Chapter 12 The Nkolwane

The Nkolwane NteBate-Imbogo. People of the mighty bufallo horns. The people of Nkolwane called themselves the mighty bufallo horns. They traced their ancestry to the mighty Nkolwane who subjugated the southern peoples to forge an empire through spears and blood. Their community was made up of eight main clans who were forcefully forged into one through battle. Many of these clans were mere fiefdoms ruled by chiefs whom Nkolwane defeated in battle. The subjugated people chose to join his victorious Inkwoza clan and as a result his power grew and grew. His boundaries expanded as he conquered more peoples, by the help of the savagery of his warriors and his Innaxzi, or sorcerers.

Nkolwane society consisted of the warriors who were trained constantly in battle villages called ubwatu. There was also the society of Innaxzi, or spirit runners who could be male or female. The always travelled with the king and theirs lands were usually next to the kings estates. Near enough to be on call but far enough to be unseen. For everyone feared and loathed them in equal measure. The reigning king also had a council of five elders who deliberated and advised him on the matters deemed hard enough to require years of experience. But the final word was the kings. Nkolwane kings were absolute rulers. They tended also to be savage murderers who were neurotic about the safety of their throne. They expected and enforced absolute loyalty.

Warriors were divided into various "lempi" which consisted of about 2000 men each. Each clan had its own number of lempi scattered among its lands. This lempi were contributed to the main war effort as well as baggage mule, meat cattle and weapons. The most dear achievement for any parent was that his son join the lempi. Some lempi were more famous than others, and the more famed the lempi that a son was accepted in, the more respect in which his parents were held.

Nkolwane people were cattle herders, not depending on any form of agriculture. What cereals they had were emptied from their opponent's granaries. This meant that the warriors had to go on frequent raids just to keep the food supplies up. This pleased the king because it kept his regiments fit. But it also caused mass starvation among many peoples surrounding the lands of the Nklowane. However the nkolwane did not stay in any one place too long. They were constantly moving, expanding the reach of their lands, conquering new peoples and lesser kingdoms.

The Innaxzi were a special society. They were privileged individuals having the ear of the king directly. The nation did not go to battle without the active help and advice of the Innaxzi, whose word sometimes superseded that of the elders. As such, there was vicious animosity among the two. However it was carefully hidden from the king, who was known to send one to the stake at a whim. The Innaxzi consisted of both men and women who had the gift. Some people were born with the ability of spirit running and this was highly prized. If a child was known to have that ability, he or she was usually herded to the nearest Innaxzi society kraal and thereafter, depending on level of skill, one could even rise to advise the king. The current head of the Innaxzi society was a wrinkled old man called Nguema, supported by a council of three men and two women, all powerful spirit runners.

The king of Nkolwane was called Mugisha wa Nkolwane the IV. He had two princes, one of whom was weak, called Hlubi, the elder. The younger one headed one of the more famous regiments, ndlovu or elephant. The prince Kwaome, was a massive and extremely arrogant warrior. He did not know the meaning of the word kindness, and self-interest ruled his life. He firmly believed in conquest and more conquest. In fact now he was quite happy his father had given him control of the regiments as they prepared to decimate the peoples of the northern kingdoms. All of them would come under, must come under Nkolwane rule. He would not fail. He was relaxing in his kraal with his favorite three concubines attending to his needs. One was oiling his left shoulder muscles with ghee, a fatty substance made from concentrated milk fats. Another attended to his right shoulder, massaging the fatty substance deep into the ridged muscles, and simultaneously using skill to avoid causing injury, for the prince was not known for his indulgence. Yet another held a large ostrich feather fan which she used to slowly draft cool air to him. A huge hippo hide shield was hanged nearby on the large inner compound where he was reclining. A spear with a shaft like the leg of a man sat point sunk into the soil within arm's reach. Nearby sat several warriors. They were discussing strategy. Prince Kwaome's eyes were half-closed, but he listened attentively. A member of the Innaxzi was speaking, ".....and my prince she was planted behind enemy lines three moons ago to gather as much intelligence as possible. Soon now she will return and give us their weaknesses. He finished as he looked up anxiously towards the prince. Prince Kwaome was known for his quick temper, which when directed towards someone often meant not seeing another dawn. The prince did not seem to notice but slowly nodded his head, then suddenly opened his eyes to fix the Innaxzi with a fierce gaze. "And what if she is compromised?" the man bowed low. "She has the ability my prince and her instructions were quite clear. Smell the enemy and then report. So far she has given us much information and she intends to rejoin the troop soon. She will of course be brought to you". The prince nodded thoughtfully. Then suddenly opened his eyes wide."what information? And why was it not brought to me when it was received?" he growled. The Innaxzi bowed even lower if it were possible. "The information needed to be filtered to make sense my prince," he spoke quickly, "the head of our order is even now organizing to bring it to you."

