Chapter 10 — No More Blood

Dande took the spear from Zugudini. His bruised arm screamed as he raised it.

So be it.

He gritted his teeth and stepped forward. How many could he kill before they brought him down?

"Wait." Zugudini moved in front of him. The drum sat heavy in her hands. She held it out in front of her.

Lightning cracked overhead. Thunder shook the ground. The masked men glanced up at the swirling clouds. A sudden gust of wind drove a shower of rain in their faces.

One by one, their spears dropped.

One stepped forward. He bowed low. His voice shook as he spoke.

"Where is Grey Leopard?"

"Dead,” Dande said.

The man's eyes flicked to the ruins behind them. He tore off his mask. He examined it for a moment. Then he flung it in the mud and stomped on it.

The others followed. One by one, they removed their masks, hurled them to the ground and trod them underfoot.

Dande watched. Luba watched. Zugudini said nothing.

The man who had spoken turned back to them. "My name is Lefa. I am… was, a captain. Of the Vana.” He paused. "Who beat the drum?"

"The one holding it,” Dande said.

Lefa's eyes widened. "A woman?"

“A queen."

Lefa looked at Zugudini. Then at Dande. He looked at her again. Looked at the drum in her hands. He dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead into the mud.

“Mercy.”

"Stand up." Zugudini's voice cut through the rain. "You followed orders from the person you thought was master of the drum. You were mistaken. As were many others."

She nodded at the men behind him. Rain dripped down their exposed faces and trickled down their beards.

Lefa rose. He bowed again, and turned to face his men.

"Vana Va Lungundu. Children of Thunder. Hondo is dead. Defeated." He pointed at Zugudini. "Behold. She who beat the drum. She who made it rain. She who brought back life. Sent by Mwari in answer to our prayers."

He raised his voice.

"Behold your queen."

He faced Zugudini, and fell to his knees before her, and pressed his forehead into the mud once again.

One by one, the men fell to their knees. They touched their foreheads to the muddy earth.

But not all of them. Some remained standing. Watching. Uncertain. Dande noted them. His grip tightened around his spear and once again, he raised it wearily.

“No." Zugudini lowered his spear. "Let me speak to them. No more bloodshed."

She stepped toward the men still on their feet. Their stares were grim. She swayed for a moment, still feeling the effects of the drugs and exhaustion. Dande raced to her side, but se raised her hand and shook your head. He hung back. She turned to the men who were still on their feet. They eyed each other, sizing each other up.

“I am your empress,” Zugudini finally said. “Holder of the earth. Mwene Mutapa." She held up the drum. "I did not choose this path. It was chosen for me.”

Her voice grew stronger. It carried over the wind and the rain. "This drum has brought enough death to this land. But now it will bring life. It has already begun. Blood has watered our soil for too long. Now it’s time for the rain. This is the new day that Mwari sent us and that the prophets spoke of.”

She paused to let the words sink in.

"I give you a choice. Stay with us and live. Or go your way and be dead to us in exile.”

The men stared. Silent. Some flinched. Disbelief was written large in their faces.

“I give you my word. You will go in peace. You will live your lives. The arm of vengeance shall not pursue you. But you will never return to these lands. Under pain of death. Choose now.”

The men exchanged glances. One threw his spear down and dropped to his knees. Another followed. Then another And another.

Soon all but a few were on their knees before Zugudini. The remainder picked up their masks. They put them on without a word.

Then they turned and walked into the forest. They melted into the undergrowth and disappeared like ghosts.

"Let us pursue and kill them, my empress." Lefa rose to his feet. "They will cause trouble if we let them escape."

Zugudini's shoulders sagged. "I gave my word. I will keep it."

The rain had killed Luba's bushfire. Emerald leaves glistened with water. Twisted trunks bore the scars of flame and a grey mist rose slowly from their soaked branches. The air was cool now. Like balm on burned skin. The scent of the wet earth, grass and trees calmed everything and everyone: the horses, the men. The forest itself.

