"Peace, friends," he said. "How may we help you?"
The cart driver returned the gesture. "If you would like to put down that shiny blade of yours
and come with us, that would be a start."
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"The start of what?" Ramil held the sword in guard position, shifting his weight, ready for an attack.
There was another round of laughter from the river. The stranger nodded to three of his men.
"That's the girls. Go get them."
"No!" shouted Melletin and Ramil together, springing forward to block the path, but the other men were upon them, forcing them back with spears and swords.
"Tashi, Yelena, run!" boomed Gordoc. He lashed out with his fists at the men dancing around
him using whips and chains to hamper him.
Frightened, the horses pulled on their pickets, scattering from the flailing swords.
Ramil cursed. The slaver had planned this well. He let his men engage the three travellers in
battle but only so as to keep them from going to the assistance of the girls. He must have
gauged their strengths earlier and knew he would lose fighters if they went to disarm the giant
and his two companions.
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Bursting with fury, Ramil fought, desperate to reach Tashi. Every time he tried to break through,
a man would attack from behind, forcing him to turn and defend himself. Once he had the
advantage over that assailant, another would step in, starting the fight all over again. These
were no novice soldiers like those at Nerul's camp; these were hardened overseers, disciplined
and used to controlling those who were stronger than them. He gritted his teeth and fought on.
He had to reach her, he had to.
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On the riverbank, Tashi had just finished dressing when she heard Gordoc's shout. Nearer to the
camp, Yelena was bent double, tying her shoes.
Immediately, the warrior-girl sprang up, casting round for something to use as a weapon, but
three men burst out of the trees and knocked her flat before she had a chance.
"Run!" Yelena screamed, fighting like a wild cat with the man who grappled for her arms.
Terrified, Tashi fled. The river was swifter here, channelled between two high banks. Water
foamed around rocks. She had nowhere to go but along the river's edge, crashing through
bushes, stumbling over stones, her breath tearing at her lungs in harsh gasps. Feet pounded
behind her. Men cursed as the brambles snatched at their hands and legs, but Tashi was
unaware of the scratches. The ground rose under her feet; she ran up the incline and emerged
into the open, finding herself right on the very edge of a curving river bluff. The brown water
flowed rapidly some ten feet below. Her two pursuers divided to approach her from either side,
like dogs rounding up a stubborn sheep. The biggest one, who had a shock of matted black hair
and a gap-toothed grin, held out his hand and beckoned her.
"That's right, sweetheart. Nowhere to run now. Come along and you'll not get hurt. We don't
mark the pretty ones, do we, Garth?"
"No, Mol, we don't. Treat them fine, we do." The
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smaller man, no more than a boy really, slipped a rope from his belt and made a loop.
Tashi took a step closer to the edge. They stopped moving.
"That'll do you no good, girl. The river'll mash you up and spit you out drowned dead," Mol said.
"But with us, we'll find you a nice kind master who'll look after you. You'll live very comfortably--
better than most."
Tashi called silently on the Goddess. I can't get taken now -- I'll never reach my people in time to
save Gerfal, she pleaded.
Then don't get taken, came the answer.
There was no choice. She knew what she had to do, but she wasn't sure if her faith was strong
enough to believe she could.
"As the Goddess wills," Tashi muttered, knowing there was only one way to find out.
She slowly raised her hands. The men relaxed, thinking she was about to come to them.
"All right, I surrender," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Ram."
Giving up her life to the Mother, Tashi turned and jumped. She heard a snatch of a cry behind
her, but then she plunged into the water and went down, whirled away on the current.
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Ramil fought on until he saw Yelena hustled into the camp, a knife at her throat. Her attacker
had a black
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eye, but he'd managed to rope her wrists. The leader of the slaving party whistled and the other
men fell back.
"Now, my friends, you have a choice. If you fight on, I'll have to kill this girl.
Surrender your weapons and we'll treat you all fairly."
Melletin was the first to drop his sword. Ramil followed and Gordoc let his hands fall to his sides.
"Excellent. A slave that sees reason is worth his weight in gold." The leader turned to the man still holding Yelena. "Where are the others?"
"Gone after the other one."
"You two, round up the horses. Kinto, shackle our newest acquisitions."
Ramil watched the path from the river with sick apprehension. He barely noticed the iron collar
being bolted to his neck and manacles clamped to his wrists.
Finally, two men emerged from the bushes. They were alone.
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"Where is she?" barked the leader.
"She jumped," Mol said with a shrug. "Straight into the river and never came up again. Rather die than be a slave, even though I told her we'd treat her nice."
Ramil felt something snap inside him. It was as if all the strength had gone from his body. He
collapsed to his knees, empty.
The southerner sighed with regret. "Well, you can't catch them all. Never mind. Let's get these
back to the barn. We deserve a drink. I'm paying!"
The slavers cheered and herded their captives onto the cart. Five horses followed in a string.
Thunder had
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not been caught; last seen streaking away to the south, sparks flying from his hooves on the
flinty ground.
No one dared say anything to Ramil. Gordoc was moaning softly to himself, clenching and
unclenching his hands. Melletin hugged Yelena, who was weeping on his shoulder.
Disaster had come upon them so quickly. One moment he had been joking about the future and
cooking Tashi's supper, the next he was a slave and she was . . . Ramil could only think of what
the man had said. She would rather die than be a slave. Yes, that was Tashi: the proud princess,
unbroken to the last, his darling, brave girl.
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And she might still be alive.
This thought was a torment because it allowed him a bitter hope. If it was true, then she was
alone somewhere out there, without him. How long would she survive?
He dug his nails into his palm, drawing blood. He was hurting so much inside he had to make his
body suffer. If he hadn't been shackled, he would have hurled himself from the wagon. A big
hand clamped down on his wrist, chain rattling.
"Don't," Gordoc said. "She wouldn't want it."
Ramil turned and buried his face in the giant's shoulder, his body racked with dry sobs.
The next few days passed in a dark blur for Ramil. He was aware of little but his grief as the
chained slaves
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marched north in the wake of the slaver's wagon. Gordoc switched his protection from the
missing Tashi to the immediate needs of Ramil, making sure he drank and ate, keeping him on