The prince abruptly stood up, the women who were by now massaging his chest being tossed aside. "Must I make an example so you sorcerers can understand that I speak in my father's name?" he roared. His hands seized the spear and flicked it rapidly so that the shaft rotated bringing the point to bear on the cringing Innaxzi. Other warriors quickly jumped to the side to create an island around the man. Nobody wanted to be near him lest the blood spatters touched them. The man's head did not leave the floor where he was prostrating himself. He trembled and prepared for death. The prince observed him angrily his spear shaft extended. "I will not kill you now but tell that hyena Nguema to bring his information here before I send for his skin to be delivered to me whole! Now go!" he shouted. The bowing man backed from the kraal mumbling suitably soothing words, then fled for his life.

The place in which they sat in a rough circle was suitably dark, but not too dark as to make the nine men who sat on sheepskins unrecognizable. All were reasonably well advanced in age. All were spirit walkers, the very elite of Nkolwane society. It was these men's responsibility to guide the king and his princes and the war effort to ultimate victory. Most were arrogant, full of their own power, knowing that skill such as they had was possessed by few. Many were cruel, as are those that possess such power, many were wicked, as often happens to those who answer to no one's interests but their own. But if there were traits of cruelty, wickedness and arrogance, they resided in one man. Their leader Nguema. But he was also cunning. And soft spoken.

"The servant is coming. I can sense it" he spoke, almost in a whisper. His head was bent staring at a spot on the floor as if it bore flecks of gold. The other old men shifted uneasily, looked at each other. An old krone called Ngkulumane cleared his throat loudly. Attention shifted to him. "I agree with the high one, I have sensed it too" he said placatingly. "The servant comes rapidly...but i also smell the foul smell of strangers" he wrinkled his nose as if to demonstrate the foulness. "But still the servant is far off surely, enough to strain the spirit run?" Said another elder.

"Yes, but still important to see what is to be seen. It pays to be prepared for the unexpected" whispered Nguema. Even the nearest elders strained to catch his voice. He was still staring at the floor, in the same attitude. Suddenly he lifted his head and his gaze fell on a nearby elder, who subconsciously shrank, aware that the attention was on him. "zwidentaba, run the spirit and see if you can contact the servant .....See if there is new information we need to be wary of." he said. The elder known as zwidentaba bowed low. "yes baaba. I will do it at once" he then settled back in a relaxed attitude, legs crossed and closed his eyes, the face going slack.

Uloziba and Kiama had travelled for three more days since the last of their companions had met their unfortunate demise. Travelling was hard. On the other hand they had managed to come across a small river, actually nothing more than a stream and refilled their water skins. Now they had a bigger problem. Their meat pouches were empty. They would have to hunt if they didn't want to die of starvation. The prospect filled Kiama's mind with apprehension. Not that he had never hunted. No. Nothing that shameful. But he was an incompetent hunter at best. He did not want his lack of skill to become known to Uloziba. Compounded with the fact that he had neither bow nor arrows. A spear and sharp simi was no weapon for a hunter. Uloziba did not seem to see the problem. She set them both to hunting flint, the hard black stone found in volcanic soil. Before long they had a good collection. She set herself down comfortably and begun to chip, flint against flint. She sent him to cut arrow shafts.

