Chapter Sixteen: The Fire Tribe

Finneas dared not move. The arrowheads were barely an inch away from his neck. Any quick move and he’d probably be dead. Finneas stared at those who’d surrounded the group. Men and women of different colours and creeds. There were at least twenty or so warriors, each ready to stab. Most were native people, along with a few Sanlanders. There were even people with skin darker than those from the Sanlander. Finneas also noticed maybe three or so free folk amongst the group. One of the colonists, however, could’ve been a half-breed; at least one of their parents was an Imperial.

“We come in peace,” Brienne stated, holding her hands up as if to reveal she wasn’t a threat. “We come on behalf of King Joses, the fifth of his name.”

A woman walked forward – a Sanlander. She wielded a bow and arrow, which was placed on the ground before waving her arm to tell the rest to do the same. Obediently, they did as they were instructed. The women didn’t even need to say anything. The warriors knew what to do.

“What brings the Guvnor’s daughter to the Fire Nation?” the woman queried. “I thought you’d agreed not to walk the talk and approach our lands.”

“Tamora,” Brienne responded. “I know we’ve had our… problems. But these are different times. We need to work together.”

“And why’s that so?”

“Because of this,” the girl pointed to Finneas. “This boy’s the Seer.”

“You must be laughing, Bree,” Tamora chuckled. The rest of her soldiers followed suit. “But if you must, humour me.”

“We can prove it,” Brienne responded. “I know Azhem’s seen the goblin language before. Finn, the Seer, can draw some symbols.”

“Any odd fool can draw scribbles,” Tamora laughed again.

“We both know this can’t be faked,” the girl retorted. “We all know Azhem’s one of the few people in the world to have entered the Imperial Archives.”

"Suppose you're right," the other woman remarked. “But we’ll see. Follow.”

Before any of them could react, the woman instructed her men to throw cotton bags over Finneas and his friend’s heads. Just as before, when Finneas travelled through Rivet City after being captured by the guards, he could barely see the faint outlines of everything in front of him. Occasionally he would stumble over a branch or so but was quickly able to get his footing back. Finneas somewhat wished his capturers would warn him about whatever obstacles were before him. Brienne complained, saying she already knew where the fire tribe resided. If she hadn’t known, she claimed, she wouldn't have known where to look. Fair point, Finneas agreed. But these people seemed over-paranoid about being caught.

They walked for about ten minutes, before coming to a stop. Tamora ordered the bags to be removed. Able to see properly again, Finneas could finally get a grasp of his surroundings. They were deep in the forest, far away from the prying eyes of the Republic. Finneas was amazed at the large wooden warship before him. The boat was about a few hundred years old. The somehow stranded vessel had been transformed into a bustling settlement. The place was like a small town – there were shops selling wares, and classrooms teaching children younger than Finneas. He wondered how such a large boat could be shipwrecked in the middle of a forest. From what he could tell, the sea was at least a few miles away. To make matters more complicated, the ship’s bow faced southward. Whoever, or whatever, brought the ship here would have had to drag it backwards. The vessel appeared impossibly out of place. Finneas thought it was best not to dwell on that question. Maybe someone could answer his burning concern. Heck, maybe even Brienne would know why the ship laid maroon in the middle of nowhere.

On the starboard side of the vessel was the settlement’s makeshift marketplace. To reach the boat’s entrance, they had to walk past the many shops that dotted the place. One stall sold weaponry, ranging from spears to swords, polearms to scimitars. Another store sold unrefined manna stones – something a person would usually have to go to a backstreet to find. There was even a store that sold scrolls – Finneas couldn’t believe people still read scrolls. He thought books would have made them superfluous.

The woman led the kids to a spiral staircase, built on the side of the ship. Walking up the stairs, they reached the top of the boat. Finneas cautiously stepped onto the ship’s deck. The floor didn’t feel that stable. Certain planks would slightly sink whenever stood on. Some of the timber was starting to rot away, and Finneas didn’t feel safe walking on top of them. He had seen stuff like this before, working on the docks. Usually, the broken planks would be replaced. But here, no one seemed to have bothered.

The three kids from Estmere stood nervously, unsure what to do. Only Brienne seemed confident. Before they had the chance to gather their thoughts, Tamora ordered one of the guards to grab Finneas and Brienne to bring them to the meeting room, the captain’s quarter. The two other kids were told to stay there.

