“I don’t fear the supernatural!”
“Despite your special abilities, you should fear it greatly, dear Grandson,” said Makhulu.
“A mortal opponent that I can kill is all I ask for,” he grumbled as he poked through debris on the ground. He grimly recognized the clothing and artifacts of many of his family and close friends. He suggested to this grandmother that, “It seems their bodies were just sucked away leaving behind anything not human flesh.” He cried out in despair, “We are alone. Our entire family has been swallowed by a devil crocodile!”
“Not quite,” she replied as she stood tall and tenderly hugged her grandson’s wide shoulders and offered, “Some of our fellow travelers were on errands for your father and may have escaped this devastation. At least, they should return soon. I want the camp secured. Get your father’s sword. I saw it resting on the ground. Also, gather up his royal cloak. It is considered sacrilege to let it touch earth.”
“Though I prefer my war axes, father’s sword is not too heavy for me to wield. With it, I will slice muscle and bone like the wind through the forest. With his cloak, I shall command vast armies!”
“Zende, I need a steady man to stand by me, not a reckless, boastful youngster.” Makhulu ’s eyes moistened with sorrow. “Fate may have finally caught up with me.”
Zende lowered his gaze as he said in a softer voice, “I am a man; although I am not my father’s height. I am the smallest of my brothers and sisters. But if this is a challenge from evil gods or men, I will certainly not flounder. I can prove myself worthy.”
“Yes, Zende,” she said in admiration. “Your esteemed sire who is my beloved only son may have suffered a hideous demise or is hidden from us and needs our help. To avenge this travesty, we must step carefully and when appropriate strike hard and fast. Soon, it will be warrior time. But for the moment we must be cautious yet vigilant. So, feed the dogs, dear grandson. They may be our best early alarm and stoic defense against other hazards that may come.”
“Yea, dear Grandmother,” Zende said as he cooled his passions. “And, I will secure the camels and horses, and calm the sheep, and prepare the raspberry tea with honey-soaked biscuits that you crave. And, perhaps find a gourd of palm wine to soothe my own distress.”
Makhulu scolded, “I need your wits and strength, not drunken jests.”
“Yes, grandmother. Perhaps, I will just get a cool drink from the forest stream. There won’t be another for many days.”
“It has been a long ride. I need to bathe before we continue.”
“Yes, grandmother.”
Makhulu tugged at her clothing. “Bring my tea and biscuits to me while I refresh myself at the oasis spring.”
“But Grandmother, there are no female servants to assist you in your bath.”
“My skin greatly offends me. Before we march off to risk our lives, I must be clean. Bring fresh clothing to me. Also, you will need a sponge to scrub my back.”
“Grandmother!”
“You’ve seen a naked female.”
“Yes!”
“Just don’t forget, I am your elderly grandma,” Makhulu said simply.
* * *
On a distant desert sand dune, a man and a woman rode leisurely on camelback. The man wore a bright red cape bearing the badge of the House of the Gold Lion embroidered in rare spider silk. He was a grossly plump person riding on a severely overburdened animal.
The woman complained, “You continue to ignore my suggestion to not take any spoils from the ambush. That royal cloak belongs to their leader.”
“As I said before, a weakness of mine. Wealth and opulence are important to me. Honor and dignity are greatly over rated. Fine cloaks, good meals, strong wines, wicked women and bad-tempered young boys, Yes! I’d sell my soul for abundant pleasures any day. Gladly!”
“Do exactly as I suggest, and you will be much richer and less likely to attract trouble, master.” His companion was a small woman of pale yellow, exotic beauty who wore few wraps, yet did not suffer the disastrous effects of the desert sun on bare skin.
He complained, “You call me master, perform great feats of sorcery yet you will not give me the little things I ask for. Who is the master, who is the servant?”
She smiled coyly, “The agreement was to give you just what you needed to finish the job. I am only a tool, master.”
He laughed, “In order to complete the task, what if I require your services as a sweating, painted harlot pleasuring me in my luxurious bed at night?”
The metal flakes on her long, sharp fingernails sparkled in the sun as she said menacingly, “Then, you will have to finish the job as a mutilated, sexless eunuch, master.”
He loudly smacked his lips, “Ouch! A warrior virgin! You merely make the challenge much more delicious. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.” Then, his face twisted into a drooling grimace, “I never fail to take what I want. So, wretched little girl when this task is over, I will take what I want from you. I may throttle you bloody. I may rape you for hours. I will enjoy that. I own you! Not even our mutual employer, the Demon in the Amber Wall will argue that.”
She spat in his face.
He greedily sucked up the spittle with a coarse cow-like tongue. “Yes, we will see what happens.” He fondled a thick, irregular shaped slab of dark amber in a large leather bag tied to his waist. Lifting the crystal to his ears he bragged, “You can almost hear their little voices screaming in terror.” He hungrily licked the stone. “That should scare them even more; imprisoned in amber, naked, cold, facing the mouth of dissolution. Fabulous. I may release one or two of them just for my pleasure.”
His female cohort smirked and warned, “The camp survivors will follow us with deadly intent. I sense now that a sorceress is among them; a very skillful weaver of very powerful
