I looked up, terrified to see a giant eye peeking down from above the clouds. Was this the Cyclops I’d thought was staring at me, poking at my right temple all the time I’d been in Thuros? I turned to the Chasm-crosser, searching his face for an explanation. I heard him whisper something to the tiny sphere in his hand. Simultaneously I heard from above a terrible thunder.

Chasm-crosser gently laid the marble down, then walked away. I looked back up at the sky, but I could see and hear nothing. The eye was gone. So was the thunder.

I awoke by the dying fire, trembling.

22

EARLY NEXT MORNING, eager to travel, we broke camp, munching on yesterday’s biscuits and sipping senaba as we walked. We hadn’t gone far before five enormous soldiers, with straight posture and military formality, approached us. They all had placid faces, sculpted jaws, deep-set eyes. The one I recognized, Marcus, stepped toward me and each of the others toward one of my companions.

Marcus led me away from the others to the north side of the road. After we’d gone a half-mile, we descended into a storm of wind and lightning. The horizontal rain pelted me, washing my eyes. I turned to Marcus, trying to see him through the blur. He’d disappeared.

As the rain beat down on me, I stood at the foot of a hill, wet leaves slick under my feet and blowing in my face. I didn’t want to climb it, but if I’d learned anything here, it was that what I wanted wasn’t reason enough to do or not do something. I climbed for an hour and, soaked to the bone, arrived at the top. There stood a lonely, gaunt tree, about nine feet tall. It had only two long limbs, spread horizontally about five feet, in macabre stick-man fashion. Wet leaves blew against it haphazardly, hanging on for a moment until they were blown off. As I came near it, mud grabbed at my feet. It thickened with every step. I tried to plod to drier ground but couldn’t.

The mud rose to my ankles. With every effort to get out, I sank deeper. It was now at my knees.

“What am I supposed to do?” I cried, hoping to bring back the warrior who’d abandoned me.

I reached out, grasping for branches that weren’t there. Then I saw someone in the distance watching me. He sat on a delicate white mare. Was it Marcus? No. It was a gentle rider with fierce eyes. The King!