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By
Anthony Nana Kwamu
Here is the story of the general and his daughter, as it is recorded in the chronicler’s journals in monastery in Debre Damo.
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Abyssinia, 1274 AD. The people of Roha chanted, danced and made merry as the army marched in from the wars, with victory over the rebels in Amhara Province achieved at last. Thousands choked the roads, streets, terraces, balconies, and even rooftops as they welcomed the Emperor Yekuno Amlak, who rode at the head of his victorious army.
Next to the joyful emperor rode the general, who had nothing but a soft smile on his face, though it was he who by his own hand had slain Dahnay, the rebel commander, and ended the war. The general paid little attention to the deafening merriment that surrounded him, for he wished for nothing more at that moment than to be with the most important person in his life. She was Zeina. She was the general’s daughter.
Moments after the army’s entrance into the city a servant brought Zeina to meet her father, a sight which now produced the excitement in the general that was present in all others in the city. After many hugs and kisses between the soldier and his daughter had passed, he placed the girl on his horse and had her ride next to the emperor, while he himself took to foot and walked the remaining journey into the city amidst jubilating hordes as he led the horse that carried his daughter by its reins. On her father’s horse Zeina used her kirar harp to produce music so beautiful that her father could distinguish it from that produced by the countless others that filled their surroundings. It was music he had missed during all those days at the frontlines.
The general’s daughter had only seen ten summers, yet she carried herself with the grace of a lady. She was a beautiful child with eyes as wild as a rebel’s, yet as charming as the limitless beauty of the vast open sea, made even more so by the glittering gold beads that were plaited into her long-braided hair.
It was known that Dahnay, the rebel leader, before his death, had cursed the general.
“Count your days of joy, General,” Dahnay had said, “For misery and sorrow will soon be your company.”
Many say that this curse explains why six days after the general’s return, he was met by a terrible tragedy. His daughter, the lovely Zeina, fell off the balcony of her father’s house, broke her neck, and died!
Those were the beginning of dark days for the general, for his daughter’s death had not been like that of his wife, Zeina’s mother, seven summers prior. She passed on thirty days after she took ill. But Zeina had simply ceased to exist, taken from the general in a twinkling, her sweet voice, laughter, gentle footsteps, and soothing harp music to be heard no more.
Though the city shared his loss and mourned with him, the general wanted no more than to be left alone with his daughter. And so, it was that for three days he locked himself with his deceased daughter in a room and refused that she be buried; and during those days he refused to utter any words or see anyone, not even the emperor himself, who visited to pay his respects. It was the general’s servants and brothers who forced their way into his room, gently bore little Zeina away and laid her to rest carrying her harp, with many a man, woman, and child present to bid her farewell.
The general himself did not make his presence at his daughter’s funeral, refusing to believe she really was no more. Again, he barred himself in a room and again he refused to utter any words or see anyone, despite pleas from his brothers and sisters. For seven days he cursed God and for seven nights he cursed the devil, and in all those days he neither ate nor slept, nor did he even see the emperor, who once again attempted to convey his condolences to the general.
On the eighth day a man arrived—a mysterious traveler they called the Wizard of Sheba. With a single question posed through the door of the general’s room, he got the general’s ear.
“What if I tell you, My Lord,” he began, “That for a price I will bring your daughter back from the dead?”
And so, it was that after seven days the general burst out from his containment, a broken and wounded man, now dead bent upon seizing any chance to again walk by his daughter’s side.
“Name your price, man, and it shall be yours!” the general urged the traveler.
“Beyond what is visible to the eyes lies the Realm of the Undying. There are those there whose souls will soon the claimed by the Devil and those who soon will meet their maker. And then there are those who are the Sleepless, who will languish in the Realm of the Undying for all eternity. Your daughter’s soul lies in this realm. It was the devil who took her, but he realized too late that she was not meant for him. Now she walks about as one of the Undying in this realm, bound to suffer for all eternity until one may come from the land of the living to give life back to her soul and body.”
“Tell me, wizard,” the general exclaimed, “That you do not toy with me, for I will have your tongue pulled out and tied around your neck.”
“I do not toy with grieving men, My Lord. I only intend to erase their pain.”
“What must I do then, to bring back my Zeina?”
