CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Duncan led his thousand warriors on horseback, galloping west across the plains of Baris, heading for the Devil’s Gulch, and as he rode, he felt like a changed man. Still recovering from his wounds, he felt weaker now than he had ever been—in fact, Lorna had urged him to stay back and rest until he was fully recovered. Of course, he could not. He had an army to lead and a war to wage, and he knew that time would not wait for him.
Duncan rode in his weakened state, one hand on the reins, the other clutching his chest, blood still seeping where Kyra had stabbed him. Of course, he had to remind himself, it was not Kyra who had stabbed him, as much as she had looked like her—it was Ra, with his sorcery. Yet still the vision haunted him, his own daughter stabbing him, the idea
