CHAPTER FIVE

A STRIKE TOO LATE

Old Phil’s time was up. The next day he would be leaving for the countryside. “I am already dreaming of home. It will be the new start to the life I have always wished to live. It will be a heaven every night. A man is for himself, but God is for us all.” Old Phil was once again seated on the log outside the hut.         

            “Yes. You are right.” Nihu was straddled next to him. He nodded. “God is for everyone.”

“Even me. Surviving the perils in this Lonely Forest means so much to me. I ought to give gratitude to the one that protects my soul. I do not do it ordinarily. I have to be tough.”

            “I expect that of you. God is a tough mogul. We need to be worthy if we hope to find His favor.”

            “But which god do you think I’m talking about, Nihu?”

            “The god of our forefathers.”

            “Does he really exist?” He brought his hands together, making recitations as if he was praying. Then he stopped and turned to Nihu. “Any result in that? Nothing. I will say my prayers facing heaven henceforth. My deliverance must have come from there.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I don’t know. I just want try new things since my past had not yielded any result other than troubles. However, I have prayed throughout my life. Good moral conduct must be trapped somewhere in my heart ever since I set my foot into this world of beauty and terror. Do you believe me, Nihu?” He looked deep into the boy’s eyes.

            “I can’t find falsehood in that, at all. But I think it is too late to start finding perpetual faults in your life.”

            “Oh, faults? They are gone. In the past, I had many. My life was no better than a rat’s, which is left to struggle for survival in the heart of the red sea. My weaknesses brought me a hard knock life. Macques would tell you my odds of survival if he were here with us. He tells my story more accurately and with a lot more feeling than I do. However, he had a talking impediment. Often, his tongue added more excitement to every word that walked out of him. One would think his words drop like wind-blown rain.”

            “That’s a terrible burden to carry.” Nihu thought of something else Phil had said. “Do you derive much pleasure in mediations?”

            “Yes, oh yes. My meditations have yielded results. The last time I was under the influence of morning mediation, I saw dwarf angel. It looked like a green mallard. It told me all would be well with me. I am sure it had come to give me hope of returning to glory after the truckload of the misfortunes I have experienced here. I will hold a holy service of songs when I return home. That is the first thing I will do when I get there.”

            “But you have nothing now. The King now owns your house.”

            “Of course. I expect to join my brother right away. He will be very happy to see me alive. The celebration will carry to the next level.”

“What does he do for a living?” Nihu shifted on the log.

“He is a farmer. And his well is deep enough to swallow ten of your stature.”

            “Then you will be well. I thought you were just like every journeyman whose heaven is the street inn or corner. After every blessed day, he seeks comfort in a wonder of unholy women. When the police come to raid, you will only see his back.”

“This journeyman has served his time for offending others.” Old Phil removed his old hat that revealed rivers of sweat that were carefully gliding down his hollow cheeks. With the back of his hand, he rubbed them off his face and slapped the hat back on his head.

“I have a dream, a big one indeed. My survival means I was not guilty at all. There are people who believed in me because I have had a positive effect on their lives.” Old Phil straightened his shoulders, raising his chin.

“Things will be different for you now. Your travails are over.” Nihu sighed quietly, chin in hand. 

            “Surviving the Lonely Forest to tell the people of the devils here is news. No one in recent memory has returned from here alive. Do you realize that? I am the first. If you survive too, you can expect to increase your fortune ten-fold when you get back to the countryside. God will see to that.”

            “That will be a grand accomplishment for an old soldier like you. I can not hope to follow you.” Nihu revealed a trail of discouragement on his face. “I will be well into my years by the time I am allowed to walk out of here. If I survive to that day.” He gazed desolately at the old man.

Old Phil looked straight into the eye of the disenfranchised youth, “Nihu, there is always hope. God has made sure of that. I believe you can survive just as I have survived all these years. Live bravely, your day will come.”

            He rose to his feet, “Let’s go out together to hunt for the last time. The animal we bring in will be my parting gift for you.” He smiled at the boy. Nihu returned it weakly. Old Phil would soon be gone for good.

“I will be with you in a moment.” The old man said. “I want to bring my old Dane gun that has always hit its mark.” He entered the hut as Nihu lowered his head between his thighs scratching in the Earth with a stick.

