Felanar has been captured by the saarks, and is prisoner on their ship. Kara with her family and Bren on their fishing boat had used her elven horn for the first time in her life.
Felanar was more aware of his surroundings now. The sun was sinking and the western sky was alive with color. The ship continued its furious pace northward as the drum beat unceasingly. Felanar stared at the drummer. It was the same man he had seen earlier in the day, but looking more haggard than before. Their eyes met for a moment and in that brief instant Felanar had a window into the soul of a man bereft of hope. There was such sadness and resignation in those eyes that Felanar shuddered, little thinking of his own desperate state.
Still lying bound on the deck, he looked around. He craned his neck to the side and looked for the three saark guards but they were not to be seen. He then heard a commotion on the port side and turned his head back to see the cause. The drums continued to beat, the slaves continued to row, but the saarks paid no heed to this. Dozens of them lined the port side, pointing wildly and cursing in their tongue. They had seen something that had upset them greatly. One of them went running over to the drummer and told him to quicken the pace. As the drummer did so, the oarsmen matched the tempo.
They are trying to outrun a ship, Felanar thought. Who might it be? His mind went to Kara and for an instant thought she was coming to rescue him. But he quickly realized the futility of this idea. How could she and the others overcome the speed of this ship? Besides, why would the saarks now be afraid of the small fishing boat when earlier they had overrun it with such ease?
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