Web of Deceit fl-3 Page 6

  “Half way?” questioned Rejji. “How you can you leave half way? Either you leave or you don’t.”

  “Not true,” grinned Mistake. “I won’t show myself, but I will always be here. While you are off learning to slay innocent villagers, I will be right below you.”

  “Below me?” quizzed Rejji. “What do you mean?”

  “There is a crawl space below this building,” explained Mistake. “I will stay right below you until it is time to leave.”

  “You can’t get away with that for long,” cautioned Rejji. “Sooner or later somebody will notice you.”

  “Then you had better study hard,” Mistake stated firmly. “The longer you dally, the greater chance of me being caught.”

  Mistake rose and grabbed the rope with both hands and lifted her feet off the floor. She started climbing even as the rope swung from side-to-side. When she reached the roof, she let go of the rope and grabbed the roof with both hands. Just at that moment the door to the room swung open and Wyant walked in. Mistake froze and Rejji caught sight of the rope swaying above his head as Wyant walked towards him. Rejji did the only thing he could think of to distract Wyant. He charged across the floor and dove at the leader of the Zaldoni tribe.

  Chapter 5

  Vandegar Temple

  The wind whipped his flowing red robe and threatened to push back his hood as Veltar stepped out onto the platform at the top of the pyramid. He scowled and pulled the red hood taut as he bowed into the wind and made for the edge of the platform. The wind decreased as he moved away from the doorway and when he reached the edge he stood erect and gazed out over the sacred Plains of Vandegar. It was on these plains, history told, that man had come together to defy the gods. The civilization of man had been grand then, thousands of years ago, thousands of years even before the invasion of the people who became known as the Fakarans.

  Veltar looked out upon the huge semicircular section of the plain that was now part of the sea. The legends state that the gods in their anger caused the plain to buckle and the sea to turn upon the land, swallowing millions of souls in the blink of an eye, their souls forever captive under the waves of the sea. That day in history, it is said, the gods spat upon man and brushed away his aggressiveness as being insignificant. The remaining people fled to the far corners of the continent and hid from the gods. The pyramid Temple of Vandegar was abandoned and forsaken ever since. Until now.

  The sound of footsteps caused Veltar to turn and see Grulak, leader of the Jiadin, approaching. Grulak’s muscles bulged beneath his red-dyed armor and his footsteps pounded loudly across the stones as he moved to the edge to stand beside Veltar.

  “Greetings, Your Excellency,” bowed Veltar.

  “Not quite yet,” scowled Grulak. “I thought I might find you up here.”

  “It will be soon,” Veltar assured the leader as he waved his hand over the plain below. “See how your armies gather. Already you have amassed the greatest army and you have not even invited the other tribes to join with you.”

  “The people recognize a great leader when they see one,” Grulak blustered. “Convincing the other tribes will not be so easy though.”

  “You will prevail,” snickered Veltar. “I guarantee it. Has not my advice already brought you all of the new recruits each season? No longer do the young ones seek to join just any tribe, they now seek to join the Jiadin Tribe.”

  “Yes, your advice has been good,” admitted Grulak. “That is why I have made you my most trusted advisor.”

  “The only advisor you need,” Veltar pointed out. “The others trembled when you decided to move your forces here and reoccupy the sacred temple.”

  Grulak looked down at the plain and saw his army encampments. From horizon to horizon tents were pitched and more men were arriving every day. Tens of thousands of men had rallied to him in the past few years.

  “Are you sure these village slaughters are a good idea?” asked Grulak. “It may make the other tribes feel as if we are invading their territories. They might be less likely to join with us then.”

  “On the contrary,” smiled Veltar, “it shows them the distance of your reach. The tribes only understand power. For years they have existed by displaying their power over the defenseless villagers. Now we are doing to them what they have been doing to the villagers. They will tremble and beg to give you allegiance. I do have a concern with the slaughters though.”

  “Oh,” Grulak said as he continued gazing down upon his armies. “What is the problem?”

