by Penn Fawn
“So, you’re hoping that beast was just one of those things and that’s it?” Ossouna asked.
“Well, I would certainly like it if it were so,” Aswad replied.
“Okay, but how do you explain us being here after what happened while we were out on the hunt?” Keita asked.
“I don’t know,” Aswad replied. “That’s the disturbing part and the greatest mystery of all, isn’t it?”
“I’d say so,” Ossouna replied.
“Let’s try to do what they said,” Keita remarked. “It will be difficult, but we should try to get some rest. I’ve no doubt there’s a lot more that will addle our minds which is yet to come.”
The combination of the day’s adventure and not getting much rest last night proved to be too much for them. Consequently, it was not long before they fell asleep.
They were deep into it when the chief members of Kimbilio met to discuss the latest developments.
Their preferred area for discussing critical or important matters was about a quarter mile away from the village homes. The location was a bit remote. It was a natural clearing where they had large rocks native to the area arranged in a semi-circle.
There was a larger rock facing that semi-circle. This is where Oba took up a position to discuss the goings-on with the forty-eight representatives before him.
Six of Oba’s chief confidants and advisors, three apiece, sat on either side of him.
“Time is already against us, so I am, and I am sure you probably are, very eager to get right down to the reason for today’s meeting,” he began.
“There is not a man in the village who hasn’t seen or at least heard about the Shetani coming by this area, not once, but twice. We believe the first appearance was by happenstance. The second, not so.
“We believe having noticed we’re here, they returned a second time to get a better survey of the area.”
He took a deep breath.
“Of course, no good can come out of this. None of you needs to be reminded that they are our nemesis and sworn enemy. Whether they will be back to do us harm is not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.
“What we have to do is get prepared. The detail of this preparation is principally what we want to discuss.”
“Why are we here? Do we have any say in this, or have you already made up our minds for us?” Oluso remarked.
Oba looked at him sternly. “We’ve made no decision,” he replied.
“A first!” Oluso interjected.
“If I may be permitted to finish, please,” Oba added.
Oluso said nothing.
“There are only two options,” Oba continued. “Resist or relocate.”
Oluso looked to the left then right of him at the other representatives. Mbou and Zaeim were on his left. Dalia and Noor, the youngest person to have ever been elected to such a high post, were on his right.
A wooly blond-haired fellow there, a rarity among them, who claimed to be a common sight at certain islands back in Primordia, focused his eyes on the ground. He, too, was on Oluso’s right. All there bore countenances as firmly as one may render to figures etched in stone.
Oluso redirected his attention to Oba. “Resist or relocate, huh? A nice way of saying resist or try to run. And, how long do you plan or think we can do that for? I will flee to nowhere,” he said. “I will fight.”
“And, you will die,” Oba said, and he instantly regretted his snappy response.
“So, that is your decision then?” Oluso returned. “Or, the decision?” he added, stressing on the word ‘the.’ “Is that what your party thought of and came up with?”
“Pardon me, Oluso. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. We’re not here to debate. We’re here to determine what is it the people would have us do.”
“And, I gave you my opinion. My vote. I’d rather die here than flee and risk being killed anyway. I will fight,” Oluso stated.
“But that’s certain suicide,” Mbou remarked. “They are too strong an enemy.”
“No one lives forever,” he replied. “Unless maybe you believe there is another tier to this place.”
“We can live forever here, and you know it, provided, of course, we’re never mortally harmed,” Alpha, the blond-haired fellow, said. “It’s something to think about, I think.”
“We’re never totally safe from harm,” Oluso replied. “Sooner or later, this day was going to come. We are always going to be hunted or on the run.
“Many moons ago, I suggested we ought to try to blend in. I suggested we abandon all ideas of so-called modern architecture, meaning that which has become so ingrained and familiar to us based on the lands from which we came. I said plainly we should forsake any ideas that call for clear-cutting the forest and instead make dwellings that are complementary or harmonious with nature like the Shetani do, but no one would hear me.
“If you had listened to me, they would never have so easily known we are here. There would have been no massive clearances, no telltale signs from above.
“What we would have had instead were dwellings that blend in beautifully, if not seamlessly, with the environment, which our adversaries would say—and I do agree with them here—should be the natural order of things.
“That type of action would truly have been something progressive, as opposed to what we have today. Those were my words to you, but you . . . you never listen to me. Ever.”
He paused and waited to hear if someone would respond. No one did.
“We’re always going to be hunted. If not by Shetani, then we will continue to forever have to be on our guard from the ghouls of the forest. I’m not going to run anymore. I’m tired of it,” he added.
“And, I’m tired of it,” Zaeim said. “And, once upon a time, need I remind everyone, we were the ones who hunted.”
“This is not Egangeles or Primordia,” Oba stated. “’Tis the devil’s domain. For us, there’s no desire to hunt anything here except for target practice.”
“Then, why not use the curses of this land that are meant to sour our spirits and subdue us to our advantage?” Oluso replied.
