Author's Note: After another successful story, I'm back with something new. I promised you guys I would be after taking a break. It was a lot longer than I thought it would be, but that's okay. It gave me a lot of time to think and plan. So, here's a new story for your entertainment/enjoyment. To those of you who read Intertwined from beginning to end, and read the summary I gave you of this next one, you should know what it's gonna be about. This is another original work of mine and it also deals with problems not normally written or seen. Compared to my last two stories this one is not about love and marriage among lions. Though, it's only fair that I warn you that the elements of this story are intense, so you, like me, are in for a wild ride. Hope you're ready!
All the characters and events in this story are mine and are not to be used without my permission.
So, I present…
Through the Shadows
Prologue
The air was chilly. Clouds filtered overhead, blocking the mid-morning sun. They were dark and threatening. Whether it would rain was anyone's guess, but it didn't matter. The king and his son had to patrol, whether they liked it or not. The prince shivered in the freezing air.
His father growled. "Stop that! It's just cold weather, and the clouds above are a sign that the rains will come, so stop shaking and deal with it. I'm not going to send you home because you're afraid to catch a cold!" The king's eyes flashed with anger as he stared at his son, teeth showing. His dark stormy gray-purple eyes snapped.
The prince nodded stiffly, offering no reply. But he grunted softly. He kept his eyes ahead and forced his own emotions down into his throat, his stomach, wanting to quench them. He should've considered himself lucky that his father didn't strike him for not answering.
He would have you know, especially if you gave a reply he didn't like, said a voice in his head. He shrugged it off. No matter his feelings he had a job to do. How he wished he didn't have to do it with his father!
The king spoke again. "Stop, we're near the border. I'm going to mark. You keep an eye out for any intruders." Then the older lion drew his face close to his son and hissed. "Don't screw up! You are not to fail, understand? If you do, there will be consequences."
A short, curt nod, but he understood nonetheless. "Yes, Father," he spoke, completely devoid of emotion. Emotion, his father said, was a sign of weakness. His father didn't have it, didn't want him to have it either.
The prince had been patrolling with his father for nearly two years. He was just three, his mane grown. When the first strands of mane started to show on his chest his father said with a hard and loud voice, "Your mane has come in! It is time for you to stop lying around and take some responsibility! I won't be here one day to clean up any mess you might make!"
He remembered his father had struck him hard in the face after that. "Just so you don't forget," he'd snarled.
That smack hadn't been the first. He'd suffered many before, even as a cub. Although his scars had healed over the years they were replaced by more, both on his body and on the inside, namely his heart and mind. His father was trying to strip him of his goodness and his innocence time after time.
The prince shook himself and watched as his father left. His whiskers twitched, his ears rose and he sniffed the air. Despite the cold atmosphere, there was nothing foreign, nothing amiss. He pawed the grass, the dirt, and drew in a sharp breath through his nose. He didn't want to patrol, at least not with his father, the king. He would have patrolled by himself. He wanted to just for the sake of freedom. These would be his lands one day anyway. He wasn't lazy but his father refused to see it.
"I'm always weak to you, aren't I, Father? I, your only son… And you –" He shut his eyes, remembering the first time his father ever hit him. "I was just a cub," he muttered. "How could you?" He had done nothing wrong then, had done nothing wrong now. It was as though his father hated the sight of him, but only tolerated him because he was his son with royal blood flowing through his body. That was it. If he were anyone else, his father would have surely killed him on the spot with no regret or remorse.
One of the first times he'd been hurt was when his father was teaching him to pounce. The memory filled his mind…
A small gopher popped up beside him. His father was watching, which made him swallow in fear, but made his determination increase. He had to get this right.
The young prince studied his intended target. He waited until the animal moved a few feet in front of him, its back to him. It looked ahead, sniffed and then turned to see the lions. Its eyes grew wide, its mouth opened in panic. It had to make a hasty decision. It could take off and run anywhere or dig a new hole.
The lion cub moved carefully and quietly, keeping his body to the ground. His belly touched the dirt. He braced himself for a pounce, his eyes sparkling. The prince pounced and the gopher moved quickly, digging its front paws into the dirt, creating a new hole.
The medium gray-brown lion cub's paws hit the newly created hole where the gopher had disappeared. Disappointment filled him. He wasn't quick enough. A low, angry growl reached his ears, which went back at the sound. He closed his eyes, fear now replacing his disappointment. His father had brought him out here for this very purpose – to pounce. If he didn't succeed the first time then –
"Turn around," he heard the king say.
He had no choice but to obey. He turned his body around and stared up into the eyes of his now angry father.
