by Marc Secchia
As their voices faded, Shioni lay in the lee of the boulder and tried not to be sick. Those poor captured warriors! She could hardly imagine what they must have suffered. Finally, weakly, she wriggled out and considered her options. A horrible fate awaited her if she was discovered. But if she could take a look at the Wasabi camp and give General Getu some good information, her punishment might be lightened. She might also find a disa near the waterfall. But both tasks were best accomplished while there was still some light in the sky.
Finally, she chose the Fiuri. She was dying, whereas the warriors in the castle still had a good chance if she could warn them in time.
Dropping into a crouching run, Shioni darted from boulder to boulder, as far down the slope towards the cliff edge as she dared so as not to be easily seen. Here she found the thread of an animal trail. But as she neared the waterfall, following the trail, the rocks grew slick with wet mosses, and the thick, overhanging ferns and long sharp grasses had to be pushed aside. She picked her way uneasily now, placing each step with care. The tree branches were blotched with lichens and draped with soggy, hanging old-man’s-beard moss. She surprised a young wild goat grazing on the lichens. It bounded away down the sheer cliff face with astonishing agility.
Her clothes were sticking to her skin. Here, right next to the rushing water, the thunder was deafening and the spray constant. Where were those… oh! There, peeking out from beneath an overhang, in a splash of the most vivid red–just as Mama had described, with three distinctive blade-shaped petals–was a small disa. She smiled happily. Now that she had spotted one, she saw several others lower down, but those would be impossible to reach without the wings of an eagle.
So near…! The pretty flower was just out of her reach, and to secure it Shioni realised she would have to brave the waterfall itself. She could almost see Mama Nomuula and Annakiya wagging their fingers sternly. ‘Don’t put yourself in danger, Shioni!’ ‘No risks please!’
Well, it was worth it, right?
She always said something like that when she was about to do something foolish. Shioni untied the rough cord belt of her leggings, feeling both annoyed and comforted by her friends’ mothering. She looped one end of the cord around the base of a spindly tree and tied it fast. Then she tied the free end around her wrist.
“Oh!” she gasped. The water was freezing! Shioni leaned out, trying to plunge her hand through the torrent, but the rushing water kept batting her about like a toy. She tried to squeeze herself like another layer of moss along the rocks, but that meant putting her head into the flow. It was so cold it hurt to think.
But finally, her determination won out. Shioni’s exploring fingers won a grip near the flower. “Come on. Gently…”
The root-clump came loose in her numbed fingers. Gingerly, she drew back, praying all the while the plant wouldn’t be swept away. Every muscle in her back bore the weight of water crashing down over her body. She almost bit a hole in her tongue as her wounded shoulder twinged severely. With a small scream, she broke free!
Mama Nomuula had given her a small bag she used for collecting herbs. With trembling fingers, Shioni worked the buckle open and drew out a clay pot. First, she scooped up a handful of wet moss and tamped it into the bottom and sides. Next she inserted the root clump, and then with great care, bent the stem to persuade the precious flower inside the lid. She tied it shut.
Now… back to her mount to fetch her blanket? The sun was already dipping behind those far mountains. The sunset had a gorgeous, luminous quality–but that would quickly disappear into the gathering evening.
Sodden and shivering to her very core, Shioni scrambled back up the trail, her precious bundle tapping against her back at every step. The temperature was dropping alarmingly. She was far higher even than at Castle Asmat. Yes, and she should bring more clothing next time, even if she had to steal it! And try not to jump through waterfalls in the cool of the evening...
It was all open, flower-sprinkled meadow up to where the warriors had appeared, dotted here and there with giant lobelia trees and waist-high boulders. Shioni drew a deep breath and gathered her courage. Time to spy on the Wasabi.
Hopefully her chattering teeth would not give her away.
The Wasabi warriors had come along a narrow gully, she found, which climbed sharply up to the meadow. That was why they had appeared so unexpectedly. But rather than follow their route, she chose to climb higher still, up to a rocky clump of boulders on the lip of a huge overhang. Here the meadow had been gouged away, perhaps by a flood, leaving a vertical cliff of blood-red soil and dark embedded rocks some five or six warriors tall.
