Then said the general to the mysterious wizard, with his hand on his sword, “For my daughter I will face a thousand demons and the devil himself, if your word be true.”
The wizard smiled, “T’is true, my lord” said he to the general, “T’is all true. You need but the courage to face the Devil.”
“My days of joyousness and peace are fled, so to the Devil I will go.”
And so, it was that in a manner only understood by the wizard, he transported the general to the mysterious Realm of the Undying to seek his daughter and claim the horn of Garone. It was a place not from this world, yet of this world, where no living being but the general trod. It was a dark place that seemed many countless leagues beneath the world, where dark frightening caves and unfamiliar features could be seen in every turn and direction. The only light here came from the countless fires produced from the many simmering volcanoes that threatened to shoot out their burdens to the surface.
The general understood the dangers he faced from Garone, the Devil’s Guard. But he feared little, for his urge to retrieve his daughter was stronger than his fear of becoming one of the Devil’s own should Garone prevail over him. The general wore around his neck an ornament provided by the wizard. It was the tailbone of the Bruth, a creature slain from this realm many generations prior, and whose tailbone was to make the diabolical powers of Garone harmless against the general, yet make Garone, his demons and minions mortal to the general’s sword and dagger.
After many hours of walking and searching within this realm, the general chanced upon a stone bridge guarded by man armed with a spear and a dagger. He made no move to give grant passage to the general.
“Give way, man,” demanded the general, “So I may go about my affairs.”
“I am no man,” said the bridge keeper, “I am a Sleepless, bound to languish here for all eternity and never again to return to the land of the living. What brings you here, man from the land of living?”
“I search for my daughter and the horned demon. I must slay him to take my daughter back with me. So I ask you to make way.”
“Return to land of the living now while you can, for should you cross this bridge as you intend, you may not seek what you search for and you too will become a Sleepless—a wondering soul who will never again find any rest. It is a fate ten times worse than death.”
“From where do you come?” asked the general.
“From whence I come, no man or woman may tread. It has been three centuries since I came to this realm, searching too for my sister’s son. I lacked the courage to face Garone, so I now suffer as a Sleepless, hoping that a living soul may put an end to my misery and send me to my maker or the Devil.”
“I wish you luck, Sir, but now you must make way so I may proceed with my affairs.”
“I see you wear the tailbone of the Bruth. Garone, the horned demon will fight you for it.”
“Be he the demon or demon not, he is my daughter’s taker, and by my sword I will slay my daughter’s taker.”
“Then be kind to me, Sir. Strike me dead with your sword and end my days of being a Sleepless.”
“I will do no such thing, Sir, for you have done me no harm. Your life is not mine to end.”
“Then, Sir, I challenge you!”
With this, the Sleepless being straightened his spear and lunged for the general, who wasted no time in running his sword through the heart of the Sleepless being. It closed its eyes and smiled, then turned into vapor. Whether it was claimed by the devil or its maker the general could not tell.
The general calmly walked across the bridge, crossing the point of no return. He could never again return to the land of the living, unless he could slay Garone.
It was many leagues beyond the bridge that Garone unleashed his minions against the general. For many hours creatures of all manner attacked the general as he searched for his daughter. Some were serpent-like, others were leopard-like, and many more were human-like. Yet the general slew them all. He was a skilled soldier and a determined father. Nothing was going to stop him from getting his daughter back.
After many more hours the general faced a winged creature. He slew the creature but lost his sword. Only his dagger was left to him, a nearly useless weapon in the face of foes determined to take from him the tailbone of the Bruth and to make him one of the Devil’s own. And so, it was that the general considered his fate sealed when a heavily armed soldier appeared before him. The general could not fight him with only a dagger.
“Man from the land of the living,” began the soldier in a gruff, miserable voice that heaped of pain and agony, “What brings you to the Realm of the Undying?”
“I search for my daughter,” replied the general. “She was taken from me some twelve days past.”
“The music maker.”
“Music maker?” asked the general.
“Her harp brings some peace to some of us with the beautiful music she produces. It reminds us of life as a living being.”
“You are a Sleepless.”
“I was the governor of the province of Trigray. I came to search for my wife so that my children could be happy again. This has been my home for many generations now.”
“Tell me, have you seen my daughter?”
“Follow the path through those hills,” he said, pointing towards some hills, “and you may find her across the River of Fire and Poisons.”
“I thank you, Governor of Tigray. Now I must be on my way, for my daughter must return home.”
“But you have no sword. The horned demon continues to gather forces to stop you.”
“I have my dagger and my bear hands to use if I must.”
“Put an end to my misery, man of the living, and my sword and shield can be yours.”
With a heavy heart the general plunged his dagger into the Sleepless being, who also turned into vapor and ceased to exist. And whether its soul went to its maker or to the Devil the general could not tell either. But its fine sword and bronze shield renewed the general’s hope of getting his daughter back.
