The Restorer's Journey Page 23

  He yawned, stretching his shoulders with a popping sound. He was so large that even small movements forced the men near us to shift back a few inches. For a little while, it was easier to breathe. “We’ll arrive before nightfall.”

  I wished again that this world had maps. A picture at the transport station with a big red arrow saying, “You are here,” would have been helpful. I had no idea it would take all day to reach the River Borders.

  We switched transports at one point, the only relief from the cramped space. Wade explained that instead of heading toward the central clans, we now were moving toward the River Borders. Rain fell for a few hours, then eased away. My legs ached. I’d much rather run, or even ride a skittish lehkan, than stand still in this tin can that felt more and more like an overcrowded elevator.

  Wade didn’t need to tell me when we were drawing closer to Rendor. Soft conversations faded away, and I could taste the rising tension. The scratched plastic windows were fogged over, so the trees flying past outside were only vague shadows. On this leg of the trip, I was closer to the front and managed to lean toward Arland, who hadn’t spoken to me since the road outside Braide Wood.

  I chewed the edge of my lip and cleared my throat. “Let me get off first.”

  His head swiveled, and his eyebrows jabbed down.

  I braced myself against the subtly shifting floor of the transport. “When Kieran was the Restorer, he took a direct syncbeam hit and survived. Let me go first. Please.”

  The transport slowed. The only sign of Arland’s indecision was his glance toward Wade.

  Before Wade could jump in with an opinion, I wedged myself into a small gap closer to the door. “Please. It’s what I’m here for.” A Restorer was a valuable resource—even one as untried as me. Wade’s instinct was to protect me. While it would have been much more comfortable—for both of us—to let him do that, I was here for a reason, and letting other people risk death in my place wasn’t right.

  Arland’s stance projected confidence, but the eyes he turned toward me held shades of worry. “Are you sure?”

  Of course not. I was terrified of the Kahlareans. They’d been haunting my nightmares since I came here. But it was time I started doing the things a Restorer is supposed to do. I nodded.

  “All right. Wade, stay with him.” He hadn’t needed to give my protector that reminder. Wade had stayed so close all day, he’d stepped on my feet more than once.

  I elbowed my way closer to the entrance.

  Arland angled to face his men. “Jake, Wade, and I will head out first. Wait for my signal before you join us.” The transport rolled to a stop.

  I faced the door, preparing to dash out and confront whatever enemy waited for us. I bounced on the balls of my feet a few times.

  “Jake”—Arland’s voice was dry—“you’ll need your sword.”

  Startled, I glanced back. Arland and Wade both had their weapons in their hands. How had they managed that? Clumsily, I drew my sword in the cramped space.

  The curved door slid upward into the roof of the transport.

  I lurched forward, my legs taking a few seconds to unlock after standing still for so long. I ran, dodging side to side like the cops on television dramas always did. Walls of trees rose on both sides of the road. An enclosed shelter hugged the edge of the woods like the hut at an entrance to a campground. Still weaving, I aimed in that direction. The setting triggered a flashback to family hiking trips, and I almost expected a ranger to step out and check our state park permit. Something moved near the open door.

  A Kahlarean soldier. Oversized black eyes swam in skin white as the belly of a catfish, just like in my nightmares.

  A yell broke from my throat. I stopped zigzagging and raced forward.

  The soldier charged from the shelter. His sword swung toward me.

  Jake, you’ve got a sword too. Use it.

  I remembered to block a heartbeat before his blade would have reached my neck. Time slowed. It registered in a back pocket of my mind that other Kahlareans had poured from the shelter. Wade and Arland fought nearby, but my universe became my opponent’s sword and mine. His lips parted as he scythed a powerful swing at my head. I was close enough to see that he didn’t seem to have teeth.

