Shocked at this outright insult, Mufasa felt his blood boil. “That hairball,” he rumbled dangerously, “is my son, and your future king.”
The discussion went downhill from there. Taka emerged from the cave seething, his tail lashing angrily as he swatted rocks out of his path with a powerful forepaw. His own brother had challenged him, by the gods! And in front of that idiot Zazu, no less. Taka groaned and collapsed in a clump of bushes, hiding his head under his forepaws.
Rafiki found him there a few minutes later. “Taka? What are you doing hiding in here?”
“What does it matter to anyone now what I do? They have their prince,” he said, biting the word off savagely. “They don't need me anymore, do they?”
Rafiki slipped in and tentatively laid an arm around Taka’s neck, relaxing when the lion made no move to disengage. “Ridiculous. Of course you are needed. Simba will need his mother and father more than anything. But there will come a time when he need someone else to talk to. His uncle.” Rafiki turned Taka’s head to face him. “You are special, Fru Fru. He will share things with you that he will never tell anyone else. You’ll be his best friend, and his most trusted confidant.”
“How can you be sure of this?” Taka looked at him.
“Because, I have my own nephew. Or have you forgotten?” He tapped Taka’s nose gently with a forefinger.
The lion blinked, chastened. He looked into Rafiki’s eyes for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, the first one Rafiki had seen from him since the death of Ahadi and Akase. “You’re right. By the gods, I’m going to see him right now!” He sat up and hugged the startled mandrill to his chest. “Thank you!”
Shortly after, Sarabi was surprised to see his brilliant green eyes blinking timidly at her in the gloom of the cave. “Sassie?”
“Yes?”
He figeted nervously. “Can I...I was wondering if I could...see him?”
“See him? You could have done much more than that, had you been here this morning,” Sarabi said icily. “Why bother now?”
His ears fell flat and his whiskers drooped as he stared at the ground. “I was wrong,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He turned to leave, his tail dragging in the dust.
“Wait!” Sarabi looked at him for a moment. “Come here.” She shifted her foreleg as he slowly padded over to where she lay, exposing the sleeping cub to his questioning gaze. Taka stared, captivated by the tiny form.
Simba lay quiescent in his mother’s care, the morning light shining in and gleaming on the little whiskers that poked from his muzzle. He twitched and moved slightly as he dreamed peaceful cub dreams, enjoing a peace Taka longed to return to. Taka bent his muzzle to the cub, filling his nose with scent of his nephew. Making the lightest of contacts, he nuzzled Simba with his nose. “Gods, Sassie, he is beautiful, isn’t he?”
Sarabi watched him wonderingly, seeing him as she had not seen him since cubhood, his eyes aglow with utter delight. “Yes, he is.” She licked the tiny form, eliciting a belated wriggling from her son. “He’s going to be a great king someday.”
A terrible pain wrenched at Taka, and he closed his eyes tightly until it passed. The light seeping in became cold and dull, and he sat up, looking down at the object between Sarabi’s paws. “Oh, yes. He looks so much like his father.” He glanced disintrestedly at the cub’s face, the words falling upon his own ears like so much dead grass. Whoever the cub looked like, it had nothing to do with him. His eyes flickered coldly as he peered at Simba. “You will live an intresting life.”
He turned lithely and paced out.
CHAPTER 44: UNWELCOME GUESTS
“...and it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne.” Taka paused, biting his lip and looking at the lionesses gathered before him, a look of terrible grief etched on his face. But behind his eyes, something capered and danced madly with glee, he had DONE it, by the gods, he had finally done it, and no one was the wiser. Euphoria filled him, and he took a deep breath, as if fighting back tears.
“Yet out of the ashes, we shall rise to greet the dawning of a new era, in which lion and hyena come together in a great and glorious future!” At his signal, the hyenas emerged from their hiding places, slinking down the rocks and crawling from ravines and gullies, eyes gleaming ferally in the faint light of the crescent moon which hung over the Pride Lands, looking for all the world like the scythe of the reaper come to claim his own.
