Web of Deceit (34 page)

“Get ready to leave,” Bakhai panted.

“You found a way down?” asked Mistake excitedly. “Are the Jiadin still around?”

“We won’t have to worry about the Jiadin,” grinned Bakhai. “Myka is giving us a ride to the jungle.”

“The dragon?” shouted Mistake. “You want me to ride on that thing? It is probably a trick just to eat us.”

“Not at all,” chuckled Bakhai as he caught his breath. “She is helping us so she doesn’t have to deal with your children.”

“My children?” frowned Mistake. “What are you talking about?”

“I will tell you later,” he grinned as he detected the sound of massive wings flapping. “Just make sure we all get on for the ride. She will not tolerate any delays. Here she comes.”

The roar of rushing wind barely preceded the sight of the huge dragon as Myka hovered near the summit and then landed in a clear area.

“Come along,” Myka said tersely, “and if you tell anyone about this, I will eat your children, bones and all.”

Bakhai scampered up the back of the dragon and reached his hand down to Mistake. Mistake hesitated and Rejji grabbed her and hoisted her up to Bakhai’s arms. Rejji scurried up Myka’s back and held Mistake around the waist and instructed her to hold Bakhai. Myka snorted and grinned as she hobbled to the edge of the mountain, leaned far over the edge, and let herself fall forward. The trio screamed as if they were dying as the dragon plummeted toward the ground. Bakhai distinctly heard a cackle as the dragon spread her wings and the dive transformed into a glide.

“You did that on purpose,” shouted Bakhai. “You nearly scared us all to death.”

“I can’t hear you,” chuckled Myka. “And if I could hear you, I certainly don’t need flying instructions from a human. You just hang on and leave the flying to an expert.”

Bakhai shook his head, but had a hard time suppressing his own laughter at the dragon’s antics. The night was dark and the air rushing past them was very cool. Bakhai was forced to close his eyes to mere slits in the face of the rushing wind, but even then the sight of the land passing below them thrilled him. He could not pick out much of the detail, but he could see the difference between grassland and forest. As they glided lower, he could see streams passing below them. He was not sure of the time it took to reach the edge of the jungle, but to Bakhai, the trip was too short.

Myka flared her wings as the ground came rushing up at them and slowed to a walking pace before she landed. Mistake pulled Rejji's hands away from her waist and slid down the side of the dragon as soon as they landed. Rejji and Bakhai followed.

“Thank you, Myka,” bowed Bakhai. “We are indebted to you.”

“That you are,” smiled the dragon. “It has been a long time since I got out to see how things are going. That flight made me hungry.”

Mistake backed away from the dragon and Myka lowered her head and snaked her long neck towards the thief. Mistake was terrified and reached for one her daggers, but the huge dragon winked at her and chuckled.

“I will say you have a lot of spunk for such a small thief,” Myka laughed as she withdrew her head from Mistake. “I think I could go for a nice fat wasooki or maybe a dozen more of those Jiadin warriors.”

Without further comment, Myka flapped her wings and took off into the air. The trio watched her go as far as the dark night allowed, which was not very far. Bakhai turned and started walking along the edge of the jungle. Rejji and Mistake followed him and eventually they heard the Qubari signal and turned into the jungle.

“Welcome home,” greeted Mobi. “We did not expect you so soon. Did you not find the Sage?”

“We found him,” said Bakhai. “We need to return to the village, but some sleep is required first. Can we leave at first light?”

Mobi nodded and walked the trio back to the Qubari campsite. Bakhai told the Qubari warriors of their journey, but left out the words of the Sage. The trio shared a meal with the jungle warriors and then everyone went to sleep. In the morning the group began the trip back to the village.

When they arrived back at the village, Mobi led the trio to the inner courtyard of the stone building, while the rest of the Qubari warriors returned to their homes. Within a few moments, Chief Dumo and Shaman Yltar arrived. Dumo embraced Bakhai and welcomed the travelers back to the village.

“You have returned swiftly,” smiled Dumo. “Were you able to speak to the Sage?”

“We were successful,” nodded Bakhai.

“Tell me of your journey,” prompted Dumo.

