Pharaoh of Fire

by Chadwick Duncan

  “Loved ones? You hardly know any of us! Don’t make me laugh!” Irabor proclaimed.

  Haifa replied, “What about your family? Shouldn’t you be keeping them safe?”

  Ida’s strong facial expression shifted to a meek one, “I never really had a family. I am a Yetim. So those I have a strong bond with, I call them my family.”

  Haifa’s eyes gleamed, “A Yetim? Oh my dear child I am sorry to hear that. Well, we are glad to be a part of your family,” she smiled as she finished her statement.

  Irabor, still with his hard disposition, replied, “I never knew you thought so highly of me. But I have done nothing to gain your trust, merely kill horsemen who attempted to kill me first.”

  Ida walked towards Irabor as she answered, “The moment I laid eyes on you and Tayo, I already made up my mind that I wanted you two in my family. You may seem like an imposing brute, but I can see your soft caring side in your eyes.”

  Irabor blushed, however, his dark face hid his true feeling, “Oh shut up! Me? Have a soft side!? Don’t make me drive a sword through you myself! Stupid girl.”

  Irabor violently arose from the table, “Hey, old lady, where can we sleep?”

  “You can take our room at the end of the hall, I and Dweli shall sleep out here.”

  Ida chimed in, “Are you sure?” before Haifa could answer, Irabor walked off to the room.

  “Yes, yes it’s fine sweet child. You two will need proper rest if you plan on doing what you intend on!” she smiled.

  “You are right, thank you so much,” Ida smiled in return.

  Ida turned around and proceeded to the room with Irabor. Once they were both in the room, she closed the door, “You know, you don’t have to be such an ass.”

  “I am no one’s family but to those of my dead brethren.”

  Ida, fierily replied, “At least you knew yours! I don’t even have a face to put to my parents!”

  She picked up a sandal off the floor and threw it at Irabor, whom laid on a sheet of thick cloth with his back turned to her. The sandal struck his back and bounced off. He ignored the projectile and continued trying to sleep. Ida became more irritated and yelled.

  “Fine then!”

  Ida laid upon a roll of cloth opposite of Irabor and went to bed. The winds howled through the night, the sound of thunder and rain falling resonated throughout the home. Soon, morning came, but the rain fell just as hard.

  “Aye, Ida. Get up it’s time to get a move on!” Irabor grunted as he attempted to open his eyes. Ida did not move a muscle.

  Irabor repeated, “Ida! Get up, come on!” she slept through the calls.

  The frustrated Irabor stood up and walked over to her. He placed his right leg on her body and began rocking her back and forth, screaming until she woke up. Irabor’s tolerance was nearing its limit, however, she finally awoke.

  “Oh! Oh! Ahhh Irabor!” she replied with an oafish smile.

  “You are a very hard sleeper you know. That can get you in trouble.”

  Ida yawned and began, “Yeah, it already has,” she sprang up onto her feet.

  She continued, “Our clothes should be by the entrance, I hope they’re dry by now.”

  “Doesn’t matter if they’re dry. They’re about to get wet as soon as we set foot outside again. You know these rains last days.”

  The two walked out the bedroom, back to the common area. Haifa was already at work preparing some food, while Dweli was cleaning up the house. Haifa stood over a cauldron sitting on a fireplace and stirred. The smoke and steam exited through a chimney sitting above the pot. The aroma of bananas and spices filled the room.

  “The food will be done shortly. Please, take a seat,” Haifa stated as she stirred her porridge.

  Ida began, “Actually, we planned on leaving right now.”

  Haifa stopped her stirring and spun around, “Nonsense! You two will be washed out to sea! My home is your haven for the time being so make yourselves comfy.”

  “Are you sure? We don’t want to impose,” Ida spoke with utmost earnest.

  “Yes! Yes! Of course, you are our humbled guests for the duration of the rains.”

  Ida smiled, “That is so sweet of you, thank you.”

  Irabor interjected, “Indeed you are. You are too kind for this harsh world.”

  Haifa smiled and resumed stirring her porridge, “Thank you, but it is the least I could do. To hear you already killed Didi’s men brought such joy to my heart…”

  Haifa’s voice grew bitter as she continued speaking, “Now, I will need you two to finish him off.”

