An Oath of Brothers

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Loti walked with her mother, her brother Loc at her side, following her as they had been for hours, taken on a meandering trail, wondering how this all came about. She understood her mother needed her to help to help convince new villagers to join the cause, but she wanted to be back in the main camp, with Darius and the others, helping them fight.

Loc limped along beside them, sweating beneath the sun, and Loti wondered how much longer this would all go on.

“How much further?” Loti asked her mother, impatient.

Her mother, as she always did, ignored her, just hiking faster through the woods, pushing back branches that snapped in Loti’s face.

It was impossible to get anything out of her. All Loti had been able to learn was that one of the neighboring villages, populated with the strongest slaves, was reluctant to join their cause and would only join if Loti urged them to. Her mother said they could bring a thousand slaves to the cause, nearly doubling the size of the army. She said they had great respect for Loti, that her fame had already spread, stories told and retold about what she had done to save her brother’s life. Her legend was growing, as the one who had escaped from the Empire’s clutches, the one who had managed to make it back to her village on her own. It was only she, her mother said, who could convince them.

As Loti thought about it, marching as they had been for hours, following her mother down the winding paths over the arid desert and in and out of forest trails, she felt a sense of optimism. While she was annoyed to be with her mother and not Darius, she was also thrilled to have a chance to do her part to help the cause. She felt a sense of purpose, a sense of being needed, and she felt honored that these villagers would even want to speak with her and her brother.

Finally, Loti was relieved to see the terrain open up, and they emerged from the forest and back out into the arid desert. Before them lay a small slave village, perched at the edge of the forest, and within it, hundreds of slaves milling about. She braced herself, ready to do whatever she could to convince them.

“Why do these people need an invitation?” Loc asked, beside her. “Shouldn’t they be rushing to join our cause? Don’t they realize that if they don’t, they will be killed?”

Loti shrugged.

“Some are more proud than others, I guess,” she replied.

They followed their mother and walked into the village, down its dusty path, and followed her as she weaved in and out of crowded streets.

Loti was a bit surprised. She had expected a welcoming committee, a group of villagers ready to greet her. And yet everyone here was bustling about, ignoring them, as if they did not even know they were coming.

“They want to speak with us,” Loc said to his mother, “yet, there is no one to greet us. What is wrong? Have they changed their minds?”

“Shut your tongues and follow me!” their mother snapped, walking faster ahead of them, turning down side streets.

Loc came close to Loti.

“I don’t like it,” he said to her quietly, jostled by other passersby. “This whole thing stinks. Since when has Mother ever come around to our cause? Everything we’ve ever done she has resisted.”

Loti began to wonder herself—she had to admit, it all did seem strange. But she didn’t delve too deeply into it—all that she cared about was helping Darius, whatever the cost.

They turned a corner and their mother stopped before a large, black, horse-drawn carriage, with iron bars on its windows. Several large slaves stood before it, scowling down at them.

Loti stopped in her tracks, confused. None of this made any sense. The carriage before them was a slaver carriage—she had seen them a few times in her life. They traveled the country roads, going village to village, and used the carriages to trade slaves between villages. They were mercenary scum, the lowest of the low, those who captured their own kind, broke up families, chained them, and sold them to the highest bidder.

“That is a slaver’s carriage,” Loti said to her mother, annoyed. “What are they doing here? We shall not have slavers join our cause.”

Loc turned to her, too. “Mother, I don’t understand. Who are these people? Why have you led us here?”

As Loti stared at her mother, she watched her expression change; her stern face fell away, and instead was replaced with an expression of profound loss and sadness, even regret. She saw her mother’s eyes well with tears, for the first time in her life.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “There was no other way. You and your brother—you are too proud. You have always been too proud. You would have joined Darius’s fight. And he, my children, is going to lose. They are all going to lose. The Empire always wins. Always.”

The slavers rushed forward, and before Loti knew what was happening, she felt her wrists being grabbed by big, strong calloused hands, felt her arms being wrenched behind her back, felt her wrists being shackled. She cried out and tried to resist, as did Loc, but it was too late for them both.

“Mother!” Loc shrieked. “How could you do this to us?!”

“I’m sorry, my children,” their mother cried out, as they were dragged to the carriage. “We are all going to die in this war. But not you two. You two are too precious to me, you always have been. You always thought that I favored your brothers. But I favored you. And I will do whatever I have to, to protect you.”

“Mother, don’t do this!” Loti yelled, frantic, struggling desperately to get free, but to no avail.

Loti saw the rear door to the carriage open as she was dragged to it and as she was shoved from behind, she felt herself tumbling into it, Loc beside her.

She turned and tried to get out, but the iron door was immediately slammed and locked behind her. She kicked and shoved it, but it would not give.

Loti heard the crack of a whip, felt herself bounced roughly as the carriage began to move, and she scurried to her knees and grabbed the iron bars and looked out the window, watching the world go by.

The last thing she saw, before the village disappeared from sight, was her mother’s face, standing there, weeping, watching them go.

“I’m sorry,” her mother cried out after them. “Forgive me!”