Simon was nervous as we drove through the countryside, I could see as he kept fidgeting in his seat. This would be the first time in three months that he returned home, so I understood his nerves. While Zanele was the picture of calm, she just sat there looking out the window her mind seemingly far away. For her, this would be her first return to the village after her banishment some three years ago. As for myself I felt strangely at ease, it is a weird realization to come to that I was almost at peace when in conflict. I do not know what I have become, but the one thing that I do know is that I finally felt truly alive. It has been a week since the ball in Verity's honor, in that time I managed to set up a meeting with the various Zulu chieftains. Elijah took a sharp turn leading to a dirt road, causing the car ride to become slightly bumpy as we neared the ancient summit.
No outsider had ever seen the ancient stones that composed the great hall. Throughout the ages every single gathering of chiefs would take place here. The history of this place alone was a power in and of itself. But what made it truly unique was the fact that it was built upon a ley line connecting the physical plane with the spiritual. The Summit was carved into the Drakensberg mountain range close to the mouth of the orange river. I was still a bit jet-lagged from my flight earlier, but due to my gifted nature it was more of a minor annoyance. My hand lifted towards my face, the absence of my mask made me slightly uncomfortable. I felt naked without it, but here, there was no place for secrecy. I needed their trust, so I left my mask at home.
The car stopped in front of two massive gates carved from stone. Zulu warriors approached, every tribe had its spirit animal, but the guardians of the summit wore the royal skins of leopards. Runic markings covered their bodies like tattoos radiating mana, they were extremely imposing. As if a reminder as to how the Zulu people have retained their independence even in the face of a superior empire. They stood like bulwarks in front of the gates. Elijah would have to wait outside as no outsider was allowed to enter these sacred halls. The second I exited the car the warrior's aura struck me, causing my hair to stand on end. Both of them had the presence of Knight rank gifted. The second their eyes landed on Zanele their aura flared in protest. A mark on her forehead began to glow as she fell to the floor in agony.
Righteous fury blazed in my chest as my own aura exploded outward. The Zulu warriors just looked at me with indifference, as Zanele's screams echoed through the mountain. Before I could do something potentially stupid someone shouted. "What the hell are you doing?! These are our guests you ignoramuses." A gray haired Zulu man stepped out from behind the gate. His gnarly staff and the bone totems hanging around his neck marked him as an elder Sangoma. The aura of the guardians subsided almost instantly causing the mark on Zanele's head to vanish once more, she took in labored breaths as her hazy eyes regained focus.
"What the hell was that?" My voice was as cold as a winter night, with narrowed eyes I watched the guardians. My anger still refusing to subside.
The elder scoffed, "You should not have brought this… thing to this sacred place." He said with a sneer. His words infuriated me further, but Zanele grabbed my arm to stop me from doing something foolish. My eyes met Simon's his own anger rivaled my own but by some miracle we managed to keep from lashing out. We ended up following the elder inside, but I could feel my frustration slowly building with every step.
The inside was just as mythical as the outside if not more. The second I set foot within the inner sanctum, I felt the shift within the atmospheric mana. It felt similar to my own soul mana but distinctly different, more akin to a second cousin, related but inherently different. The mana was so oppressive that it felt like walking through murky water. My breathing became slightly labored the further we walked, but I soldiered on. Everything I saw was made from various types of stone, from the shelves all the way to the doors themselves. After turning at another corner, we came into a massive hall filled with statues of various Zulu kings. Each statue represented a different era, but every single one of them was impressive nonetheless. But it was the last statue in the hall that gave me pause. It was a perfect depiction of my grandfather, Shaka Oshizulu. All three of us stopped to stare at the statue, our grandfather was a great man.
The Chinese knew him as the Scourge of Blood Harbor, a title he gained when he single handedly slaughtered an entire Angolan army during African Unification war some thirty years ago. He was a Zulu king who had done the unthinkable, when he reached the level of monarch. In history he was the first African to ever do so, becoming a symbol for the entire continent. He died ten years later when attempting to clear an S-rank rift, proving that even immortals could die. I bowed my head in respect to the statue of this great man before continuing to follow the elder. Ever since we entered the ancient summit Zanele's energy has worried me, she was walking like a woman walking to er death and that disturbed me to no end. We walked for thirty minutes in total silence, every now and then we would see more guardians standing ever vigilant as they defended the great hall. Until we entered the audience hall of the ancient summit. The room was massive in size, and if my estimations were accurate it was build at the very heart of the mountain range.
The room itself was extremely impressive, at the center was a circular open space where the visitors would stand. But the main part of the room was the raised seats of the council, forcing visitors to strain their necks looking upwards. The table was in the shape of a half moon, with seven chief's sitting on the seats. In the center sat king Mandla on his throne of stone. Uncle had a strange seriousness radiating from him, gone was the loving uncle and in his place sat a tired king. He was fully dressed in his ancestral garb, with his umphele sitting proudly atop of his head. The elder continued walking taking towards the only open seat next to King Mandla.
A chieftain on the left side of the table scoffed. "You have yet to speak, but already you have made a mockery of our traditions by bringing that thing hear." His voice was gravelly and course filled with venom. His gaze was so intense on Zanele that if looks could kill she would already be dead. Some of the chieftains grumbled in agreement. "You desecrate this sacred ground, and spit on our traditions. So tell my, why should we humor you little lord?" He spoke with contempt and barely contained anger.
We had only just started and I could already feel everything slipping away. But more than anything I felt my already barely contained temper slip from my grasp. As small wisps of killing intent began to ooze from my pours, with great effort on my part I stopped the majority of it from leaking out. Opting instead to remain quiet, as I watched the burly chief continue on his rant. When he finally stopped my anger could no longer be contained. "Is that it? Have you had enough of listening to your own voice?" My inhuman was completely devoid of emotion, mana managed to infuse into my vocal cords of its own accord. The chief's face began to turn purple from anger, a vein sticking out on his forehead. "You…" He began to speak, but I did not give him the opportunity to continue. "Enough! I came here to inform you all of a matter of life and death. And instead of listening, I have faced insult after insult."
I paused to look around at the various faces of the chiefs across the room, some matched my gaze with anger while others could not. "You all sit here in bitterness wondering why, your once great empire is still but a shadow of its former greatness. Your pride in tradition and heritage have made you blind. The Oshiwambo people from Namibia were prideful as well. So blinded by their own greatness, they could not see the rot spreading through their home until it was too late." The coldness in my voice only grew the more I spoke, as my killing intent began to flare to life once more. "The same horde that claimed their home, that claimed the life of my family marches once more. Prince Walong has been compromised, we have no support from the military. So here I stand, I had come in hopes of gaining assistance. But now… Now I realize my hope was misguided. But when the monsters come to your home, when they kill everything you hold dear. Remember that you refused my helping hand." To emphasize my point I spat on the ground turning around preparing to leave.
"And who said we have refused?" Mandla's voice was calm, the tone you would use with a child throwing a tantrum. His words caused me to stop in my tracks, turning back around to face him in confusion. "You may have our blood flowing through your veins, but you know nothing of our traditions. Even if we wanted to help, we can only do so for the worthy. And you, my dear nephew do not qualify, at least not yet." I never knew how loud silence could be until that moment. "Only the great spirit can decide whether you are worthy or not, Zandaka prepare for the omkhondo." The same chief I had been in a heated argument with, stood with a nasty smile causing shivers to run down my spine.