Finneas struggled at first but eventually decided to follow the guard’s direction. He wondered how Brienne could remain so calm. The girl was going behind her father’s back, so Finneas guessed she had been conditioned to stressful situations. They made their way to the stern of the ship, where the captain’s quarter was.

“Enter,” Tamora instructed.

The two did as instructed. Tamora followed behind. The room was hot as if someone had jumped into a steam bath. A fireplace had been built into the left side of the room. Finneas wondered how safe something like that would be. Next to the table, probably used to prepare food and whatnot. The man had his back turned away. He was chopping something. It appeared to be leeks or something – Finneas was unsure. Each slam of the knife would shake the very ground itself. The man turned around, revealing his face. His skin was dark as night, yet shiny – glittering light reflected from him. The man had short scruffy dreadlocked hair – each spike delicately shaped. This must be Azhem, the Finneas thought.

“So, Joses has finally decided to fight,” the man growled.

“How did you-” Brienne was interrupted.

“I have my sparrows,” the man explained. “My question to you is, why now? Why just before the Festival of Light?”

“Coincidence,” the girl answered. “Nothing more.”

The man laughed, still holding his chopping knife. Finneas was afraid the man was going to attack them right then and there. Finneas had heard of these dark skins people, living south of the Sanlands. If rumours were to be believed, these people were known to eat an entire person. The man seemed menacing enough. The dark figure approached Brienne, standing only a few inches from her face.

“Yet you bring me a person who eerily looks like the Great General Felix,” the man continued. He turned to look at Finneas. “I am no fool. The boy you bring is the governor’s nephew. That would make him your cousin.”

Finneas wasn’t sure how this man managed to deduct all this information. As the man spoke, it was as if he’d been following them through their very steps.

“Tell me,” Azhem probed, “besides finding the lost son of a famous Imperial General, what else has Joses got up his sleeves?”

“I’m the Seer,” Finneas suddenly said. “I can see those symbols. The one’s written in the Goblin tongue.”

“The plot thickens,” the man roared in laughter. “And how do we know you’re telling the truth.”

“My father, the governor, got Finneas here to draw those symbols,” Brienne explained.

“Of course,” Azhem said, amused somewhat. He suddenly ordered one of his guards to bring him a pad of paper and a quill. “This is the best way to prove something. And you must know, I too have been in the Imperial Archive. I’ve seen the ancient texts written by the Seer of old.”

Azhem instructed Finneas to draw some of the symbols. The man stared intensely at them. He laughed again.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” the man observed. “And Joses expects you to lead an army? You may be the kid of General Felix, but you’re a scrawny fella.

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The man was right, Finneas hated to admit. Finneas certainly wasn’t strongly built like his friend Kistoph. But what he lacked in strength he made up for in nimbleness. Over the years, Finneas had learned quickly to run away from a fight and to climb atop buildings to escape the wrath of the Matron or any other grownup seeking to discipline him. And although it wasn’t apparent, Finneas had a knack for using slingshots. Back in Angluem, he would help with pest control by taking out a few mice with a few stones. Nance was always grateful to rid the pantry of rodents. Surely, he could transition that skill elsewhere, perhaps archery. He’d noticed kids his age outside using a bow. While not the most heroic, or manly, weapon arts, at least it could keep bad guys at a distance.

“Look at those arms… ain’t meat between them. But with a bit of flavouring, we’re sure to make a meal out of him.”

“What do you mean by ‘make a meal’?” Finneas asked.

“He’s just jesting,” Brienne explained. “It’s his sense of humour.”

“My uncle wants me to open this portal, something called Ever Growing Magic,” Finneas began explaining. “I know magic needs to be restored. But we cannot allow the Order to control this.”

“So that’s why you’ve come seeking my aid,” the man observed.

“You know the only way we can win this fight is if we fight together,” Brienne explained. “Finn is right, we can’t let my father - nor the Order – control this. And if that means kicking the Republic out. King Joses plans on attacking the governor’s force the day before the Festival of Light.”

“The festival of Light?” Finneas pondered.

