For discussion. Excerpt from Ninki Nanka - Death of a Dragon. Setting: medieval Timbuktu, Djenne, Sankore University. Find the rest of the story on https://www.wattpad.com/story/40836276-ninki-nanka-death-of-a-dragon

"“What?” Fatima asked, captivated by the sight of Timbuktu spread out before them. Timbuktu, the city of divine light, the city of knowledge, the city of trade, the city of hospitality. Bustling by day and by night, she was always full of life, light and laughter.

“That’s the cost,” Mariam said.

Fatima regarded her friend thoughtfully. “Cultures don’t die, Mariam. Cultures can’t die. Not as long as even one descendent lives to tell the story.”

“Can’t they, Fatima? When a people are compelled to adopt a way of life that isn’t theirs? Seven days from now, I will be ordained a leader, a teacher, a missionary…a harbinger of death. The death of a culture. A culture content with tilling the land, caring for it, building from it. The Dogon's God is both male and female. Our dreams are neither good nor evil for we commune through them. To sleep is to gain wisdom. With conversion, this will change. We will change. I already have.”

Excerpt 2: Mariam confronts the dragon:

She finally, mercifully drifted off to sleep.

Deepening layers of unconsciousness. Letting go of the present – the soft feel of her bed, the faint sound of music and revelry from beyond her windows. Into nothingness.

Her eyes flickered open. She was back in the cave. The wall was smooth against her back, faint light visible in the distant. Between her, and the light, the creature moved. No, it slithered. The sound of skin sliding against a hard surface. The thud of limbs. The scrape of claws.

She would have shrunk back against the wall, fallen to the ground and hugged her knees tightly to herself. For seven nights, she had.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she took a brave step forward. And was rewarded by a deep, slow chuckle.

"Stalker of Dreams," the creature said, its low voice echoing within the confines of the cave. "Are you ready to speak to me?"

Mariam swallowed. "I am."

"There is something different about you," it said, moving restlessly, reminding Mariam, again, of a snake sliding across the surface of a rock. "You are no longer consumed by fear."

"Should I be?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On this," it said. "Behold my visage." It moved again, causing light to flood into the cave, the entrance no longer blocked by folds of flesh.

The devil dragon, the ninki nanka, stood before her, light glinting off its scaly flesh. Its elongated face, as large as her torso, was mere inches from hers. Flared nostrils separated by bumpy ridges, sunken yellow eyes, a head crowned by horns...

Mariam gasped awake, bolting upright in her bed, her heart racing, her body drenched in a cold sweat. She stumbled out of bed, her limbs tangled in the sheets. A devil dragon? A devil dragon! An omen of death in the flesh! No dream of her mind could conjure up something so foul, so alien! Her dreams could only have come from one place. There was no way that she was going back to sleep.

She added more oil to the bowl-shaped lamp on the raised platform beside her bed, and headed out of her room, cupping the small lamp in the palm of her hand. Silent footsteps carried her down the hall to her left and through the open archway to the inner courtyard. Once there, she made her way up the stairs, and for a second time, sought solace on the flat, firm roof of a holy house.


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Excerpt 3: the true monsters are revealed


The Cliffs of Bandiagara.

Home.

People emerged from the houses, features indiscernible from the distance. They were clothed in tunics and sirwals, or gowns or robes. Some wore pointed hats, just like their homes. They mingled, in singles, in doubles, in small and large groups, some working, tilling the ground, constructing new homes, cooking over open flames, others talking in groups, standing or sitting, children running, chasing each other, playing, laughing.
Then the screams came.

It fanned across the lake to the girl and the dragon. A cacophony of utter terror.

Men in horseback had appeared on the horizon, riding across the plains, bearing down on the settlement. They rode low, the thundering hooves of their horses like a beating heart, slowing as...


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Part 5 - in full

No! No! No! She punched her pillows as the bells for morning prayers continued to chime. She couldn’t stay in bed. She had to get going or she’d be late.

Between prayers, most of the day was spent debating with visiting scholars. The students of Sankore vs Moroccan philosophers. They argued origins and mysticism, sin and well-being, logic and morality, diversity and modernity.

Blue-robed students seated in a semi-circle, facing their white-clad opponents; quotes, anecdotes and summations hurled back and forth with deadly precision; onlookers sitting in the surrounding balconies, occasionally bursting into spontaneous applause. The central atrium was alive with the sound of passionate and lively voices; Mariam’s one of the liveliest of them all.

