Rejji gazed up at the sun’s first glint, as the top of the huge orb rose just high enough in the sky to crest the tall cliff surrounding him. He knew it was time to get his belongings together and head back to the village. He was excited as he surveyed the small pile of petrified shark’s teeth he had gathered this morning. Most people would not even stoop to pick up one of these fossils, which by some strange quirk of nature were only found on this small sliver of beach surrounded by tall cliffs. Rejji, however, had discovered the delight the traveling merchant had shown when he first saw them. Since that day several years ago, Rejji had spent every morning on the little sliver of beach gathering every tooth he could find. Brontos, the traveling merchant, would buy every one of them from Rejji and the boy used the money to buy items the villagers needed. The merchant only came twice a year and tonight he would be arriving.

The village Rejji lived in with his grandfather was very small and barely had enough to survive, so the teeth Rejji gathered was the only commodity the villagers had to bargain with. Still, Rejji never considered the fossils as his property, but something that was shared by the entire village, so the villagers all had a say in how the money was spent. Mostly the villagers voted to try different types of seeds in a search for some crop that would grow in the poor Fakaran soil, but nothing much ever grew. Mostly the village subsisted on a small flock of scrawny clova, a few chickens and the small fish that could be caught by string from the top of the cliffs. Even with such meager offerings, the bandits came once a year and demanded a tenth of what the village had. Soon the village would have nothing at all.

Rejji thought about what the villagers had decided to purchase and his face broke into a broad grin. He knew that the villagers didn’t really believe in his plan, but had voted for it because Rejji brought it up every time there was a vote. Still, he was very excited. Tomorrow after the merchant had had a good sleep, Rejji would order what he needed to make a small boat, including oarlocks, canvas for sails, nails and lead. When the merchant returned in six months, Rejji would build a boat and cast for larger fish offshore, which he hoped would feed the villagers and escape the tribute they had to pay each year.

If only there were some other young people in the village, Rejji thought as he dove into the surf to cool off before getting dressed and climbing the cliff to go home, he would have help with his project. There were no other young people though, as the village kept shrinking every year. The few young males who had lived in the village had joined up with the bandits, which seemed to be the only way to survive in Fakara. Rejji pondered whom the bandits would steal from when everyone became a bandit. Probably each other, he surmised, as he emerged from the surf and shook the water out of his hair.

Rejji took off his fingerless gloves and squeezed them dry as he strode over to the cliff and retrieved his clothes. Rejji dressed and put his gloves back on and glanced up at the sun again as it grew larger over the top of the cliff. A puzzled frown etched into his face as he saw the clouds of smoke wafting over the top of the cliff. The landscape around the village offered very little that would burn, mostly small brush. The only real source of any amount of wood was the village itself.

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.

“Can you get out of the well?” queried Rejji.

“I can,” assured the girl’s voice, “but I won’t until I know who you are.”

“I am Rejji,” he stated. “I live in this village and you don’t. Now come out before I fill the well with dirt.”

“You would just get tired,” answered the girl. “You certainly can’t shovel in dirt faster than I can climb on top of it and you would just spoil your well. Move away from the well and I will come up.”

“And run away no doubt,” scowled Rejji. “I don’t think so. You will come up slowly so I can see who you are and what you have in your hands.”

“Look,” pleaded the voice in the well, “I hid in here from the attackers. All I have is your word that you aren’t one of them and I don’t plan to die today. Back away from the well and I promise not to run away unless you try to hurt me. Besides, I need both hands to get out of here so you don’t have to worry about me holding a weapon.”

Rejji stared at the well for a few minutes and then silently backed away to a small pile of rocks. He hefted three rocks that were palm sized and called towards the well that he had moved away. He kept his eyes glued to the rim of the well as the girl shouted that she was coming out. He saw both of her hands grip the rim and he poised himself to throw a rock if she bolted. Quicker than Rejji could have imagined, the girl flipped herself out of the well and crouched behind it with a throwing dagger in her hand. She moved so swiftly that Rejji had not had a chance to react.

“Rocks huh?” she said accusingly. “So much for you not attacking me.”

“Is that a knife in your hand, oh defenseless one?” Rejji retorted. “You don’t look like a murderer to me though,” Rejji continued as he dropped the rocks back onto the pile. “Look I just want to know what happened here. This is my village and I came back from the sea to find out that everyone is dead. I need to know why it happened and who did it. Can we talk?”

The girl looked at the peasant boy appraisingly. He was handsome and muscular and around her age, she figured, but that was also the age when many left villages to join the bandits. His clothes were a clear indication of being a village boy though. His pants had been mended several times and his tunic was quite damp as if put on over a wet body. He wore fingerless gloves that many farm boys wear and there was no horse in sight.

“Okay,” she said cautiously as she slipped her dagger into a sheath at her belt, “but I don’t know very much about what happened. When the red riders started attacking, I headed straight for the well, so I didn’t see much.”

“Red riders?” mused Rejji. “They were not the local bandits then? Why do you call them red riders?”

“They all wore red scarves around their necks,” the girl responded. “It was like a uniform I guess.”

“Why hide in the well?” questioned Rejji. “Why not help defend the village?”