Bakhai started the tale at the edge of the jungle and began to relate the adventure to the chief. Mistake and Rejji sat and listened for a while. Mistake pulled out her stick and held it upside down. The balls still hung suspended in opposition and she pouted. She was about to put it away when Rejji reached over and grabbed it from her fingers. He also held it upside down and the balls clanged together. He locked eyes with Mistake for a moment and shook his head as he handed the stick back to her.

“Not sure I have much faith in that stick of yours,” Rejji whispered to Mistake while Bakhai continued his story.

“Maybe it was affected by the cold up on the mountain,” responded Mistake. “Or maybe you aren’t doing it right.”

“How could there be a wrong way to turn a stick upside down?” protested Rejji as he noticed Yltar watching him.

“If it doesn’t work for you,” frowned Mistake, “then don’t touch it. It was meant for me and I am sure that it will work.”

She held it upside down again before putting it away. Once again the balls stretched the strings to their limit as they became suspended straight out to the sides instead of falling down. Rejji saw Yltar’s eyes widen as the balls hung suspended opposite each other. The shaman came over and sat next to Mistake.

“Where did you obtain the carozit?” he asked softly.

“Carozit?” echoed Mistake. “You mean the stick?”

“Yes the stick,” smiled Yltar. “Where did you get it?”

As Bakhai continued telling his story in the background, Mistake answered, “It was a gift from the Sage of the Mountain. He said it would help locate my family.”

“I have read of such things,” stated the wide-eyed shaman. “Never have I seen one. May I try it?”

Mistake nodded and handed the carozit to Yltar. He turned it upside down and the balls clanged together. He handed it back to Mistake and indicated for her to use it again. She did and the balls once again hung out to the sides of the carozit.

“Amazing,” whispered Yltar as he turned to listen to Bakhai’s tale. “I wonder how it is made.”

Bakhai skipped over the meeting with the Sage and promised to return to it later as he proceeded to tell the story of how they escaped from the mountain.

“Myka,” stated Dumo at the end of Bakhai’s story, “a name of legend. I thought she died ages ago. And you got to fly upon her back? I am quite surprised that she didn’t eat you.”

“She wanted to, I am sure,” frowned Mistake.

“I suspect if she wanted to eat you, you would not be here,” smiled Dumo. “Tell us, Mistake. What did the Sage tell you of your family?”

“He gave her a carozit,” offered Yltar. “It shows a great distance separates her from her family.”

Mistake nodded and Bakhai added, “He also tasked us to find the lost city of Angragar.”

The courtyard fell suddenly silent and the faces of Dumo and Yltar became masks hiding their emotions.

“I am sure that I am pronouncing it correctly,” Bakhai stated. “The Sage said that the Qubari were responsible for protecting it. Tell me where it is so that we may go there.”

“Angragar is none of your concern,” declared Dumo.

“It is our concern,” protested Bakhai. “The Sage has stated that it is our duty to go there and discover its mysteries. You must tell us where it is.”

“I will tell you no such thing,” exploded Dumo. “You, as a Qubari, will learn of Angragar when I deem you are ready to. These invaders that you travel with, shall never know of it. I forbid you to speak of it again.”

“I think the Sage has already made us aware of it,” interrupted Rejji. “If you refuse to help us locate it, that is understandable, but to refuse to speak of something we already know about it is childish.”

“Childish?” raged Dumo. “For thousands of years, the Qubari have been entrusted to guard this secret. It is an obligation we take quite seriously. Why do you think we kill anyone who enters this jungle? Do you think it is for the love of seeing someone’s blood spilled along the jungle floor? Every Qubari is sworn to protect Angragar with his life. I will not share those secrets with the likes of you. I have erred in not having you killed before, but this threat to Angragar makes me see clearly now. Seize them! The council shall sit in session again this day.”

The guards lowered their spears and formed a circle around Rejji and Mistake. They hesitated when it came to Bakhai, unsure of whether or not the Chief’s command included him. Dumo nodded sadly to Mobi, and Mobi ushered Bakhai into the circle of spears to join his friends. A guard was sent to summon Pulom and Anderal to complete the council.

“He is the last of your line,” Yltar pleaded to Dumo. “Do not be so quick to terminate that which has dedicated its life to Angragar.”

