Tandoop
“Ah! My good friend! The concoction worked! You are dexterous!” King Mogg said to Bantaik with excitement.
“Hehehehehehe… yes my King. So the boy is now be hearing a voice in his head. Hehehehehehe! Nobody be mixes it like I be do.” Bantaik, the King’s Spokesman – rather than the gods’ – exposed his brown teeth. There was something about Spokesmen and bad teeth.
“I agree, I agree… so what happens next, my friend? I am soon going to die but I want this to continue. How does this work exactly?”
Bantaik kept the clay pot in front of him aside and sat up on his stool to face King Mogg squarely. “You see, my King,” he cleared his throat, his small head bobbing at the impulse, “as long as he be wears it, it be keeps him in check. When he be removes it, he be goes straight to sleep. He cannot be remove it and be stay awake, that is be even if he be finds any reason to remove it except at night when he is be about to sleep – he will be not; trust me.”
King Mogg was biting a fingernail, lost in attention.
“If be by any chance someone else be removes it at day time, prince will be gradually sink into sleep, and only one way to be wake him up is be in my hands,” Bantaik picked up a tiny clay calabash with green dust in it and shoved it in King Mogg’s direction. King Mogg nodded. Bantaik continued, “If anyone be wakes him up with this mixture, he will be return to senses. If anyone be wakes him up at night with this mixture, he will be not wake up until morning, and when he does be wake up, he will be wear the crown again and be fall into curse again.”
“Hmm…that is good. But I have one small problem…”
“What is be that, my King?”
“Since his decisions are now tied to mine, what happens when I die?”
“No, no. It is not be like that, my King. Your decisions are be tied to crown. So when he be wears it, whatever he be does is you, not be him. And when you be die, my King, when you go and be rule with ancestors, as long as he is be wearing crown, curse will be leave crown and be shift to him.”
King Mogg shook at the thought of indirectly cursing his own son. For the greater good, he comforted himself.
“And if he is not wearing it when I die?”
“Curse on the crown will be shift to noble air, and is be destroyed.”
There was always a loose end of any plan; none was completely perfect. King Mogg thought about dying in his sleep, which was impossible to avoid if it did happen, but he decided it would not happen, dismissing the thought. The plan was satisfactory enough, King Mogg resolved. All of this at the expense of the innocent, for the greater good.
“Will I be able to know the fortune of my future?”
“My King, you will be reign with ancestors…”
“No I mean…can I see how and when I will die?”
“Mmmmm, you…err…You can be see how, not… when.”
“That will be fine.”
Bantaik jumped up, murmuring loudly and humming a native song, then he jumped to the altar room and after a ramble here and there, he emerged with two clay plates, one having red powder and the other, black powder. He came and settled on his wooden stool facing King Mogg and asked him to step back in order not to block the vision. He had a grumble written on his face, but he kept it shut before King Mogg could notice. Bantaik picked up feathers tied together in a bunch of three from the huge clay pot in front of him and dipped them into another clay pot behind him, then rubbed the feather tip in the black powder, then in the red powder, then on his eyelids, painting them. Then he removed the whip attached to his belt and he dropped it on the floor and picked a small bag attached to his belt and untied it. He took fire from the fire place behind him and put it into the clay pot where he had taken the bunch of feathers from and it was ablaze in no time. He cast King Mogg a nervous glance; then he redirected his focus to the ritual. From the small bag, he fetched another powder that looked blue-green and poured it into the air in front of him, blowing it through a clenched fist. The powder shot out through the room for two seconds, then it reversed its movement and came to a standstill just in front of the fiery clay pot. Bantaik’s eyes gradually grew with awe as he fought to speak. The blue powder seemed to illuminate the shrine and Bantaik stood looking at the blue screen in front of him. King Mogg was standing with his back to a wall, avoiding the unpredictable blue dust.
“What do you see, my friend?”
No response.
“Spokesman! Talk to me!”
“You will be… reign with… the ancestor… you will be…you will be reign…w…with the an…ancestors, your highnesssss.” But the statement did not match the expression on his face and the pains he was trying hard to conceal.
