The Sacred Lake (Shioni of Sheba Book 4)

by Marc Secchia

  Shioni sighed. She should have known the truth would have to be told sooner or later. Quietly, she told him about the visit to Abba Petros’ village. In an even lower voice, she recounted what she had felt when the dragon blew her into the lake. “But General, it kept calling me ‘human’ or ‘slave-girl’ even though it must have felt the magic strike.”

  “Tell me exactly what the dragon said. Word for word.”

  Closing her eyes, she summoned up her memories.

  “Hmm,” said Getu, after listening to her tale. “We must discuss this with everyone: Mama, Annakiya, Zi, and Shuba. And the dragon said his brethren would avenge him? News of great cheer for Sheba.”

  Shioni chuckled miserably. “Yes, gashe. And now what I am is even more muddled than ever. I’m scared.”

  “You know what?” said Getu, patting her knee. “In my experience, matters of great consequence are rarely revealed before their appointed time. Don’t lose sleep over this, my daughter. The deed is done; Haile and the dragon are slain, and for today at least, that is enough. Let tomorrow worry about itself.” He stretched out beneath his gabi, and in a moment was asleep.

  Shioni clambered over the howdah’s railing and sat in her favourite position just behind Shifta’s ears. She rammed her fears to the back of her mind. “How’s about a drink, he who shifts the long trail beneath his great feet? Don’t want you wasting away.”

  Shifta sucked up a huge trunkful without breaking stride and squirted it noisily down his throat. Once out of the river, he snagged several sizeable bushes and shovelled them between his huge molars.

  “Elephants are the greatest of all walkers,” Shifta rumbled. “We pachyderms are the only animals to have walked to the southern tip of this continent–and what a journey that is! There, leviathans sport in the ocean waves. In the deep jungles you will find apes larger than a fully grown cow. And in the desert, strange little people who speak in clicks and chirps like birds.”

  “Is it true that elephants don’t run?”

  He chuckled. “Who told you that, Chief? It’s true. What elephant would need to run when he can walk so fast and far? What predator should I flee from? A lion?”

  “I thought lions and elephants were not best friends.”

  “Usually we tolerate each other. But Samira and I have become friends.”

  Shioni decided to ask a question which had been lurking in her mind for many months now. “Do elephants do magic, Shifta?”

  “That mystery I will not answer.”

  And he would not be drawn on the subject despite her best attempts. Eventually Shioni fell into an annoyed silence. She watched the night-dark hills rolling by like huge mounds of Mama’s bread-dough. The stars above were as thick as the sand along the gurgling Takazze River, slowly yielding to a sunrise that developed quickly from a blush to a blaze. Shioni shivered beneath her gabi and tried not to imagine what might be happening in the mountains to cause her to feel this way. Had Kalcha unleashed her forces on Castle Hiwot once more? Had the King passed away? When would the dragons wreak their revenge?

  As the light improved, Shifta picked up his pace. He stopped grazing here and there, lowered his tusks resolutely, and lengthened his stride. His pride drove him on.

  Getu and Yirgu swapped stories to pass the hours. Samira told them, via Shioni, about her cub days in a cave several days’ travel from Gondar, before a hunter killed her mother and brothers. He sold her to a trader, who sold her to the King of Gondar. She related how Meles and Haile had always fought as boys and as men, and how Haile had travelled away from Gondar to a secret location, vowing that he would return to wrest the kingdom from his brother. Her description of how Haile had turned the lions to his side and bound them to his will with magic, Shioni found particularly chilling.

  Shifta walked until the afternoon was old, apart from several breaks to let his passengers stretch their legs–but even then they kept moving. The terrain began to take on a familiar look to Shioni. The Simien Mountains loomed at their left hand, cutting off the setting sun.

  Darkness swallowed the land of Abyssinia and the Kingdom of West Sheba.

  Chapter 32: King in the Castle

  THe real CLIMB UP the pass began after midnight. This was a route Shioni knew well, up past Ginab village and into a long, green valley which would be much cooler than the river plains. They had left the Takazze River far behind. Her blood thrilled as she craned her neck to examine the ridge looming above her, blotting out the stars. But her concern was for Shifta.

