Hope Sundered

Just before midday Keila saw them—vague shapes in the distance suggesting a settlement of some kind. Dark points on the horizon also grew taller with each step, until a small forest became evident. Not as large or majestic as the Deep Wood, but where there were trees, there was water.

The Nokri encampment was far smaller than she’d hoped. Even so she was fascinated by the conical tents made from animal skins sewn together. They were arranged in a large oval, facing inward to a communal yard where most of the Nokri were beginning to gather. Aromas of roasted game filled the air, along with smatterings of indistinct conversations.

It occurred to her that she could be the first Avelirian in history to visit a Nokri camp. It was a unique opportunity to discover much about a people believed to be the mortal enemies of Aveliria. In spite of her urgency, she was eager to learn as much about their culture as possible.

Their physical traits were unlike anything she’d seen before. The length and styles of their intricate braids varied, but every Nokri was crowned with locks of robust, orange hair. Their skin was bronze and weathered from the relentless sun. The most peculiar attribute was their eyes—bright golden irises—unlike anything she’d ever seen.

As she looked around, she noticed a profound sense of nobility, raw and simple, hiding just beneath their primitive façade. Their posture bespoke of a quiet dignity, and the keen light in their strange eyes revealed an intellect equal to if not greater than her own. From their tents and clothes and tools she could see these people knew the land, understood it, respected it, and harnessed its resources using the collective wisdom of countless generations.

Mothers held their infants in a tender embrace while children laughed and chased each other around the tents. The younger men assisted the elderly with various chores. It was a tight-knit community, much like Chastin had been.

Perhaps people weren’t so different after all.

Many were staring at her. Some were even pointing, which stirred her self-consciousness, but she told herself such behavior was to be expected. She was the foreigner here, and they were as curious as she was, perhaps even anxious. Were they fearing retaliation from Aveliria after all these years?

Keila and Ekard were escorted to the entrance of the tent on the opposite side of the circle from where they entered. The troupe leader called out two clear words: Sekka Ronos. Perhaps they referred to the occupant’s name, or a formal title, or both. She couldn’t begin to guess but she wanted to know. They were the first two Nokri words she’d ever heard, and they were exotic and fascinating.

Moments later the flap opened outward and a large, muscular man appeared. His flaming mane was woven into rows of tight braids trailing across his skull and down his back, stopping short of his waist. A string of long sharp teeth adorned his neck.

The troupe leader stood nearly as tall but was thinner, wrapped in chords of lean muscle. He wore his hair in a single swath down the middle of his shaved head. He said something succinct, which led the powerful man’s scrutinizing gaze to the pair of outsiders.

He looked Ekard over in one glance, his expression making it clear he was unimpressed. His reaction to Keila, however, revealed a very different story.

Despite her feminine figure, the man’s eyes never dropped below her chin. He studied her face intently before mentioning something to the troupe leader, who shook his head and replied with a negative connotation. He looked at the troupe leader as if he was either blind or stupid. He pointed at her copper mane, but the troupe leader shook his head again and repeated his stance, pointing at her eyes.

More Nokri gathered around as they argued. After a few more exchanges the large one ended the debate with a sweeping motion of his arms and a tone of finality. To Keila he offered a disarming smile and invited her into the open tent behind him. She looked at the troupe leader, unsure if she was still a prisoner, a guest, or about to become something else. Grim-faced and disappointed, he shrugged in defeat and gestured toward the tent.

As she complied, her brawny host gave the hunting party a brief command. Judging from Ekard’s suddenly loud protest, it involved taking him someplace else. A knife at his back convinced him to comply. He cast a plaintive look over his shoulder as he was led away.

The large Nokri entered the tent after Keila and closed the flap behind him.