It was thrilling, as always, the debates with guests from afar, whose differences in experiences and, consequently, thoughts and perceptions brought a richness to the activity. Normally, she would have wished for the talks to go on eternally, but this time around, night could not come soon enough.

Would she see him again?

“Mariam?” a voice whispered at her door. “Fatima calling star debater?”

Mariam opened the door, grinning at her friend. “Honestly, Fatima.”

Fatima sailed into her room, shrugging, the sequins in her scarf shimmering. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I thought Elder Jacob would burst with pride.”

“Pride. Virtue or vice?” Mariam questioned, still in the debating spirit. “It is but a fleeting emotion, unsustainable with the tides and nuances of life--”

Fatima held up her hand. “I had enough of that this morning, afternoon, and evening, thank you very much!” She proceeded to press a tcherot into Mariam’s palm. “Your amulet,” she whispered.

Mariam dropped the four-point star as if it burned, snatching her hand away. It hit the floor with a dull thud, glinting metallic in the light from her lamp.

Fatima stared at her, nonplussed. “I thought you wanted…you asked me to…why did you drop it like that?”

“Oh, thing are fine now. Completely fine. No need for an amulet,” Mariam said, trying to coax her friend towards the door, waving her hand in its general direction, sidling towards it.

“So you’ve stopped dreaming about the cave and the creature?”

“Oh, um…well…I communicated with him, and its fine, completely fine. Part of my mind, like you said…” Mariam trailed off, not sounding convincing even to her ears.

“He?” Fatima’s one word response was shrill.

“You know. Deep, masculine voice…” Mariam stood pointedly by the open door.

Fatima didn’t budge. “And he said what, exactly? What did he say to you?”

“Oh, solace, comfort, options…”

“Options?” Again that shrill, alarmed response. “Other than matriculation and ordainment?”

“Well…”

“Can’t you see that you are being deceived?” Fatima asked.

“No. No,” Mariam denied. “For the first time in a long time, I see clearly. There is no higher hierarchy in any culture based on exploitation, and no reward is worth becoming a part of it.”

“You mean my culture. We who welcome the stranger and exalt the Book--”

“You who speak of freedom yet profit from bondage,” Mariam interrupted.

Fatima’s lips trembled. “I know I can’t win an argument with you, Mariam. If that is all you have reduced us to…” she headed for the open door, picking up the amulet as she went. “At least don’t deny that you’re already a part of our culture,” she said at the door, glancing at Mariam, leaving the amulet hanging on the door handle.

Mariam stood undecided. A friend would go after Fatima. But, she shut the door, and ignoring the swaying amulet, returned to bed. There was more at stake than her friendship. She needed to dream.

She tossed and turned, and realized after what seemed like an eternity that she first needed to sleep.

But sleep evaded her.

And time passed.

Like a fistful of water. Drop by drop by drop, it vanished.

She was trapped in a sandglass, and grain after grain after grain, time disappeared into oblivion.

Her temper rose as the moments passed. Unfocused, it was directed at nobody and everybody; at the world itself.

This was all Fatima’s fault. Her amulet dangled, silent, mocking, its dull metallic glint seeming to taunt her. If she could, she would pry it open and rip out the protective verses hidden within it, but they were sealed in.

Mariam glared at it. You will not win this! Eventually I will fall asleep. Even the sounds of revelling Tibuktuan’s outside my window will not stop this; will not stop me. It is inevitable. It is…she yawned…weapons to kill them all…home protected…dragon…apologize Fatima…solid ground…

The plains stretched before her, dotted in the distance by Dogon homesteads, the escarpment rising steeply beyond, partially obscured by dust clouds and what was clearly smoke.

Mariam took off running towards the scene of destruction. Those monsters! Those heartless monsters! Demons in human skin! They couldn’t wait could they, with just days to her graduation. They had to get one more in before the impending ban. They’ll pay! They’ll all pay!

She skidded to a halt between the half-demolished buildings. They were abandoned. Lifeless.

“Hello?” she ventured.

“Hello!” she shouted, louder, on the verge of panic.

“I sense someone at the square,” a deep, familiar voice said beside her.

She swivelled, but saw no one.

