by Owen Oakley
Muto stepped towards Kofi, with his chest puffed out and cast him a sidelong glance.
“But this, I will undo.”
“She killed oa’ brotha; yoa son, the would be king, and you want ha’ to come bagk into this kingdom and welcome ha’ with open awms?”
“Yoa sista’, my daughta’ was a lot of things but a ma’da, she was not. I ave weason to believe tha is mo’ to that night than you tell me. When we wetu’n, we can all take a twip down mem’wy lane and so’t thwough ev’ything ⸺togetha.”
He pushed Kofi to the side and continued to pack his things.
Kofi’s swished around the lies and deceit in his head, he spawned into motion. He killed Kwame and framed his own sister to cover his tracks and secure his ascension to the throne.
He was bemused, and fear of the unknown overwhelmed him.
“Kofi, my son, I know that you awe wo’wied about losing the thwone but I can assa’ you I will not take it away from you. You’we doing an excellent job as king my son.”
Kofi waved his father’s words away.
“Even if I believed you, I cannot allow you to get ha’.” Muto glared at Kofi.
“You may be king but I still old powa’ that you cannot imagine boy. Do not test me when my child is involved.”
Muto was an intimidating man on an average day but factor in someone who stood in the way of correcting a mistake which involved his child, then he was a beast.
Kofi knew he wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight with his father despite Muto’s age. Kofi’s body frame lacked the broadness like that of Muto and Kwame.
Even Adanya had a feminine expansion at her shoulders with toned arms and legs. Kofi was an average man with considerable height, but that was all.
Muto moved about the room in a whirl of motion; he was determined to bring Adanya back, and Kofi’s words didn’t discourage him from his plans.
Kofi turned and searched the room. He spotted a brass candle holder on the fireplace. It was heavy in his hand.
Muto hunched over his suitcase and when he turned around Kofi licked the brass holder, hard across his father’s head.
Blood spired from his head, the whiteness took over his eyes as he fell hard to his knees and continued face down on his stomach.
Kofi softened the fall. Although Kofi killed Kwame to gain his ascension, it was a commendable kill. This was murder without a cause. The killing of a king.
⸞⸟⸞
Kofi burst into his bedroom. His shaking hands covered in blood.
Zola prepared herself for bed in her powder room and heard the door open.
“You took long enough,” Zola called out as she brushed her hair.
She ignored the silence that surrounded her and continued finger curling her hair.
“Kofi?”
She knew he was there, she stroked her hair a few more times before she walked into the bedroom.
Kofi sat on the carpeted floor next to their bed, covering his head, rocking himself.
“What appened?”
Zola positioned herself on her knees in front of him. She pulled his hands to his side. He trembled, his face wet with tears.
“I, I killed im.”
She stroked his face.
“Killed who?”
“My fatha.” He threw his hands back over his face and sobbed.
Zola cupped her hand around her mouth. Her eyes shifted from side to side. At most she thought Kofi would sway Muto not to bring Adanya back, she never thought he would kill him.
“You left the body?”
“I ad too!”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I will tell them it was an accident.”
Zola scowled at him.
“You awe a fool, you know? Jozt becaoze tha’ awen’t anymo’ living successo’s to the thwone doesn’t mean they will excoze this and allow you to weign if you’we discova’d. They will kill you without esitation.”
Kofi stared into his bloodied hands. Zola slapped them away from his face.
“Mozt I do ev’ything fo’ you? I should ave been the wula’; as many decisions, I’ve ad to make.”
Kofi’s nerves were already on edge, his wife’s pessimism only worsened them. It shouldn’t have caught her by surprise when she found his bloody hands wrapped around her neck and gasping for air.
“I ave alweady killed what makes you think I am not capable of killing you too.”
He squeezed her neck hard. She fell back to the floor when he released her. She felt her neck, her face flushed.
“You won’t kill me⸺ she climbed to her feet ⸺Becaoze if you do it’ll be two messes you awe incapable of cleaning up.”
Although Kofi fumed, Zola was right. He didn’t know how to clean up the disaster he created.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t killed before but what he had done this time was beyond the installation of fear tactics or a vengeance killing.
He murdered his father, a powerful, and beloved king of Lark.
Chapter Eleven
The freed captives of Tigray made their migration across the seething hot surface. The maimed and sick died first during the rigorous journey.
Taj feared they would meet the same destiny, without food and water.
The hot sand blistered their feet, and the sun-scorched their skin. No one grumbled, Taj led them and hoisted their spirits with an expression of the future phenomena to take place.
After a week on the fiery trail, they came into a large, uncultured city. The city’s people wore animal masks and white face paint. There were no gates that surrounded the old stone houses.
The people of the city stopped and murmured as Taj, and her people walked into the city.
A group of men with warrior exteriors stood in a line that blocked their path.
“Who’s in chawge a’?” asked Taj.
The men didn’t budge.
“I weally don’t like to ask things twice, but since I am on yoa land, I shall ask again. Who’s in chawge a’?”
Taj suspected the man who stood in the line’s middle was the leader. He was taller than the other men, and his lion mask was more eccentric than the rest.