“You must descend the Realm of the Undying and slay Garone, the horned demon who watches over the agents of darkness in these parts and who guards the gates of Hell in the Realm of the Undying. Toss his head across the River of Fire and Poisons and you will have your daughter back. Toss his head into the river and his soul would also be destroyed, but you will not bring your daughter back. But you must bring me his horn. That is the price you must pay in exchange of my help. Promise this to me, My Lord, and I will help you get back your daughter!”
Then said the general to the mysterious wizard, with his hand on his sword, “For my daughter I will face a thousand demons and the devil himself, if your word be true.”
The wizard smiled, “T’is true, my lord” said he to the general, “T’is all true. You need but the courage to face the Devil.”
“My days of joyousness and peace are fled, so to the Devil I will go.”
And so, it was that in a manner only understood by the wizard, he transported the general to the mysterious Realm of the Undying to seek his daughter and claim the horn of Garone. It was a place not from this world, yet of this world, where no living being but the general trod. It was a dark place that seemed many countless leagues beneath the world, where dark frightening caves and unfamiliar features could be seen in every turn and direction. The only light here came from the countless fires produced from the many simmering volcanoes that threatened to shoot out their burdens to the surface.
The general understood the dangers he faced from Garone, the Devil’s Guard. But he feared little, for his urge to retrieve his daughter was stronger than his fear of becoming one of the Devil’s own should Garone prevail over him. The general wore around his neck an ornament provided by the wizard. It was the tailbone of the Bruth, a creature slain from this realm many generations prior, and whose tailbone was to make the diabolical powers of Garone harmless against the general, yet make Garone, his demons and minions mortal to the general’s sword and dagger.
After many hours of walking and searching within this realm, the general chanced upon a stone bridge guarded by man armed with a spear and a dagger. He made no move to give grant passage to the general.
“Give way, man,” demanded the general, “So I may go about my affairs.”
“I am no man,” said the bridge keeper, “I am a Sleepless, bound to languish here for all eternity and never again to return to the land of the living. What brings you here, man from the land of living?”
“I search for my daughter and the horned demon. I must slay him to take my daughter back with me. So I ask you to make way.”
“Return to land of the living now while you can, for should you cross this bridge as you intend, you may not seek what you search for and you too will become a Sleepless—a wondering soul who will never again find any rest. It is a fate ten times worse than death.”
“From where do you come?” asked the general.
“From whence I come, no man or woman may tread. It has been three centuries since I came to this realm, searching too for my sister’s son. I lacked the courage to face Garone, so I now suffer as a Sleepless, hoping that a living soul may put an end to my misery and send me to my maker or the Devil.”
“I wish you luck, Sir, but now you must make way so I may proceed with my affairs.”
“I see you wear the tailbone of the Bruth. Garone, the horned demon will fight you for it.”
“Be he the demon or demon not, he is my daughter’s taker, and by my sword I will slay my daughter’s taker.”
“Then be kind to me, Sir. Strike me dead with your sword and end my days of being a Sleepless.”
“I will do no such thing, Sir, for you have done me no harm. Your life is not mine to end.”
“Then, Sir, I challenge you!”
With this, the Sleepless being straightened his spear and lunged for the general, who wasted no time in running his sword through the heart of the Sleepless being. It closed its eyes and smiled, then turned into vapor. Whether it was claimed by the devil or its maker the general could not tell.
The general calmly walked across the bridge, crossing the point of no return. He could never again return to the land of the living, unless he could slay Garone.
It was many leagues beyond the bridge that Garone unleashed his minions against the general. For many hours creatures of all manner attacked the general as he searched for his daughter. Some were serpent-like, others were leopard-like, and many more were human-like. Yet the general slew them all. He was a skilled soldier and a determined father. Nothing was going to stop him from getting his daughter back.
After many more hours the general faced a winged creature. He slew the creature but lost his sword. Only his dagger was left to him, a nearly useless weapon in the face of foes determined to take from him the tailbone of the Bruth and to make him one of the Devil’s own. And so, it was that the general considered his fate sealed when a heavily armed soldier appeared before him. The general could not fight him with only a dagger.
“Man from the land of the living,” began the soldier in a gruff, miserable voice that heaped of pain and agony, “What brings you to the Realm of the Undying?”