Finding straight sticks that could be used as arrow shafts was not an easy matter. All vegetation here seemed gnarled and twisted. Kiama shook his head frustrated. But the view was spectacular. He almost started daydreaming about home again. He snapped himself out of it and resumed the hunt. A nearby bush looked promising. He drew his simi and begun hacking at various branches. He then took the straightest of each and pruned the leaves and bark off. After collecting ten or so shafts, he made his way back to Uloziba. He found she had made a good collection of arrow points. "Where shall we get the goose feathers?" he asked. She smiled up at him. And reached into her pouch and removed her headdress. It was a fancy and strange looking thing that had bits of twigs, bones and blessedly a few feathers all tied together with rawhide twine. She pulled out the feathers and using the gum from the trees around, they set to finishing the arrows. The work went slowly and painstakingly but by midday they had ten arrows. She put them aside to dry for a while."We need a good bow. Hand me your blade, I will find the wood", she told him. He smiled as he gave her his sharp simi. When did girls learn the kind of wood craft necessary to locate good bow stock? He mused. Even so the girl set off and before long, she was back with a well pared staff, almost her height. Kiama opened his mouth in surprise. "Help me string it", she said while producing more twine from her pockets. At last he felt needed. Taking the bow stave, he put his weight on the middle section while pushing down on the top. He slipped the noose of the twin on the upper end and let the bow stave take the weight slowly. It was a lovely bow! He tested it by plucking the string. It made a healthy twang. Yes, definitely a good bow, but it would take considerable strength to bend it.

The two set off on the hunt before the day became too hot. Kiama could not see how they could make a kill as game looked scarce. It meant that they had to leave the plains which were easier to walk, and instead enter into the bushes which scratched, stung, and generally made life uncomfortable. On noticing the steps of Kiama were too loud, she admonished him, much to his humiliation, to step lightly as they didn't want to scare away the game. Not long afterwards, they came to a clump of bush bucks that had left the hot sun and were resting under some shady bushes, their upturned tails twitching. Uloziba froze, putting out a hand to stop Kiama, who by this time was just stumbling along. She unlimbered the long bow and put an arrow to the string, actions unconscious, all her attention on the bucks. He watched her, fascinated, and noticed she aimed for the biggest buck in the small group. She saw him looking and whispered, "The bigger the buck the more the meat and we don't have many arrows." He nodded, letting her concentrate. Shortly she let fly and the loud twang caused the bush bucks to jump in surprise, and bound off in different directions. One buck seemed to be having a problem with running far and on second look, he noticed her arrow buried well above the ribs. The two set off in hot pursuit, as the staggering buck tried to make an escape, and loosing blood all the while. In this forest, Uloziba had mentioned, you could lose your kill easy. The sun beat down on him but he didn't notice it. He felt rejuvenated. Holding his spear high he made off like the wind after the buck, easily outpacing Uloziba. Hunger, he realized, gives you wings. He let his spear fly, putting as much strength into the throw as he could muster. The buck, disturbed by the deeply embedded arrow could not run much. The spear thudded into the abdomen region and it jumped into the air then made for a clump of bushes. Luckily for the two, the bushes prevented it from going further and he approached it simi held high. But he didn't have to do anything. The buck was on its knees panting heavily. He grabbed a horn, braced the head against his thigh and slits its throat. Uloziba came panting shortly after, and without ceremony, begun disemboweling the buck. First she cut the meat into manageable pieces, then she cut long strips of thigh and breast meat and put it in the sun to dry. They quickly set a fire going and roasted the liver and lungs, gorging themselves.

 The next day they packed their pouches full of dried meat, roasted whatever else they could get together and carried it nearby as a snack. They had to make quick time, Uloziba said, because this was predator country and the smell of roast meat travels far. Indeed they had left the carcass being fought over by a pack of jackals, and from the hideous laughter in the horizon, hyenas were not far. They walked casually but swiftly, stomachs full. Kiama felt jovial once more. He whistled as he walked, glancing often at Uloziba, who had worn her headdress of twigs and bones again. She also walked light. It was while they were walking when she suddenly doubled up, clutching her head, gasping loudly. Next to her, Kiama halted in surprise. "Uloziba!, Uloziba! Are you sick? Whats the matter Uloziba?" he asked as she sat on the ground her hands still on her head, eyes screwed shut, mouth slightly open. Moaning.

Kiama came to her and tried to hold her but she lifted up one hand, and he froze. Her eyes were still shut tight, mouth in a grimace. She sat herself properly, legs crossed. Her face smoothened, eyes still closed. She seemed in a trance. Kiama observed her silently for a few minutes then determined she was okay, and perhaps recovering from whatever ailment. He wandered off to the nearby scrub, casting his eyes far to fully capture the beauty of the bush. Clearly Uloziba had some form of illness, he thought, and didn't want him interfering. But what? He questioned. He glanced back at her. She was still in the same stance, sitted, legs crossed, not talking.

