by Ted Dekker
Jackov stared at Johnis beside Martyn, eyes blank. And graying. He’d acted strange the last time they’d bathed; for all Johnis knew he hadn’t actually washed his skin at all.
“You’re wondering if your friend is Horde,” Martyn said. “The answer is yes and no. Yes, he wants to be. No, he’s not completely transformed yet. When he has fulfilled his promise, he will hold a place of honor among our warriors. It turns out that Guard members who defect make excellent leaders in the campaign.”
“What do you want from me?” Johnis asked. He forced the anger back and cleared his mind.
The Horde general smiled. “Thomas.”
Johnis felt his heart fall into the pit of his belly. He was going to be asked to betray Thomas.
“You and Jackov will return to the Middle Forest and meet Thomas. If he doesn’t do exactly what you ask, your mother will have her limbs amputated. If anyone besides Thomas learns of your visit, the same. If we fail to take Thomas as planned, she will never walk again.”
“What you’re asking is impossible. If you know Thomas, you know that.”
“Actually, I do know Thomas. Which is why I know he will come. Tell him that a mighty Horde general known as Justin demands to meet with him in the Valley of Bones, alone, in complete secrecy. None of the Council may know. Those are the conditions.”
Justin? This was Justin, who’d defected from the Guard? Or was it a ploy?
“He won’t come,” Johnis said.
“He will. He’ll come because he believes you are chosen to lead. There will be no other explanation for how you managed to bring this message from deep in the desert without being killed yourself. He’ll come.”
“Justin is the Guard officer who defected?”
The general hesitated. “Yes. And his message is one Thomas must hear if the world is ever to be at peace. “
Johnis looked at Jackov again, disgusted with the fighter’s cowardice. “I should have killed you in the clearing when you insulted my mother.”
“You should have killed me at the Horde game, squat,” Jackov said. “Before I planted your mothers ring where I knew it would be found.”
“Jackov will make the journey with you, bathing once again before he enters the forests. You may not leave his side.”
“How will you know …”
“We have our ways.”
Spies? There was no way out, Johnis realized. He had no choice but to choose between Thomas and the two women below who meant life to him.
“What is your decision?” Martyn asked.
“Give me time! How do I know you’ll release them?”
“You don’t. But I will. Both of them. I have no interest in a misguided boy and his mother unless they can help me bring down the forests. Give me Thomas, and I’ll give you your mother. It’s the best I can do. Decide now.”
“For Elyons sake, give me a moment.”
The Dark Priest walked up to him and slapped his mouth. “Watch your language, heathen. You’re in the temple.”
“One minute alone,” Johnis shot back. “I doubt there are weapons stored here, so you have nothing to fear. Just let me clear my head.”
Martyn considered his request and faced the priest. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Give him his space, Witch.” He turned, robe swirling, and disappeared through the drapes.
“Get out,” the priest snapped at Jackov.
They left Johnis alone. He hurried to the desk where Chelise had been working and snatched up her pen. He couldn’t write in the Horde way, and he wasn’t sure how well Chelise could read his own writing, so he drew what he wanted to say on a piece of parchment and slid it into the book she had open.
He knew the attempt was hardly more than a gesture of blind hope, but he was out of options.
His mother was in the dungeon, mind lost to the world, and Silvie was beside her, weeping, waiting for him to fulfill his promise.
He would follow his heart now.
He would betray Thomas and save Rosa and Silvie.
ackov and Johnis loaded on two horses enough water to take them home in a two-day sprint, but Jackov refused to bathe until they were just outside the canyons on the western front of the Middle Forest. By then he was fully Horde.
“Easy, you stinking squat!” Jackov roared as Johnis dumped the water over his head.
There was enough left after his own bath to give the traitor a healthy soaking, and Johnis intended to use every drop. “Shut your hole and take it. Maybe some sense will find you.”
Jackov had his shirt off, exposing his cracked flesh from head to waist. Johnis had seen Scab flesh revert to its natural smooth texture as fashioned by Elyon several times now, but the mechanics of such dramatic transformation remained a mystery. Parched gray skin mended like a dry lake bed under a rushing torrent.
“It’s too late for sense,” Jackov sputtered. “Easy!” He pushed Johnis away and wiped the extra water from his skin. “Its the switching back and forth that is the pain. This will be the last time for me, you can count on that.”
“You make me sick,” Johnis said, mounting his stallion.
They headed up the canyon pass, stopped for a moment at the Igal point, then turned into the forest. The sun was red in the west and would be down completely when they reached the village.
Lush green trees rose as thick as a carpet, and after so many days in the desert, Johnis wanted to weep. But he couldn’t, at least not with any sense but dread. The journey with Jackov had been a terrifying ordeal. He’d spent the first day begging the thug to reconsider his defection to the Horde, but Jackov only turned more sour with each word. The second day had brought a deathly silence.
And now they were here to practice their betrayal. Johnis already knew what he would do, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that the feeble plan had any hope of working.
Martyn, the Horde general who Johnis thought might have once been a member of the Guard himself, had planned this entire betrayal out with careful forethought.
He knew that Johnis was chosen.
