The Call of Zulina (32 page)

Lingongo topped the road just in time to hear the first explosion and see a wall of flames roar across the front of the fortress. Outlined by the light of the leaping fire, she saw the slaves huddle together and cringe as far back as they possibly could.

But where was Joseph?

Finally, as she moved closer, she spied her husband, standing alone. With no other sound but the thunder of fire she heard him pour out his mournful lament, “Me slave fortress! ’Tis ruined! ’Tis ruined!”

A second explosion rocked the ground. Then a sudden flurry of wind snatched at the blaze and sent a shower of sparks soaring into the dawn sky. For many minutes, Lingongo contemplated the scene that flared before her, and she weighed her options. Carefully … deliberately … the shock disappeared from her face. In its place—triumph.

Carrying herself regally, Lingongo glided over to stand beside Joseph.

“We have done it, Husband!” she announced. “The fire will burn the vulnerable parts of the fortress and smoke out the slaves. My father's warriors are on their way, and they will destroy the survivors. Soon the rebellion will be completely crushed. Soon everyone will know we are the winners—you and I!”

But there was no sign of victory on Joseph's face.

“All me slaves wi’ be dead,” he said bitterly. “Even me prize breeders, burned to a crisp. Wot kind o’ win is that, I asks ye?”

Lingongo reached over and laid her hand lightly on Joseph's arm. Then in a voice as sweet and smooth as Ikoma honey, she said, “Must I remind you about the wars of which my father spoke, Joseph? Or that we have a storeroom filled with firearms and gunpowder ready for trade?”

Joseph's countenance lightened immediately.

“We can get all the slaves we want, my husband,” Lingongo purred. “Fresh ones who fear their masters and do not dare think of rebellion.”

The slightest smile tugged at the corners of Joseph's mouth.

“And we will set those fresh slaves to work cleaning up Zulina. Very soon our compound will again work as it should. And it will be far better and far more prosperous than ever before.”

Prosperity and success. And vindication. The very thought of all of it brought the ruddiness flushing back to Joseph's cheeks.

Lingongo smiled. Oh, she knew her husband well.

B
efore the first glimmer of light had made its way into the dungeon, a soft thump awakened Grace. It could have been anything, of course—maybe a stone tumbling from a damaged wall or even someone knocking into someone else in the dark. But then the whoosh had followed so quickly. Perhaps it was because everyone had already been through so much that they rolled over and slept on
—
but not Grace. And not Cabeto.

“It's started!” Grace said under her breath.

Grace awakened Antonio and Ikem, and Cabeto roused Sunba and Tungo. Then Grace touched Safya and Oyo.

“Get ready,” Grace whispered. “Something is about to happen.”

“Gather up guns,” Cabeto told the others. “Whatever comes to us, we will be ready.” He knew the language of the talking drums. Although he did not speak of it to Grace, he knew the king's warriors would be there, and that they would fight alongside Princess Lingongo.

As dawn stretched across the parched savanna, that first thump had exploded and rocked the dungeon. Even as the original captives spread out among the sleepy men and women and calmly but urgently roused each person, shouts bellowed from outside. Then a guard stuck his head through the door and screamed, “Flames! All around us! Flames reaching to the sky!”

“Stay at peace,” Cabeto called out. “We must use our heads. We cannot allow our fear to take over.”

“What is it?” Hola mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. There was terror in his voice, and he clung tightly to Ikem. “What's happening?”

“We do not know,” Ikem told the boy. “But whatever comes to us, we will stand together.” His voice was tender, and he made no attempt to push Hola away.

Another guard cried though the door: “Fire is everywhere!”

Amid a fresh wave of panicked screams, Grace said, “But rock will not burn, and this fortress is nothing but rock.”

“Rock all around us, yes,” Cabeto said soberly. “But the supports for the rocks, they are all of wood.”

Yes! Now Grace could see that timber beams did indeed anchor the four corners of the room. The doors were solid slabs of wood—the door frames too. There was enough wood in the dungeon alone to smother all of them in smoke.

Another explosion rocked Zulina—this one so strong that part of the outer wall collapsed.

“We have to get everyone out of here!” Grace cried in a hoarse whisper. Immediately, the irony of her words struck her, and she moaned, “But get them to where? Where can we go?”

“iPuedo demostrarte adonde ir!”
Antonio said. “I can show you where!
Es grande
, a storage room in the center of the fortress where fire and smoke cannot reach us. Follow me and I will take you there!
iVamanos!”

Cabeto jumped up on top of a water barrel. “Listen!” he called out. “The lioness and the slave trader attack us with smoking fire! There is only one place of safety—deep inside the fortress. We must go there now, and we must move quickly!”

“If we go deep inside the fortress, we will be trapped by flames and smoke!”

Tungo yelled.

“No,” Cabeto pleaded. “We will go to a place where fire and smoke cannot reach us.”

Another explosion rocked the room, so strong it knocked ceiling beams loose. The wind blew billows of smoke through gaping holes. Coughing turned to choking, and choking to desperate gasps. A loud wail rose from the back of the crowded room. Off to one side, someone screamed and pushed forward toward the door, the only way out of the dungeon.

“Grace and Antonio will be outside the door,” Cabeto said with a calm that belied the urgency grabbing at his voice. “Move out quickly so you can go with them. Now!”

As one, the entire crowd swarmed toward the door.

