
“I know. Believe me, I know. Are you all right?” I searched his eyes for signs of poison. His round face was beautifully normal—alert and dirt-streaked. The relief made me want to cry. “Is Linette safe?”
“She’s fine. Her family took her home. She woke up the instant you impaled the man.” He grinned.
I grimaced at the admiration in his voice. “Um, Wade, I think I want to skip our sword training this afternoon, okay?”
He laughed. Then he took my hands in his and sobered. “How can I thank you for what you did?” I started to shake my head, but he jumped up, heedless of my response. “Wait. I have an idea. Stay here.” He jogged out of the room and was back in a moment, whistling to himself. He tossed me a pair of what looked like leather gloves.
I examined them, confused. The fingers had been cut out of them, and they were longer than any gloves I’d seen before.
“Gauntlets,” he explained. “They’ll protect your hands and help your grip next time you decide to chop someone up.”
My stomach lurched. I think I remembered to thank him for his gift before I stumbled back to the washroom.
Chapter
12
Bekkah took me back to Tristan’s home. When I couldn’t string two coherent sentences together, she explained everything to Tara and said she’d wait there to give Tristan a full report. Tara tucked me into bed. Under a pile of warm blankets, my shaking gradually eased, and I dozed. I woke to the sound of an angry guardian bellowing and thrashing around in the common room. Bekkah and Tara must have convinced Tristan that things were under control because I was mercifully left to sleep.