After the marriage of Mufasa and Sarabi, all of the joy went out of Taka’s life. The one thing that held his spirit and flesh together was the unconditional love of his parents. Particularly his mother’s love, for she saw the childlike yearning for love and responded to it much as she always had since he was a young cub.
Rafiki held out a slim hope for Taka. Resolutely, he would refuse to call him “Scar” for that badger had wounded him just as deeply. He knelt in his baobab in prayer. “Mano, Minshasa, protect your child! Protect Taka from the Makei! Bring back the gentle light to his eyes! Have mercy on him!”
Just then, Zazu came fluttering in, all in a panic. “Come quick, Rafiki! The King is feverish--he’s dying!”
It seemed to take an eternity for Rafiki to reach the cave, though the did the best he could. Rafiki arrived out of breath with a small pouch of powdered Chi’pim and his staff.
Rafiki took some water from the cistern, mixed the leaves in it, and gave Ahadi the broth to bring down his fever and bring him to himself. After Ahadi drank it, he checked his eyes, even pulling up a little on his eyelids. He stuck his thumb in the corner of his mouth and felt around. Then he listened to his chest. His face was grave.
He took Akase to the back of the cave. “Has he had trouble sleeping lately?”
“Yes.”
“And the muscle stiffness?”
“He told you about that?”
“No. I’m afraid not. It’s a symptom of Koh’suul.” He whispered, "When he comes to himself, take him across the savanna to the edge of the forest."
"Where to?"
"The most appropriate place. The fever will subside, and he'll have a couple of hours of clear thinking. But my dear, you must hurry. He will not live to see the moon tonight."
"Oh gods, no!"
"Hsssh!"
"You're a shaman," she whispered, but every bit as urgent as a scream. "Can't you do something? Anything? I can't let death take him from me! I just can't!"
He looked in her eyes, pulling down the lid gently with his thumb. "Don't worry, in his own way Aiheu has shown you mercy.” He silently traced a circle around her right eye with his fingertips and touched her under the chin. He wanted her to know she would soon look on the face of God and call Him by name. “Two, maybe three days alone. Use that time to prepare yourself.”
"Oh." She nodded, and warm tears trickled down her cheeks. “I understand. Aiheu is merciful. But if I could have only seen my grandchild first. You must send my love to the child.”
He wiped away her tears. "Say good bye to no one, not if you really love them. You must not drink from the common watering hole or the stream till you have crossed the meadow. You must not stop to relieve yourself until you have found the place. I will have to purge this cave before it is safe." He kissed her. "Is there anything you want me to tell Mufasa?"
"No, just say good bye for me." She sighed. "Poor Taka, I would not live long enough to say what is in my heart. Promise me you will try and look after him. He is so dependent. Promise me you'll look after him."
"I promise I will do what I can."
"Whispering about me behind my back, old girl?" It was Ahadi, much improved.
"I was just telling Rafiki about the surprise. You haven't felt well, and now that the medicine is helping you, you can take a little trip with me to see something special."
"Yes, I am much improved. I won't have to be dragged out, and that is a pleasant surprise. Don't think I didn't know my time was up. Death has been stalking me--now it rushes in for the kill." He regarded her gently. "He gave you the marks of Aiheu. I take it old girl that we are in this together?"
"As always." She nuzzled him gently.
With a heavy heart, Rafiki gathered dead grass from the savanna and made a pile of it in the middle of the cave. He put ferns on top of it and a sprinkling of powdered Alba. Then he took a clay pot, and emptied from it a few glowing coals on the tinder.
The coals satisfied their great hunger, raising a cloud of smoke that quickly filled the cave with its bitter incense.
"Fire! Fire!" It was Taka. He rushed into the cave, coughing and wheezing at the smoke. “Is anyone in here?”
"You must leave," Rafiki said.
"You foolish ape! What do you think you are doing?? Have you lost your mind?? When Mom and Dad see this, they will cuff you senseless!"
"They will never see this," Rafiki said. "It was the Koh'suul. Flee. You are in great danger here."
"Koh'suul?" Taka's eyes widened. "But that’s fatal. You mean Dad is dying? Does Mom know?"
"Akase has gone with him."
"Hffff!” He stiffened up. “She was well. I saw her this morning. She was well! What do you mean she has gone with him? Without telling me?? She’ll catch it too! Where is she??"
