Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 36

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 36

       In the new morning light, the pounding legs of Thomas blurred as he ran back to the farm. His shield and spear were gripped loosely by his sides as he sped along the winding trail, through open fields and around silent fallen trees that littered the landscape. His mind was still flushed with the great battle that had seen wet blood sprinkle the sands around the tree that had held Jeremy through the night.

Jeremy had not stirred since the lion had flung him aside in a rain of dust and fury during the battle. The deep puncture wounds to Jeremy's shoulder did not bleed as he had feared but he knew the damage had been done deep within the man.

Kashezwe had offered to stay behind and guard them all, the bloodied and the dead. The morning air would bring the scavengers, drawn by the silence of final death and the rich aroma of fresh blood, the killing completed.

Those coming for their morning feed would not wait long. Empty bellies would make their numbers swell until no shield or spear could save the survivors. The great birds would come. Hunched together, they would wait until the yellow haired laughter pooled their courage to attack, darting in and out, the circle around the fallen closing until all were carried away to feed the living.

The miles fled beneath his feet as he ran to bring help. There was no time to think of carrying Jeremy. The slow trek carrying the wounded man would see him cold and grey before he made it back to the shadows of the blue gum trees that lined the entrance to the farm.

Ahead of him, a glitter of light flashed in his eyes, the morning's simmering sun reflecting on polished glass. He stopped running and for a moment watched and listened as his own heartbeat pounded in his chest. He could hear the unmistakable sound of a lorry coming towards him, the engine roaring up and down as it fought its way through the bush and along the sand trails.

For a moment he paused, resting his spear against his shield, wiping away the running sweat that had clouded his vision during this chase. His eyes never lost contact with the coming truck, judging its speed and direction as it come towards him through the bush.

He could see a tracker leading the lorry as he followed a trail. If the tall bush became too thick, he would run forward to pick up the track once it had cleared the heavier bush on the other side, then direct the driver to his new position.

Thomas re gripped his spear, knowing this run had found its final leg. He set out to meet the lorry as they came roaring through the bush at him.

Claire gritted her teeth as the engine screamed, she had to put her foot hard on the accelerator and punched the Land Rover through a patch of deep sand before it became clogged. Deep sand had a way of snatching any lorry and burying them up to the axils before they could find their way out.

Although an experienced driver, the pathways of Africa would leave most unsuspecting drivers caught, bogged down by their own inexperience. Claire realized, to succeed, she could not make any mistakes out here in the bush. Africa had a way of offering you only one chance; failure would bring a consequence few could survive.

Simon had done well. He had followed the trail of the returning Thomas and Kashezwe. First by sitting on the hood of the Land Rover, pointing left or right as they moved along the trail. When the sand trail had become too much like a snake winding itself through the landscape, he had walked out ahead of her, directing from fifty yards out, hand signals pointing back to her, keeping her away from harm.

As Claire cleared the deep sand and the revving engine returned to its normal tone, the running form of Thomas appeared out of the bush ahead of Simon, his skin wet against the rising morning air.

Her foot punched the brake in amazement, bringing her and the Land Rover to a sudden stop, the rising dust filling the interior making her cough, her hand trying to wave away the now lingering airborne trail.

Simon stopped with a wide grin as Thomas stepped out from the bush into his path. The two signaling their greeting with raised hands to each other.

Even here in the outback of the African landscape, protocol dictated the flow of their greeting. The approaching one hailing his greeting, the other welcoming his greeting. While the men formally exchanged information in a manner befitting their own elders, Claire opened the door of the now stilled Land Rover and ran out to them both.

Anxious words spilled from her, interrupting the quiet detail as Thomas explained the battle that had erupted beneath a tree. He had begun the time tested ritual between men, where the river that carried his words and colours of his story could be heard clearly, flowing quietly like rippling waters over smooth stones, especially the silent words that are the foundations of men.

Claire banged out her hurried questions. Her hands once again dancing in the air as her fears punctuated her words. The men's eyes met and locked for just a moment, then with an inward sigh, they let go of their story to each other and began a story formed in a manner woven for a woman. It came out in single sentences, only as replies to her questions and took twice as long to tell, only then it had to be restitched back again in its proper order.

By the time Claire had understood the full story, the minutes had come and gone, even the dust around the Land Rover had settled to sleep again. She could not believe how long it took for Thomas to tell a simple story and felt her own anger rising. It always seemed that Africans took forever to say anything in a way that could be understood in a logical manner!

The men's eyes met one last time, then separated after they had spoken their silent understanding.

She was horrified!

Jeremy had been bitten by a lion in the shoulder after he had fallen from a tree. They had seen a terrible older wound to his one foot, torn muscles and ligaments had been bleeding for some time, leaving him unconscious from loss of blood which is probably why he was up in the tree in the first place.

