'Hide, Talib,' his father shouted, panic in his voice as he pulled opened a small hatch and shoved him inside the tight space beneath the floorboard. 'Quickly now, boy, they are coming.'
Talib swallowed and followed his father's instructions. He held onto the trousers of his dark-blue Abadá, made himself small, and squeezed his body into the constricted space. It was the size of one of those wicker baskets his mam would use to collect the clothes from the wash lines. Dark and cold, it had a musky smell to it, the air all around very old, as if that hidden floorboard had never been opened before today.
His father slammed shut the square lid of the hidden floorboard with a thud. Talib heard the latch lock from above him with a click.
'Stay put, boy,' he heard his father say. 'I'll be back for you. Okay?'
'Okay, Pa.'
Footsteps thudded the wooden floorboard, creaking, leading out the hut and into the village beyond.
Talib, now engulfed in total darkness, barely able to breathe in the small space, wondered what in the hell was happening. Why was his father acting so desperate?
All he had said was "they are coming" and everyone in the village started to panic. Talib had just woken up, only to be shoved and prodded by his father straight back into slumber again, locking him away in this solitary confinement.
And where were his Ma and sister?
Trepidation ate away at him. Not knowing anything put him on edge, made it hard for him to breathe, his claustrophobia rising. He felt his chest rise and fall, but he tried to steady his breathing, do what his mam had told him to do whenever he felt the panic attack slowly creeping in. He closed his eyes and blew air out of his mouth, slowly, then sucked in some more of the stale air.
There was a wild scream from up above him. It came from the village outside and sounded like a little girl, no older than Talib himself, who was thirteen-years-old.
What was happening? It was killing him. He wanted to know, wanted to help.
Pa, he thought. Where are you?
Everything erupted then. There was the war-cry of whoever was invading: The kind that was projected by the uttering of a loud oh and then the smacking of their mouth with fingers in quick succession so that it echoed in a volley of oh oh oh oh oh. It sounded like the Anuk tribe, but he couldn't be certain. Why would they attack their land? The Naba tribe have done nothing to provoke them for at least two years now.
Talib could hear the clash of weapons, steel on steel, the wet crunch of weapons piercing flesh and bones, the sound of bodies thudding the ground, the slosh of mud, horse's hooves trampling the ground. It was madness. Every sound his mind latched onto formed a terrifying image.
The ground shook, Talib feeling every tremor where he hid. It sounded like the huts––made of stones and wood––were being broken down. Was it only a matter of time before the hut he was in tumbled down also?
He swallowed, and then clenched his jaw. Though he was afraid, he felt like a coward for just sitting squat while everyone else fought to defend their village.
He clenched his fists; thrust it up against the wooden floorboard. He winced, his knuckles burning, tried to shake off the pain.
He decided instead it would be wiser to use his feet. So he tilted himself backward, angled himself so that his back and head were touching the ground and his feet facing upward.
Outside, the battle still raged on, Talib could only imagine what was happening. He prayed to the Numen gods that his father was okay. Though his Pa was an Impi––a tribal warrior––and the Baale––the regional head of the villages in Nakara––he feared for him.
Talib kicked out with his sandaled feet. The hatch rattled. Dust spewed down, some fell into his mouth. He spat out the ashen taste of it and lashed out again. And again. The hatch rattled some more, but nothing. The latch held. It was vastly secured. His Pa had probably prepared for this a long time and made sure that the latch was strong enough not to break so easily.
Talib relented, putting his hands to his ears to try and drown out the hellish noise going on outside in the village. He squeezed his ears hard; his head probably looked like a small fruit stuck between a vice grip.
After a while, everything quietened. Nothing. No sound. The village was deaf.
And his father hadn't returned as he had promised.
There was nothing he could do but wait, for someone, for something, to let him out of this sorry excuse of a crawl space.
He took a deep breath and forced himself into slumber.
***
'Talib. Talib. Wake up, Talib.'
Talib eyes slowly opened. He blinked in the soft orange light from the torch that now invaded the small space he laid in. The hidden floorboard was now opened, and standing before him, stretching forth a hand to help him out, was his sister, Aubergine. Wearing her usual black and white Abadá dress that spaced out around her legs, she was two years his senior at fifteen-years-old, and as tough as any Nabian girl could be. Her skin the colour of tree bark, and her hair tied into little braids that fell down to her shoulders. She had three cat-like scratches of a tribal mark on her left cheek––said to signify her Naba tribe heritage and ward of evil Alega spirits. Talib was glad to see her. If there was anyone apart from his parents he'd want rescuing him, it would be her.
