The Spirit Quest cotpl-2

by John H. Burkitt

  Asumini descended from the upper branches warily. “What’s going on? I thought I had a water buffalo trapped in here with me.”

  He snorted glumly. “No, but from the feel of it, my rear will be as big as one before long.”

  She laughed prettily and embraced him, kissing his cheek. “I’ll get some marhamu for the stings. Oh, smile, Metutu! How can you be so down on such a fine evening?”

  "What's so fine about it??"

  “Because I am carrying your child.”

  Rafiki was silent for a moment. He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat as he looked into the shining eyes of his young wife. His pain was forgotten in the magic of the moment. "Oh, Asumini! Are you sure?"

  “Does it please you?”

  “Oh gods!” He embraced her and rocked her gently from side to side. “Bless you! Maybe a little Asumini, or a little Rafiki....”

  “What do you want most, my husband? A son or a daughter?”

  “Yes!” He kissed her. “Son or daughter regardless, it shall be beloved, just like the mother!”

  CHAPTER 37: PENDA

  As the moons passed, Rafiki and Asumini’s love took on tangible form. Ahadi was pleased, and there was much rejoicing among the lionesses. Uzuri took a strong interest in how the mother and child were progressing. Asumini found the attention flattering, and only half jokingly said she was probably going to be the first mandrill to have a lioness for a midwife. On hearing this, Uzuri merely shrugged.

  “I would not mind. In fact I insist. I want it done right, after all,” she said, grooming her forepaw and examining it intently.

  “Oh, of course,” Rafiki said.

  Indeed, when the time came round for the child to be born, Uzuri stood by Asumini as she endured the pains of labor, whispering terms of endearment and nuzzling her softly. Makedde stood by, ready to assist if need be.

  Rafiki sat near him, drumming his fingers impatiently on an empty gourd and wondering just what was taking so long. A yell of pain brought him out of his trance, and forgetting where he was, he leapt up to go to his wife’s assistance. A solid THWAP resounded as he struck his head on an overhanging branch, and he fell back, wincing. “Gods! That hurt!”

  Makedde grinned at him. “Are you having pains too? You’ll have to wait your turn.”

  Rafiki glared at him, holding his head, but his reply was cut short by the appearance of Uzuri, her fur slightly tinged with crimson. Makedde and Rafiki both looked at her.

  Uzuri came and nuzzled Rafiki. “Congratulations father. Aiehu has blessed you with a daughter.”

  Rafiki froze, unable to speak.

  Uzuri whispered in his ear. “That means you can go in and see her now.”

  “Oh!” He hurried forward and went to his wife’s side. She lay quietly, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead, but her face was aglow with pride as she motioned to the wet bundle of fur she held close to her chest. “Look at her,” Asumini whispered, smiling. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Rafiki nodded, stroking her cheek gently. “Just like her mother.” Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead gently and held her hand. “What shall we name her?”

  “Penda. For you said whether the child is a boy or girl, it would be beloved. So ‘beloved’ she is.”

  CHAPTER 38: THE FEVER

  A new mother, Asumini devoted her time to tending to the child. Her care was absolute, and it left no time for gathering herbs, or seeking out rare plants. Consequently, Rafiki found himself pushed to the limit of his endurance to get her enough food and still provide for his practice. As a result he got very little sleep, but when anyone came to call, he never complained.

  On the contrary, he took great pride in his family, and was at great pains to show everyone his beautiful daughter. On the rare occasions when he got a chance to relax, the family would pay a visit to Pride Rock to call on their friends. Inevitably, this resulted in nothing but fun for Penda, as she was doted on by everyone. Her favorite game was to try to catch the furry tuft at the end of Akase’s tail, which the stately lioness kept ever in motion, and just out of reach. In the meanwhile the adults indulged in good-natured verbal sparring, with the cue to begin a lament from Akase or Yolanda about the latest escapade in their children’s misadventures. Rafiki would clear his throat solemnly.

  “That IS a shame. Of course, I don't have any problem with Penda getting into such trouble.”

  “Really?” Yolanda stared at him, wide eyed, for all the world as if she had never heard him say this before. “What DO you do?”

