Category Archives: Bonus Scenes

Bonus Scene – Restorer’s Journey – Lukyan

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Journey

 

Bonus Scene After Chapter 14

Lukyan:

Wade and Jake left my cottage in such a hurry they didn’t slide the door closed. Bracing myself against my chair arms, I eased to my feet. Each of my bones grumbled a reminder of my age as they took my weight. I was too old for all this chaos and danger.

I limped to the doorway and looked out at the trees. “Holy One, is it time for me to come home yet?” I whispered. “I long to serve where you need me, but the times are growing so dark, and my strength is growing frail. I’m ready to join You now. Look into my heart. It’s breaking with the knowledge that Your people are being deceived.”

I slid the door, shutting out the view of Braide Wood, wishing I could shut out the vivid picture of the clans trapped in confusion and doubt. Why would the One have allowed Cameron to create false Verses? How could He expect the people to know whom to follow? Had my counsel to Jake helped? I rejoiced in the young man’s passion to protect the true Records, but could such an untried youth stand against so many powerful enemies?

You were an untried youth once, too.

The gentle reminder tugged a smile from my lips. “You’re right, Blessed One. Jake doesn’t walk alone, and neither do I. Will you join me for my meal?”

I took a small bread loaf from the basket on my table. Tara had brought them over yesterday. Always thinking of others, even when supplies were scarce. Indulging in a small luxury, I set the loaf on a heat trivet. Tara’s bread was already delicious, but warming it filled my home with a yeasty, nutty scent. Picking it up, I tore the loaf in half and lifted the pieces.

“Creator of this fragile flesh,
Sustainer of my life’s brief length,
Provider of all humble needs,
I thank you for this gift of strength.”

The childhood prayer comforted me. Some songkeepers were sure that the longer we lived, the more we would understand the Verses, grow in character, and follow the One with faithfulness and purity.
I took a small bite and chewed slowly. A lovely theory. My love for the One did grow with years of knowing Him. But my failings became even more obvious to me, more frustrating, more ingrained. And the more glimpses I had of the One’s work, the more I longed to see Him face to face, away from the shroud of this troubled world. My old teacher often told me that straining to see around the next bend in the road would cause me to stumble over the stones on my current path.

Carrying my bread and a mug of lukewarm clavo, I settled into my chair. Each songkeeper felt a unique calling to various aspects of the Verses. Many loved teaching, studying, reviewing, and analyzing the meaning of the genealogies and the parts of the Records that looked to the past. Others drew joy from the practical counsel and rules for serving the One and others in each present day. But I’d always been most intrigued with the Verses that looked to the future. The Deliverer who would come.

As a young songkeeper, I asked the One each day when that promise would be fulfilled. As a grown man, seeing ever growing threats against our clans, I asked again, often with earnest tears. In recent seasons as danger piled upon danger, I continued to ask. Each time, I heard a quiet voice answer, “Soon.”

More of a habit than a new conversation, I asked again. “Creator of our land, Protector of our people, how much worse must we face before You come as our Deliverer? Isn’t it time?”

Before you draw your last breath, Child. You will see the Deliverer.

The morsel of bread caught in my throat and I coughed so hard, I doubled over. Fumbling for my mug, I gulped some liquid, wiped the tears from my eyes. Had I heard correctly? I knew the only sensible response to the One’s words was, “Let it be so.”

But this answer was so unexpected, so specific. The skin rose on the back of my neck. My limbs trembled, as they sometimes had when the mist lowered on worshippers in the Lyric tower. “What? When? How can that be? Have you noticed how old I am? Do you mean I’ll see a vision of Him? You can’t mean . . .”
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My objections finally stammered to a halt. Oh, the foolish babbling that overcomes us when we are in the presence of all holiness and wisdom and love. I eased from my chair to my knees and lifted my arms as far as my stiff shoulders would allow. Wonder and gratitude stole my voice. But my heart exploded in song, a song of two words, over and over in ever rising pitch. “Thank you.”

Read more in The Restorer’s Journey by Sharon Hinck

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Bonus Scene – Restorer’s Journey – Wade

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Journey

 

Wade (After Chapter 11)

The path from Braide Wood to the transport was rock-strewn and hard under my feet. Usually the sounds of small creatures created happy whispers throughout the woods. Today the silence was as cold as angry lips pressed together. Even the trees seemed to droop. So much had changed since Cameron became king.