Through the mid-air screen, a creature grabbed hold of a man by his ankle and dragged him off into the darkness, leaving his crown behind. The image fumbled and scrambled after the scene, making spiral movements and in an instant moment, the blue powder twisted itself into Bantaik’s nostrils. King Mogg yelped but the screech and growl noises coming from the image had swallowed the sound as well as all other sounds with it, namely, the wildly bleating goats kept for sacrifice in the shrine. Bantaik the old man fell down palpitating for air and vibrating from head to toe, coughing out the blue powder and some of it mixed with his blood and saliva dropped to the floor. King Mogg went to him and tried to stabilize his vibrating body but it was no use because by the time he had stopped vibrating, he was lifeless.
Tandoop stepped on the branch and even though he knew no one heard, he took advantage of the bleating of the goats to maneuver his way stealthily away from the shrine, out of the wing of the forest where evil was born. The gods killed Bantaik, their Spokesman. The gods sinned. And King Mogg taught them how.
Mogg
“Hehehehehehe… yes my King. So the boy is now be hearing a voice in his head. Hehehehehehe! Nobody be mixes it like I be do.” Bantaik, the King’s Spokesman – rather than the gods’ – exposed his brown teeth. There was something about Spokesmen and bad teeth.
“I agree, I agree… so what happens next, my friend? I am soon going to die but I want this to continue. How does this work exactly?”
Bantaik kept the clay pot in front of him aside and sat up on his stool to face King Mogg squarely. “You see, my King,” he cleared his throat, his small head bobbing at the impulse, “as long as he be wears it, it be keeps him in check. When he be removes it, he be goes straight to sleep. He cannot be remove it and be stay awake, that is be even if he be finds any reason to remove it except at night when he is be about to sleep – he will be not; trust me.”
King Mogg was biting a fingernail, lost in attention.
“If be by any chance someone else be removes it at day time, prince will be gradually sink into sleep, and only one way to be wake him up is be in my hands,” Bantaik picked up a tiny clay calabash with green dust in it and shoved it in King Mogg’s direction. King Mogg nodded. Bantaik continued, “If anyone be wakes him up with this mixture, he will be return to senses. If anyone be wakes him up at night with this mixture, he will be not wake up until morning, and when he does be wake up, he will be wear the crown again and be fall into curse again.”
“Hmm…that is good. But I have one small problem…”
“What is be that, my King?”
“Since his decisions are now tied to mine, what happens when I die?”
“No, no. It is not be like that, my King. Your decisions are be tied to crown. So when he be wears it, whatever he be does is you, not be him. And when you be die, my King, when you go and be rule with ancestors, as long as he is be wearing crown, curse will be leave crown and be shift to him.”
King Mogg shook at the thought of indirectly cursing his own son. For the greater good, he comforted himself.
“And if he is not wearing it when I die?”
“Curse on the crown will be shift to noble air, and is be destroyed.”
There was always a loose end of any plan; none was completely perfect. King Mogg thought about dying in his sleep, which was impossible to avoid if it did happen, but he decided it would not happen, dismissing the thought. The plan was satisfactory enough, King Mogg resolved. All of this at the expense of the innocent, for the greater good.
“Will I be able to know the fortune of my future?”
“My King, you will be reign with ancestors…”
“No I mean…can I see how and when I will die?”
“Mmmmm, you…err…You can be see how, not… when.”
“That will be fine.”
Bantaik jumped up, murmuring loudly and humming a native song, then he jumped to the altar room and after a ramble here and there, he emerged with two clay plates, one having red powder and the other, black powder. He came and settled on his wooden stool facing King Mogg and asked him to step back in order not to block the vision. He had a grumble written on his face, but he kept it shut before King Mogg could notice. Bantaik picked up feathers tied together in a bunch of three from the huge clay pot in front of him and dipped them into another clay pot behind him, then rubbed the feather tip in the black powder, then in the red powder, then on his eyelids, painting them. Then he removed the whip attached to his belt and he dropped it on the floor and picked a small bag attached to his belt and untied it. He took fire from the fire place behind him and put it into the clay pot where he had taken the bunch of feathers from and it was ablaze in no time. He cast King Mogg a nervous glance; then he redirected his focus to the ritual. From the small bag, he fetched another powder that looked blue-green and poured it into the air in front of him, blowing it through a clenched fist. The powder shot out through the room for two seconds, then it reversed its movement and came to a standstill just in front of the fiery clay pot. Bantaik’s eyes gradually grew with awe as he fought to speak. The blue powder seemed to illuminate the shrine and Bantaik stood looking at the blue screen in front of him. King Mogg was standing with his back to a wall, avoiding the unpredictable blue dust.