  “Why, nothing,” Asumini said, surprised, picking up her cue. “Penda is just that way. She never gets into any trouble.”

  Their pride was promptly torn to shreds as Penda, unable to catch Akase’s tail, promptly seized the tail of a sleeping Taka and gave it a gleeful squeeze.

  “Yeow!” His brilliant green eyes flew open and he leapt into the air, twisting lithely to come down facing her. Delighted, she gave a gurgling laugh and wrapped her tiny arms around his furry neck. “Taga!” The poor cub gasped uncomfortably for air and writhed with embarrassment under the amused stares of the adults. Finally detaching himself, he shook himself off and trotted off with an air of injured dignity.

  Several weeks later, Rafiki returned home thoroughly worn out from his harvesting efforts; he had been required to make a trek of several miles to gather Alba for his depleted stock. The rare flower was precious, and was increasingly hard to come by. Lately he had discovered a fresh patch in a relatively nearby forest, but it required a whole day’s trip to get there and return. Still it was preferable to trying to trade with his brethren for the precious flower; the asking price for the herbs climbed higher with each purchase.

  Entering his cool, shady home, he was greeted by a rather drawn looking Asumini. “Hello, husband.”

  “What’s wrong?” He embraced her, then held her at arm’s length. “Gods! You’re burning up!”

  She smiled thinly. “Well, I do feel tired...”

  “I cannot imagine why.” He led her to their soft bed of leaves and lay her down gently. Quickly mixing a broth with some water and a few select herbs, he held the bowl while she drained it slowly. “Relax, beloved.”

  “But your work....”

  “My work can wait. You are what matters to me, not staring at this old face in a bowl of water.”

  She reached up and stroked his cheek with a finger. “Only old on the surface, love.” Closing her eyes, she drifted off into an uneven sleep.

  Rafiki worked frantically over the next several hours to try to break the fever which was burning her up from within. He wished desperately that Makedde would return, but the old mandrill was attending a special meeting of the Council and probably would not be back for some time. Rafiki had only himself, and the comforting presence of his daughter. He hugged Penda to his chest as he sat beside Asumini’s bedside, watching helplessly as she thrashed and moaned in the grip of the sickness.

  In the early hours of the morning, her temperature soared to new heights, and Rafiki began to feel the teeth of panic nibbling at his mind. How much more can she stand? he thought. Her skin was burning hot to the touch, and she shifted and shook in the grip of chills. Time and again he knelt and forced a few swallows of water down her throat to ward off dehydration.

  The sun had risen, and the day was clear and beautiful, but he paid it no heed as he kept up his vigil. Penda had long since tired and was sleeping comfortably on her father’s lap. Rafiki peered at her blearily through reddened eyes, and smiled at the contented look on her face. Sitting up carefully, he laid her gently by her mother’s side and made his way across the tree to where he stored his medicines. Pulling out a half full gourd of water and some powdered extracts, he set them carefully on a limb beside him. Turning to it, he stood for a moment, staring at the medicine vapidly, then suddenly sat, the impact jarring his spine and making his teeth click together painfully. He leaned against the bole of the baobab, his eyes closing of their own volition. Just a
moment, and then he would get up and mix the extracts and give them to Asumini. Just a moment...

  He opened his eyes slowly and peered about, confused. Sitting up, he groaned as the muscles of his back voiced their protest in a symphony of pain. Rubbing his eyes, he stared, blinking, at the bowl on the limb before him.

  It sat there, quietly, minding its own business. The sun shone in, its reddish glow silhouetting the bowl’s shadow against the tree trunk....

  His eyes snapped open and he stared in horror. The sun was blood red, sitting low in the western sky, oh gods, he had fallen asleep for HOURS!

  “Asumini?” Rafiki hurried down and across the tree, swinging under a low branch to find his mate’s bed lying empty. Penda’s absence was also felt; the child was nowhere in sight. Rafiki made a quick scan of the tree, followed by one of the ground below. Nothing.

  He spun, intending to descend the trunk to the ground below, but froze. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened and closed silently as he stared at the paintings across from him on his shrine. Asumini and Penda were both depicted there, lovingly drawn by his own hand. What he had not drawn was the Eye of Aiheu which now lay emblazoned on the wood over their heads.