I reached a familiar bend in the trail and rubbed the scars on my arm. Each time I strode past this place, I remembered the night the bear attacked our small group. A grin broke through my gloom. Now that was an enemy I knew how to fight.

Give me a bear over Council politics any day. I could carry a heavy load, or swing a sword long after everyone else tired. But the planning, the strategies, the heavy choices I’d seen Tristan have to make…those weren’t for me. These days, strength, courage, and loyalty were no longer enough. I wanted to help Jake, but was this the best way to do it? Would he be safe back at camp with the group of suspicious guardians? I wanted to serve the clans, but was it right to keep our men together secretly when the king had ordered the guardians disbanded? The questions baffled me.

I hitched up my sword belt and clambered over a fallen tree branch in the path. Sorting out the answers was better left to smarter men. Yet here I was, on my way to skulk around the city of Lyric.

Again. When Cameron’s men grabbed Susan from Braide Wood that first season, Tristan sent me to protect her. I spent days prowling the back alleys of Lyric, asking questions in a way that I’d hoped was subtle, and poking around dark underground rooms.

When I finally caught up to Susan, I accidentally walloped Markkel over the head. That’s what comes of sending a simple guardian to deal with complicated plots. He’d eventually warmed up to me. Even asked me to be his house protector. The weight of my pack lightened. I lengthened my stride. Markkel’s family needed my protection. That much was clear.

When I reached the transport stop, I gazed up and down the tarred road. With so many other changes in our clans, I couldn’t assume anything. If they were no longer running, I’d have a hike of many days to reach Lyric. I paced the paved road, listening to the glum silence while I waited.

Thankfully, the midday transport glided up before the afternoon rains started. It was empty. Rendor families no longer traveled past Braide Wood on their way to the other clans. The emptiness was an eerie reminder that none of us were sure what had happened to all those families. Cameron said they were happily sharing their land with the Kahlareans. Even I wasn’t gullible enough to believe that.

I sank onto a lonely bench. Perhaps I’d find Susan rallying councilmembers as she did before the battle of Morsal Plains. Maybe she’d be able to convince the king to reinstate the guardians. If anyone could, it would be her. But our people were angry and confused. What if they blamed her for leaving? I rested my hand on my sword hilt. My head ached. I was thinking too much again.

Linette would remind me that problems were often beyond our intellect to solve, and that we were meant to rely on the One’s wisdom instead. I scratched my head. But would she tell me it was right to rescue a former Restorer from our current king? They were both appointed by the One, weren’t they?
I whistled an off key tune as wheels hummed a steady rhythm, and trees and steep ridges gave way to gentler hills. Gradually a melody formed, and the words spun free from the clutter and confusion in my brain.

Awesome in majesty, perfect in power. 

I leaned back against the bench. Of course. Cameron might be king, but even a king could make mistakes. The One was the only true king. This situation that was so confusing wasn’t too complex for Him.

“Show me my next step,” I whispered. “And protect the men while I’m away. Oh, and Jake. I have a hunch he’s going to need You, too.”

—
You can read the rest of the story in The Restorer’s Journey (Book 3 of the Sword of Lyric Series)

 

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Bonus Scene – Restorer’s Journey – Mark

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Journey
 
After chapter 6
Mark:
Dust floated uncaring from the rafters. I reached my arm toward the empty space where my son had stood seconds before. Gone. 
My heart pounded, sending a jarring pulse against my broken ribs. I grabbed the nearest portal stone, shifted its position, and realigned it with the others. No subtle vibration, no tingling tug of the portal, no hint of life. I picked up the others. The stones were dead weight in my hands.
I’d been ready to die in the effort to reach Susan—but I hadn’t been ready for this. Shut out, facing horrible emptiness. And now Jake was gone, too.
“No!” The cry tore open my cut lip and I tasted blood. I crumpled to the plywood floor. Bones grated. Bruises throbbed. But the pain was nothing compared to the raw horror in my soul.
For weeks I’d contemplated destroying the portal stones, and then worked on ways to alter or control them. Anything to keep Cameron and Medea from returning to harm the clans. Even after Cameron and Medea invaded our house, I thought by purposely misaligning the stones I could hinder them. After they surprised me and dragged Susan with them, Jake had to snap me out of my shock. We formed another new plan. And now I faced another disaster.
Jake was gone, too. Lost, unreachable. In danger. Like Susan.