  “My men are not treated with due respect,” declared Veltar. “Your patrol leaders will often do things that obstruct what my men are trying to accomplish.”

  “Your men,” reminded Grulak, “are merely servants of an advisor. The patrol leaders are in charge of the raids. What part of that do your men not understand? You are the only advisor who has men going out on the raids. You should be satisfied with that.”

  “I should be,” frowned Veltar, “but I am not. I want my men to be of a position over the patrol leaders.”

  “Preposterous!” exclaimed Grulak. “You overstep your bounds. You cause me to suspect your desires for power, Veltar. You are but an advisor and one I can dispense with. Mark your territory wisely.”

  “Of course, Master,” bowed Veltar. “Forgive my suggestions, but I am only trying to serve you to the best of my ability.”

  “Well,” lectured Grulak, “just remember your place in things. My patrol leaders are well trained and suited for the positions I have given them.”

  “I would not have even brought up the subject except for the welfare of Diakles,” smiled Veltar.

  “Diakles?” queried Grulak. “What does my son have to do with the patrols?”

  “I have had another vision,” Veltar reported. “I did not want to disturb you with it, but the problems with the patrols makes it necessary.”

  “What was in the vision?” trembled Grulak. “Is there danger for Diakles? What kind of danger?”

  “I saw a battle and Diakles was in the vanguard,” stated Veltar as he assumed a trance-like pose. “He was magnificent in his splendor and his men followed him with pride. They loved him almost as much as they love you. The battle was fierce, but Diakles easily trounced the enemy and declared victory. There was, however, one lone survivor amongst the enemy ranks. It was a young man around the same age as Diakles and this man looked not like a warrior.”

  Veltar closed his eyes and stretched his hand to Grulak’s shoulder as if for support. “This man had a crescent mark in the palm of his hand and he held that hand up and demanded that Diakles put away his weapons or he would die. Diakles laughed and charged the man, but his weapons appeared to do no harm to the stranger. The vision grew dark at this point, but I heard the scream of death before it ended.”

  “Whose death?” demanded Grulak. “Who died? Surely it was the stranger?

  “I do not know,” Veltar said opening his eyes and removing his hand from Grulak’s shoulder. “This is strange in itself as my visions have always been clear when you were the victor. It has caused me great concern for Diakles’s well being.”

  Grulak felt a tremor of terror race down his spine as he envisioned his son’s death. “I will keep him with me at all times,” declared the Jiadin leader.

  “The vision clearly showed him leading the army,” Veltar pointed out. “You may try to alter the outcome of my vision, but things that are seen, will happen. Diakles will lead that army and he will fight that stranger, if that stranger still exists that is.”

  “Yes,” nodded Grulak, “that is the answer. Find this boy with the mark on his palm and kill him now, before Diakles must meet him. That way we do not have to worry about the outcome that your vision did not show.”

  “That is exactly what I have been trying to accomplish, My Lord,” smiled Veltar. “Yet you have just rejected my plans to do this.”

  “Rejected?” questioned Grulak. “What are you talking about? You are to do everything in your pow
er to find and kill this boy. How have I rejected your help?”

  “The patrols, My Lord,” explained Veltar. “My men had located the boy and planned to destroy the entire village. The patrol leader, however, refused to wait until my men could verify that the boy was there before they attacked. The village was destroyed, but not the boy. He was elsewhere at the time.”

  “Who is this patrol leader,“ fumed Grulak. “I will have him hung from this platform for all to see.”

  “It was not the fault of the patrol leader.” Veltar pointed out. “As you have commanded, he took his orders from you, not my men. How can you fault a man for following your orders strictly? Had the patrol leader been told to listen to my men, the outcome would have been much different.”

  “Or if the patrol leader had been aware of your vision,” suggested Grulak. “I should make sure that everyone knows of this boy.”

