by Marc Secchia
She tried to ask, “Is i-it an a-asmati?”
Shioni, brimming over with emotion after their confrontation with the snake, was mortified at how her voice wobbled and nearly cracked over the question. She felt as wrung out as an old washrag. She resisted an urge to fling the creature aside as her skin crawled unpleasantly from the palm of her hand up to her neck and back again.
“She–not it–needs help,” Annakiya said, adding in tones of rising excitement, “Keep her warm, Shioni. Here, a handkerchief should work. Try some honey. I’ll go find Mama Nomuula.”
“I… what?”
Annakiya whirled in the doorway, waving her hands. “She’s not an asmati, you silly duck! Nothing evil at all!”
“Anni! Don’t leave me with this… thing!”
Her dark eyes flashing across the room, the Princess hissed, “I can’t believe you, of all people, are ignorant of what an incredibly rare and magical creature you happen to be holding in your hand!”
Heat burst into her cheeks. Not everyone had the privilege of a Princess’ education! In her most sarcastic tones, Shioni started, “And it is called–”
“A Fiuri,” interrupted her friend. “One of the butterfly-people. Need I say more?”
And, leaving Shioni gaping at the empty doorway, the Princess dashed off in search of Mama Nomuula.
A Fiuri? Shioni let out a breath she had barely realised she was holding. But they were just stories, creatures from the stories that Mama Nomuula so loved to tell. “You’re holding one, you daft donkey! Anything not real about this?” So why could she not stop shivering?
She poked the Fiuri gently with a fingertip touch, making her stir once more, but only slightly. Then she felt a stab of guilt. Imagine being poked by a creature big enough to hold you in the palm of its hand? She didn’t want to put the Fiuri down. Wouldn’t she hurt it by accident? Such delicate wings, such neatly curling antennae! Such a tiny chest rising and falling with her breathing.
Poor Fiuri. What had she been doing down there in the grotto? How long had she been there? And why would Kalcha set a monster python to guard a mite like this–unless she was a great deal more powerful than they imagined?
“Wake up,” she whispered. “I want to see your eyes.”
Chapter 20: Disobeying The King
Princess Annakiya regarded her slave-girl with a gaze so soulful that Shioni thought she was about to cry. “You know I probably won’t be able to defend you, my friend? We would be disobeying the King’s orders–and he’s away in Takazze for meetings with the delegation from Kush.”
“I am doing this on my own. Otherwise, you’ll get into trouble.”
“Shioni, honestly. As if you need trouble any more than I! Captain Dabir is in charge while Father is away. And you know the General will stick strictly to the King’s word.”
Shioni watched a heron dabbing its beak down to peck a tilapia fish out of the river. She and Annakiya were sitting side-by-side on the bank of the river, just out of earshot of a warrior watching over them–Tewodros, who she liked and Mama trusted.
“Anni, we’ve been over this a hundred times. Look at me. It’s been four days and Mama’s no closer to healing the Fiuri. She must have been in that bottle for months, maybe even years. Mama’s a legend in medicine-lore and can heal a leopard of its spots, but if the witch Kalcha really has stolen the Fiuri’s powers, as Mama thinks…”
And such powers! From the stories Shioni had heard over the years, the Fiuri should have been able to paint the moon blue, make it rain diamonds every day for a year, and bring any imaginable kind of good luck to pass with a trifling flick of her tiny fingers. But old wives’ tales were a far cry from the reality lying comatose in a small, padded box on the Princess’ desk.
The sun was setting behind the mountains, highlighting the jag-toothed peaks of the wilderness stretching out west of Castle Asmat. Somewhere out there lay the answer. Maybe.
“You said the Fiuri whispered something about a disa flower–”
“That’s what Mama thinks she heard,” said the Princess. “Red disa nectar.”
“And if Sheba’s fate depends on breaking this curse–”
“Then you’re the one who’s about to toss herself off a cliff for the sake of West Sheba.”
