Pa used to say that among the wisest of the Great Khan’s sayings was this: Only a fool fights a battle he knows he cannot win. ‘So, you and your sisters,’ Pa chuckled, ‘should choose your battles well. Study your enemy carefully. Get to know him. Learn his weaknesses. And when you’re ready, destroy him completely! Half measures simply won’t do, Zula, my daughter. You have to be as ruthless as skin-walkers are with us, if you want to defeat them.’
On the day I recalled those words, the day we said goodbye to him, my intention was clear: to give him the funeral he’d asked for at the Giant’s mouth. But champing close behind in my mind was my pledge to keep the only safe path to the location secret. After two hours of arduous trekking, we were almost there: Ma, my brothers, and Pa’s siblings – Batu, the youngest and Bataar, the second of Grandma’s sons. Pa had been the eldest. Travelling with us on our climb were two of Pa’s fellow campaigners and our horses.
On the first stage of our journey, Takhi carried Pa’s body cocooned in a fur blanket, upwards, along a track that led through a pass on to a ledge. There we dismounted and tethered our horses. Takhi, aware that this was the last service he would render his master, whinnied as Pa’s comrades lifted him off his back on to a makeshift stretcher. His tail swishing, he pawed the ground, while Altan, suddenly skittish, nipped me.
‘Don’t you want me to leave you, my friend?’
My horse neighed, and with one hoof scraping thin mountain soil, snorted to keep me with him.
‘We’ll be back soon,’ I reassured him. ‘Once we’ve prepared Pa for the eagles, I’ll be back.’
I stroked Altan’s forehead and blew my breath onto his muzzle to calm him, even though I knew that what he felt, I did too. There was a whisper of unease in the air that hinted all was not well in our group.
Our horses behind us, we continued the climb to the Giant’s mouth. Step by step, as I led the procession that carried Pa’s body higher, I continued a conversation with him to keep his spirit abreast of what we were doing: how far we’d reached on our journey; how much further we still had to go. I marked the passage of time for him and described the landscape to make sure he understood we were taking him to our shaman home.
I led, my brother Gan’s hand in mine, while the others followed on the trail I first walked seven years before. I’d made the same journey many times since, often several days a month in high summer. And yet on every occasion, whenever I approached the Giant’s mouth, my heart thrilled at its wild beauty: those vivid peaks and gullies that heralded new adventures: time in wolf-light with my sisters, flying with eagles in their eyries; and time alone, the Giant’s breath mingling with mine, his pulse the steady beat of my heart as he drew me ever closer.
‘Do you remember this place, Pa?’ I asked his spirit. ‘It was here, seven years ago, that you lifted me on to that ridge there. And after heaving yourself up, you led me down that path.’
I lifted Gan up, and we descended the footpath, a steep canyon on one side, a granite promontory on the other.
‘It was here, Pa,’ I reminded him, ‘that I slipped and would have tumbled if you hadn’t caught me and held me close. Do you remember?’
I sensed the tenderness of Pa’s smile on my face, and as I clasped my little brother’s hand firmly, I heard once again the slip-slop of a child’s tread on wet rock from long ago.
‘We’re almost there, Gan,’ I said to my brother, repeating the same words of encouragement my father had given me. ‘Almost there.’
I stopped to look back at the procession behind us. And once again I saw my Uncle Batu surveying the landscape we walked through: the high mountains, ravines and wildwood. Everything he gazed on he seemed to ogle at. Eyes scavenging, his expression ravenous, he looked like a skin-walker about to make a claim on land he already considered his own. Even at a distance, the stench he gave off of fish and seaweed reminded me of a craving for salt. Once the taste is on your tongue, never satisfied, you want more and more.
I watched him, and saw with my wolf’s eyes that as soon as my uncle got his bearings, as soon as he memorised visual indicators, he laid down physical markers of his own when he thought no one was looking: a clutch of stones from his pocket, a feather jammed between rocks, the slash of a blade on a tree. How carefully he peppered our trail with signposts he believed no one else would notice.
‘Do you have the strength to see this through, Zula, my daughter? Do you have the strength to grab your foe by the jugular and then tear him apart? Are you listening to me, Zula? If you are, answer me!’
‘I’m listening, Pa. I’m listening,’ I replied.
‘And what is your answer?’
‘I’d like to say that when the time comes I’ll have the strength to do what I must. But in truth, Pa, my temper is not as hot as Adoma’s and my tongue not as sharp as Linet’s.’
‘Then you will need their help, my daughter. Otherwise, before you know it, I’ll look back on my journey through death and see you walking behind me.’
