Touch of the Nisei cotpl-8

by John H. Burkitt

  Touch of the Nisei

  ( Chronicles of the Pride Lands - 8 )

  John H. Burkitt

  David A. Morris

  Ian Layton

  История Эланы. Поддавшись обману, она оставляет спящего Таку, своего супруга, сон которого она охраняла так много лет.. Одна, окруженная своими спутниками, которые превратились в ее палачей, она вынуждена с расстояния наблюдать битву за Pride Rock, где остался ее Така, ее верный Така, которого она любила всю свою жизнь, всем своим существом...

  TOUCH OF THE NISEI

  by John Burkitt, Ian Layton and David Morris

  FOREWORD BY THE AUTHORS:

  DEDICATION:

  This work is dedicated to the memory of Jacques Yves Cousteau, 1911 - 1997. Conservationist, oceanographer, citizen of the world, friend to all life everywhere. May his light ever shine on us from the stars.

  When I first heard the suggestion from Ian Layton that we do a story on Elanna’s exile, I didn’t know whether to shout “Never!” or “Let’s do it!” The project, by its very nature, was chock full of challenges and rewards. But as his pitch was laced with some specific suggestions that intrigued me, and I had little chance fighting the temptation. The idea took hold of me, and I was no longer in control of the project, it was in control of me!

  It was fun while it lasted. In addition to the story line itself, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to work with Ian on something canon to the Chronicles of the Pride Lands. Dave and I had become very comfortable with each other’s style--Ian added a unique note to the theme that kept us on our toes. He has been a good friend to both of us, and I think I speak for Dave too that the experience has been fascinating.

  -- John Burkitt, Nashville, Tennessee

  What is it about Elanna? What is it about a character who has repeatedly come back in our minds over and over, demanding her tale be released to the world? Perhaps it is the agony of her pain which makes us sympathize with her...or the depth of her love that sustains her through it...or perhaps it is the iron will that holds her up even in the darkest hours, refusing to succumb to despair...something that inspires us all as we yearn for our happy time in the sun.

  The time has finally come round for Elanna to have hers...and we’ve been invited along. Won’t you join us?

  -- David Morris, Wilmington, North Carolina

  Through the past few months, I have been through some bad times. From pressure at school, to my vehicle, and then to my computer, everything seemed to pile on me all at once. Throughout that time, I learned that I had many close friends, willing to do almost anything for me in my times of pain. Two of them, and among the closest, are John and Dave. I really don't know what I would have done without you two being there for me to talk to. Through all the Ugas jokes and bad puns, thank you.

  Now about the story...I was on IRC one night when ideas started to be flung around by some people for an idea for another 'Chronicles' story. Someone mentioned Elanna and my wheels began to spin. The next day, I sent an e-mail to Dave with an idea for an Elanna story. He told me to forward it to John which I did. The idea was all I had planned for my part of the project, but before I knew it I was drug into the project as a writer. I would say it was a very interesting experience working with two people with different writing styles from my own...and very rewarding.

  Finally I give my thanks to the Disney corporation for making the movie which this series of stories is based on. For better or worse, ‘The Lion King’ has affected me far beyond what I ever thought possible for a mere movie.

  -- Ian 'Rama' Layton, La Vergne, Tennessee

  CHAPTER: THE OUTCAST

  The golden eye of N’ga stared at the savanna relentlessly. The effect was palpable, seeming to stir the savanna grass like a gentle wind, but it was only an illusion created by the hot, still air. The occasional wind did little to bring relief. It dried the nose and stung the eye like a fierce enemy. Zebras panted and remained near the shrinking pools of water. One-who-brings-rain had been scarce of late, and the grass has turned from gold to a tawny brown. 'Dry...but not too dry,' as the zebras had said. “Merely peckish,” the oryx had replied. Prey was still plentiful, but it had been a lean time for lions, a time to avoid unnecessary effort and rest often. Still, the land fared better than it did in one kingdom rumored to be forsaken by the gods, the lands of Taka.

  A lone lion made his way through the grass with the fearful, empty tread of the recently exiled. Now his fate rested on two points: the mercy of Aiheu and his own resourcefulness. His old friends, his family, and his familiar grounds were behind him, perhaps forever, and he sought out solace in a new beginning. Only that lion seemed to bear an extra weight on his shoulders that made his ears a little flatter, his tail a little lower and his step a little slower than most.

  "Why didn’t I listen to Dad?" he said aloud. Rogue lions often talked to themselves for a while to fill the void--at least until they got used to doing without companionship. He looked back from where he came and let out a loud sigh as if the weight of the land was on his shoulders. “Why was I such an idiot??”

  Only a week ago his life had been so simple. An heir apparent, he was used to respect and concessions. Everything had been fine a week ago, but those times seemed like a distant memory. Fewer days than he had toes? Could it be that short a time?

  He had been given a commoner’s mantlement and sent out never to return. It was a shameful fate for one destined for greatness from his birth. The promise of his presentation was not kept, and he was alone and vulnerable. Sure he had stirred up the lionesses. But he had meant no harm by it. Many princes go through a phase of acting like a brat, a child wanting to test the limits set by his elders and have a little fun bending a few rules. The lionesses didn't mind too much when the young cub would come to them and demand things. 'He will grow out of it,' the king would assure them. ‘It is just a phase he’s going through.’ But he did not grow out of it. It got worse with age.