“I’ll explain later,” Brienne remarked. “But we need your help. We need you to fight side-by-side with King Joses. Only then can we…”

“You needed to say more,” the man responded. “I will agree to an alliance with King Joses. But first, I need to talk to someone though. Someone who can help us in our fight.”

Although Azhem was hesitant at first, he agreed to allow the kids to go free. They were given free rein to wander around the settlement if they didn’t stray too far. The man explained he needed time to get a reply from his contact. Till then, they were forced to wait.

Finnwas was still scared of the man. He seemed intimidating. He wasn’t sure whether he could trust someone from the Sanlands. He had heard all the stories before – how the Sanlanders enslaved the peoples of both the Riverlands and Estmere. Finneas found it weird that Brienne would seek help from someone like that. He trusted his cousin, strangely, and hoped she was making the right decision. Azhem’s decision to side with Azhem felt sudden and abrupt. It felt too perfect to be true. There must be something else, Finneas thought.

Not sure what to do, Finneas strolled down to the marketplace. His friends decided to stay on deck. This was the first time in a while he had the chance to get a good glance at the shops’ wares. Perhaps he’d finally find a replacement hook for his fishing line. Walking passed the blacksmith, Finneas noticed there was an archery range. He remembered practising using a bow and arrow back in Angluem. It had been a while since he’d shot anything, so he decided it was best maybe to get some practice. He asked the blacksmith if it was alright to try out some archery. After explaining who he was and why he was there, the man agreed to allow Finneas to have a go at archery.

Finneas picked up the bow. To his surprise, it was heavier than he was expecting. The bows the kids practised with back in Angluem were a lot lighter. The bows were also a lot smaller – large enough for a child to practice one. Only when they were older were, were they given the chance to use a grownup’s bow. The bow Finneas was using was rather big – it was almost as tall as him. The bow’s wooden structure seemed rather sturdy – there didn’t seem to be any chance of the limbs snapping. But because of the weight, the bow was quite certainly not made of Athian timber. If it was made of Athian timber, the bow would’ve been a lot lighter. Finneas wondered if they had anything like that. Would they even allow him to borrow one? He doubted it.

The boy firmly kept hold of the grip, his hand and fingers tightening around the handle. Reaching for the nearby bucket, Finneas quickly nabbed an arrow. He gently placed the arrow onto the bow’s shelf. He also placed the arrow’s nock on the bow’s string, making sure the arrow wouldn’t fall out of place. Aiming at the target board, Finneas pulled the string back. A person needed a lot of strength to pull a bowstring back – a strength Finneas had developed from helping pull nets up back at the harbour. He aimed his shot using the arrow's tip as a guide. The arrow darted away, letting go of the string, and flying quickly through the air. Despite his best effort, the arrow barely missed the board, finding itself away from where Finneas intended the arrow to go. Finneas tried again, repeating everything he’d remembered – place the arrow, aim at the target and fire. Again, the arrow missed.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” the girl spoke.

Finneas turned around to see Tamora.

“Huh?” he replied, simply.

He didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t sure whether he trusted the woman or not. He still found Azhem intimidating, even though the man had already assured the kids they were safe and were given free rein of the place. Tamora was a completely different matter. Only a few hours ago, the woman had aimed her bow at his face. Now she wanted to be friends. Talk about mixed messaging, Finneas thought.

“If you keep positioning yourself like that, you’re going to keep missing,” the Sanlander explained. “Let me help.”

Tamora approached Finneas. Using her hands, she repositioned his stance. She got Finneas to move his feet further apart. She also gently moved the elbow – the one which Finneas was using to steady the aim – upwards.

“Now try,” she instructed.

Finneas again pulled the bowstring back, using the tips and advice Tamora had just given him. Letting go of the string, the arrow shot out, darting through the air. Although not a bullseye, Finneas had managed to hit the board, which was an improvement.

"You got talent," Tamora complimented. "With some practice, you’ll make an expert marksman.”

Feeling he’d had enough practice; Finneas carefully placed the bow back into one of the baskets. He was kind of exhausted, so he found somewhere to sit down. Tamora sat down beside him.

“Azhem not always mean,” she clarified.

“I’m not scared of him,” Finneas confessed. “I’m more scared of you.”

The woman laughed.