            In a few minutes, Phil emerged, fully dressed in his hunting attire. “Boy, you must get ready. The forest awaits our ambitions. So it would seem. But it is a beginning that brings us closer to the end.”        Nihu got slowly to his feet, as if he was being forced to go against his principles. He went into the hut to get all he would need for the hunt. He took the spear that was in the doorway and returned to Old Phil’s side. “I am ready,” he said quietly.      

            “Look, Nihu, upon our return to the cabin, we shall have a long swim in the river, you hear me?”

            “Okay.”

            “And I remember you told me you have a flute and that you can play very well. You must play for me. I will dance like a man celebrating in triumph before leaving for the countryside.”

            “I will play as well as I can. May the gods find favor.”

            “You will engender favor by celebrating with me. It is well that a body casts doubt and fear aside so that he might honor another’s good fortune. So, Nihu, I want the best from you.” He coughed and his hat fell off his head. He went for it and added, “I will send prayers for you every day that your sojourn here will be as uneventful as possible.”

            They walked down the path in silence for a while. Presently, Old Phil inquired if Nihu had his flute with him.

“No, I left it in my rucksack in the hut.”

            “I was tempted to ask you to play now a dreamy song of the countryside.” Old Phil sighed. “Oh well, it will wait until we return.”

They trampled the dry leaves, heading for the interior of the forest, Old Phil leading Nihu who followed slowly behind. Phil was almost skipping in happy anticipation as if heading to a glorious alter. After some time, the forest swallowed them up, as if wanting them to become a part of the Lonely Forest forever. It is hard to say which of them would have bargained harder for his freedom.

            By sunset, the two had not yet found a single animal that Old Phil could have gotten with a clean shot. The evening was beginning to stare them down and there was no animal in sight. The day had finally surrendered to the coming of the evening powers. Both were tired and had little strength left. Old Phil’s shoulder has sagged and Nihu could barely lift his feet. Without speaking, they stopped to rest under a tree. Old Phil broke the long silence that had stood between them. “Nihu, what shall we do? We cannot remain here like stagnant waters on the street of the local district. I wanted to celebrate properly, not in such a weak manner. The fun must start right away.”

            “What shall we do?”

“Just watch me. You may learn the way the army of the countryside celebrates their victories after a hard fought battle.” The old man got to his feet and sent bullets from his old Dane gun into the air. As excitement within him grew, he let more bullets into the air, chanting old spirited songs of victory that every soldier of the countryside sings when the mission has gone the right way. Old Phil let go more bullets until he had none left in his gun.

            Satisfied he turned to Nihu, “Boy, let’s return to the hut. The bullets have served their purpose. I feel as good as if they had brought down a tasty beast. What is more exciting than forest life? A forest where even the trees now believe in my prowess and wits?” He caught Nihu’s eye. “I can see you are glum. Lively up, Nihu. No need to bury your head in discouragement. We can get one of the monkeys near the hut to fill our bellies. I will show you the stores of provisions I have made and of course, the hut is yours to live in.  Tomorrow, I leave you to your life. A solitary life is not such a bad thing.  I have new-found confidence after I have eaten and lived with the jungle devils that never cease to arrive at my doorstep.”

            “At least, I was able to get to know you for a little while,” Nihu was resigned to his fate. “Living with you was not written into my banishment order. It was luck that I met you here and now circumstance is now setting us apart. Your time here is done. The providence that kept you alive all these years can also deliver me from painful claws of death.”

“It is good to hear you say such things. Nevertheless, be careful. Macquesemis had much faith in providence, but today his remains rest under the shade of an old oak tree. Let us go.” Old Phil put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they set off in the direction of the hut.

            The light was waning and they went along quietly. The dry leaves crackled under their boots. Nihu’s eyes spied a walnut tree; the ripe fruits among its leaves spoke to his stomach. Up the tree he went. With a hand on one of the tree’s fruits, he called out, “Phil, I will be along presently. No need to wait but a moment.” He went for another as Old Phil continued alone.

“I will wait for you by the river. Just be careful.” His voice carried back as Nihu faded into the tree.

“Who would find me up here?” Nihu wondered in a whisper. “I will pluck some walnuts and catch up to him before the river.”

