Before they fall asleep that night, James hears the hoof beats of the soldier’s horses as they leave, heading to the north.
The following morning before they head out, they fill their barrels at the inn’s well, which only costs them a couple coppers. They also find out that Korazan is about two more days to the south. Eager to get there, they set a quick pace all that day, until having to stop for the night along the road.
Shortly after starting the following morning, they pass through a village with not much more than huts and goat herds. The people there don’t seem too friendly, they just hurry out of their way, glaring at them as they pass. Having no reason to stop, they continue on through and soon the village disappears behind them.
For the rest of the day, they’re all fairly quiet as they ponder the likelihood of rescuing their friends from the hands of the slavers. Jiron pushes them onward, impatient whenever they must stop in order to water and feed the horses.
James is anxious too, hoping Miko has survived the trip down.
When the sun is high in the sky, they begin to see a large lake in the distance. “Tears of the Empress,” Roland says.
“What?” asks James.
“The water there,” he replies, “they call it ‘The Tears of the Empress’. Don’t know why.”
“Interesting,” James says.
“Korazan is situated next to it, probably on the other side,” he says.
“Good,” Jiron exclaims.
As they follow the road around the lake, they can see numerous fishing boats out upon it. From the smell in the air, James figures it to be fresh water. The road follows the shoreline, curving around until they begin to see a large city appearing on the shore ahead of them. Korazan.
Chapter Thirteen
The snap of the lash across his back wakes Miko from another restless, dream-filled night. He quickly gets to his feet before the lash strikes again and looks around at the others in the slave line being kicked or lashed awake. There are a number of empty spots along the lines where those who were unable to keep up are no longer with them. He tries not to think about them, lying dead in shallow graves along the road.
He remembers with anguish one old timer who collapsed in line and was lashed to get moving before they realized he was already dead. They had a couple of the other captives in line dig a hole in the ground to put him in. Thankfully, he was spared that duty.
The first night they stopped was the worst. His body ached from the long march and his mind was dizzy from the heat, as well as the lack of food and drink. But that wasn’t what had made it so horrible. After they stopped and everyone had been fed and given water, the slaver returned to the girl who had insisted that she wasn’t a slave and removed her from the line. She screamed the entire way as they took her to one of the tents they erected. The memory of her screams and cries as they echoed through the night still continue to haunt him. No one got any sleep that night, even after her screams had finally stopped, several hours later.
The next morning when he was awakened by the lash, he saw the girl had already been returned to her place in line. One eye was blackened and multiple bruises showed on every part of her body that wasn’t covered up. There was a vacant look in her eye and when given food she wouldn’t eat. Given water, she wouldn’t drink.
When the line made ready to move, she still remained sitting on the ground. Two slavers came over to her and proceeded to whip her until she came back to her senses and stood up. Once she was on her feet, crying with tears streaming down her face, one of the slavers steps in front of her and says loudly enough so everyone can hear him, “Are you a slave?”
A barely audible, “Yes,” escapes her lips.
The lash strikes her across the shoulders and he just glares at her. “Yes, master!” she cries out loudly.
Nodding, the slaver returns back to the front of the line by the wagon. Everyone in the slave line is quiet, unable to even look at the ravished, punished girl.
Miko shudders at the memory as he gets his bowl of food and cup of water to drink. He hungrily consumes it all, wanting more, but knowing better to ask. After all the bowls and cups are collected, they get moving.
He can’t remember how long he’s been walking in the line, the days are a blur of pain and exhaustion. The only thing keeping him moving is the certainty that James will come. He will! he insists to himself.
It’s early in the afternoon when a commotion draws his attention to the front of the line. Looking up, he sees them pointing to a large body of water coming into view ahead. A large city sits on its shore.
“Korazan,” announces one of the slavers. “There you will be placed at auction and sold to your new masters.”
A hushed silence falls upon all of them as they continue marching toward Korazan, dreading what fate may befall them there.
Every last person in line is quiet when they pass through the gates of Korazan. Miko looks around at the people in the streets and notices that they don’t even look at them there in the slave lines. It’s almost as if they aren’t even people to them.
They’re taken through to a large complex at the edge of town, holding pens for those awaiting the auction block. There, Miko is removed from his line and the slavers begin separating the captives by age and sex. He’s herded into a holding pen with other boys and young men.
Several fights break out by those being separated from wives and children, but in the end they go where they’re told, usually with blood running down their backs from the numerous lashings required to subdue them.
Once they’ve been in their pen for awhile, one of the lads a few years older than Miko comes over to him and says in a whisper, “We gotta get out of here!”
Miko just looks at him and asks, “How?”
“Rush the guard, or something,” he says.
“I don’t think it would do any good,” Miko tells him.
Obviously not getting any support for his idea from Miko, the lad goes over to another group of boys where he can hear them whispering amongst themselves. I hope they don’t do anything stupid to get me killed, he thinks as he glances over to the older boys, huddled with their heads together.
He gazes over to the other pens in the area and sees many such as his, holding young boys and men. The women and girls must have been taken elsewhere for he doesn’t see any sign of them.
Another young man in the pen with him comes over and says, “Wonder what’s going to happen now?”
Shrugging, Miko says, “Don’t know.”
“Name’s Viktor,” he says holding out his hand.
Taking the hand, he replies, “Miko.”
Viktor glances over to the group of boys who are conversing together quietly. “Think they’re right?” he asks.
“What? Those guys?” Miko asks, indicating the group planning escape.
When Viktor nods his head, he says, “I doubt it. I would think the slavers are going to anticipate something like that, they’ve been doing this for a long time.”
“But what choice do we have?” Viktor asks, his voice trembling slightly.
“Right now, none,” he replies.
Viktor starts sobbing, “I want to go home!”
“So do we all,” Miko says, uncomfortable at the show of emotion Viktor is displaying.
Viktor goes back over to a corner and sits down by himself, with his knees up and lays his head in his arms, silently crying.
Doing his best to hold back his own emotions, Miko sits and stares out of the pen.
An hour passes before several slavers come and bring them food and water, as well as a bucket for use as a slop bucket. When they get close to the door of his pen, the boys from the group move closer to the door and Miko gets set for trouble. Two of the slavers have crossbows, armed and casually aimed at the boys while another says, “Back up!”
