Previously on Hidden Fragments:
Guided by a mysterious white bird and strengthened by a renewed assurance that God had not abandoned him, Calen reached the dreaded Bridge of Echoes. There, he faced the thunderous accusations of his own heart, voices of fear, guilt, and failure, but he crossed by clinging to the truth of forgiveness and grace. When Slink and his soldiers arrived and attempted to follow, the bridge revealed its deadly nature to those not anchored in faith.
Amid chaos and death, Calen chose mercy over escape, risking his life to save a fallen soldier named Ronan. As shimmering lights rose once more from the mountains and Slink fled in terror, Calen stepped into the unknown, more determined than ever to fulfill his mission.
Chapter 25
The Pale Light
As soon as Calen saw that Ronan had made it back to safety, he returned to Hosanna. When his eyes fell on the travel bag Isola had given him, filled to the brim with the precious Scrolls and tied securely to Hosanna’s side, gratitude welled up within him. Despite the many dangers he had already faced, the Scrolls were still safe. What more would await him though?
He rested his head against the horse’s neck and savored the comforting, soothing warmth of her body. He was utterly exhausted after his ordeal on the Bridge, having pushed his muscles to their very limit. He would surely feel it tomorrow. But he had made it. The Bridge of Echoes now lay behind him.
On the other side of the Bridge, Slink was still scowling at him in rage, but Calen could not have cared less. God had shown His mighty power once again, and Slink would face his reckoning sooner or later.
“We’ll get you!” Slink shouted, stomping his boots into the ground. “You’ll suffer the same fate as that lady friend of yours. Mark my words, we’ll catch you today or tomorrow!”
Those words pierced Calen’s heart, and for a brief moment, the sting of his former half-heartedness and pride surfaced. But he should not listen. It just wasn’t true. Slink was a liar, and Angus had said that everything rested in God’s hands. Nothing would happen to Marisa outside of His plan.
“I’m not listening to you, Slink!” Calen shouted back. “Choose today whom you will serve: the Council of Twelve or the Creator of heaven and earth. My choice is made. I and my friends will serve the Lord!”
Where those words had come from, he could not say, but how good it felt to speak them aloud. Just before turning away, he caught a glimpse of Ronan. The rescued soldier, still pale with shock, raised his hand and, unseen by Slink, waved at Calen. He would likely never see Ronan again, but knew he had gained a friend. He resolved to pray for the soldier every day, that he too might come to know the joy of God.
Then Calen turned away from the Bridge and continued his way to the hermit along the dry, rocky path that once again led upwards.
But where did the hermit live? Calen had no idea where to go. God had guided him miraculously twice before, yet doubt crept in and tightened its grip when, after several minutes of steady riding, he reached a fork in the road and knew a choice had to be made.
“What now, Hosanna?” Calen asked his steadfast companion.
Hosanna did not answer. She stood patiently, waiting for him to decide.
Was there some sign that might point the way? A post reading The Hermit – 5 miles? He chuckled at the thought. Such things did not exist.
The road straight ahead climbed steeply, strewn with sharp stones and thorny bushes. Hosanna could manage it, but the ride would be anything but pleasant.
The road to the left descended. It was wider and easier, and seemed to lead toward a place where a hermit might actually live. Green, grassy meadows stretched out below. That looked like a good choice. Even a hermit would need food, and sheep or goats could easily graze there. Far in the distance, Calen could hear the gentle murmur of a mountain stream; calm and peaceful.
And to the right? That path was rocky as well, but after about fifty yards it curved sharply and seemed to lead back toward the Bridge of Echoes by a long detour.
The choice was made quickly. Calen turned left, and as he mounted Hosanna and began their descent, he felt almost certain they would soon find the hermit’s dwelling.
What would it look like?
Calen imagined a charming little house surrounded by flowers, with a fertile vegetable garden tucked behind it. Inside, it would be warm and inviting, filled with handcrafted wooden furniture and a crackling hearth where he could rest his weary mind.
But the farther he went, the less welcoming the landscape became. The green, grassy meadow and softly babbling stream had been only a single stretch of land. With every step forward, the terrain grew harsher and more desolate. And that was not all, for the path began to climb again, and it felt as though he had only now truly entered the Grey Mountains.
