CHAPTER 23
The Heart of Mohale

She was back to herself, but not really. She saw her body lying on the ground, all tied up, face mashed against the dirt floor.

Like a specter, she went through the wall. Something outside was whispering to her, an anguish, a cry for help. She floated over the stable, up the hill, over the palace. It was awfully quiet, not a single person in it. She went toward the marketplace, and as she lingered over the spot where she fought the Bride, a group of four men ran past and through her.

She followed them. They talked quickly, excitedly. She understood the gist of what they were saying: the Mad Esha had lost her mind again and had attacked Adomo. Somehow, she’d abducted the prince and taken him toward the lake. It seemed the whole Mifirhana was gathering there, looking for her. Some took boats and launched out onto the water, and the rest either gossiped or searched through bushes.

The call of anguish came stronger upon her and she whipped about in search of its source. She knew that cry, had heard it many times in her bad dreams during the madness. It called her in the other direction of where the crowd was, in the outskirts of the town.

There were Majiyo and Adomo, traipsing in the thick of some woods. In between them, they carried a bound Prince Tebula, squirming to free himself. They threw him onto the ground, and from a belt on his waist, Adomo retrieved a familiar wrapped item. Nasomi’s knife.

He unwrapped it, its blade glinting in the dimming sun as dusk was approaching, extended it to Majiyo. Majiyo grabbed it, knelt down by the boy, and sighed.

“It has to be this way, Tebula,” he said. “The throne was meant to be mine before disputes made your father be king. You know the history, but it doesn’t matter now. Your father is dead because he was weak against a simple illness. And you’re a boy, you cannot rule.”

“His ghost,” Adomo said, great concern on his face. “What if the Eyes divines him and he tells it was us?”

“I tell you again, Adomo: She won’t. They’ll be ripping the Mad Esha apart, the prophetess won’t even think of it.”

“I do everything you tell me, Mushae.”

“Are you doubting me now, Adomo?”

“I am not, forgive me.”

“We have come this far.”

“But something always gets in the way. If we–”

There was a rustling. Majiyo put a finger to his lip. He stood to check if anyone was coming. A mole flitted by, got lost into a bunch of leaves. He turned to Adomo, whispering, “Lift him up.”

They took the prince deeper into the woods. The boy squirmed, his screams muffled by the gag in his mouth.

As Nasomi whipped back toward herself, she came across Kanguya. The kowasa was sniffing the ground and air, bounding in the direction of the prince. He cocked his head up, as though sensing Nasomi.

Nasomi said, Kanguya? I am here! No sound came from her. Kanguya sniffed the air again, then the ground, and bound away.

Kanguya! she called again.

He stopped, came back to where her awareness floated, wagged a reluctant tentacle.

You can hear me? Come to me, Kanguya!

The kowasa was now jumping up and down, wagging all his tentacles. It was strange, but he could feel her. Without knowing how she did it, Nasomi transmitted into Kanguya’s mind the image of where she lay bound on the floor.

Kanguya sprung, headed in her direction. There was a fury in him. She could sense it. It bloomed and burned hot even as he came galloping toward the hut. It was doing something to his body: he began to glow and grow. Blue luminescence waved through his veins, visible through his hide. His limbs bulged to grotesque proportions, the rest of his features elongating.

Ramona would be fascinated to see this, Nasomi thought. History was right, after all. This was the true form of the kowasa. He wasn’t as big as in the stories, but the creature coming after her was a menacing beast, not the same tiny thing that loved to romp and pick up shiny rocks.

“Kanguya?”

Wakani was among a dozen people that were headed to the palace when he saw Kanguya dashing by. The kowasa didn’t stop or slow down his charge. Wakani ran after him, and a few others followed.

Kanguya crushed through the hut’s wall as Nasomi returned to her body. He lifted her off the ground and bit off the ropes binding her, set her down.

She rubbed her wrists, wincing at the pain in her shoulders. “Thank you, Kanguya.”

She stretched out a hand to touch him. He stood to the height of her chest, his tough skin rippling with a blue glow. “I have so much to know about you and your kind. Come, the prince is in danger.”

Adomo had left his spear leaning on the wall next to the door. She picked it up as she stepped out to meet with Wakani and the other people. He gasped in delight and ran to her. “My Lady! I have been searching for you. The things they are saying—”

One of the others stepped forward. “Where is the prince, Esha?” He looked apprehensively at Kanguya, who stood by Nasomi’s side.

“I am not the killer you want,” Nasomi said. “We must hurry before Majiyo kills the prince.”

A collective gasp. A woman said, “What vile accu—”

Nasomi dashed forward and they moved out of her way. “Are you coming?” she shouted back at them. She and Kanguya ran to the stable, and the others followed.

She threw a blanket onto the black stallion as Wakani and others came in. They got their own blankets and chose their rides.

“I knew you couldn’t have done those things,” Wakani said, as his horse caught up to Nasomi’s. “‘Not my Esha,’ I said to them, and they told me to shut up or they’ll think I helped you.”

Kanguya took over the lead, faster now than any of the horses were. When they arrived at the spot she had dreamed, there was no one there.

