Taimak- The Golden Warrior

Taimak : The Golden Warrior Michael A. Martin

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Michael A. Martin

Copyright © 2001, 2003. Michael A. Martin. All Rights Reserved. ISBN: 1-929374-19-4 Fire Mountain Press. PO Box 3851 Hillsboro, Oregon 97123

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used ficticiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

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Taimak: the Golden Warrior

Book sb y Mic hael A tin Books by Michael A.. Mar Martin KAGAR - The Prehistoric TAIMAK I – The Golden Warrior TAIMAK II – Temple of Lost Souls The Vampire King

Young Jack Pierce, Jr. is in trouble.... BIG trouble. The Adrienne cruise ship carrying Jack and his parents is attacked by a modern day pirate. A twist of fate allows young Jack to survive the attack only to find himself shipwrecked on the coast of Africa. Alone and scared, Jack relies upon the teachings of his father to survive only to find himself captured by Kadoma, chief of the mighty Nagassi nation. The transformation of young Jack Pierce, Jr. into Taimak, The Golden Warrior makes for a rousing read. Fans of adventure books should LOVE this one! Michael A. Martin just keeps getting better and better!! Rodney Blackwell The Saga continues with TAIMAK II – Temple of Lost Souls

“Taimak II - Temple of Lost Souls picks up where The Golden Warrior left off. With, explosive, heart-pounding action from the opening page, this sequel is a most worthy addition to the Golden Warrior series - even better than the original! Bring on Taimak III.” - Reba Barra

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Taimak: the Golden Warrior

Pr ologue Prologue More than twenty-five years have passed since I first became a reporter; yet, it seems like only yesterday that I became acquainted with these strange details. In the years since that account - my first big assignment - there have been many stories I have followed and written about, though none has held me as spellbound as the one I am about to narrate to you. As I recall, it was in the year nineteen thirty-one when rumors began to surface about an all-powerful warrior in the Congo region on the continent of Africa. Dismissing them at first as being part of an overzealous imagination, I overlooked the reports for almost two years. During this period many more stories surfaced of this fearless titan. Ordinarily, when a rumor has finished traveling its many circles, it becomes so exaggerated that it seems almost superhuman in nature. Nevertheless, I must admit that something – I am not quite sure just what it was but something, dark and mysterious about this particular fable struck a certain curiosity 5

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deep within me. It was in the winter of thirty-two while attending a dinner party that I came across a most fascinating individual. His name, I was told by the host, was William Jennings. In his younger days, he had been first mate on the luxurious Adrienne cruise ship. Sadly, this was one of many ill-fated craft torpedoed in the months following World War One. I overheard Mr. Jennings telling what I believed at that time to be an outlandish tale. I could only assume from the looks of his feminine admirers, that this lavish yarn was being spun in order to impress those young ladies in attendance. However, upon further listening I heard him tell of having been rescued from a band of murderous riders. Saved by a colossal warrior with the strength of ten men, who had unmatched courage and who used primitive weapons with uncanny ability. Immediately my interest increased tenfold. After the party, I summoned Mr. Jennings to my apartment in order to see just how sincere this man really was. I decided I would, if necessary, expose him as a fraud and liar. If he told the truth however, at least as he saw it, then, with the financial backing of the paper, I might investigate this legend further. After Mr. Jennings arrival in my quarters I offered him a drink and asked him to tell me more of this barbarian warrior. He politely fulfilled my request, telling me the most fantastic tale I had ever heard. When the average person tells a lie you can see it in their eyes. However, in this case, this fellow proceeded to tell me a story with the utmost believability; remaining steadfast that it was the complete truth. Never had I listened to words spoken with more sincerity. I believe in fact, had I asked him to pen his name in his own blood to testify to its authenticity, he would have, and written it gladly. I asked him many questions that night and on until morning. After writing down many of the stories details and where he might still be reached, I then bid him good morning and he retired to his own apartment; which, as chance would have it, was only a few blocks from my own. 6

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My adrenaline was coursing through my veins at such a pace that I could not possibly sleep. At that moment I decided I would, if necessary, beg my editor to let me investigate this wild story further. Six months later I returned from the Congo with the facts in hand. Whether you believe them or not is of your own discretion. Is this strange ballad fact or fiction? You must ultimately, after reading the accounts I have composed here, decide its authenticity for yourself. I can assure you however that I have met this remarkable individual and talked at length with him, as well as the tribe who adopted him. I have also, at great risk to my own safety, spoken with a few of his more sordid enemies. His is a story of tragedy; of love and, without question, the most daring deeds I have ever compiled in all my years of journalism. This is the legend of a man known throughout the wilds of Africa. A champion hailed as – The Golden Warrior. This is his story . . .

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Taimak: the Golden Warrior

CHAPTER 1 - A tt ac ked A Att ttac ack Att Sea After my return from Africa I immediately set off, with my editor’s enthusiastic approval, on another quest. This one did not lead through jungle or down winding, raging river, but through many documents, back issues of newspapers and eventually more interviews with people who had known and worked with Taimak’s father. With this research finished and many laborious hours at the typewriter behind me, I have finally pieced together, to the best of my ability, the complete story I tell to you now. This strange odyssey began in the year nineteen hundred and eighteen. Mankind had just passed through one of its most trying times. The world had been at war for four years and finally the bloodshed had ended. It was Armistice Day, the day that signaled the end of World War I and the beginning of a new era of peace. That the “War to end all Wars” was over was a cause of great joy and celebration. Yet it was also a sad time for the families of the men who would not return. The war had cost the lives of more than eight million soldiers all told, and had involved almost every nation in the world. Finally, on November eleven, nineteen hundred eighteen, a treaty of peace was signed, marking its official end. Standing in witness to the ceremony that day was General Jackson H. Pierce, who was not only a high ranking military official, but also a person the President held in the highest regards. 9

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Though the war was officially over, flare-ups occurred from time to time by rebels that refused to surrender. Bands of men who had stolen a tank would raid small towns until captured or killed. Other land-based groups likewise fought on. Most of those who were caught were either shot or hanged, thus ending the possibility of further civilian casualties at their hands. The most ruthless of all such rebels was a U-boat captain named Klaus Von Heimell. Who, along with his dreaded followers, would board and rob merchant vessels, stealing anything of value they could carry. When they had pillaged all they desired, they would then sink the unarmed ship, sending many innocent men to their deaths on the ocean floor. Their hideaway was a small group of uncharted islands off the western coast of Africa. The approximate location of this hidden paradise was about ten miles off the Ivory Coast. There were six islands in all. They kept the submarine in a deep cove in the center of the group. This offered them protection, and gave them a veritable paradise from which to run their pirating operations. After the war, General Jack Pierce decided it was time to move on from the life of military commander. With much of his life having been spent in the service of his country, he saw no reason to change that now. So, after considering how best to serve, he chose a career in politics. In February, he replaced a Senator who had passed away the month before. He was a very popular choice as replacement, and though new to his job, he was very determined to succeed. Being a natural at his new position, he ran a very tight operation in the military style in which he was accustomed. Working mostly through the day now, and close to home, he was able to spend his evenings with his wife and nine-year old son. It was during one of these restful evenings when there came a knock at the front door. Mr. Pierce opened it to find a young messenger standing there with note in hand. “I have a message for Senator Pierce.” announced the youth. “I am Senator Pierce.” he answered, towering over the lad. 10

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The boy suddenly realized who it was that stood before him, and he was scarce able to move. The Senator stood thus for a short time then addressed the boy again. “You said you had a message for me?” he questioned. Then the youth, realizing he still had not handed the gentleman his message stood with mouth gaping and eyes wide. “OH – Oh yes sir. Yes sir IM sorry sir. Here it is.” he said, handing Jack pierce a bright white envelope. After taking the note from the lad, Jack placed a nickel in the boy’s hand, wished him good evening, and then closed the door. The front of the message in his hand held no clue as to its origin. Upon turning it over however, he noticed across the seam there was a stamp that simply read “Official Seal of the President of the United States.” Immediately Jack became very curious about the parcel’s content. Retiring alone to his den he sat at his desk, opened the drawer, and then removed a letter opener. After pulling the note from its envelope, the Senator read the following brief message: Dear Jack. I need to meet with you in my office on the morning of May 15, 1919. I wish to discuss a matter of the great importance with you. Please make all necessary arrangements to attend. Sincerely yours, President of the United States Woodrow Wilson Mr. Pierce had no idea why the President might summon him. He was, however, always eager to be of assistance when called upon to do so, and made an immediate entry into his personal calendar. May 15, 1919 Just off the coast of Africa, a rebel U-boat Captain and his cutthroat crew were preparing to travel north. Although the 11

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war had ended months earlier, Captain Von Heimell vowed to fight until the end. He decided that if he and his crew could manage to avoid discovery by hiding in these waters he could wreak havoc in the shipping lanes. However, since they were running low on fuel, he was determined to board a ship, steal any drums of diesel that could be salvaged and then sink her. Cold was the heart of Captain Von Heimell; and since the war had ended his desire to kill in the name of the fatherland had increased tenfold. It was thus that Klaus Von Heimell became the most notorious modern pirate in the vast Atlantic waters. That same day . . . Sitting in a chair in the Oval Office the new Senator, Jack Pierce listened to instructions given to him by President Wilson. “You are the man I have selected because your character and ability have been proven under the most difficult circumstances.” said the President. He continued on to say. “I have a great deal of trust and respect for you Jack, always have. This is why you are my choice to make this trip through Europe. Once there, you will take over the committee that will make recommendations on how we can best aid the smaller nations – those so devastated from the war.” “I will do my best Mr. President. I thank you for your confidence in both my ability and judgment in this assignment. I will not let you down sir.” said the Senator “I know you won’t Jack, and thank you. Of course you also know this exposure might just enhance your already popular position with the American people, should you ever decide to run for President some day.” he remarked with a smile. “Well, first we will help rebuild the world, then perhaps we can worry about my political ambitions another time.” answered Jack with an equally broad smile. “Arrangements have already been made for your passage on the Adrienne. She leaves the day after tomorrow.” instructed 12

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the President. “You will set everything up and then send for your personal aides within a week or two. In the meantime, your wife and son will have a wonderful time seeing a new country and meeting new people”, he said. “Yes sir. It will be very educational for young Jack. I am sure he will be very excited.” answered the Senator. “Well, until our meeting in mid-August then.” With that, the two men stood, shook hands, and exited the oval office. The Senator, after leaving the White House, returned home to make all the necessary arrangements. Jack Pierce had made his way through the ranks of the United States Army to the title of General by age forty-two. He had repeatedly proven himself in combat as both a soldier and commander, having always been a good decision-maker and planner. No one around him doubted his right to lead because of his confidence, intelligent decision making and his commanding presence. He was, by his stature, a large man, standing six feet two inches tall. As a father, he was very strict, but loving and fair. He had taken young Jack camping on several occasions; teaching him how to survive off the land, hunting fruits, trapping animals, even how to find water when none seemed possible. Yes my friends, Jack Pierce taught his son many things when they were together. Those lessons in survival would, without question, prove to be the most useful throughout his life. Jack Jr. was nine years old and with school out, he looked forward to the excitement of traveling to far away countries. Even at home this youth always sought adventure; loving the outdoors, camping, fishing and hunting. When his father was away, he sometimes hiked a familiar half-mile trek, spending the day in the nearby forest; always pretending he lived there alone with the animals. He even accomplished, with his father aiding in the design, building a tree house; its structure resting in the middle terrace of the highest oak he could find. 13

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His mother, Sandra Pierce, was a wonderful lady and loved him very much. She gave Jack lots of attention, as well as discipline when needed. She was also extremely demanding of his studies, stressing the need for a good education. Sandra Pierce had driven the boy hard to succeed in school and his grades were proof of his hard work. During the summer months, he was required to read books from time to time; something he thoroughly enjoyed. She also tutored him in foreign languages. He had shown a fondness for both Spanish and French, becoming quite capable at each; not speaking with the fluidity of one native to the dialect, but able to carry on conversations in either. Naturally, Sandra was very excited at his rather high degree of intelligence for one so young. She hoped that someday he might follow his father’s example and run for office. May 17, 1919 The luxurious Adrienne cruise ship steamed from the harbor; bound for England, its passengers and crew were oblivious to the terrors’ fate had set in its path. The Adrienne was a marvelous vessel and was, without question, the pride of the Dunston-Howell fleet. It’s stacks bellowed great clouds of black smoke into the pale blue sky. As the sun bore down upon the rolling waves, the shimmering light shone millions of sparkling rays into the faces of the hundreds of passengers who waved from the ship’s rail. The Adrienne, its millions of tons of steel lumbering majestically through the salty ocean waters, made it’s way slowly through the channel, out past the bay and into the vast Atlantic. The ship sailed on schedule, the passengers and crew going about their business. The women talked, the men played cards and the children had their games to keep them occupied and, much to their parent’s delight, out of trouble as well. As the days past, young Jack had lots of fun playing with the other children on board along with his father and mother. 14

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The family, being able to spend more time together, had never been happier than now. More than any other activity on the ship, Jack enjoyed playing hide and seek with the other children. He would sneak into the lifeboats and hide under the heavy tarp. Undetected, he would hide there for the longest time and let them search for him all over the ship. He was the best at hiding and the others never caught on to his secret place. On the bridge, the Captain was handed a communiqué by one of the radio officers. Much to his dismay, it read as follows. Attn.: Captain Milford. Due to severe storm conditions, we recommend an immediate change of course. Hurricane force winds are brewing in your current path. Please, for reasons of safety, change direction at once, heading on a southeastern course to avoid any complications. This storm has the potential for high winds that could cause large tidal activity. It was on the third day that the ship changed course due to the urgent message. Steaming in a new direction, they headed further south and out of the way of the hurricane force winds. However, unknown to the captain or crew of the luxurious Adrienne, they had set the liner en-route to her doom. May 20, 1919 It was late in the afternoon on that fateful day in May. The sky was covered with dense gray cloud cover and a fine misting rain was falling from the dreary sky. The children were playing their usual games and Jack was hiding in his favorite spot in the lifeboat. While there, he examined everything in minute detail. The boats were filled with fresh provisions before every voyage in case of an emergency. Inside he found a pack with survival tools and, of course, food and canteens of fresh water. The pack was secured with a very strong piece of rope. 15

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The massive liner was surging through the rolling waves at a steady speed. They were still on a south by southeastern course when some time after 4pm it suddenly seemed to young Jack that the entire world had exploded. The lifeboat rocked violently in it’s rigging. There was a great sound of metal tearing at the impact and explosion. Passengers were running, yelling and screaming hysterically. Jack was terrified as he looked from under the tarp to see what had caused the eruption. As he peered from under the heavy canvas covering, the first mate was yelling to the Captain, a look of horror written on his face. “Captain! We’re under attack - by submarine! Look!” he shouted, pointing over the rail. “We’re sinking fast!” he exclaimed. The great vessel was shaking violently, tossing back and forth in the turbulent water. With every perilous moment the huge liner threatened to capsize as it pitched from side to side. Water was starting to spill into the cargo area in great torrents. Fires were burning out of control. There were several smaller eruptions from within the belly of the craft. The captain had just given the order to abandon ship when another torpedo struck the Adrienne, tearing a gaping hole in her side. From that moment forward, young Jack Pierce knew nothing of the tragedy that had befallen him. As the lifeboat was thrown from the deck of the Adrienne, the riggings that held it in place gave way. The tiny boat struck the water with such force that the boy within was knocked unconscious. Far away, in the wilds of Africa . . . Kadoma, Chief of the mighty Nagassi nation, led his hunting party away from the beautiful valley of their homeland and into the dense jungle that forms its boundaries with the outside world. Under his guidance, they turned their steps toward the beautiful, sandy beaches along the mighty Atlantic Ocean. It is two days march to the area the warriors hunt the wild boar and antelope. The hunting is usually good in this season 16

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as the boar seeks the dark dense cover of the jungle. At every step the wise leader searched for signs of game. As the hunt began, Kadoma divided his forces into three long columns. What a sight they made, their long lithe bodies glistening under the brilliant African sun. Their supple muscles, like bands of iron, rippling beneath their ebony skin. Hunters and warriors are indeed plentiful in the wilderness regions of Africa, far away from the large cities. However, one would be hard pressed, even if he searched the deepest territories on this vast continent, to find warriors of more skill and bravery. Nor, I dare say, could a similar search announce the discovery of a nobler people. No bush was left unchecked nor was a crevice left unsearched in their determined and careful hunt, for such are the teachings of their skilled chieftain. It was thus that, under the guidance of this proud and wise man, his hunters were successful, time and again, at finding the game they sought. After making their kills, Kadoma bade his men prepare the meat; wrapping it securely in the giant leaves of various trees. Afterward, the hunters would make their way back to the village with the fresh kills, traveling in pairs for safety. The hunting party made their way through the Congo basin and were having great luck finding the quarry they sought. The Nagassi would eat well from the wild pig, enjoying some now, but much of it to be dried in the sun, saving it for leaner times. Kadoma loved the ocean since he was a small boy and, since they were so close to his favorite beach, he decided they would spend at least one day there before returning to the village. His father, Togada, would take him there when he was young, letting him play for hours in the water. Togada was Chief then, and for little Kadoma, being the son of the Chief had its advantages. While other warriors hunted, one tribesman was assigned to watch the boy as he enjoyed many hours of swimming and playing in the sand. For the sake of his childhood memories, he just could not pass up the chance to visit this place so full of childhood memories. 17

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CHAPTER 2 - Shipwr ec ked Shipwrec eck On the side of the lifeboat, the name Adrienne was spelled in bold, black letters. Asleep in the bottom was a boy of nine. After the sinking of the liner, young Jack Pierce had been the only apparent survivor of the tragedy. Floating aimlessly for days, he drifted ever closer to a sandy peninsula on the western coast of Africa, just below the equator. His boat, drifting helplessly in the Guinea current, floated haphazardly across miles of ocean in a southeastern direction. The dinghy tossed back and forth in the surf as it approached the desolate beach, its only passenger oblivious to where he was and where his life would lead from here. One day he was the son of an American Senator, healthy and happy with a bright future before him. The next, he was marooned in a land unknown to him, where even life itself seemed uncertain. When the boat scraped into the sand, it came to a sudden stop, shaking young Jack from his slumber. Slowly the youngster’s eyes opened, fluttering, blinking until he had become accustomed to the bright rays of the afternoon sun that bore down upon him. Above him only sky and the brilliant, burning orb were visible. To Jack, the boat felt as if it had stopped. What had happened to him and where he was he did not know. He blinked his eyes again and rubbed a rather large lump at the base of his skull. His hair was matted with dried, flaking blood and was very sore. As he became increasingly aware of the world around him, his ears began to take in the sounds of 19

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the pounding surf. Eventually the youth placed a hand over the rail of the craft and raised himself, then took a long, slow look around. His eyes went wide as he saw, for the first time, the mysterious land he would soon call home. The beach stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. In front of him, about fifty yards from the ocean, rose a thick, dark and tangled jungle. From the heart of the jungle ran a stream that flowed from the hills beyond. Where he was of course he did not know, nor did he have any idea how long it would take for rescue, if ever, to reach him. Had you or perhaps any other found themselves in such a predicament, panic might have been your first instinct; but not the son of Jack Pierce, no indeed. From early childhood this lad had been taught woodcraft, and therefore was better able to cope with what lay ahead. Now make no mistake, when Jack recalled what had happened to the ship and thought of the awful fate of his dear, sweet mother and his stalwart father, he did cry, as anyone would have. There on that lonely section of African shoreline wept a boy whose life was about to change forever and, though he knew those changes were taking place even at that very moment, neither he nor anyone else could have ever guessed at what a strange turn his life would take. Later, as quickly as the need to release these emotions had seized him, it released him from its crushing grip. It was thus that, undaunted, Jack decided to explore the immediate area; and that afterward, it would be necessary to make a shelter for the night. The lad immediately realized he was in a desperate situation. He knew that his survival meant he must use all his ability to outthink and outmaneuver any beast that might dwell this land. First, he removed all the provisions from the boat. He was sure the tide would probably wash it back out to sea during the night and all his supplies would be lost to him, should he fail to act now. Inside were a few things he knew would prove very useful. First, he removed the tarp, then a hatchet, a rope, 20

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pack of food, a canteen and a large hunting knife in a leather sheath. Following the stream to the jungles’ edge, he commenced his search for a suitable tree in which to build a temporary platform. In it, he would spend his nights in relative safety from any wild animals he might encounter. If no rescue came, he would eventually consider a more permanent shelter. For now though, he still held some hope, however small, of being discovered. Jack walked only a short distance before finding a tree he felt suitable for his lofty perch. Then, using his hand ax, he began to chop small limbs from which he would construct his temporary haven. He labored for hours that day and his hands were very sore from chopping. Blisters were showing and his palms ached more with each swing of the hatchet. After having what he thought to be enough limbs, he cut many vines that would allow him to tie the platform securely in the tree. When darkness began to encroach upon him, he began working with greater speed. The shelter, he knew, must be finished before sunset if he were to survive even his first night in the frightening jungle, for with darkness the predators would commence their nightly hunt. After tying the limbs into a bundle at one end of his rope, he fastened the other end to his waist, then began to climb. Once in position, he used a limb just over his head to hoist the bundle upward, securing it just above him. This allowed plenty of room for his work. He carefully placed the limbs across a large fork in the tree, just as he had in the giant oak back home. After laying them into place, one by one, he then tied them securely with the soft, pliable vines. He finished building the floor just as twilight was upon him. Then, raising his provisions to the crude shelter, he began preparing to eat his dinner. Tomorrow, he decided he would try to find food, perhaps fruit or maybe he would try making a spear to catch fish. For now however, all he had was the packaged food from the ship. When Jack’s father taught him how to survive off the land, 21