Pa’s words forced me to delve into myself to consider questions I’d been pondering but hadn’t yet been able to answer. Did I have the heart to deprive Knenbish of a husband, and her daughters, their father? In the weeks I’d known them, I’d grown fond of my aunt and cousins. Come to think of it, even Batu had his good points. Yet the question dangled in front of me like a noose. Was I capable of killing my uncle and anyone else he brought here to preserve the sanctity of the Sleeping Giant? No, I decided. Not in my human form when my victim’s eyes could plead with me, reminding me of those of his daughters. Those eyes would haunt me for ever! But as a wolf I could shake him by the throat and tear out his heart without a moment’s hesitation.
We trudged higher and higher, deep into the mountain. Gan’s footsteps faltered, his hand dragged in mine, while with every step I took that brought our destination nearer, the Giant’s breath became sweet and moist as buckthorn berries as he drew me closer. I saw him in the rugged terrain around me; in shafts of clear mountain air, lanced by the sun. I heard him in the swish of trees in the gullies below, in a wild cat’s hiss and yelp as it was chased by a fox. And when eagles, talons clawing clouds, circled above us, my heart pounded as when I first felt his kiss.
At the turbulence of wings overhead, Gan shrank into my trousers and hid his face.
‘Don’t be frightened, little brother,’ I said stroking his hair. ‘Those birds think we’re here to steal their eggs and eaglets. We’re not, so they won’t hurt you. You’re with me and the eagles here know me well.’
We turned towards the crater, which from a distance formed the Giant’s mouth and then, one after the other we walked to the cave overlooking the gully of crags and gorges. There, with the help of my brothers and uncles, I built a pyre of stones. And it was on that pyre, his body washed and oiled by Ma, that we children said our goodbyes to our father, my uncles their brother, and his fellow herders, their shaman and friend.
When it was my turn to bid him farewell, I bowed my head in awe at the stillness of Pa’s face, engraved for ever in my mind. He was gone. Yet present within me always, I would continue hearing his voice in mine. I would continue feeling the whisper of his breath on the hairs at the back of my neck, urging me on. Though no longer with us, I believed our teachers would never leave us: Grandma, Pa, Nana Merrimore, Okomfo Gran-pa. Between them they’d formed a bridge my sisters and I had walked on, a bridge linking the past to the future.
‘I love you,’ I told Pa placing my hand on his. ‘I’ll always love you.’ Then, I added: ‘You most probably know this already, Pa, but I’m in love with this place and the being who dwells here. Am I wrong in thinking that the Giant is not asleep but wide awake? Am I mad to love someone I cannot see but feel whenever I look around me? How I wish you were still here, Pa, to answer my questions!’
I heard Pa’s voice in the wind. First as a rumble, then a growl that, frolicking around my feet and ankles, whirled around me until it brushed my cheeks in a final embrace: ‘Zula, my child, if there is one thing you should remember it is this: there is no right or wrong way to love. Love takes you where it will. From the hour of your birth when I saw the constellation of stars and glimpsed Venus turning to Jupiter, I knew that it was within you to achieve a feat I have not been able to: feel the Sleeping Giant’s breath. With breath is life. If you want, you can wake him, Zula.’
Once Pa’s words had settled in my heart, I ceded my place at his side to my mother. It was her turn to say goodbye.
Tracing the contours of his face with a hand, Ma said: ‘Husband of mine, I am like that old horse of yours, Takhi, at a complete loss without you. Were it not for our children, I would have run into the desert and tried to find you again as he did. But even Takhi couldn’t find your trail to the underworld and returned home without you. So now I shall ride him for you, my husband. And whenever I do, I shall listen for your voice in the desert wind and look for traces of your face in the sky. Travel safely to your new home, husband. But remember, no matter where you go, your first home was here with me.’ Her right hand on her heart, Ma turned away from Pa and followed me on our steep descent back to our horses.
*
Two weeks later, when Pa’s body had been picked clean to the bone, I saw with my wolf’s eyes that my uncle was about to make his move. I hastily summoned my sisters and that night we met at the Giant’s mouth at the entrance of the cave.
Our legs dangling over the edge, my sisters and I talked in wolf-light, devising a strategy to keep Batu and his skin-walkers at bay. In front of us, within the croon of a westerly wind, were eagles tending their young. The occasional bleating of a wild goat punctured the calm as I outlined a plan: ‘If they come during the day, we can ambush them here and here.’ I pointed at two marks I’d drawn on a map scratched on the ground. ‘This ledge is where they’ll have to dismount if they come with horses. We can frighten them away here as well.’ I indicated a spot further along the steep trail where an unsuspecting intruder could easily fall to his death.
‘And if they come at night?’ asked Adoma.
‘We unleash our creatures on them,’ I said.
Linet nodded. ‘I get the feeling you’d like us to sort them out at night, wouldn’t you, Zula?’
‘Batu’s my uncle,’ I explained. ‘Knenbish, his wife, is my friend, and her children are my cousins. I don’t think I’ve got the stomach in daylight to eyeball Batu and dazzle-kill him.’
‘Not even for your man in the mountains?’ asked Adoma.
