Only as the manacles were forced over his skinny wrists did the severity of his circumstances become clear. His father was nearby and engaged in furious discussion with one of the traders. Their backs were to him, but it seemed to Arvad that his father was intimidated. His shoulders were hunched and he jerked his head away from the conversation during his frequent nods of assent.
Joshua’s sister, whose name he could not remember, was crying up a storm as a second trader looped her manacles around the long chain that bound the children together. Arvad wished she would be quiet. He needed to think. He didn’t understand. The second trader was a thickset swarthy man wearing the pale cloth of the Ulusami nomads. His jewellery jingled with the sound of a dozen wind chimes as he put his entire body behind the blow that felled Joshua’s sister. Arvad’s manacles pulled him to the ground as she fell. As the trader turned away, the girl shuffled across the few feet of gravelly sand that separated her from Arvad and leant against him. He barely registered her quiet sobbing, so intent was he on his father’s sheep-skinned profile. It gave him nothing.
Abruptly the first trader gave a derisive snort and gestured up the hill to the ancestral groves and the village sheltered within. Arvad’s father nodded curtly and began the long hike back up toward it. He did not look back.
Arvad’s terror overcame his confusion, “Father!” He cried.
The departing figure stopped abruptly. He was more than a hundred feet away, but Arvad could see his father’s fists clench.
Arvad could see how it would unravel. His father was both strong and fast. Only Benjamin, the village Headman, was a better fighter. He would whirl around so quickly that his warrior braids would catch the wind. His charge would be thunderous, carving up the rough ground in a matter of seconds. He would fell the second trader first; he was larger and seemed a bigger threat. Arvad was sure he had seen a curved dagger hanging from the bandolier across the man’s chest when he struck the girl. His father would reel around with the grace of a hunting cat and strike the trader he had argued with to the ground in a single blow, avenging the latter’s cavalier attitude. It would take no more than moments; these Ulusami had none of the prowess of his father’s people.
His father’s hands unclenched, first the right, then the left. Arvad watched him roll his neck and set his shoulders firmly. He had reached his decision.
Arvad’s father walked on.
Something profound left Arvad in that moment. He could not register a response. He felt numb.
Joshua’s sister continued sobbing, and as the traders forced the other children to their feet she stumbled. Arvad squatted painfully for a long moment, letting her lever herself to her feet using his knees. The brutish trader loomed behind them, taking up the position of rear-guard as the procession resumed its grim march.
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