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they never carried food or drink, choosing instead to catch fish or kill small game, drinking from small streams near their camp. He never dreamed that any of his woodcraft might be of any use other than for fun. Now, because fate had dealt him such a devastating blow, he knew he must depend on it for his very survival. Back home they could always leave after ending their adventures. Now he did not even know where home was, and he was very frightened. His bed, such as it was, could hardly be called comfortable. Still, after such a long and grueling day, it was a most welcome feeling when time came for him to lie down. He lay there for the longest time it seemed, looking up at the star filled skies. Yet, try as he might, the boy in the trees could not sleep. Although Jack did not witness it going down, he could not get the vision of the sinking ship from his mind. He would never see his family again and it made him very sad and lonely. And, if that was not enough, constant noises rose from the jungle floor. Horrifying sounds, they were, of some great beast pacing below him; noises he had never heard before. These sounds were not present in the day. Jack was very afraid and, curling into a ball under the canvas, hiding his head beneath it, he eventually cried himself to sleep. Later that night, perhaps two or three hours after his teary eyes closed in sleep, Jack felt the platform on which he lay move slightly. He listened for the sound of the wind, but there was none. Perhaps, he thought, I am mistaken. But then it moved again, further this time. The boy’s eyes were wide, for beneath the heavy canvas all was dark. The bough moved again and this time harder still. Jack listened carefully and was certain he heard the sounds of breathing. Not the steady sounds of man, but the panting sounds of some frightful, savage beast. Terrified with the thought that death stalked within mere inches of him, the lad’s hand sought the hilt of the large Bowie at his side. Slowly and with great purpose, he unsheathed the 22

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long, silver blade. Its razor sharp point he placed against the floor of his crude shelter and, with a swift movement threw the canvas out from him, and over whatever creature menaced him. Savage growls emanated from the throat of whatever carnivore he had trapped beneath the heavy tarpaulin. With his mind working at blinding speed, Jack came to an instant decision. This night, his first in the wild jungles, he would himself become a beast and abide the law of the jungle; kill or be killed. With this thought in mind he sprang into instant action, wanting to strike before the enemy regained a favorable position outside confines of the tarp. Crouching like a beast of prey, the boy launched himself through the air and onto the writhing, thrashing form. As he leaped at his growling adversary, his arm flew back and, as he landed upon the things back, it slashed downward. The long, lustrous blade glistened beneath the brilliant rays of the bright, silvery moon. One time, two and more the arm of the youth brought the blade down and into the body of this nocturnal enemy. His would-be assassin, now desperate to escape this unexpected molestation, rolled back and forth as the lad continued the attack. Just as Jack was certain that victory was within his grasp, the creature toppled him. He lay beneath the growling demon of the night, struggling. Once again Jack forced his youthful muscles to greater heroics than he imagined, and recovered to continue to strike with the knife. However, since he could not avoid nearing the edge of his platform, the two – locked in mortal combat, fighting in a savage contest in which one or both might die – rolled over the edge and fell through the air and towards the jungle floor. Jack, although he continued to slash out with the knife, knew they must strike the ground soon and that would most likely be his end. And then it came, the sudden impact with the ground. The violent jolt took his breath away and he sat up sharply, still tangled in the tarpaulin. His arms flailed in a desperate attempt to escape. Finally, exhausting great effort, he threw 23

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the canvas from around him and, looking around, he realized it had all been a dream. For as he looked about, he was still in the platform, the moon was high and the sounds of the surf crashed on the shoreline. Jack Pierce, realizing all that had transpired had been a nightmare, breathed a deep sigh of relief. Sweat beaded upon his brow. Not from heat, but from nervous tension. Unfortunately for Jack, it was a long, dream filled night. He awoke very tired and sore the next morning. His hands ached from chopping limbs the day before and he was very hungry. Birds filled the morning air with their beautiful songs, while small monkeys played in the trees above him. Stretching, yawning and looking around, Jack immediately began to make plans for the day. He had food enough for a week or more if he rationed it, but he wanted to start an immediate search for fruits and berries. He was also in need of fresh water for his canteen. After eating and drinking his fill, the boy dropped his ax and knife to the ground and then scurried down the tree as nimbly as if he were one of the monkeys above. Although it was early morning, the temperature was very hot and steamy. Because of this, Jack removed his shirt, then cut the legs from his trousers, making him much more comfortable. This task complete, he departed, armed as he was for the stream. After filling his canteen, the lad wanted to get a better look around. He decided he would survey the area from the cliffs that overlooked the beach, so he walked in their direction. Jack was curious about where he was and what country his boat had come to rest upon. What would the people, if any, be like? What kinds of animals, he thought, were those he heard last night, as their soft padded feet paced back and forth under his tree house? They sounded like no animals he ever heard back home, and guessed that he must not have drifted back to the states. The cliffs offered little challenge for the athletic youngster, so he made his way to the top rather quickly, and then 24

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looked at his strange surroundings. He was certain now that he had not been marooned upon an island. To the West there was land as far as the eye could see. His viewpoint was from just over the treetops, overlooking the jungle below. At his back was open Ocean. His view right and left offered little more than sandy beaches that seemingly stretched away to infinity, bordered on one side by ocean and upon the other by dense jungle. Kadoma and his men arrived at the beach, emerging from the jungle just a short distance from the platform where a young stranger had spent the night. They enjoyed swimming in the ocean, running through the waves like children. Warriors they may be, but they were also free-spirited and happy. Having spent their entire lives in the Nagassi valley, they knew nothing other than happiness and freedom. Only the elders could recall when they had driven rival tribes and raiders from their homeland in times of war. From a cliff top some two hundred yards to the north, a pair of youthful blue eyes spied the activity below. At sight of the warriors, Jack had dropped flat against the ground, hoping to avoid detection. Never had he been witness to such a spectacle. Five ebony warriors walked from the jungle. They carried on, he thought, like a bunch of children, though obviously they were not. Jack was very scared at sight of them and his first thought was to flee. However, all his supplies lay in the platform, some thirty feet above the ground. For now, they were safely hidden in his makeshift tree house. He was afraid to try sneaking to the tree, fearing there could be more of these men and he might be captured. The youth watched in amazement, taking in every detail allowed from such a distance. He could see their strong muscled bodies glistening as they left the water. All had magnificent ornaments of gold. Necklaces, armbands and bracelets decorated their lithe bodies. One of the men also had several large feathers hanging from a headband. Jack guessed, and correctly so, that this was the chief. 25

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The lad sat patiently for hours, watching the men as they swam in the pounding surf. As evening approached, they began spearing fish for their dinner. The warriors were quite skilled with the spears. They would stand very still until some unlucky flounder swam within range, and then, quick as a flash, a man would cast his weapon. It seemed they never missed and soon had enough for their feast. Jack, having been so involved with watching the natives, had not given much thought to his own hunger pangs. The boy was not quite sure of what to do. To try and get to the tree house undetected would be almost impossible in the daylight. He felt it best to take his chances after darkness had fallen. Jack then intended to sneak close enough so that, when the time came, he could make sure the men were asleep, then make his way up the tree for his belongings. With this in mind, the lad crawled on his stomach down the hill, opposite the way he came. Then he circled around to observe through the thick jungle growth. Very slowly, he made his way towards his intended vantage-point. Jack was still not sure these men had no followers, so he was very cautious about making any noise and staying completely hidden. When the youth reached the tangled vines and bushes, he looked through the thick vegetation; slowly parting the climbers, brush and grasses to gain access. His young eyes went wide as, for the first time, he could see just how muscled these warriors were. Their bodies looked as if they could run all day and fight with the mightiest beast. He was certain that if he were caught there would be no hope at all for escape. He must be sure of silence, he thought, in his attempt to retrieve his possessions. Passing minutes turned into long, tense hours. Finally though, after a long, silent vigil, the warriors were quiet and the only sounds were the creatures of the night. For all his untrained ears could detect, there were no prowling beasts of the jungle nearby. The time, Jack mused to himself, has come. Quietly and with dire purpose, he made his way towards 26

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the tree in question. Scarce a leaf moved or a grain of sand turned under his careful approach. Slowly, step by step, he moved closer to his goal; first moving a hand or knee then placing it firmly against the ground before moving another. But for the sounds of the insects and the ocean, everything was very silent that dark August night. Jack could almost hear his heartbeat as he inched his way to the towering jungle patriarch. Eventually, climbing hand over hand, he made his way up the tree, and then lowered his possessions with the rope. Moving with the greatest speed that stealth would allow, he finally reached the ground. Then he ran; he ran as he had never run before. In his flight, the further he got from the tree house the more his pace quickened. To that point all had been quiet; and he thought, as his feet seemed to grow wings, he had made good his desperate escape. Then, through the stygian darkness, he heard a noise from behind. It sounded like footsteps approaching rapidly. He began to run as fast as his young legs would carry him away from the camp of the warriors he so desperately feared. His heart raced and his breath came in quick gasps. Young Jack Pierce, in his bold attempt to avoid capture, moved swiftly into the pitch darkness of the jungle night. The youth was able to see nothing in front of him he ran. Limbs, vines and brush scratched his face, hands and arms. Just as he thought his flight had taken him from harms way, his foot caught on a vine the blackness had shielded from his vision. The hard fall to the ground took his breath away, and he was temporarily stunned into inaction. It was then, while he lay helpless on the ground, that three men came upon him from behind, two carrying burning sticks in their hands. As the frightened boy looked up from the jungle floor, he starred into the eyes of Kadoma, Chief of the Nagassi tribe. Jack’s mind reeled with thoughts of what these strangers might do to him. Where would they take him, he thought. After all that had happened, from the sinking of the ship, to his parents death and then floating at sea, he was now a prisoner in this 27

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strange land. The lad was very frightened and felt more alone than ever before. The Chief grabbed his arm and pulled him sharply to his feet. Then Kadoma issued orders for the two men to bring the boy’s things to the beach. Jack Pierce, just nine years of age and thousands of miles from home, understood none of the language spoken before him. With his head looking down in despair, he walked closely behind the leader in the direction of the warrior’s camp.

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CHAPTER 3 - The Cir cle of ManCircle hood

Ten years later . . . As Jack lay in his crude bunk he cast his gaze through the window of the primitive hut and looked at the full moon, watching as it cast its illumination across the evening sky. All his years of preparation and training were about to meet their ultimate test. He thought of the coming morning; of saying good-bye to his family and, most of all, how excited he was about beginning his journey. Tomorrow would begin the tests that would determine his position as a warrior in the tribe. With the excitement building in him, the youth could not sleep, for the anticipation of the coming dawn raced through his mind. Man usually reflects on his past as he approaches a new milestone in life. Jack likewise was deep in thought. Tomorrow he would be sent into the hills, remaining there until the moon journeyed across the sky in its full cycle, again casting its nocturnal glow over this valley. It was so different from how his life began, and as he lay there, he began to recall how he came to be among these kind people. If not for them, he surely would have perished in the wild, unforgiving jungles of Africa. They rescued him as a boy and raised him among the clan. 29

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The Nagassi had fed him and taught him their ways and customs. His birth mothers’ teachings helped him learn their language quickly, and after only a few months, he could speak it as naturally as he could his own native tongue. Much to his surprise and pleasure, the Chief adopted him later that year. When Kadoma found Jack while hunting near the coast that fateful day so long ago, he returned with him to the village. To this mighty leader, it did not matter that the lad was of another color, with his light brown hair and blue eyes and pale complexion. The Chief and his wife loved him, took him in and were proud to call him son. Kadoma, after claiming the boy as his own, had given him a new name, a Nagassi name, and called him Taimak. In the language of the Nagassi nation, it means Golden One. Taimak considered what his life might have been like back in America had fate not intervened. If his parents had survived, he probably would have lived a very comfortable life there. They had not lived however, and he could think of no place he would rather be than with these wonderful people. Here he lived in peace, no longer able to expand his mind with books and words, but what adventure he had. No volume of text existed that could compare to the things he studied each day in the valley of the Nagassi. Nothing could equal the wildlife and jungles that surrounded his home. Here was truly more than anyone could hope to learn in many lifetimes. He had decided long ago that he would never journey away from this land or these people. They had been good to him and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days here with them. Taimak knew he could have had anything he wanted that money could buy from his father’s estate. Taimak though cared for none of these things. Not the money, power, position and all the other things that people so desperately coveted in the outside world. As he lay there and finally drifted to sleep, he put these thoughts from his mind and looked toward morning. It is then, he knew, that his most exciting journey of all will begin. 30

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Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala, as it’s referred to by the Nagassi people - or translated into English, “The Circle of Manhood” is a test of man’s ability to conquer the world around him. It tests one’s strength, character and wisdom. Taimak, raised from a boy of nine to be a fierce warrior, has this and more. Few men are as noble and brave as this soon to be warrior, possessing the confidence of his father, the high intellect of his mother, and many more of the best qualities of both. This, coupled with the training and nurturing of his royal foster parents, would insure his success. There are four stages to Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala. One, to travel to the sacred stones at the edge of the desert. Two, he must ascend the tallest stone tower, then enter a cavern to study and decipher the writings of the Nagassi. The third stage has the warrior in question traveling to a hidden cave to discover the ceremonial chambers of the tribal ancestors. From this chamber, he must return with the amulet worn by the first tribal Chief. After reading the history of the Nagassi people, descending once again to the ground – a perilous enough task in its own right - and bringing the amulet from the cave, he then completes the final and perhaps most dangerous stage, to survive his month in solitude. Of course, only the first stage is explained to the warrior hopeful. The rest, if he is wise enough, he must interpret on his own, relying on his abilities and instincts to see him through. To complete Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala is a great accomplishment in the eyes of the entire tribe. To fail either means you must suffer humiliation by returning, unable to fulfill your duties, or that you were killed in your attempt. In the eyes of the Nagassi, death is a most welcome alternative to failure, so imbedded is this quest in their history and beliefs. Morning . . . As the suns’ rays stretched over the treetops on the surrounding hills, Taimak rose from his bed of straw and hides then stretched his enormous frame. During his years in this 31

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harsh land, he had grown strong for one so young. His father had been a large and powerful man, yet even at age nineteen, Taimak had already surpassed him in size and strength. Standing at a hefty six feet four inches, his tremendous muscles bulged with every movement of his powerful body. His arms were large and mighty. His legs were equally strong, able to race all day at a pace few could endure. Having worked hard since coming among the Nagassi, his body had developed tremendously in size and strength. As Taimak prepared to depart, he gathered his crude yet deadly weapons. The spear, his knife and his favorite weapon of all, the long bow and arrows, was his arsenal. With these time-tested instruments of survival, he would pit his strength and cunning against the most harsh and unforgiving jungles on earth. Spending a month in solitude would indeed prove he was worthy to ascend to the status of warrior. The quiver of arrows across his back was held tightly in place by a sturdy leather strap. His fist held an unbreakable grip on the spear of his father, Kadoma. Taimak, having used this lance in making his first kill, wanted to keep it always. Kadoma walked with his son as he departed the palisade, offering him words of comfort and encouragement. The Chief enjoyed watching Taimak grow to manhood, and took great pride in seeing him embark upon his journey. Taimak, the mighty Nagassi youth, bid his foster parent’s good-bye, kissed his fiancé, Natala, then turned and walked quietly away. Kadoma’s chest swelled with pride as his son marched off to the east to begin Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala. It is a journey he must make alone. If he survived and returned, there would be great celebration in his honor. There would be dancing and singing. Then he would select his bride in the Nagassi tradition and begin his own home. He walked through the gates at a leisurely pace, topped the hill, then stopped and turned for one last look at the village. Then, without a word, he continued his trek. He was already excited about his return and the journey had just begun. His thoughts were with the young girl he would choose for 32

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his bride. She was so beautiful and she loved him very much, as he did her. They always talked, laughed, and played together as children. As they grew older, the attachment developed into a much more powerful bond. She was different from most of the girls in the tribe, standing her ground against anyone who would oppose her. Only the elders she allowed to speak to her with anything other than a kind voice, for strong is the will of Natala. It will seem such a long time without her, he thought, unable to see her and talk to her. He would miss her very much, but she would be so proud of him when he was finished. It was a great thing to complete the circle of manhood. Many never made it back from the valleys beyond the surrounding hills. Taimak had planned his strategy for months and decided that the first order of business was a shelter for protection, then to hunt for food. He carried a rope with him to pull the limbs from the ground into a tree. There he would build a crude tree house for safety. It would be little more than a platform, but built high in the hardest place to reach he could find. This would assure him the safest possible place for rest and to store his food. He marched and marched all day that first day. It is said to be two days journey to the site where the tribal elders sent the youngsters for the rites of Sequenshu-taMun-ala. According to their writings, he had to march a day to the bend in the river, and then head south for a day to the site of the great stones that guard the valley. A place, it is written, that has stood for all time. Hundreds of feet in the air and straight up from its base, he had to climb it and locate the way to the next stage in the quest. As he walked he reflected on the teachings of his foster father, Kadoma, and of the lessons he had learned from him. He had taught him how to make and shoot the bow, and how to make a spear and defend himself. Kadoma was the greatest warrior of all the Nagassi, having helped drive away the Cubanga tribe from the north many years before. 33

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They were fierce warriors and wanted to take the Nagassi women for their own. The tribe defended their village in a great battle. It had cost them many lives, but eventually they drove the enemy from their land forever. Taimak listened to all the wise things Kadoma had to say, no matter how unimportant it seemed to him at the time. He knew Kadoma had become wise because of his experiences in battle and hunting, therefore had much to teach. The young Nagassi reflected on the day that he had first used the bow for hunting. After practicing for weeks, his fingers were very sore at night when he went to bed. Still he practiced every day from dawn till dusk. Finally, his fingers were so tough there was no longer any pain from shooting the bowstring. Then came the day came for his first hunt. The beaters were to drive the antelope past him, giving him an open shot at the edge of the clearing. The only problem was that someone forgot to tell the antelope where to exit for that perfect shot. Taimak stood there with muscles tensed and every nerve at the ready. Later he heard something move toward the clearing. He pulled the bow, bending it to his will, readying it for the kill. Suddenly from his right, there came the crashing sound of an animal in flight. Taimak turned, startled to see something heading straight for him. There would be no chance for a clear shot that day, because the frightened animal vaulted over him and kept going as fast as its legs would carry it. The beaters came from the bush and eyed Taimak lying on the ground, covered in mud where the antelope had run right over the top of him. Everyone laughed and pointed at him, a wet and a muddy mess. He was angry at first; his face crimson so great was his rage. Then, as he realized what he must look like, he began to laugh with them. He had been thirteen then and just figured it to be another lesson learned in the school of life. Taimak, high spirited as he walked along, was able to clear his mind of any thoughts of the past for the moment, able to concentrate on the future. One month, he thought, then I will 34

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return and celebrate with his my bride. Everyone in the village knew whom he would pick for his mate, and all knew she would accept his request. It was no secret that they were in love, and the entire tribe, save for one, gave their blessing. Ubla, one of Taimak’s fiercest rivals for Natala’s affection, wanted her for himself, and was very jealous of their love. It just might be that he would have to fight for her in order to have her, this he knew. He did not wish it so, but would allow nothing stand in the way of his marrying her. As he walked along, his bow on his back and the spear in his right hand, he looked at the terrain ahead. He had crossed the hills surrounding the village; passed through thick, steamy jungle. Now, many hours later only open grasslands lay before him. Taimak, trained in the ways of this harsh land, always kept on the alert for danger. Constant was his vigil for lion or other ferocious predators, for it only takes a second of being unprepared to make a fatal mistake. This was not, he knew, the front yard of his old home in America. It is the wilds of Africa through which he must pass, and one must always be aware of danger. He selected a path that would take him near trees or large rocks, that would, if necessary, offer sanctuary from the great cats he knew might be lurking near. Doubtless, this trail would be a little longer, but better safe now, he thought, than to be an easy meal later. He had progressed perhaps two-thirds the distance across the great plain when he heard a sound to his left. It was a low growling sound, barely audible. Someone from the civilized world would never hear so slight a noise. However, this was one trained by necessity to be always on the alert; one who knew instantly he was being hunted. The lad’s eyes searched for the nearest tree and found it was quite close. However, it was a great distance with death so near, so Taimak was left with one choice, to fight. Undaunted, he turned, searching with his keen eyes for the wouldbe attacker. 35