"You cannot see her. It would be death to you. I'm sorry, but she had it when I got here. Death had already placed his mark on her."
"But I must see her!" He pounced on Rafiki and held him to the floor of the cave with his paws. "Tell me where she is or I'll crush the life out of you!"
"Your mother made me promise to care for you. If you must kill me, you must. "
Taka looked confused, sad, and finally released Rafiki. He turned and sat facing the wall. “Sassie doesn’t love me. My brother doesn’t love me. The gods don’t love me. All I had left was here. Now I’m alone. They are killing me one small piece at a time. This time they killed my heart.” He trembled. “I walk, I speak, yet I am dead inside. Dead.”
"There must be something I can do," Rafiki said, getting up.
"Haven't you done enough?"
"That's not fair, Taka. When I was young, my mother died of Beh'to. Before the end, she was banging her head on a tree, trying to force the headache out. I watched her die in the most dire agony. That's when I knew I must be a shaman. I would never have to feel so helpless again.”
“Then why not help them?”
“As my knowledge grew, every answer raised new questions. I cannot heal every wound. So more important than my herbs and spells is knowing something to say to comfort the Ka when these bodies of Ma'at crumble."
"Then say something comforting to me."
He stroked Taka's mane. "I think about the prophesy. I think about it a lot. Oh, I knew where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do in a year, in five years, in ten. Now I am committed to fight this thing. All my hopes and dreams have been turned upside down. In this way we are alike, my friend. Our childhood dreams are over. The morning has come and we awake to face reality in the light of the sun. Let us find something real in the sunlight, something that pleases us, and hold on to it. All else is vanity."
"You are a foolish ape," Taka said. "But even a fool may say the right thing at times."
Later that evening, Zazu reported the death of the King.
Rafiki came and put his arms around Muffy and whispered, “It’s time.”
Mufasa climbed slowly up the precipice of Pride Rock and when he reached the tip, paused for a moment. Then he lifted up his head and roared. It was a sad and terrible roar that rent the evening sky, and the lionesses joined in. The King was dead. Long live the King.
The following weeks took their toll on both Mufasa and Taka. The death of Ahadi and Akase left them without guidance and they had to become self-reliant. The emotional toll was especially bad on Taka, but Mufasa nearly crumbled under the the weight of ruling a kingdom. He found himself increasingly turning to Rafiki for advice.
The mandrill chuckled lightly, arms crossed. “Why ask me? You are the king; I am just a simple old monkey.”
“You are not simple. You’re a whole lot wiser than I am.”
Rafiki shook his head vehemently. “No! A whole lot older, I’ll grant you.”
Mufasa shifted uncomfortably. “You are gifted, Rafiki. You can see the future. Can’t you tell me what the right course will be?”
“Ah, so that’s it.” He grunted as he sat down on a low rock. “Come here, my boy.”
Mufasa obligingly padded over and sat next to him. Rafiki reached up and patted Mufasa’s shoulder. “Gods, you have grown. I still remember the young cub who used to come to me for jerky.”
“It was good, too,” Mufasa said.
“Let me give you something to chew on that is not as tasty, but fills the empty spirit.” Rafiki leaned forward. “Mufasa, it is better not to be tied to the future. It is the natural way of things to happen as they will. Your brother is bound to the future. It has crept around him like a small vine. But look what happens as the vine gets larger.” He took out one of his walking sticks, the top of which was coiled and curved. “It will grow to dominate your life, and twist your path in many directions. You will stop ACTING and go through life REACTING. You will be like a stone that lies around helplessly, waiting to see where the future will toss it next.”
Mufasa sighed. “I guess you’re right. I just...I’m afraid of making the wrong choices.” He looked at Rafiki, his face open and honest as ever. “I don’t want to ruin someone’s life because of an ill-thought decision.”
The words stung Rafiki. He had a vivid recollection of young Taka cringing in the corner of the old baobab, crying out in terror: “No! Tell me it’s not so!” He gasped and dropped his staff.
Mufasa blinked and peered at him. “Are you OK?”
Rafiki took a deep breath. “I’m fine, my boy. I don’t think it is wise for me to coach you on every small decision. Still, I don’t guess it would hurt THIS ONCE to look out for a major crisis?” Rafiki took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Meet me at my tree this evening. Come alone. Tell no one.”