That Thomas would follow the Chosen One.
That something as simple as his mother’s ring would set everything in motion.
That Johnis would risk his life for his mother.
That the only way to be sure Thomas would be taken was to isolate him from his horse and lake water without any hope of help.
That a cloak and a dagger could sometimes do more harm than an entire Horde army.
He’d used Jackov as a matter of convenience, but Johnis, not Jackov, was the centerpiece of this plot to destroy Thomas.
He’d searched for a way to slip the word to Thomas that trickery was underfoot, but the risk to his mother and Silvie was too great. There were spies about, watching, ready to send word to kill Rosa and Silvie the moment anything changed from the plan. According to Martyn, that word could be sent by signals across the dunes, flashed on polished metal during the day and torches by night. They would know of any foul play within half a day.
Johnis took a deep breath and said what he’d waited a full day to say. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to do it.”
Jackov looked at him, unconcerned. “I don’t care if you do or don’t. If you don’t, I will.”
“Thomas won’t follow you.”
Jackov twisted angrily. “I’m not nothing!”
“No, you’re a snake, and he knows it.”
“You’ll do it,” Jackov said.
“No, I won’t. You know as well as I that the wicked priest Witch will kill my mother either way.”
Jackov remained fixed on the trees ahead, and Johnis knew he was right. A lump rose in his throat.
“And there’s almost no chance I’m going to survive more than a few days.”
Still no response. This was all part of their plan.
“So I won’t do it unless you let me speak to Kiella, my sister. I would rather speak to my father because he’s undoubtedly worried sick, but I know you�
�d never allow that. I have to tell Kiella that she will be okay and that her mother is alive. If you don’t let me do that, I wont help you.”
“Fine, I’ll let you speak to Kiella. In my presence.”
“Alone,” Johnis said.
“You take me for an imbecile? Martyn was specific. We can’t let you walk around the forests raising havoc or trying to slip a message in secredy.”
Johnis nodded, knowing it was the best he could hope for. “Fine, with you, then. But before you bring out Thomas.”
The cover of darkness made it easy for Johnis to remain hidden when they reached the village outskirts. As tempted as he was to rush in and spill his guts to Thomas, he remained still on his stallion, cursing the impossibility of the situation.
Jackov returned an hour later with Kiella on his horse. She slid off and ran up to him. “Johnis! What happened? The whole village is looking for you. Papa is worried sick!”
He dropped to one knee and embraced her. “I’m sorry, Kiella. It’s okay.”
“You had me so worried.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to be worried now. I’m just … Let’s just say I’m trying to sort things out. Everything’s been a bit crazy—I’m sure you’ve heard all the rumors.”
“Are they right?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t heard them myself. What are they saying?”
Jackov hurried them. “Enough now, Johnis. We have some other business.”
He eyed the large lad and stood, mind jerked back to the hopelessness of what he now had in mind, “I’ve learned some good news, Kiella. Mother’s still alive.”
Kiella gasped. “What?”
“It’s true. And someday we’ll get her back. She’s a Horde, but that’s not as bad as you might think. Scabs can wash and become clean again, right?”
“A … a Horde?” She was reeling, eyes as round as the moon. “Mother’s a Scab … but how’s that?”
“I’ll tell you how, but not now. Tell Papa and Darsal, so they—”
“Watch it!” Jackov hissed.
“Its harmless, Jackov!” Johnis snapped back. Then to Kiella again, “Tell them not to worry. I just have to fix a few things, and I’ll be back to report to the Council. Okay?”
She didn’t respond, maybe couldn’t respond. It would take her more time than they had to deal with this sudden revelation. Johnis gave her a hug.
“Come on,” Jackov ordered. “Your brother will be just fine. Let’s go.”
“Mother is a Scab? You’re sure?”
“Yes. But she’s alive, Kiella. There’s hope. I’ll get her, I promise you. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get her.”
“It will be,” Jackov said softly, wheeling his horse around and into the forest.
THE WAIT FOR THOMAS WAS SURPRISINGLY SHORT. THE supreme commander of the Forest Guard galloped with Jackov into the moonlit clearing; he was dressed for war despite the late hour. Whatever Jackov had said to make him come had clearly worked.
The commander pulled up, horse stamping, and drilled Johnis with a glare. “What’s the meaning of this, recruit? Or should I say ‘sergeant’? No, I think I should just say ‘recruit’ for all this foolishness.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Johnis said. “I know it’s all … unusual.”
“That’s not the word for it. I ordered you to make an accounting to the Council. Instead you vanish and sneak back in the middle of the night to beg forgiveness? That’s not the way of the Forest Guard.”
“I’m sorry. What did Jackov tell you?”
Thomas let a moment pass between then. “Don’t speak to me like I’m your servant, boy. I’ll do the asking.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“So what is the critical information that Jackov insists only you can deliver?”
As agreed then, Jackov had told him nothing except that Johnis had to speak with him urgently.
“You know where the Red Valley is?”
“Over a days ride south,” Thomas said. “Why?”
“How long would it take to get there on the fastest horses?”
“A night and a day. What’s this about?”
