Yarima Abubakar | Fifty-one
THE THRONE COURT MASSACRE
—
King Umaru's departure left the throne court in disarray. The elders, ministers, military commanders, every mouth that could bring forth words, did, spewing theories, conspiracies, senseless reason, and blame. They were unruly, fear-driven, and loud.
Hareti's face remained a blank canvas, both hands resting above her lap, clasped together as she listened. There was an eerie calmness to her despite the turbulent court, one I was hardly familiar with. Patience was not her strongest virtue, and with every second their tongues provoked, I sensed whatever remained of her patience wear thin.
"The royal scholars examined the treaty and confirmed this clause to be true," Akwaugo confirmed when the eligibility of the violation was questioned.
"Why was this not brought before the council?" asked an elder.
"It should have been tabled before us," agreed another.
"I petitioned the council several times for an audience, and several times I was denied. I presented evidence that such woe might lie ahead. If Her Majesty had not taken this seriously and approved the invitation request from the Nazimbian king, he would have gone straight to the African Union and pleaded his case. If any is to blame for neglect, I'd say point the finger at the council," Akwaugo spat.
"Regardless," started the military speaker. "The Chief High Commander was murdered, and it is a violation of the treaty, is it not?"
"King Umaru is a relative of the late commander. His death does violate the treaty," Akwaugo stated in clear terms.
"In the end, it is not the council's un-wil-ling-ness that is to blame, rather"–He trailed his gaze to Hareti on the throne– "Her Majesty's brashness is the culprit." He shook his head.
"You dare accuse the Queen of incompetence," Akwaugo chided.
"I do not, but matters must be made clear." He shrugged.
"Mind the waters you rattle, military speaker," Akwaugo warned.
I expected no less from the military speaker, he was the first to petition for Hareti's removal. Though many had turned their back on the idea of impeaching a long-standing monarch and welcoming a military-run palace, he still clung to those ideas, singing them into the ears of whoever cared to listen. It was the perfect time for him to cast a stone and awaken an old flame long quenched with the death of the Chief High Commander. Fear in the heart of the court was the perfect tool for swaying favor his way.
"This is not an hour for accusatory fingers. If the treaty is threatened, we must seek the face of Amadioha," suggested a commander. "And if matters exceed reason, we must burn offerings to Ogun and seek his favor."
"What use is war to the African Union over a matter so inconsequential? There is no need for unprecedented panic," Akwaugo implored. "Her Majesty will carefully examine this matter, and it will be settled."
"Can this be assured? Can the crown assure that the African Union will not be swayed by Western magic or any good reason to support King Umaru's cause?" the military speaker asked. Turning around to face the rest of the court, he continued, "A violation of the treaty IS a violation, there will be a price! Our children should not have to pay for it if war is our fate!"
"Ise!" the court rumbled.
"We must negotiate with the Nazimbian king, find a common ground for peace!" he sang.
"Ise!" they echoed again.
"King Umaru has made it clear he only wishes to see Africa at the forefront of innovation. The magic that was demonstrated might be a path for the future. Does the Queen not wish to see Arjana excel in great heights?" the military commander asked.
Quiet murmuring flooded the court once more. It was the first question directed at Hareti, and they waited for an answer. Reti had said nothing since King Umaru's departure, and in such fashion, no response came from her. Umaru had planted a seed in the heart of her court, and the military speaker was watering it. It was no secret Hareti's court long despised her authoritative rule. With an iron fist, she had forced the law to stand in her favor, and now there was a path to make her way, theirs.
"I, for one, broke kola nut with King Umaru yesterday," the one-eared royal economic adviser, elder Efuro began. "Western magic does seem promising, Your Majesty. Certain possibilities should be considered. Magic without incantations, that can be reproduced and simply exported is groundbreaking for our economy. Arjana has the institutions to develop such magical systems, become a powerhouse, and join the rest of the world in technological advancements."
"Ise!" the court rumbled, heads nodded in agreement, eyes blinked with excitement.
"The financial growth will be exponential. If we monopolize this new technology, Arjana's treasury will never run empty, and neither will yours, Your Majesty. Magic that can be traded is worth a thorough consideration," the royal treasurer, Elder Tokunbo spoke.
"Ise!" the court rumbled.
"I say, let us call back King Umaru and see where negotiations may begin," Elder Tokunbo finished.
"Ise!" the court sang in agreement.
"Is my court being seduced by Western magic?" Hareti asked, her voice low and bored. The first time she had spoken since the king's departure.
No! Of course not! We are loyal to the crown! They all sang.
