Slaves to the Sword Read online

  Jack Cage

  Slaves to the Sword

  Copyright © 2017

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0-692-94998-4

  ISBN-13: 978-0-692-94998-6

  Twitter/Instagram/Facebook: @jackcagewrites

  #MakeBelieveIsReal

  Slaves

  to

  the

  Sword

  By

  Jack Cage

  1

  T he sun was slowly returning to the earth, ending a particularly hot 14th century African day. Amri Sefu and his younger brother, Endesha were hunting small animals for their village. Amri stopped mid-stride to survey the land with a long gaze. “Why did you stop, Amri?” Endesha asked quietly.

  “I am looking for tracks while we still have some light in the sky,” Amri responded stoically.

  “It is getting late in the day and we should return to the village while the sun is still out,” Endesha said.

  “I know, but Father is depending on us to bring meat back to the village, I do not want to return home empty handed,” Amri replied angrily as he gazed across the vast plains.

  The heat of the day was fading as the brothers continued to walk the plains. They only carried spears the length of their legs. The cooling of the day turning to evening was pleasing to young Endesha; He found pleasure in the gentle breeze that cooled his dark-brown skin. He looked to the sky and noticed the gentle change in its colors as the sun descended to the edge of the earth. Endesha asked his older brother, “Do you ever notice the sky and all of the colors it makes at this time of day?”

  “We do not have time to discuss such things, Desha,” Amri barked impatiently. “I need you to look for something we can kill and take home, that is the only thing that concerns me.”

  The sun was almost down completely, so the brothers had to return to their village.

  Disgusted with his failure, Amri led his brother to a familiar ridge bordering the land close to their village. “I want to check something here,” he told Endesha as he looked closely at what seemed to be a hole in the ground.

  Amri took his hand and brushed the ground, gazing curiously at the area of disturbed dirt surrounding the hole. “Give me a spear, I think I found something here for us to take home,” he whispered to his brother. Endesha’s heart started beating violently as he handed his older brother the larger of the two spears they were carrying. “Get behind me, and if I miss with my spear, kill whatever comes out of this hole with yours,” Amri told his brother confidently.

  Amri’s heartbeat had strengthened as well, but without the anxiety that his younger brother had—Amri felt alive. His vision was focused on the hole. His hand was steady, and same wind his brother felt earlier blew across the tip of Amri’s nose. It created a slight itch, but he would not dare scratch his nose. He was prepared to strike.

  While on his knees peering into a hole the size of a small infant, Amri gripped the spear his father made for him four years ago on his fourteenth birthday and mightily lunged the spear into the hole. Suddenly, a piercing squeal was heard. The spear shook violently in Amri’s arms. Amri yelled to his brother, “Use your spear!”

  Endesha thrusted his spear uneasily into the hole. “Again!” Amri yelled loudly. “Strike it again!”

  “I am!” Endesha responded as tears of fear begin to release from the edges of his eyes. Endesha was not scared of what was in the hole. He feared letting his older brother down which would ultimately mean the two of them failing their father—that was more frightening to the young boy than any beast could be.

  After several strikes from Endesha’s spear the two brothers seemed to have subdued the creature in the hole. Amri’s spear had pent the creature in place while Endesha’s strikes killed the creature.

  The brothers noticed their spears grew limp—success was imminent. Endesha retracted his spear out of the hole slowly to ensure their fallen prey would remain impaled on the blade. It was a medium sized warthog, a far better catch than what they initially hoped to find. “Look, Desha, a warthog!” Amri said proudly. “Father will be pleased.”

  The fallen beast would provide enough meat for the village to eat for a few days. Amri looked up to the darkened sky. “We must hurry back to our village before the smell of blood attracts scavengers. Take the rear legs, and I will hold the front,” Amri commanded his brother.

  The boys set off for the long walk from the ridge toward the valley of their village. The brothers walked one in front of the other with their catch tied to the spears. Amri walked confidently while thinking about his success while Endesha—tired from the day’s events—welcomed the loving gaze from their mother, Furaha and the satisfying pat on the shoulder from their father, Zuberi.

  Several minutes into their march home, the boys heard a sound that made the hairs on the back of their necks raise at attention. It was a growl. A growl that was too close and too clear to be a predator that was just passing by.

  This growl was the sign of intent to attack. Apparently, the squeals of the warthog and the accompanying smell of blood attracted a male lion. The elder brother, Amri, knew what was about to occur. He quietly told his younger brother to go on to the village, and he would stay with their prized kill.

  “I can’t leave you,” Endesha said quietly.

  “You must!” Amri whispered sharply. “I am not going home without this hog.”

  Amri slowly lowered the warthog to the ground and slid the two spears from the loops of string used to carry their blessing. The familiar breeze that followed the brothers into the evening had abandoned them. The air seemed still and Amri knew his brother would no longer be able to retreat to the village. Another growl. Amri lowered himself into a defensive crouch, he now knew where the unseen lion was.

