CHAPTER 10

The screeching of metals against the edges of the stone door echoed noisily. The slaves constrained in bars of speaking chains were the first to pass through the gate, and the others followed behind silently. They had been walking for hours in a tunnel of stones but the entry into the gate, introduced an open environment of sand. One of the hefty men—about seven to eight feet—who bore the keys to the chains, snorted angrily and lashed out with his whip, at the little boy who had fallen on the rocky ground.

“Get up you lazy fool or I will lash you with my sword,” the man scorned as the boy cried out in pain and struggled up to his feet but failed. The wimp from the other slaves—about fifteen of them—was the only thing that tried to stand up against the huge man and the boy. Nobody moved a limb; they just stared helplessly as the man continued to flog the boy with the horse whip.

The other hefty men laughed and spoke in tongues Ikedi barely understood. The smirk on their faces was an open page. It was as if what they said aggravated the other man to anger, because he started flogging the little boy with this inhuman strength until his face was covered with blood.

“His dead, Muttatan!!!” someone shouted and the others burst with laughter. The man named Muttatan was panting heavily as he wiped off the sweat of blood from his face. He spat at the corpse of the little boy and signaled the other slaves to continue in their wake.

Ikedi swallowed uneasily, for what appeared to be the thousandth time that day, he thanked the gods that he was not a prisoner to these barbarians. He thanked the gods that his mission today would enable him liberate his mother and sister from this abase. Ikedi thought he had seen death long enough to be acquainted with the nauseous feeling. This was far from what he could ever imagine. Everything about the place was a nightmare worse than hell. No plant was brave enough to grow for miles. It was mountains and valley as far as the eyes could see. The metallic stony smell, coupled with the sandy environment was nothing to write home about. Even though the sun showered the place with the blessing of its yellow grace, its heat was mucked with fog and cold, bringing goosebumps to the skin.

Ikedi rubbed his exposed arms; it was not this chilly the other day he came here. He felt pity for these slaves who had barely any clothes on. To him, if he stays expose long enough he would surely freeze to death.

The large men leading the party were unaffected by the cold. There were five or six of them, and the only cloths they had on was a tattered animal skin which rounded their broad waist.

The sudden uproar behind them made Ikedi to turn sharply. It appeared to be a brawl at first, but when he studied closely, he found out that the uproar was nothing more than the complaints of some women, demanding their portion of meat.

Meat? Of course meat, they were eating the body of the boy who the hefty man had flogged to death. Ikedi found his stomach churning with disgust as that nauseous feeling started walking up to his mouth. He needed to get his family out of here. This place was not good for any living creature, any living creatures with their sane mind at least.

“Mub it,” someone snorted and jerked his shoulder roughly. Ikedi elevated his gaze to meet the lofty eyes and salivating teeth of the man who towered before him. The man was muscular with forest of blond hair on a chest of yellow pale skin. How can a human being be so tall? Ikedi wondered as he turned and continued on behind the slaves.

Well, maybe they were the first race the creator made. Maybe before creation got to people like Ikedi, the ointment of tallness got finished. That was the only explanation.

The party stopped with a signal from Muttantan—the man who had flogged the little boy to death. They had arrived at a platform where a large man sat in rich animal skin. His hair was losing the touch of its darkness, because most of it was brown. They were clustered with rings and dangles like sea weeds in estuarine habitat. His silver eyes blaze dazzlingly with the rings, which contrasted the darkness of his upper eye lids. Several bangles made from pure gold, circled his hands and ears. He was beautiful for a man, with smooth dark skin, too tempting to touch.

“You made it back my friend,” the man said with a voice too thin to testify his wealth and strength.

“Yes my king,” Ikedi replied, knowing without being told that the question was directed to him.

“Ndewo (well done),” The king thanked formally as he nodded to Mattatan. “I believe you kept your end of the bargain because I have no use for pet talks.”

“Yes, my king, here it is,” Ikedi breathed uneasily and struggled with his goatskin bag. Mattatan shot him a cold glare as he walked away with his men and the slaves to the other side of the mountain.

Ikedi found what he was looking for and pulled it out from his goatskin bag. He wasn’t surprise at the immediate mood swing of the king.

“I bu dike (you are a hero),” The King stood up and walked down the podium towards Ikedi. The features of the Ofor in Ikedi’s hand were written boldly in his silver eyes.