"Perhaps what you wish is to see a foreign king sit on my throne?" She quirked a brow.
Tufiakwa! Long live the Queen! We serve the crown!
"Hmmm," Reti hummed, rising from her throne, her gaze haunting for something in the vast number of people that stood before her. Silence loomed, with every step she took forward, the court grew more silent and cautious.
"You would leash the white man that was born on your land. You would call him a colonizer, deny him his rights, whip his back, scorn him though he shares your blood, your home, your language. But you cower, and dance in the presence of British flags? You rejoice at the opportunity to fill your purses with more cowries?" she rasped. "Magic without incantation?" She huffed. "Fools." Another step forward. "Just like your ancestors." Another step forward and suddenly the throne court began to dim.
A thick shadow began growing outside, the sky was darkening, a storm was brewing, a storm that was Hareti. It was then I realized what her silence was, and why it made me uneasy. Fury. Her silence was fury.
"Your majesty," the quivering voice of an elder came. "We are only concerned for our future. If the African Union grants him his heart's desire, who knows where this may lead? We must tread carefully, seek the face of Amadioha and his guidance."
"Tread as you may." She breathed, her chest heaving. "There will be no negotiations. There will be no Western magic in my kingdom. The last time they marched here they brought mirrors, and for that, we were put on ships. For that, our children drowned beneath the sea. Has history taught you no lesson?" she seethed and the sky rumbled, lightning flashing across the throne room.
"This was centuries ago, Your Majesty," the military speaker said, his voice more calm and humble. "We must move forward."
"Forward you say? I have fought tooth and nail, to keep the Western disease out of my kingdom. And you all have stoned me for it. So which is it? Do we keep them in chains, poor and weak for the sins of their ancestors? Or do we open our doors to them as long as they can fill our purses with cowries? Which is it!" Her voice thundered and so did the sky, the smell of dust filled the throne court. The smell of dry land that had not been touched by rain since the year began.
"Seek the face of all your deities! Burn your offerings! Arjana will not welcome Western magic. And if King Umaru stands before the African Union," she smirked, "Nazimbah and all who stand behind it, will be declared an enemy of Arjana. If it's war he thirsts for"—Reti spread her arms—"I am the sea."
War, Reti? I frowned. Those words did not sound like Reti, something dark and unbalanced about them.
A dry laugh came from the military speaker, and with a nod, he turned to face the many. "How are we to expect the one who gave reason for the violation of the treaty to not want to march our children to death? This council must see reason! A queen, absent from her throne for centuries, is a stranger to her people. The crown serves its people. The crown protects its people. This!" He pointed at Hareti. "She is no protector!" Hareti continued forward as scornful eyes ran over her, the military speaker continued, "Depose the imposter!"
"Depose the imposter!" another voice in the crowd shouted.
"Depose the imposter!" a few more added, and soon it was a cheer. Angry voices echoed across the throne room, and only a few remained silent.
The military speaker took a step forward, meeting Hareti at her stand, his chin pointing forward in defiance. "Once before, you stood before the military council and laid your threats. And once before we cowered. But in the face of war, steel does not bend to the will of the crown. We bend to the will of the deities!"
"Ise!" the court rumbled.
He nodded, a smirk blooming at the side of his lips, his eyes glittering with pride. "You are no deity. You are mortal."
Sea salt. So much sea salt wafted across my nose. Another roar of thunder tortured the sky and the sky bled water, the first of the year, though we were months away from harvest season.
It had been hours since Umaru's departure, hours since Hareti remained sitting on the throne, calmer than ever. Perhaps I should have seen it. Perhaps I should have felt it, I could have stopped her in time. The tale of that day would have been written differently. Seven years we had shared our lives together, and in all those years, there had never been a need for me to intervene, to save her from herself. If there had, I would have seen the signs, I would have known.
From where I stood beside the throne, I could not see her face, but when the court gasped, many eyes widening in terror, legs scrambling backward away from her, I knew, it had begun. But it had begun hours ago.
"Re–" I started towards her, stopping in my tracks when a dagger slipped out from under her sleeve, and in the same breath, she slit her throat. The court shrieked in horror as crimson-red blood splashed against the brass floor.
"Amadioha!" I heard the military speaker cry out.
My feet wobbled as I dragged them towards her, fear coursing through me. Once I was close enough, I could see the red dripping from Reti's neck, staining her light purple dress. The shock ran through me like a tsunami, my eyes were barely able to blink.
"Mercy..." muttered the military speaker before Reti's dagger sliced his throat.
