The Aukmondi: For the Greater Good
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2026 H.D. Higgins
v8.0

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Dedication

Mark Twain once said,

“The two most important days of your life

are the day you were born

and the day you find out why.”

This book is dedicated

to all who are still searching.

PROLOGUE

ABDICATE OR DIE

In the early 1700s, the extensive lowland area north of the Imatong Mountains in South Sudan was the kingdom of Caldifor. The kingdom included dozens of hectares of open plains in the north, grassy savannas in the central region, and lush green forests in the south. The tropical climate caused seasonal extremes, with dry and wet periods. Dry seasons often brought blinding dust storms over the open plains. During the wet seasons, rainfall provided the only potable water for the year, along with occasional floods. The White Nile and its tributaries flowed through the region, but most of the water was unsafe to drink.

The majority of the population in the Caldifor Kingdom is impoverished. They live in small villages scattered throughout the area. The people struggle to survive day to day on earnings from menial trades and skills, such as carpentry, masonry, and weaving. A few are fortunate enough to manage cattle or dairy farms, or to grow crops such as cotton or vegetables. Whatever the people do to earn a living, none of them find life in the Caldifor Kingdom easy.

Caldifor soldiers made weekly visits to randomly selected villages across the kingdom. They came to collect the mandatory tributes for King Aysar. Every family in each village had to pay its fair share of earnings. Often, families needed help to deliver what was owed. Failures like this became the root of all problems in the Caldifor Kingdom. The intolerant king demanded the payments. If a family could not pay, the Caldifor soldiers had no choice but to arrest a vital family member, making it even harder to produce the needed tribute.

Over time, the situation gradually worsened. Families began to devise clever ways to avoid or reduce the required payments. Resentment toward the king grew because of his greed and demands. People began to rebel against the king, giving soldiers even more reasons to arrest them. The weekly visits by Caldifor soldiers to the villages turned into raids as the soldiers expected strong resistance and prepared to enforce the king’s demands.

Across the kingdom, the most frequent raids happened in the village of Panfe. It was a small, semi-isolated poultry farm village on the southern edge of the kingdom. Every time soldiers arrived in Panfe, they found derogatory murals and graffiti everywhere. The soldiers ruthlessly rounded up insubordinates, dissidents, rebels, and others suspected of disloyalty to the king. After all, loyalty to the king was the kingdom’s highest law. Any disrespect was considered a crime. The king granted his soldiers discretionary authority to arrest anyone they suspected of disloyalty. Some soldiers, fearing severe punishment from the king, played it safe by arresting a suspect for minor infractions. Sometimes, a clash during an arrest or resistance resulted in death for the soldier, the suspect, or both.

During a recent visit to Panfe Village, a Caldifor lieutenant and his platoon finished their weekly raid. They had arrested over a dozen villagers. As the lieutenant adjusted the straps on his horse, he turned to his second in command, a platoon sergeant. “Take the prisoners down by the creek and assemble the platoon. We are leaving.”

Before the sergeant mounted his horse, he glanced at the prisoners. He saw only three of the dozen they had initially arrested. “Is this all? Where are the rest of them?”

The lieutenant ignored the sergeant’s confusion and questions. “Assemble the platoon, sergeant.”

“You let them go?” The sergeant knew the lieutenant had done something wrong. The lieutenant could face severe punishment if the king found out about such leniency toward prisoners. “You know I am risking my life, too, if I have to cover for you.”

“I gave you an order, sergeant!”

“At once, sir.” The sergeant suppressed an impulse to argue with his superior. He forced himself to do as his lieutenant had ordered. He turned his horse around and rode off to gather the platoon.

Moments later, the lieutenant and sergeant rode their horses through the village exit gate. One of the platoon soldiers rode behind them, holding a lanyard that guided the three bound prisoners. The rest of the lieutenant’s platoon brought up the rear, walking in a military formation.

As the lieutenant and sergeant left the village and passed through the exit gate, they came upon a shocking sight. A life-sized, grotesque effigy of King Aysar hung from the archway above the gate. Around its neck, a sign read: King Aysar, abdicate or die!

The lieutenant and sergeant moved to the side of the road and stopped. They allowed the platoon and prisoners to continue ahead as they turned to look up at the effigy.

With a look of hopelessness, the lieutenant sighed. “Do these people truly think they can force King Aysar to abdicate?”

“You had better hope they can do it, lieutenant, before the king learns what you did,” the sergeant stopped to correct himself, “before the king learns what we did here today.”

“For our sake, I intend to say nothing about it. Do you?”

USELESS TO ME

The heart of the Caldifor Kingdom was the king’s palace. Built in the late 1500s, the palace was an enormous, fortified stone fortress and the only stone structure in the kingdom. Located in the middle of a forest, it sat on the bank of a tributary that flowed toward the White Nile. The tributary split at the palace and encircled it, creating a crocodile-infested moat. Due to the king’s paranoid design, the palace had only one main entrance at the front. That entrance was only accessible after crossing a wide drawbridge over the moat.

A smaller access point, a single steel door, was located at the back of the palace. The king had it installed so he could leave the palace and walk a few meters to the moat’s edge. He enjoyed spending some alone time there, feeding the crocodiles. It was a guilty pleasure of his.

King Aysar was a tall man with dark skin. His most striking feature was his eyes. His large, piercing eyes felt unsettling whenever he looked at you. His smile and laughter were nearly as disturbing. The smile and laugh often appeared after he had caused harm or offended someone. It was another guilty pleasure of his.

King Aysar stood on the edge of the moat beneath a cloth canopy that shielded him from the morning sun. He threw animal parts into the water and watched the crocodiles swim about. King Aysar felt that the crocodiles belonged to him. He believed that Nhailic, the Supreme God, made these fierce creatures for his pleasure. Each time he reached into the barrel of bloody animal parts and tossed them into the water, he saw a chaos of water and reptiles. Sometimes, he had to jump back to avoid getting splashed. It was a thrill that made him smile.

As the king reached into the barrel for another handful of animal parts, he noticed one of his palace guards emerging from the palace. The guard was escorting a chained, beaten, and restrained prisoner. The guard’s approach and the prisoner were an irritating interruption. Feeling slightly annoyed, King Aysar let his smile fade. He tossed the animal parts back into the barrel and pulled a previously used bloody towel from his waistband. He wiped the blood and meat residue from his hands and fingers.

King Aysar’s time by the moat with his crocodiles was private. All his palace guards and soldiers knew about it. The approach of the guard and prisoner signaled to Aysar that the situation was serious and called for a life-or-death decision. He grabbed a two-meter-long metal scepter leaning against a nearby tree. The Sacred Forked Scepter was another gift from Nhialic to the sole king of the Caldifor Kingdom. Everyone throughout the kingdom recognized the scepter as the kingdom’s most sacred relic.

The scepter had twin metal prongs at one end, resembling an enormous tuning fork. King Aysar tapped the base of the scepter on the ground. It was an unsuccessful attempt to make the twin prongs hum. He received only silence. King Aysar cursed softly and tapped the scepter again, harder. This time, he heard a faint hum. The hum was nowhere near as loud or as long-lasting as it should have been. Still, it was enough to bring a faint smile to his face.

Hearing the hum of the scepter, the palace guard forced the prisoner to kneel. The guard and the prisoner bowed their heads and waited for the king to address them. King Aysar allowed the hum of the tuning fork to gradually dissipate before speaking to the guard.

“What is this?”

The guard raised his head. “He is an insurrectionist, Your Grace.”

“Why bring him to me? My orders are to execute trash like this upon arrest.”

“He is a rebel soldier, Your Grace. I thought you could persuade him to tell you of others.”

King Aysar looked down at the prisoner. He saw that other loyal guards or soldiers had already tortured the prisoner to make him talk. They had beaten the prisoner so badly that King Aysar did not recognize him as one of his soldiers. He walked around the prisoner, searching for other visible injuries. He saw bruises and bloody lacerations on the prisoner’s entire body. Both of his eyes were swollen shut. What remained of the prisoner’s clothing hung in shreds from his body.

“Soldier?” King Aysar placed his hand beneath the prisoner’s chin, prompting him to stand.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Do you have anything of value to tell me?”

The prisoner knew that his situation was hopeless. “Would it do anyone any good?”

King Aysar waved impatiently toward the prisoner as he spoke to the guard. “There! Do you see? Stubborn people like this are useless to me.”

“Hang him on the dungeon walls,” suggested the guard. “Make an example of him to warn other rebel soldiers.”

“Such waste clutters my dungeons already.” King Aysar turned and walked away. He placed the Sacred Forked Scepter back against the tree. As he turned to face the prisoner again, he pulled a knife from his waistband. He walked up to the prisoner. After a thoughtful moment, he slit the prisoner’s throat. He stepped back to allow the prisoner to fall to his feet. “Feed him to my crocodiles.”

THE ORACLE OF PANFE

Later, King Aysar entered his dining chamber for an evening tea. He greeted a palace guard standing outside the door as he stepped in. In the king’s arms were several scrolls of paper and parchments he planned to work on while relaxing. He noticed that the palace kitchen servants had already set up his tea table with hot tea, napkins, sugar, and his favorite sweet biscuits.

The king did not expect to see a mature, frail village woman standing beside the table. A palace guard stood behind her. The king studied the woman from head to toe as he walked across the chamber to a worktable. He dropped his scrolls onto the table and began to rearrange them. He spoke to the woman without looking at her. “What brings this precious soul before me?”

The palace guard answered the king. “This is the Oracle of Panfe, Your Grace.”

Utterly surprised, King Aysar turned to face the woman. “You found her?” Aysar rushed toward her as if thoroughly pleased. He gently touched her shoulder and ushered her closer to his tea table. “Come, my dear. Please be seated. Have some tea with me.”

“No, thank you, Your Grace.” The woman held her hands together, nervously rubbing them. “I am not thirsty.”

“Please, be kind.” King Aysar spoke with a smile. But instantly, the smile disappeared. He angrily pointed at a chair. “Sit down.”

King Aysar watched the woman ease herself into the chair as he sat in another at the head of the table. “Does the Oracle of Panfe have a name?”

“Subi, of the family Boler, Your Grace.”

“Subi,” the king repeated as his smile bloomed again. He poured Subi a cup of tea before pouring one for himself. “With your so-called gift, you probably know why you are here.”

Subi nervously reached for her cup of tea. She touched the handle but did not lift the cup from the table. “I expected a visit from your soldiers weeks ago, Your Grace.”

“Well, to be honest,” King Aysar took a sip of tea from his cup, “weeks ago, I had no interest in you. Please do not misunderstand me. I have heard stories about you for as long as I can remember. People throughout the kingdom know of your prophecies. But I always considered you as just another charlatan, full of tricks and illusions, like the magicians of my court. I considered your prophecies among the many fairytales I have heard throughout childhood.”

“But that has changed?”

“Let me put it this way. I have personal reasons to put an end to some of the nonsense I have learned about recently before it gets out of control.” King Aysar rose from his seat. He went to a metal rack on the wall behind him. On the rack hung the Sacred Forked Scepter. King Aysar took the scepter from the rack and placed it across the tea table, directly in front of Subi. “Let us start with this. Do you know what this is?”

Subi withdrew her hand from the table and sat back out of respect for the scepter. Offended by King Aysar’s question, she looked up at him. “Of course, I know what that is. The Sacred Forked Scepter is a gift from Nhailic to the king. Its divine hum identifies the true Caldifor Monarch. Every soul in the kingdom knows that. Why are you showing this to me?”

King Aysar walked over to his worktable again. He selected one of the many scrolls on the table and returned it to the tea table. “I want you to keep the scepter in mind as I present this to you.” He tossed the scroll onto the table.

“What is this?”

Aysar retook his seat and leaned back. “It is an account of your most recent prophecy. I found it so interesting that I had my scribes put it on parchment. And look here at what they have titled it.” Aysar unfurled the top of the scroll and held it where Subi could read it.

Subi leaned in closer to read the title - The New Caldifor Monarch. Subi almost smiled as she sat back.

King Aysar unfurled the rest of the scroll. “I almost had those bastards killed for such an audacious title. According to this, you foresee the birth of a new Caldifor monarch, not of my bloodline.” He pushed the completely unfurled scroll in front of Subi. “Here. Read it.”

“It is not necessary, Your Grace. I am aware of what it says.”

“I said, read it!”

Subi slowly took the scroll and held it closer. It read as follows:

The New Caldifor Monarch: On the night of the next blue moon, a young woman from Panfe will lie with her husband. Her name is Oula, of the family Gizan, and of no relation to King Aysar. Oula and her husband will conceive a child. Nothing extraordinary will happen for seven weeks after the blue moon. But exactly after seven weeks, a noticeable restlessness will appear in Oula’s and her husband’s home. The village of Panfe will come alive with activity. It will be a divine sign. Olukse, the Guardian Angel of Fertility, Motherhood, and New Birth, will make a divine visit. Most villagers from Panfe will come out to witness this miraculous event. The Angel Olukse will descend from the sky as a beautiful woman, surrounded by a bright, radiant light. She will wear a pure-white, transparent silk gown adorned with golden sequins. She will wear a crown with pulsating lights flowing outward. A glowing orb of sunlight will hang magically behind her head. The Angel Olukse will walk through Panfe, drawing the people closer with her steps. Finally, she will reach Oula’s home and call out to her. When Oula stands before her, Olukse will throw a ball of light—a living soul—directly into Oula’s womb. The unborn child in Oula’s womb will become a living person at that divine moment. The Angel Olukse will then turn to the gathered crowd and say, ‘From this moment, a viable life lives within this woman’s womb. Treat her with the respect and honor she deserves. She is now a one-way door. The living soul of the baby within her cannot return to the heavens until its mission among you is complete, to reign for decades as the Caldifor Monarch.”

When King Aysar saw that Subi had finished reading the scroll, he snatched it from her hands. “Why, for Nhailic’s sake, would you do this, Subi?”

“I believe it to be the truth, Your Grace. The people of Caldifor have the right to know of it.”

“You should know that things like this stir up rebellion in narrow-minded people. It breaks the first law of the kingdom, loyalty to the king.” King Aysar paused to re-read a few passages himself. “I must admit. It is a deeply beautiful fantasy. And you added so much detail. Do you think all these details make this rubbish seem believable?”

“I sense that you find something about it believable.” Subi finally felt comfortable enough to take a sip of her tea. The tea was no longer hot. She set the cup back on the table and pushed it away.

King Aysar studied the frail woman sitting near him. He began to wonder who this woman was. “Some people say that nine out of ten of your prophecies are accurate. Is that true?”

“I do not keep score, Your Grace. My intuitive sense gives birth to my prophecies. I will admit there are times when I may misinterpret what I sense. There are times when I am wrong.”

“Yes, well, my dear Subi, I am the King of Caldifor. And I am about to prove how wrong you are this time.”

“Time will tell, Your Grace.”

King Aysar rose from his seat again. He began slowly pacing as he thought about the Oracle of Panfe and her prophecy. “A new Caldifor monarch, not of my bloodline? How can that be? When I learned this nonsense, I dismissed it completely. But, seven weeks after the last blue moon, one of my soldiers went to the Panfe village. That son of a bitch was curious. He witnessed the visit of this so-called Guardian Angel of Fertility, Motherhood, and New Birth.”

“As you demand respect, Your Grace, please respect the Guardian Angel. Call her by name. Her name is Olukse.”

Aysar stopped pacing. He nearly found that request laughable. “Olukse! Of course. Nevertheless, my soldier said many things happened during that visit, just as your prophecy described. He said it was a humbling and believable experience, enough to overshadow any doubt. When he told me that,” Aysar pointed to the tip of his finger, “I came this close to feeding his tongue to my crocodiles.”

“Please, Your Grace.”

“The fool saved his tongue by describing what he saw as an utterly convincing performance. Nothing more. And I was truly ready to dismiss that performance and your entire prophecy, but …”

“But you find something about it believable.”

“No, Subi. That soldier and most of the people of Panfe only saw what you wanted them to see. I am not so gullible.”

“You may find my prophecy unbelievable. But something about it troubles you, as it should.”

King Aysar stopped pacing again. He returned to his seat, sat back, and smiled at Subi. “That acute sensitivity of your gift, I can tell. It is genuine. Yes. Something else troubles me.” Aysar reached for the Sacred Forked Scepter lying across the table. He held it up as if to examine it. “By natural law, only the king can make this scepter hum. The divine hum of this thing is not as strong as it should be.”

“It is giving you a cause for concern.”

King Aysar continued to examine the scepter with his fingers. “For decades upon decades, ancestors of mine passed this very same scepter down from one royal heir to the next. And now, it belongs to me. To this day, it continues to hold that sacred and physical bond between Nhailic and me.”

“That sacred bond is unbreakable. Why are you telling me this?”

“Since that so-called Guardian Angel, Olukse, allegedly placed a living soul in Oula’s infant, I am finding it increasingly difficult to make it hum.”

“Then there is your proof, Your Grace. A new monarch is about to enter this world.”

“Not if I can help it.” King Aysar angrily pushed his chair back and stood. He hurried to a door at the back of the dining chamber and opened it. With a wave of his hand, he signaled someone to come in.

Four strong male palace servants carried a litter through the door into the chamber. Aysar directed the servants to place the litter beside the table and next to Subi. On the litter lay a young woman dressed in all white. The delirious woman was feverish, crying, and moaning in obvious pain. She held her stomach with both hands as she squirmed and contorted on the litter. Aysar dismissed the servants and stood between Subi and the litter. With an amiable wave of his hand toward the woman on the litter, he turned to Subi and smiled. “Subi, please meet Oula, the maiden of your prophecy.”

Horrified, Subi jumped to her feet. With tears already welling up in her eyes, Subi rushed to the woman’s side. She held the woman’s face in her hands to calm her down. “I beg the mercy of Nhailic and all the guardian angels! What have you done to her?”

Aysar shrugged. “I did what I had to do. My dear Subi. With your gift, did you not see this day coming?”

“But, Your Grace, the Guardian Angel, Olukse, has placed a living soul into this woman’s unborn child.”

“You could be right. Watch this.” King Aysar picked up the Sacred Forked Scepter. With a wicked smile, he placed the shaft of the scepter across the woman’s stomach. Like magic, the twin prongs on the scepter emitted an intense hum. Aysar pulled the scepter away from the woman’s stomach, causing the hum to stop. “It does it every time. Only I am supposed to be able to do that. That reaction by the scepter makes me believe enough of your prophecy not to take any chances. That is why I must end this.”

“Please, Your Grace. Do not do this.” Subi cried and pleaded. She desperately caressed the woman’s face, arms, and stomach to help her. “This woman’s unborn child carries the soul of the new monarch. It is the will of Nhailic. By all the divine forces, you cannot change that. You cannot stop it.”

“I cannot?” King Aysar confidently strolled over to the back wall and hung the Sacred Forked Scepter back on the rack. He went to his worktable and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small vial before standing next to Subi again. “After that performance by your fake angel, Olukse, I brought Oula to stay in my palace. Despite her appearance, I have cared for and treated her well for the past few weeks.” He held up the vial. “But I have given her regular doses of this potion.”

Subi looked up at the vial through teary eyes. “A potion to do what?”

“I have taken the necessary measures to secure my bloodline in this kingdom’s royalty.”

The woman on the litter suddenly stopped moaning. Subi looked at her, disturbed by the sudden change. Subi could see that blood had soaked the lower half of the woman’s gown. Subi fell to her knees. Once again, she pleaded with King Aysar. “Your Grace, please, she is dying.”

Aysar shrugged again. “Maybe. That was not my intention. Whether she lives or dies is not my concern. But I will not permit this woman to bear that child.”

“Your Grace, help her, please! I beg you!”

“You can beg me all you want. You can beg Nhailic and all the guardian angels, but I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do for her now.”

The poor woman had already stopped moaning. Now, she has stopped moving. There was no more squirming or contorting. Subi did her best to check for signs of life as quickly as possible. There were none. “Your Grace, Oula is dead. And she has had a miscarriage.”

King Aysar triumphantly threw his hands in the air. “There! Do you now see Subi? Your hired actress did a convincing performance as the Guardian Angel Olukse. It was a charade. This is proof. Your prophecy was a hopeless fantasy that you sold to the people of Panfe and this kingdom. The people can remember this incident now as just another of your fairytales.”

Aysar signaled for the palace guard standing by the chamber door to come closer. He pointed to Oula’s body on the litter. “Get someone in here to clean up this mess. And feed that woman and what is left of her spawn to my crocodiles.”

King Aysar, acting graciously, helped Subi up from the floor. He assisted her back into her seat. “I am sorry, Subi. What you did was quite foolish. Now, you have made your last prophecy. Because of your disloyalty and by law, I must now sentence you to death.”

With both of her hands, Subi wiped tears away from her face. She accepted a napkin that Aysar offered her. Subi dabbed away the rest of her tears and sat back to compose herself. “Do whatever you want to me. But permit me to make one more prophecy just for you.”

Aysar smiled. “Humor me.”

Subi tossed her used napkin back on the table. It almost landed in Aysar’s teacup. “From this day forward, you will be fortunate enough to have many wives for the remainder of your miserable life. You will have many consorts. You will take each of them to your bed. You will plant your sour seeds and impregnate each of them. But you have angered the Guardian Angel, Olukse. For that, she will visit none of your wives. She will visit none of your consorts. You, King Aysar, are the last of your bloodline, for all your children shall be stillborn.”

Aysar smiled throughout most of Subi’s final prophecy. But by the time she finished, a vengeful hatred covered his face. King Aysar impulsively grabbed a knife from the table and stabbed Subi in the neck. Subi fell to the floor. The Oracle of Panfe was dead.

UNREST CONTINUED ACROSS THE KINGDOM

News of the beloved Oracle’s death spread throughout the Caldifor kingdom. Unrest grew as dissidents, insurgents, and rebels responded more openly. The most intense reactions happened in Panfe Village, where the Oracle lived. Daily protest rallies were held at random locations around the village. Loyal soldiers of the king positioned themselves at expected locations, trying to stop these troublesome, disruptive rallies. However, thanks to the clever tactics of the people of Panfe, the soldiers were never in the right place when a crowd suddenly gathered for a rally. The rallies usually lasted just a few minutes before dispersing, often before soldiers arrived.

During this period, a mysterious dissident known only as “The Mtetezi (advocate)” gained popularity in Panfe village. The Mtetezi devised most of the clever strategies to promote spontaneous rallies and avoid Caldifor soldiers. When soldiers questioned villagers, no one knew who the Mtetezi was. It seemed no one could locate him despite the trouble he caused for the king. King Aysar placed a bounty on the Mtetezi. Over a decade, the bounty yielded no results. The people of Panfe and the rest of the kingdom began to see the Mtetezi as a hero. Sadly, one faithful day, King Aysar accidentally captured the Mtetezi and executed him brutally. Only one young boy was present when it happened, and he witnessed the entire event. That boy managed to escape from King Aysar. King Aysar searched for that boy for another decade without success.

The Mtetezi had become a martyr, and unrest continued throughout the kingdom in response to his sacrifice. King Aysar enforced curfews to suppress the unrest. In most villages, the curfews lasted from sundown to sunrise. The main exception was in Panfe Village, where the curfew was so strict it resembled martial law. During daylight hours, no one was allowed outside without written permission from the palace.

Some people tried to escape the kingdom. King Aysar’s soldiers caught some of them and returned them. King Aysar announced that no one was allowed to leave his kingdom without permission. Everyone had to stay and be loyal to him. Their only other choice was to die in his dungeons.

PART

ONE

1.

AN EXEMPLARY VILLAGE

With his Sacred Forked Scepter in hand, King Aysar approached this dining chamber. A palace guard stood at the doorway. As King Aysar drew near, the guard briefly bowed his head. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Please, enjoy your dinner.”

King Aysar smiled at the guard as he walked past him. “Good afternoon to you as well, Bast. And thank you.”

King Aysar entered the dining chamber. He detected the inviting aroma of hot food, which lifted his spirits. Aysar saw about six kitchen servants standing along the wall to his left. The servants waited attentively, gazing straight ahead as the king approached his chair at the dining table. They had already set the table with platters of food and drinks. They waited to serve him and his wives as they ate.

The king’s five wives gathered around the dining table, waiting for him to take his seat. On the right side of the table were wives two and three, Nyamal and Onnab. On the left were wives four and five, Minoo and Nafy. At the far end of the table sat wife number one, Barta. Barta was the oldest and had been married to the king the longest. She was always the primary wife. She held a commanding, controlling attitude over the other four wives and all the king’s consorts.

King Aysar had learned to genuinely care for all his wives. However, none of them had yet provided him with an heir to his kingdom. He always saw each of them as hopeful potential. King Aysar refused to blame the Oracle’s prophecy for this situation. He considered the barren state simply an unfortunate circumstance. He knew he was a vigorous and fertile man. It was just a matter of time.

King Aysar’s first sign of impatience appeared after the first five harvests of a childless marriage with Barta. Frustrated, King Aysar married his second wife, Nyamal. Nyamal became pregnant almost immediately, which thrilled King Aysar. He was so happy that he nearly replaced Barta with Nyamal as the primary wife. Nyamal’s nine-month pregnancy seemed normal, but in the end, she gave birth to King Aysar’s first stillborn child. Aysar still refused to blame the Oracle’s prophecy for this, but deep down, he began to suspect there might be some truth to the prophecy.

To prove to himself that the prophecy was foolish, King Aysar took consort number one to his bedchamber. Consort number one was an ambitious palace servant who believed she could someday become a Caldifor queen. Both Barta and Nyamal disliked her and objected to Aysar’s desperate attempt to impregnate her. Barta and Nyamal felt vindicated when consort number one gave birth to Aysar’s second stillborn child, proving she was no better than they were.

King Aysar, however, felt devastated. He took the Oracle’s prophecy seriously for the first time. Barta and Nyamal easily convinced King Aysar to ban Consort Number One from the palace permanently.

Both wives simultaneously tried to conceive a child for the king. Again, Barta did not get pregnant. Nyamal became pregnant but only managed to give the king his third stillborn child.

For a short time, King Aysar believed the Oracle’s prophecy to be the truth. But, as a determined man, he refused to accept defeat. He needed to give the Kingdom of Caldifor a royal heir. Aysar knew he was Caldifor’s king. He still possessed the Sacred Forked Scepter, although it no longer hummed. Aysar found some comfort in believing that no ordinary peasant woman could ever predict his future so accurately.

Sixteen harvests ago, King Aysar married his third wife, Onnab. He saw her as an infectiously cheerful and lively woman. She was just as determined as King Aysar to produce an heir for the kingdom. Onnab and Aysar sleep together four nights a week. After such intense effort, it took Onnab nearly two harvests to get pregnant. But as luck or the prophecy would have it, Onnab gave King Aysar his fourth stillborn child at the end of her first pregnancy.

The Oracle’s prophecy was true. Everyone in the palace knew it, and people throughout the kingdom accepted it as correct. The only exception was King Aysar. Aysar was an arrogant and stubborn man. He believed that the deliberate abortion of Oula’s baby didn’t justify his failure to have a child of his own. There was no connection, and it didn’t make any sense to him.

Altogether, King Aysar had ten stillborn children with his wives and consorts. Over the most recent fourteen harvests, Nyamal and Onnab gave King Aysar three more stillborn children: two by Nyamal and one by Onnab. During that same time, King Aysar desperately brought four more consorts into his palace. They were consorts two, three, four, and five. Consorts two, three, and four each gave King Aysar another stillborn child. Although three of the four consorts failed him, he demanded that all four remain in his palace. And he would only marry the first to bear the first living child.

Barta, still the dominant wife, objected once more. She wanted all four consorts out of the palace. She could only accept their presence if King Aysar married them. Nyamal agreed with her. No heir to the kingdom should be born out of wedlock. King Aysar was willing to do anything to keep these women close and get them pregnant. He agreed to marry all four. But by then, consorts two and three started to feel used by the king. They had grown tired of his disrespectful and abusive behavior. Even the chance of becoming a Caldifor queen was not enough reason to stay with him. The two women conspired and planned to escape the palace. One night, while the palace was asleep, they succeeded. They disappeared and were never seen again. King Aysar didn’t care. The two women had proven to be useless to him anyway. King Aysar finally married consorts four and five, making them wives four and five. Their names were Minoo and Nafy, respectively.

Nafy, the fifth wife and the youngest of King Aysar’s wives, had a charming personality and was well-liked by all four of the King’s other wives. However, there was something else extraordinary about her. She almost inspired genuine love in the heartless King Aysar. Everyone in the palace could see that she was destined to be a loving mother. Nafy became pregnant immediately. After the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, palace doctors quickly confirmed that a live baby was developing in her womb. King Aysar felt confident that the Oracle’s prophecy was finally proving to be false. He was happier now than he had ever been.

Once at the table, King Aysar handed his Sacred Forked Scepter to a male servant standing behind his chair. The servant’s role was to keep the scepter ready in case the king needed to use it to assert his authority. King Aysar was feeling good. He kept his smile as he took his seat at the head of the table. His five wives waited respectfully until he was settled before sitting down and getting comfortable.

King Aysar was a man who did not like to waste time. He often conducted business and minor administrative duties while at his dinner table. He scooted his chair closer to the table. He motioned to a palace official waiting with the dozen people standing along the chamber wall. The palace official quickly strutted over to the king’s side.

King Aysar smiled at the official’s delicate strides as he carried a paper scroll under his arms. “Good afternoon, Adolfo. How is your afternoon?”

“My afternoon depends on the pleasure in yours, Your Grace.”

“Then, you are enjoying this moment, my friend. What do you have for me?”

The administrative servant took the scroll from under his arm and unrolled it. “Your Grace, I have some good news and some unwelcome news. Which do you want first?”

“My dear, Adolfo.” King Aysar waved his hand over the table before him. “Look at all of this. I have five extraordinary ladies sitting at my dinner table. And I am about to eat a delicious meal of minced meat pies, lamb, lentils, potatoes, okra, and berries. Please do not end this wonderful day by telling me unwelcome news.”

The administrative official closed his eyes and bowed as an apology. “For my sake, I hope the good news will adequately make up for the unwelcome.”

“It had better. Let me hear it.”

Adolfo unrolled the scroll again and read his first note. “Your village curfews continue to work. Unrest is subsiding again across the entire kingdom.”

“Good!” King Aysar took a knife and fork and sliced off the edge of a meat pie on his plate. “You would think, after so many harvests, I could lift many of these damned curfews.”

“And look at this, Your Grace.” Adolfo held the scroll closer so King Aysar could read the data himself. “The unrest in the Panfe village has been almost nothing this month. It is an impressively quiet place, an exemplary village now.”

“There! Do you see?” King Aysar tossed his knife and fork onto his plate as he looked up at Adolfo. “Was it you who told me the Panfe people there would never settle down?”

“I did, Your Grace. The unrest there was unbelievable.” Adolfo stood erect and stepped back. It was his way of apologizing for being wrong. “That was where the worst of the troubles occurred. We suffered endless incidents of vandalism, sedition, and rebellion. Three out of five assassination attempts on your life were by Panfe citizens.”

King Aysar picked up his knife and fork again. He began slicing off another edge of the meat pie as he thought about how the unrest had begun. “It is all because of that cursed oracle. By all the guardian angels, I wish I had employed her delusional services for my private purposes. I had no idea how much the Panfe people loved that evil witch.” Aysar forked the cut-off piece of meat pie and put it into his mouth. With his jaw bulging, he began to chew. “And now, your unwelcome news?”

“Your soldiers are still making daily arrests, Your Grace. Dungeons throughout the kingdom are filling again.”

King Aysar stopped chewing. With his jaw still bulging, he smiled at Adolfo. “That is not so bad. We can fix that as we always do.” Aysar sat back and thought for a moment. “Instruct the village senior officers to schedule daily executions. That should reduce the dungeon population.”

“Does that include the palace dungeon, Your Grace? It is full, too.”

“Why not?” His smile widened as if the thought were an idea for a joyous occasion. “We have not had one in a long time. Let us prepare for summary executions tomorrow morning in the palace courtyard right after breakfast.”

2.

FOR APPEARANCE’S SAKE

The afternoon dinner went smoothly. During the early part of the dinner, the king finished his administrative duties with the help of the palace official, Adolfo. He casually conversed with his five wives during the last half of the meal. They discussed the hot weather, their attitudes, their relationships with others in the palace, and the delicious food on the table. The kitchen servants, who had stood along the chamber wall, began performing various tasks, including clearing away used plates and napkins, serving utensils and platters of partially eaten food, and an assortment of spices and condiments. When dinner was over, as always, it was time to finish the meal with a glass of wine or a cup of hot tea.

Just outside the dining chamber door stood another kitchen servant named Neith. She was a middle-aged woman who was completely blind. She initially had minimal sight, but her vision gradually worsened until she was fully blind. Despite this, the king and all his wives liked her so much that they allowed her to keep working in the palace kitchen. Neith stood behind a tea cart loaded with pots of hot tea, sugar, honey, cups, spoons, and napkins.

As Neith waited for permission to enter the dining chamber, she heard someone lift the lids of the teapots and other containers, then replace them. The porcelain teacups sat neatly on the cart upside down. She heard someone lift each cup to look under it. Over the past nine harvests, Neith had performed this after-dinner function so often that she knew who searched her cart. That someone was Bast, the palace guard who always stood at the chamber door. Although Neith was a kitchen servant and Bast was a palace guard, the two formed an unlikely yet cherished friendship.

“Bast, you know there is no need for that.”

Besides his guard duty, Bast’s task was to inspect everything that might approach the royal family. He continued to peek under each teacup. He also peeked into the dining chamber to see if the king or any of his wives had seen him talking with Neith. “I am only going through the motions for appearance’s sake. You know that I trust you.”

Neith was not questioning Bast’s trust. She knew better. Earlier, while helping to set the king’s dining table, Neith smuggled one of the meat pies from it and gave it to Bast. “You are looking for more meat pies. You will find none here.”

“I know.” Bast resumed his guard position by the door. “I must thank you, Neith, for your kindness.”

“You deserve it. For so many harvests, you have been so kind to me. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Bast peeped into the dining chamber again. The conversation that he and Neith were having was a severe indiscretion. He stood back to ensure no one in the chamber could see him. Bast did not want to get either of them in trouble. He enjoyed these brief moments talking with Neith. “How long have you served in the king’s palace? You were already here when I came.”

Neith shrugged. “I do not know. It has been longer than I care to remember. Working in the presence of King Aysar is the most depressing thing anyone could ever do, especially for me. But I had no choice. Each morning, I prayed to the guardian angels to give me a reason never to enter this palace again.”

“Then, it seems, the angels have finally answered your prayers. It has all come to this, your last day.” Bast smiled, though the blind woman could not see it. “Congratulations, Neith.”

“Thank you. My answer came in a way I did not expect. Because of my health and my blindness, the king finally has no further use for me.” Neith waved her hand over the cart. “Serving the king and his wives this after-dinner tea tray is my final task in the palace.”

Bast wanted to give Neith a farewell hug. But doing so, if seen, would be one of the most devastating decisions for both of them. The only thing he could do was wish her well. “I will miss you, Neith.”

Bast saw the king’s administrative official give the signal for the after-dinner tea. He prompted Neith to enter the chamber and stood back.

Sensing all the sounds around her, Neith guided the tea cart toward the dining table. She had done this so often that she knew exactly where to stop the cart. Her job was done. Neith stood back to allow other kitchen servants to give the king and each of his wives their teacups and tea. She could hear another servant pouring tea into each cup. Her hearing was so acute that Neith could hear several of the king’s wives stirring honey or sugar into their tea. Then, unexpectedly, she heard the king call her name.

“Neith.”

The sound of the king’s voice startled her. She reacted with a subtle jerk. “Yes, Your Grace?”

The king spoke with no warmth. “My wives and I want to thank you, Neith, for your loyal service. We appreciate it. You may collect your things and leave my palace. You are dismissed.”

That was it. After a decade and a half of service to the king, that was it. The king spoke so unceremoniously that none of the other kitchen servants felt comfortable enough to congratulate Neith in any way. The chamber was silent. Neith found her voice and nervously responded to the king’s dismissal.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Neith turned to leave. But before she could take a step, she heard the king call to her again.

“Oh, and Neith.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Just because you do not have to return here, I must remind you. Your obligations to me never end.”

“Understood, Your Grace.” Neith turned to leave again. She walked toward the chamber doorway. But before she reached it, she heard a suddenly confusing and frightening commotion.

At the dining table, a couple of the king’s wives had been preparing their cups of tea. Barta and Nyamal poured honey into their tea to sweeten it. Nafy had already scooped two teaspoons of sugar into her tea. She stirred the tea and lifted the cup to her mouth. Nafy took three cautious sips before taking a healthy gulp. Nafy suddenly spat the tea out in an explosive spray. A mist of spittle and tea spread across the entire dining table.

Nafy stood up with a look of panic on her face. She grabbed at her throat with both hands before slumping over the table and slipping to the floor. Nafy was in agony. She began to convulse and contort with seizures. A white, frothy foam began to bubble from her mouth and ooze down her chin.

Holding the Sacred Forked Scepter, the palace guard who stood behind King Aysar’s chair was the first to reach Nafy’s side. He passed the scepter to King Aysar as he knelt beside Nafy, trying to aid her. But it was too late. He could see that Nafy was already dead. The guard saw enough to make him suspect what had just happened. He rose to his feet and reached for the sugar bowl that Nafy had used. He looked closely at the sugar in the bowl. He lifted it to his nose for a cautious smell.

The guard turned to King Aysar and showed him the contents of the sugar bowl. “Your Grace, it is potassium cyanide.”

“What? Potassium cyanide?” King Aysar stepped back. He looked down at Nafy’s body. “Is she dead?”

The look on the guard’s face told King Aysar what he wanted to know. Aysar angrily swiveled toward Neith and called her name. “Neith! Was this intended for me? You wicked bitch, was this intended for me?”

The noise and commotion in the chamber had already frightened Neith. She still had no idea what had just happened. Another kitchen servant quickly whispered in her ear and told her what had just happened. The horrifying revelation made Neith cover her mouth with both her hands.

“No, no, Your Grace. As Nhailic and the guardian angels are my witnesses, no.”

King Aysar stormed toward Neith. He pushed the tea cart out of his way so forcefully that it crashed against the wall. The teapots fell from the cart to the floor and shattered.

“After all that I have done for you. Is this how you repay me?”

Neith could not answer. With her hand still covering her face, she crouched, trying to disappear from existence.

“Why would you put cyanide in my sugar bowl?”

“Please, King Aysar. This is not my doing. You must believe me.”

“This is unforgivable. This is so unforgivable.”

The king’s administrative assistant walked over to stand beside the king. “Your Grace, must I remind you that this woman is from the village of Panfe. Those hateful people have never forgiven you for what you did to the Oracle.”

“Of course,” King Aysar finally understood the motive behind Neith’s alleged crime. When will this vicious cycle ever come to an end? He called out for the palace guard at the chamber doorway. “Guard!”

Bast rushed into the chamber and pushed through the group of kitchen servants. It shocked him to see Neith in such distress. However, he dutifully acted as if he had no connection to this woman. Her distress was supposed to seem insignificant to him. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Arrest this woman. Get her out of my sight.” King Aysar quickly went to the dining table and retrieved the sugar bowl containing potassium cyanide. He handed it to Bast. “And dispose of this.”

Bast took the sugar bowl with one hand. With his other hand, he took Neith by the arm. Pretending to be forceful, he yanked her closer to him.

“Lock her sorry soul up in the dungeon,” the king ordered.

Bast hesitated. He heard an order to do something he did not want to do to a dear friend. “The dungeon, Your Grace?”

“Yes, the dungeon. She will be the first one executed tomorrow.” Aysar could see Bast’s hesitancy. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Your Grace.” Still pretending to be a dutiful palace guard, Bast took Neith by the arm again and yanked. He forced her to move toward the chamber door.

Once outside the dining chamber, Bast and Neith continued down the corridor toward the palace dungeon. Bast looked back to see if anyone was watching, and his pretentious grip on Neith’s arm softened into one of affection.

“Neith, what happened in there?”

“I do not know.” Neith wiped away tears from her face.

Bast lifted the sugar bowl of potassium cyanide. He examined it with his eyes and by smell. “Where did you get this from?”

“It is not mine, Bast. I do not know where it came from. Please believe me. I know nothing about any of this.”

“I believe you, Neith.” Bast thought a moment. “Someone on the kitchen staff did this. The kitchen staff is not as secure as it should be.”

Bast and Neith walked in silence for several meters. Neith continued to cry about her sudden predicament. Bast was deep in thought.

“I am so sorry, Neith,” Bast finally said. “I am partly to blame for what has happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Potassium cyanide and sugar appear to be the same. When I inspected your tea tray earlier, I should have seen this. I was going through the motions and not truly looking. It got past me. I am sorry.”

As a faithful friend, Neith suddenly became concerned for Bast. “When King Aysar realizes your oversight, he may come after you.”

“I have survived that ruthless bastard for two decades. For the last decade, I have served right here in the palace. I know how to stay clear of him.” Bast paused in silence for a moment. He glanced at Neith, studying her face before speaking again. “Neith, I trust you. Under the circumstances, I have a confession to make. Promise me you will never tell another soul.”

“I promise.”

“I am a rebel soldier. I have been, for most of my service as a soldier.”

Neith stopped walking. She attempted to look into Bast’s face. She learned something about Bast that her senses had never revealed to her. “You have hidden it well.”

Bast smiled as he prompted Neith to continue walking. “I have worked behind the king’s back for many harvests now. It was not easy, not at first. But I have worked my way up the ranks to become a palace guard, which has some advantages. So, do not worry about me. Let me figure out what to do about you.”

“What can you do?”

“I do not know. I will figure out something. Right now, I must lock you up in the dungeon.” Bast took Neith by the shoulder and gave her an affectionate hug. “But it is only for appearances’ sake. Try not to worry. I promise you. I will get you out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“Bast, may all the angels of heaven rain blessings upon you.” Neith wiped the last of her tears from her face. “If you are unsuccessful, may I ask for one big favor?”

“Name it and consider it done.”

3.

MOVE ALONG

Heba guided a wagon pulled by two donkeys to the side of the road outside the palace moat. She was a petite woman with girl-like features. She seemed too small to handle the large wagon and donkeys. With impressive skill, Heba tugged on the reins and steered the donkeys and wagon exactly where she wanted them.

Heba went to the palace to pick up Neith and bring her home. She had been doing this every day since Neith began working at the palace. Heba had hoped to marry Neith’s son, Lateef. But Lateef felt it was not the right time to marry. The king imposed too many unpredictable, strict rules on Panfe Village. Heba agreed with Lateef. As community leaders, Heba and Lateef wanted to accomplish other things before marrying. They put their plans on hold until they achieved more important goals for the village.

Heba sat behind a line of people waiting to retrieve other workers from the palace. She waited for Neith to leave the palace and cross the drawbridge. Neith was usually already there, waiting on the side of the road, when Heba arrived. But today, she was not. Heba knew something was wrong, and her anxiety began to rise.

Heba waited nervously for several minutes. She waited until all the other waiting people on the roadside had left and no one else had emerged from the palace. Something detained Neith, which disturbed Heba. Her level of anxiety was becoming unbearable.

Heba climbed off the wagon and crossed the road. She nervously approached a palace guard standing at the near end of the drawbridge. “Excuse me. Is there anyone else coming out?”

The guard glanced back across the drawbridge. It was empty of people. “No. It does not appear so.”

Heba took a step closer to the guard. “But the blind woman has not come out yet.”

The guard had seen Neith every evening. He knew who Heba referred to. “If she were coming out, she would have been the first to do so. I do not believe she is coming out this time.”

“Could you please check or, at least, find out why?”

“Young woman, that is not my responsibility.” The guard was beginning to feel annoyed by Heba’s persistence.

“Please, I must know.” Heba took another step closer to the guard before he interrupted her.

“By now, the palace door is closed. No one else is coming out. Now, move along!”

“But…”

“I said, move along!” The guard snapped. He pointed behind Heba. “And clear that wagon off the road.”

Heba stepped back, slowly turned away, and crossed the road. Feeling helpless, she reluctantly climbed back onto the wagon. As she took the reins, she thought about what she could do. Nothing came to mind. Heba suddenly realized that the king’s curfew was about to start, adding to her worries. On the verge of panic, she realized that there was nothing she could do. She snapped the reins to turn the wagon around. With tears welling up in her eyes, Heba hurried home without Neith.

4.

TRUST ME

It was dark when Heba reached home in the village of Panfe. Due to King Aysar’s curfew, the village was eerily quiet. Only a few huts and cottages had lanterns inside, and no one was visible.

Heba climbed from the wagon and rushed into the cottage. She closed the door behind her and fell back against it with her eyes closed. A single lantern in the room illuminated the tear that ran down her cheek.

Lateef, her fiancé, had just tied a bundle of clothing with a string. He used a paring knife to cut the excess end of the string. Satisfied with his work, he pushed the bundle under a tarp in the corner of the room. He tossed the leftover string and paring knife onto a nearby table. Lateef’s back was to Heba when she entered. Her sudden appearance startled him. Lateef turned around to see the grim expression on Heba’s face.

“Heba? What is wrong? Where is Neith?”

Heba opened her eyes and fell into Lateef’s arms. “I do not know. She did not come out of the palace.”

Lateef held Heba’s face in his hands. As the most precious person in his life, he felt Heba’s anguish, and it was mutual. He suddenly had a reason to worry, too. He released Heba and impulsively headed toward the cottage door. “I must go back to find out why.”

Aware of the curfew, Heba held onto Lateef tighter. “You? And at this hour? Soldiers will have a double reason to arrest you.”

Lateef was already a fugitive. Fifteen harvests ago, when King Aysar executed the Mtetezi, Lateef was the young boy who witnessed it all. To this day, King Aysar has no idea who that boy was, but the search for him continues.

Lateef walked over to a chair by the table. He sat down to think. He rubbed his face with both hands to relieve the stress. Heba sat next to him and reached out to affectionately massage his shoulder.

“What do we do now?” She asked.

Lateef looked around the room. By the single lantern light, the room looked surprisingly bare. Several barrels of water, baskets of clothing, crates of nonperishable food, and all other valuables were stored in one corner of the room under a tarp. It was the result of the work that Heba, Neith, and he had started days ago. However, this unforeseen development seriously interrupted their plan to flee the Kingdom of Caldifor.

Lateef no longer cared about that. He only wanted to know what happened to his mother. Before Lateef could think of an answer to Heba’s question, he and Heba heard an unexpected knock at the cottage door. Lateef rushed to a window to peep out. In the darkness, out front, he saw a soldier’s horse. The angle of the window only allowed Lateef to see part of the soldier’s uniform.

“It is a soldier,” Lateef whispered.

“What should we do?”

“We must see what he wants. He may know something about Neith.”

Thinking of Lateef’s fugitive situation, Heba held Lateef back. She wordlessly rushed to ensure the tarp covered all the items stacked in the corner. She pointed to a back room partitioned by a curtain. She suggested that Lateef hide.

Lateef went toward the room behind the curtain. As he walked by the table, he grabbed the paring knife. Pulling the curtain closed, he whispered to Heba, “Be careful.”

Heba took a moment to adjust her clothes and settle her nerves. She diligently wiped the tears from her face. She took a deep breath and released it before opening the cottage door. She took another sudden breath when she saw a palace guard standing there.

“Yes?” Heba tried to sound calm.

Without an invitation, the palace guard walked into the cottage. He slowly walked around the room, examining everything from high to low. He made a complete circle through the room, coming to the items covered by the tarp.

“What is all of this?”

Offended by the guard’s arrogant behavior, Heba chose not to answer the guard’s question. She asked him a question instead. “What do you want?”

The guard came to stand directly in front of Heba. He looked down into the petite woman’s face from his two-meter height. “You are Heba of the family, Zorh.”

The palace guard, knowing her name, came as a surprise. Heba hesitated before answering. “I am.”

The guard made another half-circle of the room. He came to the curtain shielding the back room. He was acutely aware that someone was behind the curtain. “You, back there! You may come out now.”

Lateef pulled the curtain aside and slowly stepped out from the back room. He nervously held the paring knife tightly in his hand. When he saw the guard looking at the knife, he wisely tossed it back onto the table.

The guard stepped closer to Lateef. “You must be Lateef of the family, Taulmi.”

“Yes, I am.” Lateef forced himself to appear bolder than he felt. “How do you know us? What do you want?”

The guard began to make another slow circle through the room. “I mean you no harm. I have come as a friend. I am here to tell you that Neith has been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Lateef suddenly felt bold enough to step before the guard, stopping his slow circle. “Arrested for what?”

“An assassination attempt. Allegedly, Neith tried to poison the king.”

“No. No, no, you are mistaken.” Heba felt compelled to speak up. “She would not do that.”

The guard held up both his hands. “You need not convince me. I believe you.”

“But you are mlinzi (a palace guard).” Heba almost reached for the guard’s arm to make him face her. “Why would you bother to tell us this?”

“I have known Neith for a long time.” The guard stepped past Heba and Lateef to resume his slow pace about the room. “She has told me many things about both of you. It would help if you believed me when I say she is a dear friend. However, I placed Neith in the palace dungeon at the king’s order. As I did, I made her two promises.”

“What kind of promises?” Asked Lateef.

“First, I promised to get her out of that dungeon before tomorrow morning. I intend to do that.”

Heba was beginning to sense sincerity from the palace guard. “You risk your career and life if you do that. Why?”

“I need you to trust me.” The guard thought a moment before making a vulnerable confession. “I am also a rebel soldier. My name is Bast.”

“If you are telling us all that, you must have a good reason to trust us.”

“I do. I care about Neith. Because I trust her, I risk trusting you too. Please, do not make me regret it.”

Lateef smiled. He could not remember the last time he felt so relaxed around a Caldifor soldier. “If you genuinely care about Neith, we will give you no reason to mistrust us.”

“I also promised your mother to deliver a message to you,” said Bast. “And these are her exact words. Regardless of what happens, please do not use her arrest as an excuse not to complete your father’s dream.”

“She told you that?”

“She did. What did she mean by that?”

Lateef glanced at Heba. “Should we tell him?”

Heba waved her hand toward the items under the tarp. “As observant as he is, I am surprised he does not already know.”

“As you entered the village,” Lateef began, “I am sure you have noticed how quiet things seem to be.”

“Yes. The king’s curfew looks effective here.”

“It is not the curfew.” Lateef ushered Bast toward the door. Once outside, he waved his hand over the village. “The truth is, most of the Panfe people are gone. One by one, family after family, almost everyone has deserted the village. Only a few Panfe villagers remain. But they will be gone too, before sunrise tomorrow.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“For some time now.” Lateef took several more steps out into the darkness. He thought about the history of Panfe, which Bast needed to know. “About fifteen harvests ago, my father initiated a movement to leave the kingdom. He called it his Kilimanjaro Quest. He grew up somewhere near that volcano. It had always been his dream to return there. My father was a charismatic, persuasive man. He convinced the entire village of Panfe to adopt his dream and his quest. Sadly, shortly after the movement began, King Aysar killed my father in an unrelated incident.”

“May the guardian angels bless us all!” Bast turned to Lateef, utterly surprised. “Are you telling me that your father was the infamous Mtetezi?”

“Yes, he was.” Lateef looked at Bast to judge his reaction. “Does my father’s subversive deeds against the king change your attitude about us?”

“Of course not.” Bast smiled behind another confession he was about to make. “As a rebel soldier, the Mtetezi was secretly a hero of mine. The things he did thrilled me. He gave the king many sleepless nights.”

“Then it pleases me to hear that.” Lateef turned and led Bast back into the cottage. “Because of my father’s murder and my mother’s onset of blindness, we could not leave as we originally intended. It became more complicated when King Aysar ordered my mother to work for him. But my father’s Kilimanjaro Quest did not die. His movement did not stop. Harvest after harvest, it grew. I understand that other families in other villages left the kingdom.”

“Your father was an amazing man. I do not doubt his influence.”

Inside the cottage, Lateef gestured toward the items under the tarp. “Today was my mother’s last day in service to the king. As you can see, mother, Heba, I, and the rest of the village had planned to leave Panfe this very night.”

“Then, Neith’s arrest was so untimely.” Bast waved his hand toward the table and chairs. He wanted to discuss an idea he had conceived. “May we sit and talk a moment?”

“If you are a friend of Neith, you are a welcome guest, Bast.”

Bast signaled to Heba. “Please join us. You will be an important part of this, too.”

Heba sat in the chair that Lateef pulled out for her. “What did you have in mind?”

“I planned to free your mother tonight. After what you just told me, my plan has changed. I know an easier way to do it now. But I will need your help and Heba’s. You, Neith, Heba, and everyone else here can still pursue your father’s quest.”

5.

IT IS TIME

Bast’s revised plan to free Neith had to include the original plan of the Panfe to abandon the kingdom tonight. It required Lateef, Heba, and Bast to inform everyone that it was time to leave. Everyone in the village had to be gone by morning. After Bast liberated Neith, he knew that Caldifor soldiers would launch raids on various villages searching for her.

With Lateef and Heba on their donkeys and Bast on his horse, the three rode through the village, knocking on the doors of huts and cottages. There were over sixty huts and cottages in Panfe. Most of them were already empty because most of the families living there had left days ago. Only fifteen huts and cottages remained occupied. Fortunately, most of these families knew this crucial moment was coming. Once notified, they were prepared and left immediately.

One or two families seemed hesitant to leave at this late hour and on such short notice. For one reason or another, they wanted to take their chances and stay in Panfe. One of these families belonged to a cantankerous poultry farmer named Malse. He lived in a cottage with his two adult sons on the village’s far side. It was the last cottage in the village that Lateef, Heba, and Bast needed to notify.

It was late in the evening when the three arrived at the cottage. The only light in the area came from a lantern inside the cottage. Heba and Bast stayed mounted on their rides. Lateef got down from his donkey and walked across the yard toward the cottage door. A dog in the yard started barking at the intruders. Lateef didn’t need to knock on the door. Someone inside opened it to see what was causing the dog to bark.

It was Malse’s oldest son, Zayad. He recognized Lateef and stepped outside to welcome him. “Lateef! I hope this does not mean what I think it does.”

“It does, Zayad. It is time, and it is urgent. Everyone must leave the village tonight.”

Zayad opened the door again, sticking his head inside to relay the message: “Father, it is Lateef. He has come to tell us that it is time to go.”

“What? Now? At this hour?” From somewhere inside the cottage came Malse’s grumbling voice. Seconds later, Malse appeared from the cottage carrying a dinner fork. He did not bother to greet Lateef. Instead, he held the dinner fork up in Lateef’s face, shaking it. “You are about as irritating as your damned father was. I do not want to hear any nonsense about leaving. Not now. We are eating dinner.”

Lateef almost smiled at Malse’s belligerent behavior. He had experienced it many times before and had gotten used to it. “Malse, I apologize for interrupting your dinner. But this is serious.”

“Coming from you, it always is. I do not care. It is a bad idea.” Malse turned to go back into the cottage. However, his anger compelled him to confront Lateef again. “This whole notion about leaving Panfe is a foolish, cowardly idea. This is our home. If your father were here, I would tell him that to his face.”

“You have told my father that a hundred times already,” Lateef said with a faint smile. He knew Malse’s anger was not as heated as it seemed. “You knew this moment was coming.”

“Yes, well, we are not ready.” Malse turned again to go back into his cottage. “We are not going.”

At that moment, Malse’s youngest son, Worrak, came to the door. He carried his dinner plate, still eating out of it. “Father, we do not have to do this. We never agreed to do this. And no law says we must leave.”

Malse pointed the fork at his son. “That sounds like common sense to me. And you are right. No. We are not going anywhere.”

“You are right, Worrak.” Lateef stepped closer. “There is no law. But I know there will be a significant incident at the palace tonight that King Aysar will not take kindly to. We do not know how he will respond. He could have his soldiers everywhere, including here. You may not have another chance if you do not leave tonight.”

“What kind of significant incident?” Malse asked. “How do you know about it?”

By now, both Heba and Bast had climbed down from their rides. They walked over to see what was taking Lateef so long. By the light from the lantern, Malse, Zayad, and Worrak saw Bast, a Caldifor palace guard, approaching.

Malse suppressed an impulse to run back into his cottage. But he turned to Lateef for an explanation. “Is he with you?”

“He is.”

For the moment, Malse could no longer justify his stubborn behavior. He hurried back into his cottage and signaled his sons to follow him. “Zayad, Worrak, dinner is over. Gather our things and load them onto the cart. Then meet me by the chicken coops. We are taking our chickens and ducks and the dog with us.”

6.

TAKE ME WITH YOU

In the palace’s deep recesses again, Bast led Lateef through the maze of dungeon tunnels. Torches hung at regular intervals on the walls, lighting their way. Bast had Lateef’s wrists bound with ropes behind his back. He yanked Lateef’s arm, causing him to stumble. “Forgive my roughness.”

“Is it necessary?”

Bast put his hand to Lateef’s mouth to silence him. He spoke in a whisper. “There is a dungeon soldier up ahead, around the corner. We must make this look real.”

Just around the corner, Bast and Lateef reached the dark cove where the dungeon soldier usually stood. They didn’t see the soldier at first. They went further into the cove and found the soldier in a lewd position on a cot in the back. Lateef played the part of a quiet prisoner, but his mouth fell open in surprise at what he saw.

The dungeon soldier lay on top of a female prisoner who wore nothing below her waist. With one hand tightly over the female prisoner’s mouth, he muffled her crying and stopped her from screaming. The soldier forced himself between her legs but froze when he looked up and saw Bast.

“Get off of her,” Bast ordered. Bast had seen disturbing behavior like this by the dungeon guard before. It always angered him. Bast suppressed the urge to draw his knife and cut the soldier’s manhood from his body. Instead, he watched the soldier get off the woman and struggle to his feet.

While the soldier tucked his manhood away and nervously adjusted the loincloth beneath his tunic, Bast picked up the remainder of the female prisoner’s garments from the ground. He tossed them to her. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing?” The soldier asked.

“I am putting her back where she belongs.”

The dungeon soldier was now angry enough to bolster his confidence. “You have no right to do that.”

“I do not? Would you like me to inform the king about what you are doing with the prisoners?”

“He does not care.”

“Does he care that you have abandoned your post while doing it? Shall I report you?”

The soldier knew that a report like that from a palace guard could mean his execution. Diverting the issue, he nodded toward Lateef. “What is this?”

“A new prisoner,” Bast continued, holding Lateef’s arm. Faking roughness again, he yanked Lateef closer. He reached out to catch the female prisoner’s arm and draw her closer as he spoke to the soldier. “Give me the keys. I will lock them both away.”

“That is my job.”

“Your job is standing guard. Get back to your post.”

The dungeon soldier did not protest. He turned to get the key ring from the wall behind him. That is when Bast drew his knife. He hit the soldier on the back of his neck with the butt of his knife. He stepped back to allow the soldier to fall to the ground unconscious.

Bast secured a rope to bind the unconscious soldier’s legs and arms quickly. As he did so, he looked up at the female prisoner. “Are you all right?”

The female prisoner finished adjusting her garments. She sniffed a few times and wiped tears from her face with both hands before answering Bast. She knew she was going back to her dungeon cell. As filthy as the cell was, it was a better place than where she had been a moment ago. “I am now.”

Moments later, Lateef kept glancing at the female prisoner while walking toward the dungeon cells through the tunnel. He had never seen anyone take advantage of a woman like that. It was a disturbing experience. The woman looked too young to be a mother, as if that mattered at all. No doubt, she was someone’s sister or daughter. Someone somewhere cared about her. Lateef felt sorry for her and wanted to tell her so.

Bast saw Lateef looking at the woman. He understood what was going through Lateef’s mind. He realized that Lateef was naïve, with much to learn about the evils within the king’s palace dungeon. Bast drew his knife again and reached to cut the ropes binding Lateef’s wrists. “What did you expect to see in here?”

“Certainly not what I just saw.”

Bast’s and Lateef’s voices echoed off the tunnel walls. The two were close enough to the dungeon cells for other prisoners to hear them. One prisoner in the cells recognized the familiar voices.

“Lateef? Bast?” Neith called out. “Is that you?”

Lateef hurried ahead. The torchlight in this area was dimmer. Three separate cells lined the right wall. Lateef headed straight for the middle cell, where his mother was kept. He reached through the bars to pull her closer.

Neith did not need eyes to recognize her son’s embrace, even with the bars between them. “Lateef, what are you doing here?”

“We have come to get you out of here.”

Hearing Lateef’s intent, the other prisoners in all the cells stepped forward. Fifteen to twenty men and women were in the cell with Neith, crowding around her. Most of them hoped that Lateef’s intent included them. But then, the prisoners saw Bast, a Caldifor palace guard. The sight of one of the king’s elite soldiers was never a good sign. All the prisoners instinctively moved back.

Neith heard the jingle of the cell keys and the opening of her door. She felt someone grab her arm and pull her through the doorway. It was Bast. “Hurry! Let us get out of here before the dungeon guard recovers.”

“Please, take me with you.” The sexually assaulted female prisoner had retreated to the far side of the tunnel. Frightened and still crying, she stood in near darkness. Bast and Lateef almost forgot about her.

Neith heard her plea as well. She had been in the same cell with the female prisoner for most of the night and recognized her voice. “Talia? Are you all right, dear girl?”

Talia did not answer Neith’s question. Her concerns were elsewhere. She stepped into the torch’s light and closer to Lateef and Bast. “Please. Do not leave me here.”

“Bast?” By calling the palace guard’s name, Neith asked if it was possible to take Talia.

Lateef continued to sympathize with Talia and wanted to know the answer to that question. As a fair-minded individual, he glanced at the other prisoners, still standing in their cells. They returned hopeful stares. He turned to Bast. “If we take her, all the guardian angels know that we must take everyone.”

“No!” Bast was adamant. “We cannot do that.”

Neith reached in the direction of Bast’s voice. She placed her hand gently on Bast’s arm. “I spoke with most of these people during the night. None of them deserves to be here.”

“Neith, you do not know that. I know that you are innocent. But you do not know what these people have done.” Bast quickly reassessed the people in the cells. The hope of freedom obscured the guilt or innocence on their faces. “Besides, there are too many of them. We would never make it across the moat. We may not even be able to escape the dungeon.”

“These people will be executed in the morning.” Neith could not completely abandon them. “The least we can do is give them a chance.”

Lateef held Neith by her shoulders. “Mother, unfortunately, Bast is right. Taking them will get all of us killed. We did not plan for this.”

“And it is too late to alter our plan.” Bast nudged Neith and Lateef back toward the dungeon guard’s cove. “Come! Hurry! We do not have much time.”

Lateef cast one last glance at Talia. Leaving her and the others felt wrong, but he had no choice. He broke free from Bast’s nudge, grabbing the ring of dungeon cell keys from Bast’s hand. He approached Talia and took her wrist. He forced the ring of dungeon keys into her hand. “I am sorry. I am sorry for everything.”

Bast, Lateef, and Neith hurried through the tunnel toward the dungeon guard cove. Regretting what they had to do and feeling guilty, Bast glanced back at Talia and the other prisoners. He needed to tell Lateef about the mistake he had just made. “Those keys will only get them killed before sunrise.”

“What did you do?” Neith wanted to know.

“I gave Talia the dungeon keys. We could not help them. Their execution or their freedom is beyond our control. But with those keys, their fate is now in the hands of the guardian angels. Let us get out of here.”

When Bast, Lateef, and Neith hurried past the dungeon soldier’s cove, Lateef looked inside. He expected to see the soldier still tied up and unconscious on the ground. But he did not.

“Bast! The soldier is gone.”

Bast only paused briefly to look inside the cove himself. He did not show the alarm that Lateef did. “He has gone for help. He will not report what has happened yet.”

“Why not?”

“He knows better. Once the king learns of this escape, he will execute the soldier for allowing it. No. Before informing anyone, the soldier will do everything he can to recapture us first. He has probably gone for help.” Bast pushed Lateef and Neith forward with forceful nudges. “It only means we have less time now.”

Only seconds later, Bast heard footsteps ahead. He stopped. He pushed Lateef and Neith back against the wall.

“What is wrong?” Neith asked.

“Other soldiers are coming.” Bash hurried Neith into a nearby corner and made her kneel. “Stay there! Stay low! No matter what you hear, do not come out. It’s for your safety.”

Neith did as Bast instructed. Moments later, she heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. She caught the terrifying grunts, groans, and screams of men in pain. She heard the clash of knives and spears, and the thud of bodies thrown against the walls or the ground. The noise made her curl up tighter. Neith couldn’t tell how well the nook hid her. Although her surroundings seemed dark, she hoped she could vanish completely from anyone’s view.

Suddenly, Neith heard a different noise. It was the sound of voices and footsteps of people running. Many people were rushing past her. The frightening grunts, groans, and screams of fighting individuals grew louder. For several more moments, Neith heard more bodies thrown against walls or the ground, accompanied by more groans and screams.

The noises gradually subsided to complete silence. Neith listened for any sound from Bast or Lateef. Only a few sounds of people in pain remained. She could tell that the fight was over. But then she heard the most frightening noise of all.