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There – behind some low brush! It was a lion, a female nearly grown. She stalked slowly and methodically; head and tail flat, belly low to the ground, slinking stealthily in his direction. To run from her would be impossible, so he wheeled about. Trapped in this unenviable position, the muscled youth stood brazen. His powerful arm raised the spear into a throwing position. Every muscle in his body was tense. His heart raced, pounding like a native drum. Taimak felt as if it would beat from his chest, so great were the palpitations. As he prepared for the attack he knew would come soon, his brilliant young mind worked very fast. Quick thinking would mean as much in defeating this predator as the huge muscles that would launch the stout spear. He decided when the spear left his hand he would run for the tree; removing the bow from his back as he ran. This, he hoped, would allow him more time and distance to get a shot off from the bow, and give him a much better chance at defending himself. The gruesome alternative was to go down under those razor sharp claws and fangs. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the thing began to inch closer and closer. The hunted eyed the hunter as she moved stealthily through the tall, swaying grass. He watched as the sleek, agile beast moved slowly toward him. In another instant the cat would charge, of this he was certain. Taimak, as planned, began backing slowly in the direction of the tree, moving one foot carefully after the other. Without warning, the cat sprang from cover. It bore down upon him, picking up incredible speed with each step in his direction. He had his arm drawn behind him and was at the point of throwing the spear, when fate intervened. Unexpectedly, the back of his foot caught on a rock, and sent him crashing to the ground. Instantly he was angry for having robbed himself of what he believed his one chance for a proper defense. Now he would have little probability indeed to defend himself. However, Taimak would not give up without a fight. The brave young Nagassi removed the huge knife from its sheath and readied it 36

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for the looming battle. The warrior knew he would have to strike quickly and with all his strength, of this he was certain. Yet, even then did he dare pit his strength against even a young African lion? He could hear the beast approaching. Then he saw her leap the last distance toward its intended prey. I am certain, and perhaps you would agree, that one who had always lived the life of civilized man would most certainly die here; would he not? Nor, I dare say, would anyone reasonably expect anything else against a beast such as this. On this point, I am sure that we also agree; do we not? However, this man was not raised as other men, catered to by someone at his every whim. It was for this reason – because fate had, on that fateful day some ten years ago, delivered him to the village of Kadoma – that he stood some chance, however small, of defending himself. Amazingly, as agile as the cat was, Taimak, moving quick as lightening across a stormy sky, was faster still. As the feline sprang from its feet and launched itself toward the hulking youth, he grabbed the spear, raised the point toward his attacker and impaled the beast. Clawing and growling horribly, the young lion fought and bit at the weapon that was sticking from its chest. Taimak knew he must strike now and strike hard and, wasting no time, he circled the beast. Now he had turned the tables and he was the hunter. He raised the knife over his head and, using all his mighty strength, he drove the point downward. Repeatedly the knife passed through the cat’s hide; over and over he stabbed, holding the thrashing creature by the scruff of the neck. Then, after slashing and driving the blade into the lion, the knife pierced the vital organs and, in that instant, forever silenced one of the mightiest hunters on the plains of Africa. A young lion it was, but still, few men armed only with the crude weapons of a Nagassi warrior would dare hope to survive the attack of an African lion. Even fewer would dare hope to kill it single handed, yet Taimak alone had fought her 37

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to the death and emerged victorious. He knew that it was lucky it was not one of the huge males. For not even Taimak, with his huge, powerful muscles could hope to defeat the King of beasts one on one. The young Nagassi, gathering his weapons, cleaned the blood from them. The future warrior then continued on his way toward the location he would temporarily call home. He walked along considering all that had happened to him that day, beginning his quest, reaching the halfway point in his march toward the great stones that guard the valley and killing his first lion. If all this had happened on the first day then surely, thought Taimak, there will be many adventures in an entire month. He became very excited once again at the possibilities for learning, and all the adventure that would be his.

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CHAPTER 4 - The Rider s Came Riders On the distant horizon, one could see a large cloud of dust swirling in the wind. Dust stirred by the thundering hooves of great Arabian horses. Horses mounted by many riders, men intent on killing and enslaving the peaceful people of the Nagassi valley. This ferocious band of raiders were led by one so vile and ruthless that none would dare speak against him for fear of death. Followers who, armed as they were, could and would overpower the Nagassi people. Thus came the riders of Akmed Ben-Sataal. Onward they came, riding toward the quiet valley where, for many years, there had been only peace and harmony. Raiding parties had come before and been driven off, though never before had such a large safari been planned for so evil a purpose. Armed with repeating rifles that were stolen from army depots during the Great War, they were a nefarious swarm of death dealing destruction; the likes of which had never been witnessed within this particular region of Africa. There could be no chance for even the brave Nagassi warriors to defend their home against such a vile and well-armed juggernaut. Fully one hundred and twenty armed men came closer and closer with their semi-automatic rifles. It was a hard five days ride from their last camp to the valley where they planned to take their slaves. They planned to kill the warriors and then take the young men and women to work and dig, to excavate 39

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the remnants of a long forgotten city, the lost metropolis of Agashi Kahn. Akmed knew the warriors would cause too much trouble in their attempts to escape, for this reason they would be killed. The elderly were no good for their purpose, nor were the little children. But the young men and women, they could be forced to work. Their will no longer their own, they could be trained to obey their wicked masters. Outside the stockade, the women gathered fruits from the trees and vegetables from the fields for the evening meal. Natala was swimming in the stream and the children played within the protective walls of the village. All seemed normal to them, not a care in the world other than the day to day chores that filled their lives. Soon all would be different. Soon the riders would come and forever change the future of this tribe. Soon they would know only death, unhappiness and perhaps the worst fate of all, enslavement at the hands of Akmed Ben-Sataal. Elsewhere . . . Taimak found a choice spot where he planned to spend the night. It was just a few yards from the river and he knew it was likely that he could kill one of the animals that came there to drink. He did not have long to wait, for soon a herd of wildebeest approached at a leisurely pace. Taimak took careful aim, quietly waiting for his quarry to come within range. The young warrior looked down the shaft of the arrow. He spied an animal that lagged behind the others. Then, swift and sure, the Nagassi let the arrow fly and dropped a young cow in her tracks. He ran quickly to his prey then removed the large knife at his side. He grabbed the leg just above the hoof, then cut a hind limb from the lifeless animal. This would give him dinner, breakfast, and enough to carry in his zebra skin pouch for the rest of his journey to the ancient stones. The young Nagassi kept himself very busy. He cut wood 40

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for a fire to cook his food and still more for a platform on which he would spend the night. He finished cutting the wood and started his fire, then cooked his dinner. While the wildebeest’ hind leg roasted slowly over the open flame, he built his shelter, such as it was, for the night. It was a crude platform to be sure, built from limbs and vines; it was similar to the one he had built on his first night in Africa. Nevertheless, it would do quite well to keep him away from the dangerous, nocturnal hunters on the ground. For it was dusk and soon, very soon, they would be about. As he sat on the dais eating his dinner, he watched the world around him. Taimak was fascinated, watching a pride of lions stalk and kill a zebra. A crocodile surged from the water to kill a baby antelope. Noting the brutal savagery of the world around him, he saw how it was truly survival of the fittest. Later he watched monkeys playing in the trees and laughed at how they chattered and scolded one another in their little game. Throughout his life, as his strength grew, so too did his sharp mind. He loved the constant variety of things to learn and observe. Sleep, he knew, would come soon, as it had been a long and exciting day. Taimak was very anxious about tomorrow and his arrival at the sacred stones. The young warrior was very curious about the fascination his tribe held for that place. What was it about the stones that made them send a warrior there? Could the climb be that difficult? In any event, he knew that on the morrow he could witness them for himself. For now though, he relaxed, closed his eyes, and sleep eventually came to him. The following day would be another long march for this would be warrior in the Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala. Later that same night . . . Miles away, inside a makeshift thorn boma, a man with a long scar and an unpleasant scowl entered the tent of his master. Lieutenant Khali was almost as evil as his leader, Akmed 41

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Ben-Sataal. Upon entering he asked, “What is your wish, my master, that you call me at such a late hour? How may I serve you?” he asked. “I wish to discuss the final plans for the raid tomorrow.” answered Akmed. “You will take half the men and approach from the South. I will take the other half and come from the North.” Pointing at a map on the table, Akmed Ben-Sataal indicated to his Lieutenant the hills from which they would approach. He then told Khali, “They post no guards because they never suspect attack. There are no enemy tribes near so it will be but a matter of our surprising them. I want you to take my son with you. He is to answer to no one else — do you understand?” he said. “As you wish, my master.” answered the Lieutenant. Then turning, Khali quietly exited the shelter. On his way back to his own quarters Khali shuddered at the thought of having Akeem in his group. If anyone in the world was worse than Akmed Ben-Sataal, thought Khali, it is his son; who, by his actions, is not only evil, but also a coward. Akmed hoped his son would learn much in the raid, gaining both knowledge and confidence. Khali secretly hoped the hated son of the Sheik would be killed in the raid. Khali smiled at that vision. Perhaps, thought Khali, tomorrow will be a good day after all. Akmed’s soldiers kept watch in shifts while the officers slept in the camp. As lions roared in the distance and the guards kept the fires burning brightly to keep them at bay. The horses were uneasy, snorting and stamping all night. Morning would not come soon enough for any of them. The entire party, even those within the canvassed walls, did not sleep well; nor would they until their return to their base camp in the abandoned city of Agashi Kahn. Taimak woke early the next morning, listening to the sounds of the world waking itself for another day. The birds sang; the monkeys chattered, and most of the hunting animals sought the shade. Taimak climbed down the tree after lowering his belongings. He coiled his rope and gathered his weapons. 42

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He then walked to the river to quench his thirst. The youth approached the water cautiously, remembering the antelope from the evening before, wanting no part of fighting a savage crocodile as he had the young lioness. With his keen senses on constant alert for danger, Taimak knelt cautiously at the river’s edge. Then, putting his lips to the cool water, resembling some slinking beast of the jungle, he drank his fill. While he slaked his thirst, not once did he let his eyes stop watching nor his ears stop listening for signs of peril. Since his training began, he had seen young men with hopes of being a warrior lower their defenses for only a second. In that split second of carelessness there sometimes prowls a hungry lion or any number of fierce predators that roam this land. For it is often here where the careless hunter occasionally becomes the hunted. His thirst satisfied for the moment, Taimak knelt there, keeping constant vigil as he filled the canteen with fresh water. This was the same canteen from the lifeboat that had saved his life ten years before. He carried it with him always, and although the others scoffed at such a thing, he still uses it to this day. He also uses the same large knife from the boat, and the rope as well. They were the first weapons he put to use after the lifeboat landed on the beach, stranding him in this hostile land at such a young age. Should anyone from his hometown have seen him, they would hardly believe their eyes. Here was a young man that might have been heading for a life of luxury. Yet there he stood, dressed only in a loincloth fashioned from a lion skin. From his back, there hung a longbow and arrows. In his hand, a spear fashioned by the skilled hands of his adopted sire. What a sight he was to behold standing there. His golden brown hair held back with a single strand of rawhide and draped over his hefty tanned shoulders. With his highly developed muscles on his almost six foot four-inch frame, the young warrior looked as if he were carved from stone, resembling some 43

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God-like statue one would see in a museum. Taimak, though he did not know it yet, was indeed destined for prominence, though not in the civilized world as a politician or millionaire. He was heading for greatness in this primitive world he loved so much. The spark that would ignite this man into such lofty status was preparing to climb on his horse and ride for the Nagassi village. Had Akmed Ben-Sataal known of the horrible fury he was about to unleash, he would have climbed on that horse and ridden away; spurring it to it’s greatest speed in the opposite direction. But this, of course, he did not know at the time; and therefore he continued upon his evil quest, completely unaware of his role in the legend I narrate to you now. Later . . . Akmed Ben-Sataal came to the designated spot just out of sight of the village, then motioned his warriors to circle around. He and half the men would wait there for the signal from Khali. Then Khali, the wretched lieutenant and his men would attack from the opposite side. Waiting quietly as the others continued on, Akmed watched the innocent villagers who would soon see their peaceful lives destroyed. The gates were open and the people going about their business, unaware of the vicious attack they were about to endure. Akmed sat astride his mount, eyeing the spot where his Lieutenant would take up his own position for the assault. He saw his bandits ride into the clearing just above the village. Then one of the men, by command of Lieutenant Khali, waved the rifle and the riders began their charge. The dreadful thing had begun - the attack by one of the most evil men in this part of the country, upon the most peace loving tribe in all the land. Good versus evil has been played out many times in the history of man. On that particular day, evil was almost certain to gain the upper hand. From under their white hoods, the raiders eyed their in44

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tended quarry. Faster and faster they rode, urging the horses to their greatest speed. The element of surprise was theirs, and in their vile hearts was the delicious anticipation of murder and pillage. Akmed and his men had succeeded in catching the entire village unaware. As they closed the distance, the riders formed a line spanning much wider than the village itself. All the planning and preparations came down to this one treacherous act. A young woman was the first to notice the raiders and she ran screaming to the village gates. Everyone, upon hearing her pleas, looked up and saw the soldiers attacking. The warriors, including those who had been away hunting the day before, gathered their weapons and then ran hurriedly for the walls of the compound. When the last person had entered the palisade they closed the gates behind them and, like their forefathers, began the defense of their homes. The riders circled around the village just out of range, yelling and cursing the warriors. As the shots rang out, echoing across this once peaceful African landscape, the brave Nagassi fell, one by one, to their death. To the credit of this noble and valiant people, an Arab rider dropped from his saddle from time to time; downed by a warrior’s arrow. Many more times than this, however, a warrior fell from the wall, his lifeless body landing beyond the rampart. Sounds of panic and terror were echoed between rifle blasts, as did haunting screams from terrified children. Women wept openly over their dead husbands or sons. The old tried to offer aid as best they could. So too did the women and children, but all to no avail. The rifles were just too powerful and could kill from too great a distance. Natala, no longer able to endure this affront upon her people, collected the weapons of a dead warrior. Then, climbing to the top of the wall, she yelled her defiance at the cowardice attack. The brave, young maiden, shot arrow after arrow, using the weaponry with a deadly accuracy that any warrior would 45

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envy. She dropped many a rider from his saddle that day with her deadly aim. Nagassi heroes continued to die in numbers many times greater than the Arab soldiers did. Eventually only Natala and two others remained. As she stood there, she cursed the men of Akmed’s army, but had not noticed the men who had scaled the walls and opened the gates. Unknown to her, death inched ever closer to this young maiden; a woman whose heart beat furiously with the spirit of a warrior. Silently the man crept while she was occupied with the leader of the band. She taunted and cursed the Sheik, daring him to come to her. He only laughed as the man made his way closer and closer to her. Akmed’s agent struck Natala a cowardice blow from behind with the butt of his rifle. She collapsed unconscious to the wooden platform. As the battle ended, Akmed Ben-Sataal, the despicable leader of the most loathsome band of vile cutthroats in this or any land, rode triumphantly through the gate. Once within, he proudly toured the ghastly scene of death and destruction.

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CHAPTER 5 - N at ala h Nat atala ala’’s Deat Death The malevolent Sheik ordered the girl bound in the center of the village. She would serve as an example, he said, to others who would oppose him in the future. When Natala was securely bound, the wretched villain smacked her cheek until she regained consciousness. He then returned her taunts, continuing to brutally slap her across the face. Blood began to flow from the corner of her mouth. She taunted back, calling him an animal and beast that would kill innocent people. Then, with a look of hatred on her face, spat upon him. Not a sound came from the Sheik. He only smiled at her and stared into her eyes. She felt a cold chill run down her spine at the awful silence. Akmed stood there, no longer hitting her and no longer speaking to her. Had he taunted her further she might have felt better. Had he hit her it might still have been better, but the cold silence, she knew, did not bode well for her. Akmed turned as if to walk away. Natala visibly breathed a sigh of relief. Then suddenly and quite without warning, in one quick savage movement, Akmed Ben-Sataal reached for his knife, grabbed the girl’s hair and, raising her head, plunged the knife into her heart, then laughed. A look of shock and horror filled her face. She looked straight into the eyes of her assassin and his malevolent stare remained the same; cold, dark and sinister. Akmed, showing he was the epitome of evil, continued to laugh at his victim. 47

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Natala tried to speak but could not, for the pain was too great. She weakened quickly and felt dizzy. Then, moments later, her head lowered, and all became dark. This is how the life of this brave and beautiful young woman came to a tragic end. She had given it freely in the defense of her people, and would always be remembered for her bravery. Akmed turned to one of the slaves in his party and spoke in his cold, commanding tone. “Tell them if anyone resists us further that they will suffer the same fate as this woman.” The slave turned and delivered the message to the people of the Nagassi village. Fear filled their hearts. Revenge filled their minds and hatred, crimson, blinding hatred absorbed their very souls. If there were ever a chance to wreak vengeance on this man, they would surely kill him; this each and every one decided then and there. Akmed told his slave to tell them they were being put into chains and taken to work for the riches and glory of the Sheik. As the speaker delivered his message, their heads dropped and their spirit were partly broken, for their will was no longer their own. The future slaves were chained. The others were forced to serve the Sheik and his men until their departure. They were told that tomorrow they would begin their long journey to the camp of Akmed Ben-Sataal. Taimak hiked miles toward the south. He had once again set a rapid pace and, although the hot sun bore down upon him, the young warrior marched on. He saw many things on the journey. The country had changed from valleys to plains to jungle and now it was changing again. It was becoming more barren and sparse of life. Water was harder to find and eventually there was none. Trees were nowhere to be found. Absent too was grass. Only an occasional bush grew in the shade of large rocks. The only forms of life were lizards and snakes that he avoided, with a feeling of disgust, at all cost. There is one thing this place offered however, and that was the sacred stones 48

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described to him by the elders. When he arrived at his destination, he stood there for a time in the long, dark shadows, admiring them. The elders were right about their majesty, thought Taimak. There they stood in all their magnificence, towering above everything in the area. They reached toward the heavens, as he had been told, and the lad’s eyes gazed ever upward to see them. Taimak decided when he reached their base that he would rest until the next morning. Then, after a good nights sleep, he would begin his ascent at the first light of day. As he neared the base of his climb, he wondered why this place had been so special to the elder warriors of the tribe. Whatever it’s secret is, thought Taimak, I will unlock its mystery tomorrow. As he ventured forth on his quest, he often thought about the rules of the crusade, and that he was to climb to the top and discover the way through the circle of manhood. From all appearances, nothing lay beyond the stones but miles of open desert; its rolling dunes stretching as far as the eye can see. Resting and eating the last of the wildebeest, Taimak drank from his canteen, then lay down in the shade to sleep. As he lay there, at the base of the towering rock, his slumber was restless and filled with dreams of death. One such dream had him being killed by the lion he had slain on the first day. Another had him falling from the cliff above. He spent most of the night this way, tossing and turning until, when he woke, he was as tired as when he lay down, perhaps more so. Luckily for him, daylight was still some time off, so eventually he drifted back to sleep, this time resting well, with the nightmares apparently over. The next morning . . . A few hours later the sun spread its warmth across the Nagassi valley. The raiders and slaves prepared to leave for 49

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the camp of the evil Sheik. Moans and cries filled the air as young men and women were led like animals by chain to some far off land. The old and very young watched helplessly as their families were marched through the village gates. The trek would take ten to twelve days because, chained as they were, they could move no faster. As the Nagassi marched, they were wondering what their new life would be like. In the valley, all were free and happy; they wondered if it would ever possible to be that way again. Akeem was riding in front with his father, secretly thinking of the day when he would lead, when he would be in command. He hated his father, learning all the evil ways from him. Perhaps he learned his lessons all too well, for as vile and twisted as Akmed Ben-Sataal was, his son was even more so. He often thought of how to kill his father. However, as wicked and twisted as he was, Akeem was still a coward within. During the accursed journey, resting was only permitted long enough to eat and drink before starting the march again. The people of the valley offered no resistance. They remembered Natala’s murder in the village all too well, and thus were very afraid. They would take revenge if the opportunity presented itself, but most doubted that chance would ever come. All seemed hopeless to the Nagassi, and they slipped deeper into depression at the life that lay before them. Akmed knew all too well the age to recruit the slaves, old enough to work, yet young enough to mold their mind and break their spirit. Taimak woke, feeling reinvigorated from his sleep. He drank from the canteen and then, standing, coiled the rope over one shoulder, and then walked toward the tallest of the stones. Searching for the best possible route, he decided to scale the western side. It offered the best hand and foot holds and blocked the morning sun from his eyes. He started his climb, occasionally looking up to check his progress, but mostly just looking far enough ahead to plan the next move. The climb was difficult and long. It took hours to scale the steep face of the towering rock. After reaching the top, the youth lay on his back to catch his breath. He decided to rest 50

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for a time before trying to stand at this dizzying height. The midday sun was very hot, making him wish he had the canteen of water that he might satisfy his thirst. After catching his breath, the young warrior sat up and then, looking around, eyed the spectacular view this highest tower had to offer. In one direction, there was nothing but endless desert. In the other were jungle, plains and hills. At the opposite end of the plateau there appeared to be a small cave. This was his apparent destination, so me made his way in that direction. Walking slowly toward the cave Taimak stopped before the entrance, then peered inside the dark opening. There was very little light and he wished he had a torch to shine the way. Having no source for light however, he slowly began walking down the stairway that had been carved, centuries perhaps, before he was born. He made his way down the spiraling stairway very cautiously, touching the walls and sliding his feet slowly across the floor, hoping to keep from plunging into some dark abyss. As he inched his way, it appeared to get lighter ahead of him. At that time of day, small amounts of light filtered in through some small cracks. This small source of natural lighting slightly illuminated the dismal interior. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Taimak began to investigate the markings on the walls. They looked as if they were painted there many years, if not eons, before. Perhaps, thought Taimak, they were put there by the earliest Nagassi people. Or maybe another ancient tribe that had long since disappeared from the area. He could not be sure who left them but their writing was in the earliest language of man. They had written in simple pictures. Taimak, wondering what story the pictures told, began to study them closely. The warrior remembered a book he once read on ancient civilization. It stated that some people from the dawn of man told their stories from right to left, instead of left to right as does modern man. With this thought in mind, he started at the far right painting and began to decipher their meaning. They described what 51

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appeared to be the moon circling a village, and then a man marching toward the three stones. He paused for a moment in thought. This must be the story of the Circle of Manhood – the Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala! He became very excited and continued to discern the ancient hieroglyphics. The next picture had a man climbing the tallest of the stones just as Taimak had. The next illustration showed a man in a cave. This was how far he had come on his quest. This excited the young man further, so he continued to read the paintings. The next series of drawings pictured a warrior leaving the stones and heading back in the direction of the valley. Before entering the Nagassi valley, he entered a cave in the face of a vast cliff. He had passed such a cliff on the way, but recalled seeing no such cave. That was the end of the drawings and, as the light began to fade, he made his way back up the stone staircase and out into the light of day. Standing there, looking in the direction of his home, Taimak thought of his foster parents, and the girl he hoped would be waiting for him. Had he known the fate of Natala and the others, he would have raced home at his greatest speed. Of course, he had no way of knowing that his lady love was dead, still bound to a post in the center of a once happy village. The Sheik had ordered she be left there as a horrible reminder of the fate of anyone who opposed him. Later, after Taimak climbed down the sacred stone, he sat and relaxed. He needed to regain his strength, for he must travel to the jungle before dark and find food. He hadn’t eaten and needed nourishment and a good night’s sleep before beginning his search for the cave in question. He tried to picture the drawings in his mind and, thinking of the position of the cave, he thought it appeared to be at the nearest end of the cliff upon his return. After he gathered his weapons, he turned his direction to the jungle in hopes of making an easy kill and eating well that night, for it was, for him, a night of celebration. The Nagassi people were marching along, prodded, shoved 52

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and beaten by the whips of their new masters. Night was approaching rapidly and Akmed was pleased with their progress. The sad caravan had traveled even further than he planned that first day. He gave the order for camp to be made and fires built. A thorn boma was constructed, offering protection against the great cats that prowled at night. After all was complete and they had eaten the evening meal, guards were then posted for the night.