Shioni looked around. No sentries? But plenty of warriors down below! None that she could see on the edge of the cliff… no–there was one man, far off and looking in a different direction. She dropped onto her belly and crawled to the edge.
Below, she saw that a sandy expanse beside the Jinbar River had been completely taken over by the Wasabi camp. There must have been over two hundred smaller tents, about as many fires, and in the distance, she saw several towering catapults and a thorn bush corral that held too many mountain ponies to count. The nearest and largest pavilion tent was pitched so close to the cliff, she could have taken a running leap and landed right on top of it.
But it was the great black pavilion that arrested her attention. Eight of the largest hyenas she had ever seen, great brutes the size of a small pony, were chained alongside it. Poor Anbessa! But her jaw hadn’t even begun to drop open before a tall woman in black robes came sweeping out of the tent, shouting:
“Where is my chariot? Bring me my chariot, you idiots! I must make sacrifices to the spirits before moonrise!” She kicked out at a scuttling servant. “Or it’ll be your head rolling tonight, I promise!”
Kalcha! Shioni had no doubt whatsoever that she was lying a stone’s throw from the witch-leader of the Wasabi. If they discovered her she would be tossed over the waterfall like the Sheban warriors the night before.
Kalcha clapped her hands. At once all the hyenas’ chains unwound themselves from their posts, and writhed like tinkling metal snakes across the ground, before leaping into her outstretched hand! The hyenas followed, crawling on their bellies before her like young wolves abasing themselves before their pack leader.
“Ah, my lovelies!” she said, with a ghastly smile. “Soon we will feast on the blood and bones of these soft river people. We will descend like locusts upon a succulent harvest and gorge ourselves until our bellies are sore. Such a delicious feast I have prepared for you!”
“Mistress!” yipped the beasts. “Command us, great mistress!”
“Four days!” Kalcha drew three or four of their revoltingly ugly heads into her embrace. “Four days and my power shall rise even as the full moon waxes above the mountains, and my curse fall like fire upon their heads! Then will I hold in my hands the power to change you all, to make you men, men such as this world has never seen! We will build our kingdom of death and destruction, and you will become kings and enslave all mankind!”
Such a wild, bawling, bloodthirsty chorus rose from the hyenas that every hair on the back of Shioni’s neck stood on end. She recoiled, turned, and found herself gazing down the meadow at a young Wasabi warrior leading Star along by a rope! He stared at her in shock. Had he stopped because of the fearful howling?
Shioni responded instinctively. Slowly, as if dreaming, she lifted her arms and started down the hill toward the warrior, chanting, “I am the spirit of your father… the ghost of those long gone…”
The poor young man startled as though he had seen a ghost. First he threw up his arms, as if to ward her off, and then his face drained of colour and, dropping the pony’s rope halter, he pelted away screeching and hollering that he was about to die!
Shioni quickly caught Star and swung onto her back. Already, there were shouts coming from the hill as warriors responded to the commotion. An arrow pinged off a nearby boulder. Two long-legged Wasabi warriors came hurtl
ing down the meadow toward her, brandishing their spears, hurdling the boulders and pounding over the grassy tussocks like crazed goats in an attempt to cut off her escape. “Come on, girl!” Shioni urged Star. “The hyenas will eat you if you don’t!”
Scaring her mount half to death was hardly a kindness!
But the tired old pony found such wind as would have made the finest of Arabian horses proud. She took off like a peregrine falcon at the apex of its dive, so fast that the wind beat like wings in Shioni’s ears, and she had to clutch Star’s neck to keep from being thrown off. In moments they outran a brief flurry of spears and arrows.
Shioni clucked gently. “Easy now Star, old girl. You did well!”
Star was not too tired to send her a boasting picture of a pony with wings swooping over the peaks and valleys.
She glanced back. The Wasabi hyena-warriors would be hot on her trail soon. God help her if the witch caught up! She had to think quickly now–yes, down to the river she had come along, throw a false trail, and then bag the pony’s feet with cuts of her blanket. It was an old trick she had overheard two of the warriors talking about one night at the castle. She only hoped it worked, or she would be strung up a Wasabi tree faster than she could scare a turtledove out of its nest! After that she would cut eastward over the high passes, if she could, to Castle Asmat.
