All of Ghandaa men who had witness the fallen man smashed his brains open before Dreeda, the remains of which now caked on the center of her head and face, laid their spears and bowed before her in sworn allegiance, and their brothers followed in like function. Only a few still stood beside and behind their rebellious leader.
They have no doubt the woman is indeed the chosen of the higher powers, and to go against that will mean to go against themselves and all that they stood for; Now their life has a new purpose, and that is to protect this woman till the end.
For Dreeda, she was in a different world in her mind, a place she didn't want to escaped from, she wants to stay right there, at least in there she will find solace. She didn't want to know or remember what had happened to her, neither did she want to think about where she is right now. But something was happening around her that was so strong, it begins to draw her out of her frozen depths.
She could feel the raw pain of someone dear to her, the steady familiar heartbeat of Jhanka is now in turmoil, beating rapidly, oh Jhanka is in pain, Dreeda couldn't believe she was feeling it like her own pain, it seems like they are sharing but one heart.
She must help Jhanka, she kept reminding her self and in the process she regains consciousness out of sheer cognitive will. The first thing she notice was the Npunga warriors bowing before her, Jhanka and the woman with white dreadlocks hugging.
What is the woman doing to him that inflict in him that much agony? Dreeda didn't believe a mere embrace can be that painful. She saw the confused expression on the faces of the standing Npunga warriors, doubt written all over their aura, their leader, Ghandaa standing right in front of them.
The intensity of the energy in the mob felt so overpowering, youthful men and women, children and the old clustered on top of trees and rocks all looking down at her in bewildered fascination. Dreeda had all the reason to believe they have never seen a white human being before in their life's.
Ghandaa's mind raced very fast calculating, looking for a possible way out of his predicament. Shrewd is he who detect the tidal wave quickly. If he didn't act fast all the people will forsake him for Jhanka and the white one since the priestess has automatically accepted Jhanka, and most of his men yielded to the white woman, soon the whole tribe will follow, for the respect they have for the priestess can't not be underestimated.
Their loyalty to her goes deep, ingrained in their blood like a genetic code, an oracle they hopefully looked as a guide to their salvation one day.
He has to strike now, and it must be swift and bold to shake these savages out from their slumber…. What do they crave most? The spill of hot blood, a spill of sweet royal blood, an offering to satisfy their unquenchable lust and vengeful souls. An offering it shall be then; A spear gazing through the eye of a falcon knows its destination, Sweet royal blood it shall spill, and so it shall fly.
Firmly Ghandaa lifted his spear up above the shoulder in a javelin stance and aim at Jhankas back. Dreeda turn to her right, quickly enough to see what Ghandaa intended to do and she sprung up to her feet, and screamed! she wanted to save the man that has saved her life countless times, but she didn't even know his name to shout out loud.
Howling will do, except that she had no strength left to howl, just a sound, any sound to draw the man's attention. Dreeda didn't believe she was running on her injured feet… and a shrill escaped her quivering blistered mouth from a faraway place from deep within her, a place she never thought existed. Like a terrible whale from a wounded beast, a hopeless cry of distress that strike terror in the hearts of the barbaric Npunga warriors.
She continued running, the pain in her swollen feet unbearable, the left side of her upper body exposed, one breast poking out as the white makeshift cloth Jhanka tied around her the night before, begin to sag in the wake of her hastiness. She was crying now, palpitating and gasping for breath, she found her energy waning, but she couldn't stop running.
In the midst of all the chaos, Jhanka heard the cries of Dreeda and turn around swiftly, but it was too late. Ghandaa had already released the spear and it travelled half way to its final destination which was Jhankas' chest.
Jhanka knew there was no escape this time, he had escaped death so many times he had loose count amidst man and beast. He could feel the spear piercing through his chest now and he welcomed it in full force, the swifter the better. Surprisingly the pain he was feeling wasn't from the spear buried in his chest but the agony he felt in Dreedas' eyes as they locked gaze. He fell back, on his back and the earth shook as though rumbling for the loss of one of its own.