“Bast! You are hurt!” It was Lateef’s voice. “No! Angels of mercy, no!”

Bast had told Neith not to come out of hiding, no matter what she heard. But when she heard Bast was hurt, she couldn’t bring herself to stay hidden. Neith stepped out of her huddle. She felt her way out of the nook and along the dungeon wall. “Lateef? Lateef? Is Bast hurt badly? What happened?”

“The dungeon soldier returned with two more soldiers,” Lateef explained. “But the prisoners freed themselves and came to our rescue just in time. We defeated the soldiers, but one of them stabbed Bast in the side.”

Neith tried to find her way toward Lateef’s voice. She stumbled over injured or unconscious prisoners and soldiers on the ground. She would have fallen had the female prisoner, Talia, not helped her and led her to Lateef and Bast’s side. Neith felt Lateef doing his best to stop Bast’s bleeding.

“He is bleeding too much. I do not think I can help him, mother.”

Neith could hear the helplessness in Lateef’s voice. She knelt beside Bast and felt for his face. She knew he was unconscious. Gently, she massaged his cheeks, trying to wake him. “Bast? Please do not leave us. Please, stay with us.”

Lateef desperately looked around at all the prisoners who helped them defeat the soldiers. A few of them had visible injuries. He saw several with knife lacerations. He noticed one mature man with a severely injured, possibly broken, leg. He saw no one with an injury as severe as Bast’s.

“Does anyone here have medical skills?” Lateef asked everyone.

Several long moments passed before anyone responded. But then, a middle-aged female prisoner struggled to get up from the ground. “I have a little.” She crawled over close enough to see Lateef’s blood-covered hands pressing on Bast’s wound. The horrific sight frightened her. She had never treated anything like that before. She began to move back.

Lateef could see that the woman was afraid. “What is your name?”

“Reshma, of the family Dinh.”

“Please, Reshma! He needs more help than I can give. Can you do anything for him?”

Reshma forced herself to approach the injured palace guard. She knelt to help Lateef with pressure on the guard’s wound. “I do not have the skills to fix this either.”

“We must do whatever we can for him. Keep pressure on his wound.”

By then, Bast sensed Neith’s efforts to wake him. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he finally opened his eyes, fully awake. Bast moaned and squirmed in pain. He struggled to speak. “What happened?”

“You got a knife wound in your side.” Lateef shoved his hand behind Bast’s neck and tried to lift him. “Can you get up? We need to get you out of here.”

Bast tried to sit up. The situation demanded that he stand, but the pain intensified. Bast fell back down. He managed to look around and saw the three dungeon soldiers who tried to stop them. All three were dead. He saw several injured and confused escaped prisoners surrounding him. Under the circumstances, they faced a situation with no hopeful ending. “No. You must leave me.”

“No, Bast. We are not leaving you.” Neith would not have it any other way.

“No. Get out of here!” Bast forced the words through his pain. “Other soldiers may be coming. You must leave!”

“You need medical help first.” Lateef had to justify why he disobeyed Bast.

“There is no time for that.” Bast pushed Reshma away from tending to his knife wound. He grabbed Lateef firmly by the arm and, like a disciplined soldier, gave him a direct order. “Get Neith and the prisoners out of here. Now! There is an unguarded door at the back of the dungeon. Get to the temporary bridge we built across the moat. Get everyone out and across the bridge. You know where to take them from there. Hurry!”

“Bast!” It was another plea from Neith.

“I can distract any other soldiers that may come. Go!” Bast put his hand on Neith’s shoulder, trying to give her a reassuring squeeze. “I will be all right. I will pretend that I received the injury trying to stop your escape. Please take advantage of the blessings the angels have given you. Go!”

7.

NOTHING WILL STOP US

Heba stood restlessly beside the donkey-drawn wagon just half an hour before midnight. She was in a wooded, secluded area between the king’s palace and the village of Panfe. It was an ideal hiding spot for anyone out at this hour.

The wagon, pulled by a pair of donkeys, was the same one Heba had used when she failed to rescue Neith from King Aysar’s palace. It was a large wagon with plenty of space for barrels of water, crates of non-perishable food, baskets of clothes, and other valuables. Hours earlier, Heba, Lateef, and Bast finished loading it after informing all the remaining Panfe villagers that it was time to leave. They had everything carefully packed in the wagon and covered with a cloth.

Heba was scared. She had many reasons to fear. She was out past curfew, alone and hiding, which already made her nervous. She didn’t have a torch or a lantern to light her way. The tall trees around her looked intimidating in the dark. Her imagination made some of the trees appear monstrous. Strange animal sounds came from different directions. Every twig snap made her heart race.

Heba had been waiting in these conditions for over two hours. Her fear grew with each passing minute. She had no idea how long it would take for Bast and Lateef to free Neith from the king’s dungeon. Heba had no guarantee they would succeed at all. There was a chance that if they failed, she could end up stranded and alone.

Heba suddenly heard a loud crash deep in the woods. She turned to see what it was, but all she saw was darkness. Was it an animal? Did a branch or tree fall? More frightened than ever, Heba quickly climbed onto the wagon. In the darkness, she felt around under the seat with her hand. She knew that a kitchen cleaver was among some other kitchen utensils there. It was the only thing she could use for protection.

Heba found the cleaver. She climbed over the seat into the wagon’s bed. Thinking with a child’s faulty logic, she crawled under the cloth cover and hid. Once there, she trembled and waited, listening to more unwelcome noises. She waited, what felt like forever, before she finally heard someone calling her name.

“Heba!” It was Lateef, calling her name in a whisper. “Heba!”

Heba peeled back the cloth cover and lifted her head. Even in the darkness, she saw Lateef holding Neith close, guiding her toward the wagon. Feeling relieved and happy, Heba dropped the cleaver and climbed out of the wagon. She hurried over to hug both of them.

“Neith?” Heba gave Neith an extraordinary embrace. Heba had lost both her parents many harvests ago. As an only child, Heba had long considered Neith her closest relative. Cherishing the moment, Heba looked into Neith’s face. “Glory to all the angels! Are you all right?”

“I am fine, thanks to Lateef, Bast, and some new friends.” Neith pointed to the people behind her. “Do you recognize any of them?”

Heba released her gentle grip on Neith. She turned to look at the two men and two women who had just stepped out of the darkness of the woods. They wore old, worn-out clothes. All of them looked like they had been in a fight. Heba didn’t know any of their names, but she had seen some of them around Panfe Village. “I recognize some of their faces.”

“They were prisoners with me in the king’s dungeon,” said Neith. “We might be dead had it not been for them and several others who were with us.”

Lateef went to fetch water from one of the barrels on the wagon. He returned with two gourds full and gave one to the two women prisoners. Heba helpfully handed the other gourd to a nearby male prisoner. He was an older man who walked with a severe limp and looked as if he needed water the most. Before accepting the gourd from Heba, he carefully lowered his battered body to the ground.

The other male prisoner hurried over to assist the older man. He was middle-aged and the most physically fit among them. He looked just as battered as the others but also seemed capable of ending any fight on his own. He had a bag of arrows and a large crossbow slung across his back. He removed them, dropped them on the ground, and then took the gourd of water Heba held. He handed the gourd to the older man.

The crossbow and arrows made Heba realize someone was missing. She glanced over the faces around her. “Where is Bast?”

“Things did not go smoothly,” Lateef said with regret. Before explaining, he went back to the wagon to get another gourd of water. “Bast was hurt. We had to leave him.”

“Hurt? How badly? Is he alright?”

Lateef didn’t answer Heba right away. He tried hard to overcome the painful memory of those terrible moments. “Bast received a knife wound to his side. He was alive when we left him, but he was unable to come with us. We had no choice but to leave him.”

Neith overheard Lateef’s response. She could hear Lateef’s concern for Bast in his voice. “Do you think he will be alright?”

“I do not know, mother. We can only hope and pray that he will.”

Neith began to cry silently. “I pray the angels of mercy take him into their care. I fear we may never see him again.”

“Do not think like that, mother.” Lateef took a moment to console his mother. “Let us not waste the sacrifices Bast made for us. Let us go before it is too late.”

“Are these people coming with us?” Heba wanted to know. “There is not enough room on the wagon for everyone.”

“Please. My name is Asim, of the family Ponji.” The physically fit prisoner picked up his bag of arrows and the crossbow from the ground. He hung them on his back. After that battle in the palace dungeon, he took the bow and arrows from one of the defeated soldiers. Even though he was not a soldier himself, he had self-taught skills. He felt the bow and arrows would be useful eventually. “Lateef informed us that your final escape from Panfe is scheduled for tonight. I speak for the others here. We want to go with you. We have nowhere else to go.”

Lateef had already anticipated Asim’s request. He remembered how Asim’s crucial help enabled him and the others to escape from the palace dungeon and cross the moat. At that time, there were over forty-five prisoners with him and Neith. Not everyone would have made it without Asim’s help. Most prisoners knew where they wanted to go once they were free — they had friends and families in nearby villages to return to. However, Asim and the other three Panfe villagers with them did not. Out of gratitude and compassion, Lateef couldn’t leave these people behind. “Of course, you may come with us. But this development significantly alters everything.”

Neith knew her son well. She knew his decision before he did. “Things are not going as planned. Can we still do this?”

“We are doing this, mother. Nothing will stop us.” Lateef walked over to the wagon. He reassessed the extra room in the bed but already knew it would not be enough. “We have hundreds of kilometers to travel. That means at least two of us must take turns walking at any given time.”

“Well, that certainly does not include me.” The older man on the ground rubbed his leg. I will never make it anywhere on foot. If there is no room in your wagon, I will stay.”

“What is your name?” Lateef asked.

“My name is Mahmood, of the family Dreni.”

“Do not be a fool, Mahmood. If you stay, soldiers will easily find you and kill you.”

“That may be a fitting fate.” Mahmood struggled to get to his feet.

Lateef caught the older man by the arm to help him to his feet. “Please, Mahmood. Get into the wagon.”

After Mahmood limped over to the wagon, Heba helped him to climb onto the rear edge. She waited until he got comfortable with his legs hanging over the edge. Heba stood aside to allow Reshma and Talia to approach the wagon.

Reshma embraced Talia about the shoulders as she spoke to Heba. “For now, she needs to ride.”

Heba could see the fear on Talia’s face. Talia’s eyes were red from constant crying. With shoulders hunched, Talia trembled and tightly clasped her arms around her chest for comfort. Since arriving here, she hadn’t spoken a word. Heba gently stroked Talia’s shoulder. The gesture reassured Reshma and Talia that they were welcome to ride. Talia climbed into the wagon and immediately curled into a ball.

Despite her time in the dungeon, Reshma looked surprisingly healthy. Before getting into the wagon, she took off a pair of sandals. She held them up for Heba to see. “These things are so old. I can barely walk in them.” Reshma tucked the sandals under her arm. “I would get rid of them if they were not my only shoes.”

“As Lateef said, we must all take a turn walking at some point.” Heba helped Reshma into the wagon. “I have an extra pair. You may have them when it is your turn to walk.”

“Thank you.”

Heba nodded toward Talia, who was quietly sobbing. “Will she be all right?”

Reshma put her arm around Talia’s shoulder again and pulled her close. “This poor girl has been through some ugly moments. Only time will tell.”

Heba wanted to take a moment to say something comforting to Talia, but she didn’t get the chance. She heard Lateef make another urgent plea to get going. Heba rubbed Talia’s arm before walking to the front of the wagon and climbing aboard. As she settled into the seat next to Neith, she gathered the reins in her hands.

Lateef walked around the wagon, checking whether everything and everyone were ready. Satisfied with what he saw, Lateef signaled Heba to pull on the reins and start. With a jolt, the donkeys began pulling the wagon along the narrow trail. Lateef and Asim were the only two who initially walked. They led the way, guiding the donkeys through the darkness.

8.

A BAD MEMORY

Early one morning, a young boy and his father wandered through a dense savanna grassland. They searched for the perfect spot to set up their traps to catch stone partridges. The boy was just past his tenth harvest and had wanted to do this with his father since his fifth. This was his first hunting experience.

Stone partridges craved seeds and grains. Any trap baited with these foods was a dependable way to catch them. However, the traps had to be set in the open savanna where trappers could hide. Since the birds had excellent eyesight, spotting a trapper would discourage them from approaching the traps.

The boy and his father believed they had found the perfect spot to set up their traps. It was at the base of a steep hill, surrounded by a thick forest. The hill and forest bordered the grassland. However, when they arrived at this ideal location, they noticed several traps already in place. Someone else had discovered the area before them and had set up multiple traps, some of which already held partridges.

The boy found the traps fascinating. His curiosity drew him closer for a better look. The father, however, knew their presence was an intrusion. He looked around, searching for the trappers who must be nearby. He saw no one at first, but by then, the boy had stooped beside the trap. The boy had stuck his finger through the mesh wire as if he were trying to touch one of the birds.

“No, son,” the father said. “Come away. These are not ours.”

The father did another visual search of the area. This time, fifty meters away, he saw several people emerging from the nearby forest. He reached down, grabbed his son by the arm, and yanked him upright.

The sudden movement startled the boy. He hadn’t seen the approaching people yet. “Why did you do that, father?” After the father nodded toward the approaching people, the boy recognized them and quickly understood his father’s behavior. “That is King Aysar and some of his soldiers. What are we going to do?”

Fearing King Aysar’s volatile nature, the father physically turned his son toward the forest edge behind them. He gave him a push. “Go into the forest, son. Run!”

“What? Why? We have done nothing wrong.”

“I said, run! Get into the forest! Do not let the king or his soldiers catch you.”

The boy obediently started running when panic set in, his heart racing. He looked back at his father and the approaching king. One of the king’s soldiers was already charging across the savanna after him.

Moments later, King Aysar approached the boy’s father. With his ever-present Sacred Forked Scepter in his hand, the king came to stand beside his trapped birds. He thumped the scepter on the ground as if to make it hum. The scepter had, long ago, stopped humming for the king. The king had grown to accept the silence. Thumping the scepter on the ground was now enough to elicit due reverence. The father bowed his head respectfully. It was too late for him to run.

King Aysar studied the man before him with a clear look of suspicion. He noticed two empty cages and traps nearby and quickly drew the wrong conclusion. “You and that boy were planning to steal some of my birds?”

“No, Your Grace. We stumbled upon your traps by accident. We were only looking.”

“Do not lie to me. I saw the boy with his fingers inside the cage. You were stealing.”

One of King Aysar’s soldiers stepped forward. “Your Grace, may I have a moment?”

“A moment for what?” Aysar seemed annoyed by the interruption.

“I suspect something that may interest you.” After receiving a nod from King Aysar, the soldier began to walk slowly around the man. He studied him, assessing his height and build. He looked for a scar on the man’s forearm. The soldier finally returned to King Aysar’s side. “Your Grace, this man is the Mtetezi.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I raided several of the Mtetezi’s rallies. Although the Mtetezi always wore masks or disguises, I learned enough to recognize his build and mannerisms. And that scar on his forearm is unmistakable. This is the Mtetezi.”

King Aysar looked at the man with bitterness, as if an old emotional wound was festering again. He fed off the energy of his bitterness. A smile spread across his face as he approached the man suspected of being the Mtetezi. “Did you know? My soldiers and I have chased your sorry soul for over a decade. I was beginning to think this day would never come. But here we are. On this glorious day, I finally caught your sorry ass.”

“Your Grace, please. Your soldier has made a mistake. I am not who he thinks I am.”

“You might want to stop talking.” King Aysar began walking slowly around the man. “You may not be aware of the consequences of lying to me. It is never good. You see, my soldier here knows better than to lie to me. If he tells me you are the Mtetezi, I can believe him. You are the Mtetezi.”

“Your Grace, I …”

King Aysar stepped close enough to stand face-to-face with the man. He angrily thumped the scepter. “Are you the Mtetezi? Lie to me and see what happens.”

“Your Grace, it seems I am in a quandary. Whether I speak the truth or tell you a lie, I am a dead man.”

The man’s dilemma made King Aysar smile. It also justified King Aysar’s vengeful anger, turning the smile into a bitter expression. King Aysar struck the suspected Mtetezi in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Lateef woke suddenly with a jerk. He had been dreaming. It was early morning on the second day of the Panfe fugitives’ journey. The sun had not yet risen. Lateef sat up by what remained of last night’s campfire. He looked around to see that everyone, except Asim, was still asleep.

Asim, on guard duty, sat near the campfire. He noticed Lateef’s jolted awakening. “Bad dream?”

“If you want to call it that,” Lateef rubbed his face to wipe away the stress the dream had caused. “It was more like a bad memory.”

“Are you okay to talk about it?”

“Not really. It is something I wanted to forget. Maybe the terrible dreams would stop.” Lateef stretched, then decided to talk about it anyway. “It was the murder of my father, Shakir, by King Aysar. I was there when it happened.”

“Angels of mercy!” Asim just learned something about Lateef that he hadn’t known before. “I cannot imagine what you must feel, having experienced that as a child and carrying the memory into adulthood. That was what? Fifteen harvests ago?”

“Yes. And in all that time, it has not been easy.”

“I remember Shakir.” Asim tossed a twig into the campfire and chuckled over some of his memories. “I even helped with a couple of his protest rallies. At my first rally with him, we hung one of our effigies of Aysar on the palace’s main gate. It was one of the most grotesque things you have ever seen. Your father was a fun person to be with. He was fun but dangerous.”

“My father and mother forbade me from attending any of his rallies. They thought I was too young.”

“You were. I am only a few harvests older than you. My late father also forbade me from associating with your father for the same reason. My father was also among the few who believed Shakir was wrong. He thought it could only hurt the people of Panfe. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I disobeyed my father. I helped with other rallies anyway. I talked one of my best friends into going with me to one.” Asim grew silent for a moment as he recalled his most terrible memory. “During that raid, my friend was killed by one of Aysar’s soldiers.”

“I am sorry about your friend.”

“His name was Jabir. The incident was painful. But not as painful as what Mahmood felt.”

“Mahmood?” Lateef looked over at the man sleeping a few meters away on the other side of the campfire. “Why Mahmood?”

“Jabir was Mahmood’s son, his only child.”

“I had no idea, Asim. Since the escape from Panfe, I noticed that you and Mahmood are close. I did not know that you knew him so well.”

“I did not at the time. But over the past twenty harvests, we have grown closer. During all that time, I have been trying to earn Mahmood’s forgiveness. Since Jabir’s death, I have never attended another rally with Shakir. Asim looked at Lateef again, seeing him with a different perspective. “I remember the day King Aysar murdered your father like it was yesterday. So, you were there?”

“Yes. I ran and hid in the nearby forest. But I saw everything, including the moment when he wiped my father’s blood off his knife’s blade. Everyone hated King Aysar for killing the Oracle. But on the day Aysar killed my father, I hated him more than anyone. On that day, I saw what a gruesome monster Aysar is.”

“So, how did it happen, if you do not mind me asking?”

“My father and I were only out preparing to trap partridges. By chance, we met King Aysar. By then, one of Aysar’s soldiers knew enough to recognize my father as the Mtetezi. Aysar held my father captive. Unlike your friend, I managed to get away.”

“So that is why King Aysar and his soldiers often came to Panfe to search. They were looking for you. When the soldiers described you, everyone pretended not to know who you were.”

“For that, I am genuinely grateful. Since that day, I have been a fugitive. I hid in the woods each time the soldiers came, sometimes for days at a time. I do not doubt that King Aysar would kill me if he or his soldiers ever caught me.”

9.

AM I SUPPOSED TO CARE

On the morning after the fugitives’ second day of escape, King Aysar and one of his generals entered the palace infirmary. King Aysar carried his Sacred Forked Scepter, walking with purpose. The general led the way, as he had to. King Aysar didn’t know how to find what he was searching for, nor how to navigate the infirmary corridors. It was a part of the palace he rarely visited. He had no interest in the injured, the sick, or the weak.

As King Aysar and the general walked past the patients in the infirmary, most of them tried to show respect to the king. King Aysar ignored almost all of them. His face was filled with angry determination as he followed the general.

No one expressed more distress at King Aysar’s unexpected visit than the head physician of the infirmary. He was a short, mature man who found comfort within the infirmary; it was his safe haven, knowing he would never have to face the king for any reason. At that moment, the head physician was carrying a medical tray. He dropped it when he saw the king approaching, so startled that he didn’t know whether to apologize for dropping the tray or to show respect to the king.

The general rescued the confused man by asking him, “Where is the palace guard, Bast?”

The head physician immediately knew who the general was talking about. He had personally saved the guard’s life just six hours earlier by treating and stitching his severe knife wound. The physician quickly and nervously bowed to the king. Then he led the king and the general down another corridor into a small room at the end.

The three found Bast, covered up to his neck, sound asleep. King Aysar did not come to check on a sleeping patient or assess his condition. His impatience was obvious. “Wake him,” he ordered the physician.

“Your Grace, he has lost a lot of blood,” the physician nervously explained to the king. “If we disturb him, he could rupture his wound and start bleeding again. He could die.”

King Aysar looked directly at the physician, offended by his hesitation. “Am I supposed to care? He will die anyway if he does not tell me what I need to know. Wake him.”

The physician moved up to begin gently slapping Bast’s cheeks. He made several unsuccessful attempts to wake him. Considering Bast’s health and survival, the physician concluded that he should not continue.

“Your Grace, I am sorry. He is unconscious, and we should not continue.”

King Aysar thumped the Sacred Forked Scepter on the floor. It was not the thump of the scepter, devoid of its hum, that demanded obedience. It was the anger in King Aysar’s voice that did. “I said, wake him!”

Reluctantly, the physician reached into the pocket of his medical smock. He pulled out a small glass vial and removed the cork. He waved the vial under Bast’s nose. Bast inhaled sharply, as if to catch his breath. Now fully conscious, Bast grimaced in pain. The pain became secondary when he thought he heard King Aysar’s voice demanding his attention. He opened his eyes to see the king standing over him.

“Your Grace?” Bast suppressed his pain and tried to sit up respectfully. The physician gently forced him back down.

King Aysar wasted no time getting to the reason for his visit. “You were one of the soldiers trying to stop the prisoners from escaping?”

“Prisoners? Escaping?” Disoriented, Bast initially did not understand what the king was asking.

“Pull yourself together, soldier. Were you there?”

Bast’s mind began to clear rapidly. Amazingly, his mind cleared enough to allow him to remember and to lie about what had happened. Suppressing his pain again and speaking through clenched teeth, his lie sounded convincing. “We could not stop them. There were too many.”

“Was that old blind crone among the prisoners?”

“Blind crone, Your Grace?”

“That old Panfe woman who poisoned my wife. Did you see her?”

Bast knew who King Aysar referred to all along. But he continued to lie. “I do not remember seeing her.”

“Do you know where any of the escapees might go?”

“It happened so fast, Your Grace. I beg your forgiveness.”

King Aysar allowed his impatience to take control. He turned to leave the room. He grabbed the physician by the arm as he walked toward the exit. “If he does not become coherent enough to tell me what I need, let him die.”

Before King Aysar and the general reached the exit, Bast pretended to remember vital information. He called the king back.

“Your Grace!” Bast waited for the king to stand over him again. He faked an eagerness to please his king. “I may have overheard one of the escapees. He mentioned a refugee camp north of here, near a village.”

“Do you remember the name of this village?”

Bast pretended to concentrate. “I think he said Kujack or Kuajok or something like that.”

King Aysar looked at his general. “I never heard of such a place.”

But the general did. “It is Kuajok, Your Grace, in northern South Sudan. It is located in a hostile region owned by the Kentabone people and is beyond the boundary of the kingdom and your reach.”

“Damn you, man. Nothing is beyond my reach.” King Aysar ignored the physician’s help and Bast’s information. He pushed the physician aside and signaled his general to follow him as he hurried out of the room. “I do not care how hostile or where the region is. Alert my Mamba regiments. Send them up there to bring my prisoners back.”

This order from the king was so unexpected that the general almost stopped. “Your Mamba regiments, Your Grace? All three of them?”

The king never slowed his angry stride. “All three of them. With all three regiments searching, the escapees should be caught quickly. No one leaves my kingdom without my permission. Those prisoners belong to me, and I want them back.”

10.

A GENTLE SOUL

After just three days of travel, the Panfe began facing challenges they had only partially anticipated. The first problem was adjusting their food supplies. Neith, Lateef, and Heba initially planned the escape with enough food to support only the three of them. However, with the unexpected addition of Mahmood, Asim, Reshma, and Talia, they had to stretch their supplies to feed seven people. A temporary fix was to eat only one good meal a day, sometimes during the evening. They occasionally allowed a small midday meal to keep going.

The medical treatments for Mahmood and Talia were the second unexpected hardship. Neith, Lateef, and Heba had only a limited supply of first-aid supplies among their belongings. Mahmood had a fractured leg that required a splint, extensive bandaging, and pain relief. Talia, however, was the sickest of all. Since leaving King Aysar’s dungeon, she had grown sicker and weaker every day. She could not keep food down. Reshma, who had the most medical experience, did her best with the limited supplies to treat Mahmood and Talia. Her efforts were barely effective.

By the third day of travel, the water supply became another problem. Fortunately, before the situation became critical, the fugitives found a freshwater stream. Reshma examined the water and decided it was safe to drink. After discovering the water just after midday, the fugitives decided to rest. They gathered fresh water and prepared a small meal before continuing their journey.

While the rest of the travelers settled into their spots and built a campfire, Neith and Heba prepared sweet corn soup. It was a quick and simple dish to make. Despite her blindness, Neith did most of the cooking, with Heba assisting her. During recent harvests, Heba had helped Neith cook so often that she knew where to place the corn, cooking utensils, and spices so that Neith could reach them easily. The soup was ready to serve in under thirty minutes, and Heba began handing out small servings to everyone.

While the soup was cooking, Reshma used the time to care for Mahmood and Talia. Of all her tasks, Mahmood’s treatment was the simplest; it only involved applying a topical Boswellia pain-relieving ointment to his leg and rewrapping his splint. Talia’s treatment was the most difficult. Besides nausea, Talia constantly complained of stomach pain. Her illness puzzled Reshma because she hadn’t eaten anything different from everyone else. Contaminated food was unlikely. Reshma suspected Talia might have an allergy, but Talia insisted she had none. Reshma didn’t know what else to do for Talia except make her comfortable and ensure she drank water.

Lateef and Asim spent the time fetching water for the two donkeys and gathering three full barrels of fresh water. When Heba finally brought the two men their corn soup, Lateef was re-harnessing the donkeys to the wagon. Asim was loading the last barrel of water onto the wagon. He had to move his confiscated crossbow and arrows out of the way. He set the crossbow and arrows on the ground and lifted the 38-kilogram barrel of water onto the edge of the wagon’s tailgate.

Asim sat on the ground to begin eating his soup. He sat only a meter from Mahmood, who rested against a small boulder. Asim had eaten three scoops of the hot soup when he noticed Mahmood was not eating. Mahmood was staring at the arrows Asim had placed on the ground.

Asim had to ask, “What do you find so fascinating about these arrows, Mahmood?”

Mahmood didn’t seem to realize that he was staring so intently. “It is nothing. It is just that, it never occurred to me that the Caldifor soldiers used bronze-tipped arrows.”

“Do you know anything about bows and arrows?”

Mahmood did not answer at first. He looked toward the distant midday horizon as if focusing on a memory. “I know more than I care to know. I once had a bow-and-arrow set. The arrows were nothing like those.”

“What happened to your set?”

Mahmood sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the boulder. “I got rid of it.”

Asim was about to ask Mahmood why. But at that moment, Heba and Neith sat nearby with their soup. Heba noticed Mahmood with his eyes closed. She instantly made a wrong assumption about the reason.

“How is your leg, Mahmood? Does it still hurt?”

Mahmood opened his eyes and reached to rub his leg gently. “The swelling is gone. But, yes, it hurts as badly as ever. It does not seem to be getting any better. Reshma has already done what she can for me.”

“Give it time. Time is a great healer.” Heba also noticed that Mahmood had not touched his soup. “You are not eating, Mahmood.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Nonsense. All of us are hungry.”

“I know we must ration the last of what we have left. None of it should go to waste.” Mahmood shoved his serving away. “Please split my portion among the rest of you.”

Asim had already eaten his soup. He suddenly held his serving bowl forward. “Please. I will take some. Neith and Heba have prepared a tasty meal.”

“Thank you, Asim, for the compliment,” Neith said. “But behave yourself. The soup belongs to Mahmood. He needs it just as much as you do.”

Asim withdrew his serving bowl. “You do not know what you are missing, Mahmood.”

Possibly because Neith was blind, she sensed something about Mahmood that the others did not. “What is troubling you, Mahmood? I can hear it in your voice.”

Mahmood did not answer. He stared out at the horizon again. Asim answered Neith’s question instead. “I am sure Mahmood feels the same way as most of us. We are free of the king’s dungeon, only to come here to start living on food rations and whatever else we can find. We were lucky to find this water when we did. And it is not going to get any easier. I am not sure we can keep going like this.”

By this time, Lateef had finished harnessing the donkeys. He came to join the group and eat his soup. He came just in time to overhear Asim’s negative comment. “Let us have none of that talk, Asim! We are in no mood to hear it.”

“But Asim is right.” Mahmood hesitated for a moment before clarifying what he meant. “I, for one, should have stayed in that dungeon.”

Neith appeared the most surprised by Mahmood’s comments. “Why? How can you say such a thing?”

Mahmood broke his stare at the horizon and turned to Neith. “When that palace guard and Lateef came to free us from the dungeon, you said none belonged there.”

“It is true. I talked with most of you. I heard no crime that deserves such inhumane punishment.”

“You did not speak with me.”

“You seem like a gentle soul, Mahmood. What could you have done to deserve such horrible treatment?”

Mahmood almost smiled at the irony. “Gentle soul? What gentle soul kills his mate? It was a foolish accident. Still, the love of my life is dead because of me.”

Everyone sat stunned by Mahmood’s revelation. Lateef broke the long, awkward silence that followed. “Oh, Mahmood, I am sorry for your loss. I speak for all of us. We did not know.”

“Including me, Mahmood.” Asim seemed the most stunned.

Mahmood glanced up at Asim. “Jabir was one of your best friends. He did not tell you?”

“No. He did not. Jabir only told me that his mother was dead. He would not talk about how she died.”

“Can you blame him?” Mahmood looked away, gazing out toward the horizon again. “Her name was Samiah. I have known her since childhood. She was the most supportive partner anyone could ever have. We bonded in every way possible. After I took her as my wife, we grew closer, day by day, for almost forty-eight long harvests.”

“Jabir was your only child?” asked Heba.

“Yes.”

The news seemed to dig deeper into Asim’s heart. “Mahmood, I am so sorry.”

“I know, Asim. I know.”

Asim sighed and tossed his empty soup bowl aside. “Maybe I should have remained in the king’s dungeon, too.”

“Please stop! Both of you.” Lateef did not want to hear more about staying in the king’s dungeon. “The two of you are here. You might as well stay. We need both of you if we are to survive this.”

“I survived Jabir’s death with the help of Samiah.” Mahmood felt the need to explain what happened. “We endured Jabir’s death by leaning on each other for support. We learned to find happiness together, just the two of us. All the guardian angels know I loved her dearly. Then, one day, while stringing and adjusting my bow string tension, I accidentally shot her with an arrow. I felt betrayed by all the angels. It was as if the angels had all turned their backs on us. That was the worst day of my life. My whole world collapsed around me. Samiah lived long enough to forgive me. … I just never forgave myself.”

“You are surviving a personal struggle, Mahmood.” Neith could hear a deeper sorrow in Mahmood’s voice and sensed the sorrow in his heart. “Believe me. I understand. I know what you are going through. Do whatever you can to get through the pain. Do not give up. It will make you stronger.”

“Yes, and it would also help if you ate something,” Heba added.

“If you are going to eat Mahmood, you should hurry,” Lateef said, giving Mahmood a supportive pat on the shoulder as he stood up. “We have rested long enough. Let us finish loading the wagon, tie everything down, and keep going.”

Asim leaned back to stretch. As he did, he saw something on the underside of the wagon. He crawled closer to the rear axle. “Lateef, you should see this.”

Lateef stooped and crawled under the wagon’s rear to see what Asim was pointing at. “What is that? A crack?”

“A small one. But that axle is old wood. That crack will only get larger.”

Heba was close enough to overhear Asim and Lateef. She was curious enough to look, too. “Can that be fixed?”

“Maybe, temporarily,” Lateef crawled from beneath the wagon. He stood and dusted himself off. “I should have replaced that whole axle a long time ago.”

Asim crawled from beneath the wagon but did not stand. “There is nothing you can do about it now. But, no doubt, that crack will get larger before it is replaced, Lateef.”

Somewhat frustrated, Lateef turned and walked away. “Let us not worry about that now.”

“We should worry about it before it is too late,” Asim argued as Lateef ignored him and continued toward the front of the wagon.

Heba attempted to downplay Lateef’s frustration by asking Asim, “What if the crack does get larger? How large does it have to get before it is too late?”

“We can risk it until the axle breaks. But, by then, the entire wagon will be useless.” Before Asim stood, he reached to grab his crossbow and arrows. At that moment, one of the donkeys caused the wagon to jolt. The jolt made the water barrel sitting on the wagon’s tailgate tumble to the ground. The barrel fell directly onto Asim’s right hand. Asim cried out in pain. He contorted and rolled on the ground, clutching his injured hand.

“What happened?” Neith asked, almost in a panic. “What just happened?”

“A water barrel fell from the wagon onto Asim’s hand.” Heba embraced Neith to calm and comfort her.

By now, almost everyone had rushed to help Asim. Reshma managed to turn Asim over to reach for his hand. “Let me see! Let me see!”

Asim refused to let go of his hand. He kept holding it as if pressure was the only way to numb the pain. He had to force himself to surrender his hand to Reshma. “How bad is it?”

“It appears that you broke three of your fingers.”

“Angels of mercy!” Asim allowed Reshma to continue looking at his hand as he doubled over in pain again. “It feels like I broke all five of them.”

“They might as well be. Even after I get you all bandaged up, you will not be able to use this hand for several weeks.”

11.

ALL THAT IS LEFT OF THE PANFE VILLAGE

The fugitives started their day as usual on the tenth day of their journey. They expected nothing unusual to happen during the day. But by midmorning, they noticed a small wagon and another group of travelers across the open savanna about two kilometers ahead. At least three dozen people, a horse, a cow, a flock of sheep, and a dog walked near the wagon. Nomadic groups like this were common. The fugitives initially paid little attention to the group and kept their usual pace.

But the fugitives’ pace was faster than that of the other travelers. Their speed brought them within a kilometer of the group. From that distance, Lateef recognized the horse, the cow, and the dog from the group. With growing excitement, he told the others that the travelers ahead were Panfe villagers. The horse, cow, and dog belonged to their grumpy Panfe neighbor, Malse, who lived on the outskirts of the village with his two sons.

The fugitives increased their pace, recklessly faster than they should have, across the rugged savanna. They caught up with the travelers in just under thirty minutes. In addition to Malse and his two sons, the travelers included eight to nine families, totaling forty-three people. For a brief time, meeting up with the other Panfe villagers was a joyful occasion. Everyone spent several minutes exchanging greetings, hugs, and stories about the difficulties of the past ten days.

This moment was one of Lateef’s happiest since leaving the Panfe village. It seemed to justify the success of the Panfe flight. With increased joy and energy in his steps, Lateef called everyone together to express what he felt.

“It pleases me, to no end,” he began, “to see us together again. We are the last group to leave Panfe. We are all that remains of the village of Panfe. So far, our flight has been successful. I know the past ten days have not been easy. Unfortunately, we still have some difficult days ahead. But we can make it if we depend on each other and keep working together. I must apologize to many of you for that last hectic night in Panfe. I never intended to give such short notice to leave.”

“We never should have left,” Malse commented under his breath.

Lateef heard him but ignored the comment. He kept talking to everyone, trying to be open and honest about their situation. “Water has become our most critical need. Fresh, drinkable water is in short supply.” Lateef shifted his focus to Reshma. “I do not know when or where we will find more fresh water. Besides the donkeys pulling the wagon, Malse’s horse, cow, and sheep will also need water. You’ve done a great job rationing the water so far. But with all these people and animals now, it has gotten much more difficult. Do you think you can handle all of that?”

“With everyone’s help, I will do my best.”

“You will need more than your best.” It was another comment by Malse.

Lateef heard him and ignored him again. He turned his attention back to everyone. “Reshma is the only one among us with medical experience. I am asking everyone to help her wherever possible and give her full cooperation. The food supply is no longer as critical. We now have a flock of sheep and crates of chickens and ducks. I encourage the owners of these to share some of them when we may need them.”

“If we were back in Panfe, most of us would have an ample supply of sheep, chickens, or ducks.”

Lateef had finally had enough. “Malse, do you have something useful to say?”

“I still think leaving Panfe is a bad idea.”

“How many times must you tell us that, Malse? No. Tolerating the increasingly oppressive rules of King Aysar is a bad idea. We do not have to do that anymore.”

“You are right about that. And yes, it was not an ideal situation,” Malse came to stand beside Lateef. “I admit, it was hard at times. But the king is a selfish son-of-a-bitch. He does not care about us. All that he cares about is his taxes. As long as he is comfortable and happy in his palace, he will stay out of our way and leave us relatively alone.”

“That has worked well for you, Malse. Do you think the rest of us have been as fortunate as you?”

Lateef’s question struck Malse with a truth he was hesitant to accept. He knew that peace and calm no longer existed in Panfe. The chaos began when King Aysar killed the Oracle of Panfe after her prophecy threatened his rule. It continued for many harvests afterward. Even Malse had to struggle to justify his fortunate position. “Things only got worse because of your father.”

At the mention of Shakir, Asim stepped forward. He pointed a finger at Malse angrily. “That is enough! You barely know what you are talking about.”

Malse raised both of his hands and stepped back, surrendering to Asim’s reprimand. But he continued to mumble as he retreated into the group of people around him. “Yes, it was bad back in Panfe, but some of us managed. Out here, we could die before finding enough water to drink.”

“Lateef knows all of that, Malse,” Asim continued with his reprimand. “I told him several times already myself.”

“Yes, well, he had better get used to hearing it if he keeps pushing this idiotic quest of his father’s.”

“Have you ever heard any of Shakir’s protest speeches?” Asim asked Malse.

“The Mtetezi? Of course, I have. He delivered some inspirational and motivational speeches in Panfe. But out here, this is a different reality. There is no guarantee that we will reach our destination, wherever it is. Malse pointed at Talia. “That poor girl is so weak she can barely walk. I dare not say what tomorrow may bring for her. Reshma has no way to treat Talia medically or any of us for lack of water. And ...”

“All right, Malse,” Asim snapped. You have made your point. Please stop talking. I am tired of hearing it, and I know Lateef is tired of hearing it, too.”

“You need not speak for me, Asim.” Lateef turned away, trying to rise above Malse’s irritation.

“Then I speak for myself. My late father held the same crippling attitude as Malse,” Asim explained. “But I heard many of Shakir’s speeches. I felt the passion in his dream. It was enough to make me believe all of this could be worthwhile. We all knew that this flight would be challenging. But I am not willing to give up on it yet. Malse’s attitude can only make it worse for everyone.”

12.

HOME OF THE BLIND CRONE

Twelve days after Bast’s nearly fatal knife wound, he walked toward the king’s central chamber. The palace doctor had released him from the infirmary. Bast felt healthier, but he wasn’t entirely healed. He kept his hand on his wound as if to hold back the occasional pain. Just before reaching the central chamber, Bast stopped and leaned against the wall. He waited for a painful throbbing to subside.

Another palace guard stood at the doorway of the central chamber. He saw Bast’s labored approach. When Bast finally resumed walking and reached the doorway, the guard had to ask him, “Are you all right?”

Bast had previously worked with the palace guard and knew him well enough to be honest with him. “No, I am not all right. But I have tolerated worse pains. I need to return to duty.”

Bast looked past the guard into the central chamber. He saw King Aysar sitting at the head of a conference table. Two of the king’s advisors sat on either side of the table. He wondered if this was a good time to interrupt the king.

The palace guard saw Bast hesitate about entering the chamber. He offered to help Bast make up his mind. “I would not go in there now if I were you. The king is not in a good mood.”

“When is that bastard ever in a good mood?” Bast sighed and forced himself to stand straighter. He entered the chamber anyway, walked to a corner, and stood quietly. The protocol required him to wait there until the king acknowledged him. While waiting, he was lucky enough to overhear what the king and his advisors discussed.

“Your Grace, we received a report from your Nintopi regiment,” the senior advisor Adolfo said. “It was the first regiment to reach the Kentabone region and the Kuajok village. The regiment combed the entire village but found nothing.”

“Are you telling me that none of my Mamba regiments found anything?”

“That is true, Your Grace.”

King Aysar sat back, thinking. He could not believe that his most elite soldiers were failing him. “Is it possible the regiments have not gone far enough north, beyond the Kentabone region?”

“That is possible, Your Grace. But it has been almost two weeks now. How far could the escaped prisoners go on foot? The regiments should have found something by now.”

Hafez, the junior advisor, twisted in his seat to face the king. “That supports my belief that the escaped prisoners did not flee north. I strongly suspect they are hiding right under our noses, Your Grace. I believe most, if not all, have returned to their home villages across the kingdom.”

“Nonsense,” King Aysar dismissed Hafez’s opinion, though he knew it might be true. “Are those people foolish enough to do that?”

“Where else would they go?”

“South,” Adolfo answered the king’s question. “If they did not flee north and are not foolishly in their home villages, then it is clear. They fled to the regions further south instead.”

“I can agree with that, Your Grace.” Hafez realized that Adolfo’s belief was much more likely. “That explains why the regiments have found nothing so far.”

King Aysar rose from his seat and began pacing. He carefully reconsidered all options before agreeing with his advisors. “So be it. But I will take no chances of losing my prisoners. Give my Mamba regiments one more day to finish their searches in the north. Once they are done, we will shift our searches to the southern regions. In the meantime, I will take a platoon tomorrow morning and head south, starting with the Panfe village.”

“Why the Panfe village, Your Grace?” Hafez asked.

“That is the home of that blind crone. I want to catch her if I catch none of the prisoners.” King Aysar returned to stand at the head of his table. “Has anyone figured out how she smuggled potassium cyanide into our sugar supply?”

“She is blind.” Hafez doubts that the woman is capable of it. “How could she see what she was doing?”

“Her blindness is no handicap.” Adolfo knew Neith better. “She is a capable woman. But I think she had help from someone else on the kitchen staff.”

“I am sure you have questioned the staff.”

Adolfo nodded to ease the king’s concerns. “We have not only questioned them, Your Grace. As a precaution, we have replaced all of them.”

“Good,” King Aysar stepped away from his table as if to begin pacing again. When he turned, he finally noticed Bast standing in the corner. “You, there. What do you want?”

One of the main reasons Bast wanted to return to duty was to discover what the king knew about the escaped prisoners. During the few minutes he spent waiting in the corner, he learned enough to satisfy his curiosity. “If you are busy, Your Grace, I can return later.”

“I asked you, what do you want?”

“The palace physician has released me, Your Grace. With your permission, I feel strong enough to stand guard.”

King Aysar stepped closer to Bast. “You are the palace guard who arrestred Neith?”

“Neith?” Bast pretended not to know her.

“How simple-minded are you? I told you before. She is the blind woman who killed my wife.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I was the guard who arrested her.”

Aysar continued closer to Bast. “Then, you inspected the tea cart she brought into the dining room that evening. How did she get that poison past you?”

“I searched the cart and everything on it, Your Grace. I did not see it. I suspect that she had it hidden beneath her clothing.”

“Wherever she had it, she got it past you.” King Aysar turned away. He went back to his seat at the table and sat down.

Bast felt relieved. The king did not seem as angry as one might expect. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace.”

“My Nafy is dead, soldier.” King Aysar studied Bast’s face before retrieving the Sacred Forked Scepter that leaned against the conference table. The tense moment was not over. “You are also one of the soldiers who did not prevent my prisoners from escaping. Are you not?”

“I was there, Your Grace. The others and I tried our best.”

“And now you request to return to duty after such negligence and failures?” King Aysar thumped the base of the scepter on the floor. As is usual now, the forked prongs did not hum. King Aysar ignored the silence and spoke decisively to Bast. “Request denied. Please do not leave the palace until my staff reviews your services. You are dismissed.”

“Understood, Your Grace.” Bast bowed, turned, and quickly left the chamber.

13.

THE SAME DREAM BUT DIFFERENT

The little boy regained consciousness. He opened his eyes and realized he could not move. Thick ropes around his torso and legs bound him to a tree. He looked to his left and saw the lifeless body of his father, also bound and slumped against another tree. Horrified, the little boy looked to his right, only to see King Aysar standing two meters away. The king wiped the slimy blood from the knife’s handle, preparing to get a better grip so he could use it again.

The little boy struggled to free himself from the ropes. It was hopeless. He yelled for help, his voice echoing through the surrounding trees. Just as King Aysar started his deadly approach, the boy saw someone. In the distance, he noticed a man walking among the bushes and trees on a hill. The boy called out for help again.

The man on the hill thought he heard the little boy’s scream this time. Confused, he stopped and looked around, searching. He tried to decide where the scream had come from. The hollow echoes of the scream gave him no clue about which way to look. He was unsure if he had actually heard it. Maybe it was something else. To the little boy’s dismay, the man appeared to dismiss the scream.

The boy’s flicker of hope faded as the man turned and continued walking through the bushes and trees. He was too far away anyway. Even if he could have helped, he wouldn’t have been able to come down the hillside in time.

By then, King Aysar had roughly grasped the boy’s chin to hold his head up. The little boy resisted, turning his head and jerking his chin away from the king’s fingers.

In his sleep, Lateef instinctively twisted away to avoid the king’s attack. He woke himself from yet another nightmare. He opened his eyes to find Heba resting on her elbow beside him, her gentle hand softly gripping his chin and pulling him out of his nightmare.

“You were dreaming again,” Heba said. “Are you all right?”

Lateef reached for Heba’s hand. Feeling grateful, he kissed it as he sat up. “I am now.”

Heba sat up beside Lateef. “Was it the same dream?”

“Yes, and no. It was the same dream, but different.”

“Different, how?”

Lateef paused for a moment, trying to understand his dream. “It started as usual with the memory of my father’s murder. But this time, I was tied to a tree beside my father. King Aysar was about to kill me, too. I called for help. I thought help was coming, but it never did.”

“You never told me that part of the dream.”

“Because that part never really happened. King Aysar murdered my father. But I hid in the trees and bushes. King Aysar’s soldiers searched for me but never found me. I got away.”

14.

A LIGHTER LOAD

At midday on the same day, the Panfe fugitives took another break. They chose a spot in an open, grassy field. It seemed like a good place to stop, except there was no shade from the sun directly overhead. It was a minor inconvenience, and it didn’t matter. The break would be brief. Everyone decided to use their time wisely by truly resting while they could, sitting on the ground, and drinking their ration of water.

No one knew that, several meters away, a rogue lion lay in the same grassy field. The lion spotted the runaways long before they stopped to rest. It crouched lower, watching the people settle into their chosen spot. The lion slowly and quietly moved toward the unsuspecting prey as its hunting instinct grew stronger.

Malse’s dog was the first to sense that something was wrong. It stood tense with its nose searching the air. Malse’s horse and cow also grew noticeably restless. They had been walking tethered behind the wagon, but Malse had thoughtlessly let them graze freely on the grass. However, the animals weren’t grazing; they moved around as if they expected the need to run. The dog kept barking at some unseen intruder nonstop.

The animals became so restless that Lateef, Asim, and Malse’s youngest son, Worrak, all stood up at the same time to figure out what was happening. Even Mahmood, with his broken leg, felt an urgent need to get to his feet. Lateef, Asim, and Worrak walked toward the restless animals. Mahmood, needing extra support, hobbled toward the wagon to hold on and steady himself.

At that moment, the lion emerged from hiding. It confidently strutted toward the animals and the people. The dog barked frantically and charged at the lion, then, either wisely or out of cowardice, turned away from the fierce beast. Malse’s horse spooked and galloped away. Lateef and Worrak didn’t initially notice the lion in the tall grass. They instinctively pursued the horse, hoping to catch it, but it was impossible. Asim was the first to spot the lion. He stopped running and called for Lateef and Worrak to halt.

Asim turned and hurried back to the wagon. He needed to grab the crossbow and arrows from the bed. As Asim neared the wagon, he saw Mahmood struggling to climb aboard. The donkeys, still hitched and restless, also looked like they might bolt. Mahmood had anticipated this and was doing his best to prevent it.

Asim reached the wagon just as Mahmood climbed onto the seat and took hold of the reins. However, the agitated donkeys suddenly took off running, pulling the wagon behind them. Asim didn’t have time to grab his crossbow and arrows. The wagon moved out of his reach. The sudden jerk of the wagon sent Mahmood tumbling from the seat into the wagon bed.

The fall caused Mahmood to reinjure his fractured leg. He cried out in pain. Despite the pain, Mahmood knew he had to regain control of the runaway wagon. He endured the pain and struggled to climb back onto the seat and retrieve the reins. The frightened donkeys pulled the wagon almost a quarter of a kilometer before Mahmood finally brought them under control.

In the meantime, Lateef and Worrak stopped trying to catch the runaway horse. They could see the horse in the distance, across the open field, where it had finally settled a kilometer away. Fortunately, the lion’s presence had startled a pair of gazelles hiding in the grass, making them easier prey and distracting the lion from the other animals. Despite the distance, Lateef and Worrak agreed they needed that horse. They sacrificed their time and trudged across the field to retrieve it.

Lateef and Worrak, with the recovered horse, returned to the campsite an hour and a half later. They found everyone huddled around Mahmood. Reshma was wrapping a new splint on Mahmood’s leg.

“What happened?” Lateef asked.

Reshma gently raised Mahmood’s leg onto a small boulder to elevate it. “While the two of you were retrieving that horse, the donkeys ran away with the wagon. Mahmood was in the right place at the right time. He managed to climb on board the wagon and regain control of the donkeys. Before, Mahmood had a simple fracture. Now, he has a compound fracture.”

“What does that mean?” Lateef was not aware of the difference.

“It means it hurts a lot worse,” Mahmood snapped.

“It means, until I bandaged it, Mahmood’s leg bone was partially visible.” Reshma placed her hand on Mahmood’s shoulder to reassure him. “Your leg will take a lot longer to heal now. Unfortunately, I have nothing for the pain you will feel.”

“What else is new?”

Lateef knelt and placed his hand on Mahmood’s shoulder, too. “I am sorry, Mahmood. We are all grateful for what you did. You saved the wagon.”

“Grateful, yes. But saving the wagon, I am not so sure about that, Lateef.” Asim was at the wagon’s rear, kneeling to look beneath it. “You should look at this.”

Lateef went to the wagon’s rear, knelt, and looked in the direction Asim had pointed. The rugged ride over the rough terrain had caused the crack in the rear axle to spread across the entire axle. Feeling hopeless, Lateef shut his eyes and let out a heavy sigh to endure the setback.

“That axle will not last another kilometer,” Asim said.

Lateef stood and leaned back against the wagon. He rubbed his face, trying to think what to do about the axle. “We must lighten our load. We will have to load some items onto Malse’s cart. I think there are enough people here to carry some of it, too.”

Malse glanced at the loads on the wagon and cart. He looked at Lateef as if Lateef had suggested the impossible. “There is less room on my cart than on this damned wagon. And what do you mean, carry some of this stuff? There is no way we can carry enough to make a difference.”

“We must try, Malse. I suggest we split the heaviest items between the wagon and the cart. For everything else, we should carry what we can.”

“Lateef, you are out of your mind.”

Lateef ignored Malse’s comment. “And more of us must do much more walking, too.”

Malse sarcastically pointed to the most physically challenged among them. “Does that include Neith, Talia, and Mahmood?”

“I will walk,” Talia stepped forward. To hear the quiet and shy woman speak was always a surprise.

Reshma embraced Talia around her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“No. But I must try.”

“As must I,” added Neith.

“No, mother.” Lateef at once objected. “The ground is too unpredictable. You could stumble and fall.”

“And break something,” Mahmood added to the objection. “Believe me, you do not want that.”

“I will walk with Neith as a precaution,” Heba offered. “We can provide two more sets of hands to carry something. We must do this if we are to continue.”

Angry at everyone’s decision to carry some items, Malse began yanking several bundles of clothing from the wagon and tossing them to the ground. He instructed his sons to load the bundles onto the backs of the horse and cow as pack animals. Next, he pulled the crates of chickens and ducks from the cart to make room for water barrels. He gave each of his sons, Zayad and Worrak, a crate.

“How far must we carry these, father?” Worrak asked.

“I have no idea,” Malse nodded toward Lateef. “Ask him. But this damned flight to nowhere is so poorly planned, I doubt if he knows.”

Lateef had just finished securing a water barrel on the wagon, one of the items too heavy to carry. He tried to ignore Malse’s anger. However, due to the recent incidents involving the lion, Lateef was already frustrated. His patience was thin. “You know what, Malse? I have had just about enough of your attitude.”

“My attitude is the least of your problems. Did not that lion tell you that?”

Lateef was about to respond physically to Malse. But Heba took him by the arm and led him away calmly. She had never seen Lateef become so physically angry. “Let it be, Lateef.”

15.

WIFE OF THE MTETEZI

A group of soldiers on horseback rounded the bend in the road and rode toward the entrance gate of Panfe village. King Aysar led the procession. Before they reached the gate, they could see that the village looked peaceful.

“Where is everyone?” King Aysar asked the lieutenant riding at his side.

“They are probably honoring your curfew, Your Grace.”

“My curfew applies to the evening and nighttime hours. This is midday, lieutenant.”

The lieutenant shifted in his saddle, trying to come up with a more believable answer. “Then, somehow, the people knew we were coming. They are all in hiding.”

“No. This is something else.” King Aysar examined a vacant cottage on his left. He noticed two larger empty cottages on his right. Two animal corrals separated the two cottages. Aysar pointed at the corrals. “Look there. Even the animal corrals are empty.”

The lieutenant ordered his platoon to dismount and search the huts and cottages on foot. The soldiers spread out and entered each dwelling. King Aysar and the lieutenant continued riding along the main roads, watching as the soldiers entered the huts and cottages, then reappeared, finding no occupants.

King Aysar grew increasingly displeased by what he saw. “Panfe is one of the villages on your patrol route. Is it not, lieutenant?”

“It is, Your Grace.”

“Did you know about this?” King Aysar looked at the lieutenant. He saw the lieutenant squirming in his saddle again. “Word your lie carefully, lieutenant. Your life depends on it.”

“I knew, Your Grace. But I … I may have misinterpreted what I saw.”

“About two weeks ago, I received a report that Panfe was quiet. It was described as an exemplary village.”

“Two weeks ago, the village was quiet. But my platoon and I did not notice anything unusual.”

“Missing people and animals are not unusual to you?” King Aysar glared at the lieutenant. He halted his horse at the next cottage along the road and dismounted. He secured his horse and went inside. The lieutenant, nervous about his situation, also dismounted. He dutifully followed the king into the cottage.

The two found most of the furniture inside the cottage still in place. Everything looked normal, except no one was there.

“The occupants of this cottage left in a hurry,” King Aysar observed, noticing a dinner plate on a table. Flies, maggots, and partially eaten food remained on the plate. Roaches scurried across the surface. “Have you patrolled this village recently?”

“It may have been a few days, Your Grace.”

Aysar lifted the dinner plate and sniffed at the old food. “That dinner plate is much older than a few days.”

“There must be another explanation for that plate, Your Grace. I cannot explain it.” The lieutenant began to realize that the best way to avoid punishment was to take responsibility for his mistakes. “Maybe my last inspection of this village was not as thorough as it should have been. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Do you take me for a fool, lieutenant?” Aysar didn’t wait to hear the lieutenant’s answer. He tossed the dinner plate back onto the table and headed toward the exit of the cottage. The lieutenant followed him. When they stepped outside, King Aysar called over the platoon’s sergeant who stood nearby.

The platoon sergeant obediently ran over to the king. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Sergeant, you are now in command of this platoon. Arrest the lieutenant. Have one of your soldiers escort him back to the palace and place him in the dungeon.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

“King Aysar, Your Grace, I …” The lieutenant tried to defend himself after his failures.

The king stopped him. “Do you want to die right now, lieutenant? Be gone from me. You had better hope I am just as lenient when I return to the palace.”

Several minutes later, King Aysar and his soldiers finished searching the Panfe village. Aysar led the platoon down one last road with the sergeant now beside him. Aysar stopped, pointed at one more cottage a few meters from the roadside, and dismounted.

“Let us check this one.”

The sergeant, in keeping with his new responsibility, also dismounted. “What is so special about this cottage, Your Grace?”

“This cottage is where I found that crone.” King Aysar studied the ground layout, the empty water trough, the abandoned gardens, and the cottage’s structure. He could see how time had changed it. Still, memories flooded his mind. “That was fourteen harvests ago, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. On that day, the crone was baking her meat pies. The smell of fresh, hot pies filled the whole area.”

King Aysar and the sergeant entered the cottage. Like all the other cottages and huts, they found the place empty of occupants and a few pieces of abandoned furniture.

“No one has lived here for two weeks.” The sergeant traced his finger through a layer of dust on a table. As he did so, something else caught his eye. “Was that crone’s name Neith?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Look at this. Neith’s name and that of someone named Shakir are carved here on the table.”

Aysar rushed over to read the names. He repeated the name carved next to Neith’s. “Shakir, Shakir. … Why does that name sound familiar?”

The sergeant brushed away more of the dust. “The way it is carved here on the table, I would guess that Shakir is her mate’s name.”

“Shakir!” King Aysar suddenly recognized the name. “Of course! Shakir was the given name of the Mtetezi.”

“The Mtetezi?” The sergeant recognized the significance of this remarkable discovery. “Your Grace, you executed him over fifteen harvests ago. He lived right here.”

“He, most certainly, did. Without the mercy of the angels, I would be damned.” King Aysar could barely believe what he had just discovered. “And one harvest after I gutted his disloyal ass, I came here, to this village, searching for the little boy that was with him. I came to this cottage and found Neith and her pies. I had no idea she was the mate of the Mtetezi. Like an ignorant fool, I ordered her to come to my palace and cook for me.”

“Your Grace, that woman worked for you, day after day, knowing that you executed her mate.”

“That bitch! That conniving bitch!” King Aysar slammed his fist on the table. “She spent all that time, right under my nose, plotting revenge against me. In her attempt, she poisoned my Nafy instead. I must find her.”

“Are we to continue the search to the south as your advisors suggested?”

Aysar thought about that for a moment. He kept piecing together the fragmented information gathered during the investigation of the Mtetezi. “There is an unsubstantiated rumor that the Mtetezi came from a region south of here. The rumor also suggested he intended to return there. It’s starting to make sense to me now. Yes, summon one of my Mamba regiments from the north.”

“Only one regiment, Your Grace?”

“Those regiments are the most reliable and efficient soldiers in my army. I only need one.”

“But, Your Grace, we are pursuing an entire village, not just one old woman.”

“Then, damn it, sergeant, summon all three of the regiments. They need not waste any more time in the north anyway.”

One of the sergeant’s new duties was delivering bad news to the king. This was just one of many such moments to come. “Your Grace, summoning all the regiments may take time. They are scattered across the northern region. It will take several days to get word to them.”

“I do not care how long it takes. Now that I know Neith is the wife of the Mtetezi, I want that damned crone more than anything. No matter what it takes or how long it takes.”

16.

THIS WAS MY DESTINY

Over the following week, the fugitives traveled another 225 kilometers. Although crossing different terrains proved difficult, they faced no significant hardships. They worked together to avoid overloading the wagon, so everyone had to carry as much as they could. Even Mahmood, with his reinjured leg, occasionally walked on makeshift crutches with a moderate pack strapped to his back.

Talia, the weakest of the fugitives, sometimes walked and carried what she could. To be more helpful, she often accompanied Heba, walking arm in arm with Neith and guiding her steps.

However, exactly one week after that unlucky encounter with the lion, the fugitives faced one of the hardest challenges of their journey. It happened right after they settled in for a night’s rest. Everyone was asleep except Lateef. It was his turn to stay alert throughout the night on guard duty.

After a long day’s travel, Lateef sat resting with his back against a tree. The rest felt like a welcome relief. He enjoyed the crackling of the campfire and the chirping of crickets. The night sky was black, sprinkled with billions of stars. Malse’s dog slept peacefully nearby. The moment’s pleasure lasted until the dog suddenly lifted its head, alert to something. Lateef noticed a change as well. The crickets stopped chirping. It was such a stark shift that Lateef looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Seconds later, the dog began barking. At the same time, Lateef heard a restless commotion among the donkeys, the horse, the cow, the sheep, the caged chickens, and the ducks.

Lateef sprang to his feet. He rushed toward the corralled animals with the barking dog cautiously trailing behind him. He reached the corral just in time to see another lion dragging one of the donkeys away. Lateef ran back toward the center of camp to alert everyone.

“Reshma! Mahmood! Asim! Malse! Everyone, get up!”

Asim was the first to his feet. “What is it?”

“Another lion is attacking the animals! It has one of the donkeys.” Lateef ran to wake the others. “Heba, Talia, get up! Help mother into the wagon! Hurry!”

Seeing Mahmood struggle, Lateef and Malse hurried to assist him. After they helped him stand and handed him his crutches, Mahmood waved them off. He understood how urgent the moment was. He knew they were needed elsewhere.

Lateef ran by the campfire and grabbed the end of a burning branch, signaling for Malse to do the same. “Maybe we can run it off or hold it back with torches.”

Malse hesitated. He knew that using burning branches against a lion was a foolish idea, but he did not protest. After grabbing a burning branch, he and Lateef hurried toward the animal corral.

At that moment, Asim ran past them toward the corralled animals. He had retrieved his crossbow and arrows. “Lateef, there is more than one this time. I counted at least three or four.”

Sure enough, two more lions had moved within meters of the animal corral. Lateef and Malse watched as Asim tried to load an arrow onto the crossbow with his broken and bandaged fingers. Asim appeared confident he could load the arrow as he carefully moved toward the corral. However, Lateef and Malse saw otherwise. They saw Asim drop the arrow twice while fumbling to load it.

Lateef called out, “Asim! You are going to get yourself killed! Move back! There are too many!”

Lateef and Malse were not the only ones to see Asim struggling to load the arrow. Out of nowhere, Mahmood, on crutches, hobbled to Asim’s side. He threw the crutches aside. Standing on his good leg, he snatched the crossbow and arrows from Asim.

“Mahmood! Mahmood, no!” Lateef could see that Mahmood was in just as much danger as Asim. He tried to rush toward Mahmood, but Malse held him back.

Lateef, Malse, and nearly everyone in the camp saw a different side of Mahmood than they had before. Mahmood loaded the arrow with impressive grace. He aimed and shot one of the lions in the neck, killing it instantly. Hobbled on his uninjured leg, Mahmood went to retrieve another arrow. He quickly loaded it just as another lion prepared to pounce on Asim.

Mahmood aimed and shot the lion in its heart, saving Asim’s life. A third lion sprang from the bushes and charged toward Mahmood. By this time, Mahmood had fallen to the ground. Lying on the ground, he struggled to load another arrow. He managed to load the arrow, raise the crossbow toward the lion, and shoot. He mortally injured the lion but did not kill it. The dying lion still managed to attack Mahmood. The lion bit an enormous gash in Mahmood’s neck before it finally died.

The camp began to settle with all the lions dead or run off. Malse’s two sons tended to the disturbed animals as everyone else came from their places of refuge. Almost everyone was crying as they huddled around the gravely injured Mahmood. Both Asim and Reshma worked frantically to stop Mahmood’s neck from bleeding. With tears streaming down her face, Reshma knew she could do nothing for Mahmood. She pressed a cloth to Mahmood’s neck, trying to give him a few more seconds to live.

“Did we get all of them?” Mahmood looked up into Asim’s face.

“Yes, we did,” Asim corrected his response. “You did, but we lost one of the donkeys.”

Mahmood closed his eyes. “Well, it could have been worse.”

“Mahmood, you did a brave thing.” Asim took over from Reshma, pressing the cloth against Mahmood’s neck. A heartbreaking sadness covered Asim’s face as he cradled Mahmood in his arms. “Brave, but foolish.”

“I am pretty good at doing foolish things.” Mahmood tried to smile at his sarcasm.

Heba knelt at Mahmood’s side and touched his chest as she spoke to Reshma. “Is there anything we can do for him?”

Reshma did not answer Heba’s question. Rather than telling everyone what she knew was inevitable, she said nothing. She tossed the blood-soaked cloth aside and sat back. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

Mahmood understood Reshma’s silent response. He reached out to affectionately squeeze her hand. He chose to redirect everyone’s frame of mind. “Was anyone else hurt?”

Asim held Mahmood tighter. “Only me when I fell. But nothing like you.”

“It is all right. Please, do not worry about me.” Mahmood’s smile broadened. “The way I see it, what happened here is why King Aysar failed to execute me in his dungeon.”

“What are you talking about, Mahmood?”

