“When the time comes for the choosing of a Champion, the strongest among us lift rocks,” Tuatat said. “If no one prevails in the lifting, then the two strongest wrestle. The one who first throws the other is the Champion.”
“I see,” Imaro said. Then he turned to Yahyi.
“I will lift against you,” the warrior said. “If I win, I will be your Champion, and I will wrestle Itu-Nusani Mujo.”
Yahyi’s mouth opened and closed in astonishment. Then his mbama-marked face contracted into a deep scowl.
“You are not one of us –” Yahyi began.
How often have I heard words like those, Imaro thought before he looked at Tuatat.
“Did you not say I am to be treated as though I am one of you?” the warrior demanded.
Imaro looked again at Yahyi.
“You may not like it, but I am one of you, according to Tuatat’s word,” the warrior said. “Your people have no Champion now. Lift against me; whoever wins will be the Champion.”
“Why are you doing this?” Yahyi asked.
“I do not like cattle thieves,” Imaro responded.
* * *
The boulders Guguk and Yahyi had raised a few days ago sat stolidly on bare ground. Nearly all the Nubala had clambered down from their dwellings to watch the current competition between Yahyi and Imaro. As well, the guests from other clans poured out from the shelters they had erected in the shadows of the High Rocks. Only cattle-herders and sentinels remained behind as Imaro and Yahyi faced each other.
Save for the lowing of the cattle in their pasture and the sigh of a breeze blowing through the grass, silence hung heavily over the gathering. It was as though the Nubala had not yet come to terms with an occurrence none of them could have anticipated – at least not before the appearance of Itu-Nusani Mujo at the Shinda ten rains ago ...
Yahyi nodded toward the largest of the boulders, which was close to the size of a kneeling cow.
“That is the one Guguk and I lifted, outlander,” the Nubala said. “This is how we did it.”
With those words, Yahyi squatted in front of the boulder and seized both ends of it in his large hands. As the muscles in his back tensed, the rows of mbama-marks stood out in bold relief. Judging that his grips was sufficiently firm, Yahyi slowly unbent his legs, raising the immense weight of his burden from the ground. As he leaned backward, his legs straightened and his grasp on the boulder’s ends did not falter.
A grating groan escaped Yahyi’s throat as he held the boulder close to his chest. Eyes closed and teeth bared, he levered it upward until its top was above the level of his shoulders. For a few moments, he held it there. Then, with a shout of triumph, he released his hold and jumped back as the huge rock dropped and crashed resoundingly against the ground.
Yahyi said nothing to Imaro as he stood beside the boulder. The heavy pants of the Nubala’s breathing and the flecks of blood on his chest that marked where the rough stone had scraped his skin were the only signs of his exertion. The crowd pounded the ground in approbation of Yahyi’s feat, for no one – not even Guguk – had ever raised such a large boulder so high. Yahyi himself didn’t think he could lift it more than chest-level. But the outlander’s challenge had spurred him to greater effort.
The pounding of the Nubalas’ feet ceased when Imaro squatted in front of the boulder. He reached out and grasped both the stone’s ends, as Yahyi had done. The watchers remarked on the differences between the outlander’s physique and that of Yahyi. Imaro’s thews were smooth, while Yahyi’s were bulkier – the type of muscles that seemed best-suited for lifting large objects.
Imaro’s legs straightened. The boulder rose. It reached chest-height, then stopped. For a heartbeat, it appeared that the warrior would not be able to raise his burden any higher.
Then, muscles writhing like serpents beneath his umber skin, Imaro shifted his grasp, moving his hands to the bottom of the boulder. The crowd gasped, for it seemed certain that the heavy rock would slip from the warrior’s grasp. It didn’t.
Slowly, Imaro forced the stone to the height of his shoulders – and then higher than that. Only when the top of the boulder was parallel to his eyes did its upward motion end, as Imaro held the great rock as though it were an offering to the gods of the sky.
Imaro did not allow the boulder to drop. Instead, he lowered it, bending his knees again until the stone rested on the ground. Then he straightened: face emotionless, chest heaving, sweat bathing his skin.
The Nubala stared speechlessly. Yahyi’s mouth hung agape. The Nubala looked at each other in disbelief. It occurred to them that this stranger might, indeed, prove to be a match for the Three-Faced One. It also occurred to them that the warrior might also be more than human ...
“Look!” a voice suddenly shouted, shifting the crowd’s attention away from Imaro.
The voice was Tiba’s. Her finger was pointing toward the face of one of the rock-spires. A shadow was emblazoned on the red-gold surface of the stone – a shadow in the shape of a rock-lizard grown to gigantic proportions. But there was nothing anyone could see that could have cast such a shadow. Even as gasps of surprise and awe rose from the Nubala, the umbra vanished.
Tuatat approached Imaro. Speaking loudly enough to be heard above the uproar of the crowd, he said:
“Here is our Champion!”
The feet of the Nubala struck the ground in a drumbeat of acclaim as Imaro stood beside the boulder. Even Yahyi joined the approbation. Only he and Guguk could fully comprehend the enormity of what the stranger had done.
And Imaro noticed that one woman – young, but with fully marked skin that indicated that she was well beyond her puberty rites – was looking at him with an intensity beyond
