Chapter Eleven:

The Nomad’s camp was spread out across the horizon. At first, it had looked like a grey blur that hugged the normal curve of the golden skyline, but as they got closer they were able to make out bright spots of colour and the fluttering of tent fabric. The camp was a semi permanent affair, with temporary highways set up between the tents and pavilions. Most tents were orientated towards the coast with both ends of the tent pinned open to catch the cool breeze coming in off the water.

The entire camp was a riot of colour, mostly reds and blues. The cloths of the tents were airy and heavily embroidered, the clothing the Nomads wore, even more so. The women wore beautiful scarves draped over their hair and, in some cases, pinned in front of their face to keep the sand and wind off. Many men followed in their example, wearing fabric on their heads and shoulders, held on mostly by thick strips of leather, to keep the sun from burning their necks. The men that were on horseback would take a bandanna and tie it around their nose and mouths. Navihm and the others had done much the same thing on their journey through the desert, there was only so much sand in one’s mouth that could be tolerated.

Before they were able to enter the camp they were stopped by two men dressed identically in all white with pale green scarves on their heads.

“What business do you have here?” one of them said in the common tongue. Navihm wasn’t sure which one had spoken because they both had their green head scarves pinned over their mouth so he directed his answer to the air in between them.

“We are here to see your Sachem,” he said. “We have urgent news concerning the safety of this camp as well as the entire continent and we’ve come to ask of the Nomads’ assistance.”

“We are well aware of your prophesying, native,” said the man who hadn't spoken the first time. “Sachem Ahmet doesn’t wish to meet with any more Gentis.”

“Surely you must know that if the tribes fall, so will you out here in the desert,” said Hart.

“We know nothing of the sort,” said the first guard. “Now please leave before we are forced to help you on your way.” More guards, dressed identically to the first two, all with covered faces, had started gathering amongst the tents behind where this confrontation was occurring. Rose also spied a small boy, no older than twelve leading a donkey through the camp, his eyes riveted on Navihm. Navihm noticed the boy too, and Rose thought that they exchanged a knowing look. Perhaps they knew each other.

“Thank you for your time gentlemen,” Navihm said to the guards. He said something else in their language which sounded like a formal farewell.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Rose sullenly as they rode away from the camp. She’d been looking forward to ending their long journey through the desert and enjoying a cool drink of water and perhaps some fruit.

“I suppose we circumnavigate the camp and continue on to the Ninth,” said Hart. They were out of sight from the camp, having traveled south, back the way they’d come. It would be a good time to start travelling to the east to make their way around the Nomad’s territory.

“We wait,” Navihm said, dismounting and loosening his saddle straps.

“Okay,” said Hart easily, copying Navihm’s actions.

“Well if Navihm says we wait, I suppose we wait,” said Hue. “It will be dark in an hour anyway.” Hue was content following Navihm’s lead. His strange intuition hadn’t led them wrong so far. He suspected that Navihm suffered from what the Northerners called ‘a touch of the sight.’

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This chapter is super long so it will probably be split into four parts. As usual, they will all be up today (probably).

This is one of my favourite chapters in the entire book (probably why its so long), let me know what you think of the new characters being introduced in the next few parts =)