South of the Khumba Khourou, Matile explorers found an extensive savanna called the Mbali-pana. Mostly flat grassland, the savanna also featured scattered groves of trees as well as circular depressions that were once the craters of volcanoes, and deep gorges cut by ancient rivers that had long since run dry.
On the Mbali-pana, immense herds of animals – many of which did not exist elsewhere on the continent – roamed freely, sharing abundant pasturage with cattle-herding nomads and hunters. Collectively, the savanna tribes called themselves the Ole-kisongo – the People of the Spear.
Although their warriors were ferocious in battle, the Ole-kisongo were not the true guardians of the Mbali-pana. Soon enough, the Matile explorers had learned of the Wakyambi, an Elven race with a magical affinity for their land. Like the Elven of the Fidi lands, the Wakyambi were far more long-lived than humans. Their darker color and long, tufted tails distinguished them from their kin in other parts of the world.
The Wakyambi greeted the Matile explorers peacefully, and took them to their home – a single, anomalous mountain peak called Kiti ya Ngai, or Seat of the Gods. Because of the flatness of the rest of the land, Kiti ya Ngai was visible for scores of miles.
There, the Wakyambi demonstrated their extraordinary power to control the beasts of the wild. In times of need, the Wakyambi could assemble a mighty animal army, which, along with the loyal Ole-kisongo, was more than capable of dealing with any threat to the Mbali-pana. Although they were confident that their ashuma was a match for the Wakyambis’ animal sorcery, the Matile saw nothing in the endless savanna that was worth the sacrifices such a conflict would surely bring. They also found that despite the opulence of their empire, they possessed nothing either the Wakyambi or the Ole-Kisongo wanted or needed.
Wiser if not wealthier, the Matile explorers returned to their ships and sailed farther southward, watching the coastline slowly transform from savanna to an enormous belt of rain forest that stretched across the waist of the continent. The region was called the Mashambani-m’ti, or Land of Endless Trees.
The explorers found that foliage grew so thick and close to the shoreline that harbors to the Mashambani-m’ti were virtually nonexistent. But several rivers flowed from the rain forest into the ocean, and the Matile proceeded to sail their ships up the greatest of those streams, called the Luango.
Along the banks of the Luango, the explorers encountered a wide variety of cultures, ranging from the simple hunting-and-gathering lifestyle of the Kidogo pygmies to the sophisticated riverine kingdoms of Mukondo, Usisi, Bashoga, and Nyayembe, among others. The other rain-forest inhabitants were taller than the Kidogo, but still below-average compared to the Matile and the Thabas. Their skin was of sable to ebony hue, and collectively they were known as the Bashombe people.
The many rivers and tributaries that wound among the ranks of trees provided the main avenues for transportation and communication in the Mashambani-m’ti. Stone was rare in this region, so wood and thatch constituted the primary building materials. And Bashombe weavers and woodworkers achieved a degree of artistry stonemasons in other lands would envy.
The Matile explorers were received warmly by the river kingdoms, each seeking its own advantage from the contact. Demonstrations of the power of ashuma awed the Bashombe sorcerers, called ngangas, and the explorers were treated almost as gods.
Bashombe dignitaries accompanied the explorers when they set sail homeward, to see for themselves the wonders of the Matile Empire. Trading posts were soon established near the mouth of the Luango. The trading posts became colonies, and Matile influence spread throughout the Mashambani-m’ti.
When asked what lay to the south of their land, the Bashombe said there was only the Jhagga, an uninhabited, noxious swampland. Their curiosity aroused, the Matile sent another expedition southward to see what, if anything, lay beyond the Jhagga.
The Jhagga turned out to be worse than the Bashombe had ever imagined – a foul place, teeming with nightmarish creatures. South of the swampland, however, the explorers found more hospitable territory – a rocky, semi-arid steppe interspersed with stands of forest and patches of grassland. It was truly land’s end, the southernmost tip of Abengoni. Its inhabitants called it the Kashai.
The people of the Kashai grew to unusual height – well over seven feet in many cases. Their physiques were slender rather than bulky, and they were very dark-skinned. These elongated people, known as the Ikuya, lived in settlements varying in size from villages to small cities. Some of the Ikuya choose to follow a nomadic way of life, grazing their herds on the modest plains.
The Ikuya generally lived in peace with each other, but they were perpetually at war with the irimu, remnants of a shape-shifting race that had inhabited much of Abengoni before the arrival of humans. Although the irimu possessed the power to transform into lions and leopards, and hyenas, the ancient humans were able to wrest the land from them and drive them into remote areas. Scattered remnants of irimu survived as far north as the Thaba hills and even the Matile Mala, but the Kashai was their home and last stronghold.
From there, the shape-changers had mounted reprisal raids on the Ikuya. When the Matile landed in the Kashai, they were greeted with great alarm and consternation from the Ikuya, who had become so isolated they believed they were the only humans in the world. They thought the Matile were irimu who had developed a new guise that mimicked humanity, and the Matile could do nothing to disabuse them of that delusional belief.
The Ikuya attacked in force, and the explorers were lucky to escape with their lives. Later, in their intransigent arrogance, the Matile returned in force and built a fortress-city called Buhari at edge of the sea, and they defended it at all costs from the Ikuya, who were