Five days later they were leaving the plains and approaching light forest. The plains animals however still could be seen, inclusive of Thompsons gazelle, reticulated giraffe, and the distant roars of lions told of predators. Hyenas too, were in plenty. The small animals that tended to fill the air with shrieks and moans like baboons, various kinds of monkeys, forest rats, and crickets abounded. The forest was alive. But Kiama longed to see another human face apart from Uloziba. They had traversed this land with minimum conversation. Uloziba was just not a talker. There had been no other incidences after the time she had fainted for almost an hour. She had then woken up and they resumed the journey, and would not answer any question regarding that incident. They were descending a low hill when she turned and looked at him. "My people have camp past distant rock." she said. Kiama, surprised because he could see no one, looked out at the rock she pointed. There was too much scrub blocking the way so he couldn't see any sign of people or habitations. They walked a little further, Kiama dragging his steps.

Suddenly warriors jumped out of nearby bushes about eight in all, heavily armed with short gleaming spears, and long shields. They whooped and screamed, making guttural and wild cries. Their faces were painted with strange stripes of various colours, their heads adorned with plumes, wearing a loincloth encircled with bushy tails. They stamped their feet, jumping high into the air. The girl did not show any fear but stood still and watched them, her face calm. Kiama on the other hand cowered, trying to cover as much of his body with his buffalo hide shield. His spear clutched, he circled, telling himself his time had come. But the warriors did not engage him, just shrieking and jumping around closing the distance only to jump away at the last moment. Shortly a lull, then all the warriors as if by accord went down on one knee, at an angle, beating spears to shields in a continuous rattle. The ones at the back separated to let a group of elders, dressed in colobus monkey hides, to pass. Each had leather and porcupine quill necklace and a dangling lions claw on a leather cord. Some had two lion's claws. The warriors parted and the elders, numbering six came close, their eyes fixed on Uloziba. For the first time Uloziba moved, going down on one knee and bowing her head. "The sniffer is back high elders, and she has sniffed much." she said in a clear carrying voice. Her head remained bowed. The elders looked at her for quite a while. Not a sound was uttered. The leading elder opened his mouth. "The amount of your sniffing is yet to be determined...for your sake it better be of value". He turned his head to look at Kiama who held his shield up boldly. "But what of this ...this whelp that dares hold a spear in our presence?" he gestured dismissively with his hand, eyes turning to Uloziba. She glanced at him then back at the elder. "He is a nobody highest elders...just one of the stragglers sent with me to show the way" Uloziba said.

"Take him and find out all he knows" said the elder to the lead warrior, turning. "You, come with us." Uloziba rose and followed. The warriors shrieked and came at Kiama from all sides. He was easily disarmed and then the beating begun. He was beaten till he had no strength to scream any more. Uloziba raised not a finger. In fact she did not even look back. Then he lost consciousness.

 King Mugisha the IV was looking resplendent in his imperial gown made of a mix between baboon hide, collobus monkey tails, bits and pieces of tawny gazelle pelt. His neck was girthed with several sets of rattlesnake fangs and lions' claws. His waist was cinched with a belt of cured hippo hide, his head diademed with a lions open maw. He looked a splendid sight. His huge stomach protruding obscenely, he lounged insolently, thighs parted to expose the small strip of soft fawn skin that was his loincloth. He was seated outside his royal kraal. To the left and right of him sat his royal advisors, the council of elders. After them sat a few members of his harem, his wives, picked from many communities for their beauty. Representatives from two of his regiments in full battle regalia, guarded his quarters, and they surrounded his high seat, leaving space for dancers, who were now entertaining the king. Many of the chief men and women of the tribe were seated in two huge crowds, watching the dancing, but not allowed closer than twenty paces. After them sat the more common citizenry. The dancers were screaming and leaping high into the air, extolling the virtues of the king. They brought to recollection his countless victories, how he had faithfully shepherded the tribe through countless dangers, defeating them all. They reminded the population that it was this same king who had won mighty territory after territory, and had made the people of the mighty bufallo horns rulers of countless communities. Drumbeats resounded savagely. Shrieks and whoops rent the air. All of a sudden everything ceased, and then a low and hypnotic chanting came from the singers. They chanted the history of the nkolwane, from the first majesty, chanted the names of the former kings down the line, chanted them to keep their memory alive.

