by Owen Oakley
Chapter Four
“Son, what is going on? Did you know of this?”
Salim’s father asked one question after another. It was impossible for him to process what happened, let alone his father’s numerous inquiries.
“No, I mean yes. We discozsed it.” He shook off the question.
He sought out Muto who was wrestling with outwaged individuals in the room.
Adanya and Salim hadn’t anticipated her choice would cause a riot. Salim pushed his way through the crowd towards Muto.
Soldiers placed manacles on some guest and escorted others outside.
“Wha did they take Adanya? I need to see ha,” Salim said.
King Muto hadn’t noticed Salim, the crowd pulled him in every direction with demands and questions. Salim led him by his arm to the side away from the riot.
“Thank you!”
Salim dismissed Muto’s gratitude and focused on the matter.
“Wha did they take Adanya?”
“I suppose Kwame as taken ha to get ha belongings.”
Salim headed off to find her when Muto’s hand stopped and jerked him back.
“No!” King Muto yelled over the noise.
Salim yanked away from his grip and glared at him.
“You ave to elp me! This as gotten out of cont’l.” Muto gestured around them.
Citizens continued to yell and flip over tables.
“This is Adanya’s and yoa doing! Ad either one of you told me befo the pawty instead of making a sideshow of things, this wouldn’t ave appened,” Muto continued.
Salim shared responsibility in the chaos before him, but he never could say no to Adanya.
“I ave to found Adanya. God only knows wha she’ll end up. If I don’t see ha now, I’ll lose ha!”
Muto stepped closer to him.
“People awe getting a’t, some of them awe yoa va’y own people. We need yoa elp. You can see ha lata. You ave a duty.”
Aside from Adanya, Salim loved his people, and they were innocent bystanders in the matter. His people came to support their future king’s celebration, not a riot.
Salim aided the soldiers and answered their questions as best he could, but he didn’t speak of Adanya’s whereabouts because the answer remained unknown to him.
⸞⸟⸞
It was no easy task for the guards to escort Adanya back to her room to collect her things. She fought them throughout the halls, with several stops, bites and scratches and threats of bodily harm along the way. Kwame was drunk and exerted his power more than usual.
He hustled Adanya into her room and informed the guards not to come in under any circumstances.
The guards shared worried glances, uncomfortable with the request, but they had to obey the future king’s orders.
“I bet you’we enjoying this, awen’t you? You’ll neva’ be a king that Lawk’s people twuly love and wespect.”
Without hesitation, Kwame administered a punch that sent her flying back into the stone wall.
She tasted the metallic of blood in her mouth. The bottom of her lip was numb and swollen, she ran her tongue down a deep split in the middle of her lip.
Adanya made her way back to her feet with shakiness in her limbs. Her ribcage ached; he fractured them. She had sustained enough injuries in battles to know to know the difference.
“You listen, bitch, you will not speak to the futua’ King in that manna’. I am king now!” he roared.
He turned the lock that sent a cold shiver up her spine.
Adanya searched for her Katana she left on the table earlier. Her eyes roamed the room, but she saw nothing; someone had taken it.
“Looking fo something?” he asked as if he read her mind.
“Wha’s my blade?”
“We welieved you of all yoa weapons, afta’ all those weapons belong to militia pessonel only,” he said.
Kwame had always been a heartless being, but it was something in his eyes, at that moment, he looked sadistic.
“Let me get my things, and I’ll be on my way and I pwomise I’ll neva’ come bagk,” she pleaded.
He laughed, as his glossy red eyes beamed in front of the fireplace. He was a man beyond reason.
“I can’t let you go, at least not jozt yet.”
He pulled a dagger from behind his back and whirled it back and forth between his fingers.
“I ave to wid you of that woyal cwest you ave tha.” He pointed at her inner wrist.
The moment a child is born of royal blood that child receives a royal crest. A procedure that engraves the inner left wrist with a small crown, colored with the kingdom’s colors. It was their royal identification.