Susan’s journal rested on the chair we’d set up for her quiet refuge. It seemed years ago that she’d smiled at me, thanking me again and again for building this space, for finding some tangible way to help her with her inner pain. I inched toward it. My Council tunic caught on a nail head, and I tugged it free. I’d love to tear the entire thing apart, along with all the choices that had led to this moment. Instead I picked up her journal and hugged it against my chest. “Lord, bring her back to me.” The longing was so deep, I could only whisper the words.

I gently set the journal back on her chair. Time to find a solution.

First, I tried every improbable trick I could think of to activate the portal. Placing the old plastic sword between the stones produced no reaction. Tossing a ball across the space triggered nothing. Stepping in and out of the space and re-positioning the portal stones again and again did nothing.
Next, I brought the stones down to my basement workbench and pulled out my tools. I tinkered for hours, looking for clues in the hidden mechanisms that could bring them back to life. My worries swung between Susan and Jake. At least when Jake went through the portal, the stones weren’t misaligned. And he wasn’t in the company of Cameron and Medea. What was Susan going through?

Hours later, I rubbed my eyes, as my tools and the workbench slipped in and out of focus. My whole body was one throbbing ache, and now I was swaying on my feet from exhaustion.

I took the stones and a sleeping bag back up to the attic. In the past, our sojourns through the portal had taken little time in this world. Susan and Jake could return at any moment. Or perhaps they’d be able to send a message somehow. Until they did, I needed to stay close. I unrolled the sleeping bag and curled up, ears straining for any hopeful sound. If I couldn’t sleep beside my wife, at least I’d sleep beside this fragile link that I had to her.

As the darkness settled around me, my desperate hope provided cold comfort.

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Bonus Scene 9 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene

In which Susan grapples with fear.

–>

After Chapter 33
Susan:
The backdoor creaked as I slipped outside, and I hoped it wouldn’t disturb Mark or Jake. We’d cleaned up the kitchen, had our pizza, and settled down for the night. But despite my exhaustion, I’d lain awake listening to Mark’s soft snores for hours. Finally my restlessness drove me to our backyard.
Overhead the moon slipped in and out of clouds, and I settled on the porch steps to study the sky. The constant gray haze over the clans had felt like a brewing storm that never dissipated. And the total black emptiness of their nights was frightening. I was relieved beyond words to be back in my world of moonlight shadows against the trees and a midnight sky rich with stars.
I sighed. Even though I could glimpse eternity and see God’s presence in the stars, His purposes still felt as cloudy as the hazy atmosphere over the clans.
Jake’s hand had healed. Instantly. Completely. What did that mean? Was he the next Restorer?
I sat up and hugged my knees, my breathing turning ragged.
Not my son. Anything but that, Lord. I’ll do extra shifts at the soup kitchen. Be nicer to the annoying chairman of the PTA. Memorize the whole New Testament. There are a million ways I can show my love for you. 
But don’t ask me to watch my son face danger. I’ve done that before, remember?
Over the swish of a distant car and summer crickets in the tall grass, the sounds of the pediatric cancer wing echoed in my mind: chirping monitors, murmuring voices, the silent tears of parents that held more volume than a scream. Jake had recovered, but I’d never forget the terror of those months and the fear that squeezed the breath from my lungs.
The same breathless dread hit me in Lyric when Jake had been under Rhusican thrall, a cold and contemptuous stranger. Each time he stared past me, each time a sneer colored his clipped words, each time he turned away, my heart contracted more tightly until I feared it would be crushed into dust.
But we’d made it home. The Jake we knew and loved had returned. I wanted to savor answered prayer, rescue, and normalcy. I wanted barbeques and picnics, family hikes at the nature center.
What if Jake went back to Lyric? What if he left forever? I pressed my forehead against my knees, the ache curling my spine until I thought I’d implode. I didn’t want to confront what the future might hold for Jake. 
Because it wasn’t just Jake. Each of my children would one day set out to fulfill their own purposes—find their own way to serve God. I’d known that before they were born. Yet I hadn’t let that knowledge intrude. Not while I held their soft powder-scented infant bodies. Not while I pushed them on the swings and elicited joyous shrieks. Not while I held my breath in the back row wondering if they’d remember their lines in the school play. 
When they lifted chocolate smeared faces for sticky kisses, when they lisped Sunday school songs, when they entrusted me with wounds from friends, or whispered their fears, or disappointments . . . somehow I convinced myself that I would always be their best ally, that even as adults they’d turn to me. My vision of the future was fuzzy, but for some inexplicable reason, when I pictured that vague era of grown children, I liked to assume they’d all find homes just down the block.
“Honey?” Mark called softly through the screen door. 
“Out here.”
He came outside and settled beside me. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t realize the night air held a cold edge until his presence warmed me. “Mark, what if Jake has to go back through the portal? What if we’re separated from him forever? And even if that never happens, what if the kids all grow up and grow away and we never see them? What if—”
“Whoa. Your imagination is off and running, isn’t it?” He wrapped an arm around me.
My body softened against him slightly, but then I pulled up. “How can you be so calm? We have to figure out what it means.”
“Why? It won’t change what we need to do for our family.”
He already had a plan? “All right. Lay it on me. What should we do?”
He turned and held my shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against my tight muscles. “The same as always. We love them. Protect them the best we can. Pray for them.”
“But . . . ” It wasn’t enough. Surely he could see that. I needed answers, strategies, promises of how the story of each child would turn out. Then again, I had longed for those sorts of assurances as we floundered our way through Lyric and Braide Wood and Hazor and back again. In the midst of uncertainties, the One had guided our steps, provided unexpected allies, strengthened us when our hearts ached with fear. I sagged and let my head drop forward to rest against Mark’s chest. Love, protect, pray. He was right.
“And trust,” I whispered. “Trust that God’s love is big enough for the next part of the story.”
“That’s my girl.” His words were a deep approving rumble, and beyond them I heard an echo of an even deeper and stronger voice. Mark helped me to my feet.
I opened the door. “Let’s get to bed. We need our rest. We have a lot of loving and praying to do tomorrow.”
—
You can read more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
Sharon Hinck
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Bonus Scene 8 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

