Trojian Horse
Chapter 10

10

Cebisa thought all night about what she had agreed to do. It seemed absurd thinking about it now, trusting a stranger to do something for her that she could barely comprehend. The degree of her desperation surprised her for her to consider something this crazy. The combination of her dream, the night the old man seemed to be delivering an otherworldly message to her, a message which he still did not remember delivering, and the sensation she felt around Cetshwayo that he was something more than he looked all added up to provide the semblance of a justification for her decision. Her instincts were telling her that she was missing something big though she could not be sure what that was nor whether she could recognise it if she saw it. Something about Cetshwayo did not seem quite right, not quite human, at least not in a way she could explain. She would trust him, she had no choice if she wanted something better for Zibulo. She at least had to hear his proposal.

The time for planting was drawing closer which meant the nights were steadily growing shorter and the days longer. The weather was very warm on most nights negating the need for warm furs to wrap themselves in. She lay on the furs with Zibulo shuffling around in her arms. He seemed anxious, as if he knew what they were going to be doing tomorrow. Even as she lay in the darkness looking at her baby boy everything that had transpired till this point seemed so surreal. It felt like she had a direct connection to Mwali, as if He were personally interested in her life and had sent a messenger to her to personally attend to her needs. Her boy was the joy of her life but even she had to agree that something was strange about him and the recent events gave her a sense of relief that she wasn’t just an oblivious mother refusing to acknowledge the truth before her eyes. At last it seemed those thoughts she had kept safely tucked away in the back of her mind, thoughts that made her feel guilty for even having them, thoughts that sometimes convinced her that she was quite possibly the worst mother she knew, those thoughts seemed normal and a huge weight suddenly fell off her shoulders. No matter how strange their child, every good mother found a way to overlook those flaws and love their son unconditionally. Right now, her guilt had transformed into a sort of pride that her son may indeed be strange but that was because he was special and Mwali had a plan for him that none of them could understand. She chided herself for not having recognised Mwali’s plan sooner. He was what you would expect of a child nearing his second year of life and yet there were moments, terrifying moments when it seemed something else that was not him was looking back at her. His speech was improving and he had learned to say several intelligible words by now although there was one word which she had only heard him say twice before, a word she still did not know the meaning of. It was a wonder who could have taught him that word. Khulu Zwangedwa was sure he had no idea what the word meant.

Her daughters were soon snoring loudly while she stayed awake staring out into the starless night. Zibulo too soon drifted into a peaceful sleep. She held Zibulo tightly in her arms considering his blissful face, wondering what sort of dreams he was having. Her thoughts wandered to the strange dream she had several weeks ago when she was being chased and she had to protect Zibulo. It had deeply disturbed her mostly because she did not know what it meant and Khulu Zwangedwa only seemed to think of it as a bad omen. The dream, if she could really call it that, had felt so real. Even as she dreamed she had smelled the grass, felt the evening breeze brush against her skin, heard her heart thumping in her chest as she ran to preserve her life and that of her dear son. When she had woken up that morning, she could still smell the grass, she felt cold as if she had been out there in that breeze even then and felt the pain where the hands had tightened around her neck. The idea that Cetshwayo’s red eyes and those of the thing in the dream were one in the same had crossed her mind several times but she felt there had to be another explanation. He had no reason to harm her because he had several opportunities to harm her and he hadn’t. He meant to save her son, that is what he had told her. She had to trust him. The speed of her thought slowed down as the night wore on until even she was whisked away into a peaceful rest. She slept soundly that night.

Rays of sunshine peeped into the cave forcing her eyes open. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes and the day was upon them. This was the day when she would learn what her son’s purpose was and, hopefully, what made him so different. She slowly got up and woke her girls up, delegating chores for the day to them, while she busied herself taking care of an active Zibulo who was crawling all over the cave attempting to put whatever he found in his hands into his mouth.

Adoration beamed on her face that whole day. Everything he did seemed to fascinate her more than was usual. His smile caused her to smile, the look in his eyes when he tried to taste something that fought back, the way his little feet scurried across the ground as he attempted to walk more than a few steps before plopping to the ground again. It all made her especially emotional. The day sped by and she could not recall what she had managed to do that day besides admire her son. Soon she had him in her arms, left instructions for the girls to make some food as she would be late getting back and headed off to the designated meeting point just as the sun licked the horizon.

Cetshwayo was waiting for her, huddled as he had been before behind a group of shrubs.

“I’m here,” she announced. He stood up to greet her, a gleeful smile on his face.

