Chapter

20

Jake

Arland relented enough to untie me at supper, keeping me separated from the rest of the men. He stood over me, sword drawn, as I choked down some stew and bread. My arms burned as circulation returned to them, but I fought to hide the pain.

“Does Wade know where to find us?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

Arland buffed an invisible smudge on his sword and then studied me. The crease in his forehead deepened. Finally he gave a small nod. “He knew where we’d head next. They should meet us here tomorrow.”

Hope revved up my pulse. “Where are we?”

Again, Arland considered before answering. “Near Corros.”

“Where Hazor rode out to attack Lyric?” My parents had filled me in on that event. I’d been in Lyric at the time, but couldn’t remember much because of Medea’s control over my mind during those days.

Arland nodded.

So we were close to Lyric. Maybe the guardians planned to follow Ian’s suggestion and attack Cameron in the capital.

Despite divulging that much information, Arland hadn’t softened toward me. He made sure the leather cords were firmly in place when he cinched me to a tree.

I spent a miserable night sitting braced against the trunk, dozing for a few seconds at a time before my head would bob forward and wake me again. It was worse than sleeping on the school bus during the cross-country drive to a youth group camping trip. My back cramped with pain. Ian had everyone convinced that I’d do all I could to call attention to our hiding place, so the wretched gag stayed in place, leaving my mouth pasty with a dry taste like burlap.

When the makeshift camp stirred to life the next morning, the hostile glares and threatening glowers fired my direction hit me with the sting of paintballs. I had assumed Arland kept me apart so I couldn’t win the men’s support or trust. But maybe he was just trying to keep me alive.

I hadn’t been particularly popular in high school. Not much of an athlete, except for using my speed and agility in soccer. Too straight-laced to fit with the fringe crowd. Too awkward by half. But, though I sometimes felt alienated or ignored, I’d never been despised by everyone around me like this.

They don’t know the truth about me. Their opinions don’t matter.

Still, their scorn made me shrink inside.

Arland’s mud-spattered boots planted themselves in my line of vision, and I forced my head up. He looked as grumpy as ever, but I was glad to see him. Sure, his power over my fate was a constant threat. But twice now he’d stopped Ian from killing me. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to write off the promised Restorer as he tried to be.

He untied me and led me through the woods that surrounded the camp to a stream, where he stood guard while I drank deeply and splashed a few layers of grime off my face and arms. He stayed alert, as if expecting me to attack or run. He had a lot more faith in my strength than I did.

I had no weapons, and my legs barely supported me. With the cords removed, ligature marks on my arms began to heal, but my muscles were slower to recover from the long, painful night.

Arland perched on a tree stump, spine relaxed, but eyes watchful. “We’ll stay here today to wait for Wade and Tristan.”

I was wary of how to respond. I shook wet hair back from my face and straightened, kneading a fist into my lower back. “Sounds good.”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Yesterday the men were distracted with the hike. But a few dozen angry guardians who feel betrayed and have time on their hands . . .”

It didn’t take much imagination to follow his thoughts. The cold water in my stomach hardened to ice. I looked at him more closely.

Hollow eyes burned in their sockets as if his sleep had been as poor as mine last night. He acknowledged my worry with a brief nod. “I’ll do what I can to keep you out of sight.”

That small hint of support thawed some of the chill in my gut.

True to his word, Arland positioned me deep under a wide-branched tree away from most of the activity in the improvised guardian base. When he tied me, he left a little more play in the cord. Then he held up the gag. I couldn’t restrain a moan.

He ignored that and pushed my head forward, knotting the fabric firmly in place. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself, understand?”

I could only nod.

Arland stalked away to organize the morning’s activities. He sent most of the men out foraging or patrolling but stayed within sight.

I whiled away time by experimenting with some of my heightened senses. I watched the progress of a shiny beetle deep in the woods on the far side of the clearing. Next I focused on quiet conversations I shouldn’t have been able to hear. At first, the jumble of voices made my head ache, but I kept practicing, directing my focus and learning to shut out extraneous sounds.

