[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aylwen's post

The time that went by tormented Jasara. It was the silence and the serenity that had overcome the grasslands that aggravated her and made her feel like something was happening that she did not know about. However, the worst of all this was what the young did while they waited. Every waking moment was spent either with Najah and Nasir practicing with weapons or out hunting for food. Neither task was perticularly difficult, but each seemed to be merely something to fill in the time while they waited for something to happen.

For nothing had happened since the leaders had tied the dead to the trees.

They had waited for days and days, for there was a simple feeling that told them that they had either done something so incredibly horrendous or so incredibly unimportant that the elders were struck into immobility. They were not certain which they preferred. Or there was the feeling Jasara had; that the elders had already begun their planning and that the young would have no way to know of it.

Time was taunting them.

~*~

Rijal had luckily escaped with his life. The only thing that had saved him from hanging upon the children's tree was Nasir. Nasir had convinced Uri and Najah (for they were the ones who truly objected exceptions) that Rijal was necessary for reconnaissance and spying. Which was what the little boy had been doing ever since the murdering.

He had not wanted to go back. He was afraid of Jasara. It was scary to know that he would have been dead were it not for Nasir and his crafty words and dislike for rashness. At the same time, however, Rijal hardly thought it mattered whether or not he died. The killings were a rude awakening for him. He did not matter to the young. He was useless save for his size and good eyes. He did not matter to the Baobab anymore either...he was dead to them.

But he did chance to see something useful as he was out wandering during the desert. What looked to be two scouts and two heavily armed and boisterous warriors. The two scouts Rijal recognized; he had often spoken to them and learned things of tracking from them when he was still alive to the Baobab tribe.

Despite his horrid feelings towards Jasara, Rijal felt the distinct need to tell her about his findings. So he sprinted away from his hiding place in the bushes near the trackers and warriors. He was going back to Jasara. Back to where he was wanted by one and needed by no one.

~*~

You have seperated yourselves from the elders, and still they feel the need to look after you.

Jasara could not stand it any longer. She was on the end of her rope, and it was fraying quickly. The voice filled her with rage for the elders, but the elders scared her deep inside. Deep inside, she knew she had gone way too far by killing her own tribemates. Kin slaying was something Jasara did not want to have to pay the price for in the end, but it was too late. And Jasara could not blame the voice, because she had every chance in the beginning to deny it. It was all her fault.

The worst part was that it was too late to say no to the voice.

Give yourselves to the servants of the Eye. They come now. They will offer you protection. Allign yourselves with them! The voice said, chilling Jasara to the very bones. It haunted her, and Jasara had no idea why. Jasara blinked her eyes several times after this inner question, but for several minutes she could not clear the vision of a red, flaming, lidless eye blanketed on a banner that was so dark it went beyond black and crossed into utter nothingness.

"Najah," Jasara called weakly but loudly. The girl came jogging over, sweat on her brow and bow in her hand. "Go out with three or four of your best bowmen and see if you can catch some of the trackers out there. Take Rijal with you. Do not get too close unless you feel you can take on two fully trained Painted Sand warriors without any losses."

Najah nodded and left Jasara, calling out orders in an unmistakeably wicked voice. Why hadn't the eye chosen Najah? She was evil! But Jasara had been chosen. Jasara rose from her spot by the stream with a new resolve that because she had been chosen, she was destined to success against the elders. Why else would the eye have possessed her?

"Khasia!" Jasara screamed, with new vigour that was not present when she had called for Najah. Her sister ran up, out of breath with a spear in her left hand. "Go tell Uri that there is an army of the Eye coming near here. When it is close enough we will meet up with them. We will crush the elders."

Khasia nodded, but at the same time she was rolling her eyes and sneering at Jasara and her ability to see the future or see visions. Khasia ran off to find Uri, while Jasara left herself alone to be tormented by the eye and the horrid voice.

The Eye will always protect you, Jasara...

___________________________________________
Sophia's post

Khasia heard Jasara’s cry from across the camp. Pushing her sweat-soaked braids out of her face she wrenched her spear from the target it had recently lodged in. She crossed the camp quickly, finding her sister with a look of near panic on her face. “Jasara?”

“Go tell Uri that there is an army of the Eye coming near here. When it is close enough we will meet up with them. We will crush the elders." Jasara’s words were hurried, and Khasia couldn’t readily identify her expression. Her tone though was confident, and obediently Khasia ran across the camp to where the Painted Sand youth had set up their sleeping spots.

Several minutes later, she and Uri left the Painted Sand area, Khasia set out around the edge of the camp, her bare feet sending clouds of dust billowing behind her. She could see Uri running the other direction, toward where Nasir’s group were practicing with the longsword. As she ran, Khasia barked orders to the children she passed. “Go to Jasara! Pack your things and gather at the stream! Go! Now!”

A group of the young formed around the place where Jasara stood. As Khasia reached the place where her own things were, she dropped to her knees and began stuffing things haphazardly into her large carrying basket. Jasara’s words were beginning to reach her, she was beginning to think about their implications. The army of the Eye. She shuddered, thinking about Jasara’s face, Jasara’s confidence, confidence she didn’t always share. But this army… Khasia tightened her lips. There might be opportunity there, for the ambitious. Ambition was one thing Khasia had in quantity. Slinging the basket over her shoulder, Khasia made her way over to the stream where Jasara was beginning to speak.

“For too long the old have held us captive. For too long we have lived in fear of them and their revenge. We need fear them no longer!” The confidence in Jasara’s voice was unmistakable, but the crowd of children stirred uncertainly. “An army draws near.” She called, over the voices of the muttering youth. “An army that will side with us, an army that will protect us! We will go to them as soon as Najah has returned. Gather your things, we will move soon!”

The group dissolved, nearly silently. The murmurings of the children followed them across the grounds. None of them entirely trusted whatever voice led Jasara, but all were confident of her leadership skills. Khasia surveyed the camp, watched the young pack the remainder of their things, kick sand over the fires. “What is in this for us, Jasara? Why are we giving ourselves over to them?” Khasia spoke under her breath so those that followered wouldn’t hear her doubt. Jasara’s face grew still, as though she listened.

“Great glory, sister.” She answered, the glint in her eye brightening. Khasia smiled.

The running form of Rijal jerked Khasia out of her musings on power. “Najah is coming!” he cried. “They are here!” Jasara and Khasia exchanged glances, and Khasia moved out around the camp, whispering to the leaders, nudging along the slow. Shortly all traces of a camp had vanished, only a trail of footprints in the dust pointed to where the young had gone.

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]