Soon, deep, dark and unwelcoming caverns surrounded him, along with treacherous holes in the path into which Hosanna could easily step. The consequences would be disastrous.
Perhaps he had chosen the wrong road after all. No hermit would ever wish to live in a place like this.
As if matters were not dire enough, the sky began to darken, and somewhere in the distance, Calen heard thunder.
A storm was coming and, in this region, it was the last thing he needed.
Hosanna had heard it too. She snorted uneasily, and Calen could feel her tension.
“We need to go back, Hosanna,” Calen said, gazing uncertainly at the sky. The storm was moving far faster than he had expected. Just moments ago, the sun had still shone faintly, but now heavy, dark clouds rolled in, and to make matters worse, a strong wind had begun to rise. “We should find shelter,” he added. “That storm is about to break.”
Sheltering here was hardly appealing. There was nothing around but rocks and thistles. This was rattlesnake country. But time was running out.
Then he spotted a dark opening in a rugged rock wall, just off the path. Could it be the entrance to a cave? At the very least, it might provide some shelter.
Calen dismounted and told Hosanna to stay put while he climbed up to inspect it. The climb was short, but it would not be easy for Hosanna to manage. Still, with effort, it should be possible.
A few minutes later, he stood before the entrance to a narrow space. It was not a cave, at least not as far as he could tell by the rapidly fading light, but a shallow recess, no more than ten meters deep. Still, it would keep them dry, and anyways, he had no choice. Nearby, a deafening clap of thunder shook the air, followed almost immediately by a blinding flash of lightning.
Hosanna reared in fright. Calen climbed back down as quickly as he could, calling out that everything was all right. The thought of Hosanna bolting with the Scrolls still strapped to her back sent a chill through him.
He let out a sigh of relief when he reached her and managed to calm the visibly shaken horse.
“Just a little farther, and we’ll be safe,” Calen said gently, guiding her carefully up the slope.
The moment they reached the shelter of the rocky recess the storm broke with full fury.
“Just in time,” Calen sighed as another thunderclap echoed through the mountains above them. Hosanna neighed again in fright, but Calen placed his arms protectively around her neck, and it seemed to calm her.
“Well, here we are,” Calen said with relief, pulling out the food Isola had given him for the journey and a large carrot that Tobin had smuggled for Hosanna.
Calen settled against the rock, letting Hosanna munch on the carrot. The wind howled around them, and the rain pelted down in sheets, yet within the rocky recess they were mostly dry. For a moment, relief washed over him.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of strange, pale light danced along the far wall of the recess. It was faint, almost ethereal, and seemed to shift with a life of its own. Calen frowned, his heart skipping a beat.
“What in the world…?” he whispered, gripping Hosanna’s mane tightly. The air grew colder, and an uneasy hush fell over the mountains, as if the storm itself were holding its breath.
Calen’s eyes darted toward the shadowy depths beyond the recess. The light was gone… A chill ran down his spine. Something was there but what it was, he could not tell.
He swallowed hard, unsure whether to call out or stay silent. “Dear God,” he prayed, “Will you please keep me safe?”
He licked his lips and called out, “Anybody there? Show yourself or I will defend myself.”
The light returned and seemed to be steadily growing…
***
It didn’t take Marisa long to reach Isola and Tobin’s house.
Pax was the first to notice her. As she dismounted just outside, the dog ran toward her, barking furiously in a happy, excited way. He jumped up, his muddy paws landing squarely on Marisa’s dress, leaving dark stains behind.
It didn’t matter. After what Marisa had just been through, a few muddy marks were the least of her concerns. She patted Pax affectionately.
“Yes, my dear dog. I’m happy to see you too.”
The door opened, and Isola’s surprised face appeared. When she saw who had stirred Pax into such excitement, she gasped.
“Marisa… Oh, dear. I am so glad to see you.”
Apparently, Isola had been doing laundry. She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried forward, pulling her friend into a warm embrace.
“Oh, Marisa,” she exclaimed. “I was so worried when I heard, you had been taken captive.”
Marisa returned the embrace, then asked, “How did you know I had been captured?”