  Too close. I ducked, parried, skittered back. Then my clumsiness melted away, and my muscles remembered well-rehearsed patterns. My weapon flew, created an opening. His arm swung wide in defense. I spun in. My arm jarred as my sword connected with his metal breastplate. He fell back a few paces, and I followed through with a slice that caught him beneath the armor. He doubled over. I watched him sink to the ground, frozen in horror at what I’d done.

  I had just killed a man.

  “Jake!” Wade’s shout broke through my daze. He was holding his own with another soldier. “The shelter!” He blocked an overhead blow and deflected the blade. “Syncbeams!”

  A hum rose into the air. In the doorway of the shelter, one of the Kahlareans held a black half-sphere in an awkward grip. The sound grew, and the soldier lifted his hand. Light seared the ground near my feet.

  I roared and ran toward him, the smell of burnt hair in my nose. The syncbeam flared again, this time hitting somewhere behind me. Someone gave a rasping scream, but it was part of the fog of background that my mind couldn’t absorb. The soldier looked down to adjust something on the weapon. I was only a few yards away.

  Pain scorched across my thigh. I stumbled but still drove my sword downward at the Kahlarean. The strike almost severed his arm and knocked the weapon from his hand. He backed into the shelter, and I limped after him.

  “Jake, hold!” Arland managed to shout the words, even while gasping for breath.

  I turned, confused. Arland ran toward me. Soot marks scored his side, and his gait was lopsided. But he shoved me to one side of the shelter’s open doorway.

  Why had he stopped me? Fury exploded through my chest as I struggled to keep my feet under me.

  A blast of syncbeam fire seared through the doorway—a direct hit to the empty space where I had stood a second earlier.

  Arland watched the angle of the blasts and crouched low, charging into the shelter. I peered around the door frame in time to see him slice the sphere from a second soldier’s hands and then calmly kill both the men inside. He hurtled past me and back into the clearing.

  Wade jogged over to meet him. “Is that all of them?”

  Arland snapped his gaze around the clearing, then finally released his tight shoulders with a slow breath and nodded. “For now.”

  A grim smile tugged at the side of Wade’s mouth, and he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a track of stray blood. “Good thing it takes them some time to get those syncbeams powered up. You all right, Jake?”

  The men both looked at me, and all I could do was swallow. During the adrenaline of the last frantic minutes, I hadn’t had time to indulge fear or shock. Now I could hardly breathe. Arland tossed his sword to Wade and stepped closer to rest a hand on my shoulder.

  “What were you thinking? Don’t ever follow an enemy alone into a potential ambush. You didn’t know how many were inside or what kind of weapons they had ready.”

  The familiar sound of his gruff scolding helped my world stop spinning. My nose wrinkled against the scorched smells again, and my eyes traveled to Arland’s tunic.

  “You were hit.”

  He looked skyward in exasperation at my grasp of the obvious. Then his hand went heavier on my shoulder and he staggered.

  I called out in panic. “Wade!”

  My house protector closed the space and grabbed Arland, helping me lower him to the ground. Wade signaled the men who had waited in the transport, and they poured out, scattering around the station. I envied their confidence. Everyone seemed to know what to do. Some headed into the woods to patrol; others unloaded supplies. One man
tossed a pack to Wade.

  “Come on, chief. Not a great time for a nap.” Wade rifled through the gear. I unsheathed my boot knife and cut the seam of Arland’s tunic, carefully folding back the scorched fabric. It stuck to his skin where it had melted into the burns.

  I turned worried eyes to Wade. “Shouldn’t we find a doctor?”

  He ignored that and pulled out a gourd. Water spilled over the wound. “Hold his head.”

  I shifted to support Arland’s head. His eyes were still closed. Wade lifted the gourd to Arland’s lips.

  I shoved his hand away. “You aren’t supposed to give him something to drink if he’s unconscious.”

  “So you’re a healer now too?” Arland’s eyes snapped open. “Jake, you have to be the expert on everything, don’t you?” But he gave me a crooked grin.

  I tried to come up with a flippant response, but I was too worried. Wade poked at Arland’s wound, and the head guardian’s lips pressed together, white with pain. “How bad is it?” I asked Wade.

