by Marc Secchia
“Me too.”
It seemed Shioni’s upper eyelids had barely touched the lower when she woke with a horrid jerk. “Ouch.” She massaged her neck, looking around. All was quiet. The lamp had burned down to a red glow. Zi slept; Annakiya drooled gently on her silken sheets, which she had thrashed into a fine knot.
When the fire was hot, her friend certainly knew what loyalty meant. Shioni would not have liked to wear her slippers.
Come.
“Huh? Who said that?”
COME TO ME! NOW!
Shioni pushed aside her thin blanket and stood up. For a few breaths she swayed in that place, startled to find herself standing without having decided to get up. Something took hold of her limbs and set her moving. She wanted to blink, but could not. She wanted to scream, but her throat seemed to belong to a different person.
She padded over to the doorway. No, there were two Sheban warriors just outside, she thought, and paused as if waiting for instructions. Abruptly, her feet swung her around. She walked to the bathroom, desperately telling herself to stop. She peered within. Good, a window. Her hands reached for the latch of the shutters. Undid them. Very, very quietly, she eased the slatted wood inward. There was a warrior standing just outside.
Shioni wanted to scream, ‘Get out of my mind!’ But the force which had seized her seemed irresistible. She pushed, struggled, giving in to her fright, trying to strike out in any and every direction with her untrained power. She might have been gasping and sweating with the effort, save that she had completely lost control of her body. Then she felt something give, a wheeze of pain, perhaps.
The strange voice returned. Very well, cubling. Try this.
Abruptly, her thoughts echoed inside her mind as though she sat inside a tolling bell. Shioni watched her hands. They picked up a heavy, stone-carved statuette from beside the golden, sunken bath. She moved to the window. ‘No!’ she shouted within her mind. ‘Stop this!’ Leaning out, she raised the statuette and brought it down on the back of the warrior’s head with a soft, sickening thud.
The power pulled her out of the window. She let herself down silently. Checked in both directions. There was a warrior to her left. A night-bird called somewhere beyond him. As the man turned, alert to the sound, her feet raced her across the short-cropped grass into the deep shadows of one of the trees. She dropped into a crouch.
Good. Come.
Who are you? She asked the question, but her voice only echoed inside her skull. If there was some connection to her body, it was not working. Shioni tried to shove her fear away and think. Something–someone, almost definitely a man, she sensed–had reached out to take control of her. She had pushed him out of her mind, but her body … she moved again, creeping from shadow to shadow, as crafty as a lioness hunting at night. Soon, the great boughs of the forest stretched overhead and she was out of sight of the Sheban warriors.
Still she moved away from the Princess, deeper into the forest behind Gondar’s Palace. She brushed through the bushes and clambered clumsily over rocks, knocking her knees and toes multiple times, but felt nothing. It was worse than if a limb had gone to sleep. Her nerves might as well have been severed by an axe. But her panic began to subside. If this was the Gondari King’s work, he had no idea how much trouble she could cause–just as soon as she was able. Not only would she fight him like a rabid hyena, but General Getu would, too. He was a deadly foe. Even Annakiya was not to be trifled with. She was smart, and brave, and as loyal as a mother elephant to her calf.
But she was trapped as surely as a rat the wrong side of a cat’s teeth. She knew that for certain. Had the Gondari King’s demand been a diversion, she wondered? Why had he stolen her away now? Why had he not waited for her to come willingly?
The feet that were not hers halted. She cast about, seeing a black cliff rising before her, only slightly illuminated by the stars of a moonless night. Shioni moved forward. She found a dark crack in the cliff face, hidden behind the massive trunk of one of the giant fig trees. She tripped, and sprawled headlong. An unseen rock smacked her cheekbone.
This pain did seem to register. Suddenly angry, and aware there must still be some connection between her brain and her body which the unknown presence had usurped, Shioni lashed out again. But this time she fought with purpose. Imagining she was locked in a room, Shioni set her will to battering down the walls. She heard or felt a faraway exclamation. Without warning, pincers of pain grasped her temples. It was the most blinding headache she had ever experienced. With a whimper, she crashed to her knees. Her hand touched her nose and came away smeared with dark blood. She stopped fighting instinctively.
