Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 21

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 21

The acacia tree stood silhouetted in the still night. Even the stars seemed to be directing their blinking light at the twisted limbs as they stretched out into the open air offering night time sanctuary to the birds and nest for the weary traveller.

Jeremy had not slept. The night time music of a land teeming with life offered him no solace in which to ease his mind to slumber. One does not hear the death struggles in the night under the comfort of an eiderdown or mosquito net. The inner confines of a white washed home dull the night time roar or successful hunt, the bleating of a caught impala, drawn up into the shelter of a tree away from other hungry marauders. A dying wail too weak to penetrate past the open veranda and Mozart playing softly at the bed side table.

Hour by hour he had listened to the teeming rustling of the night, his mind filling in the gaps where his eyes could not see. Below him, he could hear the ever stirring of his night time stalker as the hyena periodically slept with one open eye, a peaked ear pointed in his direction, its head laying on its front paws, listening to the slightest sign of him scaling down the tree to flee.

His mind and heart wondered to the farm, of Claire alone for a second night. It had pained him to think of his Claire, pacing the wide veranda by the hour, watching for news on the simmering late horizon. The revered tall grandfather clock in the hall way, lovingly polished to a luster with brass glittering under the midday sun, chiming away the empty hours.

The two farm hands Claire had sent in the early morning, Thomas and Kashezwe, had returned at the end of the day, coming slowly up the dusty road leading to the big house. An overturned cup of cold tea marked where she had first seen them coming from the veranda. Claire's bright shoes lay by the side of the road, kicked off as she ran to them.

Fearing the worst, Claire had listened quietly in between long and controlled breaths as they told of their day's journey and the signs they had found in the sand and grasses.

The trail told, of the great horned one, charging out of a deep bush with a great roar. They found it as had been left, its long horn ploughed into the sand, a small hole below the shoulder where Jeremy's passing shot had torn out its heart and pink lungs. The footprints of frightened Matthew, directly in front of this mad rush and then laying on the side of the trail and of thick cooled blood in the sand. They found young saplings cut from long poles taken from the dark under bush, where they had laid Matthew between them and made him a bed in which to sleep. Two sets of hurried footprints left dead rhino, not in the direction of the farm but away, south to the rolling hills where there was only open land and the winds from the far away mountains.

Claire could not have understood why they had not continued following the trail until they had found them all, and why they had returned empty handed. Flushed with emotion, hands moving, drawing directions in the air, Claire sent them back out immediately, to backtrack as far as they could go before the coming nightfall and then to set out again at first light to find them.

The returning men did not talk of the rifles found propped up against a solitary tree. They had created a second set of prints approaching from the south, and leaving in the same direction. The trail lost on the stones and under bush. The rifles were carefully concealed now, wrapped in worn grey cloth, laid under stone and loose gravel just outside the farm boundary, to be retrieved when a trip to town would not attract any attention. In the dusty dark backrooms of a trader's warehouse, well-oiled firearms were quickly bought with cash loudly smacked on the dealers table, concluding the successful transaction to waiting eager hands.

Claire had returned to the veranda to begin the coming night time lookout. Eyes filled with worried tears stared at the shimmering road before her, her hand trembling now with fear as she drank from her new cup of evening tea. The tea biscuits and light sandwiches lying untouched like the lunchtime and dinner meal before.

She could not think of where they had taken the now wounded Matthew. Claire tried not to imagine what wounds a charging rhino could wreck on the body of a young boy. Jeremy and Konjaru had not set out to find their doctor but had wondered off into the bush to find God knows what.

Claire finally gave into the fatigue and worry. Great tears rose up for a moment and fell cascading down her cheeks, her hand on her chest catching the deep sobs as they tore at her.

The house returned to its eerie quiet calm, no footsteps or hurried feet, no cupboard doors closing as the last dish or linen was put away. Hands working in the kitchen without sound, nods or eyes darting the only movement.

Out in the night, Jeremy tried to think of the next trip to town. Early morning down the long dusty road in the Land Rover, horns blaring scattering wild and domestic game, running naked children and early smoke from the village fires. Gloved hands clutching white hats, wind in their faces and laughter all the way to the market. Post retrieved, a walk across the road to the Club. A chance meeting with old friends. After a quick tea, the women teeming up to shop together, leaving the men to their own deep conversations and an occasional backslap and scented pipe.