“I search for my daughter,” replied the general. “She was taken from me some twelve days past.”
“The music maker.”
“Music maker?” asked the general.
“Her harp brings some peace to some of us with the beautiful music she produces. It reminds us of life as a living being.”
“You are a Sleepless.”
“I was the governor of the province of Trigray. I came to search for my wife so that my children could be happy again. This has been my home for many generations now.”
“Tell me, have you seen my daughter?”
“Follow the path through those hills,” he said, pointing towards some hills, “and you may find her across the River of Fire and Poisons.”
“I thank you, Governor of Tigray. Now I must be on my way, for my daughter must return home.”
“But you have no sword. The horned demon continues to gather forces to stop you.”
“I have my dagger and my bear hands to use if I must.”
“Put an end to my misery, man of the living, and my sword and shield can be yours.”
With a heavy heart the general plunged his dagger into the Sleepless being, who also turned into vapor and ceased to exist. And whether its soul went to its maker or to the Devil the general could not tell either. But its fine sword and bronze shield renewed the general’s hope of getting his daughter back.
The general followed the path through the hill, vigilant and watching every corner for signs of his daughter or his foes. And then he heard something. It was something that made his heart race. It was music, just as had been described by the second Sleepless. It was produced from a kirar harp and was as he had heard it before, played by his daughter on many an occasion. He sheathed his sword raced towards the music, but as he drew closer it seemed to drift further and further away.
“Zeina!” called the general, “Zeina! It is I, your father. Where are you?”
There was no response. The general continued his search, following the music. And then in a distance he spotted a human figure. It was Zeina. But the general only laid eyes on her for a very brief moment, for he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his back. He spun around with a loud cry. He had been stabbed by a human-sized ant-like creature that had suddenly ambushed him. The general’s sword flashed out of his sheath and the creature instantly ceased to exist—cut into a thousand pieces. Before the general could recover from his pain, several more creatures of all manner sprang from the darkness around him but all met the same fate as had the human-sized ant-like creature.
Without sparing a moment to dwell over his bleeding wound the general scurried to the place where he had seen his daughter. But she was not there. He called her name out repeatedly but no response was to be heard. He continued to follow the path through the hills, knowing that he was close to her and would soon take her back home. Zeina did not appear.
But the general saw something else. It was a man who stood still and silently several paces away from him. The man’s dark skin and black robes made him hardly discernible through the darkness. The general stood and held his sword at the ready, not daring to take another step forward until he understood his foe. The man moved closer to the general, not by walking, but by hovering, though he had no visible wings. But this did not alarm the general. He had seen stranger things in this realm.
“I am Babrel, General,” said the hovering man. “I have come to you with a plea.”
“Are you a Sleepless,” asked the general.
“No, General. I am a nevii. I gather selected souls from this realm to be taken to the realm of the maker of man.”
“You are an angel?”
“That is what they call us in the land of the living.”
“Then tell, angel of the Undying, where lies the River of Fire and Poisons?”
“Beyond the Hills of Saragoza and further beyond.”
“How do I get there,” begged the general.
“I will guide you, General, but first you must answer to my plea.”
“What is your plea?”
“The horned demon and his minions prevent me from gathering the selected souls of the Undying. There are those who by their misdeeds in the land of the living belong to Garone and the Devil. But there are those who by their deeds in that same land of the living are to spend eternity with the maker of man. But Garone and his minions intend to make them all part of the Devil’s own. I must defeat Garone’s minions so that the souls of those selected by the maker of man can be released unto him.”
“Of what use can I be to you,” asked the general, “I am but a man.”
“True, but you wear the tailbone of the Bruth around your neck. That gives you the power to slay Garone and his minions here in this realm. You have commanded men in battle before. I ask that you lead our soldiers to face Garone’s armies. As we speak, he assembles his forces against us.”
“What about my daughter?”
“She is one of the chosen Undying. Help us defeat Garone, and your daughter will return to you.”
“What must I do?” asked the general eagerly.
“Follow me.”