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CHAPTER 6 - A gashi K ahn Ag Kahn Taimak reached the edge of the jungle late the next afternoon. He was tired and very hungry. As he entered a thick wooded area he removed his bow and an arrow from his quiver, keeping them ready to strike at all times. He began to hunt and resembled a sleek jungle animal on the prowl; his mannerisms mimicking that of a cat as he stalked his way along the wellworn game trail. The hunter was confident of his opportunity to make a kill here. Walking farther along, the youth came to a bend in the trail. Very slowly and quietly the hunter turned the corner and found himself some thirty yards from a wild boar. Unfortunately, the beast was not in a favorable position for attack. To make a clean shot, he would need to get a broadside look. He purposely made a noise, hoping the animal might turn and investigate. The lad was right, though not with the results he would have liked. Most animals in the wild are unpredictable brutes at best. The wild boar, with its ferocious temper is, without question, the rule rather than the exception. Instead of turning to investigate, the boar immediately charged. Taimak instantly recognized the danger. He quickly released an arrow from the bow, hitting the boar just over its left shoulder. This caused the enraged beast to stumble and fall. Quick as a flash the young Nagassi warrior grabbed his spear and then, with his titanic strength, cast it into the wild pig. The missile penetrated the boar in the side, just as it was 55

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spinning in its attempt to dislodge the arrow. Few things in all the jungle are more savage than the wild boar when it is mad. But when it is wounded, it is even more so. As his prey struggled, fighting for life, Taimak cautiously moved in for the kill. He removed his long Bowie and, taking his life into his hands, closed with the enraged animal. Then, when in a favorable position, one hand holding the brute at bay, he quickly cut the beast’s throat with the other. Taimak decided that staying in the game trail would be too dangerous, so he hurriedly dragged the pig to a more secluded spot. There, after starting a fire, he spent some time relaxing while cooking his meal. While devouring his feast, the lad began revising his original plans. Instead of making a shelter, he decided to stay in the cave. Unless, of course, there were more paintings sending him on further travel. All actions, of course, would be dictated by the Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala. It was late when he finished eating and there was no time to make temporary lodgings before dark. He tied the boar, hoisting it high in the trees above. Then, feeling his prize secure, he climbed into one of the towering jungle patriarchs, found one of the forks comfortable enough, and drifted to sleep. Elsewhere, in the camp of Akmed Ben-Sataal, there was boisterous laughter around the campfire. The men of the Sheik were talking and joking, looking forward to their return to the abandoned city. Akmed enjoyed dinner in his tent, and used the evening to talk over his plans for the slaves. Akeem and Lieutenant Khali listened intently to all they were told. Akmed had sought the slaves to dig for the treasures that were rumored to be lost under the city. There had been gossip of a fabulous treasure for many years. None, however, truly believed the stories until the raiders had been shown proof. They had ambushed a safari that was searching for the city and stole the map that, eventually, led them to the ruins of Agashi Kahn. The Sheik decided they would excavate three different ar56

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eas of the ancient metropolis. Akmed himself was to lead one party, his son and the Lieutenant the other two. They would force the slaves to dig from morning till night in order to locate the treasure, allowing them to rest only long enough to feed them two meals each day. The Lieutenant would assign two groups of five men to hunt daily, providing enough food for the slaves and themselves. This would still leave more than enough men to watch over the captives and prevent their escape. “Do you understand my wishes?” asked Akmed of his followers. “Yes”. Came the reply from both men. “Good, then we understand one another. As for your methods, you will use any means necessary to make the slaves work. Nothing must stand in the way of me getting that treasure. I will be the wealthiest man in all of Africa. I will have the riches of Kings!” exclaimed the Sheik. When one is as evil and black hearted as Akmed Ben-Sataal, you also tend to recruit the same kind of people around that you yourself have become. This was the case of the Lieutenant and the Sheik’s son. Each smiling at him, acknowledging the riches would be his. In their minds however, each had a secret desire to acquire the treasure for themselves. Both were working on plans to dispose of the Sheik and claim the bounty for himself. Insatiable greed drives such men, and so to does it ultimately destroy them. At sunrise, the young warrior was awakened by the first sounds of the jungle arousing to the light of another day. When his eyes opened, he found his boar was still tied securely in the tree. After dropping his weapons to the ground, Taimak climbed down, untied the rope, and lowered the tusker down to him. Since he had cooked the entire boar the night before, he wrapped it in the hide for the march to the cave. This preserved it much longer and it would last him several days. After eating more of his prize and drinking from the canteen, he set off with high hopes of finding the cave he had read in the paintings. The lad, filled with high hopes, walked back to the game 57

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trail to follow it. This he knew would make his progress easier and faster. He walked along for quite some time, taking in all the sights and sounds around him. The morning had been uneventful, so Taimak quickened his pace to a trot and eventually to long, powerful strides. In this hurried gait, he set a pace that few could endure, allowing him to arrive near his destination much sooner. Later . . . As the bronzed warrior approached the cliff in question, he heard animals fighting on the ledges above. Hearing what sounded like hyenas fighting one of the great cats, he turned his gaze upward, just in time to see a huge black form hurtling toward the ground. The confrontation, taking place so near the edge, had driven the animal backward, sending it over cliff. The beast, whatever it was, came crashing through the trees. With the limbs partly breaking its fall, it landed against the rocks, just ahead of the young Nagassi; who, because of his lessons from Kadoma, had already readied his spear for possible attack. Slowly, step by quiet step, Taimak approached the base of the cliff. Cautiously he reached to part some thick brush, and opened it to reveal a most amazing sight. Lying there, dazed and hurt, was the most beautiful animal he had ever seen - a huge Black Panther. Taimak walked closer, then raised his spear in case the animal was able to attack. He saw what appeared to be fang or claw marks on the cats back, one of its legs looked as if it might be broken and blood was trickling from its open mouth. He came closer, then touched the magnificent black coat with the tips of his fingers. The cat still did not move and, wounded as it was, he thought it would probably die. Taimak stood mesmerized, speculating whether he should end its suffering or try nursing it back to health. He did not like to see it in pain, but he also had no wish to kill an animal that had caused him no harm. He killed only for food and defense. That was the Nagassi way, and so too it was Taimak’s way. 58

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The young warrior eventually decided he would aid the beast as best he could. He felt he must try and perhaps, he thought, I just might save it. In the meantime he would search for the cave and make a camp close by. This would allow him to offer protection for the wounded creature, yet continue to fulfill the requirements of the tests. Taimak held out a hand full of water but the animal would not drink, still too dazed and hurt. With so large an animal, it would take much more food than his boar would supply for the two of them. So, after covering the cat with brush to offer it at least some protection, the lad trotted off to hunt for fresh meat. The raiding party and their slaves had marched long and hard again. As before, they were fed only enough to keep them able to move. “Weak slaves are easier to keep under control. They must be taught who their masters are.” said Akmed to his Akeem. “I am going to rule an entire kingdom my son. Some day it will be yours.” Sooner than you think, thought Akeem, as he simply smiled at his father, while secretly plotting against him. The Lieutenant also continued his own plan to take the treasure away from the Akmed. He would kill the Sheik and take the treasure for himself. Khali had the courage to kill the man himself, but he needed to place the blame on another. This would take suspicion away from him that he might make good his escape. It was during the long march to Agashi Kahn that the seeds of destruction were sewn. When Khali saw the chance, he took one of the slaves into his confidence, telling him he would help his people escape from slavery. Young Botala had no idea of the sinister plan that swirled in the demented mind of Khali. Neither did he know that he was merely a pawn a their deadly game of chess. As the long march to the city continued, the Lieutenant talked often with Botala. He had known a little of the native tongue spoken in these regions, but Botala taught him more each day. The Sheik noticed the talks but said nothing of them. Although he was very curious, he did not want to arouse suspi59

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cion. What was it that Khali told the innocent youth? What would one such as Khali tell him to gain his faith? He told Botala that after they had the treasure and he had killed the Sheik, he would then free all the slaves. Botala had such high hopes that Khali spoke the truth that he did not suspect it was all a plot a dastardly scheme in which he would be the pivotal player. They marched for many days toward the abandoned city, arriving there late on the tenth day. The marching and lack of food exhausted all the Nagassi people. Along the way many collapsed and were left to die. And, my friend, die they did, horribly, beneath the hot, African sun. The journey had been hard for everyone and now life would be even harder as they worked daily to serve the Sheik. Akmed would allow them to rest the next day, he had announced, while he finalized the locations where the three crews would begin to dig. The following day they would begin to excavate in the depths of this city, long since abandoned and lost to the world. Later, Akmed sat in his chair, making plans for his fortune, and laughing aloud at the prospects of great wealth. The Sheik ordered that the slaves would dig till they found the treasure. Then he would return to his homeland, a rich and powerful man, using his wealth to build a great palace and city where he alone would rule. He sat pouring drinks for himself, his son and his young Lieutenant who had helped conquer the Nagassi. Tonight they would drink; tomorrow they would pick the places for digging. They had talked and laughed for hours and, just before turning in for the night, Akeem asked his father how this city came to be? Akmed explained that he had been told this story by a very old man, and did not believe him until he had seen part of the ancient map. Then he decided to search for the city and retrieve the treasure. He told his son the story the old man had told him: 1259 AD Centuries ago people settled here in the mountains and built this city. No one knew for sure where the people had origi60

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nated from or why they came. Legend had it that a lost expedition of explorers had landed on the shores of this river with a great number of ships and sought to discover new riches. After discovering a vein of the purest gold, they decided to stay here and build their city. The city was supposedly named after the eldest member of the expedition and he was their first ruler. The gold was shared by all and they were peaceful for many years. Many emperors followed Agashi Kahn. All were good to the people and kept the ways set forth by the original settlers. There came a time however, when one wanted to change all that had come before and be King. He wanted all the riches for himself and gathered an army to overthrow the ruler of the city. He was successful and ruled Agashi Kahn for many years with an iron fist. By nature he was suspicious and gathered as much treasure as he could store for himself, burying it in the depths of the capital. As his reign came to an end there was a natural occurrence that changed forever this once mighty metropolis. In the year seventeen twenty-nine, it is written, a powerful earthquake hit this area and destroyed most of the buildings, burying forever the treasure of Agashi Kahn. The people that survived fled these mountains to settle in another area. It is not known where they went or if they survived, but the area has been uninhabited since then. “It has been here since that day, just waiting for someone to unearth it from its dark and dusty tomb and claim it.” said Akmed. “Now it will be mine!” he exclaimed. He sat there with a crazed look in his eye, shaking his fist in the air and repeating over and over, “It will be mine! It will be mine! It will be mine! Do you hear? It will be mine!” The three men were each thinking it would be his own, but only Akmed voiced those thoughts; the others remained silent, and only smiled at the Sheik and drank their wine.

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CHAPTER 7 - The Deadl yP ac k Deadly Pac ack Using all the skills taught him by the tribe, Taimak easily made a kill - an Impala, then cut parts of it into small portions. This made it easier to swallow for the wounded animal he sought to heal. It still had not moved but finally, with a little effort, he coaxed it to drink water from a bowl he fashioned from the bark of a tree. He stroked the animal’s coat repeatedly, marveling at the incredible muscle beneath its skin. How powerful it must be, thought Taimak, able to tear animals apart with those claws and teeth. It is no wonder people have so much respect and fear for these animals. An ordinary Panther is bad enough, but in the dark, a Black Panther would remain unseen until it was too late for its prey to react. Taimak had heard of people that worshipped the Black Panther, thinking it to be some sort of reincarnated God or spirit or something. The young warrior, after cutting the portions for the panther, suspended his part over the fire for cooking. He placed the diced meat in the bark, feeling the cat might be more likely to eat if he was not so near. Then he placed it in front of the wounded feline and walked away. Still it would not eat. As Taimak sat and leaned against the bole of a tree cooking his meal, he wondered what would happen when, and if, the cat regained its strength. Would it attack him? Or, perhaps, would it simply leave? It was after all a wild animal and would probably follow its natural instincts. He held no hope of it staying with him as if it were a house cat. Whatever was to 63

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happen, he knew he simply could not allow a helpless animal to die without first trying to help. The Nagassi youth sat by the crackling fire enjoying his meal of Impala; much like primitive man must have millions of years before. He vowed never to return to civilization because of his affection for the Nagassi people, and his love of the jungles around him. As the muscled youth sat beneath the twinkling stars, he pictured cities; people pushing and shoving, mans cruelty to his fellow man. Then he thought once more of how lucky he was to have been discovered by Kadoma, and his adoption by such good people. Feeling a need for rest again, Taimak climbed into a tree to sleep for the night. He had no way of knowing how long he had slept, but some time during the night he heard the sound of Hyenas moving closer. Immediately his thoughts turned to the injured Panther and how defenseless it would be. He climbed down very quickly and threw wood on the fire in hopes to keep the beasts at bay. As the flames illuminated the dark jungle around him, Taimak could see the glare of many sets of eyes just beyond the light. There must have been a dozen Hyenas in the pack, moving ever closer to their intended prey. The warrior placed his quiver of arrows on his back then grabbed his bow and prepared to protect the animal he had taken into his care. The lad bravely stood his ground against the ravenous hoard, not once wavering from his determined defense. Slowly he removed five of his arrows from the quiver. Then, never removing his eyes from the growling enemies, he stuck four of them in the ground within easy reach. The fifth he placed against the bowstring and pulled. As the Herculean muscles of the Nagassi forced the weapon further, the bow bent to easily to the will of his massive thews. Taimak stood brazen, his rippling muscles at the ready in defiance of the feline. As the Hyena inched forward, the fearless hero raised the bow into position. Slowly and deliberately, he took aim at one of the closest animals. His eye looked 64

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down the shaft of the arrow and, with a cold sweat beading on his forehead, his heart pounding, he waited. Nervous tension flowed through him, just as it had in his fight with the lion. This time however he faced not one hunter, but many. He pulled the bow further still, aimed just under the eyes of the lead animal in hopes of making a direct hit, then let the arrow fly. To his relief, he heard the yelping sound of an animal in pain. He shot another wooden missile soon after the first; and then another, till all five of those arrows were spent. The pack continued to move closer, not fearing the man or his crude weapons. One of the beasts ran in to attack. Since Taimak’s back was to a cliff, they could only come from the front and sides. This was by his design. It was thus that, when the first of the pack charged the young warrior, he snatched the spear from the ground. As the beast approached, muscles of steel drove the weapon through the animal’s side, thrusting into it repeatedly until it no longer moved. Then another came and still another. Those too he killed like the first. Still there were four left, and possibly more coming. They were moving in closer and Taimak knew that soon they would rush upon him. The hulking Nagassi also knew there would be no hope against four or five of them at once. Then an idea hit him. He would throw the rest of the Impala to the Hyenas in the hopes that they would leave. He ran to the body of his prey, then threw it into their midst in hopes of satisfying their insatiable appetite for flesh. They dodged the body of the dead animal and then the fight was on. All that were left attacked one another to get his share. The largest of those that remained grabbed a dead Hyena, dragging it away rather than fight over the Impala. Taimak decided it would be better if tomorrow he moved the bodies away from his camp before searching for the cave. He then walked to the Panther to make sure it was all right. Immediately he noticed the meat was gone. The young man smiled. The cat, he thought, would live. 65

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Climbing back in the tree for the night, the man could hear the despicable hoard as they gorged themselves on the flesh of the Impala – and their brothers. He knew that Hyenas were cannibals if necessary and he looked upon them with scorn. It was no wonder to him that they were despised so. He had faced death again and won. Taimak, the Golden Warrior from the Nagassi valley, was learning much about the world around him. And, because of his expeeriences during the Sequenshu-ta-Mun-ala, he was growing stronger and wiser each day. Taimak now knew why the elders called this test the Circle of Manhood. For it takes a mighty warrior to survive an entire month alone against natures most violent carnivores. Nevertheless, with the events of the past few days, he loved the jungle even more; for where in the entire world could one find more adventure than here. At dawn, Taimak immediately looked for the Panther. He wanted to see how he made it through the night. It had faired well, not only surviving but also apparently gaining in strength. He could raise his head and look around; as yet however, he had not walked. Dropping lightly to the ground, he walked to the cat’s side. The large feline began a low growling sound as a warning. Taimak walked closer and began pouring water from the canteen into the makeshift bowl. The cat drank only when Taimak had backed a few feet away. It appeared that it would take more than one act of kindness to befriend one of the greatest killers in all the jungle. Watching the cat lapping up the water, he began speaking softly to it and remained a few feet away; not coming closer, but not moving further away, wanting the cat to get accustomed to his presence. This way, although he would no longer be able to pet the animal, he could at least offer it food and drink. He continued talking to the cat, speaking in a low calming voice until it simply lay there, no longer growling. Inching his way closer, the panther still did not offer to attack. He reached out and began to stroke the cats hide and, from that point on, it 66

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offered no further resistance. Handling the cat only for a short time, he then backed slowly away. The time had come to rid himself of the bodies of the hated Hyenas. To Taimak’s surprise only two of the beasts remained nearby. The rest had been the victims of their brothers of the pack, and perhaps others who chanced by for an evening meal. After cutting up some of the Hyena meat and offering it to the cat, Taimak decided to look elsewhere for his breakfast. After disposing of the bodies in a nearby creek, much to the delight of a hungry crocodile, he filled his canteen, then set off to search for the cave. He planned to walk half a day in one direction, then return to his camp and, after what he hoped would be a restful night, doing the same the next day in the other direction. Thinking that the subterranean passage must be at this end of the cliff, he was sure it couldn’t be far. So, with the highest of hopes he set off on the second part of his journey, the search for the hidden cave. Hours later . . . After walking for miles, Taimak had given up hope of finding the cave that first day. He was hungry and wanted to make a kill that he might placate his ravenous appetite. After looking for some time for an appropriate spot from which he might easily ambush an unsuspecting animal, he secured, much to his delight, a first-rate hiding place on a narrow ledge. It was positioned behind a tree some eight feet from the ground. From there he thought he should be able to spot something as it walked the game trail, making it’s way to the creek for water. He waited only a short time before a herd of Antelope began moving slowly in his direction. While they were still some distance away he removed one of his precious arrows from the quiver, lest they hear him when close in and become unsettled and run. He could ill afford to lose any more of the precious wooden missiles after losing so many to the pack the night before, so he prepared for what he 67

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hoped would be an accurate shot. The grazing herd continued to move closer. Taimak, showing the composure taught him by his adopted sire, waited patiently, scarce breathing so intent was his concentration. His steel thews offered not the slightest movement as he anticipated the adrenaline rush as he made the kill. Even the earliest form of man, who walked the earth at the dawn of time, did not await oncoming prey with greater zest than the Nagassi youth that I speak of. His pulse quickened with each oncoming step; his eyes narrowed; his frame became, if possible, more rigid, and his appearance, could you have seen him, resembled a hunting beast far more than man. He knew that soon the herd would be in the open and in position for clear shot. Raising the bow, the Nagassi youth aimed carefully at a small buck near the front of the herd. Then, something happened; either the herd detected a sound or perhaps the wind shifted he was not sure, but something spooked the herd. Turning, they bolted from his direction. Taimak discharged his weapon as best he could and made a direct hit; but he had only wounded the animal. Dropping to the ground with the grace of a muscled God from Mount Olympus, Taimak ran to finish the kill. He raised the spear and, when he was close enough, threw the deadly projectile. He struck the animal in the throat. It dropped, injured, shaken and confused yet, amazingly, it still lived. Many hunters know from expeerience not to get close to an animal whose hooves are still lethal. Taimak did not know this yet, but would be taught a valuable lesson that day. Walking with knife drawn toward the antelope, the young warrior was intent in cutting its throat. Then suddenly, and quite to the warriors surprise I might add, the animal kicked his legs from under him. He was not gravely injured by any means, but he was very sore, bruised and, needless to say, somewhat humbled. After finishing off the animal, he returned the arrow, which did not show any sign of damage, into his quiver. Then, pulling the spear from the beast’s neck, he carried the carcass to a tree to skin it for cooking. 68

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Carrying the antelope to a spot some twenty yards from the ledge he had used for spotting his prey, Taimak approached the tree he had decided to hang the animal from to field dress it. It was then that he noticed something peculiar. From where he stood the air seemed to be much cooler and, stranger still, smelled of dampness. This, he knew, required further investigation on his part. He walked closer to the tree, its twisted vegetation and thick vines blocking all view of the cliff behind it. Taking his knife and cutting away at the thick growth, he made slow but steady progress, hacking away more and more of the lush green vegetation that barred his way. Soon he had a pile of limbs and vines about his feet. Then, feeling the air grow even cooler, the Nagassi quickened his pace. He cut more vines and brush and was eventually rewarded for his arduous work. There before him was the cave he had been searching for. In his hunt for food, he had, quite by chance, found the next stage in his strange and thrilling quest.