“They were carrying torches,” pouted the girl. “The well is the only stone structure around. Judging from the results of their attack, I would say I chose wisely. Besides, there was no defending to be done here. It was all over in seconds. The people couldn’t even have had time to run away.”

“You mean they didn’t even ask for anything before they started killing?” questioned Rejji.

“No,” responded the girl. “Not a word was spoken. It was as if they rode here just to kill everyone, to destroy this village. And they didn’t stay after it was done either. I heard them ride out, but figured I should stay hidden for a while in case they came back.”

“Are you sure no words were spoken?” asked Rejji. “I mean the well is far enough from the edge of the village that they might have said something when they first came in.”

“No,” repeated the girl, “I was behind the end building when they arrived. The man there asked them what they wanted and they slew him without an answer. That is when I ran for the well.”

“What were you doing behind that hut?” Rejji asked suspiciously. “In fact, what are you doing in this village? I know everyone here and you are not staying with any of them.”

“I was looking for something to eat,” answered the girl quietly.

“You are a thief,” Rejji accused loudly as he moved swiftly towards her. “You came here to steal from us.”

“What if I did?” answered the girl as she circled the well to keep it between them. “I only wanted something to eat. It might not be right to steal food, but I don’t like the thought of dying of hunger either.”

Rejji lunged for the girl and she moved so swiftly that he could not follow her motions. When he had reached where she should have been, the girl was a dozen strides away holding her dagger again.

“You keep away from me,” she demanded. “I know how to use this knife if I have to.”

Rejji sighed and slumped next to the ground with his back to the well. What did it matter if she was a thief, he reasoned. There wasn’t anything left in the village to steal. He gazed up at her as she stood watching him. She was a nice looking girl, dressed in animal skins. A little short, he mused, but she appeared to know how to handle herself well enough. Her ears were a little pointy and it gave an alien look to her face, but she really didn’t appear to be a threat to him. Perhaps she could even be a help to him.

“Look,” Rejji pleaded, “put the knife away. Please. I won’t try to harm you.”

“I will be the judge of that,” she stated sternly.

“Well if you plan to kill me,” smiled Rejji, “at least wait until we have buried the villagers. You will help me with that won’t you?”

The girl nodded solemnly and sheathed the knife. Suddenly, she turned to face the road leading out of the village and stared apprehensively.

“Company coming,” she said softly.

Rejji jumped to his feet and followed her gaze.

“It’s Brontos!” he exclaimed. “He isn’t due until tonight. He is a merchant and a friend.”

They watched silently as the small wagon made its way into the village and halted. Brontos was not a young man by any means, but Rejji thought he had aged ten years since his last visit six months ago. The look on Brontos’ face was a mixture of sadness and anger. The old man’s jaw was rigidly set as his head swiveled from side to side to take in all of the carnage. As he got down off the wagon and approached Rejji, he shook his head.

“Did any others survive?” Brontos asked.

“No,” Rejji responded. “I only survived because I was not here. I was getting a few more fossils before you were scheduled to arrive. The girl is not from the village and hid in the well. Everyone else is dead. Will you help us bury them?”

“What will you do now?” Brontos asked, ignoring the question asked of him. “Do you have anywhere to go?”

Rejji had not thought past burying the villagers and the question struck him like the fall off a cliff. He slumped back down against the well and buried his head in his hands. He had nowhere to go, he realized. No family. No friends. He felt the girl’s arm lay hesitantly across his shoulder.

“You can come with me if you want,” she offered softly. “I don’t have anything to offer, but I will be your friend.”

“Both of you will come with me,” stated Brontos. “At least until we are far enough away from this village that you will be somewhat safe so you can decide what you want to do with your lives. Scrounge what you can from the remains of the village. These poor people have no further need of whatever is here.”

“I can’t take things from the villagers,” Rejji shook his head. “Even with them dead, it would feel like stealing.”

“I’ll look around,” offered the girl as she rose. “There may be some things we can use for the journey.”

A slight smile rippled across Brontos’ lips as he nodded. “And Miss,” he stated sternly, “you take anything of mine when we journey together, and I will leave you strung up to a tree. Understand?”

The girl nodded slightly and went in search of salvageable items.

“How did you know about her?” asked Rejji.

“Lad,” smiled Brontos, “I have been a merchant all my life. If I couldn’t spot a thief when I see one, I would be out of business. I have a good feeling about her though. I don’t think she likes being a thief. I think she does it because she has to in order to survive. I can hardly blame her for that, but I can let her know that I won’t stand for it. Go give her a hand. You know this village much better than she does.”

Rejji ran and caught up to the girl and led her around. There was not much to be salvaged as just about everything burnable had burned. Rejji was able to gather the fossils he had been saving for the last six months, but he almost didn’t bother to collect them. His dream went up in smoke with the village. Many of the huts were still smoldering and the scouting expedition was over quickly. Rejji led the girl back to the wagon and handed the fossils to Brontos.

“You might as well have these,” Rejji offered. “We were planning on ordering parts for a boat so I could fish in the sea. We don’t need to order anything from you though. Just take them.”