"Mortals. Die," Reti croaked, staring deep into his eyes as blood ran free between them, her hands holding him in place. "I do not."
Silence. All that was left in the throne court was the splattering sounds of rain, the overwhelming smell of sea salt and blood, and the choking sounds of the military speaker as the life spurted out of him in crimson red. It was a competition for her, as if to show who would die first. A victory all must witness, a parade of her divinity. In minutes, the military speaker drew his last breath and Reti released him from her grip, letting him drop to the ground with a soft thud, a little smile of victory on her lips.
Hareti's neck began to heal itself, sealing the wound to keep her alive. Her gaze searched the court hauntingly. It was far from over, whatever was to come was only the beginning, she still craved it. Blood. Death. All things terror. The many who stood before her were now only tools to satisfy an insatiable craving. "Shut the doors," she commanded in a growl and the royal guards hurried to obey.
My steps quickened towards where she stood, covered in blood. "Reti..." I called softly. "Put down the dagger."
Like a snake, her neck swayed towards me, and for the first time, her eyes revealed itself to me. Golden-red. Her entire pupil was Golden red. I swallowed, it had been hours. She was calm, there were no signs that she was slipping away, given into her curse. How was I to know?
I fisted my palm tight. "You have made your point, Reti. End this," I pleaded.
"I have only begun," she said, her voice hissing.
"You cannot let it win." I dared to near. "You have fought too long to give into this. Do not do this." She stared back at me, eyes empty, soul drenched in darkness. "There will be no love left for you in their hearts." I held my breath, praying to whichever deity cared to listen she could still see me, it wasn't all gone, I was not too late. Her eyes did not blink, they shot red at me. Her shoulders did not move, neither did her chest, Reti did not appear to be breathing, she did not appear to be alive.
"Then let it be hate," she said, so quietly I could barely hear amidst the sound of the rain.
She lifted her dagger to throw and I grabbed her arm, "No!"
With the swing of her hand, Hareti sent me flying across the court, my back slamming into the wall before I crashed to the floor, hitting my nose and forehead. I groaned as the pain shot everywhere it could reach, my head vibrating as a ringing noise sounded in my ear.
It was minutes before I attempted shaking off the pain when I heard the screaming, steel hitting against steel. Blood dripped from my forehead into my eyes, making it momentarily difficult for me to see as I attempted to rise from the floor.
I wiped away what I could before blinking. It was all hazy for a second and then slowly, I beheld the chaos the throne court had descended into. Many drawing their swords, many running for the doors, many frozen in place, too shaken to move. Hareti slit throats as she moved through the court, and the commanders that descended upon her with their swords were swiftly beheaded. It was horror, Hareti's worst nightmare come true.
I scrambled up to my feet, my legs buckling under me, pushing me back to my knees. I tried at another stand, before catching a glimpse of Nimah and Amara, hiding behind the throne. I turned swiftly to the royal guards who all looked on in terror, confused, still fighting to keep the doors locked, still obeying their Queen.
"Open the doors!" I screamed. "Open the fucking doors!" I was on my feet, running towards them as I drew my sword, preparing to drive my sword through any guard that opposed me. They did not, in obedience, they began opening the door and I pulled a guard. "Get the Prince out!" I screamed at her. "Get him out!" I barked at Amara. She was frozen in shock. "Amara!"
"Yes! Yes!" She grabbed Nimah's arm as the guards surrounded them.
"No! No! Wait! Yarima, let me help!" I heard Nimah beg but I did not stop, I had to get to her, I had to stop her. "Yarima! Yarima!" he called out to me.
Pushing back against the running bodies slowed me down. I had to shove them here and there to achieve a good sight. Hareti moved too fast, like smoke zapping through thin air. A commander drew his sword across her back, painting her dress red in a straight line. Turning around, she yanked the sword out of his hand and beheaded him in one swing.
"Yarima!" Nimah screamed out for me, and for once I turned toward the exit, he was struggling with the guards.
"Hareti!" I called out for her, turning back.
I needed to stop her. No one else can. They will all die. In a state of rage, Hareti wielded the power of a thousand warriors, they were nothing but twigs under her wrath. And I was no different. I was not sure what I could do, I prayed silently that when she looked upon me. She could still see me, it wasn't just all red now, it wasn't just all fury.
"Hareti!" I shoved the bodies clashing into me, the sooner I got to her, the softer her regret would be. This would destroy her. I could not yet stop to think what it would do to me, to Nimah, to Arjana. It would change us forever in some way, I was sure.
