Outlaw (22 page)

THE JUNGLE screamed with life; the sun beamed its unwavering approval; the streams ran with joy; the world was full of glory and making no apologies for its triumph. All of this presented itself to Stephen’s awareness without interruption as the morning quickly passed, and with it the jungle that separated them from the Tulim valley.

But none of this awareness was so acutely focused as his growing appreciation for the wonder that walked beside him.

For the woman. Lela.

He’d long watched the splendor of the parrots soaring through the air, the flight of an arrow finding its mark through a steady breeze, the sniffing of mice seeking a morsel, the western sky painted in brilliant hues, announcing the close of the day.

But watching Lela—stepping lightly down the path, leaping nimbly over fallen logs, glancing at him with her large brown eyes—made all he had yet seen lesser wonders.

He would remember what Shaka had said, always, and without pause. And now he hung on her every word as well. Hers was the first voice he’d heard other than his own and Shaka’s.

The sound of her laughter after being startled by a slithering snake had so filled him with delight that he wanted to throw his arms around her and cry, “Me too, me too! I laugh with you!” Even her occasional
tsk
ing in disapproval at his veering the wrong way, or jumping to snatch a fruit from a branch for her, sounded like laughter in his ears.

“Quit showing off,” she said.

He wasn’t sure how to respond. And he found no reason to change his behavior.

They walked side by side where the path was wide enough, she in her grass skirt, he with his spear in his right hand and a single bone knife at his waist.

“Why do you smile this way?” she demanded. “Don’t you know what awaits you?”

“I only see you now. And what I see pleases me.”

She
tsk
ed. “A child in a man’s body. I’m old enough to be your mother. Your own mother is in a pit and all you think about is the woman at your side. What kind of man has Shaka made you?”

She was too young to be his mother, but he let the comment pass.

“You too could be a child, if you choose. These are only costumes.”

She shook her head. “You speak with words that have no meaning. A child cannot hope to save his mother from this valley of death.”

“Then tell me what I will find.”

She spit to one side, a curious behavior that he found interesting.

“Shaka tells me to say nothing. It is for you to discover if you can save her.”

“You misunderstand. I would only find my mother so that she would know the truth. I cannot save her. She is safe already.”

She pulled up on the path where it overlooked a shallow gorge suffocated with thick trees and vines. “Stop with this foolishness! Do you find this just a childish game? If your purpose isn’t to save her, then why do I risk my life to bring you? Your mother has given her life for yours!”

Her words washed over him, and for the first time since leaving Shaka’s sanctuary, he felt the gentle slap of offense. She was questioning his love? He didn’t know what to make of such an absurd accusation.

Do not forget, Stephen
. Shaka’s words whispered through his mind.

Do not forget that no man can possibly hurt one who is safe in the awareness of who they are
. But Lela wasn’t safe in any awareness. His objective must be to chase the fear from her heart.

He stared down the path, which vanished in a tangle of underbrush.

“Forgive me. I’m not accustomed to the ways of others. Fear doesn’t stalk me. But this doesn’t mean that I am weak. If I join your fear, I too would be lost in darkness. The blind cannot lead the blind.”

She watched him, momentarily at a loss for words.

“This is a strange way,” she finally said. “If not for Shaka, I would think you had lost your mind.”

“But I have. Thankfully.” He immediately realized that these words would mean nothing to her, so he clarified. “In a way of speaking,” he said, smiling. “The mind cannot see the light as it is. The light allows me to see in a valley of darkness, yes? You must be patient with me.”

“And you will see that all of your talk means nothing against his warriors. Every day people die. There can be no greater darkness.”

“Then all the more reason for me to be the light,” he said. “It is the only way that I can see truth.”

“And what truth can you see now in this desecrated jungle?”

Stephen saw the opening to offer her courage and he seized it with a great passion. He took her hand and gazed at her face, her body.