Better. Now behave, slave, and enter my realm.
Shioni’s body lurched into the narrow, downward-sloping cleft. She smelled the damp of deep caverns, and wood smoke. Her feet seemed to know where to go. She passed three sets of dark-robed warriors waiting in alcoves alongside the tunnel as she descended. Their eyes glittered upon her as she passed by, but they made no move to stop her.
The tunnel doubled back on itself. She fought her fear of the rocks closing in around her, weighing heavily upon their ancient roots, slowly but inevitably crushing the girl who dared to walk beneath them. Now, smoky torches occupied sconces recessed into the walls, giving her enough light to see well–not that it mattered. For now she entered a huge cave, lit by many torches and a huge bonfire blazing in a pit. In the silence of her mind, she screamed involuntarily.
She saw the King of Gondar, seated on a huge onyx throne. He held a wooden staff with the head of a snake in his right hand. Its eyes appeared to be made of blood-red rubies. At intervals, dark, unmoving warriors surrounded the walls of the cavern. Ten or twelve lions prowled in the space around the throne, swishing their tails angrily and regarding her with slit, unfriendly eyes.
“Enter my throne room, slave of Sheba.”
Shioni would have replied, but she could not. Instead, she found herself loping down to the foot of the King’s throne. He raised the snake staff. At once, she cast herself upon the ground and grovelled before him as she would never have had to grovel before Annakiya or the King of Sheba himself. In her mind, she called him every rude and nasty name she could think of.
“There, that’s better.”
He sounded exhausted. When her head lifted, she saw the King slumped back against his seat. In fact, Shioni thought, he looked as though he had just run from Takazze to Gondar. Another gesture of the staff jerked her upright. His dark, red-tinged eyes examined her at length. She had to settle for scowling inwardly in return.
“Welcome to my humble home, Shioni of Sheba,” he said. “The stories that preceded you did not mention how young and foolish you are. Imagine coming to Gondar so full of arrogance, you did not bother to shield yourself? You left open a road as fine as any in Gondar. It was so easy to take control of you. And, if you trouble me again, I will simply make you run against that wall until I tell you to stop. Or roll in a patch of thorns. Or jump off a cliff. I can be very creative.”
She stared mutely at him.
“Oh, yes.” He flicked his fingers in her direction. “Speak, slave.”
“You’ll never own me,” Shioni said, the moment he released her muscles.
“Stupid girl.” Her own hand rose up to slap her cheek, hard. “I never wanted to kill you, like your precious General Getu thought. The ancestors have other uses for you.”
So he had been listening?
“Yes, I was listening. As I’m listening to your thoughts right now,” said the King. “That pair of lovebirds in the corner of the Princess’ room. My pretty little spies. I know all about your quest for teshal for the King. You can hate me all you like. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know your powers, Shioni.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said. “I pity you, living in this cave like a worm.”
But the King only laughed. She wondered how this man lived his double life, and why he looked so grey in the face–Meles had seemed well and hearty over their long
lunch. Unless this was the result of the magic he’d wrought to bring her to him? She too felt drained, weak and dizzy from the effort of fighting him, but his power easily kept her on her feet.
“Get her out of my sight,” ordered the King. “Chain her, and put her in the pit for the night. Perhaps my pets will teach this one better manners.”
And the King of Gondar sank back onto his black throne as his warriors led her away, and shackled her hands behind her back with iron manacles, and put her in a wooden cage not large enough to stand upright inside. They chained the door shut. Eight men lifted the cage. She was carried through a short tunnel to the edge of a deep, dark pit.
Forced to look up, Shioni saw a small patch of stars high, high overhead. A great beam crossed the width of the pit. The cage lurched as the warriors heaved on a set of ropes attached to a pulley system on that beam. She swung out over the blackness.
Learn humility, cubling. Sleep well amongst my servants. Oh, and lest you dream of escape–your powers will not work in my pit.
And with that, his presence vanished. Shioni had her own body back.