She prodded Star with her knees. She should make haste, but not panic. Even if returning to the castle meant leaping out of the frying pan into a nice hot fire. What a cheerful thought!
Chapter 23: Trouble on the Horizon
The warriors surrounded her at spear-point before Shioni fully woke up. Her heart lurched. She had been dozing on Star’s back, exhausted after spending a second whole night in the saddle without rest, while the pony plodded steadily up the high pass south of Ras Dejen and onward, she hoped, to same valley that housed Castle Asmat.
Sheban Elites, dark shadows all around her in the faint light of false dawn… she swallowed as relief washed through her, closely followed by trepidation.
“What in God’s name are you doing out here, girl?”
The warrior who had spoken was one of the sub-Captains, a leader of twenty warriors. Shioni knew that Tariku–whose name meant ‘the story’–was very popular and his name was always mentioned with respect.
“Where did you come from?” Tariku growled. “How’d you get past the patrols?”
“I didn’t see any patrols, sir.”
“Huh! I’ll have their hides to decorate my shield. Fancy missing a Sheban slave-girl; next, we’ll have the Wasabi strolling unasked into the King’s bedchamber!”
“That’s what I meant to tell you,” said Shioni. She had meant to sound brave, but her voice wobbled traitorously. “The Wasabi are planning an attack.”
“What?” chorused the warriors.
“How’d you know that?” asked Tariku.
“I found their camp in the mountains,” said Shioni, wishing they would lower their spears. “The Wasabi were talking near where I hid, sir. They said they had captured some of our warriors and thrown them off a waterfall. And they said Kalcha was going to attack in four days, with the full moon.”
Tariku snapped his fingers. “The missing patrol! Dear Mother Mary–you’re sure about this, girl?”
She nodded.
“Describe the Wasabi camp. Did you see Kalcha?”
As Shioni began to describe the Wasabi camp and their forces as best she could remember, the disbelief faded off Tariku’s face, to be replaced by equal parts of astonishment and rock-hard determination. He must believe her, she thought. She could easily have been branded a liar. He asked several further details, and then suddenly stopped her in her tracks.
“We must take your report to the General. When was this, exactly?”
“Yesterday–sorry, two evenings ago, sir.” Had it been that long? No wonder she was dreaming that even rocks would make wonderfully soft pillows…
“Why were you in the mountains?”
Shioni took a deep breath. “I was running away, sir. But I changed my mind.”
His jaw dropped. “Into the mountains?” Tariku scratched his head, clearly trying to make sense of her lie. “That has to be the stupidest, the most–”
“Tariku, sir,” one of the men put in. “With the King away in Takazze we’ve only a skeleton force left at the Castle. If the Wasabi number half of what the slave-girl described… sir.”
“Where’s Kifle?”
“Gate guard at the castle, sir.”
Tariku’s eyes narrowed. “He’s the only one who could get to Takazze in time. That boy can outrun the wind. Mount up! Let’s move out! Shioni, you will ride with me. That pony of yours looks ready to drop.” He shook his head slowly. “What in the name of God got into your head, girl, running away? I wouldn’t want to be you when Captain Dabir hears about this.”
Shioni raised her chin. “I’ll take full responsibility for what I’ve done, sir.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re whipped at the post.”
She winced as she accepted Tariku’s boost into the saddle of his horse. She was a little surprised that his patrol was all mounted. Usually the warriors were on foot. Her mind helpfully supplied an image of a whipping she had once glimpsed at a barracks in Takazze–before Annakiya pulled her away. Touching Mama’s pouch which was tied to her belt, Shioni wondered if it would be worth the punishment. Dabir was going to think heaven itself had opened to smile upon him.
