Free Elyon by Ted Dekker

within. He glanced over at the priest’s caravan, where Silvie was.
    Darsal’s eyes followed his. “We don’t have long, Johnis. Back out. Silvie needs you to drown.”
    “What?” He withdrew from her. Was she mad?
    Darsal started over. “No, listen. The red pools—You need to drown in them. It’s the only way. It’s—”
    “The heat’s gotten to you.”
    She grabbed his arm.
    Johnis pulled free. Drown. Murderous albino wench. His lip curled. “Leave me.”
    Her brow arched. “Is that you or the entity talking?”
    The Leedhan’s eyes homed in on Darsal. Darsal could drop dead.
    “Distract the guard,” the albino said. “We can save Silvie from the priest.” Her eyes flicked to the officers and Sucrow.
    His eyes narrowed. “Why should I trust an albino?”
    “Because the albino is the only other person who cares about Silvie.” Darsal crossed her arms. “And because I think your answer will help you determine where your heart’s going. But decide. I don’t have all night.”
    Johnis struggled for control. His heart . . . He was following his heart, wasn’t he? Or . . . was he?
    His heart was with Silvie. As long as he didn’t thwart the mission . . .
    Shaeda, Shaeda, don’t tell me one woman can thwart the mission. Just give me this.
    The Leedhan didn’t like the idea. No, she wouldn’t. Silvie had his heart, which meant his entity did not.
    If Darsal dies, it doesn’t hinder the mission. What’s the harm?
    “I need an answer, Johnis. They’ll move out any minute.”
    Shaeda finally relented. As long as this didn’t interfere. The priest and the general must remain allies, must continue this fool’s quest.
    They were so naive . . .
    Johnis gave Darsal a sharp nod. “Let’s go.”

nine
    D arsal left Johnis and stole through groups of Throaters and warriors who waited while their leaders convened. A waning moon gave her just enough light to see by. Guards skirted the perimeter of the band of Horde while the officers and Sucrow spoke in private. The light from a few torches broke through the shadows.
    She could still barely wrap her mind around the fact that Johnis was being controlled by a Leedhan. And she felt guilty about the ruse of going after Silvie—she didn’t need Johnis’s help, and chances were slim she’d be able to aid Silvie. But if she could get Johnis to think, maybe, just maybe . . . he’d forgive her in the end, once he saw she’d only meant to steer his attention away from the Leedhan.
    Silvie would be more than willing to be rid of the priest and to help Johnis with the amulet. Still . . . that did nothing for the nagging in the back of Darsal’s mind. She passed by the outcropping of rock where Marak and the others were still meeting. They were mildly secluded, yet still in the open. Darsal dodged a couple of servants. Marak’s voice sounded strained, furious about something. But he didn’t yell. He kept his voice low—a soft, chilling sound.
    Darsal inched toward the canvas-covered cage on wheels, where Silvie was being held, then caught herself. She hugged the shadows. Two Throaters stood guard. One could be Warryn.
    She waited for Johnis, who said something to the guard to draw his attention away. The guard hesitated. Johnis grew persistent. At last the guard grumbled and followed Johnis.
    Good. The scrapper was still there, inside his flaking shell—somewhere.
    Darsal looked both ways, climbed up, and ducked inside. Incense filled her nose and mouth. She coughed and stumbled over something.
    A muffled voice. Far corner. Darsal’s heart nearly stopped. Silvie .
    Hating herself, Darsal inched around and started a sweep for the medallion. If Sucrow had left it, she could get it. She’d rather Silvie not know she was here.
    Darsal heard a low groan. Silvie was hurting. Time was running out. She heard voices. Rummaged faster.
    Love them, Darsal. Love them.
    “Stay away from me,” Silvie groaned.
    Darsal froze. Silvie was looking straight at her. Darsal