Raising her hands in defense, she expected to receive a fatal blow from the evil gang surrounding her, but it didn’t come. Instead, all went black and gray, and she could hear mighty shouts coming from the slaves that had come out of their cages.
The night’s darkness still fought against the light of the morning but, through the early dawn haze, Maren could see panicked legs dashing to and fro around her cage. The clanging of steel and the pained cries of injured men snapped her out of her slumber and she sat up, squinting through the mist to see what was happening.
Breaking through the gray-black sky were fiery arrows being launched from just outside the camp. As they struck tents and caravans, men screamed and ran. It was a hurricane of terror and commotion. The fact that the girl’s cage was locked heightened her sense of helplessness. She was trapped inside the maelstrom and couldn’t get out. She was still afraid that she would be caught trying to squeeze through the bars.
Maren could see a figure moving through the madness. It was all rage, and steel—and fur. Immediately, she knew, and shouted, “Dulnear!”
The man from the north continued through the camp like a man on fire, cutting down slavers like wheat in season. As the girl violently shook the door of her pen, a young voice broke through, “Stay in your cages! You will be free soon but stay in your cages!”
“Son!” she called out.
“Maren!” his voice rang through the thick, smoky morning air.
“I’m over here!” she cried.
The boy ran to the cage and reached through the bars to touch her. “We found you!” he crowed.
Upon seeing the face of her guardian, the girl was awash with a sense of comfort. Many words flowed through her mind, but what came out of her mouth was, “I’m sorry.”
Son’s eyebrows shot up and he looked surprised by her apology. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” he said. “For now, we need to get you out of here,” and he smashed the lock with the hilt of his sword.
“Can I come with you?” a voice asked. It was the young man in the blue tunic beginning to exit his pen.
“No!” Son yelled. “That northerner will cut down anyone he doesn’t recognize and is not in a cage. If you value your life, then stay put until he says that it’s safe to come out.”
As Maren stepped out to join Son, she hugged his waist tightly, almost pushing him off of his feet. “Thank you!” she burst.
The boy took her by the hand and began to lead her toward the path that headed out to the road. “You can thank me when we get home,” he said, and walked quickly with his sword at the ready.
Before they were able to go very far, the man with the long, gray hair stepped out in front of them. “Where do you think you’re going, Maren?” he asked. His usual amiable demeanor was gone and he clutched a hammer in his hand.
“I’m going home!” the girl declared, and she began to step forward.
Holding his ground, the man objected, “You belong to Sevuss. You will be going nowhere! Get back in your cage before I break your arms!”
Son drew his arm back to strike the man but, before he could extend his blade, a blur of coat and steel swept in front of him, carrying the man away. Turning his surprised eyes toward the girl, he insisted, “Let’s go!”
Maren could hear the dirty-haired man pleading for his life in the distance. She had never seen Dulnear like this before and was both frightened and relieved at the same time. From out of the smoke and confusion, she heard the northerner’s voice yell out, “Maren, take this!” and a blade was flung through the air, landing at her feet.
“It’s a sword!” the girl exclaimed.
“Grab it!” Son instructed. “You may need it before we reach the horses.”
“Indeed,” she smiled widely, and snatched the weapon from the ground.
Son could see the path leading out of the camp and darted toward it. There was so much confusion between the burning caravans and Dulnear violently whirling about that no one seemed to be paying any attention to him.
Pulling Maren along, they were just beyond the circle of cages when he felt an intense pain in the back of his left leg. Spinning around to see what happened, he noticed a ginger-haired, leathery-skinned man and a young boy running toward them.
“That’s Micah!” Maren announced.
Son reached back to discover that a knife was partially embedded in his leg. Clenching his jaw, he pulled it out and forced it into the ground. “And who’s that man with him?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Before the girl had a chance to answer, Sevuss and his son were upon them. “Where are you going with my slave?” the man demanded.
“My friends came to take me home!” Maren shouted.
“So YOU brought this upon us!” the slaver reckoned. “That northerner has killed half my crew, my tents are destroyed, and my slaves are running off!”
“I am her guardian,” Son spoke up. “I, and the man from the north. We did not sign for her life-rights to be taken, so you have her illegally!”
Sevuss’s face turned red and his fists curled tightly. “Do you hear that, boy?” he asked Micah with a sarcastic grin. “What do I always tell you?”
“That the law only applies to those who can’t buy their way out of it,” the boy answered with a proud smirk.
“There’s not much we couldn’t get away with doing to the two of you,” the slaver boasted as he reached down to pull his knife out of the ground. “I could gut you like a fish and the authorities would just look