He stepped forward and jammed his spear into the grassless ground. Taj removed her sword she used to kill the numerous guards of Tigray and Ashanti followed her.
“What is yoa boziness a’?”
“We have twaveled a long way. I only wish that my people ave something to dwink and eat. We will also need clothes.”
The man looked passed Taj at the people with blood-stained clothes most were naked, eyes filled with adrenaline and some of fear. She pointed the sword at the man’s chest refusing to back down.
“I ave stated my boziness. My people and I mean you no awm. Who is in chawge a’?”
“I am.”
A topless older woman appeared from behind the men. Her body was very toned, and the long skirt with high splits accentuated her long legs.
Taj bowed her head, and the people mimicked after their leader.
If Taj weren’t careful, she would’ve mistaken her for a woman of her own age, but it was the silver hair that betrayed her age.
“I am Taj.”
The woman’s finger rose in the air.
“I know who you awe.”
“I am afwaid I aven’t ad the pleasa’.” Taj squinted her eyes.
The woman’s smile was genuine and warm. Taj was well known, and she was acquainted many leaders and royals both afar and domestic. It was unusual for her to encounter someone that knew of her and she didn’t know them.
“I am Chipo the leada of Wam.”
Taj smiled back at the woman and put away her sword. What were the odds, she thought to herself?
“Wam! Bow befo’ Pwincess Adanya,” Chipo commanded.
People gasped throughout the crowd and quickly fell to their knees. Taj held her tongue, careful not to insult the woman she just met. She wanted to correct the woman, hearing her former name and title sickened he
r.
“Walk with me Pwincess. The village will tend to yoa people.”
Taj left Ashanti in charge to make sure the people ate, bathed and rested for an even longer journey ahead. They were grateful for the city’s hospitality.
Chipo took Taj further into the city.
“Pwincess Adanya I want to sha’e something with you.”
Taj gave her a curt nod, both women keen to learn about the other. The people of Wam kept to themselves. A self-learned and independent city.
“Wam owns all of these lands believe it o’ not. Passed down fwom gen’ations to gen’ations of my bloodline. Oweva’, my gweat, gweat gwandfatha fell on awdships and ad to sell most.”
Taj continued to listen as best she could with the effects of the journey weighing heavy on her.
“Unda’ my leadeship we gained it bagk thwough pa’chases and battle.” Chipo stopped to take in the city.
“We ad only one mo awea to acque’, the same awea that King Omawi wanted.”
Chipo frowned with a labored sigh. Taj could tell the woman’s mind wondered with constant thoughts.
“Ad we lost that awea it would only ave been a matta’ of time befo’ we wa’ fo’ced out completely by King Omawi. I only leawned afta’wawds that my thanks awe owed to you. A stubbo’n wawwio pwincess, a woman who wefozed to sagwifice the lives of ha’ men ova’ someone else’s selfish gains.”
Chipo beamed with gratitude.
“My people ad no weason to fo’ge into battle fo’ someone like King Omawi.”
Taj took a moment to admire the buildings’ designs. Impressive but a little too immaculate for her taste.
“I know what yoa fatha’ did to you. I am twuly so’wy.”
Taj refused to look in the woman’s direction. Even though she was certain Chipo didn’t know the details of that night, that moment would always be her shame.
“I am also getting olda’ in age, no ozband, o’ childwen. This city will need to continue to thwieve when I am gone.”
“My people and I appweciate yoa gen’osity.” Chipo gave Taj a sidelong glance.
“Wha will you go fwom a’?”
“Find land and build oa’ kingdom.”
“With what wesowces?”
“We’ll make do.”
Chipo placed her palms behind her back and led Taj into a larger quaint stone cottage. Taj smelt fresh bread, garden picked herbs, and tea.
Chipo motioned for Taj to have a seat at the long wooden table. Taj saw three women cooking and cleaning in the kitchen next to them.
“Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
Chipo poured the steaming tea from the steel pitcher into two decorative saucer cups with shaped stems.
Taj had never encountered a royal or official of influence who serviced their company or themselves. Most officials deemed the task to be beneath them.
She had become acquainted with slumming and preparing jobs for herself, her high days had developed into a vague memory so far gone she gained appreciation rather than obligation.
Taj took a sip and relished the taste. It was the first time she drank something other than filthy water.
The strong-bodied tea with herbal drops and shaved peppermint washed over her body.
The tea had to be a remedy of some sort; the energy lit through her body like fire.
Taj breathed in the steam each time the cup touched her lips. She relaxed for the first time since she had suffered everything.
When she closed her eyes the world around her vanished. She was human again with fears, doubts, and emotions. Taj had become so entwined with others’ needs that she forgot about her own.
A single tear slid down her cheek, she didn’t bother to brush it away; high on thoughts, and the mellowness from the tea. Both shield and exposed.
When she opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom in Lark. She saw the crackling fire. Only this time her room was empty.
Chipo watched Taj stand up from the table and walk over to the fireplace by the kitchen.
Taj observed the room that was now her bedroom. She ran her fingers down the cold, uneven wall, the same wall she flew into, and her back was against that night.
