They had been walking for a few days now, always south, south east. Dakarai Olanrewaju, the old blacksmith that they had enlisted to help them in Maganan Shawira, was leading them through the dry landscape of Ethiopia. He knew the roads, he knew the villages, but most importantly, he knew where to find water.

They were resting at a local watering hole, resting in the shade, and having a drink of water, while Dakarai asked for directions or the name of the streets. Acharya had spent the first few days trying to discern the language he was using and to learn a few words. But the rapidity at which the language was spoken prevented him from keeping anything straight and quickly gave up on the exercise.

Dakarai came back a short time later, shaking his head. Acharya and Aiman stood up and greeted their guide, "What happened?" Aiman asked.

Dakarai shook his head again, "I've been away too long, my friend doesn't live here anymore. He moved farther south towards Addis Ababa. The blacksmith here isn't really a blacksmith at all. They say he's a metal worker using some kind of machine to smelt iron and steel," as he said this he pointed off to his right. A two-story building in the distance bellowed a long stream of smoke into the sky.

"Okay, so what happens now?" Tara asked quietly as the group gathered around their guide.

"Well," Dakarai sighed heavily, "I could try a few things. I am really out of practice though."

Mary said, "you're speaking of your," she lowered he voice to just barely above a whisper, "Bultungin abilities?"

Dakarai nodded, "Yeah, like I said it's been a while, but maybe my friend's presence or spirit will help me to make the connection and guide us to him."

Malikah whined audibly, "It's really hot, I don't think I can walk more miles aimlessly in this desert. Why can't we just go straight to the Matriarch and be done with it. Dakarai should be enough to vouch for us, right?"

Dakarai barked out a laugh. "Young lady, I might not even be enough to keep you from getting yourselves killed."

He started walking away from the watering hole towards the outskirts of the town that had grown up around the important crossroads. Acharya hadn't really considered just how developed this country might be. But seeing this place, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, being as built up as any highway town in America, and in some ways even more developed than that, he found himself marveling once again at just how big, diverse, and surprising Africa had been.

Dakarai led them through the streets and down some alleyways. None of them had much money, but Dakarai, along with being a skilled blacksmith, was an accomplished hunter and tracker. With him leading them along the tracks of prey, and a full pack of werewolves to make the kill they had been eating pretty well the last few days. Well, better than they had been at any rate.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Once they were out of the township proper Mary asked, "Okay, now what do you mean, we'd get ourselves killed? You're telling me if we found the Matriarch she'd have us killed on sight?"

"Something like that," Dakarai responded. The old man grabbed his full canteen and squatted down in the desert sand. He scooped out a small bowl into the sand. "The Matriarch won't kill you, but her inner circle will. And it wouldn't be out of any hatred, malice, or vindictiveness. It will be to protect our Matriarch. It's said that she's lived for over six hundred years and she carries with her all the knowledge and lore of our people."

Dakarai poured the canteen of water slowly into the small bowl. The desert drank it quickly. Dakarai grabbed another canteen and emptied that into the bowl as well. The water sank more slowly but not slowly enough. He dumped another canteen into the bowl. When the water level held, he spit into the water and swirled it around with his finger.

Dakarai said, "I've never put much faith in that though. I'm sure she's old, and I'm sure she's wise, but being six hundred years old was always a little too much for me to take seriously." He grew quiet and focused on the small puddle of water. His body grew still and the puddle followed him into stillness.

The rest of the pack looked at each other as their guide sat gazing into the puddle. Aiman noted that the puddle was in fact being soaked up into the desert, just slowly.

The old man suddenly sighed heavily and collapsed backwards on the rough sand. The rest of the pack rushed forward to help him but he was smiling and breathing easily.

"Are you ok, Dakarai?" Malikah asked. "What did you do?"

The old man smiled up at them with closed eyes, "I had forgotten what it was like being my true self. It's like opening up your eyes after having slept for forty years and the warm sun greets you brightly, blinding you at first. That took a little more out of me than I remember."

"What did you do?" Tara asked again quietly. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Dakarai closed his eyes and nodded, "Yes, I'm fine, I'm just tired all of a sudden." He slowly sat up and crossed his legs, gesturing for the group to sit down. The pack looked at each other before sitting down. The small pool of water had been sucked dry by the desert and soon even the dark stain left by the water would be gone.

When the young people had sat themselves, Mary asked, "So what happened? What now?"

Dakarai answered, "I just practiced a bit of Bultungin magic. I used the desert and the water to give me directions. My friend actually isn't that far away."

"Do we go now?" Tara asked.

"Let me rest a minute, girl," Dakarai said impatiently. "In the meantime, you can go fill up these canteens again before we head off. No sense going off with only half our water." Tara grabbed the empty canteens and marched off to the watering hole to fill them.

"You said that the Matriarch's inner circle would kill us," Acharya said. "How many of your people will it take to make her listen? How strong must our coalition be to prevent us from being overtaken by that inner circle?"

"And here I thought you were sharper than the average knife," Dakarai responded. "The strength and numbers of the inner circle is how strong our coalition has to be."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.