Previously on Hidden Fragments
Elior, the mysterious hermit, confronted the Council of Twelve and boldly proclaimed the truth about their false image. When he called upon the God of the Scrolls, the soldiers were thrown back, and the enormous image came crashing down, revealing the shocking truth: the Council of Twelve had been nothing more than a carefully constructed deception.
But the fall of the image did not bring freedom. Malren, Droskar, Slink, and Drenick seized power as the new Council of Four, while Elior mysteriously vanished. Back at Grandfather’s farm, Calen and Marisa learned that their mission was far from over. The persecution would continue, and they now had a new task: to find faithful scribes and begin copying the Scrolls so the Word of God could spread throughout the land.
Chapter 54
The First Copy
Months Later
Tobin was having the time of his life on that beautiful morning.
He breathed in the sweet scent of sun-warmed pine trees and the fresh grass of the meadow. He laughed as Pax tore after the sticks that he hurled as far as he could across the field, only to return moments later with the prize clamped proudly between his jaws and a triumphant gleam in his loyal eyes.
Tobin had promised Isola that he would no longer wander into the forest alone. After all, falling into that deep hole had almost cost him his life, and Isola was not about to let him wander too far away. But since this was one of the last days he could still spend roaming the countryside with Pax at his side, she had granted him a little freedom. Tomorrow he would be back to school, occupied with reading and writing. Caldric Fenn, the teacher of the small school outside Bramblebrook, had returned to resume lessons for Tobin and a handful of other children.
And he had the new Council of Four to thank for that.
They had ordered Master Fenn to stop teaching at the official school in Bramblebrook. The old teacher prayed to the God of the Scrolls before every lesson, and word of it had reached the Council. The new rulers hated the Scrolls even more than the so-called Council of Twelve had. Master Fenn was only the latest victim.
Fortunately, Isola had told him and several of his old friends about the cave where Calen now spent his days copying the Scrolls. There was plenty of room there to hold classes without interference, and many of the friends of God hid there until better days would come.
Tobin did not mind in the slightest. He wanted to learn. Besides, Calen had promised to teach him the ways of a Scribe.
But today he could still enjoy one last day of freedom.
He had been having so much fun that, without realizing it, he had wandered close to the edge of the forest.
Somewhere deep among the trees, Tobin heard the call of a cuckoo. The sound was strangely inviting, as though the bird was trying to tell him about more secrets hidden within the woods.
For a moment, Tobin was torn.
Should he go in?
The forest looked so inviting.
Surely, he would not fall into another hole like he had before. If he was careful, there could be no harm in venturing just a little way into the woods. What could go wrong with Pax at his side?
Something stopped him. Everything could go wrong.
Had he not promised his mother not to even enter the forest? He remembered what Calen had told him: “The boy who learns to obey God in little things can be trusted with greater things. That, Tobin, is a lesson you as a Scribe must learn.”
That settled it. He wanted to become a Scribe, just like Calen. But Isola had not said anything about Pax.
Pax could go into the forest if he wanted to.
“Go on, Pax,” Tobin said to his faithful friend. “Fetch the stick from the woods.”
At once, he hurled the stick as far as he could. It struck a pine tree with a sharp crack before disappearing behind a cluster of ferns. Pax immediately dashed after it.
But as the dog raced off to retrieve the treasure, Tobin heard something else.
A cry of pain.
Pain… a scream?
Was someone out there?
Tobin froze.
Pax came storming out of the bushes, growling and barking, the hair on his back standing on end.
There was no doubt about it.
Somebody was there.
What now?
Suddenly, Tobin felt small.
Very small.
Surrounded by the wind, the vast sky and the dark forest before him, he realized just how alone he was. Someone was out there, and whoever it was, he was not about to face them all by himself.
“Come on, boy!” he shouted, turning to run home.
Pax did not obey at once. The dog remained rooted to the spot, still growling into the trees. When Tobin called again, however, he reluctantly turned and bounded after him.
This was a matter for Ronan, the seasoned soldier.
Then he heard it again.
“Help… I need help.”
Tobin’s stomach tightened. Somebody was definitely out there.
No, this was far beyond him.
“Come on, Pax!” he shouted. “We’re getting Ronan.”
He turned and ran.
“Whoever you are,” he muttered, “by the whiskers of Saint Gilles, Ronan can deal with you.”
***
Ronan was working alongside Grandfather in the vegetable garden when Tobin came running toward them. Sweat glistened on the boy’s forehead, and Pax raced wildly ahead of him.
