Spirit King: Return of the Crown

by Dashiel Douglas

  “I knew it!” D’Melo exclaimed. “That really happened! All this time, I thought it was just a dream.”

  Kavu continued, “The funny thing is, I wasn’t even in pain. But then I made the mistake of looking at you,” he laughed. “I had never seen anyone with such sheer fright on their face. It was like you had seen a Mabaya—umm,” Kavu searched for the English translation—“an evil spirit. I started screaming because I thought there was something terribly wrong with me for you to have been so scared.” They laughed heartily together.

  “Yeah, I panicked, man! I thought Mama was going to whack me good!” D’Melo and Kavu were now doubled over in a roaring guffaw. “Then, I tried to heal the gash.”

  “I forgot about that!” Kavu bellowed, clutching his stomach in joyous pain. “You smeared dirt in my cut! What made you think that would stop the bleeding?”

  “I was three years old! What did I know?”

  While they were in hysterics, Zara returned.

  “Well, D’Melo, I guess you’re feeling better,” she said. “I’m gonna leave. You guys have a lot to catch up on.”

  D’Melo barely acknowledged her. “Okay,” he said. “See you later.”

  Kavu chimed in, “You should stay. I want to get to know my brother’s girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” D’Melo swiftly replied.

  Zara shot her hand out to Kavu. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  Kavu stood and moved straight into an embrace.

  Zara’s body shuddered. Her limp arms struggled to return Kavu’s hug. Then, bent at the waist, she took long, quieting breaths.

  “Are you okay?” D’Melo asked.

  “I’ll be all right,” she said, as she staggered out.

  “That day wasn’t the only time I almost died,” Kavu chuckled. “When I was six, I was given a horse. I was enraptured from the moment I saw her. I didn’t do much else besides eat, sleep, and be with Safiri—that’s her name. It means ‘sapphire.’ She has a reddish tint to her golden coat. She is my most loyal friend. I’ve tried to let others ride her, but she bucks them off. Her heart belongs only to me.

  “The president wouldn’t permit me to ride her at first. He said I was too young. So, one morning I woke just before dawn. I slipped out of the main house to the stable. I wanted to at least sit on her. She was completely serene, so I decided to let her out of the stall. It was incredible to feel her power under me. Then a light came on inside the house. So I rode her back into the stable. Just as Safiri was entering her stall, our cat tried to pounce on a chicken. The chicken flew up and toppled a metal bucket of feed. The bucket slammed onto the concrete floor. Safiri was startled. I couldn’t control her. She shot back out of the stable and leapt over a watering trough. When she landed, I lost my grip on her mane and fell onto a large jagged rock. I could hardly breathe, let alone move. The pain in my ribs was unbearable. Then I thought that even if I survived, the president was going to beat me to death.”

  D’Melo laughed. Then he realized Kavu wasn’t joking.

  “Because I was on the far side of the trestle, no one in the house could see me. I was for sure going to die. But then, I could feel Safiri connecting deeply with me. I couldn’t talk, so I begged her in my mind to pull me from behind the trestle. She immediately cantered over and offered her hind leg. She dragged me beyond the trestle and toward the house. One of the workers saw what was happening and ran over.

  “The next thing I remember was a doctor dripping medicine under my tongue. Even as a young boy, I wondered how a tiny dose of liquid was going to help. But within minutes, I was up and running around again. The president didn’t beat me or even yell at me. Instead, he was proud of the courage I showed—such a small boy trying to ride a huge horse. He never said anything about me almost dying or my miraculous recovery. The following week, he sent me to the military academy. I was the youngest cadet ever. Usually they don’t accept anyone under ten.”

  “Wow. You’ve had such an exciting life,” D’Melo observed, without even a trace of envy. “My life has been the opposite. But I like it that way. The calmer, the better. I’ve always had the only three things I need—basketball, my friends, and my family.” As soon as ‘family’ fell from his lips, a sick twinge crept into D’Melo’s stomach. He realized Kavu had grown up without his family.