Dreeda fell right beside him, lifted his head and placed it on her legs, and cried for the loss of a man she met just a day ago, but felt like she knew for all eternity; a man who happen to be the only person she could trust in this strange land… "you can go now stranger, you can't live me alone here among this people who can't even communicate with me..., you have to come back, I need you here with me…." she was blabbering now in gibberish.
The chief priestess also lowered herself before the fallen man, and locked gazes with the white woman for the first time. she felt the pulse of Jhanka, then whispered in clear English to her, "he will live". And Dreeda felt a warm feeling of kingship and security wash over her, right that very instant she felt safe.
********†*******†********
Out of the blue the four sages materialized as if out of thin air; they have witness all that had happened. They could have stopped it, but it was not in their place to do so…
"spiteful is the way of the foul one who thinks he can get away with everything" the first sage spoke and the second follow up rhetorically "Isn't the certainty of the illusionist being, the foolish one?"
"alas! In the deeds of men are thing set alright in the cosmos" another added and continued in a question "isn't man the only pun on the chess board?"
"A man set out to change the world; and the world find him worthy to be used to change man… is there a way out?" questions another.
"No; there is no escape from the drama, a sound vibration of a mystical drum, and a fine dancing we shall dance till we all die, still dumb." Answered the third sage.
And the fourth sage asked quizzically "Does it matter who rules Cygon?" and another answered "No, for many will come and go but nations live on, enduring the suffering of our crooked ways. Many shall mount the throne, but none can rule it, except he who is chosen",
"and the laws have spoken against yee oh! Filthy child of Npunga, what say you now? Where is your story? Let it tell its own story, and who are we but children of silence, listening is all we do, patients the only question, for conscience is the only understanding. Even thou diabolic story has a tale that must be told." Said the sages in a shifting myriad accents in Cygon dialect, with compassionate eyes fixated on Ghandaa.
All of Ghandaa men who had witness the fallen man smashed his brains open before Dreeda, the remains of which now caked on the center of her head and face, laid their spears and bowed before her in sworn allegiance, and their brothers followed in like function. Only a few still stood beside and behind their rebellious leader.
They have no doubt the woman is indeed the chosen of the higher powers, and to go against that will mean to go against themselves and all that they stood for; Now their life has a new purpose, and that is to protect this woman till the end.
For Dreeda, she was in a different world in her mind, a place she didn't want to escaped from, she wants to stay right there, at least in there she will find solace. She didn't want to know or remember what had happened to her, neither did she want to think about where she is right now. But something was happening around her that was so strong, it begins to draw her out of her frozen depths.
She could feel the raw pain of someone dear to her, the steady familiar heartbeat of Jhanka is now in turmoil, beating rapidly, oh Jhanka is in pain, Dreeda couldn't believe she was feeling it like her own pain, it seems like they are sharing but one heart.
She must help Jhanka, she kept reminding her self and in the process she regains consciousness out of sheer cognitive will. The first thing she notice was the Npunga warriors bowing before her, Jhanka and the woman with white dreadlocks hugging.
What is the woman doing to him that inflict in him that much agony? Dreeda didn't believe a mere embrace can be that painful. She saw the confused expression on the faces of the standing Npunga warriors, doubt written all over their aura, their leader, Ghandaa standing right in front of them.
The intensity of the energy in the mob felt so overpowering, youthful men and women, children and the old clustered on top of trees and rocks all looking down at her in bewildered fascination. Dreeda had all the reason to believe they have never seen a white human being before in their life's.
Ghandaa's mind raced very fast calculating, looking for a possible way out of his predicament. Shrewd is he who detect the tidal wave quickly. If he didn't act fast all the people will forsake him for Jhanka and the white one since the priestess has automatically accepted Jhanka, and most of his men yielded to the white woman, soon the whole tribe will follow, for the respect they have for the priestess can't not be underestimated.