“Wait!!” Ikedi held back the Ofor and stepped back. This made crease appeared on the dark skin of the King’s front head.

“You promise. You promised to free my mother and sister if I get the Ofor. So I want to see them unshackled and freed.”

“Oh! Of course, you will see your mother, I give you my word. Just hand over the Ofor,”

“Your words mean nothing to me. The people of Ndiocha are known to dishonor their words. I kept my part of the bargain; I brought you the Ofor, now I want to see my mother and sister.”

The King rubbed his brow as if thinking and then dropped a smiled that never reached his eyes. He walked back and sat comfortably on his golden throne, looking everywhere and nowhere. The tapping on the arms of the throne portrayed his impatient. If he was considering what Ikedi had said, it was difficult to tell.

“How were you able to get pass the guards in the King’s secret chamber? I heard they guard that place more than they protect their own life,” The King diverted his attention back at Ikedi.

His question made Ikedi feel bad. It reminded him of the price he had paid, the danger he had face and the heart he had broken. The beautiful face of Ada suddenly pictured itself in his minds eyes without permission. He had betrayed her trust and abandoned her. He should feel guilty, but he wasn’t, not even a spark of it. It was not because he doesn’t love her; it was because sometimes in life, you have to sacrifice one thing to get the other. He would give the world to save his mother and sister from this hell. He was ready to betray any heart, to face anything so long his mother and sister are free from the chains that bind them.

“Let’s say I’m an expert in Okwe (gambling),” Ikedi said politely.

“Huh, I like you very much you know. I could use your intelligence in my army. You should come join us when we march to the land of Alaocha,”

“Match to Alaocha? Wait, you are going to start the never ending war again…that’s why you need the Ofor?”

“Yeah, you sound surprised,”

“Shouldn’t I? I mean…” Ikedi stammered “the Ofor is not a weapon.”

“You know little,” The king said and stood up from his throne. He made signals to one of his guards at the far end of the wall, and the guard disappeared almost immediately into the stone door.

“What will you do with Alaocha if you conquer it? As far as I can tell, you have more gold and wealth than any nation in the world.”

“I will do a lot with the land of Alaocha. You see gold and wealth don’t make life worth living. We must survive, our land is barren, we can’t cultivate the earth, and we can’t even rear livestock if we want to.”

“But you can buy these things; you can buy the other side of the mountain whose land is fertile.”

“Those lands have no flowing waters. I need Alaocha and I will get it, you just gave me hope.” The approaching footfalls made Ikedi broke gaze with the king. Two men walked towards them and in their midst was a fair skinned girl. Her hair was dirty and the only thing that covered her was dirt and dust, with lines of old and new scar. She was hardly recognizable. Black patches covered her swollen eyes from days of sleepless nights and hard labor.

“What have you done to her? You promise not to beat them,” Ikedi asked as he embraced his sister. She was weak and cold.

“Nneka,” Ikedi called and held her face in his arms. “Nneka, look at me, you are safe now. Where is mama?”

“She dead,” the girl called Nneka sobbed.

“Dead? No, that’s…that’s not true? They promise—”

“Oh sorry boy,” The King laughed. “She forgot to tell you, my generals got hungry. So sorry, don’t blame them. Blame hunger.”

“No!!!” Ikedi drew his sword with anger as the tears clouded his vision. “How could you? You promised not to harm them if I get the Ofor. You made a vow to keep them safe. How could you eat my mother? Does your word mean nothing?” Ikedi cried.

“How dare you draw your sword in my presence?” The voice of the King echoed. It was not thin this time. It was a mixture of thunder and the sound of a flowing stream. “Should I remind you where you are?” the noisy place had suddenly become quiet as every gaze shot curious eyes to their direction. The King’s men were running towards them, each of them bearing all kinds of weapon.

“Nwata n’agba egwu sulugede mata na sulugede bu egwu ndi muo (the child that dances to the tone of sulugede should remember that sulugede is the dance of the spirit). I will pardon you because of your bravery today. Now, take your sister and get out of here before I change my mind. It’s getting late. I could us some dinner right now.”

Ikedi sobbed helplessly and sheathed his sword. He gave the Ofor to the king and walked away with his sister.