Necropolis (Book One of Book One) by Penn Fawn (the false prince .TXT) 📕

Mjumbe thought about that. “I’m just a bit worried that something could be happening, and we may find out too late if we find out at all.”

Akua looked at him. “But you trust the wolves?” he asked.

“I guess I do,” he replied. “They do keep the ghouls away.”

“So there, maybe the Shetani’s got it right,” Akua said.

“What do you mean?” Mjumbe asked.

“That they’ve long had far greater faith, trust, and appreciation, for animals than we do.”

Mjumbe listened.

“We’re only just beginning to understand or value them, but it looks like it’s too late,” Akua said.

Mjumbe thought of this.

“The crows have never failed us,” Akua said, “and I don’t expect they will now.”

“I hope not,” Mjumbe said.

The reason they hadn’t heard from their messengers was Nyeusi was busy organizing a large body of men into a fighting force to send their way.

There was the small matter of arranging affairs like being properly attired, armed, and organized for battle.

There was also the small matter of fitting their elephants, ten thousand of them, with protective headgear.

Getting the word out to their peers who resided within the caves in the mountains—their primary base for large scale weapons manufacturing—also took a good deal of time.

It also took time for their peers—who lived in an area about four days’ journey from the Valley of Death—to arrive at their headquarters and join their march.

All in all, the whole process was such a lengthy undertaking that those who left for Yagan arrived over a month and a half before Darkwing, a cousin of Jogoo the crow, arrived during the midst of a military drill and spoke excitedly in Crowspeak about having seen movement on the plains of the southern frontier.

Akua’s Adam’s apple moved.

“What is he saying?” a fellow asked.

Akua looked him in the eye. “The time has come,” he replied.

A boisterous chant of “hooray” was heard.

Mjumbe raced toward where he placed his conch shell, blew into it, and once more, a chant of hooray came from the crowd.

Before long, a wall of sound that stretched for miles beyond their immediate area stemmed from the messengers who heard Mjumbe’s horn and responded by sounding theirs.

Men, who never before had been in combat felt their body temperature rise. On that day, many learned how emboldened, and fearless a man can feel when placed amid a crowd bent toward a given aim.

A most primal manner of thinking took hold of them, and as such, even those known to be reserved, timid even, felt inspired to fight.

For weeks, these were men who slept with their weapons near or next to them, men who were prompted to be prepared for action at any moment’s notice.

Word was sent out to form an assembly immediately.

Those near Akua stepped either to their left or right.

He walked through the parted crowd that closed behind him, then all faced south.

The pattern was duplicated where anyone was assigned a commanding role.

Presently, Oluso, the marksman, headed toward the crowd and then Zaeim and Mbou.

Noor, the explorer, was not there. He was among those who had departed with Dalia. Alpha had left with them too.

“I wish I were among the vanguard,” Mjumbe said.

“To be among the last line of defense is no small matter,” Oba, the elder, replied.

“Doesn’t change how I feel,” Mjumbe said.

“In life, we all have our parts to play, son. Or, we all have different roles to fill at different times,” Oba responded.

Fifteen thousand men left their homes that day.

They headed toward the direction in which Darkwing said he saw Nyeusi’s troops approaching.

A cavalry—defined here and at that time, as warriors who fought on elephant or rhinoceros back—of around ten thousand Shetani had been marching for the better part of two days when Nyeusi, who observed the proceedings from atop his favored kilman, swooped down before them and signaled to them to halt.

Kifo, his most treasured friend, then Amri, swooped down on the backs of their flying beasts. The former’s kilman landed on his right. Amri’s landed on his left.

“We’re about as far out as I deem it prudent to be from a supply of water,” Nyeusi began, “yet we still have a ways to go.”

“Those of you who are near me, I bid you listen carefully, for your lives will depend on it. When you are done listening, you are to spread the word about what I’m about to share to the person next to you, then he, in turn, must do the same until the message is received by all.

“Again, I bid you listen carefully, for this is a life and death matter. We will never have the means to reach their base if you fail to do as I say,” he added, and the men were all ears.

“Now I want you to observe, then do as I do,” he added.

Kifo stepped toward him.

“Remove your headgear,” he said, and Kifo did so.

Nyeusi procured a vessel and a bowl into which he emptied its contents.

A wind strong enough to disperse any powder out onto the fields had been blowing. Yet, he could empty the bedeviled contents into the bowl with no fear or concern whatsoever of this happening.

He applied some water to it, then he worked it in with his index finger until it had the consistency of a paste.

He used that very finger to draw a white X onto Kifo’s forehead. He had Amri come forward, then he marked an X onto his forehead too.

He faced and addressed the troops.

“When I bring this vessel to you, do as I have done,” he ordered. “To both man and beast,” he added, and they wondered what could it all mean.

“Have no fear about the paste ever coming to an end before all hath received the mark, for this won’t happen. Have no fear about the consistency of it changing for want of more water, for this won’t happen,” he added, and they wondered how on earth could any of what he said be true.

“How come?” he asked. “Because it is