“He could not kill me because this … this was my destiny. The guardian angels knew I had to come out here … to do this.”

“That is nonsense, Mahmood. Stop talking. Save your strength.”

“This was my destiny,” Mahmood repeated, his voice weaker.

Asim could tell that Mahmood was giving up. He looked down into Mahmood’s face as a tear dripped from his chin. “Old man, you saved my life. After all the sadness I caused in your life, causing Jabir to lose his life … you saved my life. I am so sorry. You must give me time to earn your forgiveness.”

Mahmood kept smiling as he reached out to grasp Asim’s arm. “I forgave you a long time ago. And you have nothing to be sorry for. … If you want to repay me, it will mean a lot to me if you could help Lateef and the others get to wherever they are going. Promise me that.”

“Yes, I promise.”

Mahmood sighed before saying his final words. “As for me, I look forward to being with Jabir and Samiah again.”

The rest of the night was sad. No one felt like talking, and no one slept. Throughout the night, everyone did what they could to prepare a final resting place for Mahmood. They buried Mahmood in a shallow, stone-covered grave. It was just before sunrise when everyone finally recovered enough to continue their journey. Malse considered this the perfect moment to approach Lateef.

“I am sorry about Mahmood,” Malse began. “What happened to him is just another sign that we do not belong out here.”

Asim overheard the comment. Feeling tired, frustrated, and bitter about Mahmood’s death, Asim snapped. “Please, do not start, Malse. Not now.”

“Malse could be right,” Lateef admitted. Feeling defeated, Lateef did not want to argue about it. He gave Asim a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to Malse. “So, what do you suggest we do about it, Malse?”

Malse knew that what he wanted to say would be difficult to express. But Lateef’s receptive attitude almost took him by surprise. “My sons and I, along with several others, have agreed. We will not be going any further. After sunrise this morning, we will begin our return to Panfe.”

“What?” Asim reacted with the attitude Malse expected. “Do not be a fool, Malse!”

“We have already decided.”

“You said several others,” Lateef still seemed calm about the situation. “How many others?”

“There are about fifteen of us.”

“We have come so far already,” Asim argued with Malse. “It will take you more than a month now to return to Panfe.”

“We understand. And it will not be easy. But we have to go back. After what happened to Mahmood, we are all willing to take the risk.”

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” Asked Lateef.

“No.” Malse felt Lateef’s calm attitude deserved some explanation. “We prefer Panfe’s safety despite King Aysar’s harsh rule.”

Asim did not fall for the explanation. “All of us left Caldifor without King Aysar’s permission. You know that son-of-a-bitch may execute you for that simple reason.”

“We expect some anger from him. But we are returning willingly. That should count for something.”

“If you want to return, I cannot stop you.” Considering the matter settled, Lateef turned and began walking away.

Before Lateef walked too far away, Malse called him back. He needed to thank Lateef for his understanding. “As a courtesy, I would like to inform you. We are taking the cart, about half of the sheep, the cow, the dog, and a few chickens and ducks with us. You may keep the horse, some of the sheep, and the rest of the fowl.”

“Thank you, Malse. I wish you and the others a safe return.”

“Lateef?” Asim struggled to understand why Lateef did not protest Malse’s foolish plan. “Lateef, if you will not talk some sense into this fool, then let me. I only need one minute to force some sense into his thick head.”

“Let them go, Asim.” Lateef continued walking away. “Maybe Panfe is where they belong.”

17.

WHEN HELP DOES NOT MATTER

Four days and three nights later, Lateef tossed and turned in the middle of the night. He was experiencing another version of his recurring nightmare. It began as it always did, with the memory of his father’s execution by King Aysar. But, as so often before, the memory grew with never-mentioned changes.

In this dream, Lateef was once again a young boy. The sounds of sorrowful moans demanded Lateef’s full attention. He opened his eyes and, as before, found himself unable to move, still tightly bound to a tree. He looked to his left and saw his father tied to a tree, already executed. He looked to his right and saw King Aysar forcing another semi-conscious, hooded person against a different tree. The moans continued as Aysar tightly secured a rope around the tree and the person. Lateef watched as Aysar yanked the hood from the person’s head. To Lateef’s growing horror, it was Neith. Lateef screamed. He struggled to free himself. He yelled at the king, demanding that he stop what he was doing.

Just like before, when everything seemed hopeless, Lateef saw the strange man high on the hillside again. The man slowly moved through the bushes and trees. When Lateef called out for help, he finally got the man’s attention. The man realized something was wrong. He started down the hillside as if he were coming to help Lateef. He got closer and closer. Lateef could nearly see his face.

Whether the man could help or not didn’t matter. It was already too late. The murderous King Aysar had already extracted his knife from his waistband. With the strange man only halfway down the hillside, Lateef knew that his and his mother’s deaths were imminent. With all his strength, he yanked against the ropes that held him.

18.

ACHIEVE YOUR DESTINY AND DIE

Lateef woke with a jolt. The terrifying nightmare, which felt so real, was finally over. It was a huge relief to realize it was only a dream, even if it had been a nightmare. Lateef sat up and rubbed the stress out of his face. He glanced at Heba, who was sleeping beside him. Luckily, his restless sleep didn’t wake her this time. But then, it occurred to Lateef that Heba wasn’t supposed to be beside him now. It was her turn to stay on guard duty overnight.

Lateef looked at the campfire. He saw Asim sitting alone and gazing into the fire. Careful not to wake Heba, Lateef rose quietly. Walking softly to avoid disturbing the other sleepers, he moved closer to the campfire and sat opposite Asim.

Asim stared so intently into the campfire flames that he did not see Lateef at first. Lateef was already sitting comfortably when Asim finally noticed him. As the one on guard duty, Asim almost cursed under his breath at his lack of vigilance.

“Some watchful guard, I am.” Asim apologized. “Lateef, why are you up at this hour?”

“My nightmare woke me again. But I should be asking you that question. I thought it was Heba’s turn to guard.”

“It was. I could not sleep either. I volunteered to take Heba’s place.” Asim sensed Lateef’s concern about his restlessness. “I have not slept soundly since Mahmood’s death.”

“It seems Mahmood’s death hit you harder than any of the rest of us.”

Asim shrugged. “I do not know if it is my guilt or Mahmood’s kindness. I owed that old man so much. I am the reason Jabir is dead. I am the reason Jabir went to that deadly rally. Jabir and I knew better. But we went anyway.”

“Mahmood forgave you for that.”

“I know.” Asim stared into the campfire again. He thought about the role he played in Mahmood’s life. “I never knew that Mahmood had accidentally killed his wife. I was not aware of all the sadness he was already living with. And then came the foolish thing I did. Getting his son killed only added to his misery.”

“That was not your fault, Asim.”

Asim disagreed. He ignored Lateef’s attempt to relieve his guilt. “On top of that, Mahmood came out here, in the middle of nowhere, and sacrificed his life to save mine.”

“Not just yours. Mahmood saved all our lives.”

“It is hard to explain.” Asim showed genuine confusion. “It is, somehow, twisted to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you suppose Mahmood thought death by the lion was his destiny?”

“I cannot explain it either.” Now, Lateef looked confused. He thought about the question, trying to find an answer that made sense. “We do not know what Mahmood’s life was really about. We do not know how fulfilling it was. We do know that he loved his son and his wife. We can only assume that loving them was his true purpose. Maybe he felt that after they were gone, there was nothing left. Why keep going? When death finally arrived, Mahmood seemed to welcome it. May we all be so lucky.”

Asim looked at Lateef with complete disbelief. “So, is that it? Do you believe that? Really? Are we supposed to go through life, achieve a single destiny, and then die when it is done? No. There must be more to it than that.”

19.

RESPECT ON DEMAND

After two weeks of tracking and covering hundreds of kilometers across various terrains, King Aysar and his platoon arrived at a nomadic settlement. From afar, the settlement appeared to be inhabited by about one hundred people living in makeshift tents. Before reaching the settlement, Aysar and his platoon easily saw that the culturally different people were not the ones they were searching for. The platoon sergeant suggested ignoring the settlement, but King Aysar couldn’t resist his selfish urge to check it out anyway. He wanted to see if there was anything of value that he or his platoon could use.

It was midmorning when Aysar and the platoon rode into the settlement. With a curious crowd watching, Aysar confidently led the platoon into the center of the settlement. They stopped their horses at a large water trough and dismounted. Without asking permission from anyone in the crowd, Aysar let his horse drink from the trough. His actions implied that the platoon’s soldiers should do the same with their horses.

A few meters beyond the trough stood a sizable tent. It was the largest tent in the settlement. A bearded man, wearing loose-fitting clothing and a ghutra on his head, stepped from the tent. He made his way through the crowd of onlookers and approached King Aysar. Somehow, he could easily tell that King Aysar was the one he should speak to.

“Please, do not take all our water,” the man said. “It is all that we have at the moment.”

King Aysar looked at the man before dipping his hands into the water trough. He splashed some refreshing water on his face and wiped it away. “I need water for my soldiers and horses.”

“So, you take it without asking? Who are you?”

King Aysar stepped to the side of his horse and extracted the Sacred Forked Scepter from a sheath. He turned to the man and approached him. Standing almost face-to-face with the man, he thumped the base of the scepter on the ground. The silence of the scepter did not deter King Aysar’s arrogant smile. “I am Aysar, King of the Caldifor Kingdom. Who are you?”

“My name is Gathii. I am the Zaeim (leader) of this settlement. We are not your subjects, King Aysar. Take the water that you need and be gone from us.” Gathii waved his hand, suggesting that King Aysar and his soldiers leave. He turned and began walking away.

King Aysar quickly caught Gathii’s shoulder, stopping him from walking. He forced the man to turn and face him again. “I do not know you, and you do not know me. You may not be my subjects. But, already, there is a problem between us.”

“A problem?”

“It is called disrespect,” King Aysar thumped the base of the scepter harder on the ground again, hoping for a hum. “I have trouble tolerating disrespect.”

“You will receive the respect you earn. And you will not get it by standing in my face and thumping that damned pole.” Gathii removed Aysar’s hand from his shoulder. “Now, please. Leave us be.”

Aysar pushed the scepter forward so that Gathii could see it. “This pole, as you called it, has been given to my ancestors and me by Nhailic, the Supreme One. It entitles me to respect on demand.”

“Respect on demand? There is no such thing.” Gathii studied the scepter from its base to the forked prongs. “I see nothing special about it.”

Angered by Gathii’s insolence and comment, King Aysar struck the Zaeim across the face, knocking him to the ground. He stepped closer to stand over him. “Maybe I can forgive your ignorance about this scepter. But I will receive the respect I want. I can always make my demand stronger.”

Gathii allowed several people from his settlement to help him up. He brushed the sand and dirt from his clothing while watching King Aysar’s soldiers. He noticed something that easily escaped King Aysar. “I can fake the same respect your soldiers are giving you. I can do it so well like them that you will never tell the difference.”

King Aysar looked at the platoon sergeant and his soldiers’ faces. For a moment, he wondered if their respect was truly genuine. But it didn’t matter. He knew how to command their respect. King Aysar struck the scepter on the ground, getting the reverence he sought. His satisfaction was broken when Gathii asked him a question.

“Is water all that you want here?”

“I am tracking a small group of migrants. There may be four or five dozen of them. I have reason to believe they may have come this way. Have you seen them?”

“We have seen no such migrants.”

“There! That was not so hard. Was it?” King Aysar smiled and climbed onto his horse. “No. You and your settlement are not my subjects. I would fix that if I were not in a hurry and already on an urgent mission. Maybe, someday soon, I will send one of my regiments back here to take you into my kingdom. Would you like that?”

“Why such a foolish question? What do you care what I like?”

Gathii’s disrespect was an irritation. King Aysar would have reacted strongly if he had not found his escapees more demanding. Aysar only grunted, turned his horse, and led the platoon away.

20.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR

By late evening that same day, King Aysar and the platoon had traveled fifty-five more kilometers. The platoon sergeant suggested stopping to set up camp after the day’s journey. However, the determined King Aysar wanted to keep going until it was dark. They pressed on for two more kilometers before they needed a break. It was fortunate they stopped when they did. Only half an hour later, Malse and the returning Panfe migrants, walking along a slightly different path, crested a ridge not far away. From a distance, the platoon easily identified the people as Panfe villagers.

The returning Panfe panicked upon seeing the Caldifor soldiers approaching. Many wanted to run when they saw King Aysar leading the intimidating charge of soldiers and horses. But they had nowhere to go. Aysar and his platoon encircled them on galloping horses. The blinding dust and the thunder of hooves blocked any chance of escape.

It took several minutes for the thundering hooves to fade. By the time the dust settled, the Panfe had regrouped. Many still trembled and cried as they looked at the danger surrounding them. The most terrifying part was King Aysar’s presence. He had dismounted. With his Sacred Forked Scepter in hand, he began walking among the gathered people, looking menacingly at each of them.

“Would you look at this?” He asked the platoon sergeant. “Is this not the saddest group of dead people you have ever seen?”

“King Aysar, please,” Malse nervously broke from the huddle. With prayerful hands clasped, he rushed toward the king. “Have mercy upon us. We beg your forgiveness.”

“It is too late for that. All of you know that. Disloyalty to the king is punishable by death.” King Aysar signaled the platoon sergeant. “Bind them. Let us get this done with and move on.”

“Your Grace,” the sergeant began as he dismounted from his horse. “We can execute them without wasting time to bind them.” The sergeant waved his hand over all the farm animals. “But it would be a greater waste to abandon all of these animals out here.”

“What are you suggesting, sergeant?”

“Allow a couple of soldiers to herd them back to Caldifor. We can use them.”

Aysar took a moment to look over the huddle of people and the farm animals. He seemed to be comparing the value of the two groups. “So be it, sergeant. Save the animals. Kill the people.”

Hearing King Aysar’s decision, Malse dropped to his knees at Aysar’s feet. He clasped his hands tightly together again, as if in prayer. Fear compelled a slightly convincing lie from his mouth. “Your Grace, we can be just as valuable to you. Please take a moment to hear our plea first. The fifteen of us are some of your most loyal subjects. Our flight from Panfe was against our will. We escaped from the others who forced us to leave Caldifor. We were trying to return to Caldifor. We beg your forgiveness. Please!”

King Aysar put his foot against Malse’s shoulder and pushed him over. He gestured toward the old man as he spoke to his sergeant. “This poor bastard sounds almost believable.”

“There may be some truth to what he is saying, Your Grace.” The sergeant waved his hand over the huddled, frightened people. “These are not all the fugitives. There should be more. And we did discover these traveling in the wrong direction, heading north toward Caldifor.”

Aysar grabbed Malse by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “Where are the others?”

“Please, do not execute us,” Malse continued to beg. “Please give us the privilege to serve you as we should.”

“I asked you a question.” Aysar pulled his knife from his waistband. “Where are the others?”

Suddenly, Malse’s youngest son, Worrak, stood up. He pointed toward the south. “Your Grace, the others are only a five- or six-day journey from here.”

“Silence!” Malse snapped at his son.

“I do not want you killed, Papa.” Worrak ignored his father. He turned to King Aysar again. “The others are traveling slowly, facing mounting hardships. They should be easy for you and your soldiers to catch.”

“Do you see, old man? That boy just saved your life.” King Aysar pushed Malse away so hard that Malse fell to the ground again. He approached his horse and prepared to mount it. “I will allow all of you to live if anyone can tell me if that old woman, Neith, is still traveling with them.”

Malse struggled to his feet. Giving King Aysar a truthful response was uncomfortable. “What do you want with her, Your Grace?”

“You want to die, old man? Tell me what I want to know.”

Malse gave his son, Worrak, a guilty glance before answering Aysar. “She is among them, Your Grace.”

Aysar mounted his horse. “Sergeant, go ahead and bind all of them anyway. And when you finish, choose a detachment to return them and the farm animals to Caldifor. Put the animals in the palace corral. Put these people in the place dungeon upon arrival.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

“The dungeon?” Worrak seemed completely confused. “You are putting us in the dungeon, Your Grace? Please allow us to return to Panfe and live freely, where we can express our sincere gratitude for serving you.”

“After what you have done? You can express your gratitude just as well in the dungeon. You had better hope the dungeon is not overcrowded already.” Aysar turned his horse and began riding away slowly. “I may have to execute some of you anyway, to make room.”

“May the angels have mercy,” Worrak did not expect this. He returned to the huddle, mumbling to himself. He did not mean for anyone to hear what he was saying. “I would rather die than be thrown into that dungeon.”

Although King Aysar had ridden a few meters away, he overheard Worrak. He turned his horse around, reached for his crossbow, loaded it, and shot Worrak in the shoulder. He watched the wounded boy fall to the ground, squirming in pain. King Aysar rode his horse closer to Worrak. “Be careful about what you ask for, boy. If you like, I can kill you now. Or would you rather have the dungeon?”

Worrak suppressed his pain and struggled to speak. “I will take the dungeon, Your Grace.”

21.

HE IS CLOSER THAN YOU REALIZE

Exactly one month after the Panfe fugitives began their escape from the Caldifor kingdom, they woke up to another typical morning. The previous day had been the most peaceful and uneventful of their journey. Over several kilometers, they crossed a beautiful, open savanna on a moderately flat plateau. At the end of that day, they decided to camp for the night at the edge of the plateau. The journey ahead wouldn’t be as scenic. It would involve a long, rough descent down a hillside to another open savanna. The fugitives reloaded the wagon shortly after sunrise and attended to their morning routines. They weren’t looking forward to that trek down the hillside. Lateef and Asim had one more task: they had to hitch Malse’s horse to the wagon to replace the donkey the lion had killed.

Just before leaving, Reshma looked back across the open savanna. The morning sunlight illuminated a lush, green landscape. Beyond a cluster of acacia trees, a flock of white cranes glided through the sky, and a small herd of wildebeests grazed on the grass. Reshma dreaded the journey ahead. She knew it would not be as smooth and enjoyable as the walk across that savanna.

Reshma was about to join the other fugitives when she noticed something strange. She squinted to get a better look at what she was observing. What she saw was so shocking that she ran to alert everyone else.

“Lateef, Asim!” Reshma reached the two men first. “Come! I want you to look at something.”

Both men followed Reshma to the spot where she had originally stood. They looked out across the savanna, but neither saw anything unusual.

“What are we looking at?” asked Asim.

Reshma pointed. “Over there, just beyond those acacia trees.”

“I do not see anything,” Lateef said, squinting as Reshma had. He finally saw what she had seen. “Oh, yeah! Is that someone on a horse?”

“It looks like a Caldifor soldier to me.” There was an increased alarm in Reshma’s voice.

Asim took several steps toward the savanna as if the minuscule approach would improve his vision. “Is that possible?”

“Whether it is possible or not, we cannot take any chances.” Lateef turned and hurried back toward the center of camp. He had to finish hitching the horse. “We need to leave now before that soldier gets in closer. Come! Let us hurry!”

Since everyone was ready to leave, gathering their things took only a few minutes. Heba was the only one who was not completely ready. She stood at the edge of the savanna, looking at the horse and its rider. Lateef called her twice. He had to go to her to see what was physically holding her back.

“Do you still see him?”

“Yes. And it is a Caldifor soldier, but something is wrong. Heba frowned, puzzled by what she saw. “What is he doing?”

Like the others before him, Lateef forced his eyes to focus. “He does not seem to be in any hurry.”

“Yes, and he is moving aimlessly.”

“Whatever he is doing, we should not waste our time trying to figure it out.” Lateef turned to leave. “Come on, Heba. We must go.”

Heba did not move. Her eyes remained locked on the approaching soldier. “Lateef, I believe that soldier is Bast!”

“What?” Lateef walked out toward the savanna, just as Asim had done. The more he studied the approaching soldier, the more he realized that Heba may be right. He turned and ran back toward the center of camp.

“What are you doing?”

Lateef did not respond to Heba. He headed straight for the horse in front of the wagon. Luckily, he and Asim hadn’t hitched it to the wagon. Lateef quickly mounted the horse and guided it toward the savanna. He finally answered Heba’s question as he galloped past her.

“If that is Bast, he seems to be hurt. I am going to get him.”

Two and a half hours later, Lateef returned to the camp with the semi-conscious Bast strapped to the back of his horse. Blood covered Bast’s side, and more trickled down the horse’s side. Lateef and Asim carefully lowered Bast from the horse. Reshma told the men to lay Bast on his back on the ground.

The movement down from the horse was enough to bring Bast back to consciousness. He opened his eyes. Despite his condition, he smiled briefly when he saw all the familiar faces around him. “Glory to all the angels, I found you.”

“He is hurt badly,” Lateef said, placing a cloth pad under Bast’s head to make him more comfortable. “His knife wound is bleeding again.”

Before helping Lateef get Bast down, Asim wondered where all the blood came from. He helped Reshma peel back Bast’s tunic to see the wound. “He got that wound almost a month ago. Why is it bleeding again?”

“Caldifor physicians sewed the wound closed,” Bast began to explain. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress some of the pain he felt. “For a couple of weeks, it was healing. I thought I was healed enough to return to duty. But a few days ago, during my journey here, a snake frightened my horse. I fell and ruptured the wound. I tried to sew it closed by myself. I suppose … I suppose I did not do a good job.”

“No, you did not. You did a terrible job. It is infected now.” Reshma completely removed Bast’s tunic as she spontaneously demanded help. “I need to clean it. Could you please get me some hot water? The rest of you search the area for an aloe plant. I need as much as you can find.”

The only one who did not respond to Reshma’s instructions was Neith. Instead, she sat on the ground at Bast’s side and sightlessly reached to touch his chest. “Bast, we thought we would never see you again.”

The smile returned to Bast’s face as he reached to cover Neith’s hand with his. “It seems the angels have other plans.”

“Why would you risk your precious life coming for us?”

“Several reasons,” Bast suppressed another surge of pain. “My days as a rebel soldier are behind me. King Aysar no longer trusts me. I had to leave Caldifor before that bastard killed me. But before I did, I learned that King Aysar intended to search regions south of the kingdom diligently. He seriously intends to recapture all of you.”

“How can anyone be so evil and vengeful?” Asim placed a bowl of hot water within Reshma’s reach. “Would he come this distance just for us?”

“Yes, he would. He is obsessed. And he is closer than you realize. Three days ago, I saw Aysar and a platoon discreetly. They captured some Panfe villagers. I thought all of you were among them at first. But they were a separate group. What happened?”

“It is a long story. Do you remember Mahmood and Malse? A lion killed Mahmood about nine days ago. After Mahmood’s death, Malse became so discouraged that he convinced many of us to return to Caldifor. The people with Malse were the ones you saw recaptured by Aysar.”

“I am sorry to learn about Mahmood. As for Malse and the others, I thought Aysar would surely execute them. But a detachment took them toward Caldifor. Aysar and the rest of his platoon seemed to be in a hurry to come this way.”

“Which is why we must keep moving,” Lateef said, squeezing Bast’s shoulder to show his gratitude. “But rest assured, we are not going anywhere until we help Reshma get you ready to travel again.”

Bast gripped Lateef’s arm. “I must warn you. The Panfe are no longer Aysar’s primary target. King Aysar desperately wants Neith. She is one of the main reasons he is desperate to capture you.”

“We will not allow any of that to happen. I guess we are less than 250 kilometers from the foothills of Kilimanjaro. Give us another week to ten days. Aysar and his soldiers will never find us.”

“I do not know, Lateef. Are you familiar with Aysar’s Mamba regiments?”

“I have heard of them. They are Aysar’s most elite soldiers.”

“Aysar sent them to search up north first. I know, without a doubt, that they will not find what they are looking for. However, my recent sighting of King Aysar suggests that he knows you have come this way. As determined as he is, he will summon those regiments this way. Nothing stops the Mamba regiments.”

22.

WE CAN GO NO FURTHER

Over the next four days, the Panfe fugitives traveled an additional 130 kilometers. More than half of that distance was down the rugged hillside from the plateau. Boulders, rocks, and narrow hillside trenches made the journey very difficult. The Panfe had to move slowly and carefully for two reasons. The first was a cracked wagon axle. Any sudden jolt or bump could worsen the crack. The Panfe did everything possible to avoid that. The second reason was concern for Bast. Because of his knife wound, Bast couldn’t walk with the others or ride a horse. Instead, Bast rode inside the wagon. He slept most of the trip, thanks to Reshma’s sedative treatments. But those same jolts and bumps down the hillside didn’t help Bast’s condition.

The Panfe cleared the rugged hillside by the morning of their third day of travel. Thanks to the blessings of all the guardian angels, none of the jolts or thumps caused additional damage to the wagon axle. Feeling immense relief, the Panfe continued across another green, grassy savanna that stretched to the horizon. Ironically, this part of their journey from Panfe Village was another relatively easy leg.

Bast slept more peacefully in the wagon during the long stretch. The gentle ride and Reshma’s constant care seemed to stabilize his condition. The infection in his knife wound was decreasing, and the swelling and inflammation appeared to be subsiding. However, Bast was still far from recovering. His fever persisted, and his mental focus fluctuated. Reshma and everyone else hoped and prayed Bast would not experience a setback.

Midmorning on the fourth day of their journey, the Panfe fugitives faced another challenge. It was one they could not overcome. They were in the middle of the open savanna. With the morning sun climbing high overhead, small herds of wildebeests, zebras, and antelopes could be seen in all directions. It seemed like an uneventful and tolerable continuation of the day until the wagon hit an unexpected bump. Seconds after the bump, everyone walking nearby heard the unmistakable, persistent creak of wood. The creaking grew louder until it suddenly snapped. The wagon came to a jarring stop, so abrupt that Heba, sitting on the wagon seat, almost fell forward.

Lateef and Asim walked near the left side of the wagon. When they heard the snap, they looked at each other. Both knew what had just happened.

“There goes the axle.” Lateef dreaded this moment. He sighed heavily before moving directly behind the wagon and stooping to look beneath it.

Asim followed Lateef. But because the wagon’s right side now sat noticeably lower than the left, he moved to the right side to see why. He saw something no one expected.

“Lateef, it is worse than you know.” Asim waited for Lateef to join him before pointing. “The wheel is broken, too. There is no way we can fix any of this.”

By now, Heba had climbed down from the wagon seat. She joined the two men, looking at the broken wheel. Because she had sat upon the wagon seat, guiding the animals that pulled the wagon. She felt it was her fault for not seeing the bump the wagon hit.

“I am sorry,” Heba said. “I should have been more careful.”

Lateef gave Heba a gentle rub on her back. “This is not your fault. You have done a wonderful job maneuvering the wagon. Your skills coming down from that plateau were exceptional.”

Heba sighed. “Just when we thought the worst was behind us, it took one bump to stop us in the most unexpected places. It does not seem fair.”

Neith had also walked alongside the wagon on the left side for the past four kilometers. Using her hand to guide herself around the wagon, she joined the others by the broken wheel. “Is there anything we can do?”

“It is not likely.” Lateef already knew there was nothing that could be done about the axle. He regretted that Malse had taken his small cart back toward Panfe with him. The extra space the cart had provided was missed more than ever now. Lateef reached out to examine the broken wagon wheel. He found three of the twelve wooden spokes completely broken. Several more spokes had splinters and cracks. The end of the axle had come loose from the wheel and fallen to the ground. “I am afraid this is it. We can go no farther.”

There was a long moment of silence. Asim was the first to accept reality and suggest the obvious. “We must, somehow, travel the rest of the way without the wagon.”

“What about Bast?” Neith tapped the side of the wagon. “And the rest of our water and supplies?”

“We must sacrifice a lot of our supplies and water,” Lateef said, walking to the wagon’s rear. He visually examined the load, trying to adjust to reality as well. He looked around at the thirty other fugitives gathering around the broken wagon. “There are enough of us here. We can still carry what is necessary. As for Bast, he will have to ride on one of the horses or the donkey.”

“I do not recommend that, Lateef.” Reshma glanced at Bast, who continued to sleep through this crisis. “Bast is in no condition to do that. Such a ride would kill him.”

“Neith reached for Lateef’s arm. “I am not going anywhere without Bast.”

“Then, I am at a loss,” Lateef threw up his hands. Feeling defeated, he sat on the wagon’s tailgate to think. After a long moment, he turned to look at Asim. “Maybe you and Malse were right.”

“Right about what?”

“Maybe this flight was never a good idea after all. Did we get this far only to become stranded in the middle of nowhere? Should we have done this?”

Asim sat next to Lateef. “You are the last person I expected to give up so easily, Lateef. I am not going to let you do it. Yes, this is a bad idea. But I still believe in Shakir’s dream. Besides, I made a promise to Mahmood. I promised him I would help you get everyone wherever we go. I intend to keep that promise.”

“I have not given up, Asim. With the blessings of all the angels, I will not allow King Aysar to catch us. But, for right now, I do not know what else to do.”

Asim stood up and scanned the faces around him. “Does anyone know exactly where we are?”

“When I was a child, my mother and I visited my late grandparents in this area,” Reshma pointed toward the west. “I think Lake Magadi is about 83 kilometers in that direction. Mount Kilimanjaro is about 100 kilometers southeast of here. We can almost see the peak from where we stand. We are almost at the foothills of Kilimanjaro. We are almost there. We must somehow keep going.”

“I agree.” With a broad smile, Asim tapped Lateef on the shoulder. “We are stranded, but thanks to Reshma, at least we are not lost.”

Heba also found Reshma’s insights encouraging. “Do you know of any villages nearby?”

“No. I am relying on a childhood memory. I do not know the area that well.”

“I had hoped one or two of us could find a local village and get help,” Heba added. “The rest of us can stay here with Bast.”

“That sounds like our only option,” Lateef said, hoping to build on Heba’s idea. “Reshma, since you are somewhat familiar with this area, do you think we could venture out and find some help?”

“Relying on childhood memory is not wise, Lateef. But yes, we can try.”

“No, Lateef,” Asim stepped between Lateef and Reshma. Both you and Reshma are needed here. Reshma is the only one capable of treating Bast and Talia. A couple of other capable individuals and I can go in search of help.”

Lateef thought about that possibility, reluctantly accepting it. “All right. That may work. But do not venture out too far. Do what you can to find help. But, for safety’s sake, try to return by nightfall.”

“Nightfall? We are in a desperate situation, Lateef. Give us sufficient time to do some good. We will take enough food and water to do a thorough search. We will return by noon tomorrow at the latest. Agreed?”

“If it will help,” Reshma began, “I can take a few moments to share everything I remember about the area with you. Hopefully, I can help you avoid getting truly lost.”

23.

SOME CAN STILL LIVE SHAKIR’S DREAM

The Panfe fugitives spent the next hour trying to recover from their inevitable problem. Reshma did her best to help Asim get acquainted with the local area. Drawing on her childhood memories, she could only offer general directions, with the ever-present peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro in the distance.

Among the thirty-five stranded individuals, Asim initially asked for two volunteers to accompany him. Twin brothers Okech and Sule, from one of the families, volunteered to go with Asim with one condition. They asked Asim to promise that they would return to their family by noon the next day. Asim assured them he would do his best to return before then. The three gathered enough food and water to last them a day and a half.

The twins climbed onto one of the horses together. Asim took the reins of the other horse. But before Asim mounted his horse, he went to the wagon and looked under the seat. His unexpected actions drew the attention of Lateef, Heba, and several others. Asim found the large meat cleaver that Heba always kept there. He examined it briefly before tucking it into a pouch on the side of the horse. Asim removed the crossbow and the bag of arrows from his shoulder.

“We will take the cleaver as a precaution.” Asim offered the crossbow and arrows to Lateef. “I am leaving these with you.”

“Why? I do not know how to use those things.”

“If those lions return, I am sure you will learn fast. I would rather you have them. You are stranded here and vulnerable to any aggressor. Please, take them.”

Reluctantly, Lateef took the crossbow and arrows. He knew his skill with the weapon was not as good as Mahmood’s. Still, he couldn’t argue with Asim’s reasoning for having them. Lateef headed to the back of the wagon to stow the crossbow and arrows in the bed. Just as he reached inside, he saw Bast struggling to sit up. Lateef jumped back, startled by Bast’s sudden movement.

Several others nearby saw Bast reach for the side of the wagon and try to lift himself. They instinctively rushed over to help. Reshma led the way, quickly climbing into the wagon and kneeling beside Bast. Concerned for Bast’s well-being, Reshma tried to push him back into a prone position.

Bast held one hand over his painful knife wound as he struggled, trying to sit up. He firmly held onto the wagon’s side with his other hand to keep his balance.

“Bast, what are you doing?” Reshma surrendered to Bast’s efforts. She braced Bast’s back, giving him added support. “Is everything all right?”

Bast sighed heavily and shook his head as if to shake loose the grogginess. He looked around at all the people staring at him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You have been in and out of consciousness since you found us four days ago. Why? What is wrong?”

“I will tell you what is wrong.” Bast finally relaxed, allowing Reshma to ease him back to his prone position. “I overheard your foolish plan to remain here while Asim seeks help.”

“What is wrong with that?” Lateef asked.

“Aysar is not waiting on anything. He is still coming. If I have been asleep or unconscious for four days, Aysar is now only a day or two away. You cannot afford to stop for any reason.”

“Bast, the wagon axle and a wheel are broken beyond repair. We cannot move. And Reshma says you could die if you get on a horse.”

“I will die anyway if I do not ride something. Cut your losses, Lateef. Forget about me and this wagon. All of you need to keep moving before it is too late.”

“Now look who is being foolish,” Neith said, moving closer to the wagon. “Bast, you know we are not leaving you.”

“Then, for your sake, I will ride a horse. I am strong enough.”

“No, you are not,” Reshma objected. “You are barely strong enough to sit upright.”

“Listen to me, all of you,” Bast sighed before speaking again. “Staying here on my account is no good for anyone. I do not know what Aysar will do with most of you. But Lateef and Neith, as the son and the wife of the late Mtetezi, Aysar wants both of you dead. He will probably execute you the moment he sees you.”

“I am not leaving you, Bast,” Neith was adamant.

“Bast is right.” Lateef tried to end the argument, “We are so close to the Kilimanjaro foothills. Everyone who can continue there should do so. Mother, if you are not leaving Bast, then neither am I. The rest of you …”

Shortly after Lateef began speaking, Heba cut him off. “You had better not say what I think you will say. Neith is not leaving Bast. That means you are not leaving Neith. That also means I am not leaving you.”

“Everybody, stop!” Asim raised his hand, “No one is listening to what Bast is saying. We should continue, and I mean all of us. Lateef, do you know what you are doing by staying? You are giving up. You and your mother, of all people, are giving up on Shakir’s dream.”

“Not all of us,” Lateef shrugged. “At least some can still live Shakir’s dream.”

“I promised Mahmood I would help get you and everyone to the foothills. I intend to honor that promise to the best of my ability.”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

Asim glanced at all the faces around him as he considered Lateef’s question. His answer depended on a question he needed to ask Reshma. He reached out to help Reshma climb down from the wagon. “Reshma, could you take the lead and get everyone to the foothills?”

“If only being familiar with the area qualifies me, then yes.”

“Good. Prepare to leave as soon as possible. Take the donkey, sheep, chickens, and ducks with you. Leave the two horses here. Neith, Heba, Bast, and I will need them later.” Asim turned to the twin brothers, who had originally planned to accompany him in seeking help. “Okech and Sule, you do not have to go with me. Stay close to your family. Go with Reshma to the foothills.”

“Do you intend to search for help on your own?” Lateef asked Asim.

“I might be able to do it faster if I go alone. Whether I find help or not, I will try to return by midday tomorrow. When I do, Lateef, you, Heba, and I will put Bast on one horse and Neith on the other. We have no choice. We will do our best to catch up with Reshma and the others, hopefully before King Aysar arrives.”

PART

TWO

24.

UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

Fifteen kilometers from the Aukmondi Valley, north of the Bonjii Forest, lies a region on the edge of Wabanga territory. The Wabanga are the strangest and most deadly people in this area. They are nomadic and highly aggressive. Their exact home remains unknown. When seen, they are always males. No one has ever seen a female Wabanga. And it is always, at most, two or three at a time. They roam the area, hunting and killing both men and animals. They do so indiscriminately, apparently for sport.

Since yesterday morning, the Aukmondi Green Warrior Tushema has been tracking signs of Wabanga as they led from the Aukmondi Valley and into the region. Like all Green Warriors, Tushema has at least one exceptional skill. His tracking skills allow him to follow even the smallest creature for several kilometers. Since yesterday morning, the Aukmondi Sentinels—also Green Warriors—have seen Wabanga ghosting around the area north of the valley. As a tracker, Tushema sees this as an opportunity to learn more about Wabanga’s origins.

Throughout the day, Tushema followed various signs through the clearing, north of the valley, nearly reaching the northern edge of the Bonjii Forest. By nightfall, Tushema found himself on the outskirts of Wabanga territory. Signs of Wabanga should have been plentiful, but, as is typical of the clever Wabanga, they had vanished. And nighttime was no time to be in Wabanga territory.

Tushema decided to build a campfire strong enough to burn all night. He knew Wabanga had an unusual aversion to fire. No Wabanga would come within fifty-five meters of a fire. As long as the fire burned, Tushema knew he would be safe. After sunrise tomorrow, he would start his fifteen-kilometer walk back to the valley.

As planned, Tushema woke to the morning sun rising over the horizon. He carefully put out the remaining embers of his campfire. As a diligent and attentive warrior, Tushema searched the area for any signs of Wabanga that he might have missed. The brief search took him to the edge of the Bonjii Forest and the start of the grassy savanna. He saw no signs of Wabanga. However, five kilometers across the savanna, he spotted a small group of people.

Tushema studied the people. Who were they? Where did they come from? He saw nothing about them that he recognized, nothing to answer any of his questions. He quickly concluded that, whoever these people were, they were stranded and needed help on the edge of Wabanga territory. He was a wise enough warrior to know that the help they truly needed was more than 15 kilometers away.

25.

IT IS A WABANGA

Fifteen kilometers away, on the south side of the Bonjii Forest, Nionu Vogama crouched by the trunk of a marula tree. He was a Royal Warrior, the youngest in the entire Aukmondi army. He was fun-loving, but he could turn serious when the moment called for it. His brilliant mind, quick wit, and several miraculous accomplishments justified his position as leader of one of the army’s most popular brigades. Nionu laid his shield beside him and reached for his water pouch. As a precaution, he kept his spear readily available.

Nionu took a drink from his water pouch, with the marula tree protectively behind him. He carefully scanned the forest around him, focusing on the clear spaces between and behind the nearby trees and bushes. Nionu looked for any hiding spots the environment might provide. Here, on the southern edge of the Bonjii Forest, members of the Wabanga tribe, known for being clever and sneaky, would be hard to spot. Usually, once you spot a Wabanga, it’s already too late to react.

Nionu heard a rustling noise behind him. He grabbed his shield, leveled his spear, and carefully peered around the tree. He relaxed when he saw the Blue Warrior, Obe Bendabe, approaching. Nionu had two regiments in his brigade. Obe was the leader of one of them.

With his shield and spear in hand, Obe crouched beside Nionu. He leaned back against the marula tree, taking advantage of its cover. “I sent my regiment back to the valley, Great Creation. I think the Wabanga are no longer in the area.”

Nionu studied a couple of branches high in the trees. He took another sip from his water pouch. “Obe, you are much too experienced to believe that.”

“But since yesterday, they have been so persistent. According to the sentinels, one of them almost penetrated the sentinel line twice last night. And we have seen no sign of any since sunrise.” Obe changed position to look up into the trees, too. “If they are still in the area and as determined as they are, they would be hunting us now.”

“They may, very well, be.” Nionu stood up. “In any case, we must ensure that none are still in the area. Let us move toward the forest’s center before we head back to the valley.”

Nionu and Obe moved between the trees and bushes. Although they searched for the clever killers, they did not need to hide from them. The real danger was not knowing when or where one might strike. The warriors understood that being out here would be enough to lure the Wabanga out.

The warriors approached a large thicket of bushes with a large tree log at its center. Nionu circled one side of the obstacle, and Obe took the other. It was not the smartest move. When searching for Wabanga, it’s always better to stay together. Both warriors knew that Wabanga was more likely to attack anyone alone.

The cluster of bushes and the log proved to be a bigger obstacle than the warriors had anticipated. Nionu and Obe moved farther apart as they maneuvered around it. Obe was only halfway around his side when he realized his mistake. He started to turn back, but decided against it. Going back would only widen the gap between the two warriors.

Obe looked through the bushes toward Nionu. He saw the Royal Warrior moving parallel to him, about fifteen meters away. The distance was closer than he thought, which was a slight relief. But then he noticed something else that made no difference. Obe saw the stalking Wabanga behind a tree, less than five meters behind Nionu.

“Great Creation! Behind you!” Obe shouted. The Blue Warrior knew he had to reach Nionu quickly to offer support. The only way was straight through the bushes and over the log. Obe charged recklessly into the bushes. He jumped onto the log to cross it, but didn’t see the slippery moss covering it. His foot slipped, and his momentum sent him tumbling. He lost both his shield and spear in the fall. After flipping once, Obe’s right ankle slammed onto a protruding rock. He nearly screamed from the sudden, intense pain.

As an experienced warrior, Obe mentally dismissed his pain. He could take care of it later. Getting to Nionu’s aid was a much higher priority. Obe forced himself to stand on his uninjured leg. As he retrieved his spear from the ground, Obe felt someone grab his shoulder. He thought it was the Wabanga at first. But then, he realized Nionu had come to his aid.

“Are you all right, Great Creation?” Nionu picked up Obe’s shield and handed it to him.

“Where did he go?” Obe hopped on one leg, turning in a circle, looking for the Wabanga.

Nionu also visually searched the surroundings. “I do not know. I never saw him.”

Obe felt frustrated by the unexpected development. “Great Sacred Spirit!” With the area relatively safe, Obe sat down on the ground. He began to massage his painful ankle.

“How bad is it?”

Obe squeezed his ankle to assess the severity of his injury. The gentle squeeze made the pain worse. “I think I broke it.”

Nionu made another visual search of the area. “At least we know now that a Wabanga is still close.”

“I am sorry, Great Creation. I should not have sent my regiment back to the valley.”

“We can always recall them.” Nionu reached out to help Obe to his feet again. “Come. Let us get you safely behind the sentry line. We can have one of the sentinels summon Kon-Shambique for you and recall your regiment.”

Obe struggled to his feet. He found a small branch and used it as a cane. For several minutes, Obe and Nionu made their way back through the forest’s southern edge toward the north rim of the valley. Both warriors remained alert, watching and listening for the Wabanga. They understood the Wabanga would keep hunting them if they stayed out here.

Hopping on one leg and using a makeshift cane was difficult for Obe. It was a slow and tiring process. Nionu and Obe were halfway to the forest’s edge when Obe stopped to rest. He leaned back against a tree. Neither warrior spoke. They needed silence. Besides seeing the Wabanga, hearing one approach was the next best way to find him. They ignored bird calls and animal sounds, listening instead for unnatural noises.

Obe finished his moment of rest. He steadied himself with his cane and prepared to resume his awkward hops through the forest. Just as he pushed away from the tree, Nionu stopped him. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

Obe fell back against the tree and focused on the sounds around him. He heard it, too. “Footsteps.”

“Yes. But the footsteps are deliberate. It is not a Wabanga.” Nionu took several steps toward where he thought the sound was coming from. The bird calls, animal noises, and tree rustling made it difficult to decide the direction. He visually searched the forest but saw nothing.

Obe came away from his resting tree and hopped closer to Nionu. He searched, too. By chance, Obe happened to look in the right direction. He pointed, “There, behind that baobab!”

Nionu turned in the direction Obe indicated. Through the trees, Nionu glimpsed a person approaching from about seventy-five meters away. A traveler strolled along a woodland path, holding a guide rope that led a donkey behind him. The donkey carried a small bundle on its back. Nionu was too far away to recognize any features of the traveler. His main concern was the traveler’s safety.

Obe was the first to notice the danger. He looked twenty meters to the left of the traveler and saw the Wabanga hidden behind another tree. He caught Nionu’s attention and whispered. “Great Creation, there, the Wabanga stalks the traveler. Do you think we can prevent the inevitable?”

Nionu studied the distance between the Wabanga and the traveler. As far as he could tell, neither of the warriors could do anything about it. “I do not see how we could even warn the traveler. If the Wabanga learns of our intent, it may prompt him to attack the traveler directly before we can act.”

“We must do something. That Poor Creation has no idea of the danger he is in.” Obe stood directly on his injured ankle to evaluate its strength. Intense pain radiated up his leg. His leg was useless. “It is up to you, Great Creation. Can you approach the traveler quietly and discreetly?”

“I must try.” Nionu crouched low and slowly moved toward the traveler. He worked his way, almost silently, between the bushes and trees. He got only a few meters before seeing something he had never seen. He stopped his quiet approach. Nionu stood erect, no longer trying to conceal himself.

The Wabanga emerged from his hiding spot. He still held his knife, but he wasn’t attacking. He walked straight toward the traveler, showing no attempt to hide himself. When the Wabanga reached within a meter of the traveler, he stopped and put his knife away. Uncharacteristically, he stood still, as if listening to the traveler.

Utterly amazed, Nionu looked back at Obe to see if he was just as confused as he was. When he glanced at the strange encounter again, the traveler appeared to be giving the Wabanga directions. Nionu was too far away to hear anything, but the traveler pointed north as he kept speaking to the Wabanga. The Wabanga calmly turned and walked away in the direction the traveler had indicated.

The danger and the urgency were gone. Nionu walked back to stand next to Obe. “Have you ever seen a Wabanga do that?”

“Even now, I question what I just saw.”

26.

AT THE MOMENT, I AM A HEALER

It took several minutes for Nionu and Obe to reach the traveler. As they neared, they saw him and the donkey standing in the middle of the path, his back to them. He was feeding handfuls of grain to the donkey from a grain bag and did not seem to hear the warriors approaching.

Nionu got his attention by speaking first. “Greetings, Great Creation.”

The traveler turned to see who spoke to him. He did not seem alarmed or surprised to see two more strangers suddenly behind him. He calmly reached into the bag for another handful of grain. “Greetings to you as well.”

An awkward silence followed. Nionu and Obe stood watching as the traveler continued to feed his donkey. The warriors finally looked at each other, puzzled by the traveler’s calm, reserved demeanor.

Nionu felt it necessary to break the silence. “Please excuse us for staring. We mean you no harm.”

“I know.” The traveler closed the grain bag. He walked to the donkey’s side to put the bag back on its back. He turned to the warriors and smiled. “I can see on your faces that you seek answers to something you do not understand.”

Nionu waved in the direction the Wabanga had gone. “Do you know that you just stood face to face with a Wabanga?”

“A Wabanga?”

“Yes,” Obe hopped one step closer. “The Wabanga are the deadliest people in this region. A Wabanga will kill you for the sport of it. Few people meet one and live to talk about it.”

The traveler smiled again as he stroked the donkey’s muzzle. “Then, it seems that Wabanga saw no sport in killing me this time. But thank you anyway for coming to help me.”

“You are new to this area.” Nionu found it fascinating that the traveler was unaware of what a Wabanga was. He studied the traveler’s unfamiliar clothing and the modest load on the donkey’s back.

“Yes. I am only passing through. I am coming from the region of Kilimanjaro on my way to the Kingdom of Caldifor.”

“Caldifor?” Obe had never heard of the place.

Nionu was vaguely aware of it. “Is that not that big, secluded domain way up north, in South Sudan?”

“It is. Many harvests ago, it was originally my home.”

“Then, Great Creation, you are going in the wrong direction.” Nionu pointed behind the traveler. “South Sudan is over 1,000 kilometers that way.”

“Yes, I know. It seems I still have a long way to go. But I understand that the valley of the Aukmondi is nearby.” The traveler continued to stroke the donkey’s muzzle affectionately. “My name is Khalid. My traveling companion here is Ramah. We hope to rest for a day or two in the valley before we move on.”

“The Aukmondi Valley is south of this forest. We are of the Aukmondi tribe.” Nionu offered a welcoming gesture with his hand. “May we be the first to welcome you and Ramah.”

“Thank you.”

Nionu and Obe turned to lead Khalid up the pathway. With a final pat on Ramah’s muzzle, Khalid reached for the guide rope and prepared to follow the warriors. That is when he noticed Obe hopping with the cane.

“What happened to you?”

Obe stopped hopping and briefly held his leg out. “It is my ankle. I think I broke it.”

“Please, may I look at it?”

“Are you a healer?”

“The places I have been, the things I have seen, and the things I have experienced have all qualified me to be many things. At this moment, I am a healer.” Khalid dropped Ramah’s guide rope and pointed to a nearby boulder. “Please, be seated.”

After Obe hopped to the boulder and eased himself down, Khalid kneeled before him. He gently took Obe’s injured ankle and examined it. “You say that you broke it?”

“The swelling and pain leave little doubt.”

Khalid gently squeezed Obe’s ankle and leg in several places. Then, he placed both his hands directly on Obe’s ankle. After a moment, he smiled. “Do not be so quick to embrace what you think is wrong.” Khalid stood up and stepped back. “There. Try it now.”

Obe eased himself up from the boulder. Anticipating more pain, he slowly put pressure on his ankle. He felt nothing. Obe put all his weight on his ankle. He still felt nothing. He smiled as he lifted his leg and wiggled his foot.

“Great Sacred Spirit! My ankle is stiff, but there is no pain.” Obe walked a few steps before turning to Khalid. “What did you do?”

“I saved you from an uncomfortable ride on Ramah’s back. The burden of her load is heavy enough.”

27.

A VERY INTRIGUING PERSON

Nionu and Obe took Khalid to the Chinchigwe Kraal, one of the largest kraals in the Aukmondi Valley, second only to the Royal Kraal. Most visitors to the Aukmondi Valley stay at the Chinchigwe Kraal, a sprawling settlement known for its welcoming atmosphere and convenient location. It is nestled between the valley’s steep, tree-covered south slope and the Aukmondi River.

Once there, Nionu continued up the south slope toward the Motobo Kraal, where he and both regiments of his brigade resided. Obe, however, remained in the Chinchigwe Kraal with Khalid. He planned to go to the Motobo Kraal later. Obe took on the task of introducing Khalid to Ameh Jobabwe, the Mfalme of the Chinchigwe people and the largest clan of the Aukmondi Tribe.

With Khalid’s donkey, Ramah, trailing behind them, Obe led Khalid across the wide central area of the kraal. Khalid was immediately struck by the warm atmosphere of the kraal as people greeted him, a stranger, with friendly smiles. Obe and Khalid found Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe near his hut at the back of the kraal. Ameh sat on his chieftain’s stool at the head of a circle of kraal elders and advisors. They were in the middle of a deep discussion. Obe apologized to them for the interruption.

Ameh picked up his two-meter walking staff from beside his stool. As an Elderly Creation, Ameh was rarely seen without it. He stood up and dismissed the elders and advisors. With a welcoming smile, he accepted Obe’s apology, explaining that they could continue the discussion later. Welcoming a visitor to the valley was much more important.

After a friendly greeting with Khalid, Ameh called over his personal kraal aide and two assistants. He instructed them to help Khalid settle into the kraal. The aide and assistants assigned Khalid a guest hut to stay in while in the valley. They herded, groomed, and fed Ramah, then helped Khalid unload and store the materials carried on Ramah’s back. Finally, the aide and assistants gave Khalid time and the necessary supplies to take a refreshing bath and change out of his travel clothes. Ameh told the aide and assistants that, once they finished with Khalid, he would personally escort him across the river to the Royal Kraal and introduce him to Ramuza Ncobba, Mfalme of the entire Aukmondi Tribe. Mfalme Ncobba would give Khalid an official welcome to the valley.

Getting Khalid settled into the valley would have taken a long time. However, the aide and assistants’ helpfulness and efficiency made the process quick. Obe spent the whole time talking with Ameh. So impressed by Khalid, Obe felt a strong need to tell Ameh everything that happened this morning in the Bonjii Forest, including the strange encounter with the Wabanga and everything that followed.

Of course, Ameh found Obe’s recount of the morning’s events captivating. He had never heard of a Wabanga behaving so friendly or harmless before. Ameh initially doubted that Nionu and Obe had truly seen a Wabanga, but Obe insisted it was one. When Obe talked about the injury to his leg and the intense pain, Ameh found the description of Khalid’s simple treatment hard to believe. Ameh and Obe agreed that when the chance arises, they must retell these miraculous stories to Kon-Shambique, the tribe’s most renowned healer and spiritual guide. They knew Kon-Shambique as an exceptionally talented healer. They suspected that even he might find these events hard to believe.

Obe became so eager to retell these events to everyone that he changed his mind about continuing up the south slope to the Motobo Kraal. He decided to accompany Ameh and Khalid to the Royal Kraal.

Just over an hour later, Ameh, Obe, and Khalid finally crossed the main bridge connecting the north and south slopes of the valley. Ameh’s usual entourage, which included the male aide and two female assistants in voluntary servitude to Ameh, followed them. The entourage always accompanied Ameh whenever he left the kraal. Everyone was heading to the Royal Kraal.

The opportunity to retell these events to Kon-Shambique arrived sooner than Ameh and Obe expected. When they stepped off the bridge, they saw Kon-Shambique a few meters away, walking with his unofficial partner, Tongda. The two approached along the north bank pathway. Kon-Shambique also held the guide ropes of an ox pulling a cart carrying a large barrel. At this hour, Ameh and Obe realized that Kon-Shambique and Tongda were delivering another barrel of Kon-Shambique’s specially brewed chai to the Royal Kraal.

When Kon-Shambique and Tongda finally reached the bridge, Kon-Shambique spoke respectfully on behalf of himself and Tongda. “Greetings, Mfalme Jobabwe.”

“Greetings to you and Tongda as well,” Ameh responded. “Obe and I were just talking about you.”

“You were? Why?”

“We would like you to meet a visitor to our valley.” Ameh stepped aside to let Khalid move forward. “This is the Great Creation, Khalid. Obe and I think you and Tongda will find him to be a very intriguing person.”

After Kon-Shambique and Tongda exchanged friendly greetings, Kon-Shambique then addressed Khalid. “So, tell me, Great Creation. Why do the Mfalme and Obe believe we will find you so fascinating?”

Obe did not give Khalid a chance to answer. He eagerly answered instead. “The Royal Warrior Nionu and I met Khalid this morning just inside the Bongii Forest. It was just after we saw him peacefully talking to a Wabanga and sending him away.”

“Talking to Wabanga? Is that possible?” Tongda asked.

“It is not only possible. Nionu and I saw him do it,” Obe continued. “And that is not all. Earlier, I had an accident and broke my ankle, or so I thought. The Great Creation, Khalid, healed my ankle after a brief examination and a gentle touch.” Obe held out his leg and wiggled his foot as if to prove his point.

Kon-Shambique and Tongda glanced down at Obe’s ankle. They exchanged brief, skeptical looks. With a smile that masked his disbelief, Kon-Shambique turned to Khalid. “Is all of this true?”

Khalid shrugged. “It is Obe’s version of the truth. I found the Wabanga disoriented, momentarily confused. I merely sent him where he needed to go.”

“I have never heard of a disoriented Wabanga,” Tongda commented.

“No, neither have I. But I suppose there is a first time for everything.” Kon-Shambique glanced at Obe’s ankle again before looking at Khalid. “As for Obe’s ankle, it was not broken?”

“No, it was not. A little pressure in the right place was enough to begin the healing.”

“I suppose.” Kon-Shambique considered the account before nodding in agreement. “Some touch-treatments are easier to believe.”

“You are a healer?” Khalid asked.

“Yes.” Kon-Shambique embraced Tongda around her waist to include her. “Both of us are.”

“But Kon-Shambique is our primary healer.” Tongda felt Kon-Shambique’s answer did not say what needed to be said. “We have no one else like him. Because of his blessed skills, we call him the Favored Tribesman.”

“The moment I first saw you, both of you, I could see you have the gift of healing.” At that moment, Khalid’s attention was drawn to the enormous barrel on the cart behind Kon-Shambique and Tongda. “So, what is this?”

“It’s only some of the best chai you will ever drink.” Ameh lifted a wooden ladle hanging on the side of the barrel. Before dipping the ladle into the barrel, he asked Kon-Shambique’s permission, “May I?”

“Of course, Mfalme.”

Ameh dipped a ladle full and offered it to Khalid. “In addition to healing the sick, the brewing of this chai is another of Kon-Shambique’s unique gifts.”

Khalid took a small sip and savored the taste. He smiled and took another sip. “Oh, this is good. It has a taste that demands another.”

“That taste is only the beginning, Great Creation,” Ameh added. This chai is famous throughout the tribe for its strong effects on mind, body, and spirit. It makes you feel good. It rivals the banana beer everyone loves to drink.”

Obe took the ladle from Khalid. He impulsively started to dip it into the barrel, but thought better of it. He did not enjoy the privileges of a Mfalme. He hung the ladle back on the side of the barrel. “This whole barrel will be gone moments after we roll it into the Royal Kraal.”

“It is truly delicious,” said Khalid before turning to Kon-Shambique. “So, if it is so good and in such demand, why did you make only one barrel?”

“The brewing process is lengthy and complex. I can only brew one barrel at a time and only in my kraal.”

“Kon-Shambique has shared his recipe and brewing process with others,” Tongda explained. “But no one can get it right.”

“No. Not even close,” Obe sighed. “I have tried many times.”

“Come,” Ameh prompted everyone to continue up the pathway toward the Royal Kraal. “Let us get it inside. Mfalme Ncobba likes to drink some after his breakfast before it is gone.”

Ameh led the way up the path. Kon-Shambique walked beside him, holding the guide rope to the ox and cart. Obe, Tongda, and Khalid followed behind the cart as Ameh’s entourage trailed. As Khalid turned to move up the path, a golden flash high on the south slope caught his eye. He glanced back across the Aukmondi River and up through the trees on the slope. He paused briefly to observe what he was seeing.

“Are those doors of gold that I see up there?”

Tongda looked up at the doors as well. “Yes, Great Creation. They are the doors to our Sacred Temple.”

The brilliant reflection of the midmorning sun made it hard for Khalid to turn away. “I could tell it is a special place without knowing what I was looking at.”

“You are welcome to visit it whenever you would like.”

“Thank you, Tongda. It is something I must do before my visit here is finished.”

28.

THE GREATEST CHALLENGE OF MY LIFE

Khalid, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, Obe, Ameh, and Ameh’s entourage entered the Royal Kraal and began the long walk across the celebration area. The celebration area is the largest, most open, treeless space in the valley. Many Aukmondi people spend their evenings there, socializing and enjoying each other’s company. They call this time of day and the experiences there the Daily Celebration of Life. Nearly 800 meters long, the celebration area takes about ten to fifteen minutes to cross to reach the back of the kraal, where the Ncobba family lives.

Ameh, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Obe were familiar with the area’s daily routines, while Khalid was experiencing them for the first time. Only a few structures dotted the landscape, and Khalid was impressed by the openness. In every direction, he saw people cleaning up after yesterday’s Celebration of Life and preparing for the next one.

At the back of the celebration area were four large huts belonging to the Ncobbas. The huts were located in a cove facing the celebration site. One of the huts belonged to the Mfalme, Ramuza Ncobba. Three additional large huts were for each of his three wives, Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi. These huts needed to be spacious because Ramuza and his wives had ten children: nine daughters and one son, ranging in age from ten to eighteen harvests. Each child lived in a hut with their mother.

Directly in front of the huts and the cove stood the royal dais. It was a canopy-covered, low-level platform where only the royal family could sit, socialize with the people, and enjoy the events unfolding in the celebration area. The only exception to the rule about who could sit on the dais was Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe. As a Mfalme, he had a reserved spot on the dais.

By the time Ameh, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, Obe, and Khalid reached the royal dais, a small crowd had already gathered behind them. Many in the celebration area had stopped what they were doing, mostly out of curiosity about Khalid, who was already seen as an uncommon visitor to the kraal.

Mfalme Ramuza Ncobba and the royal family were already waiting at the royal dais, where they welcomed everyone. Ameh stepped onto the dais and took his reserved seat. Helpful royal family aides assisted Kon-Shambique in unloading the chai barrel and placing it, as always, near the edge of the dais. Other aides made everyone else comfortable on the ground before the dais while Ameh completed a series of greetings between the entire royal family and Khalid.

“Mfalme Jobabwe tells me that you are a healer,” Ramuza began, seeking to learn more about Khalid.

“I can heal, Mfalme. But if you must label me, I am, for the most part, a teacher. I have spent most of my life traveling to various places and learning from different people. It has been, and always will be, a most enjoyable experience. There is but one thing I enjoy more.”

“And what is that?” Kon-Shambique took the liberty of helping Ramuza learn who Khalid was. Before he sat down, he filled a small gourd of chai and offered it to Khalid.

Khalid accepted the chai with a smile and a nod of thanks. “I enjoy sharing the benefits of my experiences with the people I meet. As healing is your calling, Kon-Shambique, sharing the benefits of what I have learned is my calling.”

“I understand you were returning home to the Kingdom of Caldifor?” Ramuza asked.

“Yes, Mfalme. It was my home. But it has been about two and a half decades since I last lived there.”

“Two and a half decades? After such a long time away, why return now?”

“Time and changing circumstances demand that I head in that direction.” Khalid took a sip of his chai as he considered why he was returning home. “Back when I was a child, my parents fled the kingdom. The tyranny of King Aysar the Conqueror was unbearable, and living conditions were poor. I have recently learned that conditions are much worse now. Since it was my home and the home of the people I love, I hope to use what I have learned to make a positive difference.”

“Your intention is noble, Great Creation,” Ameh had to comment. All the things Ameh had recently learned about Khalid impressed him. Khalid’s altruistic reason for returning home impressed him more. “I wish you success.”

“Thank you, Mfalme Jobabwe.”

Ramuza thought about what Khalid just said. “You called King Aysar the conqueror. Why?”

“Because that is what he does. He is a powerful man with an insecure heart and a conservative mind, unable to see beyond his fears. He must control everything he does not understand. He keeps expanding his kingdom by taking villages, tribes, and isolated groups wherever and whenever he can. Once he captures a village or settlement and its people, he never releases them. He and his army maintain an unshakable grip on everyone and everything. He has been doing this for as long as I can remember, and he continues to rule today.”

“Has no one attempted to stop him?”

“Yes, many times. Rebels from rival factions within the kingdom have tried to overthrow him. They have employed every method imaginable, from diplomacy to assassination attempts. Nothing has succeeded. King Aysar has skillfully suppressed every attempt, eliminated each faction, and executed anyone who opposes him.”

“He sounds to be quite formidable.”

“He is, Mfalme. I understand a new rebel faction has formed. It is young, but perhaps the most powerful and persistent ever. It has not yet managed to overthrow him, but I believe it will succeed eventually.”

“Such conditions suggest that the Kingdom of Caldifor will continue to experience increased civil unrest. If that young rebel faction grows strong enough, Caldifor will experience a civil war.”

“It is one of the reasons I am going to Caldifor. I hope to mediate between the king and all rebel factions. If nothing else, I hope to restore peace. It can diminish the king’s senseless executions, possibly prevent a civil war, and save hundreds of lives.”

Kon-Shambique shook his head with doubt. “Khalid, Great Creation. Do you genuinely know what you are walking into?”

“I do.” Khalid looked down into his empty gourd of chai. His thoughts were not encouraging. “I am about to face the greatest challenge of my life.”

“Great Creation,” Ramuza needed to tell Khalid something obvious. “Based on what you just told us, King Aysar has always ruled that kingdom by not tolerating anyone or anything that threatens his sovereignty. I do not have to tell you. He will only see you as another threat.”

“I know, Mfalme.” Khalid looked up into Ramuza’s eyes. “Can you suggest an alternative approach? I will welcome any advice you may offer.”

“Only that you proceed with the greatest caution,” Ramuza said. “I regret that I cannot suggest anything better.”

“I will endeavor to do so, Mfalme Ncobba.”

Kharaambi was one of Ramuza’s wives and the leader of the Aukmondi Army. Her thoughts supporting Khalid were tactical. “How much do you know about that new rebel faction you mentioned?”

Khalid shrugged before answering Kharaambi. “I only know that its strength lies in its secrecy. No one knows anything else about it: its location, its strategy, its organization, or any of its members.”

“And what about King Aysar, the conqueror? Other than the obvious, what do you know of his plans?”

“As well-known as he is, Kharaambi, I know less about him. My parents and I fled the kingdom shortly after my fifth harvest. That was the last time I had any firsthand exposure to King Aysar’s misdeeds. My understanding of him is based solely on two and a half decades of rumors and horror stories I have heard.”

“Rumors and horror stories?” Kon-Shambique’s curiosity piqued again. “Like what?”

“I prefer not to perpetuate rumors.” Khalid was silent for a moment. He was about to leave his response at that, but he changed his mind. “I suppose the most renowned horror story may be one of truth.”

“Please, continue.”

“About thirty-three or thirty-four harvests ago, King Aysar killed a beloved kingdom prophet. She lived in the village of Panfe in Caldifor. Her name was Subi. The villagers and the entire kingdom called her the Oracle of Panfe.”

29.

A PROPHECY TRUE TO THIS DAY

“The Oracle of Panfe?” The title intrigued Kon-Shambique. “She sounds like an interesting person already.”

