His men all blew their horns at once, and Seavig shoved with his pole, desperately trying to move his raft to the far side of the river. Duncan and his men followed, steering their rafts to the far side of the river, and as they did, Duncan looked over to the middle of the river and was shocked by what he saw. There were a series of small whirlpools, twisting and turning, making a great noise, sucking everything in their path down into it. It consumed much of the river, leaving only a narrow strip to navigate past, forcing their great army to cruise alongside the edge of the river single file.

Duncan looked back over his shoulder, taking stock of his men, and his heart dropped to see one of his rafts not get out of the way fast enough. He watched with horror as it was sucked into the whirlpool, his men shrieking as they spun again and again, instantly sucked down to the bottom of the river.

Duncan reflexively tried to jump in after them, even though he was a good fifty yards away, but Seavig reached out with his pole and held it against his chest, stopping him, while Duncan’s men grabbed his shoulders.

“You jump in, you’re a dead man,” Seavig said. “The more who follow, the more will die. Without you, far more men will die. Is that what you wish?”

Duncan stood there, torn inside, feeling as if he were going down with his men. Deep down, he knew Seavig was right. He had no choice but to grit his teeth and watch his men, from afar, disappear in the currents.

Duncan turned back, reluctantly, looked ahead, downriver, as the swirls disappeared and the currents went back to normal. He cursed this place. Nothing pained him more than to watch the death of his men—and to be helpless to do anything about it. It was the price of being a leader, he knew. He was no longer just one of the men; he was responsible for each and every one.

“I am sorry, my friend,” Seavig said with a heavy voice. “It is the price of the Thusius. The land would, I’m sure, carry its own dangers.”

Duncan noticed the fear in the faces of the soldiers on the raft with him, including his two sons, and he could not help but think of Kyra. He wondered where she was now. Had she reached Whitewood yet? Had she made it to the sea?

Most of all, was she safe?