Web of Deceit fl-3

by Richard S. Tuttle

“I will be the judge of that,” she stated sternly.

  “Well if you plan to kill me,” smiled Rejji, “at least wait until we have buried the villagers. You will help me with that won’t you?”

  The girl nodded solemnly and sheathed the knife. Suddenly, she turned to face the road leading out of the village and stared apprehensively.

  “Company coming,” she said softly.

  Rejji jumped to his feet and followed her gaze.

  “It’s Brontos!” he exclaimed. “He isn’t due until tonight. He is a merchant and a friend.”

  They watched silently as the small wagon made its way into the village and halted. Brontos was not a young man by any means, but Rejji thought he had aged ten years since his last visit six months ago. The look on Brontos’ face was a mixture of sadness and anger. The old man’s jaw was rigidly set as his head swiveled from side to side to take in all of the carnage. As he got down off the wagon and approached Rejji, he shook his head.

  “Did any others survive?” Brontos asked.

  “No,” Rejji responded. “I only survived because I was not here. I was getting a few more fossils before you were scheduled to arrive. The girl is not from the village and hid in the well. Everyone else is dead. Will you help us bury them?”

  “What will you do now?” Brontos asked, ignoring the question asked of him. “Do you have anywhere to go?”

  Rejji had not thought past burying the villagers and the question struck him like the fall off a cliff. He slumped back down against the well and buried his head in his hands. He had nowhere to go, he realized. No family. No friends. He felt the girl’s arm lay hesitantly across his shoulder.

  “You can come with me if you want,” she offered softly. “I don’t have anything to offer, but I will be your friend.”

  “Both of you will come with me,” stated Brontos. “At least until we are far enough away from this village that you will be somewhat safe so you can decide what you want to do with your lives. Scrounge what you can from the remains of the village. These poor people have no further need of whatever is here.”

  “I can’t take things from the villagers,” Rejji shook his head. “Even with them dead, it would feel like stealing.”

  “I’ll look around,” offered the girl as she rose. “There may be some things we can use for the journey.”

  A slight smile rippled across Brontos’ lips as he nodded. “And Miss,” he stated sternly, “you take anything of mine when we journey together, and I will leave you strung up to a tree. Understand?”

  The girl nodded slightly and went in search of salvageable items.

  “How did you know about her?” asked Rejji.

  “Lad,” smiled Brontos, “I have been a merchant all my life. If I couldn’t spot a thief when I see one, I would be out of business. I have a good feeling about her though. I don’t think she likes being a thief. I think she does it because she has to in order to survive. I can hardly blame her for that, but I can let her know that I won’t stand for it. Go give her a hand. You know this village much better than she does.”

  Rejji ran and caught up to the girl and led her around. There was not much to be salvaged as just about everything burnable had burned. Rejji was able to gather the fossils he had been saving for the last six months, but he almost didn’t bother to collect them. His dream went up in smoke with the village. Many of the huts were still smoldering and the scouting expedition was over quickly. Rejji led the girl back to the wagon and handed the fossils to Brontos.

  “You might as well have these,” Rejji offered. “We were planning on ordering parts for a boat so I could fish in the sea. We don’t need to order anything from you though. Just take them.”

  “You two get up on the wagon,” ordered Brontos as he spurned Rejji’s offer.

  “What about the burials,” asked Rejji? “We can’t just leave them like this.”

  “We must,” responded Brontos. “I will explain why as we ride. You must trust my judgment on it until then.”

  The girl hopped onto the seat of the wagon, but Rejji stood firm.

  “I am not leaving them without a proper burial,” insisted Rejji. “If you are in that much of a hurry then go on without me. I can do it alone.”

  Brontos bit his lip pensively before speaking. “If you bury them, lad, others will die. I have seen much in these last six months. Many things I would rather not talk about, but I will because you need to know. But we must move out now. If you bury these villagers, others must take their place. Get on the wagon and I will explain while we ride. If you don’t like my explanation, I will bring you back.”