I frowned: ‘If I have to, I can dazzle and blind, make a man miss his step and fall to his death. But with my uncle, I don’t know.’
‘No one said life would be easy. That’s what Nana Merrimore would say,’ said Linet. ‘Let’s hope they come at night then.’
‘That’s unlikely.’ Adoma examined the map between us before her eyes locked with mine. ‘To follow the trail Batu laid, they’ll need as much daylight as possible. If I were them, I’d start early, and if necessary be prepared to spend a night in the cave before returning next morning. Why create more wahala when the expedition is dangerous enough already? No one in their right minds would attempt a climb such as this at night. We should set our creatures on them during the day, if we have to.’
‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ Linet confirmed. ‘Let’s set the traps.’
So that’s what we did. At strategic points along the trail, we prepared snares that could make the difference between life and death: a boulder perched above the track, which with a slight push could tumble down, flattening anyone below; a thin tripwire, invisible to the untutored eye, which could precipitate a fatal fall. We littered the climb with snares to ensure that wherever the trespassers turned, their lives would be in jeopardy for having dared venture so far.
Satisfied that we were prepared for them, we sat and waited for Batu and the skin-walkers.
‘My sister squad, how be?’ asked Adoma inviting us to nestle and share.
Linet smiled and then laughed in a drizzle of glee that urged us closer still. I sensed a lightness in her that intrigued me.
‘How are your guardians?’ I asked.
‘They’re nice,’ said Linet. ‘They give me money for food every week, pay my bills and visit. Now that Nana’s gone, the lake’s more of a mother to me than ever.’
‘The lake’s your mother,’ I laughed, ‘while this mountain here is…’
‘Where your heart is,’ said Linet.
‘And where your heart resides is where you feel most alive,’ Adoma concluded.
‘I’m most alive with the lake and Lance,’ Linet smiled.
In the glow of the setting sun, Linet’s features rippled, a shimmer of light on water.
I nodded as on either side of me, my sisters, each with a hand in mine, thrilled at the Giant’s breath. Captivated by and immersed in his splendour, the three of us watched the flight of eagles over his mouth while down below wind whistled, spiralling between crags.
‘He’s alive and he’s waiting for you, Zula,’ said Linet.
I chuckled at her fancy, which encouraged mine, for in my heart I felt him draw me even closer. So close that his breath, warm as a sun-kissed feather, tickled my face teasing me.
‘I feel him too,’ said Adoma. ‘You may not be able to see him, Zula, but your man in the mountains is as true as my goddess of the river. He’s here, there and everywhere.’
‘And what about you, Adoma?’ I enquired. ‘Any news of Junior?’
Adoma grunted: ‘As soon as the chief left us and was no longer a chief, what the police in our village refused to do, they did in Accra. Come and see, operation or no operation, they swoop into Junior’s hospital room and grab him like this.’ Adoma enacted Junior being hauled away by the neck. ‘And all because a man without power is as helpless as a grain of rice in an anthill.’
*
That night the three of us slept in my cave at the Giant’s mouth. Next morning, I sat up and, alert to trespassers, sniffed the air. I detected nothing unusual. Nonetheless, a moment later, I shivered with the intensity of a child about to come down with fever.
I woke my sisters. ‘Something’s not right. Do you feel it?’
Linet nodded. ‘A sensation like an itch on the skin?’ she asked.
‘Yes, indeed. There’s a sizzle of electricity in the air,’ Adoma confirmed. ‘Come closer, Zula.’
Adoma touched the tattoo on my wrist. Linet did the same and between the three of us we saw what I couldn’t on my own: my Uncle Batu, with four skin-walkers beginning the ascent of the Sleeping Giant. Behind my uncle was Mr Anderson, Mr Lee, Mr Clements and Mr Atagan, their interpreter, each of them armed. The Egret, the Vulture, the Broad Bear, and the self-satisfied city Cat.
‘Why’s your uncle wearing your pa’s white shaman smock, the one with all those tiny mirrors on it?’ asked Linet.
I looked again. Sure enough Batu was wearing Pa’s special robe of mirrors. The robe sparkled dewy bright, alight with Pa’s psychic power. As I stared at it, spasms of fear and anger shook me.
Adoma whistled. ‘The cunning dog. He’s trying to protect himself! He knows he and his skin-walkers have no place in a sacred space such as this.’
‘They’re here with murder in mind, Zula,’ said Linet. ‘They want you out of the way as a first step to taking what they crave from the Giant: minerals.’
‘I wouldn’t bring them here, so they want me out of the way?’
‘Yes,’ said Adoma. ‘Aba! These people have no idea who they’re messing with. And there you were being dopey-eyed about your uncle. If we don’t sort him out now, he’s going to be the end of you, Zula.’
‘Let’s do it,’ I replied. ‘Let’s keep my man in the mountains safe.’