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CHAPTER 8 - Deep In tthe he Mount ain After skinning the antelope, Taimak returned to his camp to prepare his meal. While it cooked over the fire, he cut portions for the cat, serving it in the makeshift bowl. The Black Panther offered no resistance to him now and took all the sustenance that Taimak offered. Soon the animal would raise himself upright and eventually he would walk. This Taimak Knew, but he never worried what would happen, figuring the cat would just leave someday, never to return to him. It made him feel good to know he had helped such a magnificent animal. The warrior, powerful as he may be, hoped when it did return to the jungle that he did not have to face it as an enemy. The next day when he returned to the cave, Taimak was better prepared for the dark interior. He gathered enough wood to build a fire at the entrance and limbs, covered in dry moss, for makeshift torches. Today he would explore the interior and see for himself still more of the mystery of the tribal crusade. After making the fire and lighting one of the torches, the young warrior entered the cave. It was a large cavern, appearing to go far into the side of the cliff. He soon discovered more of the paintings and they solved no mystery at all. It simply told him that he had found the cavern and must stay here until the circle was complete. All 71

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that, and it simply told him that this was to be where he must spend the rest of his time until his return home. Surely there must be more, he thought. There has to me more! If he must stay here, then here he would stay. His biggest problem was taking care of the cat from half a mile away. He decided not to try and move it, but rather he would build a more protective thorn boma for it and return each day with food and drink. He returned to his camp and moved all his possessions to the cave. If there were indeed more discoveeries hidden within this mountain, Taimak was determined to find them. The treasure hunting had commenced in the abandoned city and the slaves worked from dawn till dusk. They were allowed to stop only long enough to eat before continuing their work. They advanced only a few feet per day because of the large amounts of rock that filled the passageways. This lack of progress did not please Akmed Ben-Sataal; though the slaves worked as hard and fast as they could. Word had spread that they would be freed when the Lieutenant had killed the Sheik, and they wanted to find the treasure even more than he did. Treasure is very precious to some men, but freedom is priceless to one who has lost it. So, they continued their work, diligently, day after day, in the hopes that the treasure lay just beyond where they labored. Days turned to weeks for Taimak and he kept himself busy hunting and fishing to provide food for himself and the cat. One morning, on his return trip, he discovered the cat had gone the night before. After the Panther departed, he never went back to the spot where it had been. Taimak wanted to explore deeper into the cave but was afraid of becoming hopelessly lost. Finally, he struck upon a plan. He would mark a trail along the wall with a stone. This way he could venture deeper, yet still find his way back to the surface. After eating the fish he caught for his breakfast, Taimak lit his torch, donned his weapons, and then headed into the cave, 72

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carrying the stone he would use for marking his way. He went far into the side of the mountain, inscribing the wall every few feet to allow an easy exit. The Nagassi youth loved exploring and although he found bats from time to time, he was more enthralled by the cavern than bothered by their screeching presence. He traveled deeper into the cave that day than ever before, exploring any new passages and rooms. He had been in there for hours when he came to a chasm that spanned perhaps ten feet. At it’s edge stood the remnants of an old wooden bridge. Deciding he could make no further progress then, Taimak turned toward the surface and followed his markings to the cave’s entrance. It was late afternoon when he surfaced and he was hungry again. He quenched his thirst from the canteen and cut some meat he had been curing and drying in the sun. As Taimak dined, he questioned why anyone would have built a bridge so deep inside a cave. This made no sense to him. What reason would anyone have for getting across the pit so deep inside a mountain? What reason indeed, he thought, unless, of course, something important lay on the other side. Whether it was of value or of great importance, he had no way to know. He decided that he would return the next day, carrying with him a means of crossing to the other side; then journey further into its dark depths in search of more answers. Taimak built a small trap of twigs to catch fish in the creek nearby, working on it through the balance of the day until well after dark. He would set the trap tomorrow and then make a way to cross the gorge. As he lay inside the entrance to the cave, he designed, in his head, a device to cross. He decided it would take two strong beams. Across this he would tie cross braces in the form of a crude ladder. This would be strong enough and long enough to cross safely, and then return after more exploring. It would also be best, he thought, if he carried food and water, in case it took a long time to explore. He was happy to have more adventure in the cave, for he 73

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had grown to like it very much. It offered great protection, and was cool in the heat of the mid-day sun and dry in the rain. The night was quiet with only the usual sounds of animals hunting in the distance. The moon would soon be full he knew, and his quest would be over. It had been a fantastic adventure and he was somewhat dispirited to see it end. He liked being alone, hunting and exploring. If not for his life back in the village, he thought he would like to set out and explore all over Africa. He did have a life back there though, one that he looked forward to very much. He decided long ago that he wanted to marry Natala and, after they had built their home, they would raise many children together. That was the plan they had made and talked of many times. He dreamed about her almost every night and this night was no different. Dreams of the quiet nights they had spent together by the fire and of the walks near the village. It was such fond visions that filled the young man’s head, remembering the swimming in the stream just outside the gates. Their favorite spot on a hillside that overlooked the village. She would make a wonderful wife and they would be very happy together after his return. At least that is what he hoped. Sadly, he would never be able to live those dreams because, unknown to him, his beloved Natala lay forever silent in a shallow grave. The remaining Nagassi had buried her outside the village walls after she had been murdered by the Sheik. Life would indeed be different than he, or anyone, could have ever envisioned. It would take a drastic change that, yet, was unknown to him. A change that would transform this eventempered young man into the most dynamic killing machine the jungles had ever known; one bent on the total destruction of all involved in carrying out the raid on the village. For now however he slept, dreaming of a love that was no longer there. That very night in the abandoned city of Agashi Kahn, that same evil man addressed his troops on how they would continue after finding the treasure. They would march immediately toward Botswana, he told them, camping there while pre74

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paring for their future. All this while living it up, being served the best foods, and drinking the best wines. Then, he continued, we will build our city and you shall be its army. We will take the best women and have the best slaves. All those who live in the palace walls will have the best positions in my army. The Sheik told them that it would be the greatest kingdom of all. Akmed hoped for great wealth and a life of luxury, to be waited on hand and foot. This had been his dream since he massacred the safari for the information about the city. Taimak began his morning by setting the traps for fish and eating from the meat he had been drying. Then he cut the poles and braces, tying them into a bundle, making it easier to carry. Afterward, he collected his weapons, lit his torch, and then entered the cave. The lad was eager to get to the other side of the gorge. As he walked, he thought to himself, what could there be so deep inside a cave that a man would build a bridge to cross? He thought of many possibilities, though none anywhere close to the truth. He made fast progress because the way was marked and reached the chasm very quickly this time. He laid the poles and bracing out on the floor of the cave, tying them together with the rope. Then he checked them again to make sure they were secure. Eventually he managed to get the ladder dropped across the ravine. Before crossing, Taimak wanted to know how far it was to the bottom. He dropped a rock over the edge to judge the distance, then listened. There was a long silent moment while the rock fell through the air, penetrating the darkness, and then, after several seconds, a splash. It was risky to try and cross, this he knew. And if he did fall to the dark waters below and survive, how would you ever get out, he thought? He decided to risk everything, confident the bridge would support him. Making his way across was an easy matter. The bridge performed as expected and he was soon on his way deeper 75

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than ever before into the cave. Marking his way again with the stone as before, Taimak continued his journey into the depths of the mountain. The tunnel seemed to spiral downward. He saw no markings on the walls to show that anyone had ever been here. Finally, he came to a small opening, approximately three feet in height. It was a tight fit to squeeze his great bulk through the tiny aperture, but on the other side was the largest chamber in the entire cavern. In his estimation, it must have been a hundred feet from floor to ceiling. The top was dome shaped and the walls were as smooth as glass. It was the end of the tunnel as there were no other openings; except the one through which Taimak had just passed. He walked around the room, carefully looking for markings or paintings to tell him if any people had been there before. Having circled almost the entire perimeter, the warrior discovered more Nagassi paintings. These resembled the ones in the cave at the top of the stones. The writings told many stories, of good times and bad for the Nagassi nation. It seems that when some big event happened to the tribe that someone would come here and record it for all time. This preserved the history of the tribe for all to see. That is, of course, for all who dared to venture into the depths of this cavern. One painting told of their arrival in the valley and another told of great storms and floods. Still another told of what apparently was a rogue elephant that lead a herd through the area, and was eventually killed by the fierce warriors. There were many stories written here. One of which told of an attack by a rival tribe or group, and how the Nagassi warriors drove them from their land. There were more after that and he read each with great curiosity. The most important of which told of the remainder of his quest. The carvings told of an amulet that possessed, according to legend, some sort of magic, its location within that very chamber. 76

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Since that was the last drawing, Taimak set his ambitions toward finding this sacred amulet. He searched for a long time, being very thorough in his investigation. He studied the room from wall to wall and in the center, he discovered a small well. Over this well a triangular frame held a necklace. It was a beautiful jewel indeed, he thought. The well contained what appeared to be nothing more than a natural spring; fed, perhaps, from some deep underground source. Taimak also found broken weapons, and bones from others who never made it out. It appeared from all the artifacts that it had been some sort of ceremonial chamber. Perhaps the Nagassi would come to record these events when they celebrated their good fortune to their gods. After being thorough in his search of the cavern, the young warrior removed the amulet, turned, and exited the ceremonial room. As he made his way back to his bridge, he had an idea how he might see farther into the pit. He would tie one of his torches to the rope and lower it as far as possible. Then perhaps he might see more of its secrets. After crossing the bridge, he did just that, tying the spare torch to the rope. He then lit it, quickly lowering it down the side because he knew the fire would begin to burn upward and through the line. He lowered rope as far as he could down the side but it revealed nothing. Since the air moved swiftly through the cave, and the great room at the end had no other exits, there must be an opening somewhere below, he thought. Taimak would have no further luck on this trip, but someday he would return and explore more of the riddles this mysterious cavern had to offer.

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CHAPTER 9 - Shant ala Shantala Silently the tall grass parted. From beyond its tangled cover peered a large, black mane lion. Since Taimak’s earliest days in Africa there have been rumors of a lion, a rogue male, that roamed the countryside, alone. Today the feline was again hunting near the cave that leads to the Nagassi ceremonial chamber. Shantala was a rare lion indeed. He, unlike other lions, hunted apart from others of his kind. He had been banished years ago from the pride of his father. He was evil at heart and wanted to replace his father as the dominant male. After a ferocious battle, in which he was injured, Shantala was driven from the pride forever. In the conflict, he nearly lost his right front leg, which was mangled so badly that only three toes remained from his paw. Thus, his nickname of old three toes amongst the tribes of the Congo. The young Nagassi, although he had heard these rumors, had never seen the brute first hand. That would soon change. Taimak emerged from the mountain at the twilight of day. After relaxing for a time on his zebra skin rug, he went to check the traps for fish. He marched with his spear in right hand and the bow and arrows across his broad shoulders. He was always cautious when he was away from the cave, but today he felt as if he were being watched. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, nor did he see anything suspicious. It was simply a feeling of someone or something looking over his shoulder. 79

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Then, like a flash, he saw something moving in the brush. He did not know what might be lurking, but was ready for whatever attack might come. Taimak readied the spear for the throw. Then suddenly, quite some distance away, he saw a huge lion, a male. Did it mean him harm? It was quite possible the animal was hunting early that night and had an eye on Taimak as his next kill. He started walking toward the traps as if nothing happened, but was always aware of the beast’s presence. The young Nagassi had luck that day, as there were several large fish in his traps. He collected them and, after cleaning them and throwing their remains into the creek, marched for the safety of the cave. Night, being a dangerous time for anyone or anything alone in the jungle, urged Taimak to his greatest speed. Quite some distance off to his right, the young warrior again noticed the stalking lion. It moved at the same speed as Taimak, never faster or slower, never closer nor farther, always keeping the same distance as they continued to the cave. It is most unusual for a lion to be an outcast. This one however did seem to be isolated from any pride. Taimak continued to eye the situation carefully, never letting the trailing beast out of his sight. When he arrived at the cave, the Nagassi youth placed the fish on sticks, which were hanging over the fire. Then, with his weapons ready, he sat down, waiting for the attack he was sure would come. He waited for a long time and he neither saw nor heard anything of the cat. Satisfied of his relative safety, he lay down after eating. Still, he kept his weapons ready to use at a moment’s notice. Hours passed quietly and without altercation, when suddenly Taimak was startled from his sleep. Outside he heard a twig snap, then, soft padded feet marching back and forth in front of the cave. Immediately he threw wood on the fire, which was already burning brightly. Afterward, without hesitation, he grabbed his weapons and readied himself to repel attack. He stood 80

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there for a long time without any further sounds from outside. To the fearless hero the time that elapsed seemed like hours. It was in truth only a matter of minutes. The night was eerily quiet, and the only sound was the roaring fire within sanctuary of the cavern. What to do, he thought? Should I search outside, or risk going back to sleep and then have the beast attack? Taimak decided it best to look and see for himself. Slowly he made his way out, parting the brush that partially covered the cave’s entrance. Once clear of the opening, the warrior sprang forth, spear in hand, and ready to go on the offensive. He brandished the long, sturdy lance before him, moving it swiftly from side to side. His steel thews rippled with every movement of those powerful limbs. At his back was a roaring fire; its flickering blaze casting brilliant light from its amber core. Before him lay unspeakable horrors, a nocturnal beast or perhaps beasts that would fall upon him and slay him without warning. To his credit, he never once wavered from his determined defense. Tonight was not the night however, for Shantala was gone, driven away by the man’s raging fire. Figuring on no further trouble that night, the Nagassi placed his weapons in easy reach and then went back to sleep. Had he known the identity of this particular lion he would have sought the highest tree, for Shantala is a man-eater! With his disfigured right front leg, he no longer has the speed of the prey he seeks, and so he searches for easier game, like wounded or dyeing animals, carrion - or man. After waking to a beautiful morning, Taimak wanted to see if he could track the animal that had stalked him the night before. With this plan in mind, he postponed any further exploring until the danger had passed. After his breakfast and drink, he walked from the underground chamber, fully armed with his weapons, ready to locate and, if necessary, destroy this new enemy. Upon exiting the cave, he located the footprints of the great 81

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cat. Examining many of the tracks closely, to be sure of their origin, Taimak then realized how lucky he had been. This was not the print of just any lion! It was the print of old three toes; the mark of Shantala the man-eater. Though he had heard the legend of Shantala many times, this Nagassi, for one, believed them to be mere folklore of some native superstition. He had been wrong however, very wrong, and knew that must likely face this deadly opponent. This particular cat, though hampered by his injuries was, with his demeanor, a dangerous adversary indeed. If this lion decided to make this his temporary hunting ground, Taimak knew he would not be safe. Two possibilities came to mind. One, wait and hope the lion would leave, living each day in fear of attack. Or two, hunt and destroy the beast. Normally a Nagassi kills only for food or in defense. In this case however, with a proven man-eater nearby, to kill would indeed be in the course of self-preservation. If old three toes were indeed a hunter of easy prey, Taimak was determined to offer the bait necessary to attract the old lion. If he could kill a wild boar or an antelope, then it would be but a matter of setting a trap and waiting the right opportunity. An often-used game trail was within half a mile of the cave so, wasting no time, the warrior set his course in that direction. A short jog took him to the trail he sought. Soon after reaching the trail, he was perched securely in the branches of a large tree, awaiting his quarry. The Nagassi waited about two hours, making no sound, when his patience was finally rewarded. His ears detected what turned out to be a large buck as it emerged onto the trail some thirty yards away. A buck this large is not a common sight, and he had gotten this big by being very smart as well as very fast. He first used his eyes, trying to see any enemy that might be near. Then, lifting his nose in the air, he tried to detect the scent of any predator that might be lurking in the brush beyond his vantagepoint. He stood there for the longest time then, secure in the knowl82

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edge he had done everything possible to protect his herd, he lifted his head and called the does from cover. It was a beautiful herd, with twelve females trailing behind the buck as he marched down the path, toward Taimak. Not wanting to leave the herd without protection by killing the buck, the young warrior selected a very large doe for his prey. She lagged behind the herd and appeared to be injured. So, following nature’s law of survival of the fittest, Taimak sent the arrow to its mark. The female, though mortally wounded, leaped high into the air, landing on her back where she thrashed about violently. The herd immediately set off in the direction from whence they came; trailed by the snorting buck that urged them to greater speed. Taimak’s intended quarry managed to rise on her shaky legs and follow them. At once, that bronze chiseled frame dropped quickly from the tree, then immediately set off in pursuit of his prize. As he reached the spot where the doe had hit the ground, he saw several large spots of blood, many of them filled with bubbles. Right away he knew it was a lung shot, and that she could not run very far in such a condition. He followed the blood trail for about a hundred yards through the thick jungle. Then, just before reaching a small creek, he discovered where the antelope had collapsed. She would provide meat for Taimak, and bait for the maneater. Pulling his knife from its sheath, he carefully began to cut away a hind leg from the doe. Absorbed as he was in preparing the animal for its intended use, Taimak did not notice the sound of leathery paws as they approached him from behind. Shantala, the man-eater, followed the scent of the Nagassi warrior from the cave to the tree where, with expert precision, he shot the antelope. Then following it the hundred yards to the creek, he caught sight of the man. Stalking with belly flat to the ground and tail straight behind him, the huge lion neared the prey he trailed. One paw after the other rose and fell - the man completely unaware of the approaching danger. 83

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The lion, as he charged from the thick undergrowth, roared, telling every one in the jungle that he was King. Taimak, though normally cautious, was caught totally unaware of the beast’s presence. He could only turn and fight with knife in hand. The monster, as he landed on the warrior, sank his great claws into Taimak’s shoulder, knocking him into the swift current. After falling the eight feet down the embankment into the rushing water and tumbling head over heals, the Nagassi youth landed with a great splash. Luckily he had a tight grip on the knife and did not lose it. When he surfaced, he shook his head, then placed the knife it in its sheath and swam for shore. Subsequent to Taimak’s landing in the water, pools of blood emptied from his wound. The claws, though they had penetrated his flesh, did not wound him fatally. After making his way to the bank, he smeared mud and moss over the injury to stop the bleeding. He knew the lion, hungry as he was, would be occupied with his feast for quite sometime. Therefore, injured and very angry, he bent his steps toward the relative safety of the cave. That night, with his left shoulder very sore, he slept with a large fire and branches secured across the cave’s entrance. There would be another time to kill old three toes, and Taimak hoped that time would come very soon. Considering the blow he had received, he rested very well and, when morning came, felt very restored and fresh. Though his shoulder was sore and stiff, he was still able to use it without major limitations. The Nagassi warrior realized he had been very lucky, and was now more determined than ever to rid the area of this threat. Two days later . . . It was a humbled young man who sat within the Nagassi cavern that morning. He was determined to turn the tables on the beast. Angry with himself for being caught unaware two days before, Taimak vowed that never again would Shantala gain the advantage. After all his thinking about other would 84

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be warriors being killed because of not paying attention to all around them, Taimak himself was almost killed the same way. The man-eater, in his quest for food, had made a very bitter enemy of this young man. Now his enemy would, if possible, make him pay the ultimate price. After resting for two days, the lad was ready to start the hunt anew. Emerging from the cave, he made sure of his weapons, then started off in search of fresh signs of Shantala. He walked the short distance to his traps only to discover they had been destroyed. The rope that held them in place had prints all around it. The traps had been pulled from the water and destroyed by someone, or something. After closer examination, he found the tracks belonged to old three toes. Apparently his scent had lingered in the area and on the rope and the cat had pulled it, dragging the traps from the water. From there, it was easy to see that the cat had a feast on his catch. Losing his food angered the young man further. Following the trail of old three toes, Taimak walked north, with bow drawn, to kill the dreaded beast. Taimak had walked about a mile when, from his left, he heard something move in the bush. He stuck his spear in the ground, then raised the bow. Eyeing the brush, he watched intently the place where he had heard movement. Moments later the brush moved again. Taimak aimed at the thicket, waiting for the attack. Then, to his disappointment, a large bird flew away from that very spot. The man breathed a nervous sigh of relief, then lowered his bow and stood there. As he turned to walk away there came, from the same locale, the roar of some mighty beast. Seconds later, his face gnarled in anger and teeth bared, Shantala the man-eater emerged. Standing there, roaring and growling his defiance, the hunting beast eyed the man. Then, without further warning, the lion charged. So fast was Taimak with the bow that, after he shot an arrow into the cat’s chest, the beast had scarce advanced even a few feet before he launched another. 85

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With two arrows sticking from his brown hide, the creature stumbled and fell. No sooner had the creature hit the ground however, than he was up again. Hurt and confused he was in a blinding rage. Should anything have fallen within reach of those claws at that moment, it would have little chance of survival. Taimak however was trained by the Nagassi, and knew when to attack, and when to retreat. So, following that training, he retrieved his spear and cast it at his enemy, sticking it into its side. With two arrows sticking from his chest and a Nagassi spear penetrating his body, old three toes still refused to expire. Instead, Shantala, in a fit of rage that would frighten even the strongest of heart, charged again. Taimak, seeing that running was useless and, determined to kill this creature, charged as well. As the King of beasts leaped through the air, determined to slay this gladiator who dared oppose him, Taimak dove for the ground just under the belly of the cat, landing on his back. With his huge knife held in the air, he let the animal pass over him, drew the knife in an upward motion, and opened the entire length of its abdomen. This wound, far more than all the others, would prove Shantala’s complete and final end. As the lad turned over and quickly rose to his feet, he saw his enemy lying upon the wavering grass. Suffering as it was, Taimak moved in for the kill. Taking his knife in his powerful right hand and grasping the black mane with his left, he exposed the cat’s jugular. Without hesitation he cut the savage throat and forever silenced another of Africa’s mightiest hunters. It was thus that as one legend of the Congo was dying another was being born.