“Your General Justin of Southern, who is a general for the Horde now, wishes to meet with you in the Red Valley as soon as possible under the strictest confidence. Your meeting him will save or destroy the forests. That’s my message.”
Thomas’s face remained unchanged. No surprise, no anger, no disbelief, nor belief. He’d seen more than any man alive, they said, and looking at him now, Johnis knew it must be true. The man was unshakable.
“We have to leave immediately,” Johnis said. “No one, not even your wife, can know. Just you, Jackov, and myself. The fate of us all rests on your hands.”
“Is that so, lad? Drop everything and rush out to an ambush because the boy who led another five hundred into an ambush said so?”
“He’s speaking the truth,” Jackov said, bringing his horse alongside.
“Shut up, boy. You’re not helping him.” Thomas’s dismissal of the fighter was like using a mallet to slam a cork into a bottle, Johnis thought. The leader of all men, casually putting a stopper in the throat of the traitor of all men.
“I swear by my life that whatever happens in the next day will shift the balance of power forever,” Johnis said.
“As would an ambush.”
“Do you think anyone with half a wit would try to lure you into an ambush like this? You’re not an army—you’re the fastest fighter in all the forests. If you don’t like what you see, turn tail and run. They can’t stop you.”
“Watch your tone. I don’t turn tail. Don’t mistake wisdom for cowardice.”
“Sorry, sir,” Johnis said. “I’m trying to appeal to your wisdom.”
“Why the secrecy?”
“Because there are spies in the village. For all I know we’re being watched now. If anyone were to know about this, Justin would be executed.”
“A good thing.”
“Or a terrible thing,” Johnis said. “You’ll have to decide.”
Time was running short, and Silvie was growing gray next to Rosa. Johnis pulled out his trump card then, feeling as much a traitor as Jackov but knowing he had no choice.
“But what if you’re right?” he asked.
“About what?”
“What if I am the Chosen One?”
It took Thomas another ten minutes to agree, but Johnis thought he’d known he would the moment Johnis had laid out the request.
The supreme commander was back in fifteen minutes, sacks of water draped over his horse, two swords and a shield strapped to his saddle, and the steel will of a hardened man fixed on his face. “Move out! The sun won’t wait.”
This was the same Thomas they had all grown up practically worshipping.
This was the Thomas that Johnis, the supposed Chosen One, would now deliver unto death.
hey rode hard all night, south but east of where the terrible battle with the Horde had occurred five nights ago now. Thank Elyon they didn’t have to face that mess again.
Thomas demanded more answers as they pounded through the desert, and Johnis gave him some. Lies, mostly, about how he’d wandered back to the battle scene with Jackov for company to mourn the dead. Jackov had been there, at the massacre. They’d met a lone rider in black who’d delivered the message about meeting in the Red Valley, a huge valley that provided no cover for any ambush.
Johnis whispered to Elyon his remorse for lying and gratefully whipped his horse faster over the dunes. He had only one thought, and that was to finish what he had started.
To save his mother no matter what the cost. To save Silvie if it cost him his own life. The rest he would have to put in the trust of great men like Thomas, assuming Thomas lived long enough to be trusted.
When the sun rose, they kept on, and for the first time Johnis succeeded in the common practice of strapping into a saddle, leaning forward, and sleeping while making a crossing. The less time one
spent in the desert, the better, they said. So when forced to enter the deserts, as most were when they made the pilgrimage to the Middle Forest once every year for the Gathering, they did so without stopping.
Johnis slept out of pure exhaustion, dead to the world. But he didn’t feel any relief from the nightmares that haunted him.
They reached the valley at dusk, after a night and a day of travel, exactly as Thomas had said.
He stopped them at the top of a massive sweeping dune that fell into the wide valley. It was known as Red Valley because it looked like a bath of blood in the setting sun.
He pulled out his gourd spyglass and scanned the valley.
“Okay … now what? I see nothing.”
Thomas dismounted, then squatted on the sand to steady his arms for long-distance viewing. The slightest quiver shook the image to a blur.
Jackov nudged his horse next to Thomas’s while the commanders scope was up. He began executing the foul play before Johnis fully realized what was happening.
“That’s because there’s nothing to see, old man,” Jackov said, and slashed the bags of water draped over Thomas’s horse. The contents crashed to the sand, wasted.
Johnis sat in his saddle like a slab of rock, incapable of moving. He’d known the moment would come, but this soon? Jackov didn’t have the patience to bide his time!
“What on …” Thomas had his sword out of his mount’s scabbard before he finished the last word, but Jackov was already away, grinning like a devil.
“You want water, old man?” He put a slit in his own bag of water. “You have to dig a well. I’ll pass.”
“You’re Horde,” Thomas said, understanding the situation immediately. Then his knife was out and in the air, flying like an arrow toward Jackov.
The fighter clearly hadn’t expected such an outright attack on his life. He’d expected to prance away on his horse while Johnis executed his part of the plan. But it was this kind of reversal that Thomas was famous for. General of the Horde, Martyn or Justin or whoever he really was, knew Thomas well enough to know that the man couldn’t be beaten by any normal means.
