“I hate you!” Micah cried out. “I’ll get you for what you’ve done!”
Just then, Son appeared next to her. Placing his hand on the girl’s shoulder, he spoke to the boy. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” he said. Then his expression changed, and he did something Maren was not expecting. He stepped closer to the boy, lowered himself onto one knee, and offered, “Why don’t you come with us?”
“Come with you?!” the boy shrilled. He glanced at his unconscious father, then back at Son. “Just stay away from me, and take your broken ward with you!”
Suddenly, Maren noticed the young man with the dark-blue tunic jog by, as did several of the other slaves from the camp. Then Dulnear appeared, looking rather pale and exhausted. “It is time to go,” the northerner said. “Make your way to Faymia.”
It was lighter now, and the girl surveyed the camp where she had been enslaved. The caravans burned, and bodies littered the ground like rubbish after a festival. She turned her eyes toward Dulnear, whose blood ran from under his coat. “Are you okay?” she asked the man.
He met the girl’s eyes briefly and smiled weakly, then answered, “I am now that I am with you again.”
She then reached up and took his arm, walking with him behind Son. Soon they were with Faymia and the horses, who were now waiting for them on the path, midway to the road. When she saw the woman, she ran to her and threw her arms around her waist.
Faymia picked her up and held her tightly, beginning to weep. Maren placed her head on the woman’s shoulder and gently stroked her hair. “Thank you for coming for me,” she said.
“We are not home yet,” the man from the north reminded them as he mounted his horse. “Son, would you mind taking the reins?” he added.
The boy hopped on in front of Dulnear while Faymia and Maren rode together. Once they were on the road toward Laor, Maren felt a sense of peace, and looked forward to seeing the farm again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Return to Laor
Maren rode along, sitting in front of Son. There had to be some rearranging of horses earlier since the girl felt the other one emitted an odor that no one else detected. Occasionally, the boy would let her take the horse’s reins and direct the animal. They were surrounded by the other recently released slaves. They were chatting on about life-rights, legalities, and the like. Faymia walked nearby, leading Dulnear’s horse as he slept. They had been on the road together for some time and were approaching Laor.
“Son?” the girl spoke up.
“Yes?”
“Can I say that I’m sorry now?” she asked.
The boy took a deep breath and replied, “I suppose so.”
“I’m sorry that I caused so much trouble,” she said with her eyes still on the road ahead.
Son waited a moment to speak. Maren could tell by his breathing that he was carefully considering what to say. “You know, I would run the length of Aun, and back again, to make sure you were okay,” he began. “You’re my sister and I love you dearly.” He then paused again before continuing. “But even more difficult than breaking through a castle’s defenses, fighting slavers, and riding through the night, is the pain I feel from your dishonesty with me.”
The girl glanced over at the wounded man from the north, then at his wife, who was wiping tears from her eyes as she led his horse. Something stirred inside of her that couldn’t fully be called remorse, but couldn’t be called indifference either. Her chest felt heavy, and she knew she didn’t want her friends to suffer on her behalf again. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “I wish that I would have listened.”
“Me too,” the boy said. “I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to find you. We had to go to the king of slavers himself to find out where you were.”
Maren shuddered at the thought of a slaver king. Just being with a slave owner was bad enough. “I was in Ahmcathare for a little while,” she stated.
“Ahmcathare?” the boy sputtered. “What were you doing there?”
“I worked for a fat tool seller,” she said plainly.
“Oh,” the boy said. “How did you end up back at the camp?”
“I walked,” she explained. “Well, most of the way. A funny man named Treyvin gave me a ride too.”
“What happened to the tool seller?” he asked.
“He was going to take me to a brothel, so I ran away.”
“Ran away? How did you manage that?”
“An old man told me the same thing you did, so I slipped out of my cage and ran.”
“An old man?” Son asked.
Maren could hear that her guardian was now breathing more deeply, but couldn’t tell why. “He was in my cage with me and told me that I was made for more.”
“What did he look like?” the boy asked.
“He had white hair and was tall and strong. He was cooking food. He was there one moment, then gone.”
Son sniffed, and his shoulders shook. He was quiet for quite some time as they continued along. Finally, he said, “I’ve seen him too. And every day since, I’ve thought about it.”
Maren looked over at Dulnear’s sleeping form draped across the back of his horse. She admired his courage and strength and wished to be more like him. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked.
Son wiped a tear from his eye and observed the man from the north. “He’ll recover,” he answered. “He always does.”
The townspeople of Laor gathered around, welcoming back their family members who had gone off with Sevuss and his crew. There were many tears and even more questions. Maren watched as they embraced each other and shared stories of the past few weeks. She also noticed that several of the shops had been boarded up, and the once tidy village appeared rather
