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  Thomas lifted his fist in a salute.

  Slowly, with deliberate pronounced steps, Justin rode his horse into the valley. He stared straight ahead without acknowledging the crowd. His men marched abreast thirty paces behind.

  Now the chant began. The thunder formed a word that roared from the throats of every man, woman, and child in the valley, perhaps beyond . . .

  . . . Justin, Justin, Justin, Justin . . .

  . . . until it sounded like pounding detonations that exploded with each roar of his name.

  Justin! Justin! Justin! Justin!

  Thomas had never seen such a display of worship for one man before. The fact that Justin accepted the praise without so much as a modest grin only seemed to justify their adoration. It was as if he knew that he deserved no less and was willing to accept it.

  The air reverberated with their cries. The leaves of the trees along the creek trembled. Thomas felt the sound reach into his belly and shake his heart.

  Justin! Justin! Justin! Justin!

  Justin rode halfway into the valley and stopped his horse. Then he stood tall in his stirrups, threw his fists to the sky, lifted his head, and began to scream something.

  At first they couldn’t hear his words for the roar, but as soon as the people figured out that he was saying something, they began to quiet. Now Justin’s cry rose above the din. He was screaming a name. He was bellowing a name at the sky.

  Elyon’s name.

  A chill washed over Thomas. Justin was claiming the authority of the Creator. And this, knowing full well that a challenge had been cast against him. The Council would rage. If Justin wasn’t innocent, then he was as devious and manipulating as they came.

  Justin cried the name of his Maker, eyes clenched, face twisted, as one who was torn between gratitude and terrible fear. The valley stilled with uncertainty.

  With one last unrelenting cry that exhausted every ounce of his breath, Justin screamed the name. Ellllyyyyonnnnnn!

  Then he settled back in his saddle and slowly faced Thomas.

  “I salute you, Thomas of Hunter,” he called.

  Thomas dipped his head. But he couldn’t go so far as to salute the man in return, not with the challenge at hand.

  Justin dipped his head in return. He looked at the people, first the far side, turning his horse for a full view, then Thomas’s side. His stallion stepped nervously under him. He seemed to be looking for someone.

  The children, Thomas thought. He was looking at the children.

  He spun his horse back around and gazed at the far side again. Then to Thomas’s side again, green eyes searching, searching.

  Forty feet from where Thomas stood, a young girl stepped out of the crowd, walked a few paces into the meadow, and stopped. Her hair was blond, past her shoulders. Her arms were limp by her sides. One of her hands was shriveled to a stump. She trembled from head to foot and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Thomas’s first thought was that her mother should call this poor child back immediately. The traditions of the valley were clear enough: No one ever approached any warrior honored on their march. It was a time of order and respect, not chaos.

  But then he saw that Justin was staring directly at this child. Surely he hadn’t been searching for her.

  A small bushy-haired boy stepped out and stopped just behind the girl.

  To Thomas’s amazement, he saw that tears were on Justin’s cheeks. He ignored the gathered throng and exchanged a long stare with this young girl.

  “He knows her,” Rachelle whispered.

  Justin suddenly slid off his horse and faced the girl. Then he dropped to one knee and spread his arms wide.

  She ran for him, weeping audibly now. Her white tunic swished around her small legs, and the flowers in her hair fell to the ground as she ran.

  The girl collided with Justin in the middle of the field. His arms wrapped around her and he held her tight. A lump rose in Thomas’s throat.

  The girl showed Justin her hands, which he kissed. He stood and led her ten paces from the horses, where the entire valley could see clearly. He whispered something in her ear and then walked on while she stood still. What was he doing?

  Justin swept the crowds with a steady gaze.

  “I tell you on this day, that the greatest warriors among you are the children,” he cried out for all to hear. “It is with ones like these that you will wage a new kind of war.”

  He faced the girl, who was beaming from ear to ear now. A twinkle brightened Justin’s eyes. He stretched his hand out to her.

  “I present to you my princess. Lucy!”

  It was impossible to tell if this show was a deception or completely sincere. As either, it was a brilliant performance.

  Justin took the white wreath from his head, placed it gently on her head, and stepped back. He settled to one knee, put one hand over his breast, and raised the other to the crowd.

  A cry erupted spontaneously.

  Thomas thought the girl’s face might split in two if she beamed any brighter. Beside him, Rachelle was dabbing her eyes.

  Justin motioned excitedly for the boy, who now ran for them.

  “And my prince, Billy!”

  He swept the boy from his feet and spun him around. Then he led both of the children back to his horse, swung into the saddle, and hoisted them up, Lucy behind and Billy in front. He gave the reins to the boy and nudged the horse.

  The thunder began again, now with chants of Lucy and Billy mingled in. Justin took time to acknowledge the crowd now. To look at him riding with such confidence and being so worshiped, one would think he had been a king from the ancient stories instead of a forest vagabond who’d abandoned the Guard and now spoke of treason.

  When Justin finally reached the far side of the valley, he set the children down and disappeared into the trees.