“Wonderful,” he said.

“So, what happens now?” she asked.

“Your boy, he is very special.”

“You said that yesterday, but what do YOU mean by it?”

“I’ve seen it. He’ll achieve great things on the grandest scale possible.”

“What are you talking about? What is his destiny? Will he be a great king like his forefathers before him?”

“You people, you only see what’s in front of you. No imagination, no vision,” he said flailing his arms in the air then waved a finger in Cebisa’s face. “That’s why it’s so easy to bend your wills. Despite your better judgement you can be so easily swayed. Cecil Rhodes sent people here to make you promises and you invited a hungry lion into your homes hoping that he wouldn’t eat you.” He spat at the ground.

Cebisa felt a little excitement at the pronunciation that Zibulo was going to achieve great things but her excitement turned to worry when she saw the shift in the mood of her supposed saviour. She understood some of what he was saying to be those very sentiments she had impressed on others. Her passion for the Ndebele was unchallenged by any of her people. Instinct told her not to panic, to remain calm and see how this conversation progressed. Cetshwayo had not answered her string of questions so she posed the question again.

“Will he take us back to our former heights? Further?” she asked.

Cetshwayo giggled.

“I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For bringing him to me.” His eyes seemed to suddenly glow bright red, a familiar menace contained within them, accompanied by a row of unnaturally sharp pointed teeth in his mouth. Almost immediately Cetshwayo looked more animal than anything else. It was a disconcerting transformation and the fear gripped her afresh, much more completely this time. What had she done, she thought.

“What, wha…what do you mean?” She asked, clutching Zibulo tightly in her arms. Her heart was pounding in her chest so loudly that she felt this creature would hear it. The longer they stood there talking the more he seemed to transforming into something else, something otherworldly. Scales begin to appear on parts of his arms, which Cetshwayo began to scratch with a visible irritation on his face. The more he scratched though the more visible they became and started to spread to other parts of his body.

“Now that I have him I can finally do what I came here to do and get off this primitive rock. Return to a better time.” In his exultation he did not notice her taking several carefully timed steps backwards. “So long I have searched for him and then I replace him in this pathetic system. In such a primitive time.”

Cebisa of course did not understand what he meant by this ‘rock’ and ‘system’ but she was sure he was talking about something more than the rocks in Matobos.

“What do you want from him? And me?” she asked taking a few more careful steps back while casting a quick glance around to replace an escape route. The crescent moon began rising eerily over the horizon.

“He must die. Is that plain enough?” The stranger let out an eerie, blood curdling laugh holding his hands up in the air as he did so.

“An…and...and…why must he die?” she stuttered, taking another short step backwards. His back was to the village so her only path to escape lay in the direction of the hills. Her heart was pounding so loudly.

“Because he has been a pain to me or rather will cause me pain. There can only be one of us and right now I have the advantage so I need to make it count. Now that I have him at my mercy he shall die swiftly. I can understand your confusion woman, but you don’t have to understand for my objective to be fulfilled. You will both die right here and now and the memory of you will be wiped from the history books and the new order in the universe can finally be ushered in.” His eyes seemed to glow redder and his voice changed, with a faint hiss beginning to become more prominent in his speech.

What had she done!

“What did we do that you would hate the Ndebele so much?” The tears in her eyes were a plea for his mercy but she was also buying time. She knew what she had to do.

“The Ndebele? I have no interest in them. I have no real interest in you and none in him except that you both must die tonight.” The sun set beyond the horizon plunging the valley into a momentary pale darkness just as the crescent moon rose from beyond the horizon.

“A’ya,” Zibulo whispered in her ear. This time she understood what it meant.

Cetshwayo took a step toward her, reaching for a knife wedged in his loin skin. She turned and ran as fast as she could toward the hill on the other side of the miniature valley they were in. Zibulo was deathly quiet in her arms, unbothered by her jarring movements as she ran over the grass, ducking beneath the tree leaves and jumping over exposed rocks. It was probably better for him that he did not know his life was in danger.

She could hear stomping feet and heavy breathing behind her. It was not immediately clear to her where she was running to, only that she had to get away from him. Her feet carried them as fast as she could move across the plain until they got to the other granite dome on the other side of the valley. Running along the dome she was looking for a way into the wilderness where she hoped to lose her assailant. A space between the rocks was illuminated by the moon at precisely the right moment ahead of her and she ran toward it at full speed. Her assailant was trying his best to catch up to her but somehow he seemed to be struggling to keep up.

