Ted Dekker - Outlaw

Two nights? Shaka had left him alone for a night three days ago. Now he understood.

“She’ll show you the way to your mother. Find her, Stephen. She will know.”

“Know what?”

“Find her.”

“I will. You must not doubt this.”

There was a thread of question in his teacher’s eyes. He approached Stephen and took his hand. Smoothed his palm over his knuckles. When Shaka looked up into his eyes, that hint of concern had been replaced with a probing gaze of deep affection.

“The valley will be your great crucible, my son,” he said softly. “Everything I’ve taught you must be understood among your own.”

“Of course, Shaka.”

“You will be tempted to forget.”

“I will remember.”

“Nothing can threaten you.”

“Nothing.”

“Do not forget who you are. That you need nothing more, nor anyone to be complete. In this way you disidentify with all labels. Remember the words I spoke to your mother on the hill before she made a way. Be, Stephen. Only be the light. Never forget.”

The persistence of Shaka’s warning surprised him, but he’d learned to listen.

“I will never forget.”

“If you do, you will suffer. Many will suffer. The scales over Kirutu’s eyes are thick. His ears cannot hear. His heart is imprisoned by hatred. He is enslaved to his costume. He is terrified of death.”

“Darkness cannot exist where there is light.”

“You will see this darkness in a way you never have. It will know you have come.”

“My light will only chase it away.”

Shaka’s mouth slowly curved and a sparkle lit his eyes. “And how bright is your light!” He lifted Stephen’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Forget nothing.”

Many times he had said this. Did he doubt what Stephen himself knew?

Shaka shifted his eyes to Lela, then stepped past Stephen to stand in front of her. He pulled her head close and whispered into her ear. Stephen saw her eyes soften over his teacher’s shoulder. Tears misted her eyes.

Stephen gave them their space, stepping several paces away and squatting as Shaka spoke through her fear. She’d called him naive—perhaps it was best to be naive. Her suffering was unnecessary, this he knew, but he felt a deep compassion for her, because she was so bound by fear. Perhaps Shaka was helping her see even now.

Not so many years ago Stephen had faced dreadful fear alone in the swamps at night while Shaka watched unseen, ready to rescue him if he couldn’t overcome the terror of death in the jaws of a crocodile or at a viper’s bite.

From Lela’s perspective Kirutu was that viper, poised to strike. She feared a future that by definition did not exist in the present and, therefore, was unreal. Her fear caused her to suffer unnecessarily.

Shaka kissed Lela’s forehead and she nodded, then stepped away from him.

Stephen stood as she approached, eyes moist. He didn’t fully understand what had pushed both Shaka and Lela into such a somber place, but this did not concern him.

Lela placed her hand on his chest and looked up into his face. “I will place my trust in you, son of Julian. Please, protect me. Keep me safe.”

He glanced at Shaka, but his teacher was looking off to the horizon.

“I will,” he said. “You have no reason to be afraid.”

Her faced softened. She looked at his chest and brushed her hand over his muscled arm.

“Your mother’s heart cries for you. She would be so proud. No Tulim could match your stature.”

To this Stephen could not respond. He hardly knew what to feel. Pride, perhaps, but he had long ago learned the price of pride.

He could not deny, however, that her hand on him seemed to deepen his affection for her.

“You are very beautiful, Lela,” he said. “No bird of paradise could compare to you.”

“I didn’t come for flattery from a young man,” she said.

He did not know the nuances of the word flattery , but the rise in her energy pulled at him, so he said more, thinking to lift her joy.

“I am overwhelmed by you.”

“And far too naive,” she said, using that word again. He ignored it.

Lela reached up and pulled his lower lip open. Looked at his teeth. Satisfied, she gracefully turned toward the path.

“I will take you.”

“I will follow.”

“Stephen,” Shaka said.

He turned. “Yes?”

“Take your spear. There are many boars in the Tulim valley.”

Chapter Twenty-five

THE JUNGLE screamed with life; the sun beamed its unwavering approval; the streams ran with joy; the world was full of glory and making no apologies for its triumph. All of this presented itself to Stephen’s awareness without interruption as the morning quickly passed, and with it the jungle that separated them from the Tulim valley.

But none of this awareness was so acutely focused as his growing appreciation for the wonder that walked beside him.

For the woman. Lela.

He’d long watched the splendor of the parrots soaring through the air, the flight of an arrow finding its mark through a steady breeze, the sniffing of mice seeking a morsel, the western sky painted in brilliant hues, announcing the close of the day.

But watching Lela—stepping lightly down the path, leaping nimbly over fallen logs, glancing at him with her large brown eyes—made all he had yet seen lesser wonders.

He would remember what Shaka had said, always, and without pause. And now he hung on her every word as well. Hers was the first voice he’d heard other than his own and Shaka’s.

The sound of her laughter after being startled by a slithering snake had so filled him with delight that he wanted to throw his arms around her and cry, “Me too, me too! I laugh with you!” Even her occasional tsk ing in disapproval at his veering the wrong way, or jumping to snatch a fruit from a branch for her, sounded like laughter in his ears.

“Quit showing off,” she said.

He wasn’t sure how to respond. And he found no reason to change his behavior.

They walked side by side where the path was wide enough, she in her grass skirt, he with his spear in his right hand and a single bone knife at his waist.

“Why do you smile this way?” she demanded. “Don’t you know what awaits you?”

“I only see you now. And what I see pleases me.”

She tsk ed. “A child in a man’s body. I’m old enough to be your mother. Your own mother is in a pit and all you think about is the woman at your side. What kind of man has Shaka made you?”

She was too young to be his mother, but he let the comment pass.

“You too could be a child, if you choose. These are only costumes.”

She shook her head. “You speak with words that have no meaning. A child cannot hope to save his mother from this valley of death.”

“Then tell me what I will find.”

She spit to one side, a curious behavior that he found interesting.

“Shaka tells me to say nothing. It is for you to discover if you can save her.”

“You misunderstand. I would only find my mother so that she would know the truth. I cannot save her. She is safe already.”

She pulled up on the path where it overlooked a shallow gorge suffocated with thick trees and vines. “Stop with this foolishness! Do you find this just a childish game? If your purpose isn’t to save her, then why do I risk my life to bring you? Your mother has given her life for yours!”

Her words washed over him, and for the first time since leaving Shaka’s sanctuary, he felt the gentle slap of offense. She was questioning his love? He didn’t know what to make of such an absurd accusation.

Do not forget, Stephen . Shaka’s words whispered through his mind.

Do not forget that no man can possibly hurt one who is safe in the awareness of who they are . But Lela wasn’t safe in any awareness. His objective must be to chase the fear from her heart.