The ruler's front claws appeared, then sheathed. His eyes snapped, his teeth showed. "I told you to be patient, to wait and to not make a sound!"
The cub gulped. "I didn't, Dad, I –"
There was a smack, a yelp of pain, the sound of his body falling to the ground. He groaned, which earned him another hit.
"Yes, you did, and crying out gets you nowhere," the king snarled. "Stop it!" he growled as he slammed his right paw down on his son again. This time he unsheathed the claws on his right front paw, leaving four marks on the cub's upper left hind leg.
The heir to the throne, young and innocent, only shut his eyes and tried to keep his cries from being heard. He closed his mouth and endured the beating. He knew why. It had happened the last time his father tried to teach him to pounce. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it would happen every time he didn't live up to his father's expectations… even something like this. This beating wasn't the first. And if he didn't pounce right and make mistakes in the future, it wouldn't be the last.
The three-year old prince opened his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. He looked around and looked himself over. He wasn't a cub anymore, but a full grown adult. His father wasn't beating him… yet, and wouldn't unless he did what he was told and kept an eye out for intruders. He did. He sniffed the air. No foreign scents.
He shuddered as a question ran through his mind. He was grown up and still allowed his father to beat him when he didn't do something the way the king wanted it done. Did it make him weak? And just what was his father… He stopped the question, knowing the answer. His father was always abusive. Not just to him, but to the lionesses and the queen as well. Not physically but verbally.
"There is no room for weakness in this world, son. We must be strong, always. Weakness is like a horrible stench. My father wasn't weak and he beat the weakness out of me. I became strong, and so shall you, once weakness is out of you."
Those were the words his father spoke when he started growing his mane. Well, now he was three years old, and his father wanted him to be just like him? To hurt others when they were a little weak? What was wrong with weakness? Who could be strong all time? What about emotion? He couldn't remember even one time when his father smiled, laughed or cried. Maybe he never did, or whenever he did, he'd had it beaten out of him by his father.
The prince's ears went forward, back and then flickered. His heart pounded. His father was training him to be heartless, emotionless, to rule with a paw of cruelty and hatred. He looked up at the sky. The clouds were coming in, harder, blacker. Rain was on the way or a fierce lightning storm. The threat of such a storm reminded him of his father. He treated his pride the way lightning treated the earth, harming everything it struck, sometimes creating a fire of devastation. That's what his father had unleashed upon the realm, to the lionesses that didn't deserve it, their cubs, his mother and him.
His father was like this upcoming storm, like all the storms he'd seen in the past, violent, and deadly if caught in it. And it's what his father wanted him to be. To rule like him, to be this coming storm and all others like it. The prince had only seen a few good, calm, soothing storms and gentle gray clouds in the last few years. He'd felt the peacefulness of the rains, had seen the way it replenished the lands and filled the waterholes. Why couldn't his father be like the calm storms? Why did he have to be so violent?
Did he have to be violent?
His father was mean, but he, the heir, didn't have a mean bone in his body. Sure he hated it when his father hurt him, even when he least expected it. He hated to see his mother and anyone else with hurt feelings.
The prince trembled in the cold air. He could feel the oncoming storm swirl around him, perhaps tempting him… to what?
How much longer could the kingdom stand with a lion like his father and how would it stand if he took his place and used the training his father was beating into him?
The kingdom wouldn't last, nor would the pride, and the animals would leave. Everything would fall. As the shaman put it, "the balance here would fall with an unfit and unrighteous king. The Circle here would be broken."
She was right, more so if he took over. He was surprised that the balance wasn't falling with his father in charge, surprised it hadn't fallen when his grandfather ruled.
A growl escaped him and his eyes snapped. His father was a violent storm that needed to be stopped. Ideas came. Talking wouldn't work. He couldn't just go up to his father, who was still patrolling and say, "Dad, you don't deserve to be king, so I'm going to take over. To do that, I have to kill you, because a lion like you doesn't deserve to live." Though the idea sounded appealing, it was bad. He had to think this through.
He raised his head and sniffed the air, searching for his father's scent. When he found it he slowly began to walk in that direction – south. For the moment, he didn't care if he wasn't following orders. If his father got killed by a rogue, fine by him. It would save him the trouble of getting rid of this violent creature. But if a rogue didn't do the job, he would. He'd be committing murder, but what his father was doing, had done, was wrong, maybe more than what he was about to do.