What he meant by that, alluded to, was immortals in Kimbilio or at any other part of the underworld ate nothing because they never felt hunger. They drank nothing because they never felt thirsty, yet they never died from a lack of sustenance.
“And, to you, Zaeim,” Oluso added. “I hear what you say. There’s no need to be passive here. I’m for taking the fight to them.”
Oba grappled with his words.
“I say again, why not use the curses of this place, in particular, the fact that we need no sustenance to live, to our advantage? On the other hand, they would suffer and die for want of nourishment if they go but so long without food. Think about this!” Oluso replied, and they did.
“Flee or withdraw is what you propose? Madness! They need to learn to fear and respect us!” he said forcefully, and his resolve earned him complete command of the floor now.
“A tactic that would grant us this respect . . . No, better yet, one that would instill terror in their hearts, more so than they have ever instilled in us, is if we obliterated their food supply, destroyed the plants and animals they rely on,” he added.
Dalia’s chest heaved. Countenances, on the whole, appeared even more concerned.
“We ought to starve and suffocate them into subjugation, if not death, should they threaten us any further with violence!” he added and waited for a response.
No one said anything.
“And, if we’re talking merely about a more typical confrontation,” he continued, “remember we’re fifty thousand strong now!
“You can bet without fear they were alarmed. No, terrified even, at what they saw when they first came this way. Their greatest worry must be the threat we represent to them. Their concern must be how they can stop us from growing any larger and more powerful.
“This is not a time to flee. On the contrary, this is the time to continue what we began by laying claim to more
territory, to lay stake to this and greater portions of these lands. This is the time to fight, to claim and defend it as our own. If we take the cowardly path, you’re suggesting we’ll never be safe, ever.”
“I am not going to leave what we spent ages here trying to develop. I will not go back in the direction of those beasts that capture and pen us in cages to later slaughter for food and drink. We’re too close for comfort from the Forest of Souls as it is. No. I’ll take my chances here come what may.”
“Thank you for your input, Oluso,” Oba said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
“Would anyone else like to take the floor?” Oba asked.
“I would,” Alpha replied.
“Very well,” Oba said.
“This suggestion of yours,” Alpha began, “to deprive them of their food supply, how is that feasible? They are one with the land. To do as you suggest means to destroy the land and, by extension, the animals which depend on it.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Oluso replied.
“It is,” Alpha replied. “So, let me be absolutely clear about what you’re saying. You’re saying we should take a more aggressive approach to this?”
“That is what has to be done,” Oluso replied.
“So, more life must perish, or be subjugated for the sake of our own?” Alpha asked.
“It is either that, or we continue to eke out a very fragile survival among them,” Oluso added. “This, to me, appears to be a reversal of natural order because clearly, we are their superior. We are superior to them and all these things they ascribe such a high value to.”
“You would not speak this way were you back in Primordia,” Dalia remarked, “because there, you would have their vulnerabilities.”
“We are kings among all there as well,” he replied. “We are at the top of everything. Top of the food chain, intellect, everything. But aside from that, we are not there now. Look, you do what you have to do to survive.”
“They would never do what you mentioned,” Dalia said.
“Reverse our places, and they would,” Oluso said, staring at her firmly. “These are desperate times, my dear,” he added, “and desperate times call for desperate measures. They are only doing what they believe they have to do in order to survive. We have to think in the same manner provided we want to survive.”
“If there was some way to broker a peace,” Mbou interjected.
“There is none,” Oluso replied. “In their eyes, we are a lower form of life than a parasite. Their opinion is unwavering, and as such, there is nothing to broker.”
A brief period in which no one said anything followed.
“Would anyone else like to take the floor?” Oba asked.
No one offered to do so.
“Very well,” he said. “Those of you who for whatever reason may feel a bit uneasy about speaking now may return to your constituency. You can debate and think over carefully what was said here then return tomorrow to cast your vote.
“Time is not on our side. We need to come to a decision tomorrow by nightfall and put a plan into action.”
Keita awoke. He looked to his left and right and noticed Ossouna and Aswad were also awake.
“Did any of you sleep at all?” he asked.
“Soundly,” Ossouna replied. “As if I were dead.”
“Same here,” Aswad said.
He noticed they’d spoken in a drab monotone and felt he knew the reason why.
“So, it’s not a dream?” he remarked.
“No,” a crestfallen Aswad replied, again in a drab, lifeless monotone, and Keita’s eyes filled with tears.
He fought to compose himself.
“I wish I could go home,” Ossouna said.
“Me too,” Aswad said morosely. “I wish I could see my family again. Just one last time. I’d give anything for that,” he added, then a fellow they did not know entered the room.
“Good,” the man said. “You’re up. I’ve been checking in on you.”
They did not reply.
“My name is Akua. I’m supposed to take you to where you’re to begin your training tomorrow.”
Still, they said nothing.
“You don’t seem too excited,” he said.
“Should we be?” Aswad asked.
