“Not one man,” Martyn said. “Thomas Hunter. You forget that I know him like a brother. Be patient. Find him and let the desert dry him up like a dead leaf.”

“And then?”

Martyn looked at the dark, eastern sky. “Then I’ll take him myself.”

TIME WAS AGAINST JOHNIS. HE KNEW IT LIKE HE KNEW that the sun would rise again. If he couldn’t reach the Horde city by daybreak, then all would surely be lost. Martyn’s attention would now be on the Red Valley, but once light flooded the desert, they would see him crossing the flats that ran up to the dunes that hid the city.

Johnis bathed as the horse ran and kept the beast headed west toward Thrall. Toward Rosa and Silvie. He switched to Thomas’s horse after the first hour because his was nearly dead from the exhausting days of running. Without a loyalty to Thomas, his horse would either follow him, or turn and find its way back to the forests.

Every hour he considered turning back and throwing himself at Thomas’s feet for mercy. Surely Thomas would think of a way to save his mother. Was he risking too much for a desperate attempt to save two honorable women? Or was he serving his own selfish need to be loved?

Yes and yes. Still, he rode west, as hard as the tired stallion would take him.

The large sandy hills rose on the dark horizon when the stars were still in the sky, and Johnis surged forward, clinging to a thin line of hope. But reaching the city was only the beginning of his challenges. He had a plan, sure he did, but so much depended on his speed and boldness.

Speed, because the light would ruin everything.

Boldness, because only a fool would attempt a rescue. Perhaps foolishness was a better word. Speed, boldness, and foolishness. Of the three he had mostly the latter.

But he did make it over the hills before sunrise. And when the sprawling Horde city came into view, he spoke the first words he’d said all night.

“Elyon, help me.”

THOMAS WASN’T SURE WHY JOHNIS HAD CHOSEN TO BETRAY him, only that he’d done it masterfully by playing on Thomas’s greatest weakness—his belief in the lad.

Unless it was the Horde general who’d conceived the whole plot, which meant they were playing on Johnis, knowing that he was the way to Thomas because Thomas thought he was the Chosen One.

Either way, they knew too much. The forests were filled with spies!

He walked over to Jackov’s dead horse and quickly stripped the knives and sword. He’d been stranded by design, which meant the Scabs would come for him. And when they did, he would take more than a few down in an attempt to take a horse.