Heroes Assemble!

Far From Home

The assembled tribes of Wakanda were dead silent as they stood in their assigned places. At their head, T'Challa stood on the very edge of the Platform of the Elders, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes hard. A slight shift from one foot to the other was enough for him to test his leg, his ankle where Killmonger had caught him. As expected, there wasn't even a hint of pain. Magic was indeed a wonderous thing and, it seemed, Harry's magic was just as powerful as Zuri's.

Barely a rustle could be heard as the Border Tribe shifted, the centre of them swivelling sidewards to create a pathway through the middle of them.

T'Challa's eyes narrowed as he saw the stretcher that the Dora Milaje carried between them, the unconscious man laying immobile upon it. The sight of Shuri striding behind the Dora Milaje had T'Challa's eyes shifting to meet her. A slight nod of her head told him all he needed to know.

At the exact centre of the Meeting Point, the stretcher was lowered to the ground, its guards stepping back and coming to rest, their spears ready, diagonally across their body; Shuri striding past them to take her place on the Platform of the Elders where the Golden Tribe stood.

"Wake him," T'Challa ordered.

From behind him, he imagined his sister manipulating one of the kimoyo beads around her wrist.

N'Jadaka's deep intake of breath echoed throughout the area, even as one arm unsteadily rose before flopping over his eyes. For nearly half a minute then, there was no movement, no sound. Finally, T'Challa's patience began to run out.

"N'Jadaka!" he snapped.

Instantly, the man rolled over and jumped to his feet, landing in a crouch, his hands up and ready, his eyes darting about. The stamp of feet and whoosh of air as spears came to bear froze the man in place.

Slowly, cautiously, N'Jadaka straightened.

"Cousin," he said and T'Challa could hear the contempt in his voice. "Gotta say, I'm surprised."

"What are you surprised about?" T'Challa asked, cocking his head.

"That I'm still alive. Thought for sure, you'd put me down after I lost your little contest."

"The Challenge of Innocence was instituted by you, N'Jadaka," T'Challa reminded him.

"And I lost it," N'Jadaka spat. "By your own laws, you get to decide my fate now, don't ya?"

"Indeed. Thus, your presence here," T'Challa stated.

"Let me guess; mines, right? Seein' as you aren't gonna kill me."

"How do you know that your punishment will not be death?" W'Kabi asked.

"Simple. I'm still alive, ain't I? If you were gonna kill me, you would have done it already," N'Jadaka reasoned.

"You're right. Your punishment is not death, however much it is deserved," T'Challa replied. "You, N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu of the Panther Tribe of Wakanda, shared Wakandan secrets with outsiders. Further, you led outsiders into Wakanda with the intention of stealing our vibranium. You did this believing that, because you were a son of Wakanda, you were entitled to our vibranium. Do you deny this?"

"No," N'Jadaka said. "I may not have been born here, but I'm one of you. All I wanted was my share."

"N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu, where once your statement was true, it is now longer," T'Challa replied.

At his nod, Okoye stepped forward, grasped the back of N'Jadaka's head when the man attempted to shy away, captured his bottom lip and pulled it forth and down for all to see. Where once, the bright sunlight would have shown up the deep blueish-purple of the vibranium markings declaring him a child of Wakanda, now, N'Jadaka's lip was simply a deep, angry red.