'Come,' she said, her eyes like steel. 'We need to go. Now.'
Talib took her hand, got to his feet. 'What's going on?' he asked.
'Not now,' she said, shoving Talib to her back, and taking point. She had a spear in her other hand, arc and pointed directly to the front door of the hut, readied, like a hunter stalking its prey. Talib swallowed and remind silent. She knew what she was doing. He had to trust her. After all, she was his sister.
There was still no sound coming from the outside, just the beating of Talib's heart in his chest and in his ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.
They moved tentatively, on their toes, one foot after the other, like a thief. So many questions running through Talib's mind: What had happened here? What had happened to his father, his mother?
They reached the outside. The sun had risen to its peak position in the sky, and Talib knew it would be midday right about now. The heat of the sun washed over his dark skin, beating down on him like a father disciplining his disobedient child. As they continued, his sister turned and put her index finger to her lips, indicating for him to remind quiet.
But Talib wouldn't be able to, he realised, as his eyes scanned the devastation all around them. Corpses littered the streets. Huts had been torn from the foundations and tipped over. Heads stood at attention on bloodied metal poles, their faces frozen in their last act of animation.
Talib almost doubled over, his sister catching him by the arm at the last second. There was a slushing sound in the mud as he regained his footing at the last second. He felt bile rise up on the inside of him, and next thing he knew he was throwing up, the content he'd previously consumed––which had been noodles his Ma had made the previous night––mixing in with the mud.
'Come on, Talib,' his sister said, her voice frustrated. 'Man up. We can't stay here anymore.'
Talib wiped at his mouth with his Abadá sleeve. He raised his head up and peered through the wreckage of his village again.
'Where's Pa, where Ma?' he asked his sister. 'I'm not moving until you tell me.'
'Suit yourself,' Aubergine said, and let go of Talib's arm. 'Stay if you want.' She started, her spear thrust out in front again, like an Impi. Does she even know how to use that thing? Sure she was strong and brave, but she was no warrior.
Talib found himself raising, trailing after her. 'Wait, Wait, Aubergine.'
She turned sharply. 'Keep your voice down,' she said through gritted teeth. 'Unless you want to die? There are still some more of them around.'
'Some more of whom?' Talib held on close to his sister.
She sighed. 'The Anuk.' So his early theory was right, it was them. 'Listen,' she carried on in a hushed voice. 'Ma and Pa are still alive, but I saw them being loaded into a carriage, and taken away, along with a few others.'
Talib's insides felt as if they were being sucked dry, a dull and empty feeling of hopelessness. Tears fell from his eyes, but he battered them away. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Aubergine watched him with concerned eyes.
'Okay,' he said to his sister after a while. 'Let's go.'
She nodded. 'Take this,' and reached down to the muddy ground to pick up what looked like a small dagger. She handed it over to him, and Talib took it in his stronger right hand. The blade was caked in brown from the mud, but the tip was pointed and sharp as ever, the sun glinting off it, winking in Talib's eyes.
The two of them started. Talib was following in his sister's footsteps, their feet crunching on broken timber as if it were glass, grass brushing up against their ankles and tickling their toes.
Just as they reached the exit to their village, they were cornered by two burly looking men from the Anuk tribe. Both attired in thick brown leather skirts, a glit-brass gorget, and painted with six stripes of turquoise across their arms, stomach, and face, like a tiger.
They started toward Talib and Aubergine, wordlessly, the lips curled in a snarl, daggers in their hands.
Talib tightened his fingers around the dagger Aubergine had given him, dried mud crunching about it. Aubergine still had her hand stretched back toward Talib, gesturing for him to stand back.
But he wasn't going to do that. Let his sister take the fall for him––
It was over before Talib could even finish his thought. Just like that, in the blink of an eye. Her spear had penetrated one of the men straight through the soft skin just below the chin, blood gushing out like a river between his fingers, and the other straight through . . . well, his manhood. Damn, that's got to hurt.
It was all Talib could do not to wince and caress his own manhood.
Numen gods, his sister was a badass, if he did say so himself.
