Hidden Fragments Chapter 15

The journey continues

Previously:
Calen, Marisa, and Tobin were lost in the dark forest when Tobin’s dog, Pax, discovered them and led them safely to Tobin’s mother, Isola.

She offered them shelter, and for two full weeks Calen copied the hidden Scrolls while he and Marisa grew quietly closer. Now, with the work nearly done, Tobin announces that other believers carrying more Scrolls will arrive for a secret meeting tonight.

All seems peaceful… but danger is never far.

Chapter 15

A Gathering of the Faithful

The scroll trembled in Calen’s hands. He told himself it was because of the slight draft from the window, not his nerves, but his pulse said otherwise. This would be his first official gathering with other believers and Marisa had asked him to read from the scroll Angus had given him.

“That will be such a blessing to them,” she said. “It’s been a long time since they’ve heard that scroll.”

“Me, reading?” he protested. “I hardly know the God of the Scrolls. And I don’t know any of the people who are coming.”

Marisa shook her head decisively. Her voice was gentle and her eyes held a twinkle, but Calen knew her well enough by now to know she would not easily change her mind. “You do know the God of the Scrolls,” she scoffed. “Look at all you’ve seen and experienced these weeks. And what’s more…” She paused, and a peculiar look crossed her face. “You are the one God chose to gather the lost scrolls. People need to see you and hear from you.”

The look in her eyes made Calen’s heart flutter. Was that respect? It shouldn’t be. He was nothing but a fumbling fool. Surely, she and not he, should be the one to speak God’s words.

He opened his mouth to protest again, but when he saw the determined look on her face, he sighed and nodded. “Fine. But what do I read?”

Marisa looked around Isola’s quiet living room, letting the stillness settle before she spoke. “Remember when Jesus met the woman at the well? Read about that. It’s so full of hope.” Her voice lowered as she quoted, “‘But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.’”

And so, Calen withdrew to his favorite spot near the window where he had copied scroll after scroll and looked down at the parchment, his hands still unsteady.

A well of water, springing up into eternal life…

The words stirred something deep within him, something warm and comforting, as if he stood on the threshold of a palace of light.

He put the scroll down and looked outside. It was nearly dark now. People would not show up until after nightfall.

“It’s safer that way,” Marisa had said. “It wasn’t always like that.”

Her voice had softened then, as though she were remembering a world long vanished. She told him that life for the believers had once been very different, before the Council of Twelve came to power and outlawed the Scrolls of the Ages. Back then, services were held every week; the highlight of everyone’s life. People from all around would come by wagon, on horseback or on foot, whatever was most convenient. Old folks and young couples, farmers and lawyers and of course, lots of happy children too.

Everyone dressed in their finest clothes, not to show off, but to honor the God of the Scrolls. There was joyful singing and someone would rise to speak about a passage that had stirred their heart that week. Afterwards, they shared food and laughter until the sun went down.

Sometimes, Marisa said, the presence of the God of the Scrolls was so near that a holy hush would fall over them. For a few moments, every soul felt known, loved and completely at peace.

“But that was then,” she finished. “Today, it is different. Still, we seek the joyful fellowship. We just need to be more careful.”

“Why does the Council of Twelve hate the Scrolls so much?” Calen asked. “What I’ve learned about God is only wonderful. I don’t have any desire to rise up in violence or force anyone to give up the Book of Order. I just… don’t understand.”

Marisa gave him a sad smile, almost as if she’d been asked that question many times before. “That’s just it, Calen. You don’t understand because you’ve met the true God of the Scrolls, the One who fills your heart with hope and peace. But the folks in Council haven’t. They’ve built their world on control, not trust. The Scrolls teach that every man and woman answers to God alone. That frightens them.”

She walked toward the window and looked out at the gathering dusk. “Long ago, the Council of Twelve rebelled against God. They broke away from the Scrolls, believing faith in God was harmful. They promised to build a better world without God. In fact, they charged God with every sorrow under the sun, never admitting that the true darkness lived in the hearts of men. ‘Faith’ they believe, ‘divides people.’ They claim that the Scrolls caused hatred and bloodshed. So, they banned them by saying it was the right way to free mankind from superstition. But the truth is…” she turned back to him, her eyes dim with sorrow, “…they were afraid. A person who believes in something higher than the Council can’t be completely owned.”

She let the silence stretch for a moment. “The Scrolls make people free on the inside, even when they’re chained on the outside. And no tyrant can bear that.”

Calen understood. A passage from the Scrolls he had carefully copied came to mind. “It’s like in the Scroll of John where Jesus said: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

Marisa beamed at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with kindness. “I believe you’ll make a fine preacher tonight,” she said.

Calen wasn’t so sure about that, but there was no refusing her. He would be called upon to read from the Scrolls this night. It was frightening, yes, but somewhere deep inside, the thought stirred a quiet excitement too. A longing to share those wonderful words, to help others see their beauty and feel their strength.

