by Ted Dekker
“I heard some things,” Jackov said.
“The whole world is hearing things these days.”
“About a woman,” the large lad said.
Johnis eyed him. “What woman?”
“A woman they took from the forests when she was collecting the Catalina cacti for her sick boy. Now she’s sick. A Scab who looks like a baboon for all the rotting—”
Johnis dove at the boy, knocked him backward to the ground, and straddled his chest with a raised fist before he fully realized what he was doing. He’d exploded at the mention of his mothers demise—he was hardly acting like a good candidate for leadership among the Guard. An impulsive hothead, more like it.
He paused, and that slight hesitation cost him the advantage. Jackov jerked his knee up into the small of Johnis’s back, then twisted to one side.
What happened next couldn’t be easily explained by Johnis, who’d never trained in the art of close-in fighting as Jackov had. All he knew was that the fighter proved why he, not Johnis, deserved to fight for the Guard. Jackov swung one leg high over their heads and spun on one shoulder so that his heels lined up with Johnis’s head.
His boot crashed into Johnis’s temple. The tables were so quickly reversed that Johnis forgot to defend himself.
Then Jackov was over him, with one knee in his throat and a knife in his hand.
“Is this what you want, squat? Don’t think for a moment that your stunt in the stadium was anything more than a fluke. I could cut your tongue out now and be rewarded for—”
A body flew in from behind them, parallel to the ground, and crashed into Jackov’s shoulder. The stronger lad was taken out like an apple being swatted off a stick by the broad side of a sword. As the attacker streaked over Johnis, he saw who’d saved him: Silvie.
Shorter than Jackov by a full head but as fast as a fireball, she had him flailing and landing hard on his buttocks before he knew what hit him. Then it was her knee in his throat and a knife in her hand.
They both knew how skilled she was with those knives. Jackov threw up both hands. “Easy! Get off me, for Elyon’s sake, back off!”
“You tangle with him, you tangle with me,” she snapped.
“He tangled with me!” Jackov hissed.
“And so would I if you insulted my mother,” Silvie said.
“Fine, just back off. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
Johnis rolled to his feet and rubbed a lump on his left temple. “Let him up, Silvie.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I’m not asking you to trust him. Just let him up.”
She did so, backing away slowly, knife still in hand. Jackov got his feet under his body and pushed himself up. “You’re both loose in the head,” he said.
“What is it that you think I should hear?” Johnis asked.
Jackov took a deep breath. “Your mother isn’t with the Horde army.”
“How do you know?” Johnis exchanged a glance with Silvie.
“I told you, I overheard one of them,” Jackov said.
“The Scabs were fighting, not talking,” Johnis said.
“You think I let myself get caught in the middle of that bloodbath? I trailed and dipped into a valley when they came up behind you. I heard them then.”
A soldier who would duck a fight might be a coward, but in retrospect Jackov’s actions could be seen as wise rather than cowardly.
“Where is she, then?” Silvie demanded.
Jackov circled them and leaned on the rock, lips twisted in a grin. “In the Horde city.”
“The city … There’s more than one city.”
“There’s only one large city. Three days’ ride southwest.”
“How do you know that?” Johnis asked.
“Everyone knows that,” Jackov said. “But they said as much. Follow the course they were on and you’d come close. But it’s hidden.”
Johnis wasn’t sure what to make of this admission. Jackov seemed sincere enough, but he also had confused motives. What if he was simply out to ruin Johnis for the trouble he’d caused him?
“You don’t believe me?”
“Should I?” Johnis asked.
“He’s right about the city,” Silvie said.
Johnis frowned, his eyes holding Jackov, who looked more like a snake than the bearer of truth at the moment. “But should we believe him about overhearing the Horde?”
“Your mothers ring should convince you,” Jackov said.
Only Billos, Darsal, and Silvie knew about the ring. So then Jackov was telling the truth—he must’ve heard about the ring from the Horde. Unless Billos had joined him in a plot to undermine Johnis, something he couldn’t accept. Billos might be testy, even rude, but he wasn’t a traitor.
“Who told you …?”
“I told you, I heard them! How many times do you want me to repeat myself?”
“And what else did you overhear?”
Jackov looked toward the west, eyes lost in thought.
“Tell me!”
“She’s a slave for someone they call the Dark Priest.”
“You’re lying!”
“I can show you how to find her.”
And with those words, Johnis knew that he was going out into the desert again. He wouldn’t show his face in the village or make any further explanation to the Council. Not until he knew the truth about his mother, and looking at Jackov now, he knew that the truth awaited him in the desert.
“Why would you risk your neck for my mother?” Johnis asked.
“To redeem myself,” Jackov said. “To show the forests that I can lead men too.”
The boy’s logic made sense, in a desperate sort ofway. If Jackov led the very fighter who’d taken his place as most favored young recruit on a successful rescue mission, the forests might reconsider his heroism. Good for Jackov.
And if they did find his mother … Johnis felt his hope swell.
There was also the matter of the missing books—now either in his saddlebag on the route they would take or in the possession of the Horde.
Johnis suddenly felt desperate to be gone, into the desert, to the Horde city. He ran for his horse, still tied to a tree at the clearing’s edge.
