by Penn Fawn
“They’re out to get everyone,” Noor said.
“Is that so?” Aswad asked.
“It is,” Noor replied.
“Why? I wonder,” said Aswad.
“Not sure,” Noor said. “Depends on who you ask. I’d say the best person to ask is one of them.”
“’Tis impossible,” Ossouna interjected. “They communicate with no one but themselves. They are said to not even be men, but rather spirits. That is if you believe any of those shaman stories.”
“They’re men,” Noor said. “Crazy men, but definitely men.”
“I never had any reason to think much of this or take it seriously before, but . . . well, according to our folklore, they can move between the underworld and from where we came,” Ossouna said. “How can any normal man do that?”
“I don’t know,” Noor replied. “I don’t have all the answers. What I know is they look and act the part of flesh and blood, or like mere men here.”
“And, where we are from too. Why do you say they’re crazy?” Aswad asked.
“Their beliefs. Rituals. Their practices,” Noor replied.
“Like what?” Aswad asked.
“The Shetani are nature worshippers, and we are not,” Noor said. “For them, that is our unpardonable crime for which we all deserve to die.”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Aswad said.
“They’re extremists,” Noor replied. “Or, so I’ve heard. Let them learn that you’ve clear-cut what they think is too much of the forest, and they just might wage an all-out war against you. They’d get pretty ferocious when all that you’re doing is trying to make some more breathing space to live, or so legend has it.”
“I see,” Aswad said.
“So, don’t think they have something just against you. They drive everyone into the forest knowing very well what’s here,” Noor said.
The men listened.
“Their feelings about us is about what you’d have for say a disease,” he added. “Give them half a chance, and rest assured they’ll kill us all.”
“Back home, they were aloof. I never had reason to think they are as bad as you described,” Aswad said.
“That was there. This is here,” Noor said. “Back there, they just observe things, or so I’ve been told.”
The men listened.
“A good thing is you’ll probably never see one again for probably quite some time. Not after where I’m taking you,” Noor said.
“And, where is that again?” Ossouna asked.
“In time, you will see,” Noor replied. “Keep up the pace. This place is said to have ears.”
The woods seemed to go on forever like there was no end to it.
In time they began to grow weary.
“Not much further now,” Noor said, and they collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
“Stop,” Keita said. “Something moves out there.”
Noor looked up and ahead. “Don’t let it trouble your mind,” he said. He made a short sharp whistle, and what caught their attention came toward them.
A wolf now could be seen.
Four more arrived, apparently out of nowhere, in short order.
“Do not be alarmed,” Noor said. “They patrol these parts for us.”
The three watched the animals gather around Noor and his wolf. He stroked and ran his hands along their fur like one may do to a domesticated animal.
“They are our friends,” he said.
“Wolves are your friends?” Ossouna asked.
“These are,” Noor replied.
“They’re beautiful,” Keita said.
“Aren’t they?” Noor replied.
“Yes,” Keita said. “I’ve seen wolves before, but none quite like these.”
He was used to seeing a species known as the golden wolf. It was common to the territory from which they had come.
“I know what you mean,” Noor said. “Yes, these are a bit larger with a nicer coat and altogether prettier, I’d say, than the more slender ones I assume you’re referring to.”
“Right,” Keita said.
“You are truly a crazy one, Noor,” they heard, and a figure appeared from out of the bushes.
“Perhaps,” Noor replied.
“You are,” the fellow insisted. Mbou was his name. “Went out on your own again, did you?” he asked.
Noor said nothing.
“And, how far did you get this time?”
“As far as where men are butchered for meat,” he replied.
“Madness,” Mbou returned. “That’s a ways off from here to go on such a warm day. You’re a beast.”
Noor smiled.
“Your curiosity and courage will be your undoing, Noor. You’ve been warned a thousand times.”
Noor said nothing.
“Impressive, but again, unnecessarily risky. One day, Noor . . .”
“One day I’ll find out what lays beyond this world, or perhaps I’ll finally get the chance to rest.”
“You just might,” his friend returned. “Although, I don’t see what’s the rush.”
“There’s no rush,” Noor replied.
“You could have fooled me or the rest of us,” Mbou said.
Noor said nothing.
“Back at the camp, you once again gave us all a terrible scare there.”
“Did I?” Noor asked.
“Did you?”
“I feel so tired now,” Keita interjected.
“And, whom have we here?” Mbou asked, looking at him, Ossouna, and Aswad.
“Survivors,” Noor said. “Proof that my efforts are not in vain.”
“Indeed, but you know those efforts are often strongly against your ever getting back here, especially the farther out you go,” Mbou said.
“I wasn’t trying to be a hero,” Noor replied.
Mbou directed his attention to the newcomers.
“Welcome,” he said.
“Thank you,” the three replied in unison.
“Gentlemen, this is Mbou,” said Noor.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mbou addressed them. “I don’t doubt for a second you’re tired. Few of us have the energy of this man here, but come,” he added. “We must go. One can never assume he’s safe. Not even here.”