  “I never had family, not really,” Kavu responded, outwardly unbothered. “The president and Madam Dimka did their best, I guess. They were busy. The other cadets at the academy became my family. We would die for each other,” Kavu declared, his expression betraying his words. “Those guys got me out of many sticky situations.”

  “That’s great,” D’Melo said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “There’s nothing better than having such close friends.” But not even D’Melo was buying his thinly veiled attempt to smooth over his thoughtlessness.

  After a long moment, Kavu said, “Well, I have family now. You’re here!” This made D’Melo feel even worse. He didn’t have the heart to tell Kavu he would only be in Kipaji for a couple of days.

  Kavu’s attention shifted to the drawing on the table. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” D’Melo said dismissively, sensing he should steer Kavu away from it. “Just one of Mama’s drawings.”

  “It looks like a map of Kipaji.” Kavu slid the drawing off the table and started examining it. D’Melo wondered anxiously, Does he know something? How could he? Kavu rotated the drawing.

  D’Melo tried to divert Kavu’s attention. “Hey, the people here must have really loved Baba. They’re doing so much to honor him at his funeral.”

  Kavu brushed off D’Melo’s comment. He continued to study the drawing, flipping it upside down.

  D’Melo gently slipped it from Kavu’s hands. “You’ll be there, right?”

  “The funeral?” Kavu said, suddenly cold. “No. Why would I be there?”

  “What! You’re not coming to your father’s funeral?”

  “He’s not my father. He’s your father. He abandoned me, remember? He took his favorite son with him.”

  “He didn’t abandon you,” D’Melo objected. “What have you been told?”

  “The cold hard truth,” Kavu spat. “Your mother and father were traitors. When soldiers came to question them, they fled and left me here. And no Kipaji wanted me, so the president and Madam Dimka adopted me.”

  D’Melo retorted defensively, “Does that even make sense to you? Why would no one in Kipaji want you? You’re Kipaji!”

  “They weren’t willing to take a boy from a family of traitors. They were ashamed of your parents and their actions against the Malungan government.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “That’s ridiculous?” Kavu hissed. “You know what’s ridiculous? That my so-called parents just forgot about me. What kind of people do that!”

  D’Melo’s patience was wearing thin hearing his parents being disparaged so unfairly. He leaned back into the couch, debating whether to tell Kavu the truth.

  Kavu continued, “So now you’re asking why I’m not going to your father’s funeral? Why would I honor a traitor who abandoned his child? He can rot in hell for all I care.”

  That sent D’Melo over the edge. “Those are all lies!” he burst. “That’s not what happened! I can’t believe you think Baba and Mama would abandon you. Your beloved President Dimka,” D’Melo jabbed with venom in his voice, “tried to kill you, and almost succeeded. Baba and Mama had evidence against Dimka that would have landed him in prison for the rest of his life. Dimka was doing everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen, including killing our whole family. So Baba and Mama took us,” D’Melo stressed, “and ran for the Nanjier border. At the bridge, the Malungan soldiers shot you.”

  Kavu clutched the left side of his chest, seemingly unaware of his own movements.

 
“Mama ran back for you, even though the soldiers’ bullets were flying all around her. But a rebel pulled her away because he thought you were already dead.”

  Kavu shook his head, reluctant to believe what D’Melo’s was saying.

  “Only after we were safely in Nanjier did Baba find out that you were still alive. The same Kipaji doctor who saved your life after falling from your horse saved you that night too.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Kavu said. “Why would the president try to kill us and then raise me as his own son?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Dimka used you as a bargaining chip. You were a pawn—his insurance that the evidence wouldn’t be released. Dimka never stopped trying to finish our family. He had Baba and Mama killed, looking for that evidence.”

  Kavu stared off, apparently adding up what he had just heard with what he thought he knew. He rose suddenly and headed for the door.

  “Hey, where you goin’?”

  “I need some time to think,” Kavu muttered, without turning to face D’Melo. “If this is true, then I’m fighting for the wrong side.” He raised an impassioned fist to his gritted teeth. “It means my whole life has been a lie.” Kavu dragged himself outside, where the conjurers were waiting to escort him to the Malungan border.