Jeremy's eyes finally closed, a smile on his parched lips. He drifted into the folds of memories and smiles. The stars lowering their blinking for just a moment, even the land conspired to sooth him, dulling out the sound and life around him. His breathing slowed, the last of the adrenaline leaving his heart allowing it to rest.

He tugged weakly one last time at his belt wrapped around his arm binding him to the tree. Secured and safe, Jeremy finally gave in to the exhaustion and pain of the day and closed the window of his mind.

Suddenly, he was in mid air, the tree spinning away from him in darkness all around him. His arm reached out and caught the last tree branch and it spun him sideways before the ground beneath him rose up and knocked the air out of his lungs. His arm was bent under him and strained at the force of impact. The blue tinged ankle roared in pain as it smacked the earth, sending shooting pain up through his bruised body.

Jeremy lay for a while as the impact of the fall left his limbs. One by one the blunted sensations returned. Ribs bruised made breathing hard, his ankle now surely a mess and the sweet metallic taste of blood in his mouth from a bleeding nose trickled back down his throat.

While he lay there trying to clear the mists that clouded his stunned and bewildered mind, an alarm was screaming in his head. Something he already knew about danger, right there beside him. It was finally the grunt and rustle, the quick intake of air, wet sniffing no more than a few feet from him that jarred him back to life.

"Have to move, now!"

Jeremy rolled over quickly, eyes darting to and fro, searching for the yellow hunter that had stalked him since midday. There it was, paws tearing at the ground as it moved side to side, its hunger driving its newfound courage to attack.

Jeremy was at the base of the tree, just to or three feet from the trunk. He could not see his walking stick. He could sense more than see, the hyena. Even the downwind stench from its drooling mouth as a carrion eater, made finding it easier.

A snarl and whoop told him, the hyena was gaining courage at this opportunity.

Jeremy turned one legged and as he had done hours before, grasped the trunk with his wounded leg and leaped up to find the lowest branch. His arm waved frantically in the air but found nothing and he landed one-legged back down to the ground.

The hyena was sensing his time was now or never. It scampered a few feet forward, its head bobbing up and down, watching Jeremy's initial leap to safety.

Catching his breath quickly, Jeremy paused for just a moment, again holding firm his wounded leg around the trunk and then with a heave and grunt willing him up, he leapt up into the arms of the tree, arm flaying to find the lowest branch which he caught and held on firmly to steady himself.

The hyena sprang forward at the remaining leg wrapped around the truck. The massive yellow teeth dove deeply into the soft blue tinged tissue, crunching down through the bones, pulling with his high hunched shoulders and full body weight to bring him down.

Jeremy screamed as its jaws clamped down on him, the pain exploding into him. His piercing cry carried into the darkness, causing all life to pause as it heard another of Africa's death struggles. He held onto the high branch, kicking with his other foot at the teeth grinding at his ankle and the blood curdling growls that were pulling him to his death.

The moon reappeared suddenly from behind the cloud as it drifted away to the low hills, its blue light shining now on the bloody death struggle of man and beast.

He could feel the sinews tearing in his leg, the teeth had gone through and now the massive strength in its legendary jaws were clamping down into its death grip. His fingers were slowly loosing their grip as it the teeth tugged and tore at him, his blistered hands now tearing at the bark for a stronger grip. Once last kick at the searing pain caught the hyena right on its broad nose and for a moment it released it's vice grip.

His bloody foot suddenly free from its attacker, Jeremy pulled himself up with his remaining strength, trembling hands finding the "Y" fork that had been his bed. The hyena stood on its haunches against the tree, snorting loudly, trying to find the blood source now dripping from above.

Jeremy was going into shock. He could feel the wetness running down his foot, dripping below to the dry sand. Afraid of passing out, he clung to the trunk of the tree, hoping the head rush and lightheadedness would pass.

If he fell now, his life would be over. On the ground he would be no match. A snarling rush, before rancid breath and long teeth dug deep and tore at his throat, one or two tugs would rip away his life. His eyes would still have the last remaining oxygen enriched blood in them as he watched his body being tugged and ripped before the silence came.

