Spirit King: Return of the Crown

by Dashiel Douglas

  D’Melo had desperately tried to devise a plan which didn’t involve the boyz, but he just couldn’t think of another way to get the recording safely out of Kipaji. After bringing them up to speed on what’s happened, he delved in.

  “The Malungan government will do anything to keep the evidence from being revealed, including kill all of us,” he said gravely. “So if you want out, I understand. This is not something you signed up for when you came here.”

  “I’m in!” Jeylan declared, without hesitation.

  “I didn’t even tell you the plan yet.”

  “It don’t matter. You’re my brotha. I’ll always have your back. If you go down, I go with you.”

  D’Melo pulled Jeylan into their customary handshake hug, adding a few grateful claps on the back.

  “Me too,” Kazim said.

  Kazim glanced at Marley, then nudged him.

  “What?” Marley shrugged.

  “You in, fool?”

  “I wanna hear the plan first!” Marley declared. “I ain’t jumpin’ in on no half-baked idea. This thing’s gotta be tight.” Then his straight face melted into a wide grin. “Just playin’. Y’all know I’m in.” He bellowed, “LD in the house!”

  D’Melo gazed at them, flooded with emotion. He then began to lay out the scheme. It was to unfold during the funeral. When he reached Zara’s part, he pinched her nose and twisted it.

  “Ow!” she yelped, slapping his hand away. “Dude! What are you doing?”

  “It’s the Nečzian tradition, right?” he said. “You know, to help you remember what I’m saying.”

  “Are you kidding? You think that really works? And—we don’t twist for real! Just tell me the plan, dude.”

  D’Melo explained her role, which involved many details.

  Her eyes glazed over at the complexity. “You’re right,” she said, yielding. “I’m not gonna remember that. Twist my nose.” Much-needed laughter filled the room.

  D’Melo hesitated before revealing the final piece of the plan—securing the recording. Then he started in, spelling out each step warily, anticipating all the while the sting of Zara’s opposition.

  “What?” she burst, just as he expected. “Are you saying that we,” she motioned between the boyz and herself, “are retrieving the recording, while you stay in the valley?”

  D’Melo lowered his eyes.

  “You must be kidding!” Zara raged. “They’re going to kill you the first chance they get! There’s no way I’m leaving you behind. We all go together, or we don’t go!”

  “Listen, Zar,” he sighed. “I wish I could go with you guys. But that would jeopardize the mission and put your lives in danger. The Malungan spy is watching my every move. Let’s use that to our advantage. Jey, remember that game against Madison? Coach knew that they would double-team me all game. So he used me as a decoy.”

  Jeylan lifted his chin, acknowledging where D’Melo was going with this.

  “The strategy worked. You scored thirty-six that game and Kaz got twenty-eight. And we won. We can do the same thing here. While the Malungans focus their attention on me, the four of you can slip away to the alcove. You’ll be gone before they even know what happened.”

  Zara wasn’t buying it. “This isn’t a stupid basketball game! We’re talking about your life. The boyz can get the recording. I’m staying with you.”

  “Zar,” D’Melo exhorted. “You have to go with them. They don’t know where the alcove is. And it’s too risky to take a practice run before the funeral.”

  “Well, I don’t know where it is either.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Zara squinted at him, dubiously.

  “You know how to get to the summit, right?”

  She nodded suspiciously.

  “From there, you’ll easily find the alcove, by feeling it.”

  The boyz’ faces contorted.

  “Excuse me?” Jeylan asserted. “Maybe you want to run that by us one more time. Are you saying we’re gonna rely on Zara using the force? Is she a Jedi and no one told me?”

  “Trust me. Zara knows what I’m talking about.” D’Melo turned to her. “Leda suffered so much on that mountain. Her pain will lead you straight to the alcove, where her suffering was the most intense.”

  “But,” Zara retorted, “I’ve never felt the pain of a person who isn’t alive.”

  “Yeah, you have,” D’Melo disagreed. “Remember that day those kids were playing in the snow outside Ms. Keba’s house? You could still feel her.”

  Zara inclined her head, realizing D’Melo was right. “Even so,” she said, “I hate this plan.”

