The Ancient Lands: Warrior Quest, Search for the Ifa Scepter (2 page)

King Jumbe sat next to his Queen, Najila.
Both of them were warmed by the light of the fires that blazed in
revelry. He grabbed her hand, smiled, and nodded as she returned
the gesture. He was, at least for the moment, confident and happy,
but his Queen was burdened. During the Night of the Circle everyone
took the time to be consumed with happiness, even those whose sons
participated in the games. The purpose of the games was two-fold.
First it was to allow the greatest warriors of the village to prove
their readiness to serve their king and be awarded and praised for
their strength and wit. Secondly, it was to celebrate the
community: the families, and the culture of the largest and
strongest kingdom in all of The Ancient Lands, Ufalme.

The women spent weeks before the festivities
began, collecting cassava roots, nuts, beans, and peas. They dried
and ground spices to use in the preparation of the spiced butter
they would use to season the delicious dishes for the feast they
would prepare. Children and elders prepared decorative masks
adorned with gold, quartz, shells and feathers. They wove extra
baskets and mats to accommodate the villagers. Men worked together
to catch fish, and other various types of seafood. In spite of the
sacrifice during a time when there was a dwindling supply of food,
even a few chickens were prepared for the occasion.

On the first night of the games, the
villagers partook in a ritualistic jubilee. On the second night
prayers for the warriors were chanted, and the village’s oldest
griot reinforced stories passed down through the generations, tales
of the triumphs and tragedies of warriors past.

This was the third and final night of the
games and suddenly the dancers paused. A battered warrior entered
their circle
,
and although his body bore fresh scars and
wounds, he stood among the spectators majestically. For a moment a
long silence hung in the air until the villagers welcoming
admiration rose to an almost unbearable cry as cheers and praises
turned to Mongo. Mongo was the eldest of the King’s two sons, and
his 24-year-old hardened body was just right for the games.

Yes, Mongo was the favorite of the crowd and
the favorite of all the people of Ufalme. He was strong, handsome!
Though he was as proud as the son of a king should be, he was also
modest and never boasted or made anyone feel like they were beneath
him. He was admired and also well liked for his wit and humor, and
the villagers felt proud that he might be their king some day.

His stature and prowess caught the eyes of
all the women, and when he walked, they watched him adoringly and
imagined being his chosen queen. It was sometimes quite heart
wrenching, really — the way the women threw themselves at him, but
Mongo could not help it. He was just being himself — the son of a
king. All he ever wanted was to be the best that he could be. Even
the men secretly watched him with envy, wondering what it was like
to walk in his sandals. Some of them were brave enough to even
challenge him in the games. Mongo usually prevailed, but
competition was kept alive by those, who on occasion, could
overtake him. He was, in every way, a great warrior!

He had won the track, the high jump, and the
challenge of balance. He performed formidably in every event except
in the boulder toss, in which Bogo had beaten him.

Only two years younger than Mongo, Bogo was
his greatest adversary. It was he that often tore the crowed from a
unison of Mongo following. More often than not, Bogo would finish
just seconds, or inches behind Mongo. In the boulder toss, his
large frame, and greater arm strength had given him the advantage
of inches
ahead
.

Mongo had lost this event, and now in what
seemed to be mere coincidence, he faced Bogo again in the wrestling
ring. Mongo looked at Bogo on the other side of the ochre drawn
circle. Both contenders nodded and acknowledged each other
respectfully and fearlessly. Bogo was determined to beat Mongo for
the second time tonight.

As they engaged, everyone’s eyes widened
with excitement. Mongo and Bogo’s bodies clashed together. The king
sat up in his seat keenly, but withheld all emotion. The villagers
on the other hand cheered wildly as the two warriors interlocked.
Their muscles flexed with raw strength as they grabbed one another,
each vehemently trying to pin his foe. With one quick move, Mongo
tossed Bogo onto the ground, but Bogo was on his feet quickly and
attacked once again. He charged at Mongo and they twisted into each
other until somehow Bogo gained the upper hand, holding Mongo in a
headlock that seemed unbreakable. The spectators roared louder than
ever, and none of them knew whose side they were on. It finally
seemed that Mongo might lose this fight, and then the tone of the
crowd suddenly changed. What was initially cheers and praise,
quickly shifted to screams of fear and panic. Then, a loud
terrifying shriek was heard, “Lion!”

The night had cloaked the great cat enabling
a stealthy approach past the village’s outer guards. It seemed that
Bogo would have to try his hand at beating Mongo another time, for
now both warriors had a much direr problem.

The lion ran towards the crowd and it
pounced upon whoever lagged behind. His first target, a small boy.
He struck the boy across his back with his razor like claws, and
pinned the whimpering lad down with its massive paws.

An old man sat perched on a stone setting on
the other side of the circle. He took no time to run as the others
did. He stood up putting most of his weight into his crooked staff.
At the top of it, an amethyst crystal began to glow. This staff was
a weapon, wielded only by sorcerers. Wielded only by him, yet it
had been quite some time since he had to use it as such. Nowadays,
he used it as a crutch to aid in supporting his failing right
knee.

With the wave of his staff, he took control
of the main bonfire and lifted it from the wood. He suspended it in
the night air, and with another motion sent it flying forward.

Had the fiery blaze hit the lion a second
later, the hungry beast would have finished the boy off. His teeth
were inches from sinking into his neck. For now, the boy was
injured, but he would live. The old man sat back down tired and
drained. He had neither the power to attack again, nor the energy
to run.