It didn't matter. Getting rid of his father was all he cared about. He stopped and looked ahead. There he was, marking the bushes. The prince smirked wryly. "Always so proud to be the king, aren't you, Father?" he muttered to himself bitterly. "You care about nothing and no one, not even the kingdom in general, yet you go out every day and defend it." He took in a breath, felt a cold wind surround him, and continued his walk.
After marking another bush, the king sniffed the air and turned. His eyes grew wide in surprise, then vicious, angry. "What are you doing? I told you to keep an eye on things! Do you EVER listen to a thing I say?" He growled and snarled.
The prince stopped a few feet from him. "Yes, Father, I do listen," he said simply.
"No, you don't. You never have. You're my son, my firstborn and only son! You were supposed to be strong, but your mother birthed a weakling. I've wasted three years shaping you into –"
"Into what exactly, Father, into another version of you? Sorry I disappointed you there, but it wasn't Mother's fault. Not all things or beings become what we hope. We just learn to accept, something you yourself never learned." Then he turned his head to the side, muttering, "Probably thanks to grandpa."
As expected, the remark earned him a slap in the face. His head jerked, his cheek stung, but there were no claws. He didn't feel them. He turned back to his father, a pain filled smile plastered on his face. "It's true, isn't it? Your father made you into what you are and you want to do the same to me. It won't happen."
"Really, and what makes you think that? When I'm done with you you're going to be –"
"I won't be a king. I'll be a tyrant, just like you and grandpa."
"And you think you can rule differently? You've been listening to your mother again, or that fool of a shaman."
The prince growled. "In this coming storm, Father, here, your reign shall end. I won't have you hurting the pride, Mother, or the animals ever again."
The king laughed. "And what does that mean? You're going to kill me? You'd be committing regicide – murdering your king."
The younger lion shook his head. "You're not a king. You're not my king and you're not my father. You're nothing to me, and the lands will do better without you." Claws on all four paws came out and his teeth showed. He bared them, growled loudly and leapt at his father.
Claws dug into fur and teeth bit into flesh. Roars, snarls, and growls of fighting filled the air. So did the sounds of thunder and some flashes of lightning. But something filled inside the prince.
When he bit into his father's shoulder, clawed his side and back, until finally his mouth filled with the blood from his father's throat, something in his mind snapped. The blood… it tasted so good it was as though he was sucking the evil from this lion's body, this lion that deserved to die by his own son. The blood and the feel of his father's now dead weight beneath his paws made him feel powerful, invincible. But it also made him feel something else: Anger and rage. It was against his father and not.
In that moment he remembered the other beatings and the events after. How he would return to his mother, beaten and sometimes bloodied. His mother would take him in her paws and bathe him. But that was it. She had never stopped her mate from harming him. She was the queen, the second-in-command. Her duty was to make sure the pride was in good health. Despite bathing him, she never spoke up, never defended him. She had allowed the king to beat him, sometimes in her presence.
In the prince's mind an image flashed of one particular time. What he'd done or didn't do, he wasn't sure but as his father brought down his paws on him his mother had stood in a corner with a low head.
She did nothing…
He jerked and tore out his father's throat. He spat up blood in the grass and looked down at the mess that had been his father. The king was gone. Sighing heavily, he turned and walked away, his legs numb. He wasn't done. His eyes burned as he tasted the blood on his lips, his muzzle. His paws were also covered.
His father had wanted to make a violent storm out of him, to repeat the cycle his father had laid out for him. Both kings had succeeded. Thirst for blood coursed through the prince's body and the storm in the sky was growing. Thunder rumbled, harder, louder. The sky was threatening to unleash one violent act of nature.
The stormy weather and the stormy blood thirst in the prince had just begun.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Queen Ruhusa looked back at her hunting party, a black rimmed ear flickering. Her eyes blinked as she studied them, her party, all six of them, seven including her. They were ready, they always were, and she was proud, no relieved, to be with them. She couldn't help it. Being with the lionesses who hunted gave her peace of mind. It made her forget her own private troubles. But her troubles were also the pride's troubles. They cared for her deeply, as they should. She was their queen, their leader.
Ruhusa smiled at the lionesses and turned her gaze back to the small herd of grazing wildebeest. They were unaware of the predators' presence. Ruhusa had the party stop a good distance away. They were lying low in the grass, waiting. The signal was simple. She would wave her tail and the teams would spread out. One would cause a disruption in the herd; then both teams would rush out and bring an herbivore or two down. It'd be enough to feed the pride for a few days.
Ruhusa walked up a bit, an ear flickering as she heard a few members of her team do the same. She turned to them, shaking her head. Understanding, they stopped. The queen stared at the herd, her mind wandering. She thought about her son and mate. Would her son return home with new scars, a sprained leg, or both? Her ears went back. A pained expression covered her face and her heart pounded at the image. But the reality of it had happened before, so much over time.
