CHAPTER 35: THE GORGE

	"...but know, thou noble youth,
	The serpent that did sting thy father's life
	Now wears his crown."
				--SHAKESPEARE: HAMLET: ACT I, SCENE V

	It was the end of the world.  Or close enough not to make a 
difference, anyway.
	The thought raced through Simba's fear maddened mind as he 
sprinted down the length of the gorge, his short legs flailing madly as 
he fought to keep ahead of the maelstrom behind him.  The ground shook 
under his feet, sand spraying into his eyes as the leading edge of the 
wildebeest stampede began to pass by him on either side.  Sharp hooves 
dug into the ground inches from his face, and he flinched away, 
scrambling madly to keep from being trampled.  He glanced up at the 
bleating wildebeests and stumbled, paws flailing as he fought to keep 
his balance.  He regained his footing and continued, tides of air 
rushing in and out of his lungs as he strained to keep ahead of the 
onrushing herd.
	Ahead a dark shape hove into view; a twisted and gnarled remnant 
of a small tree, withered and half dead.  Simba lunged for it, 
scrabbling up the old wood to the top.  The one remaining limb swayed 
and creaked dangerously as he made his way onto it, tail flicking from 
side to side rapidly in an effort to stay balanced.  One foot slipped, 
and his haunches slid out from under him.  His front claws scored deep 
wounds into the old wood as he felt himself sliding over the side.
	"Oh gods," he thought, "I'm gonna FALL--"
	His claws finally caught, and he laboriously hauled himself atop 
the limb, clutching it with fearful strength as he saw the wildebeest 
flowing past him like some insane river, their bleats and bellows of 
panic punctuating the constant thunder of their hooves.
	High above, Zazu passed over the edge of the gorge wall and dipped 
his wings, plummeting into the crevasse as he scanned the ground 
rapidly.  Squinting through the dusty haze, he saw the cub perched on an 
old limb and flew to him, fighting to keep his altitude in the roiling 
air.
	"Zazu, help me!"
	"Your father is on the way!"  Zazu shouted.  "Hold on!"
	"Hurrrrry!"  Simba screeched, as he slipped again, feeling the 
limb creak agin under his weight.
	Zazu shot away towards an overhanging ledge where Mufasa and Taka 
were sliding down the slope, paws scuffing in the dirt for purchase.  
Ascending, he flew to Mufasa's side and pointed with one wing.  "There!  
There, on that tree!"
	Mufasa looked and felt his blood freeze up.  Sweet Aiheu...  "Hold 
on, Simba!" he bellowed.
	A passing wildebeest bumped the tree, shaking it with a loud 
CRACK! that all of them heard.  Simba screamed in sheer blind panic as 
he felt the tree shift again, and saw splinters poking out from a break 
in the wood.  Closing his eyes, he began to rapidly recite the prayer 
his mother had taught him when he was still nursing at her side:

	God bless us all, from king to cub
	  All members of my pride
	The kings above will show their love
	  And take me to their side
	My star will shine with Aiheu's grace
	  Amid the midnight sky
	There to stand and guard the land
	  Forever when I --

	His voice stuck on the last word, his head shaking in mute 
negation as tears began to run down his cheeks.  "Oh God, I don't want 
to die!"
	Mufasa stared for a second, then clenched his jaw and leapt from 
the perch on the ledge, flinging himself into the stampede below.  Taka 
and Zazu watched disbelievingly as they saw him weaving in and out 
between the panicked creatures with infinite grace.  Zazu watched in 
horror, Taka in absolute glee.
	"He's going to get himself killed," they thought simeltaneously.
	It was a dance of survival as Mufasa swerved among the jostling 
bodies armed with hooves, horns, and unstoppable speed.
	Swept along in its irresistable crushing tide, Mufasa struggled to 
find Simba in the dust.
	Next to him, a hapless gnu stumbled.  Quickly she was overwhelmed 
and fatally battered, her dying shriek piercing Mufasa like a thorn.  
"No time to be afraid," he thought.  "I must find him!"
	Looming ahead was a branch.  Dangling over certain death was a 
hysterical cub.  "Simba!"