Startled and singed, the lion relented as
three of the king’s guardsmen approached and cornered the large
animal. Just when they were certain that they had the great cat at
a disadvantage, it changed its tactic. Before anyone had a chance
to think, it assaulted one of the guards. It happened so fast that
the other two guards never had a chance to react before their man
went down. The guard was mortally wounded, and Bogo and Mongo
immediately ran over to take on the powerful cat.

Most of the villagers had left the area by
that time. A few curious onlookers kept their distance and watched
trembling from afar. The king and queen watched the battle and
called for more guards.

The king’s youngest son, Bomani, looked on
intently and stood poised and ready to fight at his brother’s side.
As Mongo and Bogo approached the ferocious lion, Bomani grabbed his
spear, his heart wanted to ignore the fact that his father had
forbidden him to go near the turmoil. All that he could do was
watch.

The battle between the two men and the lion
seemed to take an eternity. It was a rumble of beast and man until
finally all movement stopped. Mongo sat atop the dead animal, his
blade plunged directly into the lion’s heart. Injured men scrambled
to their feet and made clumsy attempts to contain their wounds with
nervous hands; including Bogo, who suddenly fell to the ground.

Mongo left the dying lion only to help a
dying man. More guards entered the compound where moments before
villagers had gathered in celebration. Too late to be warriors,
they now assisted the injured and hailed the medicine man, but it
was too late for Bogo. He lay shivering in Mongo’s arms as his life
slipped away.

“You are going to be alright.” Mongo
attempted to console him, but he knew that it was a lie. There is a
moment in a warrior’s life when he knows that he won’t make it, a
moment when he can feel his existence ebbing away, although he has
fought a good fight, death lurks around the corner. Bogo had this
feeling for the first and last time. He looked into Mongo’s eyes
and was grateful for the compassion being bestowed upon him. He
found a slight comfort in the fact that he was dying in the arms of
a young prince who he had served with in a battle to help protect
his kingdom.

He could not think of anything more
honorable, and with his last breath he asked the prince, “Do you
think I would have beaten you? It would have been twice in one
night.” Mongo smiled as he looked at him, and then replied, “Yes,
Bogo, I know that you would have.”

family crest

The festivities ended early that night, and
the villagers had altogether dispersed except for those who watched
the killing of the lion. Mongo’s name echoed throughout the
kingdom. The news of his triumph spread quickly. Maidens gasped,
“He is so wonderful. He killed the lion!”

One maiden even approached the youngest son,
“Oh Bomani, did you hear what your brother did tonight?”

“Yes, I saw the whole thing.”

“You were there? Tell us what happened. Oh
you must tell us!”

“I would, but I have somewhere to be and I
must not waste time.”

“Perhaps, tomorrow then. Good night Bomani.
Your brother is the
greatest
.”

At 15 years old, Bomani was at the age where
a young man would envy his older brother greatly. As he walked away
from the commotion on the fairgrounds, headed toward his father’s
quarters, a love-struck trio of swooning young women walked past
Bomani, worshipping Mongo.

“He’s so wonderful. He’s so great,” Bomani
mimicked them, “Yeah, great! Everything that he does is
so
great! I could win at the games if they’d let me play,” he said to
himself, “I could have taken that lion.”

Three boys walked nearby, and instead of
passing Bomani, they made it a point to stop. One of the boys stood
out among them, Anan. His skin was dark brown; he was slightly
larger than the rest of the boys and he swaggered toward Bomani as
if he was trying to intimidate the young prince.

“Too bad we’re not old enough,” said Anan,
catching Bomani’s attention, “I would have challenged you in the
games. I would have shown you how a warrior is supposed to be.”

Bomani was neither afraid nor impressed by
Anan’s stance. It was something that he had come to expect from
Anan and the other boys. Bomani had made many enemies of the boys
his age a long time ago, and his arrogance had kept him separate
from them since they had been much younger. There was no ordinance
that stated that royalty could not interact with the common people
of the kingdom. This was only Bomani’s law.

Bomani’s biggest problem was himself. He
didn’t quite know where his place was. It’s an awful feeling to not
know where you stand among people. And no matter how hard he tried
to figure it out, he always felt awkward. He was too young to be
thought of as the great warrior that his brother was, even though
he too was royalty. And yet, it was his royal lineage that made him
set himself apart from everyone else.

“Why wait for the games?” Bomani responded,
“I’m here now.”

“Yeah,” said Anan, “and just like last time,
someone will stop the fight before I get a chance to do you in.
Just like last time, your brother Mongo will come around the corner
and save you.”

“I didn’t need saving. I would have taken
all three of you, and I can do it now, if you wish.”

“You hide under your blanket of royalty
Bomani. There are punishments for tussling with King Jumbe’s son.
If you did not have that on your side, you would be nothing.”

Bomani boiled inside. Anan’s taunting was
beginning to get to him. Part of him wanted to run up to Anan and
knock him down on his back, but he didn’t move. As he stood his
ground the fierceness boiled inside of him. He had struck Anan
before and his father made it clear that he was not to take
advantage of his position again — especially inside the grounds of
the compound. His actions could reflect badly on the character of
the throne. So, out of respect for his father, Bomani held his
temper; this time.

“Don’t be fooled Anan,” Bomani said, coolly.
It is royalty that is saving
you
right now. Saving you from
me
,” Bomani threatened.

“Humph, we’ll see,” Anan said as he and his
two friends walked away chuckling. Anan knew that he could not take
Bomani alone, and that Bomani was right. He knew that Bomani would
not fight him inside the walls of the compound.