White by Ted Dekker Page B

campfires. He was a legend who defied reason. Failing to defeat the Horde with his sword, he’d now taken up the weapon of peace. Qurong would prefer to face a sword any day over this heroic deceit they called the Circle. True, only a thousand had followed Thomas into his madness, but what was a thousand could easily become ten thousand. And then a hundred thousand.
    Today he would reduce their number to one.
    And today Woref would have his bride.
    He stopped ten yards from the albinos. They looked like salamanders with their sickly bare flesh. The breeze brought their scent to him, and he tried his best not to draw it too deep. They smelled of fruit. The same bitter fruit that they used for their sorcery—the variety that grew around the red pools. It was said that they drank the blood of Justin and that they forced their children to do the same. What kind of disease of the mind would push a man to such absurdities?
    Two of the prisoners were bald. They looked vaguely familiar. A third was a woman. The mere thought of any man breeding with such a sickly salamander was enough to make him nauseated.
    He nudged his horse abreast their leader, Thomas of Hunter. Similarly fashioned medallions hung from each of their necks. He reached down, grasped Thomas’s pendant, jerked it free, and held it in his palm. Then he spit on it.
    â€œYou are now prisoners of Qurong, supreme leader of the Horde,” he said. Then he turned his horse away, overcome by their scent.
    â€œSo it would appear,” Thomas said.
    â€œDouse them!”
    Two of his men rode around the captives and tossed ash on them. The ash contained sulfur and made their stench manageable.
    â€œWhere are the others?” Woref asked.
    Thomas stared at him, eyes blank.
    â€œKill the woman,” Woref said.
    One of the soldiers pulled a sword and approached the black female.
    â€œKilling any of us would be a mistake,” Thomas said. “We can’t tell you where the others are. We can only tell how they outwitted you, which we will gladly do. But by now they’ve fled in a direction only they know.”
    Woref felt a new dislike for this man run deep into his bones. He wondered how smart the rebel would look without lips. But then Qurong wouldn’t get the information he needed.
    â€œI know how they escaped,” he said. “My scouts missed a break in the cliffs that leads south, into the desert. Your band of rebels is headed into our hands at this very moment.”
    â€œThen why do you ask?”
    He’d expected a flinch, a pause, anything to indicate the man’s surprise at being discovered so easily. Instead, Thomas had delivered this unflinching reprimand.
    â€œYou’ll pay for your disrespect. I give you my vow. Chain them.”
    Woref turned his horse around and headed out of the canyon.

    Mikil swept the scope across the desert that surrounded the canyon lands.
    â€œOthers?” Johan asked.
    â€œNo. Just the one group.”
    Behind them, fifty sets of round white eyes peered from the dark cavern that hid them. They wound their way through the gap and into an adjacent canyon that led them here, to the edge of the southern desert. But they wouldn’t break into the open until they were sure that the Horde was gone.
    â€œThey’ll be in the cave by now,” Johan said. “We have to move soon.”
    â€œUnless they followed Thomas out of the canyon.”
    Johan frowned. “Assuming Thomas made it out of the canyon.”
    She lowered the glass. “Why wouldn’t he?”
    He glanced back and spoke in a low voice. “I could have sworn I saw Woref on the cliff. They came on us without warning, which means they had already scouted us out. They would have both escape routes covered. I don’t see how anyone, even Thomas, could possibly escape without a fight. And we both know that he won’t fight.”
    The revelation stunned her. Not only as Mikil, who feared for