Shioni chuckled, but she said firmly, “Now you’re just being dramatic. I am not changing my mind, Anni; nor do I intend to jump off anything larger than a tuft of grass. I will ride into the mountains, find a waterfall as Mama said, and find this flower. You will not lie for my sake. You gave me no orders. Whatever happens, happens.”
“You are as stubborn as an old she-goat! And how will you leave the valley? Tewodros says the patrols up there are as thick as fleas on a stray dog.”
“Already planned,” said Shioni, resisting an urge to smirk. “I’ll ride east past Ginab and then swing north. Kifle says there’s several more valleys like this one that lead into the mountains above Ras Dejen, the great peak. He says there’s bound to be a few waterfalls up there somewhere. All you need to do is send Tewodros with Star later.” She patted Annakiya’s knee. “And you need to stop worrying so much. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back to irritate you before you know it.”
“Grr.”
“That’s quite un-royal of you, Princess.”
Annakiya’s answering hug was so tight Shioni gave a grunt of pain. “I will pray for you every moment. Now, go hide before I start crying.”
“Now there’s an order I can obey.”
She burrowed into a patch of reeds. Annakiya was right, of course. Riding into the mountains would mean breaking the King’s command. Her friends would be unable to conceal her absence for long. Shioni shook her head glumly. Annakiya’s word wouldn’t be worth a dry fig when she returned to the castle.
Especially as they were dealing with magic. The King of Sheba hated even the mention of the word. If only the Fiuri could have revived. She was the key–hopefully. What was certain was that Kalcha was up to no good with that red-eyed python of hers. If she had cursed the castle as Anbessa claimed, then the forces of West Sheba were in dire danger. Mama, Annakiya, Kifle, Tewodros–all the people she cared for and who cared for her. Shioni had not said as much to her friend, but she would rather it were her life on the line than any of theirs.
Did she dare trust the word of a lion who had clawed her shoulder open to the bone? And why did she feel such a sense of loyalty to her owners?
These thoughts preoccupied her as darkness drew in.
At some level, it always surprised Shioni how quickly the daylight surrendered after sunset. ‘Night fell–clunk,’ she muttered, mostly to cheer herself up with an admittedly silly joke.
But even as she tilted back her head to admire the stars, a soft tapping of hooves came to her hearing. Tewodros? If so, he was early. She kept very still among the rushes. Yes, that was definitely Star. Tewodros gave the agreed signal, two yips like a hyena followed by the hoot of an Abyssinian long-eared owl.
Shioni scrambled out from her hiding place.
“Secret journey, eh?” said Tewodros, grinning down at her. “Mama promised me five honey cakes in return for this little job. A bargain, if you ask me. One for each of my children. Right, there’s bread in the bag, some kolo for snacking on, a gourd of water, and here’s your bow.”
“Thanks, Tewodros.” The kolo–dried grain with a hint of spice–was a surprise. Mama’s work, no doubt.
“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t know where you’re going and I didn’t even see you. Stay safe, alright?”
Shioni slipped the strap of the quiver over her back and settled her recurve bow in place. “Tewodros, do you know these mountains?”
“About as well as I know the High Priest,” the warrior said. “I’m a plains man and always will be. You should have asked Tariku. He’s mountains-born.”
A little late for that, she thought.
After waving briefly to Tewodros, Shioni mounted up. “Nice to have you along, Star.” Star eviden
tly felt the same way. “Right. Down to Ginab–for the third time. I guess you know the way by now.”
Star trotted steadily along the watercourse for several hours and then through the woods. The castle carpenters had been busy here; the marks of tree-felling were evident even in the starry darkness. Before Ginab Village the trail would split–she must look out for the northern branch and not ride on past her mark like last time…
Several hours after midnight, having found the right trail, Shioni walked Star around the back of a thicket and found herself a place to nap until dawn. But she was too excited to sleep properly.
‘Oh, and don’t forget scared,’ she told herself, chewing on a hunk of bread. ‘Excited, and scared.’
