Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

“The Zaldoni have joined with Grulak?” Vrylok queried with raised brows. “This is fact? What of you? Are you with the Jiadin now?”

“Not I,” declared Brakas. “I could not abide by their decision. And to think I followed Wyant faithfully all these years. To give into the Jiadin without a fight is disgraceful. Now the Jiadin are stronger than ever. Other tribes have joined as well. The Galtok, Madren, and Ublix have joined in the last fortnight. Soon it will be everyone under Grulak’s rule.”

“Not while I live,” Vrylok stated defiantly. “The Chadang will never submit without a fight.”

The leader of the Chadang clapped his hands and the tent flap opened. “Food for our guest,” Vrylok bellowed.

Brakas smiled at his host. “Thank you,” he said. “It has been some time since I have had a good meal.”

“Where are you going?” asked Vrylok. “What will you do?”

“I travel the land,” answered Brakas. “I am no longer Zaldoni.”

“You are welcome to join with us,” offered Vrylok. “We can use a man of your skill when the time comes for us to teach the Jiadin that not all Fakarans will bend a knee to them. Wyant and the others are indeed a disgrace to pledge allegiance to Grulak without a fight.”

“A very tempting offer,” smiled Brakas, “but a more noble calling has my attention now.”

“What is it that you plan to do?” quizzed Vrylok. “Tell me of your plans.”

“I seek to warn all of the remaining free tribes of what the Jiadin are doing,” declared Brakas. “Perhaps if I can find them all, I can arrange for them to unite in opposition to the Jiadin.”

“That is a noble calling indeed,” frowned Vrylok. “And do you plan to lead this assembly of tribes?”

“Not I,” responded Brakas. “I am just a Fakaran trying to save my country from a tyrant. No, I do not seek glory. The tribes are capable of deciding who shall lead them without my help. Perhaps it will be you who shall lead them. The Chadang are very respected among the tribes.”

“Perhaps,” murmured Vrylok. “The tribes do not take well to serving under others.”

“Maybe I can convince them,” offered Brakas. “Do you know where any of them have gone? I shall try to rally them to you.”

“I know where some are,” nodded the Chadang leader. “I will show you on the map after we feast. What news do you have of Grulak himself? Does he stay at Vandegar or does he journey with his army?”

“I only know what I heard Wyant say before I left,” answered Brakas. “The Zaldoni were heading to Vandegar. I presume that means that the Jiadin remained camped there.”

“We have seen the Jiadin across the plains and in the hills,” declared Vrylok. “So not all of the Jiadin are in Vandegar. There have been no sightings of Grulak though or that crazy son of his, Diakles.”

“Diakles is of no concern,” Brakas said. “He knows not how to lead and even less about warfare. I have seen small bands of Jiadin in my travels, but nothing that worries me. Soon though, that will change. When Grulak has gathered enough of the tribes, he will strike to eradicate the rest before turning his attention towards Khadora.”

“He would be a fool to underestimate Khadora,” advised Vrylok. “Their armies are battle trained, not from fighting innocents, but from battling each other.”

“I have heard rumors that he has already allied with some of the Khadoran clans,” Brakas said. “If he pits one clan against another and then leads the tribes into Khadora, that country may well fall quickly.”

“Any Khadoran clan that allied with the Jiadin would be fools,” spat Vrylok. “Grulak’s memory of a alliance is shorter than his knife. He would turn on his allies before the battle was over.”

“True,” agreed Brakas, “but there are fools in Khadora. I believe the rumor to be true.”

“All the more reason he must be stopped then,” Vrylok declared. “The stronger he gets, the more tyrannical he will become. Damn Grulak’s father for wedding that savage girl.”

“Savage girl?” inquired Brakas. “What do you speak of?”

“You have not heard the tales?” the leader of the Chadang asked with raised eyebrows. “He is the spawn of a cross marriage with the savage Qubari.”

“The jungle people?” queried Brakas, “but that is forbidden.”

“Of course it is forbidden,” snapped Vrylok. “And you can see why. It breeds insanity. Some even say that evil spirits are bred by mixing with the Qubari. Nothing good can come of such a union. Look what it has produced. A crazy man at the helm of a giant tribe and a son that is even crazier. Diakles should be killed before he can reproduce. Who knows what another generation will bring.”

“That explains much,” replied Brakas. “Let us eat and then you can show me the map. I wish to continue my journey this evening. I fear I have little time to locate the other tribes.”

Rejji, Bakhai, and Mistake sat astride their horses and gazed at the distant encampment.

“Some great battle was fought here,” Rejji declared. “Do you see anything moving?”

“No,” responded Bakhai. “Nothing but the vultures gathering overhead. We should proceed carefully.”

“The vultures will not attack us,” retorted Mistake.

“No,” replied Bakhai, “but there is a reason they are circling instead of landing and feasting on the dead. Someone must still be alive to keep them at bay.”

“Or several people alive,” added Rejji. “Bakhai is right. We will approach carefully.”

“Why not just go around them?” asked Mistake. “That is the safest plan of all.”

“Lord Marak wants information on the tribes,” reminded Rejji. “A battle this large is of significance. We should try to find out what has happened.”

Rejji drew his sword and started forward. He felt slightly confident of his abilities after training with the Torak, but he knew that his sword and Mistake’s daggers would not save them from any serious attack. Bakhai had joined in the training with Rejji, but he had declined to carry a sword. Rejji did not understand why Bakhai refused, but he wished now that his friend had one.

Nothing moved as they entered the devastated camp. Bodies littered the ground and Rejji saw that there was a few red scarves intermingled with the predominantly blue scarves.

“Jiadin,” he spat.

“And a lot of Chadang,” added Mistake. “They were the local tribe around my village. I wonder what they were doing this far west.”

“Why are their chests all cut open?” asked Bakhai.

“It was probably a fierce battle,” responded Rejji. “Swords can be very sharp. Why did you refuse to carry one?”

“I believe that carrying such a weapon would alienate me from my animal friends,” Bakhai answered. “I am not willing to do that.”

Bakhai jumped off his horse and knelt next to one of the bodies. “I do not think these cuts were blows during battle,” he declared. “This man was obviously killed by that axe in his head, yet his chest is cut open like the others. And something else is strange.”

“What else is strange?’ asked Mistake after a long pause of silence.

Bakhai stood up and gazed around the battle site. “Nothing is alive,” he answered. “Nothing lives and nothing moves and yet the vultures continue to circle. This is puzzling.”

Rejji dismounted and strode to the large tent in the center of the encampment with Mistake following him. They entered the tent and Rejji fought back the urge to vomit. The inside walls of the tent were covered in blood and body parts adorned the cushions on the floor, but the most troubling sight was a man’s head mounted on the shaft a spear which was thrust into the ground.