Mbou left nothing to chance despite the area being well patrolled by their sentinels, the wolves, who could detect ghoul odor from a distance up to roughly a mile away.
They would immediately go on a pack hunt should they pick up that scent.
Thus, the wary ghouls stayed tens to over a hundred miles and more away from where the sentinels patrolled; the woodlands near Besi, the great river..
Kimbilio, or the great village of men, where Mbou, Noor, and the newcomers were ultimately headed, was located on the other side of Besi.
This river spanned a distance of roughly sixteen hundred miles over varying terrain. Its narrowest width from shore to shore, near the span of woodland where the sentinels patrolled, was in the range of two hundred yards, and this is where Noor was headed.
“How much further?” Keita asked. “My weariness is such that I’m content to fall and die where I am. My legs feel like they will give out under me at any minute.”
“Try to keep up,” Mbou said. “It’s not too much further.”
“Noor has said that for what feels like an eternity,” Aswad said. “I barely slept through the night. I’m fading fast.”
“I am too,” Ossouna added.
“Just a bit more,” Mbou said. “I promise,” he added, and a party of seventy men appeared out of the woods fifteen minutes later into their journey.
A swarthy earthen colored one led the procession. His name was Zaeim.
“Three?” he said, addressing Noor.
“Yes,” he replied. “Just three. Three precious souls given a chance.”
Zaeim looked into his eyes.
“We’ve told you before. Please, please don’t do this again. When we go, we go as a unit. We go en masse. You k
now there are thousands of ghouls out there.”
“I do,” Noor said.
“We understand you’re impulsive,” Zaeim said. “But we can’t save everyone, and we can’t afford to lose you, especially not now.”
“What happened?” Mbou asked.
Zaeim directed his gaze toward him.
“The Shetani,” he replied with gravity. “They’ve been back.”
“No,” Mbou said.
“Yes,” Zaeim replied.
The newcomers looked at each other.
Mbou’s face grew stern.
“While their first flight was probably happenstance, their return was, without a doubt, a reconnaissance mission. It would be foolish to believe it wasn’t,” Zaeim said.
Noor’s face was one of concern. He swallowed his saliva, and Aswad saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.
“We believe they’re mapping the layout of the village,” Zaeim added. “We believe an attack is imminent.”
Mbou looked at him. “What else?” he said.
“We dispatched a messenger crow to alert our brethren in the northwestern lands about our situation,” Zaeim replied.
“I see little reason to believe they will come to our aid,” Mbou said.
“Pardon my interruption,” Aswad began. “Are the Shetani birds and not men? How can they fly above your village?”
“They come on the backs of the kilman, my friend,” Noor replied. “They harness it like one may do to a horse.”
The kilmanya, also known as the kilman, were the last of a series of prehistoric flying reptiles from which the dragon myth and legend likely evolved.
“Come,” Zaeim said. “We must go. We need every man back in the village immediately.”
What many of their brethren assumed was correct. The rider, whose name was Kifo, did make a return trip over their village to survey it. Those who saw the reconnaissance man noted on his first trip he came from the south, which they knew had a Shetani stronghold. To the south is where he returned.
On his second trip, although he flew in from the south, he continued going north.
The villagers, mindful there was also a heavy concentration of Shetani in the north, were divided about what to make of this.
Many wondered whether their tormentors would plan to attack them from both the northern and southern front.
Amri, the Shetani leader on the southern front, told Kifo to head toward the Black Mountains immediately after gathering additional information. His instructions were to go there to alert Nyeusi so he’d decide what should be their next move.
Nyeusi mounted a kilman within an hour of hearing the news Kifo brought. He, Kifo, and an immortal who was terrified of mounting the flying animal was instructed to get behind him and hold on, or his arms would be cut off should he refuse to comply.
They flew east toward the Sepulchral Range, a series of mountains some two thousand miles away, where the necromancer, the lord of the underworld, was thought to be.
Nyeusi, Kifo, and the fellow who held on to him while trembling the entire length of the way dismounted from the flying beasts. His legs shook so terribly after placing his feet upon the ground that he was surprised he could move or stand.
Kifo urged him to get a hold of himself. He bound his hands behind his back, and the three of them walked past the necropolis of the ancient city Sanctuary where in times past, men defeated and ran its goblin inhabitants out of its valleys and the caves within the mountains facing it, in what some called a gore-filled bloodbath.
By this time, the men had long become emboldened after discovering there was a curse many of them began to regard as not a curse at all but rather a blessing. They noticed they never felt hunger or thirst there and did not, and could not, die for want of nourishment. They consequently organized themselves into an army to make the lands at the foot of the Sepulchral Range into a place of refuge.
Many suspected the curse was the work of the necromancer, but no one could say so with any certainty. For that matter, no one or few could say anything about him with certainty.
Most of what they knew or thought they knew stemmed from hearsay, although one could find no shortage of them who swore what they heard was true, or they’d behave as though what they heard was something personally witnessed.
