John Burkitt - Shadow of Makei

A way out now closed to him.

She shuddered visibly and closed her mind, turning away so she would not have to look upon his face. Leaving him standing there, she trotted away towards the spire of Pride Rock.

Amarakh snarled viciously under the assault of a crowd of Shenzists. Every time she tried to fight her way out, someone would attack her flanks, tearing at her horribly. Makhpil pushed through to her and took up a position behind her. Between the two of them, they could defend the small turf they occupied for the moment. Amarakh groaned, feeling her strength draining from a dozen wounds as she looked upon the terrible battleground before them. Hyenas, friend and foe alike lay strewn about, the bodies locked eternally in combat. A cry of despair reached her as she saw the pitiful remnants of her Omlakh supporters being decimated by the sheer brute force of Shenzi’s guards.

Abruptly, the fighting hesitated, Shenzists and Omlakhs alike suddenly distracted. Amarakh pointed, her breath catching in her throat. “Great Roh’kash!” she breathed. “Look!”

Makhpil looked and saw Simba and Taka engaged in a mortal struggle on the western crag. And hovering around them was the false Roh’kash, now unmasked. Melmokh was shielding Taka from the main brunt of the blows Simba tried to rain on him.

Then burning with unearthly brilliance stood a mandrill holding a locket on a string. The light came from the locket. Beside him was a brilliant white lion, the largest she’d ever seen. Why didn’t the others see this?

The spectre Melmokh obviously did. Lightning came from the heavens, setting the grass aflame. And Melmokh burned with a fierce rage himself, a living red firebrand so like the one in Fabana’s nightmares.

Rafiki took the locket at the end of its thong and spun it around his head. The halo formed by the circling light seemed to slow down. The white lion crouched, his eyes bright with righteous indignation. Rafiki released the locket. Mano sprang, his bright silhouette merging with the fire from the locket. For one moment, Melmokh looked away from his work, and shrieked. The white lion struck Melmokh, and a blinding flash of light erupted from the impact, followed by a psychic blast that stunned her with its fury. Pain! Horrible pain! Their struggle sent out shock waves in the ether that drove jagged spikes through her consciousness. Makhpil shrieked rolled around in agony before at last she mercifully fainted.

Several moments passed in a sleep without dreams. Finally she woke to the soft caress of rain in her face. She felt something furry push her cheek. The white lion was there, and he nuzzled her again. “Wake up, daughter.”

“Are you all right?”

Mano smiled. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better too.”

“Is Simba OK? Did we win?”

“We won. Simba had a few cuts, but he’s fine. Ber took a lot more punishment, but I healed him of his pain as well.”

“How about Amarakh?”

Mano’s smile faded and he shook his head. “She has passed beyond pain.”

It took a moment for his words to register, then Makhpil’s features crumpled in grief. “Oh God, no!”

Running to Amarakh’s still warm body, she started to paw the face. “No! Roh’mach! No, not in the moment of victory!” She looked up. “Can’t you bring her back? You healed Ber--surely you can make her live again, can’t you?”

“I will live forever.” Light coalesced next to Mano, and the true Roh’mach herself emerged, her featured composed and serene. “Don’t worry about me, child. I’ve seen victory, and my heart is at peace. But take care of my husband--he’s so helpless without me.”

“Anything you say, Amarakh. I swear I’ll take care of him.”

“Indeed she will,” Mano said, nuzzling Amarakh. “So will I.”

The confirmation of Uhuru as Roh’mach and her subsequent exile seemed that it must be Shenzi’s ultimate humiliation. She had been born a chosen one, but what she had been chosen by, no one was quite sure.

Still, inside her she carried both the memories and the legacy of her relationship with Melmokh. She was already beginning to show the “light in her eyes,” as Fabana delicately put it. Still Skulk, ever the naïve one, did not know that his “bak’ret” had long lost her maidenhood to another.

Utterly disgraced, Shenzi followed Skulk meekly into the darkness of the savanna, hearing the soft calls of her brothers and their few companions in the dark.

Tired and footsore, the hyenas traveled well into the next day, stopping only to rest at high sun, when it was too hot to travel any more. They scattered under the spreading limbs of an acacia that provided welcome shade, panting fitfully in the intense heat.

Shenzi pillowed her head against Skulk’s flanks, looking at him through slitted eyes as he napped fitfully. How, after all she had been through, could he still want her! If only she were free to accept his frequent offers to pledge! Surely the real Roh’kash would not consider her marriage binding. After all, it was entered into under false pretenses. All she knew is that she regretted her decision, and wanted something more substantial and wholesome. Lies and empty promises had followed her literally from the moment of her birth. Though she was no nisei herself, she still felt stifled by the wanton exploitation of her femininity. She didn’t know what to believe anymore, or who she could trust--all except for her faithful okash and Skulk. Good old Skulk.

Fabana came and nudged her. She tossed her muzzle to the side and stared at her.

Getting the hint, Shenzi stood up quietly and followed Fabana a short distance. Fay made sure no one overheard them.

“Shenzi, you must tell me plainly. Are they Melmokh’s?”

“What? Oh.” Shenzi looked down at her growing figure. “Yeah. That’s all we need right now is more mouths to feed.”

“That’s not the issue,” Fabana said sternly. “This thing you had sex with--I won’t even call it a ban’ret--is the creature that killed your father.”

“You mean the lion??”

“No. Your father was guiltless. Melmokh arranged for Jal to slip when he was running from the lion. It was premeditated murder. This THING was responsible for the killing of Avina and for most of our troubles. It feeds off of misery, so it stirs up misery to survive. What’s worse, it took you away from the real God, and Missy, you’re in need of some serious prayer.”

“Are you calling me a heathen??”

“No. I’m calling you the okash of something unholy. What grows within you is the spawn of your okhim’s murderer! He has stolen your okhim, and now he has stolen your bak’rethood. Skulk is no La’kresh, but he’s faithful. He would make a good husband, but how do you think he will feel when you bring something into the world born only to house Melmokh’s spirit? Did you really think a normal pup would come of this union??”

“Well I....” She hung her head.

“It would be Melmokh itself. It wants a physical body. It has used your worship and your loyalty. Now it has used your body. USED, I say. It can feel no love.”

Shenzi shuddered. “And it’s inside me, Muti!” She drew close to Fabana and rubbed against her. “Oh Muti! What can I do?? What’s Skulk going to say when he finds out I’m....”

“The pup--if you can call it that--must die. It’s not one of us. And Skulk does not have to find out.”

Fabana took Skulk aside and told him she was taking her daughter on a short trip--a pilgrimage. “Do not be sad. We will be gone six days, and when we return, I feel certain Shenzi will pledge to you.”