“Stop!” Thomas Hunter’s voice roared above the sounds of fighting. “On your feet!”

Jackov was already standing, storming toward the crowd at Johnis’s right. He was hunting for the ball, Johnis realized. The boy’s face was red from fighting, and his eyes glared with anger.

“Give it up,” Jackov growled, eyes scanning the crowd.

Whether it was the image of his mother or the sight of the furious Jackov, Johnis didn’t know, but he moved without thinking. He slipped his foot around the ball and eased it behind his heels so that it was hidden from view.

“Give it up!” Jackov thundered, pacing along the sideline closer to Johnis. The other fighters had stood and were watching.

“You’ve lost the ball and you think a few words will bring it back?” Thomas called.

Johnis’s heart thumped. He almost kicked it out then. But he didn’t.

“Use your head!” Thomas said, facing the others. “All of you, listen to me. How many times have I told you that you must defeat the Horde with what’s in your head and your heart before you defeat them with your muscle? They outnumber us! They outmuscle us! They are stronger, but we have more heart. So think with your heart!”

His voice rang out with enough force to bring a tremble to Johnis’s legs.

“Let them see the confidence in your eyes. Let them know that your heart cannot be stopped! I need leaders who will stand in the face of terror and laugh. I need a few who will throw their heads back and roar at the sun because they know that Elyon is on their side, and no one, not even the smelly Horde, can defeat the followers of Elyon!”

Encouraged by Thomas’s speech, Jackov screamed at the crowd. “Give up the Horde hair or I swear I will slit your throat where you stand!”

Is this what Thomas meant? Johnis wondered.

“Use your head, Jackov!” Thomas shouted, egging the fighter on. “Find me my football!”

Jackov began to run along the sideline, joined now by three others from his team.

“An extra horse to the one who finds my ball!” Thomas challenged.

Now ten of the twenty-four ran to the sidelines, slapping their palms with sticks.

Johnis felt sweat running down his neck. Why was the crowd so silent? He’d done a foolish thing, hiding the ball. Why wasn’t his father scooping the ball up and throwing it out before any of the fighters discovered that it had been him, Johnis, who’d hidden it from them?

Then Thomas winked at him, and he knew what was happening. The commander was using him to make a point. Even a weak boy, rejected from consideration to join the Guard, can hide a ball from you.

“Stop!”

They stopped. All but Jackov, who required more urging.

“Stop or take the back of my hand, boy.”

Now Jackov stopped.