[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jasara and the young edged ever closer to the Army of the Eye, but the scouts were hot on their tail and the whole band of tribal warriors was not far behind. It did not worry Jasara anymore, however, for she knew that somehow the Eye would get her through everything. She was too deep in her own hole to dig herself out or stop digging, and there was no way but down. That was all right, though, the Eye had told Jasara so. It would all be over soon, and she would be the victor against the elders. Jasara had originally had little faith in her plans, but with the Eye and it’s voice and visions encouraging her every move, Jasara knew she could not fail.

Nasir sometimes joked about what the thing inside of Jasara was doing to her. She was not the same Jasara he had once known, but he said that her physical form was only a barrier leashing whatever evil was inside of her. If it was killing her and emptying her soul slowly, Jasara did not know it. There was nothing she could do about it either way. Najah did not care either, for it only suited her wicked nature that their leader reflect the horrid things they had done. Uri had followed Fouad and forever had he turned his path. Only Khasia knew her own true and dark intentions, but it mattered not to Jasara anymore. The power was in her, not in Khasia.

The sun was lowering over the eastern skies as the front line of young first spotted the camp of the Eye’s Army. Blood red and orange rays of light flickered against the backs of the young as they marched on, knowing in the back of their hearts that this was the end for most and that their frantic flee from the elders was done for the moment. Jasara smiled evilly as she stood atop the small hill that overlooked the medium-sized encampment. It didn’t look like much, hardly more or less than what the young had with them. However, the Voice had confided with Jasara that with the young along, the forces would be just enough to overpower those of the Painted Sand and Baobab.

Before the young could even reach the Army, they were met by warriors going to the valley just east of their position. The group of young stopped entirely, and Jasara raced to the front lines to speak with the warriors. They looked normal enough, but Jasara continued to shove children out of her way until she made it to the front to speak with the warriors. The warriors seemed confused as they realized that all of the persons in the group were young and under twenty or thirty. Jasara grinned, and motioned for Khasia to follow her to the front. Najah and Nasir were already there, and one of the children had gone and retrieved Uri from the back.

“Where is your leader?” Jasara asked in a strong voice that made her feel and sound more important than she actually was. One of the men stepped forward and away from his troop, holding a sword ready and pointed at Jasara’s stomach. The others in the front of the warrior’s group stuck their weapons out at the other children leaders, but none moved until Jasara spoke again. “We come as an addition to the Army of the Eye. Not only do we outnumber you, but we also seek no trouble from you so I ask that you lower your weapons and tell me what you are doing out here away from your camp.”

The captain of the little group frowned slightly, and jerked his head as a gesture to his men to stand down. The weapons lowered, and the leaders of the young breathed with relief. The leader of the little emissary knitted his brows together in deep thought, as if contemplating whether to lie or to tell truthfully, or whether to ignore Jasara’s request completely and attack their way through the young’s regiment. The man looked up at Jasara after his lapse of momentary hesitation, and held out a hand to shake. Jasara took it, albeit impatiently as she waited for an answer to her question.

“We come this way as an envoy to the tribes of the east. They are camped nearby, or so our scouts say,” the man began; nodding towards the sun and the direction he had been traveling. “We wish to speak and negotiate with them…peacefully…of matters which our mistress the Priestess Sevora has sent us. Who are you? Might you be the tribe that we seek? Why are there no elders among you?”

“I am Jasara, leader of the Baobab and Painted Sand young,” Jasara replied, repeating word for word everything the Eye had told her to say. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but the rest of her expression was calm and serene. “I would advise against going in search of the elders, for they are certainly not interested in anything Lady Sevora has to bribe or offer. The Eye has split our tribes apart. We, the young, believe we can come to an agreement with the Lady Sevora. The elders may not be trusted, and all who share our beliefs are here now. I ask that you take me, as leader, and my sister Khasia to the Lady Sevora. We must speak with her.”

The man hesitated, contemplating Jasara’s words and weighing her worth. Eventually, with all eyes on him and glares from both sides, the man agreed and began to lead the host of the young back to the Army’s camp.