Spirit King: Return of the Crown

by Dashiel Douglas

  The moment D’Melo was dreading had arrived. Under a twilight sky, he descended into the valley, his heart heavy with thoughts of life without Baba. But as he entered the Moyo, his spirit was uplifted. The jovial energy of the Wapendwa was a welcome surprise. In Kipaji, a funeral was a joyous occasion. It was a celebration of the life of service that had been lived and the soul’s reunion with the ancestors. In honor of the festive spirit, the Wapendwa dressed in their most vibrant and colorful Kipaji attire. The Moyo was transformed into a veritable human rainbow.

  Baba’s body, elegantly wrapped in fine white cloth, rested on an elevated platform of tightly woven natural fibers. Four thick pillars secured the structure. Each clan’s symbol was meticulously engraved on one of the pillars. D’Melo approached, anxiety rising in his chest. The last time he saw Baba’s body, it was on a cold metal slab in the hospital morgue. He lifted his gaze reluctantly to the platform. The peace on Baba’s face was a balm for his shattered heart. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that Baba was just enjoying a nap.

  A lump rose in his throat. He was not prepared for this moment. What final words could he offer a man whose entire life was devoted to serving others? Who made the ultimate sacrifice for his family and Kipaji. Who protected him from the world and from himself. Who molded him into the person he was. In short, to a man he owed everything.

  D’Melo was relieved of this impossible task before he could formulate a single word.

  “Son,” Baba’s voice rang in his ears. “There is nothing you need to say. I’ve heard your soul.”

  The voice was so crisp that for a moment D’Melo forgot that Baba lay before him. He closed his eyes to listen keenly with his heart. He swooned in the melody of Baba’s voice, a sound he thought he would never hear again.

  “Please know that the world awaiting me is one of pure joy,” Baba assured him. “I will soon reunite with our ancestors and once again be able to embrace your mother. So you must never be sad for me.”

  “Baba, life is so hard without you. You said you’d always be here when I need you. Well, I need you now.”

  “Son, I’m with you at all times. You need only look into your heart. You will find me there. Then, when the Great Spirit wills, we will once again be together. But first, there are things you need to do.”

  “Yes, Baba,” D’Melo said somberly. “I’ll try.”

  Milpisi approached the platform to open the ceremony.

  “Baba, I must go now.” D’Melo choked back tears. “Please help me finish what you started. And please protect my friends.” D’Melo kissed two fingers and lifted them heavenward. “I love you, Baba.”

  D’Melo joined the innermost ring of the crowd. He craned his neck, searching for Kavu through the thickening raindrops. Suddenly, Kavu seized him from behind. “Are you looking for me?”

  D’Melo jerked. “Man, you gotta stop doin’ that.” They hugged. “So glad you made it.”

  “Of course, I made it. I’m not going to let you send Baba off alone.” Light twinkled in Kavu’s smiling eyes.

  Milpisi began. “Today we assist our Kipaji brother with his glorious ascent to the realm of lights. Only a thin veil separates our world from that realm. When we lift the veil with eyes of faith, we will see Mujiza being welcomed home by his ancestors. They will embrace him with the love he showered upon everyone while he was on this earth.

  “Some of you never met Mujiza. If you had, I assure you that your life would have been enriched. His warm smile was as abundant and undiscriminating as the rays of the sun, basking all in its radiance. I have many stories about Mujiza, but I only need one to convey the pure heart of the man we honor this evening.

  “When Mujiza decided to make medicine his life, it was no surprise to anyone.” Confirming clicks echoed in the crowd. “From a young age, it was obvious that his only desire was to serve others. Once, while he was still quite young, just inside the forest, Mujiza almost died.” Milpisi pointed toward the edge of the clearing. “At the tender age of fourteen, he happened across a baby bird. It had fallen from high in a tree. He gazed upward and saw that another baby was in peril, dangling precariously over the edge of a nest. Mujiza wasted not a moment. He hurriedly scaled the tree. He lifted the motherless nest and started down. But then a branch snapped under him. He plummeted down and crashed heavily onto a protruding root. He broke three ribs, ruptured his spleen, and was rendered unconscious. Do you know that Mujiza never let go of that nest? When we found him, he was covering it with his hand to make sure the bird didn’t fall out on the way down.