“Ronan… come quick…”
Ronan dropped his hoe and looked up in surprise at the approaching boy. Was there danger? His hand instinctively moved to where his sword normally hung, but then he remembered that the weapon was still inside the cottage.
Tobin burst through the gate surrounding Grandfather’s garden.
“There’s… s-someone in the woods,” he gasped, struggling for breath. “H-he asked for help.”
“Where?” Ronan demanded.
Tobin turned and pointed toward the edge of the forest.
“Somewhere over there.”
“Stay here,” Ronan ordered. “I’m getting my sword.”
He spun around and sprinted toward the farmhouse. Moments later he reappeared in the doorway, gripping his sword firmly in his strong hand.
“Good gravy,” Tobin exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. His breathing had finally returned to normal. “I’m coming too. After all, you don’t know where I heard the voice.”
Ronan paid the boy no attention and was already racing through the gate. Tobin hurried after him.
A few minutes later, they stood at the edge of the forest.
A deathlike silence hung over the woods, broken only by the wind whispering through the trees.
Even Ronan, seasoned soldier though he was, felt a measure of unease. What lay hidden among the undergrowth?
“We know you’re there!” he shouted.
His voice rang out across the clearing. He held out his sword before him, ready to strike if necessary.
For a moment there was only silence.
Then, a few yards away, the bushes stirred, and the head of a man appeared.
“I mean no harm,” the stranger stammered. “I’m injured and I need help.”
Ronan was taking no chances.
“Step forward,” he ordered gruffly. “If you can still walk.”
The man obeyed and stumbled out of the brush.
His sorrowful eyes were sunken deep in their sockets, and he stared nervously at the sword Ronan still held at the ready. He was a stocky fellow with curly hair. His clothes were torn, and he appeared to have injured his ankle.
“What are you doing here?” Ronan demanded.
The man licked his lips. It was obvious he was on the verge of collapse.
“M-my name is Lorin,” he muttered. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed.
***
When Calen returned home that afternoon after spending the morning copying the Scrolls, accompanied by three brothers he had trained in the art of faithful transcription, his heart was light. In his satchel, he carried the first completed copy of the Scrolls of God, bound in a handsome brown leather cover. And soon, more copies would follow. The work was progressing far faster than he had dared to hope, and the vision of flooding the land with the Word of God no longer seemed impossible. He could hardly wait to show it to Marisa. She would be overjoyed to hold the finished copy in her hands and breathe in the scent of the fresh paper.
But when he saw her waiting for him at the door of Grandfather’s house, a serious expression on her face, he knew at once that something unusual had happened.
“What is it?” Calen asked.
“There’s a man in the house,” Marisa began.
“A man?”
Immediately, Calen thought of the time he had entered the farm for the first time with Marisa. The time Slink had been there, waiting for him.
Marisa saw the look of concern. “It’s not bad… at least, we don’t think so. But he says he’s on the run from the Council of Four. He said his name is Lorin and someone in Bramblebrook told him about an old goat farmer who was known for helping people.”
“Lorin,” Calen exclaimed, while he felt his stomach tighten. “What is he doing here?”
Marisa narrowed her eyes. “You know him? From where?”
“Ömstead,” Calen replied. “Met him on the road.” His face darkened. “Let’s be careful. He used to be a messenger for the Council of Twelve.”
Calen turned to his scribes, hiding his concern and said, “Nothing to worry about, lads. Just get some food and take a break. We still have a lot to do today.” Then he followed Marisa inside.
When he entered the living room, his heart skipped a beat.
There, in a chair with his right foot bandaged in a white cloth, sat Lorin. He had last seen that man in the Black Boar. He was the one who had carried that message about the image being erected in Ömstead.
Lorin’s face showed surprise when he saw Calen. He pushed himself back into the seat of his chair. Then he swallowed hard and looked down as if he were studying the bandage around his ankle. Was he ashamed?
Calen did not quite know what to think of it. Lorin had clearly been in the service of the Council. What was that man doing here, only a short distance from the place where the Scrolls were being copied?
“Lorin,” Calen said cautiously. “What brings you here?”
Lorin looked up. His eyes held a deep sadness; an expression Calen couldn’t quite place. The man was no longer the boastful messenger who had sung the glories of the Council of Twelve. He looked more like a frightened rabbit than a confident courier, as though he expected danger to burst through the door at any moment.
“Calen?”
He blinked and seemed to be searching for a way to change the subject.
“By the Twelve… uh… I mean, by the Four, w-what are you doing here?”
Calen fixed him with a steady look. “Never mind me. What happened to you?”
