PART ONE: THE BUSHLAND

Chapter Eight- The Duel

Things did seem to return to normal for a while. The tribe accepted the new names of the sibling leaders, as they all understood it was part of their transformation into godhood. Osiris and Baubo were constantly together with the shaman for the next few days. They hurried from place to place, seeming very busy. The camp folk just assumed it was related to the upcoming moon ceremony.

The ceremony came and went. During this time, the shaman began to attempt keeping the brother and sister apart, at least in public. However, they were often seen meeting late at night, when the old man slept. Also, Baubo would refuse to spend any time with the huntsmen. After a while, Hara began to grow suspicious. He refused to call Baubo by her new name.

One day, he met her by the pool as she was washing clothes. He called out to her, “Sisi…” She did not respond, “SISI!” Still nothing, “SISI!!!” She turned around with a grimace.

“That is not my name. I have been born again. You must call me by my goddess name, Baubo.” She looked upon him with a stern brow.

“I know something strange is in the air. You can’t fool me.” He walked closer. “ I see you got that look in your eye, as if two became one… as if one became two. I know the glow of love. You won’t be seen with me… I know the truth!”

“Wha…”

“That’s right! You have fallen for Gobi!!!”

“No! That’s not true! I do love you… it’s just… you don’t understand!”

“Nonsense! You have played me like a fool! I am not blind. I see your eyes glow for another.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her.

Suddenly, Osiris approached. He silently moved right next to Hara. When he was inches from his ear, he boomed his voice into the air, “What’s going on here?” Hara and Baubo jumped, “Are you harassing my sister, Hara?”

“No, I was just leaving.” He stormed off back to the camp.

Over the next few moon cycles, tension grew in the camp. Everyone resented and distrusted the leaders. Hara feuded with Gobi over every little matter. Often there were scuffles between the two, in which Big Moja would have to break up with great effort and forceful shoving. The hunts were lean and the trips were short, as no one could tolerate each other long enough to commit to the long journey and big kills. Gone were the days of great praise for Orion, the ultimate hunter and hero. Now, there was only Osiris: the stoic mystery: the silent night creeper: the husk of Orion.

Soon, the women began to take note of Baubo. She had not been on schedule with their moon cycles. She was taking her bloodletting times in solitude. She was hobbling a bit slowly, and growing in her belly. They had quite a different explanation for the glow in her eyes. It seemed that Wiseherder’s baptism had not wiped away all consequences of the past. Although nobody among the tribe had the slightest idea just how queer the truth really was. None of them knew just how deep the troubled waters would soon run.

Many cycles passed, and the truth was plain to see, even for the men. Baubo was seeded with the gift of life. The women held her a celebration and began crafting gifts for the expected child: a cradle of reeds, thick swaddling fur cloths, clay bowls and wooden toys. Baubo was filled with joy and anticipation.

Not everyone felt so joyful. Once it was clear that Baubo was expecting a baby, both Hara and Gobi became convinced that the other was secretly the father. Truth be told, they were both madly in love with her, and extremely jealous. The two huntsman had always been best friends, even as small children, but were fiercely competitive with each other in all activities. Since nobody was ever able to outpace Orion in anything, Hara and Gobi were constantly vying for second place. As much as they would push each other, it was always friendly competition… until now.

Day after day, they bickered, until it became an outright feud. Nobody could stand to be around the two of them, while they argued. It often broke out into wrestling matches, with Big Moja always stepping in. Finally, when it became unbearable, Moja told them to just settle it, once and for all, on Duel Hill.

Duel Hill was a bald and craggy mound, just past the reeds on the opposite side of The Pool. The tribe settled major disputes between rivals up there, including the right to be chief. During these contests, combatants were armed with a club. They covered themselves in white marsh clash and wore wooden masks, decorated to resemble the grotesque faces of The Goblins: terrible bloodthirsty creatures who stalked the night, devoured children. They were the devoted minions of Marxuss, the god of war, and feared by all tribes of the known world.

There were three ways to win one of these duels: knock your opponent off the hill, shatter their mask, or get them to submit. Once the contest was decided, the loser could no longer bring up the dispute to which the duel was centered around. This ancient custom had been followed from time immemorial, and honored always, preventing many deaths and even full scale tribal warfare. All the tribes in the land honored this code; from the Bushland people, to the Highland tribes, the Valley Dwellers beyond, and even those who lived in the Deep Jungle.

Once it was decided, the camp prepared for the match. Hara and Gobi set off to find their clubs, which could be no longer or thicker than the chief’s arm. The whole village helped to decorate the fearsome masks and prepared food and drinks to carry up to Duel Hill for the spectators. The masks were terrifying, with big white eyes, with angry brows; sharp, pointy noses, with long flaring nostrils; and gigantic teeth jutting out from their lower jaws.

Soon, the time had come. Clubs were approved by the shaman and the masks were donned by the mud clad warriors. The camp took its march to the hill at the height of the arc of the sun. They traveled through the camp and all the way past all the bathing creatures as angels hovered over of The Pool.

When they reached the hill, Wiseherder carefully scaled the rocks with his cane. He reached the summit and raised his hands. Everyone stopped, except the two combatants. They approached Duel Hill, clad in their goblin masks and mud. They both quickly scaled the crag rocks and made it to the grassy top of the mound. They faced each other, while the shaman stood between them as the judge of the contest.

The two men touched clubs and agreed to the rules set out by Wiseherder. They also agreed that this event would settle their dispute and be the end of the matter. The fight was about to begin.

When Wiseherder lowered his hands, Hara and Gobi rushed forward. They both swung and their club clashed. Hara fell backwards. From his knees, he swung wildly and landed a glancing blow to Gobi’s ribs. Gobi parried a few shots as Hara rose to his feet in offense.

The two attacked each other for awhile with clumsy attempts and near misses. There was a bit of shoving and Hara grabbed Gobi’s free arm. Gobi wailed down upon Hara’s mask with a swift and powerful blow. His mask cracked and exposed his face.

Wiseherder jumped between them and called match in favor of Gobi, but Hara refused to stop. He pushed the old man aside, as his shatter mask fell off his head. He charged at Gobi with a flurry of strikes. Gobi raised his club to block and dug into his stance, turning his head away from the attack.

“Hara, stop! It’s over. Let’s go home.”

“No!” He shouted and continued the aggression, “This is not settled!” Hara kicked Gobi in his shins and walloped him with the club, knocking him over and fracturing his mask. Hara unleashed hit after hit down upon his friend until the mask was decimated.

Even then, he did not stop. He raised his arms to inflict a knockout bludgeon. Gobi lunged forward from the ground and tackled Hara’s ankles. They were near the edge and began to roll off of the grassy hilltop. Wiseherder rushed over to grab the men, but only caught Gobi by his leg. Hara barreled down the hill and plummeted into the sharp rocks below. He continued to fall all the way to the base of Duel Hill, which was a pile of beige, jagged stone. He cracked his head on a pointed crag. It punctured his temple and blood shot everywhere.

Gobi and the shaman rushed down from the summit as fast as they could. The crowd at the base grabbed him and pulled him away from the stones, but it was too late. Hara was dead on impact. Gobi screamed in despair. Baubo fell to her knees and held the lifeless corpse. Wiseherder began gathering twigs to burn for ash. There would be another funeral ceremony.

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