  “Just grazed me,” Arland answered for him. He turned dark eyes to Wade. “What did I miss? Help me up.” He braced his elbows and tried to prop himself up.

  Wade pressed a meaty fist into his chest. “Take it easy and let me bandage this first. We don’t want you keeling over again.” Arland grumbled but didn’t fight. Wade assured him the men were setting up a perimeter and the second group wasn’t due to arrive for a while yet.

  Arland curled his head up, trying to get a look at the burns, but then thought better of it and twisted his head away. “Ian,” he barked.

  The fair-haired guardian had been hovering near and rushed over to crouch down across from Wade.

  Arland twisted and pushed up on one arm. “You know Rendor better than anyone. I want you to get close to the city. Find out what you can.”

  Ian’s chin came up. “Glad to.”

  Arland gave him a rare grin of appreciation. “By the time we’ve got all the men gathered, we’ll know how to plan our next step.” He sucked in his breath as Wade tightened a bandage. “Watch yourself.”

  Ian smirked. “Look who’s telling me to be careful. I’m not the one who walked into a syncbeam.”

  “I was distracting the other Kahlarean,” Arland protested. “It was strategy.”

  “Right.” Ian jumped to his feet. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “What are you laughing at?” Arland growled in Wade’s direction. The younger man choked back his chuckles and helped Arland sit up. The head guardian scanned the station. I followed his perusal of the activity to find that someone had already moved the bodies of the dead Kahlareans.

  When I tried to stand up, I found my leg bones had turned to taffy. I wobbled and rested a hand against the shelter wall for support.

  “First real fight?” Wade asked quietly. I nodded and used a shaky hand to push hair out of my face. He handed me a canteen of water. “Don’t think about it now. We need to focus. You’ll have time to think later.”

  I tried to take his advice, but I kept seeing the Kahlarean’s face. The bug eyes and gummy grimace and the body that fell into the dirt. Alive one minute, dead the next—by my hand.

  Wade stayed with me as activity whirled around us. He set me to work clearing rocks and twigs from a wide patch of earth under the trees, preparing a smooth surface for blankets and travel pallets. By the time the next group of men arrived, we had set up camp and thrown together a cold supper, which Wade insisted I eat despite my lack of appetite. A scout returned to report that they had found a few more Kahlareans on patrol outside Rendor and one of our men had been injured in the resulting skirmish. Arland listened to this and other reports as he moved around the station stiffly, waving off any concern about his burns.

  Ian didn’t return until after the third group of men arrived and the sky had deepened to the shade of dark granite. As he marched into the clearing, I had a wild flare of hope that my dad had found a way through the portal and come to join us. Same wavy hair, same mannerism of leading with his chin. Ian scanned the group, eyes darting, hand raking through his hair, and the resemblance to Dad faded.

  I reached him the same time Arland did. The head guardian demanded rapid answers. “What did you find? How many hold the city?”

  Ian glanced around. “We need to speak in private.” His voice was as tight as his muscles.

  Arland’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded and led Ian to the shelter. I followed the men inside. Ian glared at me, but Arland didn’t send me away.

  “They’re gone.” Ian blurted the words as if they would make sense.

  Arland frowned. “The Kahlareans?”

  Ian swore and spat into the dirt. “No, the families. Rendor clan. There’s no one left but the Kahlarean army.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in. I piped up. “Did they escape? Flee to other clans?”

  Arland’s impatience flared. “No, Jake. That’s not what it means.” He walked out of the shelter, his gait stiff.

  I followed him, needing an explanation.

  Arland stopped and faced me. “Use your head, Jake.” The bleakness in his eyes slipped past his military control.

  The implications of Ian’s report came into focus in my tired brain.

  They’d all been carried off into Kahlarea.

  Or were dead.

  We were too late.