“That is not the pwopa’ way to wemove the cwest,” she snarled.
She winced in pain and clutched her ribcage. Kwame made a step towards her, but she dodged behind the table.
“Please let me go! I need nothing, I’ll jozt leave.”
“No! You will not go anywha!”
He flipped over the table and lunched on top of her. She was too weak to block him, he wrestled her down and pinned her arms down with his knees; his crotch suffocated her.
She tried to yell as loud as she could, but it was no use; he had already dug the dagger deep, deeper than needed into her flesh. The knife was sharp it easily sliced through her wrist. Her blood poured out onto the hardwood floor.
Adanya’s muscles gave away her face paled and vision blurred. Kwame placed the chunk of flesh inside his pocket.
When he let her up, she gasped for air and applied pressure to her wrist to stop the bleeding. Kwame watched his sister as she struggled.
She noticed a glint of sick joy on his face. The pit of her stomach sunk deeper, with vomit at the top of her throat, the emotions she should experience before a battle but never did.
She looked at the blazing fire. She reached as far as she could to stick her hand in, the fire was too far away. Too dizzy and weak to crawl let alone stand, she tried to crawl.
His eyes roamed her body like she was a dog in heat. Her dress torn with her body parts exposed.
He lunched at her again, her hand fell from her wrist and blood squirted out faster than ever.
Like a madman, Kwame took the dagger and ripped her dress. Her breast laid bare, and she continued to struggle to get him off and to reapply pressure, but she wasn’t strong enough for both.
He hiked her dress up and tore away her undergarments and placed his knee in her chest. A loud wet gurgle sound escaped her lips; she wasn’t able to breathe. Her vision went black, everything in slow motion.
Kwame punched her again and again and again until the noise stopped.
He stood up and unbuckled his pants and dropped them to his ankles. He shoved open her legs as far as they could stretch and he roughly jammed himself in between her with forceful thrusts.
Adanya eyes opened and closed, everything deafened around her, but she slowly tried to stop the pressure, but Kwame slammed her arm back to the floor. He grunted loudly with pleasure, his hot breath right in her face and sweat dripped down on her.
Blood ran down her bruised thighs and bareback pounded into the hardwood floor. The splitters from the oak floor pricked into her skin.
Her own brother took her most beloved treasure, only for her husband to have; it seemed to go on forever. Darkness in her eyes along with a cold chill.
She imagined a childhood pastime; one where Salim and she played together in a field. They were young and carefree. Now she wondered if he would see her again.
Death was a cheery thought; she didn’t want to live with a memory so horrible for the rest of her life.
Kwame slowed his movement on top of her and removed himself from inside her. The pain was agony. She stopped struggling, not because it was pointless but because she refused to give him any more enjoyment from putting up a fight.
He saw her move and grabbed her hair and flipped her on her stomach. He pulled her head all the way back.
“I’m not
done yet,” he whispered and slammed her head into the floor.
He licked his hand and stroked himself and went inside from behind her.
She couldn’t hold it in any longer she let out a piercing scream that made God weep for her.
A lesser woman would have died. Darkness surrounded her, and she waited for death to collect her in the void, but it never came.
Kwame’s full body weighed on Adanya, and after one last thrust, it was over.
She could still smell him; whiskey mixed with his sweat. A tingly and warm sensation of droplets fell on her stomach; at first guess, she thought it was sweat. Her hands wiped it away to discover that it wasn’t sweat at all, but his jism.
Kwame made a deep noise from the back of his throat.
Maybe the bastard was choking, she thought to herself.
His intentions set in too late, a thick, mucous fluid flew from his mouth and landed onto her face.
Adanya’s tears stung her eyes as they seeped out of the corners.
She jumped, startled by a loud smash; her working legs pushed her back against the wall.
Kofi stood in the door’s frame and surveyed the room. Kwame had already gotten dressed and perched himself against an old desk by the window.