Konjaru now lay beneath the lion that had died with his spear through his heart. Even a mature hyena lay dead by their side! And no idea of where poor Matthew was!

Thomas pointed to a landmark further out, no need now to follow a winding spoor that led away into the bush. That was where the morning had erupted in madness.

"Thomas, sit beside me and tell me which way to go. We have to get to Jeremy now as quickly as possible!" Claire said turning back to the Land Rover.

After storing his shield and spear safely in the back of the Land Rover, Thomas settled into the front seat beside Claire, head held high as they began their journey.

Joshua would have clicked his own tongue in shame as Claire crashed the gears and the poor Land Rover roared back into life with a sudden lurch, more so than he could have done after a long absence from behind the steering wheel.

Simon seemed to bounce higher than the others as the Land Rover tore through the trail. Somehow they managed to miss the larger downed trees and stones as they went, their wheels tore up the surface like a plough field, somehow missing the oncoming obstacles that sped by them.

Thomas tried to hold onto his dignity as they lurched from side to side. In the end, his own death grip on the side handle was what kept him from spilling out, he was sure, from the lorry itself.

It was not long before they approached the landmark that Thomas had pointed out to them. Above the din of the roaring engine and pounding seats as they all fell back to earth, Claire yelled over to Thomas as to "which way to go from here?"

His white knuckles and glazed eyes fixed before him made it clear, until the bucking Land Rover had come to a stop, he would be unable to direct them to their next setting, until he had released his grip from the door handle.

Once more, the Land Rover came to halt, the dust raining around them. Before the red mist had risen to enter the windows, Thomas had released his grip and opened the side door and leapt out in a flurry of waving knees and boney elbows. By the time Claire looked sideways to ask for the direction they needed to go, Thomas stood outside against a closed door, pointing ahead of them, explaining that to continue, it had to be done with him leading the way ahead of them.

Without waiting for a reply or to retrieve spear and shield from the rear of the Land Rover, he sped off to lead their chase. Behind Claire, Simon sometimes sat airborne, grinning as the Land Rover followed Thomas over the last few rolling miles.

Claire sensed the change in Thomas. He no longer pointed ahead as he went. His stride stretched wider to cover more ground, knowing the trail behind him was open for them to see him and the destination of this trip was now before them all.

She could see how he had been following a winding trail that suddenly veered off to the right. A hundred yards or so away, a large tree stood out against a backdrop of shadowed bushes and trees. She could make out the colourful marking of a shield, a spear flashing in the sunlight as it fought to keep a shrinking circle alive against those that had come with the morning.

Kashezwe had stood his ground, walking slowly from point to point around his parameter, a spear or edge of his shield thrust towards the bravest of the new stalkers, their laughter and cries filled the morning air with their lust.

Behind them, the wings of the vultures beat against the coming heat, their own impatience clear as they walked with large open dramatic strides, to and fro before the silent forms of the defeated.

Thomas picked up a few stones as he approached them all and threw them hard at the hyena who had crawled closest and who seemed to have lost his instinctive fear of the single one driving them back. The stone bounced off the side of its neck, it whooped away in a wide circle until its hunger brought it back to try again.

While Thomas stood to the side of Kashezwe, Claire pulled up fifty yards away, eyes wide in horror while taking in the new unfolding spectacle. She could see the quiet forms lying on the ground where they had fallen. A long brown mane blowing softly in the wind waved at her their silent greetings.

Fingers found the tops of two of the cartridges on her vest and pulled them free. Her other hand found the straps that had bound her rifle safely and unclipped the cold steel from their mountings.

Simon had reached behind and retrieved his own spear, the grin on his face now gone. The last memories of their bouncing ride now locked behind the vision before them. He was already outside of the Land Rover and walking quickly towards the outer circle of feather and yellow fur.

From behind him, a single shot rang out. A puff of dust appeared almost at the same place on the hyena's furry neck where the stone had hit it, but this time it had no more time to regroup. It folded in on itself in a sudden heap, legs twitching before it was still.

A second shot rang out and another hyena fell silent. Two fingers reached once more for brass cartridges that glinted in the sunlight on her breast, and in a moment the rifle was ready to make silent again, any drooling beast that would threaten her love.

The vultures had fallen back; their flapping wings cloaking their disappointment as they sat huddled together. The hyena's had backed off to stand off even further, the noses picking up the new scent of blood pooling from the middle of their own area.

Claire could not believe the carnage that met her as she strode quickly up to the tree. Lying to the side, an older hyena lay ripped and bloodied. Konjaru lay with the partly open eyes of the dead, the flies swarming around his torn neck, the dead lion across his legs, the long spear still buried deep inside it's chest.

To the side, Jeremy lay quietly in the sand and grasses, his shoulder punctured and oozing blood where he had been bitten cleanly through muscle and bone. More terrifying, his foot had been reduced to crushed white bone and open bleeding flesh. Here too the flies had come to pick at the blood and dead tissue.