  27

  Jake

  GArland gathered his captains. I hovered near, and when he gestured me over, I sprang forward. “Our job just got easier,” he told the men. “Apparently, the Kahlareans have moved all the civilians from Rendor, so we have a clear field for attack.”

  He didn’t comment on the possibility that the entire Rendor clan was dead. The men’s jaws clenched. Unlike me, they instantly grasped the truth. But discipline held them in check. Would I ever learn to compartmentalize that way?

  Focus on the job at hand.

  Arland began sketching out a plan for the next morning’s attack.

  Were they all dead? All my father’s clan? All the distant cousins I had hoped to meet one day? Mothers, children, old men. Was it my fault we hadn’t come sooner?

  “We’ll hope Jake can find out,” Arland was saying.

  “What?” I blinked and focused.

  He took a deep breath, then winced and guarded his ribs with one arm. “I said we need to capture a few alive so you can get the truth from them—find out what they did with all the families in Rendor.”

  “Me?” The word came out like a squeak.

  Arland gave me a warning look, then dismissed the men. After they scattered, he turned to me. “Jake, you’re the one who spotted the messenger who was betraying us to Cameron.”

  “But that just happened. It’s not like I can read people’s minds or anything.”

  Arland sank onto a bench. Sweat beaded his face. I didn’t know much about first aid, but clearly he was in a lot of pain. Strangely, it made him less brusque with me than usual. “Jake, I know you’re a little . . . unsure of yourself. There isn’t a Council anymore, so I can’t take you to them to confirm your claim as the Restorer, but we’ve all seen what you can do. You said the One sent you to rescue Rendor. Right now there’s nothing to rescue.”

  Was he going to back out of the plan now? I opened my mouth.

  Arland raised his hand. “I’m willing to attack the Kahlareans. We all know, even if Cameron is too foolish to see it, that this is just their first step. If we don’t push them back, they’ll take over all the clans. But if we ever needed a Restorer, it’s now.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “I know you will.” Arland leaned back and looked up at the black emptiness overhead. “And I lied to you earlier.”

  “What? When?” He’d said a lot of things.

  “My decision to c
ome here. It wasn’t just because it was as good a place as any.” He pushed to his feet. “Go get some rest. You’ll need it tomorrow.”

  He limped away, and his words sank in and warmed me. He was beginning to believe that the One had a purpose in all this. Knowing that helped me believe it again too.

  I was sitting by the pond near our house, playing guitar. The chords flowed in an awesome progression. Some part of my mind was aware enough to think, Man, you’ve got to remember these chords when you wake up. They’re brilliant. Then I lost myself in the melody. The poem I had written about Lyric had music now and I sang to the green-capped mallards bobbling on the smooth water.

  Another voice joined mine, high and sweet. Linette stood on the green grass. Gold hair whispered around her face in the breeze. Her lips shaped the notes, and the song lifted around us. We sang verses of trust in the One, a chorus of praise for His love and mercy. When the last tones faded into the wind, I laid down my guitar and jumped to my feet. I hugged her with no awkwardness, spinning her around in a moment of shared joy.

  She laughed when I released her. “I didn’t know you wrote music, too. You could be a songkeeper.”

  “But I’m the Restorer.” My shoulders sagged under the weight of the role. “There are battles I have to fight.”

  Her eyes glowed with the same liquid light as the sunny pond. “You can do both.”

  The gentle words flooded me with eagerness. I grabbed her hands. “We could write songs together. When this war is done. We could be songkeepers together.”

  Her hands slipped from mine, and somehow she was across the pond. The water between us grew murky as clouds greyed the sky. “Wait!” I called. The pond grew larger and her figure shrank, disappearing into the distance. She waved and called something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Helpless, I watched her vanish.

  I stepped to the edge of the pond and looked down. My reflection wavered on the surface. Was I really that pale? Two other faces appeared, reflecting beside mine in the water. One was a curly-haired man I didn’t recognize. The other I knew too well. I glanced around, but there was no one near me. I looked back into the pond.