EJIMA

CHAPTER 60

Voiceless, still, dark, and starless. Some middle-aged women walked in the shadows, with animal skin drooping on their flat chest and with the tongue of torches to light alight the unspoken words that hung on the cloak of the night. But for the giggles coming from the huts, the little village would have passed for a ghost town. Somewhere, the wind danced with the trees, slowly and quietly as if afraid to perturb the solemn harmony in matrimony.

Ume sniffed and hurried through the brush. The women had disappeared into the shades on the right-hand side of the village, yet he kept to himself and did not walk into the clearing. They had not seen him, he was one with the night, just as his many training had kept his feet voiceless.

He picked the pace and continued further into the village. The hilt of his dagger was cold, and the adrenaline urging his feet forward kept his skin warm. It was an important mission, one that would enrich his pocket, one that would buy him the world and everything in it.

Ume licked his lips. He could feel a slight lump at the back of his head as the excitement overwhelmed him. It was beating carefully as if it was a second heart. Maybe this was his destiny after all.

"Who's there?"

The question made Ume stop dead in his tracks. He held his breath and tried to study the man standing at the entrance of the small hut. How on earth had the man noticed him?

"Reveal yourself," the man said again, reaching for his scabbard, "or face the wrath of my yearning blade."

Ume breathed out and the hot air nearly burned his nostril as he walked into the clearing.

"I come in peace," he said.

"With bows and arrows?" The man's eyes narrowed as he drew his sword.

Ume swallowed again when the metal caught the flickering torchlight. There was something about the glint that told him to be careful or he might not live to see daylight.

"What makes a warrior if not the bows and arrows?" Ume said and unbuckled his bow and quiver, throwing them on the dust. "I come in peace." 

The frown on the man's face made him wonder if coming here was a mistake. 

"Hmm," the man stared dubiously and picked the quiver. His frown deepened however when he saw the falcon feather on the arrow. "You were the one who sent that message?"

Ume took a deep breath as relief rushed into his soul. They had received his message, maybe they might spare his life.

"I don't negotiate with an enemy, let alone, an assassin." The man added.

"But here you are." Ume smiled, "I know you want to protect your people as much as I want to protect mine."

"You only care about yourself," the man spat.

The torchlight flickered with the gentle wind and like a flash, Ume thought he saw a silhouette of people surrounding them. He couldn't make meaning of it, not while the dim light was unable to reach deep into the shadows.

"Maybe," Ume nodded, tracing his path and words carefully. If he was surrounded then he must be cautious not to provoke the man. "But you must admit that you want what is best for your people, just as I want what is best for me"

"Give me a reason not to kill you right now?"

The clatter of metal followed and before Ume could blink, he saw people walking into the parameters created by the dim light. He was right. Young boys and girls and women had surrounded him, and the weapon on their hands made the scar on his right cheek burn. It was his first battle scar, one he had gotten a year back when a civilian had pitched him with a fork

"I have information that could save the life of everyone here. King Uche ordered me to kill everyone on this island. But we can bargain that. Maybe he would spare your lives"

"Spare our lives?" The man walked towards him, making sure Ume could read the disgust in his face. "My name is Ikemefuna. Chief of this island. Protector of the gift from the gods. Tell me, do I look afraid."

Ume shifted his weight and kept his eyes from meeting the dark stares of the man.

"But...but...you can still save your people. A little token in return is all I ask to seal my lips."

"I will send your head back to your Igwe." Ikemefuna beat his chest and groaned like a wounded dog, "We are one. We are fearless. We are, Umu Ejima (children of Ejima), we cried, we shrieked, we screamed and the God of gods answered. Nothing can overcome us, not even the king of Ame."

"Umu Ejima you say?" Ume asked.

"Haha, you sound surprised."

"Because I am" Ume whispered as he tried to place two and two together. "How can that be? I know a woman called Ejima. She never had a child of her own."

"You are right. Our mother never had a child. She had children." Ikemefuna laughed again.

"I see." Ume nodded as the piece suddenly fitted. If these were the people of Ejima, it explains why Uche wanted to kill the woman so badly. 

"You have something to say, old man? Speak now before we return your head to your king."

"I bet you wouldn't kill an unarmed man that has done nothing to you."

"Honor is worthless," Ikemefuna shouted, "it's the shade for cowards and men without balls."

"Well," Ume stroked his brow, "maybe it might interest you to know that the woman you claimed to be your mother is no more."

For the first time since he got there, Ume thought he had the attention of the Chief. He could see the sagging shoulders and the sudden swing in his emotions.

"Gone? What do you mean?" 

"I mean," Ume straightened, "I mean she is dead, and I can take you to the man who killed her."

Voiceless, still, dark, and starless. Silence spoke vehemently and for the passing moment, Ume saw the fragile features behind the sturdy chief. His hands were no longer resting on his sword, he was holding his head, like the rest of the people, and was wailing in a loud voice.

"My mother, my mother" Ikemefuna slouched on the dusty floor, tears and sweat, mixing, "see how thy trident has broken. To whom shall we run to for the milk of kindness and goodness? Hear my words oh earth. Hear my voice oh heaven. I vow to kill. Today I take an oath of vengeance. My brethren and I shall neither eat nor drink until we have killed everyone responsible for the death of our mother."