EJIMA

CHAPTER 22

The cold wind swirled again, and this time, he held tight the blanket made from the fur of a wild wolf, hoping to keep the cold from bashing his skin. It had rained twice today and even though he was among the many that had prayed for the downpour, he was a bit annoyed. The drizzle was drenching his expensive hood and it would take days to remove all the water. Circumstances like this often make him wish for the dry season. The privilege and freedom to travel into any city without care of being drenched, especially when one was in their ceremonial attire.

He snort and tugged the rein, hoping the Zebra would increase its pace. If he had his way he would have remained within the walls of his house, under his roof, and with the warmness of his wife. But comfort was something he had never known since he was a child. Just as the land of the dead was not satisfied with the number of souls it eats, so too the quest for comfort. Solving one problem always brings back another, it was an endless cycle that will eventually lead to the grave. Wise men seek peace and rest in their abode. But, fools seek coziness and like prey, destruction is their predator.

The rumbled from the cloud resonated, leaving lightning in its wake. Even though it was a flash, it was enough for the man and his Zebra to see the path along with the brush.

Should have set out early enough. The man mumbled and dug his feet into the animal's side, urging it forward.

As if in answer to his silent prayers, the cave he seeks came into view. It sat on the shawl of the night and revealed rays of yellow lights, which tongues out from its entrance. The many vegetation that surrounded it was hanging like the loose ends of a pendulum as the wind tossed them to and fro. History said that the cave used to belong to the missing toe creatures. But now the creatures were gone. Out of the world, out of history, and out of the sand of time; but the cave had endured the trying times and still stands, testifying its majesty.

"You are late, what took you so long?" The stable boy asked.

"None of your business," the man said looking away. The boy was a fool and looked three years starving. Even the pelt that hung on his shoulders was infested by bugs. They looked dirty and had been tied several times before they could stay true on the boy's slender waist.

"Hmm," The boy pursed his lips and folded his hands on his chest, "So, this is how you dishonor your words?"

"What do you know about honor?"

"Enough to know that my words must bind my actions"

"Too bad you are serving in the pit. Try telling the dung and the Zebras, about honor."

The boy only grunted and took the rein, goading the animal into the entrance of the cave, just where the stones above had formed a porch of some sort.

The man snailed down from his animal and licked the water on his lips. He slipped two cowries into the open hand and frowned when the boy's smile widened under his mask.

"More like it," the boy said and turned away from the cave with the rein.

He was a stable boy or something they called 'the lowliest of the low. But the boy always parades himself like some mystical creature that knows all and sees all.

He is not worth your anger. A still voice said in the man's head as he took off his hood and tried to brush away the evening rain.

"You better have a good explanation. The king has been waiting for you like forever. He is not a very patient man and you know it." The boy patted the Zebra as he turned away to the other side of the cave.

The man tried to look past the mask, hoping to find familiarity and perhaps place a name on the boy. But he couldn't, even if he recognized the boy. Names were forbidden. The meeting was a sacred one. They had taken an oath of allegiance, a bidding oath to hold them together like the head of a broom. A single slip of the tongue was all it takes for the oath gods to send the offender to an early grave.

"Keep him fed and rested. We traveled all day without stopping to eat or drink. And try not to talk him to death." The man said but the boy was already gone.

Reluctantly, the man hung the hood on the standing bamboo, at the right-hand side of the entrance. He also took off his daggers, his darts, and his long sword, and placed them together with the others, on a bench made from wood.

"Light on my soul. Light on my life." he chanted and picked one of the mask on the basket, placing them on his skull, so that the loose ends covered his face, leaving his lips, eyes, nostrils, and jaws exposed.

The mask was crafted to have a fierce beak like that of a hawk. It was the King himself that had picked this mask for him.

A sweat sensation surged through the man's stomach as he sauntered into the cave. The Hawk. That was his identity within the stones. The King had selected a Hawk for him after he had proven faithful and reliable. Now he also had another information that would interest the Lord of all. Maybe after this, the King would change his mask from ceramics to silver or gold. Gold mask was the highest of all. It was the mask of honor and total submission to Ugwuigwe (the hill of metals).