The general followed the path through the hill, vigilant and watching every corner for signs of his daughter or his foes. And then he heard something. It was something that made his heart race. It was music, just as had been described by the second Sleepless. It was produced from a kirar harp and was as he had heard it before, played by his daughter on many an occasion. He sheathed his sword raced towards the music, but as he drew closer it seemed to drift further and further away.
“Zeina!” called the general, “Zeina! It is I, your father. Where are you?”
There was no response. The general continued his search, following the music. And then in a distance he spotted a human figure. It was Zeina. But the general only laid eyes on her for a very brief moment, for he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his back. He spun around with a loud cry. He had been stabbed by a human-sized ant-like creature that had suddenly ambushed him. The general’s sword flashed out of his sheath and the creature instantly ceased to exist—cut into a thousand pieces. Before the general could recover from his pain, several more creatures of all manner sprang from the darkness around him but all met the same fate as had the human-sized ant-like creature.
Without sparing a moment to dwell over his bleeding wound the general scurried to the place where he had seen his daughter. But she was not there. He called her name out repeatedly but no response was to be heard. He continued to follow the path through the hills, knowing that he was close to her and would soon take her back home. Zeina did not appear.
But the general saw something else. It was a man who stood still and silently several paces away from him. The man’s dark skin and black robes made him hardly discernible through the darkness. The general stood and held his sword at the ready, not daring to take another step forward until he understood his foe. The man moved closer to the general, not by walking, but by hovering, though he had no visible wings. But this did not alarm the general. He had seen stranger things in this
realm.
“I am Babrel, General,” said the hovering man. “I have come to you with a plea.”
“Are you a Sleepless,” asked the general.
“No, General. I am a nevii. I gather selected souls from this realm to be taken to the realm of the maker of man.”
“You are an angel?”
“That is what they call us in the land of the living.”
“Then tell, angel of the Undying, where lies the River of Fire and Poisons?”
“Beyond the Hills of Saragoza and further beyond.”
“How do I get there,” begged the general.
“I will guide you, General, but first you must answer to my plea.”
“What is your plea?”
“The horned demon and his minions prevent me from gathering the selected souls of the Undying. There are those who by their misdeeds in the land of the living belong to Garone and the Devil. But there are those who by their deeds in that same land of the living are to spend eternity with the maker of man. But Garone and his minions intend to make them all part of the Devil’s own. I must defeat Garone’s minions so that the souls of those selected by the maker of man can be released unto him.”
“Of what use can I be to you,” asked the general, “I am but a man.”
“True, but you wear the tailbone of the Bruth around your neck. That gives you the power to slay Garone and his minions here in this realm. You have commanded men in battle before. I ask that you lead our soldiers to face Garone’s armies. As we speak, he assembles his forces against us.”
“What about my daughter?”
“She is one of the chosen Undying. Help us defeat Garone, and your daughter will return to you.”
“What must I do?” asked the general eagerly.
“Follow me.”
For many hours the general followed the hovering nevii over hills, caves and mountains, the drive to find his daughter making him oblivious to the bleeding wound sustained during his last battle with the horned demon’s minions. And then they came upon an open field where there waited many an armed soldier. The general looked at them in amazement, unsure of what to make of it all. But what caught his attention was the man who stood before them all. He was their leader. He was Dahnay, the rebel leader the general had slain in the land of the living many weeks prior.
“Who are they?” the general asked the nevii.
“They are some of the Undying chosen by the maker of men to join him in his realm. But they are trapped here by Garone’s actions. These men you see here have volunteered to fight Garone and his minions so that their souls and others may join their maker. All they need is a leader.”
The general walked to the Undying soldiers. He spoke to Dahnay, his enemy in the land of the living.
“They say it is your curse that killed my daughter.”
“Those were just angry words of a dying man I spoke, General. I hardly think words alone could account for your daughter’s tragedy.”
The general shook his head, acknowledging the wisdom of Dahnay’s words.
“You were chosen to meet your maker, commander?” The general began. “I would have thought you to be with Devil.”
“I fought against you for what I believed in, General,” Dahnay responded, “But I was always a good man.”
“Indeed, commander.” The general gave a friendly tap on the former rebel leader’s shoulder. “Together we will defeat Garone so that you may meet your maker.”
“I await that moment, General.”
The general looked at the soldiers.
“How many men stand before me?” the general asked of Dahnay.
“A hundred plus half a hundred more.”
“And our enemy?”
“Twice two hundred.”
“The odds are not in our favor, Dahnay.”
“The odds were less in your favor when you wiped out my army at Aksum,” Dahnay said with a smile.
“I had Iskinder, my adjutant with me. He was my strategist and closest friend. He fell at Akkele Guzu Province fighting what was left of the Zagwe princes.”
“You taught him all he knew, General. You will do just are good here without him.”
“I hope so, commander,” the general said with little confidence, “I hope so.”
“Please,” continued Commander Dahnay, “Say a few words to the men.”