There would be no trace of him for his burial. An empty casket and memories, all Claire would have to grieve and place flowers on from their home. His bones crushed for their marrow, the ants leaving not a trace, until the grasses and sand drifted over them.

He could feel his mind slipping, wishing to escape the pain and gripping fear. His trembling fingers tried to dig into the skin of the tree, to hold fast and secure. Gritting his teeth as the pain waves hit him, Jeremy tried to control his breathing. Slowly inhaling, slowly exhaling.

It took many minutes before the pain spasms could be controlled. By then, he had realized through the veils of pain, the blood loss and shock would kill him, as surly as the long teeth below could have done.

Panting with shaking hand, Jeremy reached up and took off his bandanna and with his teeth, tore off a strip down its length and then another. One arm now holding around the tree trunk, he tied the pieces together firmly, pulling it tight with his teeth.

He cracked off a small branch from above and tied one end of the cloth to it. Now he lowered it to below his knee and with a flick, tried to whip the cloth wrap around his leg.

It took a few attempts before he could make out in the moon light that he had been successful. Pausing now, not to loose what he had made by it tumbling away in the darkness, Jeremy waited for a minute. He could feel the slow trickle of blood as it rolled down his foot, it was cold and tickled strangely as it fell.

Wedging one foot against the tree trunk, Jeremy had to raise the knee of his wounded leg slightly now, so he could reach it with both hands, tilting precariously on the limb. Holding the stick with one hand, he tied the other end of the cloth to the stick and began to twist it.

He hoped the tourniquet would slow his blood loss, until help would come from someone Claire had sent out from the farm. They would have to go all the way to the compound with the old Milk Eyed Woman, and then to strike out after him on his own trail as he had gone to find his way home to the Blue Barn

He realized he would not be walking home at first light. Treed by the skulking hyena below, he had little chance of making it out here on his own strength. All through the remaining night, he would have to tie his lower leg tight, holding the blood back from the wounds, then releasing it periodically to allow new blood to feed starving muscles and bone before damaging vital tissue. The coming blood would bring new layers of pain, jarring his mind and leaving him panting in the darkness.

Time was now the enemy. Unless he was found soon, the blood would have poured out of him in a crimson pool below. Loss of blood and dehydration would kill him.

He was mortally wounded.

The eyes watching him now never left him. The taste of blood had fevered the primitive mind, saliva now pooling between yellow paws as she lay panting and waiting.

The sun was hours away, a bloodied hunt successful - it was now only a matter of time before what had crawled up into the tree would become limp and feint at the loss of blood and fall to the eagerly waiting ground below.

It would be there, hungry. Ready to seize his bloodied prize.

The stars winked at the early victor. Ngai walked on.

Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 20

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 20

      Majura sat by the side of her fire, propped up against the back wall with her favorite skins and smoking pipe. The warmth of the low flames keeping the night chill at bay. As she moved slightly to settle into her evening comfort from the long day, the sculptured bones and artworks tied to her long platted hair clinked slightly, adding a musical moment to this time. Her breathing was slow, puffing and drawing gently on her pipe, blue smoke rising silently to the dark thatched ceiling above her, filled with the medicinal pouches she had long mixed and dried.

With her Milk Eye staring at the fire, the mind saw clearly the Unseen, her Spirit now quiet, having walked the River Path of the ancestors long into the star filled night.

The white bones had been clear as they were rolled onto her mat, revealing what could not be seen in her sacred fire.

Konjaru had left earlier, his arms moving in quiet unison to his long striding legs as they ate at the ground between his son here with her and the village compound that housed his childhood memories, his father and the coming storm around his bloodline and the carved throne.

The white bones spoke of Konjaru walking into the long dark place, where the ancestors and Ngai himself walked and touched the souls of men.

Konjaru would wait there until the appointed hour, his final destiny to come as he spilled red blood to the sand, those of his enemy and his own blood, by his own choice.

He had left a young warrior, Chezwe, to be his eyes behind him as he returned like the wind to his father's house. Chezwe, as a new warrior, was now charged with his first mission. To protect his friend, his olaiguenami, Age-Group leader, which was a great thing. But more honourable and significant, the real first born of the chief had singled him out to protect the bloodline of the chief and honour of the village.