  “Oh God, no! NO!” He ran over and scrubbed furiously at the wood, but the marks neither smeared nor stained his hand. They lay ingrained deep in the wood, mutely expressing something which his mind cried out against over and over.

  Turning, he scrambled down the trunk of the baobab and cast about frantically in the tall grass for some sign of their passage. Finding a depression in the grass, he saw a rough trail of broken stalks heading away from the baobab. He sprinted off down the track, unmindful of the pain in his knees, kicking up dirt as he ran. “ASUMINI! PENDA! Please Gods, let them hear me.”

  He skidded to a stop, nearly falling as he saw the grass thrashing ahead. A tawny head emerged and turned to look at him. “Rafiki?”

  “Ahadi! Thank the gods!” The mandrill ran to him, panting. “My wife is ill with fever; I fear she has wandered off and taken Penda with her.”

  Ahadi’s started. “How long has she been gone?”

  “I don't know. I fell asleep like an old fool, and when I woke up, she had vanished. It could be several hours; I don't know.”

  Ahadi eyed his friend; the exhaustion on Rafiki’s face was plain to see. “You just drove yourself past your limit. I’ll help you find her.”

  Rafiki slumped, quivering. “Thank you, Sire. Do you think you can track her scent?”

  “There’s no need for that. I can see her trail clear enough.” Ahadi’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the grass. “The trail is fairly fresh; I would say not more than an hour old.” Turning, he made off at a rapid pace, just slow enough that Rafiki could keep up. The grass began to thin out, replaced by thicker greenery. Small bushes and shrubs dominated the ground ahead, and Rafiki heard faintly the gurgling sound of running water. Ahead, Ahadi slowed and began to push his way through the dense underbrush. Thorns and branches tore at his beautiful mane, snatching away tufts of hair in painful tugs, but these he ignored, bulling his way through. As they reached the water’s edge, he suddenly halted. Rafiki nearly collided with his haunches, which filled the gap in the brush and blocked his view of the water. He heard a gasp from the lion and hopped about, trying to peer over his bulk. “What is it?”

  “Great Aiheu,” he heard Ahadi stammer. “Oh gods! Oh gods!”

  “What?!” Rafiki shouted. He began to force his way in between Ahadi’s massive shoulder and the thorns, but the Lion King shifted and blocked him off. Ahadi turned himself around carefully and sat in the gap.

  He took a shaky breath and looked at Rafiki unsteadily. “Do not go in there, my friend. There’s nothing you can do.” The lion looked away and blinked rapidly. “Her fever must have driven her down here to bathe in the cool river water."

  “Is she dead? Where’s Penda?”

  “It looks like a crocodile attack,” Ahadi finally said. “Asumini was wounded but got away from it. I’d say she died later from loss of blood.” He rubbed at his eyes with a paw. “Of Penda, there is no sign. The crocodile must have found her easier prey.” He looked away.

  Rafiki stared at him, feeling the blood drain from his face. The fear and pain fell away, replaced by a numbness. He stood mutely for a moment, then nodded and turned away.

  CHAPTER 39: TRUE FRIENDS

  When the moon rose later that evening, orange and full in the night sky, it found Rafiki sitting silently in the naos of the baobab, his medicine pouch clutched in his lap, staring silently at the paintings on the tree’s side. The branches moved slightly in the night breeze, making strange shadow shapes on the wall, and giving the paintings an eerie lifelike quality.

  He remembered his speech to Dedou in the council the day he became a shaman. “I tell you brothers that I am an expert on suffering, for I have suffered greatly. It was suffering that put me on this path. But I also understand love, for I have received much of it.”

  He sighed. “An expert on suffering,” he said reproachfully. “You were right, Dedou. I was a young optimist speaking from my inexperience. A fool who knew so much of herbs but so little of pain!”

  Reaching into the pouch, he pulled out a small bowl filled with a whitish paste. “Deadly Euphractus,” he thought. “So the promising young shaman finally makes his last prescription. Something to relieve suffering in the heart.” He dipped his finger into the bowl and scooped up a small clump. In tiny doses, it would relieve cramps, but he had enough on his fingertip to kill every mandrill in his village. “So it has come to this,” he murmured, staring with unfocused eyes at the paintings. “Busara, forgive me. All your teachings are like kudra seeds scattered in the wind. I have not passed on the light.” He rested his gaze on Asumini’s portrait one last time, then sighed. “Live forever. Live forever in love.” Opening wide, he closed his eyes and with a trembling hand lifted the paste towards his mouth.