  Rejji was puzzled but he trusted the old man. He nodded his head slightly and climbed onto the seat and Brontos wheeled the wagon out of the village.

  “These killings have been going on for close to a year,” Brontos began as they headed up the road. “At first they were rather random and bizarre events that nobody could make sense of. Lately though they have become more frequent and more is known about them. The started up in the Kramath River valley, as far to the northwest as you can get and still be in Fakara, so I avoided going there.”

  “Is it always the red riders?” asked the girl.

  “The Jiadin tribe,” nodded the merchant. “It is rumored that their leader has gone mad. They are the largest, meanest tribe in Fakara. The other tribes fear them and well they should. When I ended my last run through Fakara, there were villages in the Jabul River area that were wiped out too. I did a good business around Lake Jabul, so I was hesitant to make this run.”

  “So it is spreading,” guessed Rejji.

  “More than you can imagine,” nodded the merchant. “On this trip I have seen villages as far East as the south fork of the Meliban River devastated, which is about as far as I go into Fakara. There is no safe place in this country any more.”

  “What does that have to do with burying the bodies?” questioned Rejji.

  Brontos looked over at his passengers as if weighting his words and the effect they would have. Finally, he compressed his lips and sighed.

  “Something is feeding on the bodies of the dead,” Brontos stated. “Wherever the bodies have been buried, a nearby village was destroyed the very next day. When there was nobody left to do the burials, the attacks stopped for a while. At least that is how it appears to me.”

  “You mean the red riders are eating the dead?” quizzed Rejji. “That is crazy. If it were true, why would they leave after they killed everyone?”

  “It is not the Jiadin that are feeding on the bodies,” answered the merchant. “The Jiadin are just doing the killing. I don’t know who or what is doing the feeding. There are rumors that the leader of the Jiadin is possessed by evil spirits. Maybe truth. Maybe not. I don’t plan to go there and ask him.”

  “So by burying the villagers we would be causing another village to be attacked?” asked Rejji.

  “I believe so,” nodded Brontos. “The tales told around the country are that the feeding takes place at night. That is another reason to be well away from the village as soon as we can.”

  The trio rode on in silence for some time. After a while, Rejji turned to the girl.

  “What village are you from?” he asked. “Aren’t you curious if it has been attacked?”

  “It is a small fishing village on the other side of the Giaming Mountains,” she replied. “Brontos already said he doesn’t go that far. I don’t much care what happens to it anyway,” she added bitterly.

  The merchant’s eyebrows rose as she spoke. “I have been over those mountains once or twice,” he stated. “Not in some years though. Tell me lass, what are you called?”

  “My name is Mistake,” she retorted caustically.

  “Mistake?” chuckled Rejji. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

  “It is the only name I have ever known,” she replied. “I know it was intended to be cruel, but I can handle anything she can dish out.”

  “You are indeed a tough lass to carry a name l
ike that voluntarily,” agreed Brontos. “By she, I suppose you mean your mother?”

  “She is not my real mother,” spat Mistake. “Her husband found me at sea and brought me home. He cared for me, but she always resented me and called me a mistake. After a while it became my name. I cannot remember her ever calling me anything else.”

  “And what of the father who found you?” queried the merchant. “Did he call you anything else?”

  “I don’t remember much of him,” Mistake admitted. “He died when I was still quite young. I do remember that he held me softly and smiled at me. He is the only person I have ever known to care for me.”

  “So you ran away,” surmised Brontos. “Can’t say as I blame you, although you have set out on a rough course to steer.”

  “I would rather be dead than to suffer in her house,” stated Mistake defiantly.

  “But you have nowhere to go,” interjected Rejji. “What will you do?”

  “I have a plan,” smiled Mistake. “What will you do Rejji? You are in the same boat now. You make fun of my name but how much better is Rejji? It is just a bunch of letters thrown together without meaning. At least my name is a constant reminder that I am someone other than her daughter.”