  “NOW DO you think there will be a fight at tomorrow’s challenge?” Rachelle asked. The din had died and the valley was emptying.

  “Justin is either a man who deserves this praise or a man who deserves to die,” Thomas said, “in which case he’s much more dangerous than I ever could have guessed.”

  “And who do you think he is?”

  Thomas stared at the trees that had swallowed Justin. Was his the face of deception or the face of grace? It hardly mattered in the end, because either way it was definitely the face of treason. Any man who brokered peace with the sons of Shataiki could not be a man who followed Elyon.

  “Thomas, you’re drifting on me again.”

  “I think he’s a very dangerous man. But we’ll let the people decide tomorrow.”

  “It sounds to me like they’ve already decided.”

  “That’s because you haven’t heard the others yet. Not everyone was here.”

  17

  PRESIDENT ROBERT Blair hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. The air was charged with panic. No one was happy. They were all out of their league, every last one of them. They bore titles like president of the United States and secretary of defense and director of the Central Intelligence Agency, but inside they were all just men and women on the shore, facing a massive tidal wave that blocked their view of the horizon. There was no running; there was no fighting; there was only bracing.

  Not true. There was God. It was out of their hands in the hands of God—a scary thought considering his complete lack of understanding in such matters.

  And there was Thomas Hunter.

  Senate majority leader Dwight Olsen slammed his palm on the table, round face red. “Send them!” He glared at the president. “For Pete’s sake, we’re running out of time. Give them what they ask for. We have the technology, we can rebuild, we can start over, but we need some breathing space. If you think the American people would condone this game of poker . . .”

  He stopped short. Not thinking too clearly, the president thought. But then none of them were.

  “I am thinking of sending the missiles, Dwight. Fully armed and on a collision course with Paris. Israel
may beat us to it.” He’d already authorized the shipments, but considering Olsen’s arrogance, he withheld the revelation for the moment.

  “Then you and Benjamin would defy what the Russians, the Chinese, even England is doing. Maybe they have more sense—”

  “Shut up!”

  Easy, Robert.

  “Just shut up and listen to me. You’re not thinking this through very clearly. The Russians are complying with Paris because they are in bed with Paris. So are the Chinese—we have to assume that based on the intelligence I just laid out to you. Arthur, on the other hand, has convinced our British counterparts to comply with Paris on my word that we would not ultimately do so. We will ship our missiles as a sign of good faith, but I’ll die before I hand over one pistol to those maniacs so that they can turn around and fire it back at us.”

  “We have their word—”

  “They have no intention of keeping their word!”

  “You can’t know that,” Olsen said.

  “They’re terrorists, for crying out loud!”

  “If either you or Israel does anything stupid, like try a preemptive strike, you’ll send us all to our graves based on an assumption that is more likely wrong than right.”

  The president looked at Graham Meyers. His secretary of defense was listening patiently as were the others. Now Meyers came to his defense.

  “Israel won’t try that. Our intelligence—”

  “Cut the intelligence nonsense,” Olsen said. “Who? What intelligence?”

  Meyers glanced at the president and Blair dipped his head. Go ahead, Grant, spill the beans. We’re past cat and mouse with this idiot.

  “The same intelligence that located Valborg Svensson,” he said.

  Olsen blinked. “Svensson. You found him,” he said in a doubtful tone.

  “Yes, Dwight. We found him,” the president said. “They shot down a C-17 that was making a low pass over his compound roughly eight hours ago.”

  “Where?”

  “Indonesia. Furthermore, we received a communiqué two hours ago from the French. They claim they have incontrovertible evidence that Svensson has an antivirus in his possession. Evidently they wondered if we were sure on that point.”

  Olsen’s collar was stained dark with sweat. “And what’s being done?”

  “The pilot reported their situation before the plane went down. We don’t know who survived. Three beacons were activated when their para chutes deployed, but there’s been no word since, so we’re assuming the worst. A squadron of stealth fighters and three C-17s took off from the Hickam base in Hawaii seven hours ago. An hour ago we dropped forty Navy Seals on the spot where our people believe the Stinger that took down our plane was fired from. This is the kind of intelligence we’re talking about.”

  “So there’s a chance we may find Svensson with the antivirus.”

  “A chance, yes.”

  “And how did your people find Svensson so easily?”

  Blair hesitated, and then decided to finish what he’d started.

  “Thomas Hunter,” he said. “I’m sure you remember Thomas. The psychic, I think you called him. The communiqué from France also claimed that the New Allegiance had Thomas Hunter in custody and that any further attempts at military action would cost both him and Monique their lives.”

  The Senate majority leader was taken completely off guard by the revelation.

  “Okay, so you have a psychic in your intelligence circles. And I take it this psychic has told you that the United Sates won’t receive the antivirus in time. And now you’re going to base your entire strategy on this revelation of his. Have you considered the basic logic that if they administer the antivirus to France, the United States is only a seven-hour flight away? It doesn’t matter who they give the antivirus to; our scientists can copy it from any carrier.”

