"Your highnesses, I know what I am saying. Jk is in danger, I can feel it", cried Makela. "You can feel it… does that come with being a Filthy Blood", scorned a young lady, who by the way, looked like Makela. She was a few years younger and beautiful black and rich in complexion. She radiated royalty and a certain natural rivalry towards Makela. "Father, why should we listen to this charlatan". "Silence! First, she is my daughter. If you have not noticed, she has my ears and nose. Secondly, she is your elder sister. Show some respect", said his highness.
"As you know, I am in no position to aid you, dear daughter", said his highness.
Makela knelt in surrender, ashamed of what she succumbed to. "I have never needed to do this for anyone, I beg of you, his dying", wept Makela. Her younger sister grinned, she had no need to express her thoughts with words, her smug was sufficient.
From behind me, giant doors that gave entrance to the throne room opened. Two men walked into the throne room. They must have been important or more powerful because the king stood up from his throne. "There's a bond between them. Both are truly complete when they are together", said the older of the two.
The strangest thing happened, the youngest was David Kufu. His eyes flashed gold, "we are coming to rescue you, stay alive", he assured me and continued to the throne. "And what pleasure do I owe this visit, your supreme highnesses" stammered the King of Ntoma.
"We heard one of our own was here and was not being treated as such…", said the man who walked in with David Kufu. He looked like an eight-year older version of David Kufu or me. He sported a full trimmed black beard and a low fade haircut.
He looked like the warrior kings on Makela's poster wall back in Bongo Bonang. "Well… well, well… my profound apologies, she is my…", "daughter. We know, still, she is no subject to you or your kingdom. In fact, it is the other way around", said the warrior king. At the warrior king's words, Makela stood up, lifting her head. There it was, that prideful face she wore. She stared at her younger sister who cowered by bowing her head in the presence of supreme royalty.
"My dear child…", said the king's wife, whom by the way, I only noticed. Her nature was kind and gentle, which was strange, well, given the fact that she had such an impulsive and impertinent daughter. She was fair in beauty. She tried to mask her fairness in humility, howbeit, it had not worked well. "Who is this Jay Kay, you long to aid?", her highness asked, "my… my…", Makela struggled to reply. That hit me like a bulldozer, what was it that made her unable to utter. I instantly felt weaker. "Juda Kufu. The last Apostle of the Bantu Rite and supreme royalty to a throne of the Kongo kingdom of Africa", said the warrior king.
"My humble apologies, your Supreme Royal Highnesses…", the queen apologized for her ignorance of the matter. "Apology, accepted. I shall have the finest of your soldiers at my disposal at once. Now, do excuse us.", ordered the warrior king. I was dazed and in awe, if I heard correctly, he asked the king and his family to leave their throne room, like what!? The king stood up and left without a word, followed by the queen and their daughter, who was beyond embarrassed.
"We have to leave, we do not have much time", said the warrior king. He looked affectionately towards Makela as if she were his daughter. David Kufu turned to look in my direction, his eyes flashed gold again. "Juda Kufu, you must wake up, you must stay alive", he muttered as he came towards me, "wake up!", he roared, tugging me back to my body.
My vision was a blur; my head was throbbing beyond the normal. I felt dead. Blood trickled down from my arms that were tied behind my back. I managed to take in my surroundings after a while, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Why does it always have to be one? I contemplated. "Jk? Are you conscious?", cried Lindiwe. Her voice sounded as if she was speaking to me through a megaphone underwater.
"They know you are a Spirit Nomad. They kept you out of your body to drain your strength", frowned Lindiwe. "But of course, we did, this entire operation put together in combat could not defeat the Apostle", sneered Ashly Aims. "So, dis is how a tamed Apostle looks like huh?", said a man with a partly Middle Eastern British accent. "Why don't you untie me and I'll demonstrate how tamed I can be", I said flatly, "I guess from watching all those Western movies about Arabs, you take me for a dimwit", he laughed.