  “Rafiki?”

  Sighing again, he lowered his hand and spoke without turning. “Please leave. I can not help you right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “It is none of your....” he whirled, intending to drive away the owner of the voice, but stopped when he saw Uzuri sitting quietly behind him. “Oh, hello.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My wife and daughter died today,” he said simply. “I am in mourning.”

  Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight as she gasped in surprise. “Oh, gods! Both of them?? Rafiki, I’m so sorry!” She moved closer until her foreleg was touching his shoulder.

  “It’s quite all right, my dear. Thank you.” He patted her forepaw. “Things like this happen. It’s life, I guess. Good or bad, we can all die at any time.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “You seem to be taking it rather well.”

  “Yes, well, as a shaman, I’ve learned to accept death in one form or another. It happens. We should not fight it; we should prepare for it.”

  Her eyes focused on him sharply, and she frowned. “I would think instead that we should try to enjoy life all the more for it.”

  His lip trembled and he turned away to face the wall again. “Perhaps you should go.”

  As he shifted, she spied the paste on his finger. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, just something to help me feel better.”

  Uzuri sniffed at it. An acrid odor burned her nostrils, and she flinched. She drew back, the muscles at the corner of her jaw tightening as she looked at him. “Why don’t I try some? It will make me feel better too.” Quickly, she bent and touched the paste with the tip of her nose.

  The response was immediate. Rafiki sprang up as if shot. “Don’t lick that off!” Desperately, he seized a gourd of water and splashed the end of her nose, rinsing away the paste that had stuck there. Picking up a soft leather cloth, he dried it carefully. He bent and sniffed it closely, his own nostrils twitching intently, then shook his head and repeated the process.

  While he was d
rying her nose a second time, Uzuri flicked a paw out and slapped the bowl away. It clattered over the edge of the baobab and dropped silently through the air to shatter on the roots below, spraying the ground with white death.

  Rafiki observed this silently as tears began forming in the corners of his eyes. “It will take me three days to collect that much,” he said. “Please be a good girl and leave me alone.”

  She looked him directly in the eyes. “Make up your mind. Should I be a good girl, or should I leave you alone?” Flopping to the floor on her side, she motioned to him with a paw to join her. “We lions have a custom that might make you feel a lot better.”

  He looked at her but said nothing.

  Inwardly stung by his refusal, she pressed on. “When someone we love dies, we roar. It’s our way of getting the grief out. Don’t you shriek or make some sort of noise when you grieve?”

  “We cry.”

  She shook her head. “We do too. But I mean something big. Something that tells the whole world how you feel.”

  “No, we don’t do that.”

  “Try it.”

  “I’d feel like a fool.”

  “You’d feel better. Shout it out. If you can’t roar, just yell, ‘She’s gone!’”

  “She’s gone!” He sighed. “There, did that make you happy?”

  “No! Not gone hunting herbs. Gone! Make my ears tingle!”

  “She’s gone!!”

  “Didn’t you love her more than that?? My gods, she was your wife! It was your daughter! It’s not fair! What kind of husband and father were you??”

  “Stop this! You’re making me angry!”

  “Good! It’s not fair, and you SHOULD be angry!”

  Rafiki’s hands began to tremble. His eyes narrowed to slits. The tides of his breath rushed in and out. “I’m mad as hell! I try to live the good life, and what do I get?? First my mother, and now this!! All my training is not worth a pile of Kavana husks!!” He picked up the paint pot and viciously swung it at the paintings, spattering them with red hemorrhages. “Stupid, useless paintings! Stupid house in the middle of stupid nowhere! No one to stop her from taking the child! Stupid brother in a stupid meeting of the stupid council! Oh gods, why did I bring them out here!!” He took his staff and began to beat on the paintings as he shrilly shouted, “And where were the gods in all this?? I gave my life to them, and look at how they repay me--nothing but heartache, neglect and bitterness!!”