  “If you are unconvinced of the size of this man’s heart from what I just told you, I doubt you will remain so when I recount what happened next. When Mujiza regained consciousness, his glazed eyes fluttered slowly open. He looked up at me and the first thing he said was, ‘Is the bird okay?’

  “Many of you may be wondering why Mujiza left Kipaji. All I can tell you is that he did so with a heavy heart. He was called to a special mission by the Great Spirit, which required the sacrifice of his life. Although he never would have chosen to leave the homeland that he loved so dearly, he courageously and selflessly followed the path laid before him. Now he returns to us, not as a lifeless body, but as a guiding light of spirit.

  “Of all the services Mujiza offered in his life, none was greater than raising a son of Kipaji.” Milpisi gestured toward D’Melo. The Wapendwa snapped their fingers, the sound of joyous approval. “It is apparent that Mujiza never forgot the Kipaji ways, because D’Melo is an embodiment of them.” D’Melo lowered his eyes, both dreading the attention and feeling sensitive about Kavu not also being mentioned as Baba’s son. But his heart was warmed to see Kavu snapping with the others.

  As Milpisi continued his eulogy, D’Melo scanned the crowd to make sure Zara and the boyz were in position. They were perfectly situated away from each other and along the outer ring of the crowd. Zara stood with Jonju, flashing a thumbs up. They all watched D’Melo intently, awaiting his signal.

  “As we bid our special son a glorious journey to the realm of lights,” Milpisi concluded, “let us honor him with our deepest gratitude.” He raised four fingers high above his head, then brought a fist down over his heart. The Wapendwa followed, making the same gesture in unison.

  “Uzima wa milele. To a life that never dies,” Milpisi intoned.

  “Uzima wa milele,” the Wapendwa chorused.

  The pillars supporting the structure slowly lifted the platform. Milpisi raised an unlit torch. He swirled it magically into a blaze. A drum thumped a heartbeat, symbolizing that Baba’s life wasn’t over, but had merely taken on a greater and eternal form. Along the outer ring, another drum joined, then another and another, until the Wapendwa were encircled by rhythmic vibrations. The beat built to a fevered pace, stirring the Wapendwa into a frenzied euphoria.

  D’Melo saw this as an opportune moment to set the plan in motion. He signaled his friends, rubbing two fingers against his temple. Zara and the boyz stealthily disappeared into the forest, one by one.

  D’Melo surveyed the crowd, making sure his friends had slipped away unnoticed. It’s on now. He breathed deeply. Edu.

  The drumbeat quieted to a hum, mixing with the patter of an intensifying rain. Milpisi touched the torch to the hollowed bamboo shoot that crisscrossed beneath the platform. Blue flames rolled toward the corners. The pillars crackled disturbingly, as the fire climbed to the fiber bed and began to consume Baba’s body.

  D’Melo cringed, orange light flickering on his face. Kavu laid a comforting arm around him.

  Embers glowed red, then orange as flames danced upward into the dark, stormy sky. The drumbeat quickened once again.

  Realizing that the ceremony was closing, D’Melo initiated the next phase of the plan. He turned toward Jonju and raised his arms as if stretching. Jonju immediately scampered to Milpisi.

  “Milpisi! Milpisi! Co
me quickly,” he fretted, tugging on Milpisi’s shirt. “It’s Zara, she’s really sick.”

  “What!” Milpisi’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Where is she?”

  “She left the funeral early and went to her rondeval.”

  “Where is Komba?” Milpisi seemed to expect to see Komba but remembered that this wasn’t a Malaika alert. He started for Amanzi Mountain with hurried feet. Then he drew to a halt, realizing that D’Melo wasn’t following him. “Are you not coming?” he puzzled.

  “Nah,” D’Melo said. “She’s in good hands.”

  “Zara,” Milpisi emphasized suspiciously, “is ill, and you are not going to her bedside?”

  Jonju tugged Milpisi’s arm. “Milpisi, we must hurry!”

  Milpisi took a longish look at D’Melo over his spectacles before scurrying off. Once Milpisi was out sight, D’Melo corralled a conjurer. He informed him that he had seen Malungan soldiers in the Choma forest.