He appeared to be an innocent bystander until Kofi’s eyes fell on his beaten, half-naked sister, wrapped around herself in the corner, helpless with a bloodied body.
He trod carefully, there was no way he could accuse the future king of a crime. His brother was unapologetic and bold, with the right words he would confess on his own.
“What ave you done? This is oa’ sista.”
Adanya listened with the only sense left intact.
“She is no longa’ oa’ sista’ o’ woyalty, she might as well be twash!”
Kwame fumed in anger, he could tell his brother knew what he had done.
“But that doesn’t give you the wight to ⸺.”
It sickened him to think about what Kwame had done to their sister, his own flesh and blood. His eyes darted back to Adanya who hadn’t moved and coward in the corner.
“Oa’ fatha ad specific instwuctions and this wasn’t pawt of it. You’we sick!”
Adanya heard a blade unsheathed, along with a crunch sound, and a low groan; she yelped in horror, someone had died, a loud thud, the weight of a body hit the floor.
She cried out, frightened, uncertain of who died.
A blanket touched her skin, she grimaced in pain, but it stopped her shivers.
“So’wy.”
She offered a faint smile at the sound of Kofi’s voice. It was good news, her father wouldn’t have a choice but to forgive and forget. The throne, the kingdom, or nothing else mattered; she wanted to survive, she’d worry about living later.
Kofi tossed around her things in search of clothes and a first aid kit.
He finally found a pair of soft cotton bottoms and a t-shirt; it wasn’t ideal, but she’d have clothes that didn’t irritate her bruised body.
He helped her as best he could to get dressed, especially when she struggled; otherwise, he turned his back with an occasional glance to see if she needed him.
Adanya’s injuries, however, were a different situation. The first aid kit he discovered contained cleansing ointment, gauze, band-aids, and a wrap. Things that wouldn’t help her injuries, despite it, he tried.
Her rib cage was black and blue with a lump underneath her skin. The good news was that he saw no sign anything was punctured. Over time, it would have to heal on its own.
The split lip appeared to need several stitches. When he accessed the severity; it made him cringe. Kofi was ill-prepared nor was he skilled to repair it.
His main concern was her inner wrist, it bled when left without the proper pressure. He knocked things over in search for something to seal her wound.
He took an antique sterling silver hand mirror from Adanya’s desk and warmed the back of with fire. Adanya didn’t move as if the singe of the mirror didn’t cause discomfort.
When Kofi did all he could, he stood back and took in the scene. He shook his head, rubbing his forehead. Kwame’s body laid on the floor; Adanya, bloodied, beaten, with serious injuries.
He had forgotten that he would have to explain everything. With further assessment, he pulled himself together, in control of the situation.
“I’ve cleaned yoa wounds so they won’t get infected.”
Adanya felt her wrist and a hard surface formed over the wound, but it still throbbed with pain.
“I put fi’e to it too, the only way to stop the bleeding. You alweady lose a lot of blood.”
Her body ached so, she hadn’t felt the fire that Kofi applied to her wrist.
“What about my sight I can’t see anything,” she said as she used her hands to guide herself.
“I’m su’e that’s becaoze you took an ell of a beating. Yoa sight will come bagk to you in a few days.”
He touched her arm, and she flinched. Kofi dropped his head, and he sighed with disgust for their brother’s action and sympathy for Adanya.
“Listen Adanya. The guawds ave to take you to Tigway.”
Adanya shook her head, her heart raced at the mention of Tigray.
“What? Why?”
She didn’t understand. Tigray was a place for prisoners, but they weren’t the typical thieves, murderers, and other criminals. Just innocent souls sold, disposed of by people who wished to rid themselves of an unwanted person.
“I ave to, it’s fatha’s o’da’s.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Also, I ave to tell im you killed Kwame.”
“But I didn’t, you did! Why can’t you tell the twuth that e bwutally attagked me and you killed im? Why can’t you jozt let me go? I won’t come bagk.”
