But Johnis had no interest in a scouting trip. In fact, the closer they came to the desert, the more he knew that a scouting trip was pure folly. He already knew what they would find. The Horde army would be moving south from where they’d been turned back just yesterday. But Johnis didn’t care about the Horde army.

He only wanted his mother back. And to his way of thinking, there was only one way to accomplish that here and now.

As they neared the desert, they began to pass fighters returning home from the western front. Five thousand had been posted here just yesterday, and their supply of lake water was undoubtedly low.

Every Guard fighter was required to carry enough lake water to bathe at least once every three days to fend off the graying Horde disease, but when a whole army traveled, they often carried extra water in large canvas bags thrown over mules and horses.

Johnis was looking for one of these. Or more if he could find them. And he found them as the fighters left the forest behind. One of the Guard was towing a train of three mules, each laden with two five-gallon canvas water bags.

Johnis veered for the mules. “You there, with the mules. Are you headed back to the village?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll take these off you. You won’t need them where you’re going.”

The man eyed him. “And you will? Sir?”

“I may. It’s none of your concern. How many are left on the cliffs?”

“Most have gone. The Third Fighting Group is holding back till morning.”

“Carry on.”

The man hesitated, then tossed the lead rope to Johnis, who caught it and led the animals back the way they’d come.

“And you need the water for what?” Silvie asked. “We just bathed.”

“The last time we went out, we nearly lost our lives because we ran out of water. Never too safe. Here, take them.” He handed her the rope and kicked his horse. “Wait by the Igal point.”

“Where are you going?”

He pushed his horse to a trot, refusing to answer.

The Forest Guard had positioned itself along a line of cliffs overlooking the canyon lands that petered out into sand dunes a mile to the west. From there the desert stretched as far west as anyone had traveled. The last of the fighters was slipping into the forest, but common strategy required a rear guard to hold a front long enough to ensure that no attack could be mounted from behind.

It was this rear guard that Johnis wanted. Needed.

He found them camped with open fires along the edge of the cliff three hundred yards north of the Igal point, the lookout that saw far into the desert. The Third Fighting Group, five hundred fighters strong. Their fires would be seen deep into the desert by any Horde.