Hope Sundered

Keila sidled her horse next to Sekka’s. She was to his left while Forizu was to his right. The trio stood atop a wide grassy ridge, gazing down the long gentle slope toward Wyndham. From this distance the encamped Azrahterans looked like a heavy manacle shackled to the walled city, denying its inhabitants all hope of freedom.

“What do we do now?” she asked the group.

“I say we hit them hard and fast, then pull back,” Forizu offered. “We’ll draw them away from the city, a few at a time, where our archers will be waiting for them. We have the advantage of falling back as far as needed. The further they pursue us, the greater our advantage becomes.”

Sekka shook his head. “You’re thinking like a hunter. These are men, not animals. They won’t be goaded so easily, and I doubt they’d give the Wyndhamites an opportunity to emerge from their city and attack them from behind.”

“With respect my Ronos, I disagree,” Forizu said. “The Wyndhamites would never risk access to their city. The enemy knows this and will have no choice but to engage us.”

While Sekka and Forizu debated, Keila studied the scene. It was midday, but the sky was dark. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, ready to burst at any moment. A cold and damp rushed at them from the east.

Thoughts of Chastin pulled her gaze involuntarily to the west, where she noticed a caravan of supply wagons in the distance, on its way to the Azrahteran camp.

“What if we cut their supply line?” she asked. She turned to see both men staring at her. “My apologies for interrupting,” she added, bowing her head.

Sekka dismissed her words with a wave. “No apology needed, my queen. It’s a good idea, but we’d lose the element of surprise against the main force.”

“Surprise will play out soon enough anyway,” she countered. “An aggressive attack would be far more intimidating. I agree with Forizu, except for the part about falling back. We continue to press and keep their backs to the wall—literally.”

Sekka pondered her words. “Alright, we’ll watch the caravans to determine when and where to attack.”

“The time is now, and I say we start with that one.” Keila pulled hard on her horse’s reins. The horse whinnied and reared before charging off toward the caravan.

“My queen!” Forizu called after her, but too late. Sekka just stared at her dwindling image, dumfounded. A heartbeat later, Forizu charged after her.

“She does that a lot,” Ekard said.

Sekka frowned, realizing his only choice was to engage the enemy encampment. He was confident Keila and Forizu could handle the caravan on their own.

He called back to the other Ronos, and word spread throughout the ranks. In a few moments the Nokri army—a united front of both Jitsa and Eja—raced across the valley toward the Azrahterans.

The war cry they bellowed in unison shook the very ground.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

Keila stood in her saddle, unafraid of falling, unafraid of dying. She was Nokri. She was Heart. She was the queen of her people, like her mother. She was a leader of men, like her father. She was one with her mount, one with her bow.

Arrow after arrow shot forth with the truest aim, each finding its intended mark before anyone from the caravan understood what was happening. The two guards on the lead wagon were dead before she was within fifty yards of them. The pair on the second wagon met the same fate while she was still over twenty yards away. The pair on the third wagon saw the righteous indignation in her eyes before meeting their end.

The guards on the fourth wagon stopped their horses and scrambled for cover, and the occupants of the wagons behind them followed suit. Keila continued down the line, picking off the slower targets and those who’d chosen poor cover. Without slowing, she circled behind the caravan and came charging up the other side. The hiding guards were now exposed and trapped.

Having abandoned all rationality in the throes of panic, the two guards from the fourth wagon made a run for the main encampment. Forizu leaped from his horse in mid-gallop. In one fluid motion he drew his knife and buried it in the man’s back up to its hilt.

The other man continued his desperate flight, crying in vain for the host of soldiers too far away to offer help. Forizu launched his other knife at his fleeing target, catching him in the base of the skull and silencing him forever.

Keila came trotting up beside Forizu moments later with his horse in tow. “And so it begins,” she said.

“That was far too reckless, my queen!” he replied, scowling. They stared at each other for several tense seconds. She made no apology. His glare vanished, replaced by the thinnest smile. “And most impressive. Whatever the outcome, it’ll be an honor to fight for you.” He bowed low.

“You fight with me, my brother,” she replied, using the word ‘akai’.

He bowed again, this time holding the pose. She remembered then one of her mother’s recent lessons on Nokri culture. The longer the bow, the greater the loyalty. Keila realized he wouldn’t rise until she addressed him. “And the honor is mine to have such a noble soul at my side.”