  He had been warned. Warned that he would be sent away like the troublemaker Gamu. But the constant warnings had become a familiar part of his life, a background noise that got tuned out from constant repetition and no enforcement. A commoner’s mantlement would never REALLY befall him. At least that was what he used to think.

  His mother had died giving birth to him. The thought of what she must have been like, and his father’s stories about her, filled him with awe. He loved the lioness he never knew as much as many cubs love their living mother. But to the other lionesses he had shown little respect. His father had tried to raise him differently, but he did not know how to channel youthful energies into productive growth. Many of the lionesses would have gladly given the young cub lessons, but the King only let them give him milk. That was a dreadful mistake, not only in how the son turned out, but in shaping how the lionesses felt about him. Finally with a threatened rebellion looming large, the King decided to overcompensate, becoming a harsh disciplinarian and making life for his prince a living hell. That only aggravated the situation. More warnings were met with more rebellious behavior. It was only a matter of time until the situation came to a head.

  The King’s younger son Ababu was only five minutes younger, but he had no claim on the throne. Still, he had been properly trained by the lionesses, and they were demanding that he be the heir. “Five minutes younger, but years more mature! Either Ababu will be our next king or we’re out of here!”

  The
King had no choice, and he called a commoner’s mantlement for his former prince. With many bitter tears from father and son, and glares of satisfaction from most of the lionesses, the prince was sent away. That was only a few sunsets ago, and the young lion had experienced his first taste of the loneliness that would be his curse. When he could finally work past the anger and bitterness he felt, he took a long close look at his life, comparing himself to Ababu. He remembered all the times he’d snickered about his brother’s prim and proper behavior, calling him “stodgy” and “stuck-up.” He wished he’d been more stodgy and stuck-up.

  Step by step he was headed into nowhere. He thought about his father’s kindly voice and the way Debara’s milk had tasted as she stroked him with her soft pink tongue. He thought about Debara’s daughter Penzi, and how he used to lie beside her under the shade of the acacias to watch the clouds float by. Penzi was his betrothed, and she had been aching for her first kill so she could be a true lioness and unite with him. “Dear, gentle Penzi,” he stammered, “I’ll never see you again.” He was without hope, and with a deep pain in his gut he fell to the ground and sobbed. She was afraid of exile, too terrified to accompany him. He did not blame her, but he felt the lonliness gnawing at his ribs and a moan escaped him.

  “Help me, Aiheu! Help me! Send me a friend, God! I’ll be good! Please, God! Oh Aiheu! I’ll never be so selfish again!”

  CHAPTER: THE SUNSET OF TAKA

  The last few days of Elanna’s marriage to Taka went by in a blur. Taka had more frequent nightmares, sometimes three or four a night, and the lack of sleep left him looking prematurely old. Sometimes she would find him huddled in the cave whimpering. She would ask him what was wrong and he would say, “My mother really loved me, you know. I wish she were here right now.”

  She would answer him, “I’m here, and I really love you.” He would kiss her and nuzzle her desperately. His temper was very short, and he snapped at her from time to time, but afterwards he always came to her sobbing and begging her for forgiveness almost incoherently. She would hug him tightly and move him gently with her arms from side to side like a crying cub.

  Taka insisted that others eat a bit of his food before he would touch it, sure that the hyena healers would try to drug or poison him. He was afraid of sleep for more than just his nightmares. He finally got to the point where he was afraid to sleep if Elanna was asleep. So the two of them spent less time together--she mainly saw him asleep, and she collapsed from exhaustion shortly after he awoke and was tired all the time. Finally Uzuri, in her kindness, offered to stand watch over them part of the day so they could sleep touching and maybe spend some wakeful moments together.

  Then one evening right at the end of his life he went out on the promontory and looked up at the clouds that passed overhead but did no good. In the grip of his encroaching madness, he shouted, “Have you forgotten how to rain??” He turned about, lifted his tail and urinated, the golden drops falling on the ground below. Elanna thanked God that the others were out on the hunt at the time.

  He came trudging in and looked down at Elanna who lay on the floor of the cave. “What’s the matter, Honey Tree? You never saw someone take a whiz off the rock before?”

  She did not answer him, but patted next to her with her paw. He came and lay beside her, sighed, and closed his eyes. He tired easily, and it did not take long for him to fall asleep.

  A moment passed, then he opened his eyes. Something was wrong--very wrong. He looked around, surprised that he couldn’t find his love. “Odd,” he thought. “She hadn’t left me in my sleep in a long time.” He called out her name but heard nothing in return except a quiet laugh, a hyena’s laugh. His stomach began to knot up, and nearing panic he rushed out onto the stone ledge toward the mocking sound. He looks around expecting to see his mate. Instead he saw Shenzi.

  Slowly and carefully, he approached her. Shenzi regarded him with an amused grin. “What do YOU want?”

