“Forget it!” He padded away quickly, unwilling to let her see the tears in his eyes.

“Fine!” Nala turned away, stung, angry at herself for letting him get away. She walked morosely over to the fallen log and leapt upon it, settling herself atop the old wood. Her tail moved restlessly as she mulled over their conversation, berating herself for lashing out at him like that. At a loss, she laid her head upon her forepaws, gazing out across the river valley. The sound of the waterfall was lulling, and she blinked her eyes sleepily as she watched the sparkling torrent fall through the air to crash on the rocks below. Soon she was dozing softly, the soft white light of the moon bathing her golden form in unearthly beauty.

In the underbrush across from her, the light gleamed from twin points of amber fire. The random edges of the leaves and branches shifted in the night breezes and gave form to a finely chiseled face that peered intrestedly at the sleeping lioness. Mano sighed and slipped from the undergrowth, the pure white fur of his body gleaming like a fallen star as he padded noiselessly over to where Nala lay.

He leaned over her, listening to her murmur uneasily in her sleep, reading her troubled thoughts. He pursed his lips and blew gently in her face, the scent of wild honey clinging to her fur as he watched her features relax and smooth out.

“Sleep, child. You have done well. It’s up to him, now.” He lay down beside her, his mane shifting in an unseen breeze as he looked far to the east, where Pride Rock lay. He thought of the unspeakable horror that lay nestled there, and his features hardened into a grim mask of determination.

“And you, old one, are now on borrowed time.”

CHAPTER 66: I’M HOME!

Makhpil looked on in horror as a living wave of hyenas crashed upon Simba, burying him under an assault of snapping jaws and ripping claws. The lion struck out, scattering them in a bellow of fury as he methodically began to annihilate any and every opponent that separated him from Taka, who stood across from them at the base of the promontory, exhorting the hyenas to fight on. “Show no mercy!” Taka cried lustily.

“Oh gods,” she moaned as she saw a hyena tossed aside like a pup, shrieking horribly from the ragged wound in his side. She recognized him well; he had come to her only last week to ask advice on where to dig a den for his mate.

A terrific struggle ensued across from her, several hyena voices crying out in shock and fear. Several went tumbling and rolling as Ber shouldered them aside, snapping savagely as he fought his way through the throng. Behind him came Krull and Fabana, the two guarding Ber’s flanks as he bludgeoned his way through the mass of his fellows, snarling defiantly. Ber paused, seeing the mass of hyenas attacking Simba, and raised his voice.

“To the King!” he bellowed, turning lion heads as well as hyenas toward him. “God and Roh’mach!!”

An uproar joined him as the members of the hidden resistance group, plagued and tormented for years rose up with a shout and joined him. “God and Roh’mach!” Pandemonium reigned as hyena turned upon hyena, guards looking in surprise as companions they had known for years began to attack them bitterly.

Makhpil felt her blood boil at the remembered injustices under the reign of Shenzi and Taka. “God and Roh’mach!” she cried, turning upon a burly guard who was harrying Simba’s flank. Her fangs sank deep into his hide, and blood sprayed into her face in a hot flood. Crying out, he whipped around, locking eyes with her. “You!”

“So Skulk, how do you do against an enemy who able to fight back, eh?!” Makhpil bared her teeth at him. “Not so easy as it was with Belvalen, eh?”

“You WITCH!” he cried, lunging at her. She sidestepped neatly, dodging his attack with inches to spare. He rose and flailed again, but she went under this time, tearing out a hunk of hair that made him wail with pain. He stumbled back, stunned, a smear of blood reddening his chest like a blossom. She started forward to finish him, but she stopped as the wave of pain and hurt hit her mind like an openhanded swat to the face, a soundless cry of agony that came from the spirit and not the flesh.

“Why did you want to hurt me?” he thought. “I liked you.”

His mind lay open to her suddenly, and she saw the hidden desire under the cruel exterior, a desperate wish for companionship that reached deep inside him to his core, a desolate loneliness that cried out for help. And in her, he had seen the possibility of a way out.

A way out now closed to him.

She shuddered visibly and closed her mind, turning away so she would not have to look upon his face. Leaving him standing there, she trotted away towards the spire of Pride Rock.

Amarakh snarled viciously under the assault of a crowd of Shenzists. Every time she tried to fight her way out, someone would attack her flanks, tearing at her horribly. Makhpil pushed through to her and took up a position behind her. Between the two of them, they could defend the small turf they occupied for the moment. Amarakh groaned, feeling her strength draining from a dozen wounds as she looked upon the terrible battleground before them. Hyenas, friend and foe alike lay strewn about, the bodies locked eternally in combat. A cry of despair reached her as she saw the pitiful remnants of her Omlakh supporters being decimated by the sheer brute force of Shenzi’s guards.

Abruptly, the fighting hesitated, Shenzists and Omlakhs alike suddenly distracted. Amarakh pointed, her breath catching in her throat. “Great Roh’kash!” she breathed. “Look!”

Makhpil looked and saw Simba and Taka engaged in a mortal struggle on the western crag. And hovering around them was the false Roh’kash, now unmasked. Melmokh was shielding Taka from the main brunt of the blows Simba tried to rain on him.

Then burning with unearthly brilliance stood a mandrill holding a locket on a string. The light came from the locket. Beside him was a brilliant white lion, the largest she’d ever seen. Why didn’t the others see this?

The spectre Melmokh obviously did. Lightning came from the heavens, setting the grass aflame. And Melmokh burned with a fierce rage himself, a living red firebrand so like the one in Fabana’s nightmares.

Rafiki took the locket at the end of its thong and spun it around his head. The halo formed by the circling light seemed to slow down. The white lion crouched, his eyes bright with righteous indignation. Rafiki released the locket. Mano sprang, his bright silhouette merging with the fire from the locket. For one moment, Melmokh looked away from his work, and shrieked. The white lion struck Melmokh, and a blinding flash of light erupted from the impact, followed by a psychic blast that stunned her with its fury. Pain! Horrible pain! Their struggle sent out shock waves in the ether that drove jagged spikes through her consciousness. Makhpil shrieked rolled around in agony before at last she mercifully fainted.

Several moments passed in a sleep without dreams. Finally she woke to the soft caress of rain in her face. She felt something furry push her cheek. The white lion was there, and he nuzzled her again. “Wake up, daughter.”

“Are you all right?”

Mano smiled. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better too.”

“Is Simba OK? Did we win?”

“We won. Simba had a few cuts, but he’s fine. Ber took a lot more punishment, but I healed him of his pain as well.”

“How about Amarakh?”

Mano’s smile faded and he shook his head. “She has passed beyond pain.”

It took a moment for his words to register, then Makhpil’s features crumpled in grief. “Oh God, no!”

Running to Amarakh’s still warm body, she started to paw the face. “No! Roh’mach! No, not in the moment of victory!” She looked up. “Can’t you bring her back? You healed Ber--surely you can make her live again, can’t you?”