She pawed the grass, fighting the emotion that suddenly filled her. It didn't surprise her that she was feeling this way: guilty, ashamed and defeated. Shouldn't she feel these things? She had every right to. She knew her mate, Abasi, was a hot-head, the kind of lion who didn't take well to imperfection. So why did he marry her? She was far from perfect. They'd known each other forever, since they were cubs and she knew he had a temper, but it didn't stop her from marrying him. Didn't stop her from hoping or praying that her love could, if not change him then maybe keep him calm.
The only time Abasi wasn't cold and cruel was when they were alone together away from the pride's cave, under a full moon and bright stars. Only then was he the lion she'd fallen for when she was two years old. The rest of the time… he was… and their son… Her beloved son, the very same son Abasi beat when he didn't do something right.
How many times did Ruhusa bathe her badly beat child, only after Abasi stormed out of their chambers, not caring that he had hurt their son over small, innocent, and harmless things? And she was left with him, to see his beaten, broken body. She would bathe him, purr and hum softly to him until he fell asleep in her arms. When Abasi returned he never apologized, never asked if their son was okay. He would just lie down beside her and sleep like nothing happened. The first time she'd spoken to him about it he lashed out and she never asked again.
A part of her knew why he was like this. His own father had beaten him. The old king never tolerated weakness, neither did Abasi. Abasi had become his father and Abasi wanted his son – their son – to be like him.
Ruhusa growled and her body shook with fear. How could she allow such behavior, such a cycle to go on after so long? Her son! She had failed, failed her pride and her son. She shut her eyes and suppressed the urge to cry. She hoped it would be different this time. That the young lion she'd birthed three years ago wouldn't come home scarred or bruised.
"My lady," asked a lioness.
She turned, sniffing. "Yes, get ready to move." Her words were quick, hastened. The lioness nodded and spoke to her teammates. Ruhusa didn't need to hear what was being said. She'd been through this so many times, she just knew. Thoughts of her son and mate filled her mind again, refusing to leave. She motioned to the lioness. "My throat is parched. I'm going to find a waterhole."
The lioness nodded and Ruhusa silently left the party. Thirst wasn't the only reason. Images filled her mind; sorrow enveloped her heart, followed by a large wave of guilt. Rightly so, she thought to herself. I am guilty. I didn't defend my son when he was small and helpless. Her back and shoulders felt weighed down by the power of her thoughts. What kind of mother am I? I love Abasi, despite his temper, and I love – The rest of her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a rustling in the grass to the right. She turned her head and stepped forward, ears raised.
"Who's there," she asked in a commanding voice.
She waited. Then a form emerged, one she knew well as it made its way towards her. She relaxed. It was only him, her son. With a smile she looked on him, but her smile was quick to vanish from her face. Something was wrong. Blood covered his muzzle and paws. Her heart jumped in her throat, then sank into her stomach. Had he been in a fight with a rogue while patrolling the borders with his father? Had her mate died in the fight?
The air around her grew cold and she glanced up at the sky. There were dark threatening clouds. In the distance sparked two flashes of lightning, but she wasn't her concerned. She had to see to her son, find a waterhole, and return to her team so they could hunt. Hopefully they could grab two kills and go home before it rained. And by the looks of the sky, it's gonna rain hard, she thought.
She wanted to call out to the young lion, but he spoke first. He's shaking, she noted. Whether it was from the weather or what he had to do out there on the borders, she couldn't tell.
"Father is dead, Mother," said the prince, his voice toneless, emotionless.
Her heart jumped, sank and then jumped again. Her emotions rose and fell. Lifting one foreleg into the air a bit and setting it down, she managed, with great difficulty, to take a step back. Had she heard correctly?
"H-he's dead?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper she wasn't sure if her son heard the question.
The prince continued to make his way to her. He nodded sharply. "Yes, he is."
Ruhusa wasn't sure what frightened her more. The weather, the fact that her mate was dead or the way her son was walking and talking. Perhaps it was all three. "How do you know? I-I mean, was it a rogue?" Quickly, she chided herself. Of course it was! She bowed her head.
"Mother…"
His voice made her raise her head and she could feel a tear trying to escape. The cold air increased, making her shake violently. Thunder rumbled softly. She shook herself and as she studied her son, she was fearful. He had just been through a traumatic experience – fighting off the rogue lion that killed his father. Then the queen and her son were face-to-face. Ruhusa looked into his eyes. They were fractured, devoid of their gray color.