  “Making them aware of the need to find this boy may be fine,” agreed Veltar, “but do not cause your men to think Diakles is weak and must be protected. He will follow one day in your footsteps and he must be loved and seen as strong. My men, on the other hand, know how to be discreet. I can explain the vision to them and they will never repeat it. So you see why I have suggested the arrangement I have. It is not for my own needs I have asked for this, but only to better serve you, My Lord.”

  “Yes, I see that now,” nodded Grulak as he placed his hand on Veltar’s shoulder. “I should have known better than to suspect your motives. You have had only my success as your goal. I will issue the orders today making your men advisors to me. The patrol leaders will defer to them in the future.”

  “Excellent, My Lord,” smiled Veltar as he changed the subject swiftly. “I think it is time to send out the couriers to the other tribes. They have had enough time to feel your reach, and yet, not so much time as to formulate any plans of joining against you.”

  “You mean to call the meeting of the tribes so soon?” queried Grulak. “I thought we were going to continue putting pressure on them for a while yet?”

  “That was the plan,” conceded the advisor, “but I have developed a better one. I think we can intimidate them into joining you now.”

  “How?” questioned the Jiadin leader.

  “We will move the bulk of your army into the pyramid,” detailed Veltar. “They will be out of sight there and yet ready to engage the tribes should trouble arise. Another large portion of troops will be on that peninsula,” pointed Veltar. “They will not be seen at ground level, but they will be able to see a flagman situated up here. If we need them, we will have only to signal.”

  “Do you think the tribes will arrive with their armies?” asked Grulak.

  “What would you do in their position?” Veltar asked.

  “I would be cautious,” admitted Grulak. “I would bring my whole army but not display it. Perhaps I would station them along the lake and then proceed here with a smaller guard.”

  “Precisely,” grinned Veltar, “except we will be able to detect their troops from up here. If it comes to a battle, we shall have a great advantage with the visibility this temple affords us. Plus, I will arrange for those tribes that are mostly likely to join us to be exactly where we need them.”

  “You seem to have thought of everything,” complimented Grulak. “Let it be so then. The couriers shall be sent and the nation of Jiadin shall be formed.”

  ***

  Rejji flew into Wyant and they both tumbled to the floor. Wyant was swift and rolled out from under Rejji and wrapped his arms around the boy’s neck. Rejji was relieved to see no sign of Mistake or the rope as Wyant twisted his head in that direction.

  “Are you crazy, lad?” Wyant growled. “What was all that about? I don’t mean you any harm. I thought I heard voices in here and came to check.”

  “No harm?” Rejji croaked. “You are breaking my neck.”

  Wyant laughed and released Rejji. “Sorry, lad,” he chuckled. “I forgot the last time we met you thought we were trying to kill you. That was just a test to see what you would do. You did well for a lad with no training. Quick thinker you are.”

  “A test?” Rejji asked. “Is Brakas dead?”

  “No, lad,” Wyant stated. “He will remember the thrashing you gave him though so I would be especially nice to him. I’ve decided to accept you into the Zaldoni on a probationary basis. You have smarts and originality, but you have no skills that I can see. By day you will train with Klavin and by night you will be locked in this room. After a period of time, you will be given a hut to share with somebody, but until we are satisfied that you are what you say you are, that is how it will be. Now come along and I will get you something to eat.”

  Rejji rose and followed the leader of the Zaldoni into the predawn night. Already men were starting to move along the pathways as Wyant led Rejji towards the village of huts. Rejji was impressed at the size of the village. He had already passed ten times the number of huts that his village had and there appeared to be no end of them in sight.

  In what appeared to be the center of the village, there was a large open area with dozens of campfire rings. Several were already in use and men were waving and calling to Wyant as they entered the square. Wyant appeared to be very popular with his men and there were many invitations to have the morning meal with the warriors. Wyant joked about the men’s cooking and finally sat on a bench near a camp ring that had a large kettle suspended over the fire. Rejji recognized one of the men from the patrol that had captured him.

  “Klavin,” Wyant called, “you have a new pupil. His name is Rejji.”

  “I don’t cater to training spies,” Klavin growled. “What am I to make out of him?”