“C-can I trust you?” Lorin asked nervously. “You’re a friend of the Council too, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not,” Calen replied, unwilling to reveal any more than necessary about his own affairs.
Lorin sighed and looked at him with frightened eyes.
“I was only trying to do the right thing. Truly. You have to believe me.”
“I am willing to,” Calen said. “But first, you’ll have to tell me what happened.”
“I’m on the run,” Lorin replied. “The Council of Four want to imprison me. They think I’m a traitor, but I’m not. Calen… it wasn’t my fault that I carried messages for the Council, was it?”
His voice cracked. His fingers trembled.
“Take it easy,” Calen said gently. He was beginning to feel sorry for the man. “Tell me what happened.”
Lorin swallowed hard.
“After the image of the Council of Twelve was destroyed and people discovered the truth about them, everything changed. The new rulers persecute not only Christians but also anyone who still clings to the Council of Twelve.”
“Are you?” Calen asked. “Do you still believe in the Council?”
“No,” Lorin answered. “I don’t know what I believe. I am so confused. After everything changed, I met a man who claimed he could find me a place in the new government. He knew important people. Said he could arrange things for me if I paid him.”
“Did you?”
Lorin nodded. Tears filled his eyes.
“I gave him everything I had. It wasn’t much, but still…”
“And then?”
“He betrayed me.”
The words broke him. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks.
“Instead of helping me, he told the authorities that I was secretly working with the remaining followers of the Council of Twelve. They came to arrest me, but I escaped. That’s how I ended up here.”
Calen shook his head. The joy he had felt that morning while finishing one of the first complete copies of the Scrolls had faded. First, the Council of Twelve. Now the Council of Four. Different rulers, same darkness. Without God, men simply found new ways to deceive and devour one another. There was no hope apart from Him. Only when God Himself ruled would things truly be set right.
“And the man who betrayed you?” Calen asked.
As he spoke, he found himself thinking of the cunning Sylvaine Vrax. Traitors were often worse than open enemies.
Lorin wiped his eyes.
“It gained him nothing. He’s getting exactly what he deserves.”
“What do you mean?” Marisa asked.
“They say the new government doesn’t trust him either. He’s on the run now as well. There’s even a reward being offered for information leading to his capture.”
“What was his name?” Calen asked.
“Vrax. Sylvaine Vrax.” As he spoke the name, the tone of his voice dripped with contempt.
Silence settled over the room.
Calen looked at Marisa and knew she felt exactly what he did.
At last he said, “A man reaps what he sows, Lorin.”
Lorin rubbed his eyes.
“That’s from the Book of Order, right?”
“Not at all,” Calen chuckled. “You’ll not find that in the book of Order. It’s written elsewhere.”
Lorin looked up, his eyes wide.
Calen studied him for a moment. This was no Sylvaine Vrax. No Drenick. Just a frightened man who had spent his life following the wrong voices.
What if he showed him the Scrolls?
Elior had said that everyone in the land should have the chance to read God’s book and decide for themselves whether they would surrender to God or reject Him.
Marisa noticed his hesitation.
“Calen?” she asked softly. “Is everything all right?”
Calen nodded. A sudden joy rose within him, and he knew what he would do. Smiling broadly, he said to Lorin, “That saying is found in this book.”
He paused, then reached into his satchel and carefully withdrew the beautiful first copy of the Scrolls of God.
He placed the book before him. “Why don’t you read it for yourself?”
Lorin’s mouth fell open. A shudder ran through him as he instantly recognized what he was holding.
“T-this is God’s Book,” he whispered, running trembling fingers across the leather cover. “H-how did you get this?”
“That’s not important,” Calen replied. “What matters is what you’re going to do with what’s inside this book.”
“May I really read it?” Lorin asked. “To be honest… I’ve always wanted to know more about God. But I never knew anyone who could tell me about Him.”
“I’ll help you,” Ronan said from across the room. “I’ve only recently discovered the book myself, but take it from me: this Book is full of living water and heavenly bread that can satisfy every need. We’re going to spread these words throughout the whole land.”
Fresh tears sprang into Lorin’s eyes.
“Can I really read it?” he whispered. “I’m not worthy. I’ve done so many foolish things. Truth be told, I never understood the Book of Order anyway.”
“No one is worthy,” Calen said warmly. “The key does not lie with man but with God. The word is not ‘I’ but ‘He.’ Not my will, but Yours. In fact, everything can be summed up in a single word.”
Lorin stared at him.
“And that word,” said Calen, “is grace.”