Shadow of Makei cotpl-3

by John H. Burkitt

  Simba glanced down at her, his smile returning somewhat. “Isn’t this a great place?”

  Nala took a deep breath and raised her head, giving the scenery a perfunctory glance. “It is beautiful,” she conceded finally. “But I don’t understand something.” She looked at him quizzically. “You’ve been alive all this time..why didn’t you come back to Pride Rock?”

  Simba fidgeted nervously. “Well...” He padded over to a tangled mat of vines that swayed gently in the evening breeze. He eased himself into its firm embrace, sprawling on his back comfortably. “Well, I just..needed to get out on my own. Live my own life. And I did, and it’s great!” He peered at her earnestly.

  Nala’s voice shook noticeably. “We’ve really needed you at home,” she said.

  Simba’s expression crumpled and he looked away. “No one needs me.”

  Gods, what was wrong with him?! “Yes, we do! You’re the king!”

  “Nala, we’ve been through this,” he said testily. “I’m not the king; Scar is.” “And well he should be,” Simba thought to himself. The monarchy was no place for a murderer, and his uncle had wisely pointed this out in the gorge. Simba had no choice but to agree to his self imposed exile. Technically, it would have been well within his uncle’s right to have him killed for Mufasa’s death. Yet he had shown mercy on his nephew and allowed him to leave untouched. With such a wise and merciful king, the Pride Lands were better off under his uncle’s supervision.

  At least, he thought so, until Nala informed him of the hyannic takeover of his homeland. He stared at her disbelievingly. “What?!”

  “There’s no food, no water...Simba, if you don’t do something soon, everyone will starve!”

  As he opened his mouth to answer, a chill brushed him, and he shivered. He looked away from her, the depression filling him, his spirit sagging with guilt. “I can’t go back.”

  “Why?!”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “WHAT wouldn’t I understand?!”

  “No, no, no.” He waved her off irritably. “It doesn’t matter. Hakuna Matata.”

  “What?” Nala’s face twisted in confusion.

  “Hakuna Matata. It’s something I learned out here.” He leapt lightly upon a fallen tree and looked at her. “Look,” he said, eager for her to understand, “sometimes bad things happen-”

  “Simba!” Nala lashed her tail in frustration.

  “-and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he grated, irritated at her interruption. “So why worry?” He looked away and paced agitatedly along the length of the tree.

  Nala followed alongside. The anger and frustration came to a head, and she lashed at him with full force. “Because it’s your responsibility!!” Sweet Aiehu, why didn’t he see it?

  Simba came to a stop and glanced at her angrily. “So what about you? YOU left!”

  “I left to find help!” she shot back, incensed. “And I found YOU. Don’t you understand?!” Her voice trembled on the edge of tears. “You’re our only hope.”

  Simba closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her. “Sorry.”

  Nala drew back and peered at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s happened to you?” She shook her head. “You’re not the Simba I remember.”

  “You’re right. I’m not,” he said, clipping his words off brutally. “NOW are you satisfied?”

  “No. Just disappointed.”

  He started away, shoulders stiff with anger. “You’re starting to sound like my father.”

  A tingle ran through Nala, and the words escaped unbidden. “Good. At least ONE of us does.” She put a paw to her mouth, horrified at what she had said.

  Simba froze, the lethargic feeling ripped away as her words tore through him. He spun around and advanced on her. “Look! You think you can just come in here and tell me how to run my life?! You don't even know what I’ve BEEN through!”

  “I would if you’d just tell me!” She moved to go to him, but he whirled and plunged through the underbrush, heedless of the sharp branches that tore at him.

  “Forget it!” He padded away quickly, unwilling to let her see the tears in his eyes.

  “Fine!” Nala turned away, stung, angry at herself for letting him get away. She walked morosely over to the fallen log and leapt upon it, settling herself atop the old wood. Her tail moved restlessly as she mulled over their conversation, berating herself for lashing out at him like that. At a loss, she laid her head upon her forepaws, gazing out across the river valley. The sound of the waterfall was lulling, and she blinked her eyes sleepily as she watched the sparkling torrent fall through the air to crash on the rocks below. Soon she was dozing softly, the soft white light of the moon bathing her golden form in unearthly beauty.