  D’Melo lifted his brows at Milpisi, seeking his blessing. A confirming and subtle grin sparkled in his eyes.

  “Okay then. It’s settled.” D’Melo gazed intently into their eyes. He tapped his chest and shot out a fist. “LD Crew forever!” The boyz met his fist.

  “Come on, Zara,” Jeylan urged. “Ain’t you part of the LD Crew?”

  Zara felt a rush of warmth cascade through her at Jeylan’s words. Her eyes glistened with grateful tears. She tapped her chest and joined her fist.

  D’Melo accompanied Milpisi outside. Out of earshot of his friends, particularly Zara, D’Melo made a request. He wanted to meet Kavu. It would be his only opportunity to see the brother he never knew he had.

  Milpisi told D’Melo that it had been more than a decade since he last saw Kavu. Kavu was a young boy when the prime minister of Turkmenistan presented him with a gift, an Akhal-Teke. This majestic horse is known for its speed, intelligence, and golden coat. The first time Kavu rode it, he was thrown off. He broke two ribs and punctured his spleen. Milpisi was summoned to administer the elixir. Oddly, Kavu didn’t improve after ingesting the nectar. Milpisi realized the healing power of the nectar was being thwarted by unnatural substances tainting the area. Nearby, soldiers were rolling barrels into a storage shed. The barrels contained caustic material used to develop chemical weapons. Milpisi demanded that the soldiers lock them in a sealed room. Once the barrels were secured, Kavu immediately began to recover.

  “But,” D’Melo inquired, confused. “Isn’t the elixir a secret for Kipajis only?”

  “Well,” Milpisi said, shaking his head. “A few years before that incident, I used the nectar and Dimka found out about it.”

  D’Melo was stunned. “That was you! You saved Kavu that night he was shot on the bridge.”

  “Yes,” Milpisi muttered tentatively, seeming to question whether he made the right decision. “A soldier was carrying Kavu’s blood-soaked body through Kipaji to Malunga. Kavu surely would not have survived the journey. And I couldn’t just let Baba and Diata’s child die. So I told the soldier I would treat Kavu. The soldier phoned Dimka, who gave his consent. Dimka emphasized that Kavu was a valuable asset to Malunga, and so the soldier must not leave my side. When Kavu was revived, the soldier dragged me to Malunga with him. He knew Dimka would want to know about the ‘miracle medicine’ I used.

  “Dimka pressured me to administer the elixir to Malungans. I refused. It would have been too risky. Information about Haya would have surely leaked to the world. So Dimka offered a compromise. The elixir would be used for him and his family only, and, in exchange, he would keep Haya a secret. I agreed, but told him that if anyone ever found out, the deal was off.”

  “Well, what about the soldier?” D’Melo asked. “He knew.”

  Milpisi lowered his eyes somberly. “That soldier never made it out of the presidential compound that night.” He shuddered. “There was really no other choice.”

  After a remorseful moment, Milpisi said to D’Melo, “I debated whether to tell you about your brother. My fear that you would want to see him compelled me not to. But here I am, faced with it anyway. Meeting Kavu is much more complicated than you can imagine. It could put you, and all of Kipaj
i, in jeopardy.”

  Kavu had become a high-ranking soldier in the Malungan military, Milpisi explained. He headed a special anti-rebel unit composed of the country’s most elite fighters. So even though Kavu was technically Kipaji, Milpisi doubted the Council would grant him access into Kipaji. At the very least, the Council would want time to thoroughly vet Kavu and devise a protection protocol. That would take time.

  D’Melo couldn’t hide his disappointment. “But I don’t have time. Are you sure there’s no other way? Please, he’s the only family I have left.”

  Milpisi pondered. “Well, there is one possibility.”

  Milpisi recounted a story of Kavu’s heroism that had made him something of a celebrity among the Choma. About two years ago, Kavu and his special regiment were in hot pursuit of the rebel leader, Waasi Madaki, and one of his soldiers. They were attempting to flee to Nanjier through Kipaji, which set off internal alarms. Conjurers found them hiding in Choma village. To protect himself and his soldier, Madaki took the Choma chief hostage.

