The Northern Tribes

3

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When we get to the gate, there are about five tribesmen guarding it. The gate is open and I watch with curiosity as most people walk through without being stopped. At one point, I see a guard stop a young man, who lifts his shirt to expose a tattoo on his ribs. Afterward, they exchange what seems to be amicable words, the young man continues on through.

"Stop!" we hear our leader-captor call loudly and we all stop immediately while he speaks with one of the guards. The other captors around us joke and laugh easily. I feel myself fill with resentment. They are clearly happy to be home, after completely annihilating mine. If I had more energy, even a tad bit more strength, I would grab one of their weapons and try to run them through.

"Careful," I hear an older man next to me say quietly. "Your hatred is overwhelming."

"Good," I hiss back. "I won't hide it." He glances at me quickly, shifting his weight on his bloodied, mud-caked feet.

"You should. You'll never be able to retaliate by being so blatant," he whispers. It's my turn to glance over at him. He has dark bags under his eyes and looks as haggard as I feel. Although we are fairly cleaned from the rain yesterday, his clothes are still stained brown with dirt, and as we make quick eye contact, I see his exhaustion.

The tribesmen don't allow us to interact with each other very much, and we know if they catch us conversing we will be punished for it. Even the few of us that have family or friends left are made to accept nearly complete silence or face being separated. So I don't focus on him for long, but I glance at him again once we resume our march. I don't know him, but I sense something familiar in him. I sense deep, unshakable hatred.

As we walk through the gate, I notice some of the native children staring at us. And when we get through, they begin to throw rocks and laugh. Our captors ignore them, marching us through the barrage. A rock hits my shoulder and although it doesn't do any real damage, it still hurts. I feel my anger bubbling but try my best to suppress it.

"Better," the man next to me says, his voice so low I barely hear him.

"Who are you?" I whisper back. But he says nothing and I notice one of our captors watching us for a long moment, so I look away and we stay silent.

We don't get another chance to interact, either. After they herd us into a large, one-room structure, a man who is adorned with more tattoos than our tribesmen leader enters and they shout for us to bow in acknowledgment.

"Chief of Bryanorda Tribe!" they tell us proudly, and the Chief looks at us with utter disgust and disinterest. Tribesmen are said to hate outsiders, and all my experience with them confirms this rumor. Once they have spoken with the Chief, our captors set to work once again, separating us into groups.

I am put with a few other girls around my age, and the tribesman who tried to assault me. He is silent and stares at the ground. Whatever he is afraid of, seems to be imminent. His demeanor has changed completely from the arrogant masochistic person he was at first.

After we are separated mostly by age and gender, we are led to different places. My group totals seven, including the tribesman. We are brought to a cart, which is pulled by a huge animal I've never seen before. It's large and brown and furry, with four legs and two large horns growing from its head, a smaller horn on its snout.

The bald leader of our party appears, talking to the tribesmen charged with us briefly before joining us on the cart. One of the other tribesmen stays behind instead and I try to get comfortable as the hard wooden cart begins to bounce along the uneven dirt road. Everything here seems crude comparatively to my homeland, something I fear will become a distant memory soon.

And despite how crude it seems, I know that on a world-scale, this nation of tribes is the most feared. I wonder where they are taking us as we bounce along painfully. But soon my body becomes numb to the pain and I fall asleep from sheer exhaustion.

I wake with a start when the cart halts abruptly. I'm startled out of a deep dreamless sleep and I hear the tribesmen with us laugh loudly in response, except for the tribesman prisoner. He looks increasingly nervous although he tries to hide it. It's nighttime now and we unload from the cart to take a break. The tribesmen eat and drink and care for the animal that was pulling us along. They also eventually feed us and allow us to sleep more.

Their treatment of us differs so greatly from before the Tribeslands that it makes me inherently suspicious, although I know if they wanted to kill us they had plenty of opportunity before. I can sense similar unease in my captive comrades, although we are saying nothing to one another. We only glance at each other wearily and mutter things only when necessary. When we lie down to sleep, I hear one of the girls that appears to be a few years younger than me softly whimpering. We all listen to her quietly cry as we fall asleep.

In the morning, we are back on the cart, bouncing along again. And since we're not so exhausted anymore, this time many of us stay awake. I look out at the scenery around us and realize that this land is quite beautiful. In the distance on one side of the wagon are large, snow-capped mountains. Lush forest stretches between the road and the mountains. On the other side of the wagon is a large field with a river running parallel to the road.

It would be awe-inspiring if our circumstances were different. Aside from the sound of the cart bouncing along and the tribesmen's raucous laughter, I can hear the water in the river and the bird song. I can hear the sounds of the lively forest beside me. I can take time to listen to the life.

I don't remember hearing the animal sounds on the march up. I don't remember the scenery. I only recall the sound of men's screams and the sight of my bloodied feet as I forced them to keep moving forward. Those were the sights and sounds that are burned into my memory along with the feeling of pure desperation and fear. But for some reason, those things seem to be gone for now.

I don't know where they are taking us, but I hope our situation stays like this as long as possible. We have food in our bellies, and get to physically relax as we are carted along. My mind however, does not get to relax. I find myself wondering where we are going and why we are getting such good treatment for mere slaves. I wonder when it will end and what we will face. I run through many possibilities in my mind, each more absurd than the last. But eventually I tire of it and try to enjoy the scenery and good conditions while they last.

And on the second night when we stop, the tribesman prisoner attempts to escape. It seems he has had enough. Although I saw him deteriorate, his actions still catch me off guard. He fights the other tribesmen when they tackle him and they have to knock him unconscious. When he wakes up some time later, he immediately begins to fight again against the ropes they used and they have to knock him out once more.

His descent into madness only gets worse during the third day. He begins yelling when he wakes up. They have him lying in the cart with us, and when he yells and fights we all huddle to the sides of the cart. After subuding him as well as they can for most of the day, he grows despondent.

At nightfall on our third day of travel, we crest a hill and behold a magnificent city stretched below us in the valley. It isn't ornate or complex. But it is large and busy. And the biggest building that sits atop a small hill on the far end of the city is clearly the most important. Although we can only view from afar, it is clear that this one building is the center of the whole city- perhaps the center of the Tribeslands itself.