“I know no other way,” scowled Dumo. “The sacred trust must come before all else. Do you not think I have punished myself all these years for my actions? As Chief, I have a duty far greater than the rest of my people. My family and my life are insignificant against the burden I have been given. I would give my own life to spare Bakhai, but that would not safeguard Angragar. I do what I must do.”

“Yet your son felt strongly that Angragar would awaken in your lifetime,” continued Yltar.

“His feelings were misguided,” growled Dumo. “Angragar does not awaken just because you wish it to. How many generations have wished the same thing? Were the Astor to be born today, I would take an army and tear down the gates of Angragar, but such is not the case. I explained this to him many times.”

“I remember the arguments,” frowned Yltar. “And I believe he answered that tearing down the gates for a newborn was just as foolish as announcing to the world where Angragar was. Yet he was one of the greatest students of the ancient prophecies that the Qubari have ever seen. Can you not believe that maybe he understood something that the rest of us have ignored?”

“He was wise,” nodded Dumo, “but he was also young and optimistic. How many of our youth have you sensed the same euphoria from? Do not distract me from my duty by yanking on my heartstrings. This is painful enough for me without you dragging him into it.”

“Why do you keep referring to my parents as if I would not understand who you are talking about?” interrupted Bakhai. “They had names like you and me. I would at least like to know them before I die.”

Dumo stared over at Bakhai and his chin crinkled in bitter sadness. His eyes watered and he nodded as he walked towards Bakhai.

“Regardless of how I rant about his failings,” Dumo grimaced, “your father was a great man. He would have made an excellent chief or shaman for the Qubari. It is not that I did not love him, but rather that we did not see eye to eye on many things. He had the same feelings of sacrifice for our people as I do, but he thought very differently. His name was Hyram and I am proud to have called him my son. I am sorry, but I cannot remember your mother’s name. She was an invader and I only met her once and it was an emotional time between your father and I. Perhaps it will come back to me.”

“Her name was Saria,” Rejji said haltingly, his eyes filled with tears.

Silence invaded the courtyard and Pulom and Anderal halted on their way to the council table. Dumo turned and stared at Rejji.

“It was indeed Saria,” Chief Dumo said softly. “How could you possibly know this?”

Dumo turned to look at Yltar. “Did you ever mention her name to him?” he quizzed the shaman.

Yltar shook his head and stared at Rejji. Dumo stormed his way through the ring of guards and stood towering over Rejji.

“Tell me how you know her name,” Dumo demanded.

“She was my mother,” sobbed Rejji. “Her father raised me as his own when they left to return to Hyram’s people. She was pregnant at the time.”

“So it was not the cold that affected the balls,” concluded Mistake. “Bakhai was deep in the mountain seeking the dragon. The carozit worked!”

Rejji nodded and Dumo started pacing towards the council table.

“This is unbelievable,” scowled Dumo. “This is some trick to get me to reject your punishment. Hyram would have told me about his son when we met. He would have been too proud to conceal such a thing from me. I cannot believe this. He is not even a talker. He should be slowly tortured for playing such a cruel trick.”

“I agree,” stated Pulom. “No man could resist bragging about a son to his father. There is absolutely no reason for him not to have told everyone about his son.”

Even the guards were nodding their heads at the thoughts expressed by Pulom. A birth among the Qubari was a wonderful and joyous event, which was shared and celebrated by the entire village. Not a man there could understand a father not sharing his joy, not only with his own father, but also with the entire village.

“Unless,” interjected Yltar.

“Unless what?” demanded Dumo. “Will you think of some strange circumstance that would make this believable so that this council will once again spare the lives of these three? Do not waste our time, Yltar. You persuaded us once, but you will not succeed again, no matter how hard you try.”

“What if Hyram feared your actions?” the shaman postulated. “What if he knew what your reaction would be to the news of his son and feared that your actions would jeopardize the Qubari people?”

“How could my knowledge of such a blessed event hurt the Qubari?” scowled Dumo. “You weave tales that contain no logic. Let us convene this council and determine their fate.”

“I can think of only one reason that Hyram would not have shared his birth,” persisted Yltar as he forced his way through the line of guards. “He would have kept his silence in fear that you would have torn down the gates of Angragar for a child who could barely walk.”