“What do you see, my friend?”
No response.
“Spokesman! Talk to me!”
“You will be… reign with… the ancestor… you will be…you will be reign…w…with the an…ancestors, your highnesssss.” But the statement did not match the expression on his face and the pains he was trying hard to conceal.
Through the mid-air screen, a creature grabbed hold of a man by his ankle and dragged him off into the darkness, leaving his crown behind. The image fumbled and scrambled after the scene, making spiral movements and in an instant moment, the blue powder twisted itself into Bantaik’s nostrils. King Mogg yelped but the screech and growl noises coming from the image had swallowed the sound as well as all other sounds with it, namely, the wildly bleating goats kept for sacrifice in the shrine. Bantaik the old man fell down palpitating for air and vibrating from head to toe, coughing out the blue powder and some of it mixed with his blood and saliva dropped to the floor. King Mogg went to him and tried to stabilize his vibrating body but it was no use because by the time he had stopped vibrating, he was lifeless.
Tandoop stepped on the branch and even though he knew no one heard, he took advantage of the bleating of the goats to maneuver his way stealthily away from the shrine, out of the wing of the forest where evil was born. The gods killed Bantaik, their Spokesman. The gods sinned. And King Mogg taught them how.
Mogg
In the last moments of Bantaik’s life that King Mogg had watched slip away quickly, he was consumed with fear when he remembered how this whole madness started.
He had not just found Kanaka lying next to his mother when he took him.
He had rescued him from death at the hands of something hideous, deathly and grim; something dark, so dark that that darkness could be touched because it became solid. It was something that no one else but he had seen, and Rotyuk whom he murdered and who had not known the evil like he did, was not here to help him push it away like he had done those years far behind. The truth behind the forbidden forest and the land beyond it that the eyes could not see unless permitted to, only King Mogg held the key to that truth.
Li’ved.
Edongo
He had not just found Kanaka lying next to his mother when he took him.
He had rescued him from death at the hands of something hideous, deathly and grim; something dark, so dark that that darkness could be touched because it became solid. It was something that no one else but he had seen, and Rotyuk whom he murdered and who had not known the evil like he did, was not here to help him push it away like he had done those years far behind. The truth behind the forbidden forest and the land beyond it that the eyes could not see unless permitted to, only King Mogg held the key to that truth.
Li’ved.
Edongo
Nobody seemed to notice that the crown was strapped to the King’s head like a cap. And when the King went to bathe, nobody was there to notice that he actually never took it off. Nobody noticed that the King could lull himself to sleep at night simply by taking off his glorious crown, carved skillfully from wood and adorned with stones that glittered in reflection to sunlight or moonlight. Nobody knew that there was mystery behind the crown of their new King. Even the King Himself did not know that the essence of his memorial crown was made up of wood, stone and the most important ingredient, sinister powers of a certain green dust. What everyone did know was that their King was King Grerrededa, the son of King Mogg, and that they will reign forever.
One day, Fonjam was selected to lead the servants to raid mangoes in the fruitful side of the forest. The more they proceeded towards ripe mangoes of different kinds, they were led to a stench that had started off winding in the trail that led to the forbidden forest. Nobody dared try to go towards it, but Edongo, Tandoop’s cousin broke the train of raiders and ran towards the stench, while the others – led by Fonjam – went the opposite direction. Because he had not feared to defy convention as his King Greda had taught him, Edongo sneaked in between trees, on top and below, beneath the shrubs and down to the old house. He ignored the toxic smell of goat urine mixed with the stench of what he had identified as a dead body that was days into rotting.
He slowly entered the shrine through the front door and stole into the darkness that contrasted the bright sun outside. When he was fully inside the room, he turned to look around at the source of the stench, holding his breath and his saliva along with it. He jumped up at the sight of a man who he knew was Bantaik, but the man was hunched on his back and seated on a low stool as though taking a light sleep. He called out but since there was no reply, he touched the head with the tip of his fingers and pushed it outward. The head hung backwards to reveal the pale and lifeless face of the Spokesman, with a blue substance on his face appearing as though it had eaten through his nostrils and come out through his mouth and spread through the rest of his face. His eyes were wide open and white. Edongo could not see anymore. He ran out to find the others and raise the alarm, wondering how anyone would have found out what happened if the shrine was so sacred, that nobody could go there. He had gone to the shrine, so it was not more forbidden than the other forbidden places in Gardutkar, but that was story for another day. The story now was ‘Bantaik is dead’.