  Amri thought about the lessons he learned from his father, Zuberi, and he thought about his desire to not let his father down. Lastly, he thought about his younger brother; he loved, Endesha. He knew if he fell to the lion, his brother would not survive the attack. Amri was a tall, young man, standing over six feet tall with large, long muscles and equally large hands. Amri was focused and steady.

  “Wait here I’m going to draw it to me,” Amri told his brother.

  “I will,” Endesha replied quietly.

  Amri remained crouched and moved away from this brother, gripping his spears tightly in his hands. The silence was deafening. The only thing he could hear were the shallow breaths of his brother behind him.

  Amri did not want to move too far away from Endesha, fearing the lion would go for him instead. In an instant, a mighty roar was heard.

  The glowing, moonlit eyes of the lion were upon Amri as he advanced instinctively toward the animal, not thinking about his own safety. The beast lunged, striking Amri across the face with its massive claws.

  Simultaneously, he fell backward under the lion, dropping a spear so he could force the lion’s massive jaws away from his face with one hand and used his other hand to quickly shove the spear into the lion’s neck.

  The injured lion roared in pain as it rolled off of Amri, determined to strike again. Severely injured, Amri picked up his second spear.

  In the moonlight, he could see the first spear still embedded in his neck. Endesha watched the events in horror as his older brother, bleeding and standing erect with his shorter spear in his hands, faced down an almost full-grown male lion.

  To Endesha, time seemed to halt for a moment. The beast looked at his brother in what seemed a gaze of mutual respect. Perhaps it was nature’s way of acknowledging each other’s power, or, maybe, it was a mutual fear. Amri, a young man and a wild beast, both performing a function that would could result in one another’s death.

  Suddenly, the lion sprinted away and Amri
dropped to his knees. “Get help,” he uttered to his brother as his bloodied face tried to get the words from his lips.

  “Amri!” cried Endesha.

  His cry was heard by Coffa, the uncle of the Sefu brothers, and one of the leaders from the village. “Zuberi! That was Endesha!” he screamed to the group of elder men nearby.

  “My children!” screamed Furaha, the boys’ worried mother.

  “Coffa will get them,” Zuberi, her husband of twenty years assured her. He was sitting in their hut, unable to go with the boys on their hunt due to a childhood injury that made walking difficult for him.

  Coffa led a group of ten men armed with spears and torches toward the darkened wilderness. They found the warthog, and a few feet farther, a crying and hysterical Endesha holding his brother in his arms. “He saved us. He saved us!” Endesha went on, “Is he going to die Coffa?”

  “I don’t know, Desha,” said Coffa calmly. “Let’s get you two home.”

  Coffa sent six men to go after the lion, fearing it would attack again. The remaining men helped Endesha to his feet, picked up, the severely injured and unconscious Amri, and the surprisingly large kill from earlier that tragic evening. Endesha walked back to their village with his uncle Coffa’s arm supporting his weight. He was welcomed by loving tears and kisses from his mother and the sight of his father standing next to her. Endesha then passed out from exhaustion—his last memory of that terrible day was feeling the slight breeze return to him after fleeing the brothers earlier in the evening.

  2

  T he next day, Endesha woke to the sounds of his mother crying. “Mother,” he called to her.

  “Yes, son,” Furaha replied.

  “How is Amri?” Endesha asked with a concerned quiver in his voice.

  “He is not well” Endesha’s father, Zuberi interjected.

  “But you two are safe.” Zuberi had a concerned look on his face.

  The family’s hut was filled with people from his village, and Endesha could hear more outside. “Why are there so many people outside, Father?”

  “They are here because they heard about what happened to you and your brother,” Zuberi replied. “They wanted to see the boy that killed the lion.”

  The boy that killed the lion? Endesha thought to himself.

  Endesha wiped his eyes and sat up to see what the elders were doing by Amri’s bedside. Standing up, he slowly walked toward what looked like his brother. There were five or six older women surrounding Amri. They were singing songs and rocking themselves side to side as they spoke in an old language Endesha did not understand.

  One of the women closest to Amri was his mother. She was crying while she and some of the elder women put oils and large leaves on Amri’s severely lacerated body.

  Endesha was taken aback by the three, six-inch gashes on Amri’s face that stretched from the side of his head and moved diagonally across his face, missing his right eye by millimeters. The bright-white color of Amri’s flesh was a significant contrast to his dark skin. Seeing the result of his older brother’s effort to save their lives made Endesha feel sick. He decided to leave the hut and get some fresh air.

  Endesha found himself in the midst of several of his fellow villagers and guests from neighboring villages. They were gathered around Coffa, all of them looking toward the ground at the defeated lion. Endesha made his way through the crowd and the people started to cheer.

  “Look at this boy” they said. “Him and his brother slayed this lion all by themselves.” They cheered.

  “No, I did not!” Endesha barked at the crowd. “My brother is the one that killed the lion, I did nothing and now he is dying!” Endesha screamed.

  Coffa walked over to Endesha and calmly said, “’Yes, Desha, your brother is hurt, but he is alive and you are too. This is a time for celebration.”

  “I do not feel like celebrating, Uncle,” Endesha said while staring curiously at the carcass of the lion.

