She was lucky, so very lucky. Though she could not see it, it was easy to tell that the wound on her neck had not been deep enough to be fatal. She would have died by now. She had many wounds she needed to tend to properly, but she wasn't out of danger yet. She had not gotten very far away from Torodondodondo. She was close enough that she had heard his final roar of fury.
She had to keep moving, despite the pain, and the fatigue. When a predator was at the back, prey did not stop to rest until their heart or legs gave out. She would give Torodondodondo a proper chase, even if it would not have been her mother's way.
Pushing off of a tree, leaving a bloody handprint on the wood, she stumbled forward, heading east. She had moved in as random pattern as she could imagine, crossing her own path several times, and now needed to get back into the branches. She was in bad condition, climbing would be difficult; she was searching for a tree with low branches.
There was little doubt in her mind that the Paya would catch up to her and finish her off. The sun was past its peak in the sky. She was not looking forward to the darkness.
Further and further she went, expecting each step to be her last. She grunted as she slipped, falling further than she expected, her stomach flipping as she tumbled down a hill. She hit the ground hard, the sting of her wounds only spurring her on. She crossed into a small clearing, the light of the sun shimmering down undeterred. She foolishly ran straight through rather than go around.
She was suddenly knocked off her feet, a solid blow to her face. She landed on her back right where she was standing, looking up for Torodondodondo. She saw the telltale signs of the cloak and felt her heart beat against her chest and face. But after a few seconds, nothing moved. Her eyes wandered. The cloak was much too large. She stood, shakily, taking a couple steps back, looking at the large invisible thing, then at the broken branches that lay around it, which led to her looking up at the tattered canopy. She felt hot fluid run down her lips and chin, but paid no mind to it. She had come to a horrible realization as her gaze lowered back to the cloak. She had just run into the Danda Kerekuru.
It was forbidden.
After any hunt that ended in the Kure Iradandaanya's success, all things belonging to the Paya remained with them. Except for the Danda Kerekuru. The star always returned to the sky after the death of its master. It was decided that this meant that of all things the star was not meant for them to have, and so to seek it out, to lay eyes upon it or touch it, was taboo and painfully punished.
Even though Diwizama knew better, knew that the Danda Kerekuru was a vessel, and not a sacred star, she could not help the bumps that crawled on her flesh, and the shivering that took over her body. She was at a loss for what to do. She was chief, she would be the one to mete out punishment to the offender, but she could not imagine how she would accomplish such a task with no one to aid her.
She very slowly took heavy steps away from the ship and the clearing, looking around as if to see that there were witnesses, if Torodondodondo himself was there, judging. There was no one, but that did not mean it didn't happen. She would find a way to punish herself after the hunt, but for now she just kept walking.
An hour later found her sitting on the ground, her back against a tree. The new wounds on her skin had been treated with sap from the tree, which was slowly running against her shoulder. She looked blankly ahead, legs stretched out in front of her, hands on her legs. Where was Torodondodondo? Had he really fallen for such an easy trick as the one she had left behind? She doubted it. Maybe he was treating his own wounds? She didn't think she had wounded him that severely; the Payas had often shrugged off wounds that would have crippled humans. She had heard all the stories; of Ngumo who had continued to fight even after his arm had been severed from his shoulder. Of Bakindo, who took down twenty of the Kure Iradandaanya after having been mauled by a pride of hunting lionesses. And of Kpakpusezama who had slain Biraragowe in jedhin jedhin, even after receiving a grievous wound from him, so deep and wide that the Paya's lung could be seen through the ribs.
Something as simple as a flesh wound from a ba wielded by a human would not have slowed any Paya down. Perhaps it was the leopard. The beast had saved her life, though it had not intended to. She had been ready to die, and she was unsure of what to do. The obvious answer was to continue, to serve out her purpose until either she or the Paya was dead. She didn't feel worthy though. She was alive only because of luck, because of an accident. Torodondodondo had won. Honorable death was hers and it was stolen from her. She wasn't sure if she was thankful or not.
If the leopard had managed to take Torodondodondo down… she had to see. Diwizama forced herself to her feet, feeling her body protest. She headed back west, following her own path back, back to where the fight occurred.
There was blood everywhere, dully glowing green and dark red. But there was no body. The leopard would not have been strong enough to drag the Paya away in the time she was gone, but Torodondodondo could have carried away the leopard. A simple search revealed that the red blood trail went in one direction, and the faded green in another. She stood alone on the battleground, looking back and forth between the two trails. She shouldn't have run. She should have stayed and made her final stand here.