Shioni was on the trail before dawn. She rode north along the rolling foothills of the Simien Mountains almost until noon before she spotted a likely-looking trail leading back to the north-west, and decided to take it. The climb was long and tiring. Star, neither the youngest pony nor as sprightly as she had been when Shioni first started riding her years before, was quite puffed by the time they reached the top. Shioni let her rest before continuing.
Here she came upon a small village. Just a clutch of huts with round, mud-and-stick walls and a conical rush roof, like any of the thousands in the mountains. She found a group of women sitting in the shade of one hut preparing a simple meal of grains. Shioni paused to ask about a waterfall, but they were clearly suspicious of her and would not utter a word, but merely pointed up to the high peaks with their chins. As she departed she heard one mutter, ‘Don’t the spirits even stay in the mountains any more, that they must come bother us poor villagers?’
All that afternoon Shioni pressed on beneath a sun that seemed to bake her from both above and below. The ground was dry and waterless, and seemed to reflect back the sun’s heat until she felt she was riding along in an oven. What grass there was eked out a pitiful living amongst the rocks. She wondered how even the goats survived on this tough brown stubble. Heat shimmered off the rising ground ahead of her. It struck her that she must be the only living thing on that long, barren slope, and that she was crawling uphill like an insect climbing a boulder.
When she dismounted to give Star a break, she could feel the change in altitude burning deep in her lungs. Even deep breaths did not help. The air felt thin; her throat was as parched as the terrain.
But she was steadily drawing closer to those towering battlements. To her left hand a cluster of peaks must contain Ras Dejen, said to be the highest mountain in Abyssinia, but she did not know which one it was. She was skirting their vast northern flank, trying to keep on a heading similar to what the villagers had indicated. And up ahead, if she was not mistaken, the terrain changed. Radically.
As evening drew in, Shioni crested yet another rise and halted Star with an exclamation: “Awesome.” It seemed the only word which came close to describing her reaction.
Two steps forward, and the ground sheared away without warning into a huge gorge. Other crevasses and gorges, as abrupt and unapologetic as the first, joined it at odd angles, creating the impression that the flesh of the mountain had been eaten away by animals, leaving the naked ribs and spine to be slowly weathered away over the centuries. The low angle of the sun accentuated this impression, picking out the ridges and outcroppings with golden splendour, while turning the depths into mysterious, bottomless pits of shadow.
Beyond the gorge lay a fractured, jumbled wilderness of volcanic peaks–the secretive heart of the Simiens. Never mind hiding Kalcha and her band of Wasabi, Shioni thought. A hundred warrior tribes could be hiding in that maze and the warriors of West Sheba would never find them.
And why did her heart soar within her when she looked over this landscape? She should have been cowed. A slave-girl on her own? Up here? Whatever was she thinking?
Yet the mountains sang to her soul with the thrilling sound of horns, like hunting horns sounded in the heat of the chase; with impassable cliffs and unknown treasures, and a stark, untamed majesty.
That she could have been an eagle flying above it all!
Shioni turned solemnly to her pony. “Do you wonder, Star, if I might have come from such a place as this?”
Star flicked her ears and bent her head to nibble at a clump of grass.
“I suppose not.”
Chapter 21: Finding the Wasabi
For two further days Shioni roamed the mountains like the proverbial lost sheep, doing much seeking and considerably less finding.
Her thoughts floated on the wind as Star trotted wearily away from the village she had just visited. She had spent three days and nights high in the mountains so far, but the rare, water-loving red disa flower the Fiuri needed was no closer to being found. She’d lost count of the number of villages she had stopped in to enquire.
She stretched her aching legs. She could gladly have peeled off her ferengi skin. Yesterday, some villagers had driven her away by pelting her with stones. Some villagers seemed to fear she was one of the Wasabi; others shouted about a giant asmati. When she tried to explain that she was from West Sheba, from the river-people, a bold child had enquired if the river had washed all the brown out of her skin! She felt too worn out and dejected to find this funny.