Later that evening, a stunned Rafiki was led out of the cave by Krull and two other hyenas. As he stumbled down the rocky path, shoved and pushed about by the two thugs, he recalled numbly the manic look in Taka’s eyes when Rafiki had confronted him. “Oh Taka,” Rafiki moaned as the guards led him away. “What has happened to you?”
“Shut up,” one of the hyenas growled roughly. He butted Rafiki in the back with his nose, sending the mandrill reeling into the dirt. Raucous laughter resounded in Rafiki’s ears as he lay there, staring at the coarse grass which fluttered in the light breeze. A shadow flickered over his vision, and he glanced up, expecting to see the guards looming over him.
Instead, his eyes met empty air. He frowned uneasily as Krull tongue lashed the other two into a semblance of obedience, then motioned to him with a paw. “Get up, old one. We don't have all night.”
As they neared the baobab, he wondered nervously if the shock of Mufasa’s death had clouded his senses. Shadows flickered in and out of his line of sight, yet whenever he turned and tried to seek them out, they melted away into the night. As they ascended into the tree, a small voice spoke something inaudible in his ear, and he glanced at Krull curiously. “What?”
The hyena glared at him. “By the gods, are you feebleminded? I haven’t said anything!” Nosing him inside, the hyena looked him squarely in the face. “By the King’s authority, I have been appointed captain of this guard detail. Know this, prisoner; your life lies in my jaws. Disobey the boundaries His Highness has set, and I will crush it between my teeth. Understood?”
“Clearly,” Rafiki snapped.
“It is good, then.” Krull nodded to him and departed.
The mandrill watched him descend and take up station at the foot of the tree. He sighed and sat down, legs dangling over the side of the tree as he looked wistfully at the empty spot where Makedde’s bed had once sat. He missed his brother terribly, but at least he had been spared having to see this tragedy. Rafiki rubbed his eyes, groaning, and glanced at his shadow next to him, sharp and neat in the light of the moon which hung low in the sky in front of him-
His face pinched in confusion. The crescent moon sat before him in the sky. A quick glance behind him confirmed that his shadow was right there at his back, as it should have been. He glanced to his right at the puddle of darkness that lay next to him, wondering where the other light was coming from.
His eyes bulged as the shadow streched out and flitted away, seeping into the crevices of the baobab. A tenebrous whispering sound reached his ears again, making him twitch his head reflexively. His hair stood on end as a chill ran down his spine, making him shiver. Kneeling, he muttered a quick prayer to Mano and Minshasa, then opened his eyes again and looked out at the savannah, a moan escaping his lips as he peered about.
The air about his tree swirled with dancing shapes, flitting here and there from shadow to shadow without revealing detail. A faint hissing sound, like rain on the savannah issued from them, and occasionally he would catch a swatch of unintelligible whispers. He glanced up at the sky, and saw them whirling about overhead, in a faintly circular pattern that seemed vaguely familiar.
He bolted forward, seizing a limb and swinging upward, flitting from branch to branch agilely until he was perched as his favorite lookout spot. It was from here that he loved to watch the sun rise and spread its golden rays across the Pride Lands, but he stood now helplessly, jaw agape as he watched a much darker dawning take place.
A roiling mass of blackness, tinged with angry purple at the edges danced and shivered over the elephant graveyard. At one end
, a long tentacle-like extrusion was protruding towards the spire of Pride Rock, and it was from the tip of this that the shadowy shapes emerged, to go spiraling down the pinnacle and flowing out over the ground below.
“The Makei,” he whispered. “The Makei are everywhere, oh gods what is happening to us?” He raised his eyes beseechingly heavenward. “Aiheu, help us. Guide us in our time of need-”
One of the dark shaped arrowed from the sky, enveloping his chest and freezing his breath in his lungs. A second darted down and surrounded his face. Total blackness enveloped him, and with a startled cry he fell through the air, flailing blindly. He collided with several branches before coming to halt with a bone-jarring thud. Feeling about, his hands roved over his staff. Snatching it up, he swung wildly around him, but the only response was a faint trace of laughter. The cold feeling in his chest spread as he groped feebly, hunting for some kind of weapon, but his searching hands only found his medicine pouch. Falling to his knees, it spilled across the floor of the tree, sending roots and herbs in a hectic sprawl. He sank to his side, fingers twitching, and felt the smooth silkiness of a lock of hair at the bottom of his bag. He drew it to him weakly, wanting to feel the brush of the fur against his face one last time-
An unholy shriek drilled into his head. Suddenly, the veil was ripped away, and he saw the brilliant sprawl of stars above him. The benumbed feeling had left his chest as well, and he drew in a deep breath, coughing as he glanced at the lock of fur in his fingers. It shone in the dark tree, glowing faintly from within.