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CHAPTER 1 0 - The Jour ne y Home 10 Journe ney With Shantala dead, his temporary home was safe again from immediate danger. The moon would be full in two more days and it was then that Taimak would bend his steps for home. He was very excited to tell everyone of his adventures; about Shantala the Lion, the stones, the cave, the amulet and the Panther. He learned many things on his journey. How to survive, how to fight, to trap and much more. What he had not realized in the time he was gone, was how his strength had increased from all the physical demands he had endured. His arms and legs possessed such strength that most warriors only hope to achieve. He filled the next two days by hunting for enough food to carry so that he would not have to stop and hunt on the trip home. He gathered fruits and nuts and made a kill, hanging the meat to dry in the sun. This would supply him enough food to make it home and his only stop would be for water and sleep. He always planned ahead and the trip home was no exception. He fashioned a pack from the Zebra hide to allow him to carry even more food. When the time came for his departure, he was both happy and sad, pledging to return someday and explore the walls of the chasm. Today however his thoughts turned toward home and the people he loved. Running hour after hour, Taimak stopped only to drink from the canteen. Herds of Zebra and Antelope parted and gave wide berth to this bronzed warrior as he made his way homeward. He made great progress the 87

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first day and stopped at the river for his last night away from home, making good use of the platform he had made a month earlier. Elsewhere, Akmed was becoming increasingly uneasy at not discovering the treasure he believed hidden beneath the city. They found many small pieces here and there but not enough to amount to great riches. In fact, he used one of the goblets as a glass to drink his wine at the evening meal. Akmed was sure of the treasure’s existence, if not for that certainty he surely would have gone mad. He was used to riding on villages and robbing them of whatever they had. He was not used to staying in one place for so long a time. The Sheik told his men that he would accompany them on the hunt the following day and boasted that he himself would bag the biggest trophy. Akmed said many things when he had too much of his wine. In fact, they all drank too much that night and the Lieutenant jokingly said he hoped nothing bad happened to the Sheik. Immediately he knew it was a mistake and began to laugh nervously. The Sheik laughed along with him, followed by the rest of the men. Akmed, though he laughed boisterously, did not think it humorous, and decided he had better keep a close eye on his second in command. After everyone, save the guards, had turned in for the night, Akmed summoned one of his oldest commanders to his quarters. “How is it that I may help you Akmed my friend?” asked the robed figure as he entered the tent. “Sadaam old friend I need your help. I want you to watch all that my young Lieutenant does each day, then report everything you see to me. Do you understand?” asked Akmed. “Yes.” answered Sadaam. “It will be as you wish my old friend.” And turning, the man left as quietly as he had come, plotting how best to get the information the Sheik desired.

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The following day . . . Taimak, running most of the distance back to the village, decided to walk the last mile that he might be rested when he arrived home. He passed the top of the last hill and approached the village gates. Instantly he knew something was amiss, for the palisade was closed and locked. That is strange, thought Taimak. The gates are never closed at this time of day. He yelled over the wall that the gates might be opened. After a few minutes, he heard the great wooden bolt pulled back, and the gates parted. The young Nagassi looked around the village, surveying the scene through squinted eyes. All was not well. The children were not playing. Instead, they worked inside the compound. The old people also worked, which is not normal in the Nagassi village. After working all their lives, the old are cared for, and the young play instead of work. Taimak approached an old woman and asked what happened and why were the old were having to work and the children. The old woman looked at him. Her eyes filled with tears and she very nearly collapsed on the spot. Taimak helped her walk to her hut and set her on a bed. He asked her again, what had happened. The old woman, finally able to speak, told the newest warrior all that had happened since his departure. She told him of the raid and of the murders of the warriors and their wives. She told of the killing of the men who fought and of the young men and women who were taken as slaves. He asked about Natala? The old woman told him of how she fought bravely beside the warriors, killing as many riders as any of the men defending the village. To his horror, she told him of Natala being tied in the center of the village and how the man stabbed her in the heart and watched her die. Taimak felt numb. His eyes welled with tears at the thought of his beloved Natala and his parents. He was filled with rage; a crimson blinding rage that forever changed the direction his life would take. Revenge filled his young heart and he pledged never to 89

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rest until he avenged the deaths of the people of this valley. He vowed to hunt the wretched villain who had done this thing until he breathed no more, until every person who planned and was responsible for the attack was dead. He was determined to free all those now held captive and return them to their homes. He asked the old woman the direction they traveled when they left and she told him they went north; saying it would be ten to twelve days march. He asked where Natala was buried. She told him that they buried her on the hill overlooking the valley, that her strong spirit might always keep watch over the people. This was the same hill where Taimak and Natala spent many evenings together, talking and planning for their future. The mighty warrior turned his Herculean form and looked through the door of the hut, glaring with a look that would make the blood run cold through the veins of the devil himself. With the greatest heartbreak Taimak had ever felt coursing through his senses, he asked her one last question. His voice was choked with emotion. His eyes were filled with tears of pain and rage. “What is the name of the man who killed Natala?” he asked. The woman answered, “The man called himself - Akmed Ben-Sataal.”

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CHAPTER 1 1 - Cannibals 11 A damp and dreary fog draped itself low over the Nagassi valley. The birds were singing their morning songs as the sun passed over the treetops to shed the light of day over the village below. The morning was very still and calm and the Nagassi people were waking up for the start of another day. On the hill that overlooks the village gates, one could see a lone figure standing near the grave of Natala. He did not know if he would live to visit this spot again, and so he said goodbye for what might well be the last time. The stalwart youth stood as if he were in a hypnotic trance. As his eyes pierced the morning haze, the vision of a lovely face appeared within the dark recesses of his mind. He wanted to call Natala’s name, but he knew she was not there. How long he stood thus he could not tell you to this day, but that he was standing there for quite some length of time he is certain. As quickly as the illusion appeared before his tear-filled eyes, it disappeared completely from his vision. Afterward, with a heavy sigh, he donned his weapons, turned, and then walked quietly away. When Taimak left that morning, he headed north in hopes of finding the man called Akmed Ben-Sataal. The night before the women had prepared food and the men helped him replenish his arrows. One of the oldest men, Musbali, showed him how to make poison tipped arrows that would kill quickly, even if they only scratch their victim. 91

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With his quiver full of poison arrows, the spear of his adopted sire in one hand, and the Nagassi amulet about his neck, Taimak - last warrior of this once mighty tribe - set off on his quest to find the abandoned city of Agashi Kahn. Today Taimak was again the hunter. This time his quarry was the most fierce, cunning and tenacious prey of all - man. As he walked northward, his anger and hurt still fresh in his heart, the brave young man questioned how could life be so cruel? After losing one set of parents in a tragedy at sea, why must he lose another? This time, he also lost the only woman he had ever loved. He did not hurry beyond a fast walk, though the distance was great. He knew that Akmed would not leave once he had entered the city, for a treasure that lay hidden beneath masses of rubble would take days if not weeks to unearth. He was not sure of the exact location but Musbali had told him of the area that he might find the place he sought. Marching hour after hour in the hot sun, sweat glistened as it rolled down his giant bronzed muscles. No matter how hot it was or how tired he got, the determined Nagassi stopped only to eat and sleep, rising before the sun to begin the journey again. He walked for five days and always he marched northward toward the long abandoned city that held his enemy. The hate swelled in his breast. The rage coursed through his veins as his mind thought only of making right this great wrong that had been done. Taimak walked on, not knowing that a dark, shadowy figure loomed close behind, yet never revealed himself. He picked up the trail and stopped when Taimak stopped, marched when Taimak marched, never coming close enough to be seen nor loud enough to be heard, yet lurking, always lurking in the shadows. The mighty warrior walked always to the North. The figure trailing him held but a single purpose, only stopping to escape the heat of midday before again picking up the warrior’s trail. 92

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Taimak thought of many things as he walked. On his mind that particular day was how cruel man can be to his fellow man. He remembered so long ago in his own country that sometimes children were mean to children of a different race. He recalled that when they grew up they became even more violent, beating and killing one another. He thought he had escaped all that by living in the beautiful valley with the peaceful Nagassi people. They had taken him in and treated him as one of their own, teaching him their language and their ways. Then a man of yet another race had shown the same inhumanities toward the Nagassi that civilized man shows to one another. He decided it must be that there are good and bad in all people, whether they are black or white, or of any other race. From this time on, he would always judge people, not by the color of their skin or where they were from, but what is in their heart. Not on how different that they are, but on how they treat their fellow man. This was always the true Nagassi belief and so too it was Taimak’s belief. It is good to reflect on such feelings as these, as they are what one hopes for all mankind. However, in the wilds of Africa a man must always be on the alert for any event that might arise. Today he need not fear the animals of the jungle, but another, far worse denizen of this land. Taimak had walked far since his journey from the valley and made good time in his quest. However, to let your guard down here, even for an instant, can be a fateful mistake. It was while walking past a small lake that Taimak stopped to fill his canteen. He had not noticed the quiet, the deathly quiet of the jungle around him. Normally you can hear birds, monkeys, or even the insects as they sing their songs of the wild. Today however he did not notice this lack of sound until he was ready to rise again from quenching his thirst. Then, as he pushed away from the water to stand, he noticed something in the waters reflection. Standing behind him were three men, their faces and bodies smeared in their hideous war paint. Their spears were pointed at him, 93

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ready to kill should he resist. Taimak stood quickly, turning to face his attackers, striking swiftly and with such power as the Watishi had never known. He landed a thunderous blow square on the chin of the man nearest his left, sending him crashing to the ground. The man on the right received a kick to the stomach. The third hardly had time to react to the attack, for when he drew back his spear to strike at the place Taimak had stood, he was no longer there. Of all the young men training to become a Nagassi warrior, Taimak was by far the swiftest. Side stepping the cannibal spear and grabbing it as it passed by, he gripped the weapon in his left hand and back handed the man full in the face with his right, knocking him senseless as he had the first two. It seemed that as soon as the last of the three foemen had hit the ground that another had taken his place, followed by many more of his fellows. Dropping from the trees, emerging from the bushes and running from the jungle they attacked him. Many he felled with mighty blows, first one, then another. Against such a force however even the mightiest muscles must have their limits. It was thus that, inevitably, by the advantage of their overwhelming force, the Watishi bore him down to the ground, striking and beating him for what he had done. Then the witch doctor emerged, striking him across the back of the head with his spear, rendering him unconscious. The work continued beneath the abandoned city. Day after day the slaves labored to find the treasure. Akmed grew increasingly impatient with each passing hour, cursing and threatening them. All the time knowing that, without them, he would be much farther from finding his treasure than with his own men digging. Nightly he had secret meetings with Sadaam and questioned him about the Lieutenants activities. The spy told all he heard, warning the Sheik to watch him closely because a frightful a plot was at hand. The Sheik promised to take good care of Sadaam when they found the treasure and the spy was very 94

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hopeful of a position in the palace. The Lieutenant talked many times each day to Botala, always seeing to it that he got extra water and food. For this, Botala believed Khali had been telling him the truth. Had he known the truth however, he would have had nothing further to do with the wicked man. Poor Botala wanted only to help his people so he promised to help Khali when the time to strike had come. In the village of the Watishi cannibals, Taimak shook his head to clear his mind. He was sore from the lump at the base of his skull and everything was a blur. Slowly things came to him about what had happened and the trouble he was in. His arms were bound behind his back and he lay on the floor of a primitive hut. The door was small and allowed only a slight view of the village outside. He guessed at once that he was in the village of cannibals, as the fires that were being prepared in the center of the village were placed under a large cooking pot near a post. The strange figure that followed Taimak stood outside the village walls, always looking for the warrior he had followed. Peering through spaces in the timbers of the stockade, he watched and waited for a chance to see him, for he was certain Taimak was there. Within the confines of the hut, the Herculean muscles struggled and strained at the bonds that, for now at least, held them in check. As darkness approached, Taimak had made progress on the ropes that confined his wrists. Twilight was upon him and he had planned that, when they led him out of the hut, he would make his break for freedom. He held little hope that he would escape alive but he was determined to give his nefarious hosts a full accounting. If he were to die then he would die as a Nagassi Warrior, in battle, and many of these hideous albino savages would die with him. It was then that he noticed, through the doorway of the hut, that his weapons were across the village and against the wall that barred his freedom. If only he could get to his knife and 95

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spear then possibly he would be able to fight his way out. It would be but a small matter of getting to the weapons and with a leap he could reach the top and pull himself over the wall. If only there were a way, thought Taimak? But he was sure there was not. When he was almost free of the ropes, drums started to beat a slow steady rhythm that was certain to signal his end. Four men entered and dragged him roughly from the hut. He noticed some of the warriors he had injured earlier that day. They spit on him and cursed him in a strange language he did not know. Perhaps it was best he did not understand all they said. As they dragged him to the center of the village the black form outside the compound noticed his friend. He watched as they hit and kicked the muscled youth while leading him to a fire in the center of the village. In the next few seconds, two things happened simultaneously that put eternal fear of this man in the hearts of these cannibals that would do him harm. First, Taimak pulled his hands free of the ropes at his wrists and struck down two of the men beside him. The second was a huge Black Panther vaulted to the top and over the village gates, sounding a mighty roar that struck terror in the souls of the Watishi. Swiftly the cat ran to Taimak’s side, at first shocking him almost as much as the villagers. Taimak shrank back from the enraged mass of muscled talons and fangs. Then, realizing it was the same Panther he had nursed back to health, the mighty Nagassi champion fought with renewed hope. What a pair they made! The man, making his way to his weapons, finally grasped the knife and, brandishing the large Bowie in his right hand, slew native after native. Many a painted face was crushed in the mighty jaws of the Panther and still more bodies were mauled under his deadly claws. Never before had anyone opposed these savage albino cannibals with such ferocity as man and beast, side by side, fought their way to freedom. Taimak placed the bow and arrows on his back, the knife in its sheath and threw his spear over the 96

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wall. Then, leaping and grabbing the top of the palisade, he pulled himself over to safety; the panther following close behind. The natives that were left standing could only look at one another, speaking in whispers. One said he was a demon and could summon beasts of the jungle to do his bidding. They were stunned at the strange occurrence and their superstitious nature made it even more terrible for them to endure. Taimak ran swiftly away from the cannibal village, followed by the same dark figure that had trailed him always to protect him. They ran for about a mile when Taimak stopped near a small stream to wash his wounds, drink, and rest till morning. As man and beast drank together, Taimak was still amazed that this magnificent creature had followed him all this way and helped him fight his way to freedom.

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CHAPTER 1 2-T reasur e 12 Tr easure As the work finished for the day in the abandoned city, Khali believed they must have been nearing the lost treasure. He decided that he must complete his plans for killing the Sheik and so he summoned Botala to his quarters. As the slave entered the hut he automatically dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Khali, smiling at him, a false wicked smile, raised him and told him that there was no need to kneel because they were friends. He talked with him about the best way to do away with Akmed. Khali told him he must do it with a knife so none would hear. Botala said he would do as he was told when the time came, as long as his people were free to leave. Khali assured him they would be free to return to their village together when the Sheik was dead. Botala was happy that soon his people would be free, but he was very afraid to try to kill so evil a man. If the Sheik found out, Botala knew he would be killed and, in all probability, tortured in such a way that death would be welcomed with open arms. Just outside the tent of Lieutenant Khali, unknown to the two that conversed within, a man stood, silently skulking in the shadows; carefully he listened to all that was spoken within. The slave was instructed that on the first night following the discovery of the treasure, he would see that Botala found a knife under his sleeping mat, and a key for the locks that chained him. “You will sneak into the Sheiks tent and drive the blade 99

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swiftly and silently into his heart. Do you understand all that I have said?” asked Khali. The loyal servant nodded and turned to leave. He walked from the tent within a few feet of the shadowy figure that had waited just outside, listening intently to all that transpired between the two men. With a wicked smile across his countenance, Sadaam quietly returned to his own quarters, secure in the knowledge that his master would be pleased with the information he had to share. Taimak slept well after escaping the cannibals, relying on his companion’s keen sense of hearing to alarm him to any danger that might come. After waking and stretching their limbs, the odd pair drank again from the stream before eating and beginning their trek. Fruit was the meal of choice for Taimak and a small rodent for the hungry panther. Later, with their meager breakfast finished, it was time to begin the march toward the city where, anticipating a great fortune, remained the evil Sheik he was determined to destroy. Together they walked for days, man and beast; the warrior sometimes foraging for food while the cat hunted alone. Other times they hunted together, the man spooking an unsuspecting antelope right into the cat’s deadly claws. Day after day they spent this way, all the while the man trained the panther in many things. He taught him to return an item he threw and to stay at his command. This would be the hardest command of all because he had to teach him to kill only the ones he desired and not his friends. Taimak decided the only way for this was to attack from long range with the bow and arrows and then allow Sinjah to attack in close. Sinjah, meaning invisible one in the Nagassi language, was the name Taimak had bestowed upon the cat, for in the darkness he was indeed invisible. He had known him for weeks now and figured it was time for a name. Taimak knew that, when the time for battle came, this cat could be a great ally against this new and powerful enemy. Taimak no longer worried of the tests for Sequenshu-taMun-ala, a tradition the Nagassi had practiced for generations. 100

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Most of the elders were gone. It was very possible that a new generation of tribal members would lead. He was somewhat confused about his future should he live through the confrontation. Mostly about where he could go, if anywhere, to escape the pain of his monumental loss. As time went on however and he neared the city, the warrior put all thoughts, save one, out of his head. He lived only to free the slaves, and, in the process, kill the only human enemy he had ever known. Akmed cursed the man who stood before him; throwing anything he could grasp at the ground, slamming his fists on the table, his face a twisted and demonic picture of hate and revenge. Sadaam had just told Akmed of the plot against him and he became furious. Sadaam urged the Sheik not to rush to confront his second in command. He pleaded with him to listen to reason - and a plan. As the soothing voice of Sadaam caught the attention of Akmed Ben-Sataal, he stopped, then listened. His face suddenly changed from rage to pleasure as the two men plotted the death of the accursed betrayer. “Tell me more of this plan!” insisted Akmed. Sadaam told him his idea. “First, we wait till Khali places the weapon in the slave quarters, then we overpower him binding his wrists and feet”, explained Sadaam. “Yes! Yes go on!” urged Akmed. “Then, with a gag over his mouth to keep him silent”, continued Sadaam, ”we will place him in the masters bed that night. So when the murderer sneaks in and plunges the knife into the heart, it will be the heart of Khali that feels the assassin’s blade” Akmed’s eyes narrowed, his face darkened; a scowl washed across his facade and then an instant later a smile told Sadaam that all was well. “This will even be better than killing him myself. To have him die of his own treacherous plan would bring me great pleasure.” said Akmed. “I have done well my master?” asked the twisted Sadaam. “You have done very well my friend. And for your reward, you will become my second in command, just as soon as we dispatch the dirty betraying dog.” promised Akmed. “Good, 101

