Veil: Chapter One

Mwanga deftly maneuvers through the coarse underbrush; cuts and bruises mar his exposed skin. Adrenaline surges through him, dulling the aches. He hurdles a fallen tree trunk. Despite his desperate efforts the manic laughter of his pursuers echoes not-so-far behind him. They are relentless.

He lost his bearing a while ago; his only guide is a faint trail of wisps glowing ahead of him. Their eerie glow casting long shadows into the shrouded night. He feels watched as he vaults across another fallen tree. His assailants steadily gain ground.

‘Come on, come on, where is it?!’ he frantically questions.

His head pounds furiously. The torrential downpour pelts him relentlessly. Up ahead, he is being led to a rickety bridge over a furious river. He lets out an unhinged laugh of his own. He unsheathes his blade as he races across it and slices clean through the ropes tethering it to his side. The bridge gives way and falls into the gushing river.

He turns back to view his fanged attackers snarl at him from across the rapids; blood shot eyes, bristly fur, serrated claws primed to shred him. For a moment hope swells in his chest. He has finally put some distance between him and his pursuers. His hopes quickly sink, however, as he watches the beasts lunge into the darkness.

‘Shadow travel.’ he mouths

Within moments the fiends materialize from the darkness on his side of the bank. Sinister gleams in their eyes. Mwanga quickly realizes that they have encircled him; blocking any path of exit. They methodically inch closer. They are calculating, searching for a drop of his guard; an opportunity to strike.

He uses his sword to deter their advances. However, they become bolder with their attempts at him as. He alternates between slashing and stabbing to keep them at bay. They taunt him with their twisted smiles and jubilant cackling.  

The situation grows increasingly desperate. The thumping in his head rises to an unbearable level. Mwanga drops his blade and clutches his throbbing skull. He crumbles to his knees. The vein on his temple throbs aggressively. The pack leader sees an opening and lunges towards him.

In that instant, Mwanga lets out a feral shout; his eyes glow as an unearthly aura envelopes him. He screams as a frenzy of tendrils emanating from his aura shoot outwards darting for the rabid beasts. The shoots start constricting them. He strains as the coils mercilessly squeeze their victims.

The creatures turn from aggressor to aggrieved instantaneously. Their desperate yelps reverberate around him. They desperately gnash and paw at the tendrils; to no avail. Mwanga passively watches as the animals are disintegrated into nothingness. A part of him takes pleasure from their cruel execution.

The aura dissipates as suddenly as it emanated from him. No remnants of his pursuers remain. His only company the shadows looming around him. They possibly conceal unknown threats. He shudders at the thought. The downpour is unrelenting.

Mwanga pants heavily. Fatigue grips him. He gathers his strength and reaches for his blade. His splitting migraine has waned. He does not risk pausing for a break. He scrambles along the path the wisps offer. Mwanga trudges along; until he comes to a slight clearing where the wisps blaze and then disappear completely.

Panic washes over him.

‘Where did they go?’ he questions.

As he approaches the point the wisps flared up, he feels a resistance. A barrier lies before him, yet there is nothing there. Mwanga places a palm on the barrier. His head begins to pound again as he applies pressure on it; his hand phases through the barrier. A smile of relief traces its way across his worn face.

Mwanga pushes through the barrier. He is taken aback by what he sees on the other side of it. The pouring rain is replaced by a mild drizzle. Birds chirp serenely. A stream flows gently. An iridescent haze settles over the area, making it impossible to decipher the time of day.   

Bamboo stalks loom over the cobbled stone pathway leading up to a solitary log cabin. Mwanga wearily approaches the front porch. The warm glow of levitating lanterns illuminates the dwelling’s entrance. He grips the hilt of his sword as he approaches the door. The door glides open.

He is greeted by the sight of an ageless figure seated at an aged timber dining table. The man sips a cup of tea; a wistful glint in his eyes. A second, empty, cup has been set up in-front of the vacant dining room table seat.

The figure’s robe cascades over his frame. Its loose fit makes his every motion grandiose. The fabric ripples as he raises his hand in a gesture of greeting. He bows his head; acknowledging Mwanga’s presence. Mwanga mirrors the greeting.

Mwanga eases his guard, “You’re a hard man to find”

“You’re a brave man to try”

The figure pours tea into the empty cup and gestures Mwanga to have a seat.

“It’s been a while since I had a visitor” he begins

“You don’t say”, Mwanga quips

The figure chuckles and gestures to him “sit, drink”

Mwanga dismisses the invitation, “I come seeking – “

“– passage to the afterlife”, the figure completes

Mwanga is beside himself, “So you are he that cheated death?”

The man lets out a tired smile. Unknown sorrows grey his stormy eyes. He relents, “Getting in is easy. Getting out, that’s the challenge.”

‘The rumours were true’, Mwanga thinks

The figure notices the cogs turning in Mwanga’s head. He gestures, and instructs once more, “Sit, drink”

Mwanga gingerly takes a seat at the table. The tea does not look remarkable in the slightest. However, the first sip invigorates him. He gives the content of his cup a second look.

The figure gives him a knowing nod. He allows Mwanga a moment to scan the interior of his cabin before resuming their conversation, “Why do you seek this passage?”

He measures his response and then he begins, “It’s, my brothers –”