TKC 51
We leave the village although night has fallen. It is now a
place of ghosts.
After discovering more bodies in two other cellars and after
determining neither Siri nor Horin are among the dead – we found none of the
young – we set fire to their homes. The time to bury everyone individually
required more strength than we possessed. I shall never return to Grenmassin
and I know Damin feels the same. Let it burn.
Many hours on horseback later, Damin eventually speaks. “They
took the young only, killed the rest. They will be sold as slaves in Porlese.”
Slavery is outlawed, but there are regions which ignore the
ban. “The raiders,” I say, “are from Porlese?”
“Must be. Alarn to the east is more progressive. They will
not raid.”
“Why? The last raid I know of was over two hundred years
ago.”
Damin shrugs behind me. “The only objective that makes sense
is the threat from above. Porlese sees the night sky more than we do; they know
something approaches. To survive, they need hands to build shelters, to gather
supplies. Slaves are cheaper than labourers.”
I attempt to bring the Mirlin’s map to mind. The fort the
folk from Normur upper and lower head towards is further south than Porlese. Once
we have freed our loved ones, we still have a march before we join the others. Then
there is the march to the sanctuary.
“We are not going to make it,” I whisper.
There is silence for a time behind me. The horse moves
onward at a steady pace.
“Lyra, we cannot abandon them. We must hope the thing in the
stars slows or diverts or something. I will die rather than leave my sister to
a life of slavery.”
Yes, I too would give my life for Horin.
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