'Come,' she said again, wiping the blade of her spear with the helm of her Abadá dress, and then flicking her head. And for the first time since she opened that floorboard, a faint smile crept up her lips. 'Let's go rescue our parents.'
Talib nodded and followed her.
***
Talib and Aubergine trudged through the muddy streets of Nakara. Home of the Nabian tribe. It was a small, close-knit town, made up of tiny pockets of villages scattered across the area, and separated only by a short distance.
So why no one had come to their village's aid when it was attacked by the Anuk tribe was beyond Talib.
'Why did no one come to help us?' Talib asked his sister.
Aubergine, who had now sheathed her spear behind her back, glanced over at him and shrugged. 'I don't know. But we'll find out soon.'
The wet ground plopped around their feet, splashing as they trekked, their sandals marred with brown sludge, and reaching up to their ankles.
Around them now as they passed the empty open roads and strode into another settlement, everyone was still going on about their day, as if nothing had just happened, oblivious. Talib envied them. They had not witnessed the horror he'd just had back in his village.
Women and men with large buckets––probably filled with some kind of food or freshwater––planted on their heads, sang their tune, yelling out offers, desperate for customers.
'Agege bread! Come and buy! Agege bread! Two for the price of one!'
Talib's stomach rumbled. He could do with some of that agege bread, that's for sure.
Aubergine looked over at him. She must've sensed his hunger, because she ambled over to one of the merchants, reached inside the pocket of her Abadá and pulled out a small brown pouch that chinked.
'How much for the agege and water?' Talib heard her ask the rather tall women with similar tribal marks as Aubergine. It was only the women of the Naba tribe that had that facial mutilation done to them, and to this day, Talib had no idea why that was. Perhaps he'll ask his sister one of these days. Just not now. There are other pressing matters at hand. Like finding their Ma and Pa.
'Two silvers,' the merchant said.
Aubergine rustled inside the pouch, brought out two silvers coins and gave it to the woman. The woman then slowly lowered her bucket, placing it on the muddy ground. She reached in and removed an agege bread and a small bottle of water, handed it over to Aubergine. Then she picked up her stall and was off again, on to the next customer.
Aubergine gave the agege bread and water to Talib.
He took it with a smile. 'Thank you.'
She waved him off. 'Don't worry about it. What are sisters for, aye?' She winked at him and moussed his coarse afro hair. 'Don't tell Ma and Pa, okay? Remember they don't like you eating food off the streets.'
He put the Agege bread to his mouth, took a tear off it, and nodded. He crunched away, savouring the exotic taste of the soft bread.
'That's if they're still alive,' he sighed, his jaw working away as he swallowed.
'Don't say that,' Aubergine said. 'Ma and Pa are two of the strongest Nabians we know. Of course, they're still alive. Have faith, young brother. Now, come on. Let's carry on.'
Talib and Aubergine rounded the merchants, went past through the market stall area, and finally arrived at their destination.
Their Uncle's hut.
Talib deposed of his water bottle, and he and Aubergine started toward the front door of their Uncle's hut. When they reached it, Aubergine hesitated, her fist clenched, knuckles ready to knock, but it just hung there, in the air, frozen like a statue.
'What's wrong Aubergine?' Talib asked from behind her.
Still frozen. 'It's nothing,' she said. 'It's just . . . well; you know how Uncle Mosi can be sometimes.'
Talib nodded. He knew. He knew instantly what she was talking about––
The door to the hut swung wide open with a vigorous rattle.
'Aye!' came the booming voice of Uncle Mosi. 'Aubergine,' he jerked his head behind her. 'Talib!' He laughed heartily, the sound of it like the ocean during a fearsome thunderstorm. 'What brings you guys over here? Come to visit your old Uncle, aye? Come, come. Let's talk inside.' He stood to one side so they could pass through. He was a giant, both horizontally and vertically, and looked like a werewolf of some kind. His pitch dark skin, the colour of charcoal, was layered with so much hair; Talib didn't know whether he was beast or man.
As they passed through onto the inside, Talib caught a whiff of what Aubergine had earlier been worried about on Uncle Mosi's breath.
'Aye, Aubergine,' Uncle Mosi said, craning his head back to avoid the sharp tip of Aubergine's spear strapped to her back. 'Be careful with that thing, would ya.'
'What?' Aubergine regarded him, confused.