Across the room, Tungo leaped on top of an empty water keg. “Cabeto leads you to your death!” he yelled. “Stay here with me, where you can see the outside! The stone walls protect us here.”

A fourth boom rocked the room, and part of the ceiling fell in.

“Go! Now!” Cabeto cried. “Quickly!”

“No! Stay!” yelled Tungo. His eyes flashed in angry defiance. “From now on, I am your leader!”

As beams around the tunnel door burst into flames and smoke poured down the corridor, shrieks echoed through the dungeon. People surged forward, every one frantically pushing the one ahead.

“Come with me to the heart of the fortress,” Cabeto called through the rising panic. “No wood is there to burn—no gun- powder to explode. Come, I beg you. Come to where you will be safe!”

Cabeto moved up behind the agitated procession that pushed its way toward the door.

“Go and you will die!” Tungo cried. “Follow me! I will be your new leader! I will be your chief!”

Hola, paralyzed by fear and confusion, stood rooted to one spot. Cabeto hastened over to the boy and grabbed his hand. “This way,” he said. “Come with me.”

“I can’t find Safya!” the boy cried frantically.

“She searches for you,” Cabeto said. “Come along. We will find her.”

A loud blast sprayed shards of rock down on them, and then a ball of flame exploded in the center of the dungeon. With smoke-muffled screams, terrified people hit and pushed and stomped anyone between them and the way out.

“Do not let your fear control you!” Cabeto pleaded. “Be calm or no one will get out!”

From the doorway, a voice beckoned—strong, confident, and with comforting assurance. It was Grace. “Come this way,” she called. “Step through carefully. Give me your hand. Next person now. Quick, but with care. No, no, you must not push. Good, good. We will all make it. Not many people left now. Come along. Come along.”

Cabeto took Hola's hand. Flooded with hope, he threw back his head and laughed out loud. Together the man and the boy lifted up those who had fallen and helped them back to their feet. They urged on those too overcome with fear to move. Those who could not walk, they picked up and carried up the stairs and out the door.

With Grace's help and encouragement, the roomful of people moved quickly through the doorway. Even so, smoke closed in on them and flames licked at the door.

Cabeto gave Hola a push. “Go on, boy,” he said. “Get out now.”

“No,” Hola insisted. “I want to stay and help you.”

Cabeto picked up the boy and lifted him through the door. Then he turned back to get one more woman who lay injured. Just as he reached her, another explosion rocked the dungeon. A blazing beam overhead cracked and toppled. Cabeto jumped aside, but the beam crashed down too quickly for him to get out of its way.

“Cabeto!” Grace screamed as she darted toward him.

Sunba shouted, “Antonio has already gone, Grace. You go after him. The people will follow you! I’ll get Cabeto and meet you in Antonio's storeroom!”

“But—” Grace protested.

“Go!” Sunba ordered. “Lead the people or they will all die with Tungo!”

Fighting back tears, Grace grabbed Hola's hand and dragged him alongside her as she rushed to the head of the crowd.

“I don’t want to go without Cabeto!” Hola sobbed.

“Neither do I,” Grace said. “But we will go anyway. Cabeto is in the hands of God. We all are.”

Explosion after explosion rained down so fast it felt as though the earth would split open. Flames licked through gaps in the stone, igniting wooden beams and doorframes.

“Look!” Hola gasped. He pointed to a small opening in the stone wall and ran over to peer through. Grace was right behind him. From that vantage point, they could see the front of the fortress. Everything was ablaze—the huge doors, the wooden bridges and walkways, the scaffoldings and facades—all a wall of roaring flames.

“Come!” Grace ordered hoarsely. “Hurry!” She ran blindly, pulling Hola along with her.

Up ahead, Grace heard the ragged panting of people held too long in chains. As they struggled to keep up with Antonio's long strides, the slap, slap, slap of their bare feet on the stone floor mixed with weary gasps. Behind them, screams and shrieks from those who chose to stay behind with Tungo stabbed the air.

“In here!” Antonio called.

Only after everyone else was safely inside did Grace duck into the windowless room.

“iEsta cada uno aqui?”
Antonio asked. “If everyone is in, shut the door!”

“But Cabeto and Sunba aren’t here!” Hola cried, his voice rising in panic. “They won’t be able to find us with the door shut!”

“Sí,”
Antonio answered gently. “They will find us … and very soon.”

In utter exhaustion, Grace gasped and choked like everyone else. She sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall. How could these stones dare to be so cool and damp when the rest of the fortress raged in flames? Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, Grace allowed her aching eyes to drift closed.

“Cabeto,” she said softly. “Oh, poor, poor Cabeto.”

If he didn’t come, how could everyone go on? What would they do without a leader? If Cabeto didn’t come, what was
Grace
to do? How could
she
go on?

Oh, and what of all the others? The ones who stayed behind with Tungo? At least they had a chance. But what of all those who never made it out of their cells? What about Yao? Poor Yao, who so longed to be free! What about him?

A
s the harmattan winds whipped up the inferno at Zulina fortress, the ground rocked with blasts more powerful than any thunder. Terrified villagers fell prostrate before the sacred baobab tree and beseeched friendly spirits to beg the ancestors to have mercy. On the roads that went both ways from the tree, men and women trembled and sank to the ground, moaning as they waited for their lives to end. The angry winds carried no words of hope, for the talking drums had fallen silent.