  D’Melo cupped his face with regretful hands. What did I just do? What if he questions Dimka about this? Who knows what Dimka will do to him?

  Zara went to find Milpisi. She needed to know more about Kavu. Why did her body react so aversely when she was around him? Was he deceiving D’Melo? Was D’Melo in danger? On her way to the valley, she was nearly bowled over from behind.

  “Hey, Jonju!” She lifted him into the air.

  “Madam Zara,” he chirped. “Can we play the bubbles game?”

  Zara was stumped.

  “You know, when you blow bubbles on my neck.”

  “Ohhh. I wish I could, Jonju. But I must find Milpisi. Do you know where he is?”

  “With Haya. He meditates there at midday.”

  “Thank you!” Zara ‘bubbled’ his neck quickly. He giggled in pure delight. She dashed for Haya, then yelled back, “We’ll play more later. I promise!”

  Milpisi sat cross-legged in front of the Tree of Life in a deep meditative state. Without turning, he greeted, “Siku ya heri, my dear one.” As if he knew what was weighing on her, he advised, “Appearances can be deceiving, no? Thank the Great Spirit for giving us a third eye—the eye within. It detects what our outer eyes fail to capture. Everyone has a third eye, but some have become blind to its powers. Like any living organism, if it is not exercised, it withers until rendered impotent. You, my dear, have a keenly developed inner eye. Now, you must only learn to trust it.”

  Zara remained silent, wondering whether Milpisi could read her mind. She felt both impressed and vulnerable. In any case, she received the answers to her questions about Kavu.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Milpisi said, stroking his beard. “At the banquet, you mentioned that you were born in Nečzia. Do you have a family member named Magdalena?”

  “Yes, I think I do,” Zara narrowed her eyes, searching her memory. “I’ve heard her name. I think she was my great grandaunt. “How’d you know that?”

  “Well, you can say I met her once.”

  “What? Wow, what a coincidence!”

  Milpisi smiled. “There are no coincidences, my dear one, only the Great Spirit linking the most improbable things together for our benefit . . . and for the Great Spirit’s amusement.” He chuckled.

  Milpisi recounted a vision he had many years ago. That day, the weight on his shoulders was threatening to crush him. The Kipaji medical clinic had confirmed that his wife suffered from a genetic disorder that made it impossible for her to bear children. She spiraled into a dark depression.

  Milpisi went to Haya to beg the Great Spirit to grant his wife a child. When he unveiled the Tree, a woman was sitting before it. She had blazing red-orange hair. Eyes wet with tears, she introduced herself as Magdalena Stromová—Healer of Nečsláva. She informed Milpisi that his Tree would soon be the last remaining Tree of the original eighteen. Some had been destroyed by war, and others by the ignorant who feared the power of Haya as the work of the devil. Also, several of the Akhtiar had been declared witches when they returned to their regions. They were burned at the stake, never having borne children. So while there may have been a few trees still standing, the knowledge of Haya had been lost.

  “Magdalena visited me that day to deliver a message—the future of the world depended on this Tree.” Milpisi gently handled a branch. “I promised her that I would protect it for as long as I could, but the Healer bloodline in Kipaji would end with me because of my wife’s genetic defect. Magdalena then shared knowledge about the Tree that must have gotten lost over the centuries, as it had not been passed down to me.

  “She said, ‘Hidden within the Tree is the Heart of Seeds. Locate the Heart, slice the membrane, and remove a seed, only one,’ she emphasized. ‘Have your wife swallow it. The seed contains enormous power. It has the ability to alter the very foundation of organisms—its genetic material. A seed should never ever be removed unless it is absolutely necessary for the preservation of the world. The Heart membrane will regenerate, but the seed can never be replaced. And each Heart has only nineteen seeds. Also, without the Heart of Seeds inside, the Tree can survive only one day of sun. And Milpisi,’ she urged, ‘tarry not. The transformational power of the Seed doesn’t last long. It could be an hour, a day, or a week. No one knows for sure. The only thing that is known is the more pristine the environment around its host, the more potent and lasting will be the effect.’

