Gods of Zandé

Chapter 2: The Masquerade

AKIDE reached for his left thumb, where he rubbed his father's ring, the indents serving as a way to help him think. His heart was pounding in his chest, ready to escape his rib cage. His breath felt like lead, sinking into his lungs. The hair on his skin stood up straight, and he felt something was terribly wrong. He looked over at Marie, whose eyes were stricken with horror. His mouth went dry, and he almost choked on his words: "Marie, calm down, okay?"

"Everything will be fine." He tried to reassure her, but just then the car door burst open inwardly, slamming into Akide's side.           The pain had him reeling, unable to move from his place on the floor. Voices floated in and out of focus, making it impossible to think clearly. His nose was filled with the smell of car exhaust and the metallic taste of blood running down his face. Screaming, Marie was dragged outside after being snatched by         the hair by an unknown assailant. She looked back at Akide and reached out a hand, her eyes pleading with him for help.

                     Akide tried to clear his head, tried to think of an idea, a plan, anything! Just then a pair of hands picked him up and literally threw him out of the car onto the empty road.        He landed on his injured shoulder and screamed in pure agony as pain shot up his spine and through his old body like an echo. The blaring sun blinded him momentarily as he was yanked to his feet and made to look up. Marie was being held by the waist; her composure—stiff, stiff—and tying had subsided to quiet sobbing and prayers. 

                              The man holding her was twice her size, with his blade firmly at her throat, menacing to slice it open at any point. The masquerade mask he wore was fixated on Akide; he seemed almost like a statue, too still, with the only indication of life being his rising and falling chest. His body was humming, and blood was rushing in his ears. The whole thing felt like a fever dream gone terribly wrong. 

He couldn't use magic without     his daily prayer; Akide hadn't seen it, but he     suspected they weren't using magic either, preferring mundane weapons and brute force. Akide heard a giggle coming from what he presumed was one of the guys in black, but he stepped out with a smaller, more slender figure. She was attractive, like the servers in Malewas who glirted for extra tips. 

Her hair was hidden under a bright yellow scarf, with cowrie shells dangling from her earlobes and moving as she shook her head. Her voice was low and raspy when she spoke, but in some bizarre way it was also high: "Mbote, your majesty." She knelt so that the white of her snake tattoo stood out against her dark skin. She seemed so fascinated by him, only to have her thoughts broken by a sniffle. She turned and walked towards Marie, lowering her head so they were at the same level.  

"Oh, mouana, I'm not going to hurt you. Stop crying," she said, wiping her face. Mary took the opportunity and lashed out, biting her hand viciously. A guard slapped her hard enough to throw her to the ground as blood dripped from the girl's hand. Shit Akide thought we're fucked. Akide might have directed his anger at Mary for her recklessness if it hadn't been for the fact that she hadn't gotten off the ground yet.

                             The girl now, eyes blazing, turned to Akide and spoke in fast Chiluba, "That bitch! That hit was probably fatal; she might be dead, which is what you'll be in a few minutes if you don't cooperate," she said as she untied her head scarf, wrapping it around her now bleeding hand, hissing at the cut to the cloth. Akide had to buy time; he'd manage to keep them occupied while help came. "What do you want?" she narrowed her eyes and looked down at him through her lashes. Akide could tell she'd put her guard up; whoever she was, she wasn't very good at what she did. She glowered and smiled a cold, calculating smile, "nothing in particular really, see, I want a lot of things in life: friends, peace, no, it's not what I want, it's what I need." 

Still holding the scarf to her injured hand, she started pacing, "See, there's been too much of a hierarchy ever since the Makanga disaster, and it's time to eradicate that and bring this era into a new one of free people and prosperity." She turned to Akide, "Our king is coming, and what better way to welcome him then with news of our ascension into greatness?" She was talking with her hands now, more manic. 

Her scarf had fallen to the ground, but she didn't appear to notice. Akide could tell she was some sort of psychopathic zealot, probably from the church of Re-Writers, who believed the Makanaga legend of creation was the explanation for why some of us in the Zande society had less power than others. Stories passed down from generations to generations detailed changes through time, but then stayed all the same. 

No one knew why this phenomenon happened; that's why they were nothing more or less. Akide sighed, shaking his head, "Please, please try to make sense as you speak. What does any of this have to do with me?" She seemed to slow down, rambling a little less, until she came to a full stop and turned to him, saying, "You're going to spread our message; you'll be our beginning." She came closer, grabbing his chin and digging her nails into his skin. "And our end". The sound of drums in the distance made his heart leap, daring him to hope for a quick rescue from his captors.

 She smiled cynically, "Aw, oh well then." "It's probably best if I hurry on with my job here then," she said, pulling out a knife. 

She put her hand to his forehead, and his body gave away to temporary darkness as images and colors floated in and out of focus and existence like a muddy clay drawing. The only thing he was sure of being real was the searing pain on his chest and abdomen, and the sound of screaming he'd figured out was his. His body was weak and his voice was hoarse, and his mind was foggy as to what they were doing to him; he heard the sound of voices and shuffling until he was no more and passed out soon after.