Previously on Hidden Fragments…
Calen’s dangerous journey to the lonely island of Lumenreach finally paid off. Hidden inside a rotting tree trunk, he discovered not only the Scroll of Genesis, but also the long-lost Scroll of Revelation. With a storm rapidly approaching, he secured the precious Scrolls and began the perilous journey back to Alaric’s waiting boat.
Meanwhile, Marisa and Ronan narrowly escaped capture when Ronan convinced Captain Drenick that Marisa was a dangerous witch responsible for Captain Droskar’s mysterious affliction. The deception worked, but they learned troubling news: the Council of Twelve is preparing a grand ceremony in Ömstead, where a massive statue will be unveiled and all citizens, and especially the followers of the God of the Scrolls, will be expected to bow before it.
Chapter 48
Held By the Same Hand
The sky was darkening, but for the moment Calen cared little about the gathering storm.
As he stared toward the mainland from Lumenreach, a euphoric sense of victory coursed through him. Gone was the tiredness. Even the horrible, sticky sensation of his wet tunic somehow felt agreeable.
Two Scrolls… Not just Genesis, but Revelation too.
He envisioned the joy he’d bring when he showed both Scrolls to the believers.
All he needed to do now was get back to the boat. It was then that a rumble in the distance shook him up out of his elation.
Reality set in.
Suddenly he felt the strain in his muscles again. The Scrolls were not yet safe. No, the battle was not over.
He could see the lighthouse in the distance. It gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun, but behind him the dark clouds were fast piling up like a great beast preparing for the hunt.
A knot tightened in his stomach. Every second became precious. There was no time to lose. And yet, he could not afford to rush. Feverishly he considered the best way to bring the Scrolls safely back to the boat. If only he could strap the satchel across his shoulders, both hands would be free, but he had no rope.
He should have thought this through before sailing out with Alaric. Why had he not brought extra rope? Or a proper pack?
His doubts, always ready to bother him when they were the least welcome, rose. How ironic that God had chosen him for such an important mission. Must he always learn wisdom after the mistake?
He sighed, but decided not to yield. What choice did he have anyway? This was not the time to pout, in self-pity.
Come on, Calen. Move!
The wind was rising now as well.
Not long ago the waves had lapped gently against the shores of this weird strip of land. But now whitecaps crowned them and they crashed against the rocks in bursts of foam and spray. It would not be long before much of the island disappeared beneath the water.
Calen glanced once more toward the rotten trunk.
The seagulls had reclaimed their throne and watched him suspiciously. They too seemed eager for him to leave.
Weren’t they worried about their eggs in the storm?
Of course not. This was their domain. Those birds had nested here for years. They knew what was coming and were used to the weather.
But he was not.
Clutching the satchel tightly, he stepped back into the sea.
Cold.
Much colder than before. Or so it seemed.
The wind hurled spray into his face, and he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of seawater. Spluttering, he pressed onward. He could still feel the bottom, although the water was much deeper now.
Move on, Calen. Move on.
Soon he would reach Alaric, and then they could leave. They would sail back to the safety of the lighthouse, eat Sable wolf Jerky or have a comforting, hot bowl of Hearthbroth.
Here, there were no such things. Rather, the sky overhead had turned black as ink. The storm was spreading far faster than expected.
What if this storm became as fierce as the one from the previous night while still in the lighthouse? Magdalena had warned him not to venture outside. “Far too dangerous,” she had said.
But now he was not safely tucked away inside the drafty room copying Scrolls. Now, he was outside. Worse still, he was standing in the middle of a raging sea.
He must be out of his mind.
“Help me, Lord,” he whispered. “Bring me safely back for the sake of Your Word.”
He moved on. He had to. He just had to believe that he was safe in the Savior’s hands.
At least, he hoped he was.
How much farther was it to the rock with the rope? Surely it could not be far.
On the way out, the distance had seemed no more than twenty yards, yet now it felt as though he had not advanced a single inch. Peering through the gathering darkness, he could barely make out the rock. Was it gone in the water?
Nonsense.
The rock was there. And so was the rope.
Keep going, Calen.
One step at a time.
Carefully he searched for firm footing beneath the water, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. The water was now literally at his lips. The current no longer favored him either. It tugged at him from every direction as the sea churned around him.
Suddenly a brilliant flash of lightning split the heavens. A deafening crash of thunder followed almost immediately.
For a brief instant he saw Alaric illuminated in the boat. Not too far…
Thankfully they had thrown that heavy stone into the water as an anchor. The boat would remain steady… at least for now.
As if matters were not difficult enough, rain began to fall.
Not that it made much difference. Everywhere he looked there was water already.
His hand ached from the death grip he maintained on the satchel. He could only hope he had sealed it properly.
There was the rock.
The rock stood ahead of him. Firm. Steady.
Only a few more yards.
Soon he would be able to grab the slippery stone and the rope secured around it. Then at least he’d have a way to reach the boat.
Another flash of lightning. Another tremendous crack of thunder directly overhead.
Calen flinched.
The satchel slipped from his hand.
“No!”
The cry tore from his throat. “Lord, help me!”