  “Have you seen Lannie?”

  She only laughed demonically.

  “How DARE you laugh at me! How DARE you! I remember when you were a little brat messing in your own den!”

  Shenzi laughed louder, a red fire glowing in her eyes. “Now I’m messing in YOUR den! Who is the scavenger now??”

  Taka begins to quail with fear. “Where is Lannie??”

  “What’s a matter, cubby?? Can’t hold on to your Mommy??” She approached him, hackles raised. “Maybe she wants to crouch with a REAL lion? Maybe that warped little body of yours makes her sick! Sick, sick, SICK!”

  “If that’s how you feel, take your--people--and get out!!”

  “It’s not that easy, cubby! You don’t scare me one bit.” Shenzi grinned broadly. Taka gasped in horror as he saw the signs of fresh blood on her strong, sharp teeth.

  “Where is Lannie?? What have you done with her??”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

  “What have you done??” Taka demanded, shoving her back with a paw. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??” He moved closer as she backed back, still laughing at him. “Stop laughing and answer me! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??”

  He shoved her with a paw again and she tumbled backwards over the edge of the promontory, falling, falling, falling to the distant savanna.

  “Shenzi!!”

  Taka quickly made his way down the steep sides of Pride Rock. Maybe in her dying breaths she might reveal the truth. He searched under the promontory, expecting to see her twisted body. Instead he spotted a lioness laying in the grass motionless.

  He approached the form slowly with a growing panic. The pain in his stomach was almost unbearable as he crept the last few lengths on trembling limbs and looked at the face of the lioness.

  “LANNIE!! OH GODS!!”

  There were fresh claw wounds on her otherwise flawless form. “NO!!” LANNIE!! NO!!”

  Suddenly he was stirred from sleep by a familiar presence. He gasped and tried to catch his breath as Elanna’s dear face approached his and kissed him.

  “Dear...dear...you were having another bad dream. You screamed out my name.”

  “Oh Lannie, never leave me!” He kissed her face and rubbed his paws against her. “Never leave me, girl! Never leave me!”

  “I won’t, honey tree!”

  He continued to kiss her. “I love you, honey tree! You don’t think I’m a warped little lion, do you?”

  “No! You poor fool!” She rubbed against him softly, returning the affection. “I’ve felt that strong body next to me in the night every night and rubbed your beautiful dark mane. I’ve made love with you every time you came to me with that sweet little hungry cub look. You scare me when you talk like that--like you don’t trust me. Taka, you’re the only one in the world that trusts me anymore. If you don’t trust me, what will I do?? What will I do??”

  Taka put his forepaws about her neck and rubbed his face against hers, his breath finally returning to normal as calm returns to his body. “I will always trust you. You are the only real truth I’ve ever known.”

  “My poor foolish husband!” She kissed him. “At least this cave is our gentle place. If only I could stop those nightmares, my darling. If I could take them on myself....”

  “NEVER say that! NEVER!” He kissed her desperately.

  “But I would. I would.”

  “I know you would. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

  CHAPTER: THE BLUEBIRDS OF HAPPINESS

  The rogue lion wandered the corridors between territories. There he was relatively safe from the territorial males. They would remind him to avoid their lands, but not fight him. Some of the kinder ones who remembered what it was like to be alone would chat for a while when they saw he meant no harm. Ugas would share a couple of jokes. Old Mabatu would even stroke his mane and give him a blessing. Once, Duma let him eat a small portion of zebra haunch because he reminded him of his son.

  Because the other rogues had to share the same corridors, he would also chat with them briefly. He wanted to join a
coalition that would end his solitude. But most of the rogues had a brother or another friend already. They were quite content to keep their infrequent kills or carcasses to themselves.

  By and large, the most companionship he’d known was the flock of buzzards that collect at every kill. He had negotiated an arrangement with them--in a real sense they were his buzzards. They would spot prey, and rather than watch it go to the hyenas and quickly vanish, they let a lion friend have his fill, then he would guard them while they took the remnants. It was a great system, and because this rogue was alone, they were assured of a large share.

  The rogue saw the distinctive signs of a meal ahead. The buzzards were flying in circles. So the lion hurried ahead and saw their target. It was a wounded antelope with a broken leg. It staggered along in the oppressive heat on three legs, a look of desperation on its face.

  The antelope spotted him and tried to run, but could only hobble quickly. Soon the lion overtook it and pushed it over, pinning it to the ground with a paw.

  “No, don’t! Don’t!”

  “It’s over. Just relax,” the lion said softly. “Don’t struggle and it won’t hurt much.” He gripped the antelope by the throat, pressing firmly but not causing unnecessary pain. The antelope hardly moved. It pawed at him almost gently with a hoof, vainly gasping for a breath. Then it quickly felt the need to breathe slip away and relaxed, falling into a last sleep.

  The buzzards landed not far away. “Now that’s right nice, Fuzzy,” said the leader said. “I hope when it’s my time I go that well.”

  “Thanks,” the rogue said, quickly ripping the carcass and availing himself of a long-awaited meal. “I could have been an antelope--he could have been a lion. That’s what my father used to say.”