"My son…" she said, her voice quiet, and as she prepared to lay her head on his shoulder to comfort him she was knocked to the grass, landing on her side. She shook her head and looked up. He had hit her. She put a paw to her face. All words left her.
He came up and stared down at her. In that moment Ruhusa understood the reason for her fear. He was shaking, not from killing the rogue but from… The prince smiled, revealing his bloodstained teeth.
"Yes, now you understand, don't you Mother? It's about time."
She sniffed the scent of blood on him. It wasn't foreign, the scent of a rogue's. It was her mate's. Her eyes widened in horror. Had her son –
"That's right, I killed him, and now it's your turn." He ran his claws along her side.
She cried out and shut her eyes against the pain. She gasped. "M-my son –" A sharp blow to the head cut her off.
"Son, son you say? I am not your son and you are not my mother!" he raged and ran his claws against her side again. "How could you? You just stood by while he beat me when I was a cub. And in the years following you never stopped it, never, not once!"
Tears fell down her face. "I-I-I wanted –"
"Don't tell me anymore lies, Mother!" His eyes snapped. "You told me I'd be all right! Well, I'm quite all right now!"
"Son…" she said weakly. She was powerless, helpless and no one would come for her. Her mate was dead at the paws of their son. Soon, she would join him. She had to surrender. She would.
The prince rained down blow after blow on his mother until he had to stop due to exhaustion. The thunder grew loud in his ears, lightning flashed in his peripheral vision. The wind blew hard around him as he stared at the now mutilated body of his dead mother, the queen. He gasped for air. Just looking at her, at the spilled blood on his paws, blood that had mixed in with the blood of his father, at the blood on the grass around and under her body was enough to make him sick and make his mouth water simultaneously.
His heart pounded, his pulse surged and the thirst grew. He had killed his parents, but he still wasn't satisfied.
The pride… the lionesses…
Another memory filled his mind.
"Abasi, my love, let him be, please!" pleaded Queen Ruhusa.
"I will not! I told him exactly what to do," the ruler said angrily, staring at the one year old male. "He needs to know how to hunt… properly!"
"Perhaps, if I take him on the hunt –"
"No!" said Abasi and he slammed his paw into the young prince's head, the force sending him to the ground. He growled and snarled. "Get up!"
The prince shook his head and shakily tried to get to his feet. He fell and looked on the pride. Everyone stood to the side, all with sad pained stares. They, like the queen, his mother, were doing nothing… They were all allowing this. One lioness his age bowed her head, a tear falling down her cheek. The rest became a blur as his father's paw connected with his head again and soon, very soon, he lost consciousness.
The memory ended and a thought replaced it. "Nothing," he muttered darkly. "They did nothing… Then… then they deserve it too. T-they could've stood up for me, they could have attacked him… But they didn't, out of fear, cowardice…"
He knew what he had to do. Just as he had suffered for so many years, from the time he was a six month old cub, he would make them suffer too. Oh, yes, he would make sure they did. And he would relish in it. Though he had killed twice, and wanted to continue he was tired. His body quivered and his heart pounded. Adrenaline ran through his body, his teeth chattered and his mouth ached for the taste of blood.
The thunder intensified, the winds increased. The sky was nothing but a large place of blackness in the wake of the impending storm. And the storm in the prince's heart also grew, wildly, fiercely, with no sign of leaving. The storm in the air would continue into the next day. So would his act.
Just as they did nothing for me, just as they did not come to my rescue, no one will come to theirs…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
There was no rain, only hot air, suffocating everyone and everything. The dark clouds never left, just grew. Whether it was night or day, no one could tell. Thunder sounded, roared, and lightning flashed periodically, illuminating the lands with its frightening and powerful strikes.
The mother lioness struggled under his weight, his paw choking her, hoping to make all breath out of her gaping mouth cease. From her position she watched as a young lioness, around the lion's age, leap and jump onto his back, but the lion arched himself with ease, throwing her off. For all he knew, the precious female was unconscious when she hit the ground, but it wouldn't be her ultimate fate. He stared down at the lioness, relishing the look of fear and horror in her eyes.
"Why?" she gagged. "Why are you doing this?"
The prince looked at her and revealed blood stained teeth. "You don't know? You don't KNOW?" He roared and slammed his other paw down on the side of her face, leaving claw marks.
She cried out and shut her eyes, avoiding the blood she could feel dripping down the left side of her face. "Please, sire, don't!" she pleaded.