She knelt beside Jeremy feeling the final release of her dark fears. A deep sob escaped her heart as she stroked his hair, then carefully felt for a pulse on his neck. Slow and very weak, his skin felt cool to the touch even though the heat of the day was rising and the dark shadows cast by the trees and stones were disappearing under the glare of the sun.

"Simon" Claire whispered, hoping not to waken Jeremy from the sleep that protected him from his pain. "Go to the lorry and bring me the medicine box. Also, bring me the folded stretcher and put them to the side, here!"

Simon returned and gently placed the large medicine box to the side of Jeremy. In a moment, the lock was open and like a fisherman's tackle box, the array of medicines, syringes and bandages spilt out before her.

First, she filled her first syringe with antibiotics. The torn foot wound already showed the early signs of flesh poisoning. With a quick alcohol rub to his behind, Claire began the fight to bring back Jeremy from the edge of death.

Another syringe, this time for shock and pain.

Sprinkling the entire foot with antiseptic powder, Claire began to bind the foot with heavy gauze, sealing the terrible wound that had dripped below him as he had lain in the tree. The puncture wounds from the lion's teeth still oozed blood. The best she could do here was to bind them softly and wait for the doctor to find if any deeper veins and muscles had been ripped, then cleaned and stitched up from the inside until each was completely closed.

Claire noticed the worm bloody hands. A tear fell from her cheek as she gently rubbed antiseptic ointment over them, not knowing how they could have come to be in this state, only that they were part of a story that had lead Jeremy to this tree and horrible battle that had left him so terribly wounded.

Claire was aware of the great silence that lay to the side. A life given to protect her beloved now lay beneath the great one. She could see Konjaru's windpipe torn open, his voice blown away by the winds before his heart beat for the last time.

She saw the terrible bite marks on his side, the ripped flesh and the final bites that had broken his hip bones. How he had found the strength to spear one last time, to kill what had killed him, she would never know. She had learnt from Jeremy, of men during the war, pulling embedded metal or wood from their own bodies as they searched for ways to help their comrades in battle.

Now her tears flowed openly down her cheek. The quiet weeping of women that comes from burying what was born silent from their hearts and wombs.

Konjaru had always been a quiet man around the farm. A knowing smile always seemed to rest on his lips, good humoured and even tempered; even his wives enjoyed his company, for he was not a master of his house, only their husband and lover.

Around his fire tonight, the weeping of those he loved would rise far up into the stars. The solace and binding of their wounds would come only in time. They would learn to carry their loss, never learning to understand it.

They placed Jeremy on the stretcher and carried him to the back of the Land Rover. After they had secured him safely, they returned to the tree and the fallen Konjaru.

Claire looked down at the man who had fought for her love and had stolen him from the jaws of roaring death.

"There is a second stretcher, bring it here. I am not leaving him here for the animals." she said quietly. "I owe him everything!"

"There is a blanket in the back, wrap him in it."

"I am going to take him home with Jeremy!"

A last tear fell in the bloodied sand, beside the extra footprints that had formed silently while they had cared for their fallen.

Ngai sighed deeply as He stared at the silent eyes, the string of whispered words held in his hands the final task of this bloodied night.

Long after the song of the Land Rover had been carried away by the winds, He stood and watched as the hungry came to fill their needs.

The morning light caught the sparkle as a tear fell from His check.

Then He turned to find a boy who lay healing by a river.

Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 35

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 35

      How long she stared at the dripping cold tea from the overturned cup, she did not know. Claire could still feel where her finger nails had dig deeply into her clenched palms as she held the corner of her blue shawl across he cramped shoulders. She had dared not move after she had woken with a start, certain she clutched in her hand the life dreams that had left waving hats high in the air just two days before. She had felt the shawl slipping until too late. Her hand had darted out to catch it as it fell, her mind numb with the long fear that had gripped since they had not returned from their hunt.

Claire could see the soft colours painted broadly across the new horizon. The house was still quiet, cushioned from the soft echoes of the red land as the leaves and gentle limbs of the swaying blue gums beside them sang their long endless songs. Long shadows lay slowly shrinking, held in by the last blankets of darkness that had slipped in from the night. No banging doors from stretched coiled springs suddenly closing, holding back the endless sea of flies to greet them after the household had come to begin their day.

In her heart she knew, whatever had bound them all, hindering their return, had finally broken. The aftermath of what had kept them was all that remained of their journey.

If they were alive, wounded or not, they would be making their way home, walking or limping today. Those not able to return, would be found and brought home. Scented water washing away their death, loving hands clothing them for their final meeting with those who cherished their lives.

Claire stood up from the white wicker chair, hand-stitched cushions falling behind her, her hands pushing up as tired muscles strained against the cool morning, this time the blue shawl fell to her feet without her noticing.

