Chapter 21
The Ancient Arts and Artefacts tutorial with Miss Bimba seemed to go on for an eternity. Luyanda counted down the minutes to the end of the class, and as soon as Bimba stepped out of the door (she never allowed anyone to leave before she did) Luyanda bounded out the lecture hall, hared along the corridors and sprinted up the steps to the passage leading to Keita’s office. He rounded a bend, and skidded to a halt as he narrowly avoiding smashing into Keita.
“Whoa, watch it, Luyanda. You’re going to kill us both.”
“We need to talk,” Luyanda said, flushed and breathless. Keita took one look at him and nodded.
“Let’s go to my office.”
As soon as the door was shut behind them, Luyanda plonked onto a seat and quickly recounted the conversation he had just had with Dr. Uru.
Keita’s face grew dark. “That is not good,” he said, shaking his head.
“So what are we going to do?” Luyanda asked. “If he finds the stool on you, both of us could be in a lot of trouble. He’d accuse you of theft, and accuse me of lying.”
“Let’s not worry about it for now,” Keita replied. “We will continue with our course, and find out as much as we can about this artefact and about the Shadow Realm. Panicking won’t get us anywhere.”
Something about Keita’s calm, serene tone reassured Luyanda. “Okay,” he nodded.
Keita stood up, and opened the door.
“I have to get going,” he said. Luyanda rose and followed him out onto the passage. Keita shut the door behind them.
“Just stick to your story if Uru ever asks you,” he said.
Luyanda nodded.
“Let’s meet tomorrow for another trip to the shadows. I am eager to find out more.”
“Yes,” Luyanda said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Could we make it the first thing?”
“Okay,” Luyanda groaned, as he pictured himself rolling out of bed before dawn. Keita grinned and shuffled off and Luyanda made his way to his Post-Colonial Urban Studies class, wondering what the following day’s trip held in store for him.
The next morning, Luyanda got to the office before Keita did. He bit his fingernails anxiously as he peered down the hallway, expecting Keita to show up at any moment. A fearful thought crossed his mind: what if Uru made an appearance? That would certainly be awkward. As he started thinking up an excuse that would convince Uru, Keita’s greying head bobbed at the top of the stairs. Luyanda gushed in relief.
“Morning,” he said cheerily. “How long have you been waiting?”
“About five minutes. But it’s felt like an eternity.”
Keita unlocked his office and showed Luyanda in. He locked the door behind him again, and shoved a cupboard to the side. Behind it, stood the box with the stool. Luyanda helped him place it on his desk, and a few moments later, he was rocketing through the tunnel, the wind blasting in his face and the air being squeezed out of his chest.
A cold surge of wetness engulfed his whole body. Instinctively, he held his breathe as the water swirled about him, spinning him around like a rag-doll. The churning continued for what felt like an eternity, and then suddenly, it ceased. He kicked hard, and shot upwards, breaking the surface of the pool. He sucked at the air, his lungs screaming in pain. He glanced around him. A faint light was shining somewhere far beneath the surface of the lake. The water around him was calm and quiet. Hardly a ripple stirred its surface.
He clawed his way across the lake, making for the opposite bank. He got to the other side and clambered for a foothold. His toes scraped against smooth, hard rock. He pushed with both legs, and heaved himself out of the water.
In the corner of his eye, he caught a movement, right on the other side of the lake. He spun around just as the stranger emerged out of the darkness and into the soft, glowing light of the cavern.
The man took one look at the lake and frowned. His eyes narrowed as he took in Magere, panting and wet, on the other bank. The lake, in all its blackness, stood between them.
The stranger took one hesitant step towards the water’s edge. Magere watched him, wondering why he proceeded with so much caution. The man was now at the water’s edge. He dipped his foot into the water, almost as if he were testing its temperature. He waded in, his confidence growing with every step. Magere watched him with growing horror as the man swam towards him with slow, powerful strokes.
At that moment, Magere noticed a slight ripple start in the middle of the pool. The stranger hadn't seen it. Then a deep rumble rocked the cave floor. The man stopped mid-stroke, and treaded water, glancing about uneasily. With a defining roar, a massive white column of water surged out of the water. It hung in the air for an instant, then crashed back down on itself. The man yelped. He pedalled backwards through the water as a massive wave cut its way towards him. It caught him on its crest, lifted him high into the air, and smashed his body against the rocky wall on the far edge. The water receded back to the pool and the man’s limp body crumpled to the cave floor.
All was calm and silent. Magere collapsed onto the cold, hard rock and drew a deep breathe as his tightly wound muscles relaxed. A warm breeze stirred against his back, blowing in from the crack in the wall nearby. He squinted into its dark depths and felt another trickle of warm, clean air wafting out of it. Magere pushed himself onto his feet and pitched forward towards it when a thought flashed through his mind. Where was the stool? He had gone into the foaming waters with it. But now he no longer had it. He tried hard to remember. The last time he had felt it in his hand was right before shooting through the subterranean chasm. When he emerged on the other side, it was gone. He turned back towards the water’s edge, and scoured the rippling surface, trying to make out what lay underneath it. A whimper reached his ears from across the cave. The man was stirring. The stool would have to wait. Magere took one last look at the cavern, then plunged into the tunnel.
The rocky path veered sharply to the left and then twisted and wound on its way, but always tending upwards. Magere pressed on. The air grew fresher and lighter. He noticed he could now make out the edges of the tunnel.
