Spirit King: Return of the Crown

by Dashiel Douglas

  Zara took some photos of the drawing on her phone. While she was framing her shots, she zoomed in on a particular area of the image.

  “You know,” she called out, “I didn’t notice this before.”

  Milpisi returned to the table.

  “This star right here isn’t part of the two constellations,” she said. “It’s faint, but if you look closely, it’s there.”

  Milpisi’s eyes darted between the book and the drawing. “You’re right,” he said, “This star doesn’t belong to either constellation. Diata must have put it there for a reason. The rest of the drawing is meticulous. She wouldn’t have made this mistake. Plus, Baba would have spotted it immediately. He studied astronomy before going to medical school.

  “Wait a minute.” Milpisi slid his finger in a circle, outlining Kipaji. “Look where Diata placed that star.” He tapped the northern end of Kipaji. “Do you see how this area of the drawing is a shade darker than the rest?”

  “Uhhh, yes . . .” D’Melo and Zara said together, waiting for the punchline.

  “This star isn’t a star at all. It’s a marker—you know, like X marks the spot. It’s pointing us to the recording!” Milpisi paused, stroking his beard. Suddenly, he murmured, “The final side must tell us exactly where the recording is.” Milpisi turned the drawing. “Here,” he said, running his finger along the darkened area. “It’s a U shape, but upside down.

  “We’re a little dense, Milpisi.” Zara squinted an eye and shrugged. “We need more.”

  “Think about it. What on Amanzi Mountain is shaped like an upside-down U?”

  “The entrance to the alcove!” D’Melo exclaimed.

  “Exactly. But knowing it’s in the alcove is insufficient,” Milpisi said. “We need to know specifically where it hides. You will be afforded but a few minutes to retrieve it.”

  “I’m sorry,” D’Melo said, disconcerted. “Did you just say that I’ll be ‘afforded but a few minutes’?”

  “Well,” Milpisi hesitated, then sighed. “It seems my mouth got ahead of me. I don’t want to frighten you, but now you need to know. I’m sure the Malungan government is tracking your every move.”

  “Tracking me? But how? I thought I was safe in Kipaji!”

  “You are . . . mostly,” Milpisi said, in a less than assuring voice.

  “Milpisi, you’re not exactly filling me with confidence with that response.”

  “The truth is, we know Dimka has obtained information that could have only come from within Kipaji. So we have suspected for a while that there is a spy among us. And I would be surprised if you are not at the top of this spy’s list of priorities.”

  D’Melo blew a tense breath. “Okay then,” he said, absorbing what he had just heard. “So we better pinpoint the exact location of the recording before I set foot in the alcove. I won’t have time to be digging around in there.”

  They resumed their attempt to crack Diata’s code. “This is weird.” Zara zoomed in on the extrinsic star. “It’s pixelated, but you can see that this non-star is green.”

  “Yes,” Milpisi agreed. “But why?” Then he brightened as he focused on the darker area of the drawing. “The outline of this U-shaped region could also be seen as sort of a necklace, right?” Milpisi theorized. “And what’s at the end of the necklace? The green dot.”

  D’Melo and Milpisi lifted their gaze to the “Mother of Kipaji” painting above Zara’s head “Ohhh,” D’Melo murmured, having an epiphany. “In my dream, Baba wasn’t saying ‘Later.’ He was saying ‘Leda.’ He was leading me to the recording.”

  Zara spun toward the painting. Her eyes immediately fixed on the emerald dangling from Leda’s forehead. “That’s helpful,” she acknowledged, “but we still don’t know exactly where the recording is. Only that it has to do with Leda.”

  “On the contrary, my dear,” Milpisi replied. “We do. There was something I failed to mention during today’s lesson. Remember Leda had challenges getting pregnant? Well, when the mysterious man released the Akhtiar to return to their homelands, he had Leda remain behind. He gave her a gift—an emerald strung on a leather headlace. As he crowned her head with it, his face became luminescent. Leda was forced to turn away lest the brilliance of his countenance damage her eyes. ‘Oh Kipaj,’ the mysterious man implored. ‘I beseech Thee by Thy power and might to allow this faithful handmaiden to bring forth children, the most sublime pearls.’ His brightness then diminished, though his eyes continued radiating. ‘My child,’ he assured her. ‘You are now relieved of the malady that has been the source of much anguish to your soul.’