Thomas had told her the direction they had taken and the general area where the rhino had tried to maim young Matthew. They would have back-tracked to where they had found their story churned in the sands of the rhino's rage and looked for the new trail before first light.

If they were returning, she could meet them there, quickening the rest of their journey home. One was terribly wounded, this she already knew. Of the others, something more must have happened to them, otherwise they would have returned sooner than this new morning.

Her slippered feet cushioned her footsteps over the hard veranda floor through an open doorway that led down the long corridor to Jeremy's study. She went behind the darkly polished oak desk, sat in the familiar leather chair and picked up the phone. She dialled briskly, pausing as each digit whirled back to their original setting.

"Hello! Hello Doc Thompson! It's Claire Baldwyn.

"No, they're not back. No, I haven't heard yet. No, I sent them back out last night when they came back. They had found where an accident had taken place, there was a dead rhino but the markings showed they had gone off somewhere, carrying Matthew, but not here."

"No, it's not Jeremy; Matthew seems to be the one hurt."

"I don't know how bad."

Claire paused now, listening politely but her taught shoulders spoke how her controlled silence came at a price.

"I want you to come to the farm. No, I want you to wait here for them, I am going out to find them this morning. I have a pretty good idea where they might be. I'll take a first aid kit with me."

Again she paused.

"No, your farm is still too far away, if I still have to call you when I get back with them it might be too late."

"I have to go! Thanks - bye!"

Claire slammed the phone down, a little louder that she had intended but her mind was already on the next thing to be done and the voice of the doctor had already faded.

The back door suddenly banged as the first soul returned, signalling their arrival and the beginning of their day. Fresh bread to be baked, preserves cooked and sealed with wax, the endless chores that were the centre of any African household.

"Mavis? Is that you?" she called out down the corridor.

"Yes Bibi!" was the long reply. "I am here"

"Get Joshua, tell him to bring the Land Rover over to the house. Tell him to fill it up with petrol, and the Jerry cans as well. I am going out to get them and bring them home."

"I need fresh water and food, plus new cloth strips for the first aid kit," she said.

Clair came around the desk, her slippers flicked off one by one as she strode quickly down the long hall. Had any of the farm hands been early that morning, strolling by the veranda to begin their lawn work, they would have seen her white shoulders and slim waist as she slipped off her nightclothes before she turned into her room.

The large cupboard doors opened and a shower of clothes suddenly littered the floor. Not able to quickly find the outfit she needed, it seemed easier to see them all, then choose what was available.

"Bring me my tall boots from the kitchen. I don't care if they are not polished, just bring them, Tell Manti to have the spare room made up. The doctor is coming!"

"If he has to stay over night, he will need somewhere to rest if he is up all night with the men. Tell him to do it now!"

Somewhere a lone dog began barking, not angry or guarding against a sudden intruder to his compound, he had picked up the excitement that the new morning now brought, a new urgency to them all.

Another bang of the screened door, feet suddenly came running as the first instructions had been loudly directed out beyond the rear of the house. The small brown children stared, eyes wide in silence as they floated past the main house road, carried daily on the backs of their mothers. The farm workers who had come to begin filling the great canvas bags by the open aired sheds that lined the rear of the farm.

"I want to leave here in fifteen minutes." as another hairclip fell to the floor. A wooden hair brush seemed to spring into her hand, the coiled blond hair glinted in the morning light, silver strands mingling as they danced together.

Claire sat on the bed, long socks complete when the tall boots arrived through the doorway. Broad bare feet thumped their arrival from down the wooden hallway from the kitchen, no new polish but an oiled rag quickly passed over them.

"You cannot go to that place alone!" Mavis pleaded with her, placing the boots by the bed. Her huge breasts jiggled as she folded her ample bosom to bent over and reach the floor.

Mavis filled the warm kitchen, not just with the songs of the Kikuyu women who worked over many of the farms of the area. Long years in the open kitchen proved the old adage that all food prepared was to be tasted, the greater quantity the better.

It was a family joke told over many a dinner night with invited guests; no delicate meal could be prepared, the tasting of it in the process of its creation would bring on its complete disappearance.

 "You cannot go to that place alone!" was her final word. Most of the workers had come to know her final words were indeed final. She would never speak of it again once she had made up her mind and no force known to them all could move this small loving mountain. What she cherished, she encircled in her heart and allowed no living form to threaten it. Better to skulk away and find some other matter on which to wage a war, her folded arms over her great breasts signaled the finality of this talk.

Claire did not have time to be delicate this morning. Leaving all sensitivity to the needs of this morning she said,

"Mavis, do not get in my way!"

"My Land Rover can drive over you if you stand in my way. Be sure of this!" and with a glare hurled back at Mavis, Claire found her riding trousers waiting for her on the floor and slipped into them, forcefully one leg at a time.