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then it is settled.” asked Sadaam. “It is indeed settled.” replied the Sheik. “Khali will die from his own plot and I will be one of the richest men in all the world, maybe even the richest.” boasted Akmed. The two men laughed and then Akmed offered his new Lieutenant a drink in his honor. Taimak’s march was near its end. He approached the area where the old man had told him he might locate the long forgotten city. Its existence as a thriving metropolis had ended tragically as thousands were killed in the earthquake so long ago. Now, death would soon rear its ugly head again in the midst of its archaic ruins. Soon the accursed Akmed would pay for his treachery along with those that followed him. Taimak taught Sinjah more each day and the great cat became increasingly receptive to his commands. The lad was certain that he had progressed far enough with the cat that he could indeed control him in the heat of battle. With his sleek companion at his side, Taimak searched for the valley within the five mountains that lay on the shores of a lake, which was fed by a great river. When he located the river, he began to follow it in the hopes he would find the abandoned city in time. On the eighth day he approached a mountainous area and began to climb. Higher and higher he scaled the treacherous path until at last he reached the top. When he arrived at the summit, he simply stood there for a time, looking down on the long abandoned city of Agashi Kahn. Even in ruin it looked proud and majestic. It’s tallest buildings were many stories high. Ingenious builders must have designed its temples and palace. The palace itself was constructed of the whitest stones and huge carved statues lay near its entrances. Massive doors had decayed on their hinges and now threatened to fall at the slightest disturbance. Its streets and sidewalks were made from thousands of carved stones. What a sight it must have been so many years ago, the streets alive with its people, children playing and men and women working in the surrounding fields. Even with the thick jungle growth that now covered its walls and buildings, it was 102

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a beautiful sight to behold. As Taimak looked at the jungle that lay between him and the city he chose what he thought the safest route to take, for to be observed now that he was close to his goal could be disastrous. He decided he would go to the East side of the valley to a seeries of cliffs. This offered him a place to spy on the activities below undetected by Akmed’s sentries. It would take the balance of the day for him to reach his destination and since the raiders were still busy below, he felt no need to hurry. Taimak thought the best strategy would be to first kill Akmed and the leaders and then free the slaves in the confusion. In the event he failed, he knew it would mean death and probably torture before he was allowed to die. He arrived at his destination late in the afternoon. Immediately he began to gather long, straight limbs to sharpen into spears, also looking for good strong ones for bludgeons to batter the enemy. He spent long hours gathering and then sharpening his weapons until late into the night. Moments afterward, Sinjah returned with a wild boar for his evening meal. Taimak could not risk building a fire for fear the raiders would see it. Fruits and whatever raw meats they could procure would have to sustain him until the ordeal were over. He ate the last of the dried meat from his bag and since the fruit and game was plentiful in this area, he knew he could live here as long as necessary to rescue his people. After eating, it was again time to rest, for the days that were to follow would be trying even for this mighty warrior. The workers that were under the command of Khali had broken through the tunnel in which they had been working. Taking a torch, Akmed’s second in command led a small group into the chamber. They had broken through to the catacombs of the palace and were in the treasure vaults. Khali looked to the far side of the room and saw the coveted prize. Lying there, with centuries of dust covering it, was the largest pile of gold and jewels modern man had ever set eyes upon. As it had been when the earthquake hit so long 103

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ago, the treasure of Agashi Kahn had again fallen into the hands of evil men. Khali immediately sent the two men with him to the surface to tell Akmed of the discovery. All the time he was alone in the treasure chamber, Khali touched nothing. He simply stood there looking at it, hypnotized by the possibilities. The gleam in his eye assured him that this night he would leave this valley a very rich man. Then a familiar voice behind him and suddenly changed his mood. “You found it!” cried Akmed. “The treasure is mine! I shall rule the greatest kingdom of them all!” he exclaimed. He fell to his knees; scooping up handfuls of gold and letting the treasure fall through his fingers like sand. Khali spoke to him. “We have found the treasure for you my master. The gods have blessed you.” Akmed rose to his feet and looked Khali in the eye and smiled, knowing that tonight there would be an attempt on his life. He, however, would not be there for the assassin to slay, for there would be another in the bunk when the grim reaper came calling. Taimak studied the activities through the day and watched every move the raiders made. It galled him to watch as his people were made to work; yet, he knew that he could serve them best by being patient and awaiting the right opportunity. He placed the spears and clubs as close as he dared to the city, hiding them so that when the time came, his people could strike and strike hard. He watched the excited men enter the chamber upon their discovery. Then he endured watching his people labor again as the treasure was carried to the surface. They carried pile after pile and placed it in a tent that stood adjacent to Akmed’s quarters. Only after many hours were the prisoners allowed to rest and eat their evening meal. Akmed was elated at the discovery of the treasure. He could hardly wait to begin the journey to the destination he sought to build his own great city. Tomorrow they would decide how best to move the treasure. Tonight, he decided, they would celebrate and be happy. He had promised good food 104

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and much to drink - and drink they did. While the evil raiders celebrated in the heart of this once great city, two pairs of eyes watched their every move; eyes’, those of man and beast took in every detail, as the greed of man to a new low. One man was King of his followers, another was his evil yet cowardice son. The third was the Sheik’s second in command and although they all laughed, they all plotted their own treachery. The Lieutenant had carefully planned to have Akmed killed and escape with the treasure. The son, being a coward, simply planned to run with as much as he could carry. Perhaps only two men, Akmed and Sadaam knew the darkest secret of all. Tonight they would celebrate the treasure, tomorrow they would rejoice at the death of Khali. All this was sickening to Taimak. He could understand neither the greed of man, nor his methods. Why was it necessary to kill the villagers and take slaves when they could have simply uncovered the treasure by themselves? Man, Taimak decided, was the greatest mystery of all. Even his brilliant mind did not understand them and their evil ways. He would, however, hold each accountable. As darkness once again claimed the rugged African landscape, the hunt was over, and the time for revenge was at hand.

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CHAPTER 1 3 - An Assassin 13 Assassin’’s Plo Plott Upon his return from the evening meal, Botala found the knife, as planned, beneath his sleeping mat. Immediately he knew what he had to do. Although he was very afraid, he must sneak in and murder the Sheik. He would wait until all were sleeping and then make his way to Akmed’s tent. If necessary he would kill the guard, then do what must be done to save his people. He lay there for what seemed like hours, his mind reeling at the thought of the horrible task that lay ahead. It was well after midnight when all was quiet, both inside and out. Botala made his way to the door, crawling into the shadows as the guard walked past him. From shadow to shadow he made his way to Akmed’s tent. What he did not know was that the knife had been placed there not by Khali, but by the Sheik himself. When the Lieutenant had walked into the slaves’ quarters, Akmed, Sadaam and three others followed. Upon his discovery, Khali had turned to draw his revolver but he was too late. One of the men hit him with a rifle, dropping him to the ground, unconscious and unaware of the ultimate twist of his treacherous plans. The Sheik made sure that Khali was securely bound hand and foot. He had his mouth silenced with a gag and a rope tied over it. Following this, Akmed’s men placed Khali in the Sheik’s cot and tied securely, waking him only when he was sure the man could neither move nor speak. 107

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As the Lieutenant regained consciousness, Akmed told him of Sadaam’s discovery and of how he planned to let him die of his own plot. As he saw the look in the man’s eyes the Sheik let out a chuckle, turned to exit, then extinguished the candle, leaving total darkness within. How much time elapsed after Akmed had informed Khali of his ultimate fate is hard to say; but several hours later, Botala, on hands and knees, edged closer to the tent of Akmed, not realizing he was about to kill not his enemy, but his accomplice. Approaching the tent he noticed the lack of a guard in front of Akmed’s quarters and, breathing a sigh of relief, silently prayed that his luck would hold. The man within the stygian darkness lay helpless on the cot, biting savagely at the rope with all his might, but to no avail. He became even more terrified as he heard the flap of the tent part and someone enter. Khali guessed whom it was that crept so stealthily upon him, but could do little top prevent his approach. He saw a form enter the tent, but as much as he tried, he could make no sound or movement to let the assassin know his identity. Closer and closer Botala approached, crawling very slowly, inching his way to be as silent as possible. He was at the side of the cot that held the man he hated and feared. To poor Botala it seemed hours passed as he sat beside the cot, gathering himself for the awful task. Eventually he rose silently to his knees and gripped the weapon tightly in his hands. The helpless Khali watched the dark form as it rose over his shivering body, then closed his eyes for the pain he knew was soon to come. The young Nagassi raised the knife as far as his arms could reach. Then, holding it there for only a second, Botala plunged it into the heart and through the man’s entire body. The youth was scared. Yet he was very excited, thinking his people would now be free. He felt sick to his stomach and cold sweat beaded upon his ebony skin. Nevertheless, the deed was done, and now his people would be free. When he turned to leave the tent, soldiers immediately sur108

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rounded him. Then, what he saw next frightened him more than ever before. Akmed stepped from behind the soldiers. How could this be, thought Botala? Did I not just slay the evil man? His mind was reeling as he thought of what was happening. Two men entered the tent and pulled Khali’s body from within. It was then that everything fell into place for young Botala. Somehow Akmed had uncovered the plot on his life and now Botala knew he was going to die as well. Taimak speculated on what all the excitement was about in the camp, not knowing that one of the three men he sought most was already dead, a victim on his own treacherous plot. He had seen enough tonight, tomorrow he would observe them one last day, then put his plan into action. Tonight and most of the following day he and the great Black Panther would lay up and rest. Then, at dawn of the following day, they would strike. Botala was not killed immediately. Instead, his hands were tied over his head to a tree and left there for the night. The young Nagassi was very afraid of tomorrow, wondering why they did not kill him. He almost preferred death instead of whatever punishment he would receive tomorrow. Akmed ordered the slave be whipped early in the morning, and every morning to come, before the workers began carrying the treasure. This was supposed to be another example of what happens to those who plan to escape or do harm. Next morning . . . The Panther, while stirring and stretching his limbs, woke his bronze companion. Taimak was ready for food and drink before his last day of spying. However, as he rose from his earthen bed he heard a blood-curdling scream that changed his plans from rest, into immediate action. Without a moment’s hesitation the jungle warrior, in stride, scooped up his weapons and ran to the edge of the cliff. From his bivouac, he had a clear view of the raider’s camp. What he saw made his blood boil with anger. One of the raiders gave a 109

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boy lash after lash with a long whip, beating him until the youth was too weak to stand on his own feet. The man with the whip drew it back time and again, striking the boy repeatedly. Horrible wounds poured blood down the young Nagassi’s back. After a moment’s rest, Akmed’s agent drew the whip back for yet another series of lashes. Before the next whelp was raised upon the back of the Nagassi youth, the Arab suddenly dropped in his tracks. His cold eyes peered into the heavens and his lifeless hands grasped the arrow sticking from his chest. The encampment grew deathly quiet. Not a sound came from even a single man. Anyone who looked upon the dead man could do little more than stare. They were frightened at the sight before them, not knowing who or what had attacked them; or from where. Akmed shouted an order for another to take the beater’s place. One did, and he died like the first, swiftly and silently with an arrow through the heart. Again, all was quiet. Death was in the air and not a single man in the valley spoke. The horrible, eerie silence was probably the most terrifying part of all. Two men lay dead and not a single person appeared to know where the arrows came from, or who had sent them. Some thought that maybe the gods had sent someone to rescue them. As the confused company stood there in utter shock, an angry bronzed warrior made his way into the city. Realizing that Akmed would post heavier guard against intruders, Taimak figured that if he were already in the city before that happened, it would be to his advantage. Thus he made his way quietly, sneaking building by building, pillar by pillar, into the villain’s lair. Each and every step he took the faithful Sinjah was always at his side. He decided he would kill the Sheik first, then free the slaves. After arming his comrades, they would drive their enemies from this land forever. Akmed’s men asked to leave, fearing that evil spirits of the city were attacking them. Akmed told them that spirits did not 110

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use real arrows and that whoever was out there was a real live man, or perhaps men, but not a spirit. Upon his explanation the soldiers felt much better but wanted to leave just the same. Instead, they were broken into groups and told to search for the man who dared stand against Akmed. They did as they were ordered and began a sweep of the immediate area. The soldiers returned later that day empty handed and without a clue as to where the arrows came from or who might have wanted to kill them. One of the men who had been given a choice years earlier to either fight for his new master or die, stood behind the group. He listened very intently to all he heard. He alone had witnessed the direction from which the arrows had come. Still, he said nothing of this, secretly hoping this would be his one chance for escape. His name, as you may have guessed, was William Jennings. Before the search party had returned, work had begun on a cage; its purpose as yet had not been explained. The guards were doubled that night and preparations were hastened for their departing the city. Akmed told his men that one more day of carrying the treasure would be enough. The final orders given, everyone decided to turn in and rest for the night. The sun was still hours from shining over the hilltops as Taimak made his way further inside the camp of Akmed BenSataal. He had no idea that within the ruined walls of the abandoned city there lay a trap awaiting his arrival. As silently as death the pair of hunters crawled their way around statues and rubble on their way to kill the Sheik. The moment they entered Akmed’s quarters, the nerves of both man and beast were at a frenzied peak. As they made their entry into the tent of Akmed Ben-Sataal the heavy canvas shelter dropped around them. Together man and beast struggled valiantly to free themselves. The Panther finally squirmed his way out an opening and ran into the dark jungle. The man, however, was not so lucky. First one soldier then another jumped onto him and 111

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bore him to the ground, hitting and kicking him. Overpowering him by their numbers, his hands and feet were securely bound. Afterward he was thrown into the special cage the Sheik had ordered built for him. One as evil as Akmed Ben-Sataal does not survive without knowing how to take care of himself, and so he had the trap set for the man he knew would come. He ordered the man left in the cage till morning. Then he would have him beaten like the other until he told why he had attacked them. After he had been told what he wanted to know he would either kill him then, or make him suffer more. With this ordeal apparently behind them, the soldiers felt a little safer, knowing they had captured the man they sought. Each wondered what sort of man it is that goes around in the company of wild beasts in the middle of the night. In a time soon, very soon, they would have their answer!

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CHAPTER 1 4 - An All y 14 Ally Early the next morning the cooks served Akmed and his officers a hearty breakfast. After which, they departed to watch the prisoner be whipped and questioned. The Sheik sat down as he had the day before to watch the slave be beaten. He ordered his men to tie the brute, as he called him. When they had done so, Akmed walked up to the man, looked him in the eye, and asked who he was and why he had attacked them? Taimak, not at all intimidated, simply told him in his deep voice. “I am a Nagassi warrior. These are my people.” he said, nodding in the direction of his comrades. Akmed slapped him and called him a liar, then asked his question again. Taimak gave the same answer and again he was slapped across the face, harder this time. Akmed stared straight into the blue eyes of Taimak and said. “You are a very brave man and very big and strong. You would make a fine soldier in my army. It is a shame I will have to kill you.” Taimak did not look away from the stare of Akmed Ben-Sataal at that moment, no indeed. Instead, staring straight into the eyes of the Sheik he said. “You are mistaken. It is I who will kill you - coward. You must be a coward. Only a coward would kill an innocent girl who was tied and helpless.” The Sheik was not used to anyone speaking to him and threatening him so he became very angry. He walked to the man with the whip and knocked him aside. Taking the strap from him, he lashed Taimak viciously across his bare back. 113

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Repeatedly the leather whip cut deep into the tanned hide of the mighty warrior. Blood ran freely down his golden skin. Suddenly a man rushed to Akmed and said. “Do not kill him my master, make him suffer this punishment daily for many days and it will bring you great pleasure.” Taimak did not know which man spoke, for his eyes blurred from sweat, but he decided then and there that he would be made to die like the rest. Unknown to Taimak, it was a man who secretly hoped to help him escape from Akmed. He thought that by stopping the beating it would better serve his plans of flight. The Sheik announced it was to be as Jennings had said. He was then allowed to cut the man down, and put him back into the cage. He was placed in the hot sun and left there with no water or food. Later that day, Jennings walked passed the guard and smiled at the caged prisoner, cursing him out loud. As he neared the cage however, he whispered quietly, telling Taimak of his plans. He told Taimak that if he would help him escape, he would help free the slaves and they could all leave together. Taimak quickly agreed to the plan. However, unknown to his new ally, the Nagassi champion had no intention of leaving until the raiders lay dead upon the forest floor. Jennings left with what he thought was the satisfaction of knowing he would soon be out of Akmed’s control, and once again be truly free. Next morning around 5 AM . . . The camp stood in silence for a long time and dawn was less than an hour away. A guard patrolled the entrance to the slaves quarters. When his back was turned a man entered the doorway, moving swiftly within the darkened room. Waking the slaves one by one, he told each of them the plan and that they were to come only when called to do so. Jennings unlocked the leg irons, freeing many of the slaves before giving the keys to another. Then he motioned at two more to help him overpower the guard. 114

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The soldier continued walking back and forth past the entrance, not knowing that death approached nearer with each passing second. Then, a hand was quickly placed across his mouth and a crushing blow landed to his head. His lifeless body was dragged swiftly and silently into the dark room. There his robe was removed and placed over one of the slaves, who quickly grabbed his weapon and assumed the fallen man’s place on patrol. Then Jennings, accompanied by two other Nagassi youths, returned to the shadows, this time carrying with them a bow and arrows, a knife and spear. The three men quietly approached the two guards that stood watch over Taimak. Jennings motioned the two slaves that had followed him to take the soldier farthest and he would take the other. No sooner had the two grabbed the man, stabbed him with his own knife and pulled his body into the shadows, than one of the Nagassi had taken his place. All had been accomplished in the utmost silence so the other guard did not know what had taken place. Now it was Jennings turn. Taking the other robed figure behind the darkened side of the cage, he then removed the robe, threw it to his companions, and all looked as normal. Staying in the shadows, Jennings cut the rope that held Taimak’s wrists and feet. He then cut the rope that locked the cage. When Taimak emerged it was only a matter of time before the sun would uncover their escape, and Jennings begged that they hurry. He was not prepared for what happened next. Rushing back to the slave quarters, Taimak told all who wanted to fight for the memory of all Nagassi people that had been killed to follow him. Jennings was shocked; asking what Taimak was doing, saying they should flee. Taimak simply thanked the man for all he had done and told him he should make good his own escape, for retribution of all those murdered in the raid was now at hand. As the Nagassi prepared for their short flight to their weapons, Jennings went on to tell the huge warrior that stood before him all that had happened to him. He told him of the sinking of the ship and of his capture by the Sheik. 115

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Taimak told him that he too had been on that ship and whom his parents were, of how his lifeboat had drifted to the beach and his discovery by Kadoma and his men. Jennings told him of floating on a piece of wreckage and nearly starving before he himself was stranded on the coastline, apparently miles to the north. The only two survivors of a sunken ship, their paths had crossed once again. “All Nagassi people owe you a great debt, one that we can never repay. You go now, free to return to your homeland.” said Taimak. “We must fight and take revenge on the evil men who took away our freedom and punish them for what they have done.” Jennings understood and thanked the man. Then he departed for the stables to steal a horse and make good his only chance of escape. Taimak led his people from the valley to the cliffs overlooking the city. There he found the panther had been awaiting his return. The Nagassi were afraid of the cat, but Taimak assured them that once he had gotten their scent, he would not harm them. He walked the cat past all the young men and women and, after he had scented each one, they were sure they had nothing further to fear from Sinjah. Afterward Taimak told them of all the places where he hid weapons and urged the Nagassi to get them at once. He became a natural leader, issuing commands as if he had lead armies into battle all his life. After gathering the spears and clubs, the Nagassi returned to the cliff. Once there Taimak explained to them that they must work together. “You are young and they are very expeerienced in battle, but if we attack quietly and swiftly we can defeat them.” Taimak told them this and more, explaining his carefully thought out plans in great detail and that he himself was to be the one to kill Akmed.