–>

In which Linette sees Kieran’s encounter with the One
After Chapter 28
Linette:
            The mist brushed my skin, soaked into my pores, breathed comfort and courage into my heart. I’d felt this tangible sign of the One’s presence before, but only during Feast Day gatherings, as I joined my voice with songkeeepers and musicians and thousands of people filling the floor of the tower.
           Today, one lone man knelt beneath the towering emptiness and carried on a silent conversation with the Maker of the world. As a timid onlooker, I was shocked that the One’s holy love touched me as well. The One was doing something I hadn’t known Him to do before. Instead of puzzling over the why, I savored Him. Every song I’d ever sung swirled in my mind in rich harmony, lifting my heart higher and higher. Tears poured down my face and I welcomed His touch. 
            When the mist lifted, Kieran still didn’t move. Had the encounter overwhelmed him? Was he all right? I eased closer and looked up at the windows far above us. The sky was a deep gray.
            “Kieran, it’s getting dark.” I touched his back, loathe to disturb his communion with the One.
            He looked up, wonder and purpose lighting his face. “Did you see Him, too?”
            I nodded. I would have loved to talk about the experience together, but night was too close and I needed to return to the songkeeper lodge. Once I was sure he was all right, I turned to leave.
            “Wait. One thing. If I can get the Council to approve it, do you think any of the songkeepers would be willing to go to Hazor to teach the Verses to the people there?”
            I frowned. This was the purpose the One had shared with Kieran? Of all the hopes I had for the One to protect our clans, sending our Restorer to our enemy would never have entered my mind. 
            “It’s not my idea,” he said, easing to his feet. 
            What could I say? The Council would never allow it. And what did his question truly mean? Was he asking my general opinion? Whether I knew of some bold songkeeper who would join him on that mission? Or did he specifically wonder if I would volunteer?
            I glanced up at the tower’s highest white stones, feeling smaller than usual. Holy One, is that why You allowed me this touch of Your strength? Is this something You might want of me? 
            “Yes, if it’s something the One is asking for and if the Council approves it, I’m sure at least one songkeeper would travel to Hazor.” I slipped away before I could take back the words. Would Kieran think I was willing to leave the clans? Did I want him to understand my answer that way?
            The streets were almost deserted so close to nightfall. Yet when I reached the songkeeper lodge, I hesitated outside the door. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside yet and enter the conversation around a warm meal, the chatter, the good-natured arguments about tempos for a song we had rehearsed that day. I needed time alone to absorb what I’d seen. 
            Since Dylan’s death, I’d spent as much time as possible in the Lyric tower. After Lukyan was injured, I was needed more in Braide Wood, yet whenever I could, I returned to the tower. If I could have rolled out a pallet in the corner of the tower, I would never have left.
            As Kieran talked to the One today, I’d felt the One as close as a father holding his toddler’s hands and guiding each wobbly step.
            The light that glowed in Kieran’s face made me marvel—perhaps even stirred jealously. I’d served the One all my life and yearned for the new fresh passion Kieran showed. He had the courage to answer, “Yes,” no matter what the One asked of him.
            When Dylan died, I thought the pain, the questions, the wrenching emptiness would destroy me. Still, I clung to my will to obey, to serve, to go through the motions no matter how much of my joy was stripped away. I didn’t reject the One. I continued to seek Him. But so much of my service felt lifeless and devoid of hope. 
I rested my forehead against the lodge door. Maybe that was precisely why the One had allowed me to witness His interaction with Kieran today. To restore my initial passion. To rebuild my faith. To coax me to live a life of, “Yes.”


