The Broken Destiny (32 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Supernova

I
kept my eyes wide, taking in every inch of my surroundings as we walked through a thicket of palm trees and small bushes all the way up the embankment. Enoch walked beside me, tugging on my new wrist bounds to keep me moving forward.

“I’m not going to run away. That would be stupid,” I sneered, glaring at the dozens of guards escorting us.

“Not really. You’re quicker than I gave you credit for. My choice was wise.” He said. “Besides, we would never kill you, Ava. You know that. We need you.” He assured me, like it would make me feel any better.

The hatred I felt for him was more intense than anything I had ever felt before. It burned beneath the surface. I savored it – for now. A wicked smile crept across my face as I watched my feet climb the steep of the hill. He was going to regret betraying me – betraying us all. If I had my facts straight, they were turning me over to the Shadow, allowing the ancestors’ spirit to turn me into a witch – a weapon, and I would have to watch myself kill everyone I knew. But, what they hadn’t thought of was whether I would let them control me or not. Kronan had told me once that everything boils down to a choice. This was my chance to master what I was taught. At the end of it all, what would I choose?

The path leading up the hill was steep and muddy, lighted by ugly orange fires, destroying the once gorgeous landscape, creating a world of black dust and dark ash. It seemed to me that everything around me was on fire, including the trees, the grass and the heaps of what I first thought were bundles of rags. It was no doubt the craft keeping the fires blazing through the slow downpour. When I saw the bundles of rags moving, however, I soon realized that they were in fact people. Nausea instantly struck. The sharp stench of hair burning, and the stink that the scorched landscape was emitting only made me feel worse than I already felt. I picked up on a different kind of scent. Passing a guard, I smelled urine and rotten animal fat.

“Lion’s fat,” Enoch corrected me. “For courage, and the urine of a bull for strength.” He added.

“Get out of my head, Enoch!” I spat.

“You make it so easy sometimes,” he said, shrugging.

I snorted.

“I know you’re planning something, Ava,” he added as he met my gaze with an icy glare.

The smell of wood fires and some kind of chemical polluted the air, smothering all the fresh air in our surroundings. I took it all in; the shape of the forestry nearby whilst searching for little escape paths through the trees. I noticed Enoch smile. I had to be careful what I thought about around him. My ears were suddenly assaulted with the sound of drums beating wildly and the echo of war cries resonated down the hill. I stared at the ties around my wrists, the rope made of a thick weave consisting of animal hair. Its coarseness scraped across my palms. I couldn’t feel the cuts and bruises on my body anymore. The pain in my heart was much worse, but I shoved it down. I needed it to save us. As we neared the top of the hill, the steady drizzle became a heavy downpour. The wind blew the large drops at an angle and into my eyes. I looked down at the drops as they washed away the caked blood, and then looked back up at the sky. There was no sign that the rain would subside anytime soon. My dress clung to my body, making it extremely hard for me to walk. It felt like I was wrapped in a thick cloud, choking on the mistake of trusting Enoch when every sign was there that I shouldn’t have. My legs became heavy as my ribs began to ache once more with every breath I took. Fatigue was setting in, but I couldn’t allow it. My feet started to slip from under me. Enoch took off his jacket and flung it over my shoulders.

“I can see through your dress,” he said, the ice in his eyes not yielding.

“You best be careful. I might think you actually care,” I mumbled.

