The Witness of Usehjiki
One

Five hundred years ago

Together, the four chiefs stood in the dark cave, lit only by a dim lamp. As unusual as it was to have them all in the same room, at the same time, they were more worried about the door before them.

The door was big, thick, and round, with two horizontal, metal planks going across the vertical planks. There were four keys in the four key slots on the top, vertical plank. It traveled into the ground where the foundations of a cage sat. When it was built, they’d had to take into consideration the strength of the being they were imprisoning. A simple crack in the foundation and they’d all be dead.

The air was wrought with desperation and guilt, oozing from the occupants of the cave as they fidgeted amongst themselves, eyes trailing from the door to the ceiling and down to the floor. The cave was newly dug. And yet, it stank of rotten fruit and forgotten bodies, even though none of those things were present. It was too young to be flowered but the walls of the cave bore the trunks and roots of the erkanara tree that littered the forests above.

It was just a bare, brown room, surrounded by nothing but bare, brown sand; not one of the many, beautiful ones nature had provided for the chiefs had been too ashamed to sully nature that way.

No.

This was their sin. Their shame. And even though every single scrape of sand had brought with it the foul smell of death and decay in a place that such a smell should never have been, the chiefs had kept at it, digging and building at night, scared to delegate the job of the cave’s creation to their people lest too many questions arise.

“O muha nno eyi Oseki?” Usop asked in Jiki. Are we sure about this, Oseki? He shifted from the door with his machete in his hand. It was hard for anything to scare a man like Usop. Even though he was the youngest and newest chief in the gathering, he had seen war. He’d fought for boundaries before he was called back to lead his people. Spending the past few months among farmers and builders, he’d learned that nothing they did could scare him.

Usop was built like a hut and tall enough that he had to bend to be inside. He had no use for his hair, so his skull often shone when he was underneath the sun. Like his people in Usobo, Usop wore nothing on his body. His black, clan mark stood proudly on his chest, the only covering he’d ever afforded. But for the rest of his body, he’d always kept it stark as the day he was born into the world.

“O tene dung.” We can’t stop now. Oseki wiped the sweat from his brow with the neck of his ojebi. Unlike the man who’d just spoken to him, he was dressed in sleeveless, woven strings that covered his neck to his knees, hiding his green, clan mark that distinguished him from the other chiefs in the room.

Oseki’s years were numbered. He’d ruled for decades, and his successor was already preparing for ascension. His grey hair was a sign of a job well done and Oseki would be damned if he left this earth without ensuring a better future for his children and his people. If he had to sully his hands this way, he was ready to make that sacrifice.

They’d been warned. Their actions would have consequences. Oseki didn’t care, and judging from the conviction of his fellow chiefs, none of them did either. This was a small price to pay if it ensured that Usehjiki would live on and that the four clans would go unrivaled for many more centuries.

Oseki also had a machete in his hand. However, if he was being honest, he doubted that the machete would do much good if the cage didn’t hold.

“What if...” Izeh began, as she brandished her machete, as well. “What if we were wrong?”

Izeh, much like Usop, wasn’t wearing any clothes. Both chiefs ruled over neighboring clans with various overlapping practices, an example of which was the triviality of modesty. She stood about a head shorter than Usop, even with the mountain of thick, afro locs atop her head. Like Usop, she didn’t have any shame in her state and wore her white, clan mark on her chest, with just as much pride.

Izeh was covered in white tattoos, lining her neck, chest, hips, and legs. Most of the tattoos were made from temporary paint that washed off every time she went into a stream. But the rest were carved into her skin, stories of her past, tales of her clan’s history.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Izeh asked, looking to Oseki for answers, much like Usop had done.

Oseki didn’t understand why they thought he’d have more information than they did. They’d all agreed on this together. They’d all consulted their gods and reported a consensus. They’d all been present at every gathering and come to the same moment, from the same conclusions. He didn’t understand why they thought he’d somehow know more than they did.

“Stop asking stupid questions,” Elheji said angrily, as her hands tightened around her long, metal staff. “It’s going to work.”

Elheji was the most covered chief in the room. Hailing from Elhiji, the sandy, hot north of Usehjiki, Elheji had on a stringy frock similar to the one Oseki was wearing. But above that, a shawl was draped around her neck and shoulders. Usually, she would have it over her head, while the rest of her body was hidden behind more protective clothing that was meant to keep her people safe from the strenuous terrain of Elhiji.

