Chapter

5

Kieran

I knew better. That’s what made my mistake unforgivable. I’d told Tristan a hundred times to hide his feelings, that noble anger would only get him killed. But he never listened. Last season he marched in and challenged the Council to unite and defend Braide Wood—before assessing who was in power and where the vote would go.

The fact that they did what he asked was dumb luck and beside the point. It was still an idiotic plan. And now I’d been just as stupid—openly declared exactly where I stood. Tristan was a bad influence.

He was also in danger. Again.

I groaned. Cameron’s intentions weren’t idle threats. With Susan gone, there was little to hold him in check. The Council might be loyal to the Verses and supportive of the guardians for the moment, but politicians were as fickle as a Hazorite temple priestess. Cameron knew how to wait for his moment

Without me around to steer Tristan through the murky waters of bargains and betrayal, anything could happen.

So I couldn’t let the Council banish me. But what could I do? I prowled the small cell a few dozen times while the lack of options made my stomach churn.

Linette had said something about the One giving me guidance. Since solutions weren’t presenting themselves, I stopped, leaned my hands against a wall, and closed my eyes.

How did they do this? I cleared my throat. “Hey, I know we don’t exactly understand each other.” I aimed for a respectful tone. “But Tristan and Kendra have served you their whole lives. And they’re in danger. So I need to stay around to help them. Anytime now the Council will be sending guardians to drag me to the border, and I can’t let that happen. It would be helpful if you unlocked the door. I can take it from there.”

I opened my eyes, walked over, and tried the door.

Locked.

Caradung. What did I expect? Being the Restorer might have given me enhanced healing, but it apparently was also destroying my reason.

“Never mind,” I growled to the empty room. “I’ll handle this myself.”

After that failed effort, time dragged until footsteps approached. I positioned myself to the side of the door. Four well-armed guardians swept into the room, allowing me no chance for an ambush. Two of them grabbed me and bound my wrists behind my back.

Sweat prickled my forehead. I don’t like being tied.

A young guardian I hadn’t met before delivered the Council’s message. “Kieran of Braide Wood, you are banished from your clan and all the People of the Verses. You will be escorted to the border. You are never welcome back into our lands, and your name will be removed from the Songs of history.”

I thought I was ready for the words, but they slammed into my gut like the end of a training staff.

On a dare I once swam under a thundering waterfall near our village. The force pounded me to the riverbed, knocking my arrogant confidence straight out of my lungs, convincing me that I was going to drown.

There in that tiny cell, I again struggled for air.

The somber guardian in front of me dropped his formal tone. “We’ll give you back your gear at the border, and we’ve got three days’ worth of supplies for you.”

The pity in his voice made me scowl, and my muscles tensed.

The guardians holding me noticed, and one of them jerked my arm. “Don’t give us trouble, Kieran. The Council authorized four guardians instead of two, and we’re ordered to kill you if you resist.”

Good to know. I had guessed they’d been ordered to kill me even if I didn’t resist. Other people had been banished in my lifetime, and they always disappeared completely. I’d suspected they weren’t being escorted to the nearest border as the Council claimed and wondered if the Council Guard were really an elite death squad.

As the four guardians led me out of the building through a door into the back alley, I tried to think of a smart remark, but their grave mood was contagious. I stayed silent, reeling under the barrage of unfamiliar emotions.

They led me through a side door of the city wall, avoiding the huge, crystal-lined entrance tunnel of the city. As we neared the transport station, they kept me far back from the clusters of travelers.

“Which border?” I asked quietly.

“We’ll take the transport to Corros Fields and walk to the Hazorite border from there,” the young guardian answered. Ironic. I had just been near Corros Fields with the Kahlareans. But I had no intention of going back. If I got on that transport, Tristan was as good as dead, and Kendra . . . Kendra was as good as Cameron’s. I looked at the guard who was carrying my well-worn pack.

“Could I change my tunic before we board? I’ve got a spare one in my gear.” I tried to sound subdued by the banishment that I was facing.

One of the men holding my arm barked an ugly laugh, but the young guardian who had pronounced the Council’s sentence turned to look at me. Blood-soaked and torn clothes would be rather conspicuous on a public transport. The guardians wanted to make this go as smoothly as possible. There was something almost taboo about exiling a person from the clans, and they wouldn’t want to draw attention.

The young guard drew his sword and jerked his head toward a nearby grove of trees. “Untie him and take him over there.” One of the men scowled, but there were four guardians against one unarmed prisoner, so he complied. The five of us stepped into the shelter of the trees.

A short time later, I slipped back out of the trees with my pack on my shoulders, my sword at my hip, and my dagger back in my boot sheath. No time to change my tunic. I’d have to worry about that later, before the scent of blood attracted scavengers. Right now my goal was speed. I wasn’t sure how long they’d all stay unconscious. I pressed my hand against a fresh wound on my arm. The young guard had gotten in a good slice, but it was already healing. I kept an eye on the clusters of people near the road and melted into the woods on the far side of Lyric. As soon as I was out of sight of the station, I ran.

