Walak threw down his stick and stormed off down the hill towards the horses. Lyra sat staring at the stick as Walak’s story went through her head again and again. How could Rhodella have kept her magic secret from everyone for so long? Why was she willing to use it even when Master Malafar forbade it? Why wouldn’t Master Malafar use it when everyone’s life was in danger? How little did she really know about her own parents? Her mind reeled with questions that would never be answered.
Antello’s touch on her arm brought her out of her stupor. “Syman is on his way back.”
Lyra crawled to the top of the hill and peered out into the darkness towards the farm. Only the lit farmhouse was visible and she could not see Syman at all. Within moments, Syman slipped out of the trees and lay watching the farmhouse.
“There are six of them,” he reported. “They are getting ready to return to the village. It looks like they beat the farmer pretty bad, but the wife and son appear not to have been harmed. I didn’t want to stay down there in case they decided to check the farm before they left. We need to make sure they all leave before we go back down.”
Lyra merely nodded as the three students stared at the farmhouse. It was a while before the raiders left, but there was enough light from the open door to count the people leaving.
“I am going down alone,” Lyra stated. “Try to keep an eye on Walak. I am afraid he might do something stupid.”
Syman and Antello started to object, but Lyra’s stare froze their objections. Lyra strode into the trees and started down the hill towards the farm. The field was rough and rutted in places and Lyra wished for a moon to shed some light on the ground. Keeping her eyes focused on the lit farmhouse, Lyra stumbled her way across the fields and finally stood next to one of the windows.
Standing with her back to the wall, she stood silently, listening to the sounds from within the house. Someone was moving around and she could detect the movement of pots and sloshing water, although the occupants’ voices were kept too low to hear. A ripping sound convinced Lyra that someone was trying to bandage the farmer and she risked a look inside.
The farmer’s wife was tending to the farmer’s bruises and the son was stirring a pot on the hearth. No one else was visible. Lyra eased her way around to the front of the house and gazed into the darkness towards the barn and the road to the village. Nothing moved in either direction and Lyra opened the door and stepped in without knocking. The occupants all looked towards the door, fear clearly etched on their faces. Lyra closed the door and stood silently with her back against it as she looked around the room.
“Lyra!” the farmer’s wife exclaimed with obvious relief. “They haven’t found you then. Come in and be welcome.”
Lyra went straight to Aguara and looked over his bruises. “Sorry for my entry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t sure if all of them had left. We have been watching and waiting for hours.”
“You are always welcome,” Aguara winced with pain.
Lyra put her hands on Aguara and gave him the benefit of her healing magic. “That should ease your pain a little,” she declared. “Give me a few moments and I can speed the healing of your wounds although I cannot heal them entirely.”
Lyra spent a few moments on Aguara, checking his bruises and using her magic to speed the healing process. The cuts and abrasions were not serious although the raiders certainly had given Aguara a beating. No bones were broken and he did not appear to have any internal injuries. After doing what she could for the farmer, Lyra sat at the table.
“Those raiders were only a small portion of the band,” she explained. “Over a hundred of them attacked the Academy this morning. They killed everyone they could find and kidnapped Master Malafar. Rhodella is dead. Master Caulder is dead. Only four of us escaped. I came to warn you and to ask the villagers to see that the bodies are properly buried. I cannot stay and do it because they are searching for me. Will you see that they are given a proper burial?”
It took a moment for the shock of her words to register, but Aguara nodded his agreement. “I thought something terrible had happened,” he sighed. “They rode into the village earlier in the day, probably right after the attack on the Academy, although we did not know about the attack then. They were looking for you. You are well liked in this village, as are your parents, and nobody would speak to the raiders. They dragged the village leader, Senjel, out of his home and whipped him in the street. Still, no one would talk. They put a rope around his neck and hung him from the tree in the square and used him for sword practice. Then the bandits split up and started entering every home with their questions. I am afraid that most people spoke freely by this time, but luckily, no one knew of your whereabouts. I slipped out of town and returned here, but I guess it was only a matter of time before they got around to the outlying farms. They were very frustrated that they could not find you and took their frustrations out on whomever they could. You must get far away from here child. I will see to the burials for you.”
“I am sorry for the grief I have brought to your village,” Lyra apologized. “I am grateful to you and all of the village for your kindness. Please let the rest of the villagers know that I appreciate their acceptance of this burden for me.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the farmer’s wife. “You have brought no grief to this village. You are a victim like the rest of us. You are always welcome in our home and our village and we would agree to the burials if no one asked us to because it is the proper thing to do. You must not take blame for something you have no control over, Lyra. Let me get some provisions together for you and your friends. Where will you go? What do you need?”
“You can stay here,” offered Aguara. “We can hide you and those bandits will not get anything out of me, I promise.”
Lyra hugged the farmer’s wife and cried. “Thank you for everything. We have provisions from the Academy and we cannot stay. Forgive me for not saying my plans, but I feel you will be safer if you do not know. The raiders will probably come back again when they cannot find me anywhere else. I must be going now before they think to search around the village more.”
Aguara merely nodded sadly as Lyra eased herself out the front door. Lyra stumbled across the fields and back up the hill, satisfied that at least there would be proper burials for the victims of the slaughter.
“We need to ride some more tonight to get away from the village,” Lyra announced as she joined her travelling companions. “I think the raiders will start looking farther out when dawn breaks.”
Nobody spoke as they mounted their horses and headed deeper into the forest. Lyra tried to sort her thoughts as she rode. So much was happening so quickly that she felt like she was rolling downhill and couldn’t find a way to stop. There were no answers to her questions, only more questions. Slowly she tried to organize what facts she knew and try to identify the questions that were most important. Then she would search for answers to those questions.
Somebody wanted Master Malafar badly enough to slaughter an entire Academy to get him. Whoever wanted him must be wealthy enough to afford so many bandits, especially bandits who were paid so well that they could afford to forgo the spoils of the attack. This mysterious person also wanted Master Malafar to perform some magic that only the Master could do, and magic that the Master would refuse to do. That is why they hunted her now. They knew Master Malafar would refuse, which means that the task is either obviously evil or involves offensive magic. Her father would refuse for either reason. What didn’t make any sense was the fact that her father held his ideals higher than life itself, so why would they need a hostage to make the Master perform? By Walak’s account, Rhodella had sacrificed her life to save Master Malafar, but her father was ready to give himself up without a fight. If he valued his own life so little, how would a hostage’s life matter more to him than his would?