by Owen Oakley
Tigray, a treacherous city, found to the far west, away from civilization. Savages purposefully built it miles into the desert to discourage prisoners from escaping. Someone already broken wouldn’t survive the severe heat.
The sand alone would scorch their feet and render them helpless long enough for guards to recover them or die. The realm for the hopeless.
The carriage came to a sharp stop and jilted her broken body to the front. Aches still coursing through, rather dull than the severe, fresh pain at the initial injury.
Tigray beyond the heat waves rippled like a tide, the clay brick walls, and bars that surrounded it couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the prison of hell.
She only visited the city once with her father and brothers, and she couldn’t bear what people had to endure there. Now it was her new home.
A young and middle-aged soldier dismounted from their horses and walked around to the barred cell to unlock it.
Adanya recoiled when the doors swung open. It was a foreign thing to watch to see one of the fiercest warriors be a victim.
“Pwincess, we won’t a’t you ⸺he pleaded with his hands⸺ Give me yoa ands so we can unchain you.”
She hesitated and stared at the familiar soldier.
It was always her duty to know the men who risked their lives and fought by her side in battle; even if the names were names given to them by her for their character or skill.
Adanya limped over to the soldier and handed him her hand.
“You’we Roho. I gave you that name. You wa’ so young when you came to us but ad the eawt of a thoozand men.”
He nodded and gave her a faint smile. It was hard to look at her in her current condition; feeble and battered.
She looked passed the young soldier and saw the middle-aged man.
“And you’we Runako, I thought you wa’ too andsome to be in battle but you’we almost as lethal as I am with a swo’d,” she mused.
The soldier looked at Adanya with sadness.
“Fo’ God’s sake hu’wy up and get ha’ out of tha’ Roho.”
Runako pushed Roho aside and lifted her into his arms and handed her water to drink. Adanya took a few sips and pushed it away.
“No pwincess you ave to dwink, it’s faw too ot out fo’ baby sips; dwink,” he said.
She drunk more and tilted her hand all the way back until she almost drained the flask.
The soldiers’ jaw clenched when her bruises became more visible.
They guarded the door that allowed Kwame to assault her, all protected under the orders of their future king.
Adanya would never blame them for the role that they played, but that knowledge didn’t stop the guilt from weighing in heavy.
“We plan to welease you pwincess. We know what appened and we can’t ave you going into a place like that fo’ mo’ to’ta,” said Roho.
Andaya looked to both of the soldiers and beckoned for Runako to put her on the ground.
“Welease me? The city stands jozt ova’ this ill. If I twy to walk bagk to the closest city I will die,” she said.
“No, we will take you to the neawest city. We thought the ente’ joa’ney, and it is the wight thing to do,” said Runako.
Adanya looked over the plains at the dark, depressed place known as Tigray. She considered what would happen to the men if her father or brother found out they disobeyed his order.
“No!”
The men stood unsure of themselves.
“Pwincess ⸺.”
“Deliva’ me into the city of Tigway as so o’da’d by the king. And me yoa blade.”
She looked to Roho who readily handed her his sword. She coiled her hair up to her ear, and with one slash it fell to the sand.
Almost perfectly cut she ran her hand through her hair and disposed of any remaining fragments.
The soldiers stood in awe of the princess even in her condition and short hair, she still bore hints of beauty over the bruises.
There was something different in her eyes. A look the soldiers instantly recognized.
“Is tha’ anything else we can do befo’ taking you to Tigway?” Runako asked.
“My name,” she said with consideration and much thought.
“Fwom this moment fo’th you will know me as Taj. Pwincess Adanya is dead. Think of ha’ no mo’.”
She looked to the sky and smiled to herself at the strength she felt inside her physically weakened body.
“In the’ty days, I will leave to weclaim Lawk. Seawch the skies fo’ a hawk and gatha' those who you can twozt; who I can twozt.”
“That would be all of Lawk’s soldias, we will follow you anywha.”
Runako nodded.
Once again the soldiers placed the manacles back on her and slipped her into the barred carriage.
They took her to the city as she asked and told the guards exactly what she instructed them to say.
⸞⸟⸞
King Muto struck his hand against the table, and his eyes burned with anger to Kofi’s news about Kwame. Kofi placed a comforting arm around his father’s shoulders.
“Why?” The king asked.
Kofi shrugged with well-rehearsed grief in his eyes.
“I don’t know, she ad alweady killed im befo’ I enta’d the woom,” he lied.
The king sighed.
“Kofi you should ave bwought ha’ to me, why did you not?”
“Ow could I ave known you wanted to see ha’?” Kofi asked.
“Ow could you not? A ma’da’ took place in this palace, Tigway was neva’ an option fo’ punishment,” said King Muto.
“I’m so’wy fatha.” Kofi bowed his head.
The king sat in his chair, thoughts flooded his mind. Two children he had lost and the only one remained was in front of him. The sole heir to the throne.
“We mozt talk about yoa ascension. With yoa bwotha dead and yoa sista’ impwisoned and banished that only leaves you to take the thwone,” he said.