It wasn’t my intention to go far. I needed to hide and make plans before I traveled much in any direction. Lyric was cupped by open rolling hills on two sides. Caradoc grazed the fields and few people inhabited those areas, but there wasn’t much cover. The woods on the far side of the city were the ones I had led the Kahlareans through. If the assassins decided to go home, they’d go back that way. If. It was more likely that they would be tracking me. I’d have to be sure I wasn’t followed before heading to Braide Wood. The last thing I wanted to do was lead them there.

That left me these woods. They were on the Braide Wood side of Lyric, but still a few days’ journey from my clan if I avoided transports. I plunged deeper into the forest and climbed to a ridgeline that would give me good warning of any approach. There I set up a hiding place. At a nearby stream I scooped water into my hand, gulping while staying alert for anything out of place around me. When the area looked safe, I risked plunging my whole head under the surface to scrub away blood and grime. It was a relief to peel away my tunic and grab fresh clothes from my pack. My mood lifted more when I found a spare scrambler and some other unconventional gear untouched in a hidden inner pocket of my pack. I unearthed the food the Council guard had provided and chewed on a small bread loaf.

Did I even need food now that I was a Restorer? If every injury healed, was it possible for me to starve? Susan might know, but she was back in her own strange world. I should have asked her more questions before she left. How did she control her intense sight and hearing? When she saw strange visions, how did she know it was guidance from the One and not insanity? How did she contain the horrible anger at being chosen for something she didn’t want to do?

Looking back on conversations with her, I couldn’t pinpoint a lot of anger toward the One. Oh, I’d seen her mad: irate with me the day we sparred—for trying to show her that you don’t pick up a sword unless you’re ready to kill; furious with Tristan and me for roughing up Nolan, the Hazorite messenger; livid at the plans Hazor had for Braide Wood’s children. But when she talked about the One, I didn’t hear anger. Occasionally her shoulders would sag with self-doubt. Other times she would get the same faraway look in her eyes that Linette often wore, and she’d straighten and almost glow as she talked.

Shortly before the battle with Hazor, Tristan had confided to Susan that Kahlarean assassins would be targeting her. It was one fear too many among all the dangers she faced. She looked at me with hollow eyes and reminded me that I’d predicted her death. She’d carried that comment around, letting it grate on her like sand in her boots. I didn’t know how to encourage her. Tristan was the one who always knew the right thing to say to frightened first-years on the eve of battle, but he was silent. So I asked her to recite some of her Verses. She assumed I was mocking her. Maybe I was.

But when she quoted something about faith and running a race, the transformation happened again. It was eerie. She swung from fear to hope to something beyond. I left the room, determined to keep far away from any One who could cause that much change in someone.

All these days later He still wasn’t getting the point. The One was amusing himself with a table game, but His black and white stones were real people. I didn’t want to be one of the stones He moved into play. I didn’t know how to convince Him to leave me alone. And I had the oddest craving to talk to Susan about it because I suspected that she might understand.

My only companions out here were the ground-crawlers and a few small scavengers. I constructed a bracken shield and positioned myself against a rock wall with an overhang, hidden from all but the most expert of trackers. I kept my sword in my hand. After the light faded to complete blackness, the air grew damp and chill. The heat of my resentment kept me warm. I sat awake, alert, and alone through the long night. First light made the indistinct line of ferns, brush, and tree limbs grow gradually visible again. The worst of night’s dangers past, I let myself doze. Once the gray glow of morning was well established, I checked that my location was secure, hid some of my gear, and headed back toward Lyric.

Everything in me wanted to run straight to Braide Wood and confer with Tristan, but first I needed to draw out the Kahlareans and make sure they weren’t a threat anymore. When in doubt, gather information—and I was dealing with a lot of doubt. Had the Lyric guardians found the Kahlareans? Did the Council Guard plan to hunt me? Did Cameron have the power to move against Tristan yet? Until I came up with answers, any step could be the wrong one. Lyric was the only place to find those answers.

I spent a day in the city, but stayed well clear of the central square. The hood of my cloak shielded me, and I made my way along back alleys, pausing often to listen for conversations. I heard too much about people’s tedious personal problems, but also gleaned a few important facts. Before nightfall I slipped out of the city. Hiking toward the ridge where I’d camped, I congratulated myself on a successful day—until the rustling of footsteps sounded behind me in the woods.

My heart pumped harder. Twigs snapped and leaves crackled. It wasn’t the Kahlareans. They’d never be that clumsy. Must be guardians, though it was strange for them to patrol outside Lyric so close to dark. Near my hiding place, I climbed a tree and kept watch to see who or what was approaching my campsite.