Chezwe had remained out of the compound parameter, keeping his white eyes to the horizon, searching for any first clues or hints of danger . Majura had sent out one Twin with an evening meal to his self appointed outpost. Chezwe had not spoken a word as it was delivered, he nodded his thanks, stern eyes continuing his long stare to the blazing horizon as the sun crept to its sleeping place.

Both young boys now lay on the other side of the fire. They had broken their fevers late in the afternoon. They lay now in the healing sleep, the cold sweat droplets gone from their fevered skins, their breathing slow and even, even the raging dreams that had tormented them, making them cry out in the night, had gone. Sweeter dreams from the night skies had come, a small token from the Unseen to these two who were locked together by their Twin Signs of the Moons.

By tomorrow's first light, the first eyes would open, small slits like cheetah cubs that would welcome in their new life. When fevers such as theirs came, old lives and paths were burned to ashes, replaced by the fresh flowing waters of new rivers and destinies.

The twins had retired to their own huts, chores completed and their studies with Majura done. Herb pouches had gone back up into the black-sooted ceilings, each one in its proper place.

Later, Marjua had peered out with her single eye through her low doorway and had found them each by their own doorways, stoking their fires, tending to their own evening meals. Silent as clouds on the horizon, their minds just as far away. Neither one spoke, lost as they were in their own new dreams, the fire's flames warming their hearts to paths suited to young budding women.

The muscled bodies of these young proud men, naked as new children but strong in their yearning to be warriors, had woken the woman rivers in their hearts. They were touched now by what the Unseen hand had promised them as they had emerged from their own mother's wombs. A cleft between their legs the tell-tale sign from Ngai himself that they in their own turn would work with Him in renewing the Land and the People. Through this marking, they were as bound to Him and the stars in creating new life as a tree root is bound to the ancient earth.

A woman is born touching the face of God, a man spends his lifetime searching for that face revealed to him while within his mother.

Of the Twins, each heart was now torn. Only one would remain with her, one would leave this compound, and the life as a healer.

The bones were unclear as to which one would choose the path of love, the other, the single path where the trail left behind you in the sand is only of your own passing.

There were others in this storm, faces known and unknown, man and beast, they were all lined up to play their parts in this storm time and of the times to come.

Much blood would come in this night time and the new day heralded in by the sun rising. Dreams destroyed, bodies disfigured by hunger, greed, love and hate. Beds gone cold from those missing and forever gone. Lives touched by the hand of Ngai and the Ancients, fulfilling each man's destiny.

Her Milk Eye focused on a small single flame and quietly dimmed.

Those watching high up on the hill between the burned stones, bowed their heads and closed their own night eyes.

Ngai was about to walk the earth.

Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 19

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 19

      Zizi stoked the fire in her hut, pushing the low coals back to life as she considered the next moments to come. She had taken off her clothing to cool herself from the heat of the day, only an apron and her ornaments remaining. This moment stolen under the pretext of her need for her own toilet, Zizi had left the side of the chief and returned to her hut. For a night and now a day and evening, she had watched the Chief begin the lower cramping, then the severe pain and retching as the poison brought by Sampanga had filled his belly.

The elders had nodded their approval of her comings and goings. Tirelessly, she had shown her devotion, not sleeping at all but seeing to her Lord through night and day.

Although deeply tired, the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her mind clear and focused to the final culmination of years of careful planning. Sampanga had come with the powder of the crushed beans which she had diluted in the special broths prepared to ease the abdominal pains.

The Chief now lay feverish and unable to control the emptying of his bloodied bowls. Zizi had had to wipe and clean him like a child after he has missed his chamber pot. His stools raining like water to the ground. Now he lay unable to move, his bloody stools streaming from his body where he lay. She had not told the Elders of the colour changing in his stools, to bright red as blood poured from him. The darkened hut kept the severity of the illness away from prying eyes, the low fire bringing only warmth. Special herbs smoldering on the coals filled the air with pungent aromas designed to cover the tell tale signs of approaching death.