Uncle Mosi pointed. 'Your spear. Take it off would ya.'
'Oh,' she said. 'Of course.'
Uncle Mosi shut the door to the hut, while Aubergine unsheathed her spear and gently rested it against the wall.
'Sit,' Uncle Mosi gestured to them toward the leather couch. The hut was surprisingly spacious. It had a hearth situated in the far corner, a kitchen to the left of the building, what looked like a sorry excuse for a bathroom to the right, and stairs that led both upstairs and downstairs somewhere. The tapestries on the walls though, were filled with images of the Numen gods. The Numen gods used to walk the Kingdom of Namer in the ancient past. From what Talib had been told, they were powerful beings from another realm. Worshipped by all, they had dominion over the land, ruling over the people with supernatural powers.
A hand rested on Talib's shoulder. 'The Numens,' Uncle Mosi said. 'Fascinating, isn't it?'
Talib stared wide eyes, nodding. 'They are,' then he looked up at his Uncle.
'There are seven of them in all, each with their own attributes and magical powers. And still, till this very day, many people can still call on them and harness those very same powers.'
'Really?' Talib said. 'How?'
'That, my little friend,' Uncle Mosi said, 'is a teaching for another day.' He laughed that hearty laugh again, whole body rumbling and vibrating, and that whiskey, stained breath assaulted Talib's nose again, making him grimace.
'Right,' Uncle Mosi said, ambling over to the couch and taking a seat. Aubergine was already seated, wringing her hands, anxious, so Talib crossed over and sat beside her opposite Uncle Mosi. 'What brings you guys here? I don't mean to be bitter, but you guys rarely visit me.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Your parents never allowed you, did they?'
'Uncle Mosi,' Aubergine started. 'Our village was attacked earlier today––'
'What?' Uncle Mosi cut her off, leaning forward.
'We barely made it out alive,' Aubergine finished. 'Everyone else is either dead or captured. I saw them take Pa and Ma away.
'Who did?'
'I think it was the Anuk tribe.'
'How did we not hear of this?'
Aubergine shrugged. Talib said, 'I think it was coordinated stealth attack. Because my father didn't know before it was too late. So I'm guessing he couldn't gather all the Naba Impi in time.'
Uncle Mosi rubbed his chin, the dark hairs around it bristling. 'Stealth you say? Hmm.'
'Yes.' Talib stared at his Uncle trying to read him, but failed miserably. He wasn't giving away anything. Did he really not know?
'It is as I feared. I warned Gbenga and Yejide, that this day would come.'
'Fear what?' Aubergine said. 'What is it? What day?'
'The Anuk's revenge,' Uncle Mosi said. He stood to his feet and walked over to one of his cupboards. He opened it, took out a wineskin, unstopped it, titled his head back, and took a long swig of it.
Talib read disgust in Aubergine's face, and then he himself shook his head. This was the man they had to rely on now. Pathetic. He came back around and sat again opposite them, wineskin in his hand, eyes swimming with drunkenness.
'Tell me everything that happened.'
***
After Aubergine had told Uncle Mosi everything that had happened earlier today, Uncle Mosi had gathered a few Impi from his village and had gone over to Talib and Aubergine's village across the pond to survey the damage done and to bury the remaining corpses.
It had been a quiet affair, none of the Impi or Uncle Mosi saying much about the carnage they saw, just downcast eyes and regret.
When he returned, Uncle Mosi wordlessly led them down the stairs in his hut, to the basement below. Uncle Mosi's hand swept the wall before them, searching the darkness for something.
A torch, Talib realised as he lit the soiled rag wrapped around the thick timber with a matchstick hidden in his robe.
'Follow me,' he gestured with the flick of his gigantic hand. Talib and Aubergine did as their Uncle asked. They followed him through the narrow corridor, illuminated by the orange hue he now held in his hand.
They rounded a corner, and reach a wide-open space littered with a plethora of thick brown barrels and wineskins hanging from wooden shelves. Talib shook his head, figuring that those barrels were probably filled with all manner of booze.
Here we go again, he thought.
'Is this why you brought us here?' Aubergine asked. 'To drink?'
Uncle Mosi just grinned. 'No, silly,' he said. 'You're too young for that. And Give your uncle some credit, would ya? I'm not an alcoholic. I can handle my drink. These are for special occasions, like a party.'
Aubergine rolled her eyes.
