Spice

Spice
Robert A. Webster

SPICE

Robert A Webster

Darkness will settle on the people of Cambodia

There will be houses, but no people in them.

Roads, but no travellers

Barbarians with no religion will rule the land.

Blood will run so deep as to touch the belly of the elephant.

Only the deaf and the mute will survive.

Ancient Cambodian Prophecy

SPICE

Written by Robert A Webster

Copyright © Robert A. Webster 2014

Cover design © Robert A Webster 2019

Revised edition 2020

All Rights Reserved.

The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work. Thank you for respecting the work of this author

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Table of Contents

-Chapter One- (#ub22275cb-5cc0-503a-9fc0-7d613d32fe38)

-Chapter Two- (#u31a54dc8-7e5e-5620-a902-79f820dbf271)

-Chapter Three- (#u1db5d2e4-5cf8-591f-8f65-84b6078ada0f)

-Chapter Four- (#u3bc0a9ab-d035-56a0-87a9-1f1de672a1e2)

-Chapter Five- (#ue55ea7a5-9b2c-579f-ae25-3e51c0dcd9d7)

-Chapter Six- (#ufc300305-14b3-592d-a65d-037ef11ed816)

-Chapter Seven- (#u21695e53-a13c-5f03-9ba6-2722dbe8b0a4)

-Chapter Eight- (#u88819e12-f67e-541f-b276-efa695ee0430)

-Chapter Nine- (#ub721e8a0-5389-5b6f-b281-7175e25df040)

-Chapter Ten- (#u037bf21b-e46d-561e-8f1e-879cc7242d90)

-Chapter Eleven- (#ub97c3e8f-a51f-5be1-b699-f2372aa82edb)

-Chapter Twelve- (#u1720fc6d-c060-5b94-ab83-5c358dd4d9b8)

-Chapter Thirteen- (#u6e749599-0315-5a3c-89c5-156840783016)

-Chapter Fourteen- (#uf509a1b9-ca50-52c4-9e54-e6821761a476)

-Chapter Fifteen- (#u23210a78-f7c7-5560-a807-c3328370f640)

-Chapter Sixteen- (#u4915103a-fa02-5ecd-b1c0-e09c8c858463)

-Chapter Seventeen- (#ue73119dd-07d1-5be7-ba5c-f09a417390c4)

- Chapter Eighteen - (#u0badd1ef-5ed8-5617-9acb-6daaf42eb150)

-Epilogue- (#ua80e3dcb-ed29-5976-8f38-bedede58c75f)

-Appendix- (#ubde1997c-c915-51ec-92b9-f77149671750)

-Meet the Author- (#u529a3b61-428f-5776-ac27-c2b00b60a1de)

Novels by Robert A Webster (#ua97e4a78-fe52-5d5b-8b30-927a0766b045)

-Chapter One-

Fear and Loathing

Rotha peered out of the hut’s doorway. She smiled, pushed strands of black hair behind her ears, went down the wooden steps, and over to her sons. “Ravuth, you and your brother go get the *tror bek for supper,” she said.

The teenager looked up from where he and his younger brother sat playing and groaned.

“Now, Ravuth,” said his mother, wagging her finger.

“Okay, come on Oun,” said Ravuth standing, and holding his brother’s hand they headed towards the jungle.

The air felt humid and Ravuth wiped his arm across his moist forehead. He turned back towards the village and looked up at the Cardamom Mountains. “I wish I was a bird and could fly above the mountains, it would be cool up there,” he said, smiling at Oun.

The year was 1975, and unbeknownst to the secluded village, Cambodia was in turmoil. The country was at the end of a war but the beginning of a nightmare, leading to a period of genocide affecting every Cambodian.

Pearls of perspiration now trickled down Ravuth’s face. The sores on his hands stung pitilessly as the salt in his sweat rubbed against the worn handle of his machete. Once again, he lifted his aching arm and hacked into the foliage. His thirst raged and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he had to keep going for the sake of his younger brother.