In the distance could be seen a line of Innaxzi elders approaching. The people automatically gave them way, shying away instinctively. As they approached, a female could be seen in their midst, probably one of their junior spirit runners. All strode purposefully, eyes forward, expression grim. They reached the circle of warriors who parted to let them pass. There was a hush. The dancers, as if at a signal, parted and moved off to the right and to the left, squatting a safe distance from the arena. The Innaxzi came to the centre of the arena, made a line before the king and bowed low. They did not rise. The king gestured and they rose slowly. Their leader, Nguema, spoke. "My liege, the sniffer we sent to sniff out the enemies has returned. There is much to tell, much she has to tell". The King rose slowly and gripped the haft of his spear and pulled it from where it was stuck near him. He stabbed the point into the sky."Nkolwane!" he shouted. "hoooo!" a thunderous response came from the assembled people. ."Nkolwane!" ""hoooo!". He strode back and forth, going down the dais slowly, he was vigorous, though not young. He made his way to where the sniffer was, a girl, who went down on her knees, bowing her head. The other elders moved to the side, giving the king room.

"Today a mighty victory has been won. We now have inside information on the enemies to the north and will advance !" he said, his voice strong. The people cheered wildly. "What is your name? He asked looking keenly at the girl.

"Uloziba my king" she responded clearly. The king observed her a while."mmh, this one is very pretty Nguema, where did you get her...arise my daughter, you have done very well ...very well indeed." he helped the girl onto her feet, looking appreciatively. The elder called Nguema stirred. "This one had to look good so as to fool the enemy my liege." He answered, his face a victorious smile, eyes flicking briefly towards the council of elders next to the king. The council did not look too happy.

"This one the prince will enjoy...yes indeed...mmmh? Murmured the king, his pudgy fingers flicking the rigid nipples of Uloziba's breasts, which were well exposed. "pity that I'm too old to partake of some of the pleasures of my youth..." he murmured looking with regret.

He turned to an elder next to him and snapped his fingers. The elder hastened to the king and handed him a necklace of rattler fangs and assorted beads. He slowly put it on the neck of the girl then addressed Nguema. "See to it that she is given her usual reward with the prince."

"Yes my liege!"

The king turned to the girl. "You have done well my daughter, now report to the elders all you have seen and heard then go to your reward. We shall talk another time". All the elders bowed as the king made his way back to the throne. The elders turned and made their way out. As they left warriors beat spears to shield, indicating the approval of the king, the rattling sounding loud in the silence. A snap of elder's fingers and the music and dancing resumed. Soon the gaiety was going on as if it had never stopped.

Uloziba was led to the kraal of the Innaxzi. She was very familiar with the compound, as it was always set out the same way whenever and wherever the Nkolwane camped. It was a large compound, divided roughly into three to denote the levels of the Innaxzi, the junior ones, who were by far the majority lived in the huts on the outer fringes of the compound. The inner circle consisted of the senior Innaxzi who had been at least elders for ten years. The centre circle of huts belonged to the Innaxzi council of elders, the senior most group, who advised the king and guided the activities of the mind runners of tribe. Junior Innaxzi, both men and women were usually attached to a senior elder, who would assist them with their lessons. Discipline was strict, and punishments violent. The society could not be said to suffer failure lightly. And now more so under the leadership of elder Nguema.

She was led deep into the camp, to the huts of the senior most elders, where only the elite of the elite were ever allowed to enter. Here she was interrogated for hours and hours by the senior elders. Every scrap of information that she had seen experienced or been told of was wrung out of her. Elder Nguema, although present during the entire grilling, did not participate. Finally he raised his hand, and the room went silent. He stood and strode to the girl, who had been given a stool to sit on. He placed the flat of his hand against her chin and lifted it up slowly so she was forced to meet his eyes. "The staff of light that the Anyaga seer carries, did you get it? Is it perchance in your possession now?" he asked in a low emotionless voice. The girl fidgeted fearfully. She knew his reputation. "No my eldest, i was--"kwap!"The slap rung out and the girl tumbled sideways. Elder Nguema seemed not to have moved but gently massaged his hand where he had slapped the girl. "You incompetent fool!"

He snarled. "We send you out to give us an edge and what do you do...you sniff out the usual things and leave the most important item!" he screamed at that last word. Nguema rarely screamed. Uloziba picked herself up to her knees and remained kneeling. This man could easily kill her and no one would care, the king least of all.

