Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

“They are Qubari,” added one of the warriors. “How could you expect any different?”

“They have not been Qubari for long,” smiled Mobi, “and I meant the compliment to include the elf as well.”

Mistake blushed and Rejji and Bakhai erupted in laughter.

The wind roared across the open plains of Vandegar, stirring up columns of whirling dust, and causing the armies below to seek what little shelter they could find. Veltar raised his hood and turned his back to the wind as he stood near the edge of the platform atop the Vandegar Temple. He was gazing at the door to the temple, his mind lost to plans of conquest, when Zygor stepped out of the doorway.

“Master,” bowed Zygor. “Why do you spend your time up here?”

“Welcome back, Zygor,” nodded Veltar. “I spend time here because this is the site of our master’s worst defeat. It is a constant reminder that failure is unacceptable. Look out at that long arm of the sea that covers the old Plains of Vandegar. They say that millions of souls perished there. It was a humiliating defeat.”

“Is it not better to concentrate on the victories?” posed Zygor.

“No,” scowled Veltar. “The victories are many, but the lessons are learned from serious defeats. Speaking of failures, General Winus has complained to Grulak about your operation in the east. He said you killed sixty of his men.”

“That I did,” sneered Zygor. “General Winus is a fool and incompetent. His men are worse.”

“Still, we must suffer with Grulak and his minions for a time yet,” lectured Veltar. “It does not serve our master to weaken the Jiadin at this time. You are to tread more softly with these Fakarans until the time is right. What about Rejji?”

“I believe him dead, but I have not discovered his body yet,” reported Zygor. “He and his two friends ascended Mount Kiator. I destroyed the only trail up the mountain. He may have died in the avalanche or he may have made it past the break. I am not sure which. If he is alive on that mountain, he will die of starvation. The army still blocks the path below the break. In any event, he cannot leave the mountain alive.”

Veltar turned and stared down at the plains. The wind had abated somewhat and the armies were scurrying about, repairing tents and running after things that had blown away.

“These pitiful wretches call themselves an army,” spat Zygor who had moved to stand alongside Veltar. “Soon they shall see what a real army is like.”

“They serve their purpose,” admonished Veltar. “All they need to do is to create havoc and weaken Khadora’s fractured clans. There will be no organized resistance left after that. It is the boy that troubles me. He plays a large part in our master’s destiny and he must be eliminated.”

“That is almost assured,” smiled Zygor. “As I said, if he is not already dead, he will die upon that mountain.”

“Almost is not good enough,” spat Veltar. “I want you to bridge that gap in the trail and seek his body. I cannot rest until I am sure he is dead.”

“Why is he so important to our master?” asked Zygor.

“Because he bears the mark of legend,” explained Veltar. “Our master fears he may be the long awaited Astor, one of those who will usher in the Time of Cleansing.”

“Bah,” ridiculed Zygor, “such legends are sweets for children. There can be no cleansing of evil from the land. If anything, evil will always triumph because it is stronger than good. Besides, why does our master fear the legends of one of the other gods?”

“I do not question his motives,” warned Veltar with a wave of dismissal. “You would be wise to follow my lead. Bring me the body of Rejji.”

“As you command,” Zygor bowed.

***

“Not much of a town,” frowned Mistake as the village of Ghala came into view.

“Not yet,” replied Rejji, “but the soil looks well watered. Perhaps with the right seeds, this could be fertile fields of grain.”

“How are we going to get started?” asked Bakhai. “We can’t just march in and say we are going to build a town.”

“I have been giving that a lot of thought,” responded Rejji. “I do not imagine these people will be much different than the villagers where I was raised. I expect an honest and friendly people, but perhaps wary of outsiders. They will look favorably on attempts to help them, provided there is no motive of greed.”

“I hope you are right,” frowned Mistake, “but maybe we should think about burying some of this gold before we get there. We have lost more gold than we have spent since I met you.”

“Probably a good idea,” nodded Rejji. “Let us do it now before they notice us approaching. In that stand of trees on the right should be a safe place. We will dally here for a while as if we are having a meal before approaching the village.”

“There is no need for that,” offered Bakhai. “I will take the sack up into one of the trees where it will be hidden without the need for disturbing the ground.”

“Good,” smiled Rejji. “I am anxious to get to the village. Fill our pouches with gold first so we have some to spread among the villagers to show our lack of greed.”

Bakhai helped lift the heavy sack off of Mistake’s back and fill their pouches. He hoisted the sack onto his own back and scampered up a large tree and returned in minutes.

“I don’t know why you insisted on carrying that yourself,” Bakhai said to Mistake. “It cannot be good for your back with that much weight on it.”

“Yes, but it kept a smile on her face,” laughed Rejji. “Let’s go meet our new neighbors. I will mix with the old men at the well. Mistake can find some of the women and help them with their chores. Bakhai, you mix with the younger men. Check out any animals they might have and see if any of the men have building skills. Be friendly, but not pushy.”

His friends nodded and went their separate ways as they entered the village. The villagers paused in whatever they were doing to observe the newcomers. Rejji waved politely as he headed for where he thought the well would be. He reached the village center and found that there was no well. What he found instead, was a group of old men sitting on crude benches outside one of the huts and a group of children sitting in the dirt in front of them. Rejji walked over to the group and sat in the dirt alongside the children.

“Welcome, stranger,” one of the old men said. “Have you come to hear stories?”

“I enjoy stories very much,” smiled Rejji. “My grandfather used to tell many of them in my village.”

“And where is your village?” another old man asked.

“It used to be far on the other side of the Giaming Mountains,” Rejji answered. “It no longer exists. The Jiadin wiped it out and burned it.”

“You are a long way from home then,” stated the first old man. “My name is Plesy. What is yours?”

“I am called Rejji,” he smiled. “It is an honor to meet you Plesy.”

“I am Copi,” interjected the second old man. “Perhaps you would care to share stories of your travels if they may bring joy to the children.”

“Well met, Copi,” nodded Rejji. “I would consider it an honor to share my travels with the young ones in the future.”

“Are you intending to stay here then?” asked Plesy.

“I would like that very much if it meets with the approval of the village,” declared Rejji. “I travel with two friends and we seek a place far from turmoil where we may work and add value to the community.”

“Noble sentiments,” frowned Copi, “but others have said the same and sought only comfort and luxuries that do not exist here.”

“As a person from a village much smaller than this one,” smiled Rejji as he untied his gold pouch and tossed it to Copi, “I understand your hesitation and concern, Copi. I think that will prove that we have not come seeking anything for nothing. We are well endowed and plan to share our bounty with the village.”