—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son

Blessings!

Sharon Hinck

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Bonus Scene 7 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

–>

The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene
In which Zarek anticipates sparring with Kieran
After Chapter 25
Zarek:
            My sword danced, perfectly balanced in my grip. The young soldier across from me responded with such a timid thrust that I barely kept from decapitating him. “Attack me! Stop sniveling.”
            He swung with more vigor, but still kept too much distance to be a threat. How could I ever strengthen my skills when every sparring partner feared accidentally nicking the king?
            My mood darkened, and I advanced on the boy. One of my generals told me this lieutenant was the best swordsman he’d seen in years, but so far he’d acted like a skittish lehken colt. Before I could mount an attack that would force a stronger response, a messenger skidded to a stop in the doorway of the practice hall.
            “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but you asked for a report . . . ” The skinny boy wrung his hands and shifted from foot to foot. More sniveling.
            I sheathed my sword and waved him into the room. “It’s all right. We hadn’t begun yet.”
            The lieutenant, already covered in a sheen of sweat, turned a shade paler and wiped his forehead. The messenger took a few cautious steps into the room.
            “The prison guard reports that Kieran interviewed the woman and she collapsed. The practitioner was summoned, and she recovered.”
            My brows rose. I’d sent Kieran to question the newest trespassers from Braide Wood, not kill them. 
            I sighed and sank onto a nearby bench. “You’re dismissed,” I told the young lieutenant. He gave a stiff bow and half ran from the room. I turned to the messenger. “Tell the prison chief I need a more detailed report. Keep me informed. Oh, and tell my aide I want some orberry wine.”
            The messenger scampered off, and after murmured words outside the door, I enjoyed a few moments of blissful isolation to think. Had I been wrong to trust Kieran with this small job? Did he plan to silence the prisoners because they had information he wanted to keep from me?
            Trust was never a wise plan. My grandfather had been murdered by his most trusted general, who was then killed by my father when he took the throne. I’d fended off several failed coups since becoming king. Kept me alert.
            Maybe I was slipping.
            Though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, protecting my position every moment of every day created a deep loneliness that even a few convenient temple girls couldn’t chase away. My recent conversations with Kieran were a welcome distraction, and the strange Verses he recited stirred interest in me that I hadn’t felt in years. He’d had a chance to kill me and hadn’t taken it. Still, I knew better than to trust him.
            Kieran had been a welcome diversion and a good Perish opponent, but the things he spoke of had added new complications to my life. Time to get my focus back on protecting my throne. Perhaps I would need to interview the new prisoners myself—as if I didn’t have enough to do with Bezreth pressuring me to reopen the temples, the generals scheming, and enemies threatening every border. 
I drew my sword and indulged in a few patterns, then reluctantly sheathed it. I really needed a good session of sparring. A smile stretched my lips. Perhaps Kieran would be an interesting opponent and far less overcautious than any of my soldiers. My mood lightened as I left the hall and headed toward my quarters.
—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!


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Bonus Scene 6 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