The others began to doubt. Wakani stood between her and them as they looked ready to apprehend her. Nasomi hoped to the Mara that she was not too late. “I saw them in my vision,” Nasomi said, trying to sound convincing. “They have the prince, him and Adomo.

Nasomi jumped off her horse and followed Kanguya as he sniffed the ground and air. He dashed into some bushes and there came a human cry.

“Get away from me, beast!” Majiyo shouted as he emerged from hiding, propelling himself backward with his hands.

Kanguya emerged with Tebula in his hands and unbound him as he had Nasomi. The boy was wailing, trembling, and the kowasa embraced him.

There was a rustle from the bush and the warrior called Adomo jumped out and ran. Someone on horseback pursued after him.

Majiyo stood up, dusted himself. He stood tall and proud even when Nasomi and the others half-surrounded him. “I see you have found her,” he said. “Bind her and bring her to trial.”

The others exchanged confounded looks.

“Mushae,” said a man, who was reverent enough to dip his head and doubtful enough to remain standing. “What are you doing here with the prince?”

“You will ask me that question? You? To the Guardian of the throne? I came to save the prince from where this foreign woman hid him to kill him.”

Nasomi pointed the spear at him. In fury, he reached out to grab it, but she pulled it out of his reach, stepped aside and pointed it at him again. “You have been exposed, Mushae. Confess your crimes.”

“You all stand by while this woman accuses your ruler? You shall all be put to the spear. I will cut your heads off and hang them in the trees for all to see.” He tried again to grab the spear from Nasomi. She dodged, pointed it back at him. “And you, Mad Esha! You will know suffering to no end.”

No one moved.

“If you won’t believe me, ask the prince.”

He beckoned to Tebula, who was embracing the shrinking kowasa. Kanguya’s glow was fading and he was reverting to his smaller size.

“Tell them, Prince Tebula. Did I try to kill you?”

The prince looked at Majiyo with eyes wide and lips quivering. This was a scared boy, a boy who wouldn’t dare speak against his uncle.

“Tell them, I say! Am I a bad person? Wasn’t it the Mad Esha who tried to kill you? Tell them, tell them now!”

“Don’t be afraid, My Prince,” Nasomi said. “I am here, and so is Kanguya, and these your people. He cannot hurt you. Speak the truth.”

The boy pointed a trembling finger at Majiyo. “He wanted to kill me. He tied me up and said the throne is his. And Adomo… Adomo…”

“You can tell it all, My Prince.”

“Adomo captured me and threw me into the well. Mushae told me if I told anyone, he would burn the whole palace.”

“Ha!” Majiyo said defiantly. “You are a little traitor, Tebula. It matters not. I am the true king of Mifirhana, and there’s no one here who can defy me. Who among you dares to face me, Majiyo Etungu, the great pillar of Mifirhana, the warrior who killed a hundred men with his bare hands?”

No one moved.

“Then bow to your king, fools.” Nasomi saw too late his raised leg. He kicked her in the belly, grabbed the spear from her hand as she fell.

Wakani rushed at Majiyo, tried to wrench the spear off his hands. Majiyo threw him off, began to laugh as he raised the spear to stab him. “Foreigners, you both! You’re the ones trying to destroy our kingdom.”

Another man dove at Majiyo and threw him down. “I stand against you, Mushae,” the man said.

Blows and kicks were exchanged. The others joined in until Majiyo was overpowered and pinned down. The ropes that had been on Tebula were joined and used to bind him.

Tebula embraced Nasomi. “It’s all over, My Prince,” she said, patting him on the back. “You’re safe now.”

A flurry of voices announced the rest of the town’s arrival. They came, loud and furious, demanding to know what was happening. Those who tied Majiyo explained. There was doubt at first, but when Majiyo refused to defend himself, looking away in shame and defiance, there was a general outburst of delight.

The people shouted, “Nasomi Esha!” They lifted her off the ground and sung songs meant to celebrate warriors. When they set her down, and she was laughing, she stood facing the prophetess.

Eyes and Ears raised a hand and the people gave her their attention. “We have finally learned the truth here,” she said. “And we’ve always known it in our hearts. But today, the Goddess has opened our eyes.”

Outcries of “Yes!”, “Mohale is with us!”, “We’re blessed!” and “We knew it!” burst forth from the people.

“The Goddess saw it fit to bring Nasomi Esha in our land. We acknowledge you, Nasomi.”

Murmurs of agreement.

“And we acknowledge your gift. It can only come from the Goddess. It is my pleasure to declare you a true Seer of the Goddess. More than an Eyes and Ears, or a Mind. But a Heart! Come.” She extended a hand and Nasomi took it. The prophetess made her turn to face the people. “Here before you, good people of Mifirhana, stands Nasomi Esha the Seer, the Heart of Mohale.”

As she was overwhelmed by the joyous noise that emanated, the sight of people jumping and dancing about and the prince standing next to Kanguya and smiling, Nasomi felt a gush of the familiar tugging feeling within her. It washed all over her, enveloped her, wrapped her like a mother wrapped a child in a blanket.