  How to tell a proud elephant to slow down? Not to kill himself?

  Up there was the trailside cave where she had first treated Anbessa; where he had later attacked her before realising who she was. Up there was a river bank where she had found Selam and brought her to Mama Nomuula to have her broken ankle set right. And then Selam’s brother Desta had betrayed West Sheba, trying to sell Tariku and Talaku to Kalcha, and deceiving the Sheban Elites and leading them into a trap. Captain Tariku, she reminded herself. The new Captain of Castle Hiwot, a popular and obvious choice for the post.

  Maybe she should help Shifta along with her magic?

  She did not fancy being whacked by a tetchy elephant’s trunk, however.

  But he was slowing. Shioni needed no magic to feel the strain making his muscles tremble. The elephant could not run, but he had been walking very fast–faster for longer than was clearly advisable, even for a young bull in the prime of his growing strength. He might not have managed the tangled forests south of Gondar, but distance-wise, he would have been far faster than the horses.

  Delicately, she reached out with her senses … “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Shifta said, “then you should stop thinking it.”

  “If you think you know what I’m thinking, Shifta,” she retorted, “you should try thinking some other thoughts.”

  “General Getu, Shioni’s brain has finally grown wings and joined the vultures circling above Takazze’s rubbish dump,” Azurelle’s voice broke in to her one-sided conversation.

  Shioni turned from her position at the railing. “General, Shifta says, ‘Last time that stubborn girl tried a foolish stunt like this, she ended up fainting and falling off my head into the dirt. But it’s your decision, if you want her to try to help.’” She added, “Shifta says he’s feeling fine. But I’m concerned he’s going to run himself into the ground, or do permanent damage.”

  “Shioni, are you translating Shifta exactly?” Azurelle piped up. “I find myself liking that elephant more and more.”

  “Buzz off, you little pest.”

  But Shioni was watching the General’s impassive face. “Any change up there?”

  “No, my Lord. No change.”

  “Do it,” he growled. “Carefully, and in no place from which you can break your neck. Understood?”

  So she sat quietly and willed an elephant up a mountain. She tried to will him on in ways that would not bring both of them to their knees. She struggled, sweated, and tried to keep her heart from galloping up out of her throat of its own accord as she worked this magic she understood so little of.

  Azurelle tapped her cheek. “You’re trying too hard, Shioni. Magic is easy.”

  “If you’re born with wings on your back!”

  “Shh. Shut the mouth. Open the ears. Just let my melodic tones sing you into pushing a mountain of flesh and bone up another mountain. Here we go.”

  And Azurelle began to coach her as promised.

  At some point she remembered passing Ginab village. Later on, she felt the trail even out and suddenly the terrible strain eased. General Getu kept muttering, “Where are the patrols? I haven’t seen a patrol since we crossed the Takazze.” Annakiya bit the last shreds off a fingernail. Her hand kept returning to pat the pouch where she had secured the precious gourd of teshal.

  Suddenly, Shifta found a fresh spurt of energy. He raced up the long incline into the forest that filled the lower part of Castle Hiwot’s valley–and here, sudde
nly, they ran into a patrol of Captain Tariku’s men.

  General Getu immediately demanded their horses. Turning to Shifta, he said, “We could not have come to this place without your mighty efforts, Shifta. Rest here. Allow these men to bring you slowly up valley later. Now is the hour for fleet-footed horses.”

  “And lions,” said Samira, startling the Elites.

  “She’s friendly,” said Shioni. “Mount up, General. I’ll tie your leg in.”

  And they thundered up-valley, giving the fresh horses a decent gallop over ground Shioni had run many times with the Sheban Elites during her warrior training. She discreetly helped the horses along, allowing them greater wind to make the long stretch up to Castle Hiwot. Her eyes reached ahead, straining for that first glimpse of the familiar ruddy sandstone walls standing against a backdrop of newly terraced fields, and the great meadow that swept toward the heart of the Simien Mountains.

  It felt like coming home.