Why a disa flower? Why not desert rose, euphorbia, or even a fireball lily? She’d passed these in bucket-loads, in cart-loads even! Although the desert rose was a deadly poison, often used on arrows. That might not work. As she wound along the stream higher and higher amidst the peaks, the still pools were often thick with fiery orange and crimson water-lilies. Surely one of the butterfly-people wouldn’t mind a few of these? They were beautiful enough!
At least this side of the mountain seemed to be wetter. She was sure to find a red disa soon. Shioni tried not to think too hard about the Fiuri dying before she returned.
It was late afternoon, and the sun’s rays still pressed down intently, as though intent on smothering anything that moved and breathed in a blanket of heat. Shioni wished she had brought a hat or a headscarf. But then she didn’t own any, did she? Her skin would fry like Mama’s crispy beef. And her stomach had a hole in it! A growling, growing hole. Next time she should remember to bring a reasonable amount of food to eat. Silly! She had only been able to scavenge berries and grass seeds so far. Selam or Tariku would probably have known many edible plants, having grown up in the mountains.
Here the stream she was following ended in a pretty dell, surrounded by spikey lobelia trees and tufty mountain grasses, where a spring bubbled up from beneath a large boulder. At least the last set of villagers hadn’t been lying about this part! The blind leader of the village–the shemagele or male elder–had been kind to her and helped with directions. Shioni dismounted. But he had been curiously vague about the trail beyond the spring. Hesitant, as if he knew something he was not telling her.
She let the pony drink, rubbing her stomach absently. This niggling in her gut wasn’t just hunger… she should keep a falcon’s watch on her surroundings. Would the Sheban scouts have come this deep into the mountains? Where was the sun? Having set out north from the castle, the trail had slowly curved around to the west and even directly southward now, so that she was not that far from the castle, perhaps only a day and a half’s hard riding at her best guess–if she did not have to detour for another impassable cliff or cleft.
Shioni turned on her heel. A few berries, a drink and a rest were needed to refresh her.
Toward sundown she set off on foot, up the steep, rocky slope beyond the spring toward the top of the ridge she had been aiming for all day. Somewhere up here she should find a waterfall called the ‘little Jinbar’ by the villagers.
As she approached the crest of the ridge, Shioni began to feel a low rumbling beneath her feet and hear a powerful rushing of water. To her left hand the peaks and high meadows of emerald-green moss, dotted with small rocks, rose still higher, but ahead of her a wonderful vista opened up. The ridge cut away in a dizzying drop to an avocado-g
reen valley ridged like a crumpled tablecloth, and beyond it, ridges and peaks scored with the tracks of ancient rivers marched off to the horizon. Mist rose from a plume of water jetting into the depths, so far down that she couldn’t see the bottom.
Shioni wobbled slightly and squatted on her heels so as to feel closer to solid ground. “And this is the little Jinbar?” she said. “Amazing! Where’s its big brother?”
It seemed the most likely place to find the elusive disa flower so far.
Just then, she saw something that made her duck behind the nearest boulder. She peered out warily.
Spear tips… a group of unfamiliar warriors had appeared suddenly from a hidden fold in the ground! Shioni blinked, searching more intently now. That rising meadow above the waterfall must be tricking her eyes. There had to be something concealed… there! Now, with the sun’s help, she could see smoke rising into the reddening sky. The warriors were coming her way. She quickly wormed her way as far beneath the boulder as she could.
“Kalcha needs more goats!” she heard.
“We’ve already taken everything from the villages. They’ve got nothing left.”
Shioni pressed herself against the ground and tried to hold her breath. The faces approaching her hiding place were those of fierce, warlike men, their cheeks and foreheads scarred with tribal markings and painted to resemble hyenas.
“Last night was something, eh?”
“Torture! Ah, those Shebans bleated like pitiful little lambs. Call them warriors?”
Footsteps thudded around the boulder. Be small, be silent, and don’t see me, Shioni prayed. One of the Wasabi gave an evil laugh:
“Threw them over the waterfall, after. Ha ha!”
“Four days till full moon, boys. Then we crush those weaklings!”
Chapter 22: Kalcha Reveals Her Plans