Griots

by Charles R. Saunders

  The grandson gripped tightly his weapon. “Bandits? Only a great human army would dare attack Father.” He had to lift his chin to stare his grandmother in the eyes. “We must extract vengeance!”

  “Lower your voice, boy.”

  “But where is everyone? We were only gone since morning meal. I should have been here. I would have crushed the attackers with my war ax. “

  “Shush!” She banged the sharp diamond tip of her staff on the rocky soil inches from his sandaled toes.

  “Yea, honored grandmother Makhulu,” he submitted.

  Makhulu sat down on a green jade encrusted stool to gather her thoughts. After long moments of contemplation, she said, “Feed the dogs.”

  “Aieee! Aieee! Father, mother, my brothers and sisters, cousins and companions are vanished! My only duty should be revenge!!”

  “Tie the camels together.”

  “Who would brazenly attack the House of the Gold Lion!” he cried out again. “Grandmother! We must do something!”

  “Start a fire, make tea,” she said calmly.

  Vexed beyond his 21 years of life, he glumly responded, “Yea, Grandmother.”

  Makhulu said with a sigh, “Stomping about like a bee-stung swamp buffalo will gain us nothing. This is not a natural event. Have you noticed there is no blood on the sand?”

  “I don’t fear the supernatural!”

  “Despite your special abilities, you should fear it greatly, dear Grandson,” said Makhulu.

  “A mortal opponent that I can kill is all I ask for,” he grumbled as he poked through debris on the ground. He grimly recognized the clothing and artifacts of many of his family and close friends. He suggested to this grandmother that, “It seems their bodies were just sucked away leaving behind anything not human flesh.” He cried out in despair, “We are alone. Our entire family has been swallowed by a devil crocodile!”

  “Not quite,” she replied as she stood tall and tenderly hugged her grandson’s wide shoulders and offered, “Some of our fellow travelers were on errands for your father and may have escaped this devastation. At least, they should return soon. I want the camp secured. Get your father’s sword. I saw it resting on the ground. Also, gather up his royal cloak. It is considered sacrilege to let it touch earth.”

  “Though I prefer my war axes, father’s sword is not too heavy for me to wield. With it, I will slice muscle and bone like the wind through the forest. With his cloak, I shall command vast armies!”

  “Zende, I need a steady man to stand by me, not a reckless, boastful youngster.” Makhulu ’s eyes moistened with sorrow. “Fate may have finally caught up with me.”

  Zende lowered his gaze as he said in a softer voice, “I am a man; although I am not my father’s height. I am the smallest of my brothers and sisters. But if this is a challenge from evil gods or men, I will certainly not flounder. I can prove myself worthy.”

  “Yes, Zende,” she said in admiration. “Your esteemed sire who is my beloved only son may have suffered a hideous demise or is hidden from us and needs our help. To avenge this travesty, we must step carefully and when appropriate strike hard and fast. Soon, it will be warrior time. But for the moment we must be cautious yet vigilant. So, feed the dogs, dear grandson. They may be our best early alarm and stoic defense against other hazards that may come.”

  “Yea, dear Grandmother,” Zende said as he cooled his passions. “And, I will secure the camels and horses, and calm the sheep, and prepare the raspberry tea with honey-soaked biscuits that you crave. And, perhaps find a gourd of palm wine to soothe my own distress.”

  Makhulu scolded, “I need your wits and strength, not drunken jests.”

  “Yes, grandmother. Perhaps, I will just get a cool drink from the forest stream. There won’t be another for many days.”

  “It has been a long ride. I need to bathe before we continue.”

  “Yes, grandmother.”

  Makhulu tugged at her clothing. “Bring my tea and biscuits to me while I refresh myself at the oasis spring.”

  “But Grandmother, there are no female servants to assist you in your bath.”

  “My skin greatly offends me. Before we march off to risk our lives, I must be clean. Bring fresh clothing to me. Also, you will need a sponge to scrub my back.”

  “Grandmother!”

  “You’ve seen a naked female.”

  “Yes!”