“I see a shining star on the path before me, dressed in the red and golden feathers of a paradise bird. My heart leaps in my chest and cries out the glory of such a creation. Who could have created such a beautiful soul? Only the one through whose eyes I see this vision of splendor.”

Her eyes softened.

“I see a soul that cries to be known as blameless. A soft heart that is cherished by its Creator. A gentle spirit full of kindness and love that her mind cannot yet recognize. But I see it. I see it all and I find more delight in you, Lela, than in any bird or tree.”

“I am not a young woman to be chased by a young man,” she said softly, but there was wonder in her eyes.

“I chase nothing. And you must know that however young, his body is strong.” Stephen winked at her, a mannerism he’d picked up from Shaka. “He can face ten boars and bring them to the ground bare-handed. You cannot imagine what he can do with his spear.”

This drew an unsure but unmistakable smile to her face. He grinned, delighted by his success in offering her this reassurance. So he continued.

“I can assure you, Kirutu will not stand against such a powerful sight. He will run into hiding at the sight of him.”

She blinked, clearly in doubt. It made Stephen wonder what Kirutu was. He’d read his mother’s account of battle with fascination, but without fear. Now a small voice in the furthest reaches of his mind tempted him with a whisper of concern.

What would it be like to face a hundred men intent on hatred and armed with axes?

But the whisper quieted as quickly as it had spoken. This wasn’t his true self speaking. It was only a ghost of insanity, not to be feared.

“No man has ever defeated Kirutu,” she said.

“And no man ever will. He defeats himself.” But once again he was speaking in terms that she couldn’t possibly understand. His words were falling on deaf ears. He would have to speak her language. Surely this was part of the challenge that Shaka had set before him.

“That’s it!” he cried.

“What is?”

“Shaka’s challenge. I must enter the valley and speak the language of the dead as a means for life. That’s it!
Jika, jika, jawa
!”

“Jika jawa?”

“A word we made. Either way, so be it.”

“The language of the mad.”

She refused to find comfort, so he shifted his approach and acknowledged her misguided belief. She seemed obsessed with it.

“If I’m wrong, then only I will pay,” he said. “I ask only that you trust Shaka’s faith in me.”

“If you are wrong, then I will pay with my life.”

Her fear struck a chord of sorrow in his chest.

“No, Lela. I will protect you. There’s nothing to fear by my side.”

For a long time she just looked at him. But the lines of worry on her face had softened. She was starting to trust him, he thought. And for a moment he wondered if that was so wise. But he knew no other way.

“So be it,” she finally said.

He smiled. “
Jika, jika, jawa
.”

Lela offered a nod, turned back down the path, and began to walk.

They traveled late into the afternoon, often cutting through the jungle on paths used only occasionally by hunting parties. Birds took flight above them, disturbed by the passage of humans below. Possums and snakes rattled the underbrush in hasty retreat.

It was at the Tengali River just east of the Tulim valley that his domain ended. He’d never been beyond. And yet he felt only eagerness to cross it. This day had brought him more wonder than any in recent memory.

The more questions they asked of each other, the more his fascination with Lela grew, despite her refusal to tell him anything about the Tulim valley. She was intelligent and tender, her fear aside, but this wasn’t the reason for his interest. Her companionship, on the other hand, was exhilarating.

He embraced the realization that he was living and breathing and walking with the very form of God, made manifest in another besides Shaka. And he found himself touching her arm and her hair more frequently than she might have desired.

And yet with each passing hour her optimism rose. Or perhaps it was only his love for her, returned in kind. She liked him, he could not mistake this truth. He could see the sparkle of interest in her eyes, the curve of kindness in her lips, the intention to impress him in her gait.

He loved Lela, and she loved him. There could be no insanity on earth in the presence of such love. It made him wonder if Wilam had loved his mother in this way. If so, then why had such insanity followed? Such beauty and yet so much suffering. It could not have been the same love he felt now.

Lela stopped by the exposed roots of a towering deciduous tree, winded from the long, arduous climb up the path that would bring them into the Tulim valley.