King Muto was a hard man. His emotions didn’t resemble that of a grieving father. As a king his father taught him to remain preserved, to show little emotion as possible. He grieved internally, but he had a kingdom that also needed him.
“I’ve also chosen my bwide and futa’ Queen of Lawk.”
King Muto brightened. “Who ave you chosen my son?”
“Pwincess Zola of Chanta and the daughta’ of ⸺.”
“King Haji.” Muto finished.
Muto was always busy with his oldest two; keeping the peace and offering advice that he paid very little attention to his youngest. His admission came as a shock, Kofi was always secretive with his personal life.
The king jumped from his seat.
“Well done Kofi, well done. This is excellent news,” he said.
Princess Zola of Chanta, well known for her beauty and her kingdom for its resources in diamonds, was a well sought-after princess.
Many believe their kingdom sits on a diamond mine that miners dig daily and produce such elaborate jewelry. Chanta was one of the riches kingdoms next to Iyego and Lark itself.
“Afta’ we ave moa’ned oa’ loss, we will seal the bond of Chanta thwough yoa and Pwincess Zola’s wedding.”
“And the ascension?” Kofi asked.
“You will ascend afta’ you mawwy Pwincess Zola.”
Kofi smiled as his father gripped his hand with a firm shake. He’d always wanted to have his father’s attention, love, and support; now he had it and much more.
“You will weign well my son.”
⸞⸟⸞
Royal coronations were rare occurrences. Kofi’s was the first in sixty years. It was a formal induction that allowed people to celebrate their new king and queen.
Each kingdom held its own, and they invited everyone to attend. Lark turned out thousands of people each time for many generations.
The small attendance for Kofi’s coronation appalled King Muto. After the announcement party, there was a lot of tension and animosity towards the royal offici
als.
Queen Nailah had taken ill and grieved for her children, she felt it harder than Muto, like any mother.
As crucial as Kofi’s induction was she couldn’t bring herself to attend. Muto stood alone to present his son and new daughter-n-law with their crowns.
Several individuals in the crowd made obscene remarks and demanded information about Adanya. King Muto ignored the disruptive behavior and continued on with Kofi’s induction as best he could.
Guards forcibly removed disruptive people, dragging and pushing them out the banquet hall and it only seemed to agitate them even more.
Zola expected tension along with emotions but nothing like what she experienced. It was difficult for her to pretend and smile as though she were in her home kingdom with people that loved her.
Ever since she stepped foot into her new kingdom, they greeted her with insults, rude behavior, and unpleasantness. She had already gone a week without eating because she convinced herself the staff would poison her.
People rarely saw their new queen; giving citizens even more thing to complain about.
⸞⸟⸞
A small intimate party took place after the coronation. King Muto couldn’t hide his embarrassment for his kingdom and their rudeness.
The Kingdom of Chanta was in attendance, and it was evident that they were unpleased with their noses turned to one side and wrinkled brows at Lark’s people. Luckily Zola’s father and mother were people who understood Lark’s disputes.
“Wha’ is the queen? I was looking fo’wawd to speaking with ha,” Queen Asha said.
His eyes were apologetic. The king didn’t fluster easily, but at the mention of his wife, he scrambled with an excuse.
“She’s feeling unda’ the weatha. I know she was oping to attend as well. We awe family now, but she sends ha wegawds.”
Queen Asha gave his arm a gentle squeeze of comfort. Something in his eyes told her that it was more.
“Of coozse. We ope she feels betta,” King Haji said.
Muto gave Asha a kiss on the cheek and Haji a firm handshake. He hated to leave and not socialize as he usually did as host.
He glanced back at his son and daughter-in-law as they shared a dance together. Guest danced and mingled, a perfect time for the king to slip away unnoticed.
⸞⸟⸞
The room was pitch black with only occasional lightning from the storm.
Kofi and Zola laid in bed, their first night as king and Queen. Kofi stared at the ceiling in deep thought. He imagined how being king would feel, but he felt nothing of the sort.
The people of Lark chose sides and verbally expressed their nonsupport of him. Worst of all his new queen devoted most of her time to her wants and needs.
“Awe you asleep?”
“I’m dwifting off now,” she said with her eyes wide open.
She hoped her sleepy tone would keep him at bay and stop his desire to make pointless conversation.
“Ow does it feel to be queen?”
Zola rolled her eyes, with a light sigh of annoyance.
“Ev’ything I’d oped it to be,” she said.
Kofi rolled over to her and caressed her back and arms. She slid away. He could only think of one thing that would distract his constant thoughts.
He scooted closer until he was against her back. She was gorgeous, shoulder length hair, thick dark rich skin, with hazel eyes.
They had yet to consummate their union. It was the closest he’d been to her since they met. He let his hand roam over her perfectly sized breasts and thighs.
She was shorter than her husband so he slid down waist to waist so she could feel all of him. Zola remained lifeless, uninterested with his advances but it didn’t deter him.
He squeezed hold of her breast with his hand and pressed harder against her with kisses to her neck.
“Kofi, not tonight. I’m ti’ed.”
He cut off confused. “Ti’ed fwom what exactly?”