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CHAPTER 1 5-F reedom 15 Fr As the sun rose again over the trees to shed its light on this beautiful valley, the moment Taimak had traveled so far to fulfill had arrived. He placed the Nagassi around the perimeter of Agashi-Kahn. The bronzed titan, whom they immediately looked to for leadership, had told them to attack a few men at a time, then hide while attack came from the opposite side of the camp. He told them when the men awoke in the city and were rushing around confused, he would kill one with an arrow. That would be their signal that the battle had begun. When the camp began to stir, nobody noticed that the horses were missing or that some of the soldiers were already dead. Taimak had ordered two of the young men back to lead the horses out of the valley and tie them. He wanted to ensure it would prevent Akmed’s quick escape. Also, in the event they failed to kill the soldiers, this would allow them an avenue of retreat. It did not take long for the missing slaves to be noticed. When the shift change had taken place the dead bodies were discovered and Akmed was immediately summoned. A soldier running frantically into the Sheik’s tent woke him. “What is the meaning of this?” questioned Akmed. Then the soldier explained all that had happened to his master. Akmed became furious, his face the picture of rage as he stormed from the tent and began calling his soldiers around him. 117

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Sadaam told him the muscled warrior was also gone, as were the horses. Akmed knew then that he would have to settle for escaping with his life, then return later for the treasure. He ordered every soldier to ready his weapon. It was decided that they would follow the trail of the horses, hopefully finding them and escaping. The villainous band had not taken a step from the city however when a soldier fell, clutching an arrow as it passed through his throat. His screams of pain were beyond description and the look upon his face sent cold chills through his comrades. Suffice it to say that fear returned to everyone who was under the command of Akmed. Everyone in the ancient city ran for cover. The Sheik sought his son, the evil Sadaam, and two others, figuring a small group might escape easier than the entire company. Making their way unnoticed through the city, they followed tunnels and crept through buildings to hide their progress. Shots were ringing out behind them and soldiers were shooting into the jungle at anything that moved. Occasionally a native spear would kill a soldier from behind and the soldiers would fire into another direction. Some would run in hopes of escape and they too would fall as one of the poisoned arrows struck them down. Sounds of pain rang out almost as loud as the rifle reports that thundered through the valley. Men screamed in their death throes. Many soldiers died that day from arrow and spear and, as Taimak saw they were near defeat, he yelled for the young Nagassi to charge them. After an intense battle the Arab forces were depleted and the angry mob was in their midst. Taimak was the first to arrive and wade into their ranks, with Sinjah fighting beside him. Blow after crushing blow was landed by Taimak, punches driven by the Herculean strength that was his alone. Four men attacked him in force. The Black Panther took one. The other three Taimak battered, taking one of them over his head as if he was handling a child and hurled him against his comrades. 118

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Many men fell beneath the crushing muscles of this giant Nagassi warrior with jaws broken and throats slashed. Still others felt the fury of the beast that fought savagely at his side. How horribly was the end of those that fell beneath the cat’s savagery! To put it to you bluntly, throats lay gaping with blood gushing from massive wounds. Skulls were crushed with a single swipe of those mighty talons. The only advantage of their death was that it was swift and sure and thus none suffered for even an instant. After what surely must have been the bloodiest battle ever waged within that region, Taimak, assured of complete and total victory by his untrained garrison, called to the men of Akmed. “If you send me the men responsible for planning the raid, I will let the rest go free.” He then he waited for a reply. “One is already dead, and Akmed is nowhere to be found.” came an answer from the midst of the defeated army. Some distance from the raging battle, a quarter mile prehaps, two young boys sat watching over grazing horses. They had not noticed the robed figures stealthily approaching them from behind. Silently the bandits crept towards their victims. With knives drawn, they made their way ever closer to them. Without the slightest hesitation, they murdered the unsuspecting boys where they sat. Akmed was again on horseback. However, this time it was Akmed himself on the run and not one of his many victims. Never before had the Sheik been the one pursued, and it angered him greatly. With vile oaths, he cursed the warrior with bronzed skin and light brown hair who dared challenge him. He vowed he would return to the Nagassi valley and this time with such force that he would kill all the people who lived there. He would take special pleasure in watching the one he hated most die a slow and painful death. The Nagassi people were searching for Akmed, being led by a tall muscled warrior while the Sheik’s men looked on. After all their service and all their loyalty he had abandoned 119

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them and left them at the mercy of an enemy. Every building was searched, every tunnel checked and not a stone left unturned and still there was no sign of Akmed. Taimak called everyone into the center of the city. To the Sheik’s men he spoke. “We will show you mercy that your leader did not show our people. You will leave this land and never again return. If you ever come back, with evil in your hearts, we will kill you. Do you understand?” With that, he gave them enough weapons for protection and hunting on their march toward their homes. Then he called two of the oldest of the youths to him and gave them instructions. “You are the oldest of our people left to defend the village. Go now and return to our home that you might protect those who are left. I will return after I have tracked and destroyed this enemy. I know you would like to kill these men, but their evil Chief is responsible. He will pay. To this, he said, I pledge my life.” As he gave the instructions to his young followers, it occurred to Taimak that Akmed might well have tracked the horses in order to escape. He urged both parties to be on their way and, with his weapons strapped to his back, the golden warrior hurried off in the direction he had ordered the horses be hidden. Faster and faster he ran, dashing with his greatest speed in that direction. He was followed every step of the way by his faithful friend Sinjah. Taimak felt that he must try to stop them before they got to the boys. He knew Akmed would kill them without hesitation to regain a means of escape. The Nagassi warrior was nearing the spot he had told the youngsters to keep the horses, and hearing no sound coming from that direction, he feared he was too late. When he approached the small clearing Taimak saw the two bodies lying face down. His face turned a fiery red as the anger inside him reached a fever pitch. These men had killed without mercy and they would die the same way. He would give them no chance of escape and he would track them for the rest of his 120

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days if that is what it would take. The Sheik had spooked the horses and all seemed to go in different directions and, by design, made tracking difficult. Taimak looked around for several minutes and then discovered that five of the horses had taken to one path at a hurried gate. This must be the trail, thought Taimak, and he began to run in the direction they had taken. The hurried gate of the bronzed warrior covered many miles. As darkness approached, he knew that soon he would need to seek a place to rest, then pick up the trail again tomorrow. However, as twilight advanced, he ran on, erasing the distance between himself and the five men he trailed. His thoughts of hate and revenge were consuming him. Nothing must stop him from getting to them and keeping them from reaching their destination. If he allowed Akmed to reach civilization, Taimak knew that he would recruit more men and return. This, Taimak knew, he could not allow. With darkness finally upon them, the savage pair of hunters made a kill. Both he and the panther ate their fill before climbing into a large tree to sleep. In a camp only a few miles away, five robed men were sitting around a huge fire. Even though tired and hungry, they would sleep little this night, or any that followed. The men sat around the fire, seldom speaking a word. Each felt contempt toward the man who had led them into this terrible plight, yet all still feared him so they kept their feelings to themselves. Leaving at the first light of dawn the hunted started anew their escape from the hunter. Morning found Taimak on the trail again and he was slowly but surely gaining ground. He knew that within a day or two he would catch them. Most men could not withstand the incredible pace Taimak had set for himself, but this man was like no other. His huge muscles had grown used to hardship and strenuous use, allowing him to continue where others would fall. On the third day, Taimak came to a cliff almost a hundred feet in height. Below swept a fast moving, turbulent waterway. He knew the riders were forced downstream to cross. If 121

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he did as they had it would take hours, but if he crossed here he might make up precious time. He knew he would have to leave Sinjah behind but immediately went into action, throwing the spear across the creek, sticking it into the bank on the opposite side. The bow and arrows he tied into as tight a bundle as he could and threw them far upstream. Then, with a powerful leap, he dove headlong toward the murky water below.

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CHAPTER 1 6-R eveng e 16 Re enge When a person dives it is normal practice that they take their last breath of air as they are about to enter the water, assuming they are trained of course. The young Nagassi, unaccustomed as he was to diving from such a dizzying height, was not educated thus, so he breathed his last on top of the cliff. When his body struck the water, it did so with such force the dive sent him very deep, much deeper than he had planned. Further he sped downward, the muddy swirling water passing over his smooth bronze skin. As he was making his way to the surface, disaster struck. His rawhide belt caught on the limb of a sunken tree. It was the same belt that holds the knife at his side. This time it was not to save him but possibly destroy him. Needing desperately to breathe in the fresh air above, Taimak struggled desperately to free himself. After fighting for several seconds to break loose, the warrior put his great strength to work. Grabbing the limb that barred his escape, he snapped the appendage as if it were merely a twig from a young sapling. Then, a desperate race against time. Stroke after stroke he swam upward, his lungs begging for air. There, in front of him, shining as if to tease him further, was the clear blue African sky. As his head broke the surface of the swirling water, Taimak gasped for precious air. He immediately began searching for the bow and found he had surfaced near his prized weapon. Grabbing it, he swam for the opposite bank and began his climb. 123

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The precipice was much shorter on this side than on the other, and soon he would again search for the trail of Akmed. Taimak climbed higher and higher until he approached the place he knew the spear must be. Reaching the top he immediately scanned his eyes across the horizon and found that his gamble had paid off. He saw at once a cloud of dust in the distance that signaled the position of his quarry. Taimak hated to leave the cat behind but figured if he chose to he could cross elsewhere and pick up the trail. Again he ran, doggedly trailing the murderers as swiftly as his mighty legs would carry him. Tonight, he thought, I will be on them, and forever end their reign of terror. Later, with darkness looming, Akmed and his men decided they were safe from the slaves at the abandoned city, so they stopped again to rest for the night. They found a spot early enough to build a boma for protection that they might rest with only one guard. Eating the last of their meager supplies, they looked forward to reaching civilization and the security it offered over this accursed place. Taimak knew he must be nearing the camp of his enemy, but with darkness approaching, he could no longer trail them. He climbed into a tree for rest and noticed a fire a few hundred yards to his right. Quickly and quietly he climbed down the tree to investigate. No sooner had his feet hit the ground however, than he heard a sound coming from behind him. He readied his spear, preparing for whatever threat might come. He could see nothing. Bushes moved and he heard leathery paws as they patted the ground coming closer and closer. He heard an animal breathing. His eyes flashed here and there and he knew in a minute he would be face to face with some large predator. Suddenly a bush moved again. Taimak was ready to throw, for in another second it would surely be upon him. Then, from the thickest bush walked a dark and shadowy figure. “Sinjah!” exclaimed Taimak. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, thinking how far he had traveled only to be killed this close to the enemy. As he rubbed 124

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the cat behind the ears, it brushed against his legs as a large tabby might. Then, off they went toward the Sheik’s camp. Silently they crept to their destination. Taimak gave the command for the cat to stay and walked to the other side of the Boma. Moments later Akmed’s eyes grew wide, his face showing signs of shock and fear. His mouth opened but he could say nothing. Silently and without warning the hulking Nagassi warrior stepped from the cover of the dark jungle. To the overwrought mind of his enemies he appeared as if he were a spectral vision from another dimension. It was thus that Taimak slowly emerged into the firelight; the amber flames casting eeerie shadows about the god-like figure. With his bow drawn, he stood brazen, casting a steady determined gaze. Then, with all the skill taught him by Kadoma, last great Chief of the mighty Nagassi Nation, he released the bowstring, casting his arrow, sending it through the forehead of the man called Sadaam. At that same instant, within the makeshift boma, the bandits heard a cat give it’s hideous cry and, when their eyes returned to where Taimak had been, he was no longer there. He had faded stealthily into the shadows while their heads were turned toward the panther. Their nerves were on edge and, in a frantic state, the men ran for their weapons. With wild eyes, they cast horrified glimpses in every direction. One of the men, the Sheiks’ son, was so scared that, after tearing his way through the boma, he ran into the darkness. The last sound the Sheik would hear his son make was a horrid cry as the panther made a kill for it’s evening meal. By this time, the three that remained were scared beyond reason, and in a state of panic they ran for the horses. The cat was occupied with the Sheik’s son and Taimak was out of position to make a clean shot, so they rode swiftly away.

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Late the next day . . . Although the three had gotten to the horses and cleanly away, Taimak knew it was only a matter of time until he caught them again. Still they rode in the same direction and still they stayed together. Had they parted it was possible that two might survive, but the Sheik would not allow this. Figuring that if another face to face confrontation was to occur, that he could get away while his men fought with the Nagassi that trailed them. The warrior’s mission began to take on a greater sense of urgency as he guessed, and correctly so, that when Akmed reached civilization he would return with an even greater army. Then with the hatred boiling within him, unleash his forces, wreaking total annihilation upon the Nagassi people. With this burden weighing heavily upon him, Taimak moved swiftly across the rugged African landscape. It was under the sweltering heat of the midday sun that the final showdown would take place. Taimak had paralleled their direction and, after cutting across an alligator infested river, had cut off their only avenue of escape. The three riders had taken a route through a canyon that, unknown to them, placed them in perfect position for an ambush. They hoped again that they had eluded the bronzed warrior and were allowing their horses to walk at a leisurely pace. They had no sign of their pursuer as they rode quietly through the ravine. However, as they approached a bend in the trail a pair of blue eyes watched their every move. Taimak was the picture of concentration and readied himself to move in for the kill. The bronzed titan removed three arrows from his quiver. Two he placed within easy reach. The third he placed against the bowstring. He did not reveal his presence to them yet. First he wanted them to be in range and then he would strike. He would take the last rider first and then the one in front, hoping to block the middle rider’s escape. The middle rider was Akmed Ben-Sataal. 126

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To kill two armed men with only a bow and arrows would be a great feat indeed. However, for a man to kill three, without any of them firing a single shot, that would test the great skill and speed of even Taimak’s incredible ability. Nevertheless, he stood there, boldly waiting with the loyal Sinjah at his side. He was anticipating the task he had traveled so many miles and days to complete, determined not to fail. Rage filled the young warrior’s mind as the vision of a beautiful face shone itself before him, then faded into the haze as the heat rose from the sweltering African countryside. He shook his head to clear his mind of all thoughts save those necessary to carry out the mission he had set himself to complete. He refocused on his agenda, concentrating on the task at hand. Sweat beaded upon his brow. All his muscles were tense and his heart pumped adrenaline through his veins. His senses were on the highest state of alert. His quarry rode closer. Soon they would be in a perfect position for attack. The sun lay at Taimak’s back and, as the enemy moved within range, he boldly stepped from behind his place of concealment. His rippling muscles pulled at the bowstring, and then straight and true Taimak send his silent messenger of death. No sooner had the back rider hit the ground, than the man in front clutched his chest, a Nagassi arrow through his heart. Taimak reached for his third arrow and, Akmed, regaining his wits, reached for his rifle. Time seemed to move in slow motion as these two mortal enemies readied their weapons. The Nagassi warrior saw he would not get the shot off in time and dropped to the ground just as the Sheik fired. He landed with such force that his bow flew from his hand, falling over the edge of the ravine. Lost too was the spear of Kadoma, last chief of the Nagassi. Akmed saw an opportunity to run and urged his horse to race at full speed away from the gorge. Taimak’s mind now worked very quickly. He knew this might be the last chance to stop the Sheik before he reached civilization. His actions were 127

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lightening fast. In one swift motion the warrior not only stood, but dove headlong from the cliff, giving not a thought to either life or limb. It was fifteen feet from the top of the ravine to the ground. It seemed to Akmed that he might have finally escaped the hulking demon that trailed him. As Taimak flew through the air, Akmed had gotten past the horse and dead rider in front of him, riding for open country. However, just when it seemed to him the golden warrior’s jump was ill timed and would pass him by, a powerful hand grabbed him by his shoulder and roughly dragged him from the saddle. Although the two combatants hit the ground at the same time, Akmed was the first to rise and gain his senses. Taimak lay on the ground, partially stunned and open to any attack that might be thrust upon him. If one could see the fight as it commenced, it might appear that it would end ere it had just begun. Akmed, though he had been surrounded for years by an army, was no stranger in hand to hand combat and thus wasted no time in mounting a strong offensive. As the golden warrior stood, the Sheik landed blow after blow to the head of his pursuer. One, two, three times he hit him, this he followed by a series of kicks, stunning, but not defeating the youth. The evil serpent that pounded him without mercy was about to land yet another punch when Taimak regained his wits, and blocked the fist as it approached him. Surprised by the sudden occurrence, Akmed was not prepared for what followed. The titanic warrior that stood before him not only blocked the punch, but landed one square to the chin of the robed figure, driving him to the ground. Never in all his life had Akmed Ben-Sataal witnessed such incredible strength, nor had a single blow ever felled him. Today all that would change, for today he would feel the wrath that he had unleashed in the mightiest warrior of the Congo. Each time he rose on unsteady legs, Taimak drove him harder and harder to the ground. His vision was beginning to blur. 128

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Blood ran freely from his nose and mouth, covering the white robe with the unfamiliar stain of his own blood. While on the ground for what the warrior intended to be Akmed’s last breath, the Sheik and his methods shone through. As Taimak neared the beaten figure lying on the ground, the man grabbed a handful of dirt, determined to blind his adversary. With the battle seemingly over, the mighty hands of the greatest living Nagassi warrior tightened their grip around the throat of the enemy, picking him up in one quick motion. Suddenly, the raider threw the dirt into the face of his would be executioner, temporarily robbing him of his vision. The youth dropped the man and sought relief from the burning sensation by rubbing his eyes. The lips of the Sheik curved upward in a gloating smile, as his hand found the repeating rifle he had dropped when he was pulled from his saddle. The villain savored the last moments of his enemy’s life; enjoying it as only a man with such evil in his heart could possibly enjoy. Akmed now placed the rifle butt against his shoulder. Sure of his ultimate victory, the man spoke to the seemingly defeated warrior. “Oh what pleasure it will bring me to watch you die. I will stay here and watch you suffer. Then I will laugh while the buzzards pick your bones clean. Never have I enjoyed a victory such as this in all my years. You are a strong man, but strength alone cannot always defeat an enemy that is more experienced than you. And now my young friend, I will kill you.” Those were the last words that the Sheik figured to speak to this man. With the glow of victory consuming the very existence of Akmed, he looked down the barrel as he leveled his rifle at the heart of the Nagassi warrior. A man such as this is always prepared for battle, keeping his weapons loaded and ready. He is always prepared to raid a village or take prisoners, wreaking havoc on some unsuspecting people. However, Akmed Ben-Sataal was not used to being tracked like the cur dog that he was, looking over his shoulder at every 129

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turn. This would prove his undoing and seal his ultimate fate, for as he pulled the trigger on his rifle, the hammer fell with an echoing “click.” Never before had Akmed been the hunted, and never before had he been ill prepared for battle. This time however, the change of roles had not only angered him, but confused him as well. Thinking only of escape since fighting his way out of the abandoned city of Agashi Kahn, Akmed had forgotten to replenish his rifle, and the hammer fell onto an empty chamber. Evil as he was, this Sheik had never felt a sense of fear as great as the one that simple little “click” planted in his mind. The look on his face was without description. The adrenaline that raced through his veins was without equal as he ran for, and quickly mounted, his horse to flee. The warrior was quickly regaining his vision and realized what had happened and how fortunate that he had been. Immediately his eyes searched for his bow and it was then that he saw it had been trampled by one of the horses, breaking the bowstring. There was only one chance to stop his enemies escape, the spear of his adopted sire. Seeing it nearby, he raced to it, picked it up, then stood as still as death, measuring the distance of the throw. Then he placed the spear on his shoulder and ran toward the end of the chasm. It was with incredible force that Taimak, mightiest of all Nagassi warriors, launched the silent missile through the air. The throw sent the weapon on a high arching path that raced with great speed toward the intended target. The Sheik lay flat against his mount as he raced for the end of the ravine, hoping beyond all hope that he could outdistance the man that had dogged his trail at every turn. Akmed thought to himself that another days ride and he would be in civilization. However, this thought of flight had barely passed through his mind when he felt incredible pain, as the spear passed into his back and projected from his chest. It had barely missed his heart, but the damage was already done. Life was ebbing from 130

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his body and his senses were beginning to numb. Good versus evil was again played out on the African plains. That fateful day, it was good that, once again, had triumphed over evil. Moments later Taimak walked to the figure lying on the ground, looking again into the eyes of the man he hated like no other. The Sheik rolled onto his side and looked up at the huge bronzed warrior towering over him. He cursed him with his dying breath and then all became dark. So, violent was his life, thus was the death of Akmed Ben-Sataal.

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CHAPTER 1 7-P eace 17 Peace Many days had passed since the Nagassi people returned to their valley. They began to make plans for the future. The oldest members that were left formed a new council that would rule; headed by Musbali. The village had started to work as it had in the past with children playing. Younger members who had been forced to grow up all too fast replaced the women and men that worked in the fields. Taimak returned several days later with his friend Sinjah, causing quite a stir. He told the villagers of the death of Akmed and his followers - about how he tracked and punished them for what they had done. He told them that from this day on they must be ready for attack and they must always train in the ways of fighting. Never must they use their skills to harm another, as was always the Nagassi way, but they also must never again be caught unprepared. Indeed, to those before him he spoke thoughtfully the wise words passed down from the Elders to all those who were to follow: Tom-navgal-atulu, awaul-rangum-ulu! Tom-navgalatulu, crolu-bun-undae! Or, loosely translated into English: To never attack, but always defend! To never attack, but fight to the end! No truer or more inspirational words were ever spoken to the Nagassi youths that had gathered around him. For hours, the wide-eyed youths questioned him. They wanted to hear of his great adventure and how he finally killed the evil man. The Nagassi listened to all his stories. From the 133

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oldest members to the smallest they wanted to hear all he had to say. Taimak, deciding he wanted to explore further the mysteries of the cave, explained that the next morning he would set off on another journey. He told them he would return from time to time and that he loved them very much. But, since his parents and Natala had been killed he wanted to be alone for a while at least. The next morning found Taimak standing on the hill, again telling his beloved Natala good-bye. He was going back to the cave to be alone with his thoughts, spending his time hunting and exploring. His only companion as he walked away that bright morning was Sinjah, the sleek Black Panther. As they marched away from the Nagassi village, the people, one and all, were sad to see him go because he had helped them save themselves. As the years passed the stories of his daring rescues and his honor would be told time and again, in this and many other villages. He had set out as a young man on a quest to become a warrior, and ended it by becoming a legend. The stories that were told were tales of a bronzed warrior with incredible strength, sometimes accompanied by a huge Black Panther. His legend increased as time went on and tales of his daring were known well by friend and foe alike. These are the stories told throughout the jungles and plains of Africa. These are the adventures of . . . Taimak: The Golden Warrior

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