	Zazu flapped about, near insane with panic.  "Oh, Scar, this is 
awful!  What are we going to do? What are we going to do?"  He looked at 
Mufasa again, missing the look of annoyance that swept Taka's features.  
The hornbill straightened as Taka raised a forepaw.  "I'll go back for 
help!!  That's what I'll do, I'll go back fo--"
	Sudden dark descended as Taka backhanded the bird, sending him 
smashing into the rock wall with an audible crunch.  Taka glanced at 
him, wondering if he had killed the idiot, when he saw the slow rise and 
fall of Zazu's chest.  Unconcious, then.  He raised a paw to finish the 
job when he was distracted by a cry from below.
	Mufasa grunted in pain as he was slammed backward, sprawling in 
the dirt.  Raising his head, he gaped in horror as a wildebeest collided 
with the old tree, breaking it with a final rotten crack.  Simba was 
flung up and away, screaming as he tumbled through the air, legs 
flailing desperately as he saw the ground rushing up at him--
	--to be replaced by Mufasa's jaws.  The lion leapt through the 
air, catching Simba gently and bearing him off towards the side of the 
gorge.  He dodged a cow, and sidestepped another--
	--his rear foot slipped.  A bull came rushing from the dust, 
ramming him with terrible force, eliciting a roar of pain as he felt the 
horns tear his side.  Simba was flung uncerimoniously away and landed 
amongst a sea of pounding hooves.  Afraid to move, he sidesteped 
desperately, watching the bull as it passed overhead, feeling the 
thrumming inder his feet.  A warm grip surrounded him, and he felt 
Mufasa's breath upon him again as he was swept up in his father's jaws.
	Mufasa ran through the deadly flood, the rumbling shaking him to 
the core, and the smell of sweat, fear, and dust pouring in with each 
gasp.
	"Help me!  Please, God, help me!"
	He looked for a ledge, however small.  Working his way to the 
edge, he considered trying to ride it out, but he was grazed by horns.  
One more inch and he would have been gored!
	Finally he saw a place.  He leaped, sat his child down, and 
grabbed for purchase.  
	He was rudely ripped away as a group of wildebeest crashed into 
him, bearing him off into the dust.
	"DAD!"  Simba screamed, horrified.  He searched the ground 
desperately, his eyes continually drawn by the passing wildebeest.  
Nothing.  And nothing.  And still nothing.  Oh gods, where was he?!
	Mufasa's legs hurt, his heart pounded, and his lungs were about to 
burst.  He managed to see an exit.  "Oh gods!"
	A rumbling roar tore at the air as he launched himself through the 
air, slamming into the rock wall of the gorge and driving the air from 
his lungs.  He paused a minute, then scrabbled his way up the slope, 
fighting for purchase.  He began to slip down ever so slowly, and 
desperately fought the pull of his own weight.  "Help me!  God help me!"
	Taka paced slowly along the gorge wall, observing the turn of 
events.  This was not supposed to happen, not at ALL.  Not only had 
Simba escaped injury, but his oaf of a brother had fought his way clear 
of the stampede and was making his way to safety even now.
	A whisper spoke in his brain.  "And what happens when he finds out 
about the surprise that he was supposed to have?"
	"I don't know," Taka muttered.
	"Yes you do.  He'll finish you.  You have to kill him NOW, before 
it's too late!"
	"No!  I've messed things up enough already."
	"Would you rather die?  This goes far beyond banishment, imbecile.  
This is treason.  Kill him!!"
	Taka stood uncertainly at the edge of the cliff, watching as 
Mufasa dragged his way up, unaware of the shadow which pooled behind 
him, black as midnight despite the dust which obscured the sun's rays.  
He felt a sudden urge to plunge into the herd below and end this insane 
dance once and for all.  No more pain.
	"Scar!!"
	Snapping out of his reverie, he looked to see Mufasa just below 
him.  The huge muscular legs scrabbled desperately for purchase, finding 
none.
	"Brother!!  Help me!"
	"Ohh, so now it's `brother,'" Taka thought, a red haze of hatred 
obscuring his vision.  "Fat lot of good all that strength does you now, 
eh?"
	"Scar!! Please!!"
	Taka glared at the lion below him.  He had a vivid memory of 
Mufasa's rage as he shouted, "Is that a challenge?"
	At the time, he'd meekly said, "Oh, I wouldn't DREAM of 
challenging you!"  Now he not only dreamed it.  It was within his grasp.  
For a while he enjoyed the feeling of power.  He gloried in the turn of 
the tide.
	Taka lunged down, burying his claws knuckle deep in Mufasa's 
forelegs.  Mufasa shrieked in pain as he felt the needle sharp claws 
tear into his flesh.  Warm blood began to run down his legs as he stared 
into Taka's face, uncomprehending.
	Taka's face split into a grin.  Slowly, visciously, he intoned,  
"Long live the king."
	Mufasa looked pleadingly at Taka.  Only then did he realize that 
Taka hated him and wanted him dead.  His jaw trembled.
	He was ripped from the wall and flung outwards, the sky and ground 
exchanging places rapidly, a shriek of horror following him down, down 
into the living torrent.
	The air blistered and rippled nearby, several wildebeest shying 
away as Mano plunged into the canyon, crying out soundlessly as he saw 
Ahadi's son vanishing into the stampede.  He ran towards the spot, 
passing through several animals.  
	He padded up slowly, peering through the swirling dust as the last 
of the wildebeest shot past.  Tears sprang to his eyes as he saw the 
magnificent body lying in a bloody sprawl at the base of the tree which 
had borne Simba up long enough for Mufasa to rescue him.  Mano saw that 
Mufasa was mortally wounded.  He came close and nuzzled the torn face, 
which responded slowly.  Mufasa painfully lifted his head, eyes dawning 
with recognition as he saw the white lion standing before him.  The 
silver-blue eyes looked kindly into his amber ones as he felt the pain 
slip away.
	"Sleep, my friend."  Mano kissed his cheek and bore the great head 
to the ground with his paw.  There was a moments hesitation, then the 
broken body breathed its last and was still.
	There was an electric feeling of anticipation in the air, and 
suddenly Mufasa's Ka was before him, whole and magnificent, untouched by 
pain or worry.  The shook himself uncertainly, feeling the tingle upon 
his skin of the spirit which stood before him.  He lowered his head and 
extended a forepaw.  "Incosi Mano.  I touch your mane."
	"I feel it."  Mano nuzzled him gently.  "You must come with me."
	Mufasa moved to join him, but was stopped short as he beheld his 
son coming through the dusty air, crying his name.  "Simba!  I must go 
to him!  I must go to him!"
	"No!" Mano restrained him with a paw.  "You must NOT go to him.  
You have gone down the left fork, and he is headed down the right.  But 
I will find a way out for him."


CHAPTER 36: AMONG THE DUNES

	Beyond the gorge lay the thorns, and beyond the thorns lay the 
land where even thorns would not grow.  It was the desert, the place of 
lost hope.
	The wind blew slowly but steadily across the face of the dunes, 
carrying a light misting of sand with it as it blew into Simba's face, 
making him squint, his eyes burning.  There were no rich earthy smells 
of life--it was the sterile smell of solitude.
	A faint whistling sound caught his ears, and as he topped a rise, 
he saw the skull of a small animal, bleached white in the sun and picked 
clean by vultures.  No jackal would come to that forsaken place.  Simba 
blinked at it for a moment, peering into the eyesockets, and seeing the 
clean white interior polished by the grit-laden wind.  He could see 
himself lying there.  Perhaps his turn would come over the next dune, or 
beyond that range....
	He padded slowly down the soft face of the dune, floundering in 
the soft sand for a moment before regaining his footing.  The hot wind 
gusted again, driving needles of grit into his face and bringing no 
relief from the heat.  "I deserve it," he thought.  He couldn't imagine 
what being trampled to death was like, but surely it had to be worse 
than lying on the sand to sleep and never wake up.  "Dad, come for me 
when I die.  I'm sorry!  I'm so sorry!"
	Simba shook his head and gasped, breathing rapidly.  Struggling 
through the sand, he began to run, mindlessly fleeing the thoughts that 
tore at him, wishing he could only find a place to lay for a moment and 
rest.  Heart pounding, he fled acros the featureless face of the desert, 
just one more golden speck in that vast sea of sand.