The general turned to address the men.
“Many a time before, I have led men in battle—” he began, “Some to their slaughter, but most to glory. And I promise you, glory for your army it will be!”
A loud cheer erupted from the soldiers, hoping for a chance to have their souls depart the misery of the Realm of the Undying for the comfort and plenty offered by their maker.
The nevii led the general and his army to the foot of the hills of Saragoza, where Garone’s forces waited. Here, the fate of many a thousand souls would be decided. Whether they would be seized by the Devil, welcomed by their maker, or continue to languish in the Realm of the Undying would depend on the actions and skill of the general.
Both armies stood facing each other, each determined to slay the other. The general looked for the leader of Garone’s forces. It was not Garone himself. It was someone the general recognized. Yet the general could not have expected this person to be one of the Devil’s own. The general walked to the middle of both armies, where he was met by the surprising leader of the Devil’s forces.
“Commander Iskinder?” the general called the name of the Devil army’s leader, his former adjutant and strategist.
“General?” Iskinder called too, misery and anguish apparent through his voice.
“I was there when you fell. How is it that your soul should stand with the Devil? You are a good man. You helped build the Istifanos Monastery. You risked your life to save the priests at the Church of St. George during the Mohamedan raids.”
“I did things, general,” responded Iskinder, a hint of regret and sadness in his voice, “Most of them I dare not even speak off.”
“Ask your men to stand down and surrender, commander. Perhaps their maker may find a way to welcome them to his realm.”
“Too late, General. We must fight here and prevail so the devil may not take us to his realm. Though life here may be wretched it is a hundred times more bearable than in the Devil’s realm.”
“I cannot find the words to say to you, commander. You are a dear friend.”
“Worry yourself not, General. Count your blessings that you witness the happenings here today, for should you survive this and return to the land of the living with your daughter, avoid my mistakes and excesses, and perhaps you will avoid a fate such as mine and those of every man you see here in my army. Now go to your army and do what you must do, but know that I will fight with everything I have so that I do not lament in the Devil’s realm.”
The general and his former adjutant stared at each other for a brief moment, finding no appropriate parting words for so forlorn a moment. Then the general nodded, and with heavy hearts both men turned around walked towards their armies.
The battle raged for many countless hours. The lower numbers of the general’s army did little to handicap his men, for he was an experienced soldier who had triumphed over countless similar situations before. Many a Devil’s soldier attempted to snatch the Bruth’s tailbone that hung from the general’s necklace, but were unpleasantly met by the sharp sword or dagger of the hard fighting soldier.
Swords clashed, spears jabbed and plunged their way through bodies; arrows whizzed through the air dropping many a hapless victim. The nevii took no part in the fighting, but watched and hoped for a favorable end. So, at long last the battle between good and evil came to an end.
The bodies of the dead, including Dahnay’s, lay scattered about at the foot of the Hills of Saragoza, their souls soon to spend another cycle at the Realm of the Undying. The general, the nevii, and about a dozen of their men still stood. Iskinder and his forces all lay dead, slaughtered to
the last one of them.
“What now?” asked the general of the nevii.
“You have done what I doubted was possible, General,” the nevii responded. “Now I can gather the selected souls from this realm to be welcomed by their maker.”
“What about my daughter?” the general inquired impatiently, anger in his voiced, “You promised!”
“I will honor my word to you, General. I will lead you to the River of Fire and Poisons. On the other side of it you will find your daughter.”
“And Garone? Where do I find him, for I too have to honor my word to a wizard?”
“Worry not about the horned demon. He will find you.”
The general, wanting to waste not another moment at taking his daughter home, instantly departed with the nevii for the River of Fire and Poisons. Some hours passed before they arrived at their destination. Before them was a terrifying scene. It was nothing like the general had imagined.
“General,” the nevii began, “I present to you the River of Fire and Poisons.”
It was a river of red hot flames, fueled by a bubbling greenish yellowish liquid of an indescribable nature that flowed beneath the flames. The general had to keep many paces from the river for the heat was such as to instantly incinerate him even if he stood on the shore.
“What is the liquid?” the general asked.
“Poisons, general,” the nevii responded, “Vipers, scorpion, spiders, devil’s mushroom, wasp, and countless others yet to be seen in the land of the living.”
“How do I cross this river of evil?”
“We wait, general.”
“For what?”
“For me,” came a gentle voice from behind the general.
The general turned around. The voice had come from a man who stood behind him. He wore elegant white robes, well-made boots, and a fine sword that hung from his waist. He was the handsomest man the general had ever seen.
“Who are you?” asked the general.
“I am Garone. I am your daughter’s taker.”
The general stood still, staring at the man is slight disbelief.
“What did you expect, General?” the man asked, “A beast with tentacles, one eye, teeth like a leopard’s, scales like a lizard, claws growing out of my hands, and perhaps the forked tongue of a serpent’s?”
Griots Page 19