When he turned to leave the shrine, he found Tandoop right behind him.
“I saw what happened, how he died.” He said.
“Tell me.” Edongo beckoned, whispering, and Tandoop narrated the story to him with every detail, of how he had followed King Mogg into the forest wondering what he was doing in a place that was forbidden. He told him about the curse on Greda’s crown and the thing that led to Bantaik’s death.
They wondered how they would get people into the forbidden forest and into the shrine to take Bantaik’s body to the village so that the King would find out about the Spokesman’s ill fate. If they would take the body out and they revealed that they had gone into his shrine to take his body, they would be penalized for entering the forest in the first place. So it would be suiting if Bantaik’s body was found concealed somewhere else.
And if anyone objected to that, alleging that they had found it in the shrine, the person would also be accusing himself of entering the forest.
Edongo went and fetched Rubinto from the raid. Rubinto strongly declined but when Edongo told him about Bantaik’s death, he followed to see the body. So they brought Bantaik’s body out and took it away from the forbidden forest, three of them; Edongo, Tandoop and Rubinto the servant.
One day, Fonjam was selected to lead the servants to raid mangoes in the fruitful side of the forest. The more they proceeded towards ripe mangoes of different kinds, they were led to a stench that had started off winding in the trail that led to the forbidden forest. Nobody dared try to go towards it, but Edongo, Tandoop’s cousin broke the train of raiders and ran towards the stench, while the others – led by Fonjam – went the opposite direction. Because he had not feared to defy convention as his King Greda had taught him, Edongo sneaked in between trees, on top and below, beneath the shrubs and down to the old house. He ignored the toxic smell of goat urine mixed with the stench of what he had identified as a dead body that was days into rotting.
He slowly entered the shrine through the front door and stole into the darkness that contrasted the bright sun outside. When he was fully inside the room, he turned to look around at the source of the stench, holding his breath and his saliva along with it. He jumped up at the sight of a man who he knew was Bantaik, but the man was hunched on his back and seated on a low stool as though taking a light sleep. He called out but since there was no reply, he touched the head with the tip of his fingers and pushed it outward. The head hung backwards to reveal the pale and lifeless face of the Spokesman, with a blue substance on his face appearing as though it had eaten through his nostrils and come out through his mouth and spread through the rest of his face. His eyes were wide open and white. Edongo could not see anymore. He ran out to find the others and raise the alarm, wondering how anyone would have found out what happened if the shrine was so sacred, that nobody could go there. He had gone to the shrine, so it was not more forbidden than the other forbidden places in Gardutkar, but that was story for another day. The story now was ‘Bantaik is dead’.
When he turned to leave the shrine, he found Tandoop right behind him.
“I saw what happened, how he died.” He said.
“Tell me.” Edongo beckoned, whispering, and Tandoop narrated the story to him with every detail, of how he had followed King Mogg into the forest wondering what he was doing in a place that was forbidden. He told him about the curse on Greda’s crown and the thing that led to Bantaik’s death.
They wondered how they would get people into the forbidden forest and into the shrine to take Bantaik’s body to the village so that the King would find out about the Spokesman’s ill fate. If they would take the body out and they revealed that they had gone into his shrine to take his body, they would be penalized for entering the forest in the first place. So it would be suiting if Bantaik’s body was found concealed somewhere else.
And if anyone objected to that, alleging that they had found it in the shrine, the person would also be accusing himself of entering the forest.
Edongo went and fetched Rubinto from the raid. Rubinto strongly declined but when Edongo told him about Bantaik’s death, he followed to see the body. So they brought Bantaik’s body out and took it away from the forbidden forest, three of them; Edongo, Tandoop and Rubinto the servant.
Mogg
King Mogg was glad he did not forget to take the green powder. That way, as long as he kept it hidden, no one would wake his son from half-sleep.
To be continued...
- Telsum Bini
To be continued...
- Telsum Bini
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