  Just then, Kavu rode into the village, the coat of his beautiful horse gleaming. He was flanked by his elite fighters, wearing their signature maroon berets. Madaki raised a blade to the neck of the Choma chief. He threatened to open his throat unless the conjurers killed Kavu and his soldiers.

  Kavu calmly proposed a different solution. He suggested an exchange, himself for the chief. Kavu knew that, as the adopted son of President Dimka, he was a much more valuable hostage than the Choma chief. He started to explain to Madaki who he was.

  “I know who you are,” Madaki said. “You’re Kijana Dhabu, the Golden Boy.”

  “Oh, that’s flattering,” Kavu smiled inscrutably. “I didn’t know I had a special name among the Shujas. Let the chief go, and President Dimka will give you whatever you want for my safe return. This way, no one will have to get hurt.”

  Madaki agreed. Kavu dismounted and laid his rifle at his feet. He ordered his fighters to do the same. The rebel soldier secured Kavu’s hands behind his back.

  But Madaki didn’t release the chief.

  “Hey!” Kavu howled. “The deal was, me for the chief!”

  “Well, I changed my mind. For now, we will hold on to the chief. He is our insurance that these Kipaji warriors won’t try anything stupid.”

  Madaki commanded one of Kavu’s soldiers to call Dimka. “Tell him we got his Golden Boy. No harm will befall him as long as we are allowed safe passage to Nanjier. Oh, but there is one other thing we want,” Madaki added. “We will require the release of the fourteen Shuja rebels he imprisoned. Once these rebels are in Nanjier, we will let the Golden Boy go.”

  The Malungan soldier looked at Kavu, awaiting his instructions. Kavu nodded his approval.

  The soldier communicated Madaki’s proposal to Dimka. Judging by the shock on his soldier’s face, Kavu surmised that Dimka declined the deal. He would never free the rebel prisoners, not even to save his adopted son. With a clandestine wink, Kavu conveyed to his soldier not to worry. He had a plan.

  “President Dimka guarantees your safe passage to Nanjier,” the soldier lied. “And he will set in motion the release of your rebels from prison.”

  Madaki cautioned the Malungan soldiers and the conjurers against following him. He crossed a tense finger over his throat, threatening what he would do to Kavu and the chief if they didn’t heed his warning. With aggressive shoves, Madaki and his rebel steered Kavu and the chief through the thicket. A few minutes into their walk in the jungle, Madaki halted abruptly at the sound of branches crackling overhead and falling leaves. He peered up into the canopy. Red colobus monkeys frolicked in the treetops.

  “Now,” Milpisi noted, “the way the Choma chief recounts this part of the story, you would think Kavu is some sort of superhero. Kavu used Madaki’s moment of distraction as an opportunity to end the abduction.”

  With lightning speed, Kavu vaulted backward over the rope that bound his hands. He swiftly struck the rebel with tremendous force on his windpipe. The rebel collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. And, seemingly all in one motion, Kavu leapt into the air, wrapped his legs around Madaki’s neck, and snapped it. On his acrobatic return to the forest floor, he drove his heel into the chest of the rebel, crushing his sternum.

  “For obvious reasons,” Milpisi said, “Kavu became an instant hero to the Chomas. The chief held a festival for him, where he made Kavu an honorary Choma.”

  D’Melo was silent, unsure how to feel about this. Part of him was proud to have a brother with such special skills. At the same time, he was sickened by how easy it was for him to just kill another human being.

  “So,” Milpisi continued, “if you really must see Kavu, I will ask the Choma chief to call a meeting with him. You could join them in Choma village.”

  “But,” D’Melo protested, “we can’t talk freely with other people around. Can he not come to my rondeval?”

  Milpisi pondered. “Okay,” he said, his face strained. “I will do this for you. But understand, it is contrary to protocol. Meeting Kavu is clearly such a deep need for you, I trust it is aligned with the will of the Great Spirit. But—and I will not budge on this—two conjurers will escort Kavu for the entirety of his visit. Also, his invitation extends for one hour only. After which he will be treated as any other intruder.”