“Calen told us,” Isola said. “He came here a few days ago.”
“C-Calen was here?” Marisa stammered. “Slink took him too. How did he get out?”
“Let’s get you inside,” Isola said gently. “You’re soaked and in need of dry clothes. I’ll make you some tea, and then we’ll talk. Are you hungry?”
Marisa smiled, thinking of the abundant meals Droskar had served her over the past few days. She had probably gained a few pounds. No, food was not her main concern.
“Tea and dry clothes sound like heaven,” she said. “And… um… did Calen look under Tobin’s bed?”
Isola burst out laughing. “He certainly did. But come inside. It’s not wise to talk out here.”
Not much later, Marisa sat at the kitchen table, drinking a steaming cup of raspberry tea. She was wrapped in a garment of Isola’s that was far too large for her. Beside her sat Tobin, who affectionately leaned his head against her shoulder. The fire had been stoked, and a gentle warmth filled the room. How good it felt to be back among friends, sheltered once more in the safety of Isola’s home.
“The Scrolls…” Marisa asked. “Are they safe?”
“Calen found them under my bed,” Tobin piped up immediately. “I had no idea what you put under my bed, Marisa. But I told nobody about it. Only Calen when he asked.”
Marisa smiled and her eyes sparkled. “That sure is a relief. I just knew Sylvaine Vrax was not to be trusted. I kept the Scrolls here, just as a precaution.”
“What if you had safely made it to the Grey Mountains, only to show up by the hermit empty-handed?” Isola asked. “What would Calen have said?”
Marisa pressed her lips together. “It was a difficult decision. I just had this terrible, nagging feeling, things were about to go wrong. But I had no proof, and of course, I wasn’t sure.” She paused and thought back on their journey. “With every step we took, my suspicions about Sylvaine Vrax grew. But Calen wasn’t very open to the idea and —”
“— That’s what he said. He was so sorry,” Tobin interrupted Marisa. “He was even crying about it.”
“Aww, was he?” Marisa said. “Calen’s heart is in the right place, but he is still so inexperienced in the ways of God.”
“I am pretty experienced in the ways of God, right Marisa?” Tobin added.
She smiled. “Sure, Tobin. Let me guess… You are the man in the house here. That’s a pretty responsible job.”
Tobin beamed his consent.
“But… Um…,” Marisa continued, “where are Calen and the Scrolls now?”
“He left,” Isola filled her in. “Almost immediately after he found the Scrolls. Said, he was going to the Grey Mountains again as had been the original plan.”
Marisa nodded. “He must be almost there by now…” She paused while thinking and then said, “It’s no use for me to go after him. Maybe my role is shifting now and he needs me as his prayer warrior.”
“What does that mean?” Tobin asked.
Marisa put her arms around Tobin and said, “To be a prayer warrior means to follow Calen into danger with faith alone, trusting God he will arrive at the right place before fear and trouble do.”
“I can do that,” Tobin said. “We pray for Calen all the time.”
“That’s great, Tobin,” Marisa said. “He will need it.” She sighed as she would have loved to be there for Calen, but clearly God was leading them onto different paths, at least for now. Her eyes closed briefly and her fingers tightened around her cup of tea. Prayer was now the only way she could walk beside him. Where her voice could not reach and her hands could not protect, she could entrust Calen to God. No distance was ever too far for Him.
“Will you stay with us, Marisa?” Tobin asked. “I would like that.”
Marisa gave him a weak smile. “Maybe, Tobin… I am not sure what I am going to do. Maybe I need to go home to my own place and help Grandfather with the goats. I miss them.”
Suddenly she realized how tired she was. The ordeal with Slink and Droskar had taken its toll.
“Please stay a little bit,” Tobin pleaded. “Calen is gone too.”
Marisa cast him an affectionate smile. “Maybe a few days, Tobin. Just to rest up a bit and get my strength back. But…,” she looked at Isola, “It’s not up to me.”
“Of course you can stay,” Isola answered immediately. “My house is your house. You know that. I’d be offended if you thought otherwise.”
“Then it’s settled,” Marisa said. “I’ll stay here until I am ready to go home. And in the meantime, Tobin, we should pray for Calen so he will have all the help he can get.”