  Ida retorted, “You have my word, we will get him.”

  “Thank you my dears. Now sit, Dweli will get the bowls. I made Banana porridge, I hope you like it!”

  Chapter 12: The Game Begins

  Rain began causing floods in certain areas of the Gibraltari Empire. The rain water greatly moisturized the land and crops, but some homes and people suffered a grim fate with the advent of it. In the city of Haathee, the residence of the Japreet clan, Lord Vishal was hard at work to secure the future of his people and territory. Haathee is a large, bustling city, close to the border of Gibralta. Haathee supports a huge population consisting not only of the Japreet but many other clans and tribes. The buildings are large stone monuments. Some buildings reached as high as the sky itself. In the Heart of Haathee, Lord Japreet and Lady Lali resided in the clan’s home. A massive clay and sandstone palace which stood upon a large hill which overlooked the city.

  “Lali! Come child. Have you heard the news?” Lord Vishal sat on a large golden chair, with red velvet cushioning for comfort.

  Lali entered his chambers and kneeled on a plush yellow pillow before him, “Yes, Father. It appears the Mali now reside in Selah Palace.”

  Lord Vishal chuckled as he began, “Who would have seen this coming? That Assani is a clever man. I am glad we withdrew.”

  “Indeed, Father. Nairobi’s skill exceeded my own expectation. He has gotten a lot better.”

  “He is a merciless one. I still believe you could have taken him.”

  Lali, perplexed, replied, “Then why did you not let me enter?”

  “Although you could have possibly beat Habib and Yannick in swordplay, I was afraid that Chukwuku’s strength would overpower you. But against a fellow swordsman like Nairobi, I would still bet on you, even if he has gotten better.”

  Lali sighed, “You are so irksome at times, Father.”

  Vishal began to laugh, “I take precautions my dear. I need to ensure the survival of our people. I will gladly take never having a Japreet in Selah Palace to ensure that no one is murdered.”

  “That is understandable. It is a shame for Lords Rashid and Mateus.”

  Vishal grabbed for a glass of his red wine and replied, “Lord Mateus has many sons. That old bag has so many wives and children, he has an endless supply of heirs to call upon. When one dies he just grabs for the next. Trust me, he feels no remorse for Yannick’s death.”

  He took a sip of his wine and continued, “As for Lord Rashid however, Habib was his life. His only son; heir to the Nguvu clan. Coupled with the death of former-Mansa Hatim and losing Nairobi to the Mali, for the first time in years, probably ever, the Nguvu clan is vulnerable.”

  Lali rubbed her chin and stared down as if she was pondering something before she replied, “Well, what is our next move?”

  Vishal gyrated his glass of wine, it spun in his cup as if it were a miniature whirlpool, and uttered, “We will maintain a strong relationship with the Nguvu.”

  Lali seemed indifferent, her eyebrows dropped and her eyes questioned his words, “What do you mean? Did you not say that they are vulnerable now? Would it not be a wiser decision to side with the Mali?”

  “True, I did say they were vulnerable. But vulnerability does not mean lacking strength, my child. The Nguvu still command the Gibraltari Empire, with Rashid Nguvu still being the Lord Commander of the Royal Army and many of the soldiers themselves consi
sts of their own men. Of the twenty-thousand men within the ranks, eight thousand, nearly half the army, is the Nguvu.”

  Lali, surprised, began, “Seven-thousand! I knew they amounted for a considerable portion of the Army, but that is outright absurd!”

  Vishal nodded in agreement, “Absurd indeed. If we scale the army down to twenty people, about seven of them would be the Nguvu, three would be us, one would be the Mali, one would be the Angola, and the remaining eight would be people from various clans and tribes.”

  He continued, “So, if somehow the members of the Four Great Clans that fight in the Gibraltari Army disband to join their respective clan’s military, the Nguvu will still outnumber us. And even if Assani convinces Nairobi to strip his Uncle of his title and give it to himself, Lord Rashid can pull the Nguvu out the Royal Army and merge it with the few troops still in Alharamu.”