  Rejji looked shocked as her words hit him. He was as lost and abandoned as she was.

  “Actually,” smiled Brontos, “The name Rejji does have meaning. It translates from the old language to ‘Son of the Moon’. Tell me Mistake, what is your plan?”

  “I plan to find the Sage of the Mountain,” she proclaimed. “It is said that he knows everything.”

  “I believe that is just an old myth,” stated Brontos. “I have traveled most of this land and while I hear him mentioned often, I have never talked with anyone who has ever seen or talked to him. Not even anyone who knows anyone who has. What would you ask him if he did exist?”

  “Who my real family is,” declared Mistake.

  Chapter 2

  Seeking the Sage

  Brontos pulled the wagon into a spot near the river where a ring of stones testified to prior encampments. The old merchant moved slowly from the seat of the wagon and started to unhitch the horses.

  “Can you cook, Mistake?” he asked as he locked eyes with the short thief.

  “Of course,” frowned Mistake. “Why didn’t you ask Rejji though? I am not a housemaid you know.”

  “Because I have eaten in his village before,” laughed Brontos. “I was hoping you might have more knowledge of spices. Besides, I am trying to discern your other talents. I probably should take you back to Khadora with me.”

  “What is it like?” Rejji inquired. “Khadora, I mean.”

  “Just inside the back flap is a tin with provisions, Mistake,” Brontos said. “Choose something that you can add flavor to. Fakaran food is the most bland food I have ever tasted.”

  The merchant led the horses to the stream and Rejji followed him. Brontos looked at Rejji and sighed.

  “It is much different than here,” the merchant finally said. “It is a well developed country with law and order. Bandits don’t survive very well there. Fakara is more like a wasteland than a country. There is no government, no laws.”

  “Would you really take us with you?” questioned Rejji.

  Brontos hesitated a moment as his eyes sought out Mistake at the rear of the wagon. She looked up to see Brontos watching her and scowled at him. The merchant shook his head and handed the reins to Rejji.

  “When they are finished drinking,” the old man instructed, “tie them to that tree and get their feed buckets from the wagon. No more than a third of a bucket for each though.”

  Brontos strode back to the wagon as Mistake closed the rear flap and carried the tin towards the fire ring. She glanced quickly at the old man and started preparing a fire.

  “I don’t steal from friends you know,” she scowled.

  “Well,” chuckled the merchant, “I would like very much to be your friend then. Let me help you with the fire.”

  Brontos gathered the deadwood he could find easily and returned to the ring where Mistake was pawing through the tin and examining the small pouches of spices.

  As Rejji returned from feeding the horses, Brontos lit the fire and sat on one of the larger rocks surrounding the ring. He pulled a pipe out of a pocket and filled it from a small pouch hanging from his belt. Rejji handed him a burning stick and sat on another of the large rocks.

  “You never said if you would take us with you to Khadora,” reminded Rejji.

  Brontos merely nodded and looked over at Mistake who was working some spices into the dried meat with her dagger.

  “I don’t know what is best for you two,” the merchant conceded. “Khadora is a much safer place to live, but there are some things about it that you will not like.”

  “Like what?” prompted Rejji. “What could be so bad in a civilized country compared to staying here?”

  “Khadora is clan based,” Brontos stated. “Everyone belongs to one clan or another. You two do not belong to any clan. That makes you fair game for enslavement. Any clan could claim you and you would spend the rest of your days as a slave. Here it is more dangerous, but you can choose the path of your life as you will.”

  “I will not be anyone’s slave,” Mistake hissed. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

  Brontos looked at the girl and nodded sadly. “How long have you been on your own, Mistake?”

  “A few years,” Mistake stated smugly. “I don’t need or want anyone looking after me. I am just fine the way I am. Besides, I am on a mission to find the Sage of the Mountain. I doubt he exists in fancy Khadora.”