"I beg another chance my eldest, this time I--"

"And what makes you think you'll succeed where you already failed?" Nguema growled without looking at her. She was speechless. A nearby elder chipped in. "Perhaps eldest, she has a better insight to these communities than the rest of us. She may be better received. But let us send another with her. Two will do better." Nguema considered, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He looked at the entrance where two warriors with swords and spears were on guard. "Summon Sechaba". The guard ran to the distant huts. Uloziba's eyes lit up in dismay. Sechaba was one of her most hated rivals, fired by his lust for her, and the sure knowledge he could never have her. His hatred was all the more for it. The others never moved until a youth perhaps a year older than Uloziba was brought in. He wore the rattlers tail headdress of a youthfull Innaxzi warrior and pendants around the muscled parts of his hands. He was well built, not particularly handsome, but he had penetrating eyes and a permanent scowl. Which he took pains to hide in front of the eldest. He was brought to stand next to Uloziba, whom he did not look at.

Nguema lifted a hand to dismiss the guards who went back to their station by the door. He stared at Sechaba. "You are Sechaba xhosa's son....is not your sister due to be married to Mmpande of the raven regiment?" "Yes eldest," sechaba said, bowing.

"Mmmh" we have a task for you, and should you distinguish yourself, much glory awaits you and an immediate upgrade to the second level".

Sechaba's eyes lit up. He bowed again strongly, his hand whipping to his chest. "You can depend on me eldest...death before failure!"

"You have not heard what we want of you whelp!" said Nguema, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. But soon you will. Ulupo!...brief him!" he said pointing at one of the elders. "And you....Uloziba ...the king has ordered. Go to the prince". He then left the enclosure, followed by the other senior elders. A few were left behind to brief the two.

Much later, after she had bathed and rested a while, Uloziba made her way to the kraal that housed prince Kwaome, and his servants and guards. It was a distance from the habitations of the Innaxzi, perhaps an indicator of his attitude towards them. As she walked, her heart beat treacherously. It was the practice to be offered to the prince after a success such as hers, as a reward. Her journey took her to the area of the training grounds of the warriors, and as always she stared in awe, her heart beating hard, pride filling her at the site of the warriors in their plumed headdresses, at practice. On she went, not wanting to dally, and soon she was at the entrance of the kraal. The two warriors on guard saluted her, spears against shield. They had heard how she was feted by the king. She acknowledged them by bowing her head and moved on into the compound. The hut of the prince was the largest of them and was at the center. Warriors swarmed around the entrance, attending to various needs. She moved on and paused at the entrance. Prince Kwaome who was just inside the hut surrounded by his courtiers looked up and saw her.

 Kiama opened his eyes, moved his head slightly. A blinding pain shot through his head. It seemed his whole body was on fire. Where was he? He tried to rotate his neck but it was too painful so he rotated his body instead. It seemed he was among a mass of people. Prisoners, judging by the ropes which tied them to the stakes. The place was terribly dirty. They were pitifully thin men and women nearby, many naked, except for rags. He turned to look the other way. More men and women in even worse condition. An old lady in tattered clothes, also securely tied to a stake was watching him keenly. He looked away from her. His ears brought him distant screams and the lash of whips. He turned to a self-inspection. His back and thighs and hands were raw from whip lacerations. One of his eyes had to be swollen since he couldn't see very well from that side. He did not think he had broken bones...he felt his mouth gently with his tongue. Definitely a loose tooth..No make that two. He hauled himself slowly to a sitting position. He would now see better. He was in what looked like a huge camp. Haggard people of all sorts of shapes and sizes sprawled about listlessly. All seemed to be tied to stakes driven into the ground. Groans and moans rent the air from all over. Kiama closed his eyes. The grandmotherly woman continued to stare at him. "O spirits of my ancestors, where have I been brought?" he asked himself with anguish. And to think I begged on my knees to come oh oh oh" he sobbed. He could already see a life of slavery stretching ahead of him. He thought of Uloziba, his tears drying up. She must have been in on this from the start, he thought hating her. She must have come to dupe his people from the very beginning. Again he remembered how often he had taken her to watch the warriors training. His tears begun again as sorrow threatened to overwhelm him. His heart breaking as he thought of how much danger he had exposed his people to. And them all oblivious, even fighting each other for her! He sobbed loudly. A hand held his neck tenderly, but weakly, massaging the muscles there. He could not see who held him clearly so he wiped his eyes. It was the elderly lady who had been staring at him. "It will be alright," she said". Something in the woman's tone made him break down even further. He covered his face and cried and cried.