“She was. I understand Subi was one of the sweetest and kindest people you could ever want to know. Many loved her and genuinely believed in her legendary prophetic ability. Of course, a few did not, including King Aysar, who thought she was a fraud.”

“Did King Aysar kill her because he felt she was a fraud?”

“No. King Aysar killed the Oracle after she made a couple of prophecies he did not like.” Khalid looked up at Ramuza. “And you are right, Mfalme Ncobba. Even though King Aysar did not believe in Subi’s ability, he saw these prophecies threatening his sovereignty.”

“Do you remember the prophecies?” Kon-Shambique asked.

“I will always remember them. My parents retold them to me hundreds of times,” Khalid thought briefly, considering how he would present what he knew. “Subi called the first of these prophecies ‘The New Caldifor Monarch.’ She predicted that a young woman from Panfe, named Oula, would become pregnant. According to that prophecy, Olukse, the Caldifor Guardian Angel of Fertility, Motherhood, and New Birth, would visit Oula seven weeks after her conception. Olukse would place a living soul into Oula’s unborn child during that visit. After birth, that child would grow up to be Caldifor’s new monarch. When the time comes, everyone will instantly recognize the new ruler.”

“Whether King Aysar believed the prophecy or not, I can understand why he would be upset.”

“Upset,” Khalid almost laughed at Kon-Shambique’s understatement. “He was enraged. When he learned of the prophecy, he calmly waited those seven weeks until the arrival of the angel, Olukse. According to the prophecy, after Olukse planted the living soul into the unborn child, King Aysar poisoned Oula, causing her to miscarry and die. He aborted Oula’s baby. And then, according to some gruesome details of the prophecy, Aysar fed their bodies to his crocodiles.”

Almost everyone listening to Khalid reacted with horror to what they heard. Ramuza’s first wife, Rwua, the mother of his only son, closed her eyes. She turned her head away as if to endure her revulsion.

“Great Sacred Spirit! What an Evil Creation!” Ameh was one of the few who reacted aloud. “So, with the death of Oula and her baby, that prophecy about the birth of a new monarch turned out to be untrue?”

“So, it would seem, Mfalme Jobabwe.” Khalid raised a finger to emphasize a new point. “But that is not the prophecy that made the Oracle of Panfe legendary. Before King Aysar killed the Oracle, she delivered the second of her two famous prophecies. With her last breath, she told King Aysar that he would be the last of his bloodline. She prophesied that King Aysar would have many wives and consorts over the next three decades. He would impregnate each of them. He would impregnate some of them more than once. But all his children, every one of them, would be stillborn. That prophecy remains true to this day.”

“All of them? Stillborn?” Olabisi, Ramuza’s third wife, was the most fertile of all his wives. She is the mother of four of Ramuza’s children, including two sets of twin girls. She found three decades of stillbirths unbelievable.

30.

LET US ENJOY IT WHILE WE CAN

Rwuva felt so disgusted by what she had just heard about King Aysar that she needed to do more than close her eyes or turn her head away. She stood up from her seat. One of the female aides asked Rwuva if she needed anything or if she could help her. At that moment, Rwuva did not know what she needed. She politely declined the aide’s offer to help and thanked her.

“I only want to refill my gourd of chai. But I will get it myself.” Rwuva pretended like another gourd of chai was the reason she got up. She stepped down from the dais and approached the barrel of chai. Just as she dipped the ladle into the barrel, she frowned. She saw something that did not make sense to her. “This is strange.”

Rwuva’s comment drew everyone’s attention and Ramuza’s concern. “What is it, Sacred Woman?”

“No one is drinking Kon-Shambique’s chai,” Rwuva stared into a nearly full barrel. She looked at Kon-Shambique, puzzled. “Great Creation, did you do something different this time?”

“No. I brewed it exactly as I always do.”

Tongda was one of the people sitting closest to the chai barrel. Rwuva’s observation and question didn’t make any sense to her. “I have seen people dipping into the barrel since it arrived. People are drinking the chai, Sacred Woman. I am surprised it is not gone already.”

“Well, it is not. How is this possible?” Rwuva made a shallow dip into the barrel and retrieved a full ladle.

Everyone who watched Rwuva’s demonstration of the impossible reacted with amazement and confusion. Khalid was one of the few who didn’t bother to look at Rwuva. He seemed to know already what was happening. He only looked down at the gourd of chai in his hands. He smiled before taking a sip. “I seem to be unable to get enough.”

Suddenly, all the attention shifted from Rwuva to Khalid. Everyone started to see Khalid differently. Ameh and the Blue Warrior, Obe, both broke their gaze from Khalid at the same time to look at each other. After their long talk in the Chinchigwe Kraal earlier, their looks at each other seemed to confirm their suspicions about Khalid. There was something very special about him.

“Great Creation,” Ameh got Khalid’s attention. He had to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

Khalid did not answer Ameh’s question at once. He continued to smile and took another sip of his chai. “Let us give due credit to your Favored Tribesman. His ability to brew such good chai may be a better gift than we realize. Let us enjoy it while we can.”

31.

THEY WORE CLOTHING SIMILAR TO HIS

The introduction of Khalid to the royal family ended. The crowd in front of the royal dais and around Khalid began to disperse. The warriors Kharaambi and Obe stood by the miraculously refilled barrel of chai, refilling their gourds, when Obe glanced across the celebration area. Through the crowd of departing people, he saw three warriors approaching. All three walked purposefully toward the dais.

In the center, the Royal Warrior Nionu walked. After Obe and Nionu scouted for Wabanga in the Bonjii Forest this morning, Nionu continued up the south slope. He went to the Motobo kraal to meet with the Blue Warrior, Dabete, the leader of Nionu’s second regiment. Nionu and Dabete had come down from the south slope and were approaching the royal dais. Tushema, a Green Warrior in Dabete’s regiment, walked with them.

“The Green Warrior, Tushema, has returned,” Obe told Kharaambi.

“Returned from where?”

Since yesterday morning, sentinels have noticed an increase in Wabanga sightings on this side of the Bonjii Forest. Nionu suspected they were coming from someplace north of the valley. He had the Blue Warrior, Dabete, send Tushema out to conduct a thorough scouting operation.

Kharaambi was about to take a sip from her gourd, but hesitated. She gave Obe a questionable look. “Dabete allowed a warrior to go out alone to search for Wabanga. Was that wise?”

“You and I know that Tushema is an amazing warrior, Sacred Woman. He is one of only a few warriors who could do that safely.”

Kharaambi finally sipped her chai as she looked at the approaching warriors. “I can tell by their approach that Tushema must have found something worth reporting.”

As the three approaching warriors neared the royal dais, the rest of the dispersing crowd respectfully parted to allow them through. As the ranking warrior, Nionu addressed the tribal leaders on the dais.

“Good morning, Mfalme Ncobba and Mfalme Jobabwe.”

“Good morning, Great Creation.” Ramuza returned Nionu’s greeting, speaking on behalf of himself and Ameh. He had seen the three warriors coming across the celebration area. He could tell that they came with a purpose, too. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, Mfalme. It is something you should be aware of.” Nionu stepped aside to allow Tushema to step forward.

“I went on a scouting mission early yesterday morning, searching for Wabanga, Mfalme,” Tushema explained. “Before returning to the valley, I saw a strange group of people about fifteen kilometers away, on the north side of the Bonjii Forest.”

“You went out over fifteen kilometers?” Kharaambi considered the distance unusual, even when searching for Wabanga. “Why so far?”

“I saw definite signs of Wabanga, Sacred Woman. The signs strongly suggested that many Wabanga have recently massed in the area. I followed the signs until … until I saw no more. Before I realized it, I had gone over fifteen kilometers. Despite all I saw, the signs led me to dead ends.”

“That is typical of Wabanga behavior,” Obe commented.

Since Ramuza became Mfalme of the Aukmondi Tribe, one of his greatest fears has been an overwhelming threat from outside the valley. He seldom discussed this fear with anyone, including the leader of his army, the Gray Warrior Kharaambi. After hearing Tushema’s report, his first thought was naturally the safety of the valley.

“Great Creation,” Ramuza addressed Tushema, “The strange people you saw, how large a group were they?”

“From a discrete distance, I counted thirty to thirty-five of them, Mfalme.”

“That is not so many. Tell me, were you close enough to perceive any threat from these people? Should we be concerned?”

“No, Mfalme. They appeared peaceful. I observed that they had been traveling for many days, possibly weeks. However, they have stopped and are camping dangerously in the open sun and within Wabanga territory. I believe, Mfalme, that some of them cannot go on. I watched them long enough to realize that one or two may be hurt and need medical help.”

“Did you see anything that would help determine who these people are or where they are from?”

“No, Mfalme. I saw nothing about them that I recognized. But…,” Tushema paused. He glanced at the curious crowd gathering around him. He walked from one side of the crowd to the other. He stopped and pointed his spear at Khalid. “Many of the people wore clothing similar to his.”

A wave of restless voices came from the crowd as everyone looked toward Khalid again. Ramuza stood up, stepped forward to the edge of the dais, and addressed Khalid. “Great Creation, do you know anything about this?”

“From your warrior’s report, I only know what you know, Mfalme Ncobba.” Khalid stepped closer to the dais. “But, if those people wore clothing like mine, I could assume they were people from the Kingdom of Caldifor.”

“This far south?” Kharaambi was having another misgiving about the distance traveled.

Khalid had only one explanation. “Unrest in the kingdom may have driven them this far.”

“Unrest? Desperation is more likely.”

“Whatever the reason,” Khalid began his appeal to Kharaambi, but turned toward Ramuza. “It is also your warrior’s opinion that those people may need help soon.”

“I find this interesting,” Ameh forced himself up using the two-meter wooden walking staff he always carried. He came forward and leaned on the staff. “First, the Great Creation, Khalid interrupts his journey from the Kilimanjaro area to the Caldifor Kingdom. He wants a couple of days of rest in our valley. On the same day, the Green Warrior, Tushema, finds thirty to thirty-five people, possibly from Caldifor, stranded fifteen kilometers away, beyond the Bonjii Forest. Does all of this seem strange?”

“Mfalme?” Kon-Shambique sensed what Ameh was feeling. “Is there some reason you find this development suspicious?”

“No,” Ameh thought for a moment. He did not want to describe what he felt as suspicious. “It is just too coincidental.”

“I must agree,” said Ramuza. “Such an occurrence is unlikely.”

Kon-Shambique also rose to his feet. Besides being the tribe’s main healer, he was one of its spiritual leaders. He used this moment to steer everyone in the right direction. “We might see this as unlikely or be skeptical. Such views will only cause mistrust and suspicion. Or we can accept this as part of the Supreme Spirit’s grand plan, even if we don’t yet know all Her details. What we do know for sure is that people who need help seem stranded and are within our reach.” Kon-Shambique stepped closer to the dais. “Mfalme Ncobba, I suggest approaching this step by step. For now, let’s do what we know is right.”

Ramuza has a council of advisors, a select group of individuals throughout the tribe who assist him in making the toughest decisions. Most of them were senior elders from the Aukmondi kraals, but several others were not kraal elders. Kon-Shambique was one of them and a core member of that council. Sometimes, his sharp insight and advice are all that is needed. Ramuza trusted Kon-Shambique’s advice.

Ramuza turned decisively to the Gray Warrior. “Kharaambi, select a regiment. Send it out to intercept these people. Have that regiment give them whatever help they need, but be prepared for any eventuality.”

“So be it, Mfalme.”

“Thank you, Mfalme Ncobba.” Khalid bowed to show his gratitude. “Your thoughtfulness and kindness are greatly appreciated.” Khalid quickly turned to Kharaambi before she walked away. “Kharaambi, with your permission, may I go with the regiment you send out?”

“If those people are your people, you have a right to do so, Great Creation. Can you be ready to leave within the hour?”

“I will be ready.”

32.

DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN

Earlier that morning, just after sunrise, the stranded Panfe finally began to follow Bast’s advice. Thirty of them, led by Reshma, continued toward the foothills of Kilimanjaro. They took one of the horses, the only remaining donkey, a cow, a few chickens, ducks, and sheep, along with all the water and supplies they could carry. They left Lateef, Heba, Neith, and Bast with the broken wagon.

At that same time, Asim took the other horse and headed in the opposite direction toward Lake Magadi. He went in search of the help that he, Lateef, Heba, Neith, and Bast needed. Based on Reshma’s childhood memory, Asim hoped to find at least one helpful village near the lake.

Throughout most of the day, Asim traveled several kilometers. He crossed different terrains, from open fields to dense forests. He saw a variety of wildlife, including elephants, zebras, giraffes, wildebeests, and lions. He saw no people. But the farther he went, the more he realized someone was following him. At first, he thought the follower might be a good sign, perhaps offering a chance to ask for help. However, the shadowy figure, whom Asim never saw directly, began to seem increasingly threatening. Asim never discovered that the figure was a Wabanga. Still, he started to fear for his safety. He seriously considered whether to keep going or turn back. It also occurred to him that Lateef, Heba, Neith, and Bast might be in danger as well. His intuition warned him that something tragic could happen before he found help. Asim decided not to go any further. He turned around.

It was already after sunset when Asim finally reached the broken wagon. He could see it in the distance, standing in the middle of the open savanna. From afar, he also noticed a sizable group of unfamiliar warriors moving toward the wagon. Asim didn’t know if they were peaceful or hostile. Since he had been stalked all day by that shadowy figure, he quickly assumed the worst. Lateef, Heba, Neith, and Bast might need help. Asim urged his horse into a strong gallop toward the wagon.

Fortunately, the approaching warriors were still half a kilometer away when Asim finally reached the wagon and the four stranded. Asim’s quick approach and warning shouts across the savanna had already caused Lateef, Heba, and Neith to panic. Lateef and Heba hurriedly helped Neith climb into the wagon to take cover beside Bast. Heba then moved to hide on the other side of the wagon. As Asim brought his galloping horse to a stop, Lateef threw him the bow and arrows. He knew that Asim could handle the weapon better despite his injured hand. In return, Asim handed the meat cleaver to the now defenseless Lateef. The two then turned and prepared to face the approaching warriors.

Moments later, around 150 people quietly approached the wagon and the stranded individuals. The group mainly consisted of Nionu and warriors from his Dabete Ehkili regiment, with Kon-Shambique and Khalid also present. Leading the assembly was the distinguished Gray Warrior, Kharaambi.

Kharaambi could see Asim standing ready with the crossbow, although he held the crossbow with a bandaged hand. She saw Lateef holding the meat cleaver in a way that told her he meant to use it as a weapon. Kharaambi held a clenched fist up. It was a signal telling everyone behind her to stop walking. Kharaambi continued walking slowly forward. She held both hands open toward Lateef and Asim, as if to show non-aggression. “We mean you no harm.”

“Who are you?” Lateef asked nervously.

“My name is Kharaambi Nyoka Ncobba.”

“What do you want?”

“We come in peace. We are Aukmondi. Our valley and tribe are nearby. When we learned about your presence and situation here, we came to offer any help you might need.”

Lateef and Asim exchanged a glance. Would such a group of armed warriors suddenly emerge and offer help like this? Lateef and Asim were still reluctant to lower their weapons.

Khalid stood directly behind Kharaambi. He obeyed Kharaambi’s signal to stop walking when she gave it. But when he saw hesitation on the faces of Lateef and Asim, he stepped around Kharaambi. He gently placed a hand on Kharaambi’s shoulder to show he meant no disrespect by stepping in front of her. He made a sweeping gesture toward the warriors behind him as he spoke to Lateef and Asim. “You may trust these people. Please suspend your fears.”

Lateef and Asim looked at each other again. Something in Khalid’s voice sounded reassuring. Both men slowly lowered their weapons. Lateef gave the meat cleaver to Asim, suggesting that Asim put it away, along with the crossbow and arrows.

“Are you sure?” Asim asked. His fear of imminent danger had not entirely subsided.

“No. I am not sure,” Lateef said. “But I feel that it is safe. Let Heba and Neith know that they can come out of hiding.”

Asim did not have to relay Lateef’s message. Heba overheard him and came from the other side of the wagon. She helped Neith climb out of the wagon.

In the meantime, Lateef took a step closer to Khalid. He had heard something more than reassurance in Khalid’s voice. He studied Khalid’s face. “Your accent, it sounds…”

“Yes,” Khalid smiled. He knew what Lateef was about to say. “As you suspect, I am originally from Caldifor.” Before Lateef could respond to Khalid’s revelation, Heba and Neith had come to stand next to him. To everyone’s surprise, Khalid turned to Neith. After so many harvests, time had not hidden the unique features of her face. Khalid had no doubts about who she was. He spoke her name, “Greetings, Neith.”

Hearing her name spoken by the stranger was unexpected for Neith and everyone else. “Do I know you?”

“Yes, you do. Many harvests have come and gone since you last saw me. I was just a child. I guess only your memories will help you recognize me now. You used to call me the little village beurit (mouse).”

The childish name brought instant clarity to Neith’s memory. Although blind, Neith attempted to look up into Khalid’s face. “Khalid? Of the family, Tahir? Is that you?”

“Yes, it is me. How have you been, Neith?”

“Blessings overshadow most misfortunes. As you can see, my sight is not what it once was. But under the circumstances, I am well.”

“That is good to hear. I pray that greater blessings are yet to come. It is great to see you again. And Shakir? How is he?”

Neith placed her hand over her heart, “I am sorry. Shakir is no longer with us. We lost him fifteen harvests ago.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I remember him as an amazing man.” Khalid took the liberty and reached for Neith’s hand. “Did I hear you say we?”

“Yes,” Neith reached out sightlessly for Lateef, vaguely aware that he stood beside her.

“I am here, Mother.” Lateef put his arm around Neith’s shoulder. “How do you know this man? Can we trust him?”

If this man has the same heart he had as a child, then yes. We can trust him.” Neith reached out to touch Khalid’s chest. “Khalid, this is my son, Lateef.”

“Greetings, Lateef.”

“Where have you been all this time, Khalid?” Neith wanted to know. “You and your family disappeared from Panfe almost three harvests before Lateef was born.”

“Like Shakir, my parents have also moved on to the angelic realm. As for me, I have been to many places, too many to name here. But few are as important as what brings me here and now. I am here with the Aukmondi. They are wonderful people and are here to help. Feel free to tell them everything you need.”

“The guardian angels have sent you and the Aukmondi at a very fitting time,” Lateef responded. He led Khalid, Kharaambi, and some warriors toward the wagon. “Our travel wagon broke down. We can go no further with it.”

Kharaambi only briefly looked at the broken wagon. She made a sweeping glance at the entire camp area. “Our scout warrior reported that at least thirty of you are here. Where is everyone else?”

“For survival’s sake, they continued our journey ahead of us. Because King Aysar and his soldiers are pursuing us, we thought it best that they continue without us.”

“King Aysar?” Kharaambi turned to Khalid. “The king you told us about?”

“Yes. He is the same.”

It pleased Lateef that Khalid knew enough about King Aysar. It told him that he did not have to reveal the severity of their situation to Kharaambi and the Aukmondi. “We had hoped to reach a place where King Aysar would never find us. However, we recently learned that he is still coming and is closer. We sent the others ahead, hoping some of us would get away. To ensure their success, we sent most of our food, water, and supplies with them. The five of us are the only ones stranded here.”

“How long ago did the others leave?” Kharaambi asked.

“They left this morning, about seven hours ago.”

Hearing this, the Royal Warrior Nionu approached Kharaambi. “Sacred Woman, that timing would put them only twenty-five to thirty kilometers away. I can send a detachment to catch them and offer them help.”

“That is a good idea,” Kharaambi said.

Hearing this, Asim stepped forward. “There may be a small problem with that.”

“What might that be, Great Creation?”

“They do not know you.” Asim waved his hand toward Nionu’s warriors. When we first saw all your warriors crossing the savanna, we thought our lives were in danger. Reshma and the others do not know you and probably will not initially trust you. They may not recognize your detachment as friendly.”

“Do we look that frightening to you?” Nionu asked teasingly.

“Yes, you do.” Asim hesitated to tell Nionu about the panic everyone experienced earlier. “If you do not mind, I would like to go with your detachment to reassure Reshma and the others.”

“So be it,” Nionu smiled. “How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“I am ready now.”

After Nionu handed Asim over to one of his warriors, Kharaambi took another sweeping glance at the area. She visually counted Neith, Heba, and Asim, who was standing behind Lateef. Her sharp mind immediately spotted a discrepancy as she turned to Lateef. “Great Creation, you said there were five of you stranded here. I see only four.”

Lateef led Kharaambi and Khalid to the rear of the wagon. From a better vantage point, he showed them a man lying in the wagon bed beneath a blanket, only his head protruding. The man was asleep or unconscious. Lateef peeled back the blanket to give the two a better view.

Khalid recognized what he saw instantly: “A Caldifor soldier.”

“He is a mlinzi,” Lateef corrected Khalid.

“Mlinzi?”

“Yes. That is the current term for a Caldifor palace guard.”

“A palace guard? I understand that palace guards work closer to the king than most soldiers.”

“They do. But things are not as they appear. This soldier’s name is Bast. He is a dear friend who has often risked his life for us. He is severely injured, but we have done all that we can for him.”

Without asking, Khalid climbed into the back of the wagon. He gently pressed his hand to Bast’s forehead to check for a fever. Then, he placed two fingers on Bast’s neck to feel his pulse. At the same time, the Favored Tribesman, Kon-Shambique, stood quietly among Nionu’s warriors. Since arriving, he hadn’t seen anyone who needed medical help. But after hearing that someone was injured, he stepped away from the warriors and hurried to the rear of the wagon.

“I am one of the Aukmondi healers,” Kon-Shambique said as he moved Lateef aside and climbed into the wagon. “Allow me to look at him.” Kon-Shambique peeled the blanket farther away. He removed some of Bast’s clothing to expose Bast’s injury.

“It is a knife wound,” Lateef volunteered to say.

“I can see that,” Kon-Shambique continued, examining the injury. “And it is severely infected.”

“He would be dead already if it were not for one of us who tended to him,” Lateef continued, adding what he thought was helpful information. “Her name is Reshma. Unfortunately, she knew this area better than we did. We thought she would be the best leader to guide the others to where we were trying to go. Reshma says she is no healer. But she did her best for Bast before she left. She knew enough to keep Bast alive.”

“She is a gifted person,” Khalid almost smiled at Lateef’s seemingly nervous chatter.

“She is quite gifted,” Kon-Shambique agreed. She stopped the infection from spreading, which ultimately saved him. Let us pray it is not too late.”

“Too late?” Lateef asked.

“I fear that infected blood may be circulating through his body already, acting like a poison.” At a loss for what else to do, Kon-Shambique recalled Khalid’s blessed medical skill when he had treated Obe’s leg. “Khalid, Great Creation, can you think of anything else we can do for him?”

“We can make him more comfortable.” Khalid rolled a cloth and placed it beneath Bast’s head. “Let him continue to rest.”

Kon-Shambique did not like Khalid’s suggestion. “But he is critically sick. He needs more than comfort. I must get him back to the valley as soon as possible. I can treat him better there.”

“Please. Allow him to remain still for a while longer.” Khalid could see the concern on Kon-Shambique’s face. “I will tend to him. Besides, it will soon be dark. May I suggest we wait until morning to return to the valley?”

In addition to Bast’s unstable condition, Kon-Shambique suddenly had another concern. Was it safe to stay overnight in Wabanga territory? He looked questioningly toward Kharaambi and Nionu, who stood with Lateef near the wagon. “Should we wait?”

“We can wait.” As a highly experienced warrior, Kharaambi spoke confidently. “Wabanga have an unusually strange respect for fire. A simple campfire will ward off the Wabanga. Besides, waiting and traveling in the morning light will be safer.”

“If you say so,” Lateef still had his doubts. “I know nothing about the Wabanga people you are talking about. But I do know King Aysar. He is coming for us, and a simple campfire, of all things, will not deter him. Time is a luxury we do not have. He and his soldiers could arrive any time, day or night.”

Nionu pointed his spear at all his warriors. “I still have almost a complete regiment with me. Day or night, we can manage security.”

“You are already misjudging King Aysar.”

“You are misjudging my warriors.”

Lateef did not doubt that Nionu was unaware of King Aysar’s determination. But he felt that arguing his point would be a waste of time. There was nothing anyone could do about it anyway. He reluctantly decided to accept the plan to leave in the morning.

“What about our wagon and the rest of our supplies?” Lateef asked Nionu. “Must we abandon them?”

“Your wagon and supplies will be safe. By tomorrow morning, I will have a few warriors from my Bendabe regiment here to see if they can repair your wagon.”

“Do you think they can fix it?”

Nionu quickly checked the wagon axle and the broken wheel. “The wagon will not be perfect, but I am sure my warriors can get it movable again.”

33.

THE POWER OF ANOTHER’S TOUCH

Later that evening, as darkness fell over the area, everyone prepared for sleep. Most of Nionu’s warriors patrolled the surrounding area. As an extra precaution, a few warriors kept watch farther from the campsite.

While Bast continued to sleep peacefully in the wagon, three separate campfires burned in different spots around it. Lateef, Asim, Neith, and Heba made themselves comfortable around one campfire. Heba and Neith eventually fell asleep, while Lateef and Asim continued to sit by the fire talking. The three senior warriors, Kharaambi, Nionu, and Dabete, sat by a second campfire. They also discussed what they could expect from King Aysar, if or when he arrived. Kon-Shambique and Khalid sat near the third campfire. The two discussed their medical experiences and shared unique perspectives on healing the sick. Kon-Shambique was curious about Khalid’s natural approaches. Khalid seemed very pleased to share what he knew.

While Kon-Shambique and Khalid were talking, one of the warriors patrolling near the wagon saw Bast awake, restless, and trying to sit up. The warrior hurried over and interrupted their conversation. He placed his hand on Kon-Shambique’s shoulder. “Great Creation, the Caldifor soldier is awake.”

Kon-Shambique and Khalid quickly got to their feet, causing others who saw them to do the same. Moments later, Lateef, Asim, Kharaambi, and Nionu stood at the back of the wagon as Kon-Shambique and Khalid climbed inside.

“Great Creation,” Kon-Shambique caught Bast by his shoulders and forced him to lie back down. “Do not get up. Lay still.”

Bast looked up at Kon-Shambique’s and Khalid’s faces. Already somewhat confused, Bast didn’t recognize either of them. “Who are you?”

“It is all right,” Lateef tried to reassure Bast. “These people are here to help us.”

Bast’s last memory was from early this morning. He vaguely remembered Asim preparing to search for help. Looking around, Bast saw Asim standing among the crowd near the wagon. “You did it! You found help. So, is everyone all right?”

“I did not do anything, Bast.” Asim did not feel ashamed to admit his failure. “These people found us. And yes, everyone is all right.”

Bast looked up at Kon-Shambique and Khalid again. “So, who are you?”

“You have plenty of time to learn who we are,” Kon-Shambique continued, holding Bast still. “How do you feel?”

“My side feels like it is in a crocodile’s jaws. I feel nauseous. I have a pounding headache. But since I am still alive, I will not complain.”

“You have much more healing to do,” Khalid gave Bast a gentle pat on his shoulder. “All that you need now is ample time to rest.”

“He seems much better than he was,” Kon-Shambique marveled at Bast’s almost humorous attitude. He credited the change to Khalid as he looked at him. “What did you do for him besides making him comfortable?”

Khalid covered Bast’s torso with the blanket. “I believe that many times, when given time and the chance, any physical malady can disappear as easily as it appears. And sometimes, all that is required is the power of another’s touch.”

34.

THE FACE OF HOPE

During the early hours of the morning, the conversations around the campfires had long since ended, but the fires kept burning. Everyone was asleep except for the Aukmondi warriors, who patrolled the area and maintained the campfires. Lateef was one of the few who was not sound asleep. He had slept through most of the night, but now he tossed and turned as he experienced another one of his recurring nightmares.

The dream began just as always. After Shakir’s execution, Lateef looked to his left and saw his father’s lifeless body still tied to the tree. Lateef realized he was also tied to the tree next to Shakir’s body. As before, Lateef’s nightmare worsened when he looked to his right and saw Neith tied to another tree.

High on the distant hillside, Lateef saw the strange man walking quickly through the bushes and trees. When Lateef called out for help, he no longer needed to get the man’s attention. The man instinctively sensed something was wrong and had already started rushing down the hillside to help Lateef and Neith. He moved closer, pushing through the bushes and trees. But time was running out fast. Aysar had already begun his murderous approach toward Lateef and Neith. When Lateef looked at the strange man, he recognized his face. To Lateef’s shock and amazement, the stranger was Khalid. The hope of rescue finally seemed within reach. But whether Khalid could make it wasn’t certain. He was still too far away.

Lateef suddenly woke from his nightmare. He sat up and wiped his face as if trying to shake off the stress. He thought about Khalid. Who was this man? Why did he see Khalid’s face in the stranger coming to help?

Lateef tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts. He thought this was one of those strange moments where an unrelated event in reality heavily influenced his nightmare. Lateef felt that such an event only added to his confusion and didn’t deserve more attention. Like all his other nightmares, he attempted to dismiss it. Only three hours remained before sunrise. Lateef decided to lie back down and try to sleep again. He focused on the arrival of the Aukmondi warriors. He felt very grateful for their efforts to help the Panfe.

35.

THE PANFE NOOK

Several dozen kilometers to the east, Nionu’s detachment of warriors caught up with Reshma and the others, who were heading toward the Kilimanjaro foothills. Luckily, Asim was with the warriors. When the group saw the approaching warriors, they tried to run and hide. The warriors let Asim lead the way. Reshma recognized Asim and regained control of the panicked crowd.

Over the next several hours, Nionu’s warriors led the others to the Aukmondi Valley. They arrived and entered the valley almost simultaneously with Kharaambi, Nionu, Khalid, Kon-Shambique, and the five Panfe who had been stranded in the savanna. The Aukmondi rescuers brought both groups of Panfe fugitives to the Chinchigwe Kraal. Originally called the guest kraal, the Chinchigwe Kraal was the only one large enough to hold everyone.

Lobarra Gendeyani, the mother of Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe’s grandson, and Tongda knew that the rescued Panfe were on their way. With the help of kraal aides and assistants to Mfalme Jobabwe, the two women revived a partially abandoned area in the kraal. This area included over a dozen empty huts, providing private space for all thirty-five fugitives, whether individuals or families, during their visit to the valley.

An hour and a half later, the rescued Panfe had settled into their huts and refreshed themselves. Afterward, most gathered in the kraal’s common area to enjoy the first nourishing meal they had had in days. The kraal aides and assistants had prepared platters of finger foods for them. The only ones absent from the meal were Khalid, Reshma, Talia, and Bast. Talia had not joined the others to eat for reasons known only to her. The shy girl took refuge alone in her designated hut. As for Khalid and Reshma, they helped Kon-Shambique and Tongda make Bast comfortable in an isolated hut, allowing him to continue resting.

Mfalme Jobabwe, with his walking staff in hand, casually led Lobarra among the Panfe. The two were making another check on the Panfe as they ate to see if anyone needed anything else.

Heba bit off half of a chapati roll. She closed her eyes, chewed slowly, and enjoyed the delicious flavor. When she opened her eyes, she saw Ameh walking by. “This is so good, Mfalme Jobabwe! We have not eaten like this in days.”

“Yes, thank you, Mfalme,” Lateef added.

“Lobarra, my aide, and assistants prepared all this for you.” Ameh proudly put his arm around Lobarra’s shoulder. “It is they that you should thank.”

“Seeing how much you enjoy the food is thanks enough.” Lobarra lovingly returned Ameh’s embrace. Although Lobarra was not truly related to Ameh, their bond grew stronger. Ameh’s son, who was killed when Batushi slave hunters raided the Chinchigwe Tribe, was the father of Lobarra’s son, Tutapona. Lobarra and Ameh’s son had a secret, forbidden relationship, resulting in Tutapona’s birth out of wedlock. Still, this did not stop Ameh and Lobarra from growing closer after Tutapona was born, as if their loving relationship was meant to be.

“How are the huts?” Ameh asked everyone. “Do you find them suitable?”

“After sleeping on the ground every night for the past month, the huts are more than suitable.” Heba put the other half of her chapati roll into her mouth.

“The huts are situated in this secluded area of the kraal. No one has used them for some time, and they have not been maintained well. I hope you do not mind. But since there were so many of you, they seemed right.”

“They are perfect, Mfalme Jobabwe.” Lateef cleaned the crumbs away from his chin. “With your permission, we would like to consider these huts and this area as the Panfe nook. We are grateful to you, Lobarra, and all your aides and assistants.”

“You are quite welcome, Great Creation.” Ameh withdrew from Lobarra’s embrace. He leaned briefly on his staff as he moved toward a nearby boulder. He eased himself down onto the boulder, using his staff for support. Lobarra knew Ameh well and was the only one to notice that he looked more tired than usual.

“Are you all right, Mfalme?” Lobarra asked.

Ameh waved Lobarra off. “It is nothing. I felt a little lightheaded. I need to rest for a moment.”

Lobarra looked at Ameh with concern. “Should I send for Kon-Shambique?”

“No, no. I am fine.” Ameh averted Lobarra’s concerns by returning his focus to Lateef’s last expression of thanks. “It is Mfalme Ncobba to whom you must ultimately show your gratitude. He is the one who sent warriors into the savanna to rescue you.”

“We would like that.”

“Later this morning, after eating and resting, you will have the opportunity to visit him in the Royal Kraal and personally thank him.”

“We look forward to doing so, Mfalme.”

Using his staff again, Ameh forced himself to stand up from the boulder. Once on his feet, he started a series of coughs that lasted for a minute. Lobarra grew worried again and impulsively moved to support him. “I am sending for Kon-Shambique.”

“No. Please, do not do that.” Ameh quickly recovered and began walking away. “You are overreacting, Sacred Woman. I told you that I am fine. It has been a long morning, and I am just a little tired.”

“No one coughs like that from being tired and lightheaded. Mfalme, I have seen you go an entire day without resting. Then, you would attend the Daily Celebration of Life well into the night, like a Young Creation half your age. This is unlike you. What is wrong?”

“I told you nothing is wrong. Let us accept that I am no longer a Young Creation.” Ameh continued walking toward his hut. “Now, will you excuse me? Come and get me when the Panfe are ready to walk to the Royal Kraal.”

36.

YOU WILL GET WHAT YOU NEED

It was midmorning when Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda stepped out of Bast’s hut. After Reshma arrived in the Aukmondi Valley and settled into her hut in the Panfe nook, she immediately went to Bast’s hut to help Khalid, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda provide additional care for Bast. Helping Bast seemed to be her highest priority. Bast was dehydrated and had a high fever. He drifted in and out of consciousness. She and the others worked together to reduce his fever and force water into him. Eventually, Bast was sleeping soundly.

Bast’s hut was close to the Chinchigwe Kraal common area. When the four left the hut, they took a deep breath, enjoying the calming atmosphere in the kraal. They saw Mfalme Jobabwe and Quazzi near Ameh’s hut. The two were getting ready to walk over to the Royal Kraal later. In the common area, most of the Panfe were still sitting around various platters of food and talking among themselves. Lobarra, an aide, and two helpful assistants carried two large bowls of fresh water and approached Khalid and Reshma. They placed the bowls on the ground for easy access.

“You are the only two who have not eaten yet,” Lobarra said. “We have water for you to wash your hands and face. You can join the others for a nourishing meal that awaits you.”

“I have eaten nothing since yesterday.” Reshma gently placed her hand on her stomach as if to show how hungry she was. She thanked Lobarra and the aides as she and Khalid bent down to use the water for cleansing.

Moments later, Khalid and Reshma joined the Panfe in the common area. Kon-Shambique and Tongda, feeling the need to socialize, followed them over. Almost all thirty-five members of the Panfe continued to sit in a perfect circle around several platters of food – breads, vegetables, fruits, and pastries.

“Everything looks delicious,” Khalid said as he looked over the food and walked around the circle’s far side. In addition to his visual appreciation of the food, he was looking for a preferred seat next to Neith. He wanted to sit by an old friend.

“Yes, the food is very delicious … whatever is left.” Lateef teasingly glanced at Asim. “We had to keep Asim from eating it all.”

Asim was not offended by Lateef’s remark. “You did your share of the damage, too, Lateef.”

“There is plenty more if needed.” Lobarra had stood nearby and overheard the exchange between Lateef and Asim.

Kon-Shambique and Tongda did not join the circle. Still, being sociable, they sat conversationally close behind Khalid. Reshma found her preferred seat next to Heba and Neith. When Neith sensed that the newcomers to the circle were comfortable, she reached over to touch Khalid’s arm. “So, how is Bast?”

“Bast is stable,” Khalid said as he reached for a small loaf of bread and broke off a piece. “We had some tense moments, but he is no longer in danger. He is sleeping peacefully now.”

“Good,” Neith sighed with relief. “We would have lost Bast had it not been for you and Reshma.”

“I only treated Bast,” Reshma said. “It was Khalid who kept him from dying.”

“I have a question for you, Khalid.” Asim had relaxed to the point of lying on his elbow. He reached for another pastry but thought better of it and changed his mind. He did not want Lateef to tease him anymore. “I have never met anyone like you in all my life. How do you do the things that you do?”

“What things?”

“The miracles.”

Khalid smiled. “They are not miracles. You see them as miracles because you do not understand what is happening. I am but a man, living my life the best that I can, just like you. But to answer your question, I follow my heart. I do my best to follow the guidance of the guardian angels.”

“I do, too.” Lateef was not satisfied with Khalid’s answer. “I do my best not to ignore what the guardian angels may tell me. But I still cannot perform miracles like you.”

“That goes for me, too,” Asim said. “I follow the angels’ guidance, and still, I have made some of the biggest mistakes of my life. Are we doing something wrong? Are we listening to the wrong angels?”

“There is no such thing as listening to the wrong angels. If anything, you are listening to your own confused thoughts. Until you learn the difference, it may be difficult to distinguish between your thoughts and the voices of the angels. All the guardian angels have but one job, to keep us in harmony with the Supreme One and guide us where we need to be.”

“Guide us to where we need to be?” Asim’s memory of Mahmood made him take that comment the wrong way. “To do what? Achieve our destiny?”

Khalid gave Asim a puzzled look. “What is so wrong with that?”

Lateef noticed Asim’s reluctance to answer that question. He spoke for Asim instead. “Asim has come to believe that once you achieve your destiny, you have nothing else to do but die.”

“Achieving one’s destiny is never easy,” said Khalid. “That is why the Supreme One gives us a lifetime to do so.”

Asim smiled. Khalid’s answer made a lot of sense to him. “That eases some of my concerns about achieving my destiny.”

“Do you have more concerns?” Lateef teasingly asked Asim. “Maybe Khalid can put them to rest for you, too.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Asim thought for a moment before speaking to Khalid. “You mentioned the Supreme One. Throughout my life, I believed in and accepted Nhailic, the Supreme One, and all of the Caldifor lesser gods and goddesses. But I have also heard the names of many others, ... Olodumare, Allah, Amun-Ra, Ngai, Yahweh, and one the Christians call God, to name a few.”

“Yes, and there are many more,” said Khalid.

“You seem to have a special connection with all of them. Which one is the true Supreme Spirit? We certainly do not want to worship the wrong one supported by the wrong guardian angels.”

“Does that really matter?” Khalid finally put his broken piece of bread into his mouth. He chewed as he considered a better answer to Asim’s question. “Different people and cultures recognize and worship many different supremely divine spirits. It does not matter how people choose to see their Supreme Spirit. However you choose to see or name them, whatever you believe they do, or however they come to visit you, they are all the same.”

“Then allow me to ask another question, teacher.” Reshma had listened to Khalid, Lateef, and Asim. Their discussion did not include another perspective that no one has yet mentioned. “What if past experiences have convinced a person to believe in none of that?”

“What?” Heba looked at Reshma with surprise. “You do not believe there is a Supreme Spirit?”

“Oh, yes! I strongly believe. It is not me that I speak of.” Reshma pointed up toward the Panfe nook. “I am referring to that poor girl, Talia, up there.”

“How is Talia? Has she gotten any better?”

“Physically, she is about the same. But emotionally, I think she is worse. I have spoken with her many times. She is almost convinced that no gods, goddesses, or supreme spirits exist. She seems unable to hear or benefit from the voices of the guardian angels who speak to her.”

Khalid considered Talia’s situation. “Talia has not seen or experienced the life-changing proof that she needs to believe. Before that happens, such a crippling attitude and inability to believe are simply choices. It’s a failure of the unenlightened. It’s like closing your eyes and believing the world has gone dark and nothing exists anymore. But even in such darkness, the all-powerful guardian angels will keep talking to you and guiding you. All Talia needs to do is recognize their voices, learn to listen to them, and follow their guidance. If she does that and receives a tremendous blessing that she felt she did not deserve, Talia will find it easier to believe than not.”

“I am not so sure about that, teacher.” Lateef expressed some skepticism about Talia’s improvement. “Are you saying that if Talia learns to listen to her guardian angels, she can eventually recognize divine influences, like the rest of us?”

“Yes. And given time and practice, she may influence a miracle herself.”

“I will believe that when I see it.”

Khalid smiled at Lateef again. “Then allow me to help you see what a miracle truly is. Follow the guidance of your guardian angels. You may not get what you want, but I promise you will always get what you need. That is the miracle of everyday living, and that is what many fail to see.”

37.

SIMPLE AND INSIGHTFUL TREATMENTS

An hour later, most of the Panfe had finished the meal provided by the Aukmondi. Most returned to their huts in the Panfe nook to prepare for the walk to the Royal Kraal. The only two still eating were Khalid and Reshma. They had been working with Kon-Shambique and Tongda, providing medical treatment to Bast. They had joined the communal meal later than the others. Kon-Shambique and Tongda continued to sit with the two while they ate. The four of them took this relaxed moment to discuss the events of the previous evening.

At the same time, Lobarra was helping Ameh’s aide and assistants clear away the platters and leftover food. She was carrying several empty platters when she saw Khalid and Reshma still eating. She paused to talk with them, beginning with, “Was everything all right?”

“Everything was wonderful.” Reshma used a napkin to wipe crumbs from her fingers. “I do not know about Khalid, but it was what I needed.”

“I am pleased that you enjoyed it. I do not want to rush you, but be aware. Mfalme Ncobba will be ready to meet the Panfe in the Royal Kraal shortly.”

“Then we should prepare ourselves,” Khalid said, swallowing his last bite of food and getting up. “I must go by my hut first to change clothing.”

“Yes. So must I,” Reshma pushed her platter away.

Kon-Shambique and Tongda also got up. They enjoyed talking with Khalid and Reshma so much that they walked with them toward the nook.

“Great Creation,” Kon-Shambique got Khalid’s attention. “Tongda and I would like to thank you again for the medical help you provided earlier. I must admit, I have never seen such simple and insightful treatments.”

“Yes. And thank you, too, Sacred Woman,” Tongda spoke to Reshma. “You claim you have no medical skills, but I beg to differ. You have a reassuring confidence about your efforts.”

“I agree,” added Khalid. “It seems to come naturally.”

“Thank you,” Reshma smiled, but shrugged away the compliments. “All that I know, I learned from watching and helping my late grandmother.”

Kon-Shambique was not finished with the compliments he felt Reshma deserved, “We heard about all that you did during your flight from Caldifor. I understand that not only Bast, but many of the other Panfe would not have made it if it were not for you.”

“It was all due to luck. I did what I could. I know none of Khalid’s simple and insightful treatments.”

“But you do,” Khalid had to correct Reshma’s oversight. “The medical skills that you have are only the beginning.” Khalid turned to Kon-Shambique and Tongda. “That applies to all of you. All of you have unique gifts.”

Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda reached the nook of the Panfe huts. One of the first huts they passed was Asim’s. They saw Asim outside. He had dumped all the arrows from his quiver onto the ground. He was carefully returning the arrows to the quiver, one by one, arranging them for easy access. Reshma noticed the gentle way he picked up each arrow with his injured hand. She stopped walking to talk to him.

“Asim, how is your hand?”

“It is all right, I guess,” Asim said, holding up his hand and flexing his fingers several times. “The pain comes and goes. When the pain comes, it throbs, sometimes unbearably.”

Khalid led Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda closer to Asim. “May I look at it?”

“Sure,” Asim set his quiver aside and held his hand out for everyone to see.

The hut where Asim stayed was just a few meters from where Lateef and Heba stayed. Lateef and Heba stood outside when they saw Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda talking with Asim and looking at his hand. Curious about what was happening, they walked over as Khalid examined Asim’s hand.

“The bones are still fragile but are slowly healing,” Khalid explained. He offered Asim’s hand to Reshma. “Please take Asim’s hand. Hold it like this.” Khalid and everyone else watched as Reshma followed Khalid’s instructions.

“Good,” said Khalid, pointing to a spot at the base of Asim’s thumb. “Now, gently massage this area with your fingers for a few moments. That is called the Hegu point.”

“So, what is this supposed to do?” Asim asked.

Khalid took Asim’s hand from Reshma. After a quick and final check, he let it go. “The pain you feel will not be as strong if it happens again.”

Asim thought he had misheard Khalid. “If it happens again?” Khalid only smiled at Asim’s disbelief.

“There it is again,” Lateef said to Heba. “We just witnessed another of the teacher’s miracles.”

“This was no miracle,” Khalid overheard Lateef. “As I said earlier, it is a miracle to you because you are unfamiliar with the treatment. You do not know how it works.”

“But there!” Kon-Shambique pointed at Asim’s hand. “That is what I am talking about.” Kon-Shambique turned to Khalid. “Great Creation, do you have more of these unfamiliar treatments? Could you teach some of them to us?”

“I would love to if there is time.”

“Teacher,” Heba got Khalid’s attention. She glanced at Lateef before asking a question that she knew Lateef was reluctant to talk about. “Do you have a treatment for nightmares?”

“An occasional nightmare is normal. The most effective treatment is to wake up.”

“What if they are recurring nightmares?” Lateef asked the question that he knew Heba meant to ask.

“One of you is having recurring nightmares?” Khalid looked at Lateef and Heba. The expressions on both their faces told him everything.

Lateef paused for a moment. He wasn’t sure if Neith had already told Khalid how Shakir died. Since the tragic event was just as personal to him, Lateef decided it was okay to share it with Khalid. “Did you know that King Aysar killed my father?”

“No, I did not know.”

“Maybe Neith should be the one to tell you more since she knows you better. But I believe the death of Shakir is the reason for my recurring nightmares. I was just a child, but I was there when it happened. I saw the whole thing. I have had variations of the same ugly dream about twice a month, and each dream seems worse than the last.”

“Then, the death of Shakir means more to you than you realize.” Khalid considered Lateef’s recurring nightmares carefully. “Until I know more, one of the best treatments is standing beside you. Talk with Heba about your dreams. Talk with Heba, Neith, or anyone close to you. It will help you accept what happened. It will reduce your anxiety and stress. As the anxiety and stress decrease, so will the nightmares.”

“Thank you, teacher,” Lateef said, smiling at Heba. He reached to pull her closer. “I should have known. Heba is my angel. For the longest time, she has been trying to get me to talk more about my dreams, and I have avoided it.”

As Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda walked deeper into the nook, they came upon the hut where Talia stayed. Just then, Lobarra emerged from Talia’s hut. Everyone thought Lobarra was still cleaning up used food trays. Lobarra was carrying a platter full of uneaten food.

Kon-Shambique could see a look of distress on Lobarra’s face. “Sacred Woman, what is wrong?”

Lobarra held up the platter. “Since Talia did not eat with the others at the communal meal earlier, I took her a platter to her hut, hoping she would eat later. She did not. She says she has no appetite.”

“That is typical of her,” Reshma explained. “That poor girl eats like a bird. She has been like that since we left Panfe. She says that it is her stomach. I have given her everything I could to settle her stomach or increase her appetite. Nothing worked. It would be nice, teacher, if you could provide her with a simple and insightful treatment.”

Khalid walked to the entrance of Talia’s hut. He peered inside. “Talia, may we enter?”

“I do not care,” Talia answered. When Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Lobarra entered Talia’s hut, they found her lying huddled on her cot as if trying to sleep. She reluctantly sat up on the edge of her cot.

“Are you walking to the Royal Kraal with us to talk with Mfalme Ncobba?” Khalid asked.

“Must I? I do not feel like it.”

Khalid kneeled beside Talia’s cot, “As a guest in this valley, it is but a courtesy. But no one is forcing you.”

“Mfalme Ncobba and the royal family will not miss me if I do not go.” When Talia saw everyone looking at her, she realized the disrespect she was showing. She sighed heavily and looked up at the food platter that Lobarra was still holding. “Do I have to eat something before I go?”

“No one is forcing you to do that either.”

“All right. I will go.”

“Good. We will begin the walk to the Royal Kraal shortly. Get yourself ready.”

Khalid, Reshma, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Lobarra came from Talia’s Hut. They walked a few meters away when Khalid shared an observation. “I have noticed Talia’s behavior since meeting her on the savanna yesterday. Sometimes, there are no simple and insightful medical treatments.”

“What do you mean?” Reshma asked. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

“Talia is extremely afraid of something. And it is not just the pursuit of King Aysar. Fear is one of the most crippling emotions we can feel. Give her some time to face her fear. We will find no simple treatment for her until she does.”

38.

A POSSIBILITY WE CAN ALL ACCEPT

By midday, most of the Panfe had accepted Mfalme Jobabwe’s invitation to visit the Royal Kraal and meet Mfalme Ncobba and the royal family. Of course, Bast did not go with them. He remained asleep or unconscious in his designated hut in the Chinchigwe Kraal, experiencing only brief moments of awareness. Because of Bast’s fragile health, Khalid chose to stay by his side, ready to offer comfort or aid if Bast awoke in pain or distress.

Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe led the Panfe to the Royal Kraal. The usual journey along the south bank path, crossing the bridge over the Aukmondi River, and through the celebration area usually takes about thirty minutes. However, it took a bit longer this time for several reasons. Ameh mainly spent time giving the Panfe a detailed overview of the large celebration area. He explained how the Aukmondi people eagerly gather there every evening to socialize, laugh, chat, and enjoy recreational activities.

Another reason the walk took longer was Ameh’s slow pace. No one noticed that Ameh’s pace was slower than usual. The Panfe thoughtlessly assumed it was Ameh’s attention to detail as he described how the Aukmondi celebrated the evenings away. Ameh himself refused to acknowledge that the thirty-minute walk was no longer as easy for him as it had been in recent days.

Nevertheless, Ameh and the Panfe reached the back of the Royal Kraal. By the time they arrived at the dais, a large crowd had gathered. Curious onlookers nearly encircled the Panfe, watching as they settled in front of the royal dais. People wanted to learn more about these visitors to the Aukmondi Valley. Mfalme Ncobba and the royal family were already on the dais, waiting for the Panfe. Ramuza sat on his comfortable chieftain’s stool, surrounded by his mates, Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi. Ramuza’s eight daughters, aged 11 to 18, sat in their usual spots on the dais. Ramuza’s only son, the youngest and most restless, constantly moved around the dais.

The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, stood beside the dais. Quazzi was an Aukmondi and the second-in-command of the Aukmondi Army. He had been a brown warrior for many harvests before Ameh Jobabwe and the Chinchigwe arrived in the Aukmondi Valley and were granted asylum by Mfalme Ncobba. The Chinchigwe became the largest clan among the Aukmondi and needed a recognized leader. Ameh earned that leadership, becoming the Chinchigwe Mfalme. With that leadership, he also gained the authority to appoint a new brown warrior. Since no skilled warriors were among the Chinchigwe, Ameh chose Quazzi to keep that position.

Still somewhat winded, Ameh acknowledged Quazzi’s greeting as he approached the dais. With his ever-present walking staff, he stepped onto the dais and respectfully greeted the royal family before taking his reserved seat as Mfalme. Ameh paused to catch his breath before introducing the Panfe. He recounted everything he had learned about them since their arrival. He ended his introduction by pointing out Lateef, the Young Creation, who seemed to be behind the Panfe’s decision to flee Caldifor.

“Mfalme Ncobba,” Lateef began, “I, along with all the people of Panfe, want to thank you and Mfalme Jobabwe again for your kindness and generosity. Your healers, Kon-Shambique and Tongda, and all your people have provided us with everything we needed to recover from our exhausting journey. Thanks to them, we are now able to continue our journey.”

“Great Creation, you sound as if you are in a hurry.”

“We are, Mfalme. We wish to continue as soon as we can.”

“But, you just arrived.” Ramuza did not expect to hear the sudden plan.

“We have no choice,” Lateef began to explain. “There is a Caldifor soldier among us named Bast. He is not here with us. He is in the Chinchigwe Kraal, recovering from a serious injury. Bast told us that King Aysar is still coming for us. If we stay here too long, it is only a matter of time before he finds us.”

“What do you suspect will happen if and when he does find you?”

The answer wasn’t simple. Lateef took a moment to think before giving his briefest reply. “Mfalme Ncobba, many of us were prisoners in King Aysar’s dungeon. Despite being unfairly accused of various crimes, we managed to escape. Now, we are all fugitives. If Aysar catches us, many of us will be thrown back into dungeons. Some will be executed. According to Bast, King Aysar plans to execute my mother for killing one of his wives. My mother is innocent of that crime. Still, she’s one of the main reasons he’s after us. And King Aysar has been hunting me most of my life. Because I saw him kill my father, I know he plans to kill me too. None of us deserves Aysar’s vengeful justice.”

“Where do you intend to go to avoid King Aysar’s justice?”

That was another question for which Lateef had no clear answer. “We do not know for sure. We had hoped to go somewhere where King Aysar would never find us. Before King Aysar killed my father, my father suggested fleeing the kingdom. The idea spread throughout Panfe village. People have gradually abandoned the village and the kingdom over many harvests. My father’s dream was to return to the land of his birth, a region in the foothills south of Mt. Kilimanjaro. My mother, Heba, and I had planned to go somewhere in that region and disappear from King Aysar. The other Panfe here followed us simply because they had no other safe place to go.”

Lateef’s answer brought a frown to Ameh’s face. He had to respond. “Great Creation, you must understand that your intention to reach such a place and then disappear is unrealistic. King Aysar has followed you this far. If he is this close, wherever you go now, he will find you.”

“I am aware of that, Mfalme Jobabwe,” Lateef had to take another moment to accept this reality. “I pray to all the guardian angels that it is not true. For King Aysar to lose our trail, we must keep moving. We have no choice.”

“No, Great Creation. We always have choices.” Ameh used his staff to push himself up from his seat. He stepped closer to Ramuza and leaned in to whisper in his ear. Only Ramuza heard what he said.

Ramuza waited until Ameh returned to his seat. Whatever Ameh said to him, Ramuza took it seriously. Everyone could see Ramuza’s eyes as he seemed to weigh different consequences. Some of his thoughts were practical, while others were more personal. Ramuza finally sighed heavily. He knew everyone was curious about what Ameh had just told him. At least, there was no reason to keep his practical thoughts private.

“Great Creation,” Ramuza looked at Lateef. “Mfalme Jobabwe has suggested that I offer asylum to the Panfe.”

“Asylum?” Lateef never expected such an offer.

“If given asylum,” Ameh began to explain. “All the Panfe people will fall under the protection of the Aukmondi. You will not need to flee King Aysar or his vengeful justice.”

“But Mfalme,” Lateef hesitated, unsure which Mfalme to address. His eyes darted between Ramuza and Ameh. “I must warn you. You do not understand King Aysar’s resolve. You do not realize the size of his army. If he learns our location, he will not stop until he recaptures us. He is known as King Aysar, the conqueror.”

Ramuza was aware of this. “The Great Creation, Khalid, has told us of King Aysar’s infamous title.”

Lateef spoke directly to Ramuza, “Mfalme, you must understand. King Aysar and his army will not allow the Aukmondi to stand in his way. I am not a military man. I have never served in any army or militia. But I have seen many of your warriors. I know enough that your warriors, with their shields and spears, cannot stand against his army. If he finds us here, he will take us. He may try to take your tribe, too, simply because, I know he can.”

Ramuza sat back in his seat. Another long moment of silence passed. Unknowingly, Lateef had touched Ramuza’s private thoughts and one of his greatest fears: losing the Aukmondi Tribe to an outsider. Deep in his heart, Ramuza had always feared that the outside world would someday pour into the Aukmondi Valley and overwhelm it. The beloved tribe, as he knew it, would no longer exist.

When Ramuza spoke again, he seemed to support Lateef’s concerns. “For now, Great Creation, I resist the option of asylum.”

“Mfalme?” Ameh turned in his seat to look back at Ramuza. Ramuza’s quick response caught him off guard. Many harvests ago, when the Chinchigwe people fled from a slave merchant and the Batushi slaver-hunter tribe, Ramuza initially struggled with whether to protect the Chinchigwe. But in the end, he did. After all Ramuza had done for the Chinchigwe, Ameh didn’t expect him to be so decisive about the Panfe so soon.

“Mfalme Jobabwe, we have only three options,” Ramuza said, holding up three fingers, one at a time. “First, we can choose not to stand between King Aysar and the Panfe people, allowing him to take them. As the Great Creation, Lateef, said, the Panfe people will be imprisoned or die if we do that. Second, we can provide the Panfe with one or two regiments of warriors to protect them as they continue fleeing into the foothills of Kilimanjaro. If King Aysar’s army is as large and determined as they say, it will likely overtake, capture, and kill the Panfe people—and all those warriors. Finally, as you suggested, Mfalme Jobabwe, we can give the Panfe asylum. That will force me to protect them and the entire Aukmondi Valley.”

Kharaambi had sat all morning silently. After hearing Ramuza’s three options, Kharaambi, as leader of the Aukmondi Army, confirmed what Ramuza said. She made it clear to everyone what Ramuza meant. “There will be senseless death with any chosen option.”

“That is why we cannot ask you to choose any of those options, Mfalme Ncobba.” Lateef waved his hand toward several Aukmondi warriors standing around the dais. “None of your warriors or your people must die for us. We will continue our journey south on our own. We will take the chance to avoid King Aysar and his army.”

“Lateef, Great Creation, do not be a fool.” Ameh hated being so blunt. “What you are saying is thoughtless nonsense. Let us help you find a different solution and a possibility we can all accept.”

Mfalme Jobabwe, there is only one solution. And it is the only option,” Lateef suppressed his frustration. He did not want to argue with Mfalme Jobabwe. “Allow us to disappear as we planned to do.”

Asim had sat directly behind Lateef. When he saw how agitated Lateef was becoming, he touched Lateef’s shoulder to get his attention. “Lateef, should we not consider what Mfalme Jobabwe has suggested?”

Suppression of his frustration failed. Lateef snapped at Asim. “No. Did you not hear what Kharaambi just said? Their only options will all lead to senseless bloodshed. None of us wants that.” Lateef turned to Neith, who sat at his right, “Am I right?” He turned to Heba, who sat at his left, “Am I right?”

Reshma sat next to Asim. When neither Neith nor Heba responded to Lateef’s heated questions, Reshma responded, “Lateef, please. There may be another possibility that we are not yet aware of.”

“We do not have the time to figure out what that possibility is,” Lateef also snapped at Reshma. He suddenly realized he was losing control of his temper. He forced himself to calm down and refocused on the dais. “Mfalme Ncobba and Mfalme Jobabwe, thank you for meeting with us and for all you have done for us. I believe there is nothing more to add. Now, with your permission, I respectfully request to be excused.”

Ramuza calmly granted Lateef’s request, “So be it, Great Creation.”

As Lateef almost angrily rose to his feet. Frustration forced him to avoid the surprised glares of the Panfe sitting around him. As he began to walk away, Asim called to him twice. Lateef ignored his calls.

Neith touched Asim’s arm when she heard Asim’s calls. “Let him be. He is behaving like his father now. When he gets like that, he can be quite stubborn.”

39.

A HASTY DECISION

The four Ncobba huts are positioned behind the dais at the back of the Royal Kraal, about ten meters apart. Each hut is owned individually by Ramuza Ncobba and his three mates. The space between Ramuza’s hut and Rwuva’s hut is called the work area. It is a semi-private, shared space where all the Ncobbas perform daily chores and personal tasks.

After the meeting with Panfe, Ramuza went to the work area to remove the ceremonial necklace he had been wearing. Just as he took it off, he turned and saw that Mfalme Jobabwe had followed him into the space. Non-family members are not forbidden from entering, but it is unusual for them to do so. Seeing Ameh standing behind him surprised Ramuza. He froze for a moment. It was not because Ameh was not a family member, but because Ameh had never entered the area without first asking for permission.

“Mfalme?” Ramuza finally put his necklace away.

“Excuse me, Mfalme,” Ameh apologized for the interruption. “I wanted to speak with you privately for a moment.”

“Of course,” Ramuza welcomed Ameh into the area with a beckoning wave. “What is it?”

“I must begin by saying that I understand your initial decision on the dais moments ago. Giving the Panfe asylum will have serious consequences, including one of your greatest fears.”

Ramuza smiled, almost embarrassed that Ameh knew him so well. “I will not make the wrong decision only to lose the Aukmondi tribe.”

“I assume you will consult your council of advisors to confirm your decision about the Panfe?”

“Yes, I will schedule a final vote this evening before the Celebration of Life. Under the circumstances, I believe it is necessary to do so.”

“Definitely.” Ameh leaned on his staff as he respectfully accepted Ramuza’s approach. “But any decision that the council suggests will also have serious consequences.”

“I know. That is why I must not make a hasty decision myself.”

“You have done it before, with consequences just as serious,” Ameh recalled how, many harvests ago, a heartless slave merchant forced the Batushi, a slave-hunting tribe, to destroy the Chinchigwe village completely. Only thirty people survived and made their way to the Aukmondi Valley. “You decided to give the Chinchigwe asylum, for which we are grateful.”

“That was different, Mfalme.” Ramuza briefly looked away from Ameh as he considered his reasons for his actions this time. “I had time to weigh my options. By the grace of the Supreme Spirit, I found a way that the slave merchant and the Batushi could not overcome.” Ramuza faced Ameh again. “With King Aysar on his way, I must know what I can do before he arrives.”

“I must be honest with you, Mfalme,” Ameh stepped closer to Ramuza. “You know, and I know, that the Panfe are on a deadly journey. Their future is not promising. I know asylum does not sound like an ideal solution. However, I feel it is the only way for them to stand up to King Aysar finally.”

“Maybe so. But they will not do it by jeopardizing this tribe.”

‘They need to stop running from him.”

“Is that possible?”

“The Great Creation, Lateef, thinks that it is possible, if the Panfe can get far enough away from him.”

“It would take the Grace of the Supreme Spirit to achieve that.” Ramuza was a spiritual individual and could not argue with Ameh’s comment. But he was also highly practical. “In any case, I will follow the suggestion of the council of advisors.”

“I will support their decision as well, Mfalme. You know I am a member of the council, and you already know how I will vote,” Ameh turned to leave. “Respectfully, I will not discuss this further with you until after the vote this evening.”

Ramuza also knew Ameh quite well. Ameh’s words unexpectedly suggested to Ramuza that Ameh was not returning to his seat on the royal dais as usual. “Are you leaving the kraal already?”

“Yes. But I will return later.”

“Leaving now is unlike your usual routine.”

“I know. I did not get much sleep last night. And it has been a hectic morning getting the Panfe settled in.”

“Even with the help of Lobarra, and your aide and assistants?”

“They have been quite helpful, Mfalme. Even Tutapona has helped where he could. Nevertheless, I must rest more before the Daily Celebration of Life.”

40.

HONORING MY FATHER’S DREAM

Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe walked along the south bank pathway toward the Chinchigwe Kraal. The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, walked with him. As the Brown Warrior, Quazzi was resourcefully one of the closest people to the Chinchigwe Mfalme. He did not have to leave the Royal Kraal because Ameh had done so. His only responsibility toward the Mfalme was to enforce his leadership. Quazzi walked with the Mfalme because he also thought Ameh’s departure from the Royal Kraal so early in the day was unusual.

The south bank pathway ran parallel to the Aukmondi River. Along the way, Quazzi saw someone sitting on the riverbank. A brief row of trees and bushes initially blocked his view, but he eventually recognized the person as Lateef. Lateef was sitting alone on a log, gazing into the river water. Quazzi alerted Ameh to the unexpected sight.

Ameh immediately left the pathway. He used his staff to steady himself as he descended the gentle slope of the bank. Quazzi followed Ameh as they navigated around the trees and bushes. The sound of their footsteps drew Lateef’s attention away from the river water. He respectfully stood up when he saw Mfalme Jobabwe and Quazzi approaching.

Ameh waved his hand, suggesting to Lateef that he stay seated. “May we join you?”

“Of course, Mfalme,” Lateef moved over on the log to give Ameh and Quazzi room to sit.

Quazzi remained standing, but Ameh made himself comfortable beside Lateef. He leaned his staff beside him against the log. “You were quite upset when you left the Royal Kraal.”

“Please accept my apology, Mfalme.”

“I think I understand what you must be feeling. But would you care to talk about it?”

Lateef shrugged. “It is not that Mfalme Ncobba did not want to give us asylum. I agree with him. The truth is, I am trying to honor my father’s dream. My father’s name was Shakir. He was a brave and honorable man whom I love dearly. What upsets me is that some of the Panfe are giving up on Shakir’s dream so easily now that we are here. They do not understand why we must completely disappear from King Aysar.”

