Hope Sundered

Keila and Ginica sat alone in the Nokri queen’s private chamber beneath Hernok’s Falls. For a while mother and daughter filled the awkward silence with a careful scrutiny of one another. Keila chewed her bottom lip as her eyes darted around the room. She had no memory of the woman before her, despite pushing her mind’s eye to its limits.

Candles adorned every natural shelf along the cave walls, filling the room with soft warm glow. Trace minerals in the rock caught the light and sparkled, adding an exotic luster to the surroundings. A steady stream of water poured from a gap in the ceiling in the corner of the room, collecting in a waist-deep pool before spilling over the narrow shelf and draining through a hole in the floor.

Ginica broke the silence. “You’ve become such a beautiful young lady. I can see so much of Losi in you.”

Her father’s nickname was a knife in Keila’s heart. She could hear the fondness in Ginica’s voice, but this woman was a stranger to her. “How are you still alive?” she blurted. “I thought you died when I was a baby!”

Ginica’s brow furrowed. “Is that what your father told you?”

Keila opened her mouth, but paused to consider the question. “Well, no. He spoke of you often but now that I think about it, he’d only ever say he’d lost you, or you were taken from us.” She shook her head. “I assumed he was being poetic to spare me from the details.”

“Oh, my poor daughter,” Ginica sighed. “I’m so sorry. There’s so much to explain, and you deserve to know everything. I assume you’ve been taught about the war between the Nokri and the Wyndhamites long ago?”

Keila nodded. “Every Avelirian knows about that war.”

“A year or so prior to that attack, the Nokri were visited by a Wyndhamite priest. He taught them about a god who reigned over all creation. Until then, our shamans claimed that many spirits shaped and guided the world. But the priest’s teaching inspired many to embrace this newfound god.

“Debates erupted, which led to fighting and resulted in bloodshed. We became divided into three factions: the Jitsa, who put their faith in the One God, Yajuel; the Moesa, who held fast to the traditions taught by the shamans; and the Eja, who rejected both sides and renounced all supernatural belief.

“The shamans convinced the Moesa that Wyndham intended to enslave them with their religion, so they marched north to war but as you know, they were defeated. Generations later, the Jitsa decided to make peace with Wyndham and ask their forgiveness. I joined the delegation they sent, which is how I met your father.”

Ginica smiled as her gaze reached for a distant memory. “He was handsome, kind, and intelligent. Strong and gentle all at once, and honest. I wasn’t trying to fall in love—with a kokitu of all people—but it happened anyway. Oh, I’m sorry, a kokitu is—”

“An Avelirian?”

Ginica beamed with pride. “Anyone who isn’t nokri, so yes. I see you’ve been learning our language.”

Keila shrugged and looked down. “I’ve picked up a little.”

“You’re a quick study, just like your father. We were from two different worlds but it didn’t matter. I believed it to be Yajuel’s will.”

Ginica’s expression darkened. “I had no idea of the trouble I was about to cause, Keila. I was young and headstrong, and wouldn’t be told how to live my life. I refused to ignore my heart and, despite the delegation’s strong opposition, I married your father.”

“Why would anyone care who you married? If the point of the delegation was to make peace, what better way is there than love?”

Ginica grinned. “I think I’m beginning to see what you’ve inherited from me. The truth is I wasn’t supposed to be a part of that delegation. My father was not only the king of the Nokri nation, but the leader of the Moesa faction.

“My being a Jitsa was a secret up to that point. I joined that delegation without his knowledge. I thought if we were successful, I could make him see the truth.”

Keila recalled when she convinced her own father to let her fight the Azrahterans from the large tree outside of town. Even if he hadn’t relented, she’d have done it anyway to prove she was right. Perhaps this really was her mother.

“I take it you weren’t successful.”

Ginica shook her head. “We discovered a Moesa spy in our midst, which ruined the delegation. Your father and I fled to Craeda’s Hill. Despite the constant fear of being discovered, those were the happiest three years of my life, during which you were born. You captured my heart from the moment I held you, and such you were named.”

That explains it, Keila thought, recalling her first night in Sekka’s tent. His reaction to her name made much more sense now.

Ginica reached out to touch Keila and stopped short. When Keila didn’t recoil, she continued, brushing her cheek with a delicate hand.

Keila closed her eyes to stem the tears, but also to imagine experiencing the same comforting caress as an infant. “I can’t remember your touch or your voice,” she confessed, the waver in her voice colored with both sadness and anger.

“You were not quite two summers old when my father found us,” Ginica replied, her face tightening from the bitter memory. Her eyes began to water. A veil of shame shrouded her delicate features as she bent her gaze to the stone floor.

“The Moesa believe in keeping the bloodlines pure. To join with a kokitu is considered blasphemy against the spirits and punishable by death. They considered you to be an abomination, but they’re wrong! You were—you are—beautiful in every way, the best of both worlds!

“As his only child, I was meant to inherit my father’s reign. Given my faith and my marriage he wouldn't allow it, but he still needed a pureblooded heir to maintain Moesa control. He wanted to burn you and Losi alive, but I threatened to kill myself unless he spared you both. It was the only leverage I had.” Ginica hung her head and sobbed into her hands, succumbing to her guilt.

Keila wept as well, overwhelmed by the impact of everything she’d just heard. Her father’s cryptic explanations were now clear. Nokri history, which had meant so little to her growing up, was her history. These people, scattered and forgotten by the rest of the world, were her people.

And this was her mother, but how could she tell this woman, this Queen of the Nokri, so fragile in her pain, so empty in her loss, that the love of her life, denied to her all these years, was now dead?

Ginica looked up, looking wary. “Why are you here, Keila? Some say you’re a spy, but I don’t want to believe it.”

“A what?” Keila asked, reeling from yet another shock to process. “Why would I…? How could you…?”

“The Moesa are always looking for a reason to discredit our faith, or an opportunity to kill Sekka and myself. We’ve managed to expose a few of them over the years, but there’ll always be others. In one sense we’ve only just met, and it wouldn’t be beneath the Moesa to poison my own daughter against me, especially if you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’m no spy!” Keila declared, trembling. “I had no idea you were even alive until today!”

“Well, if you didn’t even know about your heritage, what in Yajuel’s name brought you all the way out to the Wilds? It’s dangerous even for my most experienced hunters.” As she spoke Ginica’s tone shifted from a suspicious queen to a worried mother.

“I did come looking for the Nokri, but only because—” Keila stopped and took a deep breath to steady herself, remembering why she was here, why she’d risked so much to be here. This was the critical moment she’d hoped for. She met her mother’s questioning gaze. “I need an army.”

“An army? What are you talking about?”

“The Azrahteran Empire crossed the Dragonspine a month ago and burned Chastin to the ground. If I don’t stop them, they’ll kill everyone. I need your help. I need your warriors. And if you still want Wyndham’s forgiveness, this is the way.”

Ginica’s face grew tight and pale. “He’s not here,” she whispered, piecing together what Keila didn’t have the courage to tell her. “He should be with you.”

Keila shook her head slowly. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. Only whimpers of grief escaped her clenched jaw.

“Where is he, Keila? Where is your father?”