Struggling to wrap the jacket around me with my hands, I used my teeth. I had accepted his jacket not wanting anyone to see my body through the drenched dress. Zulu warriors closed in on us as we reached the top of the valley, and stretched out in front of me was a village dotted with dark, clay huts. Zulu women, children and elderly tribe members all lined up in rows next to a dark, slate path that ran between two huge bonfires. We came to a standstill before a wooden platform which rose like a stage out of the muddy ash. I flinched as I watched Zulu guards force villagers to their knees, but was pushed forward to mind my own business. I turned to see a throne on top of the platform made of stone, animal skulls and dark, beaten, leather paraments which shielded the tribe from the wind. Upon the paraments were drawings of a Zulu king and his tribe. I stared at the drawings and noticed that there was something familiar about the king’s face. Even though the sketches were old, I felt that there was a message right in front of me, one that I was missing. In these drawings, the tribe was not bowing down, but they were one – a family. Another shove from behind made me avert my eyes. I looked to the sky. It must have been nearly midday. I wondered how long the others had been searching for us and if they had followed our footprints down the river bank. I considered that the dead bodies of the Zulus must have immediately given away our position, unless Enoch had used a cloaking spell to conceal our trail as he had done before. If only I had previously seen all the tricks and traps he had set for me. For the first time, I could see the stupid mistakes I had made, the signs I had missed. I felt disgusted at my failures once more. My selfishness had led to a lot of suffering. My mind touched on the fact that Troy had always been right, and that I was always blinded by my insecurities.
If only I had seen the trickery that had been right there in front of me,
I thought again. But no matter how much I dwelled on that it wouldn’t make it go away, but perhaps it would sink in and I would never let it happen again. The superior warriors stood on each side of the platform. Spears and headgear towered into the gray, rainy sky above. The throne looked more like an idol of worship with all the gold, animal furs and ivory embellishments. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw hundreds of villagers being forced to bow. A loud horn trumpeted, piercing the air with its dreadful sound. A baby began crying somewhere in the distance. This was followed by shouts and then a woman began to cry. When I turned to see what was happening, I saw that the woman was trying to protect her baby by cupping it with her body, while a warrior repeatedly bashed her on the head.

“Stop that!” I yelled as I lunged at him, but was held back by Enoch.

The warrior did something I never expected. He flinched at the sight of me.
That’s interesting
, I thought. I wondered if the Zulus thought I was already some kind of super-human. At that moment, a loud scream pierced the air, breaking through the sound of the beating drums and incessant chanting. I looked up at Enoch as he was bowing. The warriors followed suit, but I did not. I was quickly shoved to the ground. I forced myself to get back up again, even though my body shook with pain. My heart would not back down. It shattered at the thought of Troy’s body floating motionlessly on the surface of the river, blood pouring from his wound. The fact that I could do nothing but watch flared up the slow burn of rage again. I was not ready to surrender. I knew that they might suspect something if I made it too easy for them. So, I had to draw on every last bit of fight in me.
I have to do what they would expect me to do. I have to fight back.
It took every ounce of courage I could muster to defy the downward movement as I was shoved to the floor again. It was more forceful the second time and the tips of two spears now rested on my throat. Gradually, I rose once more, clenching my teeth as the pain in my ribs ripped through my core. I clenched exceedingly harder, the sharp pain of my teeth now biting through flesh shot through me, deflecting the pain of the spears as they cut into me. Against the cold rain pouring over my body, I felt the warm blood trickle down my neck. I watched the drops of rain drip from my soaked dress and fall to the fur carpet below. With bound and shaking hands, I pushed back the hair that clung to my face and my neck and smoothed it behind my ears. I wanted to look into the eyes of my nemesis. Still, I would not bow as they pushed, prodded and beat me. Enoch didn’t as much as flinch to help me. At that point, I wanted to break. But I held on, not sure how much more I could take before I allowed the numbness to creep in. I did it for Troy. I withstood every hard hand that came down on me. As silence swept over the land, I sighed in relief and swallowed back tears. Everyone was bent over in a yielding bow, except for me.

“My Lord,” Enoch said, rising swiftly, his eyes straight ahead.

“Prince Ukusa.” The dry, hoarse voice clung to the polluted air.

“Prince?” I muttered to myself.

Everything inside me froze as I glared furiously at Enoch. I turned my attention to the throne on which the spoiled old witchdoctor sat smiling at me. I recognized his ghastly face immediately – the face that had haunted me for far too long – his crown of bones polished and pristine for my arrival.
So, this is him? A tall, thin and worn-out man?
He didn’t look half as intimidating as he had looked when I’d seen him in my head.

“Welcome,” he greeted me, a disgusting smile loomed on his face, his yellow, rotten and jagged teeth taunting me.

My stomach turned, revolted.

“Come closer, child.” He motioned for me to come forward with a willowy, crooked staff held between his old contorted fingers. One of the guards cut the ropes from my wrists. I hesitated, resulting in my knees buckling under me as I was shoved forward.

“Vimba!” He yelled at the warrior who had pushed me.

As I neared, I noticed that the blackened skull of a small animal or child sat on top of his staff, and that a variety of animal paws, both small and large, meek and fierce, were hooked onto a string that spiraled down the front of his staff in an array of red and yellow beads.