–>

In which Nolan faces a desperate choice.
After Chapter 19
Nolan:
            I tugged my mother’s arm, half supporting her and half dragging her away from the king’s judgment room.
            “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “We should help him.”
            “Who? What are you talking about?” We needed to get out of the palace before another whim changed Zarek’s mind.
            “Kieran. Maybe there is something we could do to—”
            “Mother. Weren’t you listening? The king ordered our deaths. It would be suicide to interrupt again.” I pulled her along and she didn’t have the physical strength to resist.
            She looked back over her shoulder. “But he saved us. We have to try to help him.”
            Rage burned from the core of my being and filled my chest. “Saved us? He’s the reason I was charged with treason. And Zarek nearly had you killed, too. Kieran deserves whatever he gets. Now let’s go!”
            She sagged and I wrapped an arm around her waist. I barely felt the weight of her arm across my shoulders as we raced along crooked hallways and out the main entrance. “Almost home,” I whispered. After a few more streets and a turn down a littered alley, our broken doorway promised refuge. Her legs barely supported her long enough to get inside. I settled her on her pallet and brought water and a new drug patch. She gave me a weak smile and closed her eyes.
            Watching her surrender to sleep stirred my greatest fear: one day I’d see her close her eyes for the last time. No one recovered from Rammelite fever. Her effort to get to the palace and confront the king had probably stolen even more of her limited time. I knew I should feel grateful. She’d saved my life. But for some reason I also felt angry that she’d risked herself.
            I collapsed into our one chair and stretched my feet out, rubbing my wrists which still remembered the manacles. No, I wasn’t angry at her.
            My hand traveled across my forearm. Yesterday, raw broken skin seared with pain at the slightest touch. Now the skin was whole. Even bruises had disappeared. What evil arts did Kieran know that gave him that sort of power? I shivered and jumped out of the chair, pacing our small common room.
            Most of the Braide Wood barbarians had been predictable—clumsy, brutal enemies acting just as I expected. But Kieran had touched a deeper terror in me. I’d been desperate to escape him and thrilled when I succeeded. I’d even indulged some pride as I raced back to Hazor, thinking of the stories I’d tell the other messengers. I’d survived being a prisoner of our enemies, escaped, and brought valuable information for our army . . . or so I’d thought.
            Seeing him in chains in the Hazor cell did little to ease my fear of Kieran. He was a dangerous enemy full of trickery and deceit.
            Why had he used his skill at manipulation to convince the king to free me? Did he really feel remorse? He’d told the king he regretted what he’d done to me. Not likely. He was plotting some other scheme. 
            My mother stirred. She fought hard to hide her pain, but in her sleep, quiet groans escaped. I wanted nothing more than to get us both out of the city and far from all the danger, but she couldn’t travel. For now, I could only keep her comfortable.
I knelt beside her pallet, blotting away the sheen of feverish sweat from my mother’s face. The hollows of her cheeks were deeper than when I’d left for Morsal Plains with the army. I stood and shook out my arms, the weight of chains still lingering. If I ventured out to the markets, perhaps I could beg, borrow, or steal a bit of dried caradoc and make a broth. I wanted to make her better. Every part of me screamed in frustration because I couldn’t. But at least I could get some food into her. With one more worried glance at my mother, I slipped out the door.
—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!


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Bonus Scene 5 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

–>

The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene

In which Tristan mulls the consequences of sending Kieran away.
After Chapter 15
Tristan:
            I stormed down the path, even angrier than I’d been climbing up to the clearing a short time before. I’d devoted my life to protecting my family and my clan. Now my family was in more danger than ever. Tag had been a pest as a kid sister, but even though I never admitted it to her, her bright chatter had a way of lifting my heart. She trusted everyone, was game to take any dare, and forgave easily. The picture of her being banished–cast from the clans, separated from her children–twisted a hollow pain in my chest. All because of Kieran.
            I’d done the right thing. Sending him away was the only option. He wouldn’t listen to reason, wouldn’t take responsibility for the trouble he caused.
            The ache under my ribs sank lower, a wrenching, bitter, empty throb. All I could do now was limit the harm. Kieran should appreciate that. It was one of his pragmatic theories he liked to spout: when you can’t salvage a situation, at least forestall more damage. If he stayed in the clans with his status as an outcast, he put more innocent people—more of my family—in danger.
            I batted at a low-hanging branch, hitting it so hard it snapped. Holy One, he’s supposed to help us. Why make him a Restorer when he doesn’t acknowledge You and won’t accept his role? 
            Slowing my steps, I gathered my breath. Was I really as angry at the One as I was at Kieran? The thought frightened me. The songkeepers said we could speak honestly to the One, that He knew our hearts anyway. But even when Kendra was lost to Rhusican poison, I’d focused my anger on the enemy, never against the One. 
            My feet had automatically carried me toward home, but as I drew close, I spotted Kendra. Her slim figure had begun to show a subtle roundness. Even her face seemed softer with the hints of motherhood. Her long dark hair fell free behind her as she relaxed in a chair on the porch, her eyes closed. I wanted to run to her, bury my fingers in her rich hair, feel her breath against my face, taste her lips that could erase every painful thought from my mind. 
            Instead I backed into the woods and headed toward the lehken plateau. I couldn’t face her. Once I told her that I’d send Kieran away, could she forgive me? Would things ever be the same between us again?