She leaned against the bars as the cage started its descent into the darkness.
Chapter 15: Who’s for Breakfast?
CAged Like an Animal, Shioni could only watch the meagre starlight recede as the warriors lowered her into the pit. The cage swayed slightly as the thick rope played out.
Now she had opportunity to be afraid. She shook all over. That vile man had controlled her as though playing with a child’s toy; he had directed her limbs, and even listened to her thoughts. She felt unclean. She wanted to wash her mind of the memory of him.
She could kick herself for being such an idiot, for choosing to ignore Azurelle’s prophetic warning. ‘Whatever lurks in Gondar …’ might not only be listening, but might be waiting for her to stroll naively into his trap. Shioni gritted her teeth. Her heart pumped a red clay sludge of despair into her veins.
Beneath the slatted eucalyptus branches holding her weight, she began to make out the pit’s floor. The sheer rocky sides were slightly phosphorescent. There was enough light to make out shadows moving down there, prowling across the sandy floor of the pit. Lithe, leonine shadows. She could feel them, too. The mood was ugly. They wondered if breakfast had arrived early and squabbled with each other over which lion would feed first. One voice was louder than the rest. He swatted his fellows out of the way, and circled beneath the descending cage.
“Ugh, nastiness,” growled the lion. “A human cub.”
“We can’t eat that.”
“I’m hungry. This will suffice.”
“Then why does it come wrapped in a cage of trees, o great Tiffur?”
“Idiot!” The large male lion cuffed the other with claws half-sheathed. “Cheek me again, and I’ll have a piece of your hide, you mangy old goat.”
Great ‘Claw’? An unimaginative name for a lion, but Shioni knew better than to say so. Tiffur seemed the sort to take offense at the slightest excuse. He was also the biggest, smelliest, and meanest of the lions crowded into the pit. He slunk out from beneath the cage and glared at her through the bars as it bumped to a stop.
His lip curled. “What kind of pale meat is this?”
One of the others echoed, “I thought meat came brown, or furry? Does it even taste … of anything?”
Shioni struggled to her knees. With her hands cuffed behind her back, movement was difficult. She shifted to the far side of the cage, away from the glittering eyes of Tiffur. The lion had his paw upon the bars. She really did not want to find out how well constructed the cage might be.
“Greetings, o great Tiffur,” she said.
The lion’s eyes bulged. “What in the name of … you speak lion?”
“I do. The King of Gondar has trapped me here, just like you lions.”
“We are not trapped. We come and go as we please. And I don’t care if you speak or not. You’re about to be my breakfast!” As he spoke, the lion shook the cage with his paw. But the eucalyptus poles had been lashed crosswise at every available point, making the cage strong enough to resist him–for the moment, at least. “Get out of that cage.”
“I can’t. Besides, lions don’t eat humans.”
“And who taught you that?” Tiffur stalked around the cage. Shioni shifted away from him. It seemed wise to keep out of reach of his claws.
“Anbessa, Lord of the Simien Mountains.”
A low growl rippled around the pit. Suddenly, she was the centre of a circle of tawny eyes. But, silencing the others, Tiffur roared, “Anbessa! That coward? I am greater than him. Greater by far!”
“He’s all the King you’ll never be,” Shioni retorted, before she could think the better of her words.
“Oh?” Fur bristling, Tiffur stalked around the cage, his claws flexing and retracting in their sheaths. “Prove it. Prove you spoke to this Lord of the Simien Mountains.”
Shioni could feel his deep, consuming fury as a heat that beat against her senses. She withdrew into her mind for a moment, and then projected a series of pictures of her first encounter with Anbessa–his injury, her treatment of him, and his subsequent attack and their conversation together. But the lion seemed indifferent.
“So you have a name in lion?” Tiffur demanded.
“Shioni. It means ‘Graceful Strength of the Dawn’.”
“And you can display this scar?”
“I can’t very well remove my top to show you, can I?”
Her sarcasm seemed lost on the lion. “I want to see physical proof. Anyone can make up images. Come here. I’ll tear the fabric myself.”