It was difficult for her to breathe, the tightness in her chest made the moment feel real; the fear, the torture, it rushed to her all at once. The painful memory she worked hard to keep contained spilled out.
When she turned around, she saw it. The horror, the thing that caused her to shake uncontrollably and choke back sobs of tears.
A nightmare to gaze upon and there she was face to face with the unspeakable act.
Taj watched in horror as Kwame assaulted her; the intake of blow after blow and what her body endured. Trapped in a nightmare, her hell, her mind that should’ve offered her peace but instead gave despair.
Taj shook her head, dazed when a horrible scream escaped her lips. Chipo leaped from her seat and caught her around the waist before she fell back into the burning fire.
She guided Taj back into a chair at the table. Taj slowly opened her eyes one at a time with a sigh, she saw that she was back in the room with Chipo.
Taj bore into Chipo, her chest heaved, and nose flared wide with every exhale.
“What did you give me?”
Chipo wore a solemn expression, with her hands clasped in her lap, perched on the edge of the table in front of Taj.
The moment Taj arrived Chipo saw that she was tensed and needed to rest. It was never her intentions to cause one of Wam’s guest any unpleasant experience especially Taj.
“Some people wespond diffa’ntly. A welaxing agent, nothing mo’.”
“Nothing mo’? I allucinated these awful things that my⸺.” Her words lingered. Chipo eyed her and swallowed hard.
“Pwincess Adanya.”
“Stop calling me that!”
Chipo gave her a moment. Taj squeezed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth.
“I don’t know what appened to you o’ ow you come about being eld captive in Tigway. I assume it was terrible.”
Taj didn’t rebut the assumption, so Chipo continued.
“But I ave a solution fo’ you. Something that will elp both you and me. I want you to become the leada of my people a’.”
“Why?” Taj queried.
“You’we a nat’al leada and you put yoa people fisst even ova’ yoozself. I ave met none otha like you. You ave inspe’ed many acwoss these sands. I supposed that is why the city of Lawk as exp’ienced countless wiots and webellions thwoughout the kingdom.”
Taj’s eyes widened, forgetting about Chipo’s proposition.
“People a’ wioting? They wa’ upset but wiots?”
Taj knew her people were in danger if they were rioting. The kingdoms had zero tolerance for those who attempted to overthrow the monarchy, and the severity was imprisonment or worse; death.
Chipo smirked, an easy angled played to give Taj more reason to join her.
“Oh yes. It did not go well with yoa people. They wemain v’y loyal. Oweva’, we awe in a time dilemma a’. You need a kingdom, and I need a leada fo’, my people. I only ask one thing if you accept.”
“What would that be?”
“That you keep me on as yoa; adviso’ and you mozt wemain in the shadows. That means you ave to be my descendant.”
Her request took Taj aback, an offer she didn’t quite understand.
Why her? Chipo could have enlisted anyone to pretend to be her kin and become Wam’s leader.
“I told my soldias that I would come bagk fo’ my people. I cannot abandon them afta’ giving them my wo’d.”
Chipo shook her head.
“No, it as to be this way. The pwopa’ moment as to pwesent itself befo’ you can wetu’n to Lawk.”
Taj took a moment to consider the woman’s words. It would be a betrayal to her people despite everything that happened, Taj couldn’t phantom the burden of denying her ancestors to build a false name.
She thought of the people who be
lieved in her and fought even at that moment, for the treatment against her.
If she learned nothing else from being a warrior, it was that causalities were inevitable.
Taj considered every possible option, none of which were appealing.
Chipo waited patiently, careful not to stare while Taj weighed in on her next move.
“I accept and I too ave conditions,” Taj said. Chipo nodded for her to continue.
“I will not only be a leada ova’ yoa people but a Queen. Wam will be no mo’ but the Kingdom of Waewood. We will build a palace and the gates will sa’wound the city.”
Chipo folded her arms.
“I do not want my people to become like the otha kingdoms. We pwide oozselves becaoze we awe nothing like that of the otha cities and kingdoms. But I twozt yoa judgment.”
“What descendant will I be of yoas?” Taj asked.
“You awe my daughta.”
They had only been there a few hours, and she had everything figured out. It would have alarmed Taj, but she did save her land, and most commoners disliked the monarch.
Besides if Chipo had any alternative motives, it wouldn’t matter, Taj needed as many alliances she could gather if she planned to reclaim Lark.
Taj got to her feet and kissed the woman on her mouth. Chipo smiled and cupped her hands around her face.
“Wule well Queen of Waewood.”
A cold chill shivered up her spine. She was a queen now, a ruler over thousands and an army of warriors that outnumbered many of the kingdoms.
She had retaken her place as a royal.
⸞⸟⸞
The next day while the sun was low on the horizon and peaked above the clouds. Taj found Ashanti on a rocky cliff that overlooked the city.
The city was pleasantly quiet, no one stirred expect warriors who patrolled the premises. It was peaceful, a cool breeze passed that felt different from the ones in Tigray.
Being imprisoned and reverting back to a life of freedom had a way of making them appreciate the simplest things life offered that were taken for granted.
Taj caught Ashanti’s look of uncertainty when she shared the plan with her. She had to be sure Ashanti remained in her corner.