  Never had the castle seen a group like this enter its great gateposts, which had now been completed, she saw. A one-armed General who had twice escaped the wrath of dragons led the way. Captain Yirgu followed, the lioness Samira loping alongside him. She was hurting. Then came Princess Annakiya and her slave-girl Shioni, black hair and blonde equally flying in the breeze, and with the Princess, a rare butterfly-person now restored to her magic.

  Shioni held the reins lightly in her left hand, wincing as the cobbled road into Castle Hiwot’s arched entryway jolted her broken wrist about. They clattered through the archway. Here was the courtyard and the great, spreading baobab tree, and Captain Tariku speaking to several of his warriors, a surprised and pleased expression lighting his face as the riders invaded his domain.

  “Princess Annakiya!” he shouted. “You came not a moment too soon. The King is gravely ill.”

  As she dismounted and rushed to help the General, Shioni heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. It sounded like an avalanche in there.

  “Mama Nomuula,” she called.

  A shriek issued from the kitchen, followed by a very large pot rolling out of the doorway, and then Mama Nomuula burst forth in a state of high agitation and excitement.

  “My babies!” she cried. “You’s come back to your Mama. Anni–my o my, how you’s grown. Shioni, you brought home a lioness, how nice. A lioness? Heavens, someone shoo that monster out of my courtyard! General Getu, oh–oh, oh, what you done to your foot? Shioni, what you let him do, girl? You tell me right now, or I swear, I’ll–”

  “Mama!” cried Annakiya, flinging herself into Mama’s arms.

  The huge woman spun the Princess around. “My little Princess, my, you look so warlike–oh, you must come at once. The Chief Priest himself came from Takazze to pray over the King. It’s been such a kafuffle in the Castle with you’s away and all, and I’ll be a motherless goat if I–but no time for that. You’s got the medicine?”

  General Getu sucked in a breath and roared at top volume, “Mama! Take us to the King at once!”

  Mama Nomuula just beamed at him so broadly it was a wonder her face did not split in half, Shioni thought. But there was no time to think. With her usual irresistible enthusiasm, Mama Nomuula grabbed Annakiya by the hand and whisked her off to the King’s room, where he had lain in a coma since that terrible day Kalcha blasted him off the battlements. Everyone crowded after.

  But now Shioni heard something different. Even from the corridor they heard the King’s breathing. It was a terrible rattle, as though every breath would be his last.

  “He were poisoned,” Mama told Annakiya as she stared at her father in horror. “We doesn’t know how. His water, we thinks, maybe over weeks. Others were sick here, me included. But because he was already weak …”

  “Kalcha’s doing?” asked the Princess.

  “I’s not a single doubt. Not one.”

  The Chief Priest was there–probably preparing for the King’s death. Prince Bekele had been sitting in a corner, head in hand, but now he rose with a half-hopeful smile touching his lips. “Sister! You’ve returned.”

  The King looked awful. Shioni had never seen a live person look so horribly ill.

  “Quick, girl. The teshal.”

  The Princess of West Sheba twisted the stopper out of the gourd. “Hold his mouth open, Mama.”

  But her hand trembled so violently she almost spilled the medicine. The King gurgled, stopped breathing for an unbearable moment, and then a new breath rattled slowly into his lungs.

  Shioni reached out. “Here, Anni.” And she took her friend’s shaking hand, and guided it to her father’s mouth.

  Thick, gloopy, bright green–the teshal looked as though it had been scraped off the top of a stagnant pond. Its smell was so potent it made every person in the room gasp collectively. Mama’s thumb massaged the King’s throat, but there was really no need as the medicine vanished down into his stomach, seeming to rush to where it was most needed.

  “What is that?” asked the Chief Priest, his eyes round and the great golden cross rising as though he were about to shout, ‘Witchery!’

  “An extract of a special herb grown on Tana Qirqos at the Sacred Lake, my Father,” Shioni said promptly. “The priest there, Father Methuselah, gave it to us.”

  Annakiya’s grateful eyes told Shioni she had said exactly the right thing.

  The murmur of the priest’s prayers was the only sound in that room as they watched the King. Shioni put a hand to his chest, and nodded at the Princess. It was good. She could feel the medicine spreading throughout his body, working, healing, restoring. But she dared not say so in front of the priest.