Her dread did not abate as the patrol rode rapidly on through the morning, soon cresting the high pass and clattering down the far side. Had the day been clear, she might have been able to see all the way to Takazze from the top. The terrain up here was strange; giant spiky lobelia plants dotted the high meadows, while other places were overrun with thick stands of St John’s wort and giant heather that stood several times the height of a man. The heather was fuzzy with moss, which swayed gently in the hot breeze.
The Sheban warriors, however, spared neither man nor mount in their descent. A warrior whose horse threw a shoe was left behind with another for company to suffer the indignity of walking back to Castle Asmat. Around midday they paused at a spring hidden amongst a clutch of boulders to let the horses drink and graze briefly. The men snacked on kolo and looked on as Shioni sketched a map of her journey in the dust for Tariku, trying to describe the approximate location of the Wasabi camp. As she suspected, the area had not been scouted before.
Thereafter there was a narrow, scrambling descent into a pungent juniper forest. The warriors, having led their horses down this loose scree, now mounted up again and picked up the pace.
“This is our valley,” Tariku told her. “The river which flows past our castle issues from a cave back there in the forest. And I do hope you have a sincere apology prepared for the Princess.”
Shioni rather hoped her friend would act her part–and hopefully head Captain Dabir off from ordering a whipping.
But it was General Getu she was most worried about. Would he believe her story?
Chapter 24: Punishment
Two days later, Shioni was hard at work on the castle walls in the late afternoon heat, hauling stones for the masons. The heavy manacles adorning her hands and feet forced her to shuffle along like an arthritic old woman–which was part of the punishment, she accepted. But her fate depended now on two things: the King’s imminent arrival, and the imminent Wasabi attack. Then the King would decide what became of his daughter’s slave-girl. She might be whipped, reassigned, or sold. She might never see Annakiya or Mama Nomuula again.
The manacles and the back-breaking work were hardly the most hurtful aspect of her situation, Shioni thought, flexing her aching shoulder. It was definitely improving. Nor were the rough jibes and goading that her abrupt fall from grace had initiated. She had always been a target; now it had become a nastier game than before. Nor indeed was the vicious, visible pleasure Captain Dabir had taken in accusing her of breaking the King’s law, of
stealing a pony, and of bringing the Wasabi scourge down upon them. How his eyes had glittered as he locked the manacles in place!
No, most hurtful of all was General Getu’s response. His bitter, cold fury was etched in her memory like acid-drawings on metal.
In close second, she reflected sadly, came the fact that the disa’s sweet nectar had not helped the magical creature recover. ‘Yet!’ Mama Nomuula insisted. But Shioni was forced to consider that her trip, and all that followed, had been a complete waste at great risk.
All this for an overgrown insect? But the moment this thought popped up, she banished it, ashamed of herself. Should she not value another life as her own? Even the life of some non-human magical creature straight out of a storyteller’s story-chest? Shioni shook her head. Who was she to judge? Even so.
‘What is in my power, what is given me, I’ll do,’ she muttered quietly, feeling disturbed at the path her thoughts were taking.
It was as simple as some of the number work Hakim Isoke had been teaching Princess Annakiya. Add together the bottle, the hidden location beneath the baobab tree, the arcane symbols etched on the chamber’s floor, and Kalcha’s snake to guard it all, and what could they conclude? The butterfly-person must be important in some way they could not imagine. Valuable. Possibly, extremely powerful. Would she make an ally, or had they unearthed another enemy?
A trumpet fanfare lifted her mood. The King had arrived! At last, not a day too soon. After her report, delivered to a hostile audience, Kifle had been dispatched to Takazze in order to fetch the King and his Elite warriors. He had taken off like a scared goat, his slender legs fairly racing him along–and he would keep up that pace for hour upon hour.
Now a song rose on the wind, three hundred male voices singing the marching-in, and the people of the castle quickly started to gather around the courtyard to welcome and cheer the King’s arrival. Shioni hurried to take her place behind Princess Annakiya.
The King himself rode in first, his full armour and lack of royal robes signalling the seriousness of the occasion. Talaku, the King’s Champion, was next. “He’s part-giant,” someone whispered. Hakim Isoke, standing to Annakiya’s right, gave the person a withering glare. “Giants,” she sniffed, “are stories best kept for scaring little children.”