  “No, I am sure he doesn’t,” admitted Brontos. “I truly doubt he exists anywhere at all, but the decision is yours to make. You are not mine to care for, although if I were younger I might try to salvage you from your path to destruction. Thieves have very short live spans in any culture, Mistake. Think about what you really want to do with your life.”

  Mistake huffed and returned to cooking the thin slabs of meat. “Your food supplies sure don’t offer much,” she complained. “There is only stale bread to go with the meat.”

  “I am at the end of my tour,” sighed Brontos. “I usually eat in the villages I stop at, but this trip there were far too few of them left. What of you Rejji? What is your decision?”

  Rejji looked at both of them for a long moment before answering. “I would like to see Khadora,” he answered, “but not as a slave. Besides, Mistake will need someone to keep her out of trouble. Maybe this Sage can tell me how to avenge my village.”

  Mistake scowled as the merchant stiffened and stared at Rejji. “Do not be a fool boy,” he warned. “The Jiadin are not a tribe to be toyed with. They will cut you up in little pieces and feed you to their dogs. Travel with the girl if you will, but never even think of revenge for your village. There are forces that you have no knowledge of and those forces are stronger than anything you can ever imagine.”

  Silence fell over the encampment as Mistake passed out pieces of meat and small slabs of stale bread. The trio ate in silence with the exception of Brontos who occasionally nodded and smiled as he ate. When the meal was over, Brontos picked up his pipe and relit it.

  “Where did you learn about spices?” he asked. “That clova was very good.”

  “I didn’t,” admitted Mistake. “I just tasted each spice to see what would taste better with the meat.”

  “Well you did very well in any event,” the merchant smiled. “Rejji how many of those teeth do you have for me?”

  “Do you still wish to buy them?” inquired the boy. “I have no need now for the parts I was going to order.”

  “I not only want them,” smiled Brontos, “but I will pay you double for them. I think I have finally made my mind up that this will be my last trip to Fakara. It is a troubled land and getting worse. As nobody else will ever have a supply of the teeth again, I suppose I can name my own price for them back in Khadora. I wi
ll pay you in gold. Hopefully that will allow you to eat and not get Mistake killed while she tries to get food.”

  “I have close to four hundred of them,” grinned the village boy. “That is very kind of you Brontos. Thank you.”

  “You are one of the kindest boys I have met in this troubled land,” smiled Brontos. “While others run off to join the bandits, you looked after your entire village generously. Your father would have been proud of you.”

  Sadness dampened Rejji’s smile as he asked, “Did you know my father?”

  “Of course,” nodded Brontos. “I have been going to your village for over thirty years now. You grandfather and I had a very good relationship. Stopping in your village was like meeting with old friends.”

  “What was he like?” Rejji inquired.

  Brontos scratched his head and stared into the fire. “He was a quiet man. Quiet but strong. He wasn’t accepted well when he first arrived. The other villagers considered him an outsider, but your grandfather stood by him always. Over the years, I saw the changes in the villagers towards him. He was always the first to help a neighbor or to entice the village into trying something new. Purchasing different seed types was his idea, something that you continued to do by gathering the teeth. He would have approved of your boat plan very much.”

  “It sounds like you liked him,” smiled Rejji. “Why did he decide to leave? Did the villagers chase him away?”

  “No, no, no,” insisted Brontos. “He became very respected in the village. Nobody would have asked him to leave. The village came to depend on him. No, he left for your mother’s sake.”

  “My mother?” quizzed Rejji. “I don’t understand. Whenever I asked grandfather about it, he just said they would be back soon and then wouldn’t talk about it again. They never returned though. I don’t think they ever planned to return.”

  “There you are wrong, lad,” Brontos declared. “I was there when they left. In fact, I offered my wagon to transport your mother, but your father refused. It was the only time your grandfather argued with your father. Your grandfather didn’t want his daughter to leave, and if she had to, then he wanted her to ride in the wagon, but your father said it would only slow them down when they had to cross the mountains. They left the following morning on one of my horses. I had a devil of a time returning to Khadora with only one horse.”