            Old Phil waved his left arm into the air by way of farewell as he went down the path, suffering the dry leaves and grasses under his worn boots. Just as he pursed his lips to whistle a tune for companionship, a lion leapt onto his path. Seeing the old man, it charged without hesitation. Old Phil had less than two seconds to face the animal with his Dane gun, ready with his finger on the trigger to dispatch the animal to its grave. In a twinkling, it dawned on him that the gun was empty and he had no other option but to flee. As he turned to run, the lion pounced.

            Nihu heard the roar and knew Old Phil was in peril. An agonized cry from the old man and another roar from the beast set the forest ablaze in the quiet night. Nihu jumped from the tree, took hold of his spear that he had left leaning against it, and hurried to the scene where Old Phil was battling to stay alive underneath a wild lion. The lion had the attack advantage and had Phil pinned to the ground. Old Phil was trying his best to roll away from the lion’s claws and teeth, but he cried aloud and panted for air.

            Nihu raised his spear above his head and raced into the melee to save Old Phil from becoming a meal for the wild beast. He struck the lion in the neck, a little below the mane. The spear stuck deep in the neck of the lion, but the handle came apart in his hand and Nihu could only hope that a second strike would not be necessary. He stood back, as the lion, knocked off his feet, struggled with fate. Old Phil, battling hard to overcome blackout, made a final effort to send his foe to the world beyond. He drew his jackknife from his boot, sat up and slit the lion’s belly. The lion lay still at last.

            Old Phil sank back and began to gasp for his life in the pool of his blood. Nihu rushed to him in a horrible fright, to see if he could save the old man from dying at the brink of his release. He knelt by the old man’s bloody head, took it onto his lap and tried to encourage the old soldier back to life. “Phil, you are strong. Stronger than the willows in the brook. You must not die.” Tears flooded his eyes. “I will care for you in the hut for as long as it takes.”

            Old Phil struggled valiantly against the incoming blackness. “No, Nihu, it is too late already for medicine. I have met my fate today. A soldier never travels through the woods with an empty gun. Had I remembered that, I would be worthy to see my home again. Former deeds cannot insure survival in hell. My life is tragedy and I hope you might learn something from it. I advise you to take your own life, my boy. Do not wait for the devil of beast or disease to ravage you. You must find a way out of here . . .” He gasped and choked as speech left him. His head rolled to one side as the last of life faded from his lips.

            Nihu stroked Old Phil’s face and wept bitterly as he recognized that the old man’s ghost had gone. “No, no, Phil. No! You cannot leave like this. This is not how it’s supposed to be!” He fell on the dead man and wept, harder than ever before in his life. He wailed aloud in the dark until he could cry no more.

            Somehow, he managed to drag the remains of the old man back to the hut where he found a shovel to dig a grave. After he finished the mound, he built a small fire and went in for his flute. Returning to the graveside, he began to pay Old Phil his last respects. The melody was a dirge, played for fallen heroes in the countryside. It was equally good enough to move one’s feet. However, Nihu remained seated on a log as he played out his despair.

            Presently, a deer came out of the woods into the clearing. It made few steps toward the fire and transformed into a white dwarf that began to dance to the melody. Nihu’s heart jumped into his mouth. He stopped playing and watched the creature, fear gripping his heart. In the absence of music, the dwarf continued to dance. The flute slipped from Nihu’s grasp as his grip relaxed and the dwarf, cloaked in animal skins, laughed. The eyes in the sockets of his skull were incredibly large and yellow and quite terrible to look at. The dwarf skipped forward a few steps and laughed a terrifying laugh in Nihu’s face, revealing a crooked set of yellow teeth.

“You are good. You play well. If not, I would have had to eat you.” The dwarf stared into the boy’s eyes. “I have watched you bury your dead countryman and when you pulled out your flute I forgot everything to dance. I don’t get much chance for festivities anymore.”

Nihu’s eyes widened. He plucked up his spirit to ask, “Who are you?”

            “I am Magonda, the god of the Lonely Forest. I rule everything here.” The bulging eyes of the dwarf were fixed on Nihu. He did not look pleasant or friendly. A dwarf’s countenance can send one’s courage packing at the drop of a hat. Being stared at by one of them was an invitation to flee.