The time seemed to drag on interminably. Zazu made several reports to him which Mufasa only half heard, his mind on the coming evening.
Rafiki was also restless. He spent his time in prayers and preparation. Set lovingly by the scrying bowl was a large dose of deadly euphractus. At the first sign of trouble, he would take it immediately and silence himself forever. No more would the makei use him as a weapon against the ones he loved.
Mufasa found himself urging the sun to hurry along its path in the sky. Finally, the cool of evening encroached upon the land, and Mufasa excused himself from the others. Slipping quietly into the night, he wended his way along well known paths through the grassland until he reached the soaring baobab. Rafiki greeted him warmly, then bade him wait outside.
Rafiki entered his home and crossed to where his scrying bowl sat, the surface of the water lightly rippled by the slight breeze that blew through his home.
“Mano protect us. Mano equip us. Mano, we thank you.” Completing his prayers, he sat crosslegged before the bowl. The water rippled a moment longer, then stilled. Rafiki felt a pulling sensation, then all went dark.
He drifted in the darkness, floating calmly. This was only the beginning of the process, and sometimes it felt like it took hours before the vision would appear. Impatience only disturbed concentration and slowed the process down, so he relaxed and waited.
Abruptly the darkess took on a deeper tone, and fear began to make him shiver. The cold of death, more icy than an arctic wind, brushed him slowly. He felt a dragging sensation, pulling at him inoxerably with a grip of iron. He jerked away as two eyes flared alight in the darkness in front of him, a cold light emenating from them which illuminated nothing. Pain awoke in his hands, slamming up his arms in a wave of agony. Suddenly the eyes vanished, along with the dragging sensation, and he tumbled helplessly through the dark, crying out in fear as unseen shapes began to buffet him mercilessly in a frightful current of invisible force...
And then he opened his eyes to see the bowl of water shimmering in the bright moonlight that seeped through the leaves of his home. Shuddering with the reaction, he sat for a moment, composing himself. “Mufasa?”
The lion appeared quickly. He started to speak, but cut himself off, staring at the mandrill’s wan expression. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rafiki laughed shakily. “I’m supposed to see ghosts, my boy. That’s my job, remember?” He put out a hand to push himself off the floor, but winced. Pain throbbed in his hands as he looked at the bloodless gashes that perforated the backs of his hands. They faded even as he watched, but the pain left slowly.
Mufasa glanced down curiously. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a little mifupa setting into these old bones.” He flexed his hands gingerly. “I had a strange vision-”
Mufasa held up a paw, the gesture so like his father’s it broke Rafiki’s heart. “Hold, my friend. I was thinking while I was waiting down there about what you said to me earlier. I don't want to know. I want to make my own destiny.”
Rafiki relaxed, smiling slightly. “And you said you weren’t wise.” He placed an arm around Mufasa’s shoulders. “All right, but let me give you this little bit of advice: some of us are destined for long life. Others are not. But a little caution never shortened anyone’s time.”
“Sound advice for a king,” Mufasa grinned. “Thank you, my friend.” He started to turn away, but paused. “Are you sure you don't need to tell me something? You looked awfully scared.”
“No, my friend.” Rafiki put his arms around Mufasa’s neck and gave him a quick hug. “I worry about you sometimes. Just a foolish old ape with the jitters, I guess.” He backed away and flapped his arms at the huge lion as though he was shooing a fly. “Now beat it. Sassie’s probably waiting for you.”
“Well, since you put it like that...” Mufasa chuckled as he headed away into the night. Rafiki watched him go, then lifted his throbbing hands to his face again, his smile fading as he looked at the red spots that remained.
The next day, Rafiki led Uzuri aside. “I was wondering if you could perform a favor for me.”
“Certainly.”
“Shhhh! Quietly. Should Mufasa go with you on your hunts, please be careful. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt out there.”
“I am careful on every hunt, no matter who goes.” She shrugged, lionlike, by flicking her tail. “Still, it won’t hurt to bear extra caution.” She peered at him warily. “Why? What is wrong?”
“Just a feeling.” He sighed, then patted her shoulder. “Not to worry; I doubt much will come of it.”