The trail widened, revealing a great, cascading waterfall and a dozen grass-thatched buildings clustered at the center of a small clearing. The domed-roof huts rested on high wooden stilts and were accessed by short stairs or ladders, depending on the size and apparent prestige of the structure. Occupying the very center of the clearing was a fire pit, surrounded by a ring of colorfully painted stones and wooden poles decorated in animal skins, skulls, and strings of bones, beads, and long vibrant feathers. The inhabitants were dark-haired, dark-eyed, umber-skinned men and women dressed in beautifully painted cloths and silks. They paused as Dilladrum advanced respectfully. Elder men met him before the fire ring, where they exchanged bows.

“Who are these people, do you suppose?” Bulard asked.

“Tenkins,” Hadrian replied.

Bulard raised his eyebrows.

The village was familiar to Hadrian, though he had never been there. Hundreds of similar ones were scattered across the peninsula, mirror images of each other. The rubble of eastern Calis was the last standing residue of the Old Empire. After civil wars had torn apart the west, Calis still flew the old imperial banners and for centuries formed the bulwark against the advancing Ghazel horde. Time, however, was on the Ghazel’s side. The last of the old world died when the ancient eastern capital, Urlineus, fell to the goblin hordes sweeping through the jungles. They might have overrun all of Avryn if not for Glenmorgan III.

Glenmorgan III had rallied the nobles and defeated the goblins at the Battle of Vilan Hills. The Ghazel fell back but were never driven off the mainland. Betrayed shortly after his victory, Glenmorgan III never finished his work of reestablishing the kingdom’s borders. This task fell to lesser men, who squabbled over the spoils of war and were too distracted to stop the Ghazel from digging in. Urlineus, the last great city of the Old Empire, remained in the hands of the Ghazel, and Calis had never been the same.

Fractured and isolated, the eastern half of the country struggled against the growing pressure of the Ghazel nation in a maelstrom of chaos and confusion. Self-appointed warrior-kings fought against each other. Out of desperation, some enlisted the aid of the Ghazel to vanquish a rival. Ties formed, lines blurred, and out of this tenuous alliance were born the Tenkin—humans who had adopted the Ghazel’s ways, traditions, and beliefs. For this, Calians ostracized the Tenkin, forcing their kind deeper into the jungles, where they lived on the borderlands between the anvil and the hammer.