“Who…” He rose slowly, an angry glare in his eyes. “…is responsible for ruining her beautiful face?”

He looked around and met each pair of eyes of every warrior who had accompanied Enoch on his journey to capture me. His dark, beady eyes came to rest on Enoch’s, instantly widening. Enoch fell to the floor as the staff lighted up in a blue flame. Enoch’s back arched in agony. He flailed on the floor as an invisible current contorted his body, like that of a fish out of water. I knew what was happening and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Enoch didn’t scream though, he took it. The witchdoctor smiled coyly at me. My heart raced at the sight of Enoch on the floor gasping for air.

“How quickly my son forgets his ties to me.”

His son? What the hell is going on?
I marveled.

He looked at Enoch who gradually raised himself, one limb at a time.

“How dare you treat the White Divine with such impudence!”

“Forgive me, father,” he said softly, bowing his head in shame.

The Isithunzi motioned for a young girl to come forward from the row that made up the rest of his wives’ entourage; all wore huge red hats atop their heads, marking them as his brides. The young girl came to a standstill beside him and bowed. They were all barefoot and tiny beads laced all the way up their naked legs. Animal skins wrapped around their bodies for warmth. The young girl’s animal bone earrings twirled in the wind.

“My youngest wife will take you to your chambers,” he said to me.

The downpour made it difficult for me to hear him. My eyes narrowed in his direction. The young girl ran down the tapered stairs toward me. She looked to be at least two years younger than I was. Rows of horrified faces glared up at me as we walked past. I met a slender woman’s eyes before lowering my gaze to inspect her small son. He was naked apart from the strings of beads he wore around each limb including a thin, red rope he wore around his abdomen. The woman promptly grabbed her child and covered his face, her own eyes focusing on the floor. I wanted to go to her, to pick both of them up and to take them away from that wretched stink hole. I scoured the scorched lands and studied the skulls that towered the totem poles as we walked away, glad to be heading into a sheltered area. I stared into the black holes on the skulls, wishing I, too, were dead and free of the struggle that seemed to never end. I wondered if this was what hell looked like.
If it existed it would look like this
, I mused. From reading my mom’s journals, I had interpreted that hell was on planet Earth.
Well, I think they brought hell with them.
An acidic substance suddenly bubbled up at the back of my throat – I needed something from the Isithunzi. I stopped and spun around so that I was facing the throne once more. Enoch, or whoever he really was, was helping his father to his feet. I cleared my throat and all eyes turned to me.

“Sir,” I said loudly. “One request, please?”

He nodded.

“Troy’s body. Please send it back to his father,” I sighed. “And I will cooperate fully with your plans for me.”

First he smiled, then something registered and he glared at Enoch.

“Father,” Enoch said and bowed.

He pushed his son aside. “Tell me, girl…”

He straightened his body and letting go of his helpers, stepped forward. He moved like an injured spider, crawling forward one leg at a time, his extended arms enveloping his chest. I took another step forward, the young queen’s hands still resting on my arm. The warriors’ reactions were to aim spears at my head.

“Kronan’s son.” I said proudly.

The witchdoctor scratched his chin and then twirled his red-painted, untamed goatee in one hand, smiling like he had finally gotten his hands on a treasure long sought after.

“Yes, the mighty warlock’s child. Is that right?”

I nodded in agreement.

He motioned with his staff, pointing it at the ground beneath his feet.

“Father…” Enoch began as he advanced toward him.

His father held out a firm hand, signaling for him to stop. All of a sudden, the skull crowning his staff was engulfed in black flames, the paws fell from the string attached to the staff and started to spin around on the platform beneath his uncovered feet. The crowd bowed again and the girl beside me raised her chin. A blue light shone from behind her eyes. As her red hat abruptly fell to the floor, she let out a deep sigh and collapsed to her knees. I tried to help her, but as I touched her, a small current of electricity nipped my fingers and I pulled away. She stood up slowly. Bloody, black tears ran down her face. She spoke in their native language and once she was done, a small whimper escaped from her mouth. She was clearly in pain. This sparked a new fire of rage deep within me. I realized that he was using everyone around him to do his dirty work. And, from his worn out appearance, I could see the magic was taking its toll on him. That’s why he needed the
changed
ones – for their powers, so he didn’t have to use up the rest of his life-force. The witchdoctor turned to his son.