Many also heard that he used sorcery to lay the victorious men of the battle mentioned above to waste.
According to the legend, they went about their day-to-day affairs in complete ignorance regarding why so many of them suddenly fell ill and died within a few days from the flu or a flu-like virus.
Some thought it was a plague. Others suspected foul play.
Within a week or two later, after they all died, the necromancer appeared on his black horse, hitherto a creature unknown in those parts. He went past the city of the dead and selected the deepest cave within the range to take up abode.
The stench of decay left no impression on him, but his alleged dark arts perhaps proved to be a bit taxing.
He left his steed at the mouth of the cave, knowing he needn’t fear the well trained, devoted, and loyal animal would stray or abandon him.
He ventured deep into the cavern and found a convenient location to place his infamous stone, a crystal ball.
He then lay down on a slate that masons, now dead, and what remained of them lay out in the open valley, had carved from the surrounding rock.
His steed sought shelter from pouring rain by walking further into the cave. It got onto its side. Then, the horse and owner fell into a deathlike sleep.
The Sanctuary Nyeusi, Kifo, and their captive approached was a ghost town.
Its only burial ground, the one they passed by, the one its inhabitants called the necropolis, was surrounded by the remains of thousands within the valley who supposedly perished by the necromancer’s dark art.
Nyeusi broke into a cold sweat. His heart raced. Kifo’s pounded in his chest. Meanwhile, the robust steed that lay on its side however many years ago, was now an emaciated shadow of itself. All muscles in its body atrophied to the point where one would have been able to count every rib outlined against the skin that hung onto its frame.
The necromancer, who also hadn’t moved since venturing into the cave, was a deathly pale fellow.
A lifetime living in caves and lack of exposure to any light rendered his complexion into something diaphanous, although this was well concealed beneath the hooded garment he wore. It covered him from head to toe.
“Are you sure it’s safe to be here?” Kifo asked. “Safe to try and approach him? Are you sure he’s even here?”
“These are questions one can never guarantee,” a shaken Nyeusi replied.
“Should we turn back?” Kifo asked.
“Turn back?” Nyeusi said. “No. We should proceed.”
Their captive, who trembled more violently than he did while atop the flying kilman, felt his legs give away. He fell, and Kifo was startled.
“Get up!” he ordered, then pulled him onto his feet. “Try to get a hold of yourself!”
“What is this place!” the man yelled. “Why did you bring me into this godforsaken valley and this pit not fit for the devil!” he said, backing away.
“Compose yourself!” Kifo exclaimed.
“Never!” the captive screamed. His heel knocked against a rock, and he fell again, but this time onto his back.
Kifo stepped toward him.
“If you’re to kill me, do it here! Do it now!” the captive urged.
“I have a mind to!” Kifo said.
“Go ahead then. You may as well because I will go with you no further!” the captive added.
Kifo turned and looked at Nyeusi.
The former held onto the end of a branch he had brought with him and struck the bound man firmly along the side of his thighs.
“Not too much,” Nyeusi said.
“Enough for you!” Kifo said.
“’Twill be enough when I am dead,” the captive replied. He thought
it was best to close his eyes, to offer no resistance, to try and reach into those deep recesses of the mind one feels compelled to when it appears inevitable the end is at hand.
He grunted after receiving each blow. They now landed mostly on the sides of his arms and legs.
Kifo then reached for something he had wrapped in a bit of cloth and held it firmly against the incapacitated captive’s nostrils.
The latter, if he had his eyes open, might have suspected this was smelling salts or something meant to revive or shock him back to alertness.
However, whatever Kifo forced against him provided the opposite effect. The fellow went out like a light in the dark.
“Tie him like they do to slain pigs or boars from where they are from. I mean in the same manner they do when preparing to take one back to their village for a roast over a fire,” Nyeusi said. “Look. There is a pole there sturdy enough to use to suspend and carry him.”
“Right,” Kifo replied.
Nyeusi assisted him, and before long, they were on their way through the valley with their captive between them hanging like a wild catch.
They continued walking through the valley, then through a narrow passage where a range of smaller, rocky mountains stood close to each other.
“There,” Nyeusi said, pointing in the distance. “An opening in the rock.”
Kifo took note, and a chill came over him.
Nyeusi saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.
“You don’t look too excited,” he said. “He’s got to be in one of these caves here. At the very least, now we can begin narrowing down our prospects.”
“I don’t know,” Kifo replied. “Something tells me we won’t have any narrowing down to do. I feel like something has lead us to exactly where we are now.”
Nyeusi looked him in the eye. “You’re superstitious,” he said. “Finding him is never easy, but in any event, I hope you are correct. I have a feeling we’re on the right path as well.”
“Okay,” Kifo replied.
“Let’s go,” Nyeusi said, and they walked around the rocks on their left then up a gradual incline toward the opening.
“We will need light to venture within there,” Nyeusi said.
“We will,” Kifo replied, “so, let’s put him down for a bit and get a fire going.”