“Great Creation,” Quazzi began as he finally sat on the other side of Lateef. “Maybe the others do not believe that disappearing from King Aysar is possible.”

“But it is possible. They no longer feel the promise of Shakir’s dream. And that hurts me.”

“Maybe, because they are here now, they find it easier to accept something else.” Ameh wanted to change Lateef’s attitude about what was possible. “I am Mfalme of the Chinchigwe people. Mfalme Ncobba and the Aukmondi have lovingly accepted us into this tribe. Asylum has worked for us. It could work for the Panfe, too.”

Lateef looked out over the Aukmondi River. The sound of the flowing water was calming. “The Aukmondi Valley is a beautiful place. It is unlike anything the Panfe have seen. But we do not belong here. We…,” Lateef corrected himself. “No, I do not want asylum. King Aysar must never learn where we are, if only for my mother’s sake.”

Quazzi tried again to appeal to Lateef’s common sense, “The foothills of Kilimanjaro will not guarantee that.”

Lateef knew that Quazzi was right. But his only rebuff was his passion for his father’s dream. “Many things have been successfully achieved without a guarantee.”

“It seems that many of your people are not willing to take that chance.”

Lateef sat speechless, gazing out at the river water once more. After a moment of silence, Ameh tried a different approach. “How well do you know the Great Creation, Khalid?”

Lateef shrugged again, “Not well. I only met Khalid yesterday, less than twenty-four hours ago. Why?”

“All my intuitive senses tell me that the Great Creation Khalid is a blessing. He and you came here from different directions, you from the north and he from the southeast. Yet you are here at the same time. That event is too meaningful to be a mere coincidence. By the grace of the Supreme Spirit, I believe Khalid is here for a purpose. Please talk with him.”

Lateef broke his gaze from the river water. “I must agree with you, Mfalme. Khalid has already helped Asim, Reshma, and several others in unexpected, almost miraculous ways. I will talk with him.”

“Good. Please do it as soon as you can.”

“I will try.”

“And I strongly suggest that you and the others attend this evening’s Daily Celebration of Life in the Royal Kraal. Mfalme Ncobba will make his final decision about what he will do for the Panfe.” Ameh struggled to get to his feet. “Whatever decision is made, laughing and talking with others at the celebration will help take your mind off many of your concerns.”

Lateef and Quazzi also stood in respect for the Chinchigwe Mfalme. Both of them thoughtfully reached for Ameh’s staff. Lateef managed to pick it up first and handed it to Ameh.

“Thank you, Great Creation.”

“Thank you, Mfalme, for speaking with me. I will pass the invitation to tonight’s celebration to the others. Whatever decision Mfalme Ncobba makes will not matter to me. I have already made up my mind about what we should do. As for the laughter and chatter at the celebration, I believe we can all benefit from it. It can only help.”

Lateef watched Ameh and Quazzi as they began to climb back up the riverbank to the pathway. Halfway up, Ameh stumbled despite using his staff. Had Quazzi not caught his arm, Ameh would have fallen to the ground.

Lateef ran up the bank to help Quazzi hold Ameh steady. “Mfalme? Are you all right?”

“That was a little clumsy of me,” Ameh took a deep breath to recover. “It is nothing.”

Quazzi continued to hold Ameh’s arm. “Mfalme, you almost fell. This stumble is the second in two days. I will not say that it is nothing.”

“As I mentioned before, I am a Mature Creation. I am not as agile as I once was.” Ameh continued up the bank. “Believe me, it is nothing.”

As a precaution, Quazzi and Lateef walked on either side of the Mfalme as they continued up the incline, onto the pathway, and toward the Chinchigwe Kraal.

41.

GIFTS AND GOOD ADVICE

When Lateef, Ameh, and Quazzi entered the Chinchigwe Kraal, they found most of the Panfe gathered in the common area. They were sorting through a dozen large baskets filled with various items. Ameh and Quazzi understood what was happening, but it was an unexpected sight for Lateef. Curious, Lateef approached Heba and asked, “What is all of this?”

“These are gifts that the Aukmondi have given us.” Heba held up and examined a blanket from one of the baskets. “There is food, clothing, and all kinds of carvings and trinkets.”

“And bananas,” Neith added. “I smell bananas. I love bananas.”

Quazzi broke a banana off one of the bunches and placed it in Neith’s hand. “They are fresh from Uganda.”

“This is very thoughtful,” Lateef said, walking slowly around the baskets, examining some of the items himself. All that he saw pleased him. When he reached the other side of all the baskets, he came upon Asim standing in the middle of four goats. “Are these gifts, too?”

“Yes. Look at these beautiful creatures.” Asim held up the chin of one of the goats to give Lateef a better look. “These are Nubian goats. They are known for their rich milk and cheese.”

Lateef turned to Ameh. “Did you know about this, Mfalme?”

“I arranged to have all of this left for the Panfe while we were in the Royal Kraal.”

“This is wonderful. It is kind and generous.” With an appreciative smile, Lateef resumed his walk around the items. He made a complete circle, coming back to where Asim stood. “But where will we put all of this? We will never get all of this loaded onto our wagon.”

“Our wagon? What wagon?” Asim reminded Lateef that he had completely forgotten about an unsolved problem. “Do you think Nionu’s warriors can repair the wagon?”

“He said he thought his warriors could get it moving again. However, it might still not be sufficiently repaired to carry our usual load and all these gifts.” Lateef’s conversation with Ameh a moment ago, along with all the gifts in front of him, had temporarily improved his attitude. “But let us not worry about that now. We will figure out something later. In the meantime, I must pass along an invitation to everyone. Is everyone here?”

“Most of us. Reshma and Khalid are at Talia’s hut, talking with Talia.”

Lateef glanced toward the Panfe nook and Talia’s hut. “Is everything all right?”

Heba, who stood nearby, overheard Lateef’s question. She joined Lateef and Asim, looking toward Talia’s hut as well. In the distance, the three saw Reshma, Talia, and Khalid sitting on the ground in front of the hut. “Something has changed,” Heba began to explain. “It was so significant that Reshma thought Khalid should talk with Talia as soon as possible.”

“About what?”

“I do not know. I think it is Talia’s health.”

Lateef realized he was not the only one needing a heart-to-heart talk with Khalid. Maybe Talia needed to talk with Khalid more urgently than he did. His talk could wait. Lateef decided to take this moment to share with everyone else what he had started to say moments ago. He climbed onto a small crate so everyone could see him better. “May I have everyone’s attention?”

Lateef waited for everyone to leave the gift baskets and gather closer around him. “First, I apologize to everyone for my behavior in the Royal Kraal this morning. I did not mean to be so close-minded about other options for us. I only wanted everyone to understand that our journey would continue. It must continue. It frightened me that everyone seemed to give up so easily because of the help and kindness we have received from the Aukmondi.”

“We know you want to escape King Aysar’s reach,” Asim said. “You believe that doing so will end our problems. It is just that some of us do not believe that getting away from him will work. We only ask that you listen to us, even if we do not know what else to tell you.”

Lateef nodded in agreement. “I will listen. I promise. I have already started. I talked with Mfalme Jobabwe moments ago. He gave me some good advice that I also intend to follow.” Lateef motioned toward the back of the group, where Ameh and Quazzi stood. “In the meantime, Mfalme Jobabwe has invited all of us to attend the Aukmondi Daily Celebration of Life this evening. He believes it will help ease some of the stress and confusion we are experiencing.”

When Lateef saw how pleased the people were by Mfalme Jobabwe’s invitation, he stepped down from the crate. The people around him went back to happily inspect the gifts Aukmondi had given them. Lateef would have joined in, too, but Asim and Heba pulled him aside.

Heba lovingly took Lateef’s arm. “The effect of gifts and good advice has changed you. May I ask? What advice did Mfalme Jobabwe give you?”

“Mfalme Jobabwe believes Khalid is a godsend. He suggested that I discuss my feelings with him. He said I should seek his advice about what we should do.”

Asim playfully gave Lateef a light tap on the back of his head. “That is exactly what we have been asking you to do with us. But, maybe, Khalid might be better able to get past your stubbornness.”

Heba looked toward Talia’s hut again, this time looking for Khalid. As she, Lateef, and Asim walked toward the hut, she saw that Reshma, Talia, and Khalid were deep in conversation. She spoke to Lateef. “That looks like a private moment. You should not interrupt.”

“You are right.” Lateef turned to walk back toward the baskets of gifts. “My talk with Khalid can wait.”

42.

EMBRACE THE WORLD THAT YOU WANT

Reshma, Talia, and Khalid sat on the ground around a fresh fruit platter. Lobarra had left the platter for Talia, hoping she would eventually eat some. It was the second platter Lobarra had offered in three hours. The fruit, including bananas, apples, grapes, and various berries, remained untouched. Talia sat quietly, rocking back and forth, her face tear-stained, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t need the blanket, but she held it snugly as if to protect her vulnerability.

Reshma spent over an hour with Talia, trying to coax her into saying more than a few words about her feelings. Talia started to talk, but she initially rambled and became overwhelmed, so she stopped. She grew alarmingly quiet. Reshma made no further progress with Talia until she asked Khalid to join them. When Khalid finally arrived and sat with the two women, Reshma handed Talia a tissue. “Tell Khalid what you started to tell me this morning.”

Talia stopped rocking. She accepted Reshma’s tissue and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Nothing is worth it anymore.”

“You must tell me more,” said Khalid.

Talia started rocking again, then stopped. “This morning, I told Reshma that I had given up. My life has not turned out the way I wanted it to, and now I feel it is hopelessly unrecoverable.”

Reshma gently placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Talia, you have shown that kind of misery since we escaped King Aysar’s dungeon. But your mood and attitude have worsened recently. What has changed?”

“Throughout our journey from Panfe, I have said nothing about it to anyone. But I am afraid now. I am afraid of how severely my life has changed. And I can do nothing about it.” For several moments, Talia became quiet again. Her face slowly twisted with anger, as if she were about to explode. “I am … damaged.”

“Damaged, how?” Khalid wanted to know.

When Talia spoke again, more words of anger flowed. “That filthy, repulsive, foul-smelling prison guard raped me. Since then, I have felt queasy. I thought the nausea would go away, but every day, it kept getting stronger.” Talia grew quiet again, as if she were reviewing all that had happened to her. “Since arriving in the Aukmondi Valley, I have learned it was not just nausea.”

“What else is it?”

Talia spoke just above a whisper. “I am pregnant.”

“What?” Reshma sat erect, not believing what she heard.

“I am pregnant!” Talia snapped. She looked directly into Reshma’s face. “You, Reshma, of all people, should have known. … I feel dirty. I feel unclean. Each time I think of how that slimy lowlife used and abused me for his quick pleasure, I could choke the life out of him.”

“In the first place, it is too late for that.” Reshma took Talia’s hand. “That prison guard is already dead. Remember? On the night of our escape, someone killed him.”

“Well, he got what he deserved. That still does not change what he did to me. Now, I have the offspring of that vile creature growing inside of me. I would rather die than give birth to whatever is growing inside of me. The way I feel, I have no choice but to die.”

“But, Talia, you …”

Khalid quickly raised his hand to stop Reshma from talking. “Not now.”

Reshma sat slightly stunned by Khalid’s sudden restraint. She watched as Khalid gently took Talia’s other hand.

“Talia, please hear me,” he said. “And hear me well. Both good and bad things will always happen to us. But, most importantly, whatever happens to you, you must always remember to embrace the life you want, no matter what.”

“That is not as easy as it sounds.” Talia pulled her hands away from Khalid and Reshma. “That depraved beast raped me. He forced himself upon me. He destroyed my life. How can I embrace the life I want now?”

“Yes, he raped you. You are experiencing a life-altering trauma.”

Surprised, Reshma looked at Khalid. She heard him mention a life-altering trauma again, just like during the communal meal. It made her realize Khalid knew this moment was coming. Reshma stared at Khalid, curious about what else he might say to Talia.

“Now, you fear all the consequences of such things weighing down upon you,” Khalid continued. “You believe you have no choice but to accept those consequences. And now, fear is forcing you to live in a world you do not want.” Khalid sat back and smiled. “It pleases me that you are finally showing your anger.”

Talia looked at Khalid as intently as Reshma did. Both were surprised and confused by Khalid’s statement and his smile. Talia had to ask, “What makes my anger worth smiling about, teacher?”

“Your anger tells me that you are still willing to fight for the life you once thought you had.”

“Fight? For what? What good would it do?” Talia tugged at the blanket on her shoulders. She turned away from Reshma and Khalid and lay back down on her cot. “Maybe all of this is Nhailic’s will.”

Reshma raised her brow at Talia’s hypocritical statement. “I thought you did not believe in Nhailic?”

“I have had my doubts.”

Khalid took Talia’s hand again, urging her to sit up. “It pleases me that you now say it is Nhailic’s will. It tells me that your doubts are not that strong.”

“I only said that because, well … is that not what everyone says when something happens that you do not understand? It is Nhailic’s will.”

“As you have just done, it is only a convenient excuse that many use to accept or explain what they do not understand. In our weakest moments, it is our desperate effort to exercise blind faith.”

“What is wrong with exercising blind faith?”

“We should never assume we know Nhailic’s will. The intelligence, mind, and spirit of the Supreme One are far above all that we will ever know or understand. Our simple minds can never understand it. You and I can never accurately guess what Nhailic wants. Our best approach is to hope, pray, and rely on the guardian angels to guide our simple, sometimes complex, and confused minds and free will to be in tune with Nhailic.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I am saying, fight for the life you want. Feel free to take any necessary steps to regain control and achieve the happiness you desire. Your guardian angels will not allow you to make a serious mistake. And Nhailic, whether you believe it or not, will always ensure that everything happens as it should.”

Talia looked into Khalid’s face, trying to accept what he was telling her. But it wasn’t easy. “Does that mean I should live with what that guard did to me?”

“I cannot answer that. Only you and your guardian angels can answer that. No one else, including me, can tell you what you must do.”

“But teacher, you are the most gifted person I have ever known.”

“My gift only tells me one thing about you.”

“What is that?”

“Your life, your happiness, and the world you hoped to embrace are still yours to claim. Fear is keeping you from seeing that.” Khalid gave Talia a moment to think about what he had just said. He stood up to leave. “Now, Reshma. You may tell her what you were about to share with her a moment ago. Since this is somewhat personal, I will leave you two to finish talking.”

After Khalid walked away, Reshma took both of Talia’s hands again. “Talia, my dear girl.”

“What?”

“You are not pregnant.”

“What?” Talia jerked her hands away from Reshma. She sat back and placed both her hands on her stomach as if to prove an embryo grew inside her womb. “I am pregnant. I can feel it.”

“No. You only think you are pregnant. Thirty-four days have passed since the last time that the guard assaulted you. I have cared for you every day throughout that time. You probably do not remember much about me caring for you so closely. But I have had plenty of time to know, without a doubt, you are not pregnant.”

“Are you sure? But my body is telling me otherwise.”

“Since meeting Khalid, I have learned some amazing things about the body and the mind’s power. Fear and false signs have misled you. And now, your weakened body is loyally cooperating with your confused beliefs and what they tell you.”

43.

NO TIME FOR THAT

A network of paths connected many huts in the remote corner of the Chinchigwe Kraal, now temporarily called the Panfe Nook. Lateef left the hut he shared with Heba and walked down one of the paths. He thought it was a good time to talk with Khalid, as he had promised Mfalme Jobabwe. Lateef reflected on his disagreement with the rest of the Panfe, many of whom opposed his desire to keep going. Mfalme Jobabwe had made him realize that his angry reaction to their resistance was insensitive. Maybe he was, but Lateef was determined to convince his people that continuing their journey was necessary. He hoped the talk with Khalid would help him find common ground with the others.

As Lateef walked down the path, he passed Talia’s hut. He saw Talia diligently sweeping dust and debris from the entrance. The sight was so unexpected that Lateef almost stopped to stare at her. When Talia looked up and saw Lateef, she smiled and waved at him, a gesture that Lateef found both surprising and uncharacteristic of her. As Lateef returned her smile and wave, he guessed that Khalid was somehow responsible for Talia’s newfound energy and cheer.

Lateef still had a smile on his face as he took a few more steps down the path near Asim’s hut. He saw Asim sitting outside, removing the bandages from his fingers. Asim’s hut was closer to the path than Talia’s. Lateef spoke with Asim. “How are your fingers?”

Asim held up his hand and flexed his fingers. “Nearly healed,” he said with a smile.

Lateef stopped walking, unable to believe what he had just heard. “Nearly healed? Asim, you broke your fingers only a month ago. How can they be nearly healed already?”

“I think we can easily guess how.” Asim threw the bandages aside and stood up. He walked over to join Lateef on the path. “Where are you headed?”

Lateef nodded ahead toward a hut, several meters farther down the path. “I need to talk with Khalid.”

“He is not there. He left earlier to attend to Bast.”

Lateef looked toward another hut on the far side of the nook. Because of Bast’s condition, Mfalme Jobabwe’s aide and assistants arranged for Bast to stay in a special hut just outside the nook, near the common area of the kraal. “How is Bast?”

“To my knowledge, he remains in and out of consciousness, with a weakening body and difficulty breathing. Some are saying he may not recover. I pray to all the guardian angels that Bast has not yet fulfilled his destiny.”

Lateef gave Asim an annoyed look. “After what Khalid told you, why would you say a thing like that?”

“Yes, I know. Khalid said we are given a lifetime to achieve our destiny. And he is right. But it happened to Mahmood. He lived a lifetime and died. And now, I fear that Bast has, somehow, achieved his destiny.”

“You should stop thinking like that, Asim. This is different.” Lateef thought about the result of the minor miracles Khalid performed on Talia and Asim. “If Khalid is guided by one of those guardian angels you prayed to, Bast is in good hands. He has much more living to do. He will recover.”

At that moment, Lateef looked to his right, toward the center of the Chinchigwe Kraal. In the distance, about half a kilometer away, he saw a group of Aukmondi warriors crossing the kraal and heading toward the common area. A Royal and Blue Warrior led the group. In the middle of the group, Lateef noticed an ox-drawn cart.

Lateef pointed at the cart. “Asim, that cart looks like our wagon.”

Asim took a step closer. He thought he recognized the Royal and Blue Warriors. “If those warriors are Nionu and Obe, then that cart is our wagon, or it used to be.”

Lateef immediately abandoned his plan to talk with Khalid. He and Asim left the path and ran down the hill. They took a shortcut from the nook toward the center of the kraal. They reached the warrior detachment in less than a minute. Lateef couldn’t help but show his pleasure as he ran past Nionu and Obe and placed both hands on the cart.

“You fixed it!” Still smiling, Lateef never took his hand off the cart as he slowly circled it, admiring it. He appeared very impressed by how the warriors had transformed the four-wheel wagon into a two-wheel cart. Lateef peered into the cart’s bed. Among the barrels of water and supplies left in the old wagon were the other good wheel and the remains of the broken wheel.

“Why did we not think of this?” Asim asked when he finally reached the cart. “This is brilliant.”

Lateef finally withdrew his hand from the cart and stepped back to examine the craftsmanship. “Even if we had considered doing this, we would have had no way to carry out these changes.” Lateef turned to the Royal Warrior. “Nionu, your warriors did an incredible job.”

“I will relay your gratitude to them.” Nionu walked to the back of the cart and pointed his spear at the bed. The bed is the same size as it was originally. It will hold just as much as before, but it may not be as sturdy since it is now a cart.”

Asim grasped the side of the cart and shook it to check its stability. He reached inside to bring the remaining good wheel closer. “Lateef, we now have an extra wheel. Would it be possible to make another wheel and build another cart? We will need another cart for all the baskets of food, clothing, and other items the Aukmondi gave us.”

“That is a good idea, Asim. But I do not think we have time for that.”

“Why not? While here in the valley, the Aukmondi people have been extremely generous and helpful. If we ask, I am sure they will help us. With their help, how long would it take to build another cart? A day and a half, maybe two?”

“Asim, please.” Lateef almost lost his composure, but he kept it together and spoke in a calm tone. “We do not have … that long.” Lateef looked relieved when the Blue Warrior, Obe, stepped forward, as if supporting his view.

“The Great Creation, Lateef is right. You do not have that much time.”

Lateef was examining the extra cartwheels when he heard Obe’s comments. He turned to face the warrior. “When you say that, Obe, it sounds much more frightening than when I said it. What do you mean?”

“While we were repairing your cart, a surveillance scout from my regiment saw a detachment of soldiers a few kilometers away. They appeared to be Caldifor soldiers coming this way.”

“Angels of mercy, no!” Lateef spun around as if to avoid his moment of panic. He faced Obe again. “They appear to be Caldifor soldiers? Are you sure?”

“My scout described their uniform as similar to that of the Great Creation, Bast.”

“What difference does it make?” Asim asked Lateef. “We knew all along they were coming. What are we going to do?”

Lateef had no immediate answer for Asim. He turned to Obe again. “Do you have any idea how soon those soldiers will get here?”

“According to my scout, those soldiers were not in any hurry. They were encamped and appeared to be waiting for others to arrive. If they decide to move again, I estimate they could arrive in one to two days.”

Lateef made another stressful turn, pondering. When he finally faced Asim, he spoke with firm authority. “All right, Asim. We can try to build another cart in the time we have. But whether we succeed or not, we load whatever we can onto whatever we have. We may have to leave some of our load and gifts behind. In any case, we are leaving as soon as possible, maybe as early as tomorrow.”

“What if Mfalme Ncobba grants us asylum?”

“That does not matter, Asim.” Lateef snapped. “We are leaving.”

“Lateef,” Asim warned. “I do not like this. Have you talked with the others? You are about to upset many people.”

“I do not care. They will get over it when we are safe.” Lateef grabbed the guide rope attached to the ox and the repaired cart. He led the ox and cart toward the common area.

Asim called out to him. “What about your talk with Khalid?”

“I will speak with Khalid if the opportunity comes up. But, under the circumstances, it probably will not happen soon.”

44.

MAY I OFFER A COMPROMISE

With King Aysar and his soldiers closing in, Lateef quickly led the ox and the converted cart into the common area. He knew he had to start preparing to leave the Aukmondi Valley. Feeling anxious, he couldn’t leave the valley soon enough. Lateef parked the cart next to the collection of gift baskets the Aukmondi had given to the Panfe. As he looked at the baskets, he already knew most wouldn’t fit on the cart.

Lateef climbed onto the cart bed and gathered the remaining good and broken wheels from the old wagon. At this point, they were no longer useful. He tossed the wheels to the ground to make space in the cart’s bed. He quickly rearranged the water barrels and other supplies still on board. The reorganization helped somewhat, but not enough. Lateef stepped down from the cart next to the baskets of gifts and started shifting them to one side or the other. The baskets on his right might be considered essential, while those on his left could be left behind and sacrificed if necessary.

Asim followed Lateef into the common area. He watched him, confused by his agitated behavior. After seeing enough, Asim had to ask, “Lateef, what are you doing?”

Lateef ignored Asim, as if he hadn’t heard the question. He kept shifting the gift baskets. Then, Lateef called over a Chinchigwe boy playing nearby. He asked the boy to run to the Panfe nook and get the Panfe to come down to the common area. He needed to tell them about his urgent plan to leave. When the boy ran off to do that, Lateef finally turned to Asim.

“I already told you what I am doing.” Lateef shifted more baskets. “We are leaving as soon as possible.”

“You have already decided this? On your own? Should we not discuss this with the others first?”

“What is there to discuss, Asim? The others need to get ready. We will not be here when Aysar and his soldiers arrive.”

Angered by Lateef’s stubbornness, Asim realized he had to warn him that he was wrong. “What about Bast? He cannot travel yet. And you know Neith is not going anywhere until Bast can.”

Lateef paused to glance toward the far side of the common area and Bast’s hut. He had to admit that Bast was an oversight he hadn’t considered. “We have no choice but to take Bast with us. I must convince Neith to understand that.”

“Moving Bast carelessly may kill him, Lateef. Have you thought about that? Please, do not do this.”

“We still have Reshma with us, and Khalid is here now, too. They will take the necessary precautions to avoid hurting Bast. Whatever we do, we must stay out of Aysar’s reach.”

Asim walked over to sit on the cart’s tailgate. “Lateef, please. Sit down.” He patted the tailgate, indicating that Lateef should sit beside him. After Lateef reluctantly complied, Asim sighed. “I should have said something to you earlier. You can be so difficult to talk to sometimes. I did not know how to tell you. I must tell you now.”

“Tell me what?”

“I have spoken with the others. Over half of us, including me, have decided not to continue our flight if Mfalme Ncobba grants us asylum.”

“What?” Lateef jumped to his feet, facing Asim again. “Seriously?” Lateef rubbed his face as if to brush away the seemingly sudden betrayal. “May the guardian angels have mercy. … What about your promise to Mahmood?”

“Do not hold that over my head, Lateef. Mahmood is dead. He has forgiven me before. He was such a gentle person. I know that his spirit is more forgiving, especially now.”

Lateef angrily turned away from Asim. He walked toward the gift baskets, studying them. But he was not thinking about the baskets. He was trying to control his anger. “I could not have made it through the past month without your help, Asim. Please, do not quit on me now. I need your help.”

Asim got up from the tailgate and joined Lateef. “I will always help you do what is right, Lateef. You know that. This is not right.”

Asim approached Lateef from behind. He reached for Lateef’s arm to turn him around and speak to him face-to-face. Lateef angrily jerked his arm away. He turned and pushed Asim away so hard that Asim fell back against the cart. Asim stumbled and fell to the ground.

About this time, Neith, Heba, and several others had come down from the Panfe nook. They entered the common area just in time to hear and see the exchange between Lateef and Asim.

“Lateef!” Heba shouted. She had walked down from the nook arm-in-arm with Neith. When she saw Lateef’s explosive behavior, she broke away from Neith and rushed toward Lateef to physically restrain him. Neith did not see anything, but her sharp senses told her that an assault had happened, and someone had fallen to the ground. Concern appeared on her face.

At the same time, Mfalme Jobabwe and Quazzi entered the common area. They, too, saw and heard everything. Quazzi rushed over to help Asim off the ground. Ameh stepped between Lateef and Asim.

“Great Creations!” Leaning on his staff, Ameh volleyed his eyes on each of their faces. There was a touch of anger in his voice. “What is going on here?”

Lateef regretted what he had just done at once. He dropped his head as he answered Ameh in a whisper. “I apologize for the disturbance, Mfalme. A disagreement has caused a serious rift among the Panfe. That is all.”

“That is all?” Ameh looked up into Asim’s face. “Is that all?”

Asim apologized by elaborating on Lateef’s concern. “Mfalme, some of us have decided not to continue our flight if Mfalme Ncobba decides to grant us asylum. That has upset Lateef.”

Lateef’s anger had subsided. But he still felt the need to make his appeal to Asim. “You do not know the devastation that will occur when Aysar and his soldiers arrive, and we are still here.”

“No. I do not know, but …”

Ameh stopped Asim from making his rebuttal. “None of us knows what will happen. But we cannot let that uncertainty tear the Panfe apart.”

Lateef mentally agreed with Ameh. He could see in Asim’s eyes that he agreed as well. “We stand corrected, Mfalme.”

“For the sake of the Panfe, may I offer a compromise between you and Asim?”

“Please, Mfalme.”

“We do not know what decision Mfalme Ncobba will make after the council of advisors gives their final vote this evening. If he grants asylum, then Lateef, you, and those who wish to follow you do not have to accept it. It is your choice. You are still free to continue your flight as planned. On the other hand, if Ramuza does not grant asylum, then Asim, I suggest you keep supporting Lateef and the others as you always have. They will need it more than ever. You may have no other option. Agreed?”

“I can live with that,” said Lateef.

Ameh looked at Asim. “I need to hear an agreement from you, too, Great Creation. The compromise might not be as acceptable to you. Do you agree?”

“Like you said, Mfalme. I may not have a choice.”

After a hesitant moment, Lateef looked at Asim and reached to give him a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Asim, please accept my apology.”

As his anger eased, Asim nodded in acceptance. He sighed and turned to Ameh. “The rift between us has not disappeared, Mfalme. But your guidance has shown us how we should handle it.”

“Good!” A stern expression remained on Ameh’s face as he and Quazzi began to walk away. After a few steps, Ameh turned back to face Lateef. “Speaking of guidance, Great Creation, did you talk with the Great Creation, Khalid, like I asked you?”

“No, Mfalme.” Lateef gave Asim a guilty glance. “I have not had the opportunity.”

Ameh saw the glance and understood the guilt behind it. “I highly recommend that you find the opportunity. My guidance is minimal compared to what the Great Creation, Khalid, might provide. And try to do it before the Celebration of Life this evening.”

“I will try, Mfalme.” Lateef looked down at the gift baskets. His impulse was to continue sorting the essential baskets from the non-essential. Still ashamed of his behavior, he lost interest completely. Instead, he began walking up the hill toward the Panfe nook. He needed to be alone. He walked past Neith and Heba, not ready to face them.

Heba called Lateef twice. Lateef did not respond.

Bast’s hut was nearby, on the edge of the common area. Khalid had been caring for Bast because Bast’s health kept getting worse. When Khalid heard the noise in the common area, it took him several minutes to finally come out of the hut. He needed to see what was going on.

Khalid entered the common area just in time to witness Heba’s failed attempt to call Lateef and calm him down. He then approached Heba and Neith. “Leave him be.”

“But he seems so frustrated and desperate,” said Neith.

“Yes,” agreed Heba. “He has been frustrated and desperate before, but not like this.”

Khalid gave Neith and Heba comforting embraces. “Nevertheless, Lateef’s heart and intentions are good. In the end, he will do what is right.”

45.

YOUR BLINDNESS HAS SERVED ITS PURPOSE

Neith and Heba walked slowly along the south bank pathway beyond the Chinchigwe Kraal. They were among the Panfe on their way to the Royal Kraal and tonight’s Celebration of Life. But as they walked, Heba noticed that Neith was unusually quiet. She didn’t have to ask why; she knew it was because of Lateef’s upsetting behavior earlier.

Heba saw a large log beside the path near the river. She guided Neith toward the log and suggested they pause to talk for a moment. The spot seemed perfect for a relaxing break, with birds chirping in the trees and the Aukmondi River flowing just a few meters away. Heba knew Neith couldn’t see the birds or the river, but their sounds were peaceful and lovely.

Heba waited for Neith to get comfortable before she mentioned what she felt was the cause of Neith’s quietness. “Lateef has been so moody lately.”

Neith reached out to touch Heba’s arm. Her hand then gently patted Heba’s hand, as if Heba was the one who needed comfort. “He can get that way sometimes.”

“Yes, but not like he is now. Since we left Panfe, he has gotten worse.”

Neith and Heba sat on the log with their backs to the south bank pathway. Besides the birds and the flowing river, they could hear the footsteps of other people walking past from time to time. One set of footsteps sounded closer than the others. Heba turned to see Khalid approaching.

“Teacher?” Heba respectfully started to stand.

Khalid gestured for her to stay seated. “May I join you?”

“Of course, teacher.” Although not necessary, Neith moved closer to Heba to make more space on the log.

“This looks like a private moment,” Khalid said. “I do not want to interrupt. I can come back later.”

“You are not interrupting. We welcome your company.” Neith patted the log beside her. “Hearing your words is a comfort. We will always make time to hear them.”

Khalid climbed over the log and sat in the spot Neith had offered. “Neith, I overheard part of the disagreement between Lateef and Asim earlier. I know that it upsets you. Are you all right?”

“I am fine.”

“No, you are not,” Heba quickly corrected Neith. “Lateef was disrespectful, and he owes Asim a more sincere apology. He also owes you and everyone else who saw his behavior an apology.”

“Maybe so. I understand what he is trying to do. His determination can be,” Neith paused, searching for the right word, “relentless.”

“Reckless, if you ask me.” Heba corrected Neith again. “I am beginning to think something is wrong with him.”

“That boy should have taken you as his wife long ago, Heba. You love him dearly. I can feel the love between you two. And it is such a beautiful thing. It might take your love to calm his drive. You would be the first to know if something is wrong with him.”

“As would you, Neith. As his mother, you do not need your eyes to see it.”

“I am not so sure.” Neith shrugged before turning to Khalid. “Teacher, earlier you said Lateef’s heart and intentions are good. He is frustrated and desperate. But there is something else. I think Lateef is unusually frightened.”

“I must agree.” Khalid almost smiled at Neith’s sensitivity and her suspicion. “He is frightened, and he is running.”

“Running from what? King Aysar?” Heba thought the answer was obvious. “All of us are running from King Aysar.”

“No, it is deeper than that for Lateef,” Neith felt compelled to explain. “It all started a few months before Lateef was born. When King Aysar killed the Oracle, unrest quickly grew in Panfe and across the kingdom. That day, Lateef’s father was among the first to dream of leaving Caldifor, never to return. He eventually shared that dream with everyone.”

“Yes.” Khalid smiled again as Neith awakened one of his earliest memories of Shakir. “I remember him as a man who was a pleasure to be around. I loved hearing his fascinating stories about faraway places.”

“Everyone loved him and his stories, especially Lateef, as he matured through his early harvests.” Neith continued sharing her memories. “Shakir always dreamed of returning to his birthplace and where he grew up, near the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro. After the unrest in Caldifor became unbearable, he vowed to take Lateef and me there.”

“Other people heard of Shakir’s dream,” Heba added. “They began to dream of escaping, too. Many became just as serious about leaving Caldifor and disappearing forever.”

“That was only the beginning.” For a brief moment, Neith sat quietly. She remembered how things slowly became more and more frightening. “During the first ten harvests of Lateef’s life, Shakir advocated either overthrowing King Aysar or leaving the kingdom.”

Khalid had never experienced those frightening times, but he was familiar with them. “Shakir became the infamous Mtetezi that I heard so much about.”

“Yes. Because of Shakir, one family after another disappeared from Panfe. It was barely noticeable at first. The Panfe village gradually shrank as people secretly left the kingdom.”

“Yes. My family was among the first to leave. I last saw Shakir after my fifth harvest.” Khalid prompted Neith to talk about something she seemed reluctant to discuss. “Lateef has told me that it was King Aysar who killed Shakir.”

“Yes,” Neith recalled that day as if it had happened yesterday. The memory never became easier to bear. “One day, Lateef wanted to go hunting for partridges. It was shortly after his tenth harvest. My eyesight was still pretty good at the time. I could see the desire on Lateef’s face. I could feel it in his heart. Shakir thought Lateef was too young, but Lateef was so persistent.”

“As always,” Heba added.

“Shakir and I gave in to Lateef’s desire. The first time Shakir took Lateef hunting ... was the last time I saw Shakir alive.” After a brief pause, tears began to fill Neith’s eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. She continued her sorrowful story only after Khalid gently put his arm around her shoulder. “Lateef told me what happened that fateful day. He and Shakir did not know that King Aysar was also hunting in the same area. King Aysar had set traps for partridges, but before he could recover the birds, Shakir and Lateef found the traps first. King Aysar accused Shakir of trying to steal his birds, and he ordered the soldiers hunting with him to arrest Shakir. Shakir did his best to explain his innocence, but the wicked king refused to listen. One of Aysar’s soldiers, who knew enough about the Mtetezi, quickly realized who Shakir was.”

Neith had become so emotionally overwhelmed that she stopped talking. Heba tried to finish the account where Neith left off. “Shakir knew the situation was already out of control and about to get worse. Glory to all the guardian angels. Shakir had already told Lateef to run.”

“Yes.” Neith recovered from her emotional breakdown and wiped away more tears. “Lateef ran, but he refused to leave his father behind. He hid. Lateef saw it all. That poor boy saw Aysar brutally kill his father.”

“Murder his father.” It was another correction by Heba.

Khalid gave Neith a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. “That had to be horrible for a child to see.”

“Since that day, Lateef has had nightmares,” Heba knew that Neith was aware of Lateef’s nightmares. She did not know if Neith or Khalid knew how severe they had become. “The nightmares have become more frequent. I recently learned that most of Lateef’s nightmares are now about King Aysar capturing and killing him and Neith.”

“Lateef always saw the king as the monster that he was.” Neith’s understanding of Lateef’s current behavior was becoming clear. “Any child would run from such a monster.”

Heba affectionately squeezed Neith’s hand. “You and Lateef should have left Panfe when Aysar murdered Shakir. Why did you stay?”

“If we had, Lateef would not have met and fallen in love with you.” Neith tried to return Heba’s affectionate squeeze. She had just told Heba only part of the truth. “No, things became more complicated. As young as he was, Lateef was now a fugitive. King Aysar and his soldiers visited the Panfe village almost every day, looking for Lateef. They searched many of the village dwellings at random and asked many villagers about him. Do you know this boy? Have you seen him? Where might he live?”

Heba recalled those days. “Everyone lied, telling the king and his soldiers that they did not know Lateef or remember seeing him. The king and his soldiers never found Lateef.”

“No. But they did not stop. They continued to come to the village, searching. Each time, Lateef hid in the nearby woods. Sometimes, he would stay in the woods for days.”

Heba remembered those times, too. “After the king and his soldiers left the village, I searched the woods for Lateef. I would often find him trembling in fear. I had to convince him that it was safe to come out.”

“Several months after Shakir’s death, the king came to search the village. He randomly selected my dwelling. He did not know that Lateef lived there. He did not know that I was Lateef’s mother. Nor did he know I was the wife of the Mtetezi. On that day, I had just finished preparing several of my minced meat pies. I did that often for my neighbors.”

Heba was not aware that Khalid was familiar with Neith’s meat pies. “Neith can make the best-tasting meat pies you will ever eat.”

“I remember her meat pies. When she cooked them, their aroma would fill the entire village.”

“The pies immediately caught the king’s attention,” Neith continued. “Without asking, that arrogant bastard grabbed one to taste it. So overwhelmed by the pie’s flavor, he forgot about searching for Lateef. He admitted he had never had a meat pie as flavorful as this in his life. So, he told me to come and cook for him at the palace. I tried to resist what I thought was an invitation. I explained to Aysar that my eyesight was failing and that I would not be a reliable or skilled cook. He told me I could see well enough to make these meat pies. Then he clarified himself. He said that his invitation was not a request. It was an order. ... From that day, I worked in the palace, cooking for the king’s pleasure.”

Heba could hardly believe how long ago that was. “It has been, what? Thirteen harvests now?”

“Almost fourteen, … until I became too blind to serve the king anymore. As fate would have it, someone put poison in the queen’s sugar bowl on my last day of service. That queen was pregnant, too. She and her unborn baby died. The king knew the poison was meant for him. He accused me of trying to poison him. Now, Lateef and I are both fugitives.”

“As I said, Neith, you and Lateef should have left Panfe when Shakir was murdered.”

Neith began to cry again. “You are probably right. However, the onset of complete blindness soon followed. We did not leave right away. Lateef was ready, but I was not. Had we left initially, King Aysar would never have discovered my meat pies, and I would never have gone to work for him. None of this would have ever happened.”

“So, you blame your blindness for not leaving Panfe?” Khalid asked Neith.

“No. I blame my blindness for not seeing the fear on my little boy’s face. That fear has never gone away. It has scared him, and probably for life. Now, with King Aysar’s soldiers so close, I understand what is driving him so recklessly.”

When Neith began to sob heavily, Khalid placed her head on his shoulder. He reached out to wipe away her fresh tears. His hand covered both of her eyes. “Whether it is Lateef’s fear of King Aysar or his determination to protect you, it has brought you here. Here is where we need to be. Your blindness has served its purpose. It is time you finally see your son for who he is.”

Neith instantly knew something was different. She raised her head from Khalid’s shoulder. She blinked repeatedly to clear her tears and improve her vision. She used both hands to wipe away the last of her tears.

Heba instantly knew something was different, too. Surprised and confused, she looked into Neith’s face. “Neith, what is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Neith smiled, still blinking her eyes. “I can see! Heba, I can see!”

With tears of happiness, Heba gave Neith a powerfully warm embrace. “Glory to all the guardian angels.” Realizing her words, she turned to Khalid and fell to her knees. She took Khalid’s hand with both of hers and bowed her head. “And glory to the guardian angel who sits before me. Thank you, teacher.”

Khalid stood up. With Heba’s hand still in one of his, he reached to take Neith’s hand, encouraging both women to rise. “You can thank me by continuing to the Aukmondi’s Celebration of Life and enjoying yourselves.”

“We will, teacher.” Neith was still so overwhelmed that she could barely talk. With only residual tears blurring her vision, she looked up into Khalid’s face. “May Nhailic bless you for all you have done.”

“Teacher,” Heba began to ask, “are you not going to the celebration, too? All of the Panfe have been invited. You need to be there!”

“No. Unfortunately, Bast is approaching a critical moment in his health. I must return to the Chinchigwe Kraal to attend to him.”

Before Khalid released Neith’s hand, she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. “With you at Bast’s side, I know he is in good hands.”

46.

THE ONLY DOWNSIDE

The walk from the riverbank, where Neith and Heba were, to the entrance of the Royal Kraal usually takes about ten minutes. It took three times longer because Neith enjoyed her restored sight. Time and time again, she veered off the pathway to get a closer look at something she saw. Once, a purple wildflower’s simple beauty caught her attention. Neith had to touch the richly colored petals of the flower. On another occasion, as Neith and Heba crossed the bridge connecting the north and south slopes, Neith heard the flowing river water beneath it. She moved to the edge of the bridge to look down into the water. She got so close to the edge that Heba impulsively grabbed her arm.

“I am sorry, Neith.” Heba released Neith’s arm. “I thought you were about to step off the edge. It seems I must also get used to your restored vision.”

“Then take your time.” Neith smiled at Heba. “I have become accustomed to your closeness and will miss it if you stop. You do not know how much I appreciate it.”

To show her appreciation, Neith linked her arm with Heba’s. The two of them walked arm-in-arm up the trail from the bridge to the entrance of the Royal Kraal.

Long before the two entered the kraal, the drums, music, and singing from the celebration drew them in. It was still early evening, but bonfires already burned throughout the celebration area. People gathered around many of the bonfires, singing, dancing, and eating. Just inside the entrance, the sights and sounds of a drum-and-dance performance by several people overwhelmed the two women. With broad smiles, Neith and Heba started clapping and stomping, mimicking the other performers’ movements.

This didn’t last long. Soon after entering the kraal, people started gathering around Neith. Almost everyone realized that Neith could see again. Other Panfe and several Aukmondi, many of whom she did not know, surrounded Neith to offer their congratulations. Neith looked around in every direction, trying to thank the people for their kind words.

Later, Lateef finally arrived at the Royal Kraal. Someone back in the Chinchigwe kraal had told Lateef about Neith’s restored vision. Lateef ran from Chinchigwe Kraal to the Royal Kraal. Once there, he pushed his way through the crowd celebrating around Neith. “Mother! Is it true? You can see?”

Neith turned to Lateef and looked up into his face. Her direct stare into his eyes answered Lateef’s questions. With his own broad smile, Lateef hugged Neith so tightly that he lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

“I can see as well as I ever have,” Neith said as Lateef lowered her to the ground. “I have Khalid to thank for this. He is truly a godsend.”

“Yes, he is.” Lateef hugged Neith again, burying his face against her neck and fighting back tears of happiness. Neith enjoyed Lateef’s hug. It had been a long time since Lateef had hugged her like that. Long before Lateef let her go, Neith noticed a tall stranger standing behind Lateef. The stranger looked as pleased as everyone else. He seemed eager to wait for his turn to give Neith a strong hug as well.

When Lateef finally freed her, Neith looked at the stranger. “Who are you?”

The stranger smiled. “Neith, it is me! Asim!”

Neith reached out to take Asim into her arms. Neith had not seen Asim since he was a young child. “Oh, Asim. I am sorry. You must forgive me.”

“Of course, I forgive you.” Asim returned Neith’s hug almost as strongly as Lateef’s.

“I must learn the faces of many people I already know.” Still holding Asim’s hand, Neith stepped back to get a better look at him. Her eyes examined Asim’s strong frame from head to toe. “The last time I saw you, back in Panfe Village, you were a skinny little boy. I often wondered how such a frail young thing could be such a troublemaker. But look at you now. Look at how you have grown.”

“I have grown, Neith. But I hope my troublemaking days are over.” Asim looked at Lateef as he stepped back. His remark about ending his troublemaking days was meant for Lateef to hear. The rift between him and Lateef still simmered.

The crowd around Neith gathered again but quickly dispersed. Another small group approached her, causing everyone else to step back. When Neith turned to face the group, it was still a few meters away from her. Still, she instantly recognized the person at the head of the group.

“Mfalme Jobabwe,” Neith spoke confidently.

Asim stood next to Neith. It surprised him how Neith recognized the Mfalme so quickly. She had never seen him visually. “Neith, you had to hear my voice to recognize who I was. How did you recognize Mfalme Jobabwe before he spoke to you?”

“Since I have been here in the Aukmondi Valley, no one else walks about with that constant thump-thump-thump of a walking staff. I could hear him coming meters away.”

“Forgive me for arriving so late,” Ameh spoke to everyone as he walked toward Neith, somewhat breathless from his rapid walk to the Royal Kraal. In the group behind him were his usual aide, assistants, and the Brown Warrior, Quazzi. When he finally reached Neith, he had a curious look on his face. “Sacred Woman, there is a rumor in the Chinchigwe Kraal that you can suddenly see again. Is it true? You can see?”

“Yes, Mfalme. I can see. Khalid healed me.”

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Ameh was nearly speechless as he kept gazing into Neith’s eyes. “Throughout history, we have heard of guardian angels like the Great Creation, Khalid. I have often wondered if we would ever personally meet one in our lifetime. It seems that we have.”

“Yes, and we should cherish him and his time among us,” Neith began. “We must be thankful for all that he has done for us.”

“I could not agree more,” Ameh said. “Congratulations on what he did for you, Sacred Woman.”

“Thank you, Mfalme.” At that moment, Neith became acutely aware of Ameh’s labored breathing. “Mfalme, are you alright?”

“Lateef and I heard the rumor that you could see again at the same time. Unfortunately, I could not run here as fast as he did. Yet, I rushed over here a little faster than I should have.” Ameh tried to wave away everyone’s concern. “I will be fine.”

After Quazzi congratulated Neith, his concern for the Mfalme prompted him to look for a moment when the Mfalme could rest. He dutifully turned to Ameh and nodded toward the back of the kraal. “Mfalme, let us not forget why we are here tonight. Mfalme Ncobba and the royal family are probably waiting for us on the dais.”

“Of course, Great Creation.” Ameh knew he and most of the Panfe were already late. He realized it would take him another fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the royal dais. It was not his intention to show Mfalme Ncobba any disrespect. “Let us hope and pray that the Great Creation Khalid has had a positive effect on Mfalme Ncobba’s patience as well as his council.”

Ameh turned to Lateef and Asim, who stood on either side of him. “Are you two ready for this?”

The decision to grant asylum or not didn’t matter to Lateef. With one decision or the other, he already knew what he and half the Panfe would do. Lateef waited for Asim to answer Ameh’s question.

“As I told Neith moments ago,” Asim finally said, “my troublemaking days are over.”

Mfalme Jobabwe led the way as they walked across the celebration area. Navigating around the many bonfires and groups of revelers took a little extra time. Thirty minutes later, Ameh, Quazzi, nearly all of the Panfe, and a large number of curious Aukmondi finally gathered near the royal dais.

The Aukmondi Daily Celebration of Life was well underway by this time. Ramuza and the royal family waited patiently for everyone to arrive. Ramuza did not seem upset by Ameh and the Panfe’s late arrival. He and the entire Ncobba family spoke casually among themselves and with others already gathered around the dais.

Ameh respectfully apologized to Ramuza for being late. Ramuza graciously accepted the apology and invited Ameh to step onto the dais and take a seat on his chieftain’s stool. He finally stood and moved toward the front edge of the dais. This action immediately silenced the large crowd around the dais. Ramuza paused to scan the crowd, searching for the faces of those who needed to be there and hear what he had to say.

By now, Ramuza had learned about Neith’s regained sight. He spotted her among the faces in the crowd before him. On behalf of the royal family, he took a few happy moments to congratulate her. He also gave some time to others who felt compelled to do the same.

By now, Ramuza had also learned about the nearly physical rift between Lateef and Asim over the possibility of asylum for the Panfe. After he spotted their faces in the center of the crowd, he paced a few steps as he considered what he had to say. “A short while ago, I received the result of the final votes from my council of advisors.”

Asim worked his way from the center of the crowd to the forefront. He looked back at Lateef, wondering whether Lateef was as interested in learning the result. He and Ramuza could easily see that Lateef seemed indifferent.

Ramuza glanced at the two Creations before turning to Ameh. “Mfalme Jobabwe, since the question about granting the Panfe asylum came up, you have argued in favor of it. I must say, your influence on the council members is remarkably strong. Half the council agrees with you.”

Hearing this, a gentle murmur of voices rose from the crowd in front of Ramuza. Ameh showed a slight smile upon hearing Ramuza’s statement. That slight smile never turned into a full smile. Ameh understood that a vote from half the council was not a conclusive result.

“The other half of the council does not agree,” Ramuza said. “As a result, my council is deadlocked.”

The crowd’s voices grew slightly louder. Ramuza’s final statement finally caught Lateef’s interest. He moved to the front of the crowd to stand beside Asim. Ramuza took a few more pacing steps before turning to face the crowd, especially Lateef and Asim. “I am forced to cast the decisive vote. To avoid a tremendous threat to the valley and the Aukmondi Tribe, I have decided that there will be no asylum.”

A sudden surge of voices burst from the crowd, some positive and others negative. Lateef was heard expressing his excitement. Meanwhile, Asim stood in disappointed silence. Other Panfe reacted similarly, supporting one of the two men. The wave of voices lasted several seconds. Ramuza had to raise both of his hands to quiet the crowd.

Once the crowd grew quiet, Ramuza turned to Ameh. He could see the disappointment on his face. “I did not make this decision lightly, Mfalme. I hope I have your support.”

Ameh let out a heavy sigh and tried to release the frown from his face. “You are the tribal Mfalme. Yes, I am disappointed. But yes. You have my support.”

“Thank you, Mfalme.”

Ameh waved his hand toward the people in front of the dais. “As you can see from some of the faces here, I am not the only one disappointed. Your decision might prevent the enormously deadly threats to this valley and its people. But there are still serious consequences. The Panfe still need considerable help.”

“I know that, Mfalme. But, under the circumstances, there is only so much help I can give them.”

Ameh leaned back and sighed heavily again as he looked at Lateef and Asim. He wondered if the two Creations were aware of the problems they now faced. He looked up at Ramuza with a simple question. “So, what help can you give them?”

Ramuza did not answer Ameh verbally. Instead, he signaled a Royal Warrior standing beside the dais. The warrior relayed Ramuza’s signal. To everyone’s surprise, a line of animal-drawn carts and wagons appeared from behind the dais. There were so many people around the dais that no one in front of it saw the carts and wagons until now. The line included two two-wheel carts and three four-wheel wagons.

Ramuza came to the forward edge of the dais again and pointed toward the carts and wagons. “People of various kraals have donated these to the Panfe.”

By now, Lateef was so overcome with joyful elation that he hugged Heba, Neith, and as many other Panfe as he could. He and a few others hurried toward the carts and wagons to get a closer look. It was difficult for Ramuza to regain Lateef’s attention. “Great Creation!”

“Yes, Mfalme?”

Ramuza gestured toward the Gray Warrior. “The Sacred Woman, Kharaambi, has selected a brigade of warriors to escort you and the Panfe to wherever you are going.”

“Thank you, Mfalme.” Lateef forced himself to regain his composure. He bowed with gratitude. “We are so grateful. Thank you so very much!”

“Please utilize these offers effectively.”

“We will, Mfalme. Glory to all the guardian angels, this has been a wonderful day. The only downside of the day is that King Aysar is still coming.”

Kharaambi stood and asked Ramuza for permission to speak. She looked directly at Lateef. “You can thank us, Great Creation, by successfully getting away from King Aysar and returning my warriors. Mfalme Ncobba and I pray to the Supreme Spirit that you do not need them.”

“As do we, Kharaambi.”

Kharaambi stepped down from the dais. She stood face-to-face with Lateef. “Have you decided when the Panfe are leaving?”

Since the Panfe arrived in the Aukmondi Valley, the timing of their departure had been a matter of debate. But after learning that King Aysar’s soldiers were only a day or two away, Lateef had decided unilaterally that they would leave as soon as possible, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Now that there would be no asylum, Lateef knew he had Asim’s support based on their compromise agreement. With the gift of the carts and wagons, and the loan of warriors, there was no longer any debate about it.

“We are leaving sometime tomorrow, Kharaambi.” Lateef looked at Asim as if to confirm his definite answer. Asim was not happy, but he showed no objection. “As soon as we can load our things on these carts and wagons tomorrow, we are leaving.”

47.

SOMETHING I SHOULD LOOK INTO

Hours later, Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe woke up in the middle of the night. The sleep he managed to get did him some good, but he still felt stressed about Ramuza’s final decision not to grant asylum to the Panfe. As he lay there on his cot, he pondered the challenges the Panfe would face.

The Great Creation, Lateef, said he and his followers would keep fleeing even if Ramuza offered them asylum. Ameh felt they faced an uncertain future. He was especially worried about the Great Creation, Asim, and his half of the Panfe followers. They didn’t want to keep running; they preferred asylum. But since the decision against asylum was made, Asim and his followers had no choice but to keep moving. They couldn’t stay in the Aukmondi Valley.

Ameh rose to sit on the edge of his cot as his thoughts about the Panfe persisted. He soon realized that worrying about it was useless and only made his stress worse. He had learned long ago never to worry about things he could not change. He made a conscious decision to leave the matter behind. The situation was beyond his control. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Ameh felt thirsty. He stood and slowly shuffled toward the exit of his hut. He needed to reach his freshwater barrel just outside. It was a short walk, so he left his usual walking staff behind. Once outside, Ameh paused at the entrance to take in the sights and sounds of the night. The tropical air was just right, neither too dry nor too humid. The black sky was filled with stars, some clustered so densely they looked like thin clouds. The chirping of crickets and distant animal sounds created an endless chorus.

Ameh stepped beside his freshwater barrel. He lifted the lid, scooped out a ladle of water, and took a refreshing drink. For a moment, he felt better. But the relaxing sensation grew so strong that Ameh suddenly felt lightheaded. He would have fallen if not for a wooden bench right behind him. Ameh sat down to let the lightheadedness pass.

Ameh recovered quickly, but he was not eager to return to his cot. He kept sitting on the bench, enjoying the sights and sounds. At this late hour, the Chinchigwe Kraal stayed quiet. His view across the area was partly blocked by the line of carts and wagons that the Aukmondi had given to the Panfe. Throughout the kraal, across the common and central areas, Ameh saw no one. Most were asleep.

He saw lights coming from lanterns burning inside various huts. The closest lantern was at Bast’s hut. Ameh believed that the Great Creation, Khalid, had stayed by Bast’s side day and night. On the hill in the Panfe nook, a half kilometer away, Ameh saw several other huts with lanterns glowing inside. Since the Panfe planned to leave the valley the next day, Ameh guessed some people were still gathering and packing their travel gear.

Ameh’s peaceful moment was interrupted when a White Warrior appeared suddenly from behind his hut. The sudden appearance startled Ameh, causing him to sit back with a jolt and his heart to skip a beat. He placed his hand on his chest, mindlessly gripping his tunic in his fingers. Only then did Ameh realize that the warrior was the White Warrior, Modi, out on a nighttime patrol of the kraal.

The feeling must have been mutual. The White Warrior, Modi, paused for a moment. He didn’t expect to see Ameh sitting outside at this hour. “Mfalme, may I help you with something?”

“No, thank you, Great Creation.” Ameh waved toward his water barrel. “It has already been taken care of.”

“Alright, Mfalme. Let me know if there’s anything else you need,” the warrior said as he started to walk away. Then he noticed Ameh was still gripping his tunic. He turned back to face Ameh. “Mfalme, are you alright?”

“People have been asking me that question quite a bit lately,” Ameh said with a smile, removing his hand from his chest. He tried to seem relaxed, although he still felt a slight discomfort. “You startled me when you came from the other side of my hut.”

“I am sorry, Mfalme.” Modi came closer to Ameh. “But you do not look well.”

“I am fine. It is just a minor pain. Perhaps it is something I should look into eventually.”

“Should I send for the Favored Tribesman?”

Ameh waved the White Warrior away. “No, no. Not at this hour. Kon-Shambique is halfway at the other end of the valley. Besides, it is not that serious.”

“With all due respect, Mfalme. You do not know that.”

“If the pain gets any worse,” Ameh stood and pointed toward Bast’s hut, “I can walk over to Bast’s hut. The Great Creation, Khalid, is there. He is a healer, too. I can rely on him.”

“If you say so, Mfalme.”

Ameh turned and headed toward the entrance of his hut. “Good night, Great Creation. Or, should I say, good morning?”

Good morning, Mfalme. And please take care of yourself.”

“Yes, I must do that.”

48.

MORE DISTURBING THAN EVER

One of the huts in the Panfe nook, from which Ameh saw the light of a lantern shining, belonged to Lateef and Heba. The two stayed up late into the night, sorting their share of the gifts from the baskets that the Aukmondi had left for the Panfe. Most of the other Panfe went to their respective huts and immediately fell asleep after yesterday’s Daily Celebration of Life. They planned to sort and pack in the morning. Excited about tomorrow, Lateef could hardly wait. Loading the carts and wagons would start at sunrise, and Lateef wanted to be ready.

At Heba’s insistence, Lateef and Heba finished their sorting and packing to get some sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow, and they need rest. When they finally lay on their cots, Heba quickly fell asleep. Lateef tossed and turned, unable to keep his eyes closed as his mind raced. Shortly before sunrise, Lateef finally fell asleep, only to be greeted by another of his recurring nightmares.

This nightmare mirrored the previous one. In the dream, as usual, Lateef found himself bound to a tree with ropes and unable to move. He looked to his left and saw his father, Shakir, tied to another tree. King Aysar had just killed him. The evil king stood in front of the body with a look of intense vengeance on his face, wiping blood from the blade of his knife.

Lateef struggled to free himself. He glanced to his right and, to his growing horror, saw Neith tied to another tree. Her body sagged, supported only by ropes. She didn’t look dead, but Lateef knew her death, and his was near. He shut his eyes, lifted his head, and yelled as loudly as he could.

When Lateef opened his eyes again, he saw that stranger once more, walking among the bushes and trees high on the hill. This time, the stranger heard his scream and quickly began descending the hill. In this version of the nightmare, the stranger was definitely coming to help. He approached so fast that Lateef felt a flicker of hope for a possible rescue. As he came closer, Lateef could finally see his face. He recognized the stranger. Once again, and more clearly this time, it was Khalid.

Although his father was already dead in the dream and the deaths of him and Neith were imminent, help seemed to be on the way. Yet, this nightmare felt more disturbing than ever. In this nightmare, the strangest thing happened. Khalid walked silently past Aysar and the bound captives. He did not come to help; instead, he continued down the hill. When he did, King Aysar followed him with his knife held high above his head, ready to strike again.

Lateef screamed again. He jerked so forcefully against the ropes that his movement jolted him awake.

49.

A CALDIFOR SOLDIER IS HERE

Just before daylight, Lateef woke from his nightmare. He could have slept a few more minutes, but he sacrificed that time and chose to start his day early. He sat up on the edge of his cot, thinking about the nightmare he had just had. Despite how irritating and frustrating it was, he dismissed it again. Sometimes, dreams have so many unexpected twists and turns that they make no sense. And, after all, it was just a dream. Although his dreams were confusing and upsetting, Lateef began to find comfort in knowing he always woke up.

He looked at Heba, who still slept soundly. Watching her brought a smile to his face. He saw her as a living angel. Her presence was more valuable than anything else in his life. Their relationship made up for any nightmare he might face. That was a greater miracle than even Khalid could achieve.

Lateef decided not to wake Heba, letting her enjoy a few extra minutes of rest. He stood up and stepped outside the hut, looking forward to the day. After a morning stretch and a yawn, Lateef took a moment to finish his usual morning routines. He ended them by slowly walking several meters down the hillside to the edge of the Panfe nook. He stood there for a while, enjoying the view and the morning’s freshness.

With the reddish glow of dawn, Lateef looked down toward the common area of the Chinchigwe Kraal. He could see that many Chinchigwe were already up and about, performing their morning routines. Lateef couldn’t see the entire common area; the carts and wagons donated by the Aukmondi blocked his view. But the sight of the carts and wagons brought another smile to Lateef’s face. He felt good about the day ahead, pushing last night’s nightmare to the back of his mind.

Lateef turned to walk back toward his hut. Along the path, he passed Reshma’s hut. He saw her bring one of her packed baskets outside and set it aside. It made Lateef happy to see that she had started her day early. Feeling the day’s energy, he approached her.

“Good morning, Reshma. Do you have everything ready to go?”

“Good morning, Lateef.” Reshma sighed as she glanced over her baskets of belongings. “I think so.”

Lateef knew that, with all her responsibilities, Reshma had been one of the busiest people since arriving in the valley. He admired her for all that she had done. “What about Bast? How is he doing?”

“Bast appears to be recovering. I am a little concerned about him.”

“Concerned? Why?”

“His recovery is stubbornly slow.”

“Will he be able to travel safely with Khalid’s and your help?”

“I hope so.” Reshma glanced down the hill toward Bast’s hut. “I left him in Khalid’s care last night. He was sleeping with labored breathing. But Khalid promised to have him ready to go by this morning. He told me not to worry about it. He told me to return to my hut and get a good night’s rest for the day ahead.”

“Good. I have confidence in Khalid, enough to feel comfortable with his promises.” Lateef pointed at the basket that Reshma had just sat down. “Do you need help loading your belongings?”

“No, thank you, Lateef. I believe I can manage.”

Lateef kept walking up the path toward his hut. Before reaching it, he passed two more huts, one on each side of the path. The hut on his left belonged to Asim. Lateef saw Asim sitting on the ground in front of his hut, eating a bowl of breakfast soup. He went over to greet Asim, but Asim spoke to him first.

“Good morning, Lateef.” Asim had overheard Lateef’s question to Reshma about her readiness to go. “Are you going to ask me if I am ready to go?”

“No, no.” The hint of a smile was Lateef’s greeting to Asim. He was not going to rekindle the rift between them. “I already know the answer to what you might say.”

Asim set his soup aside and started to get up from the ground. “Do you need help hitching the animals to the carts and wagons?”

“Yes, but not yet. We can wait. We can do that after everything is loaded.” Lateef knew that Asim didn’t like the plan to continue their journey. But since the rejection of asylum and the decision to move forward, Asim has shown no further resistance. Lateef felt Asim deserved a compliment. “I appreciate your cooperation, Asim.”

Asim relaxed and picked up his soup bowl again. “I am only trying to make a difficult thing less stressful for everyone.”

Lateef acknowledged Asim with a friendly nod as he turned to continue up the path. On the right side of the path was Neith’s hut. Lateef was glad to see Neith doing the same thing as Reshma. She placed baskets outside her hut, getting them ready to carry down the hill to the carts and wagons.

“Good morning, mother.” Lateef stepped off the pathway. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Neith pushed one of her baskets closer to another before facing Lateef with a twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, I did. I was so exhausted after singing and dancing at the Aukmondi celebration last evening that I returned to my hut and fell promptly asleep. I slept the whole night through.”

Lateef visually counted the baskets Neith had placed outside. He saw four, and there were more inside. “I did not realize you had so much.”

Neith looked over her baskets, too. “Neither did I. Most of it is additional congratulatory gifts everyone has given me.”

“Asim and I, and a few others, can carry your things to carts and wagons for you.”

“Thank you, Lateef. I will not need that much help. You forgot. I can see now,” Neith picked up one of the baskets from the ground. “I can carry some of it myself.”

The path from the Panfe nook to the Chinchigwe Kraal common area was 113 meters downhill on a gently sloping hillside. Several minutes later, Neith walked down the hill holding one of her baskets. She hummed happily, still savoring the joy she had felt the night before. The bright morning sun rose over the treetops directly ahead of her. The strong glare didn’t distract her from the joy of seeing again.

Because of the sun’s glare, Neith could only see the silhouettes of people moving around in the common area. She noticed carts and wagons lined up along the near side of the area. As she moved closer, she began to see beyond the carts and wagons. One of the first things that caught her eye was the silhouette of a man grooming a horse. The man stood with his back to her as he brushed the horse’s side.

Halfway down the hillside, the sun’s glare diminished. Neith’s vision cleared, and people no longer appeared as silhouettes. The man grooming the horse became clearly visible. Startled, Neith recognized him as a Caldifor soldier. There was no doubt. So horrified, she dropped her basket, spilling many of its contents. Neith turned around. Though she was elderly, she tried to run back up the hillside.

“Lateef! Lateef!” Neith shouted. Her weak run slowed to a struggle as she kept climbing the hillside, still calling Lateef’s name.