“Sorry, that was a precaution,” Tamora explained. “You can never be too careful.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked her.

“How’d you guess,” the woman replied with a smile. Finneas wasn’t sure himself. Something about the woman told him she was different. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You look different.”

“And how’s that?”

“Your lighter skin…” Finneas chose his words carefully. “You’re not a native, are you?”

“You’re right there,” the woman answered. “I’m not. Like my husband, I come from the Sanlands. My father was a crown prince once. Now that’s long in the past. I think of myself as a warrior queen now. But if I was to mention my royal lineage, perhaps the She-Wolf Queen might be a better alternative.”

As she spoke, a horn blew.

“That must be Azhem,” she said. “We better get back. I’m sure he’s got a reply now.”

The two returned to the marooned ship, walking up the spiral staircase. Instead of going to the cabin’s quarters, Tamora led Finneas down to the lower deck. Wandering down a corridor, they entered the settlement’s meeting room, a room large enough to fit at least fifteen or so people comfortably. There was nowhere to sit – the room lacked and chair or table – so everyone had to stand up. Noticing Kistoph and Mollie were in the room, Finneas approached his friends.

“Where’ve you been?” Mollie asked, worryingly. “You didn’t tell us where you’re going.”

"Sorry," Finneas apologised. He was sure he'd told them he planned to look around the marketplace. "Must've slipped my mind. Was practising some archery.”

“Well, you’re the reason we’re here,” Kistoph commented. “We don’t want you getting into trouble, now. Might give us a bad image.”

Before Finneas could reply, Azhem entered the room.

“I have both good news and bad news,” the man explained. “Firstly, we got a reply from my contact.”

“What’s the bad news?” Tamora queried.

"He'll only agree to help if I meet him in person," Azhem said, his face looking downwards. "He's given me a place to meet, an old tomb.”

“You do realise it’s a trap,” the woman continued asking.

“That I do,” the man remarked. “But if Brienne is right, and war is inevitable, we’re going to need all the help we get.”

“May I ask what help this contact of yours can do?” Brienne entered the conversation. “I thought we’d need just you people to help.”

Azhem laughed.

“We can’t expect to overthrow the Republic and not suffer their wrath,” the man explained. “Their navy will be waiting. With some help from some, let’s call them pirate-types, we can block off the harbour and stop reinforcements.”

“Like a blockage?” Brienne asked.

“Exactly!”

"If that's the case," Tamora added, "then I will come with you. We can't have you walking into a trap now."

“No!” Azhem said rather forcefully. “You stay here. I need you to protect our people.”

“You’re going alone?” the woman sounded concerned.

“Of course,” Azhem grinned. “I can take care of myself.”

The room became silent. It was awkward at first, but Finneas guessed it gave everyone the chance to think. Azhem was about to say something when Kistoph raised his hand.

“I can go,” Kistoph said, simply. “If no one else is willing to go, I can watch his back. Prove our loyalty.”

“You sure?” Finneas interjected. What his friend was saying felt abrupt.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Kistoph smiled to reassure. “Never been surer in my life.”

Azhem laughed again.

"I love that kid's resolve," he reacted. "Perhaps it might give us a chance to get to know the people we'll be fighting with."

Finneas wanted to talk to his friend alone and work out what had overcome him. Although not out of character, Finneas found it strange his friend would trust someone from the Sanlands. Perhaps when they escaped the boat, Kistoph might have hit his head on a support beam or something.

The group had concluded. Because Azhem and Kistoph wouldn’t leave till the next day, the group was allowed to stay the night in the guest quarter. It was there that Finneas finally confronted his friend.

“You’re thinking, right,” Finneas asked Kistoph. “You know you don’t have to do this. I still don’t trust Azhem.”

“Is it because he’s a Sanlander?” Kistoph rebuked. “I know our people have trouble with them in the past. But I feel I can trust him. He seems – I don’t know – genuine. Plus, I want to help. I can’t allow you to have all the credit, right?”

Finneas wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced, but he started to understand where his friend was going. Just like his brother, when Kistoph got something in his head, the boy would be determined to achieve whatever goal he put in front of himself. There was no point arguing.

“Just be careful,” Finneas said simply. “Watch for yourself.”

“Will do,” Kistoph gave a reassuring smile.