—
You can read more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
Sharon Hinck

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Bonus Scene 4 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

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The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene

In which Payton and Skyler work to save Morsal Plain
After Chapter 12
Payton:
            The residue of poison tinged the dead crops a sickly yellow. The burning smoke was long gone, but the reek clung to my clothes and seeped into my skin as I worked my way along the rows of what had once been fertile farmland. Anger drove my hoe deep into the ground, and I turned over a strip of damaged plants from the edge of a section that had been spared. Protecting the remaining plants was our first priority. Susan and the guardians had saved perhaps a third of the crop. Even with careful rationing, the months ahead would be brutal.
Across the wide expanse of Morsal Plain, other Braide Wood farmers—men, women, and children—worked to remove the ruined grain. Shock and dismay had given way to determination, fueled by the improbable victory our guardians had won over Hazor. We were alive. We still held our clan. So while there was strength in our bodies, we could work the land and survive.
A few rows away, Skyler straightened and rubbed his back. Strange transtechs tools weighted down his belt, and he held up several plasteen tubes with various liquids. “I suspected an organic toxin. You know there’s good reason to believe the Kahlarean venblades use the venom from a living creature. My guess is rizzid, but of course no one knows. Anyway, we can only guess at what the Hazorites might have extracted. The chemical profile isn’t making sense. If I could figure out what it was made from, I might find a way to neutralize the effects more quickly.” He rubbed his forehead, pushing dirt into the creases of his frown lines. 
I hadn’t heard so many words from Skyler in the past six seasons combined, and I wasn’t sure if they were addressed to me. Should I answer? Offer encouragement or thanks for this rare participation in the problems of the clan? Or would that distract him and send him stomping off?
He poured some red liquid into one of the tubes and it turned yellow. He touched it with a small buzzing tool that looked like a narrow signaler and it turned green. “No, no, no.” He squatted down and scooped up another bit of earth, muttering to himself. 
Best to leave him alone. He was clearly talking to himself. At Tara’s urging, I’d stopped by his solitary cabin each season over the years, only to suffer the sting of his bitter words. Years of solitude had only solidified his resentment for everyone else in the clan. Still, he was here now. That was something. 
I used the hem of my tunic to blot sweat from my face and rubbed my callused hands together before resuming my grip on the hoe. 
Hours later, Skyler was still collecting samples, mumbling to himself, and generally ignoring everyone else. We’d protected a small section of young grain from the poisoned earth nearby. How long would it take for the damaged ground to be safe for new plantings? Would there be years of hunger ahead?
My eyes traveled to the forested hill leading to our clan homes. The soft collar of light above the tree line had deepened. “Time to head home,” I called to the families working nearby. We gathered our tools and hiked toward the woods. The cool scent of resin soothed me, as did turning my back on the ugly, scarred fields. The One had saved our clan. He certainly wouldn’t leave us to starve. If our crops were small for a while, we’d forage and hunt. My shoulders lightened and I picked up my pace. Tara would have a spicy soup waiting tonight. Warmth filled my belly . . . more from the thought of her than the soup. 
She’d spiced my life in countless ways during our years together, and I kept discovering new sides to her. She was a nurturing mother and grandmother, yet she’d taken all the recent dangers in stride. She’d also torn a strip out of Kieran and Tristan when she learned they’d tricked Nolan into escaping back to Hazor. I grinned at the memory of her fury over that incident. 
Now that all the guests had left, our home had been unusually quiet. Talia and Gareth were off visiting friends, and Tristan and Kendra were as preoccupied as newlyweds. My grin deepened. Perhaps Tara and I could take advantage of the extra quiet tonight. 
—
You can find more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
           
           


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Bonus Scene 3 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

The Restorer’s Son – Bonus Scene

In which Jameth faces the complications caused by Tag’s family.

After Chapter 7

Jameth:

Kieran slipped out into the quiet early morning streets along with the strange boy he’d accumulated on his latest misadventure. I closed the door behind them and scrubbed at my beard with both hands, wishing I could scratch away the frustration burning beneath my skin. Bad enough that Tag’s family still disapproved of our decision to live in Lyric. When I made a life pledge to her, I accepted her outspoken family was part of the bundle. I braced myself for strong opinions, loud disagreements, and the chaos at Tag’s family gatherings. But this! Council guards searching homes, Lyric in an uproar, and Kieran endangering our family by coming to us for help. Why hadn’t I thrown him out the moment I got home yesterday?