“Perhaps,” Akua replied.
“Okay,” Aswad said.
“You may not be grateful for it now, but in time you will,” Akua added.
“Yeah?” Aswad said with indifference.
“Yes,” Akua replied.
“How come?” Aswad asked.
“You mean, since arriving here, you’ve heard nothing, nothing at all about what this place is like or about what’s going on?” Akua asked.
“Oh, I’ve heard some things,” Aswad replied. “And, seen too. Much of it was so strange it felt borderline unreal.”
“I know what you mean,” Akua replied.
Aswad did not reply.
“Well,” Akua began, “Don’t kill the messenger. I’m just here to remind you that you have one night before you to try to collect your emotions, and then it’s off to training.”
His guests wore long faces.
“What’s coming won’t break for bruised emotions or broken hearts,” he added. “It’s a heartless world, so like it or not, whatever is to come will come and keep on coming, regardless.”
“I’ll be ready,” Aswad replied.
“You won’t,” Akua said, “but that’s the right attitude. It’s either that, or you may want to fall on your own sword.”
His comment aroused Ossouna’s attention. “That happens here?” he asked.
“And, why wouldn’t it?” Akua replied. “This place is not exactly a paradise.”
“No,” Ossouna said.
“So, brace yourselves,” Akua added, “because we’re at the point where we’re going to have to face the Shetani sooner rather than later.”
“And, that’s assured?” Aswad asked.
“Well, it’s either that, or there will be an exodus,” Akua replied. “In the latter case, we’re still going to have to face outside hostilities.”
“Hm,” Aswad uttered.
“Enjoy what’s left of it, for we did have a period of relative peace for some time now.”
The guests waited for him to say more but he fell silent.
“Well, the night is still young. Isn’t it?” Aswad said. “Care to tell us a bit more about that, or is your job done for the night, and you need to get back?”
“The night is young, but it’s a long story,” Akua replied, “although I can stay a bit.”
“Bits and pieces will do. I mean the salient details. I’ll take those because it’s not like we have anything better to do or anywhere to go,” Aswad said matter-of-factly.
“You speak the truth,” Akua replied. “May as well, right? Considering I may not have many more nights in which I can stay up and tell stories.”
“Why always such a tone of finality around here?” Aswad asked. “It’s not the first we’ve heard. It’s like everyone’s preparing to die.”
“Because there is no doubt that time seems very near,” Akua replied, “and that, my friend, is a big deal. Your name is?”
“Aswad,” he replied, extending his arm.
“Pleased to meet you,” Akua said and shook his hand.
“Life does take on another tone altogether when you’re nearing the end, especially when given time for thought and reflection.”
Keita felt composed enough to speak. “We heard about the Shetani appearing here,” he began, “on the back of the kilman, I mean. We heard about what that most likely means. They will be back to wreak havoc, I’ve heard.”
“You heard right,” Akua replied.
“But have you no power to resist them?” Keita asked. “Power to fend off this seeming inevitability we hear so much about.”
“In our dreams,” Akua replied, and his guests’ faces remained glum.
“I’m sorry you were thrown right into the middle of this,” Akua said. “I can’t apologize for speaking as plainly as I do about it, though. I prefer to tell you the truth rather than paint a picture that’s all wishful thinking or fantasy.”
They said nothing.
“Tomorrow or the day after, the powers that be will announce the final vote about what we are to do. By that, I mean are we to evacuate the village or try to resist the Shetani,” Akua said.
“Once again, I’m here to tell you to be prepared for anything. The people may be more or less evenly divided over whether they want to fight or flee. Either way, you will have to get training. Whatever their decision, learning to fend for yourself can only benefit you and your brethren. It’s no guarantee of anything. It’s just something to help you be prepared when in a time of need.”
Ossouna thought about what he said and considered what they saw and experienced on the way toward the village.
“We appreciate your words,” he said.
“Very well,” Akua said.
“Are you one of the better trainers?” Aswad asked.
“I am,” he replied, “and I’ve been assigned to give you as much training as I can, given the pressing circumstances. General opinion around this place is I’m the best man for it.”
They listened.
“Before your arrival here,” he continued, “up until the present time, the talk that predominated is, what now are we going to do, or some variation of it. There is every variation you can imagine. Everything from the impossibility of brokering a peace with the Shetani to whether we should have ever begun clear-cutting the forest.
“And, why is clear-cutting the forest so bad, I wonder?” Keita asked.
“Because it highlights where we are, shows where we are concentrated. Many here have argued if we remained blended in with the surroundings, our presence would not have been quite so evident. It would have increased our chances greatly of not being detected,” Akua replied.
“Hm,” Aswad uttered. “A life of hiding. What kind of life is that?”
“One we and those gone before us lived for many years,” Akua hastily replied.
A startled Aswad, having detected a slight tone of displeasure in his voice, fell silent.
“You kept a low profile if you wanted to have some type of longevity. Risking being found out meant risking being killed. It’s as simple as that,” Akua added.