She slid into the space between the rocks and landed in a group of low shrubs that broke her fall. There was no time to stop and catch her breath so she was immediately hurling herself into the dense forest flora seeking to escape. The heavy breathing and thudding combined with the crunching leaves reminded her that she was not yet safe. On and on she ran still not sure how far she could run before her legs eventually gave way when she spotted a light in the distance. Whatever she found there it would be her redemption, it had to be. Her sense of direction had been completely bewildered at this point and she had no time to get her bearings.

The light grew closer and closer. She could hear her attacker still breathing heavily behind her although she had a head start on him, barely, but maybe it would be enough. It was odd that Zibulo had not let out a single sound since the pursuit began and he seemed surprisingly light. Her chest heaved and burned, her eyes were thrashed by all manner of insects and shrubs. Thankfully the moon illuminated her way and just when she thought her legs would give way she found the strength to take another step and then another and another.

By this point she had made out that Njelele was going to be her destination. She simply had to get there and help would be found. Khulu Zwangedwa had told her that there was always a guardian at the shrine and this time it was Khulu Tobheka who was the designated guardian. Although women were not allowed at the shrine it mattered little what consequences lay ahead only that if she stopped for any reason it would be the death of her and Zibulo. Over the anthill, down again, jumping across the narrow gulley, stumbling up the other side, some leaves from a shrub smacked her in the face, insects were flying into her open mouth, and her legs had started to cramp.

Finally, the light was only a spear’s throw away. She could still hear grunting and hissing behind her reminding her that she could still not slip and fall and she had to keep moving.

“You will die tonight!” a voice hissed from behind her.

After that announcement all she could hear were the cicadas and the crickets. A slight breeze brushed the leaves of the trees and shrubs together. The grass rustled in the wind. Her breathing had become hoarse, and she was drenched in sweat and though she felt she could not keep running for much longer something kept pushing her to run faster, to run longer until she reached the light.

A fire had been lit at the entrance of the cave and was watched over by a hunched figure dozing in its warmth. She assumed this was Khulu Tobheka and he was roused unceremoniously from his sleep after hearing her frantic breathing and the approaching footsteps crunching the leaves and grass beneath her feet. There was no slowing down and she sped right past him leaving him screaming in her direction.

“You can’t go in there, woman!” he yelled.

It did not matter, not tonight anyway. Once inside she slowed her pace. The darkness was almost immediate once she had taken several steps into the depths of the cave and was away from the light of the fire. The moon did not penetrate these depths. Never having been in here she had no idea where she was going. There were several entrances to other passages all coming from the main corridor she was on. She would have to trust her instincts.

The cave grew more quiet and darker as she walked on. It was exactly as she had seen in her vision, for she was now sure that is what it was. By now she could barely see past her outstretched fingers. Zibulo wriggled in her arms, his first movements since the chase had begun. Feeling the sides of the cave she walked on until she reached one entrance that had a feeble light emanating from within it. Walking on toward it she clambered over hoes, axes and various ornaments all laid out on the floor leading toward the source of the light. Abruptly the corridor terminated into a brightly lit dome, hewn out of the rock with perfectly smooth sides. Several images were drawn on the walls depicting men hunting and praying to a big star at the very centre and top of the dome. A large cubed-shaped rock was located at the very centre of the room as if it were an altar of sorts directly beneath the big star drawn on the wall. Somehow the light seemed to come from the rock. Cebisa walked toward it.

The rock seemed to vibrate. She could hear it. A sort of rhythmic humming sound was coming from it and it got louder the closer she got. She had never seen or heard of anything like it in her entire life, not even in passing comments. What a wonder Njelele was! Was she in the presence of Mwali? Was this what the old men came to witness here every year? Was this the rock that spoke that she had heard Khulu Zwangedwa speak of?

There was a loud bellowing sound behind her and she was knocked to the ground before she could turn around. Zibulo was knocked from her arms and rolled toward touching distance of the vibrating rock. She looked into the face of her attacker who looked like a blur except for two red eyes that seemed to burn like hot embers, the savagery in his eyes unmistakable. Her attacker was very angry landing several blows on her face before straddling her and wrapping his arms around her neck choking the life out of her. Kicking out she knocked him off her. He made an attempt to go for the baby but she was too quick for him, tackling him to the ground before he could take a single step forward. She cast a glance in the direction of Zibulo who was crawling toward this fascinating vibrating rock. A robust punch met her square in her eye knocking her back with a yelp. He climbed on top of her again and once again began squeezing the life out of her those red eyes glaring at her. Slowly she felt the life draining out of her body, whatever fight she had left in her was slowly being sucked from her body. Again she cast one last look at her baby before she left this world; she had failed Zibulo who stretched his hand out to touch the rock. Suddenly there was a blinding light that burned brightly for a few seconds then the whole room turned to darkness. She closed her eyes to welcome death.

