Spirit King: Return of the Crown by Dashiel Douglas

Author:Dashiel Douglas [Douglas, Dashiel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

Together they walked through the forest along a winding path through trees hundreds of years old. D’Melo could tell Zara was blissfully taking in the woods. She seemed to be noting every kind of flora and fauna.

Kazim, on the other hand, had his head on a swivel—listening for feral creatures. Suddenly, a bullfrog bellowed a boisterous croak. “What was that?” he cried, halting.

Zara teased, “Is Pimp Daddy afraid of a little frog?”

“Kaz ain’t afraid of frogs,” Marley jabbed. “Have you seen the girls he’s been hitting on?”

They wound their way down to a picturesque clearing in the valley. Long wooden tables of gleaming oak were arranged in concentric semicircles. The tabletops were low to the ground and colorful seat cushions decorated each place setting. A special table faced the others; it was covered with a diamond-shaped fabric with silver tablecloth weights dangling along the edges. Lavish flowers embellished each end.

Milpisi signaled Jua, who ululated toward the Amanzi forest. Within minutes, scores of Kipajis in vibrant garb, maybe more than a hundred, materialized at the forest’s edge. They paused at the semicircle of tables.

D’Melo was confused. “Why did they stop?” he asked Milpisi.

“They won’t take their seats before the Maalum—our honorable guests,” Milpisi explained.

“Oh, great,” D’Melo said. “Special guests. Who’s coming?”

Milpisi extended an open hand toward D’Melo and his friends.

“Us?” Marley piped.

Kazim lightly punched Marley’s arm. “He’s just messin’ with us, dawg.”

“I assure you that I’m not—,” Milpisi paused, apparently struggling to drop the words from his polished and eloquent tongue, “‘messin’ with you.’”

He gestured to the grand table. “You’ll find a special trinket located at each place setting. Your seat will be the one with the trinket that most resonates with your heart.”

Jeylan found a wooden pendant on a natural-fiber necklace. It was a carving of the continent of Africa. “Oh, this is me, y’all.” He sat.

Kazim eyed a rock of tan-colored stone sculpted into an African man clutching the hand of a boy that seemed to be his son. Kazim’s eyes became sullen. “Is it okay if I have this seat?” No one objected. He sat deliberately, his eyes fixed on the sculpture.

Zara knelt next to him. “That’s beautiful, Kazim,” she said compassionately. She laid a hand on his shoulder. She knew Kazim’s father had left his family soon after Kazim was born. Kazim hadn’t seen him since.

Zara was immediately drawn to what looked like a petrified twig. Curious, she leveled it with her eyes.

“Rub it,” Milpisi said.

Zara swept her fingers along the twig. The perfume of lavender lifted gloriously into the air. The aroma immediately reminded her of better days—those she’d had with her mother. From an early age, Zara had trouble sleeping. Her mother knew that lavender was a powerful natural remedy, so she would always put fresh lavender in Zara’s room.

“Thank you so much, Milpisi,” Zara said, her eyes misty.

D’Melo scanned the table. Milpisi watched him attentively. D’Melo stopped abruptly when his eyes fell upon a silver ring, engraved in Kipaji. Milpisi offered the translation: “Your life as a man has just begun.

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