The Winds of Tepr

Chapter 13

In the restless dawn that follows Horohan's departure, the Alinkar tribe is a cauldron of unrest. The once-sturdy bonds that held the tribe together are fraying at the edges, and uncertainty clouds the air. Tensions run high in the heart of the camp, the aftermath of the diplomatic crisis casting long shadows on the faces of the tribe members.

The council of elders gather in a semi-circle. They deliberate the future of the Alinkar tribe, the air heavy with the weight of their words. For them, the solution seems clear—a new heir must be chosen.

But Urumol the chieftain of Alinkar refuses to entertain the idea. His voice booms across the tent, echoing the conviction of his stance. "Horohan is of my blood, and no one else shall bear the title of heir!" he declares.

In his mind, the solution to the crisis is as simple as it is pragmatic. "If Horohan wishes to live as a woman, then so be it," he argues, his gaze unwavering. "She will marry, bear children, and through them, the bloodline of Alinkar will continue."

Whispers of dissent ripple through the council, but the chieftain stands resolute, his decision final. He sees the hand of the Jabliu in the current predicament—a cunning play to weaken Alinkar and strengthen their own position. The thought of Naci, the firebrand daughter of Jabliu's chieftain, fuels his determination. "The Jabliu have taken Horohan from us," he asserts, his voice a crescendo of resolve. "We must arm ourselves, march to their lands, and bring back what is rightfully ours!"

Outside the tent, the members of Alinkar go about their day, but the undercurrent of unease is palpable. They have heard the chieftain's proclamation, and the air vibrates with the anticipation of conflict. Warriors sharpen their blades, their eyes reflecting the fire of impending battle, while some exchange worried glances, wondering if this path of confrontation is really justified.

The sun continues its ascent in the sky, casting long shadows across the camp. Away from the center of commotion, Temej and his mother, Kelik, are perched on a small hillock, the rhythmic sound of their eagles' calls filling the air.

Temej throws a piece of meat into the air. His eagle swoops down, catching it mid-flight, and returns to its perch on his arm. He turns to his mother, his expression thoughtful. "Do you really believe Naci would go to such lengths to destroy Alinkar?" he questions, his voice laced with skepticism. "She was here for just two days, and if she had such intentions, she could have done it more subtly."

Kelik, her face lined with the wisdom of the years, chuckles at her son's earnestness. She tosses a morsel to her own eagle, watching as it devours the treat. "Ah, Temej," she responds, her tone teasing, "our Naci isn't one for subtlety. That girl is a tempest. If she wanted to bring Alinkar to its knees, we would have known it by now."

Their laughter rings out in the quiet morning. The eagles ruffle their feathers, content in the presence of their human companions.

Temej's gaze drifts across the vast landscape, his thoughts turning to his older brother. "I wonder when he'll return," he muses, a hint of longing in his voice. The memory of his brother, drafted by the powerful Moukopl army, lingers in his mind, but worry does not crease his brow. "He's a skilled warrior. The Moukopl are lucky to have him."

As the breeze rustles the grass beneath their feet, the sound of footsteps climbing the hillock reaches their ears. Turning, they see the Alinkar shaman, his robes whispering against the ground, his staff in hand, making his way towards them. The air around him vibrates with a quiet energy, his presence commanding silence and respect.

Kelik's eyes meet those of the shaman, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. She turns to her son, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. "Be strong, my child," she whispers, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes.