Riverworld, Day 44, Noon

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"I wonder if Shaka's Fellowship can reach the Grailstone from land?"
Benjamin mused aloud. "I wonder if they already have?"

After a look at the men and the shore convinced him that Shaka was not
to be seen, he suggested to Charles that the boat land at the next
grailstone upRiver in hopes of meeting Shaka farther on.

"I think we should keep near the far side of the river," Ehrich
suggested, "and make land just opposite these Celts.  Then we can
observe them and see what happens."

Charles shook his head.  "I don't think it necessary to stop and
observe these barbarians. Let us press on in our Holy Quest. We'll
land one stone upRiver."

Raising his voice, he added, "Prepare to defend ourselves as best
possible.  Two people should help ready arrows for the archers, the
rest prepare for boarding.  I'd rather sail around them, but we must
be ready for a fight.  Shaw, is there anything else we can do to avoid
these heathens?"

Shaw flung his bow at the others and ran to man the sails, shouting,
"Someone find a way to get some fires going, we can throw it at them
if they get close enough to board."  

Jeanne observed the oddly painted men with trepidation.  "They seem
very horrible" she conceded. She took up her bow and arrow, and
positioned herself to defend the boat if necessary.  She muttered in
passing to Josephine, "I do hope you're no longer bored." The other
woman scowled. At Jeanne's motion, Father Gregory knelt beside her,
readying her arrows. Josephine, with Shaw's bow, and Freud, looking
rather more grim than usual, formed the second archery team.

But as Shaw tacked away from the blue-faced men, they seemed content
to allow him to sail upRiver, so long as the boat did not approach their
grailstone. They reached the next grailstone in time for the noon
firing, and considered their options over lunch.  Shaka was due to
meet them at the Celts' grailstone today, but the warriors might make
any reunion more difficult.

They were not long discussing when two Zulu warriors emerged from the
hills. Charles surprised them with his rudimentary Zulu and they
managed a brief conversation.

"Shaka led us against blue men; big fight, many died - Shaka, the
white men dead.  Shaka tell us hide, wait for you, give message.
Birthplace-of-hard-weapon is 10 stones north."

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Shaka lay at the bottom of the pit, shocked and unable to move.  For
a long moment he was very still, then his fingers clenched and his
arms began to shake.  As he stood he screamed in Zulu.

"Pala!  Pala!  You traitorous son of a dog!  What is going on here?
How can you dare to this!  I am your king, or you are no Zulu!"

Shaka stopped, and seemed to begin to gain control of his emotions,
and then just as soon as the control started, he lost it again.  With
a loud cry he grasped some dirt in his fists and hurled it upward with
all his might and shouted again.

"You will release me now!  Or your torment shall know no end!  The
children of this world shall forever know your name as that of a
traitor who lived in eternal torment for his betrayal!"

Realizing that Pala was gone, he sat back down, and mumbled under his
breath. 

Sly looked at the walls of the pit and cut loose a string of curses
that would make a sailor blush. Eventually the volley tapered off, and
he said, "Bloody hell! What koind of moin is this? Ain't no exits!  In
all the funny pictures, they'se a little train car to roid away in!"

Louis rubbed his sides, where Sly's elbow had managed to jab him as he
had fallen into the pit, probably deliberately. He laughed.  He threw
his head back and really cut loose with a mirthful, deep laugh.  When
he recovered, he looked at Shaka, then at Sly, who was seething at
him.  "Sly, your rage is misplaced.  I am not your enemy."

He turned to Shaka.  "Do you know what the meaning of this is, Shaka?
If this some Zulu tradition or custom?  And people say the French are
bizarre...."  Louis chuckled some more and looked up at the top of the
hole, then at the sides of this narrow pit.

Shaka stopped cursing.  "There is no other way," he said. "I must take
the path of the Lion God again.  Louis, Sly, I want you to kill me.  I
shall again defy death, and awaken nearby.  I will then kill Pala with
my bare hands and make him pay for this treachery."

Shaka knelt before them.  "Do it now that I may return swiftly and
free you."

"You're a bleedin' crazy bugger," Sly said.

Louis turned and studied Sly for a moment, then stood behind Shaka and
asked him to relax his neck. With a sudden application of strength, he
snapped Shaka's spinal cord.

"Good luck my friend," Louis says, sotto voce before turning warily to
regard Sly.

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To Shaka's surprise, he awoke at the noon grailstone firing without
another contact with his Lion God. He blinked his eyes at the sun, and
sat up. Around him was a medium-sized village, which was populated by
bronze-skinned men and women who wore their towels as pants, dresses,
and turbans. Many of the women had wooden spheres somehow pinned to
their left nostrils, and others had a red dot in the center of their
foreheads. A group of the men, wearing knives at their belts, came to
see who he was. They seemed cautious, but not unfriendly, though they
did not speak English or the tongue of his homeland.