SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part I}

SOLOMON'S GRUDGE *12*

1891: Solomon and Mary

Three days later, Solomon Effiong of Etoi was in deep commune with the forces of darkness. The secret things are prepared after a manner never so utilized before. It is for a larger scale of soul trade; a covenant to bind the people. It is brilliant, sadistic, legalistic, an evolved form of entrapment. Their symbol of Canaan remains the Tribe Custodian, the only way to dissolve the contract remains within the status of the Tribe Custodian, but if Idara Eyam Attah ever broke free of the bonds, her descendants, her lineage, her blood therefore will suffice as representative of the people, therefore they must ensure continuity of the custodial line, whom will be trained by Itu's loyalists. The boon her father will be instructed to deliver to Itu through the Talking Tree is her blood. Her blood, after she accepts Burning Claws. Upon it, Solomon of Etoi's master stakes his claim.

But who will wait in the dark shadows of time, to watch over her bloodline, in order for captivity to remain in it's place, and the terms of this contract, well maintained? The beautiful, luminescent white stones he'd gotten from the copper canyon lit up the shrine quite nicely. Not too dim, not too bright. While humming old sailor songs, he gathered together and arranged his special items. The African Codex in all it's basic essence remains unchanged, waiting for the blood of the chosen one.

He didn't hear the feather light footsteps enter his cave, not even when she moved to stand before him. Such is the way of things, between the darkness, and the light. But before she can speak, he picks up the rythim of her heart beat. It is a very loud presence, the sudden pulsing vibrations of her anger. His head lifts up sharply in reflex. He did not have time to shade the wild yellow flames burning around his eye balls.

She took a step back in fear, but does not run, watching the unholy fires fade out, the oily black orbs of his pupils regaining their natural shape, focusing on her in a deep, penetrating gaze. Grudgingly, Solomon admits to himself, that she is quite brave. Crazed laughter fills the dark enclave, "And what do we see before us? A seed gentile! Coming with a zeal half grown, indeed!"

Mary does not pretend to understand him. She gathers the thick skirts of her yellow gown closer, "Solomon...my name is-"

"It's an honour, my dear miss Mary Wallace. Allow me, to introduce... us," he points his right hand, a thin hand riddled with fat veins and dirty long nails, at the surrounding cave walls, "-my royal companions are many, among whom is Schizo, the moon Gorgon," he points at the wall behind her, "-and Legion, that is, a huge body of devils too numerous to mention," then he pats an empty spot somewhere beside his cane chair, "-and of course, my master, our Corruption, the General to this side of the Atlantic," his mysterious gaze returns to her face, "I'm afraid, you are visiting at a busy time."

Goose bumps race up her arms, she silently questions the wisdom of coming to his shrine, "-I'll make it brief, Solomon. I've come with God's Word to you."

A hostile, hissing sound slithers round the cave. She stands her ground, refusing to tremble. In response, Solomon gets to his feet, presenting his bare, battle scarred back to her as he considers the cave walls, "I have chosen a side in this war, Mary."

"Why? Do you hate your fellow men so much, that you do all that you do?"

If only she knew how much he hated them. They judged him for what happened to his wife. They took away his only child. They banished him from his tribe, making him an outcast. They came to him for help in secret, but disdained him openly. If only she knew how much he hated them, his hypocritical species, mankind! His thoughts vexed him, even as he appeared to be struggling within himself, his hands fisted, his arms shaking slightly as if under much strain, "I seem to have-" his neck bent at an odd angle, before snapping back uprightly, "-given you the impression-" his shoulders rolled, expanding, "-that it's a good time to chat," he began to turn to face her, "I'm very sorry for that..." She gasped, her right hand pressing down on her thumping heart. His eyes were on fire again. His voice suddenly amplified, the tumultuous sound of many different voices, "Mary; you cannot deceive the darkness. Be very careful, in this game you play, between the Order and the Mission. You stand in error, you are in danger," he advanced slowly, even as she took steps back, inching closer to the Cave's exit, "But if you will hear it: from the darkness, to the original gentile... it was not too long ago that you were part of our great genealogy; for Cain is our son, and he was your father," she stumbled on something she knew not what but quickly steadied herself, crazed laughter bouncing off the walls while the voices sneered, "-you ignorantly pride yourself in the impersonating identity of your race, but youre nothing more than a heathen, placed unexpectedly, favourably positioned for His adoption, opportune, as it were, as a function of mercy..." the voices grew louder, angrier, "-We had no mercy. There is no blood of His Son for us. There is no forgiveness for us," the voices were horrible, terrible, alternating deep tones and high, shrilly screeches, "If you will sit as judge, first, exist for thousands of years, knowing that every day brings you one step closer to eternal damnation; knowing, that no amount of tears will change the conclusion; no form of repentance is acceptable," they roared at her through the mouth of Solomon of Etoi, "-this is our lot, and in His eyes, it is just!"