“Mano,” he whispered. “Thank you.” Dragging himself to his feet, he looked about. There was no sign of the dark shapes he had seen earlier, but the feeling of malevolence in the air was unmistakable. It beat upon him, and he felt the well of despair threatening to return, eagerly waiting to swallow him whole. He clutched the white fur to his chest, and the feeling faded immediately. Nodding to himself, he picked up a torn piece of leather he used to wipe up spilled medicines. Wrapping it carefully around the fur, he tied a thin leather thong securely around it and slipped it over his neck. The makeshift locket felt warm against his chest as he made his way to the edge of the tree. He gazed at Pride Rock slowly, then walked over to the shrine Makedde had so carefully hewn into the side of the trunk. His fingers traced the outline of Simba he himself had drawn into the bark as a tear ran down his cheek.
“Poor child. Innocent and now dead because of me.” Sadly, he took his hand and wiped over the painting, smearing the mark of his anointing. “Somehow, some way, I will undo this evil. I swear I will never stop trying till death takes me.”
CHAPTER 45: THE DROUGHT
As the months wore on, Rafiki found himself increasingly distrusted by the new monarch and his associates. Taka was no fool, and realized that a shaman who could look into the future could just as well look into the past; it is far easier to determine what has been than what might be. Rafiki was forced to watch as his scrying bowl was reduced to splinters by his hyannic overseers.
One particularly odious guard took great delight in tormenting Rafiki as he wrecked the priceless artifact. “Don’t fret, Painted Face,” he said. “I’ll help you tell the future. Let me predict what will happen if you don't keep your mouth shut about our great and noble king.” He bared his fangs in a cold grin.
Krull, who took no pleasure in tormenting the old mandrill, cut him off with a glare. “Enough, Skulk. You are dismissed.”
Skulk spat at him derisevely, but departed willingly enough. The old monkey never fought back anyway, and there was little sport to be had in trying to provoke him.
Rafiki looked at Krull, his intrest piqued. “Why do you restrain them? Why not let them pound me into the ground?”
“There is no honor to be found in assaulting a helpless old monkey.”
“Helpless?! Give me my staff, and I will show you how helpless I am!”
“Calm yourself, old one. It is not hurt I need from you, but healing.” He winced, squinting, and Rafiki saw the faint discharge from his left eye. “I thought I had chaff in my eye, but it hurts even worse now than it did yesterday. It requires the services of a healer.” His good eye looked into Rafiki’s. “If you are as good as they say you are, it won’t matter that I am a hyena.”
Rafiki’s features softened. “I don’t know about ‘good,’ but it does not matter what you are as long as you feel suffering.” The hyena sat as he began to examine the eye gently.
Krull peered at him curiously from the good eye. “Why does Scar hate you so?”
“Hasn’t he told you?”
Krull chuckled lightly. “Let us say for now that he has not. What would you tell me?”
Rafiki stopped his minstrations. “I would tell you that I am partly to blame.” He looked away. “I had toyed with powers that I did not fully understand, and gave a foothold to the curse that burns him.”
Krull’s good eye opened wide. “Hfff! Honest little chap, aren’t you? And yet a half-truth is like a half-carcass--it can be dragged twice as far.” He grinned at Rafiki for a moment, then grew somber. “Tell me about this curse--help me to understand it.”