“Down here,” the voice repeated.

There, beside her feet, was her devil dragon, about the length of her arm, its size much reduced. It looked more snake than dragon.

Her jaw dropped. “You’re small!” She accused.

“Oh, so you noticed.”

“Why?”

“A smaller size is far less threatening.”

“You…you could…all this time! And you could--”

“No. No. Only until recently. This size shifting is quite new. I can assure you.”

She continued glaring at him. “You said you could sense someone at the square. Which one?”

“The central courtyard,” he responded, darting ahead, down the winding path between the homes to the lone figure that stood in the middle of the courtyard, silently surveying the damage.

Red hat. Pearl bracelet. Elder Satimba, the town’s Hogon. Priest. Leader. A philosopher king, or rather, a philosopher governor as Hogons were sometimes elected.

He turned as they approached.

“Elder Satimbe,” Mariam said.

He nodded in response.

“Emissary. I did not expect you here. Do they teach dream walking in that school of yours?” he asked, forgoing the usual pleasantries that etiquette dictated.

“Dream walking…” Mariam vaguely recalled the Dogon elders and griots speak of such an ability; the power to communicate through dreams as one does in the waking world... “What happened here? Where is everyone?”

“Everyone’s fine. Safe. No one was taken. We spotted them in time and sounded the alarm. We all made it up to the refuge of the cliff homes.”

Mariam breathed a sigh of relief. She gazed up the cliff face, but could see no signs of movement. The homes there, like the ones on the plains, appeared empty, devoid of life. “But I don’t see anyone up there.”

“Only because I wished to examine the damage alone.”

“Oh,” Mariam said. “Oh!” she repeated, as realization dawned. “This is your dream, and I’m in it! And…you…you…control this dream, and what is in it…except me.”

“Precisely. Dream walking. I did not expect you here, or your friend.” Hogon Satimbe looked pointedly at the snake-like creature that now wound itself up Mariam’s body, and perched across her shoulder. “What is his name?”

“Uhm…” Mariam realized she didn’t know. Not once had she asked, she admitted to herself. It was shameful; the height of impropriety. Everyone had a name. Everything had a name. Even if it was one’s own mind manifested.

“Nommo.” The word came to her, clearly, as if it had been whispered in her ear.

“Nommo. His name is Nommo, and he can help! He knows of weapons far more powerful than anything the world has ever seen.”

“The power of the heavens; of nature itself.” Nnomo finally spoke, in his deep, low voice. “You can harness the powers of creatures unseen, engineered to do your bidding.”

“They will fear us! They will stay away, and we will be safe,” Mariam said.

“The power of nature itself.” Hogon Satimbe said. “Show me.”

As if on command, a streak of light fell from the sky. It rushed towards them, like a bolt of lightning, and laid waste to the closest homes with a large boom. Heat and dust swept past them. Only sand was left of the homes when the dust settled.

Mariam let out a whoop of laughter. “We would be invincible!”

The Hogon’s next statement pierced through her elation. “And with all of this power, will we be content to remain here, living our simple lives, harmless to man, harmless to nature?”

Mariam stared at him. He couldn’t possibly be rejecting Nommo’s proposal. “We…”

“Or will we become barbarous invaders? Colonists? Will we become the evil we fear, doing unto others before they do unto us?”

“What would you prefer, Hogon? That we continue to live in fear? That we continue to lose members of our society?” Mariam was almost shouting.

“Power corrupts, Mariam. You must know that.”

“We don’t have a choice!”

“There is always an alternative to widespread destruction!” Hogon Satimbe turned to the cliff face. “Let us focus on defence before aggression.”

The wind picked up, whistling as it traveled through the narrow, winding streets, tugging at the hems of their clothing. “On the mountain we have found refuge. Those living on the plains are relocating, building more homes on the mountainside and plateau.” The landscape changed as he spoke, playing out his story. “In the mountain, we can find refuge as well. I am sure of it. Caves and tunnels deep within the earth, connecting the plains, cliffs and plateaus. We could vanish at will for as long as we choose. Become invisible, and so be invincible, without the bloods of thousands on our hands.”

“We have searched for years, and have never found them!”

The Hogon was beginning to fade.

“Then let us search harder!” He turned back to them. “There are people at my door. I must take my leave. Remember my words, Emissary.”

He faded away, taking his dream with him.

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