"We love you," Alejandro said, holding his head firm as another devastating smack waffled the plane's underbelly.
Smoke had begun filling the cabin and the stench of gasoline filled the air as the aircraft skipped against the ground like a pebble skeeting across the surface of a pond. Carlos squinted, refusing to allow the thick black plumes to eclipse the faces he'd loved and missed so dearly. Hands touched him, held him, caressed him, his sister, his cousins, his boys, they had all come. "I want to go home," he croaked, clutching his mother's hand so tightly that her silvery essence oozed between his fingers. "I'm so sorry..."
Water lapped at his feet, a hard rocking collision threw his body forward, and something soft braced his neck and spine as the slam lifted him and set him back down hard, jarring his teeth to near chipping. Then everything went silent and black within the cabin.
He could hear people coughing; the aircraft wasn't moving. He heard someone vomit, someone was sobbing. Carlos quickly felt his torso, his neck, and his legs with his hands. He seemed to be in one piece. His seat belt was mysteriously unfastened. He instantly stood, and covered his nose and mouth against the smoke.
It was blinding, but he could somehow see through it. Gasoline fumes made him bend and hurl as he moved forward, ignoring the chunks of vomit that now covered his sandaled feet. They'd made it. Some of them had. He began calling out names as he blindly rushed forward. Then his sight became like laser, cutting through the smoke in a silver wash. He picked Dan up and flung him over his shoulder, then yanked at Big Mike's uninjured arm, shoving at Shabazz and Rider as he went for the door. "We have to get out of here before she explodes!"
Damali looked down at the food with disinterest and tried to summon grace. Her stomach was in jumpy knots. But in order to proceed she'd have to feign patience for her gracious host. Something was so wrong she could barely sit in her seat. She could feel it as her newfound friend prattled on about his homeland.
"You eat it like this," he said, tearing off a piece of the spongy, foam rubber-like bread from the common bowl they shared. "The bread is calledinjera , and you dip it this way to get thealicha wat up and into your mouth." He extended his hand for her to take a small taste, his eyes holding expected excitement.
Damali leaned forward and took in the mildly spiced concoction of vegetables and forced a smile. Under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed the tasty dish, even though she wasn't ready for the Ethiopian way of sharing a communal bowl. The custom was just a tad too familiar for her liking, and not using utensils to share the dish was somewhat disturbing-she had no idea where this man's hands had been, but at least she'd blessed the food first. Besides, for all her powers, she couldn't tell if this was just an Ethiopian patience endurance test, or if this man was stalling because he was subtlety hitting on her.
She took a swig of sparkling bottled water, which she'd learned was calledambo . "This is very good," she said, truly meaning it, but needing to get going more than she needed to eat. However, she was quickly learning that in African culture, if you wanted to get anything done, one had to employ patience-eat with people, break bread, and pass a quiet vibe test-thenyou could handle business.
"But you cannot eat like a bird," the man said laughing. "Have someshin . You must be strong for the journey."
Her nerves were about to snap, but she leaned forward and accepted a taste of the spicy lentil and chickpea mush with a smile. It slowly dawned upon her that the sooner she just ate the dag-gone food without picking at it with resistance in her soul, the quicker they'd be on their way. Damali took a deep breath and sighed, and then tore off a large section of bread to begin scarfing down the communal meal.
"That's more like it," he said, clapping his hands in triumph. "Try themesser -it's black lentils, andye som megeb -that's a medley of vegetable dishes we traditionally serve during fasting."
Damali nodded, mumbling her assent to try whatever, as long as they got going soon. "Tell me about this area, Askum," she said through a gooey mouthful of food. She had to understand what the link was here.
"Ah... Askum..." her guide said. "First, to discuss Askum, we must understand the history of this country."
Damali groaned, but when he gave her a fishy look, she passed the sound off as her enjoyment of the food.
That seemed to mollify him. He perked up, widened his smile, and leaned forward with great pride in his expression.
"Our country is known as the Cradle of Humanity. It all startedhere , they even have the bones of Lucy in the National Museum for proof. But we do not need the bones to tell us what we know," he quipped, sitting up taller in his chair. He glanced around the outdoor cafe and waved his arm toward the diversely colorful moving throng of people that milled about. "We were the only ones, theonly country, that was never colonized."
Just as his long, winding history lesson was about to bore her to tears, she got part of the answer she was searching for.It all started here . In the Cradle of Humanity. The first Eden. Lilith's origin in the garden before she banished herself. And these people had been fighting everything she'd wrought since the beginning of time.
CHAPTER NINE
"Tell me about Lilith," Damali said, her eyes never leaving the man's face.
He brought his attention back to Damali and stared at her with a firm gaze. "We are about the size of Texas on your country's map. But we withstood the greatest powers of the eras, and were never conquered to be made slaves. With all we had against us, we used our natural environment-the Simien Mountains, and those to the north, where they call it Eritrea now, but they are the same as us, Ethiopians. All one family, same people, but split by wars and misunderstandings too much to discuss now. However, when we were one, evil could not come down from the Red Sea and take us; we stood our ground. You follow?"
Damali stopped breathing for a second and watched this man's eyes, nodding yes slowly. Although he hadn't answered her question directly, the words, "Red Sea," echoed in her mind like a train-crossing warning. Although she didn't understand it all, she understood enough. She also understood his need to be cagey about delivering the information. Level seven ruled the airwaves and could pick up a message in an instant. She'd been foolish to mention Lilith's name openly and admonished herself to not do that again.
But the fact remained, a tiny country that sat like a spec within the huge continent had withstood an invading power that had ransacked and razed nations ten times its size, but these humble folks with no arms to speak of had never succumbed. And that was possible because for all their diversity, they had all come together to fight as one and take a stand. Yeah, she definitely got it. Her skin itched to get reunited with her team. She almost stood and dragged the man by his arm, but decided that would be rude and too rash.
She leaned forward instead. "How did you do it?" Her voice came out an awed whisper.
"We are God's people," he said with a wave of his hand. "We are part of old Kemet, which stretched to the Nubian Empire." He leaned in close over the food and peered at her. "Askum will show you. We know our ancestors back to five thousand years. Even the queen of Sheba visited King Solomon joining nations, and her son became the first emperor here, this we know for a fact. We had the Nile, water, a source of power and commerce. We predate biblical history of Christ-we were Jews, first, and then we converted... some became Muslims. Fifty-fifty," he said, offhandedly.
Again, the whole issue of water. The clue was said so obtusely that if she hadn't been listening carefully, she would have missed it... just like the Druid told her-listen.
"I got it," Damali said, looking into his eyes without blinking. "I'm home, back in the last frontier of people who were never taken." As she said it, she could feel the earth's energy beneath her feet soaking into her. "They were outgunned, outmanned, but were not conquered-and they came from a complex blend of the Nubian and Kemetian empires."
He smiled and clasped her hands like a pleased schoolteacher. "Be inspired. Have faith and hope. Famines, droughts, wars, disease... plagues, but we never bowed to greater powers. Remember from your teachings that the meek shall inherit the earth. But we are not meek, the word was mistranslated-we believe it is the small, the downtrodden, andwe have the original Bible." He stopped as though allowing that last point to sink in. "The original one, the orthodox one, and our people, although small, have held their ground." He drew back and nodded. "Hold yours against that which comes against you."
"Always been my plan," Damali said, her voice strong. "I just need a good blade."
"We will travel by air," he said, dismissing her request for a weapon.