John Burkitt - The Spirit Quest

“That is not an option at this point.” Ahadi nodded gravely. “You will have an opportunity to be right with your God. Now tell me Gur’mekh, they didn’t torture it out of you, did they? Are you guilty as they say?”

Gur’mekh licked his dry lips and swallowed hard. “Forgive the others,” he stammered. “I talked them into it. All my fault. The Roh’mach didn’t know. All my fault. And I’m sorry. So sorry!”

“It’s good that you’re sorry. Your friends are glad as well, for I will not punish them. Now don’t you feel better telling the truth?”

“I thi-think so. Yes.”

“Now then, I want you to think really carefully. I can make it swift and nearly painless. But the gods may not think you have suffered enough. Or I can punish you now, and you will die forgiven.”

Hyena teachings on eternal damnation were very strong but very vague. He had killed a lioness, true. But she was dying anyhow, and even a shaman could have done little for her--or so he thought. He tried to figure out if his soul was really in danger. On the other side, Ahadi’s claws and fangs were all too clear. “I don’t know,” the hyena gasped. “I don’t know!”

“But you must know, Gur’mekh. When you do something, be it good or bad, there are consequences. I would not want to face God after an easy death. I would take my punishment now, but it is your decision.”

The hyena began to gasp for air, his heart pounding. “Well then, I want to be sure. Hurt me bad. Hurt me very bad.”

Ahadi looked around. “Take the cubs outside. Far away. Wife, you may want to leave as well.” Ahadi glanced at Rafiki, but he could neither move nor answer.

Several moments passed by as the young and squeamish filed outside. Soon there were only a few adult lions, two mandrills, and all of the hyenas, none of whom budged.

“You ripped her alive,” Ahadi said gravely. “If you would find peace, I will have to return in kind.” He looked upward. “Oh gods, look down on your child. Witness his suffering and accept his atonement.”

“If you do this, do you promise you’ll forgive me? Promise?”

“I promise, son. While you can, go as far as you can. Your friends will have to drag you the rest of the way.”

He winced at the sound of that but stammered, “I understand.” Gur’mekh shut his eyes tightly and whimpered. “Mother Roh’kash!!!”

Ahadi spread his claws and with a quick, precise swipe laid the hyena open. His protracted shriek was deafening in the confines of the cave. Hyenas winced. Gasping, he lay shuddering for a while, his inner secrets showing through the five parallel wounds. After the initial shock, he looked down at the damage and looked around at the others and their expressions of horror. He tried to struggle to his feet, but the pain from every movement was mind numbing. “Somebody help me!” he hoarsely cried. “I can’t get up!”

The hyenas could not stir. They were planted like trees. Ahadi looked down with the gentleness of a lioness moving her cubs and took the back of the hyena’s neck, lifting him upright. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll try,” he gasped. With all the courage he could muster, he took a few hesitant steps, his abdomen exposing bits of bleeding entrails. As he stumbled forward, blood streamed down his hind legs and left crimson tracks. “Roh’kash, great mother,” he gasped. “My spirit longs to nurse at your side. Forgive me. Brother Sun, Sister Moon, do not shine on my transgressions. Shine only on my good deeds. Let my debt be paid. Oh gods, I’m hurt!” The crowd parted in horror as the ripped hyena began his torturous journey into the arms of death.

“Did that make you feel any better?” Amarakh asked indiscreetly. “Maybe you want to save us the trouble of dragging him off. I’ve never tried Hyena myself, but you might have a taste for it.”

“Watch your tongue!” Ahadi said.

“Don’t fight,” Gur’mekh said. “I’m getting what I deserve. Let it end here.”

Without another word, the Roh’mach turned and led her hyenas from the cave to form a grisly honor guard, guiding his faltering steps, giving him support, and even pushing him forward as he crawled up the promontory. Rafiki felt tears stream down his face. He had to avert his eyes.

Gur’mekh had finally crawled to the end of the promontory. Glancing over the edge, he was still terrified of the fall. Afraid someone would push him off, he said, “Don’t touch me! I can’t stand heights!” Then he looked up. “Help me, Mother Roh’kash! Kill me please!” He began to wretch up some bloody scraps, wincing with the effort but helpless to stop. His piteous moans were broken by fits of gagging.

Ahadi came out to the end of the promontory. The other hyenas stood back. The hyena’s eyes rolled up to look into the bright sun. From it emerged Ahadi’s large, sad face.

“Do you release me, friend? Have I paid the price?”

Ahadi reached down and whispered, “You have paid in full. I forgive you. Relax, son--I’ll be gentle and quick.”

The lion took the hyena’s throat in his mouth and pressed down. As the teeth pricked his neck, a paw came up to grasp at Ahadi’s mane, but he fell limp and waited for death to release him from his broken body.

In a few moments his eyes closed and a look of peaceful oblivion came to his face. Ahadi dropped Gur’mekh off the end of the promontory where he fell several seconds into the waiting meadow grass.

Ahadi glared at Amarakh however, and told her curtly, “You are not forgiven. You killed my brother out of revenge, not out of the justice you claim. He had no desire to kill again, but you let the crowd run free rather than stop them. Then you brought death here and paraded it before our cubs. You insulted me in my own house, and you expect mercy? Be glad we have justice, or I would send you hurdling down after him. By the gods, I am tempted! Now get out, all of you!”

“We will take the body and leave, Sire.”

“No, Amarakh. Leave the body. I want you out quickly--now GO!” He roared loudly and terribly, and the hyenas beat a hasty retreat. Rafiki stared at the Roh’mach, looking for a sign of grief. But if there was grief, it was well hidden behind fear and indignation.

Ahadi’s head bent low. The light wind stirred his mane, but otherwise he sat still as a stone at the end of the promontory. Several moments passed without a sign, without a response. Then when Rafiki felt he must say something or burst, he approached the lion. Ahadi looked up.

The young mandrill looked into Ahadi’s face, deep into his eyes. The depth of sadness clung to him like wet grass.

“Go ahead, my son. Call me a tyrant. I won’t be angry.”

Rafiki continued to look searchingly into Ahadi’s large eyes. “You’re grieving for him, aren’t you?”

“Killing him did not bring back Avina or my brother. I did what I had to do, but I am left with a great emptiness inside.”

“I know that path. It does not have to be walked alone.” Rafiki put his arms around Ahadi’s soft mane and held him.

Rafiki gazed up at the expanse of blue above him, wondering what he had done to anger the gods. Nothing had gone right that day. Climbing down the bole of the tree that morning, he got a sharp splinter in his palm. He managed to extract half when it broke off under the skin. The spot burned, despite the medicinal balm he had rubbed into it, and it would likely become infected. Grumbling, Rafiki had made his way to the water hole with a handful of gourds, intending to fill them for later use. He had filled perhaps half of them and had paused to soothe his aching palm in the cool water, when movement caught his eye. The gourd he had just filled tipped over, dragging the others with it. He flailed at them, but too late. The gourds had been tied together, and the weight of the full ones dragged the rest down into the depths. Despairing of diving in after them, he looked for replacements, but there were none. There would be frequent trips for water ahead.