Way of The Pride

1| The Banishment

P. S: Refer to the glossary

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Eastern Nigeria: Isimir Kingdom
1401AD: Year of King Eji's Reign
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Bastard.

Traitor.

Betrayer.

Words that have never been associated with him now became his identity. Each insult felt like sharpened knives carving its mark into his heart, hitting at his already fragile composure. Their intent, making his mind crumble to shreds. Yet he remained unbroken. He would not bend to their will.

Spectators gathered to watch Aniweta's fall from grace - their eyes shining with unrestrained glee - taking joy in watching his downfall. In their misplaced sense of morality they thought themselves infallible, noses raised in the air in condemnation. Merciless was the weight of their words as they clamoured for his blood, rejoicing in his pain and suffering.

His body stiffened to the slew of insults strewn his way, an instinctive need for protection. As he took on his walk of shame, tears threatened to spill through dry eyes but he fiercely held on.

He would not weep for people who so easily condemned him. He would not weep for people whose blood dripped black with injustice and greed. He would not weep for people whose souls were already condemned without a chance for redemption.

Even when he wanted to, when the desperation to glance back consumed him, he remained resolute. Head raised high as he trudged on, one foot after the other. From the village square they followed till he reached the end of the territory - ensuring his final departure. Even as he left them behind, their insults greedily clung on to him till he was no longer within sight.

With nothing but dark thoughts to occupy him, he was lost in the chaos of his mind, walking and walking. It was until he looked up at the sky did the sense of time dawn on him. He really had walked a long distance to have entered into a different territory.

Sky the shade of burning red glimmered with the sun resting in its slumber, an onset of dusk. The earth, cool and soft cushioned against the soles of worn feet. Gentle breeze brushed past aching skin with a touch so soothing it brought a moment of bittersweet relief.

Rocky and mountainous, the terrain boasted of lush greenery, thick foliage and strong deciduous trees that complimented the gentle slopes and curves of the land. The fragrant scent of pine and mint leaves dominated the air, filling his nostrils. As beautiful as the day was he could not help but wonder how it turned out to be the darkest day of his life.

Blood trickled down his worn body, his waist-garment soaking red with his life force. Despite the terrible state he was in, he continued limping ahead without thought for direction. Each step he took causing a fresh stab of pain.

At the moment he cared not. The pain was but an afterthought to the chaos unfurling his very being. The map of wounds marking his flesh kept him in a constant state of agony yet it was not the source of his pain.

Betrayal was all he could envision. He never thought that he would ever be its victim. Worse that it came from someone who was most dear to his heart.

Turmoil like the sharpest of swords cut through his bleeding heart absent mercy. Emotions better banished from thoughts welled up in his chest as a flood of dark and unforgettable memories rushed in.

''Aniweta, disgraced son of Edochie, for the crime of slaying your fellow warrior I decree you banished from this Kingdom never to set foot here again. My Kingdom has no need for a man as despicable as you.''

Words failed him as he stood in front of his King tortured and brutalized, courtesy of the eager hands of the Royal Guards. He was shocked at the proclamation of the man who once placed him in high regard. Now all that reflected back at him was a look of deep disappointment and sadness from sage eyes.

''Why me?'' He wanted to protest.

Against the punishment pole he stood, mouth gagged and legs bound, the coppery scent of his own blood and filth filling his senses. His worth had been reduced to nothing but a disgraced and condemned criminal of the land.

Which Aniweta most certainly was not.

Straining against the pole proved futile, the bindings so tight for even the swiftest of hands. Crazed eyes searched the crowd in desperation, with the hope of a defender coming to his aid, only to be met with looks of righteous indignation.

How could they think him capable of such a heinous act? Nde was his friend, a fellow warrior, killing him was inconceivable. The real culprit was standing beside them yet they were blind to his trickery.

Sadly, his innocence mattered not before the eyes of all.

A disturbing sound pulled Aniweta from his memory path bringing him into the reality. Even in his distracted state he sensed something was amiss. His body though weakened from blood loss and pain yet his senses remained sharp as ever.

Following his instincts, alert eyes carefully roamed from the giant trees to bushes that surrounded him. Everywhere was foreign. So lost was he in an ocean of pain that unbeknownst to his conscious his legs had strayed into a secluded part of the forest.

Where am I?

There it was. A ruffling of leaves accompanied by the faintest of growls. With instincts born from experience he assumed a stance of defence despite his body's protest, ears attuned to the source of the disturbing sound, or rather the lack of it.

An ominous thought reared in his head. Strange that a forest this deep be void of sound and movement. Stranger still that it was happening at dusk. Neither the gentle swaying of leaves nor chirping of birds graced the atmosphere. If Aniweta did not know better he would have thought he just stumbled upon a sacred burial ground.

Pregnant silence.

Fear seemed to have trapped the forest in a standstill, a silent spectator in a dreaded moment that was about to unfold. It only meant one thing. Someone or something dangerous was about to manifest.

Aniweta sighed, the long and forlorn sound echoing the tiredness of his soul, the tiredness of life itself. He had escaped from one arduous ordeal only to somehow find himself stuck in another. Once again he was forced into a situation he never bargained for. Why was fate cruel to him? What could he have done in his past life to incur such a punishment?

The hairs on his body rose in response to the dangerous aura seeping into the forest. One quick look down his miserable body told him the obvious. This would not end well for him. Devoid of weapons and severely weakened to the bone Aniweta was in no condition to defend himself. He was not sure if he wanted to.

Who or what was about to reveal itself behind those thick bushes?

Little did he know just how fate was about to change the course of his destiny.