Her head lowered, eyes looking at the earth but seeing through it. She stood a shadow against the lush green of the earth, surrounded by carnage. After a moment, she turned towards the green path and began to follow it. She could smell rain in the air, thick as it was. The storm growing above mirrored her soul, but her mind was quiet, and her heart steady.
The trail never went thin. It was an eventuality that she found Torodondodondo. He was already facing her, having heard her approach from further away. She did not understand why he sat waiting for her any more than why she had walked up to him without trying to conceal herself. She could see the damage that the leopard had done to the Paya. Most of them were nothing, he would heal from them easily, and probably wouldn't even scar if he didn't want to.
Her eyes moved along him, seeing a metal dish open with a bright blue jelly inside. The distortion above it spoke of a great amount of heat though she saw no source beneath it. He had smeared this jelly on most of the wound on his shoulder.
The two of them were completely still, looking at each other. She felt heat on her stomach and looked down at three small red dots on her abdomen as he rattled. These moved up along her body until it rested on her brow. She looked at Torodondodondo without fear, empty-handed. The guns on his shoulder swiveled then folded back. Diwizama nodded to what he was doing and bent down, resting on the balls of her feet, waiting.
The Paya cocked his head and rattled. He looked back at the jelly on the knife he had, which had gone from bright blue to dark, putting it back to reheat and getting some fresh. Diwizama flinched at his roar of pain, her claws pressing into her legs for a second before she relaxed. He was cauterizing his wound, the most severe one at the very least, the spear wound she had inflicted on him was already done, and an empty syringe sat nearby. She mused on how he trusted her enough to focus on his task while she was there. Another roar of pain and a hissing breath and Torodondodondo closed the dish, encasing the left-over jelly. He shifted, putting the knife and the dish away a metal case beside him along with the syringe, which closed into a tear shaped capsule. His gaze turned to her again as he lifted the kit and set it on his back. She heard small noises from behind him as it clasped onto his back. He stood from his seat and looked down at her as she followed suit.
He stepped forward then froze. Diwizama had reached for her belt but also froze. When nothing happened she moved the knife from it and slipped it through the string of her loincloth. She took her ba from the belt, and then set it on the ground, spear in hand. The Paya watched her back away, stepping forward until he was by the belt, looking at it, then at her, head tilted. She made no movement. He looked at it again, scooping it up and checking it over. He deftly put it around his waist, above his own and secured it before looking at her again. She was still armed, she hadn't given up.
He looked her over, rattling. She could hear the curiosity in it, the confusion. She held out her ba in front of her, extending it to its full length. The Paya tensed momentarily, waiting, his body turned sideways towards her. Then he stepped forward, facing her fully. He reached over his shoulder, removing his own ba from his back and also extending it. Torodondodondo clicked. Diwizama inhaled.
The woman dropped to the ground, anticipating his first strike by the way he was holding his spear. As the weapon whistled overhead, she lunged forward but he had seen this move before, and the other end of his ba swung down, using the momentum of his previous attack, it knocked her spear away from him, and caused her to lose her balance. She caught her stumble, turning and holding her ba defensively, receiving another ringing blow that made her shoulder hurt. But she reversed the momentum in a fluid motion and swung down at his legs. He leapt backwards, putting distance between her and him.
There everything froze as the two warriors sized each other up again. Fingers flexed and tightened against the curled metal. The forest rang with the song of alien metal as they clashed again. She would never beat him in a battle of strength, ever. Speed and agility were fairly even, if not tipped in his favor. This was a battle of skill, it always was, always had been. It was why the Paya had ever found them worthy; their ability to think, strategize, plan ahead, to perfect technique, build on strengths and exploit limitations, to learn and adapt. This was why they were worthy; because they were inferior in every other way but could find ways to victory.
She had survived this long, reading his movements, predict his attacks and react accordingly. The difficulty was so could he. He was a very skilled Paya, one the likes of which her clan had ever encountered before.
A good effort to put his spear into the ground was countered by a hard fist to her face. She stumbled back, tasting blood on her lips for a second time that day. She licked the blood away and put distance between them again. She could tell by the way he was fighting he was trying to knock her prone, so she took to high ground, jumping up into a tree, grimacing slightly, and moved into the branches. Torodondodondo was up into the trees with her with one simple leap, and his ba tore open the wood of the branch she was about to climb to.
Diwizama flinched back down and looked at the pale Paya as he drew back his hand again. Her plan changed pivoting on the wood and met his spear with hers. Balance was the game now, each blow made threatened to knock one from the branches, which would spell victory for the one who could stay above. She parried one of his strikes and nearly fell backwards. Recovering quickly she struck at his spear, rolling the shaft of the ba around his, nearly twisting his arm. He caught himself with his hand against the trunk of the tree, leaving gouges in the wood from his claws.
