Kraals and Magic

Chapter twelve

Yirsa

Ifeoma hates sword fights. Yet she was perched on the window of an abandoned building dressed in black___ a loose ankara dress with wide sleeves and flowing skirt___ ready to get into one. The building was four storeys. Part of its beige walls were stained with sooth, and its roof was far gone from a fire. The zinc roof fell inward with black burnt wood standing inclined and dangling; fixed to it by only a nail or two. She could smell the distinct acrid smell mixed with a damp smell in the air.

The windows of the building were large; tall as a man standing, wide as three standing side by side. She was crouched on the frame, the brown ornated sheath of her sword resting partly on her lap. It was a small sword, barely past three feet. Fombu had gifted it to her. She wondered where he's now.

The city spread downward with people going about in the streets. Horses drawn carriages, donkeys, man and cows. The people tactically avoided this street. No one uses it. It was cursed they said. The building she was at and those others in the street had burnt a dozen times so the good folks reasoned it must mean something.

The carriage was rolling in the other street. It was blue, decorated with paintings of flowers, it followed the flowing street. Ifeoma squinted and readied herself. For a moment later the carriage veered from the other street and took the abandoned one she was in.

She waited.

The carriage rolled as the driver snapped his whip. It was accompanied by three men in horses, wearing blue cuirasses, red long sleeved shirt under, and long swords hung at their sides. More men ran beside the carriage on foot___ about a half dozen of them___ all in blue armor, but less decorated than those on horse back. Ending it Ayo sat beside the carriage driver pointing directions. This time he sent a suspicious eyes about and called for a halt. The carriage inched and slowed, finally stopping just below Ifeoma.

The guards pulled their swords, asking questions as they studied the place. There was an older one that gave orders, and the footmen readied their spears. He was tall. Despite being not less than sixty he looked strong. He left his head bald and wore his beard trimmed, starting from the side of his face and going round his mouth. He studied better than the rest of them, and their eyes met.

Ifeoma rose as she got all the guards' attention. She pulled her sword out and tossed the sheath aside then leaped off the window, falling. The commander cursed and issued a command.

Ifeoma landed on the carriage with a clang and a shaking of the vehicle, a sword from one of the horse riders swept towards her leg. She kicked off the ground and flipped forward letting the blade sweep past below. Still in the air she held her sword out to the side as she completed the flip. It was a difficult thing to do, she cut the horse rider's throat in that one move, but her landing was bad. Her feet hurt from the shook of the landing that travelled through her shoes. She gritted her teeth.

Two spear men trotted to her thrusting forward. She moved towards them, throwing herself to her knees as the spears grew close, and sliding past them, cutting one's leg as she went. Another two roared behind her as she stood. She ran to the carriage, kicked it twice, climbing, then threw herself in the air flipping backwards to land behind the enemies. Their spears hitting the carriage a moment later.

Ifeoma swept twice cutting them in the back of the neck.

The commander was screaming orders, trying to organize the men. The other horse rider___ a young man___ roared and spun his horse about to gain distance from her. "Make way you worms!" He screamed. Soldiers scrambled away. Ifeoma met his eyes from the unobstructed way to her. "My name is Shegu, fifth guard of his royal highness emir of Takarie." Ifeoma cringed at the loudness. She didn't want him attracting a crowd. He roared again and kicked his horse trotting forward, increasing speed, sword held outstretched to his side. Ifeoma kicked off a spear from the ground, caught it, hefted and hurled. The weapon flew, cutting the air with a whoosh, it stabbed the man on the chest.