Her chauffeur days in the war had left her with one gift, a piercing glare that dared one to continue; it could stay any uniformed hand that strayed onto her stockinged leg as she drove.

Mavis stared at her for a moment, then turned mumbling down the corridor. She would find some other time, to renew the truth that her word was final. Her mistress had been very tired from the second night of no sleep; it was this thing that made her not see her ways.

Mavis whistled out of the back door and called Simon. He would sit in the back seat and protect her mistress. He was an old tracker who lived by the wood pile that stoked the hot furnaces.

The sudden roar from the garage spoke that the Land Rover had come to life. Grating gears testimony that Joshua had yet to find the key to shifting gears into position without grinding them away.

His white smile and unabashed joy driving the short trip from the garage to the main house would be the highlight of his day. The camp fire at days end lighting up his wide smile, night dreams filled with polished cars and silver suits complete with dark sunglasses, driving down the high street of Mombassa.

The Land Rover roared out of the garage in a haze of dust and crashing gears, this morning's gear shifting more hopeless than could be remembered.

Joshua came to a crunching stop by the side of the veranda, the engine screaming until it could return to its normal idle speed. Sheepishly, he opened the door and got out through the billowing smoke and dust and decided he had left something important back at the garage.

The Jerry cans were all full, lashed firmly to the back, each still to be tested as nothing could be taken for granted here in Africa. Spare tires in place on the roof rack in case of the inevitable.

Claire had completed her dressing. No quick look into the mirror. Now the First Aid Kit had to be opened, then checked. Everything from snake kits, bandages, syringes, pills, morphine, ointments of all kinds to thread for stitches. You lived and died in Africa carrying what you had. A missed medicine brought only death.

"Tell Manti to take this to the car.' she slammed the lid shut and closed the lock. No matter what the emergency, medicine was a prized possession. An unlocked box quickly thinned as trusted fingers found their way past locks and keys. It was not a moral point, medicine was about living and for people who lived closer to dying in their every day, it was not stealing, but holding onto life, whatever the cost.

A fevered child in the night could not ask for medicines that would not come. Eyes would roll away from the light of the fire and silently begin the wailing song of the dying.

Claire walked back to Jeremy's study. The gun cabinet was to the left, staring at the oak desk that dominated the room. She opened the first drawer, reached in and pulled at a small lever found under the top of the desk. A spring clicked and a thin drawer sprang open from under the desk top. The most important keys to the house were kept here, from filling cases, car keys to bank deposits and especially the gun rack.

Her rifle was the second from the left, smaller than the big bore gun that the men talked endlessly about in the night. Two empty racks glared at her and made her heart beat faster.

Off the rack, her rifle was easy to handle, testing its weight against her shoulder that was the automatic reflex of all who had learnt the power that could be unleashed within its bore. She opened the breech; saw both barrels clear and true. Her other hand reached for a box of ammunition that lay stacked on top of the shelf. One handed, she opened the box and spilt the shells out onto the desk, where their polished casings rolled shining against the dark wood.

Claire picked up a handful and one by one slid the shells into her hunting vest that she was wearing. Four shells on each side were enough. Closing the box, she reached up and put it back where she had found it.

Then after closing the gun rack door and locking it, she replaced the key back into its thin hiding place and closed it under the top of the desk. She walked out of the study, her mind set firmly on the next task to come.

Claire did not hear the small latch click into place as the hideaway drawer was pushed back to its original position. Jeremy had shown her countless times how to do it but in the haste of this morning, it was a detail she had missed.

Her rushed footsteps down the hall muffled the delicate sound of the small spring releasing the drawer of keys.

Dogs barking, the Land Rover waiting patiently, they all filled the new morning with its urgency and chaos. Claire checked the Jerry-cans of petrol, the medicine box firmly in place at the back, folded stretchers, water bottles full and the rifle strapped into position beside her.

Final instructions to Mavis and the rest of the workers who had suddenly crowded the Land Rover made her departure as noisy as a camel driver leaving an oasis for the marketplace.

Claire opened the door and slid in behind the wheel, testing the accelerator and brake. She peered up into the rear mirror to find a smiling Simon sitting comfortably, a wide smile unable to hide his excitement.

Claire looked out at a grinning Mavis who waved back to her, with calls of a speedy and safe return. Her ancestors were to follow her and guide their way so that they would all return safely to the ample warmth of her bosom.

Her open twinkle made Claire momentarily forget the reason for this mad dash to find her husband in the fields that led away from a dead rhino.

Mavis had the final word of the morning.

It was ridiculous to have thought otherwise.

Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 34

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 34

      The long miles behind Konjaru had not lessoned the stench of seared burning flesh and the final screams of Zizi from his mind. His heart still ached in pain when his mind drifted back to the wailing songs carrying the death of his father.