As good of an idea as this was, it would be dangerous for her as well. If she fell from this height, she would not come out of it unbroken. Torodonodondo took a risk, jumping to a closer branch to Diwizama, narrowly missing her ba as she stabbed it towards his shoulder, and he struck forward, piercing her shoulder. Tearing it out was more painful, but she didn't cry out. She raised her spear in her hands, feeling the agony of damaged muscles, the soreness of near-numb arms, but still ready to fight till the last.
Torodondodondo held his spear in both hands, and she could see the maneuver he was going to use to force her out of the tree, but then he paused, head whipping to the side. She was as motionless, wondering what had caught his attention enough to stop fighting. She watched his back for a moment, trying to follow his gaze and see what he saw. He suddenly flipped open his wrist device, tapping it, causing a sick feeling in her stomach, but he merely cloaked. That was when she heard it, the snapping of twigs and cutting of foliage. She moved to the branch, laying down along it lengthwise, retracting her ba.
Out of the jungle came a troop of men, skin as dark as hers, shaved heads, large guns. Their sweat was visible on the clothes they wore, which was of similar colors to the plants, but what military would call 'civilian wear.' They walked in a line, no larger than two men wide. The one man in the front had a machete, cutting through the plants that he couldn't be bothered walking around.
Diwizama could feel the stiffness begin to settle into her wounded areas as she stayed completely still, observing the men with one eye over her shoulder. These were not soldiers, not really, though they would call themselves much. The world believed that the civil war had ended four years ago, but the truth was that war had never ended in Africa, ever. Violence was a way of life, since the time of the tribes who would roam, conquer and enslave. The Kure Iradandaanya had been no different.
Beside her, she could see the cloaked form of the Paya, only because she knew what she was looking for. The outline of his head was tilted as he knelt on the branch. He was observing the men, and she knew why. They were all armed. Fair game.
She stayed still, waiting for whatever happened next, but Torodondodondo did not engage them, only watched as they passed under him. The leader raised his machete to cut down another fern when he stopped and held a hand to signal a halt. All the men stopped and looked around for danger, but of course did not see any. The leader's eyes were fixed to the ground.
While it was not torn to shreds like the previous fight, a trained eye could tell when plants had been moved through and stomped over. He had caught on to the battle ground. He took a cautious step forward, surveying the area, trying to judge how many people, and in what direction they had gone on.
In the dead silence that followed, Diwizama heard a light dripping noise. Her brow furrowed as she tried to pinpoint it. It wasn't rain, the storm was not yet there, and the sky hadn't even turned grey yet. She soon realized that it was coming from beneath her, and what it was.
Torodondodondo looked over at Diwizama, eyes flashing for she had drawn the dagger from her waist. But she slowly and methodically dug the tip into the wood in front of her until it stood on its own. She looked over at him, as his gaze went to one of the men who were breaking formation to move closer to the tree she was in. He moved his hand to a large leaf, and touched a dark wet stain. He rubbed it between his fingers and smelled it. Diwizama moved her retracted ba, to her other side. She heard the sudden sound of alarm below her. She tossed the weapon to Torodondodondo, just as a dark hand wrapped around her ankle.
Her jaw smacked hard on the branch, causing her teeth to clack painfully together. She landed hard on the ground, knees bent and one hand planted on the soil. She lashed out and fought back as hands tried to grab her, calling out a guttural battle cry. She could hear laughing among the men as she fought, clawing the face of one man, crouching and lunging at another, throwing him to the ground by the front of his shirt.
Her legs were swiped out from under her by cold metal. She scrambled forward, her claws breaking on the surface of a stone. She was grabbed by her wounded shoulder, and she turned and smashed the rock against the face of the one who touched her. She pounced onto him, now armed, and smashed his face again. She was smacked in the head with the broad end of a gun, and she saw stars. The men seized her, fought her thrashing body to the ground and held her. The language they spoke, she recognized it, a dialect of Bantu; Lingála.
"What do we have here?" said the one with the machete.
Diwizama cursed profusely enough to make an American proud.
"A Zande woman sounds like," one said, who had her arm pinned painfully behind her back.
"This far south?" the leader flashed his teeth at her, a shock of white as he bent down in front of her, "what's a woman like you doing so far away from your tribe? Running away?"
Diwizama spat in his face and was rewarded with a fist to her cheek, hard enough to send the world spinning.