She pretended to be asleep, but Kofi wasn’t ready to drop the issue.
“You aven’t done anything. Why awe you ti’ed? We ave yet to make love.”
Zola was angry at herself. Why didn’t I pretend to be asleep, she thought?
“Tha’s a lot of things I ave to pwepa’ fo’ and do as queen and it as taken a lot of me.”
Kofi stared at her back unconvinced of her claim. “Awe you not my Queen?”
“I am.”
“You awe a’ to sa’vice me. My wants and needs.”
He turned her onto her back. She was a spoiled princess who got everything she wanted, now she was a queen that had to obey her king.
Kofi slipped his fingers underneath her silk gown. She tried to push them away, but they were already in place.
“You awe to do what I say when I say it.”
He slowly undressed her and threw the gown to the floor.
Zola laid still and listened to his ridiculous ranting.
“Fwom now on you sleep in nothing,” he said as he trailed his fingertips along her cheek.
He rolled her on top of him and pushed her head down to his crouch. He was already naked and ready for her to please him.
She allowed the thoughts in her head to take form; her own dreams. A queen must do what she has to get the things she wants. She succumbed to his requests.
Chapter Six
Tigray smelled of rotten flesh and death. Slaves walked in chains linked to each other’s ankles.
An empty-eyed woman stared at Taj. She wore a sack dress that was too big for her size. Her skin taunt and ribs countable. There was a forlorn look and pain behind her eyes. Taj wondered if they all had the same eyes and in time if she would have them too.
Desperation passed through the air, along for human survival that death overpowered every second of the day. Death was a welcomed joy in the city.
The guard escorted Taj to a concrete room stained with fecal matter and soaked in urine. She maneuvered on her toes and stood in the angle opposite the other women and men who covered their bare body parts.
The men and women lacked eye contact; Taj looked down as well going against everything her parents had taught her. It was important that she become more common than royal, it would take only on gesture to give away her background.
“Stwip!” the guard yelled to Taj.
Startled by the guard’s harsh tone, she fidgeted with her t-shirt Kofi picked for her and eased out of her flannel pants.
“Thwow them a’!”
Assaulted and now humiliated; treated less than a human being. She threw her belongings to the guard’s feet. It took willpower for her not to fling the clothes into his face for his cruelty.
The guard led them down a hall in a single line, and Taj wondered when she would get clothes, surely they must get them because the old woman she saw earlier wore a sack of some sort.
Her thought process was interrupted by a feeble old woman who collapsed alongside the brick wall. Her skin was harsh to the eye and dried out with sores.
“Get up!” The guard yelled.
The old woman didn’t move and slid further down the wall. The guard huffed, tapping his sword against his thigh. He took the butt of his rifle and hurled it into the old woman’s forehead.
The woman’s body hit the graveled ground. Blood poured from her head, and her body was lifeless.
Taj yelled out in anger and vaulted onto the guards back. Her chains pressed against his collar. He stumbled back and spun around; Taj refused to let up. When she gripped her legs around the guard’s waist his face went pale.
Protect those who can’t protect themselves.
Just when the guard was about to meet his rightful demise, another guard approached from behind.
A sharp pain surged through her head, and then everything went black.
⸞⸟⸞
Taj slept half the day. Pain rose from the tail of her neck causing her eyes to flutter open.
She looked around the darkened cell. The small window above h
er head revealed the quasi-moon, its stars illuminated the room, the only light that was found.
She smelt the different odors of other prisoners and that of herself. The single cell was dirty with a pale of discolored water in the corner. It had been several hours since she had anything to drink.
The water tasted of what a person shouldn’t experience. She forced herself to swallow the grayish liquid filled with trash and dirt particles. Hydration was the key to staying alive, even if it meant drinking contaminated water.
She sighed and laid back on the pine straw, it was far better than what the hard, uneven ground had to offer. It was too late to turn back from her irreversible decision.
What had she done, she thought?
Taj never regretted choices she made until that moment. Now she stared down the long road of hardship that would ultimately lead to death.
She thought about Salim, the kiss they shared, their love for one another and the future they would’ve had together. The thought she couldn’t bear, and so she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
⸞⸟⸞
Morning came rather quickly. She assumed it was late when she woke up last night, there was no way to be sure. The sky would have to be her time guide.
The sun was bright, and it caught the movements of the other women in their cells. There were two rows large enough to hold only one person.
She popped her neck and adjusted herself to examine her surroundings.
They all remained naked from earlier; the sign was clear they wouldn’t get clothes.
Taj pushed and pulled on the bars of her cell, but they didn’t budge. Frustration arose in her and slapping the bars seemed like a good way to exercise it. She hadn’t devised a plan, but she knew escaping would be a little harder but not impossible.
“That won’t wo’k,” a voice said. A woman in the cell next to her glared in her direction. She appeared to be just a little older than Taj.
“Well, what do you know? The Pwincess of Lawk joins the slum.”
The women craned their necks to get a better view. Taj’s eyes darted around the room at the many eyes that watched her.
“I don’t know who you speak of, you’we mistaken.”