"It's too late for apologies lioness! I don't need them, not anymore. But back then…" His eyes snapped, showing a deep anger and pain she couldn't place. He knew she couldn't. None of the others had. None of them knew why. They were that dense, that stupid and foolish to put what he had suffered out of their minds for their own sakes. And for those who had cubs… the mothers put his suffering out of their minds for their children's sakes.
The rest of the pride had been easy to find the previous day. After he killed his mother, he'd waited. When two lionesses showed up, as he knew they would, searching for their missing hunt leader and queen, he attacked them. Then he left, going to another side of the kingdom to rest, thinking it best to leave the remaining lionesses on the hunting party alone so they could go on with the hunt and return to the caves where the pride dwelled. And, no doubt, tell them about their fallen queen and two pride members. He, meanwhile, had hunted for food. It satisfied his blood thirst, but all through the night, as he slept in a cave on the southern side his mouth ached for the taste of more, but his catch for dinner, an antelope, had been enough.
The next day he killed the lionesses on the hunting party, one by one. And he'd found this lioness under his paws, her cub, a few other lionesses and their cubs by luck, while wandering today. He'd hoped to satisfy his thirst for blood, himself, his urge and his ache. But satisfaction never came. He never questioned it, just simply savored it.
Using her eyes, the lioness looked around and saw him, her son.
"Momma," the cub asked frightened, all the while his red hazel eyes went from her to the dead bodies of two adult lionesses and his three friends. They were all dead. His friends' with their necks broken, their mothers covered in claw marks, teeth marks and blood. The reason he wasn't was because of the lioness pinned under the prince's weight. She, his mother, had saved him.
"Run, my son," she managed, the lion's paw pressing her head harder into the grass.
"Momma," yelled the cub, horrified, but he was lifted off the ground by someone picking him up by his back. It was another lioness, one he knew well and loved like a second mother.
"Shabihi, take him, take him and run!" the lioness cried out.
"Yes, run, but you'll be next, both of you!" the lion sneered with a malicious look on his face. "And… for the grand finale…" Then he looked back down at the mother, seeing the horrified look in her eyes, feeling the pleasure in his own. Her horror and his pleasure coursed through him. He shivered in it. With no words, he lowered his head to her exposed throat. His teeth sank into her fur, tasting the warm blood. He gave a quick jerk, one of many so far and more yet to come.
Oh, yes, many soon to come.
He spat and turned his head in the direction the lioness and cub had fled. He smirked for a moment and looked around, sniffing the air. The sickening, yet wonderful smell gave him more anticipation.
"Go and run," he called out. "But I'll find you!" Then he let out a powerful, tremendous, blood curdling roar. Thunder rumbled louder than before, shaking the earth, and lightning flashed behind him, the glow illuminating his body and his eyes.
He still wasn't satisfied. The thirst ran all through his body, coaxing him to continue.
Continue he did.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The smell of blood filled the air. There was blood on the ground, the rocks, the grass, and in the waterholes. It seemed blood was everywhere almost as if it had rained down from the skies with fury, like rain, without ceasing. Bodies covered the land – Some dead zebra, others gazelle, antelope and wildebeest – all the common substance for a lion's meal. But they weren't alone.
All over the kingdom, strewn on the ground in the lions' caves, some half drowned, bodies lying afloat in the waterholes, while others were sprawled out in the savannah, laid out for the birds to feed on what was left of their flesh. These were the bodies of lionesses, cubs, cheetahs, leopards. There seemed to be no end to the streaming mass.
On the borders of the kingdom lay the still bloodied body of the king. He was hardly recognizable because of his torn, mangled form. He'd lain in a pool of his own blood for days. His queen had also been slain along with their pride.
Any other animals in the lands had fled quickly, not wanting to be the next victim. Only a few birds stayed and roamed the still darkened skies. The rest couldn't stand the horrid smell, the stench of death. The kingdom was gone, its leaders dead, its inhabitants slaughtered.
The grass, dirt, waterholes and rocks seemed to be soiled in the blood of the animals that once lived. Now they were dead. The sun had yet to shine in the last three days. The dark clouds in the sky seem to hang over the lands – a bad omen, a terrible sign of more suffering to come. Whether they would bring rain, stragglers didn't know. They didn't care. Rain wouldn't change what they were seeing, what they smelled and wouldn't be able to stop smelling for days. Could the blood stained grass be cleansed and made green again?
The murderer, whom many animals that managed to escape now knew to be the prince – their heir and would've been future king – had gone on a psychotic killing spree, sparing hardly anyone. No one, not even the ones who managed to survive, be they herbivore or carnivore, knew why. The prince had also killed the shaman, a cheetah. He had torn her throat out and left her bleeding at the entrance to her cave.