As he shouted, another wave crashed into him, filling his mouth with seawater. But the same wave hurled the satchel back against his chest.
Thank You, Lord!
Calen lunged forward and seized it with both hands. The Scrolls were still safe.
Two more steps.
One more.
There was the rock.
With one hand he grabbed the rope secured around it.
But… what now?
Untie it in this weather? That would be madness. He would be defenseless like a cork on the water being tossed to and fro, and Alaric had no idea where he even was.
Better to leave the rope fastened and fight his way toward the boat.
It was not far.
But how was he supposed to do it? He needed both hands to pull himself to the boat. He checked if the rope was still safely attached to the boat and pulled it.
It held firm. Thank God.
A man like Sylvaine Vrax would have cut the rope in order to save himself.
Alaric had stayed. He could be trusted.
He shivered from cold and exhaustion. Oh God… what’s the next step!
Would he hold the satchel with his teeth? Ridiculous. He had already almost lost the satchel. One sturdy wave would knock the Scrolls out of his mouth and all would be for nothing.
There had to be another way.
What if he tucked the satchel beneath his tunic and trapped it there with his belt? The Scrolls would rest against his chest and he would have both hands free. Despite the darkness around him he chuckled.
The Word against his heart. That was the best place.
He loosened the cords of his tunic and pushed the satchel with the scrolls under the fabric. It scraped his chest and felt highly uncomfortable.
But there was only a short distance to go. It just had to work.
When he felt ready, he took the rope in his hands and left the relative safety of the rock. The current was strong here and the churning sea tried to push him away. He gritted his teeth and held on, while pulling himself further along the rope.
Every yard drove the satchel harder against his ribs.
Even though the Scrolls were in the satchel, the protective covering really dug into his chest. But he made progress and that was all that mattered.
Thank God, there was Alaric. Panting and gasping he saw the Emberwake and the silhouette of his friend, illuminated by anbother flash of lightning.
He clawed one hand around the edge of the boat while holding the rope with the other and cried for help. What a relief to see the fear-stricken face of Alaric appear above him.
“Calen,” he cried. “You’re alive. God be praised.”
He grabbed Calen’s arm to pull him in. The edge of the satchel had dug so deeply into Calen’s chest that every movement felt like a knife.
“The Scrolls first!” he shouted.
Alaric stared.
“What?”
“Inside my tunic! The Scrolls… Take them!”
Calen yelled while showing the satchel to Alaric. His voice was hoarse and barely audible above the wind. “First take the Scrolls.”
He could see Alaric’s hesitation, so he yelled again. “The satchel.”
Alaric finally understood. He leaned over and took the satchel away from Calen.
A deep sense of peace entered Calen’s heart when he saw the precious Scrolls disappear over the edge of the boat. Safe. The Scrolls were aboard.
Now he could get into the boat too. Alaric understood and without hesitation he seized Calen and hauled him out of the water.
“We must leave!” he shouted hoarsely as Calen collapsed onto the floor of the Emberwake.
Calen heard his voice from far and nodded, but there was no strength left in his legs.
“Come on, Calen!” Alaric rasped. “You must help me get that stone back aboard! Can’t lift it myself and we will both die out here.”
Calen scarcely understood what was going on, but forced himself upright, crawled to Alaric and helped recover the anchor.
Together they pulled on the rope. The stone seemed determined to remain on the seabed. Twice it slipped from their grasp.
“Cut it,” Calen howled. “It won’t work. I am too weak.”
Alaric hesitated, but then he made the right choice.
With a swift move of his knife, he cut the rope and it snapped in two. They were loose. Calen collapsed forward onto the satchel containing the Scrolls.
Exhausted.
Unable to utter another word.
“We are not safe yet!” Alaric bellowed. “God help us!”
Calen’s cheek rested against the leather satchel.
Genesis.
Revelation.
The Scrolls felt better than anything he had ever rested on.
That’s when darkness claimed him.
***
As Drenick and his bunch of frightened weasels rode off, Marisa and Ronan watched them intently. The fading rhythm of their horses’ hoofbeats was a welcome sound. At last, they all disappeared from sight along the dusty road beyond the trees.
Clouds of dust lingered in the air for a while, hanging above the road like a memory of their passing. Eventually even that faded, and silence reclaimed the forest once more.
The danger had passed.
Both of them let out a long breath of relief.
“That was far too close for comfort,” Marisa said as she guided Whisperwind alongside Ronan’s horse. She looked at him with admiration. “You did remarkably well. You remembered all I told you about Droskar’s boils.”
He gave her a shy smile.
“Those men are terrified of anything connected to the spirit world,” Marisa continued. “But to be honest, I was trembling inside and was desperately praying.” She grinned and continued, “But when I saw the fear on their faces, I could hardly stop myself from laughing.”
“I honestly don’t know where those words came from,” Ronan said. “They just… came out.”
Marisa nodded. “God is good, Ronan. Did He not promise to be with us all the time? We truly have nothing to fear.”
For a brief moment she closed her eyes, while listening to the gentle whisper of the wind through the forest. Oh, thank you dear God for keeping us safe.
When she opened her eyes again, she noticed Ronan watching her closely.