He shook his head. “That won’t wo’k.”
“Like ell it won’t! Take me to im. Let im see my body. Let me tell im what appended!”
“No! We’we taking you to Tigway and that’s final!”
She felt the soldiers place manacles on her wrists and without another word they left for Tigray the place for the condemned.
Chapter Five
Salim hurdled a glass against the wall. He didn’t hear his mother as she tried to calm him. The only thing that replayed in his head was Muto’s voice, his lies that he would see Adanya and his so-called ignorance of her whereabouts.
His mother gave her husband a pleading look.
Sahem didn’t intervene and allowed his son to vent. The series of events was his first experience of things he would have to deal with as a king.
Salim was quiet the entire trip from Lark back to Iyego. His father expected him to have pent up aggression from the things that transpired.
Salim’s mother, however, worried for her son; she never saw him act the way he did. He wasn’t a violent man; but loving, patient, and slow to anger.
“Let im feel as e’ chooses,” Sahem told his wife.
She wanted to take away her son’s hurt, and it pained her that she couldn’t. With no objections, she heeded her husband’s words and joined him at the table.
They watched as their son paced and mumbled under his breath.
The thing he dreamt of, his nightmare had come true; Adanya was gone and helpless, without him there to protect her. He vowed to himself when they were children that he would always protect her, no matter the circumstances.
“He lied! I told im I needed to see ha’ and they took ha away. Now I don’t know wha she is or if she’s okay,” Salim said in frustration.
His father poured him a drink of the dark stuff and slid the glass across the table to him.
“Sit, dwink, and calm yoozself.”
As difficult task as it was, he did as his father instructed and downed the drink in one gulp. The alcohol burned going down his throat causing him to wince. Salim wasn’t a big drinker, but he needed it more than he could’ve imagined.
Sahem waited until his son’s chest steadied to an even pattern, his feet pace
slowed, and he was ready to listen.
“Yoa fisst lesson as king. You twozt no one.”
Salim already felt bad, his father only added to his pain.
“Yoa next lesson. Yoa fisst mind is yoa wight mind. Neva’ allow anyone to deta’ you fwom it.”
Salim listened as his father spoke, the tears stung in his eyes.
“I don’t know if she’s okay or not. She will think I abandoned ha,” he said as his voice cracked.
Sahem swatted his wife’s hand in an attempt to coddle Salim. He was about to be king, and his parents could no longer pamper him. His father needed to show him, tough love, even in a moment of hurt and weakness.
“I’m sa’ she will think you did, maybe even ate you fo’ it. Tha’s not a thing you can do about it.”
Salim wanted to dispute his father, but Sahem silenced him with his hand before he could speak.
“You awe a king now. Once you’ve made a decision, you ave to live with it. Adanya and yoozself made yoa decision, togetha. Live with it and move on.” Sahem continued.
Salim burned with anger, those words weren’t the advice he expected to hear. Even his mother was surprised by her husband’s counsel.
“Move on?” Salim released an incredulous laugh at his father’s words. “Jozt like that? Jozt fo’get and move fo’wawd?”
Sahem shrugged and nodded.
“Yes. You can bweak a few mo’ glasses, but what will it solve? Otha than weleasing pent up aggwession; nothing. Ha’ whaabouts wemain unknown, Muto pwoved imself a liaw, and guilt will consume you.”
Salim never heard his father talk in such an insensitive manner.
Sahem helped his wife out of her seat. Before they left the room, he stopped alongside his son, who stared into his empty glass.
“Don’t allow guilt to consume you son. Tha awe bigga’ things to concewn yoozself with. Thoozands of them. Battles awe loss each and ev’yday. Yoa job is to make su’e you win the waw.”
He patted Salim on the shoulder and left his son to his thoughts. Salim poured himself another drink.
⸞⸟⸞
The soldiers and Adanya traveled for three days in silence.