But ever since she’d been spending her days digging up the cave, she’d taken to wearing less clothing. And even her less clothing was more than anything Izeh or Usop would ever wear in their entire lifetime.

KPO!

They all jumped back as the door, the cage, and the walls of the cave shook.

“Are you sure that cage will hold?” Izeh asked Usop.

“As surely as the sun sets,” Usop said. “Now, the question is if I want it to hold at all.”

“Two of you should stop this nonsense,” Elheji said.

Oseki walked past them till he was standing in front of the door. As he got within four feet of the door, the knocking became more insistent, gradually rising till the ground beneath their feet quaked from the impact. The banging got so loud that the other chiefs had to cover their ears. A wind blew past, lifting the loose fabric on Elheji as she dropped her staff to keep herself covered.

But Oseki persisted, putting one leg in front of the other till he got to the door. As he placed one hand on the door, the knocking ceased. Breathing heavily, Oseki steadied himself against the door. The hard part was over, he reminded himself. The hard part was done.

He felt around the door till he found the first key. He pulled it out and went searching for the second. And the third. At last, as he pulled out the fourth key, the knocking began again. Softer, this time. Accompanied by whispered sobs coming from beyond the door.

“I’m so sorry,” Oseki said to the door before he turned away. He walked back to the others and held out the keys for each of them to take.

Hesitating, the other three stared down at Oseki’s hand with apprehension.

“Are we doing this?” Oseki asked.

“There’s no turning back now,” Elheji said, grabbing her key from his hand as turned away from them and Oseki heard the rustling of her coverings as they shifted about. Seconds later, she hissed and whimpered in the dark, dropping to her knees as she tried to control her sobs.

“Are you alright?” Usop asked, reaching for her but she held up a hand to keep him at bay.

“Do I deserve this key if I can’t even bear this little pain?” she asked.

As her words sank in, Usop grabbed his key from Oseki. Without turning away to hide, he placed the key on his chest, just above his clan mark, and clamped his lips together as the key sank into his skin. His hand quivered over the key, itching to pull it out as it forced its way in until it settled in, snugly, like another tattoo.

“Are you ready?” Oseki asked Izeh, placing her key in her hand as they both went together. He chose his right shoulder, watching Izeh flinch as her key sunk into her neck.

“I guess it’s done, then,” Elheji said, getting to her feet. “It’s over?”

“It’s just begun,” Usop said.

“Remember the rules,” Oseki said, rubbing his skin around the key. “We can’t lose sight of what’s important.”

“Don’t lecture me, Oseki,” Elheji said, wrapping her shawl around her head. “I’m not a child.”

“No sexual activity,” Oseki reiterated, pushing past Elheji and her hard demeanor. “I mean it. One of you fails and we all fail.”

“We’ve heard you,” Izeh said.

“Not even the people you’re already bound to. No men, no women. No one. Your key will unbind from you if you-”

“If we are intimate with anyone,” Elheji said, walking out of the cave. “You’ve said it a million times already.”

“O mi nuoh,” Izeh said. We will see each other again. Sparing Usop and Oseki one last look, she followed Elheji out of the room.

Oseki waited for Usop to move but Usop remained.

“We will pay for this, one day.”

“But not today,” Oseki replied.

Usop nodded and dropped his machete.

“You know what you have to do?” Oseki asked.

“I’m the one who built this place,” Usop hissed.

Oseki knelt and dropped his head on the ground to pay his last respects. When he got up, he picked up his key and left.

Outside, he waited. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Usop to do what needed to be done. Usop couldn’t even open the door with only one key if he wanted to. But Oseki waited anyway.

Standing outside, he could see the mounds of sand in the moonlight. Digging up a cave to bury a large, human-sized cage had given them heaps and heaps of sand, above ground. It didn’t matter anymore. Because when Usop hit the first pillar in the cave, a heap of sand crumpled and flattened into the ground.

Just to be careful, Oseki moved back a little as more and more heaps fell, burying the cage. Minutes later, as Usop emerged from the cave with the lamp, the last heap crumbled down till it was, once again, nothing but an unassuming piece of land.