“The large ones don’t grow in rocks!” Darsal said. “Billos is right: we have to go deeper where we know they are, or we could spend hours looking for nothing.”

Johnis took his eyes off the shattered cacti and looked farther into the canyon. Didn’t these recruits, the best of all the young fighters, see what was so obvious to him? The Horde had done this. It was a trap!

Johnis turned back, thinking how he should drop this little jewel into their minds, when movement at the treetops stopped him cold.

He hadn’t noticed them because they weren’t squawking, but the Shataiki had come. By the hundreds. Even more—too many to count, perched on the branches, staring at them with their beady eyes.

His horse shifted and snorted, as if it, too, had noticed.

Silvie followed his stare, then looked into his eyes, searching him.

Johnis spoke quietly for her to hear. “The Horde know we’re here. They obviously smashed the plants and are waiting for us to enter the canyons. Surely you can see that.”

“Of course the Horde smashed them,” Silvie said. “They eat the smelly flesh at the center. That doesn’t mean it’s a trap.”

“The coward is seeing ghosts again.” Billos smirked. “I suppose the Shataiki are swarming the trees again—isn’t that right, Scrapper?”

“The Horde were waiting for us in the clearing, and if we head into the desert they’ll be waiting for us again,” Johnis insisted. “We know the Horde is gathering. This doesn’t seem to be the time to go into the desert alone.”

Billos blew some air and rolled his eyes. “Please. The Horde is on the other side of the forest, in the east. We’re on the western side. Does logic escape you completely?”

Johnis studied the canyons, not sure how he felt any longer. It wasn’t fear that cautioned him. It was, in fact, common sense.

“We have a mission,” Billos snapped, growing impatient. “Are you refusing to come?”

“No. I’m just telling you what I know.”

“Save your knowledge for children, poet. We’re wasting time.”

Billos nudged his horse to the edge, then slapped it hard. It plunged over the lip, rode a small landslide of tumbling stones, and landed by the cacti far below.

One by one they followed his lead. The moment they headed down the canyon, the Shataiki bats left the trees and lined the cliff edges on either side of them. A foul stench drifted into the stuffy ravine, smothering Johnis.

He’d bided his time with these fools, but now his patience was growing thin. Even his younger sister, Kiella, wouldn’t have had any trouble believing that if you added everything up, it amounted to a hellish mess. The fires were reaching up and licking at their backsides. That was the advantage of a young mind—believing was easier.