  Colour flooded the King’s cheeks. The grey, pinched look disappeared, to be replaced by a wonderful healthy pink. The rattle eased. His chest began to rise and fall steadily. The King of West Sheba sighed. He sank into a deep, healing sleep.

  “God be praised!” exclaimed the Chief Priest.

  “Well, I’s be a hyena’s mother,” said Mama. “Would you look at that? He’s as pink as a baby and sleeping just as sweet-like.”

  “Mama, that’s the King you’re talking about.”

  “I’m just happy, Shioni. So very happy, I’s leaking like a holey bucket.” And she wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks, very ineffectively. “Now, you’s gonna come with me and tell me a long, long story. He needs to sleep. Princess?”

  Shioni smuggled Azurelle from Annakiya’s hand, held behind her back. The Chief Priest would definitely be worried about her!

  “I’ll stay here.”

  “Well, we’ll bring you a little snack.” Mama tucked Shioni under her arm. “You’s looking thin. My girls come back from Gondar–what they feed you down there? Thin air’s no good.”

  “Mama … the Prince of Gondar is coming. The King’s oldest son.”

  “Ooh, do I smell gossip? And a whiff of jealousy?”

  Mama knew her far too well. Shioni grimaced. “Yes, Mama. He and Anni have been like herons and water.”

  “And what you do to my General?”

  Getu, ahead of them in the passage, turned on his crutch. “She sliced open a dragon’s belly to fetch me out, but he got my foot.”

  “Oh, a real dragon this time?” Mama Nomuula folded her arms, but still found a way to waggle her fat finger at the General. “Like the other one weren’t real?”

  The General could only glower back. “I’m going to consult with my Captains. When I’m done with that and Shioni’s satisfied your thirst for a good story, you come talk to me, woman.” And his famously wolfish grin made its appearance. “I’ve a proposal for you. One that I should have made a long, long time ago.”

  “An’ what’d that be?”

  Getu tapped his nose and winked at Shioni. “Something sneaky, devious, and downright illegal.”

  “Huh?” Now Mama was truly confused. “What he mean, Shioni? You tell me what … don’t you be laughing at me. I haven’t had your sorry slave-girl hide to tan for over a month!”

 
“Mama, I’m going to be set free.”

  “E-man-ci-pa-ted,” said Mama, sounding out the word as though it were a private joke. “I’s heard all about that. But until you’s got that scroll in your grubby paws, I’s gonna have you scrubbing every pot in my kitchen until Azurelle can use them for mirrors. Now, tell me everything. And I means everything.”

  Chapter 33: Awakening

  As shioni balanced a tray of food on her forearm, it seemed that her life could not possibly have changed. Here she was, taking a tray of food to the Princess. She was back at Castle Hiwot, back among her friends, and back to slave-girl duties.

  But she had a wooden brace on her arm and a scar on her thigh to prove otherwise. And a fancy new sword, she told herself. She should not be scared of the sword.

  People who defeated dragons should not be afraid of their own swords.

  An hour ago, Mama had come running out of the King’s room. Since then, rumours had circled the castle like vultures eyeing up a ripe carcass. Now Shioni would see for herself.

  She knocked on the doorpost.

  “Enter!”

  As she entered the King’s chamber, Princess Annakiya stood up from her stool beside her father’s bed. The King was sitting up against his cushions! He looked hale and hungry, if his sniff of the air was anything to judge by.

  Shioni paused, gulped, and thought she was about to do something silly. “My Lord King.” She moved the tray to avoid a tear which had trickled down her nose. “I cannot say … I cannot express my gratefulness …”

  Annakiya gently lifted two bowls from the tray. “Father. Bekele. Mama’s best tibs firfir, as ordered. Shioni, come eat with us.”

  “I … but it wouldn’t be proper, my Lady.”

  “But it is a royal command,” said Annakiya, with a no-nonsense glint in her eye. She waited until Shioni had pulled up a stool before putting the bowl on her knee between them. “Eat, father. Bilu, everyone! Do you need me to feed you?”