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.