  “As you know from the legend, the night Leda returned to the alcove, she became pregnant with the triplets.”

  Satisfaction filled D’Melo’s heart. “It’s at the Mwanzo Mpia monument… the spot where Leda gave birth!” he said.

  “Well, actually, it must be inside the monument,” Milpisi clarified. “The monument was created with an interior chamber to protect our most precious artifacts. Only Council members are aware of its existence. If Kipaji is ever overrun by an enemy, a Council member will remove the artifacts and carry them to safety.

  “Atop the monument, there is a bust of Leda. A replica of the emerald is embedded in the bust’s forehead. One revolution of the replica opens the chamber. I’m sure that’s where Baba stashed the recording. It makes perfect sense. The chamber is the most well-guarded secret in Kipaji.”

  “Now what?” Zara said, ready for action.

  Just then, a hummingbird pecked the library window.

  “Someone needs help,” Milpisi muttered, then quickly ducked outside.

  D’Melo and Zara trailed after him, sharing a dumbfounded glance. Did a bird just communicate with Milpisi? The hummingbird darted off toward Joto Mountain.

  “I apologize,” Milpisi said. “We will have to consult upon our next steps at a later time. I have an urgent medical matter to which I must attend.”

  “Milpisi, before you go,” D’Melo said. “The story you told the kids today, is it just legend or is it true?”

  Milpisi’s eyes creased into a smile, “Can it not be both?” He mounted the okapi waiting to transport him up Joto Mountain.

  “Komba, twende!” He clicked and Komba trotted off. Suddenly, Milpisi pulled the reins. “Kata,” he commanded. Komba obediently halted. Milpisi turned around and looked at Zara. “My dear one, would you like to join me? You can witness firsthand the healing power of Haya’s nectar.”

  “Well,” Zara said, “I am a bit busy right now. I haven’t had my morning coffee yet.”

  “Okay. Perhaps another time.”

  D’Melo sighed at Zara’s ill-timed attempt at humor.

  “Hey!” she called, “I was joking. Do you think there’s anything in the universe I’d like to do more than to see the most awesome phenomenon in human history?”

  “Very well, then. We must move with dispatch. My satchel is empty of nectar. I had planned to fill the vials after the lesson this morning. Once again, I have been remiss.”

  D’Melo cast an expression of disbelief at Zara. “What are you thinking? Have you not noticed that Milpisi is the most sincere person in the world? He’s not gonna understand your whack sarcasm.”

  “Whoa, dude. I know I screwed that up, but ‘whack’? A tad harsh, don’t you think?”

  Milpisi, several paces ahead, shouted, “Zara is not whack. She just needs her coffee.”

  Zara whispered to D’Melo, “Was he just being sarcastic?”

  “Yes,” Milpisi called out. “But it wasn’t whack sarcasm!” He laughed boomingly.

  Zara’s eyes widened, surprised at Milpisi’s uncharacteristic amusement with himself. She dashed over and nimbly hopped onto Komba behind Milpisi.

  “Am I really riding an okapi to save someone’s life with nectar from a tree?” Zara called back to D’Melo, bouncing in rhyt
hm with Komba’s gait. “Could my life be any more awesome!”

  On the way to Haya, Milpisi explained Kipaji’s emergency system to a mystified Zara. The forest animals are one with the spirit of life. When the light of that spirit threatens to flicker out, they are keenly aware of it. They communicate through each other to the hummingbird and the okapi. The hummingbird, called a ‘Malaika’ in Kipaji, which means ‘hovering angel’, tracks down Milpisi and leads him to the fading light, hopefully before it extinguishes.

  “It’s simple,” Milpisi concluded matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, of course,” Zara muttered. “Silly me. What could be more simple than animals working together to save the life of a human being? This is amazing beyond words.”