The passage grew narrower as he progressed. Soon he had to stoop, then crawl on his belly, scraping past the hard rocks and the loose stones that lined the passage floor. Rounding a corner, he stopped and blinked.
A flood of pale, orange light washed over him. The sky was over his head, smiling through a narrow, round hole. He squeezed his head and shoulders through the crack and with a final push, heaved himself out. He found himself on a flat, pebble-covered rocktop. He looked up. The morning sun pasted deep hues of orange and red across the sky. The calm waters of Nam Lolwe shimmered in the distance. His bones and muscles ached. A pang of hunger reminded him of the food parcel near the mouth of the cave. He wondered if the Lang'o had eaten it. It was his food. They had no right - the bastards.
He scowled, turned towards the lake, and scanned the rocky terrain. He would need cover if he were to approach the lake undetected. He crouched on one knee, and watched and listened. The wind rustled through the leaves of the forest nearby. A flock of weaverbirds flapped by overhead. Between him and the trees, there was nothing but bare rock.
He remained still for a few seconds more. All was silent again, but for the wind.
Magere took a deep breath, rose to his feet and broke into a run. He kept his head low, and fixed his eyed on the treeline. It was getting closer. He’d be underneath the canopy in a few seconds. At that instant, a loud yell tore through the air. Magere’s heart jumped to his mouth, and he pushed his tired legs harder, knowing instinctively what that sound meant.
A blinding pain tore through his side, and he misstepped and almost fell to the ground. He regained his balance and kept running. Another stabbing pain and another tore through his back, his neck, and his thighs. His legs gave in, crumpling beneath his weight and crashing him into the ground. He stared at the cold, grey earth, breathing hard. A warm, thick fluid rose in his throat, and he coughed and rasped for air. He forced himself to turn onto his back as he heard footsteps approaching.
In seconds, figures loomed all around him. He stared into their faces. White war paint and bared teeth met his gaze. Their broadswords glinted in the morning sun. He forced himself onto his knees, and glanced at his shadow, darkening the ground beside him. A spear tip slammed into it. Then another. Then another. And another. Each stab sent a jolt of pain through his body.
A voice tore through the air. “Stop!”
The frenzied stabbing halted. The tall man with the orange turban and pointed beard pushed his way past the soldiers. He dropped to his knees before Magere.
"Where is it?"
Magere shut his eyes.
"The stool. Where is it?"
Magere forced his bloodied lips into a grin. The man grabbed Magere's shoulders and shook him hard.
A warm liquid filled Magere's lungs. With every breath, he felt his own blood clogging up his airways. The world before his eyes faded into darkness. His heart slowed. He heard the bearded stranger barking orders at his men. His voice seemed so far away now. In its place was the soft lapping of the waves on the shores of the lake.
Magere turned his sightless eyes towards it, one last time. Finally it was over. He was going home. The earth gave a violent jerk beneath his back. Then the pain ceased. And everything went black.
Luyanda sat up with a gasp. He burst into a fit of coughing, rolled over onto his side and heaved. Keita was kneeling beside him, panting. The old man struggled to his feet and helped Luyanda up.
“Are you okay?” Keita asked.
“Yes,” Luyanda stammered through his cough. “I … I think so.”
“Here, sit down. Have some water.”
He helped Luyanda onto a seat, filled a glass of water from the jug that standing on his desk, and offered it to Luyanda. Luyanda took a sip, and felt much better.
“Were you there?” he asked. “Did you see what happened?”
“I saw everything,” Keita answered. He held up the talisman. “The amulet worked.”
Luyanda’s eyes fell onto Keita’s desk, and he let out a faint gasp.
“The stool!”
Kieta followed Luyanda’s astonished gaze to the desk. The stool was gone.
“Where is it? We left it right here.”
Keita crossed over to the desk, leaned underneath it and took a look.
“Strange,” he mused, straightening up. “Very strange. It seems to have disappeared.”
“My father, I mean, his father gave it to him, and then he lost it in the cave.”
“Where in the cave?”
“Right after I got sucked down that hole.”
“What hole? I don’t remember any hole.”
Luyanda was dumbstruck.
“There was this whirlpool. In the lake in the cave. Didn’t you see it?”
Keita shook his head slowly.
“I remember us going into the water, and then next thing I knew we were on the shore. But that was it. I don’t remember any whirlpools.”
“I think I lost the stool as I passed through that — whatever it was.”
“That doesn’t make sense. It should still be here.”
“If it’s not here, where could it be?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. And this means that we can’t make any more trips into the realm of shadows.”
They stared at each other in silence for a second. Luyanda glanced at the desk again, hoping that the stool would somehow magically appear again.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Keita shrugged.
Luyanda was silent for a second.
“Yeah, maybe,” he finally said. “I guess I was getting really tired of being stabbed all the time.”
Keita patted his back.
“You’ve been quite brave, Luyanda. Much braver than I thought you would be. You should get to class. You’ve been gone long enough. Don’t worry about the stool anymore.”
“Does this mean our meetings are over?”
“Yes, for now.”
Luyanda’s shoulders drooped.
“You’re disappointed?”
“A little bit,” he answered. “The trips were kind of fun. Despite the injuries.”
Keita gave him a warm smile. He walked across to the door and held it open for Luyanda.
“I’ll see you in class.”
“Okay,” Luyanda nodded, and slinked past Keita. But as Luyanda closed the door behind him and took one last peek at Keita, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Keita knew more than he was letting on.