  Lali’s face glowed, “Ahhh I see. They might be out of sorts but they are still extremely formidable. But are soldiers not punished for abandoning the army?”

  Lord Vishal began, “Yes, but the Nguvu are powerful enough to protect themselves in Alharamu if all their soldiers run home. No one is foolish enough to attack a fully manned Alharamu.”

  He continued, “Lord Assani is probably expecting this and will most likely need the help of the other clans to maintain his reign over Selah and most importantly, the Nguvu.”

  He took a sip of wine and continued, “So this is the perfect time for us to lend some assistance to the Nguvu. I sent gifts, flowers, and fine jewelry to Habib’s and Hatim’s funeral. I plan on meeting with Lord Rashid, after he’s done mourning of course, and further discuss how my clan can aid him.”

  “I understand, Father. So what should I do?”

  Vishal smirked as he looked away from Lali, “Nairobi is Mansa, and he will need a bride. Do you not think so?”

  Lali’s expression transformed, she looked at her father in disgust, “What!? Me marry that-that pig?! I already told you I will not, I am still upset you brought that up during the Ukulwa.”

  Vishal laughed as he replied, “Many women fantasize over him! I once saw an entire brothel turned inside out when the young man passed by!”

  Angrily, Lali replied, “I do not care if every last women on Namib wanted him!”

  “Ehhh I understand. I heard of the nasty scar he got over his left eye, I doubt the women still fawn over him.”

  Lali flutteringly responded “Wha-No! His looks has nothing to do with it! He is a spoiled and egotistical brat!”

  Lord Vishal’s laughter ceased and his expression grew stern, “I understand your views of him, but marrying Mansa Nairobi puts us in an unprecedented seat of power. My child, please, consider this option.”

  Lali rolled her eyes, “Okay, okay Father. I will consider it.”

  Lord Vishal continued to plan with Lali. However, to the west, Lord Assani and Chukwuku have arrived to the home of the Angola clan, Crocodile Bay. Although Crocodile Bay is a huge port city, overlooking the port is a large stone and wooden castle, the home of the Angola.

  “Open the gates! We have visitors!” yelled the castle’s gatekeeper.

  Lord Assani and Chukwuku entered through the gates on horseback. The horses’ hooves trudged through the mud as the rain ensued. A group of men, wearing yellow robes with the Angola sigil, grabbed their horses and escorted them to their council room. Upon entry, Lord Assani noticed a massive rectangular table. The table had a plethora of chairs around it, with a large, golden crocodile atop its center.

  “It seems we are early,” Chukwuku stated.

  “Mhmm, Mateus should know I do not like waiting,” Assani muttered.

  Suddenly, a door opened at the front of the room. It was Lord Mateus, accompanied by four women, each his wives. He wore a long yellow robe, with a long black scarf draped over him. Two of the four women helped him saunter to the table, while the other two walked in front and pulled him out a chair.

  Lord Mateus cleared his throat and then began, “Lord Assani Mali and Chukwuku Mali. I would say it is a pleasure but I am not a liar. To what do I owe this visit?”

  Lord Assani walked to the table and took a seat, while Chukwuku stood behind him, “I require your assistance. As you all know by now, former-Mansa Hatim attacked Nairobi during his coronation and we had to deal with him. Also, with the surprise edition of Nairobi to the Ukulwa killing Habib, we are in a precarious position with the Nguvu.”

  Lord Mateus gestured to one of the women to pour him a cup of ale then he replied, “So how can I help you? That entire ordeal sounds like a personal issue,” he grabbed the cup of ale and chugged it.

  “We should form an alliance. With your naval supremacy and control over most trade, and the Mali’s agricultural prowess, we could threaten to starve the entire kingdom if we are opposed.” Assani released a devilish grin.

  Mateus began rubbing his chin, “I understand your reasoning, but we could still be placed within a precarious situation. The Nguvu’s might eclipses ours put together, provoke them and they shall come for blood.”

  Lord Assani smiled, “True, they command a formidable army. But if I can convince Nairobi to strip his uncle of his command and give me the right to command the Gibraltari Empire, that would give us a slight advantage.”

