Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 32

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 32

       The waters danced and gently bubbled past the old hands of Majura as she dipped them into the cool gentle flowing water, washing the last of the young warrior's fevers from her skin. Rippling on the glistening surface, the early sun danced for a moment with the waning moon before being carried downstream.

Majura reached behind her, grasping hold of the soft cloth that had finally cleansed their sickness from each of the boys and held it deep as the clear morning water rinsed the fevered dreams caught fast in the fabric.

As the young boys lay by the edge of the stream, still too weak to mouth the many words that lay buried in their hearts, the running waters had cooled the last of their fevered brows.

They had both woken in the night, minutes of each other. Their fevers finally broken beside the dancing light of a warm low fire to find the face of an old woman peering at them through the soft smoke, smiling her welcome. Majura's Milk Eye staring keenly through them as she watched the ones whom Ngai had put directly in her care, her smile soothing their hearts and the fears born from their awaking into this unknown.

The scents of medicine pouches overhead drowned out the pungent odours from their fevered skins and the bloodied bandages that had covered their wounds with their healing salves.

Etona was the first to turn to his head and see who had laid with him in this darkness. Even before his eyes were open, he had felt the presence of another that had lain by his side. The low flickering light caught the soft glow of white skin in the dark shadows. After a while, a young face with sunken tired eyes finally turned to him, eyes unfocused and blurred by smoke. They stared at each other, eyes locked as young warriors do. Chests drew long, deeper breaths as each measured the other in the darkness. Even now, wasted as they were from their fevers, the call to battle erupted between them.

The minutes went by in the semi-darkness as Marura watched as the Two Moons spoke in silence to one another. Matthew finally looked away, already tired of the game that had sprung up between them. Etona stared for a minute longer, a smile touching his lips knowing this encounter had been won.

Mathew's golden hair stirred a faint memory that flashed for a moment, leaving a tremble in Etona's body, then it was gone. He looked one last time at the old women across from him, then closed his tired eyes to sleep.

Majura stared long into the glowing fire after both Sons of the Moon had returned to the shelter of their sleeping. Out of her doorway, Majura measured a rising lonely star as it rose above the dark horizon, until, higher than the lowest branch of the withered tree. What could not be seen in the fire or the visions seen by her Milk Eye, she cast the last of the white marked bones before her and read of the night that was to come.

Murmuring softly into the darkness, Majura spoke to the smoke that rose up into the night. It carried her words up into the night sky where the winds would carry them to Ngai, telling him of the rivers that were to come.

When this task was done and the scented leaves were scattered over the fire to bring sweetness with her final message Majura held her cupped hands that contained her whispered words over the fire, then gently clapped her hands twice, the sounds rising up to the heavens.

When the fire was finally low and the blinking star had risen above the gnarled limb out in the courtyard, she quietly called to Pathera and Gileni who had long retired for the night. It was not long before both had come and entered the low doorway to their mother.

"What do you need Mother?" asked Pathera kneeling before her. Pathera's broken sleep still filled her eyes, they were slow to move as she searched Majura's face for her words in the dim firelight. Gileni fared no better. The day had been long preparing the newest herb pouches and her sleeping mat had come very welcomed at the end of her day.

"The last herbs must be brought in. They are only harvested in the night when its leaves are closed for the night. The night dew caught in its leaves brings out the right moisture when it is crushed, too much water when it is prepared and the leaves turn to mould and dies. The flower is ready to come now. There is a good fruitful tree on the other side of the water river. The great silent ones have not come and stripped it of its life. The small path that leads away from the water. Follow it and you will find the flowers when the path turns to the open fields. Take only the white closed leaves. You will see them clearly in the moon light against the darkness."

"When you come back to your huts, fold them gently and leave them in the last pouches you have and take them with you for the night to be ready in the morning." Majura then pointed a single finger at the direction of the young men sleeping quietly, "They will be fine until the morning, they will not need to be cared for this night."

"Now go!"

Without any further words, the Twins turned still kneeling and left through the dark opening and into the night. They would travel without harm. No animal would know of them this night, the day's herbs still lingered on their skins to cover their own scents. They would return later when their mission was complete and go directly to their huts and waiting sleeping mats.

Majura waited a few minutes until she was sure the twins had crossed over the waters. Rising from her corner of the hut, she stretched over the young warriors with a long thin stick she had kept by her side all the day.

Gently, she touched the leg of each boy, who startled awake with eyes whiter than the night time moon. While both were staring intently at her, sudden fear of the night and of the single Milk Eye that seemed to glow at them, Majura's single finger in front of her lips spoke the universal language of silence, then it curled slowly to them, beckoning them to follow.

The miniature ornaments in her hair clinked together, singing the song of her leaving as she left through the door without bending. Without the flickering light, she disappeared into the darkness leaving the young men alone in the hut.

Once again, they starred at each other, still breathing hard at the suddenness of their awakening. The dark sunken eyes the testament to the illnesses that has stripped each of their youthful strength.

First rising to an elbow, they rolled from their sleeping mats to kneeling positions, steadying themselves as fevered muscles fought for lost strength to carry them.

After what seemed like ages, Matthew was the first to stand erect, holding unsteadily to the side wall. His grinding teeth could be heard in the stillness as he fought to find his way to follow the old woman. His eyes grinned with triumph back to the rear of the hut where Etona fought to find his way to match him.