Zizi considered the previous night when she had finally given Sampanga the seal of her commitment to their schemes. She had held his firm desire in her hand, stroking him until his seed had spilled to the ground before her. At the swift climax he had almost cried out, tears streaming down his face at the delirium and sexual opiate finally filled his spirit. The covenant between them now sealed, Sampanga could now allow himself to dream of the coming nights when he would no longer be alone on his mat. His long spear spent by the heat of Zizi's body beneath him

She had been sickened at the stuttering fool. He had whimpered like a child as she held him. Ngai might have given him a great spear but he would never be able to satisfy her as a woman. His spear she knew would always flow quickly with his seed. No time for her own fires to be stoked until her own blood fire satisfied and released. Like a monkey after the act, he had stuttered for a while, pouring out his heart and rapture of the moment. Tumbling words rolling over themselves, he spoke like a young girl, all words and simple thoughts.

For now, this a small price to pay for her son and her becoming the mother of the chief. Time still for her own plans to be put into play, releasing her of this pact until her own life be fulfilled.

A rustle behind her, she turned swiftly from the rising fire. Sampanga had come in low through the doorway, his cloak folded high over his lower face, eager eyes finding her.

"What are you doing here? Are you mad? Do you want us to be caught?" she hissed at him.

"If any one sees us I will say only I brought fresh herbs to be given to the chief" Sampanga said, the light dimming briefly from his yes.

"You fool, we said we would see as little as possible of each other until the chief was dead, even then, we would be careful not to be seen too closely for fear any one would consider our closeness as being more than dutiful."

"I could not wait, I watched from the outer compound until you had had come from the chief. No one has watched me in the darkness. All are waiting outside the chief's hut or tending to their own families needs." Sampanga eyes now brimmed again, hopeful of his next request as he feasted himself on her exposed body in the firelight.

"All day I have relived the moment of our coming together. Now the chief is truly dying, there is nothing to stop it." Here Sampanga paused, unsure of himself. The fire had raged all day in his veins,and like the coming of a storm it held him, caught like a child in the winds. The fire lust that burned brightly now, directed his every thought.

"I want you, calling my name while I am a man in you" he said finally. She could see his eyes wide in hope, darting to and fro over her. "I have waited too long. I need it. Now! I cannot wait any longer"

His tongue licked his lips, spittle drooling off his lower lip. Crouched as he was before her, she was in no doubt, the stuttering fool could now destroy their plans with his cocked spear that seemed to burn without end.

She peered into his eyes seeing for the first time his crazed blood lust that had truly long tormented him, pushing him now to the edge of real danger. Like a raging river during the rainy season, this force would not be calmed by words or threats. Better to release him of it all and have him continue the night, finishing their schemes.

"Then come here. Just do it quickly and be off, you fool, before any one comes!,” she said. No time to do anything else except feed his lust before it undid all of their plans.

"Tthththth-thank you. This is wa-wa-wa-wonderful. Finally!" Sampanga pulled at the thong from his waist to release his apron. It was not needed as his spear was already peering out from beneath, pointing at her.

On her knees, she reached over to her son's sleeping mat. A tug at a raised corner and brushing her hand to smooth the folds, this gave her time to prepare her mind for what was to come. This was the price she had agreed to pay.

From behind, Sampanga had come closer. With his hand directing his spear, he had not waited for her. She could feel it on her buttocks, probing, looking for her opening, searching for her. She could hear him whimpering like a child again and it sickened her. He rose too high and tried to spear her hard.

"Wait!" she shrieked as she leaned yet more forward to escape his probing. She used her hand to swat him away and felt him hard behind her. "Wait a moment - it is lower!"

The stinging pain of her hand swatting him brought him to levels unknown to him. Coupled with the danger of their schemes, the sudden pain and ecstasy merging in his mind brought him to delirious open fields of almost unlimited pleasure.

"Don't fight me, I know you like it" Sampanga said, pulling her roughly back. He had grabbed her hips on either side and pulled her hard to him. Like the animals he had seen all his life, Sampanga reared up behind her and mounted her. Cleanly driving himself deeply into her, he felt as is he had fallen into an endless sensuous well of the most indescribable pleasure. Still he slid deeper and deeper into her softness until his own stomach slapped against her bare skin.