  “Just don’t forget, I am your elderly grandma,” Makhulu said simply.

  * * *

  On a distant desert sand dune, a man and a woman rode leisurely on camelback. The man wore a bright red cape bearing the badge of the House of the Gold Lion embroidered in rare spider silk. He was a grossly plump person riding on a severely overburdened animal.

  The woman complained, “You continue to ignore my suggestion to not take any spoils from the ambush. That royal cloak belongs to their leader.”

  “As I said before, a weakness of mine. Wealth and opulence are important to me. Honor and dignity are greatly over rated. Fine cloaks, good meals, strong wines, wicked women and bad-tempered young boys, Yes! I’d sell my soul for abundant pleasures any day. Gladly!”

  “Do exactly as I suggest, and you will be much richer and less likely to attract trouble, master.” His companion was a small woman of pale yellow, exotic beauty who wore few wraps, yet did not suffer the disastrous effects of the desert sun on bare skin.

  He complained, “You call me master, perform great feats of sorcery yet you will not give me the little things I ask for. Who is the master, who is the servant?”

  She smiled coyly, “The agreement was to give you just what you needed to finish the job. I am only a tool, master.”

  He laughed, “In order to complete the task, what if I require your services as a sweating, painted harlot pleasuring me in my luxurious bed at night?”

  The metal flakes on her long, sharp fingernails sparkled in the sun as she said menacingly, “Then, you will have to finish the job as a mutilated, sexless eunuch, master.”

  He loudly smacked his lips, “Ouch! A warrior virgin! You merely make the challenge much more delicious. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.” Then, his face twisted into a drooling grimace, “I never fail to take what I want. So, wretched little girl when this task is over, I will take what I want from you. I may throttle you bloody. I may rape you for hours. I will enjoy that. I own you! Not even our mutual employer, the Demon in the Amber Wall will argue that.”

  She spat in his face.

  He greedily sucked up the spittle with a coarse cow-like tongue. “Yes, we will see what happens.” He fondled a thick, irregular shaped slab of dark amber in a large leather bag tied to his waist. Lifting the crystal to his ears he bragged, “You can almost hear their little voices screaming in terror.” He hungrily licked the stone. “That should scare them even more; imprisoned in amber, naked, cold, facing the mouth of dissolution. Fabulous. I may release one or two of them just for my pleasure.”

  His female cohort smirked and warned, “The camp survivors will follow us with deadly intent. I sense now that a sorceress is among them; a very skillful weaver of very powerful Afrikan magic. It is very difficult to counter that level of mystic competency.”

  He stuffed the amber block back into the bag. “You didn’t tell me that tidbit BEFORE we attacked the caravan! I could have chosen a softer target.”

  “She wasn’t nearby when we approached. As you say, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. However, the cloak that you dearly had to possess will guide her right to us. Elementary magic.”

  He glared angrily, “Swallow, you vex me! I should cut you into tiny bite sized pieces for stew.”

  “Then you would break the contract and lose everything, including your own ugly fat hide.”

  Fabu grinned, “Ahh, such are the highs and lows of life.” He tore off the cape and slung it to the ground. Then he urged his mount to kneel and he ponderously slid to the sand. Standing over the robe he gloated and said, “If
I must return it, I will return it well used.” He pulled down his pantaloon. “That goat cheese I ate this morning must have unsettled my stomach. Luckily I have something to clean my backside with.”

  Swallow frowned, “You really are a pig.”

  “Oh, do I offend you?” he grunted and farted loudly. “My dear, there is room here for two. I won’t peek while you pee. This royal wipe should be very soft against your dainty rear. Now, assist me!”

  “You wish for more magic?”

  “Erect a curse around this shitty, royal rag and leave it plain view. I want anyone pursuing me to be severely dealt with!” After a mighty push and long smear, he tied his pantaloon and mounted his snorting camel, wiping his fingers on the camel’s hump. He stared at Swallow curiously, “Recently, I have not seen you relieve yourself nor drink nor eat.”

  She finished her lethal enchantment and said merely, “I’ve become a very private person since my travels with you.” She tossed four small eggs onto the sand. With a minor motion of her fingers, the eggs began to swell in size as they sank down out of sight.

