“Help us!” he heard a woman scream. It sounded like Mary Wright, but Evin didn’t want to think about what was about to happen to the woman now that he’d abandoned her.

The gnolls cackled, their chorus of howls echoing throughout the room. Rusty cage doors creaked open and Evin watched from among the barrels as the gnolls dragged the villagers out of the cages, shackled them, and forced them to walk toward the south end of the room where the square walls gave way to craggy stone tunnels.

Evin watched, helpless, as all of the villagers disappeared around natural stone pillars. Their cries and the gnolls’ howling soon faded. The once crowded slave pens stood open and empty. From the scant moonlight, Evin saw that someone had dropped a rag doll on the stone floor, a button eye missing and its arm torn.

“They’re all going to die,” Marten muttered. “The monsters … they …”

Evin turned to his brother and studied the boy’s face in what little light there was. Marten’s eyes darted back and forth, looking at everything and nothing. His jaw had fallen slack, and his whole body shivered.

“We can save them,” Evin whispered. “We can! They haven’t eaten anyone yet, have they? There’s no reason for them to start now. Bet, Jorick, and I are going after them. We’ll find a way to rescue them. Don’t worry.”

Marten angled his eyes to look up at Evin through a shock of hair. “It won’t work, Evin,” he said, his voice scratchy. “We’re all doomed.”

This wasn’t like Marten. Not at all. Marten always said that no matter how bad things could sometimes be, better times were just around the corner. Sometimes you had to work for those better times, but they were always there, waiting for you to find them.

Evin reached out a trembling hand and felt at the side of Marten’s head, where the gnoll’s blade had hit him in Hesiod. He ran his fingers across Marten’s scalp. The older boy’s skin was cold to the touch, his hair stiff, brittle. And then Evin felt the dent hidden behind thick blond hair in the side of Marten’s head.

Evin jerked his hand back. The dent wasn’t deep, but could the blow have hurt Marten somehow? Permanently?

He didn’t have time to think about it. Behind him came the shuffling of boots on stone, and bright orange light flared. Evin grabbed his daggers, prepared to attack, but instead found Jorick and Bet standing over him.

Bet cleared her throat. “Your brother, I presume?”

Evin looked up at her, squinting into the harsh light of her magic orb. “We managed to pull him out of the cage before the gnolls came.”

Jorick brushed past Evin, leaned down, and grabbed Marten under his arms. With one big heft, Jorick yanked the older boy to his feet.