With a gasp, Zizi caught his hand on her hip and held tightly. Unable to catch her breath, she held tightly as the spasm of pain slowly drained from her. One arm before her, holding herself up off the ground, the other holding his hand on her hip.

Zizi could hear him whimpering now, thrusting himself into her while on her knees. A few more strokes and already she could feel the coming trembling.

As the fire raged in Sampanga, his one hand slipped from her tightly held hip and he tumbled to the side of her. She had just moved to adjust to his pressure and thrusts, when he slid out of her with a wail. She could feel it now hot and wet on her thigh.

"Oh - oh - oh no" he said. "No!" he whimpered with a cry of a child. She looked back over her shoulder. He was reaching down now, trying to redirect himself back into her. She reached back again, this time taking careful aim and slapped him hard across his long spear.

Like a snake fighting off the advances of a mongoose, Sampanga held it back away from her in his hand. The pain of her slap mingling with the coming of his rush and while he held it there in his own hand, his eyes rolled back and in the fire that had consumed him for the day, it let forth all the pressures and ecstasies of his day dreams. His white seed rained from him onto her dark thigh and buttocks. There seem to end to it, in the firelight it came without end.

Zizi's own anger now rose up, she had by now turned around on her haunches and crouching low she hissed at him. "You stuttering fool, you are not even a man, don't ever do that to me again, ever!"

Sampanga was still in the throes of his rapture, hand on his spear, riding what seemed to be unending waves of sexual bliss when a knife blade found its way across his neck and he was held fast. Struggling to find his mind through the mists of his sexual delirium, enough of the adrenaline from the sudden danger made him pause without flinching.

"If you move, I will slit your worthless throat like a goat" came the voice behind him. Sampanga could feel the hand as someone pressed a cold blade against his neck. The moment of final sexual triumph has exploded into fear and desperation at the unknown intruder. Zizi's own eyes were wide and fixed behind him. Whoever it was, she held their gaze unblinking, afraid herself to move.

"What kind of monkey is it, who spears his woman, yet completes this task of a man with his own hand? Is he not enough of a man, or is she not enough of a woman?" The mocking voice asked behind him, the hand on his neck moved tighter, the blade drawing its first drop of blood as a measure of his threat.

"Who are you and what do you want" Sampanga croaked, afraid to move. Zizi moved slightly to the side, hoping the firelight from the side would allow her to see who had come into her hut.

Sampanga looked the idiot that he was. Frozen on his knees, his spear in his hand now shriveled and lifeless. He did not release it to slip down between his legs, he held it like a stick ready for the fire.

"I came to find the one responsible for poisoning my son."

Now Sampanga steadied his own gaze and looked to Zizi for direction. Could she see who was behind him and what son was this, that he had poisoned?

"Do not move Zizi, I know the crawling snake that you are. My father mistrusted you and left you outside of his royal house. You and that stupid boy of yours must somehow be connected with this worthless piece of cow dung."

Zizi had looked closely over the fire, the slow voice prickling her memory of the distant past. Her heart was beating faster than she could have remembered. Here before her was the one piece of their schemes she had not considered. Here before her, the one person who could thwart the ascension of her son to the carved throne. The one who had brought his own son and placed him in the chiefs arms to be the future chief of the people. Here stood absolute failure of all their plans and dreams. Her heart sunk and the spirit seemed to leave her body in a rush.

"Konjaru!" Zizi spat at him. Sampanga eyes flew wide, a cry held in his throat.

"Konjaru! What? How can that be?" Sampanga asked now, fear gripping his heart.

"I do not know what ancestors or spirits drove me to a compound to the east. But while there, I brought a sick white boy to the Milk Eyed Woman , there I find my own son delivered, by the orders of my own father the chief, dying of a fever, which you Sampanga had delivered to him with the blade of a knife!"

Now Sampanga's eyes grew wide with horror. No one except Zizi, knew of the method the poison had been administered to the child and the plans for the killing of the chief. How as all this possible?

Zizi glared at Konjaru over the firelight, the anger and loathing clear in her eyes.. "If your son is sick with the fever from him becoming a man, when his skin was cut away from him, how do you think we had anything to do with it" Zizi groped to find how he had come to know of their plot. If she could stall for time she could think of something to do.