  They’d discussed the scenario already, and there were ways that Svensson could still keep the United States from acquiring and duplicating any antivirus in time. But Thomas had insisted that the United States would not receive the antivirus. In light of his recent success, Blair was prone to believe him.

  “Maybe. I’ll take it under advisement. Our hope is to avoid getting to that point.”

  “God knows I hope we can. But if you play hardball with the French on this, I’m going to bring this whole nation down around your ears.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement as well. If our current mission fails, the arms will ship on schedule. I won’t do anything rash; you have my word. Only as a very last resort. But don’t expect me to roll over yet. Give me at least that much, for heaven’s sake. If you really think these guys are going to let us live to fight another day, you’re not seeing what I see.”

  “Well, we always did live in different worlds, didn’t we? I hope you can keep the Israelis calm.”

  “Calm, no. They’re climbing the walls behind closed doors over there. But I do have Benjamin’s word that they will make a show of compliance, at least for the time being. You do understand that they will not go down without a fight, don’t you, Dwight?”

  “Fools.” Olsen stood to leave. “Meanwhile our country’s totally in the dark out there. We have to tell them soon. I can promise you they will be enraged for not being told sooner.”

  “I would have thought you would count that politically expedient, Dwight.”

  The man gave him a parting glare, and Blair was sure the man had already considered his political future in all of this. It was perhaps the only reason he hadn’t already run to the press.

  “Keep this quiet,” the president said.

  Dwight Olsen turned. “I’ll give you two days. If I like what I see, I may play ball. If not, no promises.”

  “You leak this and I’ll have you arrested.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Treason. Leaking sensitive military operations is an actionable offense. We have a virus, but we also have a military action under way.”

  It was more bluff than actionable, but Blair didn’t care.

  “Sir.” Intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Report in from Hawaii.”

  He caught Olsen’s eyes. It was the mission.

  The secretary of defense glanced up, eyes wide. “Send it in, Bill.”

  Ten seconds later Graham Meyers had a red folder in his hands. His eyes scanned the report. Olsen had quietly stepped back into the room.

  The president loosened his already sloppy tie. “Well, spit it out, for crying out loud.”

  “The mission successfully located and entered a large complex on the backside of Cyclops. No casualties. The complex was abandoned.”

  “What?”

  “Abandoned within the last several hours. They’re gathering some computers now, but the hard drives have been removed. The place is clean.” Grant looked up. “There’s evidence to suggest at least one soldier was in one of the rooms. Buttons from one of our uniforms.”

  “Hunter.”

  The room was silent.

  “They can’t be far,” someone said.

  The president pushed back his chair and stood. “Find him!”

  18

  THE CELEBRATION had gone late into the night, as was always the case during the three days the Forest People held their annual Gathering. Music and dancing and plays and food, too much food. And drink, of course. Fruit wines and berry ales mostly. Anything and everything that even hinted at their memories of the Great Romance in the colored forest.

  The opening ceremonies were held with each tribe marching down the avenue that led to the lake, led by the elders from that tribe. Ciphus led the largest entourage from the Middle Forest, followed by the other forests by their location, from north to south.

  Twenty thousand torches burned around the lake as Ciphus recited their creeds and reminded them all why they must adhere to the very fabric of the Great Romance without the slightest deviation, as Elyon would surely have it. Their religion was a simple one, with only six laws at the he
art, but the other laws, the ones the Council had refined over the years to assist in following the six, had to be given the same weight, he said. The way to love Elyon was to give yourself completely to his ways, without the slightest compromise.

  Thomas had collapsed in bed late, slept with heavy dreams of torture, and awakened with two parallel preoccupations.

  The first was this business of finding out who Carlos might be in this reality, if indeed such a thing was even possible, as Rachelle had suggested in passing. A thin thread, to be sure, but following it was the only way he could think of to escape the dungeon with Monique.

  The second was the challenge, which was to be held that afternoon. Other than posting notice of it, the Council had been wisely silent about Justin. Still, it had been the talk of the village all morning.

  Some wondered why an inquiry was even necessary—the doctrines of Justin weren’t so different from any they had followed all these years. He talked about love. Wasn’t the Great Romance all about love? Yes, his teachings of peace with the Horde were very difficult to follow, but now he was talking love. Perhaps he’d changed.

  Others wondered why Justin wasn’t simply banished out of hand—his teachings were clearly an affront to all that was sacred about the Great Romance, beginning with his talk of peace. How could anyone make peace with the enemies of Elyon? And his teachings were difficult only because they worked against the Great Romance, they said.

  The amphitheater where the challenge would be held was large enough to hold twenty-five thousand adults, which was nearly adequate as only adults could attend. The rest would have to find places in the forest above the large bowl-like structure on the west side of the lake.

  The stone slabs that acted as benches on terraced earth were nearly full shortly after noon. By the time the sun hung halfway down the western sky, there was no longer empty space to stand, much less sit.

  Thomas sat with Rachelle and his lieutenants in one of the gazebos overlooking the spectacle.

  “I should be tracking the Horde into the desert,” Thomas muttered.