For many hours the general followed the hovering nevii over hills, caves and mountains, the drive to find his daughter making him oblivious to the bleeding wound sustained during his last battle with the horned demon’s minions. And then they came upon an open field where there waited many an armed soldier. The general looked at them in amazement, unsure of what to make of it all. But what caught his attention was the man who stood before them all. He was their leader. He was Dahnay, the rebel leader the general had slain in the land of the living many weeks prior.
“Who are they?” the general asked the nevii.
“They are some of the Undying chosen by the maker of men to join him in his realm. But they are trapped here by Garone’s actions. These men you see here have volunteered to fight Garone and his minions so that their souls and others may join their maker. All they need is a leader.”
The general walked to the Undying soldiers. He spoke to Dahnay, his enemy in the land of the living.
“They say it is your curse that killed my daughter.”
“Those were just angry words of a dying man I spoke, General. I hardly think words alone could account for your daughter’s tragedy.”
The general shook his head, acknowledging the wisdom of Dahnay’s words.
“You were chosen to meet your maker, commander?” The general began. “I would have thought you to be with Devil.”
“I fought against you for what I believed in, General,” Dahnay responded, “But I was always a good man.”
“Indeed, commander.” The general gave a friendly tap on the former rebel leader’s shoulder. “Together we will defeat Garone so that you may meet your maker.”
“I await that moment, General.”
The general looked at the soldiers.
“How many men stand before me?” the general asked of Dahnay.
“A hundred plus half a hundred more.”
“And our enemy?”
“Twice two hundred.”
“The odds are not in our favor, Dahnay.”
“The odds were less in your favor when you wiped out my army at Aksum,” Dahnay said with a smile.
“I had Iskinder, my adjutant with me. He was my strategist and closest friend. He fell at Akkele Guzu Province fighting what was left of the Zagwe princes.”
“You taught him all he knew, General. You will do just are good here without him.”
“I hope so, commander,” the general said with little confidence, “I hope so.”
“Please,” continued Commander Dahnay, “Say a few words to the men.”
The general turned to address the men.
“Many a time before, I have led men in battle—” he began, “Some to their slaughter, but most to glory. And I promise you, glory for your army it will be!”
A loud cheer erupted from the soldiers, hoping for a chance to have their souls depart the misery of the Realm of the Undying for the comfort and plenty offered by their maker.
The nevii led the general and his army to the foot of the hills of Saragoza, where Garone’s forces waited. Here, the fate of many a thousand souls would be decided. Whether they would be seized by the Devil, welcomed by their maker, or continue to languish in the Realm of the Undying would depend on the actions and skill of the general.
Both armies stood facing each other, each determined to slay the other. The general looked for the leader of Garone’s forces. It was not Garone himself. It was someone the general recognized. Yet the general could not have expected this person to be one of the Devil’s own. The general walked to the middle of both armies, where he was met by the surprising leader of the Devil’s forces.
“Commander Iskinder?” the general called the name of the Devil army’s leader, his former adjutant and strategist.
“General?” Iskinder called too, misery and anguish apparent through his voice.
“I was there when you fell. How is it that your soul should stand with the Devil? You are a good man. You helped build the Istifanos Monastery. You risked your life to save the priests at the Church of St. George during the Mohamedan raids.”
“I did things, general,” responded Iskinder, a hint of regret and sadness in his voice, “Most of them I dare not even speak off.”
“Ask your men to stand down and surrender, commander. Perhaps their maker may find a way to welcome them to his realm.”
“Too late, General. We must fight here and prevail so the devil may not take us to his realm. Though life here may be wretched it is a hundred times more bearable than in the Devil’s realm.”
“I cannot find the words to say to you, commander. You are a dear friend.”
“Worry yourself not, General. Count your blessings that you witness the happenings here today, for should you survive this and return to the land of the living with your daughter, avoid my mistakes and excesses, and perhaps you will avoid a fate such as mine and those of every man you see here in my army. Now go to your army and do what you must do, but know that I will fight with everything I have so that I do not lament in the Devil’s realm.”
The general and his former adjutant stared at each other for a brief moment, finding no appropriate parting words for so forlorn a moment. Then the general nodded, and with heavy hearts both men turned around walked towards their armies.