Before Neith reached the nook, others heard her calling. Many stopped what they were doing in the middle of their morning routines. Alarmed by Neith’s hysteria, they hurried to the pathway to see what was wrong. Lateef and Asim led the group down the hillside toward Neith.

“Mother, what is it?” Lateef grabbed Neith by the shoulders, attempting to calm her. “What is wrong?”

Neith, still gasping for breath, turned to point toward the common area. “There is a Caldifor soldier down there.”

“What?” Lateef looked toward the common area. He saw nothing because of the sun’s glare. Yet, he took a fearful step back. “Already? We are not ready for this. How is this possible?”

“Let us find out.” Asim took several steps down the hillside. He looked back when he realized Lateef was not following him. “Lateef? Are you coming?”

Lateef stood frozen, still holding Neith’s shoulders. A terrible panic kept Lateef from moving. He stood there, seeming confused about what to do.

“Lateef!” Asim repeated. “Come! Let us find out what this is all about!”

Fear had already convinced Lateef that something terrible was happening, but he knew he had to face his fear eventually. He finally snapped out of his stupor, let go of Neith, and entrusted her to Heba and Reshma. He forced himself to follow Asim down the hillside.

The group that gathered on the pathway after Neith’s urgent calls included almost half of the nook’s Panfe. Driven by curiosity and caution, they followed Lateef and Asim down the hillside. Heba and Reshma, still supporting Neith, led the way. They couldn’t see what had happened until they were halfway down the hill and past the sun’s glare. Only then could they see beyond the line of carts and wagons.

They saw another small crowd of excited people on the other side of the carts and wagons. Lateef and Asim stood near the center of that lively crowd, gathered around the Caldifor soldier that Neith had seen. Confused and unsure of what was happening, no one understood until Lateef and Asim moved aside, forcing the crowd to part. In the middle of the crowd stood Bast.

When Lateef turned and saw Neith approaching, he joyfully waved her closer. “Mother, that Caldifor soldier that you saw is Bast.”

Neith was stunned, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She staggered back and almost fell if Heba and Reshma hadn’t caught her. But, in an instant, Neith regained her strength. Joy pushed her to rush toward Bast.

“Oh, Bast!” Neith embraced Bast tightly, tears in her eyes. “I was so worried about losing you.”

“Then worry no more. I am fine,” Bast said, returning Neith’s strong embrace. But then, something suddenly occurred to him. He stepped back, holding Neith at arm’s length. He stared into her face. “Neith? Can you see? You can see! Am I dreaming? How is this possible?”

“Khalid made it possible,” Neith said, smiling and looking into Bast’s eyes. “He cured my blindness. And I see, he has healed you, too.”

“Khalid?” Bast gave a brief look of confusion. “He is the one who woke me up this morning. His face looked familiar, but I could not remember who he was or where I had seen him before.”

“You first met him after we became stranded on the savanna. Do you not remember?”

“Only vaguely.” Bast tried to untangle his memories. “My mind has been chaotic since I fell off my horse and reinjured my knife wound. I do not remember much after that, which seems like weeks ago.”

Lateef stepped forward, recalling the day he rode out to retrieve the injured Bast. “It has been about six days, Bast. A lot has happened since then.”

Over the next few minutes, Lateef, Neith, Asim, Heba, Reshma, and several others recounted to Bast what had happened during those six days. Lateef explained how the Panfe found Bast injured and wandering through the wilderness. They told Bast about their serious breakdown on the savanna and how the Aukmondi warriors rescued them. Most of those six days were spent during the resettlement in what is now called the Panfe Nook. Bast was deeply moved by the story of how Khalid and Reshma cared for him during his near-fatal reinjury at the time. And understandably, Bast experienced a volley of hope and then regret when the offer of asylum for the Panfe was considered but was later withdrawn by Mfalme Ncobba. The Panfe wrapped up their long summary with Khalid’s miraculous influences on Talia, Asim, Neith, and Bast himself.

“All of that is truly incredible.” Bast sighed heavily as he attempted to put everything into perspective. “We owe a tremendous gratitude to Mfalme Ncobba, the Aukmondi tribe, and Khalid. But tell me something. This man, Khalid. Who is he? He seems to be a true guardian angel.”

“There is no doubt about it,” said Neith.

“No doubt at all,” added Lateef. “Khalid says he is no miracle worker. But we all know better.”

“I am the last person that you must convince. Look at this.” Bast quickly removed his chest plate from his uniform and lifted the hem of his tunic, exposing his bare side. He pointed at a completely healed, two-centimeter scar. All who stood nearby focused on the scar.

“Bast?” Reshma exercised the liberty that few others had. She reached to touch the scar. Of all people, she seemed the most surprised by what she saw. Besides Khalid, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda, Reshma was one of the four who knew every stage of Bast’s recovery. Still, what she saw was hard to believe. “Is that your knife wound?”

“Yes, what is left of it.”

“Khalid promised that he would have you ready to travel with us. Clearly, he has done more than get you ready.”

“Try and tell me that this is no miracle.” Bast smiled as he readjusted his tunic and replaced his chest plate.

“Is there anything that man cannot do?” Asim asked in pure wonder and amazement. He didn’t expect anyone to answer him.

Bast turned to Neith. “And you say Khalid is originally from Caldifor?”

“Yes. I have known him since he was but a child. I remember him playfully running through the village like a little mouse. Even then, I could see that there was something exceptional about him.”

“Speaking of Khalid, where is he?” Lateef asked.

“After waking me this morning, we talked briefly,” Bast began to explain. “We talked long enough for him to see that I was doing well. Then, he said he would finally do something he needed to do since his arrival here. He said he was going to visit the Aukmondi sacred temple. He left earlier this morning.”

“Well, good for him,” Reshma commented. “Many of us have wanted to do that too, but we have not had the chance.”

“But before he left,” Bast continued, “he told me that I had to do something for him. It was the strangest thing.”

“What did he ask you to do?”

“I did not understand it at first, but it makes sense now after what all of you just told me. He told me that I must avail myself to Mfalme Ncobba. Where might I find this Mfalme Ncobba?”

By now, Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe, his aide, his assistants, and the Brown Warrior Quazzi had joined the crowd that had gathered around Bast. From his hut, Ameh had heard the growing activity in the common area and needed to see what was happening. The crowd parted respectfully, allowing the group, led by Ameh, to reach the center. Ameh arrived just in time to overhear what Khalid had instructed Bast to do and Bast’s subsequent question.

But upon seeing a living, healthy Bast, Ameh stood in awe. He held his walking staff with both hands, leaning on it to keep his balance. Ameh closed his eyes and gave a brief prayer. “Great Sacred Spirit! Thank you. Your graces are boundless. May our gratitude be just as limitless.”

Bast stood speechless, staring at the well-respected man with the two-meter walking staff standing before him.

Ameh opened his eyes and stood erect. “I am Ameh Jobabwe, Mfalme of the Aukmondi Chinchigwe clan, most of whom inhabit this kraal. Great Creation, it is so great to finally and personally meet you and see you standing before us.”

Bast bowed in respect. “Mfalme Jobabwe, you have no idea how grateful I am to be standing here.”

“After what you have gone through, I can only imagine.” Ameh stepped closer to Bast to answer his question finally. “I overheard you mention the instructions the Great Creation, Khalid, asked you to do. Ramuza Ncobba is the Mfalme of the Aukmondi tribe. You have not met him yet, but he already knows who you are and all about you. I am sure he is just as eager to meet you.”

“Yes. I am to avail myself to him.”

“Do you know how?”

“No. Khalid told me nothing specific. He seemed to imply that I only need to talk with the Mfalme as a Caldifor soldier.”

“Then, so be it.” Ameh stepped back and re-examined Bast from head to toe. “The last time I saw you, you were sleeping so soundly or so deeply unconscious that I thought you would never wake up. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.”

“Mfalme Ncobba is in the Royal Kraal, slightly more than a kilometer away, on the other side of the river. Do you feel strong enough to walk over and talk with him?”

“Mfalme, I cannot remember ever feeling better than I do now. My mind is clear. I feel full of energy and physically strong.”

“Strong is not the word I would use,” Neith spoke under her breath, not intending to be heard. When she looked around, she realized others had heard her anyway. “Forgive me.”

Heba understood what Neith meant and gave her a teasingly affectionate hug. Neith still felt she owed everyone an explanation, but she spoke directly to Bast. “I have known you for many harvests, Bast. I never realized what an impressive-looking man you are.”

“Mother!” Lateef was the only one embarrassed by Neith’s failed attempt to justify her comments. Others found her comments amusing.

“Leave her be, Lateef. Allow Neith to enjoy her restored sight.” Bast smiled at Neith before turning to Ameh again. “Mfalme, when can I talk with Mfalme Ncobba?”

“Whenever you are ready, Great Creation, I can send word to the Royal Kraal that we are on our way over.”

“Then, I am ready now, Mfalme.”

Ameh signaled to Quazzi and his entourage to begin the walk over to the Royal Kraal. He gestured to Bast to follow. Before leaving with Ameh, Bast redirected his attention to everyone around him. “I appreciate all of you for refreshing my knowledge of recent days, but I am still unsure what Mfalme Ncobba may need from me.” He focused on Lateef. “Lateef, would you please join us? I do not know the details of all that has happened in recent days. I may need your support.”

Lateef hesitated before answering Bast. He knew that the day ahead would be a busy one. “Well, we had planned to load …”

Asim quickly interrupted Lateef’s response. “Go ahead, Lateef. I can stay here and ensure the loading proceeds according to plan.”

Lateef no longer had a good reason to avoid joining Ameh and Bast. Besides, going to the Royal Kraal was the proper thing to do. “Khalid has asked you to do this. After everything you and Khalid have done for us, I must follow Mfalme Jobabwe’s suggestion in his prayer. I need to show my gratitude. Of course, I will join you.”

As Ameh, Lateef, Quazzi, and Ameh’s entourage walked across the common area, Asim suddenly remembered that there was one more thing he needed to know.

“Bast!” Asim called out. He ran to catch up with the departing group. “Did Khalid say how long he would visit the Aukmondi Sacred Temple?”

“No, he did not. Why?”

“His belongings must be loaded too. I do not know if we should wait for his return.”

50.

THAT WILL NOT BE NECESSARY

On the south slope of the valley, the trail between the Aukmondi River and the south-bank pathway leading up to the Aukmondi Sacred Temple is nearly three kilometers long. It is a narrow, winding, and challenging path on a moderate incline. Large stones along the route require careful footing with each step. The journey to the Sacred Temple takes about an hour. Still, the effort to make the trip is always worthwhile. The trail ends, opening onto a 60,000-square-meter cove filled with beautiful gardens of flowers, vegetables, and fruit.

Khalid inhaled deeply to catch his breath after the climb. He paused at the edge of the gardens to take in the sights before him: a vibrant collage of flowers gently waving in the mountain breeze. Khalid noticed several people throughout the cove, some tending the gardens while others sat with their eyes closed, enjoying the surroundings. Two massive golden twin doors, 15 meters tall, stood against a mountain wall on the far side of the gardens.

“This is so incredible,” Khalid said to himself. He thought no one heard him, but someone did.

“We are pleased you like what you see, Great Creation.” An Aukmondi woman had been pruning one of the nearby rose bushes. She rose to her feet when she saw Khalid approach. “Good morning. My name is Xolani.”

“Good morning, Xolani. I am Khalid.”

“I know who you are. By now, everyone in the valley knows who you are. Is there something that I can help you with, Great Creation?”

Khalid did not answer Xolani’s question. He kept looking over the gardens. He seemed fascinated by how the different vegetables grew among the wildflowers.

When Xolani did not get a response to her question, she waved her arm over the gardens. “Many people come up here occasionally, only to spend time or meditate in the gardens. A few of us, including me, come here daily to keep everything looking nice.”

“You and the others have done some beautiful work here.”

Since Khalid had climbed the south slope alone, Xolani assumed he was among the many who came to spend time in the gardens. “You are welcome to freely walk through the gardens or find a spot to make yourself comfortable.”

Khalid’s wandering eyes finally locked onto the temple doors. “Since arriving in the valley, I have been drawn to your temple. Those doors are huge. Are they made of gold?”

“No, Great Creation. They are only gold-plated.” Xolani found Khalid’s suspected intention surprising. “Do you wish to enter the temple? I would be honored to escort you around while inside.”

“Yes, I must go inside. But an escort will not be necessary.”

“Because you are one of Her Creations,” Xolani smiled apologetically, “an escort will be necessary.”

“Why?” Khalid finally turned toward Xolani. “Am I forbidden to go inside alone?”

“Of course not. No one is ever forbidden to go inside.”

“Then why do I need an escort?”

A shrug accented Xolani’s apologetic smile. “It is the divine nature of the temple. It is a long and complex story, Great Creation.”

“That sounds like a story I would love to hear.”

“I am not sure that I can adequately tell it. But, simply put, the Aukmondi culture sees the Supreme Spirit as female. It is She who has given birth to all existence.” Xolani waved her arm toward the temple. “We have dedicated the vast caverns inside as Her home in our valley. Since all females are spiritually closer to Her, we can navigate the caverns with only a few problems. But you, as a male, are one of Her greatest loves, Her Greatest Creation. You will need a female’s guidance inside.”

With a smile, Khalid nodded his approval of Xolani’s explanation. “You speak of a closeness with the Supreme One, or Supreme Spirit, as you call it. I cherish a closeness above everything else. I live each day to be closer.”

“If all the miraculous things you have done are any example of how close you are, then you have achieved a closeness unlike anyone else. I find it easy to believe that you are one of the Few Creations who will not get lost inside the temple. You are welcome to try.”

“Thank you, Xolani.” Khalid made his way through the gardens toward the temple doors. When he reached the doors, he paused at the base and looked up at their impressive height. Khalid reached for one of the handles and pulled. At first, the door seemed locked. But, like a delayed reaction to his effort, the massive, heavy door slowly swung open just before he let go of the handle.

Khalid entered the temple alone.

51.

I AM TO AVAIL MYSELF

It was late morning when Ameh led Lateef and Bast into the Royal Kraal. Ameh’s entourage now followed behind as they began the long walk across the celebration area toward the back of the kraal. Mfalme Ncobba and the royal family were probably already waiting for them on the royal dais. Leading the way, Ameh, with his walking staff in hand, set the pace. As expected, Ameh, Lateef, and Bast drew a crowd of curious onlookers who followed behind. By the time the group reached the royal dais, about twenty to twenty-five curious people made up most of those gathered in front of it.

Ameh, Lateef, and Bast found Mfalme Ramuza Ncobba already sitting in his usual place, on his chieftain’s stool. Ramuza’s three mates, Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi, were also sitting in their usual places. Only three of Ramuza’s oldest daughters were there. Adaulah and the rest of the daughters were behind the dais, in the work area, talking with the Brown Warrior, Quazzi, and Lobarra.

The favored tribesman, Kon-Shambique, stood before the dais. He respectfully waited for Ameh to ascend the dais and take his seat in his reserved chieftain’s stool. Once Ameh was seated, he took the liberty of welcoming Lateef and Bast. He suggested they make themselves comfortable on the mats placed there for them.

“Greetings, Mfalme Ncobba,” Bast said first. “Others have told me about all you have done for the Panfe. I was asked to come before you, but I really see it as an honor to do so of my own free will.”

“Greetings, Great Creation,” Ramuza responded. “Your deeds precede you as well.”

“We never expected such a moment as this would come.” Kharaambi got Bast’s attention. “How are you doing, Great Creation?”

“I am doing miraculously well, Kharaambi. Thank you for asking.”

“We understand that you were told to come before the Mfalme? By whom?”

“By Khalid. In his words, he asked me to avail myself to the Mfalme. After all that I have been recently told, I think we all know why.”

“Yes. Warriors tell us that King Aysar and some of his soldiers are coming. As one of Aysar’s soldiers, maybe you can tell us what we can expect.”

“I will tell you whatever I can, Kharaambi.”

Ramuza leaned forward. “As I understand it, you are one of King Aysar’s special soldiers.”

“He is, Mfalme.” Lateef, clearly proud of Bast, could not help clarifying Ramuza’s understanding. “He is called mlinzi, a palace guard.”

Bast gave Lateef an appreciative smile before turning to Ramuza. “Palace guards work closely with the king. As for me, that is all behind me. Due to my convictions and beliefs, I can no longer hide my disloyalty to the king. Some things matter much more to me.”

Ameh’s curiosity piqued. He had to know more about this special soldier. “Such as?”

That question opened Bast’s mind to many reasons. He paused to simplify some of his answers. “To begin with, Mfalme, King Aysar is an evil and ruthless man. Long ago, I learned that the Panfe people and all the people of Caldifor deserve better than him. On a personal level, the Panfe woman, Neith, has become a dear friend of mine. King Aysar plans to kill her because of a crime she did not commit. I cannot allow that. And last but not least, Neith’s late mate was someone I greatly admired. I do this to honor him.”

Pride forced Lateef to speak again. “I told you about him, Mfalme. The person Bast admires and honors is my father. His name was Shakir. All of Caldifor knew him as the Mtetezi.”

“Shakir, as the Mtetezi, was an advocate for peace and civility, but he also inspired rebellious rallies that terrorized the king,” Bast explained. “I never met the Mtetezi, but as a young man, I came to admire him. By the time I reached my eighteenth harvest, soldiers forced me into Aysar’s army. Early in my career, senior soldiers sent me on missions to capture the Mtetezi. Needless to say, I did not like hunting my hero.”

“But as a soldier of the king, you had no choice,” said Kharaambi.

“That is true. As a soldier,” Bast continued, “I had taken an oath to do so. But I deliberately, yet secretly, sabotaged many of those missions. One of the senior soldiers discovered my supposed misdeeds. Luckily, that soldier was a rebel and understood my attitude and actions. He explained to me that the oath I took was for the people of Caldifor, not King Aysar. That soldier then became my mentor. I officially joined the rebel forces. From that day on, I secretly worked from the inside to overthrow the king.”

“How long have you been a rebel soldier?” Ramuza asked.

Bast tried to recall when it all started for him. He could not. “I suppose I was a rebel long before I realized it. Once I became a soldier, I performed my duties and concealed my misdeeds well enough to receive my share of promotions. Only eleven harvests ago, I earned a permanent post in the palace, becoming a palace guard.” Bast turned to Lateef. “That is when the friendship between your mother and me began.”

Lateef was pleasantly surprised. “You have been friends that long?”

“Yes. And it grew into a cherished friendship.” Bast smiled as if struck by a strange irony. “But it was not until the evening of Neith’s arrest, just over a month ago, that I learned Neith was the wife of the late Mtetezi. That knowledge deepens a perfect friendship. Because of Neith, I will do all I can to help the Panfe.”

“Your beliefs and motivations are yours, Great Creation. We do not judge you for that.” Kharaambi admired the bond between Bast and Neith. But at the moment, she felt it necessary to focus on what was immediately needed. “What I want to learn is the strengths and weaknesses of King Aysar and his soldiers. Can you help us with that? The Great Creation, Lateef, tells us we cannot defeat King Aysar’s soldiers. Do you agree?”

Bast thought for a moment as a serious look covered his face. “I must honestly answer yes to that question, Kharaambi. King Aysar’s soldiers are extremely methodical. And the heart and core of that army are his notorious Mamba regiments.”

“Mamba regiments?”

“Yes, they are skilled archers. King Aysar has three regiments of them. They are the most deadly and effective warriors of Aysar’s army.”

“Do we have any advantage against these archer regiments?”

Before Bast answered, he glanced at an Aukmondi Red Warrior who stood near the dais. “No. The spears and shields of your warriors are no match for Aysar’s archers.”

“Sacred Woman,” Ramuza turned to Kharaambi. “We have archers among our warriors. Do we not?”

“Yes, Mfalme. We do. But only two regiments have been trained to use them effectively.”

“Then, we must train more regiments.”

“So be it, Mfalme … if there is time.”

“Mfalme, Kharaambi,” Lateef paused before completing the bold statement. “Training more of your warriors is probably not necessary.”

Kharaambi stood and stepped down from the dais. “What do you mean, Great Creation?”

“I believe we have divine forces on our side.” Lateef thought of Khalid as he gestured toward Bast. “Bast, sitting here before you, is a perfect example of what I mean. None of us has anything to worry about.”

Kharaambi gave Lateef a direct look. “You must forgive us, Great Creation, if we prefer to rely on the skills of our warriors. We will train them as needed. If King Aysar and his soldiers come, we want to be ready.”

“You can do that if you wish, Kharaambi. But King Aysar will not find us here. The Panfe plan to leave your valley by tomorrow morning.”

“And what good would that do?” Ameh asked, almost angrily. He took a breath to calm himself down. “Great Creation, have you not realized by now? As determined as King Aysar seems to be, he will find you, no matter where you go.”

“Mfalme Jobabwe, King Aysar does not know our determination. With divine forces at our back, we are just as determined to stay beyond Aysar’s reach.”

52.

YOU SHOULD HAVE COME SOONER

Shortly after Mfalme Ncobba finished his meeting, Bast, Lateef, and Kon-Shambique began walking back across the celebration area toward the kraal exit. As they walked, they discussed their differing opinions about the outcome of the meeting. They had only gone a few meters when the Brown Warrior, Quazzi, caught up with them. Quazzi interrupted their conversation and drew Kon-Shambique’s attention.

“Great Creation, before you leave, we need a moment of your time.”

Kon-Shambique motioned for Lateef and Bast to keep going across the celebration area while he paused to see what Quazzi needed. He would catch up with them later.

Quazzi nodded toward the royal dais. “Would you please take a look at the Mfalme for us?”

“Of course.” Kon-Shambique turned to see the Sacred Woman, Lobarra, standing beside the royal dais. As Lobarra cradled the infant, Tutapona, she looked at Ameh and his aide and attendants with a clear expression of concern. Ameh seemed distressed. His entourage helped him step down from the dais. Ameh gripped his walking staff tightly, but it appeared ineffective at the moment. The unexpected sight made Kon-Shambique hurry back toward the dais. He grabbed Ameh’s arm, offering his assistance.

“Mfalme? Are you alright?”

Ameh finally tried to wave Kon-Shambique, the aide, and attendants away. “Yes, I am fine. … I just … felt a little lightheaded for a moment. I almost lost my balance.”

“Has this happened before?” Kon-Shambique was reluctant to release Ameh’s arm.

Ameh shrugged. “Maybe, only once that I can recall. It was early this morning. I was feeling a little restless. I got up to get a drink of water. I felt a little dizzy as I walked to my water barrel. But I recovered quickly after I sat down for a moment.”

“What about yesterday, Mfalme?” Quazzi asked.

“Yesterday?”

“Yes. Remember? You stumbled and almost fell after we had that long talk with Lateef on the riverbank.”

“Oh, yes. That was different. That incline up the bank is a little treacherous. I lost my footing.”

“How do you feel now, Mfalme?” Kon-Shambique wanted to know.

“I told you. I feel fine.” Ameh tried to wave everyone away again. He began to ease himself slowly onto the edge of the dais. “Please allow me a moment to sit and fully recover.”

Kon-Shambique finally released Ameh’s arm as he pulled up the sleeves of his tunic. “Mfalme, may I try something?”

Receiving no objection from Ameh, the Favored Tribesman gently placed his hands on Ameh’s temples. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Quazzi, Lobarra, and Ameh’s aide and attendants watched, confused about what Kon-Shambique was doing. To their surprise, Ameh closed his eyes and appeared relaxed.

Moments later, Kon-Shambique removed his hands and stepped back. Ameh opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and seemed to assess his physical condition. He smiled as he looked up at Kon-Shambique. “Great Sacred Spirit! The lightheadedness is completely gone. What did you do, Great Creation?”

“It is a healing touch technique,” Kon-Shambique said, surprised by his success. “The Great Creation Khalid has been teaching the technique to me, Tongda, and Reshma.”

“Well, it worked. Thank you.”

“I was not sure if I could do it. I have not yet perfected the technique. Tongda, Reshma, and I have much more to learn. The Great Creation Khalid, with his divine touch, might have completely cured you of whatever your ailment is.”

“Whatever you did, I am grateful for your effort.” Ameh used his walking staff to help himself stand. He seemed confident enough to do so without his entourage.

As a close friend, Quazzi felt relieved that Ameh seemed to be feeling better. But dutifully, as the Aukmondi tribe’s Brown Warrior, Ameh’s health remained a primary concern. He turned to Kon-Shambique. “What do you suppose is causing the Mfalme’s moments of lightheadedness or dizziness?”

“For now, I can only guess, Great Creation.” Kon-Shambique gave Quazzi’s question serious thought but came to no answer. He placed his hand on Ameh’s shoulder. “I wish you had come to me sooner, Mfalme. I might have seen or sensed some symptoms of your ailment.”

“I intended to do so,” Ameh spoke apologetically. “But so many things distracted me. And you seemed so busy with other demands.”

Kon-Shambique thought for a moment more, reconsidering Quazzi’s question. “The simplest explanation may be the Mfalme’s diet or his lack of water.”

“No, no. It is none of that.” Ameh waved his hand at Lobarra and the attendants standing nearby. “With all of this grateful help, I have been eating a proper diet and drinking plenty of water.”

“Then, it could be a minor ear infection.” Kon-Shambique continued to speculate. “Our sense of balance is in our ears.”

“My ears are fine,” Ameh smiled. “My ears work so well, sometimes, I hear things I was not meant to hear.”

“Your lightheadedness or dizziness is caused by something, Mfalme.”

The smile on Ameh’s face slowly faded as if something, possibly important, came to him. “The lightheadedness I felt a moment ago began after Lateef said he and the Panfe are leaving the valley tomorrow morning. He felt confident that the Aukmondi would not have to face King Aysar and his Mamba regiments. I found that rather disturbing. It was heartbreaking to hear that.”

“Having to battle aggressive regiments of archers is a disturbing thought,” Kon-Shambique said. “Both Bast and Lateef strongly believe the Aukmondi army cannot defeat them. But we must think positively. We may not have to fight them. That is a positive thought worth holding on to.”

“Positive, yes. But it is not practical, Great Creation,” Quazzi objected, speaking as an experienced warrior. “Mfalme Ncobba and the Gray Warrior would never risk holding on to such an unlikely possibility. We must be prepared.”

“All of that is a concern.” A distant look in Ameh’s eyes suggested he had briefly envisioned a terrifying scene. He leaned on his walking staff. “I have faith in Ramuza and Kharaambi. They will do what is necessary, and that gives me peace of mind. But my body tensed, and I felt lightheaded the moment Lateef mentioned that the Panfe are leaving the valley tomorrow. I strongly believe it is a dangerous move.”

“There it is, Mfalme. That might be the cause of your lightheadedness.” Kon-Shambique almost smiled at his sharp insight. “Sensations of anxiety and stress have become more than your body can handle.”

Ameh looked up into Kon-Shambique’s face. “What do you suggest that I do, Great Creation?”

“You must relax, Mfalme. Take it easy for a few days. Avoid anxious and stressful moments as best you can.”

“In recent days, that has not been easy to do,” Ameh said as he began walking toward the celebration area, with Kon-Shambique, Quazzi, Lobarra, and his aide and attendants following behind. “To give you an example, I am on my way back to the Chinchigwe Kraal, to my hut, where I do my best relaxing. But the kraal is where the Panfe are preparing to leave. Their excitement and anticipation about leaving are nothing but anxious and stressful moments for me.”

53.

ANOTHER CHANGE OF PLANS

About an hour and a half later, Ameh, Kon-Shambique, Quazzi, Lobarra, and Ameh’s aide and attendants finally entered the Chinchigwe Kraal. As the group crossed the central area, they saw ahead of them the impressive sight of all the Panfe wagons and carts lined up, loaded, and ready to depart. Many of the Panfe moved about busily, making sure their belongings were accounted for and loaded securely. A few others were still carrying down the remaining items from the nook, hoping to add to the load.

On the far side of the central area, Neith, Heba, Reshma, and Tongda stood in the kraal’s common area talking. When they saw Ameh, Kon-Shambique, and Quazzi approaching, they quickly ended their conversation. The women seemed eager to see the group finally arrive. Neith took the lead to intercept them.

“Mfalme,” Neith respectfully spoke to Ameh first. “We were waiting to hear your opinion about how things went at the Royal Kraal.”

“My opinion, Sacred Woman?”

“Yes. Lateef and Bast returned from the kraal earlier, each with very different opinions.”

“Bast says the meeting with Mfalme Ncobba and Kharaambi was helpful,” Heba began to explain. “Lateef seems to think it was a good exchange of information, but it probably will not be needed.”

Ameh paused to think about his own opinion. “I believe it was helpful. I think that Mfalme Ncobba and Kharaambi learned a lot from Bast.”

“There! Do you see?” Reshma seemed pleased that the present group held the majority opinion. “It is Lateef who is not thinking clearly.”

“Lateef has been so determined to keep moving that he is doing a lot of unclear thinking lately,” Heba mumbled. “Neith and I have almost given up on him.”

Ameh’s smile suggested that he understood Heba’s frustration. He visually searched the area. “So, speaking of Lateef, where is the Great Creation?”

“I am here, Mfalme.” Lateef had gone up to the Panfe Nook to gather all the horses, donkeys, and oxen. He had just finished corralling them on the other side of the wagons and carts when he heard Ameh ask about him. “Is there something you need?”

“No, no. It is just that these Sacred Women are expressing a concern similar to mine. Do you truly believe that what Bast told Mfalme Ncobba will not be needed?”

“By tomorrow morning, it will all be useless information, Mfalme.” Lateef tied the guide rein of one of the horses to one of the wagons. As he did, he happened to glance at Khalid’s hut a few meters away. He noticed Asim and Bast standing at the hut’s entrance, peering inside. Their behavior was distracting. Lateef turned back to face Neith, Heba, Tongda, and Reshma. “What are Asim and Bast doing?”

Of the four women, Reshma had been working closely with Asim, helping to prepare everything. She was the only one aware of what the two men were doing. “Khalid has not returned from the Aukmondi Sacred Temple. Asim and Bast are trying to decide whether to load his belongings.”

Lateef sighed deeply. He believed such a decision was unnecessary. He asked Mfalme Jobabwe for permission to leave. Without waiting for Ameh’s reply, he showed signs of frustration or impatience in his steps as he walked toward Khalid’s hut.

Asim saw Lateef coming. Before Lateef could say anything, Asim asked a question that identified the confusion he and Bast shared. “Khalid is coming with us. Is he not?”

“Of course, he is coming with us.” Lateef answered Asim’s question as if the answer were obvious.

The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, was curious about the argument between Asim and Bast as well. He followed Lateef to where the two Creations stood. He overheard Lateef’s response to Asim’s question, which he disagreed with. “I would not be so sure of that, Great Creation.”

“What do you mean?”

Quazzi remembered the detailed report of Khalid’s arrival, as relayed to him by the Royal Warrior Nionu and the Blue Warrior Obe. “When Khalid arrived in the valley two days ago, he said he was on his way to the Caldifor Kingdom. When Khalid finally met Mfalme Ncobba, he said he wanted to do what he could to quell the unrest there. His plan, from the beginning, was to go to the kingdom to speak with King Aysar.”

“Seriously?” Lateef felt Quazzi’s explanation was almost unbelievable. “Speak with King Aysar? That may be impossible, even for Khalid.”

“Nevertheless, since the Great Creation has been here, he has not indicated that he has changed his mind.”

“Clearly, Khalid has changed his mind. King Aysar is on his way here. There is no reason for Khalid to continue to Caldifor.” Lateef thought for a moment, trying to determine if there was a flaw in his own belief. “Besides, talking with King Aysar would be a waste of time. No, Quazzi. More than likely, Khalid is now coming with us.”

Ameh, Kon-Shambique, and Lobarra were curious about what was happening and eventually approached as well. Already, Ameh didn’t like what he was hearing. He had to speak up. “Lateef, please. You are assuming too much.”

“Mfalme, I am not assuming anything. Khalid, coming with us, goes without saying.”

“You are wrong, Great Creation. You should …”

“Mfalme?” Kon-Shambique anticipated Ameh’s need to get involved. He could already hear the stress in Ameh’s voice. Addressing the Mfalme was a subtle warning.

When Ameh did not finish what he was about to say, Lateef turned to Asim and Bast. He pointed to the small bundle just inside Khalid’s hut. “Is this all of Khalid’s belongings?”

Quazzi looked inside the hut. “I believe it is. According to Nionu and Obe, that small bundle was all that Khalid carried on the back of his donkey when he arrived.”

Lateef examined the bundle a little longer. Its tight wrapping told him it was ready to be moved. It confirmed his belief that Khalid was gearing up to travel again. Lateef spoke firmly to Asim and Bast as he turned and walked away. “Load the bundle onto one of the carts. And tether Khalid’s donkey to the cart as well.”

“Lateef, Great Creation.” Ameh grabbed Lateef’s arm. “Please hear me. You are making a mistake.”

Lateef stopped walking. Although surprised by how Ameh held his arm, he felt apologetic. “Forgive me, Mfalme. I know that my behavior might be a little rash. But I believe I am doing the right thing.”

“No. I do not agree.” Ameh pulled on Lateef’s arm, forcing Lateef to face him. “This is inconsiderate. You are …”

Again, Ameh did not finish what he was about to say. This time, Lobarra interrupted him. Although Ameh was not a blood relative, he was the grandfather of her infant son. If nothing else, he was the Chinchigwe Mfalme. She breached royal protocol by taking Ameh by the shoulders and gently pulling him away from Lateef. Lobarra’s action made Ameh realize he was aggravating his stress after all. Ameh let go of Lateef’s arm. He sighed, forcing his anger down. He waved Lateef away.

A heavy silence settled over the area as everyone watched Ameh struggle to regain his composure. No one moved. Asim and Bast hadn’t yet loaded Khalid’s bundle onto the cart; they were still holding it, stunned by Ameh’s outburst. Neith, Heba, Tongda, and Reshma had started moving toward Lateef and Ameh, but when Ameh forced Lateef to face him, they froze. Quazzi also began to move toward Lateef and Ameh, but stopped. He was grateful that Lobarra intervened first.

The heavy silence felt like it would last forever. Ironically, it was broken when the sound of rhythmic, irregular hollow drumbeats suddenly drifted down from the north. The drumbeats slowly grew louder, demanding everyone’s attention.

Asim and Bast finally tossed Khalid’s bundle onto one of the carts. Asim was about to climb onto the cart to secure the bundle when the drumbeats started. Instead, he walked over to Quazzi. “What do the drums mean?”

“They are sentinel talking drums, Great Creation,” said Quazzi, still listening.

“Talking drums? What are they saying?”

Quazzi took a moment, concentrating on the drums and mentally translating the sounds. “Great Sacred Spirit!” he finally said. “Just beyond the valley’s north rim … soldiers … are massing.”

“What? Already?” Lateef, on the verge of panic, rushed to stand directly in front of Quazzi. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure, Great Creation. And, no doubt, they are King Aysar’s soldiers.”

“No, no, no!” Lateef turned. The mindless urge to do something, but not knowing what to do, sent him into frantic circles. “This cannot be! Not now! We are not ready!”

Asim caught Lateef’s shoulders, stopping Lateef’s chaotic movements. “I thought we had, at least, another day before soldiers reached the valley. Lateef, what are we going to do?”

Lateef rubbed his face with both his hands. “I do not know.”

When Asim saw the look of confusion on Lateef’s face, he turned to Quazzi. “Do the drums say how many soldiers are massing? Is it a lot?”

“The drums only say that soldiers are massing, Great Creation. Nothing more.”

Several Aukmondi warriors always patrolled the Chinchigwe Kraal at any given time. At the moment, one of the most senior warriors, the Gold Warrior, Oghani, stood nearby, on the edge of the common area. Quazzi beckoned him over. When the talking drums began, the Gold Warrior anticipated receiving immediate instructions from the Brown Warrior and came running.

“Yes, Great Creation?”

“Oghani,” Quazzi spoke calmly but with firm authority. “Leave me a detachment of warriors to tend the Mfalme and the kraal here. Release the rest of the warriors here. Have them join their respective regiments. Mfalme Ncobba and the Gray Warrior may need them on the north rim.”

“So be it, Great Creation.” Oghani turned and took off running.

Quazzi watched Oghani quickly cross the common area to carry out his orders. When he turned, he unexpectedly saw Bast standing at his side. Clearly, Bast wanted to say something to him.

“Yes, Great Creation?”

“As you may recall, Khalid asked me to avail myself to Mfalme Ncobba. Please permit me to go up to the north rim as well. I may be able to help somehow.”

“Of course, Great Creation.” Under the circumstances, Quazzi would have banned anyone else from approaching the north rim. But he, like Khalid, saw Bast as a skilled and valuable warrior. “If anyone asks, you have my permission. Go!”

Unlike the Gold Warrior, Oghani, who took off running across the common area, Bast ran toward his hut first and disappeared inside. He reemerged moments later, wearing an armored chest plate over his tunic and carrying a meter-long sword at his side. With a grateful nod to Quazzi, he finally ran out across the common area toward the kraal exit.

Although aggressive soldiers massed on the valley’s north rim, over ten kilometers away, Quazzi’s next order of business was to secure the Chinchigwe Kraal. It was a standard procedure for all kraals in the valley. To accomplish this, Quazzi had to speak with Mfalme Jobabwe first to determine if the Mfalme needed any special arrangements.

Ameh, Kon-Shambique, Lobarra, and Tongda stood about a meter or two to Quazzi’s left. The four of them were talking nervously among themselves. Apparently, they were responding to the message from the talking drums while comforting Ameh after his confrontation with Lateef. Quazzi was hesitant to interrupt them.

Quazzi looked to his right. He saw most of the Panfe, centered around Lateef and Asim, standing near the wagons and carts. They all appeared lost and confused. Instead of interrupting the comforting group around Ameh, Quazzi decided to try offering some comfort to the Panfe. He approached, speaking directly to Lateef and Asim.

“I suppose, under the circumstances, your plans have changed.”

Lateef was leaning against one of the wagons and staring at the ground. He had folded his arms across his chest, deep in thought. He seemed angry about how things had suddenly developed. Apparently, he did not hear Quazzi’s comment and did not respond. But then, he broke his intent stare at the ground, lifted his head, and unfolded his arms. He spoke softly, but with enough anger to be noticed. “Yes, Quazzi. Our plans have changed.”

Everyone looked at Lateef. Everyone heard what he said. But Neith, Heba, Reshma, and Asim knew Lateef well. They heard something disturbing in Lateef’s voice.

“Changed how, Lateef?” Asim asked.

“We are leaving. We are leaving right now.” Lateef pulled away from the wagon and hurried to the other side, where the animals were kept. He gave a quick series of orders as he began to untie the horses, donkeys, and oxen. “Asim, help me hitch these animals to the wagons and carts. Heba, run up to the Panfe Nook. Tell anyone who might still be there that we are leaving immediately. Mother, choose which wagon or cart you will ride in. Reshma, help my mother climb on and get comfortable.”

Asim quickly followed Lateef around to the other side of the wagon. Instead of helping Lateef untether the animals, he grabbed Lateef’s arm to stop him. “Lateef, stop! This is too sudden. We are not ready.”

“We have never been more ready.” Lateef led a horse around to the front of one of the wagons. He spoke to Quazzi as he untangled several hitching lanyards. “Since soldiers are massing on the north rim, I understand that the next fastest way out of the valley is beyond the valley depths?”

“Yes. It is the next fastest way, Great Creation. But it is not as fast as you might like. It will take you considerable time and effort to move through the valley depths.”

“I do not care about the effort it will take. I am willing to go any route as long as it keeps us clear of King Aysar’s soldiers on the north rim.”

With his ever-present walking staff in hand, Ameh approached Lateef calmly. He reached out and took the untangled lanyards from Lateef’s hands. “Great Creation, please hear me. Stop what you are doing. It is too late to go anywhere, and you know it. It is too dangerous.”

“Mfalme, we are leaving.”

“You are not going anywhere.” Ameh tossed the lanyards to the ground.

After a long and tense silence, Quazzi stooped to pick up the lanyards. He handed them back to Lateef, then turned to Ameh. “Mfalme, with all due respect, forgive me. But you know that we have no right to stop them.”

“As long as they are in the Aukmondi valley, Quazzi, their safety is our responsibility. They are not going anywhere.” Ameh pointed to the kraal exit with his walking staff. “I will close that kraal gate if I must.”

Lobarra was the first to notice Ameh’s rising stress. She quickly set the infant, Tutapona, on the ground and left him there. She, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda rushed to Ameh’s side. The three of them broke royal protocol by gently grabbing Ameh’s shoulders and turning him away from Lateef. Ameh allowed them to guide him a few steps away. However, he stopped walking, his body stiffening. His walking staff slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Ameh bent over, clutching his chest under unbearable pressure.

“Mfalme? Mfalme, what is wrong?” Kon-Shambique’s grip on Ameh’s shoulder changed to a tight embrace, trying to keep the Mfalme from falling. Even with Lobarra’s and Tongda’s help, the embrace was not strong enough. Ameh was going down. Kon-Shambique made a desperate call to the Brown Warrior. “Quazzi! Help us lie the Mfalme down.”

After Quazzi rushed over, he, Kon-Shambique, Lobarra, and Tongda worked frantically to flatten Ameh on his back. Tongda adjusted Ameh’s head to make him comfortable. Her desperate efforts to help luckily distracted her from her rising fear of what was happening to the beloved Mfalme. Unlike Tongda, Lobarra’s rising fear made her move back, unable to bear the horror.

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Tongda said. “His breathing is wrong! And look how he is sweating!”

“I am not sure what we can do for him, Sacred Woman.” Kon-Shambique placed his hand against Ameh’s face. “His body temperature is noticeably higher, too. Let us get him some water.”

Kon-Shambique demanded that Lobarra get some water for Ameh. But Lobarra was paralyzed by fear. Quazzi rushed to secure a small gourd of water instead. He had to work through a tight crowd that had gathered around the Mfalme and those helping him. Lateef, Asim, Neith, Reshma, and several others stood by, stunned by the medical crisis.

“Is the Mfalme going to be alright?” Lateef asked Kon-Shambique.

“I do not know, Great Creation.”

Quazzi had to work his way through the tight crowd again as he returned with the gourd of water. He had to move Lateef out of his way physically. “Please move everyone back. Give us room to work.”

Kon-Shambique took the gourd of water from Quazzi and carefully poured water onto Ameh’s lips. Ameh was not conscious enough to accept the water. Most of it ran down his cheeks. As Kon-Shambique wiped Ameh’s cheeks dry, he noticed Tongda gently massaging Ameh’s chest.

“What are you doing, Sacred Woman? Are you trying that healing touch technique that Khalid taught us?”

“No. I am afraid the Mfalme may need something stronger than a healing touch. Just before the Mfalme fell, I saw him grab his chest as if he was in pain. I thought a firm massage would help.”

It was an idea that was almost a century ahead of its time. Kon-Shambique easily sensed that Tongda’s pragmatic help, to massage Ameh’s heart, was the best help currently available. The idea also prompted Kon-Shambique to place his ear next to Ameh’s chest.

“His heart sounds stable. He is unconscious, but I think the danger has passed.”

Quazzi felt disheartened seeing Ameh lying on the ground like that. It was also humiliating. The Mfalme deserved better. As Quazzi looked around, he saw Lobarra retreating further in fear and horror. He noticed that all the Panfe nearby looked traumatized. Thoughtfully, Quazzi kneeled next to Kon-Shambique. “Could we safely move the Mfalme into his hut?”

“I believe so.”

When Kon-Shambique stood up, Quazzi moved to the other side of Ameh’s body. Tongda stepped back as the two Creations lifted Ameh off the ground. With Quazzi supporting most of the weight, they carried the unconscious Ameh into his hut.

Lateef, Asim, Neith, Reshma, and several others instinctively and curiously followed Quazzi, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda toward Ameh’s hut. Standing just outside the entrance, they observed as Ameh was made comfortable on his cot. Silently, they watched Tongda cover Ameh’s torso with a thin blanket. They watched as Kon-Shambique tried again to dribble small amounts of water onto Ameh’s lips gently.

Reshma was the only Panfe who did not follow Kon-Shambique, Quazzi, and Tongda toward Ameh’s hut. Instead, she noticed another need that everyone else seemed to have overlooked. The abandoned infant, Tutapona, sat on the ground, crying uncontrollably. Reshma gently picked him up and cradled him in her arms. She tried to soothe him, but nothing seemed to work. Reshma carried the crying baby over and knelt beside Lobarra, who was also crying almost just as uncontrollably.

Reshma offered Tutapona to Lobarra. “I think the two of you need each other.”

Lobarra wiped the tears from her face and reached to take Tutapona. The moment that she did, both she and Tutapona gradually stopped crying. Reshma stood and moved back. Seeing that Lobarra and Tutapona had found some comfort in each other, she turned her attention back to Mfalme Jobabwe’s unfortunate situation. She walked toward the crowd of curious Panfe standing just outside the entrance of Ameh’s hut. Along the way, Reshma picked up Ameh’s walking staff from the ground. She felt almost privileged to hold the staff. Mimicking Ameh’s rhythmic pace, she continued walking, working her way through the crowd. Once through, she met Quazzi, who was coming out of the hut.

“I must ask all of you to move back,” Quazzi held up his hands as if to physically push everyone back. “There is nothing any of you can do here.”

“I might,” Reshma said.

“Sacred Woman?” Quazzi seemed just as confused by Reshma’s comment as by her possession of Ameh’s walking staff.

Reshma did not explain how she came to possess Ameh’s walking staff. She did explain her comment. “In recent days, Khalid has worked closely with Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and me. He taught us many things, and I have learned things that I never knew before. Please allow me to help Kon-Shambique and Tongda.”

When Reshma offered the walking staff to Quazzi, he accepted it, nodded silently, and stepped aside, letting only Reshma go in.

54.

GIVE ME WHAT I WANT

On the north rim of the Aukmondi Valley was a three-acre clearing between the south edge of the Bonjii Forest and the north rim. It was known as the Bonjii clearing. In the dry season, the clearing was covered with knee-deep golden grass; in the wet season, with thick green grass. Only one small acacia tree and a few bushes grew in the sparse, level clearing.

On the south side of the clearing, a dense thicket of trees, vines, and bushes lined the northern edge of Aukmondi Valley. This area marks the sentry line, behind which an army of Aukmondi sentinels guards the valley. These sentinels, all Aukmondi Green Warriors, keep a constant watch over the entire area. Because they are Green Warriors, whose military rank color is mainly green, they are usually hard to spot despite their large numbers.

Today was different. On the north side of the clearing, at the edge of Bonjii Forest, a regiment of Caldifor soldiers had set up a staging camp. While most of the Caldifor soldiers moved through the trees in Bonjii Forest, a few of them boldly and openly walked along the edge of the clearing. They visually scanned the sentry line on the south side, looking for the sentinels—the army of warriors standing there. The soldiers knew an entire army was present, but they could only see a few at a time.

The few they saw included some of the leaders. One was Kharaambi, leader of the Aukmondi Army. Another was the Royal Warrior, Npatuzi, commander of the sentinel army currently on duty on the north rim. Together, the two paced the sentry line vigilantly, keeping a close watch on the enemies across the clearing.

Eventually, Mfalme Ncobba and a small group of warriors ascended the north slope to the valley’s edge. The warriors concealed themselves among the trees, vines, and bushes, blending in with the sentinels and other warriors already hidden there. Mfalme Ramuza Ncobba, dressed as the Black Warrior, the highest military rank, continued toward the sentry line. He joined the watch with Kharaambi and Npatuzi.

“What is our situation, Sacred Woman?” Ramuza asked Kharaambi.

Kharaambi took another wide glance across the clearing. “I estimate 100 to 150 soldiers gathering within the Bonjii Forest and along the edge of the clearing, Mfalme. Despite their number, we are prepared for them. I have the Royal Warrior Npatuzi’s sentinel army on standby, along with the warrior regiment of the Blue Warrior, Dabete Ehkili.”

Ramuza nodded in approval. He cast a sweeping glance across the clearing, noticing only a few Caldifor soldiers at the edge. Trusting Kharaambi’s estimate of the other soldiers in the forest, Ramuza had another concern. “Can you determine the soldiers’ intention yet?”

“No, Mfalme. We have been here for over two hours now, and little has changed, except maybe their number. It appears that the soldiers are still settling into the area and awaiting further reinforcements to arrive.”

“More are still coming?”

“Yes, Mfalme. Npatuzi and I agree that their number is gradually increasing.”

Ramuza made a focused attempt to look deeper into the Bonjii Forest. He only caught glimpses of soldiers moving there. “Is there any indication that King Aysar is among them?”

“No, Mfalme. If he were there, his curiosity about us would have made him visible by now.”

Over the next few minutes, Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Npatuzi carefully patrolled the sentry line. They eventually separated, each watching the other side of the clearing while checking the readiness of the sentinels and warriors on the rim. The distance between the three never exceeded sixty meters before their random steps brought them back together.

By then, Bast had also climbed the north slope to the rim. The steep ascent would have exhausted most people. He eagerly and easily made his way through the trees, vines, and bushes to the sentry line. The restored health of the former Caldifor palace guard worked in his favor. After the tough climb, Bast was not breathing heavily when he finally reached the top of the slope. Kharaambi was the first to see Bast and signaled him to join her, Ramuza, and Npatuzi. “Great Creation,” Kharaambi began. “I am pleased to see you up here.”

“Up here is where I belong, Kharaambi. I am confident that I can still help.” Bast took a moment to look out across the clearing. “Is this anything like what you expected?”

“We did not know what to expect, Great Creation,” Ramuza answered Bast. “But after what you told us about the Caldifor soldiers, we have encountered no surprises.”

“Then, keep waiting, Mfalme. Surprises will come.”

Kharaambi pointed out one of the enemy soldiers to Bast. “Look there. You were right about Aysar’s soldiers. All of them appear to be armed with crossbows.”

Bast studied the soldier and three others farther up the clearing. “Yes. Those are soldiers from one of King Aysar’s Mamba regiments. All soldiers of the Mamba regiments are armed with crossbows.”

Ramuza looked at the soldiers with concern. “In all of Aukmondi’s history, we have never fought an aggressor with crossbows.”

“That is only a minor consequence, Mfalme.” Kharaambi sensed Ramuza’s concern and tried to placate it. “I have unshakable faith in the tactics and advantages of our sentinels and warriors. We are ready for them.”

“Kharaambi, you may need more than standard tactics and anticipated advantages,” said Bast. “You do not know those soldiers. They are called Mamba soldiers with good reason. They are as aggressive and deceptive as the black mamba snake.”

“How so?”

“To begin,” Bast pointed to an obscure area behind him, “I highly suggest that you, your Royal Warrior, and Mfalme Ncobba fall back, deeper behind your sentry line. You must become less visible. Have your Blue Warriors and all other high-ranking warriors do the same.”

Kharaambi glanced at the obscure area that Bast indicated. “Would you like to tell us why?”

“You and all of your army leaders will be the first to die,” said Bast. “Aysar’s Mamba regiments routinely target their opponent’s leaders first. When an opponent’s leaders are eliminated, the opposition falls apart faster.”

No further explanation was needed. Kharaambi left immediately to relay orders for all high-ranking warriors to retreat and find better cover. Ramuza waited for her to return before asking Bast his next question. Ramuza knew that whatever the answer was, Kharaambi needed to hear it, too. Kharaambi was gone only ten minutes before resettling into her hidden position beside Bast and Ramuza.

“Kharaambi and Npatuzi estimate 100 to 150 soldiers within that forest over there,” Ramuza spoke to Bast. “Are you aware of anything else about them that we have overlooked? Are there any advantages we have that we are unaware of?”

Although the obscure area where the three had moved to was farther behind the sentry line, the far side of the clearing was still visible. Bast studied the soldiers he saw as he thought about Ramuza’s question. At first, he couldn’t think of anything to tell Ramuza. But as he reconsidered the estimated number of soldiers, an idea came to him that surprised him. He nearly smiled at the irony.

“As I told you earlier, Mfalme, those soldiers of King Aysar’s Mamba regiment. But, if there are only 100 to 150, that is slightly less than a full regiment. Any number less than a full regiment, at the moment, is a good thing.”

“Good, how?”

“I believe one regiment of archers is more than capable of defeating your entire Aukmondi army, Mfalme. However, there is only a fifty-fifty chance of their success. King Aysar might be foolish enough to try, but I do not believe he would risk those odds for two reasons now.”

“Which are?”

“First of all,” Bast began, “King Aysar does not tolerate failure. Undoubtedly, he will wait for more regiments to come to increase his odds. If I know King Aysar’s determination, he will wait for at least one more complete regiment to come. I believe you have a lot more time before that happens. You have time before King Aysar does anything.”

“But, Great Creation,” Kharaambi objected. “More and more soldiers have been arriving every minute. What makes you think we have more time? For all we know, he may already have most of another regiment in that forest.”

“Then, there is the other reason.” Bast briefly looked toward the western sky. “It is already after sunset. One weakness of the Mamba archers is their need for daylight. A major assault by them will not occur this evening. The soonest a major assault can occur will be after sunrise tomorrow.”

Ramuza smiled. “Great Creation, already, your help has proved to be of the greatest value.”

“I could not agree more,” said Kharaambi. She turned to the Royal Warrior, Npatuzi. “Great Creation, let your sentinels and the other warriors know that we might have until sunrise tomorrow to strengthen our defenses. Have them take advantage of the time, but be ready for anything.”

“So be it, Sacred Woman.” Npatuzi turned to carry out his orders. As he left Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Bast, he glanced across the clearing. He was the first among them to notice increased activity on the edge of the Bonjii Forest. He turned back to face Ramuza. “Mfalme, look! Something is happening!”

Ramuza, Kharaambi, Npatuzi, and Bast left the obscure area, but they wisely did not go beyond the sentry line. Instead, they stood, watching the unusual activity on the other side of the clearing.

Fifteen to twenty Caldifor soldiers stood together, lining the north side of the clearing. The line broke when King Aysar, on horseback, rudely rode through the line, bumping into one of his soldiers. The soldiers, who had not seen King Aysar coming, fell to the ground when the horse nudged him. King Aysar dismounted and angrily kicked the fallen soldier out of his way.

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Kharaambi helplessly commented after seeing the rude incident.

Bast smiled at Kharaambi’s reaction. He spoke almost ceremoniously. “Mfalme Ncobba, Kharaambi, behold, King Aysar of Caldifor.”

“What an Arrogant Creation,” Kharaambi added to her earlier impulsive comment. “He behaves like everyone, and everything is beneath him.”

“You have profiled him perfectly, Kharaambi,” Bast said. “Get used to it.”

Ramuza, Kharaambi, Npatuzi, and Bast continued to observe King Aysar’s behavior. They saw the arrogant king walk along the line of soldiers. He carried a two-meter-long, two-pronged scepter in his hand, occasionally hitting the ground with it as he gave inaudible commands or instructions to his soldiers. When one soldier seemed confused about the command or instruction, King Aysar angrily thumped the ground with his scepter and then slapped the soldier across his face.

“What is he doing?” Ramuza asked. “Why is he treating his soldiers like that? And why does he keep thumping that scepter on the ground?”

“That scepter is the Sacred Scepter of the Caldifor kingdom, Mfalme.” Bast sighed heavily as he prepared to share a belief he found difficult to accept. “Religiously and culturally, the people of Caldifor believe the scepter is a divine gift to the Caldifor monarch. The unexplainable and mystical properties of the scepter seem to confirm that belief … or rather, it used to.”

“What do you mean, Great Creation?” Kharaambi could hear the questionable reservations in Bast’s voice.

Bast pointed. “Do you see those twin prongs on the top of the scepter? Only the Caldifor monarch can make the prongs hum. King Aysar keeps thumping the scepter to make it do so. Over the past decade and a half, the prongs have stopped humming. After all that time, King Aysar and all the people of Caldifor have gotten used to the scepter’s silence. Nevertheless, King Aysar keeps trying to make it hum.”

“That sounds like a sick determination.”

Bast smiled at Kharaambi’s ironically precise opinion. “King Aysar is one of the most determined people you will ever meet, Kharaambi. He knows that the scepter is only a relic now. But he understands that it still holds an unbreakable influence over all the people of Caldifor. All the people of Caldifor, reluctantly, continue to respect and honor the divine significance of the scepter, including me.”

“We will respect your beliefs as if they were our own, Great Creation.” Ramuza looked across the clearing again. He saw King Aysar make another walk along the front of his soldiers. When Ramuza saw Aysar turn and walk a few meters toward the center of the clearing, he grabbed his spear and shield, rose from concealment, and moved toward the sentry line. “It looks as though this Determined Creation is ready to talk. Let us find out what he wants.”

Kharaambi grabbed Ramuza’s arm. “No, Mfalme. For safety’s sake, please stay behind the sentry line. Allow me to speak with him.”

Ramuza considered Kharaambi’s suggestion. It was a proper precaution. He relaxed the grip of his spear and shield. “So be it, Sacred Woman.”

“Be careful, Kharaambi,” Bast spoke the words that Ramuza was also about to say.

Everyone watched as King Aysar confidently strolled halfway across the clearing. He wore a smug smile as he moved forward. He paused when he saw Kharaambi emerge, about 16 meters away.

King Aysar thumped the scepter as his smile broadened. “Greetings! I am the King of the Caldifor Kingdom. My name is Aysar, of the royal family, Rusmi. To whom am I speaking?”

There was no smile on Kharaambi’s face; only one of serious scrutiny. “I am Kharaambi Nyoka Ncobba, of the Aukmondi Tribe. I am the leader of the Aukmondi Army. How may we help you, Great Creation?”

“Kharaambi of the Aukmondi Tribe, you have something that belongs to me. To whom must I speak to get what is mine?”

“King Aysar, of the family Rusmi,” Kharaambi responded, reflecting Aysar’s own arrogance, “It does not matter with whom you speak. There is nothing in this entire valley that belongs to you.”

Out of frustration, Aysar looked down and sighed. When he raised his head again, there was no smile on his face. “You have two dozen, or more, of my people here. I want them back. Please, do not make this any more difficult than it has to be.” He forced the smile back on his face. “Give me what I want, and I will be on my way.”

“You want something I am unable to give you, Great Creation.” Kharaambi tried to be diplomatic. “I can guarantee there will be no difficulty between us. It will be quite easy to accomplish if you accept what I tell you and move on.”

“You insolent woman!” King Aysar shifted the Sacred Scepter in front of him and angrily thumped it on the ground again. “Do you know who you are talking to?”

“Of course, Great Creation. You just told me.”

At that moment, an arrow from one of Aysar’s soldiers’ crossbows flew within centimeters of Kharaambi’s face. At the same time, someone unexpectedly tackled Kharaambi to the ground. As an experienced warrior, Kharaambi’s instinctive combat skills kicked in. After a quick tumble, she sprang back to her feet. She held her shield and spear ready for battle. She turned to see Bast getting to his feet beside her. He was the one who had tackled her.

“Forgive me, Kharaambi,” Bast said as he stood and brushed himself off. “Are you alright?”

“I am unharmed.”

“Remember me telling you about the aggressiveness and deceptiveness of a black mamba snake?”

“I remember.”

“That instance when King Aysar shifted the scepter in front of him and thumped it, I recognized it to be a signal to one of the soldiers to strike.”

“I can see that you do know this Deceptive Creation quite well. I appreciate your physical reminder.”

“I am sorry that I did not have time to warn you properly.”

“Apology gratefully accepted.” Kharaambi took a moment to brush herself off. She turned to face King Aysar. “Is that your way of avoiding difficulty?”

With a smile on his face, King Aysar held his hands out to his side as if to dismiss the incident. “Kharaambi, I apologize for that. I failed to make myself clear to you. I had to give you an idea of what you are up against.”

“Great Creation, do you think such threatening behavior will make a difference?”

“We will see. You have until midday tomorrow to give me my people. If you do not, I will come into your valley to get them.” King Aysar turned and walked back toward the Bonjii Forest. He snatched the reins of his horse from one of his soldiers and walked into the forest. He angrily signaled for his line of soldiers to retreat into the forest, too.

Bast escorted Kharaambi back across the sentry line. He had to compliment her on her efforts with King Aysar. “I think you handled him quite well, Kharaambi.”

“I am not so sure, Great Creation. I think I fell into the combative trap that he wanted in the first place.”

Ramuza walked out to meet Kharaambi and Bast. He was pleased that the tense situation had ended for the moment. But an unexpected development puzzled him. He knew that only Bast could explain it.

“Great Creation,” he began, “you said Aysar’s soldiers would not commit a major assault until sunrise tomorrow. Why do you suppose Aysar is giving us until midday tomorrow now?”

“Mfalme, I suspect that is when his complete complement of Mamba regiments are sure to be here.”

55.

WHERE IS KHALID WHEN WE NEED HIM

Reshma stepped out of Ameh’s hut, wiping a damp cloth across her face. The relief on her face suggested she was finally taking a break after finishing the tense task she had just completed with Kon-Shambique and Tongda. She looked to her left and saw Lobarra sitting on the ground, silently crying. Lobarra had been crying since Ameh was taken into the hut. She also cradled the infant Tutapona in her arms as if holding onto her last source of comfort.

Reshma looked to her right and saw the Brown Warrior, Quazzi. He looked lost in thought as he paced very slowly. Reshma had come to know Quazzi as a stern, quiet person. His pacing was unusual for him.

Quazzi stopped pacing when he saw Reshma at the entrance of the hut. He went over to her to ask the question weighing on his mind and causing his restlessness. “How is the Mfalme?”

Reshma tossed the damp cloth in her hand into a basket near the entrance. Her heavy sigh indicated that the answer to Quazzi’s question was not encouraging. “All of his signs look normal—pulse, temperature, and breathing. But … he is in a coma.”

Hearing this, Lobarra looked up at Reshma and wiped tears from her cheek. “Will he be alright? Will he recover?”

“According to Kon-Shambique, it is too early to tell.” Reshma sat on the ground in front of Lobarra. She reached out to take Lobarra’s hand. “How about you? You seem to be taking this pretty hard.”

“It is because Ameh is one of the most cherished people in the world to me.” Lobarra took a moment to gently stroke Tutapona’s cheek as if to suggest that the infant was another. “I have not felt this badly since slave hunters killed Tutapona’s father. Tutapona’s father was Ameh’s only son.”

“I did not know that.” Reshma was genuinely surprised by the revelation.

“Yes. His name was Mahjani Jobabwe. I would not have survived that terrible moment if it were not for Ameh. He comforted me after Mahjani was killed. Even though I was the mate of another Creation at the time and hiding an illicit relationship with Mahjani, Ameh forgave me. He embraced me and eventually treated me like a daughter.”

“That sounds like something Mfalme Jobabwe would do.” Reshma smiled, but Lobarra started to cry again. Reshma still held Lobarra’s hand and pulled it closer to her. “Here. Let me try to help you feel better.”

Reshma’s unusual request caused Quazzi to kneel beside Lobarra and Reshma. He watched Reshma close her eyes and gently stroke the back of Lobarra’s hand. After a few moments, Lobarra also closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a heavy sigh. Quazzi noticed Reshma mumbling unintelligible, inaudible words. When she finished, both Reshma and Lobarra opened their eyes at the same time.

“How do you feel now?” Reshma asked Lobarra.

“Better,” Lobarra blinked her eyes several times. “I feel better. My concern for Ameh is as strong as ever, but I am not as frightened as before.”

“Good,” Reshma released Lobarra’s hand.

“What did you just do, Sacred Woman?” Quazzi asked Reshma.

Reshma smiled at her apparent success. “I tried a healing touch technique that Khalid taught me.”

“Yes. Kon-Shambique said that Khalid was teaching that technique to you, him, and Tongda. I saw him use it earlier today. He helped Ameh with his anxiety and moments of lightheadedness.”

“Yes, we are trying our best,” Reshma said. “Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and I are new at this. If our efforts are successful, the achievement may be only temporary. We have a lot more to learn.”

Lobarra nodded toward Ameh’s hut. “Did the three of you use this technique just now to help the Mfalme?”

“Almost the entire time that I was in there, that is what we were doing.”

“Did it work?”

Reshma shrugged. “To some degree. The three of us have only managed to stabilize his condition. We have been unable to bring him out of his coma and completely heal him.”

“Then you must keep trying. Please, Sacred Woman, go back in there and help Kon-Shambique and Tongda. It may require the combined and continuous efforts of all three of you to save the Mfalme successfully.”

“You’re probably right, and I plan to do so. I only stepped out to give everyone an update on the Mfalme’s condition.” Reshma stood up and looked around. She glanced at the Panfe still nearby. They all sat or stood quietly, adjusting to the discouraging developments of the evening. Reshma spoke to Quazzi as she gestured toward them. “So, how is everyone else?”

Quazzi looked toward the Panfe as he stood. “I am sure everyone feels the same as you probably do, Sacred Woman. First, Aysar’s soldiers showed up, creating a major obstacle to your plan to get away. And then, it became more complicated after witnessing the Mfalme’s medical crisis. It has been one disappointment after another.”

Quazzi told Reshma basically what she wanted to know. But Reshma decided to walk over to her fellow villagers to talk with them herself. Most of them had gathered near one of the loaded wagons. None of them talked among themselves.