  Fabu said, “Let’s hurry. My mercenaries are still a half day’s ride away. With this final delivery of captured souls, I look forward to my payment and a romantic interlude with you.”

  * * *

  The caravan’s younger dogs joyfully chased the sheep into a tight circle. The older dogs stealthily prowled the perimeters chasing away scorpions and sand vipers. Camels were watered and kneeling on the ground for a rest. A slim fraction of the people from the House of the Gold Lion went about the duties to put the caravan in order for the night.

  Zende ran to his Grandmother, “I’ve search everywhere. It’s not here.” In fact, everyone who had returned had been carefully collecting and storing the belongings of their missing comrades, but his father’s royal robe was not found.

  Makhulu, refreshed and glowing with vigor, responded cheerfully, “I sense that it is not far from here. The Gold Lion may still be alive!” A ragged cheer rose from the survivors.

  Happily surprised, Zende asked, “How did you know?”

  “Basic sorcery, which worries me.” She turned to face the few travelers present. “My grandson and I need four warriors. We face a crafty demon and its servants.” Everyone came forward. “Zende, make your selection.”

  “Me?” he said.

  She took him aside, “You are sole heir and leader for now.”

  “But— “

  She whispered, “Walk through the camp. When I tap my staff on the earth, make your selection."

  Zende proudly swelled to his full height which brought him to the nose of some of the shortest people. He walked confidently towards a woman who had been gathering herbs for dinner when the family was attacked. “You,” Zende said deepening his voice. The cook smiled.

  Makhulu had not tapped her staff to the ground. She scowled, “Are you sure, honored Zende? She is just a cook.”

  Zende stayed firm, “Yea! Her knowledge of wild flora will keep us from starvation and cure our hurts. Her skills with a knife will deter dangerous animals and keep at bay human enemies.”

  “Wise choice,” winked Grandmother. “I will wait here, while you make your final selections.”

  In quick order, the four warriors—a cook, a herdsman, a runner, and a drummer—were selected by Zende. They hurriedly made preparations to ride on a solitary expedition. Just before dawn, they bid their goodbyes but instead of fast horses, they rode upon four sturdy war camels with two cargo camels in tow as they traveled into the desert.

  “We have water and food for 10 days,” said Zende.

  “More than enough. A secret religious sect has a monastery only 7 days towards the North. Our adversaries traveled in that same direction,” advised Makhulu.

  The night wind had erased any tracks but the herdsman found traces of camel spoor to use as a beacon. The riders were carefully wrapped from head to toe in white travel robes as the sun rose higher in the sky and most sensible animals had hidden themselves from the oppressive heat. There was little conversation and the soft padding on the camel’s feet allowed a sure-footed and silent passage.

  Makhulu encouraged Zende to take the lead which he humbly accepted for many miles. As they reached the top of a dune, the Drummer spotted a speck of cloth fluttering in the hot wind.

  “Father’s robe!” yelled Zende and he kicked his lumbering steed into a fast trot down the hill.

  “Wait! Grandson, Wait!” Makhulu halted the progress of the others before kicking her own mount into a desperate run to stop her grandson. “Zende, don’t approach the robe!”

  The sands around the royal gown began to vibrate.

  Makhulu caught up with Zende, grabbed the reins and yanked his camel to a halt. Angrily, she dismounted and declared, “Step carefully and when appropriate strike hard and fast! Do you understand, Zende?!”

  “But that is Father’s royal attire, half buried in the sand! He must be nearby. What’s that awful smell?” The ground erupted around Zende! Razor sharp teeth exploded out of the sand and clamped hard on his camel’s neck nearly snapping it completely off. Arterial blood gushed from the deadly bite.

  “Grandson!”