"No wait," said one, which gave the leader pause as he was about to hit her again, "the scars she wears, she's not a Zande, they don't have scars like this," the one pondered for a bit, and Diwizama glanced around, looking at where Torodondodondo was, hoping he would stay there. She would not risk the gifts of the Payas falling into the hands of men like these, she hoped that he wouldn't either, even knowing Torodondodondo's skill.
"She's one of those Kure Iradandaanya," the man finally said, "they're the ones who decorate themselves with scars of battle."
"I thought they were wiped out," said one of the ones holding her down.
"A rare treat then," the leader said darkly and moved away, standing up, "help yourselves men, I think you earned it."
Diwizama hunched her back, leaning forward to throw the men off balance, wrestling her arm from behind her but not quite out of the man's grip. She planted a foot to stand but was struck hard on the back of her head again. She fell forward, dazed, numb to the hands that grabbed her and moved her to her back. She tried to struggle, thought to, but wasn't sure if her body responded to the command. She was laid on her back, held down on her wrists, shoulders, and a blade to her neck. She kicked and her ankles were restrained, she saw the man whose face she had struck come towards her, hands at the front of his pants. His bloody grin didn't frighten her. She would not give them the satisfaction of crying out, or seeing her pain.
She heard the clinking of metal as his belt was undone, then heard the sound of metal slicing through the air. The man froze, a look of horrified confusion on his face, before his head rolled from his shoulders in pieces. The moment of silence before the panic was deafening. Torodondodondo uncloaked before them, wristblades appearing beneath the fresh blood.
He lifted the blades, ready, "N'yaka-de," she called to him.
As the gunfire started, she was released, she grabbed the hand with the knife and turned it, stabbing it backwards and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. She flipped onto her stomach keeping low because the men were aiming high. She saw bright blood falling to the ground and roars of anger, but the bullets didn't slow him down. The man she stabbed fell to his knees and then to the ground and she grabbed the blade out of his stomach.
She moved along the dirt, under the bush. Slipping towards the men was easy while their attention was on Tordondodondo. She cut the ankles of one, bringing him down as his bullets tore through the canopy. She silenced him quickly and took his gun, smashing it against a tree. She looked over as another roar broke through the air. A long thin line of green ran across Torodondodondo's chest and the man with the machete had his blade lifted for another strike. The Paya was ready to counter, much faster and more skilled than this man who was playing at warrior, but a knife found itself dug deep into the man's side and he yelled out in pain.
Torodondodondo paused in his counter attack towards the man and looked over at Diwizama, lowering her arm from the throw and raising her other, dragging her broken claws against his face and eyes as her other hand grabbed the barrel of his gun and aimed it at another man. Blood was flying everywhere, screams of battle, pain and fear rattled the jungle. Slowly it died down, until the final voice was silenced.
Diwizama watched Torodondodondo inspect then drop the final man, before looking over at her. He stepped forward cautiously, looking at her, wristblades still extended, then looked down around him. He moved to the man with the machete and turned him onto his front. Realizing what he was about to do, Diwizama stepped quickly to him.
"Master," she called to him again, her hand grabbing his wrist. He looked at her sharply with a grunt from beneath his mask and she removed her hand from his arm, gasping slightly at what she had just done. He was still, and she swallowed once before continuing, "dis-honorable… prey. Bad," she paused, struggling with what to say, "bad bloods."
Torodondodondo's rattle was a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and something that seemed like he was impressed. Still he looked at the trophy he was about to claim, and his wristblades retracted. She took a step back, "we continue master," she said lowering her head. He tilted his head and faced her again. He reached to his belt and removed from it her ba. He flexed his fingers around it for a second before holding it out to her. She took it reverently, and he gently let go and also took a step back.
She looked up at him, "five… five…," she was at a loss, the Payas did not have a word for what she needed to say, or at least, her clan had not observed one, "five minute head start," she finally said in her language, which caused another tilt of Torodondodondo's head and a curious click. She bent down and pulled the knife out of the dead man and moved to a spot where the sun shone through. He watched her work, cautious about her with the blade.
She moved the bloodied stone to a spot, and then held the blade perpendicular to the ground, moving it away from the rock until the end of the shadow was a few inches away. She stabbed the knife in and looked to the Paya. Hopefully the shadow would cool off the earth enough that he could perceive when it touched the stone, which would absorb the sun's heat.
She pointed to the edge of the shadow, then to the stone, then to him, before resting a hand on her chest. She wasn't sure if Torodondodondo understood, then he nodded, and shifted his weight to one foot. He would wait. She stood up and moved into the forest to get ready. She was not in good shape, and she hoped that she could give the Paya a good last fight.