Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

Off to the left in the distance, Rejji could see huge stables and could hear the pounding of a smith. To the right, set back in a clump of trees, was a very large hut with steps leading to its porch. There were wooden rails outside it to tie horses to and that was where the patrol went. Rejji tried to get a feel for the size of the fort as they rode across the great square of barren dirt, but he could not see either end of the wall they had ridden through. He was awed by the immenseness of it all. He had thought of the bandits as small groups of riders as that was all he had ever seen visit the village, but this fortress clearly showed that the bandits were very numerous.

It was the greens who came to his village each year and he looked around to see if he could recognize anyone, but he could not. There were just too many faces there.

Brakas waved the other riders off as he ordered Rejji to dismount in front of the large hut. As Brakas landed on the ground, the other riders turned and headed for the stable area.

“Inside,” Brakas ordered brusquely as he tied his horse to the rail. “And don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Rejji nodded and mounted the steps and opened the door. He heard the heavy footsteps of Brakas behind him as he entered the large room. The room was the full width of the large hut, but not very deep. There were chairs to the right and a big desk to the left with a surly looking man sitting behind it. Brakas pushed past Rejji and approached the desk.

“Is he here?” Brakas asked the man.

“In the meeting room,” nodded the man. “He is alone though.”

Brakas nodded and shoved Rejji down a hallway leading towards the rear of the building. There were six doors off the hallway, three on each side, but the destination Brakas had in mind was obviously the doorway at the end of the hall. The smell of smoke hit Rejji before he even entered the room, so he was not surprised to see a fire smoldering in a pit in the center of the large room. The room was huge and must have occupied the whole back half of the building. There were wooden benches attached to each wall and a big circular piece of wood that Rejji figured was for covering the fire pit when they needed floor space. There were no windows in the walls and the only door was the one Rejji had just come thru. A lean man sat on one of the benches running a stone over his sword. He stood when Rejji entered the room. Brakas entered right behind Rejji and his big hand reached and grabbed Rejji’s shoulder as soon he entered the room, forcing Rejji to halt.

“What have you here, Brakas?” the lean man asked.

“Found him along the river, Wyant,” Brakas responded. “Claims he was coming to join us.”

“How did he make it to the river?” frowned Wyant. “Why didn’t our sentries spot him?”

“He says he came across the badlands,” scraggly beard replied. “Klavin thinks he is a spy.”

“Klavin thinks you are a spy, Brakas,” sighed Wyant as he approached Rejji. “He thinks everyone is a spy.”

Wyant reached out and grasped Rejji biceps. He ran his hands down Rejji’s arms and twisted his wrists so he could inspect Rejji’s hands. Rejji was still wearing the fingerless gloves he was so fond of, and Wyant frowned.

“Remove the gloves,” Wyant ordered.

Rejji removed his gloves and stuck them in his belt. He offered his hands back to Wyant and the Zaldoni leader examined his palms.

“You appear muscular enough,” Wyant stated, “but I doubt you have the makings of a warrior. A good swordsman is more than just muscle. It takes coordination and intelligence and practice. Mostly practice. What is that scar on your hand?”

Rejji gazed at the discolored crescent centered in his right palm. “I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I have always had it. Some kind of birthmark my grandfather said.”

“Well at least it is not from an act of stupidity then,” smiled Wyant. “You can put the gloves back on if you wish. Have you ever handled a sword?”

Rejji donned his gloves once more and looked up at the leader. “No, I haven’t,” answered Rejji. “Nobody in the village owned a sword.”

“Then what are you doing here pretending that you want to be a Zaldoni?” questioned Wyant.

“He said he wanted to avenge his village,” offered Brakas. “He said it was wiped out by the Jiadin.”

“Is this true about the village, Brakas?” Wyant asked.

“It is,” nodded Brakas. “One of my men recognized this boy as the one who spends his time on the beach. The village was destroyed several days ago.”

Wyant turned and paced the room for a few awkward moments as if something was troubling him. He came back and handed his sword, hilt first, to Rejji.

“Kill Brakas,” he said to Rejji.

Rejji stared at the sword and then at the man who gave it to him, but he didn’t move.

Brakas laughed and Wyant shot him a foul look. “I just spent an hour putting an edge on that sword, Brakas. I don’t like wasting my time.”

Turning to Rejji, Wyant shouted, “I said to kill Brakas. I don’t like repeating myself. Do it now.”

Nervousness coursed through Rejji’s body as he awkwardly held the sword. He looked at Brakas who was standing there casually laughing. He felt he was being tested or being made fun of, but he couldn’t figure out which. Rejji gripped the sword tightly and lunged at Brakas. Brakas swiftly dropped to one knee and brought his sword around in a flash. The flat of Brakas’ blade struck close to Rejji’s hand and the leader’s sword flew from Rejji’s grasp. Rejji tried following it with his eyes and saw Wyant grinning as he caught his sword and sheathed it.

“Finish it,” Wyant said to Brakas.

Rejji turned to see Brakas approaching, his sword carving large swaths through the air as he approached. Rejji started backing away from the bandit, but soon felt the bench behind him, leaving no room to retreat further. Rejji looked at the snarl on Brakas’s face as he approached and thought of the cruelness of surviving the attack on the village only to die days later because he made a foolish gamble with false bravado. His mind raced to find a way out of the attack, while his body stood frozen. Finally, in desperation, he pushed himself off the bench and threw himself at Brakas. He dove with arms before him and aimed for Brakas’ ankles. His hands stung with the pain of impact, but he managed to topple Brakas. Rejji quickly rolled to his feet and tried to make it out the lone door to the room.

Wyant stood blocking his way and shaking his head, all the while grinning at the boy. Rejji turned and saw Brakas regaining his feet. Rejji tore across the room to the bench on the far wall. Brakas was swearing now as he approached and Rejji was sure that this was no longer a test of any kind. With adrenalin pumping through his body, Rejji eased his foot back and tried to move the bench. He nodded to himself as the benched moved slightly, knowing that it was not nailed to the wall.

A quick glance towards Wyant showed that the leader was enjoying the display of fighting and had actually moved closer to Rejji as if to get a better view of the killing blow. Everything seemed to Rejji to be happening in slow motion as his mind raced through observations and options, although Rejji’s options were pretty slim.

As Brakas charged across the floor, fury evident on his face, he held his sword high and screamed at Rejji. Rejji cowered by stooping down and turning his back to the charging bandit. Even facing away from his attacker, Rejji’s mind could still see him charging and the boy trembled as he waited.

When Rejji decided the time had arrived, he picked up the bench and swiveled as he hurled it in the direction of the charging bandit. Brakas had actually been closer than Rejji had anticipated and the end of the bench sailed easily into the bandit’s head. Brakas went down backwards in a heap, his sword clattering to the floor.