Nomvula

54. And All Its Blinding Light

Ndlovu's gaze made water of Asanda's spine.

"Don't think me cruel," he said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes as he leaned his head against the door. "I could have locked you away the moment you came into my home, but then I wouldn't be able to see what resourcefulness Nomvula had stuffed into the two of you."

The bronze point of Khaya's spear winked as his fist tightened. "By all means, Chief, stand up and--"

"Khaya, don't." Asanda put a hand on his arm. "A fight is the last thing we need."

"If it's a ruckus you're worried about, don't be," Ndlovu said. "Nothing would make me happier than letting you both go. You drug my daughter, desecrate guestrite, and plot kidnapping, yet I know no better punishment than letting you go home before the sun rises today."

Asanda stepped forward, keeping Khaya at her back. "Great Elephant, if you don't plan to hold us, then let us go."

"The trouble with that, Elder Child, is that I promised your mother I wouldn't."

"Keep her name out of your mouth," Khaya said.

"Keep her spirit out of yours. You who is the youngest and yet most full of her violence. More than your fighting brother, more than your twin-spirited sister."

Khaya stepped right and Asanda moved to block him a moment before he ducked left. She caught his wrist as he walked past, but it was like grabbing stone. He broke her grip gently, but he didn't break stride.

"Idiot," she said, clawing at his shoulder. "We need to go. Whatever Ma is planning, we need to get back before she follows through."

"Let him come," Ndlovu said. His eyes were dark stones rimmed by candlelight. "Let him mourn as men must, or he will stay a boy forever."

The shift in Khaya's spirit was day to night. His anger struck Asanda like ice water on burnt skin, so sharp the ancestral plane briefly melted into the physical one. She was quick in regaining her focus, but by then, Khaya was halfway across the room, his club poised to bat away anything in its path, his spear arm coiled to skewer. He was one moment strength, the next speed and balance, the next guttural, pained violence.

Ndlovu was all those things at once.

The Chief lurched forward onto the balls of his feet and pushed off with thighs like iron chords. He ducked under a swinging club and put shoulder to belly so hard Khaya's feet left the ground. Ndlovu rose with him, hooking one leg with an arm, and pinning the spear with the other. Asanda watched in horror as he held her brother in mid-air with all the effort of an elephant lifting a boar before launching him halfway across the room.

Too balanced for his own good, Khaya landed on his feet and tried to rush again. Having disarmed it through some deft trick, Ndlovu still had the spear under his arm. He dropped it as his eyes followed the club. Khaya changed direction at the last minute, and the Chief leaned into the feint. Khaya sidestepped again, shifting his considerable weight with powerful legs, and swung his club in a vicious flat arc aimed at Ndlovu's exposed ribs.

Ndlovu twisted at the last moment and struck Khaya's grip with his fist. There was the wet pop of cartilage, followed by the thud of the club hitting the floor, then Khaya's delayed scream pushing through gritted teeth as he stumbled out of Ndlovu's reach. The Chief watched him retreat with little interest.

"Striking an unarmed man is a disgrace to your father," Ndlovu said. "Failing to kill one is a disgrace to your mother."

Khaya stepped forward again but this time Asanda was quick enough to get in his way. He made to push her aside before she grabbed his hand and put her thumbs over his dislocated fingers.