“There, over this summit,” she said, shoving her chin at the forested crest ahead, “you will see all of the Tulim.”

She’d often stopped to rest this past hour. Clearly she didn’t have the same endurance as he or Shaka. It had been over a day since he’d slept, and only now was his body beginning to tire. How many times had Shaka urged him to climb faster, run longer, sleep less?
To discipline the body is to remind the costume that it is only something to be used and enjoyed
, Shaka often said.
Never let it use you
.

“Are you with a man?” he asked impulsively.

Her eyes darted up.

Perhaps he should clarify his question.

“My mother wrote much about the union of many to produce infants. You were to be with a man?”

“There is no love in this valley.” She spat to the side. “I will gouge out the eyes of any man who attempts to force himself on me.”

Her vehemence took him off guard.

“And yet you are from among the Impirum. Julian wrote of much beauty among your people.”

She turned away. “There is now only Warik. Only hatred.”

“With you I feel only love.”

Tears misted her eyes. “It’s been a long time since any man loved me,” she whispered.

Those words broke his heart with compassion. How terrifying it must feel, not knowing that one was loved.

He thought to tell her that, in reality, she needed no more love than what was already offered inside of her, where the realm of the Master’s love would rule, but again…she wouldn’t understand. He could only serve her by speaking to her limited understanding.

He felt a strange kind of belonging next to Lela, an awakening of awareness that she, even by her simple presence at his side, fueled his own fullness of love. As did Shaka, when Stephen was with him. But with Lela that love felt different somehow.

He let a wave of emotion that cried for him to pull her close wash over him, then let his affection be known by his words.

“You are loved by a man now,” he said softly.

Lela seemed to soften, staring into his eyes. But she didn’t seem able to accept the fullness of his love.

“By a child,” she said.

His smile broadened. “By a child who knows how to love. And by far, far more.”

She offered the jungle a blank stare. “I envy you, son of Shaka,” she said quietly. “This kind of love is only a distant memory for me.”

“I will help you remember,” he said. “The woman who gave such love to my mother has forgotten far too much.”

She hesitated, then swallowed deeply. “Come and see what I have forgotten.”

Lela turned back up the path and led him to a cliff that fell away into a vast valley. Stephen pulled up and studied the view before him.

Many times he’d seen the valley from a greater distance, often enshrouded in a low-lying fog. But that fog had always been white and thick, not wispy with gray tendrils that clung to the entire lower reaches, stretching out to the swamps. In and of itself, this didn’t matter one way or the other.

What did matter, however, was the fact that this mist seemed to be moving unnaturally. Shifting and circling over a focal point far south, as if of its own mind, alive and aware and gathering to defend.

What mattered even more was the faint, high-pitched whine that came from the valley. A barely audible scream behind a low hum.

Fear sliced through his mind as he stood on the cliff, spellbound, struck by the impression that the ground in the valley was groaning and the mist above shrieking its torturous pain.

This was more than a valley blanketed in fog.

“There,” she said, pointing to the south. “The Warik.”

Stephen could make no sense of the dread reaching into him. There was nothing here or anywhere that could threaten him. Everything he’d learned from Shaka made this plain.

Why did he feel this strange fear?

“Below the mist?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “Mist?”

So then Lela couldn’t see what he saw.

You will see this darkness in a way you never have
, Shaka had said.
It will know you have come
.

Do not forget.

He did not.

Immediately the mist began to fade. And with it the faint whine and the low hum. Only a thin layer of smoke rising from cooking fires remained.

He slowly exhaled through his nostrils, breathing out the balance of his concern. What his hearing and seeing meant, he didn’t know, but the threat was gone. Defeated already.

“The smoke,” he said, nodding at the section of jungle far south.

“Yes, below the smoke. They’ll see us before we arrive. Kirutu’s spirits see always. His warriors roam the valley.”

A barely discernible hum of anxiety tempted his mind again, whispering of the unknown.