The battle raged for many countless hours. The lower numbers of the general’s army did little to handicap his men, for he was an experienced soldier who had triumphed over countless similar situations before. Many a Devil’s soldier attempted to snatch the Bruth’s tailbone that hung from the general’s necklace, but were unpleasantly met by the sharp sword or dagger of the hard fighting soldier.
Swords clashed, spears jabbed and plunged their way through bodies; arrows whizzed through the air dropping many a hapless victim. The nevii took no part in the fighting, but watched and hoped for a favorable end. So, at long last the battle between good and evil came to an end.
The bodies of the dead, including Dahnay’s, lay scattered about at the foot of the Hills of Saragoza, their souls soon to spend another cycle at the Realm of the Undying. The general, the nevii, and about a dozen of their men still stood. Iskinder and his forces all lay dead, slaughtered to the last one of them.
“What now?” asked the general of the nevii.
“You have done what I doubted was possible, General,” the nevii responded. “Now I can gather the selected souls from this realm to be welcomed by their maker.”
“What about my daughter?” the general inquired impatiently, anger in his voiced, “You promised!”
“I will honor my word to you, General. I will lead you to the River of Fire and Poisons. On the other side of it you will find your daughter.”
“And Garone? Where do I find him, for I too have to honor my word to a wizard?”
“Worry not about the horned demon. He will find you.”
The general, wanting to waste not another moment at taking his daughter home, instantly departed with the nevii for the River of Fire and Poisons. Some hours passed before they arrived at their destination. Before them was a terrifying scene. It was nothing like the general had imagined.
“General,” the nevii began, “I present to you the River of Fire and Poisons.”
It was a river of red hot flames, fueled by a bubbling greenish yellowish liquid of an indescribable nature that flowed beneath the flames. The general had to keep many paces from the river for the heat was such as to instantly incinerate him even if he stood on the shore.
“What is the liquid?” the general asked.
“Poisons, general,” the nevii responded, “Vipers, scorpion, spiders, devil’s mushroom, wasp, and countless others yet to be seen in the land of the living.”
“How do I cross this river of evil?”
“We wait, general.”
“For what?”
“For me,” came a gentle voice from behind the general.
The general turned around. The voice had come from a man who stood behind him. He wore elegant white robes, well-made boots, and a fine sword that hung from his waist. He was the handsomest man the general had ever seen.
“Who are you?” asked the general.
“I am Garone. I am your daughter’s taker.”
The general stood still, staring at the man is slight disbelief.
“What did you expect, General?” the man asked, “A beast with tentacles, one eye, teeth like a leopard’s, scales like a lizard, claws growing out of my hands, and perhaps the forked tongue of a serpent’s?”
“Be you the devil, or be you the devil not, but since you say you are my daughter’s taker, by my sword I’ll run you through.”
“You wear the tailbone of the Bruth so I must fight you with a mortal weapon.”
The general’s sword flashed out of his sheath and he sprang towards the demon ready to run him through. He failed. Faster than anyone could have ever imagined, the demon had swiped his sword out of his sheath and easily warded off the general’s blow, forcing him to crash to the ground. With not a moment to spare, the general was back on his feet, forced now to rethink his combat strategy against the demon. Though he was not of the land of the living, the demon seemed quite efficient with the weapons of the living.
The general engaged the demon again, but this time, more mindful of his enemy’s skill. They clashed, thrust, cut, and slashed at each other, and even tried to push each other into river of Fire and Poisons, each one trying to make a quick end of the other. But soon the general began to tire. He had spent many sleepless hours with neither food nor sleep, and had fought for his life and his daughter’s for almost all of those hours. His wound from the ant-like creature continued to bleed, weakening him as the moments wore on. Garone only seemed to grow stronger. The end of the general was close at hand.
And then a sound came from across the River of Fire and Poisons. It was music from a harp. Music such as had been played by the general’s daughter. For a brief moment the fighting stopped. Both sides looked across the river. The general saw nothing. But that meant his daughter was close. At that moment his spirits were lifted. His pain was gone. He would now fight with every ounce of strength to save his daughter. He sprang at the demon with a force so strong that the demon was taken aback. His sudden burst of energy could be stopped by nothing, for it was driven by the love of his child. The demon attempted to slow the general down but it was no use. Before long, the general drove his sword through the demon’s body. It shrieked and dropped to its knees, disbelief in its eyes.
