Concerted movement is unstoppable, particularly when a host
moves as one. It is also dangerous. This kind of action flows through the city
of Porlese, as the slaves and those less fortunate choose to take their chances
by walking south. They are also choosing freedom from oppression and it makes
them strong. Despite the screaming as the masters attempt to stop them, they
are now of one mind and their choice will not now be denied.
Here, at these gates, concerted movement is as dangerous,
for a different reason. The host here is bottle-necked. In their desperation for
freedom, many will be hurt.
“Siri! Stay where you are!” I shout. “I will come for you!”
I hope she hears me, for the noise of the rush is now overpowering.
I step aside as the gates crash down and people fall over
each other to get out.
“Go south!” I shout. “Follow the others!”
As people flow past, I realise many hundreds were captured. I
also understand, while they are panicked, injuries now are less than the death
they approached from the edge of a cliff. I say no more. I hope the Grenmassin
crowd has more insight and have stayed back.
They have. After most have fled the pen, a group of around
twenty approach more slowly, among them Siri … and Horin.
Siri flings herself into my arms and holds on, sobbing. I
clutch my sister to me and then raise an arm to Horin. “Lyra is safe too,” I
murmur. He hurtles into our embrace, tears flowing.
“We must go, Damin,” Artur, the village stonemason, says as
he closes in. “We are beyond happy to see you, but it is time to leave.”
He is right. Disengaging, but holding onto both Siri and
Horin’s hands, I say, “Follow me. Quick now.”
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