I yanked her by the arm as she pulled her dagger from an elder's neck, slamming her hard against the wall, a dagger, tumbling to the ground. Aside from her golden red pupils, the rest of her eyes were now black, she was not there. The woman I loved was not there. "Enough!" I roared.
She slapped me hard against the face, harder again, and I held on tight. She squeezed my throat with both arms, and I pulled her wrist, twisting it before her free hand hit me hard in the face, my nose cracking underneath. Another came and I ducked under fast enough to grab her waist and slam her into the ground. We locked into tight combat. Anywhere my fist went, she was faster in blocking it. Abdomen, chest, face. I came down on her harder, picking her up and slamming her back down. My gaze peered across the throne court, it was quickly emptying.
"Reti! Listen for my voice! I have you!" I screamed, squeezing her throat in hopes of knocking her out. "I have you, my love! Listen for my voice!"
Her finger wrapped around my wrist, attempting to free herself from my hold and I doubled down on it, every vein, every muscle in my body strained against my skin attempting to burst free.
"Reti! Reti!" I groaned. "Please! Let go!"
She let go of my wrist, allowing me squeeze her neck a little harder. She opened her palm and her dagger, lying a few steps from us, traveled into it. She swung it at my abdomen and I released one hand from her neck and caught it. One hand squeezing her neck, the other, stopping her hand from stabbing me.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" I screamed when it began piercing my skin. "Reti! Do you hear me? Reti! Please!" I groaned, feeling my grip weaken, I could not hold on for much longer. "Please... Hareti! Hareti!" Her dagger pierced deeper. I love you, do you hear me? I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you." She stabbed deeper into me.
Letting go of her neck, I slammed the back of her head into the ground over and over again, anything to get her to pass out. Those dark eyes just stared back at me, a little smile on her lips. She twisted the dagger in my abdomen and I let go of her neck to fight the grip of the dagger. Reti did not see me. She did not recognize me. That hurt more than the pain of being stabbed by her. I always thought we were enough. No matter what, her love for me would be enough.
Staring down at her relentless eyes, a tear ran down my cheek. If I did not stop her, who knew what would become of the palace? Would she hunt every elder, commander, council member down and kill them? Would regular servants perish? Guests? I knew not. What it would take to put her down, to bring an end to her fury, her blood thirst. Perhaps until whatever grievance provoked her anger was settled, perhaps when she physically could not stand it anymore. What would it take?
I released her grip and let her have her way. If my love for her was not enough to end her blood thirst, I thought, perhaps, my death would be. But would it? Would it be enough to bring her back? She dug into the deepest part of me and I cupped her cheek. "It's okay, My Beloved."
She pulled it out and stabbed me again, blood filled my mouth, pouring out and dripping down my neck. "Reti..." I managed to speak. She pushed me off her and I rolled over to my back, clutching my stabbed abdomen. She rose to her feet and stared down at me. "Owner of my soul..." I croaked, stretching out my hand to her, and for a moment I thought this was it, she could finally see me, it was over.
Reti crouched lower and I heard metal dragging against the floor. She was picking up the sword. "No... no..." I shook my head. A pang of pity hit me hard in the chest, because when it ended, when I was no longer of this world, Reti would be left behind to feel everything. She would hate herself for it. She would hate the world for it. "Oh..." I cried.
Lifting the sword at me, she swung it in my direction, heading for my neck. I shut my eyes and waited.
I heard it strike, the muffled sound of steel piercing skin and I jerked. My toes tingled with warmth, and my back relaxed. Is this what it feels like to be beheaded? Many native doctors had speculated that the human mind remained intact after a person had been beheaded. Because life lives in the brain, and not in the body. I thought, too bad I would not live to tell them those speculations were true. I was warm all over, so warm. Then came the overwhelming smell of cinnamon.
Slowly I opened my eyes in hopes of catching one more glimpse of her enchanting face one last time, the sight I would carry with me to the afterlife. I had taken being able to look at her face for granted, we were supposed to have many more years together. I was supposed to grow old, I was supposed to be prepared. Many memories of the years we spent together came flooding back to me, but it felt as though I had not looked at her enough. When my eyes finally parted, there was no Reti.
"Nimah..." I muttered. "Wha—"
Standing above me, was Nimah, a sword lunged into his heart from behind, blood spewing out, painting his silver robes red. The words died in my throat as my eyes widened, my forehead squeezing hard. It was Nimah, I was sure of this, but there was something drastically different about the being that stood before me.