Shioni trusted the lion about as much as she had trusted Kalcha’s hyenas. But if she could satisfy his demands, might he be inclined to help her? Trying not to wilt beneath his unblinking gaze, she shuffled across the cage.
Tiffur extended his paw, claws bared, and sank every one of his claws into her shoulder. “Stupid cubling,” he snarled, pulling her against the bars. Shioni clamped her teeth on her tongue rather than give him the satisfaction of a scream. His claws felt like points of fire. “I am Tiffur, leader of this pride, and master of all who enter this pit. You cross me at your peril.” His other paw slipped between the bars, curled open-clawed at her stomach. “I’ll disembowel you if you dare speak another disrespectful word. Understood?”
“Yes,” she hissed between her teeth.
“Good.”
The claws released her. Next, Shioni heard cloth rip. A searing pain flared down her back, from the muscle of her shoulder-blade to her waist. The lion had not bothered to take any care with what he tore–deliberately.
There was a long silence. All she felt was the rank, hot breath of a large lion on her bare back. She dared not wonder if he still wanted her for a snack. And then another voice said:
“She has the mark, Tiffur. She speaks truth.”
“Shut your muzzle, Samira!”
In the semidarkness, Shioni saw the slender but powerful form of a lioness avoid Tiffur’s ill-tempered cuff. Samira–that must be her name–moved with liquid grace. When she turned, her eyes seemed brighter than those of the other lions. Shioni blinked in surprise. Magic?
“I would hear a mystery. Why does this human cub speak lion, Tiffur?” she said. “I have never heard such a thing. And I would hear of Anbessa.”
“I am lord of this pit!” roared Tiffur, exploding in a fine rage. At once, all the lions began to roar along with him. The pit reverberated with their thundering. “I am lord here, and I answer to no other! The lions of Gondar answer to no other. I am lord!”
Lord of his little pit, Shioni thought. She wished she could put her hands over her ears to dull the deafening roaring. Unfortunately, something of her response must have communicated to Tiffur, because he rounded upon her with a terrible snarl and a swift thrust of his paw between the bars. Shioni flung herself aside. The claws plucked her trousers, shredding the material. Two red lines immediately announced themselves through the c
loth, but the cuts were not serious.
Tiffur whipped his pride into a frenzy, roaring, snarling, frothing at the mouth in an excess of demented passion. The noise reverberated around the pit until Shioni imagined the roof might cave in. But after a time, something fell near the cage, then thumped down in several more places. Hunks of raw meat, she realised. Haunches of zebra; a whole bushbuck landed on top of the cage. Two young male lions leaped up there and fought over the choice meal. She had a fine view of the blood dripping from their jaws as they tore into the meat.
Hungry bellies being filled seemed to calm the lions down. Shioni eventually uncurled herself from her position in the middle of her cage, decided she was not about to be carved up for the lions’ breakfast, and purposely stretched out in a show of nonchalance. She rested her shoulders against the bars, tried to find a comfortable position for her manacled arms, and reflected on what she had learned. She had so little knowledge about how magic worked. She was wide open to manipulation. She needed to figure out how to protect herself–because having someone else control her body was the freakiest, most repulsive thing that had ever happened to her.
Why would Azurelle not teach her anything? Couldn’t she? Shioni fumed quietly, trying not to label her friend as self-serving and conceited. She needed to wrestle with this problem. She needed to pursue it with the tenacity of a starving wolf tracking its next meal. And she needed to work out what she could do to obstruct the King of Gondar’s evil plan, or she would end up as dead as a hyena’s lunch.
The night felt as long as eternity itself.
By twos and threes, the lions settled down for a snooze. Some vanished into the shadows behind several large boulders at the base of the pit, others into a narrow entryway she had not noticed before. Actually, as she strained her eyes, she could just about make out a slatted wooden door that prevented the lions from escaping. Maybe the King of Gondar shut his pets in the pit at night? Maybe, if she willed it as she had moved the baobab, she could lift that door?
Maybe the thought would ignite a bonfire of a headache behind her eyes. She was so drained, she could barely keep herself upright even with the help of the cage.