The kingdom had been brought down, bathed in blood.
On all four borders of the kingdom the stragglers could only look at the devastation, of the place they'd once called home. But it wasn't. Not anymore. It was no longer a kingdom, but a graveyard.
Not wanting to breathe in the smell of death any longer the stragglers, some four-legged, others two-legged, all turned with low heads and walked out of the kingdom. Many ran, while others walked solemnly. Mourning for those who had lost family and friends was just beginning.
But on the northern border, two figures, a cub and a lioness remained. Other than the murderous prince, they were the only survivors of the once mighty pride.
The lioness looked down at the cub.
The cub looked back. She was not his mother, but he was given to her care by his blood mother just before her death. The lioness, Shabihi, not in words, but action, vowed to look after him, to raise him as her own. He sniffed and flicked the red tuft of mane on his head absently, sadly, as a tear rolled down his tan face. His red hazel eyes filled with sorrow and he buried his head in his newly adopted mother's foreleg. She purred to ease his pain, but it was hard for her too. She'd lost her queen, her friends, even a sister to the lion who would was supposed to lead them one day.
But that day would never be. In a week their lives had come crashing down, their hearts plunging into their stomachs. Their lives would never be the same. And since they were the only ones they had to keep the memories of their friends and families and the lives they themselves once had alive. Where the murderer was they didn't know, but the lioness found that she wanted revenge. With such feelings she knew she couldn't raise her adopted son properly. On top of that the prince could be anywhere, far away from the lands for all she knew, and what kind of life would her adopted son have if he was raised for revenge?
She shook the thoughts away and gently nudged him. "Come on sweetheart, we have to leave…"
The cub buried his face in her foreleg. "Momma," he sobbed.
The lioness wrapped a paw around his shaking body. Tears filled her eyes and she sniffed. "I know, I know. I'm gonna take care of you, okay?"
"I m-miss her…!"
"I know you do. I do too."
She didn't want him around the blood smelling land anymore. She didn't want to be either. She looked down at him. He'd collapsed at her paws in exhaustion. Gently, she picked him up by the scruff of his neck and turned to leave the only home they'd both ever known. All they had now was each other and she could hope and pray that the prince, the murderer of her friends, and her newly adopted son's mother wasn't on the borders.
I hope you never forget what you did to us!
In that same thought she hoped he would be haunted by what he'd done to them for the rest of his life.
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In the middle of the still blood soaked savannah a figure walked, looking on the dead bodies sadly. The figure, a lion, wasn't alone. Another lion was with him, also looking on the devastation.
The second lion sighed and looked at the first with a hard expression. "This could have been prevented, you know."
"I know."
"So why didn't you?"
The first lion, with a light tan/golden pelt and white colored mane, lowered his sky blue eyes, shaking his majestic head. "You know better than that," he said gently, but firmly. Again he shook his mane. "It doesn't work like that. It never has."
His companion scoffed. "It could have!" he yelled insistently. "Look around you, look at this, this disaster! You could have interfered; you could have sent us – your obedient servants to stop this before –" A sharp blow to the side of his face cut the lion off. He fell, the pain in his cheek spreading to the rest of his body. He looked up at the white-maned lion in surprise. "What was…" he started, but was interrupted.
"You know why," the lion said in the same firm voice, which was usually filled with gentleness. Now it was rising with anger. "They were given free will."
"Yeah and look at what the prince has done."
The white-maned lion surveyed the area, his eyes falling with a saddened gaze. He pawed the grass and raised a paw, looking. There was blood. "I have seen what he's done. He has killed."
"And he escaped! Since we're here we must find him."
"No."
"No? What do you mean by that? If you're so –"
"Watch your tongue."
"I'm sorry, but surely you know – Well, of course you know."
The older male smiled, pain etching his features. "Yes, I do know, and I know what you're trying to say." He took in the smell of the air. The horrible stench made his stomach crawl. "We will not find him. He must deal with what he has done, but he won't. He will bury it deep in his mind and keep it there."
The young lion stared. "You mean he'll suppress all of this?"
"He will."
The two were silent for a moment and then the second lion, pointing his dark red maned head in no particular direction, spoke in a soft voice. "So what becomes of those he has killed?"
"You already know, Nduli. It was you who brought them to me when they died."
"I'd prefer to hear it from you, if you don't mind."
The light tan/gold lion sighed. "The innocent – the cubs, and the mothers who died to save them, they'll be okay. They, and the shaman, my servant, will live in the paradise I created for them."
