Free Elegy for a Lost Star by Elizabeth Haydon

outskirts of the Skeleton Coast, Evrit had believed it was just a matter of time before death took his family. Their survival had thus far not proved to be a better lot than death would have been.
    In the distance he heard a horn blast, once, long and sustained, then again, three times short. Evrit could feel the men in the wagon around him sit up or go rigid; they had heard it as well.
    Around them their captors began to shout to one another, calling out in a tongue he did not understand. There was panic in their voices.
    â€œWhat’s—happening?” the man next to him murmured.
    The ground beneath the wagon began to rumble. Evrit recognized the sound.
    â€œHorses,” he whispered. “Many of them.”
    The wagons slowed, the creaking giving way to the sound of thundering hooves muted by the sandy roadway.
    One of the captives began praying aloud; the others joined in quietly as the vibrations of the oncoming horses whipped up the grit of the desert against their skin.
    Evrit tried to sort out the maelstrom of sounds that followed. It seemed to him that some of their captors had tried to run, abandoning the wagonsand fleeing on horseback, but were quickly pursued by other horsemen greatly outnumbering them. The din around them made it clear that the wagons themselves had been surrounded, and from the shouting of commands, he could tell they had been taken into the custody of a military entity, though what it was he could not be certain.
    Finally, after a long time of noise and confusion, he heard a carriage roll to a stop beside the wagons, and a door open amid the sounds of protocol. He listened intently, trying to catch the words, but they, too, were in a tongue he did not recognize.
    At last a command was uttered, and someone leapt into the wagon, causing it to shudder violently. A moment later, he felt hands gently removing his blindfold.
    At first he thought he might have lost his sight entirely; the world around his eyes, freed from their bandage, was dark, but after a moment they adjusted and he could see a soldier, dressed in dark red cloth studded with leather strips, releasing the eyes of the rest of the captives in the wagon.
    Evrit looked around quickly, desperately, and caught sight of his eldest son, who sat across from him, staring wildly back at him. He nodded encouragingly, then looked behind him.
    Standing in the midst of the four wagons was a swarthy man with heavy features, dressed in loose white robes with a heavy neckpiece inlaid in gold. The robes were embroidered with the symbol of a sword and the sun. He was giving orders to what appeared to be an entire cohort of mounted soldiers, similar in skin texture and features to their leader, some of whom rode between the wagons while others released the eyes of the captives or passed out water.
    A wineskin was offered to him and he drank gratefully, his hands still bound, then looked around for Selac, finding him in a nearby wagon. Evrit bowed his head in relief, whispering a prayer of thanks for their rescue.
    Finally the man in the robes waved the soldier he was conferring with away, then turned and addressed the captives in the common tongue of the maritime trade.
    â€œI am Talquist, regent of Sorbold and emperor presumptive. I welcome you to my lands, and apologize for any mistreatment you may have suffered at the hands of my subjects. The ringleader has been executed, and the rest of these renegade slavers are now in the custody of my army.”
    Evrit exhaled in relief and flashed a slight smile at both of his sons to reassure them.
    â€œYou will be continuing on with the my caravan now, so that my soldiers can protect you,” the regent continued. “In a moment, you should allbe freed from your blindfolds if you are not already. If anyone is in need of water, tell the soldier attending to your wagon. Who among you is the leader?”
    For a moment there was silence. Then Evrit found his voice.
    â€œOur—our