“I curse the fate of every human soul!” gasped the demon as the life drained away from its body. It fell on its stomach. It was then that the general noticed the small horn at the back of the demon’s neck. That was the prize the Wizard of Sheba had asked for. The general pull out his dagger and hacked off the horn of Garone which he placed in a pouch in his garments. His eyes then wondered to the territory on the other side of the river, where the music of the harp continued to be played.
“Where is my daughter?” the general asked of nevii, who had stood by, watching his battle with Garone. “Where is she? I can hear her.”
The nevii said nothing. But a moment later, the music began to draw closer. And then emerging from the shadows on the other side of the River of Fire and Poisons was a little girl dressed in bright blue robes she had been laid to rest in. It was Zeina, the general’s daughter, in the flesh and lovelier than she had ever been. The gold beads plaited into her braided hair shone more brightly than ever before. The flames of the River of Fire and Poison seemed to subside considerably with her presence as she stood only few paces away from them.
“It is my daughter,” the general whispered to himself, a very pleasant smile on his face.
“This is the moment you have been waiting for, general,” said the nevii.
The general knew what he had to do. He held up his sword and looked at the body of the horned demon below him. A single swing of his weapon separated the demon’s head from its body. All he had to do now was toss the demons head across the River of Fire and Poisons so that his daughter could be restored to him. If the head landed in the river, the demon would be destroyed forever, never to torment another human soul, but the general’s daughter would not be restored to him. It was an easy decision for the general to make. He swung the demon’s head and was about to toss it across the river when the nevii stopped him.
“Would you not speak first with your daughter, General?” the nevii asked.
“How do I cross the river?” the general asked of the nevii.
“Feed it a drop of the demon’s blood.”
The general placed the demon’s head on the ground. He pulled out his dagger and tossed it into the River of Fire and Poisons for it was already stained with the demon’s blood. The flames subsided even more now, and a bridge of stone appeared across the river, linking both ends. He was about to dash across the river to his daughter, but again the nevii stopped him.
“Wait, general,” the nevii demanded, “Only your daughter, an Undying, may cross the bridge of Fire and Poisons to come to you. You are a mortal and cannot cross the bridge.”
“Can she hear me?” the general asked the nevii.
“Speak to her, General. She will hear you.”
The general faced his daughter, who had placed her harp on the ground and was standing still, silently, and facing her father.
“Zeina?” the general called out, somewhat nervously, “It is me, your father.”
“It is good to see you again, Father,” Zeina responded in a sweet, gentle voice.
“Come, Zeina,” the general said stretching his arm. “Walk to me. I’ve come to take you home.”
“I can’t, Father.”
“Yes, you can. The demon is slain. I have his head. Your path home is here. So, let’s be on our way.”
“No, Father. You must make the journey home alone.”
“You mock me, little girl. Come across and let’s both be done with this place.”
“Father,” Zeina continued, a deep seriousness suddenly apparent in her voice, “What happened to me is in the past. Now we all must learn to live with it. You must let me go.”
“Stop this foolishness, child,” the general insisted somewhat impatiently and extended his arm even further as if it would reach his daughter. “Come home to me. Your aunts, uncles, your friends—they all miss you and love you, and they await you. I, your father, I await you. So, walk across the bridge and let’s be on our way.”
“Father,” said Zeina, a single tear drop rolling down her cheek, “You must listen to me,” She paused. “You are the best father anyone could have and I love you for it. But we cannot and should not change what is past. Death is bound to meet all. There were many more before me and many more will be after me. Our loss is great and our sorrow is deep but we must learn to let go of each other.”
“Zeina,” the general called weakly, his grief over the loss of his daughter starting anew, realizing it was no game she was playing.
“Father,” Zeina continued, “I remember all the times you kissed me in forehead while I slept and how you kept watch over me as I played with friends even though you thought I did not know. I remember how proud you were of the first doll I ever made and how you bragged about it to your friends even though you think I did not know. Our love for each other will remain strong even after I am gone.”
“But Zeina,” the general lamented, “This realm is no place for you. Death and misery are all that are here.” The general picked up the demon’s head and readied to toss it across the River of Fire and Poisons, ignoring the pleas from his daughter.