“I’ve family in Lyric,” one grizzled man was saying. “Hard to think of being this near to them.”

“Are we really that close?” Ian asked. He was reassembling a heat trivet, tools spread out around him on the ground. I’d made a point to keep track of Ian, and was relieved that so far he hadn’t even glanced in my direction.

“Mm-hmm.” The old man handed a long, metal-tipped tool to Ian. “Just over that ridge you’d see the open plains of Corros Fields.”

When I tired of eavesdropping on random conversations, I closed my eyes and talked to the One. I composed more verses to the poem I’d begun about Lyric. While I was wrestling with a phrase that wasn’t quite right, the earth vibrated with the pounding of approaching hooves.

Arland turned from a conversation with one of the men and drew his sword, running out to meet whoever was approaching. Ian abandoned his gear to watch Arland’s back. They left the clearing and my line of sight, but I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds. A lehkan skittered as it was reined in, and the thud of heavy feet hit the ground.

“Wade. Well met. Where’s Tristan?” Arland’s voice.

An exasperated sigh. “Not coming. Zarek has Sidian sealed up tight—nervous about the clans. Tristan got a messenger out to tell me, but he didn’t dare leave Kendra in Zarek’s power, and she can’t travel. Where’s Jake?”

Someone growled. Probably Ian.

Arland cut in smoothly. “I’ll fill you in. But first, what word did he send?”

“He appoints the command of the guardians to your care.” My imagination filled in the picture of Wade thrusting his shoulders back in respect. “He recommends going ahead with the plan, but leaves it to your discretion.”

“And you’ll follow me?” Arland asked in a measured tone.

“Of course.” Wade sounded confused. “Now where’s Jake?”

“Dead if I had my way,” Ian said. “We know he’s working for Cameron.” He gave a twisted account of what had happened yesterday, along with all his speculations of my intent to lead the king’s guards to them. Wade interrupted with questions.

Arland spoke low, and I strained to the limit of my hearing to catch his words. “I know you swore to protect his house. But your first loyalty is to our people. I can’t let Jake keep us from our plans.” The fact that there was genuine regret in Arland’s voice didn’t comfort me at all. He might shed a tear at my funeral, but I’d still be dead. “He’s a danger we can’t afford. I’m sorry.”

Come on, Wade. Tell him off. Remind him of everything my parents did for the clans. Or at least offer to take me away from here if they refuse to trust me.

Instead I heard a heavy sigh and Wade’s voice, subdued and weary: “I understand.”

My hope crumpled like a pop can crushed in an angry fist.

“Should I kill him now?” That was Ian.

“Or we could trade him to Cameron.” Arland’s voice was matter of fact. “Might buy us something we need. I have to think Cameron would pay well for the return of his ally. Might get him off our back for a time while we build our strength.” The shock broke my concentration, and I lost my link to the voices. But I’d heard enough.

I worked frantically at the cords around my wrists, scraping them against the bark and scouring layers of skin off my hands at the same time. I barely felt the pain, aware of nothing but the snap as one of the bindings broke. In seconds I scrambled free and ripped the gag from my mouth. I was deep enough in the shadows to avoid notice. The few men in the clearing hadn’t looked my way.

Darting from tree to tree, I skirted the camp. The old guardian who had been talking with Ian earlier had wandered away, so I risked a few steps forward to grab Ian’s pack. When he had dumped his pile of gadgets yesterday, a scrambler had rested in the mix of broken gear. Could come in handy. I threw the pack over one shoulder and headed for the ridge that was supposed to offer a view of Corros Fields.

Using my heightened senses, I slipped past two of the men patrolling the perimeter. As soon as I was far enough not to worry about silence, I flew into a desperate sprint. I had meant to pace myself, but I was too terrified for that.