Cold jitters ran down Nihu’s spine. The bravery that had come to him in the face of the lion had gone. Nihu could only wait for the kind of consolation that old Philominenges got or the slow death that swallowed Macquesemis. Yet something the dwarf had said prompted an inquiry to the quick-thinking boy. As if probing a weak spot in the dwarf’s reply, Nihu crossed his arms over his body and threw out his question. “If you rule here as you say, why didn’t you prevent the lion’s attack and the snake bite that killed the men that lived here for so many years?”

            The dwarf was unfazed and laughed, covering his mouth with a hand as rough as the back of a turtle. This protected the dismal sight of his teeth from the eyes of the boy. The laugh bowed his body to the ground. Then he stopped abruptly, and threw a wicked look at Nihu. “Why didn’t I save your countrymen from their deaths? I ordered their deaths. It was as I wished. Your friends caused me no end of trouble since the day they arrived here.”

            “So you killed them?” Nihu could not take his eyes from the proud creature’s face. 

“Yes. Moreover, I can end you, too, with a devilish zap such as this. He drew a short battle-axe from his cloak and threw it at a tree. The piercing not only ravaged the tree, it destroyed other trees in a wide swath behind it. When Nihu turned to see the ruin, his eyes widened, for the battle-axe had cut down over ten trees with that one hit. The dwarf raised his hand to catch the axe that flew back to his grasp.

Nihu realized his peril, and his knees knocked ferociously together. “Please, let me go.”

            “Yes, indeed. Your fancy flute playing has saved your life. I will let you go on one condition. I want you to go to the western mountain.” He pointed with his left hand into the gloom beyond Nihu’s fire. “It is at the far end of the forest and is a home of evil powers; a place of frequent volcano eruptions that has cost this forest and other areas their natural beauty. When you get there,” he brought out a smooth, round stone, “you will drop this stone in the pit of fire. If you do that for me, I will spare you forever.”

            “Where is the pit of fire?”

            “It is right there in the mountain. Your intuition will lead you to it.”

            “Can’t you tell me the way?”

            “You will have to find it yourself. That is my price for your freedom. If you fail, I will kill you as I did to a thousand-man army that came to war with me many years ago. I am sure they are from your land. Look here and you will see.”

Magonda opened his cloak and raised his arm as if forming a large wing. Nihu saw a scene of a bloody war revealed in the cloth. A battle was being fought between the wood demons led by Magonda, and country army sent by his own king, who had believed the powers in the Lonely Forest, could be conquered as any foreign enemy they had successfully driven from the kingdom.

 

*     *     *

 

            Men approached the Lonely Forest like insects with swords, javelins, long spears, and short-handled battle-axes with heads as big as the head of a four-fisted wrecking ball. They carried shields meant to protect against the onslaught of the wood demons. As they advanced, the plain in front of the forest began to vomit horrible looking creatures. Zombies formed out of the ground, carrying weapons like those of the enemy. They prepared to confront the intruders in a showdown.

Seeing the zombies readying themselves for attack, the invaders roared and charged, raising their weapons above their heads. As they were about to close in, the army halted as if sizing up their opponents. The leader stepped forward. A man of a considerable height, his neck was as thick as the handle of his battle-axe. He instructed the soldiers handling the bows and arrows to step forward and then commanded them to shoot. A thousand arrows were let loose, which descended like night rain on the wood demons. They received the shots as if there was nothing significant about them at all. If an arrow pierced anywhere in their bodies, they drew it out and bit off the point, as if eating from a plate at a banquet. When the country army saw that their shots did no harm to the wood demons, the leader cried out to attack right away. The soldiers roared, raising their spears and axes to high heavens and raced across the field to the clash. Likewise, the wood demons ran down the plain to meet their adversary.

            Heads began to roll and blood flowed like a river. The zombies had the upper hand and the army fell like a pack of cards. Suddenly, the zombies began to vanish, disappearing into the forest as if they had lost all lust for battle. Greatly encouraged the survivors pressed their advantage and advanced into the woods.

            The battle took a new turn when they got to the forest. The soldiers stood in amazement as they discovered that the demons they had chased were nowhere in sight. They seemed to have mixed with the air. As the armies were still looking confusedly to every side, strange cries like wild wolves filled the air. The howling grew and the men stood in fear, holding their weapons in an iron grip.