A soft hand touched mine and pulled it away from my face. Tagatha nestled up against me, each soft curve coaxing the tightness from my muscles. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t want to get involved.”

I sighed. “I don’t have anything against him.”

Tag handed me a steaming mug of clavo, then wrapped an arm around my waist, staying so close I could smell the grassy fresh-air scent of her hair. “Since when?”

A chuckle rumbled in my chest. “You’re right. He’s caused trouble as long as I’ve known your family. I’m tired of seeing Tristan and Kendra, or your parents, picking up the pieces. And now I’ve done the same thing. Do you know what they’re saying he did?”

“Shh.” She gently guided the mug toward my mouth.

I drank, letting the warmth coax the anger from me. Tagatha knew exactly how to change my course when my temper wanted to rise. She could probably charm a better price out of a Terramin stone dealer.

“We did the right thing,” Tag said as she rubbed slow circles on my back. “Come on. I tried a new bread stew for breakfast. You’ll love it.” I let my muscles relax and allowed her continual optimism to distract me through breakfast.

Too bad I couldn’t bring her to work to keep whispering reassurances. My apprentice at the warehouse greeted me with a breathless account of the latest rumors. Council guardians stopped by twice and questioned me. When I came home for lunch, someone lurked in the alley across from our house.

Give me a transport full of crates to stack, or stone to quarry, or a hard bargain to strike with a greedy trader. That was solid ground. Keeping secrets, feeling scrutiny, wondering how to protect my family in the midst of the confusing stories circulating in Lyric—that was sucking the life from me like a Shamgar mud pit.

The next morning, Tagatha and I rose early so we’d have some time before the children demanded our attention. Sitting at the old wood table, we held hands and whispered prayers to the One. Tagatha of the generous heart prayed for the safety of Kieran and Jake. I couldn’t bring myself to ask blessings on the man who had put our family in danger. Still, I was able to murmur an earnest plea for our protection.

Was it a test of my faith, or the One’s strange sense of humor? As I finished my prayer, an ominous pounding shook our door. Tagatha gasped and turned pale.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” I marched to the door and yanked it open, hoping to stop further noise so the children wouldn’t wake up.

The two Council Guards standing in the doorway had hard-edged faces, cold eyes, and a completely different demeanor than the guardians I knew. One of them pushed past me into our front room.
My fists clenched and I sized them up. I should knock their scrawny heads together and toss them out the door. Tagatha squeaked a protest as one of them strode into her kitchen and rummaged in the cubbies.

“We have orders to search your home,” said the guard who stayed near me at the door.

I forced my arms against my sides, fighting the temptation to take a swing at him. “Fine. But—”

A terrified cry came from the children’s room. Tamara ran out toward me and clung to my legs, sobbing. My chest tightened and heat crept up my neck. “What were you expecting to find in my children’s room?”

I gathered up my daughter and soothed her. Tagatha came out carrying Luc who stared at the guard with round eyes. Tag’s eyes were almost as wide and scared. I bristled, every instinct primed to protect my family.

The Council Guard drew his sword. A sword drawn against me in my own home! Rage glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Before I could roar a command for them to get out, he spoke terse words that knocked the breath from my lungs.

“We also have orders to arrest you both for aiding an enemy of the clans. The Council is considering banishment. Come with us.”

The wail that rose from Tag’s throat will haunt me the rest of my days. I couldn’t reassure her. Even if I fought the guards, where could we go? If we ran we’d be no better than banished anyway. “The children.” I choked the words out. “Let us find a neighbor to care for them until a messenger gets word to our family.”

The guard jerked a nod and led us outside, the children still in night tunics, clinging to us in panic.
Family obligation had been the cause of this disaster, but family was also my only comfort. If necessary, Tara and Payton would take in their grandchildren. Or Tristan and Kendra would raise them as their own. Tag met my eyes and raised her brows, waiting for guidance.

I forced confidence into my voice. “We’ll speak with the Council and get this straightened out.”

My beautiful Tagatha fought back tears so she wouldn’t add to our children’s confusion and fear. She’d always been the glow of first light, fresh, hopeful, as if there were no such thing as night. But the lines of her face had all changed, the way the walls of the city changed late in the day as dusk fell. It broke my heart to see the gray cold of night coloring her spirit. Even if the best outcome happened and we returned to our home and children and normal life, would she ever have the same clear innocent light again?

—

You can read more of the story in The Restorer’s Son.
Blessings!
Sharon Hinck

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