  “That is not possible,” the conjurer responded. “The alarm would have sounded.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” D’Melo said, feigning agreement to avoid suspicion. He searched his mind for a more convincing way. “Umm, but most of the community was here at the funeral, so isn’t it possible that the soldiers could have slipped in unnoticed?”

  “It is not the friends who monitor the border. The animals are our eyes. Nothing can slip past them.”

  “Oh,” D’Melo said, surprised and dismayed by this revelation. His anxiety bubbled up. If I can’t convince this guy that soldiers are in Kipaji, this could get really dangerous. I have to do something!

  “You know,” he said, playing dumb, “the person was carrying a rifle. Guns aren’t allowed in Kipaji, are they?”

  The conjurer’s face tensed. “Are you sure you saw a gun?”

  “Absolutely. I can even describe it. It was one of those rifles with the wood handle, curved magazine, and shoulder strap.”

  Kavu chimed in to assist. “It sounds like an AK-47, the gun that Malungan soldiers carry.”

  D’Melo continued, “Maybe you should go, just to be sure everything’s okay. It couldn’t hurt, right?” The conjurer nodded and headed toward Choma forest.

  Kavu turned to D’Melo. “I will join him.”

  “What!” D’Melo exclaimed. “If Dimka finds out you helped Kipaji, he’ll kill you. Plus, a Kipaji warrior will easily handle a couple of soldiers.”

  “Yeah, but only if he finds them. What if he doesn’t? We can’t let them get to the Tree. Also, I’m not going to put your life in the hands of someone else.”

  “But I just found you,” D’Melo said. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  Kavu clutched D’Melo’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. This is what I do best. I track people. And these are my people. I know exactly how they operate. Also,” Kavu gripped a bulge at his waist. “I have my walkie-talkie. I’ll hear all of their communications.”

  “If you do this, you definitely won’t be able to stay here. It’s too risky. You’ll have to come with us.”

  Kavu smiled with gratitude, seeming to acquiesce.

  D’Melo glanced at the time on his phone. “Meet me at my rondeval in one hour.”

  Kavu clasped D’Melo’s hand and pulled him into a hug, then shot off to catch up with the conjurer.

  The next few minutes were the longest of D’Melo’s life. Nothing was happening in the forest. He paced, trying to keep his nerves at bay. The lingering crowd was getting antsy, wondering why the ascension ceremony hadn’t started. How long will they wait for Milpisi? D’Melo squeezed his forehead. Oh, my God. What if the soldiers come into the Moyo with all these people? That would be a catastrophe. I have to get the Wapendwa out of here.

  D’Melo cleared his throat. He shouted, “Excuse me everyone.” The murmur of the crowd ebbed to silence. “Milpisi had to rush off for an urgent health matter. He wanted me to tell you that he may be a long time, so you should just go home.” No one budged.

  An elderly woman shuffled up to D’Melo. “Don’t worry about us, son,” she said adoringly. “We will wait for as long as it takes. We have to make sure your father is welcomed by our ancestors.”

  A few more excruciating minutes passed. There was still nothing in the forest. What’s happening in there? Come on! Why isn’t the conjurer catching them?

  All at once, the natural noise of the forest silenced. A tremulous hush descended on the crowd. Many of the Wapendwa were old enough to remember the last time the forest went silent—it was right before the Malungan invasion, decades ago. Then, like someone had flipped a switch, the forest returned to life. In a blink, its natural sounds returned, then built momentum like a tsunami. Thousands of birds suddenly shot through the canopy and soared above the Moyo, squawking frenetically. All the wazi stones suddenly de-illumined, plunging Kipaji into darkness. There wasn’t even a trace of moonlight. The thick storm clouds absorbed every lunar ray. The Wapendwa let out a collective gasp. They knew the blackout was a security measure in the case of an invasion. An unlit forest provided the conjurers a tactical advantage, as they knew the terrain better than any intruder ever could.

  The darkness broke when a fiery alert launched from Choma Mountain. The pulsing orange light streaked overhead, like a meteor. At its zenith, the fireball exploded into brilliant colors. Screams resounded throughout the valley. The Wapendwa scattered into the forest, taking cover in its darkness.