“Where are you going?” Jackov asked. “Is this a yes?”
“Yes, Johnis, where are you going?” Silvie demanded. “You can’t seriously think you’re going with him.”
He spun back. “You don’t trust me?”
“Should I?” she asked.
It wasn’t the first time these last two days she’d asked the question. The last time he’d answered immediately: yes. Now a beat passed before he responded.
“No. No, you shouldn’t come with us. But you should also realize that I have no choice.”
“Of course you do! He’s doing this for his honor, not yours.”
Jackov stepped up. “Would I do it if I wasn’t certain? The desert’s a dangerous place.”
“And how do you know where she’s being held?” Silvie demanded. “So you take us to this Horde city, which only leads us into a trap!”
The fact that she’d included herself wasn’t lost on Johnis. A pang of guilt rode his spine. She, like he, surely knew there was more to this whole business than what Thomas or the Guard could possibly know. He was playing the fool, but in the absence of a better way, he would follow his heart—the stakes were much higher than any of them knew.
This was about more than his mother. It was about the forests’ survival. He deserved the severest punishment. Or was it a hero’s welcome yet? Silvie seemed to know even more than he did. Why else would she stay by him after how he’d treated her?
“Then don’t take me up on it!” he challenged. “But she is there, and she is alive, and she is a Scab. And I will take you at least that far; that’s what I’m offering. Nothing more.”
“Silvie . , .” Johnis covered the ground between them quickly and took her by the arm, turning her away from Jackov. He whispered so that
the thug couldn’t hear. “It’s the books, Silvie. We have to go after the books!”
“This isn’t about the books. It’s about your mother.”
“No, it’s about both. Do I have a choice?”
She liked it when I moved close to her, he thought. So he pressed even closer, shielding her from Jackov. “If I go to the Council now, they’ll have my head. Will that serve our mission to find the books? You know it won’t!”
“This is crazy, Johnis! We just had our backsides handed to us!”
“Then they won’t be expecting us. I have to do this.”
For a long moment she considered their options, staring back at Jackov, then into Johnis’s eyes. “Billos and Darsal?”
“No, we can’t involve them.”
She nodded slowly. “I still don’t trust him.”
“The books, Silvie! We took a vow!”
“And you’re using that vow for something else.”
“Can I help it that my mother is with them? Am I a fool?”
Her eyes searched his, and for a brief moment he thought about kissing her, but he knew that his motivation was mixed, so he let the moment pass.
“You are a fool,” she said. “The kind I might die for. If we go, we do everything by agreement.”
“Of course.”
“We don’t go off thoughtlessly. We stay cautious and move like snakes. No bulldogs.”
“Do I look like a bulldog?”
“No, but he does.” Silvie glanced back at Jackov.
“I’ll let you put a muzzle on him if you want,” Johnis said. “We’ll have to take supplies and water. Enough to last a week.”
“It’s not the water I worry about.”
“Then what?”
“Its you,” she said. “I worry for your sanity.”
he first day out of Middle Forest crawled by with all the speed of a snail, as any day filled with such raw nerves would pass.
They’d spent half the night laying plans and pulling together supplies, a task left mostly to Jackov because Johnis was certain that if he or Silvie were seen pulling water from the lake or loading up six horses or sorting through weapons at the armory, an alarm would be raised. But Jackov managed with surprising ease.
The plan was quite simple, Silvie thought. Six horses, three burdened with enough water and food to last three warriors a week in the desert. They would ride stallions, pale to blend with the desert and fast in the event they were forced to make a run for it. The route would run along the same course they’d taken after the Horde the previous night, then two more days deep into the southwest. If any Scabs presented themselves, they would take the freshest horses and run, which meant that they had to keep the animals watered at all times. Horde horses, like the Horde themselves, were far slower than those of the Forest Guard and would never stand a chance in a pursuit.
In the desert, speed was their greatest friend.
Jackov explained how he’d lain half-covered with sand that night, listening to three men discuss Johnis’s mother, who was in the main city, Thrall, slaving for the Dark Priest, as they called their holy man, Jackov knew where this city was because the Scabs scoffed at the notion that anyone would go to such lengths to find his mother. They’d joked that such a fool would probably search until he found the city itself, hidden behind the large Kugie dunes to the southwest, two days’ march from where they’d fought the night battle.
And what was Jackovs plan once they found this hidden Horde city named Thrall? Simple: find the Dark Priest; find the mother. They would have to dress as Horde, of course.
Silvie quit protesting the lack of a more detailed plan soon enough. Until they saw what they were dealing with, they could hardly plan with any confidence, Jackov insisted.
In the late afternoon they came upon the battlefield where 137 of the Third Fighting Group had been slaughtered.
Silvie raised her hand as she rode up the dune just north of the battle scene. The sun was hot, despite the wind. A single dead Scab lay half-buried by sand on the crest, just ahead. His black battle dress flapped lazily in a stiff breeze. A vulture hidden by the folds of the tunic squawked noisily into flight, beating wide wings.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Silvie asked. “We should go around.”
“We have to look for the saddlebags,” Johnis said, but she could hear the dread in his voice.