	The ground abruptly firmed beneath him, and he was scrambling 
across the hardpan, the bed of a long forgotten lake, now rough and 
unyielding in the sun's merciless onslaught.  He slowed, panting 
hoarsely, unable to continue at the rapid pace, padding slowly across 
the ground.  The heat hammered at him from the firm sand, the imbedded 
salt deposits glittering like a spray of diamonds caught in the earth.  
The glare blinded him, and he slitted his eyes, paws quietly pat-a-
pattering against the hardpan.
	And then something glimmered far ahead.
	Simba sat, shading his watering eyes with a forepaw as he fought 
to see, his thirst-swollen tongue hanging limply from his mouth.  It 
shimmered invitingly, a quicksilver gleam at the edge of his vision.
	Water.  Oh gods, WATER!!
	He rose and padded towards it rapidly, then began to trot.  Soon 
he was running, his tired and dangerously overheated muscles running off 
some unknown inner reservoir,  the sweat-matted fur on his forehead 
flying as he ran, oh gods it would taste so good, he wouldn't even slow 
down, he would just sprint full tilt into it, splashing happily as he 
drank, he would roll in it, he would....
	He slowed, his eyes gaping in disbelief as he saw the edge of the 
water begin to recede from him, the shoreline backing away as he came 
closer.  Padding to a stop, he gaped at the glimmering lake ahead, 
wondering what was happening.  His mouth fell open and he uttered a dull 
croak.  "Uh?"
	High above him, an answering croak returned from a soaring 
vulture.  Its mate heard and responded.  Soon they were joined by a 
third, and then others as the avian sentinels began to circle in cold 
anticipation.
	Simba stood unaware of this, his mind trembling on the edge of 
awareness.  He broke into a shambling run again, moaning as the 
waterline receded again...again...small islands of sand appeared in the 
water, slowly growing in size till there were only remnants of the 
sparkle that had deceived him.
	The cub arrived on the spot where the beautiful lake had been to 
see only more sand.  Dry, hot sand.  He had discovered the how cruel the 
desert could be.  His jaw began to tremble as tears came to his eyes.
	Running was no use.  Soon he would be back with his father.  He 
stumbled on a few more steps, then toppled, the hard desert floor 
catching him with a dull thud.  Simba laid on the sand, paws stirring 
weakly in restless motion as the heat drew at him.  Tears cut clean 
courses through the dusty fur on his cheeks as he lay quiescent, unable 
to fight anymore, waiting for the end to come.  "Mother!" he cried 
weakly.  "Mother!"  
	A terrible weight clutched at his chest as he thought of her.  He 
would never see her until her time came in the years to come.  Nala was 
always such a good friend.  Did she know he was dying?  And after Scar 
told the pride of what he had done, would she even care?  Sarafina was 
always so kind to him, like an aunt.  And Uncle Scar--oh how 
disappointed he had looked!  His brother lay dead.  Simba's father.  
Sarabi's husband.  "Mother!"  He sobbed again.
	A soft lioness voice called to him.  "Take heart, my son."
	Against all hope, could his mother have heard him?  He looked up 
and saw nearby a cloud white lioness on the sand.  "Come to me.  You are 
in need.  I can help you."
	"I'm seeing things again!  You're not real!"
	"If I'm not real, how do I do this?"  She let out a puff of breath 
and in moments a cool breeze swept over Simba.  It felt wonderful."
	Simba stared, awestruck.  "You're real!  You're really her!  
Minshasa!"
	She smiled.  "You know me?  Then you must know I won't hurt you."
	Simba struggled to his feet and stumbled over to her.  He fell 
before her, face down.  Tears began to run down his face.  "Please help 
my dad!  Do one of your miracles!  He's in the gorge back to the east!  
Please make him come back!  He's dead, and it's all my fault!"  He 
sobbed until he shook.
	"Your father is with God.  It is too late to help him."
	"Are you here to take me too?"
	"Not this time."  She purred.  "I am in my milk.  You are a little 
old for this, but I think it would be all right this once."  