As he looked out the window again, he saw a faint light dancing in the distance, just beyond the hill. Someone emerged from the forest, a lantern swinging in hand. His heart quickened. Soon the night would fill with whispered prayers and forbidden songs.

***

Tobin could hardly contain his excitement when Mother told him he could join the secret meeting. Only on rare occasions had Isola let him stay up so late, and normally he was supposed to be fast asleep long before the meeting began. But tonight, with Calen and Marisa still around, she had said he could stay.

He sat near the back, eyes wide and looked around the circle in the living room. The open fire flickered against the walls, and he caught glimpses of shadowy faces, all whispering and leaning in as if they held some grand secret.

Baker Samwell had come, but Mrs. Mabel stayed at home. “She sends her greetings, Tobin,” the baker said. “But it’s a matter of safety. I can easily slip back into the city alone through the Camel’s Nose, but I don’t want to take the risk with my dear Mabel.”

Tobin didn’t mind. Samwell had brought something almost better than Mrs. Mabel: a batch of fresh cookies and a real Fluff ‘n’ Stuff Cake, complete with yellow cream. It was Tobin’s favorite.

“It’s for after the meeting, Tobin,” Mother explained when she saw how Tobin greedily eyed the luscious pie. But Samwell winked at him and secretly pulled a Sunbeam Spicer from his bag. Tobin’s mouth watered. This was the best evening ever.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Samwell whispered conspiratorially. “Now you sit over there.” He pointed to a small stool and handed Tobin the precious sweet. Tobin grinned. Yes, Samwell was a man you could trust.

At last, the meeting began.

Ten people had come, not counting Tobin himself. Mother sat nearby and so did Calen, Marisa and Baker Samwell. Tobin knew only two others. A bit to the left was Jonas Brent, a farmer who lived not far from their house. Tobin sometimes played with his son, Joben. The other man was Caldric Fenn, the headmaster of the little school they’d made for children who didn’t live in Bramblebrook. He had never seen the other four. One of them made him uneasy. The other three seemed fine. The one he didn’t like had a strange look about him. As Tobin was just finishing his Sunbeam Spicer, the man came over.

“Hello,” he said. “You must be Tobin. I am… eh… you can call me Uncle Sylvaine. I have never been to this meeting, but I really love the God of the Scrolls. I came with Mister Vorn.” He pointed to a man with a bushy beard and a friendly smile. Tobin had no idea who that was either.

“Mister Vorn is my friend,” Uncle Sylvaine added. “He teaches me the ways of God.”

Tobin didn’t like Uncle Sylvaine’s voice. It sounded squeaky and unnaturally high, and neither were his eyes kind, like Calen’s or Marisa’s. The man reached out as if to shake Tobin’s hand, but seeing the cream on Tobin’s fingers, he only shrugged and gave Tobin’s head a quick pat, too firm to be friendly.

“We will be eating from the true bread of life tonight, my boy,” he said. “Much better than whatever you are eating there.”

Tobin just blinked at him, unsure what that meant, and decided he disliked him even more.

Then Mother clapped her hands, indicating the meeting would start.

First, they sang several songs. Tobin knew them all by heart. Mother would often sing them to him when he would go to bed. He loved singing and sang along, as loud as he dared. Mother had cautioned them not to be too loud, but that was difficult if you sat near the fire, way past your bedtime and your tummy was full of Sunbeam Spicer.

After the singing Calen stood up. He cleared his throat several times and seemed to have a hard time. Did he have a frog in his throat? Tobin almost wanted to get up and give him some water, but Mother beat him to it. It worked, for after he took a few swallows of the mug Mother had handed him, he began to talk and explained in great detail who he and Marisa were and what they had experienced so far.

Fascinating.

Tobin had no idea of all that had happened already, and he sat spell-bound. Imagine that. Calen had been in prison and had met the Lord in a lake that showed him all his sins … Truthfully, Tobin wasn’t sure he would want to ever go to that lake, although it seemed to have done Calen a world of good.

The more Calen spoke, the stronger his voice sounded. Tobin had never seen a prophet, but he was sure prophets would sound like Calen. Strong and full of conviction; not that weird mousy voice of Uncle Sylvaine, who wasn’t even a real uncle.

“We came this far by faith,” Calen said. “If it wasn’t for the protection and guidance of God, and the help of Marisa …, he nodded in her direction, “… I would not be here tonight. But please understand that I am not anything special. Why the God of the Scrolls chose me for this mission is truly beyond me. I am nothing but a messenger and it’s my mission to collect all the Scrolls and bind them together, so our beloved country can have the entire council of God.”

“How many scrolls do you already have?” Uncle Sylvaine asked in his high, irritating voice.

No, Tobin definitely didn’t like Uncle Sylvaine.

