His head hit the stone ceiling once, but the pain was washed away by a dozen thoughts swirling through his mind. Starting with who this creature ahead of him was.

A Roush. His eyes had been opened to the evil Shataiki, and now he’d met a Roush, those wise protectors spoken about in the legends.

Out in the sunlit canyon behind him, one of the Scabs was swearing in confusion. Would they find the opening?

Then he was through the dark passage into what appeared to be a huge hole in the rock, maybe a hundred yards wide. The bowl he was in had two possible exits that he could see. Blue sky above.

No Shataiki.

The Roush had stopped on the sand, twenty paces out, and was looking at him with an impish grin on its face. A cute, cuddly koala bear-looking thing. White as the clouds.

The air whooshed behind him, and Johnis watched in amazement as a second Roush swooped in with wings spread wide, landed on the sand, and waddled over to the other one, eyeing Johnis as it walked.

They faced him in silence, as if he was an unusual thing that had dropped out of the sky. He supposed he was giving them the same look.

“Well, well, well,” the second Roush said in a voice that purred softly. “So it begins.”

“Uhhh . . .” was all Johnis managed. He glanced back at the gap through which he’d been rescued. No sign of the Horde.

“Forgive us. It’s been thirteen years since any human has seen us. You have to understand that this is quite an ordeal, being seen again by such a noble creature.”

“You . . . you can speak,” Johnis said.

“And so can you,” the Roush said. “My name is Michal. This is Gabil. We’ve rescued you from death.”

And so they had.

“Thank you. Thank you, I just . . .” Johnis wasn’t sure what “he just.” He was grateful to be alive and stunned into amazement all at once.

“It’s okay, lad,” Michal said. “We—”

“It’s fine, fine by us,” the first one, Gabil, interrupted. “I’d be stunned by such a daring rescue myself. And I was quite clever, wasn’t I? Pulling you out at the last minute.”

“Gabil, please, no need to overdo it,” Michal said without looking at his comrade. “As we agreed, I’ll carry the conversation.”

“Of course.”

Michal took a short breath. “We don’t have as much time as my friend would like. They’ll eventually find a way in.”

Michal folded his wings behind his back. “We’re here, my friend, because you’ve been chosen for something special.”

“Do you mind stepping down?” Gabil asked. “You’re just a bit”—he stretched his wing and spindly fingers up—“tall for my tastes. On the horse, that is.”