Konjaru's body shivered once more, not from the coolness of the night as it approached the new morning, but of the great mystery that had turned his course and redirected him to this place.

The arrow made of sticks and stones pointing away from the path before him, clearly showed that the end of this journey had come. New footsteps mingled in the sand with those that had travelled before him this night. Deeply cut heels and a walking stick that carried someone wounded, the quiet laughing stealth of one who had followed, running sandaled feet that had also found this place where the outline of a great tree sat centre stage on the horizon.

The whooping laughing cries and sudden silence after the terrible roar that erupted in the morning light, had directed him to this final place after this night time chase was suddenly turned by a moonlit mystery..

Zizi would offer no more threats to his son, her bones lay blackened in the ashes of her home. The wailing songs for the dead chief rose with those the women sang for their dead sister. Had they known of her treacherous plans to murder the chief and snatch from the ancestors the true blood line of the ancient carved throne, they would have not bothered to spit on the roaring fire to relieve her suffering.

Better to leave the mystery of her death known only to Ngai. Pity the simpleton son left behind, they would feed the boy scraps from the community. Hatred of Zizi and Sampnga's betrayal would starve the boy and caste him away from the people. Worse, a long spear cast from the shadows ending his young life, the killing removing the shame forever more from the hearts and memories of the people.

Konjaru had searched the village for Sampanga when the last ashes had long cooled from the death fire. There could only be one place the murderous schemers could place him this night. News that Majura had healed his son and their schemes had come to naught. In their despair, they would have realized their only last desperate move was to follow the long winding path back to the compound and finish what the fevers from their poisons had been unable to do.

Ahead of him, the second night of the full moon illuminated the open landscape before him. The small stones littering the pathways seemed to have rolled away into the shadows for his eyes found none as his pounding legs ate the earth before him. Even the bushes held back their thorns, for his shins and bare legs remained untouched as he sped by them in this night.

As he ran, his long spear and brightly coloured shield was held close to his body. Years of training as a young warrior had schooled him in the art of preserving strength while on a forced march or run to the compound.

Overhead, a single dark cloud drifted over from the starless side of the sky, its fingers slowly reaching out to bind itself over the moon. For a moment, his long stride shortened while his eyes refocused to find his way until he came to a complete stop. Chest heaving, Konjaru paused for this moment until the round moon became freed of its darkness.

As his eyes shifted to see into the darker night, the single tree ahead of him became lit with the sudden missing blue light of the moon. To the side of it, the black of the night held true; the other trees and underbrush remained caught in the shadows of the cloud.

The sweat on his skin cooled to ice, the sounds of Africa around him suddenly gone. Konjaru's mouth became dry as superstitious fear gripped his soul.

Majura stepped quietly from behind the illuminated tree, her palm raised to calm the soaring fears now raging in his breast. The bone ornaments in her hair sang their night song of welcome, dancing together as she moved forward to greet him, her Milk Eye glowing pure white, leading her to their final meeting.

His trembling knees could no longer support his exhausted and now terrified spirit. One hand holding his spear, he knelt down before this mystery, Konjaru's eyes wider than the open sky and accepted whatever fate was now to come.

Majura's small voice came clearly to him while kneeling before her and the radiant blue light of the moon.

"You must find the path that brought the white boy to this place

Those that hunt and whose eyes shine in the night are there

Look for blood that falls from the sky along this path

You must go, Ngai is waiting for you"

The blue light dimmed and once more Majura's small form disappeared and all around was bathed in African darkness.

Konjaru kept staring at the tree, his mind racing. A sudden chill shook his frame while he knelt, not from the cold of the night but the deep trembling of his spirit.

He slowly rose and brushed off the sand that clung to his knee. His chin rested on his chest as his mind found the root of the message that had come from the Old Woman. Behind the moon light he had seen the faces of those that had come peering at him as he had lain in the darkness when he had been struck down by Zizi. The ancestors had nodded their approval as Majura had come to change the direction of this night's chase.

Gripping his spear tightly, he beat on the side of his shield once, lips set firmly. He nodded slowly as his mind became set on the new path before him. Turning on his sandaled feet, Konjaru looked out over the tall trees on his right and as the last fingers of the clouds let go of the moon, he set off in the direction that they had come carrying the young boy wounded by the horn of the rhino two days before.

Now he stood starring at the arrow before him that led off away from this path, over to a tall tree that stood silhouetted before the new pale of the morning. He turned and walked quickly, hunched over now, pressing his body lower to the last darkness of the earth against the brighter light of the new day. As he got nearer to the tree, he could see a man crouched behind a full shield and long spear. Before him, a mature lion lay holding a still, bloodied animal in his mouth. Its eyes glaring at the man's shield, where large eyes had been painted to hold its murderous stare.