  D’Melo was delighted. “Thank you so much, Milpisi! Oh and—”

  There’s more? Milpisi looked at him incredulously.

  “Would it be okay if I invite Kavu to Baba’s funeral?” D’Melo requested humbly.

  Milpisi glared at D’Melo like an annoyed but doting grandfather. But apparently not even Milpisi could resist D’Melo’s sincere gaze. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do with the Council.” He grinned, clearly in disbelief at all he had compromised for D’Melo.

  D’Melo scrambled around the rondeval, making sure everything was tidy. He found dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and was instantly irritated. “These guys never clean up after themselves!”

  Zara had never seen him so anxious. Not even T-Bo’s threat had rattled D’Melo’s characteristically level demeanor.

  “Hey dude, are you okay? You’re acting a bit neurotic. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you,” she joked.

  “Well, let’s see,” he said, heated. “I just found out that both my mother and father were murdered because they had evidence that Dimka killed the former president. The life I’ve always dreamed of was within my grasp but now, in a blink, it’s in shambles. And, oh yeah, I have to find a secret recording and slip it out of Kipaji while being tracked by a Malungan spy . . . and do it before getting us all killed. So, yeah, I’m great. Thanks for asking.”

  “Whoa, dude,” Zara said. “What’s going on with you? I understand you have a lot happening right now, but—”

  “A lot?” He laughed bitterly. “You think?”

  “But,” Zara finished, clearly trying to remain composed. “That’s not what’s agitating you. You were fine before you knew Kavu was coming.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the clacking of the woodpecker doorbell.

  “He’s here!” D’Melo scurried about, taking a final look around the rondeval. D’Melo clutched the door handle. He took a calming breath before swinging the door open. For a second, he thought he was looking in a mirror. But closer scrutiny revealed where the difference in their physical appearance was the most obvious. Although D’Melo had an athletic build, Kavu’s physique was far more developed. His veiny muscles bulged from years of intense military training. Also, Kavu lacked D’Melo’s stylish twists; he maintained his naturally tight curls low to his scalp in conformity with military regulations.

  D’Melo’s sight blurred briefly, as an electric wave zinged through his tremulous frame. His thoughts were hijacked by a flurry of images of people he had never met and events he knew nothing about. The images flicked too quickly to see anyth
ing clearly, but not quickly enough for him to escape the emotions associated with them. He was wading through a murky cloud of desperate loneliness and tormenting conflict.

  “Hey brother!” Kavu greeted.

  A jolt zapped D’Melo’s chest. The feeling in his legs deserted him. He dropped to a knee. Zara dashed over, seizing her chest, apparently with her own pain. She and Kavu helped D’Melo to the couch.

  “Hey,” she said to D’Melo. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m okay,” D’Melo said groggily.

  From a slight hunched over position, Zara excused herself from the room. “I think I need to lie down for a bit,” she said hoarsely.

  D’Melo blinked to regain focus. He turned to Kavu. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened. Maybe I was so excited to see you, my body got overloaded.” His eyes dropped to Kavu’s waist.

  Kavu peered down. “Oh,” he said. “It’s a tranquilizer gun. Don’t worry, it’s not for you,” he chuckled. “They’re standard issue for Malungan soldiers. We’re required to carry them at all times. Apparently, there were a couple of incidents when soldiers were killed by dangerous animals in the jungle.”

  “But the soldiers have rifles,” D’Melo said, puzzled.

  “That’s true, but most Borutus believe that forest animals represent the spirits of their ancestors. So they avoid killing them as much as possible. Instead, they tranquilize the animal. By the time it wakes, the soldiers are far out of harm’s way.”

  Kavu scrutinized D’Melo’s face. “This is mind-blowing. Even though we aren’t identical twins, it feels like I’m talking to myself.”

  “I know. It’s amazing,” D’Melo concurred, his smile tempered by the loss he felt having missed out on his brother all these years. His gaze drifted to a spot above Kavu’s left eye. It reminded him of his dream. “Hey, how’d you get that scar?”

  “You don’t remember? We were in the wildflower field.” Kavu paused to see whether he had jogged D’Melo’s memory. “You threw a stone at me.”