"You want to use my son as bait?" Corwin screamed, and his face turned red with rage.
"Offer him to the monsters?"
"Not at all!" She ran to their son and dropped to her knees to hug him. Orin, the toddler, appeared scared and perplexed by his mother's tears. "No, you can't have him!" "He's just a kid!"
"Everyone, calm down," Lyon yelled, but his voice was lost in the noise.
Mara's mother was crying and holding her daughter tighter. "Is she next? "Will they come for mine after they take his boy?"
August raised his voice so that everyone could hear him say, "That's exactly what I'm trying to stop." He detested everything that came out of his mouth, but the alien memories murmured their icy logic. "If we take the youngster with the deepest marks away from the others, the Hunt will take him and say its obligation is met. "The others will be fine."
"Then pick someone else's kid," Corwin said angrily, his palms quivering. "Why mine? "Why, my Orin?"
"Because he has the deepest marks," August answered, trying to seem calm even though guilt was eating away at him. "Look at his skin—the black veins. The Hunt will come for him first, no matter what. He could stay here and still demolish the camp while seeking the others.
Orin's mum was crying and swaying back and forth with him in her arms. "He's eight years old." Eight. He doesn't like the dark. He still gets bad dreams about the Blightheart. How can you do this? How can you expect me to give up my son?"
August's anguish hit her like a physical blow. But the memories he borrowed showed him other camps and other options. They lost all of the images of whole communities because they sought to protect everyone.
"I know it's not fair," he remarked in a low voice. "I realised it means. But if we do nothing, the Hunt will kill everyone. The youngster who was possessed said it himself: "The Hunt is coming for all the broken ones."
Maeve jumped up suddenly, her face red with rage. "This is killing. You're saying you want to kill an innocent child.
August said, "We're talking about staying alive." "One life to save many." It's not fair. It's not fair. But it could be needed."
"Necessary?" Corwin's voice broke. "You think killing my son is necessary?"
Kael walked forward with a serious look on his face. "I've heard the old songs about the Silent Hunt." It doesn't stop until it gets what it wants. If the marked kids are at the camp when it gets there, it will tear through every tent and every person until it finds them. Three marked kids suggest it won't stop at one. "It will take all three and anyone who gets in its way."
"Then we fight," Mara's father stated with a sigh of relief. "We keep them safe. "All of them."
"With what?" Kael asked softly. "We don't have any weaponry that can hurt something that is half in the dark. No magic can keep it away. The Hunt takes you away from existence itself. You can't fight that.
"So we just give up kids to save ourselves?" Maeve's voice trembled with feeling. "What does that mean for us? How are we different from the monsters?
August remarked, "We're alive," in a bland voice. "That's what makes it different. It's not easy to stay alive on this planet. It's not fair. "But it's all we have."
Corwin moved towards August, his fists clenched. Lyon walked between them, one hand on his knife.
"No violence," Lyon replied in a strong voice. "Not here." "Not right now."
"Then what?" Corwin's voice broke. "You're going to let this stranger choose what happens to my son? "This man we just found as a statue a few days ago?"
Lyon's face reflected how hard it was to be a leader. He appeared like a boy who had to make choices like a man. "We vote," he finally said. "That's how we've always done it." The grown-ups at the camp will make the decision collectively.
"Vote?" Corwin's wife couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Are you really going to vote to kill our son?"
Lyon responded, "It's the only fair way," but his voice shook. "Everyone's life is in danger. Everyone has a say. "That's how this camp works."
"Fair?" she said again, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. "This isn't fair at all!"
But Lyon had already made up his mind. He looked at one of his guards. "Get everyone together. There is an adult in the camp. Tell them we need to vote on something that will keep us alive.
As the camp's adults gathered around the central fire, it burned brightly. Young and old faces came and went amid the shadows, all showing the scars of a difficult life as nomads in a world that was dying. The kids were told to go to the far tents, away from what was going to happen.
Lyon stood in front of them, and the weight he carried was clear on his youthful face. "You all know about the children with marks on them. About the Silent Hunt that is coming for them.
People in the crowd started to murmur.
Lyon went on, "August thinks there is a way to save most of the camp." "By... by giving the Hunt what it wants the most." "The boy with the deepest marks."
The murmuring got louder, and people yelled in fury and dread.
Corwin pushed his way to the front, with his wife next to him. Their son Orin stood between them, scared and perplexed by how tense the air was. Corwin yelled, "My son has a name." "He's not just 'the boy with marks.'" That's Orin. He likes to carve small animals out of wood. He is learning how to follow bunnies. "He's a person."
His wife's voice broke as she talked. "Please. Don't do this, please. He's only a kid. He's never hurt anyone.
A few folks turned away because they couldn't meet their eyes.
A woman in the audience added, "I have kids too." She spoke softly yet firmly. "Three of them." They'll die too if the Hunt comes for the camp. All of them."
"Mine will too," said another parent. "I can't... I can't put my family at risk for this."
Mara's father stepped forward and stated, "We're all putting our families at risk." "My daughter is also marked." Not as much as Orin, but still marked. If we do this, when does it end? "Do we kill her next if the Hunt comes back?"
August said, "The Hunt won't come back." He was already alone because of his idea, which set him apart from the crowd. "It doesn't work like that. It arrives for certain debts and markings. It leaves after it gets what it wants.
"And how do you know this?" someone said. "You say you don't remember anything, but now you know everything about monsters?"
August didn't have a decent answer to it. He had bits and pieces of knowledge in his thoughts that he couldn't explain.
Kael spoke up. "I've heard the same thing in the old songs." The Hunt only takes what it is owed. It's exact. Surgical."
Corwin said again, "Surgical." "That's a nice way to say that you killed my son."
The argument went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes. Fear fought against reason. Parents looked at their own kids and did the math in their heads. One life against many. A child of a stranger versus their own.
Finally, Lyon called for silence. "We vote." Everyone agreed to... separate Orin from the camp and put him where the Hunt will find him first.
People started to raise their hands. At first, it was slow, but then it got faster. August didn't count them. He couldn't stand to. But he could see the result on Corwin's face as it crumbled and in his wife's scream of pain.
"Everyone against?"
Not as many hands. Not nearly enough.
Lyon's voice sounded empty. "The camp has made its choice. Orin will be taken to the southern edge, which is far away from the main tents. "The Hunt will find him there if it comes."
Corwin's wife fell to the ground, her wailing cry cutting through the night like a knife. Her husband caught her, and his own face was wet with tears. Orin started to cry because he didn't understand, but could feel how sad his parents were.
The boy said in a soft voice, "Mama?" "Why are you sad, Mama?"
She didn't know what to say. She just held him tighter.
Mara's mother stood next to her daughter, looking both relieved and guilty. Her kid would be okay. But what is the price? The father of the other boy who was marked said nothing. His hands shook as he just stared at the ground.
August could feel the stares coming his way. Blame and hate spread like heat from a fire. This was his idea. He had put the idea in their heads. Now they hated him for making them make a choice.