To the right and further away, another crouched behind his shield and spear, holding his own ground while he waited for the next roar and swirling dust to mark the beginning of their own final battle. While he watched this second man, he followed his gaze up higher, up into the sky and twisted arms of the tree that seemed to be reaching out to the very stars.

"Look for blood that falls from the sky along this way"

The morning light caught the dark stain that dribbled off Jeremy's foot as he lay hanging. How he had come to lay perfectly centered on this gnarled limb without falling to the waiting jaws below, made Konjaru shake his head. A greater force must have bound him tightly to the tree through the night or he would have surly fallen to his death.

What battles he had already fought that had left him wounded up a tree, he did not know?

He stopped and knelt to the ground. A low short whistle to the man before him and the face of Thomas turned and peered back at him. It had been just minutes since the last of the dust had settled once more to the ground.

How Konjaru was to have come to this place was not a question burning in Thomas's mind. How they had become first separated from each other while the morning sun was set to rise up on the horizon, would have to for the moment, remain a mystery. Perhaps, like a leopard, Konjaru had stashed Jeremy away in the trees while he had searched for help? One did not question the why's of Africa; there would just sometimes never be an answer.

Now that there was a third to fight this battle between man and beast, it lessened the great trembling in his own heart, Thomas's mind finding a slim river of hope for them all.

Konjaru raised his palm to Thomas, indicating for him to stay where he was, holding the lion's eyes fixed to his shield. He turned his head and with his spear held low, he motioned in a half arc for the other who was still hidden by the low bushes, to come around. Moving forward out past the shadows of the bushes, Konjaru saw it was Kashezwe who had sat quietly watching them all. With his shield on his arm, he motioned that he would sweep around to the left side and hold the other flank position.

From above, the gentle groan of one wounded filled the stilled morning air. The rustle of leaves told them below, he was beginning to move as he rose from his sleep and the throbbing pain from open torn flesh woke his mind. They could see his head gently bobbing up and down as Jeremy fought against the rough bark digging deeply into his aching back, to see where he had fallen. His trembling arms reached out into open space but found no earth to steady himself. His body began to wobble from side to side as he fought to find his precarious balance perched high up in the heavens.

Over the low hills by the swaying blue gum trees and white open veranda, Claire's blue Brighton shawl slipped quietly off her shoulders, her tired muscles not able to hold the wool tightly after her night out in the cool air. Her clenched fist unclasped for a moment as her hand opened to catch the shawl as it fell. She knocked over the tea cup that had that had gone cold by her side through the early morning, her eyes leaving the fixed point on the new horizon where she had held her heart since she had woken with a start.

For just a brief moment she watched the cold tea spill to the ground, then with a sinking heart realized she had lost her tight grip on her dreams.

Jeremy turned his head weakly to see over his cramped shoulder and to the earth below. Silently, he felt himself slip away from the tree and his night time sanctuary, out into the crisp morning air down to his pooled blood waiting below.

For a brief moment while in flight, he was surprised to see Thomas as he peered up at him, crouched from behind his blazoned shield and long spear. Behind him, Konjaru had begin to move to the side. He had stopped and gazed in horror as he watched Jeremy fall out into the open and down to the glaring lion waiting below.

The earth once more drove the air from his lungs as he hit the ground. He lay on his side without moving, legs and arms at impossible angles. His mind once more slipped away to the peace of hidden dreams.

Jeremy had landed just a few feet from the prone lion. The sound of his rumpled landing startled the unsuspecting lion whose own instinct was to immediately snarl wildly, releasing the dead hyena from its mouth, claws lashed out at the swirling air, then leaping sideways away from this sudden attack from above.

The lion stood snarling, teeth barred as the dust fell all around him.

A single claw reached out and struck Jeremy's exposed back, white streaks opened where the lion's curved nails found tired flesh before they filled with warm blood that ran down in small rivulet's to the soft earth. Seeing no movement in the rumpled heap, the lion turned its head to face the closest enemy before him. It took several lunging steps forward in a mock charge, mane billowing as its terrible roar froze the blood in all their veins.

In another rain of dust, the lion then lunged back over to the still form of Jeremy. Yellow eyes fixed on the closest shield, then the lion reached down to Jeremy's sunburned shoulder and bit down through to the bone.

Jeremy could feel the long teeth that drove into him from the other side of the milky haze that he had slipped into from his fall. The dank putrid breath filled his senses and a primal scream born from a thousand generations of warriors that had walked the African land, rose up now in defiance.

His lungs filled with his last strength and he screamed into the ear of the lion as it dragged him a few feet away from the circle of shields. He even managed to raise a knee and strike feebly back at the lion, then he went silent and hung like a broken rag doll.

Jeremy's surprise scream had frozen the lion for a brief moment. It paused stiffly, then lowered itself to the ground while still holding Jeremy fast. It had to open its mouth, releasing the shoulder for the last death grip over the throat, stopping the air and ending Jeremy's life.