  In the underbrush across from her, the light gleamed from twin points of amber fire. The random edges of the leaves and branches shifted in the night breezes and gave form to a finely chiseled face that peered intrestedly at the sleeping lioness. Mano sighed and slipped from the undergrowth, the pure white fur of his body gleaming like a fallen star as he padded noiselessly over to where Nala lay.

  He leaned over her, listening to her murmur uneasily in her sleep, reading her troubled thoughts. He pursed his lips and blew gently in her face, the scent of wild honey clinging to her fur as he watched her features relax and smooth out.

  “Sleep, child. You have done well. It’s up to him, now.” He lay down beside her, his mane shifting in an unseen breeze as he looked far to the east, where Pride Rock lay. He thought of the unspeakable horror that lay nestled there, and his features hardened into a grim mask of determination.

  “And you, old one, are now on borrowed time.”

  CHAPTER 66: I’M HOME!

  Makhpil looked on in horror as a living wave of hyenas crashed upon Simba, burying him under an assault of snapping jaws and ripping claws. The lion struck out, scattering them in a bellow of fury as he methodically began to annihilate any and every opponent that separated him from Taka, who stood across from them at the base of the promontory, exhorting the hyenas to fight on. “Show no mercy!” Taka cried lustily.

  “Oh gods,” she moaned as she saw a hyena tossed aside like a pup, shrieking horribly from the ragged wound in his side. She recognized him well; he had come to her only last week to ask advice on where to dig a den for his mate.

  A terrific struggle ensued across from her, several hyena voices crying out in shock and fear. Several went tumbling and rolling as Ber shouldered them aside, snapping savagely as he fought his way through the throng. Behind him came Krull and Fabana, the two guarding Ber’s flanks as he bludgeoned his way through the mass of his fellows, snarling defiantly. Ber paused, seeing the mass of hyenas attacking Simba, and raised his voice.

  “To the King!” he bellowed, turning lion heads as well as hyenas toward him. “God and Roh’mach!!”

  An uproar joined him as the members of the hidden resistance group, plagued and tormented for years rose up with a shout and joined him. “God and Roh’mach!” Pandemonium reigned as hyena turned upon hyena, guards looking in surprise as companions they had known for years began to attack them bitterly.

  Makhpil felt her blood boil at the remembered injustices under the reign of Shenzi and Taka. “God and Roh’mach!” she cried, turning upon a burly guard who was harrying Simba’s flank. Her fangs sank deep into his hide, and blood sprayed into her face in a hot flood. Crying out, he whipped around, locking eyes with her. “You!”

  “So Skulk, how do you do against an enemy who able to fight back, eh?!” Makhpil bared her teeth at him. “Not so easy as it was with Belvalen, eh?”

  “You WITCH!” he cried, lunging at her. She sidestepped neatly, dodging his attack with inches to spare. He rose and flailed again, but she went under this time, tearing out a hunk of hair that made him wail with pain. He stumbled back, stunned, a smear of blood reddening his chest like a blossom. She started forward to finish him, but she stopped as the wave of pain and hurt hit her mind like
an openhanded swat to the face, a soundless cry of agony that came from the spirit and not the flesh.

  “Why did you want to hurt me?” he thought. “I liked you.”

  His mind lay open to her suddenly, and she saw the hidden desire under the cruel exterior, a desperate wish for companionship that reached deep inside him to his core, a desolate loneliness that cried out for help. And in her, he had seen the possibility of a way out.

  A way out now closed to him.

  She shuddered visibly and closed her mind, turning away so she would not have to look upon his face. Leaving him standing there, she trotted away towards the spire of Pride Rock.