"I don't care if you are the personification of a traitor, a puppet, whatever. If you do not untie me you will not live long enough to reconsider your actions", I threatened him. Usually, this would be the type of threat Makela would make and she, being a powerful woman sounded much more intimidating.
Silence entered the warehouse. The two Pharisees exchanged looks, Ashly Aims froze for a while, probably reliving her experiences in my house. "You might have indoctrinated fear into the minds of the French BUT not us. We are Pharisees", scorned the Middle Eastern man. I heard footsteps gaining closer. Masked men and perhaps women field the warehouse, fully armed and loaded. "In a normal situation, you would have killed us in less than sixty seconds BUT, this is not a normal situation, is it now?", laughed Ashly Aims. I was dosing off; I was trying my absolute best to stay awake, nevertheless, I was too weak.
Suddenly, the lights turned off and then, I sensed him jump through the window with a loud bang! And started attacking everyone standing and his moves man, those were moves, yes, the lights were off though his combat skills produced a pulse, a pattern I could read. He glitched from one adversary to another, yeah, like a literal glitch. His combat style was by far the most cunning I have seen. Semi-automatics and AK47s, as if by will, would glitch to his hands.
Reinforcements rushed in flanking the Pharisees. The middle eastern Pharisee laughed at their presence as the light turned on just for a moment. The hooded glitching dude stepped backwards. Simultaneously, black smoke appeared on either side of the window, Odum materialized from the smoke through the walls… each paw forward provoked allure and consternation. Pitch black oily shadow mist materialized from the cold cemented surface, a human figure in black cloak materialized from the black oily shadow soot.
His presence allure dominance, sending vibes of submission to all who stood as adversaries against them, it could have only been David Kufu. To make matters cinematic, lighting stroke to the hype and vibe of their movements. At the struck of lightning, one could see them just for a moment, the inability to identify them allured fear.
From my understanding, these guys must have been deadlier than Apostles. We are Guardians, the people who stood by for the Pharisees' formation were Predators. It was a cold night; the clouds concealed the view of the Moon and stars. By the strike of lightning, the power turned on.
There they were, indescribable. The Glitching man who was in front took a step forward and suddenly, the lights turned off. I heard, pulses from the body to weapons, blood dribbling, bodies collapsing to the cemented surface, blood gurgling out of corpses. I heard bodies knocked to the wall, blade piercing through flash as if it were butchered meat.
As barbaric as it may have sounded, I was fascinated at their cunning ability to exploit pitch-black darkness. I could hear every sound produced in the dark except for the people who were responsible for it. Lightning stroke and on cue, the power went back on. The Pharisees stood defenceless.
Lindiwe, overwhelmed by the sight she saw, immediately shut her eyes. Even as I write, I still believe that the term massacre is an understatement compared to what we witnessed. Bodies mutilated, the surface was flooded by blood while decapitated human parts laid uselessly. "Praga...", stammered Ashley Aim as if she was in a trance like state. Praga, Praga? Wait… that was one of the names attributed to Heru-Kwa-Nzinga by his enemies. "The Plague… no!", exclaimed the Middle eastern Pharisee. "Release the Apostle… and the Maroon.
Immediately", ordered General Nzinga.
The Pharisees looked at each other, making a quick calculation and responded simultaneously, "never!". David Kufu through a blade, cutting the rope bonding Lindiwe to the gallows. As soon as her feet touch the surface she rolled to the nearest table, took her semi-automatics and shot the Pharisees in the legs. The pair bellowed as they struggled on the floor, "finally", said Lindiwe with a smug. She ran to the table to recover the Maggilot, a table opposite to where her weapons laid formerly.
"I believe this piece of information will be safe in your hands, your Supreme Highness", Lindiwe handed the Maggilot to General Nzinga. He opened the contents, taking in what he read and as extremely impossible as it was, the possibilities were plausible. "We leave this place to converge at Spes Bona. I believe it is where you acquired your intermediate school knowledge", he said as he turned to me. Lindiwe untied me from my bondage to the chair. "Makela? Where is she?", I managed. Lindiwe stepped back, offended by my question.