Neith sat upon a small rattan stool, lost in her own depressive cloud of thoughts. She broke free of her thoughts when she saw Reshma approaching. Naturally, she also asked, “How is Mfalme Jobabwe?”

“He is in a coma, Neith. Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and I are watching him closely and are doing our best for him. We do not know when, or if, he will regain consciousness.”

Lateef sat on the ground, resting his back against one of the wagon wheels. He stared at the ground, also lost in thoughts of the evening’s discouraging events. “It is my fault,” he said without breaking his stare.

“What?” Heba lay on the ground with her head in Lateef’s lap. Confused by Lateef’s comment, she sat up and looked into his face.

“It is my fault,” Lateef repeated. “The Mfalme would not be in there, almost dead, if I had not been so obstinate with him.”

“It is not just your fault, Lateef.” Reshma moved closer to Lateef and kneeled before him. “You were just being Lateef. If you must know, the fault belongs to all of us.”

“What do you mean?” Lateef finally looked up at Reshma.

“While in the hut, Kon-Shambique and Tongda explained a few things to me. Mfalme Jobabwe deeply sympathized with us. He has taken our presence here, in the Aukmondi Valley, personally. Not long ago, Mfalme Jobabwe and the Chinchigwe experienced a situation similar to ours. They were on a flight for survival, with nowhere to go. Their survival would have ended tragically had it not been for Mfalme Ncobba. He took the Chinchigwe under his protection, making them part of the Aukmondi Tribe.”

“That was different, Reshma. Yes, we are on a flight for survival. But if you remember, Mfalme Ncobba refused to take us in or protect us. Besides, we do have a place to go. All we have to do is get there.”

Asim sat, almost in a prone slumber, near Lateef. His negative attitude and frustration forced him to set up and respond to Lateef. “It is about time you faced reality, Lateef. King Aysar’s soldiers are on our backs, breathing down our necks. We will not make it anywhere.”

“There is still a chance.”

Asim settled into his prone slumber again and closed his eyes. “It would take a miracle.”

When Neith heard the banter between Lateef and Asim, she stood up from her rattan stool. Frustrated, she picked up the stool and tried to place it on the overloaded wagon behind her. It would not fit. It would take another miracle to secure the stool. “Where is Khalid when we need him?”

“As far as anyone knows, he is still up there at the Aukmondi Sacred Temple,” Asim said. He closed his eyes in an attempt to settle deeper into his pensive mood.

Neith gave up trying to load the stool onto the wagon. She placed it back on the ground. She turned eastward as if to view the temple high on the south slope. She could see only the tree-lined slope east of the kraal. “He has been up there all day. What is he doing up there?”

“That is a good question,” Lateef looked up eastward toward the slope, too. His movements caused Heba to rise again. Lateef kissed Heba’s hand; his way of apologizing to her for disturbing her. Lateef struggled to his feet.

“Lateef, what are you doing?” Heba asked. She got no answer. Instead, she watched Lateef walk across the common area toward the kraal exit. “Where are you going?”

Battling a rising sense of hopelessness, Lateef kept walking without looking back. But he finally answered Heba’s questions: “I am about to do something Mfalme Jobabwe asked me to do a day ago. I am going up to the Sacred Temple to find Khalid and talk with him.”

56.

FOR THE GREATER GOOD

It was already dark when Lateef left the Chinchigwe Kraal. He carried a torch to light his way. After turning left and walking for ten minutes along the south bank pathway, Lateef reached a junction where the pathway split. The branch to his right led to the bridge connecting the north and south slopes of the valley. The branch to his left, the temple pathway, led up the south slope to the Aukmondi Sacred Temple.

It was fortunate that Lateef had the torch. Since he was unfamiliar with the valley, he almost missed the temple path. He saw enough of the path to stop and confirm it was indeed a path. From his position, he noticed another sign—torchlights about a kilometer and a half up the slope, visible through the trees. Lateef understood that the torchlights were in the temple gardens.

With his torch held higher, Lateef started up the temple path. Covered with loose gravel and small rocks, the path was a bit treacherous, especially in the dark. The incline was steep enough to be somewhat strenuous. But Lateef did not have to go far. After twenty minutes, he rounded a sharp bend and saw someone just a few meters ahead, coming toward him, also holding a torch. Eventually, the combined glow of both torches was enough for Lateef to recognize Khalid descending the slope.

Khalid did not expect to see anyone coming up the path at this hour. He smiled when he recognized the familiar face. “Lateef, is it not a very late hour to be walking this path?”

Lateef continued to watch the ground and took a few more cautious steps before stopping. He took a deep, recovering breath before answering Khalid. “The hour does not matter, teacher. I was coming to find you. I must talk with you.”

From the sound of Lateef’s voice, Khalid could tell that whatever Lateef wanted to discuss was serious. A large boulder sat to the left of the path. Khalid approached and planted the end of his torch into the ground nearby. He pointed at the boulder. “Here, sit with me. Tell me what is so urgent.”

Lateef walked over and stuck the end of his torch in the ground, too. He sat on the boulder next to Khalid. “A lot of terrible things have happened since you left the kraal this morning.”

“Start from the beginning.”

Lateef thought for a moment and sighed. “I am not sure where to begin. I suppose the most immediate concern is the health of Mfalme Jobabwe. He has experienced some kind of health crisis.”

“Is it serious?”

“It is quite serious. I do not know what happened, but he is currently in a coma. He may not recover.”

Khalid closed his eyes for a moment, as if to endure the painful news. “I am so sorry. I spent the entire day in the temple, praying endlessly. It seems I have not prayed enough. I will add one more prayer, asking all of Mfalme Jobabwe’s guardian angels to gather around him.”

“I hate to say it, but I think the Mfalme’s condition may have been caused by his inability to tolerate my stubborn behavior and the desperate situation the Panfe are in.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you know, the Panfe have always planned to leave the valley and continue our journey. Since the day we arrived here, Mfalme Jobabwe has never thought it was a good idea. He has tried to convince us, especially me, that it would lead to a disastrous outcome. The more I insisted that we continue our journey, the more upset the Mfalme seemed to become.”

Khalid gave Lateef a doubtful look. “Do you truly believe that the disagreement between you and the Mfalme caused his health to fail?”

Lateef shrugged. “If not, it had some negative effect. But, there is more. I later learned that King Aysar and his soldiers were closer than I realized. I did not want to be here when Aysar and his soldiers arrived. I began to push harder for the Panfe to leave the valley as soon as possible.”

“And you could not see how this was affecting the Mfalme?”

“Initially, no. I knew he was upset and objected. But I did not think it was that serious. Soon after, the Mfalme started to feel lightheaded and dizzy. I thought it was unrelated. I did not see the connection between what I was doing and the Mfalme’s condition until he finally collapsed.”

Khalid could clearly see that Lateef regretted his insensitive oversight. “I am sure your focus was on other things at the time.”

Battling his shame and regret, Lateef rose from the boulder. He began pacing. He needed Khalid to understand why his focus was elsewhere. “King Aysar’s soldiers arrived earlier than we expected, teacher. We thought we had more time. At this very moment, King Aysar and some of his soldiers are camped on the north rim of the valley. Did you know that?”

“No. In the temple’s serene isolation, I was unaware of many things happening outside. But I know it now.”

“I did not want to admit it at first, but the presence of Aysar’s soldiers made it impossible for the Panfe to leave. When I realized that King Aysar was among his soldiers, I panicked. Teacher, I literally panicked.”

Khalid stood up, too. He gently coached Lateef back to the boulder to sit again. “Does King Aysar cause you that much fear?”

Since the day I saw King Aysar kill my father, I have been deathly afraid of him. And now, I know without a doubt that he plans to kill my mother, me, Bast, and possibly many more of the Panfe. That fear drove me to try to leave the valley anyway. Mfalme Jobabwe tried to stop us.”

“And that was when Mfalme Jobabwe collapsed.”

“Yes. Reshma later learned that Mfalme Jobabwe took the Panfe situation personally. Kon-Shambique thinks it was all the anxiety and stress of everything that finally did it.”

Khalid thought about all that Lateef had just told him. “So, is that everything?”

To be sure, Lateef began to review everything that had happened aloud. “Mfalme Jobabwe lies in his hut near death. The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, believes that Mfalme Ncobba will not allow King Aysar to enter the Aukmondi Valley and take the Panfe by force. And yet, the Panfe cannot go anywhere. Mfalme Ncobba and his Gray Warrior are up there now, on the north rim, ready to face King Aysar and his soldiers. A devastating battle is very likely. Both Bast and I believe the Aukmondi Army cannot defeat Aysar and his Mamba regiments.”

“All of those are discouraging developments, Lateef.” Khalid sighed before looking into Lateef’s eyes. “But what do you expect me to do about any of it?”

“What?” Lateef turned to face Khalid. The question made Lateef jump to his feet again. “Teacher, everyone knows that you are a guardian angel. You are a proven miracle worker. Please, fix some of these things. Make everything right again.”

Khalid reached for Lateef’s arm, forcing him to sit once more. He spoke apologetically. “It does not work that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lateef, please hear me. I am but a mortal man, just like you. I have performed no miracles.”

“But you have, teacher.” Lateef counted Khalid’s apparent miracles on his fingers. “You fixed Asim’s damaged hand. His fingers are like they have never been broken. You pulled Talia out of her crippling depression when she thought her pregnancy was real. You cured my mother’s blindness when she had been blind for most of her adult life. You healed Bast after a serious infection that was sure to kill him.”

Khalid smiled. “The Supreme One has blessed me with a unique ability to adjust or reset certain things or situations. I can only restore some things … to be as they were meant to be. You see these adjustments or restorations as miracles simply because you do not understand the science of what I have done.”

“The science?”

“Yes, the secrets the Supreme One shares with us. The only miracles I can perform are to make changes before the Supreme One, through the guardian angels, naturally makes those same changes eventually.”

“I do not understand.”

“Then understand that destiny is predetermined. Many things are as they should be. There are many things I am not allowed to change.”

Lateef did not like what he was hearing. “Mfalme Jobabwe, the Panfe, and the Aukmondi are in serious predicaments, and the future does not appear promising for any of us. So, what should we do?”

Khalid reached down to retrieve his torch as if the talk between him and Lateef was over. “Each of you, individually and together, must follow your hearts and your conscience. Do what is right, for the greater good. Everything else, whether we like it or not, will occur as it should.”

After Khalid walked over to the pathway to continue his descent down the slope, Lateef quickly grabbed his torch and followed him. He repeated part of what Khalid had just said. “Do what is right, for the greater good. Sometimes, teacher, that is not so easy.”

“Sometimes, it is not meant to be easy.”

Neither Khalid nor Lateef said another word until they reached the bottom of the slope and the junction with the south bank pathway. Along the way, Lateef considered Khalid’s advice. By the time he reached the junction, he thought to ask one more question.

“So, teacher, if there are some things you cannot change, then is there anything at all that you can do for us?”

“I can follow the advice that I just gave you. I can follow my heart, my conscience, and do what is right, for the greater good.”

“Which is?”

“When I arrived in this valley two days ago, I told Mfalme Ncobba that my original plan was to talk with King Aysar.” Khalid pointed across the Aukmondi River to the north slope. “Now that I know that King Aysar is up there, I am going up to the north rim to do as I intended.”

The current situation suddenly felt eerily familiar to Lateef, as if it were déjà vu or a long-forgotten memory. Most notably, he remembered his recent nightmare in which Khalid came down a slope to help him and his mother. That nightmare did not end well. Now, that nightmare seemed to be coming true. Khalid had already started across the bridge to the north slope, a few meters away, when it occurred to Lateef to stop him.

“No! Teacher, no! Please, do not do this!” Lateef yelled out.

Khalid yelled back. “I must do this. It is, and has always been, my destiny. I just spent the entire day in the Aukmondi Sacred Temple learning that that is one of the many things I cannot change.”

57.

NOT SOLELY FOR THE PANFE

On the south side of the Bonjii clearing, the tree-lined edge felt eerily quiet in the darkness. Only crickets chirped steadily. Yet the silence was deceptive. Hidden among the trees were more than five hundred Aukmondi sentinels and warriors. The Royal Warrior Npatuzi’s sentry army and the Blue Warrior Dabete’s warrior regiment still stood on the north rim behind the sentry line. Most of them were carefully concealed, nearly invisible in the darkness. As a strict rule, no torches or campfires were allowed on the north rim. Yet the sentinels and warriors remained there, ready at a moment’s notice to face Aysar’s soldiers on the other side of the clearing.

Several meters behind the sentry line, deeper into the trees, was the Obentawni Kraal. Notably, it was the smallest kraal on the north slope and comprised only five small multi-purpose huts. The Obentawni Kraal functioned as a military encampment for the sentinels guarding the north rim.

The Gray Warrior, Kharaambi, had taken over one of the smaller huts to serve as the command center for the current situation on the rim. Inside, Mfalme Ncobba, Kharaambi, and the former Caldifor palace guard, Bast, sat on the ground around a small table. Even at this late hour, they continued discussing contingency plans in case a battle with Aysar’s soldiers occurred. Unlike the strict rule of no torches or campfires, only one very small candle burned in the center of the table.

“I have an uneasy feeling about King Aysar’s intentions,” Kharaambi said at one point.

Bast sat polishing the blade of his sword by the candlelight. He chuckled at Kharaambi’s comment. “He always has that effect on people.”

“What is this uneasy feeling?” Ramuza asked, feeling the same.

Kharaambi leaned in closer to the table. The candlelight revealed a puzzled look on her face. “Aysar gave us a deadline of midday tomorrow before he comes in after the Panfe. But I do not trust him. I think you were right, Bast. I believe he will make his move, like you said, at daylight.”

Ramuza also leaned in, resting both his elbows on the table. He thought for a moment before turning to Bast. “After Aysar gave us that deadline, you then speculated that Aysar was probably waiting for more of his Mamba soldiers to arrive. Do you still think so?”

Bast stopped polishing his sword. He also thought for a moment before shrugging. “It is only my best guess, Mfalme. I can think of no other reason for him to wait. I agree with Kharaambi. We should be ready for him at daylight.”

At that moment, the Blue Warrior, Dabete, came to stand in the hut entranceway. “Excuse me, Mfalme. The Great Creation Khalid is here to speak with you.”

“Khalid?” As a courtesy, Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Bast all stood up. They saw Khalid standing behind Dabete. All of them were surprised at Khalid’s unexpected visit. Ramuza waved Dabete and Khalid into the hut. “Please come in.”

Dabete and Khalid were of average height. Both still had to duck their heads as they entered. Dabete stood off to the side. As Khalid walked further inside, he was mildly surprised to see only a single, small candle burning on the table. “Is it normal to work in such darkness?”

“Up here on the sentry line at night, yes, it is.” Kharaambi gestured toward the empty side of the table. “Please sit with us.”

“No, thank you, Kharaambi. I need but a moment of your time.”

“Why are you here, Great Creation? You must know that it is not safe.”

“I know. But it is a risk that I had to take, Kharaambi, for two reasons.”

“We are listening.”

Khalid closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “The first concerns Mfalme Jobabwe. I have learned that he is seriously ill. I resist spreading unsubstantiated rumors, but I am told that he may not recover.”

“Oh, Great Sacred Spirit!” Ramuza briefly turned away before facing Khalid again. “What happened. What is wrong with him?”

“I am sorry, Mfalme. I have spent the entire day in your sacred temple. When I left, I spoke briefly with Lateef, who informed me. Thereafter, I came directly here. I do not have the details to answer your questions.”

Kharaambi turned to Dabete and beckoned him closer. “Great Creation, send a warrior into the valley at once. Find out the status of Mfalme Jobabwe for us, please.”

“Consider it done, Sacred Woman.” Dabete nodded and left the hut.

“Can things get any worse?” Ramuza made another stressful turn before facing Khalid once again. “Khalid, Great Creation, what was your other reason for coming up here?”

“Mfalme, the time has come. I must complete my mission.”

“Your mission?”

“You must recall, Mfalme Ncobba, two days ago, when I arrived in your valley, I told you I intended to talk with King Aysar.”

“I remember.”

“Now that he is here, on the other side of the clearing, I…”

Khalid did not get a chance to finish what he was saying. Kharaambi, surprised by Khalid’s unchanged plan, cut him off. “You still intend to do that? Is it wise? The Panfe want nothing to do with that Creation.”

Khalid smiled at Kharaambi’s reaction. “My mission and my talk with King Aysar are not solely for the Panfe. It is for all the people of Caldifor as well.”

“Khalid, my friend, I admire you greatly.” Bast reinserted his sword into its sheath. “But if I know King Aysar, you have set yourself an insurmountable challenge.”

“I know.” Khalid acknowledged. “It is the greatest challenge of my life.”

“I remember that you said that too, two days ago.” There was a look of amazement on Kharaambi’s face. “Then, you knew. You knew, all along, that you would be doing this.”

“I did.”

“No, Great Creation. We cannot allow you to do this.” Ramuza turned away to resume his seat at the table. “It is not wise. Particularly at this hour. At least, wait until daylight.”

“Daylight, Mfalme?” Bast looked at Ramuza. “Did we not just discuss what daylight might mean?”

Khalid raised both hands to halt the debate. “I must do this now, at this hour. Timing is important. My mission, my talk, and my challenge are also for the benefit of the Aukmondi Tribe.”

“What do you mean, Great Creation?” Ramuza’s feeling of uneasiness also resurfaced.

“All of the conflicting forces are in place, Mfalme - King Aysar and his soldiers, the Panfe and their unwavering determination, and the Aukmondi and their army. I must do this. If I do not, your confrontation with King Aysar and his soldiers is inevitable.”

Kharaambi could see the hesitancy on Ramuza’s face. She made a command decision. “No, Great Creation. You are not crossing that clearing.”

“Kharaambi, please think about this,” Bast said as he moved around the table to stand closer to Kharaambi. He pointed at Khalid. “In recent days, have you not been convinced of this man’s extraordinary capabilities? Please, let him try.”

Ramuza instantly recalled Khalid’s cure of Neith’s blindness and Bast’s remarkable recovery. If Bast’s plea did not sway Kharaambi, it swayed Ramuza. “So be it.”

“Mfalme?”

Ramuza apologized to Kharaambi for overriding her stand with a gentle, affectionate squeeze on her shoulder. He turned to Khalid. “What do you need from us, Great Creation?”

“Only a torch so that I can see my way across the clearing, Mfalme.”

58.

WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG

Shortly after Lateef’s talk with Khalid on the temple pathway, he walked through the gateway of the Chinchigwe Kraal. Feeling anxious and somewhat ambivalent, he walked with his head hung low. He felt hopeful that Khalid would speak with King Aysar, but he was not confident. He looked forward to sharing the news of Khalid’s effort with everyone, but wondered whether he should also mention how frightened he felt.

At this late hour of the evening, nothing in the kraal had changed much. Just before reaching the common area, he glanced toward Mfalme Jobabwe’s hut. He could see the Brown Warrior, Quazzi, sitting watchfully on a bench outside the Mfalme’s hut. Lobarra slept on a cot by the hut entrance, with Tutapona sleeping beside her. Inside the hut, he could see enough to suggest that Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Reshma were still tending to the Mfalme.

On the other side of the common area, Lateef could see that most of the Panfe were still awake. Their restlessness indicated they were eagerly awaiting news on whether he had found and spoken with Khalid.

Once Lateef crossed the common area, the Panfe gathered curiously around him. Lateef told everyone about his brief encounter with Khalid. He said the conversation went well and ended with Khalid heading up to the north rim to speak with King Aysar. No one could tell that Lateef was hiding his doubts and uneasiness. Instead, like Lateef, everyone seemed hopeful and pleased that Khalid would talk with King Aysar.

Despite the late hour, many refused to go to sleep. Unaware of the time and the gravity of the tense negotiations, they wanted to wait and learn the outcome of Khalid’s talk. Most pulled blankets and pillows from the loaded carts and wagons. In the common area, they made themselves comfortable and waited.

Several long hours passed. Most of the Panfe eventually fell asleep, after all. Even Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Reshma devised a plan in which one of them would tend to Ameh for a few hours while the others slept. Quazzi sat on the bench outside Ameh’s hut, leaning against the wall behind him, periodically napping. Only Lateef and Asim, unable to control their restlessness, managed to stay awake through the night and into the early morning.

It was early morning, two hours before sunrise, when Quazzi finally woke from his intermittent naps. To shake off his lingering grogginess, he decided to walk through the common area and check on current developments. Halfway through the common area, he found Lateef and Asim, at this early hour, passing the time talking with each other. Asim lay resting comfortably on his back. Lateef sat on the ground, trying diligently to untangle a rope he found on one of the wagons.

“Good morning,” Quazzi greeted the two.

A touch of frustration and a lack of sleep led Lateef to give an ill-tempered response. “Is it a good morning, Quazzi?”

Quazzi easily guessed the reason for Lateef’s response. “Have you gotten any sleep, Great Creation?”

Before Lateef could respond, Asim sat up to answer Quazzi instead. “No, he has not. For most of the night, I have watched Lateef unload and reload various carts and wagons.”

Quazzi gave Lateef a puzzled look. “For what purpose?”

“I do not know. It makes no sense.” Lateef shrugged and offered what he thought was a plausible explanation. “I could not sleep. I had to find something to do.”

Quazzi briefly watched Lateef try to untangle the rope. “Clearly, you have found something else to keep you busy,” he said, walking away.

Before Quazzi got too far away, Asim thought to ask him the big question of the morning. “Has there been any word from the north rim?”

Quazzi turned and walked back toward Lateef and Asim. “The north rim is aware of our situation down here. A short while ago, I received an update from one of the warriors from Dabete’s regiment. The Great Creation, Khalid, has informed the warriors on the rim about Mfalme Jobabwe’s condition.”

Asim sighed empathetically, imagining the impact of learning such news. “That has to be some disheartening and distracting news for the warriors to bear as they prepare for Aysar’s aggression.”

“I am sure that it is, Great Creation.” Quazzi seemed to share the same empathy. “It is painful, but the Gray Warrior, Kharaambi, will keep the warriors focused.”

“What about Khalid?” Lateef asked.

“Khalid has received permission from Mfalme Ncobba to speak with King Aysar. He crossed the clearing late last night. Currently, the Great Creation, Khalid, is probably in Aysar’s camp. After all this time, we can only assume that the conversation between Khalid and Aysar is still going on.”

“That means Khalid has been in Aysar’s encampment most of the night.” The thought caused Lateef’s frustration and anxiety to suddenly flare up. He tossed the ropes he was untangling aside. “That is too long. I do not understand why it is taking so long.”

“There could be any number of reasons, Great Creation.” Quazzi considered the most obvious. “I am told that King Aysar is a Difficult Creation to reason with.”

“That should not matter.” Asim had greater confidence in Khalid. He lay back. “If anyone can do it, surely, Khalid can, no matter what it takes.”

Since returning to the Chinchigwe Kraal and throughout the night, Lateef had tried to ignore his feeling of doubt about Khalid’s success. After he heard Asim’s apparent blind faith in Khalid, he finally had to speak up. “I am not so sure, Asim.”

“What do you mean?”

Throughout the night, Lateef wondered how to express his doubts. At that moment, he decided to speak his mind. “During my talk with Khalid, he told me some things I did not want to believe. He told me that he is not a miracle worker. Despite everything he has done, he said there are some things he cannot change. I have reasons to believe him.”

“What reasons?” Asim moved closer to Lateef. Even Quazzi kneeled to hear what Lateef had to say.

Lateef took a deep breath before confessing something he seldom talked about with anyone except Heba. “I have had some nightmarish dreams. I think they are premonitions.”

“You have mentioned your nightmares before,” said Asim. “But you never said what those nightmares were premonitions.”

“They all stem from the trauma of witnessing my father’s murder and the overwhelming fear of King Aysar that followed. I know these are just dreams. I should not take them seriously. But they keep recurring. And they have become increasingly frightening and disturbingly lifelike.”

“That is, certainly, not good.”

“I have not told you the scariest part. Because of my dreams, I feel, in the pit of my stomach, that the talk between Khalid and King Aysar will not go well.”

59.

I DID NOT COME HERE TO TALK

Ramuza, Kharaambi, Npatuzi’s sentinel army, Dabete’s warrior regiment, and Bast remained on the north rim, waiting and ready to defend the valley against Aysar’s soldiers. Just before sunrise, Kharaambi finished a kilometer-long walk up and down the sentry line, inspecting the sentinels and warriors. Pleased with what she saw, she returned to the central hut in the Obentawni Kraal. Kharaambi leaned her spear and shield against the wall. To take a restful break, she sat at the table where Ramuza and Bast sat. Kharaambi did not sit long before the Blue Warrior, Dabete, rushed into the hut to get Ramuza’s attention.

“Mfalme!” There was some urgency in Dabete’s voice. “Something is happening across the clearing that requires your attention.”

“Is this that daylight surprise attack that we suspected?” Bast asked as he got up, grabbed his sword, and rushed toward the hut exit.

Kharaambi got up and retrieved her spear and shield. “If it is, it will not be as big a surprise as King Aysar might have wanted it to be. I have already alerted the sentinels and warriors to be prepared for this moment.”

Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Bast wove through the trees and bushes, following Dabete toward the sentry line. The four of them eventually stood beside the Royal Warrior, Npatuzi, who was looking out across the clearing. In the early morning light, they could barely make out three horses slowly approaching in the distance. Two of the horses had riders, clearly two of Aysar’s soldiers.

“Is this a normal or a preparatory advance?” Ramuza asked Bast.

“No, it is not, Mfalme. If this were an assault, it would not occur so casually.” Bast took two more steps out and focused his eyes. “No. That soldier on the lead horse is King Aysar himself.”

“What is he doing?” Kharaambi took a step forward, too, and focused her eyes. “And what is that bundle on the third horse?”

“I cannot tell,” Ramuza stepped out to join Kharaambi and Bast. He left Npatuzi and Dabete standing alone.

Everyone patiently watched the three horses come closer. The horses came close enough that everyone could clearly recognize King Aysar on the lead horse. King Aysar sat proudly, holding his horse’s reins in one hand and his twin-pronged scepter in his other hand. The soldier on the second horse held his horse’s reins, as well as the reins of the other horse, in one hand, and a loaded crossbow in the other. The third horse had no rider. Instead, a large, white, cloth bundle lay across the horse’s back.

Ten meters away, King Aysar stopped and gracefully dismounted. He stood defiantly and forcefully tapped his sacred forked scepter on the ground. He looked at Ramuza with an arrogant smile. “Aukmondi, I have something that belongs to you. I have kindly returned it to you.”

“Oh, Great Sacred Spirit!” Ramuza spoke under his breath. Only Kharaambi and Bast heard him speak. “I pray this is not what I think it is.”

Aysar’s soldier also dismounted from his horse. He secured his crossbow and headed toward the third horse. The soldier untied a few lanyards and slid the large white bundle from the horse’s back onto his shoulder. Struggling with the weight of the bundle, he walked halfway to Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Bast. He paused and threw the bundle onto the ground. Then, he casually walked back to his horse, mounted, and retrieved his crossbow. After Aysar climbed onto his horse, he and the soldier turned and slowly headed back toward the Bonjii Forest.

Kharaambi cast a wary glance at Ramuza before walking to the bundle and kneeling beside it. Expecting the gravest of revelations, she slowly unwrapped part of the bundle. She saw enough beneath the wrap to make her stand up and step back, stunned. She turned to Ramuza. “Mfalme … it is the Great Creation, Khalid.”

Ramuza closed his eyes to bear the anguish. Bast, suddenly overcome with anger, drew his sword and ran toward Aysar and the soldier. He came to a stop near Kharaambi and Khalid’s body. He pointed his sword and called out, “Aysar! You bastard! May all of your guardian angels retch from the rot in your soul!”

“Bast, Great Creation!” Kharaambi had to grab Bast’s arm to hold him back.

King Aysar gave a hearty laugh at Bast’s reaction. He paused before turning to Ramuza again. “Aukmondi, I did not come here to talk. I have returned what belongs to you. Now, please, be so kind as to return what belongs to me. You have six and a half more hours. If you do not give me the Panfe,” Aysar pointed to Bast, “and that worthless traitor by noon, I am coming in to get them.”

“What are you waiting on, Aysar?” Bast shouted. He took another step forward and waved his sword at Aysar again. “I cannot ram this through your gut one moment too soon. What are you waiting on?”

When Aysar’s soldier raised his crossbow at Bast, Kharaambi grabbed Bast’s arm again and pulled him back. “Not now, Great Creation.” Thankfully, it was enough for Aysar’s soldier to drop his aim at Bast.

“Let him be, Sacred Woman,” Ramuza said, a touch of anger in his voice. “I am not surrendering the Panfe. And King Aysar is not getting into this valley. No, Bast is right. We might as well get this over with right now.”

“Not so fast, Aukmondi. I need the rest of my Mamba regiments.” Aysar resumed his ride back across the clearing. He yelled over his shoulder, “My Mamba regiments will guarantee your destruction. You have six and a half hours before we get this over with.”

Despite Kharaambi’s physical restraint, residual anger drove Bast to take several more vengeful steps toward the retreating Aysar. He quickly recognized his irrational behavior and stopped. He lowered his sword, turned around, and walked back toward Kharaambi and Khalid’s body.

Kharaambi beckoned Npatuzi and Dabete closer. “Move Khalid’s body back behind the sentry line, please.”

“Kharaambi,” Bast got the Gray Warrior’s attention as he sighed heavily to calm himself down. “Allow me to take Khalid’s body down into the valley. When this inevitable battle begins, there will be complete chaos up here. Before then, I would rather the Panfe have possession of Khalid’s body for proper and respectful care. He deserves that.”

Kharaambi looked down at the bundle at her feet. Through the parted wrap, she could clearly see Khalid’s obviously assaulted face. “So be it, Great Creation. But promise me that you will return to the rim before noon. We will definitely need you up here.”

“I will be here, Kharaambi.” Bast helped Npatuzi and Dabete lift Khalid’s body off the ground. “When this battle begins, if I do nothing else in my life, I want to see the moment Aysar receives his karmic justice.”

60.

THOSE WERE SHAKIR’S WORDS

Almost two and a half hours after that devastating encounter ended between the warriors and King Aysar, no one in the Chinchigwe Kraal had learned what had happened on the north rim. The mood in the kraal and the entire valley remained somber because of Mfalme Jobabwe’s heart attack.

Since Mfalme Ncobba and the Gray Warrior, Kharaambi, were still on the north rim, and Mfalme Jobabwe was in a coma, the Brown Warrior, Quazzi, was the highest authority in the valley. He spent his time doing his best to maintain proper functions in the valley.

Currently, Quazzi stood at the Chinchigwe Kraal main gate, talking with the Royal Warrior, Nionu. Quazzi knew that half of Nionu’s army, the Dabete regiment, was on the north rim. Quazzi ordered Nionu to take the other half of his army, the Bendabe regiment, to the Royal Kraal. With a potential threat of confrontation with Aysar’s soldiers, Quazzi understood that one of his main responsibilities was to secure the Royal Kraal and protect the royal family.

Just outside Mfalme Jobabwe’s hut, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Reshma stood talking. They were unsure what else to do about Ameh. The three had carefully tried Khalid’s touch-healing technique on Ameh. Even with their combined efforts, the technique did not produce the desired results. Ameh remained in his coma.

Reshma glanced down at Lobarra, who sat silently crying just outside Ameh’s hut. Reshma saw tears streaming down Lobarra’s face and dripping from her chin. As far as Reshma could tell, Lobarra hadn’t stopped crying since Ameh’s heart attack. Reshma wanted to help Lobarra but knew she needed to focus on helping Kon-Shambique and Tongda. Besides, Ameh’s aide and attendants sat behind Lobarra, ready to assist if needed. Neith sat next to Lobarra, holding the sleeping infant, Tutapona, in her lap. Neith had taken pity on Lobarra and volunteered to care for the infant.

On the other side of the common area, where the loaded carts and wagons stood, Lateef tried to ease his restlessness and doubts about Khalid’s success by rearranging items in one of the wagons again. He struggled to move two water barrels from the front of the wagon to the back. He worked as if moving the barrels were the most important task of the morning. Asim stood near the wagon’s tailgate, watching Lateef. Asim shook his head at Lateef’s pointless efforts. He asked Lateef, “Why are you doing this? Do you still feel that all of this is necessary?”

Lateef initially ignored Asim and kept working. Feeling somewhat irritated, Lateef pushed one of the barrels onto the wagon’s tailgate, forcing Asim to move out of the way. He finally explained to Asim why he was doing what he was doing. “There is no guarantee that Khalid will be successful with Aysar. If he fails, I want to be ready to go.”

“Seriously?” Asim could not believe Lateef’s resistance to common sense. “If Khalid fails, we will definitely be unable to go anywhere. You know that.”

“Asim, I really do not want to hear any of that.” Lateef moved to get the second barrel. Before reaching it, he paused and turned to Asim. “Do you have something else to do?”

Asim gave up. He threw his hands up, sighed, and walked away. He walked out toward the center of the common area. He happened to approach Heba and Talia. The two women were preparing a huge cauldron of bubbling Bissara soup. Lobarra and Ameh’s aide and attendants, as gracious hosts, usually performed this task. Understandably, they had other concerns. Cooking the breakfast meal for the Panfe was now Heba’s and Talia’s way of keeping busy. Heba was slowly pouring a small gourd of olive oil into the soup as she stirred with a long wooden spoon. Talia was measuring out a large scoop of fava beans from a bag.

“That already smells good,” Asim said as he looked into the cauldron.

“It is Bissara soup,” Talia said. “But you have about an hour to wait before it is ready.”

“I do not mind.” Asim sat on the ground to watch the women work. “I have nothing else to do but wait. Can I help with anything?”

Heba set the empty gourd of olive oil aside. “If you please, you can get more kindling for the fire.”

At that moment, the somber mood in the Chinchigwe Kraal darkened further. Through the main gate of the kraal, Bast and a small detachment of Aukmondi warriors entered. Two of the warriors carried a litter. On the litter lay the body of Khalid, still wrapped in white cloth. Bast led the warriors to the center of the common area. When they set the litter down, almost everyone in the kraal had already gathered around. Long before anyone saw the body wrapped in cloth, they had anticipated the worst. Cries of sorrow erupted immediately.

Neith was the first to lose consciousness and collapse. Lateef and Asim caught Neith before she fell to the ground. When Talia approached the litter, still holding the fava bean scoop, her expression turned blank. The fava bean scoop slipped from Talia’s fingers and fell to the ground. As if nothing had happened, Talia casually turned and walked back to the cauldron of bubbling Bissara. Just as calmly, she picked up the long wooden spoon that Heba had used and, absent-mindedly, began to stir the soup. She stirred normally at first. But as tears began to flow, she stirred faster and faster, harder and harder. She stirred so hard and recklessly that soup splashed from the cauldron into the fire beneath the cauldron.

Reshma could see that Talia was traumatized and was suffering a hysterical reaction. Reshma rushed over and embraced Talia around her shoulders. She pulled Talia away from the hot cauldron. She helped Talia sit on the ground. As Talia covered her face with her hands, her crying quickly gave way to heavy sobs. Reshma sat on the ground with Talia, trying to console her as she cried, too.

By now, Quazzi had pulled Bast aside. “Great Creation, how did this happen?”

“Aysar has shown us just how evil he can be, Quazzi.” Bast waved his hand toward Khalid’s body. “This is the result of a peaceful attempt to talk with him.”

“Great Sacred Spirit! What is the status on the rim?”

“Aysar has returned to his camp. He plans to enter the valley and take the Panfe at noon today. Mfalme Ncobba, Kharaambi, and all the warriors are on high alert, ready to face Aysar. But Quazzi,” Bast paused to think about what he was about to say. “I do not believe the Aukmondi are prepared for that bastard’s attack. Khalid asked me to make myself available to Mfalme Ncobba and the Aukmondi. I must honestly tell you. I believe Aysar and his Mamba regiments are unbeatable. That is even more frightening to me now, because I have underestimated just how evil Aysar can be.”

“At the moment, we have only one army of sentinels and one regiment of warriors on the rim,” Quazzi was trying to think tactfully. “The Aukmondi have at least twenty more independent armies in this valley, over 7000 warriors. What if the Gray Warrior calls all of them up?”

“Aysar’s three regiments of Mamba soldiers can devastate those 7000 warriors. Historically, he has defeated armies of warriors numbering twice that many.” Bast shook his head negatively. “When I left the rim, I could see the dread on Mfalme Ncobba’s face. I could tell. He knows that his tribe’s survival is in jeopardy. He knows that a devastating end is near.”

“Mfalme Ncobba has always hidden his fear of losing this beloved tribe to some outside force beyond his control. He will never admit it, but we all can see it. That is one reason Kharaambi is his Gray Warrior. She is one of the most brilliant warriors you will ever meet. She would do her own miracles to prevent that from ever happening.”

Asim stood near Quazzi and Bast. He overheard everything they said. The more he heard, the angrier he got. Asim looked down at Khalid’s body. Seeing what Asyar had done to Khalid made his anger spike. He turned and briskly walked to the wagon that Lateef had just rearranged. He climbed aboard and started tossing things aside recklessly.

Alarmed by Asim’s behavior, Lateef, Quazzi, and Bast followed him to the wagon. Lateef was not only alarmed but also angry and confused. “Asim, what are you doing? I just rearranged those things.”

“So what?” Asim snapped. He kept tossing things about in the wagon. He almost knocked over one of the water barrels that Lateef had moved. “I need my crossbow. Where are my crossbow and arrows? I am going up to the rim.”

“No one is going up to the rim, Great Creation,” Quazzi said. “I will not permit it.”

Asim found the crossbow and arrows. He hung the bag of arrows over his shoulder and jumped from the wagon to the ground. “You can try to stop me, Quazzi. I intend to personally put an arrow through Aysar’s skull, if it is the last thing I do.”

“It will be the last thing you do,” Bast said. “Before you load a single arrow into that crossbow, Asyar’s Mamba soldiers will plant more than a dozen arrows in your body. You will be the first of many to die.”

Asim did not want to believe Bast, but common sense gave him no choice. He sighed heavily and suppressed his anger. He removed the bag of arrows from his shoulder, recognizing how hopeless the situation was. With lingering frustration, he tossed the crossbow and arrows back into the wagon. Feeling utterly helpless, he followed Quazzi, Bast, and Lateef back toward the center of the common area where Khalid’s body lay.

By the time the four reached Khalid’s body, Neith had recovered from her collapse. She sat on the ground to the right of Khalid, tears streaming down her face as she used a damp cloth to wipe away dried blood and dirt smudges from Khalid’s face. Heba sat to Neith’s right, also silently crying, holding more damp cloths for Neith to use.

On the left side of Khalid’s body sat Reshma, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda. Even Lobarra had broken away from her sorrowful stupor long enough to join the other mourners respectfully. Holding Tutapona again, she sat tearfully behind Kon-Shambique and Tongda.

Quazzi, Bast, Lateef, and Asim had to push through a large crowd gathered around Khalid’s body. The crowd included all the Panfe and many of the Chinchigwe who lived in the kraal. Lateef sat on the ground to Neith’s left. Quazzi, Bast, and Asim joined Reshma, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Lobarra.

The entire crowd, including those seated beside Khalid’s body, watched in silence as Kon-Shambique slowly peeled back part of the white cloth covering Khalid’s body, exposing part of his chest. As if it were necessary, he checked for scratches, bruises, and other injuries. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Neith wordlessly took Kon-Shambique’s hands and moved them away. She carefully readjusted Khalid’s tunic and the white cloth to cover his chest again. Kon-Shambique understood what Neith was feeling and what she wanted. He sat back. Neith continued wiping Khalid’s face clean.

There was a long stretch of heavy silence. Everyone kept watching Neith tend to Khalid’s body. That quiet was broken when Lateef finally spoke in a sorrowful tone, saying, “This is all my fault.”

“Lateef, please!” Reshma snapped. “Do not start that again.”

“This is my fault, Reshma. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it.”

“So what, if it is your fault, Lateef?” Asim snapped. “What difference does it make? Let us face it. There is nothing you can do about it. We are at a point where there is nothing anyone can do.”

“You are wrong, Asim.” Lateef felt angry, rebellious, and defiant. “There is something we can do. We can still leave the valley.”

“Angels of mercy, Lateef! When are you going to embrace reality? It is over for us.”

Lateef looked at Quazzi, still feeling defiant. “Maybe you can prevent us from going up to the rim. But you cannot stop us from leaving. I do not care if it is for our safety. You do not have the right to stop us.”

“I am not going anywhere,” Neith calmly said as she reached for another damp cloth from Heba.

“What?” Lateef looked at his mother, a stunned expression on his face.

“I am not going anywhere,” Neith repeated. “I am tired of running. You should be tired of running, too.”

Lateef sat speechless. He waved his hand toward Khalid’s body. “One of the last things Khalid told me was, ‘Do the right thing, for the greater good.’ Since we left Panfe, that is what I have been trying to do.”

Neith continued cleaning Khalid’s face and neck as a smile appeared on her face. “Do the right thing for the greater good? That is similar to something your father used to say.”

“What?” Lateef’s confusion grew.

“He said, ‘Do the right thing to save the many.’” Neith continued smiling. “Those were Shakir’s words.”

“Yes!” Hearing the phrase made Asim smile, too. “I went to a couple of Shakir’s rallies. I remember him saying that a couple of times. Although a few people sometimes died after Aysar’s soldiers retaliated, Shakir always told us not to rebel mindlessly. He always reminded us to do the right thing to save the many.”

Kon-Shambique was perceptive enough to notice an important revelation. He looked at Lateef. “The words of Shakir and Khalid are a notable coincidence, Great Creation. Did Khalid tell you anything else when the two of you talked?”

Lateef sat, thinking, and tried to recall the details of his conversation with Khalid. “To put it simply, he told me that some things cannot be changed. He said that if we do the right thing, everything else, whether we like the outcome or not, will happen as it should.”

It was Kon-Shambique’s turn to pause for a moment. He considered the differences between Shakir’s and Khalid’s phrases. Thinking aloud, he spoke mainly to himself, asking, “What is the right thing to do for the greater good and for the many?”

“According to what Lateef just said,” Bast began, “Khalid said, whether we like the outcome or not, if we do the right thing, everything will occur as it should. I am thinking about the hopeless predicament of the Panfe. The right thing for the Panfe to do ... is to surrender to King Aysar.”

“What?” Lateef almost got up from where he sat. “Bast, you are out of your mind. How is that the right thing? What greater good would come from that?”

“It would save the many.” Bast looked at Quazzi as if to confirm his opinion. “It would save the Aukmondi.”

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Quazzi said. “You are right. But Mfalme Ncobba would never allow the Panfe to make such a sacrifice.”

“You have an army of sentinels and a regiment of warriors up there on the rim right now, ready to sacrifice themselves for the tribe. You said your Gray Warrior would easily call up the rest of her armies to join them. Tell me, Quazzi. Would Mfalme Ncobba allow such a sacrifice for the greater good?”

61.

THIS IS NOT YOUR FIGHT

Just over two hours ago, the possibility of Panfe surrendering to King Aysar arose. No one, especially Lateef, approved of it. Everyone could list many reasons why it was a bad idea. Still, nearly everyone agreed it was the only chance to possibly prevent a bloody war between King Aysar and the Aukmondi.

Lateef continued to object. He did his best to convince everyone that survival for the Panfe was still possible if they could somehow reach a refuge location near the foothills of Kilimanjaro. If the Panfe could escape, then King Aysar would have no reason to invade the Aukmondi Valley. As Lateef saw it, everyone would survive.

It sounded good, but it was a weak argument. Quazzi, Bast, and Asim found it much easier to convince everyone that Lateef’s suggestion would never work. With Aysar and his soldiers already on the north rim, executing the idea was almost impossible. Quazzi tried a democratic approach, asking Lateef to accept a majority vote on whether the Panfe should surrender to King Aysar. Lateef already knew what the outcome of such a vote would be. He objected to that as well. He did not want to take a chance.

Neith singlehandedly swayed the entire vote. She reiterated her firm stance of not going anywhere. Neith’s position on the issue convinced everyone else that resisting would be pointless. At least, surrendering to King Aysar might save the Aukmondi. Even Talia, apathetically, agreed with the majority. After seeing Khalid’s body, Talia mentally and spiritually gave up. When asked for her opinion, she showed no concern and chose to surrender. Talia’s vote, although the result of apathy, still counted, making the decision almost unanimous. Lateef finally and reluctantly agreed to surrender the Panfe.

With the decision made, it was very difficult for the Panfe to sever emotional ties to all their belongings loaded onto the carts and wagons. But it had to be done quickly. King Aysar’s deadline to invade the Aukmondi Valley was only hours away. The hardest part was saying goodbye to the comatose Mfalme Jobabwe, Lobarra, Tongda, and all the helpful Chinchigwe who lived in the kraal. Once the Panfe surrendered, they would never see any of these people or possessions again.

Over two and a half hours later, Kon-Shambique, Quazzi, and a few Aukmondi warriors escorted the emotionally exhausted Panfe up the valley’s north slope. It was usually a two-hour climb up the steep slope. Kon-Shambique and Quazzi considered Neith’s physical abilities, as well as those of some other Panfe. They guided the group at a slower pace. The two-hour journey took a little longer.

Once they were within meters of the north rim, Kon-Shambique moved ahead of the group. He and Quazzi expected Mfalme Ncobba and the Gray Warrior to react to their bringing the Panfe up to the rim without permission. Ramuza and Kharaambi could give impulsive orders that would jeopardize everything. Kon-Shambique thought it wise to go ahead and prepare the Aukmondi leaders’ mindset for what needed to be done.

With the confrontation with King Aysar’s soldiers imminent, Mfalme Ncobba and Kharaambi no longer waited in the central hut of the Obentawni Kraal. They hid among the bushes closer to the sentry line.

As planned, Kon-Shambique was the first to approach the secluded area on the north rim. Kharaambi was the first to see him coming. “Great Creation, what are you doing up here?”

Kon-Shambique moved closer and hid among the bushes, too. “First of all, I understand that we may be at war momentarily. My medical help may be needed.”

“There is no doubt, Great Creation.” Ramuza crouched lower behind the bushes. “I am pleased that you are here. So tell me. How is Mfalme Jobabwe?”

“There has been no change, Mfalme. With the help of the Sacred Women, Tongda and Reshma, we have done everything we can for him. His recovery is beyond our control. I left the Sacred Woman, Tongda, to tend to the Mfalme, but all she can do is watch over him.”

“Tongda is a capable healer. Ameh is in good hands.” Kharaambi peered over the bushes to see if any changes had occurred in Aysar’s camp. When she resettled in her position, she remembered Kon-Shambique’s first words. “When you arrived, you said, ‘First of all.’ Is there another reason you are here?”

Kon-Shambique almost smiled at Kharaambi’s attention to detail. “I need to prepare you and the Mfalme for some unwanted guests on the rim.”

“Unwanted guests? Do you mean Aysar’s soldiers?”

“No, Sacred Woman. The Panfe.”

Ramuza and Kharaambi turned to look directly at Kon-Shambique. Ramuza was about to reprimand the Favored Tribesman when he happened to see Quazzi and the Panfe, partially concealed farther back among the trees. Ramuza stood up, forfeiting his concealment behind the bushes. “Great Creation! What is this? Get those people back down into the valley.”

“Quazzi and I knew you would be upset.” Kon-Shambique stood up as well. “I had hoped to prepare you and keep you calm when the Panfe finally arrived.”

“Then you have failed, Great Creation,” Ramuza said angrily. He took several steps closer to Quazzi, pointing at the Panfe. “I said, get these people off the rim! Now!”

“Mfalme, please hear me.” Quazzi pleaded. “The Panfe have a serious proposal. Kon-Shambique, and I agree. You should consider it.”

Ramuza took two more angry steps closer to the Brown Warrior. “Do you realize what is about to happen up here? In minutes, that Heartless Creation across the clearing will attempt to enter my valley. We will be at war. The Panfe proposal, whatever it is, will not matter.”

“Mfalme,” Lateef took this moment to approach the Mfalme. He stood directly in front of Ramuza. “We intend to surrender ourselves to King Aysar.”

“What?” Ramuza looked at Lateef, not believing what he heard. When Lateef’s words finally registered, Ramuza turned away before facing Lateef again. “No! No, no. That will not happen. I will not allow it.”

Kharaambi stood up, forfeiting her concealment, too. She approached Lateef. “Great Creation, I am sure you saw what Aysar did to Khalid. You must know that a surrender to Aysar will not go humanely.”

“We are aware of that, Kharaambi.”

“This is insane.” It was Kharaambi’s moment to turn away in frustration before facing Lateef again. “By the greatest graces of the Supreme Spirit, what do you hope to achieve?”

“Mfalme,” Lateef stepped around Ramuza and pointed across the clearing. “I know Bast has told you that King Aysar’s Mamba soldiers are capable of destroying your entire tribe. Our surrender might prevent that from happening.”

Ramuza reached for Lateef’s shoulder and forced him to face him again. “Your surrender will get you killed.”

“Yes, definitely my mother, Bast, and me. If King Aysar is merciful, the rest may live out the remainder of their lives in Aysar’s dungeons.”

“Do you really expect Aysar to be merciful?” Kharaambi asked.

Lateef did not answer Kharaambi. The obvious answer did not matter. Instead, after a thoughtful moment, Lateef told Ramuza something that did matter. “Mfalme, this is not your fight. All the guardian angels know that it never should have been your fight.”

A heavy silence followed as Ramuza and Kharaambi considered what Lateef had just said. They stared at Lateef’s face. They did not know whether to accept or reject what he said. Kharaambi finally stepped forward, placing her hand gently on Lateef’s arm. “Great Creation, are you sure about this?”

“Of all the Panfe, Kharaambi, I am the least sure. But it has to be done.”

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Kharaambi sighed as she took Lateef by his shoulders. “I regret, with all my heart, that you feel you must do this. It is thoughtful and extremely brave of you and the Panfe.” Kharaambi turned to Ramuza. “Mfalme, Lateef is right. I think it is a risk that we should take.”

“But it is such a horrible sacrifice.”

“Mfalme,” Lateef began. He waved his hand toward the trees and bushes surrounding him. He knew that over five hundred sentinels and warriors were hidden among them, even though he saw only a few. “Consider the sacrifice of your warriors you are about to make here if you go to war.”

Ramuza turned away and headed back toward the bushes where he had been hiding. He looked out over the foliage, contemplating the terrible threat across the clearing. Finally, he turned to Kharaambi. “This is madness. I do not like it.”

“Neither do I, Mfalme. Our only other choice is war.”

“Unfortunately.” Ramuza sighed heavily and finally turned to Kharaambi. “So be it. So, how should we do this?”

Before Kharaambi could answer, Lateef eagerly waved to the Panfe to come closer. As they approached, Lateef answered Ramuza’s question instead. “We begin this, Mfalme, by giving me the courage to cross that clearing. My pounding heart is in my throat, about to choke me to death. In all my life, I have never been more afraid than I am right now.”

Neith, Heba, Asim, and Bast were at the forefront of the approaching group. All of them overheard Lateef’s confession of fear.

Neith gently took Lateef by his shoulders. “As you cross that clearing, think of your father. He will give you the courage you need.”

“Mother, at this moment, I can only think of you and Heba. I cannot imagine what the two of you and all the Panfe are experiencing right now.”

“I will be honest with you, Lateef,” Asim said, as he embraced Neith and Heba by their shoulders. “No doubt, we are experiencing the same fear that you are experiencing. But as for me, you are giving me a chance to stand in the spirit of Shakir, the Mtetezi, one more time.”

“Yes, I totally agree,” Bast said. “When I was one of Aysar’s palace guards, one of my jobs was to hunt for the Mtetezi. Although I hunted for him, I never, ever met him. I have always regretted that. Your father, the Mtetezi, was and remains a hero of mine. Lateef, I am looking at him now.”

“Alright,” Kharaambi interrupted all the advice, compliments, and praises. “Aysar’s deadline is only moments away.”

“Yes. Let us do this.” Lateef emerged from the bushes and stepped closer toward the clearing.

“Wait.” Kharaambi stopped Lateef. She quickly summoned one of the White Warriors that was hidden nearby. She took the warrior’s white cloak and gave it to Lateef. “Here, take this as you cross the clearing. I only hope that Dishonorable Creation will recognize a white flag as a sign of surrender.”

As Lateef slowly approached the clearing, Ramuza called out to him. “Lateef, Great Creation, thank you for doing this. The Supreme Spirit knows, the Aukmondi will forever be grateful for you.”

62.

THE TRUE CALDIFOR MONARCH

Lateef walked slowly and nervously through the knee-high grass across the clearing. He held the White Warrior’s cloak high above his head and waved it from side to side. Asim and Bast volunteered to support him and walked beside him. A couple of times, Lateef felt the urge to turn around and head back to the Aukmondi north rim. The only reason he didn’t was that Asim and Bast walked with him. These were tense moments. The three feared that Aysar might order his soldiers to fire their crossbows and deliberately end this surrender attempt. They all hoped that King Aysar would see the white cloak, understand its significance, and respect it.

On the other side of the clearing, King Aysar and two of his soldiers on horseback rode out to meet Lateef, Asim, and Bast. The two groups, Aysar and his soldiers on one side and Lateef, Asim, and Bast on the other, met exactly at the center of the clearing. When Aysar and his two soldiers dismounted, the soldiers roughly herded Lateef, Asim, and Bast together and stood guard around them. Aysar angrily snatched the white cloak from Lateef’s hand and threw it to the ground.

When Aysar walked past Bast, he stopped and glared at him. Since his arrival, this was Aysar’s second time seeing this disloyal traitor. This time, he got a closer look, confirming his initial sighting. Even when Aysar thumped the Sacred Royal Scepter, Bast showed no reaction. Aysar’s sense of betrayal deepened. He sighed and shook his head. “This is so unbelievable. How can one of my own palace guards do this to me?”

Aysar quickly dismissed his disgust with Bast. He turned away and focused his mind on a different matter, one that pleased him. A broad, pretentious smile spread across his face as he took a few steps toward the Aukmondi north rim. He thumped the Sacred Royal Scepter on the ground again, then called out to Ramuza. “Aukmondi, I appreciate your cooperation. Fortunately for you, you have averted a war. Personally, I almost regret that. I see it as a missed opportunity to take more than I came for.”

Offended by Aysar’s remarks, Kharaambi almost snapped a quick retort. Ramuza knew the Gray Warrior well and foresaw her reaction. He placed his hand on her shoulder to calm her anger. “Rather than provoke the Little-minded Creation, who seemed eager for war, let us wait to see if he will reveal more of his true intentions.”

“If you will be kind enough to send the rest of what is mine,” Aysar continued, “I will consider this matter concluded. You can return to your primitive lives, and I will return to my kingdom.”

Ramuza ignored Aysar’s offensiveness. He refused to be dragged down to Aysar’s level. Instead, he gave Kharaambi a permissive nod. She, in turn, signaled Quazzi to send out the rest of the Panfe. Ramuza, Kharaambi, and Quazzi stood together, watching the Royal Warrior, Npatuzi, and the Blue Warrior, Dabete, escort the Panfe from behind the sentry line and across the clearing. With the saddest faces, many of the Panfe silently wept as they walked single file toward the clearing’s center.

“Keep moving! Keep moving!” King Aysar thumped his scepter and waved his hand vigorously. He beckoned the Panfe to pick up their pace. He felt elated by how smoothly everything was going. He smiled at his two soldiers. “This is so wonderful! I cannot imagine this day getting any better!”

One of Aysar’s soldiers was somewhat overweight. His belly jiggled as he chuckled at Aysar’s arrogance. He forced a fake smile, then quickly looked away, hoping Aysar wouldn’t notice his lack of enthusiasm. With his crossbow aimed at Lateef, Asim, and Bast, he pretended to be dutifully guarding them.

The other soldier’s appearance was almost the opposite. He was tall and slim, with a patch over one eye. He completely ignored Aysar’s smile and made no effort to hide his lack of enthusiasm as he stood guard over the Panfe. He did suppress his disdain, however, as he watched Aysar walk around proudly after this successful recovery of the Panfe.

Aysar called out across the clearing again. “Hey, Aukmondi! You made this so difficult earlier. I do not know why. This is all I wanted. Had you cooperated earlier, we could have done this hours ago. Do you see how easy this is? Just give me what I want, and everything goes smoothly and peacefully, and no one dies.”

At this point, Aysar happened to see Neith near the end of the Panfe line. He thumped the scepter and walked quickly toward her. “Look at what we have here.” He looked back at the overweight soldier and pointed at Neith. “Do you recognize her? This is that damned crone who killed my queen.”

“I do not recognize her, Your Grace.”

Aysar felt offended by the soldier’s lack of support. The pretentious smile on Aysar’s face instantly disappeared. “What damned good are you?”

Aysar angrily yanked Neith out of line and pushed her to stand apart from the other Panfe. He pointed at Bast as he spoke to the overweight soldier. “Bring that palace guard over here, too. I am not sure I want to march them all the way back to the kingdom. Let us put the two of them together until I decide what to do with them. I have the strongest urge to give them both special treatment right now.”

Aysar, seeing the traitorous palace guard and the murderer of his queen standing together, made his urge for vengeance grow stronger. That urge forced Aysar to make up his mind quickly. His pretentious smile bloomed across his face again. He thumped the scepter on the ground, turned toward the north rim, and called out to Ramuza. “Aukmondi, I must apologize to you. I hate to do this, but it looks like someone must die today after all.”

“Mfalme?” Kharaambi did not like what she had just heard and what appeared to be happening. “We cannot stand here and let him do this.”

“I am afraid we can do nothing, Sacred Woman,” Ramuza said, just as alarmed. It took immense willpower to suppress his urge to act. A clenched fist was the only hint of his intense, dreadful feeling. “From the moment Aysar accepted the surrender, we cannot interfere. That is one of the unfortunate consequences. If we do anything, war will follow.”

As challenging as it was, all anyone could do was watch events unfold. Everyone saw Aysar approach his horse and slip the sacred scepter into a sheath on the horse’s side. He pulled a crossbow and two arrows from a bag hanging behind the saddle. Aysar seemed to enjoy what he was doing as he prepared to cock the bowstring. He had to bend slightly to do so. But as he did, he looked up at Neith and smiled. Instantly, he saw something that demanded his full attention. It made him freeze, and the smile faded from his face. Aysar dropped the crossbow and arrow to the ground and hurried toward Neith. He crouched, tilted his head from side to side, and focused his eyes to get a better look at her. Confused by what he saw, he stared deeply into Neith’s eyes.

“Are you looking at me?” Aysar waved his hand in front of Neith’s face. As far as he knew, Neith was blind. But no. She was looking at him. “Can you see me?”

Neith did not answer Aysar. She only wiped away a tear running down her face.

Aysar grabbed Neith’s chin. He held her head up and stared intently into her eyes, his anger mounting. “All the time you worked for me in the palace, you pretended to be blind. You deceitful bitch! You deceitful, wicked bitch! I will be damned if you are not the first to die today!”

Standing a few meters away, Lateef had seen and endured enough. He could not help but speak up. “Take your hands off of her, Aysar!”

“What?” Aysar turned around, uncertain he had heard correctly. He looked at his overweight soldier. “Did he just say something to me?”

“He spoke, Your Grace. But I am not sure what he said.”

Lateef boldly spoke again. “I said, take your filthy hands off of her.”

“Or what?” Aysar abandoned his assault on Neith. He shoved her away by the chin. He strode angrily over to Lateef. “Who the hell are you? What is she to you?”

“She is my mother.”

“Your mother?” Aysar stepped back. He studied Lateef from head to toe as another smile slowly appeared on his face. “Then you are the son of that Mtetezi fool. Of course, you were that little boy with him when I gutted his sorry ass. I have hunted for you for the past decade and a half. This day is turning out to be incredibly better than I ever expected.”

Aysar held his head high, closed his eyes, and placed his hand over his heart, as if pleased with how things were unfolding. After his brief silent prayer, he pointed at Lateef and spoke to the overweight soldier. “Stand him next to the guard and the crone. The three of them are dying right now.”

As the soldier forced Lateef beside Bast and Neith, Lateef felt his body seized by fear and flooded with adrenaline. He could no longer think clearly. He knew the end was near and had nothing left to lose. As Aysar reached for a third arrow in the bag, Lateef reacted on impulse. He lunged at King Aysar, leaping onto the king’s back. He was determined to wrap his hands around the king’s neck and choke the life out of him.

Screams and cries erupted from the nearby Panfe. Everyone felt the urge to run, but the one-eyed soldier aimed his crossbow at them. Heba, Reshma, and Talia crouched in fear. Asim, who now stood with the rest of the Panfe, ran to help Lateef, but the one-eyed soldier blocked him and aimed his crossbow directly at him. Asim returned to the Panfe crowd, trying to comfort whomever he could.

On the Aukmondi north rim, several sentinels and warriors suddenly appeared from the trees behind the sentry line. It was an instinctive, impulsive reaction, but it was wrong. With a quick hand signal, the Gray Warrior, Kharaambi, ordered all of them back into the trees. Any further actions by those warriors would have been seen as interference with the Panfe surrender.

Though Aysar had long been an overindulgent king, he remained physically fit and as skilled in battle as many of his soldiers. He easily flipped Lateef over his shoulder and onto the ground. Aysar’s anger and adrenaline fueled his actions, and he pounced on Lateef. Long before Lateef recovered from his fall, Aysar was straddling Lateef’s chest, repeatedly pounding his face with his fists.

Using his crossbow, the overweight soldier forced Bast to stay in place. He quickly moved to assist King Aysar, keeping his aim on Bast while helping the king hold Lateef down. However, this was unnecessary. King Aysar quickly got to his feet and pushed the overweight soldier away, refusing his help.

“I got this.” Aysar stood, ready to attack. “This fool is mine.”

Lateef struggled to stand, his legs weak. Once upright, residual adrenaline and anger drove him to charge at King Aysar again. He aimed for Aysar’s midsection, sending Aysar stumbling backward to the ground. Aysar effortlessly rolled Lateef off, then climbed on top of him and began punching him repeatedly in the face. Lateef’s face quickly became lacerated, bruised, and bloodied.

Aysar’s soldiers, along with all the others of his army hidden in the Bonjii Forest, could see that Aysar had a clear advantage over Lateef. They made no move to intervene, as it wasn’t necessary. Ramuza, Kharaambi, the Panfe, and all the warriors on the north rim could see that Lateef was being thoroughly defeated, but there was nothing they could do to help. Neith couldn’t bear what she was witnessing. Bast, standing beside her, took her into his arms, trying to shield her view. Heba, Reshma, and several others with the Panfe looked away. Heba, sobbing uncontrollably, collapsed to the ground.

Although Lateef lacked fighting skills, he managed to throw Aysar off him. Lateef struggled to his feet. Dazed and confused, he could not stand steadily. He staggered several times, falling back to the ground. Aysar easily got up. He grabbed Lateef by the lapel of his tunic and forced him to stand. Aysar punched Lateef in the face with unrestrained blows, over and over again, seemingly with joy. Lateef was completely defenseless. More bruises and blood covered his face. With blood in his eyes, he could barely see. Aysar delivered one of the heaviest blows yet to Lateef’s face, knocking him back against Aysar’s horse.

Lateef collapsed to the ground, nearly unconscious. Aysar’s scepter, which hung in the sheath on the horse, also dropped to the ground, within reach of Lateef. Barely aware of what he was doing and barely able to move, Lateef reached for the scepter to defend himself.

That was when it happened. Once the scepter was in Lateef’s hand, one of the most incredible miracles of the past three decades occurred. The Sacred Royal Scepter began to hum, louder than ever before, and nonstop, intense vibrations spread in every direction. Much of the tall grass at everyone’s feet trembled. Some blades trembled so intensely that they appeared to blur. Small stones vibrated and shifted across the ground. On both sides of the clearing, the leaves and small branches of the trees vibrated. Everyone covered their ears. Many fell to their knees to endure the hum.

King Aysar, hands clamped over his ears, collapsed to his knees. He was just as stunned as everyone else, but he was among the first to try to recover. He needed to find out why, after all this time, the scepter was humming again. King Aysar stumbled over to Lateef and grabbed the scepter from his hand. As he did, the humming stopped immediately.

Thoroughly confused, King Aysar examined the scepter. He thumped it several times to make it hum again. He shook it. He flipped it upside down and then righted it again. He examined it again, from its base up to the two prongs. He thumped it on the ground, harder. He looked at Lateef. “How did you do that?”

Bast, still recovering from the intense hum, struggled to his feet. When he looked at Aysar, he gave a helpless chuckle. His chuckle turned into a laugh that grew louder and louder. He began to laugh harder and harder. He wasn’t laughing because King Aysar looked like a fool trying to make the scepter hum. He was laughing because he was among the first to understand the significance of what had just happened.

“What is wrong, Aysar?” Bast asked as he stepped forward and pointed at the scepter. “Are you having trouble with that thing?”

King Aysar, so mystified by the scepter’s hum, ignored Bast. He continued trying to make the scepter hum. He shook it again. He held it up toward the heavens as if to get divine support.