  Amarakh snarled viciously under the assault of a crowd of Shenzists. Every time she tried to fight her way out, someone would attack her flanks, tearing at her horribly. Makhpil pushed through to her and took up a position behind her. Between the two of them, they could defend the small turf they occupied for the moment. Amarakh groaned, feeling her strength draining from a dozen wounds as she looked upon the terrible battleground before them. Hyenas, friend and foe alike lay strewn about, the bodies locked eternally in combat. A cry of despair reached her as she saw the pitiful remnants of her Omlakh supporters being decimated by the sheer brute force of Shenzi’s guards.

  Abruptly, the fighting hesitated, Shenzists and Omlakhs alike suddenly distracted. Amarakh pointed, her breath catching in her throat. “Great Roh’kash!” she breathed. “Look!”

  Makhpil looked and saw Simba and Taka engaged in a mortal struggle on the western crag. And hovering around them was the false Roh’kash, now unmasked. Melmokh was shielding Taka from the main brunt of the blows Simba tried to rain on him.

  Then burning with unearthly brilliance stood a mandrill holding a locket on a string. The light came from the locket. Beside him was a brilliant white lion, the largest she’d ever seen. Why didn’t the others see this?

  The spectre Melmokh obviously did. Lightning came from the heavens, setting the grass aflame. And Melmokh burned with a fierce rage himself, a living red firebrand so like the one in Fabana’s nightmares.

  Rafiki took the locket at the end of its thong and spun it around his head. The halo formed by the circling light seemed to slow down. The white lion crouched, his eyes bright with righteous indignation. Rafiki released the locket. Mano sprang, his bright silhouette merging with the fire from the locket. For one moment, Melmokh looked away from his work, and shrieked. The white lion struck Melmokh, and a blinding flash of light erupted from the impact, followed by a psychic blast that stunned her with its fury. Pain! Horrible pain! Their struggle sent out shock waves in the ether that drove jagged spikes through her consciousness. Makhpil shrieked rolled around in agony before at last she mercifully fainted.

  Several moments passed in a sleep without dreams. Finally she woke to the soft caress of rain in her face. She felt something furry push her cheek. The white lion was there, and he nuzzled her again. “Wake up, daughter.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Mano smiled. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better too.”

  “Is Simba OK? Did we win?”

  “We won. Simba had a few cuts, but he’s fine. Ber took a lot more punishment, but I healed him of his pain as well.”

  “How about Amarakh?”

  Mano’s smile faded and he shook his head. “She has passed beyond pain.”

  It took a moment for his words to register, then Makhpil’s features crumpled in grief. “Oh God, no!”

  Running to Amarakh’s still warm body, she started to paw the face. “No! Roh’mach! No, not in the moment of victory!” She looked up. “Can’t you bring her back? You healed Ber--surely you can make her live again, can’t you?”

  “I will live forever.” Light coalesced next to Mano, and the true Roh’mach herself emerged, her featured composed and serene. “Don’t worry about me, child. I’ve seen victory, and my heart is at peace. But take care of my husband--he’s so helpless without me.”

  “Anything you say, Amarakh. I swear I’ll take care of him.”

  “Indeed she will,” Mano said, nuzzling Amarakh. “So will I.”

  CHAPTER 67: HE LIVES IN YOU

  “The sated appetite spurns honey, but to a ravenous appetite even the bitter is sweet.”

  -- PROVERBS 27, 7

  The confirmation of Uhuru as Roh’mach and her subsequent exile seemed that it must be Shenzi’s ultimate humiliation. She had been born a chosen one, but what she had been chosen by, no one was quite sure.

  Still, inside her she carried both the memories and the legacy of her relationship with Melmokh. She was already beginning to show the “light in her eyes,” as Fabana delicately put it. Still Skulk, ever the naïve one, did not know that his “bak’ret” had long lost her maidenhood to another.

  Utterly disgraced, Shenzi followed Skulk meekly into the darkness of the savanna, hearing the soft calls of her brothers and their few companions in the dark.

  Tired and footsore, the hyenas traveled well into the next day, stopping only to rest at high sun, when it was too hot to travel any more. They scattered under the spreading limbs of an acacia that provided welcome shade, panting fitfully in the intense heat.

