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The reward for their heads was a heady prospect.
    â€œShow me their retreat paths,” he said.
    Soren dropped to one knee and drew in the sand. “The canyon looks like a box, but there are two exits, here and here. One leads to the pool, here; the other to the open desert.”
    â€œHow many women and children?”
    â€œTwenty or thirty. Roughly half.”
    â€œAnd you’re sure that Thomas is among the men?”
    â€œYes sir. I will stake my life on it.”
    Woref grunted. “You may regret it. Qurong’s losing his patience.”
    A thousand or so dissidents sworn to nonviolence didn’t present a threat to the Horde, but the number of defections from the Horde to the Circle was water on Qurong’s flaky skin. He was adamant about preempting any deterioration in his power base. Thomas of Hunter had defeated him one too many times in battle to take any chances.
    â€œAs are we.” Soren dipped his head then added, “Sir.”
    Woref spit to one side. The whole army knew that Thomas of Hunter’s head wasn’t the only head at stake here. What they didn’t know was that Qurong’s own daughter, Chelise, was also at stake.
    The supreme leader had long ago promised to allow his daughter to marry once the Horde captured the forests, but he had changed his mind when Thomas escaped. As long as Thomas of Hunter was free to lead a rebellion, Chelise would remain single. At the outset of this campaign, he’d secretly sworn his daughter’s hand to Woref, pending the capture of Thomas.
    At times Woref wondered if Qurong was only protecting his daughter, who’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in marrying any general, including Woref. Her dismissal only fueled Woref ’s desire. If Qurong refused him this time, he would kill the leader and take Chelise by force.
    â€œThey have no intelligence of our approach?” he asked.
    â€œNo sign of it. I can’t recall an opportunity as promising as this.”
    â€œSend twenty to cover each escape route. Death to the man who alerts them before we are ready. We attack in twenty minutes. Go.”
    Soren ran back and quietly leveled his orders.
    Woref squeezed his fingers into fists and relaxed them. He missed the days when the Forest Guard fought like men. Their fearless leader had turned into a mouse. One loud word and he would scamper for the rocks, where the Horde had little chance of ferreting him out. The albinos were still much quicker than Scabs.
    Woref had watched the battle at the Natalga Gap, when Thomas had rained fire down on them with the thunder he called bombs. None had been used since, but that would change once they had Thomas in chains. The battle leading up to that crushing defeat had been the best kind. Thousands had died on both sides. Granted, many more thousands of the Horde than the Forest Guard, but they had Thomas on his heels before the cliffs had crushed the Horde.
    Woref had killed eight of the Guard that day. He could still remember each blow, severing flesh and bone. The smell of blood. The cries of pain. The white eyes of terror. Killing. There was no experience that even closely compared.
    His orders were to bring Thomas in alive, in part because of information the rogue leader could offer, in part because Qurong meant to make an example of him. But if given the excuse, Woref would kill the man. Thomas was responsible for his loneliness these last thirteen months—these past three years, in fact, ever since Chelise had grown into the woman she was, tempting any whole-blooded man with her leveled chin and long flowing hair and flashing gray eyes. He’d known that she would be his. But he hadn’t expected such a delay.
    He’d objected bitterly to Qurong’s decision to delay her marriage after the drowning of Justin. If Martyn had still been with them, Woref ’s indis-cretion that night might have cost him his life. But in the confusion of such