He opened his eyes and they blazed white, nothing else but white. I shuddered, once again clutching my wound as I attempted to sit up. His sandy blonde hair began turning platinum white, from the tip to the roots. Across his skin, like lightning bolts, something crawled up his skin, spiraling up his arm, up his neck. His fingers appeared to be covered in white chalk. My mind could not comprehend the being that stood before me. It was Nimah, but it was not. Slowly, he placed a finger at the tip of the sword in his chest and it vanished, turning into white glittering smoke.
He turned his back to me, and I crawled backward, away from whatever being he was. He opened his palm, and without uttering a word, commanded Hareti into it with a force so fierce. His fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezed. Hareti retaliated with hard a punch to his abdomen that barely moved him. Then she rendered another blow to his face, barely swaying it left. She reached for his wrist, twisting it until she freed herself from his grip and summoned her dagger into her hand.
"Kneel." His voice, deep and rough, as if made of thunder itself filled the throne court.
"You. First." Hareti smirked.
She slammed her head into his face and he did the same, both of them locked in fierce hold, each one trying to force the other to their knees. When this being that was Nimah would not cave, Reti lifted him and slammed into the ground, forcing the ground to shatter, as if being wrecked by a massive hammer. She dragged the body further away from me and threw him yards away. Regaining control of her sword, she turned to me.
"Reti..." I crawled backward.
As if being swept up by a tornado, Nimah picked her up from behind and they went crashing to the ground. It was all fist after that, neither of them would bleed, and neither of them would bend to the other's will. I crawled away from their chaos, to where I could find my sword and brace myself for whatever would become of them. Hareti had Nimah in a tight hold, reaching for her dagger once more. A fist to her head and her grip weakened. Before she could return his assault, to the behovement of me, Nimah elevated off the ground, ascending mid-air in the throne court.
He opened his arms and a thick roar of thunder rocked the sky, spirals of lightning began creeping in through the window. "Kneel," he commanded.
"Coward," Hareti rasped, rising to her feet.
It happened in a split second. Nimah's hair sparkled as if drawing lightning from the storm to it, filling the throne court with sparkling white light. I squinted, the light blurring my vision momentarily. Soon, the streaks of lightning began to expand. Too many bolts to count that they could have been a thousand, or a million. Each descended upon Hareti, striking her right in the chest.
"No!" I gasped.
Hareti's deep groan gradually grew into a painful roar as she bore the weight of a thousand lightning bolts, still standing. The storm seemed to carry every single note of her scream, that it could have been heard on the eighty-fifth floor, or across Khada. It was seconds, then minutes before she slowly descended to her knees, and fell to her side.
The thundering stopped, and slowly the light faded until it was dim again and quiet. My beating heart drummed loudly, and for the first time in minutes, I could hear my breathing, smell my scent, feel my skin. I gazed out the window and rain was still pouring down harder, everything seemed gray and empty. The whole world lost its color when my gaze trailed back to where Hareti's body lay lifelessly in the center of the throne court. Blood, heads and beheaded bodies surrounded her beautiful curves.
The creature that was Nimah slowly descended. His feet touched the floor with no sound. I lifted myself off the ground and began staggering towards her. I could not feel the pain from my stab wounds any longer, the blood flowed freely down my thigh. "What... what have you done?" I whispered, inching closer to her, wanting so desperately to touch her, hold her, see her face.
It turned to me, eyes still blazing white. "Kneel," he commanded.
"Is... is she dead?" I choked, my lungs were too full of blood.
"Kneel," the creature repeated.
"Did you... what have... is she dead?" I stuttered.
"Kneel."
"Tell me if she is dead!"
"I will not ask again, mortal." He opened his palm and lightning encircled it.
Shivering, I seized walking, my breath shallow and unsteady as I lowered my knees to the ground. "Please... tell me... please... bring her back..." My vision began to blur, my wounds were finally claiming my life, though I could not feel it.
Reti was there. I was a few steps away but it all began to fade away, all began to blur. Soon the world around me was spinning and I was falling to the ground, struggling to see her face. If I can just get a glimpse of her face. His footsteps towards me were the last thing in seconds as the world around me faded black, my soul slowly slipping to the other side.
History named that day The Throne Court Massacre. It was the day the future began.
***
Thank you for reading. 🥀🥀
Next chapter will be posted after this book hits 8,000 votes. Taking some time to edit another book I have to publish soon. To vote, simply press the star to the left of your screen after reading, the button is on every chapter.
I know this is not the chapter I talked about on IG. I have rewritten this chapter five times, and this feels most right. But that scene is definitely happening.
Until then. Much love.