"I did not say that the poison knife had come from his becoming a man. How did you know this?" Konjaru whispered.

At this, Sampanga let out a simpering whine, his neck straining at the knife held tightly, drawing yet another dark blood offering that ran down to his chest.

"Your own worthless mouth condemns you. How stupid you are. You were useless as the wife of a chief. Your belly empty of a healthy child of royal blood, only breeding with a simpleton could have caused the birth of that idiot child you call your son. The people and elders know of this, but do not speak for the sake of the old chief. Even now as you are faced with your own evil, you are too stupid to cover your own trail of lies."

Konjaru had now passed the absurdity of their sexual encounter and his anger now filled his low voice as he spoke.

"You have tried to poison my son and with him gone, you thought the path to my fathers throne was open. You have underestimated the healing power of the Old Milk Eyed Woman." He looked directly into Zizi's eyes, and held it there as he struck her plans with the death blow.

"My son is well, his fever is broken and he rests by her fire. Whatever your plans Zizi, they have come to nothing."

"I am going to take this worthless piece of cow droppings before me and take him to my father. This worthless stuttering fool will no doubt explain all this in his own words. Then he will be taken to the fields where his his arms and legs will be crushed with knop-kerries - war clubs, and then left on the open fields to die. You he would have been betrayed long before the first clubs broke his bones. Your stupid son will never sit on the carved throne."

"You will once again be known for the nothing that you are."

Gripping him close now, Konjaru began to move Sampanga up, holding the knife closely as he knew given any chance, Sampanga would dart away like a snake in the tall grass.

"Come, we will go and speak to the chief. Now!" he said.

Zizi reached down to the fire in front of her and with her open palm scooped a handful of hot red coals and threw them up at the smiling determined face behind the terrified Sampanga.

The coals flew into his wide eyes, searing them, causing him to flinch and pull back his arms. As he did so, the blade drew across the stretched neck of Sampanga drawing deep blood.

With one hand trying desperately to sooth and hold his burning and blind eyes, the other held the knife, Konjaru kept slashing at the air back in forth, calling both their names as the pain gripped him. Sampanga now rolled away under the arc of the probing knife to the sidewall of the hut.

"Get him! Get him" Sampanga squealed like a frightened child. He had by now rolled himself into a ball, covering his head with his arms..

Zizi stood now out of harms way, her one hand blistered, taking in this scene. Her co-conspirator to their schemes all but useless, now huddled by the side of the dark hut. Her arch enemy before her, momentary blind and slashing at the air hoping to find her blood. She must move in and change the course and direction of their earlier plans and schemes, or she would be fleeing the compound by morning with her son, or worse, her body thrown on the garbage heap behind the compound, to the delight of the whooping and laughing scavengers and large dark birds that lived there.

She reached down once more to the fire, grasped a log as thick as her wrist from the flames. She stood there, waiting for an opening while Konjaru continued blindly slashing at the open air with his knife. Measuring the time between his thrusts, Zizi suddenly held the log with both hands and lunged at Konjaru, striking him hard on the side of his head.

Sparks flew in all directions as the last and final arc of the blade came back and split her skin over her ribs down to the bone as she had lunged forward. It caught her under the armpit and ribs, and drew down across to her hip.

The blood came instantly, glistening dark against her skin. Zizi sat down with the log falling from her hand. There was no pain, just a numbness that came as a surprise.

"Get up! You little man, help me, I am cut and bleeding. Get up you stuttering fool." Zizi hissed at Sampanga in an attempt to reach him through the fog of his cowardice and fear.

Konjaru had fallen as he was struck, the glancing blow had knocked him out. No time to feel the layers of his mind dissolve, only the sudden darkness that had ended the pain in his eyes.

Here in the deep darkness, Konjaru could not protect his son or find the source of the poison sent to kill him. Outside the darkness of his mind the conspirators went about their business, no one to hold them in check.

He could feel the presence of his ancestors here in this dark world. They had watched, eyes winked at each other here in the darkness, hidden smiles and nodding approval.

Konjaru could only wait until the dark mists had ended. That he could still draw breath and have time to protect his father and son, once out of this place, was unknown.

Silently he prayed while they all watched here in the silent darkness. Then Konjaru waited for the light to return here between the worlds.