Naa Shalman

Prologue

Bam! Bam!
The splintering of the timber door jolted Adiago from his sleep, and swept a fearful warning through him that all was not well. Jumping out of his bed, his feet hit the hard floor with an abrupt smack. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, but he rallied and managed to stay upright, swaying only slightly on shaky legs as the door to his chamber was crushed inward towards him. 
  Bam!
He did not even have the opportunity to cry out as darkness took hold of him.
 Whoosh! 
The sting of the cold water on his skin did its duty.     Adiago regained consciousness, though remained dazed. The pain at the back of his head rushed to the forefront of his thoughts and seemed unbearable. His immediate response was to reach up and cradle the pounding in his hands, but his hands were bound behind him. And to his horror, so were his legs. Somewhere nearby, he could hear two men arguing. 
‘You didn’t have to kill the children. That was not part of the mission!’ a young voice echoed in a state of excited rebuke.

‘This is war,’ an older voice replied rather flatly, ‘not a consideration party. Children grow to be warriors. They grow to avenge the deaths of their parents. If you want to be a warrior, you had better cut out the heart of pity. Otherwise, you will be the one cut down.

‘But, Batum...' the younger man started to protest.
‘Hold it.’ Batum commanded. ‘I do not want to hear any more. The woman will not survive. Leave her and take the man. Let’s get out of here.’
The bile in Adiago’s throat forced its way into his mouth, mixing with the blood already pooling there. What children were they talking about? Surely, not his two boys? 
With all the strength he could muster, Adiago lifted his head, but too many people blocked his view; he could barely see the three pairs of legs trapped in the middle of four standing warriors. 
A groan forced its way from the back of his throat, causing the four warriors to turn in his direction. The one closest to him lifted a booted foot and stamped it down on his head, sending a renewed crescendo of pain shooting through him and causing more blood to flow into his mouth.
The man called Batum said sharply, ‘Let’s go. We have a long way to travel. Pick him up and let’s get out of here. The village warriors will be here soon, and that will mean more lives will be lost – most possibly ours. We got what we came for,’ he chuckled, ‘and a bonus – the Chief Warrior of Sika’Krom. By dawn, we must cross the Akuasi River. We have a week’s travel ahead of us.’

Adiago winced as his bonds were wrenched off his wrists and he was rolled roughly onto his back while his hands were retied in front of him. Pain shot along his shoulders as the blood circulation started pulsing once more and travelled down his sinewy arms. The release, however, was short-lived as the rough edges of a tree trunk were dragged along his flesh and he was lifted bodily, like a hunter’s catch. He swung suspended mid-air between two men as they moved forward and out of his hut. But the physical pain was nothing to his wounded pride; a warrior like him caught in such a degrading position! 
Only after he was lifted could he see fully what had happened to his wife and children. His wife lay flat on her back, her head lolled to the side facing him and her eyes glazing over. She was barely alive, her clothes raised to her stomach, her thighs splayed and bare. His elder son lay still and face-down on the hard ground, while his younger stared lifeless up to the heavens. Adiago could only pray that the forefathers were present as spectres among them to escort his beloved family home. Silently, he asked forgiveness for his wife’s sins so that she could be accepted into the fold of the departed.  
He felt raindrops on his face. Opening his eyes again, he gazed upon his village and saw the destruction the invaders had caused. Fires leapt from the doors and blazed atop the roofs of the huts; he could hear the wailing sobs of women and children crying in the distance. Another group of invaders joined the ones carrying him. ‘How many is that?’ he wondered, ‘ten more?’ Within a few minutes the branches overhead told him that they had entered the surrounding forests. 
The victorious group must have travelled for nearly six hours, lugging Adiago between them, speaking only seldom among themselves.  Adiago recognized the distance by the sound of the Akuasi River growing clearer in his ears. At the same time, he began to make out the unmistakeable sound of the Sika’Krom war drums. He knew his own men were near, and he believed that they would get to him before it was too late, for they knew all the short cuts; this forest was their playground.         As the drums grew closer and closer, Batum became restless. ‘We must leave him here,’ he told his men, ‘and get across the river as quickly as possible.’

‘Should we hide him?’ asked the one who seemed to be second in command.

‘No. We haven’t got time. Just drop him. After all, we got what we came for,’ Batum replied.  

Adiago was dropped unceremoniously onto the wet ground. He felt a resounding blow to his head, then another immediately against his ribs. It seemed that they planned to kill him after all; he prayed that his captors would be captured before they could flee.