She opened her eyes to replace the old man who she had left at the entrance standing over her. He had a thick branch in his hand burning brightly.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I saw him follow you in here and I knew it was trouble. Are you alright nkosazana?” He helped her up. “But where did he go?”

“I don’t know…I thought you saved me from him?” Cebisa was visibly confused. Her head was throbbing with pain.

“No, as I made my way here I saw a bright flash of light and you were all alone lying still on the cave floor. I thought for sure Mwali had punished you for walking in here. You would have deserved it, you know.”

“My son! What happened to him?” she asked frantically.

“Well, you can see there is nobody else here but us…and Mwali of course. He speaks to us from that rock.” The old man pointed at the cubed rock at the centre of the room. “I’ve never seen such a light come from this room in all my years. I can’t explain it.”

Cebisa stood silent for several minutes. The old man rambled on but she heard nothing he spoke about. Somehow she felt Zibulo was safe. Her dream or vision or whatever it was clearly had the purpose of showing her that he had been taken to a better place and maybe this creature that pursued her was really telling the truth about his serving a purpose higher than she could fathom. She smiled and let out a long sigh.

“Come then, nkosazana, let us be getting out of here.” The old men began shuffling slowly out of the room.

Cebisa reluctantly followed him. Casting one last glance at the rock she wondered where her son was now, what kind of world he would replace himself and hoped that wherever he was he would be well cared for. She could not explain it but she felt that this night she had taken a glimpse into a world she had only begun to understand.

They walked out of the cave in silence and Khulu Tobheka offered to walk Cebisa back to the campsite. She gladly accepted his offer. It was for the best she knew, but she could not help feeling a hole in her heart.

⃰

Necessity had forced to do something unthinkable. There had been many warnings before he attempted it and though his prisoner would have said anything to stop him from taking the blade from her, the pleas for him to avoid doing the unthinkable had seemed genuine. He had developed something of an uncanny ability to tell when people were telling him the truth. It must have been some strange side effect of the genetic modifications to his body. Whatever it was, it was useful. The prophecy had driven him to such lengths. A proclamation that a rival would summarily execute him would be enough to push anyone into doing the unthinkable.

Coincidentally, he had been looking for his prisoner and the blade anyway when the prophecy first came to his attention. An old hermit on some obscure planet in an obscure planetary system had told him that his reign of ‘terror’ would not last forever, that he would be stopped. Just then it seemed something else was speaking through the old eremite and unfortunately, due to his new lie detection abilities, it seemed the prophet believed his own proclamation. He was never one to underestimate a threat so he had to be sure that this threat was eliminated. The problem was that nobody had ever heard or seen his supposed rival. That is when the sword came into his mind. Rumour had it that the sword enabled the wielder to travel in time, any time, any place for a limited time and though the ill effects of such a journey could be devastating there was no other way. All he had was the description of the boy from the old hermit’s prophecy. It would be enough especially if the sword was as powerful as he thought it was. At first, he only wanted to see his foe and after several attempts and forced demonstrations he managed to coax the method to do it right out of his prisoner. All he saw was a child in a different time, cradled in the arms of its mother and no matter how hard he tried he never saw beyond that child. It became clear to him what he needed to do.

He had shaped his intention in his mind, focused sharply on his objective and almost immediately he had been transported into another place. His body had been changed too although he felt this new body had begun degrading almost immediately as soon as he had entered this strange new world. The sword had disappeared though he still felt its presence in and around him. Over the course of the next few weeks he had learned a lot about the region he had found himself. It was colonialism, tribalism, and civil war all meshed up into one inconceivable mess. In this world, his name would be Cetshwayo he decided. It took him a while but eventually he had found the boy. What good fortune he had to replace his enemy so vulnerable and yet, somehow, his nemesis slipped from his fingers. In the blast that followed in the cave he had found himself knocked out of that time, out of that body into the present time. His enemy had slithered away from him but now his enemy had a face. Even if it took him several lifetimes, the enemy would be tracked down and destroyed. His existence would no longer be governed by such trivial things as time, he would make sure of it. The genetic enhancements he was yet to do would made sure of that. He was Reeger, soon to be the most powerful being in the universe.