  “A fine warrior like yourself,” grinned Wyant. “If you are really good at training the lad, I won’t put him in your hut.”

  The other men roared with laughter and even Klavin smiled and nodded. “Alright then,” he agreed, “I’ll try to mold a warrior out of the toad, but I ought to be getting double rations for such an impossible chore.”

  Wyant slapped Klavin on the back and grabbed a bowl of stew. He introduced Rejji to the men sitting around the kettle and then walked off with his bowl of stew.

  Rejji ate silently and listened to the banter of the other men. If the slaughter of his village hadn’t been such a vivid memory, Rejji could almost have felt at home with these bandits. There was a bond amongst them and sitting there as one of them, Rejji almost felt like he was part of a brotherhood of some type. While he couldn’t condone the acts of the bandits, he was finally beginning to understand the allure such groups held for youngsters from the villages.

  The morning meal was unhurried and then the group disbanded and went their separate ways. Klavin finally rose and nodded to Rejji.

  “Come along then, squire,” he grinned. “It is time to see what you are made of.

  Rejji rose and followed Klavin to a large field beyond the stables. He picked up a couple of wooden swords and tossed one to Rejji. Rejji grabbed the sword and stood there holding it with one hand. Klavin scowled and shook his head.

  “By the gods, lad,” he growled, “have you no training at all?”

  He walked over to Rejji and grabbed Rejji’s free hand and placed it on the hilt.

  “Hold the sword with both hands,” he instructed. “It is the only thing between you and death so never let your grip on it go slack. Here hold it like this.”

  Klavin always acted like teaching Rejji was a hopeless endeavor, but the giant of a man kept at it. He walked Rejji through a proper posture and ways to block attacks. The whole morning was spent on defensive maneuvering and Rejji was black and blue all over. As soon as Rejji learned to block one stroke, Klavin changed his attack to a different stroke. Rejji was sure the giant was having a great deal of fun bruising him, but he was determined to learn all that he could. Around high sun, they broke for a meal.

  As they sat around the same kettle eating the midday meal, Klavin entertained the rest of the m
en with stories about how hopeless Rejji was. Rejji remained silent and ate his stew. Towards the end of the meal, a slight man came over to Rejji from another group.

  “Take off your tunic, lad,” the man said softly.

  Rejji looked quizzically at the man, but removed his tunic. The man ran his hands over Rejji’s chest and felt his ribs. He then tilted Rejji’s head back and felt around the boy’s puffed up eye.

  “Nothing serious, lad,” the man smiled. “I am called Gregnic, the closest thing to a healer you are likely to find in these parts. Let me put some ointment on that cut over your eye and you will be fine.”

  The other men around the kettle started to tease Klavin about not even breaking one of the boy’s ribs as Gregnic applied the ointment. The ointment stung, but Rejji remained silent. He was determined not to let the others know how much he was hurting.

  “Thank you.” Rejji said when the healer was done.

  “I live in the first hut by the command center,” Gregnic offered. “You might want to stop by after the afternoon session. I will see what I can do to ease the pain. Whatever you do,” he whispered, “don’t get Klavin mad. He’s a killer.”

  As Gregnic rose to leave, Klavin called over to Rejji, “Remember his name, lad. You’ll be seeing a lot of him.”

  The men around the kettle howled with laughter and Rejji put his tunic back on. He rose and put his bowl on the bench.

  “Are we training this afternoon,” he called to Klavin, “or do I know everything already?”

  “Why you little pup,” growled Klavin and then he broke out laughing. “So I am not teaching you fast enough, eh? Come along then little warrior and let us have some more fun.”

  Klavin turned and headed down the path without waiting for Rejji. The other men had questioning expressions on their faces as Rejji rose and followed Klavin towards the field. Rejji could see that he might have been a little childish with his remarks in front of the other men, but Rejji knew he only had limited time to learn before Mistake pressured him to leave. When Klavin tossed Rejji the wooden sword, Rejji grabbed the sword and held it point down to the ground.