Their loyalty to her goes deep, ingrained in their blood like a genetic code, an oracle they hopefully looked as a guide to their salvation one day.
He has to strike now, and it must be swift and bold to shake these savages out from their slumber…. What do they crave most? The spill of hot blood, a spill of sweet royal blood, an offering to satisfy their unquenchable lust and vengeful souls. An offering it shall be then; A spear gazing through the eye of a falcon knows its destination, Sweet royal blood it shall spill, and so it shall fly.
Firmly Ghandaa lifted his spear up above the shoulder in a javelin stance and aim at Jhankas back. Dreeda turn to her right, quickly enough to see what Ghandaa intended to do and she sprung up to her feet, and screamed! she wanted to save the man that has saved her life countless times, but she didn't even know his name to shout out loud.
Howling will do, except that she had no strength left to howl, just a sound, any sound to draw the man's attention. Dreeda didn't believe she was running on her injured feet… and a shrill escaped her quivering blistered mouth from a faraway place from deep within her, a place she never thought existed. Like a terrible whale from a wounded beast, a hopeless cry of distress that strike terror in the hearts of the barbaric Npunga warriors.
She continued running, the pain in her swollen feet unbearable, the left side of her upper body exposed, one breast poking out as the white makeshift cloth Jhanka tied around her the night before, begin to sag in the wake of her hastiness. She was crying now, palpitating and gasping for breath, she found her energy waning, but she couldn't stop running.
In the midst of all the chaos, Jhanka heard the cries of Dreeda and turn around swiftly, but it was too late. Ghandaa had already released the spear and it travelled half way to its final destination which was Jhankas' chest.
Jhanka knew there was no escape this time, he had escaped death so many times he had loose count amidst man and beast. He could feel the spear piercing through his chest now and he welcomed it in full force, the swifter the better. Surprisingly the pain he was feeling wasn't from the spear buried in his chest but the agony he felt in Dreedas' eyes as they locked gaze. He fell back, on his back and the earth shook as though rumbling for the loss of one of its own.
Dreeda fell right beside him, lifted his head and placed it on her legs, and cried for the loss of a man she met just a day ago, but felt like she knew for all eternity; a man who happen to be the only person she could trust in this strange land… "you can go now stranger, you can't live me alone here among this people who can't even communicate with me..., you have to come back, I need you here with me…." she was blabbering now in gibberish.
The chief priestess also lowered herself before the fallen man, and locked gazes with the white woman for the first time. she felt the pulse of Jhanka, then whispered in clear English to her, "he will live". And Dreeda felt a warm feeling of kingship and security wash over her, right that very instant she felt safe.
...…..
Out of the blue the four sages materialized as if out of thin air; they have witness all that had happened. They could have stopped it, but it was not in their place to do so…
"spiteful is the way of the foul one who thinks he can get away with everything" the first sage spoke and the second follow up rhetorically "Isn't the certainty of the illusionist being, the foolish one?"
"alas! In the deeds of men are thing set alright in the cosmos" another added and continued in a question "isn't man the only pun on the chess board?"
"A man set out to change the world; and the world find him worthy to be used to change man… is there a way out?" questions another.
"No; there is no escape from the drama, a sound vibration of a mystical drum, and a fine dancing we shall dance till we all die, still dumb." Answered the third sage.
And the fourth sage asked quizzically "Does it matter who rules Cygon?" and another answered "No, for many will come and go but nations live on, enduring the suffering of our crooked ways. Many shall mount the throne, but none can rule it, except he who is chosen",
"and the laws have spoken against yee oh! Filthy child of Npunga, what say you now? Where is your story? Let it tell its own story, and who are we but children of silence, listening is all we do, patients the only question, for conscience is the only understanding. Even thou diabolic story has a tale that must be told." Said the sages in a shifting myriad accents in Cygon dialect, with compassionate eyes fixated on Ghandaa.