Brave Souls. (Book One.)

The Spirit Medium visits Mariani.

10 years later.

A young man dozed off lazily behind his grandfathers hut. It was one of those rare hot afternoons in Mariani village. Johari Tembo grown rather tall and at seventeen years of age he stood a foot tall above almost everyone in the village. He had somehow retained his scrawny body. When coupled with his height it greatly exaggerated his lean figure and his signature long unkempt hair completed his rough look.

He had long passed down his herding duties to his younger kin. He now spent his days balancing between doing odd errands for his grandmother and hunting game in the wild Sereti grasslands.

Today the searing heat was unforgiving and the relentless grasslands seemed untouchable to any sane being, but not to his merry village band of hunting mates. They had rushed off at sunrise and he laughed picturing them diving under scarce shade and haggling for waterskins.

"Serves them right." he chuckled stretched leisurely on his back, using his arms as a headrest.

He was drifting in and out of a light siesta when his ears caught a slight commotion outside the homestead. Choosing to ignore it seemed impossible a task as the din grew more and more. Cursing Johari got up and crossed his homesteads yard in a groggy state.

Upon reaching the entrance he was met by a growing crowd of villagers engrossed deeply in hushed tones and surprised looks. He followed their gaze and he too was visibly taken aback at the peculiar procession entering the village gates.

Seven women walked in slowly, completely oblivious to the spectacle they were causing. They walked in a single file. At the front an extremely tall woman led this procession. She wore a black flowing robe that swept at the ankles. Her face was painted white with a black round spot on her forehead. But it was her eyes that caught Johari in awe.

They were large, pale and unblinking. Looking into them Johari felt a pang of pity. Those pale eyes looked pained, like they had seen all that was forbidden to the human eye. But this woman held immense power, this was evident in the wide path that split before her as they made their way past the frightened Mariani kinsfolk.

The other six women followed behind, step by step with alarming precision. They wore dull robes and their heads were bowed down, their hands folded in front. Like meek, obedient sheep.

Painstakingly slow the procession made their way to the far edge of the village, to the Asani homestead. At the entrance the six followers formed a line blocking the path and the tall lady with the pale face entered alone. All was dead silent.

Johari's head was in a daze. Just what was going on? Who were this people? What did they want? He edged closer to get a closer view and caught a glimpse of the followers devoid faces, so emotionless, so still.

Then the mysterious dark woman appeared once more, this time not alone. She led a young girl of about Johari's age by her right hand. She had short hair and a radiant smooth face. But her beautiful face was frozen in fear. Johari could see she was trembling but she was not resisting.

Johari was still staring dumbfounded when recognition hit him hard at once.

"Teriah!" he gasped.

At once Johari jumped into motion, frantically pushing past the stationary frightful village folk, trying to get to her. Teriah his long lost childhood friend.

Old forgotten memories started to flood Joharis mind, of how they used to play, of them running through the tall savannah grass, of them splashing in the rain. So so long ago, her sweet laughter echoed again and again in his mind.

He remembered how she had stopped coming out to play. How his grandfather had warned him not to look for her ever again or even utter her name. That she was gone.

What in the world was going on?

Teriah what happened to you?