Dande, Zugudini, and Luba were offered fresh mounts. They were the horses from the men who had deserted.

"What are your orders?" Lefa asked.

"We ride for Zvongombe. The drum needs to return home."

"And you to your throne," Dande added.

Zugudini's shoulders slumped. "Let's go."

The journey back was slow. The men and the horses were spent.

Birdsong had returned to the forest. Duiker and squirrels peered from the bushes at the passing riders.

They rode in silence. All of them awed by what they had witnessed. By the signs of life returning around them.

Dande couldn't remember the last time he had seen such dark clouds. They brought dusk early. It was already dark when they reached the edge of the woodlands.

Lefa called a halt.

“I suggest that we camp under the trees for the night. We will set up a watch.”

“As you wish,” Zugudini said.

Lefa bowed low. He barked orders to his men. Soon, they had their tents set up in a clearing, and a ring of fires blazing all around them.

Zugudini decided to send two messengers ahead.

“We do not want any surprises. They ought to know that we are coming.”

“I’ll give you my fastest riders. They can ride through the night and be at the city by tomorrow morning.”

“Let me go with them,” Dande said.

“No,” Zugudini said quickly. “I need you here with me.”

“But they will need to —”

“Please. I’m not commanding you. It’s a request.”

The look in her eyes said it all. She was afraid of what was coming. She did not know how much longer she would be able to be with her friends, under the freedom of the open skies. Dande understood. He bowed low.

“As you wish.”

Orders were given. The two swiftest riders set off at a quick trot. They were lean, athletic men. They were to deliver the news of Zugudini’s approach, and return with a reply. They would meet them the following day, before they got to the city. Dande watched them go.

Then he sat down beside Zugudini and Luba, and gazed into the fire, listening to the forest sounds of the night.

He remained seated by the fire long after the others had slept, staring at the black sky. Stars hid behind clouds, breaking through in pinpricks when the wind shifted. Thunder rolled in the distance. A soft drizzle started again, then turned into a gentle rain. He moved under a tent The water drumming on canvas was the best lullaby he’d ever heard, and it soon had him asleep.

Rain fell all night and into the next day. Morning revealed mud everywhere—a thick, sucking mess. The soldiers slipped and cursed, struggling with their gear. Breaking camp took twice as long.

“You don’t look like you slept much,” Dande said, drawing his horse alongside Zugudini’s as they rode out.

“I didn’t.”

He waited for her to say something more. She did not. Dande glanced at ngomalungundu sitting on her saddle. It looked different now. A lighter shade of brown. It was like the cloud that had hung about it had risen into the sky and become rain. He looked at the sky.

“It’s clear now,” he said. “The storm has passed.”

“I wish it had. But we don’t get to choose.”

They rode on in silence. Zugudini watched the woodlands roll past. Grass rustled in the breeze. Green shoots poked through yellowed stalks like hope through despair. A soft drizzle continued without pause, turning the track into a sloshy, muddy mess. Zugudini stared at the grey clouds in the skies.

“I don’t think I can survive being cooped up in a city.” Her voice carried across the space between her and Dande. “This is where I belong. Out here.”

Dande nodded. He did not know what to say. All he knew was that he didn’t envy her.

“The riders should have delivered their message by now,” Luba said.

“Yes,” Zugudini said. “They should have.”

They rode without pause all through the day. Evening brought the plain that lay before the city into view. A blue mist rose from the villages that dotted it.

“I wonder what became of the messengers?” Luba frowned. “They should have returned some time ago already.”

“It is not a good sign,” Zugudini said.

“You worry too much, my queen,” Dande said.

“Don’t you ever call me that.”

Dande bowed from his saddle. “Yes, my queen.”

They were at the outskirts of the first village now. The road leading into it was deserted. Then, without warning, a horn bellowed. The riders paused. The horn bellowed again.

“Form ranks,” Lefa shouted. “Protect your queen.”