  Shenzi pillowed her head against Skulk’s flanks, looking at him through slitted eyes as he napped fitfully. How, after all she had been through, could he still want her! If only she were free to accept his frequent offers to pledge! Surely the real Roh’kash would not consider her marriage binding. After all, it was entered into under false pretenses. All she knew is that she regretted her decision, and wanted something more substantial and wholesome. Lies and empty promises had followed her literally from the moment of her birth. Though she was no nisei herself, she still felt stifled by the wanton exploitation of her femininity. She didn’t know what to believe anymore, or who she could trust--all except for her faithful okash and Skulk. Good old Skulk.

  Fabana came and nudged her. She tossed her muzzle to the side and stared at her.

  Getting the hint, Shenzi stood up quietly and followed Fabana a short distance. Fay made sure no one overheard them.

  “Shenzi, you must tell me plainly. Are they Melmokh’s?”

  “What? Oh.” Shenzi looked down at her growing figure. “Yeah. That’s all we need right now is more mouths to feed.”

  “That’s not the issue,” Fabana said sternly. “This thing you had sex with--I won’t even call it a ban’ret--is the creature that killed your father.”

  “You mean the lion??”

  “No. Your father was guiltless. Melmokh arranged for Jal to slip when he was running from the lion. It was premeditated murder. This THING was responsible for the killing of Avina and for most of our troubles. It feeds off of misery, so it stirs up misery to survive. What’s worse, it took you away from the real God, and Missy, you’re in need of some serious prayer.”

  “Are you calling me a heathen??”

  “No. I’m calling you the okash of something unholy. What grows within you is the spawn of your okhim’s murderer! He has stolen your okhim, and now he has stolen your bak’rethood. Skulk is no La’kresh, but he’s faithful. He would make a good husband, but how do you think he will feel when you bring something into the world born only to house Melmokh’s spirit? Did you really think a normal pup would come of this union??”

  “Well I....” She hung her head.

  “It would be Melmokh itself. It wants a physical body. It has used your worship and your loyalty. Now it has used your body. USED, I say. It can feel no love.”

  Shenzi shuddered. “And it’s inside me, Muti!” She drew close to Fabana and rubbed against her. “Oh Muti! What can I do?? What’s Skulk going to say when he finds out I’m....”

  “The pup--if you can call it that--must die. It’s not one of us. And Skulk does not have to find out.”

  CHAPTER 68: THE PILGRIMAGE

  Fabana took Skulk aside and told him she was taking her daughter on a short trip--a pilgrimage. “Do not be sad. We will be gone
six days, and when we return, I feel certain Shenzi will pledge to you.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I don’t say what I don’t mean. You know that.” She nuzzled him. “You will bring my daughter the things she’s been missing in her life. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye....” She smiled, self-consciously, turning her good side to face him. “Still, I will be glad to have you as my son.”

  Skulk smiled sheepishly. “Things are going to be better. We’re going to find us a good territory, one where our pups can grow and play. No more of this scrabbling in the badlands. And you’ll see, things can only get better from here. I promise I’ll be the best husband I can be for your Shenzi.”

  They arranged to meet at Elephant Kopje in six days. Skulk would remain in charge, even without Fabana to keep Banzai and Ed in line. They knew better than to cross him, and he warned them again just to make sure.

  Fabana chatted with Shenzi as they headed off into the south. She described her dream of a white lioness who told her of the fruits that grew by Redrock Kopje. “They taste bitter, but they will end your bitterness. They bring death but they will save your life.”

  “Good,” Shenzi said defiantly. “That will rid me of the last of Melmokh.” She tried to be brave about it, but slowly her face fell, her ears and tail fell limp and she trudged along like the dying. Tears began to run down her cheeks.

  “I was looking forward to being a mother. I thought I could find happiness and be normal like everyone else.”

  “What is inside you is no bringer of happiness. Look forward to being with Skulk. His children will bring you happiness. And so will he, I warrant.”

  They only walked about a day and a night to find Redrock Kopje. After gaining the goal so easily, Shenzi asked her okash, “Why did you say we’d be gone for six whole days?”

  “You’ll find out. I was warned that we must not rush things.”