            A rumble shook the ground and moments later a pack of giant wolves leapt upon the men from every direction, sending a host of them to early graves. The soldiers did not give up in the face of the massacre. They fought gallantly and were able to overcome the wolves that turned to ashes when a capable soldier’s lance made good its mark. After a ferocious onslaught, the wolves retreated into the wooded forest.

            The men were still lamenting the huge number of deaths to their camp, when they noticed trees around crackling. They fixed their eyes on the developing cracks. Mythical zombies like the ones they battled earlier began to come out of the trees. Immediately, they pounced on the remaining army and another round of breathtaking battle ensued. These zombies were even more horrible than the first contingent was. They were cannibals whose fingernails skewered their prey as they feasted on all they could lay their hands on. This completely demoralized the remaining troops. They took to their heels. As they ran, trees began to vomit arrows after them. At every turn, men fell and died. The zombies increased their numbers and made many meals out of the corpses. They were still in frenzy when Magonda, the ruler of the Lonely Forest, emerged to survey the scene. Recognizing him at once, the creatures got up and bowed to their god. Then quietly, they retreated into the trees from whence they had come.

 

*     *     *

 

Nihu watched the scene fade with a heavy heart.

            “You are but a gnat in my teeth,” said Magonda. “A wolf would make short work of you.”

            “That is what I want. Kill me now. No need to send me to a place where I will die like a poor dog. And now I know I am not meant to return home from this place.”

The dwarf laughed, “So you prefer to die, Nihu?”

            “Yes. It is better. I am ready now.”

The white dwarf opened his mouth. A whirlwind came out of it and transformed into a great gorilla. The beast roared, beating hard on its chest. Without thinking of his prior resolve, Nihu took to his heels with his feet almost touching the back of his head like an antelope broken loose from the snare of a desperate hunter. The beast had the speed of ten men and chased Nihu around the camp. They went past trees and bushes with amazing speed. Nihu was no match for the agile beast who finally pounced, crushing him to the ground. He roared with the roar of a rampaging river that has broken free of a dam. He grabbed hold of one of Nihu’s legs and suspended him in the air. Magonda came forward.

            “STOP!” the dwarf ordered. “I have no reason to want you dead, Nihu. You did not disrupt my home like your compatriots. You did not upset my animals, you did not hurt my trees, and you did not make noise. I am pleased with your playing. Those countrymen of yours got what they deserved.”

            “Will you free me?”

            “I will. Are you ready to do as I asked?”

            “I will, if you let me go.”

            The dwarf signaled to the gorilla. He dropped Nihu on the ground and stalked off into the dark night. “If you do as I instruct, the powers in the mountain will not destroy you. However, if you try to outsmart me, you will never come back alive. The trail to the mountain is as difficult as walking on the wheels of fire. However, the quest must be completed. I must confess, even if I knew where the pit was, I could not tell you. I will give you this battle-axe. Once you cast the stone into the pit, it will start work for you.”

            “If I may ask, why can’t you cast the stone yourself?”

            “You will find out when you get there.”

            Magonda handed the stone and the battle-axe to Nihu. He took them gingerly. “The axe will work for you immediately upon accomplishing the task before you,” repeated the dwarf.

            Nihu was still contemplating the Herculean task that was ahead of him when the dwarf became a black panther and bounded beyond sight of the glowing embers. Nihu shuffled through the dark to the hut and sank onto the wooden bed, covering himself with a cover of animal skin he found on the bed. The darkness grew as a giant troll, making it dangerous to venture out for a night hunt, as hunters would do in the bush tribes. Stars refused to smile, starving the Earth of brightness.

            Nihu had yet to put the day behind him. He kept thinking of the white dwarf and could not sleep. The days ahead held so much uncertainty. There was no lamp in the hut and it was pitching dark. As the night sunk into every crevice and corner, Nihu threw the cover off his body. He got hold of the battle-axe and the stone and began to run his hands over them in the huge darkness. After some time, he sank into sleep. An old soldier like Phil or Macquesemis might have been wakeful, knowing from experience what things he might face by embarking on such a journey, a mission full of danger and with little hope of success. Nihu however was only a boy and he began to snore very hard in the quiet hands of the night.