  One of Lord Mateus’s wives packed his pipe and handed it to him as he began, “An advantage in numbers, not power. There is an old saying, ‘give a man a fish and he will eat for a day, teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime’…”

  He took a puff of his pipe and continued solemnly, “…‘but teach an Nguvu how to fish and everyone else will starve’,” he stared into Assani’s eyes.

  “What does that mean you old fool?” Assani replied hysterically.

  “It means that numbers alone will not be the deciding factor. They all have swords but for each Nguvu you kill, rest assured they will take four-five men in return. Plus, they receive shipments of obsidian from across the Garam Sea from Mahaan. A few of them wield obsidian weapons that adds to their ferocity.”

  Lord Assani shakenly replied, “Obsidian! Since when did they acquire such materials!? Why did Habib not use it in the Ukulwa? He would have surely won!”

  “Because it is their secret weapon. I was instructed by former Mansa Hatim to privately ship these materials to them over the years. Since he is now dead I feel no reason to keep that a secret anymore.”

  “Shit!” Assani slammed his right fist on the table.

  He continued, “Well that does pose a slight problem. Could you provide some obsidian for us as well?”

  “That is already being arranged. I have managed to steal a reasonable amount over time without causing too much suspicion by telling him pirates stole some. My men are already diligently at work smithing weapons.”

  “So, we have an agreement then?”

  Mateus emptied his pipe on the table and stood up, his wives raced to his side, “I will be in touch,” he then spun around and proceeded back to the door in which he came.

  The rains carpeted all of Namib. Dry savannahs became swamps, and grasslands became marshes. The animals and people have adjusted to such brutal rain with unforgiving heat over the years, but within the Moto Desert, something stirred. Basem rode his wagon back North. He spent a few nights in Zwela after he sold Ida, but her words about the Pyramid of Nebu resonated throughout his minds until it beckoned him to search for it. His fellow men thought he was a madman for attempting to brave the Moto during the rains, because during the rains the Moto is a sea. Basem’s wagon was bombarded with wet sand as the winds raged. His camels trotted through the terrain, their hooves sluggishly moving as if they were in quicksand. Basem ignored the obvious perils in his way, clutching the scroll in his right hand and forcing his camels on with his left.

  “Why am I doing this!?” he screamed to himself.

  “There is no way that Pyramid is there. That bitch is crazy. So why the fuck am I looking for something I know is gone!?”
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br />   Suddenly, a wave of wet sand toppled Basem’s wagon. His camels were instantaneously submerged, their wails and cries for help were quickly silenced by the sand. Basem scurried out of the wagon as it too began to be drawn into the sand. Basem managed to get back on his feet and marched through the sand. Each step heavier than the last. His feet soon became stuck, he pulled with all his might but to no avail. He began sinking into the sand. He clawed to grab hold to anything nearby, but all he got was a fistful of wet sand. The sand was soon up to his torso, he attempted to push himself up out of the sinkhole, but it was useless. The desert had grabbed hold of him with no intention of letting go. The sand was soon up to his neck, with his last conscious thought, Basem looked up to the heavens.

  “I am sorry, my love,” his head was then drawn under the sand. The rains began to cease. The heat of Namib quickly began to encroach. Basem awoke, coughing up sand and water.

  “Where…where the fuck am I?” he got up off of the ground, wiping sand from his face.

  “Oh, the scroll!?” he began checking his robes, it was still in place.

  “Ah okay, good.”

  He rose to his feet and looked up, his eyes widened and he nearly fell to his back, “Is-is that the Pyramid!? That shit actually exists!?” he screamed.

  He noticed there was an opening that led into it as he began, “I guess she wasn’t crazy. This shit does exist and there’s an entrance right there.”

  He continued, “I did not lose my fucking wagon and camels to just sightsee, there better be something important in here or I will be furious!” he marched into the Pyramid.

  Basem noticed there was still rain water flowing from the sand into the Pyramid. Fortunately, some of the torches Nairobi’s expedition lit were still blazing. Basem finally reached the burial chambers, where the four coffins remained sealed. The chambers were flooded however, with water reaching above Basem’s ankles.