“Why?” questioned Bakhai. “What made him turn his back on the Qubari?”
“He didn’t see it as turning his back on us,” the Chief responded. “A generation before your father, a young woman ran away from the jungle. Some say she was crazy, others that she just wanted more than what was here. Whatever her reason, she left and married an invader. They had a son and he was named Grulak.”
“The Grulak that leads the Jiadin?” gasped Bakhai.
“The same,” continued Dumo. “When the son was older, but not yet a man, this woman returned to us. She told us that she was afraid for the Qubari because of her son. She said something had invaded her son, something evil. The boy enjoyed killing things. It was animals at first and then people. He spoke in strange tongues and drew strange symbols on the wall with the blood of those he had killed. What prompted her return was her son had murdered her husband.”
“Grulak killed his own father?” Bakhai asked.
“Yes,” nodded Dumo. “This woman feared for her life and her people. She wanted to live out the rest of her days in the jungle. I would not let her. I told her to return to her son and keep watch over him. If he became a threat to our people, she was to kill him. If she could not, then she was to return here to warn us.”
“Did she ever return?”
“She returned just recently,” frowned Dumo. “She warned us that the Jiadin would attack us soon. Then she died.”
“What does this have to do with my father?” asked Bakhai.
“Your father was a student of the prophecies of the ancients,” explained Dumo. “He took the birth of Grulak as a sign and decided that the Qubari’s best defense was in creating a climate in Fakara that would hinder the massing of the tribes. He left the jungle to improve Fakara.”
“Did he ever return?” questioned Bakhai.
“Only once,” Dumo said with sadness in his face. “He returned with his Fakaran wife just before you were born.” Tears welled up in Dumo’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away. “I told him to stay with us, but he refused,” Dumo continued, his voice breaking. “We had an argument and I told him that if he left, he could never return. He was stubborn as you are now. He would not back down from an argument and neither would I. He left and I never saw him again.”
“You were close to him, weren’t you?” surmised Bakhai. “It is the sign of a good ruler to love his people so. Your people must love you as well.”
“He was not one of my people,” sobbed Dumo. “He was my son.”
Bakhai stared as the Chief of the Qubari broke down and cried. He moved over to his grandfather and hugged him.
***
“There is only one path up the mountain,” Yltar stated. “It is narrow and dangerous. Many of those seeking the wisdom of the Sage, never complete their journey. Even if you succeed in gaining the peak, there is no guarantee that he will even allow you to see him. He has refused many.”
“How will we know if he has refused us?” asked Mistake.
“You just will not be able to see him,” answered Yltar. “He will not exist for you. That is why many believe he no longer exists. People travel to see his wisdom and find nothing but rock. I believe he is eternal, but that only some are deemed worthy of his wisdom. Others believe differently.”
“So we may make this perilous trip and never get to speak to him?” quizzed Rejji.
“That is what you face,” nodded Yltar. “Your chances of success are slim. We can provide you with an escort to the edge of the jungle, but our people will go no further. Is it truly necessary for Bakhai to go?”
“I do not understand why Bakhai is special,” Rejji said. “The council spoke as if he were Qubari, but how can that be?”
“His father was Qubari,” frowned Yltar. “It is a sad story that touches us all here. I would not want him to leave and not return. That would be devastating.”
“We can make the trip without him,” answered Mistake. “He feels an obligation though and he takes it seriously. I am sure Bakhai has never been here before, and the council nearly decreed his death, so why would his loss mean anything to you?”
“His father was the son of Dumo,” answered Yltar.
“But Dumo was the one urging for death,” frowned Rejji. “That makes no sense.”
“Dumo is a fine leader,” sighed Yltar. “He acts in the best interests of his people, regardless of his own personal loss. Such was the case when Bakhai’s father left, and so it is the same now.”
“I understand now,” nodded Rejji. “Bakhai should stay here then. I know what it is to lose family and I would not want to see Bakhai go through that, after finally finding his. Mistake and I can do it alone. Your help in locating the Sage makes this possible.”
“We can do it alone,” agreed Mistake, “but Bakhai must be the one to decide. I will not refuse to allow him to accompany us. The decision must be his.”
“Very well,” conceded Yltar. “I know that Bakhai feels so strongly about going that I think we can assume he will be with you. I gather you will want to leave in the morning so Bakhai may return soon. Let us see what we can supply you with as far as provisions go.”
***
The three men stood upon a peak in the northern Giaming Mountains, wind whipping through their long hair as they gazed down upon the Qubari Jungle.
“Your men are too concentrated in the south,” complained Veltar as his dark eyes squinted into the wind. “You leave them too many paths to escape.”
“Nobody escapes from the jungle,” responded Winus, the Jiadin General of the Eastern Army. “They are probably long dead. We should turn our attention to the free tribes before they gain a chance to organize in opposition to Grulak.”
“They are not dead,” sneered Veltar. “I will tell you when they are dead. You would better serve Grulak by not provoking me. I am in charge of this operation and you will heed my orders or you will be replaced. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Winus replied bitterly. “I just fail to see why these three peasants require an entire army to subdue them.”
“Your failure to understand these things is precisely why I have brought Zygor here to help you,” spat Veltar. “He will act in my stead after I return to Vandegar. You will obey his orders as if they were mine. I will not stand for any disobedience. Fail me and you shall die.”
Winus glared at the tall, thin man named Zygor. Zygor’s long black hair was flowing in the wind, just like Veltar’s, and no attempt had been made to bind it. His arms were scrawny and weak and he carried no weapon. It humiliated the general to be ordered around by such a weakling.
“I want your army split,” continued Veltar. “Half shall stay where the enemy entered the jungle. The other half is to be moved towards the north. I have heard that Rejji is headed for the Bone Mountains. Either he will wait for your southern army to leave so that he can exit the jungle, or he will exit on the north and make for the mountains. Either way, I want your men there to kill him and his friends.”
“It shall be as you desire, Advisor,” nodded Winus.
“It shall be as I command,” corrected Veltar as he mounted his horse and headed down the trail.
General Winus watched Veltar ride away. He was barely able to conceal his contempt for the advisor. He turned to look down upon the jungle again. He gazed northward to find a spot where his army could be stationed that would allow them to see the jungle and anyone trying to escape it. He was sure that if Rejji survived the trip through the jungle, which was highly unlikely, that he would not step out of the jungle if the army were visible to him.
“What are you gazing at?” questioned Zygor.
“I am searching for where the northern half of the army should be stationed,” scowled Winus.
“Place them on a tall mountain as we are,” stated Zygor. “They will be able to see more of the jungle that way.”
“And how will they all get off the mountain to intercept the enemy?” spat Winus. “If we place them that far away, it will give Rejji two days of movement before we catch up to him. The army must be closer to the jungle to ensure that he is caught. Why don’t we both do what we are best at? You advise and I will run the army the way it needs to be run to accomplish our task.”