THE FURY OF GODS

Chapter 2: A TRADE of BLOOD

Akan

There was nothing to appease the sight but miles of dirt and the cloying scent of sea salt.

I glanced out over the edge of the cliff where the coast of Dima met the Bay of Storms. The locals called the mucky road at the edge of the cliff the Trader's Route for its easier access into the Province's center of trade. I hated this Tribal Province of Dima with every fiber of my being. It was made of muck, sand, lawlessness, and the backdoor of this kingdom despite its geographical position. Behind me the men of the Iron Guard were far more gleeful, telling centuries-old jokes that had gone stale that only drunks would find amusing.

Our Royal expedition had gone well. The riot we had been sent to quell had been more bloody and disastrous than we bargained for.

I had spent four years training for the Iron Guard and five years as a Guildsman, fighting the king's wars and keeping his peace. All the things I had to show for it brought me nothing but internal grievances, the prestigious golden armor synonymous with my fraction of Guildsmen and accolades vainer men would kill for.

I supposed I am vain, then; I did kill for every last one.

The thought brought a smile to my lips as I rode quietly down the road of muck with my fellow Guildsmen, carrying the stench of stale blood and well-used steel.

"They said there are monsters in these parts," an Iron Guard said conspiratorially. "Ninki Nanda. Great four-legged beast of scales and long fine teeth that could be used as needles. They crawl out of swamps and scourge the mucky roads seeking."

"Seeking what?" another asked, worry in his voice.

"Flesh, I've heard. There are skin-changers, too. Werehyenas."

The skin-changers weren't a terrible threat; it was the werehyenas that passed the real problem. These men had seen the worst wars had to offer, headless women and children, men who were executed for the crimes, bodies piling up on the battlefield when an army was outnumbered and yet they feared monsters. Commander T'Sory would say that means the humanity hasn't fully left them. Never trust a soldier who has allowed his humanity to be lost. I had grown to understand that at times there wasn't a choice. Most men just sold theirs for a price. Men killed quicker without remorse when there was gold.

Just as I had done in Dima for the last two days.

Overhead the sky was a troubling shade of ominous silvery grey, threatening another downpour of rain or suggesting a storm would be raging any moment now. The slight wind that had trailed us from the capital picked up turbulence and howled like the scream of some small abhorrent monster. I could always smell the rain even before it came. Mother had thought me to connect with the earth for it told you everything you needed to know, the change of seasons, when famine would soon be upon the land. She said men just forgot the primal parts of themselves that thought them these things. I found out later that she was right about the earth but she had been wrong about the men. Savage, primordial men had killed her.

"Don't forget the lingering spirits of the ones who were not so fortunate to gain proper Rites of Departure," I added. "Who can tell if those spirits aren't tracing us back to Abuja for spiritual revenge?"

I laughed as more men began to utter worrying words between themselves. I wasn't overtly superstitious. I did not believe that anything I couldn't see or anything intangible in this world could harm me seriously.

We had at least five more days of riding before we arrived home to a heroes' welcome. That was the wistful thinking of most the men I served with. They had weaved the idea that people like the Iron Guard. No one really did; many hated us as much as they did the king we served.