“Father,” Zeina continued to plead, “Toss the head into the River of Fire and Poisons and you will free a great many souls and mine, free to return to their maker. But I won’t be able to return to you, and the demon’s spirit will never again torment another. Toss the demon’s head across the river and you will free my soul and I will return to you. But know that the demon’s spirit will return to torment many a great many others.”
The general was silent, unsure of his next actions.
“What must I do?” the general asked the nevii. “I want my daughter back.”
“Only you can decide,” the nevii responded. “You must search your soul and do what you believe is right.”
The general was conflicted, a heavy burden weighing on him. To save daughter alone and get her back, or save countless others and his daughter, but not get her back.
“Father,” Zeina called, “Your grief will end with the passage of the moments. Cry if you must. Laugh if you please. But know that we will always exist in our memories and that we will still always have each other.
“Think of all the glorious moments we shared—when you taught me how to ride and swim, and when I thought you how to play jump rope and swing from a tree.”
The general dropped to his knees, the demons head still in his hands. What must he do? What should he do?
“Zeina, my daughter,” the general lamented to himself, his eyes heavy.
“Father you must be brave and let me go,” Zeina begged softly.
The general remained on his knees. What must he do? He closed his eyes and rolled the demon’s head forward. It rolled over some rocks and into the River of Fire and Poisons. He did not look at the head or the river to see what happened.
A brief moment later he opened his eyes and looked towards his daughter on the other side of the river. All was different around where she stood. The flames on the River of Fire and Poisons were gone, and the poisons were gone too, replaced by blue sparkling water. The darkness around Zeina was no more, replaced by bright lights that seemed to spring up from beneath her and ascend to the heavens. Each light carried with it a human—children, men, women, all smiling and looking down at the general as they floated upwards.
“Who are they?” the general asked of the nevii in a gentle mournful voice.
“Souls of the Undying, General. You have freed them to meet their maker at last.”
The general looked up again, and this time he saw his former enemy, Dahnay, who waved down at him as he too floated towards the heavens.
Zeina slowly walked across the bridge and came to her father. He lifted her up and kissed her on the head. He held her close to him for a long moment.
“Go now, child,” said the general to his daughter, “And know that you are the bravest little girl in the world. What you have done here today is not for the weak hearted, child. You will always remain in my heart.”
The general gently wiped off the tears from his daughter’s cheeks as the nevii gently and slowly floated towards the heavens with her, the light emanating from them brighter than all the others before it. She was the last of the chosen Undying to leave, taken by the nevii himself.
“Look not to the past, Father, but to the future,” Zeina shouted down at her father just before she disappeared into the heavens, “For it is there that all wounds heal and where true happiness can be found.”
The heavens soon cleared up and darkness returned. The general lost consciousness and dropped to the ground. When he opened his eyes again he was staring at the face of the Wizard of Sheba. He had been brought back to the land of the living, in the very same manner he had been placed in the Realm of the Undying, a manner known only to him and the wizard.
The wizard was standing next to the general’s horse, left where the general had left it before he departed for the Realm of the Undying.
“Welcome home, My Lord,” said the wizard to the general.
The general stood up. His wounds were healed and his pains were no more. He reached into his pouch, pulled out the horn of Garone and handed it to the wizard along with the tailbone of the Bruth he had worn around his neck.
“To you, the spoils of war be given, Wizard of Sheba,” said the general to the wizard.
“And your daughter, My Lord?” asked the wizard.
“She is happy.”
“I am pleased, My Lord.”
“So, wizard who has no name,” the general continued, “To you I have delivered what you asked for. For what purpose was your prize?”
“My Lord the horned demon is only one demon in a long line of demons to be vanquished in an endless fight between good and evil. My battle is only one of a long line of battles that I continue after my father and his fathers before him, and one which my sons and their sons and daughters will continue after me until evil is rid of for all time.”
“I wish you much luck, Wizard of Sheba.”
The general turned to mount his horse and depart, but then turned suddenly and faced the wizard. He took the wizard’s arm and shook it heartily and sincerely.
“I thank you, Sir, Wizard of Sheba” said he truly to the wizard, “I thank you.”
The general mounted his horse and rode back towards his home in Roha, a look of absolute satisfaction and fulfillment on his face.