Konjaru raised his shield and spear and lunged past the still crouching Thomas towards the lion. Startled by the scream while it released Jeremy's shoulder for the killing bite, it snarled back at Konjaru while he charged.

Konjaru did not throw his spear in the traditional manner but ran straight to the lion screaming and striking him full in the face with his shield with all the weight he could throw behind his desperate charge to save his friend. The lion roared, striking back with both paws to rip the edges of the shield away from him.

Konjaru then lunged with his long spear, driving the blade deeply into the lion's neck. The lion reared up in sudden agony and struck his shield off his arm, exposing his left side as the long blade hit muscle and roaring madness. Roaring forward in its own blinding rage, the lion bit down on his waist, its long teeth sinking deep into the soft tissue, muscle and kidneys tearing, spilling red hot blood into the air.

While the lion held him, shaking him brutally from side to side, a second terrible bite bore down on him, through thick bone and muscle. Konjaru could hear his hip bone snap, the lion's weight dragging him to the churned ground as it shook him madly in its own pain and fury.

The lion's shaking had released the spear shaft from its neck. With the tearing pain momentary gone, the lion paused, releasing the helpless Konjaru from his madness, the churned dust of their battle coating them both as it fell like mist around them.

Laying sprawled where the lion had cast him, his mind racing to escape the growing numbness that tried to fill his mind and body, Konjaru's trembling fingers found the bloodied spear that had fallen beside him and with a last cry of the ancient Chosen Masai, drove the long spear up into the heaving chest, through the broad rippling muscles, straight into the heart of the lion as it stood over him.

With a great shudder, the lion's heart beat one last time, enough to push fresh blood into his thick veins to power a single claw that rose up out of the swirling dust and ripped Konjaru's windpipe open in a hail of blood droplets that sprayed Jeremy's still body that lay a few feet away.

In a moment the lion lay silent over the crushed prone Konjaru. He could hear the wet bubbles as they formed on his ravaged throat while the air whistled through the severed windpipe. His head gently rolled to one side and saw Jeremy lying still where the lion had dragged him.

Only now that the air had become still and the royal battle between the king of beasts and son of the chief of the Masai had ended, the terrified Thomas and Kashezwe moved cautiously forward over the still hyena, tightly holding their spears and shields lest the lion spring back to life and charge them. The deafening roars and terrible screams of battle had frozen them, away from the spilt blood and broken bones, where the stories of their bravery as warriors lay stillborn. They were careful not too look too deeply in each other's eyes. That they had survived was worth more than bravery, time enough to tell their own tales by the fires that would warm the cold nights to come.

Konjaru lay quiet. His body had begun the death rattle as he fought for the air that would not come. Already the deep cold was coming, shivers rattled his teeth as his mind grasped the ending of this battle, remembering the deafening roars and tearing bloodied muscles, his bones breaking under the force of the long ivory teeth that had bitten deeply into him as he was thrown wildly from side to side.

Thomas knelt gently by his side as Konjaru struggled to breath. The wet blood of the fallen trickling down to the red earth, drawing the first flies of the new day as the small lights began to flicker from his eyes.

"Nholiman simba eti alah kihamma Ngai" - "This great lion has gone to God." Thomas said finally, trying to avoid the searching eyes of a warrior struck down alone in his battle.

Konjaru struggled to say something, but his words blew away in the morning winds. He coughed, spilling blood down the sides of his mouth, his silent lips mouthing his last words.

Konjaru's eyes suddenly focused and with a smile radiating his dreams he spoke in bubbled whispers directly to Ngai, who was bending over him, his ear pressed close to his trembling lips to hear the words that came with no sound.

"My son Etona.... guide him... to Spirit Walk between the Two Moons... tell him I am proud..."

The light in Konjaru's eyes flickered one last time, then he was still.

Ngai took the spoken and unspoken whispers of his fallen warrior and joined them like beads over his own heart. These he would carry back to the sleeping young man who lay by the cooling waters and plant them as seeds in his heart so that they would not be forgotten.

Ngai stood up and stroked the great long mane of the old king as the wind came to play in his hair while he slept.

In the growing morning shadows of the lonely tree and the long limbs that had held Jeremy in the night, the faint image of Konjaru could be seen standing by the great soul of the lion and the grinning hyena, their clear outline painted with the luminous flickering lights of the fading stars. They had watched as Ngai had strung Konjaru's words and bound them to his own heart. After a while, they turned together and walked away towards the rising sun and disappearing moon.

The silence of their deaths faded as the land rose to greet the day. Africa had already been paid in blood, her thirst quenched for the day.

High above the lone falcon flew silently, watching the great souls rise to the fading stars. Then it too climbed the early morning hot winds back to the rolling hills and blue gum trees swaying in the morning winds.