  “I agree, but I must admit, it’s not foolproof.” Milpisi’s spirits seemed to dampen. “Not long ago we lost the Choma chief’s wife. Three events converged to create the perfect storm that prevented me from saving her. It seemed as if the universe was leagued against me. Minutes after the Malaika’s alert, a brutal storm swept into Kipaji. By the time Komba and I reached the base of Choma Mountain, the wind was whipping mercilessly, and rain was pummeling us in sheets. It slowed our progress significantly. Even so, we still would have reached her in time. But then a most unfortunate accident occurred. Streams of water were gushing down the mountainside, making the path to Choma village treacherous. Komba lost her footing and fell heavily into the mud, breaking her leg. If I had been carrying two doses of the nectar, as I typically do, I could have administered one to Komba. But when the Malaika alerted me that night, I had just given a serving to an Upepo boy who had a lethal reaction to a bee sting. And, with the unaccommodating weather, I couldn’t risk taking the time to replenish my supply at the Tree. So I set off with only one vial of nectar.

  “Without Komba, I trudged the remaining distance to Choma village on foot, only to arrive a minute late. The chief was sick with grief and aflame with fury. I don’t blame him.”

  Zara put two and two together. “Is that why the Choma section of the Festival of Lights recommended selling the elixir to the world, so Kipaji can modernize its healthcare system?”

  Milpisi hesitated. “You are sharp, my dear. You don’t miss a thing. Well, there had been rumblings about improving our technology for some time. But with the death of the chief’s wife, who, by the way, was also the daughter of the Joto chief, the rumblings gained a couple of very influential voices, adding fuel to the fire.”

  In his lifetime, Milpisi explained, he had never seen Kipaji more divided. The Choma and Joto chiefs had become bedfellows. Together they were increasing the pressure to open Haya to the world, creating a stark split within the Council. On critical Council votes, the clan members started sticking together—Choma and Joto on one side and Amanzi and Upepo on the other. This created endless four-to-four-vote stalemates. So Milpisi, as the ninth member of the Council, was the deciding vote. Until Milpisi was convinced that the proper safeguards for Haya would be put in place, he would continue to vote against revealing the Tree. This intensified Choma and Joto distrust. They felt Milpisi was biased because he was of the Amanzi clan.

  Milpisi paused his story as they reached the forest edge nearest Haya. With the wind stirring stronger and drizzle now tapping their faces, they hopped off Komba and scuttled through the underbrush. Zara knew the Tree was close but didn’t see it. And then—thump, she thudded into it.

  “Umf. What the—?” Her disbelieving hands groped a tree that was not there.

  Milpisi chuckled softly, then raised his palms. Accumulated moisture from the forest canopy dripped onto his hands. In the Kipaji tongue, he invoked, “Oh Great Spirit, please unmask your glory to this lowly one.” With an air of mystery, he slid his hands apart like a celestial magician. As the gap widened, Haya unveiled gradually, until finally it was revealed in its full splendor.

  “Oh, my God,” Zara murmured unconsciously. “I don’t think I can ever get used to that. It’s, it’s—”

  Milpisi finished her thought, “The opposite of whack?”

  “Exactly,” Zara giggled, amused with Milpisi’s expanding command of slang.

  With the utmost care, Milpisi took a dangling flower into his hand without detaching it. He settled into a supplicating posture before Haya. “Oh, Great Spirit,” he intoned, “I beseech Thee to grant this humble servant the least measure of your life-giving elixir.”

  The flower opened and emitted a sparkling purple light. Milpisi reached into his satchel for a wooden vial and a chombo—a toothpick with a tiny bowl at the tip. He inserted the chombo into the center of the flower with the precision of a brain surgeon. A bead of glittery liquid appeared in the bowl. Milpisi slid the chombo into the vial.

  “This is definitely the opposite of whack!” Zara marveled, as they remounted Komba. “What did you say to Haya to get her to give you the nectar?”

  “It is not what you say, dear one, it is how you say it that matters. The only requirement is humility. But that is simple.”

  Here he goes with that “simple” stuff again! Zara thought. Everything is simple to this dude—I mean, to Milpisi. Zara corrected herself, out of respect for Milpisi.