The following day brought with it its own nightmare. Several people had tried to flee during the night, four haggard men. They had been intercepted a few kilometres outside the enclosure, after they were discovered missing from the roll. The guards kept them brutally tied up in a bundle to the west of the enclosure. The rest of the prisoners had to watch as these four were impaled and strung up on poles. Kiama closed his eyes and tried to press his ears so he couldn't hear the piteous cries of the four. Afterwards the community broke camp and started trekking north. The slaves carried as much in burdens as they could. It was a terrible sight as they staggered, piled with heavy burdens on their backs. They made a long undulating line, two apiece, and their guards whipped any stragglers mercilessly. Kiama pitied the old woman. He could see she could not last long. Despite not having been burdened with much, she was staggering more than most. He moved closer to her, in case she fell, maybe he could catch her before the whip men came close.

The pace was a crawl. The majority of the community and the regiments were way ahead. The rear was brought up by the slaves and their guards. The slaves carried most of the building materials for the community. That which was too heavy to be loaded onto a back was carried by oxen. The noise as various parties moved forward was immense. At midday they stooped briefly, long enough to be given a drink of water, which to Kiama was not enough. They started off again and did not pause until an hour to dark. The slaves were then whipped to hurry and set up the various huts and tents of the community. If a guard felt they were not moving fast enough, whips tasted backs. After settling the community, they were watered and fed. Then corralled and stakes driven into the ground. Everyone was tied to a stake and the roll called out. Water was given to them, a cupful each. On this day, he noticed the elderly woman had not the strength to go and get her share, so he brought his share and sat with her. She lay flat on the ground, panting softly. He pushed his cup next to her chin and poured some water down her throat. She choked and coughed briefly then swallowed. After drinking, she revived somewhat and sat up weakly. He gave her some of his food, but she couldn't eat. "Not yet my son," she whispered as she held his hand. "Let me catch my breath first." She had a melodious voice, with a strange accent.

The next few days he kept constantly at her side. She stumbled many times and was growing considerably weaker. He shared his water with her and most of his food. But she was not eating enough. He had begged the guard for an extra cupful of water, pointing at the old lady but they just laughed. One evening as they rested she called him close. She seemed to be in the mood for talking. "My son, you may look weak but you are strong inside" she said. "Very strong!" You are a son of the eagle!"

He did not understand what she was saying. "What do you mean grandma?" he asked.

"You have the spirit of the eagle within you. I can feel it" she answered, smiling.

"I do not understand?"

Listen, I have a secret to tell you. You can take the shape of an eagle if you want" she said looking at him keenly

"How"? He asked astounded.

"By the use of a spell I will show you," she whispered.

Her face cleared of all emotion and she closed her eyes. "Repeat after me...slowly" she said

"Eim isfanib motunsagaracen onjasabo akelepila airegin arasah ubabam inewugnuf ngunnya eapukay inagnaaaa!!!"

 "What?" Kiama was shocked.

"I said repeat after me slowly...there is little time, and my heritage must be passed on. .....Eim isfanib motunsagaracen ….. say the words…"

Kiama repeated, but lost some of the words.

"Repeat again".

He did

"Again"

That night he repeated the words a hundred times, before sleep, the lady watching him keenly all the while.

For the next few nights he was made to repeat those words a hundred times each night. On the third night he dared ask.

"Grandma, who taught you those words. They seem like what a seer would speak"

The old woman looked at him with a smile. Her voice was weak but he could hear.

"Do not let that bother you my son. Enough it is that you were brought to me at a time when my strength is so far gone"

She paused briefly. "Listen my son. For a first timer, These words I show you cannot be activated unless you put yourself in a position where the transformation must happen."

"How do I do that grandma?"

"Why, you throw yourself off from a high place, that's what you do!"

She looked at him seeing the doubt in his eyes.

"That is the only way it can work...as it is your first time…..the only way it can be made to work". Afterwards it will work easily for you…..you must go to a cliff and throw yourself down, arms out stretched, feet together and chant the spell as you fall...I could do it to show you but I fear I get weaker every day and I'm not long for this earth but you are strong..."

"Hush" he said, trying to prevent such talk. She was his only companion after all.

That night he slept troubled, and was beset by bad dreams. Right before dawn he awoke with a start. He looked around and saw the old woman still asleep, face peaceful. He went to wake her so they could be ready for the day. Her skin was cold. She was dead. He stumbled backwards in shock.