He had a pit in his stomach as he thought of her, practically alone out there. He remembered, of course, her power, her incredible skills in combat; yet still, she was but a girl, hardly a woman yet, and Escalon was an unforgiving place. It was a quest she needed to take, for her benefit, yet still, he doubted himself. Had it been a mistake to send her on the journey alone? What if she didn’t make it? He would never be able to live with himself again.

Most of all, he wondered: who would she become during her training? Who would she be when she returned to him? He was both in awe of the powers he knew she had—and afraid of them.

Duncan looked out and watched the ever-changing landscape, the climate cooling as they neared the immense mountains. The grass shores bordering the river slowly gave way to bogs the further south they went, long stretches of river bank bordered by reeds, marshes. Duncan saw exotic, brightly colored animals raise their heads in the reeds and snap at the air before disappearing just as quickly.

Hour followed hour, the Thusius ever twisting and turning. The weather grew colder, the spray stronger, and soon Duncan felt his hands and feet growing numb. The mountains loomed ever larger, closer and closer, feeling as if they were just an arm’s reach away, though he knew they still had hours to go. Duncan searched for his horses out there, hoping, but saw none.

Duncan did not know how many hours had passed, holding his pole, studying the currents, when suddenly he noticed Seavig gesture in the raft beside him. As they rounded a bend, he noticed a disturbance in the water up ahead. Something was foaming and churning in the waters, even though the water here was calm. It was as if a school of fish might be beneath it.

Duncan studied it, confused, and as they neared, he thought he saw something leap from the water. He looked over to Seavig, and for the first time since they began this journey together, he saw real fear in his friend’s face.

“River sharks!” Seavig shrieked. “Get down!”

His men dropped to their stomachs on their rafts while Duncan watched, puzzled. Before he and his men could get down, he suddenly looked out and saw, with horror, what they were talking about: there, up ahead, was a school of massive sharks, thirty feet long, leaping from the river, soaring through the air in a high arch and crashing back down. There were dozens of them, and as the churning moved, they were all clearly heading upriver—right for them.