  The lion was found near where the boys were attacked. It was not too far away due to the severity of the strike that Amri gave the beast with his spear. The lion had bled to death and Coffa’s men brought the lion back to the village.

  “What of the lion now Coffa?” asked Endesha.

  “We will have a wonderful meal and celebrate the gift that the land gave us,” Coffa said with a slight smile. “My brother will keep the skins as a reward for Amri, and this day will become legend in our village for years to come.”

  Some men in the crowd cheered at Coffa’s words. Endesha took a moment to look at the beast that frightened him so much several hours before. He looked at the animal’s massive claws and sharp teeth, and he wondered how his brother could have defeated such a thing.

  He then thought about his own abilities and wondered if he could ever be so courageous. The Sefu boy’s father, Zuberi, had been a great hunter in the past, and he would have assisted in searching for the lion if he was not hurt by his brother, Coffa, in a fight during their youth. Endesha wondered if he could live up to his father’s standards, his brother’s courage, and his uncle’s leadership.

  These thoughts upset Endesha, and he wanted to clear his head. He escaped to an elevated ledge that overlooked the valley where the two brothers would sit and talk with their father.

  Endesha could not help but blame himself for not helping his brother during the attack. I should be laying there with my brother instead of sitting here, he thought to himself.

  Suddenly, a cool breeze brushed Endesha’s face, and he looked to the sky. It was turning gray, which meant a storm was coming. He thought this was fitting because the village elders taught him that the rains represented the land’s way of renewing itself, and that was pleasing to the fourteen-year-old boy.

  He hoped that it was a good sign and beneficial for his brother’s recovery. The voice of the thunder in the distance welcomed the villagers below, and Endesha set off down the hill to check on his wounded, but now conscious, brother.

  “How is he?” Endesha asked his mother curiously.

  “He is better, Desha—he has been asking for you,” Furaha replied.

  The elder women were working quickly. They were taking the rain water and mixing it with crushed berries and oils and covering Amri’s face and body with the mixture then putting large leaves over the wounds. He groaned as the women put the medicine on his body. They said the initial pain would go away and he would feel better in a few weeks.

  Endesha noticed his father was on the other side of their hut observing the ladies’ actions and noted his lack of evolvement. “Father, what are they doing to Amri?” he asked curiously.

  “They are doing what they were taught to do, Desha. Those women are going to heal your brother with the gift of water the land gave us. The land gives us everything we need to survive, and this rain was what the women were singing for this morning.” Zuberi said as he held his young son close to his body. “The land heard the songs they were singing and gave us the water we needed to help heal Amri. The land always provides for us son.” A slight tear fell out the corner of his eye.

  Endesha had never seen his father show such emotion. He knew his father was very grateful for the gifts the land gave his village.

  He thought about the songs that the women were singing along with his mother earlier in the day and was overcome by feelings of gratitude for the gift of the water that would eventually heal his brother. Reassured, Endesha watched as his mother and the elder women finished tending to Amri and went outside into the rain. The women then left the hut, and in the rain, they danced and sang their songs.

  All of the villagers that witnessed the event of the previous night were cheering. “This is a sacred day; the land gave us two gifts in a row!” they cheered. Furaha and the elder women sang and danced in the rain like children. Coffa and the older men looked up to the sky and cheered with the visitors.

  Endesha stood in front of his hut, also looking up at the sky. He saw all of the guests and his family members singin
g and dancing, and yet, he could not help but still feel responsible for his brother’s condition. Suddenly, the thunder ceased, the rain stopped, and the sky started to clear. The villagers erupted in even more song and dance as the sun returned to the sky.

  “Do you see Desha?” Zuberi said as he walked up to his son. “The land provides everything we need.”

  Endesha fell into his father’s arms and they shared an embrace as he cried in his father’s arms. Soon, his mother joined her son and her husband in the tender embrace. All of the emotions and feelings of the last two day’s events were released from Endesha’s body during his quiet moment with his parents. Suddenly, Endesha was overcome with wonderful feelings of happiness and gratitude along with a very familiar feeling that he had not felt in hours—hunger.

  3

  T he air was filled delicious smell of cooked meat, and the entire village celebrated in communion as Coffa and his men prepared the lion and the warthog to feast upon. “Eat well young Endesha,” Coffa said proudly as he approached Endesha. “You deserve to have the second portion of the lion after your brother.”

  Endesha ate ravenously; he had not eaten in over two days, and was grateful for all of the foods the guests brought to the village. The various wild berries and leaves tasted good, and the fresh water collected from the rains earlier was a welcomed treat. Endesha drank heavily; the water was sweet and cool to his tongue. He poured a little water over his face from his drinking container and wiped his face with it—Endesha felt renewed. A villager touched Endesha on the shoulder and told him his mother beckoned him to come.

  He returned to his family’s hut to find his brother was awake. Their mother had just finished feeding Amri, and she and the elder women cleaned his wounds and reapplied the medicine and leaves to his body.

  “There you are. I have been looking for you,” Amri said softly to his brother while surveying the room with his eyes and blinking quickly. “How bad is it, Desha?”