Calen looked at Marisa before he answered. She just smiled, so he said, “We have twelve so far,”

“T-That’s wonderful,” headmaster Caldric Fenn said. “I have never even seen so many scrolls together.”

“Let me read to you all from the Scroll of John,” Calen said. “Would you like that?”

“Of course,” Baker Samwell said and added with a laugh, “You don’t have to ask us that.”

Tobin could hardly breathe. He had never heard about the Scrolls of John, but had heard from headmaster Fenn that it was just about one of the most beautiful books of the Scrolls. As Marisa looked around in her bag and fetched the Scroll of John, the room turned still. Nobody spoke. Everyone was filled with awe and waited eagerly to hear the words that would come. As Calen rolled out the parchment a holy hush washed over them all.

His eyes scanned the parchment and he began to read. “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

He read for at least half an hour.

He read about a woman at a well who drank everlasting water, about a blind man who could suddenly see, and about Jesus being a Shepherd who would not hesitate to fight wolves to protect little sheep. Lastly, he read about a man whom He raised from the dead.

How was that even possible? Jesus was really very, very big.

Was Jesus his friend too? He prayed every night, but if Jesus could be his Shepherd too … By the whiskers of Saint Giles, that would be awesome.

At last Calen stopped reading. He handed the scroll back to Marisa, gave the others a polite nod and sat down on his chair again.

For a long moment, it was still again. But at last, a voice broke through the holy hush. It was Jonas Brent. “You said you have twelve scrolls already?”

Calen nodded. “Yes, we do.”

“How will you keep all the scrolls safe?” Mr. Brent asked. “What if Slink, or Droskar, or Drenick catches up with you and arrests you?”

“Marisa has memorized most,” Calen answered.

“Most, but not all,” Headmaster Fenn broke out. “You need a place where you can keep them safe, until you have all of them.”

The others nodded their agreement. “Yes. You are too vulnerable like this,” Uncle Sylvaine added.

Calen thought for a moment and made a helpless motion. “But where?”

Everyone thought for a moment, but nobody had a suggestion.

Tobin too wracked his brain. Could they hide the scrolls under his bed? It was messy there and not even Mother ever looked there. But he knew he wasn’t supposed to open his mouth, so he said nothing.

“I know of a place,” Uncle Sylvaine peeped up.

Everyone turned to look at him. “Where?” Headmaster Fenn demanded.

Uncle Sylvaine licked his lips, waited for impact, and then said: “The Shade-Crown Ridge. In the mountains.There’s a recluse living there, a hermit of sorts who favors the God of the Scrolls”

A shock went through the entire room although Tobin didn’t understand why. He had never heard of the Shade-Crown Ridge.

“They say that place is cursed,” Jonas Brent said and his eyes blinked nervously.

“And to get there you have to cross the Bridge of Echoes. That’s very dangerous,” Mister Vorn whispered as if he already saw a perilous rope bridge over some sort of terrifying abyss full of the bones of travelers that had fallen in.

“Don’t you think the God of the Scrolls could protect Calen and Marisa there?” Uncle Sylvaine said, in defense of his idea. “And …,” he added in his squeaky voice, “I’ve been there. I know the way, and I …” his eyes went around the circle. “… I am willing to show the way. Just like the Good Shepherd Calen has been reading about.”

It was still as everyone considered his words. At last, Marisa herself spoke up. “Why will the Scrolls be safe there?”

“The Council of Twelve is afraid of the place. They won’t go there. The Mountain Spirits are there. But I know the hermit. A faithful man, who can be trusted. He will guard whatever Scrolls there are for the time being.”

“B-But the place is really cursed,” Baker Samwell said. “At least, that’s the word.”

“And you claim to believe in the power of the God of the Scrolls?” Uncle Sylvaine said, while wrinkling his nose. “Come on, where is your faith? We are talking about saving our country’s spiritual health.”

Tobin tightened his little fists. He wanted to jump up and scream, “I don’t like Uncle Sylvaine. Under my bed is a much better place.” But of course, he couldn’t say anything. If he would even open his mouth, Mother would send him to bed.

Calen cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, brother … eh …”

“Vrax. Brother Sylvaine Vrax,” Uncle Sylvane replied. “I’m staying with Brother Vorn for the moment, but I am at your service. I can make sure the scrolls will stay safe.”

“Good. At least it is in the direction of Ömstead,” Calen said. “We will discuss this plan further. But for now, let’s finish in a word of prayer, and I believe Samwell Wheatley has brought us a fresh batch of cookies and a real Fluff ‘n’ Stuff Cake. I think we all deserve a nice big piece tonight.”

The others cheered their consent.

The meeting was over.

But Tobin didn’t feel like eating cookies at all, or even a piece of Fluff ‘n’ Stuff Cake. Something didn’t feel right and he knew what it was.

It was Uncle Sylvaine.

___