“I can get that fixed for you.” Bast calmly approached King Aysar, extending his hand for the scepter. By now, Aysar was so desperate to make the scepter hum that he would have done anything to see it happen. He surrendered the scepter to Bast. Once the scepter was in Bast’s hand, Aysar’s two mistrusting soldiers rushed toward Bast with their crossbows aimed at him. Bast raised his hand to the soldiers. “Do not be concerned. I am helping your king. Look at him. Can you tell? He wants me to help.”

Both soldiers looked at Aysar. They saw a confused expression on Aysar’s face. They lowered their crossbows and moved back. Bast circled Aysar and knelt beside Lateef. Lateef was still on the ground, semi-conscious. Bast had to sit Lateef up to try to wake him completely.

“Lateef,” Bast began. “Are you alright?”

One of Lateef’s eyes was completely swollen shut. Both of his lips were bleeding. Lateef could barely speak, but he managed to answer Bast’s question. “I have seen … better days. … I am fine.”

“What are you doing, you traitorous bastard?” Aysar was beginning to suspect Bast of more treachery. He stood over Bast’s shoulder. “I thought you were getting my scepter fixed.”

“One moment, Aysar.” Bast looked up at King Aysar, smiled, and pointed at Lateef. “Actually, he is the only one who can fix it for you.”

“Stop what you are doing,” Aysar snapped. “I do not trust you.”

“I know. You do not trust anyone. But we will fix that, too.” Bast supported Lateef by his shoulders, helping him sit upright. He leaned closer to Lateef’s ear. “Lateef, please permit me … to speak on your behalf.”

“What?” Lateef was confused. With his unswollen eye, he looked up into Bast’s face.

“Your Grace, permit me to speak on your behalf.”

“Get up!” Aysar shouted. “I said, get the hell up. I know what you are doing.”

Lateef initially did not understand what Bast was asking. But it suddenly became clear to him. He forced an answer for Bast. “Yes, go ahead. Speak.”

Bust quickly stood and turned to Aysar. “Too late, you arrogant bastard. Your words are worthless now.”

The two soldiers ran up to Bast again, their crossbows aimed at him. They stopped when Bast held up his hand again, along with the Sacred Royal Scepter. “Hear me. The two of you, your fellow soldiers hidden over there in the Bonjii Forest, including those of the Mamba regiments, and I have taken a sacred oath of loyalty. That oath of loyalty is not to this man,” Bast pointed at Aysar, “but to the people of Caldifor and the Divine Spirit supporting this Royal Scepter.”

“Kill this traitor,” Aysar shouted to the two soldiers.

“I said your words are worthless,” Bast said to Aysar. “You should stop talking. No one is killing anyone today. These soldiers have just witnessed the Divine Spirit proclaim the kingdom’s recovered royalty.”

“I said, kill him!” Aysar stepped back and shouted at the soldiers again. He got only resentful stares from the soldiers.

Bast smiled at Aysar. He turned and ceremoniously placed the scepter into Lateef’s hand. It started to hum, this time in a comfortable tone. Bast knelt and motioned to the soldiers to join him. “Shall we show our respect to the true Caldifor monarch?”

63.

YOUR GRACE

On the north rim of the valley, after Ramuza, Kharaambi, Quazzi, and all the sentinels and warriors recovered from the overwhelming hum of the sacred scepter, they stood in awe of its unexpected effects. They saw King Aysar desperately trying to make the scepter hum again. They witnessed Bast’s unexpected laughter, his calm retrieval of the scepter from Aysar, and the unprotested transfer to Lateef. Even when the scepter was placed in Lateef’s hand and began to hum softly again, it was hard to believe.

Kharaambi had to ask Ramuza, “What just happened?”

Ramuza almost smiled. “Sacred Woman, King Aysar has just been dethroned.”

Unrestrained, the entire group of recovered Panfe rushed forward and surrounded Lateef. Aysar’s two soldiers were too stunned to stop them. They stepped back in confusion. The Panfe were so excited and happy that they practically obscured Lateef from view.

From behind the sentry line, Kon-Shambique ran up to stand beside Ramuza. “Mfalme, after that horrible beating the Great Creation, Lateef, has just endured, all the physical activity around him cannot be good. I must help him. Are we free to enter the clearing?”

“The potential for war is over, Great Creation. Go!”

Kon-Shambique ran toward the center of the clearing, carrying a bag of medical supplies. Once there, he pushed through the crowd. “Everyone, please, stand aside! Move back! Give him some room!” Kon-Shambique gently yet firmly moved Neith and Heba aside, then knelt beside Lateef. “Great Creation, I am here to help. Where is the greatest pain?”

With his eyes closed, Lateef squirmed and moaned. He found it difficult to talk. “Angels of mercy! All over. I hurt all over.”

In the past, Kon-Shambique’s first instinct would have been to reach for treatments from his medical supply bag. But this time, he was grateful for the miraculous touch-healing skill that the Great Creation, Khalid, had taught him. To begin the technique, Kon-Shambique placed one hand on Lateef’s chest and the other on his stomach. As he did so, he looked up at the people still standing around him and Lateef. He was pleased to see Reshma squeezing through the crowd. He knew that Reshma had been taught the same skill as he. “Sacred Woman, please assist me!”

Reshma quickly moved Asim out of the way. She knelt on the other side of Lateef, placing her hands on either side of his face. Together, Reshma and Kon-Shambique closed their eyes and prayed in silence. Within seconds, Lateef’s moans stopped. After several tense moments, Reshma and Kon-Shambique opened their eyes and withdrew their hands from Lateef’s body, as if their minds were synchronized.

“There,” Kon-Shambique said to Lateef. “Are you feeling any better?”

Lateef opened his unswollen eyes. With a heavy sigh, he mentally reviewed his body’s sensations. “Yes, a lot better.” Lateef waited for the amazed voices around him to subside. “Most of the pain is gone, but I feel weak and extremely fatigued, like I just wrestled a rhinoceros to the ground.”

“I am afraid you look like it, too.” Kon-Shambique finally opened his bag of medical supplies to begin preliminary treatment of Lateef’s physical wounds. He applied a cloth bandage to a small scar on Lateef’s forehead. “You will need a few hours of rest to relieve the remainder of your pain and fatigue. But, Great Creation, all of these lacerations and bruises will take several days to heal.”

“I can live with that.” Lateef tried to smile with swollen lips.

Bast was among the people standing nearby. He kneeled beside Lateef before addressing the Favored Tribesman. He had to correct a minor oversight. “Kon-Shambique, you referred to Lateef as Great Creation. You may continue to do so, as it is your culture. But from now on, he should be addressed respectfully as Your Grace.”

Kon-Shambique nodded to Lateef, grateful for the insight. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

“No, no!” Aysar’s voice broke through the crowd of Panfe just before he pushed people out of his way. “I am the king! I am the king of Caldifor.” Aysar spoke angrily to the crowd as he waved his hand toward Lateef. “You will address him as ‘Your Grace’ over my dead body.”

Bast stood up and turned to the irate former monarch. “Do you wish me to fix that for you, too, Aysar?” Bast was physically larger and stronger than Aysar. He easily grabbed Aysar and forced his arms behind his back. He used a rope to tie Aysar’s wrists together.

By this time, Ramuza and Kharaambi had made their way to the center of the clearing. Behind them came Quazzi and four Aukmondi warriors carrying a stretcher. They did not have to force their way through the crowd of Panfe around Lateef. The crowd respectfully parted for them.

Ramuza stood by Lateef and gave a shallow nod. “Great Creation, Your Grace, on behalf of all the Aukmondi, may I be among the first to congratulate you?”

“Thank you, Mfalme.”

Kharaambi showed the same cordial respect but added her own compliment. “I cannot say that I liked your surrender to Aysar. But any surrender that ends in victory deserves congratulations. In honor of your new status, Your Grace, is there anything the Aukmondi can get or do for you?”

Lateef did not know how to respond to such graciousness toward him. He was not used to it. He was unsure he deserved it. “At the moment, the only things I might need are a refreshing drink of water and the hours of rest your Favored Tribesman has suggested.”

Kon-Shambique handed Lateef his own water pouch. He told the four Aukmondi warriors to bring the stretcher closer and set it on the ground next to Lateef. “Let us get you back down into the valley so you can get the proper rest you need.”

Lateef anticipated pain as the four warriors prepared to lift him and place him on the stretcher. But thanks to the touch-healing treatment that Kon-Shambique and Reshma performed on him, he felt practically no pain. Before he lay back on the stretcher, he reached for the scepter that he had placed on the ground beside him. He hesitated before picking it up, anticipating the hum. When he picked it up, it did not hum.

Lateef looked at Bast. “It is not humming.”

“It only hums at your will, Your Grace. The Divine Spirit allows you, and only you, to do that.”

Lateef tried it. Sure enough, the scepter gently hummed until Lateef willed it to stop. Lateef glanced at Aysar before asking Bast another puzzling question. “So, why did Aysar keep thumping it on the ground?”

“The scepter stopped humming for Aysar decades ago because he was no longer king. But the fool did not know that. Thumping the ground was his desperate way of making it hum again. He got into the habit of thumping, like the fool he was.”

“That is a lie!” Aysar snapped. “Give it to me. I will show you.”

Lateef was not about to fall for Aysar’s trickery. He attempted to lay the scepter on the stretcher beside him. He could not position it comfortably. “Where can I put this? Can someone please carry it for me?”

Bast stepped forward. “Your Grace, may I hold it for you? Now that the crisis has passed, I intend to cross this clearing into the Bonjii Forest to speak with the rest of Aysar’s, correction, with the rest of your soldiers. I may need the scepter as proof of your royalty.”

Kharaambi smiled at Bast. “Great Creation, you are a very thoughtful and thorough soldier. I wish you luck. Good luck. Would you like a few Aukmondi warriors to accompany you?”

“Thank you, Kharaambi. I will take a few, just as a precaution. Hopefully, I will not need them. Those soldiers over there may have once belonged to Aysar. I am sure many of them have felt used and abused by Aysar. Some will likely harbor considerable vengeful anger toward him. But they no longer have to bend to Aysar’s will. I believe all of them will always respect what this scepter represents.”

Kharaambi nodded toward Aysar. “Are you taking him with you?”

“Yes. His presence will be added proof that he is no longer king.”

“That is what you think,” Aysar sneered. “If I order those soldiers to kill you, then you are a dead man.”

With the scepter in his hand, Bast stepped forward and stood directly in front of Aysar. “Do you know why you want this back so badly? You are aware of the powerful influence behind it. If you order those soldiers to kill me while I am holding it for the true king, whose body do you think will be filled with arrows?”

Aysar stood speechless. He glared at the scepter. He showed respect for it by stepping back.

As the four warriors lifted King Lateef’s stretcher to carry him behind the sentry line, most of the Panfe gathered around them. Neith and Heba were closest, walking on either side of the stretcher. Heba lovingly held Lateef’s hand all the way back behind the sentry line and down the north slope into the valley.

64.

MUCH I MUST CONSIDER

Two days later, Quazzi, Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Lobarra sat outside Mfalme Jobabwe’s hut, eating sweet Mandazi for breakfast. Throughout the morning, Lobarra, deeply depressed by Ameh’s condition, took only two small bites from one of the delicate pastries. Quazzi, Kon-Shambique, and Tongda ate with their usual morning hunger. Quazzi loved them and was reaching for his fourth when he saw Heba crossing the common area.

Heba ran softly toward Ameh’s hut, catching her breath before greeting the four people. She apologized for interrupting their breakfast. With excitement in her voice, she delivered a message that the Favored Tribesman had been waiting for. “Kon-Shambique,” she said, “King Lateef is awake!”

Kon-Shambique immediately tossed the pastry he had been holding back onto the communal plate and stood up. Tongda also got up, showing equal interest in the recovery of the new Caldifor king. Kon-Shambique asked Quazzi and Lobarra to excuse him and Tongda. The two followed Heba across the common area and up the slope toward Lateef’s hut in the Panfe Nook.

At the hut where Lateef and Heba stayed, a crowd had gathered outside. Heba led Kon-Shambique and Tongda through the crowd and into the hut. Although Neith, Reshma, and Asim were already inside, Heba welcomed anyone else who wanted to come in if they could find space.

For Tongda and himself, Kon-Shambique greeted everyone inside the hut. With a respectful bow, he offered a special greeting to Lateef, who sat comfortably at the head of his cot. “Good morning, Your Grace. It is good to see that you are finally awake. How are you feeling?”

“Good morning to you. I feel wonderful. So, what is going on?” Lateef gestured toward all the people standing around him and outside his hut. “Why such a gathering?”

“Do you realize that you have been asleep for almost two days?”

“What? Two days?” Lateef looked at Heba and Neith, who stood on his left, by his cot. “Why did you two allow me to sleep so long?”

“Do not blame them, Your Grace.” Kon-Shambique defended the two women. “You slept that long on your own. Neith and Heba asked me many times if it was all right to wake you. I could see that your body seemed to demand rest. I thought it was best to let you sleep until you woke naturally.”

“I have missed you.” Heba sat on the edge of Lateef’s cot. She took Lateef’s hand in hers. “You slept so long that I began to worry.”

“This sweet woman never left your side,” Neith added. “She worried enough for all of us.”

Lateef lifted Heba’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You should not worry about me like that.”

Reshma stood behind Neith. “What did the new King of Caldifor expect? We already know that you are nothing like Aysar. We know that you care about us. We care about you. Of course, we are going to worry.”

Lateef gave a humble smile. “I appreciate your concerns. Unlike my behavior in the past, I will do my best not to disappoint you in the future.” As if to immediately show his sincerity, Lateef sat more upright. He wanted to know what he had missed. “So, tell me. What has happened in the past two days? How is Mfalme Jobabwe?”

Kon-Shambique sighed. “The Mfalme is still in a coma, Your Grace. There has been no change, but he is stable.”

“What are his chances of recovery?”

“We do not know. As he is stable, his condition could go either way, but we are hopeful.”

“That touch-healing technique that you and Reshma used on me; did you try that on the Mfalme?”

“We did. Reshma, Tongda, and I tried it many times. But we are only beginners with it. I wish we had had the time to finish the training before we lost the Great Creation, Khalid. There was so much more to learn from him.”

“Thankfully, with our combined efforts,” Tongda began, “we did manage to save the Mfalme’s life.”

Lateef thought about how Mfalme Jobabwe’s health crisis had affected everyone, particularly Lobarra. He searched the faces around him and did not see her. “What about Lobarra? How is she? I am sure she is thankful for your effort, too. She took the Mfalme’s crisis very hard. The last time I saw her, that poor woman was nothing like when we first met her.”

“The Sacred Woman, Lobarra, is less active than she used to be,” said Kon-Shambique. “But she is slowly making a recovery.”

“Is there anything that we can do for the Mfalme or Lobarra?” Lateef asked.

“Only add your prayers to ours, Your Grace.”

“Of course.” At that moment, another urgent matter occurred to Lateef. “What about Khalid? Has his body been properly taken care of?”

Asim stood near the back of the crowd in the hut. He worked his way through the crowd toward Lateef. “The body of Khalid has been shrouded and temporarily entombed, Your Grace. It is temporary because we wanted to see if you want to take Khalid’s body back to Caldifor or leave it here, to be permanently entombed by the Aukmondi.”

“We could not decide,” Neith explained. “Khalid has not lived in Caldifor for almost three decades. We were not sure if he would want to return to Caldifor.”

“As for the Aukmondi,” Tongda added, “we owe a great debt of gratitude to the Great Creation, Khalid. We would gladly entomb and honor him here, but according to Mfalme Ncobba, we have no rightful claim to do so. As Sacred Woman Neith has said, the decision has not yet been made. We believe the final decision is yours.”

“Then, there is much I must consider.”

“You do not have to decide right now,” Kon-Shambique said. “There is still time.”

“Good.” Lateef sighed. “Ironically, I have not had the chance to consider my return to Caldifor yet. There is so much I need to think about first.”

“You need not think about all of it alone, Your Grace.” Asim stretched out his arms as if to embrace Neith, Heba, and Reshma, all at once. “You have all of us here to help you and support you any way we can.”

“Thank you, Asim. I will need it.”

Asim stepped closer to Lateef’s cot. “Then, you might be amazed at what Bast has already done for you.”

“What has Bast done?” Lateef visually searched the room again. He did not see Bast either. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He is on the north rim of the valley. Bast has already reorganized all your soldiers. He has ….” Asim paused, trying to remember the word he was trying to think of. He turned to Reshma for help.

“Re-purposed,” Reshma said.

“Yes,” Asim continued. “Bast has re-purposed your soldiers, including those of the Mamba regiments. Many of them were so happy to no longer be under Aysar’s evil control that Bast had gained their full cooperation. They are still camped in the Bonjii Forest. Bast is waiting for your approval of what he has done.”

“Bast has accomplished so much.” With admiration, Lateef quickly recalled many of Bast’s achievements, from the moment Bast presented himself to Mfalme Ncobba and Kharaambi to the time Bast humorously humiliated and dethroned the former king. “Even as a king, I might not be able to show Bast the gratitude he deserves.”

“Speaking of gratitude, Your Grace,” Kon-Shambique got Lateef’s attention. “Mfalme Ncobba would like to express his gratitude to you. He asked me to notify him when you were finally awake. He and the royal family would like to pay you a special visit.”

“Kon-Shambique, I am the visitor here in this wonderful valley. I should go to him. Besides, after the touch-healing you and Reshma did for me and after two days of complete rest, I am feeling energized. I may visit the Mfalme and the royal family first.”

“You are still recovering, Your Grace.”

“So be it.” Lateef swung his feet to the floor. “Nevertheless, I must still start my day by getting dressed and having breakfast. Under the circumstances, with my new responsibilities, there is a lot I need to do.”

“That sounds a lot like my Lateef,” Neith quipped, noting Lateef’s restlessness. “Some things never change.”

Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and almost everyone in the hut understood that Lateef’s last comment was their cue to leave. They exchanged parting words and well-wishes. Everyone, except Heba, gradually filed out of the hut.

65.

A NEW CALDIFOR KINGDOM

Just after midday, as promised, Ramuza and most of the royal family entered the Chinchigwe Kraal. The group included Ramuza’s three mates, Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi, as well as Ramuza’s four oldest daughters, Omari, Yejide, Kunto, and Audi. Ramuza’s youngest child and only son, Adaulah, was also present. They came for two reasons: to check on Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe’s recovery and to see how the new king of Caldifor was doing.

The family followed Lobarra and Kon-Shambique into Ameh’s hut. It was a large hut, just big enough to hold everyone. Ameh’s aide and two attendants, who always stay close to the Mfalme, found the space cramped and stayed outside during the visit. The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, another person rarely far from Ameh, waited at the entrance.

Tongda, who is Kon-Shambique’s loving partner and closest assistant, was the only person noticeably missing. As one of the Aukmondi Tribe’s primary school teachers, she had already returned to Kon-Shambique’s kraal, where most classes were usually held. It was a school day.

Inside the hut, everyone found Ameh lying on his back on his cot, covered to his neck. He looked asleep. From his appearance, no one could tell he was seriously ill. Still, seeing the Mfalme lying there was unsettling. Two of Ramuza’s daughters were already in tears over the sad situation.

Lobarra stood beside Ameh’s cot and adjusted the cover on him. “I want to thank all of you for coming. I am sure Mfalme Jobabwe is pleased that you are here.”

“Is that possible while he is in a coma?” Ramuza asked Lobarra. “Is he aware that we are here?”

Kon-Shambique responded instead. “Yes, it is possible, Mfalme. His level of consciousness might fluctuate. He might be somewhat aware of our presence here, or he might not. We have no way to know. Lobarra is already aware of this possibility. Recently, she has spent a lot of time talking to Ameh, hoping to keep him company.”

The little Aukmondi prince, Adaulah, stood at the foot of Ameh’s cot. With a mix of concern and curiosity, he studied Ameh’s face. He finally looked up at Kon-Shambique. “Great Creation, what is a coma?”

“Probably the best way to explain it to you, Little Creation,” Kon-Shambique considered less medical and less confusing terms for Adaulah. “A coma is like a very deep sleep, one you cannot wake from.”

To Adaulah’s young mind, the words ‘one you cannot wake up from’ sounded permanent. Adaulah studied Ameh’s face again, a touch of alarm on his face. “Is he going to die?”

Adaulah’s direct, straightforward question made Lobarra flinch and cover her mouth. She turned away as tears welled in her eyes. Adaulah was young but perceptive enough to understand how his words affected her. “I am sorry, Sacred Woman. I did not mean to upset you.”

Kon-Shambique tried to soothe the situation with appropriate words for both Adaulah and Lobarra. “Only the Supreme Spirit and the Mfalme’s guardian angels know if the Mfalme will die. We can only appeal to their mercy and live with the hope that the Mfalme will also continue to live.”

“Can we do anything to help him?” Rwuva asked Kon-Shambique.

“We can keep him hydrated,” Kon-Shambique said as he reached for a cloth in a water bowl next to Ameh’s cot. He gently drizzled some water on Ameh’s lips. “We can gradually introduce liquid nourishment into his body, and we can monitor his pulse, temperature, breathing, and other bodily functions.”

“What about more of those healing touches that you, Tongda, and Reshma have been doing?” Lobarra tried to be hopeful.

“Yes, we will continue with those healing touches.” Kon-Shambique gently touched Ameh’s forehead as a demonstration.

When Kon-Shambique removed his hand, Lobarra briefly leaned over and kissed Ameh’s forehead in the same spot. “I have not been trained yet, but that was my healing touch.”

Kon-Shambique nodded his approval. “Trained or not, that touch, Sacred Woman, has almost as much vibrational energy as the ones Tongda, Reshma, and I have given. It can only help the Mfalme’s recovery.”

“Let us pray that his recovery is soon, Great Creation,” Ramuza said. “Please notify us the moment he does.”

“Definitely, Mfalme.”

“And, speaking of recovery,” Ramuza turned to leave. “The royal family and I are scheduled to visit the new King of Caldifor. We want to see how his recovery is progressing, too.”

Quazzi had stood at the hut’s entrance during the royal family’s visit. When he heard Ramuza’s comment, he stepped forward. “Mfalme, I will be honored to escort the royal family to King Lateef’s hut in the Panfe Nook.”

“Thank you, Quazzi. Please, lead the way.” Ramuza led the royal family and Lobarra out of the hut. They followed Quazzi toward the kraal’s common area. Just before reaching the area, Ramuza could see a group of Panfe on the other side, coming his way. “Quazzi, it looks as though your offer to escort us up will not be necessary.”

Lateef, the new Caldifor king, led a group of Panfe across the common area. He held the Sacred Scepter in one hand and spread his arms wide, welcoming the Aukmondi. Behind Lateef walked Neith, Heba, Asim, Reshma, Bast, Talia, and about fifteen other Panfe.

“Mfalme Ncobba, welcome.” Lateef turned to point up the slope toward the Panfe Nook. “From the nook, up there, we saw you and the royal family walking across the central area. We thought we would come down and save you the trouble of climbing this slope.”

“Thank you, Great Creation,” Ramuza said, then realized his mistake. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

Lateef dismissed the mistake with a casual wave. “It is too soon to call that slip of the tongue a mistake, Mfalme. It seems everyone needs a little time to get used to saying ‘your grace’. I am not used to hearing it myself.” Lateef pointed to nearby pillows, blankets, and rattan stools that had been set out in anticipation of the royal family’s visit. “Come, let us sit down and get comfortable.”

Ramuza and Lateef took their seats first. They waited for everyone else to settle around them. Ramuza knew Lateef was not meeting the royal family for the first time, so reintroductions were unnecessary. Instead, Ramuza’s attention immediately shifted to the scepter in Lateef’s hand. He pointed at it. “So, that is what has made all the difference here. May I have a closer look at it?”

“Of course, Mfalme.” Lateef handed the scepter to Ramuza. He watched Ramuza examine its craftsmanship, weight, and balance. “Believe it or not, Mfalme, the very scepter you hold in your hands has been passed down from one generation to the next for decades. The people of Caldifor believe it is blessed by the Divine Spirit to identify the true Caldifor monarch.”

“Your Grace,” Rwuva was also extremely curious. “Is that divine identification a historical, traditional, or cultural thing?”

“It definitely has to be a religious thing, too,” Olabisi added.

Lateef acknowledged Rwuva and Olabisi by pointing to both of them. “Both of you are right. It is all of that and more.”

“How so?” Rwuva’s curiosity compelled her to impulsively reach for and stroke the shiny metal shaft of the scepter.

“Allow me to show you.” Lateef reached for the scepter. He turned the twin-pronged end of the scepter upright, preparing for his demonstration.

Kharaambi already knew the scepter’s identification method was miraculous. She leaned in and whispered to Rwuva and Olabisi. “You are not going to believe this.”

At that instant, Lateef gripped the scepter tightly. It began to hum with a beautiful harmonic vibration. The hum lasted for several seconds and stopped when Lateef released his grip.

“That is amazing.” Rwuva’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

“What is truly amazing about it,” Asim began, “is that only King Lateef, the true Caldifor Monarch, can do that. No one else can.”

“Do it again, Your Grace.” Adaulah was probably more excited than anyone. It was like magic to him.

This time, Lateef stood. He held the scepter high and gripped it. The scepter hummed louder and louder. The vibration grew stronger. The hum remained beautifully harmonic but was becoming unbearable. Heba reached over to touch Lateef’s leg. “Lateef, please, you will make all of us go deaf.”

Lateef released his grip and lowered the scepter. He sat back down, almost embarrassed by how he had just overly demonstrated his divine connection to the scepter. Realizing that everyone, including Adaulah, had had enough of the scepter, Lateef gave the scepter to Asim, who stood behind him. “Put this away for me, please.”

Ramuza waited for everyone to recover before he spoke again. “Your Grace, the royal family was concerned about you. We are here because we thought it was necessary to see how your recovery is progressing. Your strong performance just now shows you are doing well. You seem to be better than we expected.”

“Thank you, Mfalme. Yes, I am a lot better.” Lateef thought about what he had gone through. “Aysar gave me such a terribly brutal beating. There was a moment when I thought I would not make it.”

“May I ask what you have done with Aysar?” Kharaambi asked.

Bast, who stood behind Neith, responded to Kharaambi instead. He sat on the ground beside Neith. “Aysar is up there in the Bonjii Forest, under heavy guard. That poor fool has asked me not only to keep him under guard but also to protect him from the vengeance of nearby soldiers. He does not trust any of them. The fool is almost afraid to close his eyes to sleep.”

Asim returned from putting the scepter away. He overheard most of what Bast was saying about Aysar. “After what he did to the king, you are treating him better than he deserves.”

“Maybe so, Asim. Aysar knows that he has plenty of horrifying days coming.”

Lateef reflected on all the evil Aysar had committed during his reign. He considered how some of that evil, including the murder of his father, had personally affected him. He wondered whether Aysar would truly get what he deserved.

Lateef felt grateful to have survived Aysar and everything remotely related to him. “I owe my survival and my gratitude to Nhailic and all of my guardian angels. In recent days, I must also express special thanks to Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and Reshma. With their persistent help and the rest I received over the past two days, the Panfe and I have successfully reached this point. I think this is an appropriate time to make an important announcement.”

“What might that be, Your Grace?” Ramuza asked.

“Four days ago, when your warriors rescued us and brought us to your beautiful valley, we brought many of our hardships with us. You and your wonderful people have tolerated us and helped us through it all. We are most grateful for how you and your tribe stood up to an enemy that could have destroyed us all. We caused you tremendous stress, as shown by what has happened to Mfalme Jobabwe. We apologize for all of it. We can never compensate for the damage we have caused or for all that you have done to help us.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. Your apology is accepted.” Ramuza glanced at Lobarra, who sat behind Kharaambi. Given Ameh’s condition, Ramuza wondered for a moment whether Lobarra felt comfortable with the accepted apology. He turned back to Lateef. “As for that compensation you mentioned, we only ask for a lasting friendship between the Aukmondi and Caldifor.”

“It will be an eternal friendship, Mfalme. This, I promise, as King of Caldifor. But for now, it is time for the Panfe to get out of your way and leave your valley. We are ready to travel again. You and your people need to return to a life of peace and normalcy.”

Hearing this, Kon-Shambique raised his hand. “Not so fast, Your Grace. Our peace and normalcy are precious. But they must not come at the cost of your health. You have recovered remarkably well. However, I recommend that you wait another day or two before we declare your recovery complete and suitable for travel again.”

Throughout this gathering, Neith sat quietly. She listened to everyone talk, adding nothing until this moment. She finally had to say something. She was well into her speech before anyone realized her humorous sarcasm. “Kon-Shambique, you do not know the new King of Caldifor as we do. He is a very smart man. He has proven that he will do the right thing, even when it seems difficult. If you recommend that he wait another day or two, I am sure he will do it.” Neith turned to her left. “Do you agree, Heba?”

Heba was the only other person to realize Neith’s sarcasm and played along. “I totally agree. King Lateef may be impulsive. But, for his own good, there is no doubt that he will wait another day or two before he goes anywhere.”

Lateef looked at Ramuza, briefly bowing his head with embarrassment. “I may be a king, feeling as healthy as a Bush elephant, but it seems I have more limitations than I realized.”

Ramuza understood. “I have encountered such limitations, too.”

The reference to traveling again made Kharaambi think of the Panfe’s previous goal. She got Lateef’s attention. “Your Grace, now that you are king of Caldifor, what has become of your dream to reach the foothills of Kilimanjaro?”

“That is a dead dream, Kharaambi. I may yet visit the area someday in the future, when I can travel again.” Lateef glanced accusingly at Neith and Heba before turning back to Kharaambi. “But circumstances have forced me to give up that dream for now. After all, it was originally my father’s dream. As I grew up with him, he often talked about it. I fell in love with his visions of living in those foothills. He envisioned a world where everyone could thrive and live in peace, free from oppression and tyranny. I know he might have been somewhat idealistic. But I started to think that the Panfe and I could still make that dream come true in the foothills.”

“You need not give up on that dream completely,” said Ramuza. “You now have a chance to transform not only the Panfe village but the entire kingdom of Caldifor into such a place.”

“As long as I am king, I will try.”

“I know it is early,” Kharaambi began, “but do you have any ideas about what you intend to do when you return to Caldifor?”

Neith chuckled at that question. “Kharaambi, you need to try harder to keep up. Once again, you have underestimated this man’s drive. Since waking up this morning, he has already made some changes and major decisions.”

“Like what?”

“We can begin with Bast, here.” Neith reached to her right, placing her hand on Bast’s arm. “Lateef has already appointed Bast as the Supreme Commander of all his soldiers. And I do not blame him. Look what Bast has already done with those soldiers up on the north rim. In under two days, he has reformed that horrible bunch into an army that we can, eventually, be proud of.”

Bast appreciated Neith’s compliment. Long before leaving Panfe, he and Neith had become dear friends. Bast patted the back of her hand, thanking her for her comment. He explained what Neith meant. “I have only removed the crippling fear of Aysar from those soldiers. They no longer need to be so ruthless, for fear of Aysar’s sadistic and capitalistic punishments for their so-called lenient enforcement of the law. Many have always wanted their service to the king to be an honor, something they could be proud of and share with their families, children, and grandchildren. With King Lateef, they can do that now.”

Lateef simplified further what everyone was saying. “I think the Supreme Commander of the soldiers is a position that appropriately belongs to Bast.”

“I agree, Your Grace,” Kharaambi said. “The Great Creation, Bast, seems to know those soldiers well. I have witnessed his impressive insight and abilities myself.”

“King Lateef has appropriately appointed Asim to a very important position as well,” Neith continued.

When everyone glanced at Asim, he shrugged. “Whether the position is appropriate is debatable.”

“Since we escaped Aysar’s dungeons and fled Panfe,” Neith began to explain, “Asim has helped Lateef every step of the way here.”

“We all helped.” Asim did not think what he did was anything extraordinary.

“Yes, we have all helped. But Asim, you were one of the few who would get in Lateef’s face and challenge him.”

“Which was what I needed sometimes.” Lateef reached behind him to encourage Asim to stand beside him. “Asim would often challenge me when I was about to do something stupid. I could tell Asim cared about what I was trying to do. He wanted me to, not necessarily to succeed, but to do the right thing. I appreciated that more than you know. Now that I am king, I will need someone like that by my side. For that reason, I have appointed Asim my Perdana Menteri.”

“Perdana Menteri? What is that?” Kharaambi asked.

Asim knelt by Lateef. “It means that, throughout the Caldifor kingdom, I will serve as King Lateef’s chief administrator. I will ensure that all who serve the king will serve the king to the best of their abilities and stay out of legal trouble while doing it.”

Lateef gave Asim a pat on the shoulder. “And I am counting on Asim to keep me out of trouble, too.”

Kharaambi looked at Lateef with amazement. “The Sacred Woman, Neith, was right, Your Grace. I truly do not know your drive for getting things done. Since this morning, you have already made two critically important appointments.”

“Kharaambi, that is just the beginning.” Lateef pointed at Reshma. “To further extend my gratitude to Reshma, and because of the blessed skill taught to her by Khalid, I am making Reshma my personal medical advisor.”

Of all of King Lateef’s appointments so far, Reshma seemed the least confident. She turned shyly to Lateef. “Your Grace, I know that we talked about this. But are you sure? I have no medical training.”

Lateef looked up at Reshma. “Reshma, you have an instinct for healing unlike anything I have ever seen. It comes naturally to you. And now you also have a unique medical ability that no one else in the Caldifor kingdom possesses. Because of that, I consider you qualified.”

“It is not fair to more qualified people, Your Grace.”

“What if I assign medically qualified people to work with you?”

“If they can accept that, then I will accept that, too.”

“Then so be it. Reshma, you are my personal medical advisor.” Lateef turned to Ramuza and the people who sat before him. “And now, while everyone is here, I have one more very important announcement to make.” This time, Lateef stood to make the announcement. “Since this morning, I have spoken with all the Panfe. They are aware of the appointments and decisions I have already made. But there is one decision that no one knows about yet.”

“What is that, Your Grace?” Kharaambi asked.

Lateef reached down to take Heba’s hand. He coached her to stand. When she did, he put his arm around her waist. “Heba and I have agreed to make our union official.”

Everyone around them cheered. Most of the Panfe came to their feet, embraced each other, and danced around. Neith clapped her hands and cheered the loudest of all. She embraced Heba and spun her around. “It is about time!”

All of the Aukmondi rose to their feet, too. They seemed as pleased with the announcement as the Panfe. Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi tried to give Heba a loving embrace. Ramuza, Kon-Shambique, and Quazzi gave Lateef congratulatory pats on his back.

Once the excitement subsided, Lateef attempted to explain the current situation between him and Heba. “All of you know that Heba and I have been loving partners for most of our lives, long before we left Panfe. But both of us were very active in the Panfe village. We agreed to wait for a better time, when the unrest in Caldifor was more tolerable. We believe the time is right. Besides, Heba has convinced me that we should do what we can to produce an heir to inherit that Royal Scepter.”

“Who are you fooling, Lateef?” Neith spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear her. “The two of you have already been working on that.”

“Quite, mother!” Lateef whispered. “You are embarrassing us.”

Neith pretended her comments were common knowledge. “I am sorry, Your Grace. You were saying.”

“I was saying that the only drawback to the union ceremony right now is that Heba and I want to wait a little longer. We want to go back to Caldifor first so everyone there can witness this special event. The people of Caldifor deserve that. Additionally, we need to address some other matters first. The people of Caldifor are getting a new queen, but they do not know that they have a new king yet.”

“Your Grace,” Bast began. “With your permission, I can send a regiment back to Caldifor to announce and prepare for these changes. Everything can be informed and ready when we arrive.”

Lateef threw his hands up as if he should have known better. “No wonder my mother likes you so much, Bast. I like the way you think ahead. Do it for us, please.”

“Your Grace,” Kharaambi got the king’s attention before turning to Ramuza, too. “Mfalme, may I make another suggestion?”

“What is that, Sacred Woman?”

“In recent days, our daily celebrations of life have been subdued due to all that has happened. To celebrate King Lateef’s coronation and the revised engagement between him and the Sacred Woman, Heba, may I suggest a special Celebration of Life tomorrow?”

Ramuza leaned back to think for a moment. He initially thought the idea was good, but due to Mfalme Jobabwe’s condition, he doubted whether the usual celebration was wise. Ramuza discreetly looked at Lobarra again, wondering if she supported the idea as well.

Lobarra noticed Ramuza watching her. She knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking. She spoke to ease Ramuza’s worries. “The Daily Celebration of Life is meant to show our appreciation for each day, regardless of its ups and downs. A celebration for King Lateef and the Sacred Woman, Heba, is a special occasion. I think Mfalme Jobabwe would approve, even if he cannot be there.”

Ramuza appreciated Lobarra’s comments more than anyone realized. He nodded his approval to Lobarra before turning back to Kharaambi. “So be it, Sacred Woman.”

66.

HIS SPIRIT IS VERY MUCH ALIVE

Early the next morning, Lobarra sat in the common area beside a large pot of millet porridge. She was preparing breakfast for herself, Quazzi, and Ameh’s aide and assistants. The helpers usually handled breakfast, but Lobarra forced herself to do it this morning. After persistent advice from Kon-Shambique, Tongda, and even Reshma, Lobarra was trying to break free from her lingering depression, which was worsened by Mfalme Jobabwe’s coma.

Lobarra carefully stirred the porridge with a wooden spoon as she glanced toward Ameh’s hut. From her vantage point, she could see only part of the hut. She saw something that made her shift her position and look again. She thought she saw someone moving inside. She looked around, trying to figure out who it was.

The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, was a few meters behind her, restacking firewood. Ameh’s three helpers were on the other side of the common area babysitting Lobarra’s infant son, Tutapona. No one else had any reason to be in the Mfalme’s hut. Even the warriors who patrolled the kraal would not enter the hut without permission. Whoever was inside the hut remained a mystery.

Lobarra turned toward Quazzi. “Great Creation, who is that in the Mfalme’s hut?”

Quazzi glanced toward the hut. He did not know, but made a reasonable assumption. “One of the Mfalme’s helpers?”

Lobarra pointed with her porridge spoon to the other side of the common area. “The Mfalme’s aide and assistants are over there.”

It was now a mystery to Quazzi as well. He and Lobarra both stood up quickly and hurried toward the Mfalme’s hut. The distance to the hut was about fifty meters. Less than halfway there, Lobarra glanced at the tree-covered slope behind the hut. Once again, she thought she saw someone walking up the slope among the trees.

“Who was that?” Lobarra asked Quazzi. “Did you see that?”

“Where?”

“On the slope, behind the hut, in the trees.”

“I saw no one, Sacred Woman.”

Lobarra focused on the slope again. “You are not going to believe me, but I thought I saw the Great Creation, Khalid.”

Quazzi doubted Lobarra’s sighting but understood. “The desire to see him again is great. We would all like to see the Great Creation again.”

Quazzi’s inability to see what Lobarra believed she saw confirmed her own doubts. She found it easier to dismiss the sighting and said nothing more about it. The two reached Ameh’s hut and entered immediately. By now, Ameh’s aide and assistants were curious enough to move toward the hut. The aide and assistants, one of whom still held Tutapona in her arms, followed Quazzi and Lobarra into the hut. Once inside, everyone froze at what they saw.

Ameh sat on the edge of his cot, looking healthy and fully recovered. He was dressing and fastening the collar of his tunic. Lobarra’s stunned reaction lasted only a second or two before she hurried over and wrapped her arms around him. “Ameh! Mfalme! Great Sacred Spirit! Behold Her mercy and amazing grace!” Tears of happiness began to flow.

Ameh’s aide and assitants jumped up and down, joyfully squealing and hugging each other. They loved the Mfalme but didn’t feel privileged enough to hug him, as Lobarra did. Quazzi rushed toward Ameh, too. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. “Mfalme, you … you are awake.”

Ameh briefly returned Lobarra’s lovingly tight embrace but pushed her back to look into her face. “Of course, I am awake. All of you act as though you have not seen me for a while.”

The highly responsible Brown Warrior turned to the aide and assistants. “One of you, please, summon the Favored Tribesman. Tell him that it is not an emergency, but tell him to hurry.”

Ameh heard Quazzi’s orders. “No, no. There is no need for that.”

“Mfalme, Kon-Shambique should look at you anyway.” Quazzi’s integrity as the Brown Warrior dutifully overrode Ameh’s objections. He turned to the aide and assistants again. “Go!” At Quazzi’s strong insistence, the aide and one of the assistants ran from the hut to do as they were told.

Lobarra moved back and looked into Ameh’s face. “Mfalme, who was that in the hut with you a moment ago?”

“A moment ago? There was no one in here a moment ago.”

“But I saw someone here, Mfalme. He left and went up the slope behind your hut.” Lobarra hesitated before adding, “The person that I saw looked like the Great Creation, Khalid.”

Ameh gripped Lobarra’s shoulders as he looked into her eyes. “Sacred Woman, the Great Creation, Khalid, is no longer with us. You know that.”

Quazzi moved closer to Ameh, looking confused. “Mfalme, everyone here knows Khalid is no longer with us. But ... how do you know that? The Great Creation, Khalid, was killed hours after you fell into your coma. How could you know that?”

“The spirit of the Great Creation came to me in some of my dreams. He told me what happened to him.” Ameh moved away from Quazzi to finish dressing. In the middle of tying a sash around his waist, he stopped, confused about something Quazzi had just said to him. “I was in a coma?”

“Yes, Mfalme. You were in a coma for almost three and a half days.”

“I had no idea. I thought I was asleep, drifting in and out of vivid dreams.” Ameh smiled as he turned to Lobarra. “At times, Sacred Woman, I dreamed that you occasionally sat there beside my cot, talking to me about everything under the sun.”

“But Mfalme,” Lobarra said, “I did do that. That was no dream.”

“Though I perceived all of it as a dream, I did appreciate your company. And just as I dreamt of you talking with me, the spirit of Khalid came and spoke with me many times. In those dreams, he not only recounted what had happened to him. He miraculously comforted me as I mourned his death. He helped me recover while describing to me everything that had happened over the past three days.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, almost everything.”

“Then, you know about the threat of Aysar and his soldiers on the north rim, and how close the Aukmondi came to war with them?”

“Yes.”

“You know about the Panfe’s subsequent surrender to King Aysar? And, you know about Lateef becoming the new Caldifor king?”

“Yes, Sacred Woman. From the spirit of the Great Creation, Khalid, I know all of that.”

Lobarra studied Ameh’s face. She found it amazing that all he knew came through vivid dreams. “Mfalme, you only dreamed of talking with Khalid’s spirit. But it is more than that. I saw his spirit when he left your hut moments ago. His spirit is very much alive.”

“I am sure that it is, Sacred Woman.”

“So what else did he tell you, Mfalme?” Quazzi asked.

“He told me many things. We had so many joyful conversations.” Ameh sat back down on the edge of his cot to finish adjusting his clothing and to think for a moment. At one point, he sat perfectly still, as if deep in thought. One of the conversations with the spirit of Khalid seemed to register deeply. “I suppose one of the most fascinating things is that he retold an interesting story to me.”

“What story is that?”

“Do you remember when the Great Creation, Khalid, first came to the valley? He told of some prophecies by the Oracle of Panfe.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“The spirit of Khalid revealed the truth behind one of the oracle’s prophecies. The Panfe and people of Caldifor are familiar with the prophecy. But they do not know what really happened. I must share this truth with them.”

“Then you are in luck, Mfalme. You seem to be aligned with the Supreme Spirit’s grand design. The Favored Tribesman has strongly advised King Lateef to stay in the valley for another day or two. So you have plenty of time.”

“Mfalme Ncobba will also initiate a special Celebration of Life tomorrow,” Quazzi added. “It will be a perfect time to tell this story.”

“A special Celebration of Life?”

“Yes, Mfalme. It is a double celebration. It is to celebrate King Lateef’s coronation. And it is an early celebration of the union between King Lateef and the Sacred Woman, Heba.”

“So, they are finally making their union official?”

“Yes, Mfalme, after they return to Caldifor.”

“That is wonderful. Those two do make a beautiful couple. I think the story I must tell will make their union even more special.”

67.

A SPECIAL CELEBRATION OF LIFE

Shortly after Kharaambi made the suggestion, nearly everyone in the Aukmondi Valley learned about a special celebration at the Royal Kraal. Preparations began almost immediately. By midday the next day, people from across the valley had gathered in the Royal Kraal and had made amazing progress. Six large bonfires burned brightly in the 1200-square-meter celebration area. Already, people moved around each bonfire, singing, dancing, preparing food and drink, and talking, joking, and playing together.

The largest bonfire was set up near the back of the celebration area, just 50 meters from the royal dais. The people of Sotoko Kraal built it there to prepare what they knew would be one of the Panfe’s favorite dishes. Sotoko Kraal was located near the Aukmondi River, just over two kilometers beyond the Chinchigwe Kraal. As the closest neighbor, one of the kraal’s residents somehow learned that the Panfe loved Wali wa Kukaanga, a dish made from boiled rice and various vegetables. They wanted to honor both the Panfe and the new Caldifor royalty, whom they knew would gather near the dais.

The celebration officially began as King Lateef, Heba, and Neith entered the royal Kraal. Wearing beautiful garments given to them by the Aukmondi and Chinchigwe, Lateef, Heba, and Neith walked lovingly together, arm-in-arm. Although Lateef was king, he loved the two women deeply and didn’t want to walk ahead of them as royal protocol suggested. He held the Sacred Royal Scepter in his hand, which was enough to show his royal supremacy.

The three moved slowly across the celebration area. Asim, Reshma, Talia, Bast, and the other Panfe followed behind them, all dressed in beautiful clothing that had been gifted to them. It was a memorable ceremonial walk, marked by drums, chanting, and lively chatter. The group wove through the crowds of celebrating people, around the bonfires, occasionally distracted by the delicious aromas and sights of various foods being prepared. From the moment they entered the kraal, they drew everyone’s attention. Lateef, Heba, Neith, and the other Panfe often smiled and waved to the new acquaintances they had made in recent days.

At the back of the celebration area, the Aukmondi Favored Tribesman, Kon-Shambique, along with Tongda, greeted Lateef, Heba, Neith, and the Panfe. Although it wasn’t required, it was a ceremonial custom to reintroduce the Royal Family, who sat on the royal dais—Mfalme Ncobba, his three mates Rwuva, Kharaambi, and Olabisi, their nine daughters—Omari, Yejide, Kunto, Audi, Akwate, Akuako, Zindzihi, Baako, and Alaba—and their only son, Adaulah.

Lateef, Heba, Neith, and the Panfe were immensely excited when Kon-Shambique and Tongda also ceremoniously reintroduced Mfalme Jobabwe, who sat on his chieftain’s stool on the royal dais. After everything that had happened, none of them could hide their overwhelming joy at seeing him alive, healthy, and smiling back at them. Despite the formal occasion, many of them loudly greeted the Chinchigwe Mfalme, almost breaking ceremonial protocol. It took Kon-Shambique considerable effort to restore an orderly procedure.

Kon-Shambique suggested that everyone take their seats. Lateef, Heba, and Neith sat in rattan chairs reserved for them. Behind them, the rest of the Panfe sat on the ground with blankets and pillows. Over the next several minutes, Kon-Shambique officiated two traditional rituals.

The first, though a strict tradition, was slightly modified by the Aukmondi. To honor Lateef and Heba’s renewed commitment, Mfalme Ncobba stepped down from the royal dais. He presented each of them with a small gourd filled with thoroughly cleaned white sand collected from the bank of the Aukmondi River. He asked Lateef and Heba to bless their gourds of sand with personal prayers from their hearts. They took several minutes to do so. After the blessings and prayers, Ramuza instructed them to pour the sand from their gourds into a single pile on the ground simultaneously. This ritual of combining the sand symbolized the union of their two lives. Since Lateef and Heba had postponed their official union until they returned to Caldifor, this ritual, in the hearts and minds of the Aukmondi, gave the union an early and sanctioned recognition.

The second ritual completely surprised Neith. To her astonishment, all the Panfe seated behind her stood up. They formed a line and filed in front of Neith. Each person in line gave Neith a small gift, such as a bracelet, a scarf, a string of beads, or a similar item. This was a long-forgotten Caldifor tradition honoring the Queen Mother of Caldifor. The last time such a ritual was performed was many decades ago, long before Aysar ascended to the throne. Neith was moved to tears by the tribute.

With these two rituals complete, the formal ceremonial part of the celebration was over. Kon-Shambique told Lateef, Heba, Neith, and the Panfe that they were free to mingle with the crowd in the celebration area and enjoy the prepared food and drinks.

The sound of drums and music grew louder throughout the celebration area. Waves of drumbeats were constant, with rhythms thundering briefly in different locations. Sometimes the drumbeat seemed to take hold of people several meters away, making them dance in spontaneous unity. Scattered groups of various sizes danced around each bonfire. However, all the varied dancing was eventually dominated by the Motobo dancers. These dancers were warriors of the Dabete Ehkili regiment, along with many of their mates and partners. They performed a choreographed sequence of movements that wound through the celebration area. Their dance, known as ‘The Forbidden Dance,’ was once banned and somewhat risqué. Yet it captured everyone’s attention and had become so popular and widely accepted that it could not be banned.

The food and drinks were another highlight for everyone. Of course, everyone loved the banana beer. A few drank too much, and their uninhibited behavior was obvious. As expected, the Wali wa kukaanga quickly became a favorite among everyone, including Mfalme Ncobba. Aides and assistants usually served the royal family, but Ramuza often took it upon himself to walk out to the bonfire, where the boiled rice and vegetables were prepared. He served himself. Bast enjoyed the dish too. He had never had it before. He fell in love with it and, like Ramuza, returned several times for more servings. Asim and Reshma preferred the Viazi Karai, a spicy bread-coated potato dish. Reshma ate two servings and would have eaten more if her weight were not a personal concern. The Brown Warrior, Quazzi, had always been fond of the Mandazi pastries. Lobarra knew this and had made extra especially for him. She almost made too many. Thankfully, the petite Talia, now with a strong appetite, discovered her taste for the donut-like sweet bread. When Lobarra went to refill Quazzi’s small platter, she got enough for Talia as well.

Throughout the day, everyone talked, ate, sang, and danced until they were exhausted. By evening, many of the people and all of the Panfe were drawn to one of the celebration’s main attractions, Mfalme Ameh Jobabwe. His recovery was a celebration in itself. They sat before the royal dais, listening to the Mfalme speak about his coma recovery. At one point, Kon-Shambique found a particular aspect of his recovery especially fascinating.

“Mfalme, you were in a coma.” A moderate frown of confusion was on Kon-Shambique’s face. “You say that you dreamed? And you remember the dreams?”

“I did, Great Creation.” Ameh nodded, reflecting on his memory. “A couple of them were quite vivid.”

Kon-Shambique was sipping from a gourd of chai. He could tell other listeners were curious about his questions to the Mfalme. He set his gourd of chai aside to explain himself. “As all of you probably know, most dreams during normal sleep, even the strongest and most vivid ones, are often fleeting. If you do not remember them when you first wake up, they are usually forgotten forever. You cannot recall those moments later, even if your life depended on it. I can only guess that guardian angels grace us with such fleeting dreams for our comfort.”

“What about recurring dreams, Kon-Shambique?” Lateef objected to most of what the Favored Tribesman was saying. “Recurring dreams come back whether you want them to or not. Nothing is fleeting about them. And often, when they occur, nothing is comforting about them.”

“Such dreams are probably the important ones, Your Grace.” Kon-Shambique picked up his gourd of chai and took a sip. “Those dreams are meant to be remembered for one reason or another. Rather than comfort, maybe our guardian angels use such dreams to guide us or convey information we need to know.”

Ameh could see that King Lateef had heard enough to accept Kon-Shambique’s explanation. But Ameh had another minor objection himself. “The dreams during my coma were not normal. Everything about them was different.”

“How so, Mfalme?” Kon-Shambique wanted to know.

Ameh sat back to think for a moment and organize his thoughts. “I remember many of my dreams, so they were not necessarily fleeting. They gave me a sensation considerably better than mere comfort. Also, my dreams were not recurring, and yet, their single instances were enough for me to receive the guidance and the information we all need.”

“Your dreams were different, Mfalme,” Kon-Shambique agreed. “I would say they were different because of the guardian angel who graced you with them, the Great Creation, Khalid.”

“There is no doubt about it.” Ameh sat back and added another enlightening fact. “I could feel his spirit so strongly that, even when he touched me in my dream, I was healed.”

There was a wave of joyful voices. All the people on and around the royal dais muttered thankful praises and prayers among themselves. Lobarra, who sat near the royal dais, had to wait for the people and voices to settle before she added another fact that fueled the praises and prayers.

“The spirit of the Great Creation, Khalid, is not just strong. His spirit is very alive,” Lobarra began. “Mfalme Jobabwe dreamed about him vividly, but I actually saw his spirit.”

“What?” Kon-Shambique was not sure if Lobarra said what she meant to say. He had to wait for the people and voices to settle again. “You saw Khalid’s spirit?”

“Yes, Great Creation. I saw him not once, but twice.”

Everyone did not doubt that Lobarra had seen Khalid’s spirit. Despite the religious differences between the Aukmondi and the Caldifor Panfe, everyone knew that angelic spirits were common. The question on everyone’s mind was why Khalid’s spirit was suddenly visible after Mfalme Jobabwe recovered from his coma.

“What do you suppose this means?” Lateef asked Kon-Shambique.

“I do not know, Your Grace.” Kon-Shambique had no definite answer for Lateef. “I can only assume that the Great Creation, Khalid, wanted to reassure us of his presence. He wanted to make sure that his dream visits with the Mfalme were unmistakable.”

“With me, sitting here before you as a result of what he has done, is not enough proof?”

“Maybe, Mfalme.” Kon-Shambique revised his speculation. “The visible presence of his spirit now gives weight to what he shared in your dreams.”

Ameh sat back again, once again reviewing his dreams. “The spirit of the Great Creation, Khalid, came to me in my dreams many times. We talked about many things, as though we were having a casual conversation. I have forgotten most of them, so I suppose those were the fleeting dreams and only for my comfort. However, I do remember some, which I believe are the most important. I remember them because they are the ones that must be shared.”

“Were there many, Mfalme?” Ramuza asked.

“Until others come to mind, I vividly recall only three.” Ameh turned to Ramuza. “One of them is one you may appreciate, Mfalme.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The spirit of the Great Creation, Khalid, explained to me that when he came to our valley seven days ago, he came with foreknowledge of many things. Although the Supreme Spirit had blessed him with knowledge of the future, he did not know exactly how the future would unfold, for each of us has free will. Khalid knew that the former Caldifor king would threaten our valley. He knew that the Aukmondi Valley would not survive it. And he knew that you, Mfalme, would have been so devastated that you would not have survived it.”

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Ramuza sat back. “How could he have known that?”

“He knew it, because this valley is one of your greatest loves, Mfalme. There is nothing you would not give for the valley and its people.”

“Oh, Great Sacred Spirit,” Ramuza repeated, helplessly retaining his emotions.

Ameh turned to face Lateef. “The spirit of Khalid also knew that King Lateef, battling his own free will, would do what was necessary … for the greater good.”

Voices of amazement came from the Panfe when they heard Ameh reference ‘for the greater good’. They recognized it as proof of a divine influence. When Lateef heard the reference, he closed his eyes, dropped his head, and sighed heavily. When he raised his head again, he explained. “Yes. I did what was necessary, but I almost did not. All of the Panfe here will tell you that I was extremely reluctant to do what I did. And it was my fault in the first place that Aysar came here. None of it would have ever happened if I had not been running from him.”

Heba felt what Lateef was feeling. As the one closest to him emotionally, she gave him a reassuring hug.

“Fear of Aysar is what made you run,” Ameh explained. “The more you ran, the more your options for continuing to run became extremely limited. Your determination to save yourself and the Panfe blinded you from seeing your diminishing options and your true destiny.”

“I knew the situation had grown bad. I had no idea it was that bad.”

“The Great Creation, Khalid, always knew that he would have to talk with Aysar,” Ameh continued. “But it was not until you had no more options that Khalid realized what he had to do. It was the only way to convince you that your options were depleted. It is the reason he spent his last day inside the Aukmondi Sacred Temple, praying. He knew what would happen when he went to talk with Aysar. The rest of us learned the hard way.”

Lateef closed his eyes briefly and shook his head negatively before looking up at Ameh. “Mfalme Jobabwe, learning this does not make me feel good about the way I handled things.”

Ameh smiled at Lateef. “The way you handled things made you king of Caldifor, Your Grace. Please feel good that Khalid knew that it was not your fierce and noble determination, but your heart to do the right thing that would save the Panfe, the Aukmondi, and all of Caldifor from Aysar’s vengeance. What was destined to happen, did happen as it should.”

“Khalid was truly an Exceptionally Amazing Creation,” Ramuza said thoughtfully. Ramuza was astonished and emotionally moved by all that he had just heard. “The Panfe, all of Caldifor, and the Aukmondi owe a tremendous respect to his memory.”

Ameh turned again to Ramuza. “It is interesting that you should say that, Mfalme. I understand that the Panfe and the Aukmondi are trying to decide who will establish his memorial tomb, whether it will be here in the valley or in the Caldifor kingdom.”

“Yes, we have yet to decide that.”

“Then, do not bother, Mfalme. That undecided question concerns the second dream that I remember and must share.”

Before Ameh could speak again, Asim raised his hand for recognition. The Mfalme’s comment raised a question that Asim needed answered. “Mfalme, we have temporarily entombed Khalid’s body in the valley’s depths. Are we not moving the tomb to a permanent location?”

“All of you,” Ameh began. “Please, do not be alarmed, but that temporary tomb is no longer there. Go there, into the valley depths, and you will not find it. You will find only the shroud that wrapped his body. Through some divine process, one we cannot and will never understand, guardian angels have taken all that physically remained of the Great Creation.”

“Great Sacred Spirit!” Kon-Shambique looked at Ramuza. “I must agree, Mfalme. Khalid was exceptionally amazing.”

“Even when he walked among us, he lived on a divine level that we may always find difficult to comprehend.”

“In one of my dreams,” Ameh thought to add, “Khalid told me that, throughout history, he is not the first of his kind. There were others like him. And there will be more like him to come in later times.”

“Mfalme?” Lobarra raised her hand to get Ameh’s attention. “You are obviously saving the best for last. When you woke from your coma this morning, you told the Brown Warrior, Quazzi, your aide, assistants, and me about the most amazing dream of all.”

“You are right, Sacred Woman.” Ameh turned to face Lateef, Heba, Neith, and all the Panfe. “If I talk about no other dream, I must tell you what the spirit of Khalid told me about one of the prophecies by the Oracle of Panfe.”

EPILOGUE

ONE OF HIS BIGGEST FAULTS IS ARROGANCE

When Mfalme Jobabwe mentioned the Oracle of Panfe, the whole area fell silent. What did the Oracle’s prophesies have to do with what was happening now? Everyone moved closer to the royal dais. They settled in to hear what Mfalme Jobabwe had to say.

Ameh used his walking staff to assist himself in standing. He walked to the edge of the dais and scanned the crowd in front of him until he spotted the face he was looking for. “Bast, Great Creation. I understand that you have Aysar under heavy guard up there on the north rim?”

“That is correct, Mfalme.” Bast respectfully stood. “Why?”

Ameh gave a brief, almost regretful smile. “The Supreme Spirit knows that Aysar has a lot to learn, so much so that he may not learn it all in this lifetime. The truth behind one of the Oracle of Panfe’s prophecies may be one of the greatest lessons he will ever learn. Unfortunately, he is not among us now to hear what I have to say.”

Bast stepped forward. “I can send for him if you wish, Mfalme.”

“No, no.” Ramuza held up his hand to stop Bast. “That Creation will not set one foot in this valley. If you feel so inclined, Great Creation, you may relay the truth of this prophecy to Aysar later. He will not get it any other way. Otherwise, he will have to wait and learn it in his next lifetime.”

“So be it, Mfalme.” Bast smiled and sat back down.

Ameh returned to his chieftain’s stool but did not sit. He faced the crowd again. “All of us know that the Oracle had two well-known prophecies. One of them said that Aysar would never have a living heir. All of his children would be stillborn.”

“Everyone knows that prophecy was the one prophecy that the Oracle got right,” said Lateef. “To this day, it is true.”

“That prophecy is not the one the spirit of Khalid gave me the most details about, Your Grace. It is the other one.”

“The other one? But the other one, everyone knows, was not true,” Lateef said. He turned to Neith for confirmation.

“Yes, the other prophecy did not happen as the Oracle said it would.” Neith searched her memory. “That poor girl in the Oracle’s prophecy, Oula of the family Gizan, did not give birth to the new Caldifor monarch. Oula and her unborn child died. The Oracle was wrong.”

“So, it would seem.” Ameh smiled. “Please hear the prophecy again, as told to me by the spirit of Khalid.” Ameh sat down and made himself comfortable.

“Some twenty-five harvests ago, on the night of a blue moon, a young woman from Panfe lay with her husband. The woman’s name was Oula, of the family Gizan. That night, she and her husband will conceive a child. Exactly seven weeks later, a restlessness will stir in the village of Panfe. A birth angel will visit soon, appearing in the guise of the Goddess Olukse.

“Tipped off by the Oracle’s prophecy, King Aysar hurried to the village to secretly witness this miraculous event. When he arrived, he saw the birth angel, in the guise of Olukse, dressed in a pure white, translucent silk gown, trimmed with golden sequins. He saw a crown of light pulsing outward on her head. He saw a spherical orb of the sun’s light hanging magically behind her head.

“On that day, King Aysar stood among the witnesses to see Olukse call out to Oula and throw a ball of light directly into Oula’s womb. That ball of light was a living soul. It was a viable life living and growing within Oula’s womb. Once there, by Divine law, it could not return to the heavens until its purpose among us was complete.

“The evil King Aysar believed he could exploit the situation. He thought he could prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy by aborting Oula’s baby. He took Oula to his palace and cared for her for several days, secretly feeding her poison. On the night the poison reached its final stage, King Aysar located the Oracle of Panfe and brought her to the palace to witness the result. That night, the Oracle saw Oula have a miscarriage, die, and give birth to a stillborn baby.”

Although many had heard this tragic prophecy before, they still found it unsettling. Murmurs of disgust rose from the crowd.

“Now, here is what we never learned,” Ameh continued. “A birth angel possesses the divine power to protect a living soul throughout its life, until its destiny and mission among us are complete. Because that living soul in Oula’s unborn embryo had not fulfilled its earthly mission, its destiny, it could not return to the heavens. It could not die before then. Yes, the child’s mother died as the prophecy described. Her mission and destiny were complete. But the birth angel took the living soul from the dying embryo and placed it in the body of another embryo ready to receive it. At the time the unborn embryo was growing,” Ameh pointed, “in Neith’s womb.”

“What?” Neith sat back, her hands over her mouth. Again, she searched her memory. The pieces began to fall into place. “In the Panfe village, when we learned that Aysar had killed the Oracle, Oula, and her unborn baby, I was seven weeks pregnant with Lateef!”

“Yes, you were,” Ameh confirmed. “As the spirit of Khalid explained to me, the embryo in your womb was at the right age to receive and sustain a living soul. And just over four moons later, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Lateef, protected by his birth angel, came among us with that original destiny and mission, to reign as Caldifor’s new monarch.”

Lateef could feel an overwhelming emotion rising in his heart. He stretched out his arms to embrace Heba and Neith, who sat on either side of him. All three of them and many of the Panfe were moved to tears.

Ameh gave Lateef, Heba, and Neith several moments to cherish their feelings, then he added, “And here is another thing we never learned. When the birth angel transferred that living soul from Oula’s embryo to Neith’s, the divine connection of the Sacred Royal Scepter went with it. Aysar never understood why he could no longer make the scepter hum. After the transfer, the scepter entirely belonged to Lateef.”

Asim, who had sat behind Lateef holding the Sacred Royal Scepter, got to his feet. He came to stand in front of Lateef. He knelt and ceremoniously offered the scepter to Lateef, “Your Grace, you were king from the day you were born and did not know it.”

Lateef released his embrace of Heba and Neith. He reached to accept the scepter. Lateef was so filled with emotion that the scepter instantaneously gave a subtle hum.

“You were king from the day you were born,” Ameh repeated, “And nothing could have changed that, absolutely nothing. Your birth angel would not allow it.”

“Well,” Lateef wiped away the tears on his face. “I certainly tried to change things. No wonder so many things went wrong as we fled Caldifor and King Aysar. May the Divine Spirit, my birth angel, all guardian angels, and all of you, please forgive me for pushing everyone so hard in the wrong direction.”

“Your Grace,” Ramuza had stepped down from the royal dais again. He stood before Lateef and bowed respectfully. “I suggest that you harness that strong will and fierce determination of yours to serve your true purpose now. Restore the Caldifor Kingdom to how it should be.”

Lateef stood and returned the bow. “I will do my best, Mfalme Ncobba.”

As everyone gathered around Lateef to congratulate him again, Ameh cornered Bast with one more piece of advice. “Great Creation, if you do relay this updated prophecy to Aysar, please let him know that one of his biggest faults is arrogance. He needs to know that once a birth angel plants a soul into an embryo, it is impossible to abort its destiny and mission among us.”