  But Zende had already leaped off his hapless mount, hit the sand and dodged instinctively as he had been taught and chose a random direction to leap, roll and stand. That move saved his life. He was much faster and more agile than his brothers and sisters as well as superior with his favorite weapons. He whirled his war ax in several blocking maneuvers which banged hard against the armored jaw of the creature that had emerged from the sand and was attempting to clamp down on his torso. Zende’s hits were effective enough to slow the creature’s attack and the stunned reptile slunk back displaying rapid head movements and uttering high pitched clicks. All this happened in less than a moment and Zende still wasn’t sure what had attacked him. The sand vibrated again. He shouted, “Grandmother, Sunside!”

  With the swiftness of a professional acrobat, Makhulu leaped high as another massive set of jaws snapped shut where a moment ago, she had been standing. The nightmare beast that swam out of the sand, stood humanlike on two powerful legs but with a long bony tail that whipped about anxiously; it had an impressive row of teeth in his mouth. But it was the large eyes hinting cunning and intelligence rather than brute strength that ruled this prehistoric predator.

  “Back!” yelled Zende as he fast stepped forward and attempted again to lop off the head of the monster threatening his grandmother by using one chop with his ax, but again the blow failed to penetrate or severely wound the creature; Zende flipped several times backwards to avoid the rapid retaliatory strikes of the reptilian attacker. He didn’t doubt that one blow from the wildly whipping tail would knock him senseless and shatter human bones.

  His grandmother moved swiftly with the grace of a circus dancer and twirled into position to protect the backside of her grandson as the ground erupted anew. But she was ready with her staff and speared the sudden attacker through the gelatinous eyeball and out the back of its skull. She barely flinched as in its death throes, the beast snagged her robe in its forearm claws and ripped it off her body. Her silver hair flowed freely as she nimbly landed and adjusted her scant clothing for modesty revealing a small waist, firm thighs and uplifted breasts. Back to back, neither grandmother nor grandson were breathing hard; they both were confident and surefooted. “Grandson, let none of these beasts survive to warn their master. Aim for the soft parts.”

  “Like this,” he screamed as he charged fearlessly forward, lowering his weapon, exposing his own belly, but as the creature lunged at the tempting target, Zende side stepped the snapping jaw and raked his sharp ax along the creature’s unprotected throat and chest. Zende was rewarded by a violent gush of hot blood and guts. The animal screeched in terrible anguish then tumbled twitching to the ground almost pinning down Zende who had to dexterously slip away from the steaming carcass. By now Zende had a full measure of these animals’ strengths and
weaknesses.

  “There are still two creatures circling cautiously, Grandson. Do you need help from an old woman?”

  “Nay, Grandmother. Enjoy the warm breeze. Make some tea! We’ll roast lizard for supper!” He joyfully charged the two perplexed ancient monsters. With three vicious cuts from his war ax, the battle was over. He trotted back with a large chunk of lizard tail for the fire and exclaimed, “Grandmother, your clothing!”

  She smiled, embracing the wind with every pore of her bare skin. She grinned, “You’ve never seen a half-naked female warrior, before?” She flexed her slim muscles. “Am I appealing?”

  “Grandmother!”

  “Thank you! But be a good grandson, lend me your outer garment.” She stared into the heavens and her playful temperament changed. “Something is not right! Gather your father’s royal robe.”

  “It stinks!”

  “Clean it with dry sand, later. Act quickly, dear Grandson.”

  * * *

  From a nearby sand dune, many anxious eyes had secretly watched the battle. Wet globs of saliva poured onto the sand from the open mouth of Fabu the Fat Merchant. He exclaimed softly, “Damnations! By the eternal dark Gods! I’m glad we returned! That Afrikan goddess and her black battle troll are the finest gladiators I have ever seen! That woman makes me firm in all the right places. So, make ready my best fighters to kill the bitch!”

  Swallow, his reluctant companion, suggested, “I brought you back here, because, she would make an exceptional addition to our collection of souls.”

  “She is too dangerous! Your reptilian pets were slaughtered effortlessly.”

  “The Demon in the Wall may consider a renegotiation for these minor add-on services.”

  Fabu the Fat raised his fleshy arm to thrust 1000 battle hardened, mercenaries into action. But before committing his troops, he hesitated and asked Swallow, “What would your Demon offer?”