He sighed. 'There's something I need to show you.' He held out the torch, waving it around the wall, looking for something. Finally, his free hand came up and found something.
A small switch of some kind.
There was a click when his thick finger pressed it, and the wall rumbled, the ground Talib stood on trembling, and with a grinding sound, the wall parted down the middle, revealing a hidden compartment of some sort. Talib's mouth fell open in awe, his eyes widening.
Aubergine stepped through the threshold first. Uncle Mosi gestured for Talib to go in next.
'Your parents,' Uncle Mosi started behind them. 'Were more than just regular Impi.'
Talib and Aubergine peered through the hidden room: all kinds of shiny weaponry (swords and bows), gadgetry (throwing knives and smoke bombs) lay sprawled on oak tables, and loose leather armours were fitted on mannequins and hung around the room like statues of the Numen gods.
'They are . . .' he paused. 'They were Rangers,' he finished.
Talib and Aubergine both jerked their heads back at those last words from their Uncle. 'Rangers?' they said unison.
Uncle Mosi nodded his head, scratched at his bushy beard. 'Retired Rangers,' he corrected them. 'Part of a Sacred Order called Majin here in the Kingdom of Namer, which used to police the Kingdom in secret, would you believe that?' He smiled. 'The fierce creatures of Namer and bandits alike didn't know what hit them. Well, that was before they were disbanded.'
'So is that why they were captured?' Talib asked.
Uncle Mosi strode through the small room, stopped by a wall, reached for another switch. 'Most likely,' he said as the wall cracked open, revealing what looked like two sets of chainmail black armour attached with a cape and a cowl, perched on mannequins.
'But you said they were retired?' Aubergine walked over to Uncle Mosi. 'What are these?'
'They are retired,' Uncle Mosi said. 'But as we all know, you can never escape your past. And when it calls for you, you run. But your parents, they didn't. These were their Ranger gear, granted to them by the Sacred Order of Majin. The last of its kind before the Order were all hunted down and killed, and the suits destroyed. It's called the Suit of Numen.'
'The mystical Suit of Numen?' Talib gasp.
Uncle Mosi glanced at him. 'That's right, Talib. A meta-armour, crafted from the finest materials and components from the Kingdom of Namer. It is flame and heat resistant, durable, a strong synthetic fibre, and imbued with the power of the Numen gods.'
Talib ambled closer, mouth still hung wide open. 'But I thought . . . I thought it was just . . . just a fable?' He tried to reach out a hand to touch it, but Uncle Mosi slapped it away.
'Nothing is a fable, my dear nephew. Most fables are just a distorted way of telling the truth so no one actually believes it to be true.' His Uncle paused. 'And don't touch it. You're not yet worthy.'
Aubergine frowned. 'Uncle!' she raised her voice. 'But we need to rescue our parents. We can use these suits. If they are as powerful as you say they are.'
'They are,' Uncle Mosi clicked the switch again, and the wall with the Suits of Numen closed. 'In time, your parents would want you to have them, sure. But not now. If you wear it now without the proper Ranger training and guidance, the suit could corrupt you. It has a mind of its own and more powerful than you can ever imagine. It took your parents a very long time before they could don the suit.'
Aubergine folded her arms, her mouth pursed, frustrated. Talib felt the same. Their parents had been captured and they needed their help. Their lives hung in the balance. Who knows how long they had left?
Talib clenched his fist staring and frowning at the wall that now hid the Suits of Numen.
'Out you go,' Uncle Mosi twisted them round and shoved them both by their backs to the other side of the hidden cubicle. He pressed the switch again, and the second wall snapped back close with a grinding sound.
They left the basement and went back upstairs to the main room in their Uncle's hut.
'Promise me,' their Uncle said to them when they all sat down again. 'That you two won't do anything stupid. We'll rescue your parents, I promise. Just not now. We don't have the man power to take on the Anuk on their grounds. They outnumber us in every way imaginable. That is why we brokered peace two years ago.'
Talib shared a look with his sister. Aubergine was frowning and clearly filled with rage, thinking, but then, her features suddenly relaxed and she nodded at him.
'Okay,' they said in chorus.
'Good,' Uncle Mosi clapped his massive hands and rubbed them together. 'First thing on the morrow, before sunrise . . . I'll take you both to see an old friend of mine. She is one of the last surviving members of the Sacred Order.'