The old guardian had been right. From the top of the ridge I could see the open fields and grey-green rolling hills of Corros. Far in the distance, the towers of Lyric pierced the horizon line.

With a mountain bike I could cut straight across and get there in a few hours. But I didn’t have my bike, and I didn’t dare venture into the open. Wade had a lehkan. I’d never be able to outrun him if I was spotted. And who knew what kind of patrols Cameron had on watch near Lyric?

I stayed along the forest’s edge and ran harder than I’d ever run in my life. When I couldn’t draw enough breath and my legs trembled, I paused to listen for sounds of pursuit. Soft rustles skittered through the underbrush, too distant and scattered to sort out. I tried to stretch my hearing further, but the sounds all blended into a mess of ambient noise. They could be right behind me or still at the camp.

I staggered back up into a lurching jog. Brambles tore at me, and at times I felt as though I were swimming through the tall grasses and ferns. Since I couldn’t risk the open plains, I finally cut deeper into the woods where the undergrowth wasn’t as thick. Then I grew frightened of losing my way and edged back toward the fields.

Sheer exertion finally burned away some of my terror, although my heart raced into hyperdrive with each cracking twig or unidentified sound. Rain fell in a hazy wall across the fields. I lifted my face, mouth open, and caught a little moisture, which only made me thirstier. No time to rifle Ian’s pack looking for a canteen. Not yet.

Lyric seemed to draw further into the distance in the afternoon rain, and I longed to sink to the ground and give up. But I settled into a rhythm of running until my ribs ached, then trudging just long enough to catch my breath and get my bearings. By the time the rain eased, I was approaching the thick forests along the side of Lyric. Kieran had camped here when he was hiding from the Kahlareans. I’d followed him to his campsite then. I wondered if I could find the spot again.

My calves strained as I cut upward into the hills. I found the clearing where Kieran had first jumped me. A small stream still tumbled past exactly where I had remembered it, and I whispered a prayer of thanks as I drank all I could. Next I gathered a wall of bracken and wedged my body under an overhang, pulling the brush around me as a shield. This is where I’d slept the night when I’d hurt my ankle, with Kieran keeping watch in a tree nearby.

He had been a strange and frightening companion, but I wished he were here now. Or my dad. This would have gone so differently if Dad had made it through the portal with me. That thought started such a deep ache that I distracted myself by digging into the pack I’d stolen from Ian. A cloak was rolled into a tight sausage in the bottom. I wrapped it around myself and curled into a ball as night lowered onto the woods.

Now that I wasn’t running, wounding feelings of betrayal caught up to me.

Ian had a grudge against my dad. He had either set me up—or really believed that I was trying to give away their position to Cameron. It was unfair, but I could almost understand him. Of course it wasn’t easy to justify anyone who cheerfully volunteered to kill me.

Wade’s refusal to defend me stung much worse. I had a basic understanding of the vows of house protector. His return to the guardian camp was supposed to fix everything. But apparently his loyalty to the guardians came before protecting me.

Arland—hearing him casually suggest bartering me to Cameron—that wound gouged the deepest. He was the only guardian who knew about my Restorer signs. He’d seen them himself. He had even been with me when the One gathered me into visions in the mist. Still I was only a bargaining chip to him. My life had no value to any of them.

Black despair settled on me along with the darkened sky.

One more thought stirred, feeding the bitterness in my heart. I’d only come here to rescue Mom. But the One had called me to do more. And it was for their sakes. For people like Ian, and Wade, and Arland. I was supposed to be their Restorer. And I’d just overheard them calmly discussing whether to kill me themselves or let Cameron do it.

A small rock dug into my shoulder, and I shifted my weight.

Tomorrow, I’d make my way to the grove outside of Lyric and find the portal entrance. I was sick of having my prayers answered with vague impressions and visions—fed up following guidance that led me into more danger. I didn’t care about these people and their politics. What did it matter if Cameron was king, or the Kahlareans encroached on the clans? I had proven over and over that I was the wrong person for this job.

I was going home.