	Simba dragged himself to her side.  He snuggled up against her 
belly, nuzzling the soft fur in obvious embarrassment but desperate for 
sustenance.  He fed slowly, feeling strength returning to his limbs, the 
trembling muscles relaxing at last.  He lay quietly, eyes half closed, 
lulled by the sound of Minshasa's breathing and the steady beat of her 
heart, the sounds evoking memories from far back in a haven of comfort, 
safety and love.
	Presently, he looked up, milk running down his chin.  Minshasa 
cleaned him off with her tongue, then began to groom him.  He purred.
	"What can I do, Minshasa?  Where can I go?"
	"Follow the setting sun.  It will take you to a safe place."
	"But can't I stay with you?"
	"No, son."
	"Please?"
	"No, Simba.  Your destiny lies to the west."
	"You know who I am?"
	"Yes, and what's more, I know why you're here."
	He looked down.  "Oh."
	Tears streamed down her face.  "Simba, my precious little boy!"  
She nuzzled him and he came and huddled against her comforting bulk, 
sobbing brokenly.  "Poor little child!  So much grief, so much pain!"
	"All my fault!"
	She began to groom him, her warm tongue washing away his tears in 
its rough caress.  "Poor little Simba.  So tired, little Simba.  So 
tired."
	Simba yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open.  "I am kind of 
tired."  He yawned again.
	"So tired," she repeated like a meditation.  "So tired.  Sleep 
now.  Yes, sleep.  Sleep soundly, and when you do, forget you saw me 
here.  Forget, Simba.  Forget everything but this: follow the setting 
sun.  It will take you to a safe place."
	Simba surrendered to the enchantment, falling into a deep, 
dreamless sleep.  Minshasa bent and gripped the cub in her jaws 
tenderly, lifting him easily enough.  Turning, she trotted away 
westward, paws kicking up gentle spurts of sand as she moved.  A few 
moments later, her outline shimmered slightly, and she bacame faintly 
translucent, Simba following suit.  She began to pick up speed, paws 
moving rapidly over the ground, yet not disturbing the sand in the 
slightest.  Mishasa ran steadily, tirelessly, heedless of the motal 
constraints of fatigue and thirst as she flew across the desert surface.  
And the cub in her jaws slept soundly.  Having been drawn into the 
twilight world between Ma'at and the spirit realm, he also felt no 
thirst or hunger, but passed the moments in the gentle cradle of sleep.
	Minshasa continued onward well into the night, the moon's glow 
welcome but not neccessary.  As she breasted yet another dune, she 
slowed, tensing.  Pacing forward, she felt a tingling sensation pass 
over her body.  She stopped, stretching out with all her senses, 
physical and otherwise, then nodded slowly.  She had passed beyond the 
edge of Melmokh's malign influence.  Heaving a sigh of relief, she 
turned to continue onward and froze.
	Standing atop the dune in front of her sat a solitary lion, his 
pure white fur gleaming mellowly in the moonlight.  He looked at her 
silently as she slowly padded over to him, laying Simba down gently and 
then looking at him, her eyes pleading.
	He shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  We cannot interfere any more.  
Melmokh cannot reach him this far away, and Simba must make his own path 
from here."
	"Mano, we cannot just leave him!  Too much depends on him!"
	He looked at her sternly.  "Would you cripple him, springing to 
his side whenever he faces trials?"  His voice softened.  "No, my love.  
It must be this way."  He kissed her gently.  "He must face his destiny.  
All we can do is to keep the balance.  Aiheu will not forsake him."
	"I know.  But look how small he is.  He cannot survive by 
himself."
	"I have arranged that," Mano said gently.  "Someone who can 
understand him and who will love him."
	"Husband," she cooed, nuzzling Mano.  But she quickly turned back 
to the cub.  She trembled as she looked at Simba lying on the sand.  
Bending down to the cub, she kissed his cheek softly.  "Your feet tread 
a stony path, one you must follow to its end, my child.  But do not 
despair--it leads back to Aiheu."
	With one last glance, the two walked away to the west, fading 
slowly from sight, becoming transparent, then slowly discorporating, 
their outlines dancing in the moonlight like motes of dust.  A light 
wind skidded across the desert floor, swirling the dust into a haphazard 
pattern to conceal their tracks.

Bookmark/Search this post with:

delicious | digg | reddit | newsvine | furl | google | yahoo | technorati