[NRPG: Sent to Cleft because it takes place in the Nomadlands.
Informational only.]

[Azyil]

He lay on the bed furs, listening to the slow, even breathing of the
strange captive beside him.  He had thought the men who rode the dragons
were uncivilised and dangerous, but now he wasn't so sure.  Hehrial seemed
to understand his place, at least.

"Hehran, what do I do?" he whispered.

He had never wanted to be chieftain.  But he was the only one left.  Hafir
had died at Azyil's hands.  All his younger brothers had abandoned the
tribe after that death and were presumed dead...  Jehahn, Altrar, Hamar,
Aljirat, and Almiron.  Azkah, in a rage, had ordered all their wives,
slaves, and children killed. 

It had been a turning point.  It was expected that a new chieftain would
remove potentially divisive elements from the tribe-- those who had tried
for the chieftaincy and those who sided with them and their families.  But
this...  The tribe had been horrified.

Sabar had fought even harder for the chieftaincy and more of the tribe had
sided with him.  But Azkah still controlled a great number of tribesmen,
who were afraid to cross him.  Three of Sabar's children were killed while
out playing.  No one had any doubt who had done it.

Insanely, many started siding with Azkah, just to end the violence.

Azyil's wife, Jerusha, had fled with two of his children.  They had never
been seen again, though Azyil had heard whispers that she was now a
servant in the powerful Gamal tribe.

Then it happened.  Azkah had gathered enough support to make his move.  At
dinner one night, he confronted Sabar with his party of supporters.  Sabar
surrendered, and invited his enemy, Azkah, and his ally, Azyil, to sit and
dine with him for one last meal.  Azkah had done so, eating only what
Sabar ate.

Azyil, facing his imminent death, had picked at his food and refused the
hoppokah, which he had never liked.  Sabar had smiled and commented on his
finicky taste.

And that is what had saved him, for Sabar, knowing his defeat was coming,
had poisoned the hoppokah and had sat down to eat his last meal when he
was interrupted by Azkah.  It had been too perfect.

As Sabar had stood from confirming that Azkah was dead and his own
breathing had turned ragged, he had turned to Azyil and smiled. "Rule
well, my brother."

And so Azyil had been the last surviving son of Hazarin and chieftain of
the tribe of Hehran.  Some zealous members of Sabar's supporters had
attacked Azkah's family, killing three of his sons and three of Hafir's
four children, before Azyil had stopped them.  There had been enough
killing. 

He had adopted the remaining children of all his brothers and taken
Sabar's widow, Isha, as his wife.  Now his five living children shared his
tent with the ten children of Azkah, Sabar, and Hafir.

Many said he was weak, that it meant a bloody succession after he was
dead, but Azyil had had enough of watching his relatives die.

But now the tribe faced a more deadly threat-- dragons, and the strange
men who rode them.

"I don't know what to do..." he murmurred, and lay staring at the fabric
of the tent above him.

******

[Almiron]

He awoke to a foot impacting him very close to an uncomfortable spot.  Not
that where he was hit didn't hurt...

He groaned.  "What...?"

He looked at Darlea, her eyes wide in horror, and he turned to look at the
entrance to their shelter.

"Nhaaaahhhh," an animal sounded. 

"Get out of here," Almiron shooed the animal, a goat, pushing him from the
tent. He returned a few moments later to look at his mate, sitting on the
ground and looking pale, breathing hard, with concern. "Are you all
right?" 

She nodded weakly.  "Just scared me... that's all."

"I guess so," he said moving toward her.  "You are pale as sheet."

She smoothed at her hair, and he saw she was trying to wipe out the goat
slobber left from the animal trying to make a meal of her hair. 

Almiron rubbed her arm.  "Sun is already on way up. We should go anyway." 

She nodded, "Okay."

He nodded, satisfied that she was calmed down, and turned to pull their
few belongings together. Darlea moved to help him, her breathing returning
to normal.

"I must look to healing Garoth, and then we will set out for Hehran
encampment."

"Okay," she repeated.

He turned to her and smiled.  "It will be good to see my tribe again.  I
have been... afraid to return here.  I did not want to know.  But now,
this has forced me to return.  And I am glad of it." 

"Of course," she said.

******

He rested for a moment before they set out.  Garoth seemed to be out of
immediate danger, and Darshan and Makayla would defend him against further
harm.

Darlea walked slightly behind and to the side of him as they approached
the tents of the Hehran tribe.  He could see the spotted ponies of their
tribe grazing to one side of the encampment.  A boy stood by one of the
horses, singing as he combed the mane of one of the horses.  He stopped
as he saw them approach.  His hands dropped down to his sides, where
Almiron could see the double swords of a chieftain's kin.

Almiron stopped and nodded, nervously, checking that Darlea was still
behind him.  "I am Almiron beht Hazarin, gone this five year from
Hehranon.  I have returned to seek to know what has happened to my family. 
Who are you?" 

"I am Fairuza beht Sabar, son of chieftain."

Almiron's face registered his surprise.  "Sabar rules?"

The boy shook his head.  "My body father is dead.  Azyil, my spirit
father, is chieftain.  You are his brother?"

Almiron nodded.  Yes, he could see Sabar in Fairuza's face.  "Then
Azkah...?" 

"Azkah, my uncle, your brother, is dead.  Sabar poisoned both himself and
Azkah, so Azyil could rule in peace."

Eight brothers... and only one remained.  And not the one he had expected.
"Could you... could you go and tell Azyil that his brother, Almiron, still
lives and asks to come into his presence."

The boy smiled, nodded, and left.

"What's going on?" Darlea asked.

"My brother Azyil rules.  Sabar poisoned himself and Azkah to let Azyil
rule."  He shook his head.  "Azyil did not want to be chieftain."

She opened her mouth to answer when a shout went out from the encampment.
He stepped in front of her protectively, as he made out a procession of
men coming their way rapidly.

Azyil had aged a great deal in the five years Almiron had been gone, but
was still recognisable.  He paused several strides away and studied the
pair.

"Almiron?" he asked.

Almiron nodded.  "I am your brother, son of Hazarin and Salra."

Azyil's eyes flicked to Darlea.  "She is like strange people we have
seen on dragonback."

Almiron bit his lip.  "Yes.  She is from that people.  She is my wife,
Darlea bahtna D'nar."

Azyil's eyes followed her blond hair and pale face down and down further.
"She bears your child?"

"Yes," Almiron admitted.  "It will be our first."

Azyil stepped forward.  Almiron fought the urge to tense up.  Then Azyil's
arms where around him.

"My brother.  I never thought I would see you again."

Respectfully submitted,
 Lynette R. F. Cowper
  Almiron and Darshan

---

 Lynette R. F. Cowper <lcowper@indy.net>, INWO Line Editor