“You two get up on the wagon,” ordered Brontos as he spurned Rejji’s offer.

“What about the burials,” asked Rejji?  “We can’t just leave them like this.”

“We must,” responded Brontos. “I will explain why as we ride. You must trust my judgment on it until then.”

The girl hopped onto the seat of the wagon, but Rejji stood firm.

“I am not leaving them without a proper burial,” insisted Rejji. “If you are in that much of a hurry then go on without me. I can do it alone.”

Brontos bit his lip pensively before speaking. “If you bury them, lad, others will die. I have seen much in these last six months. Many things I would rather not talk about, but I will because you need to know. But we must move out now. If you bury these villagers, others must take their place. Get on the wagon and I will explain while we ride. If you don’t like my explanation, I will bring you back.”

Rejji was puzzled but he trusted the old man. He nodded his head slightly and climbed onto the seat and Brontos wheeled the wagon out of the village.

“These killings have been going on for close to a year,” Brontos began as they headed up the road. “At first they were rather random and bizarre events that nobody could make sense of. Lately though they have become more frequent and more is known about them. The started up in the Kramath River valley, as far to the northwest as you can get and still be in Fakara, so I avoided going there.”

“Is it always the red riders?” asked the girl.

“The Jiadin tribe,” nodded the merchant. “It is rumored that their leader has gone mad. They are the largest, meanest tribe in Fakara. The other tribes fear them and well they should. When I ended my last run through Fakara, there were villages in the Jabul River area that were wiped out too. I did a good business around Lake Jabul, so I was hesitant to make this run.”

“So it is spreading,” guessed Rejji.

“More than you can imagine,” nodded the merchant. “On this trip I have seen villages as far East as the south fork of the Meliban River devastated, which is about as far as I go into Fakara. There is no safe place in this country any more.”

“What does that have to do with burying the bodies?” questioned Rejji.

Brontos looked over at his passengers as if weighting his words and the effect they would have. Finally, he compressed his lips and sighed.

“Something is feeding on the bodies of the dead,” Brontos stated. “Wherever the bodies have been buried, a nearby village was destroyed the very next day. When there was nobody left to do the burials, the attacks stopped for a while. At least that is how it appears to me.”

“You mean the red riders are eating the dead?” quizzed Rejji. “That is crazy. If it were true, why would they leave after they killed everyone?”

“It is not the Jiadin that are feeding on the bodies,” answered the merchant. “The Jiadin are just doing the killing. I don’t know who or what is doing the feeding. There are rumors that the leader of the Jiadin is possessed by evil spirits. Maybe truth. Maybe not. I don’t plan to go there and ask him.”

“So by burying the villagers we would be causing another village to be attacked?” asked Rejji.

“I believe so,” nodded Brontos. “The tales told around the country are that the feeding takes place at night. That is another reason to be well away from the village as soon as we can.”

The trio rode on in silence for some time. After a while, Rejji turned to the girl.

“What village are you from?” he asked. “Aren’t you curious if it has been attacked?”

“It is a small fishing village on the other side of the Giaming Mountains,” she replied. “Brontos already said he doesn’t go that far. I don’t much care what happens to it anyway,” she added bitterly.

The merchant’s eyebrows rose as she spoke. “I have been over those mountains once or twice,” he stated. “Not in some years though. Tell me lass, what are you called?”

“My name is Mistake,” she retorted caustically.

“Mistake?” chuckled Rejji. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

“It is the only name I have ever known,” she replied. “I know it was intended to be cruel, but I can handle anything she can dish out.”

“You are indeed a tough lass to carry a name like that voluntarily,” agreed Brontos. “By she, I suppose you mean your mother?”

“She is not my real mother,” spat Mistake. “Her husband found me at sea and brought me home. He cared for me, but she always resented me and called me a mistake. After a while it became my name. I cannot remember her ever calling me anything else.”

“And what of the father who found you?” queried the merchant. “Did he call you anything else?”

“I don’t remember much of him,” Mistake admitted. “He died when I was still quite young. I do remember that he held me softly and smiled at me. He is the only person I have ever known to care for me.”

“So you ran away,” surmised Brontos. “Can’t say as I blame you, although you have set out on a rough course to steer.”

“I would rather be dead than to suffer in her house,” stated Mistake defiantly.

“But you have nowhere to go,” interjected Rejji. “What will you do?”

“I have a plan,” smiled Mistake. “What will you do Rejji? You are in the same boat now. You make fun of my name but how much better is Rejji? It is just a bunch of letters thrown together without meaning. At least my name is a constant reminder that I am someone other than her daughter.”

Rejji looked shocked as her words hit him. He was as lost and abandoned as she was.

“Actually,” smiled Brontos, “The name Rejji does have meaning. It translates from the old language to ‘Son of the Moon’. Tell me Mistake, what is your plan?”

“I plan to find the Sage of the Mountain,” she proclaimed. “It is said that he knows everything.”

“I believe that is just an old myth,” stated Brontos. “I have traveled most of this land and while I hear him mentioned often, I have never talked with anyone who has ever seen or talked to him. Not even anyone who knows anyone who has. What would you ask him if he did exist?”

“Who my real family is,” declared Mistake.