Aidan turned on his back, groaning, and looked up. He saw the man step forward, raise his boot, aim it for his face, and he could see from the look in his eyes that this man was evil, a cruel man, a heartless man. He would be good to his word: he would kill Aidan. And Aidan would die out here in the woods, alone, far from everyone, on this black and cold night—and not a soul would ever know.

His trip to see his father had come to an abrupt end.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Kyra tumbled end over end in the gushing rapids of the River Tanis, trying to catch her breath as the icy water pierced her bones. It was the coldest water of her life—yet it was not the cold that bothered her, or even the pain as she slammed into rocks, bouncing off them like a twig. Nor was it fear for her own well-being. What upset her most was her regret over Andor, leaving him behind, being able to reach him, to save him—while he made a heroic stand against those hornhogs, while sacrificing his own life for hers. She had never encountered an animal more noble, more fearless. The idea of abandoning him while he fought her battles was too much for her. Even while tumbling, she fought against the current with all she had, desperate to make it back to him.

But she just could not. The current gushed and carried her downriver with a tremendous force, and she could barely stay afloat, much less swim backwards. She knew, with a pain in her heart, that Andor was gone forever.

Kyra suddenly slammed against a rock and this time, weakened, reeling from the pain, she felt herself begin to submerge. She felt herself sinking lower and lower, dragged down by the currents, and unable to stop it. She looked up and saw the sunlight from the surface becoming more faint, and a part of her, overcome with remorse, did not want to go on. The quest to Ur felt insurmountable, so many obstacles at every turn, a land so filled with cruelty and inhospitality—and Ur still so far away.

Yet as Kyra looked up she saw shadows, saw the outline of her raft, and she remembered Leo and Dierdre. If she let herself die here, those two would be left alone, floating away into danger themselves—and she could not allow that to happen. She had to live, if not for herself, then for them. And for her father, and for Aidan. For all those who cared about her. Regret was a terrible thing, but life had to go on. She could simply not allow herself to be swallowed by guilt and remorse. It was selfish. Other people needed her.