-4-
The desert sun rested low on the undulating horizon, dusky shadows extending across the sandy valley like the fingers of the Sau; the giants some say once inhabited the land. The inhabitants of Kel Tellak, the new dwellers of the valley, were far from giants in stature but much taller in reputation. Feared by throughout the Sahel, known for their ferocity and ruthlessness, they were a direct reflection of their Akedamel, the Ihaggaren known as El Tellak, ‘The Dagger.’
Dusk was the time for the evening meal, a game or two of oware and the sound of asak drifting through the kel. But this dusk was one of a serious mood. Tellak’s entire kel held vigil outside his tent. The senior women gathered about the entrance, their rhythmic chanting echoing off the nearby peaks. Behind them sat Tallek’s family; his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. They chanted as well, although their cadence was frequently broken by tears and cries of anguish. Beyond them stood his warriors, each man draped in indigo robes, silent like the surrounding mountains. Their takoubas hung from their shoulders; they held their allarhs and spears at their sides. Beyond them was the remainder of the kel, eklans and others who served Tellak. Their faces revealed a mix of emotions, some worried, some hopeful and some expectant. The chanting continued through most of the night but no one strayed. It had been a long time since El Tellak was wounded so, a long time since he’d been close to death. Some gathered to pray for him; others to see him die.
Tellak cracked open his eyes expecting to see the judgmental glares of the ancestors. To his relief he gazed into Lemtuna’s gentle face. He felt a cool towel on his forehead then a warm kiss on his cheek.
“You have returned,” she whispered.
“You know I can’t die,” he joked.
“You can and you almost did,” she replied. He watched her as she checked the goatskin bag containing the serum. A thin tube ran from the suspended bag to his leg, entering him through a vein behind his knee. Despite the elixir he felt dangerously weak.
“Who did this to you?” Lemtuna asked.
“The Songhai eklan,” he said, bitterness slipping into his voice.
“The new one?”
Tellak nodded.
“I knew there was something strange about him,” Lemtuna said. “He seemed too eager to please for someone who just lost his freedom.”
“He will pay for this,” Tellak promised.
“I’m sure he will. Your sister hunts for him now. But now you must rest.”
She sat beside him, wiping his forehead again.
“What is it?” he asked.
She hesitated before answering. “It’s the serum. It’s taking longer to heal you.”
“Then change the formula,” he replied.
“It’s not that simple,” she replied. “You know this. It’s not only that. You have to take more now. The residual effect is not lasting as long.”
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“You’re developing immunity to the serum. Soon it won’t help you.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know. Next week, a decade, I’m not certain. But it will happen. Now is the time for you to seriously consider stepping down.”
“No,” he said. “There is still much to do.”
“Menna is capable,” Lemtuna said. “And she is anxious.”
El Tellak glared at his wife. “Don’t speak to me of Menna. She will never rule the kel as long as I’m alive.”
“I won’t argue with you, Tel. Not today. But we will discuss this later. You can be sure of it.”
Tellak closed his eyes as he smiled. Lemtuna worried too much. As strength seeped back into his body her warning took on less meaning. He was strong and would remain so until his task was complete. For untold years the Ihaggaren roamed Tinariwen as separate kels, fighting each other as much as they battled the surrounding Soninke, Berbers, Arabs, Bambara and others. But he was determined to make his people an empire that spanned the length of the Sahel. God had given him the strength and skill and Lemtuna’s serum. His growing alliance with the Prussians was a great help as well, although that relationship might sour with the loss the book. He would have to rectify the situation.
Tellak struggled to sit up as the flap was swept aside. Two women entered, the older woman covered in indigo, her tasurwart embellished with jewels and beads. The younger woman was dressed in a simple green dress but heavily armed. Daggers belts crisscrossed her upper torso, an elaborate baldric containing an ivory hilted takouba hanging from her shoulder. The woman were related, the younger woman’s face a reflection of her elder. Both frowned at Lemtuna before turning their attention to him.
“Mother, sister,” he said.
His mother came to his side.
“Are you recovered,” she asked.
Tellak struggled to sit up. “I’m better.”
“There is no more time,” she replied. “Your people have waited too long. They are beginning to doubt your strength.”
“Some are hoping you don’t emerge,” his sister added.
“I don’t need to hear the obvious, Menna,” he replied.
Lemtuna stood opposite his mother.
“He needs a few more minutes.”
“Be quiet girl!” his mother said. “No one speaks to you.”
“But I speak to you,” Lemtuna retorted.
The woman glared at each other. Tellak saw Menna’s right hand grip her takouba hilt, her eyes on Lemtuna. He cleared his throat to get her attention; their eyes met then she released the hilt.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand what is at stake here since you are not one of us,” his mother finally said. “This is a critical moment.”
Lemtuna opened her mouth to protest but Tellak raised his hand.
“She is right, as always,” he said. His acknowledgement of his mother’s wisdom made her smile and gave her the victory she sought over his wife.
“Give me something,” he said to Lemtuna.
“You will feel worse once it wears off,” she warned.
“So be it,” he said. “They need only to see me for a moment. Once they know I am restored they will leave knowing El Tellak still rules.”
Lemtuna rummaged through her herb box then returned with a small white pill and a cup of water. Tellak took the pill then washed it down with a gulp; a wave of artificial energy rushed through his body. His heart beat hard against his chest as he stood. His mother nodded in approval then walked to the then flap. Tellak followed, Menna close to his side.
“Did you find him?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back. “But I know who he is and I know who he belongs to.”
“That’s not enough,” he replied.
“I’ll leave at daybreak,” she said.
“You’ll leave tonight,” El Tellak said. “Don’t return unless you have him.”
Silence sat heavy between him. Menna was his sister, but there was no love between him. Five years ago she challenged him for leadership of the kel. It was a bloody, brutal battle which he barely won. Their wounds were so grave that Lemtuna was sent for to heal them. He was sure she would have challenged him again if it wasn’t for the serum Lemtuna administered to him. But she would be obedient for now, which was all he could ask.
“You have my word, El Tellak,” Menna finally said.
Tellak grinned. He would have his revenge, if Menna didn’t claim it first. Either way, the false slave would die by Tuareg hands.