Chapter 4

Sarim sat in his office, allowing the silence to clear his thoughts. Khafil remained in the shadows, unseen and unheard. Lately his office was the only place he could find solitude from the chaotic world around him. He should have been thinking of his upcoming journey to the human world, where he was headed later tonight. Instead, his thoughts were on the monthly meeting he’d just dismissed. Tonight, several members of the lesser Taalib Duma tribes were vocalizing concerns about Sarim’s successor. “Who is he?” “Where is he?” and “When is he coming?” Those were just a few of the questions asked. Even though Khafil had warned him the questions were coming, he should have been prepared.

Instead, he was deeply unsettled. He had no answers. He’d managed to dissuade his brothers by explaining he still had a few years left and there was no need for the pressing concern. This was true, but Sarim knew it was customary for his successor to be introduced to the tribe by now. The new ruler had to be trained and tested. The process could last up to five years. The only exception to this was if a Taalib Duma was impregnated with the successor. Then the current leader was kept until the successor was born and came of age.

Sarim prayed to the Darvan God that the scent wasn’t a figment of his imagination caused by stress. The humvansi had to help him. It also had to carry the Dalili Nakisisa. 

“If the humvansi does not have the triangle symbol, all will indeed be lost.”

Knowing his protector awaited permission to speak, he nodded in Khafil’s direction. Khafil materialized out of the shadows.

shadows.

“If the humanvansi is already in a family unit?” Khafil questioned.

 “The possibility of their having a family or pursuing their dreams is inconsequential,” he snapped. “My legacy must be preserved, at all costs.”

“How are you going to make them come to a completely different world with you?” Khafil boldly interjected. “This person has lived as a human all their life and knows nothing of our ways.”

“For all I care, the person can be strung out on drugs or a prostitute.” He snickered before continuing. “If that is the case, there are ways to purify the body back to its original state.”

This trip was a matter of life or death to him. If he came back without the humvansi, and the council saw no heir or signs of one, he would be killed. There would be no need to wait until his rule came to an end.

Acknowledging the plot to kill him, his instincts told him the Imvura’s were masterminding it.

“Khafil, I am the last in my line of rulers. This a perfect time for my enemies to strike.”

Picking up a pen off his desk, he began rolling it around his fingers.

“I feel their hatred at the council meetings. I know their eyes watch my every move, patiently waiting to strike like a snake stalking a mouse.”

Sarim allowed his thoughts to land on his enemies. The Imvura, a rival tribe of African and Caucasian descent, were second in numbers and power. His tribe and the Imvuras had been bitter rivals for decades. Mainly because many felt the Imvuras were impure and didn’t belong in a sect of vampires descended from The Motherland, Africa. Sarim, as with most Taalib Duma’s, did not trust vampires not of African descent.

Generations ago, European vampires enslaved other African minority tribes and used the tribe’s women. This was how the Imvura tribe originated. Some of them even looked Caucasian, a fact unnerving many Taalib’s. The Imvura leader, Zanhoden, looked exactly like a Caucasian male. He had short blond hair and blue-green eyes. Strangely, his parents were both of African descent. Sarim chuckled. He had given Zanhoden the nickname “the devil’s prince.” Since most of his tribemen considered the Imvuras devils, the title seemed fitting.

Rubbing his chin, Sarim visualized Zanhoden’s face.

“I feel the Imvuras are behind the attempts on my life.”

Khafil raised an eyebrow. “Any of the tribes would want your position to land with them. Why do you suspect the Imvuras?”

“Their leader, Zanhoden is as ruthless as they come. I can’t prove it, but I know he wants the position of Abu more so than any other Taalib Duma. I can feel it in his stare.”

Khafil remained silent, waiting for Sarim to continue.

“As the leader of the Imvuras, he has the same powers as me. Over the years we’ve had conflicts many times, almost to the point of battle.”

“How will you prove it is the Imvura behind your plagues?” Khafil inquired.

“Until they reveal their true agenda, I can’t prove it was them. I will be patient. My family’s legacy rests firmly on my shoulders. I can make no mistakes in this matter.”

“I agree you must be very careful. To accuse another tribe of treason is a most serious charge.”

 Sarim nodded.

“More importantly, I can’t enter the inner world after my death and face my ancestors if the Chair of Drumhani is no longer in the Soga tribe.”

 The chair belonged only to the ruling family. Only the Abu sat in it. Legend said the chair enhances the Abu’s powers. By mankind’s standards, the Chair of Drumhani, made of gold, steel and platinum, was priceless. The chair was commissioned for the first Abu of Sarim’s tribe.

“I will be beheaded on the spot and tortured for eternity if the Sogas lost it because of my inability to rule effectively.”

Rubbing his temples, he thought back to the meeting he had just left, mentally reviewing the many conversations.

As if sensing his Abu was about to say something important, Khafil watched his face closely.

“What is it, Abu?”

“Today at the meeting, Zanhoden and his tribe didn’t utter a word during the barrage of questions. He just watched.”

 Sarim had closed the meeting by saying he would be leaving for possibly a month or longer. When he returned, he would have news of his heir. After the bruising he got from the council, this would shut them up, at least temporarily. He knew he only had one chance to solidify his family’s heritage.

Looking at the clock on the wall, he stretched. There were two hours before he was to partake on his journey. Sarim needed to relieve some stress. He rubbed his teeth along his fangs. They were rather dull. He hadn’t been on a secret hunt in over a month. Taalib Dumas snuck out and went on their own hunts even though it was against the “hunting” rules. Sarim turned a blind eye to it. A good hunt was exactly what he needed. Lately, other things were overwhelming his mind and senses. Yes, it was exactly what he needed. He had to be refreshed and focused for his journey’s itinerary.

“I hear 22nd and Main is flowing rather heavily,” Khafil cited.

“Perfect,” Sarim stated as they both started to dematerialize. “I’m rather thirsty.”