  Several conjurers sloshed briskly past D’Melo. The conjurers must have finally found the soldiers, he surmised, letting out a relieved sigh. This will be over soon.

  A volley of gunshots echoed deep in the woods. Then what sounded like a deluge of water thudded heavily against something.

  “What the heck was that?” D’Melo exclaimed. After a few moments, he realized that the gunshots stopped. The fighting seemed to be over. “Yes! The conjurers must have gotten ‘em!”

  Almost before he could finish his thought, the forest sparkled, the way it does when fireflies fill a dark summer night. But with each flash, the valley floor trembled beneath his feet. Flickers of orange dotted the forest. The bitter smell of smoke wafted ominously into the clearing. Then, the forest began to whistle with wind. Branches whipped to one side. And, in an instant, all the fires were extinguished, leaving the forest black once again. But the whistling continued, growing intensely, as if a freight train was rumbling through the forest toward the Moyo. The trees at the edge of the clearing quaked. Some snapped under the pressure. D’Melo squinted through the rain, trying to see what was coming his way. Suddenly, he was smacked by a huge gust, heavy with moisture. It threw him backward. He slammed with a splash into the muddy earth, sliding several feet. He lay there, momentarily stunned.

  Still dazed, he heard a rapid pounding vibrating in the distance. His foggy mind was momentarily comforted, believing that the celebrants had returned and resumed drumming. But the violent tremble of the earth beneath him, like subterranean thunder, dashed that hopeful thought. Cold drops of rain stung his forehead, then rolled down his face. He lifted himself up to a sitting position. Fires again were raging in the forest. What’s going on? This was supposed to be over quickly. His thoughts shifted to concern for Kavu. What if the conjurers mistake him for one of the intruders?

  Meanwhile, Milpisi had reached Zara’s rondeval. He bounded through the door and called for her. No answer. He searched the rondeval. She wasn’t there. He paused, sensing something was terribly wrong. Just then, the light from all the wazi stones in Kipaji de-illumined. Inside the rondeval was black but for a flickering orange light reflecting on the floor. “Oh, Great Spirit! The Darksome Night is upon us!” He ran to the window just in time to see the alert flare burst at its peak above the valley. “The Tree!” he cried.

  Milpisi raced out the door. Komba appeared outside the rondeval. He mounted her and she galloped straight for Haya.

 
Just as Zara and the boyz neared the summit of Amanzi Mountain, the world around them went dark. Although within arm’s reach, they could barely see each other. A fiery flash zipped across the valley and exploded high in the air. They gazed in frightened awe at the brilliance that momentarily dispelled the darkness. When the sound and tremor from the explosion finally reached them, it sent shivers up their spines.

  “Oh, my God,” Zara said, her heart pounding. “We better hurry!”

  The light from the alert fizzled out. Marley scrambled for his phone. He tapped the flashlight app.

  “Yeah, Marls!” Kazim said. “I’ll never make fun of your nerdiness again!”

  The light dulled and then went out.

  “Marley!” Kazim retracted his compliment. “What kind of nerd forgets to charge his phone?”

  “Well, y’all could have brought your phones. But nooo,” Marley mocked, “you didn’t want them to distract you from your Kipaji experience. Now look at us! Soaking wet, running for our lives, and now in total darkness. I don’t know about y’all, but that’s dampening my Kipaji experience a bit! I’ll never forgive y’all for not bringing your phones.”

  Jeylan chimed in, “What about that stone Milpisi gave you? Your phone will charge in like a second.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Marley remembered. “Okay, I forgive y’all.” He pulled the daima stone from his backpack. It promptly slipped through his wet fingers. “Uh oh.”

  “Uh oh, what?” Jeylan asked, afraid of the answer. “Please don’t tell me—”

  “I dropped the rock.” Marley fell to his knees. He frantically searched in the mud. “Oh, thank God! I got it!” He tapped the rock against his phone. Nothing happened. He tried again, tapping repeatedly. “It’s not working.”

  “Give me that rock, fool.” Jeylan found Marley’s hand and snatched the rock. “Man, this ain’t even it! This rock is way too big.”

  “I know,” Marley replied. “But it felt like the same kind of rock.”

  “Are you a geographist now?” Kazim said, irritated. “You can’t use just any rock!”