There was a strange warmth in his gaze now; an unspoken longing she had never seen there before. It unsettled her, as though she were staring at a signpost pointing toward a place she had no wish to go.
She had felt something similar once before. That time she had been with Calen in the forest near Isola’s cottage. Back then, both she and Calen had quietly pushed these feelings aside.
This was no time for such things.
Right now, the mission was all that mattered.
And, if she were completely honest with herself, it was Calen her heart longed for. She had wrestled with her feelings for him quite some time now. Difficult to give it the proper place, but one thing was clear, she was not about to open that part of her heart to Ronan.
Of course, the man could not really help it. He was only human. A man trained as a hardened soldier, now traveling alone with a woman through the wilderness… That had to be a temptation. Even though he had given his life to God, other emotions still lived inside him as well.
Yet they were emotions Marisa would rather avoid entirely.
Ronan seemed to notice her confusion. A faint blush crept into his face and he lowered his eyes. Almost immediately, an awkward tension settled between them, pushing away the peaceful calm they had felt only moments earlier.
“What now?” Ronan asked somewhat stiffly. “Do we return to Bramblebrook?”
“Of course not,” Marisa answered firmly. “Far too dangerous. We simply need to keep enough distance so we don’t overtake Drenick and his men by accident.”
Ronan nodded.
The tension eased slightly, and Marisa breathed out quietly in relief. She looked at him seriously.
“We are going to need each other, Ronan. This journey is about the mission and nothing else.”
Ronan nodded again without speaking, but Marisa sensed he understood perfectly well what she meant.
At last, a shy smile appeared on his face.
“Perhaps I should cut those ropes off first,” he said. “That might make the journey easier.”
“Please do,” Marisa replied with genuine warmth.
He took his knife and with one swift movement cut the ropes from around her wrists.
That was a relief. Marisa rubbed her wrists. Much better. Now she was ready to move on.
For a while they rode side by side in silence before Ronan finally spoke again.
“That Drenick… have you heard of him before?”
Marisa nodded. “He oversees the great prison. Calen once told me about him. Believe it or not, they used to be childhood friends.”
“Friends?” Ronan whistled softly through his teeth. “Some friendship.”
“Not anymore,” Marisa replied. “Drenick threw Calen into prison for a night, and he’s the driving force behind Slink.”
“I had no idea,” Ronan said. He pondered all the things Marisa had told him.
A pheasant burst from the undergrowth and clattered across the path, clucking loudly as it shot past the horses. Whisperwind snorted, restless and uneasy.
“And that statue?” Ronan asked. “Do you truly think the Council of Twelve would actually raise such a grotesque thing and make everyone worship it?”
“I fear they will,” Marisa answered. “Be honest, Ronan. You know the ways of the Council much better than I do. They are cruel men who care mostly for themselves. Shepherds are meant to lay down their lives for the sheep… but these men lay down the sheep for their own lives.”
Ronan nodded slowly. “That is well said. I never thought about it that way before.”
“That is because the Spirit of God is working within you,” Marisa said gently. “In many ways, you have become a new man.”
Ronan fell silent again, and they continued onward beneath the trees.
After some time, he cleared his throat.
“Marisa?”
“Yes, Ronan?”
“I… um… want you to know you can trust me. About earlier… I’m sorry.”
Marisa blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” He shifted awkwardly in the saddle. “You are a very remarkable woman. Beautiful too. I have not known many women in my life. A few I did. Mostly the wrong sort.” He looked embarrassed. “But you are different. Still… you have nothing to fear from me. The mission comes first. And besides…” He hesitated. “I think your heart belongs to Calen.”
Now it was Marisa’s turn to blush.
At the mere sound of Calen’s name something warm stirred deep inside her heart. It was a feeling she barely understood herself.
She lowered her eyes briefly before looking back at him.
“I do not fully understand my own heart either, Ronan,” she admitted softly. “But you are right about the mission. And… I am glad you are here with me.”
He nodded quietly.
“Friends forever?” Marisa asked.
A broad grin spread across his face.
“Friends forever.”
And so, they rode on in silence. Yet the tension Marisa had felt earlier was gone completely. Marisa could truly enjoy the scenery. The forest no longer seemed threatening. Sunlight flickered through the branches overhead while the steady sound of hooves and birdsong settled her heart.
After some time, they came upon a narrow side path winding deeper into the woods.
“This is it,” Ronan said solemnly.
“It is what?” Marisa asked.
“The Bridge of Echoes.”
Marisa felt a pang of excitement. “We have to go in here?”
Ronan nodded. “I’ve been here before when I was under the command of Slink. From here it’s only a few miles.”
Marisa eyed Ronan. She could see the tenseness on his face. She understood his fears. If it hadn’t been for Calen, he would have surely fallen to his death there. His bones would now be bleaching there in the hot sun. And to be honest, while she was at peace, she didn’t particularly look forward to crossing the infamous bridge herself. This would be yet another serious challenge.
She reached over and gently touched his hand while looking at him. “Ready, friend?”
Ronan forced an awkward smile on his face and nodded. “Yes… friend. I am ready,”