They crested the dune, and the valley beyond came into view. Silvie stopped, stunned by the sight below them. The valley was perhaps seventy-five paces across at the bottom, filled now with hundreds of black-clad bodies. Fallen Guard speckled the field in brown leather armor.
Not until then did she see the other black beasts feeding on the dead bodies. At first she thought they were vultures, but then she saw their faces, and chills of terror washed through her chest.
“Shataiki!” Johnis whispered.
As one, hundreds of large black Shataiki bats swiveled their long snouts and red eyes toward them. The valley froze for a moment, and then the Shataiki bats sprang into the air, screeching shrilly.
The horses snorted, rearing back, and it was all Silvie could do to keep her mount from bolting. The Shataiki winged down the valley and swept toward the south. To some undiscovered Black Forest.
“Take it easy!” Jackov snapped. “You’re spooking the horses. Haven’t you seen vultures?”
Of course, he saw only the vultures, not the Shataiki bats.
“They’re feeding on Guard!” Johnis bit off angrily. “Have some heart.”
The Roush have stayed conveniently out of sight, Silvie thought. Michal had said they were on their own, but she’d half expected at least Gabil to make an appearance. Not a whisper, though. And if they’d consulted with the Roush before this expedition of theirs, the furry white bats would have undoubtedly warned them off.
Johnis led them down the valley, over the badly eaten bodies, and up the slope to the place where he and Silvie had fought off the Horde.
No sign of the saddlebags.
Traces of the Horde camp lay on the flats beyond the dunes, but the desert had already reclaimed most of what the Scab army had left. An odd tent stake here, some butchered goat carcasses in a pile over there, and a dozen large water barrels they’d left for some reason. The water stank like sewage.
They passed in silence and said nothing for the next hour.
The second day proved to them why so few Forest Dwellers ever ventured into the desert, and none so deep. The heat was unbearable, and the horses consumed more water than expected. Still, they had enough for the trip, Johnis insisted. As long as they didn’t spend more than a day at the Horde city.
No pursuit followed them from the forests.
“Do you think they’ll forgive me, Silvie?” Johnis asked soberly.
“For the slaughter or for this?” she asked.
“For the Third Groups loss.” He still wasn’t calling it a slaughter.
“You’re forgetting that I followed you willingly that night. They’ll need to forgive both of us.”
“And will they?”
“Like you say, it depends on what happens next. Thomas isn’t the kind who can be betrayed more than once,”
“We left of our own accord, willingly, endangering no one’s life,” Jackov said on Johnis’s right. “How’s that a betrayal?”
“He’s right. If we succeed here, then it will help.”
Johnis stared into the horizon, where they could just see the line of huge dunes Jackov had promised. “Then we have to succeed,” he said. “There’s too much at stake to let one mistake, however terrible, undermine our mission.”
“Keep things in perspective.” Jackov said. “This is about each of us getting what we need, not the end of the world.”
Jackov knew nothing about the missing Books of History. Still, the way he made his announcement struck Silvie as shallow and bothersome. She could see now why Thomas had passed him over.
They reached the dunes as the sun disappeare
d behind them. Now the tension returned, like a knife along their nerves. The Horde lived beyond these dunes—there was no mistaking the worn grooves in the sand from the army’s recent passing.
“We sleep here tonight,” Silvie said.
“We press on!” Johnis protested.
“No, we sleep. You’ve barely slept in a week. I’m not willing to barge in with our minds half-gone from exhaustion. Like snakes, not bulldogs, right?”
“But the sun—”
“We can bear the sun. We can’t bear lack of sleep!” “Fine. But I’m not the least bit tired.” Johnis was the first to snore fifteen minutes later. Silvie lay next to him and took his hand in hers. There was no telling what awaited them with the rising sun, but she was increasingly sure of one thing: wherever Johnis went, she would go. They were meant for each other, in more ways than one. The journey would lead them to some kind of bliss.
It was her new duty to keep him alive long enough to enjoy that bliss.
“MISSING?” THOMAS SNORTED. “AGAIN?”
“Well, no one’s seen either of them for two days,” Billos said. “I think that qualifies.”
And what’s worse, the books are missing with them, Billos thought. With each passing hour his realization that the quest for the ancient books was indeed not only a worthy pursuit, but one that demanded his complete devotion, grew. A week ago he’d scoffed at the idea; now he was desperate for it, for that power he’d felt but once when touching the book. “He’s hiding, then,” Thomas said.
Darsal nodded. “Could be, but if so, they’re hiding pretty well. The last they were seen was at your scolding.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to hide for a week,” Thomas said. “Are they in love?”
Love? Johnis and Silvie? Billos had never considered the possibility.
“Could be,” Darsal said. “They are fond of each other, that’s obvious.”
“And what about you two?” Thomas asked, matter-of-factly.
Darsal looked away and blushed.
Neither could deny that there was an unspoken connection between them. This strange bonding that had evolved since he’d rescued her from certain death nine years earlier. Was it love? Maybe not, but looking at the side of Dorsals flushed face now, Billos guessed the bond between them was something as strong as love. Perhaps stronger, if that was possible. But what did he know of love?