  “Magdalena then turned abruptly, as if hearing something. Several tiny flames flickered in her eyes. ‘They’re coming,’ she said tranquilly. Then she muttered one final word. She said something like, ‘Edo’ or ‘Idu.’”

  Still trying to process that there was a Healer in her family, Zara muttered, “Umm, I think she probably said, ‘Edu.’ Essentially, she was wishing you the best of luck.”

  “Not knowing the last thing Magdalena said to me has nagged me all these years.” Milpisi released a satisfied sigh. “What a coincidence that you are here now to tell me,” he said with a wink.

  “So, what happened to her?” Zara asked urgently.

  “Magdalena calmly admonished the people coming to kill her. I’ll never forget her words. She said, ‘You think you are victorious, but your victory is as foolhardy as it is illusory. What you do now, you do against your own best interests, and the interests of your descendants.’ She embraced the Tree and, in a flash, she and it were set aglow.

  “Her body gradually disintegrated. The last part of Magdalena that was visible was a heart-shaped mark on the back of her neck.”

  Zara reached over her shoulder and rubbed her birthmark.

  “Yes,” Milpisi affirmed, “just like the one you have. When the flame subsided, she was gone. I wasn’t sure what to feel. Knowing that I was the world’s last Healer with a Tree weighed heavily on my heart. But finding out that the Tree could cure my wife’s genetic defect brought me hope.

  “I rushed home and bounded through the door. I called for my wife. She didn’t respond. I thought maybe she was having an afternoon nap. I was barely able to contain my excitement. I swung the bedroom door open, ready to rouse her from her slumber. But my eyes fell upon an empty bed. Then, the shadow of a figure swayed ever so subtly on the floor. I looked toward the window.” Milpisi paused, wiping the moistness from his eyes. “I was too late. Her limp body was hanging from a ceiling beam. She couldn’t bear the guilt of not being able to continue the Healer bloodline. She knew I would never divorce her and marry another woman. So she thought that if I was relieved of this dilemma then I would feel free to remarry.” Milpisi’s voice quaked. “But she was wrong.” He closed his eyes,
tears rolling down his cheeks. “She will always be my wife. We are wedded through all the worlds of the Spirit. And so, I never had a child to become the next Milpisi.”

  “I guess that means you’ll need to live forever,” Zara jested gently.

  “Well, I used to think that.” A soft smile glinted in his eyes. “But not anymore.”

  Just as Zara was going to ask him what he meant, a buzz vibrated in his shirt pocket. It was a sound Zara hadn’t heard since arriving in Kipaji. Milpisi appeared equally surprised to receive a call. He covered one ear and pressed the phone against the other. He sighed deeply, excused himself, then hustled toward Choma Mountain.

  Zara returned to the rondeval. D’Melo was still on the couch, not having budged since his meeting with Kavu. “Hey, dude,” she said, trying to muster some cheerfulness.

  D’Melo lifted his hand wordlessly.

  She slid up next to him. “What’s up? Something happen with Kavu?” Zara probed, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

  D’Melo rubbed his forehead. “Well, I’m not sure. Everything was going great, but then I asked whether he was coming to the funeral. He went off on Baba, saying all this messed up stuff. Dimka brainwashed him into believing that Baba and my mom were traitors and horrible people who abandoned their child. That was really hard for me to accept. I wanted to set the record straight so bad. But I kept my cool.”

  “Good.” Zara nodded thankfully. “It’d be a huge mistake to tell Kavu what really happened.”

  “Well, but then,” D’Melo murmured, his face flattened.

  “Oh no,” she gasped. “You didn’t?”

  “But, I didn’t tell him everything,” he said quickly, before Zara could flip out. “He doesn’t know anything about the recording. I only told him that Baba had evidence against Dimka. But,” D’Melo said, releasing a long breath, “I did mention that Dimka tried to kill him and then used him as a pawn.”

  “What!” Zara screeched. “What if Kavu confronts Dimka about it?”