Together they rode fast to join the fray.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

The Nokri were a wave of furious energy, dashed upon the rocky shore that was the unsuspecting Azrahteran army. Those closest to the river were cut down first, which left the southern bridge unguarded.

Thirty Nokri raced across and took up defensive positions on the eastern shore while another group worked furiously to load the bridge with as many obstacles as they could. Barrels and crates were stacked as tall as a man from side to side and along the entire length of the bridge.

The Azrahterans fought hard to regain access to the western side, but the thirty defenders stood their ground to the last man, taking three times their number before meeting their heroic ends, buying precious time for their kinsmen with their blood.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

Lord Bel’ami, Losigalender, and Captain Endari rushed to the western wall in response to several hystermessengers who claimed an unknown army had arrived from the south and engaged the Azrahterans. Confused but elated by the miraculous turn of events, the three leaders watched the battle unfold below.

“Is that…our standard they’re flying?” Bel’ami asked Endari.

The captain squinted hard. “It’s crudely drawn, but yes, I believe it is!”

“It’s the Nokri,” Losigalender said with breathless wonder. “They’ve come.”

“The Nokri?” Bel’ami echoed, baffled. “I thought they hated us.”

Losigalender smiled wide with mist in his eyes. “Not all of them.”

The humbled and grateful trio watched with amazement as the nomadic warriors sealed off the southern bridge and began making steady progress north.

“If they take the other bridge, the Azrahterans in the east will be cut off!” Bel’ami said, his excitement soaring on wings of hope.

“And the odds will be a little more even,” Endari added with an unmistakable eagerness.

“Get your men ready, Captain! If the Nokri reach the eastern bank, open the gate and join them!”

“With pleasure, Sire!” Endari shouted over his shoulder as he sped off.

“Won’t that leave the city vulnerable?” Losigalender asked, his voice sharp with concern.

Bel’ami shook his head. “I’ll have men ready to close the doors if the situation turns dire, but we can’t sit here and do nothing while the Nokri fight and die for us. We have to strike while we have the advantage, meager as it is. This may be our only chance to end this, and I’ll not squander such a gift.”

Losigalender turned his attention back to the battlefield, his own hope rekindling. “Gift indeed,” he mused.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

“Who are those people?” Sollin asked with amazement as he watched the battle on the western bank unfold.

“They appear to be Nokri,” Iraden answered, equally amazed.

“You mean the savages of the Southern Wilds?” Bayse asked, a sudden panic welling up inside of him. Like most Avelirians he’d grown up hearing stories about the Nokri, none of which painted them in a favorable light.

“They’re not savages,” Iraden replied with more than a little disdain. “Many of them conduct business in Seagate every day.”

“Then you invited them to help us?” Crenshaw asked.

Iraden shook his head. “No, but someone must have.” The troupe stood and watched as the Nokri warriors collided with the Azrahterans in furious intensity, driving them back with every step.

“I thought they hated us,” Riak said.

Sollin clapped the hunter on the back. “Right now, it seems they hate the Azzies more, and that’s good enough for me.” Turning to Iraden he asked, “How about it, Commander? Wanna assist our new allies?”

Iraden grinned. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Captain.”

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

The fighting had just begun when the swollen clouds decided to release their heavy burdens. What began as a gentle shower soon became a steady downpour, making traction and visibility difficult for both sides. Some slipped onto the point of a sword, while others struck down allies, mistaking friend for foe.

Mud and blood became a gruesome mix, splattered like war paint across the faces of every combatant. Both sides were suffering casualties, but despite being outnumbered, the Nokri were taking two, three, and sometimes four for every one they lost.

An hour after the first blades were crossed, both sides were roughly equal in number. By the second hour the Azrahteran force had been diminished.

Keila had acquired two slender short swords from fallen Nokri by the time she reached the main battle. She immediately put the weapons to good use, harnessing every lesson she’d received from her father and Forizu. With every slain Azrahteran she drew one step closer to Wyndham’s northern bridge.

Keila called to every Nokri within earshot to press on, rallying her people to reach their objective. Her pulse quickened with excitement when she noticed the Azrahterans were no longer trying to hold the bridge, but retreating across it.

The western bank was theirs.