Web of Deceit

Rejji leaped up and grabbed the rocks of the cliff face. His muscular arms and legs thrust furiously as he propelled himself up the face of the cliff. He scrambled onto the top of the cliff and turned towards the distant village. A mighty fire was consuming the village and he saw a column of riders heading away from the village towards the distant hills. Rejji charged forward, his legs pumping as his eyes scanned the village for any sign of struggle. Rejji was at the age of being between boy and man, but his body was firm and muscled and he was determined to defend the villagers with his life if necessary. His mind raced swifter than his legs as he thought about how he could best combat whatever menace was harming the village. He mentally noted the location of items in the village he could use for a weapon. Images flashed through his mind as he raced. He clearly envisioned the metal ladle by the well, the hoe leaning against the last hut before the fields, and the axe behind his grandfather's hut.

As Rejji reached the village, he saw there would be no struggle, no fight to save the villagers. The flames were already dying out as the meager supply of wood that used to be huts was consumed. Rejji's eyes opened wide in horror and tears flowed freely as he raced into the village and saw the carnage. Bodies littered the lone street of the village. His head darted left and right as he sought anyone still alive, but eventually he halted outside the charred remains of his grandfather's hut. He knelt next to the body of his grandfather whose chest was pierced by an arrow. Several feet away lay his grandfather's severed arm, the hand still clutching the handle of the axe.

Rejji rose and started to methodically account for each villager, hoping against hope that someone had survived. In a few short minutes, he had found all of the bodies, many of which had been decapitated. There were no survivors or villagers unaccounted for. Rejji alone had survived the destruction of the village. In despair, Rejji slumped down on the dirt road with the village well at his back and gazed at his grandfather's torn body. He remembered seeing the riders leaving and wondered why the bandits had come early and why they had decided to kill everyone this time. The village had always given the bandits their tribute and there had never been any violence before.

His eyes wandered towards the fields and a look of surprise lit Rejji's face as he saw the scraggly clova still in the fields. The bandits had not even taken their booty. Why then the violence? It made no sense. Rejji rose, grabbing some small pebbles as he did. As Rejji pondered the attack he tossed the pebbles with increasing vigor, as if his body needed some way to react while his mind sought answers. But there were no answers coming to Rejji and his thoughts turned to what he must do for the villagers now that they were dead. It would be a long day of burials he thought as he tossed the remaining pebbles into the well.

Rejji heard several thuds from the pebbles and a grunt and he swiftly wheeled and grabbed the metal ladle.

"Who are you?" demanded Rejji, as he stood menacingly by the lip of the well with ladle ready to swing.

"Who are you?" returned a young female voice.

Rejji's emotions were torn by fear of one of the bandits left behind and concern that someone was stuck in the well with no way out. The female voice tended to lead him towards the latter, but he knew she was not a villager.