His triumph was short-lived. As he let go of the sidewall and bent forward to go through the doorway, his strength left him, and he pitched straight forward face first into the sand. Coughing and spluttering he rolled to the side, the back of his hand wiping away the sand that now ringed his mouth.

A light chuckle echoed from the rear of the hut, following by the shuffle of tired feet as Etona approached the doorway. His head suddenly appeared through the darkness where he could see Matthew wiping his face. The moonlight caught his wide grin as he stretched one leg forward to leave the hut.

Laying to the one side, Matthew stretched out one leg as if to find his was back to standing, where it brushed the side of the Etona's outstretched leg as he came though the doorway. It was enough to topple his unsteady frame and he too fell into the sand in a jumbled heap.

Mathew's chuckle was not reserved, it echoed across the compound to the stones that stood above the hilltop. Silent eyes that had been recessed into the night, woke to find the Life Game still at play below them.

The eyes of Etona flashed back at Matthew where the last chuckle died in his throat. Both now fought to find their legs and follow the old woman who had disappeared into the night. Without the walls to steady them they were as new born chicks, unsteady, and ready to fall if the slightest breeze came to play with them.

Like dancers with arms flaying at their sides, they fought to steady themselves. An outreached hand instinctively grasped the arm of the other and as their wild dance diminished it became clear, together they could stand and move.

Alone they were helpless!

Their eyes met through the darkness and held long enough for both to understand their mutual need. One hand on one shoulder, the other around a waist, they shuffled forward. The first and last time they would extend a hand to aid the other.

Out of the darkness to the right of them, Majura clapped her hands so that they could hear her. Matthew on the left, walked an extra pace to bring them level with the direction of her sound, then they shuffled forward to find her.

Majura led them down to the end of the stream where across the waters, Konjaru had first found Chezwe asleep behind a stone. Here she paused for a minute, mouthing words into the quiet night. Her hand rose slowly in an arc until finally pointing to the stars, where it hung motionless for a while, then her arm fell once more to her side. Majura then turned to her right and led them all further away from the compound without a word.

They did not travel very far. An old tree had come and made a covering for them as it had been swept down to this place from an earlier rainy season. Here Majura knelt down and placed a small mat beneath the trunk and gently sat on it.

Looking up at the unsteady boys, she grinned at them and motioned at them to come to the side of her. A few more shuffles and they eagerly collapsed to the ground to the side of her. They had not brought their sleeping mats so they lay panting, clothed only with their herbal cloths that protected their wounds on the cool sands by the water.

Majura sat regal, the stars outlining her diminutive form. The moon suddenly came and bathed her with blue light from the heavens. The night's darkness seemed to leave her presence, every bead and ornament clearly visible in this dark night.

Matthew and Etona watched her to find some clue as to what to do next but all she did was sit smiling at the open sky. Occasionally, her hand reached out, as if to draw some map in the air, words came from her soundless lips as she spoke to the Unseen. Several times she grinned as she spoke and motioned one way, then pausing, she would direct her fingers or hand this way or that.

Majura finally pressed her hands together, and while she sat by the trunk of the tree, bowed low and with her hands outstretched before her, clapped her hands three times, then opened her palms to the stars and sky.

There she remained for minutes, until the blue light from the moon dimmed, the stars seemed to fade and the gentle sounds from her hair ornaments sang their last song of praise.

Ngai paused before her and gently touched both her outstretched hands, then softly turned to the direction of the hill. He paused to look at the young warriors as they slept, then strode forward to find the final battle between man and beast.

The stars shifted in the night, the slow arc in the heavens turned until the first glow on the horizon marked the beginning of the new day.

The life song of the night changed as the night's survivors found new waters to drink and fresh leaves and grasses to fill their empty bellies. Squels and morning dances of the young brought life to the small herds that lined the banks. Long trunks curled around the new born, keeping them away from the deeper waters as they bathed, greeting each other and drinking their need for the day.

Matthew and Etona had slept, their tired bodies exhausted from the small night time adventure. Dawn had brought the cool touch of soft cloth bathed in clear waters, washing the last fevers from their bodies and brow.

They lay as they slept as Majura washed them. Soothing words, meaningless to them both, caressed their fears until all that was left was the sigh of a newborn smile.

The strong scent of soot filled the air as the winds turned to come from over the compound. Majura nodded, her hand caressing the air in front of her as if to calm what the winds had carried. The scent of death mingled with the burned thatch that had come with the winds.

Scorched skin and a woman's fear as strong as the scent of death. The wind carried a new smell, dusty padded sandals and the leather shields painted with yellow eyes of Warriors. The sweat of a long march to this place clear in the air.

Majura suddenly clapped her hands several times, like she had done in the night but louder, then sat with her hands in front on her, clutching a brown falcon feather on her lap and patiently waited.

In a few minutes, the bushes lining the pathway to the compound rustled and spoke of their coming. From the first clearing came the proud white mane of Whahnu the Elder and the sandaled feet of the Masai Warriors of the village, come to find their young chief and to tell him of the passing of the Great One and the death of his last wife found alone in the ashes of her hut.

Behind Whahnu, the twins came with their faces strained with relief, Pathera's hand steadying a wounded Chezwe as they came to her. The remainder of their night had been spent above on the hilltop, waiting for the morning light that would direct them to their Mother, who had wondered off into the night before the Wild Spirits had come with their fires and death.

Only the falcon riding high above, heard the first roar as the sun broke through the mists of the morning.

The final battle had begun.