Krull cursed inwardly as he recalled uttering those words. Oh, he had found understanding, all right-in the form of servitude to the mandrill which lay asleep across the baobab from him. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Rafiki’s chest; he appeared to be in the grip of sleep. The peace of night surrounded him on all sides; he might never get another chance like this. Who knew what bewitchment the old monkey might thrust upon him when he awoke? Better to leave now. He rose on silent feet, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
A few feet away, Rafiki muttered restlessly in the depth of his dreams. He chased Taka through the grasss, the little cub laughing delightedly as his Uncle Fiki stumbled through the plants trying to catch him. Grinning, Rafiki pounced, lionlike, sailing through the air to land upon the cub and seize him in his hands. “Gotcha!”
The cub turned to face him, still giggling, but then his smile faded. His body swelled under Rafiki’s, growing until he was dwarfed by the body of a full grown lion. The skin over the left eye split, forming a horrible scar. The young eyes became ancient, filled with fear and loathing as he stared up in horror at the old mandrill. “You did this to me! All your fault, Uncle Fiki!” he screamed hoarsely. “All your fault!”
Rafiki jerked upright, bathed in sweat. Panting heavily, he saw Krull leaning over him, looking worried. “Great Roh’kash, what is wrong with you? Are you posessed?!”
Rafiki reached over with a shaking hand and picked up the leather locket which had slipped off in the night. “No,” he said, putting it back on. The feeling of terror diminished rapidly, and his breathing eased. “Thank you, Krull. I’m sorry I woke you.” He patted the hyena’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
The hyena felt a wave of shame as he padded back to his corner and lay down. The old monkey was obviously terrified out of his wits about something, yet he was upset about waking Krull up!
Over the next few weeks, Rafiki became more and more of an enigma to the hyena. Many of the odd stories he had heard about the mandrill paled next to the truth, while still others turned out to be bald faced lies. Krull discovered an outlet in talking with the old shaman, one he had never enjoyed in the company of his bretheren.
Late one summer’s eve, the two were sprawled comfortably in the naos of the baobab, relaxing in the balmy air. The talk wandered aimlessly, and they found themselves discussing the differences in their females.
The hyena asked casually if he had ever been married, and was quite taken aback when he learned of the death of Asumini and Penda. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, son.” Rafiki glanced at him. “And you?”
“Nope.” The hyena grinned to himself. “Though I came mighty close. I escaped by the grace of the gods, and by virtue of a weak stomach.”
“What?!” Rafiki perked up.
“Well, it’s a long story-”
“We have plent
y of time.” Rafiki grinned maliciously. “Tell me.”
Krull was silent for a moment as he remembered what had happened. “We have a ritual in our clan for those members who have gone three years and remain unmarried. This is called "Spunking" and it is a jolly prank-unless YOU are one of the unmarried ones.” He chuckled lightly. “It takes place on a night of the full moon. The poor males are brought into a ring of spectators. They want to pick the most level headed male and female, you see, so they have each of them spin around tightly three turns, then run across to the other side of the circle. Spin three times, run back.”
“Oh gods,” Rafiki said, laughing.
“That’s what I said.” Krull grinned and shook his head. “The male that is left standing when the others have stumbled woozily staggers over to the unmarried females. He gets to pick, though she has the right of refusal. They are encouraged NOT to refuse by their parents who would be responsible for their upkeep for another year. They then after a rest, they send the males back out for another go at it. If a male throws up, he is automatically disqualified for that season.”
“Sounds fair,” Rafiki snickered. “So what happened to you? Did she refuse?”
Krull flushed underneath his gray fur. “Uh, well no. I was staggering all over the circle, and finally made my way over to where the females sat. When the Roh’mach asked me if I was okay, I...” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously with a forepaw. “I sorta barfed on her.”
Rafiki clutched his stomach and howled, his eyes watering. After a minute, he regained his breath and patted the hyena on the shoulder. “Not to worry, son. I’ll bet you made it the next season.”
“Yeah, I did. But she turned me down.” He looked at the ground, embarrassed. “You can’t force someone to love you back, though you can try to sway them.
Rafiki’s smile vanished. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We still see each other. I mean, her husband and I are best friends. We share everything right down the middle.”
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