"So the other adults, they will…" Nduli paused.
A sigh escaped the sky-blue eyed lion's mouth. "They will be judged, yes."
"Including the king and queen?" the red maned lion pressed.
"Yes, including them. They must be judged and punished."
"But the queen… she took care of her son after the beatings."
The white maned lion shook his head. "One good act doesn't change anything. She was supposed to protect her child before any harm could come to him. A mother's duty is to nurture, care, and protect her child from all things that may do their child harm, including family." The male shut his eyes. "It's why they were created."
"What about the king?"
"He, too, will be punished. He will join his father and grandfather in that punishment."
Nduli nodded gravely. "You…" He paused, licked his maw and then tried again. "You are just…"
"And you know I cannot let Abasi's sin go unpunished."
"Yes, Lord."
The Creator and his servant finally came to the edge of a border of the kingdom, standing side-by-side, quiet, solemn.
"What will happen to Abasi and Ruhusa's son, Lord?" the young lion asked. "What will happen to the prince?"
A wind came and blew the Lord's mane outward. His whiskers twitched. "He will live a painful life out in the world, but he will not remain there for very long. I have a plan for him…" He glanced to Nduli. "And do not worry about the lioness and the cub. I will be watching over them, and the prince. I shall be with all of them. Remember that I have plans for all of my creation, whether they know me or not."
"But, will they meet again, Lord?" Nduli couldn't help but be curious, filled with questions like these, especially with the smell of death in the air, in every breath he took. Though his name meant angel of death, and being so was his service to the One who created him, it didn't mean he liked death. But it's part of the balance, he thought to himself. Without death there can be no life, and without life there can be no death. He waited for an answer. None came, only silence. He nodded lowly. It's not for me to know, he thought again. That's okay, maybe I –
"You will know when the time comes," said the Creator, speaking his servant's thoughts.
Nduli gasped, but not in surprise. His master was the One who formed all the dead behind him with his paws and breathed into each of their mouths the breath of his life. He closed his eyes. His master had so many names, so what was he now extending mercy to the murderer of nearly every pride member and animal of these once beautiful lands? Wait mercy… merciful… He was being merciful and not striking down the one who had created this slaughter, this place of death!
"Lord Rahimu," said Nduli, his voice heavy, his tone careful, "the prince, wherever he goes, will… Will what has happened here –"
"It will not. Suppressing the memories of all this and of his shattered and broken cubhood will make him different. It will make him the lion he should have been, but he will have a hard life."
The lion's ears went back. His confusion increased.
"Be at peace. All things will be righted. Until then, the three who are alive will live. Nothing will happen to them unless I allow it. Do you understand?"
Nduli bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord. If I may ask… the lands will they…"
Rahimu gave a small, sad smile. "Until a good, righteous lion enters and proclaims his kingship, these lands will stay as they are. Word will spread from the animals who escaped about this massacre and only brave beings will enter to learn. Other than that…"
"This place is a graveyard."
The Creator put a paw on the lion's shoulder. "It won't always be. Come, it's time for us to leave."
He nodded, but looked around one last time. He wouldn't see these lands, let alone anything else from this viewpoint until another creature died. But animals died every day. Nduli, and others in heaven with his position, were always about their Lord's work. He would return when he was commanded. But for now, in his final moments in the place where the Lord allowed his flesh bound people to live, where he would always watch over the righteous and the wicked, the guilty and the innocent, those who knew him and followed him, including those who did or didn't know him and refused to follow, Nduli, the angel of death still wondered about the prince, about the lioness and her adopted cub.
"Do not wonder," said the Lord, looking on his servant with gentle eyes. "All things work together."
Again, the lion nodded, comforted by the words of his master. He closed his eyes. "Yes, Lord."
"I will watch over them. Even in their darkest moments, I'll be there. They are not alone. Remember that."
"I shall, Master."
With a soft wind blowing, the Creator Lord Rahimu and his servant, the angel of death faded, returning to the heavens.
And any animals that stood on the borders or just near the stricken realm felt blessing and peace. It would be enough so they could continue their lives. It would be enough to put the nightmare of the last week behind them.
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Author's Note: The prologue was long, I know, but I felt it was necessary. Kept you in suspense, I hope. There's more to come. And to those of you who are… curious as to why I put God in here, well, there's a reason but I'm not explaining that reason to anyone. So I hope you'll continue reading as I update.
Name Translation: Abasi 'Stern', Ruhusa 'Leave', Shabihi 'Resemblance', Nduli 'Angel of death', Rahimu 'God; Merciful'