  “When you feel the tremendous weight of being the Milpisi, you have little choice but to be humble. On a daily basis, I am reminded that my power compared to that of the Great Spirit is like a light bulb to all the suns in the universe.”

  As they approached the Joto plateau, Milpisi prepared Zara for the scene she was likely to encounter. “For our forest friends to alert me, it means that the injury is life threatening, and, on the geyser field, injuries can be gruesome.”

  And just as he had warned, the horrifically burned body of a young man appeared through the sweltering mist. He lay motionless on the coarse landscape. His training to become a conjurer had taken a fateful turn when he slipped into one of the boiling pools. The jolting smell of cooked flesh permeating the wet air halted Zara in her tracks. She gathered herself so she wouldn’t vomit.

  Milpisi opened the young conjurer’s mouth very gently, but still he shrieked in absolute agony. It seemed that every movement sent searing pain ripping through his body. Milpisi lifted the chombo from the vial and smeared the nectar under his tongue.

  Zara watched, transfixed. Within moments, the conjurer’s flesh began to regenerate. Fresh layers of skin weaved over the charred areas. Zara gasped. She would never have believed this was possible if she had not witnessed the phenomenon with her own eyes.

  Amazingly, soon after Milpisi’s ministrations, the young conjurer teetered to his feet. He fixed a grateful gaze on Milpisi, laid a fist over his heart, and bowed with great reverence. Joyous ululation from the other conjurers cut through the steamy air.

  Milpisi and Zara started back for Amanzi Mountain, where they knew D’Melo was devising a plan to recover the secret recording. After several minutes of bobbing silently on Komba as she trotted along, Milpisi said to Zara, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet. You have not uttered a syllable since the plateau.”

  “I—I just don’t know what to say. Haya is the most amazing medicine that’s ever existed. It seems it can literally heal the world. So why isn’t it?”

  “You have touched on a uniquely sensitive topic in Kipaji. You must know that we wholeheartedly embrace the fact that Haya does not belong to us alone. Every Council since I was born has grappled with the question of whether to unveil Haya to the world. And every Council has decided against it.

  “It is an unfathomable responsibility to have the fate of humanity in our hands. Although Kipajis have a profound desire to heal everyone, protecting the Tree is paramount. As far as we know, our Tree is the last of its kind.” Milpisi let out a distressed sigh. “The Council feels the world cannot be trusted to care for Haya. And we have yet to conceive of a way to ensure its safety.

  “Humankind has shown time and again that gaining
control over the earth’s most vital and precious resources eclipses whatever universal benefit they were created to have. Take for instance, the immense power in the nucleus of an atom. Instead of it being used to bring energy to all, it has become the source of division and imbalance in the world. America and the Soviet Union raced feverishly to be the first to use atomic energy for mass destruction. Since then, a handful of nations have prevented other countries from developing a similar weapon. They say it is because the more countries that have nuclear weaponry, the more precarious the world becomes. While that is logical, I do not believe it is the real reason. You see, the holder of a nuclear weapon wields tremendous power. And the wealthy countries want to maintain that power for themselves so they can dictate their self-serving whims to the rest of humanity.

  “Now I ask, how much more valuable would be a technology that heals the diseases plaguing humankind? The nation that commands this natural technology will rule with a power and ironclad authority to an extent that the world has never before witnessed. So, countries with the strongest militaries would stop at nothing to seize control over Haya. And the truth is, Kipaji does not have the means to thwart an invasion. The weapons of war today are far too sophisticated, even for our conjurers. It is an agonizing dilemma that I face—I mean, the Council faces.”

  Zara nodded sympathetically.

  “But don’t fret, the day is approaching when the way forward will be revealed. Haya’s ultimate purpose is to heal the world. It is the will of the Great Spirit.” Milpisi paused. He gazed into the forest canopy, where the leaves rustled below an increasingly ominous sky. He murmured prophetically, “The winds of change are stirring.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kavu – The Golden Boy

  An impassioned D’Melo greeted Milpisi and Zara at the door of his rondeval. He ushered them into the living room, then beckoned the boyz to join them. The boyz piled in with their usual boisterous melee. But sensing D’Melo’s mood, they instantly settled in, matching his sober attitude.