Women Of Steel | ✔

XLI: TADENIKAWO

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! Enjoy this impromptu update. :-)
Oh, and there are only nine chapters to go!

At the crack of dawn, the tension of war simmers thick in the forest air.

For a fortnight, the king has awaited this day. He has watched and taken notes, he has sent spies into the village and none returned alive but now he can smell the scent of war thick in the air.

The first enemy troops arrive at dawn, on foot and wearing raffia leaves. They wield spears and swords in hand. Tadenikawo's right hand brings the news to where the king camps, hidden. The king knows he cannot win this fight without the element of surprise, so he bites his tongue and bids his time.

"A hundred or less of them, Kabiyesi, led by their king. How many of our men shall I send out?" Kosoko says.

The flaw in Tadenikawo's plan is his outnumbered troops, he has three hundred men or less at his beck and call. Three hundred men and he can only boast of a hundred and twenty able fighters. The others are barely able bodied men, many tether on the brink of manhood and some of them simply farm boys snatched from their homes for the king's worthless quest.

"Send out seventy of our horsemen, we have the advantage in our horses and armours, they have nothing but their raffia skirts and foolish spears." Tadenikawo says boastfully. "Send out another spy, breaking into their defences will be easier now that we have baited out their troops."

Kosoko nods obediently, he strokes his full beard thoughtfully. "But we've sent six men as spies and none of them returned, we found the corpse of one yesterday. Why risk more men?"

Tadenikawo barks a harsh laugh as he stumbles to his feet, he is leaner with bags around his eyes and hollow cheeks. "Stop thinking like a fool, and begin thinking like a king."

Kosoko's fair skin flushes slightly in embarrassment.

"In the game of war, you do the exact opposite of what your enemy thinks you will do. Send out another spy," The king says, he takes off his golden crown and throws it to the ground. The king sets aside his thick shield of bronze and flicks his gaze to Kosoko.

"Get me plain clothes and another shield, I am disguising myself into battle. If we do not return by sunset, tell the troop to fall back." Tadenikawo says huskily, voice thicker with fatigue. His episodes have gotten worse and his anger easily rises like a furnace.

"Will I not ride besides you, Kabiyesi?" Kosoko asks, mouth gaping open.

Again, the king laughs. "You are useless to me on the battlefield, Kosoko. I have only kept you for so long because of that wickedness and viper tongue." It pleases Tadenikawo deeply to express his dislike for Kosoko, it is like being drunk on wine and being able to say whatever he wishes, the king does not know that he continues to dig himself further into a tight ditch.

Kosoko bows, hiding fury and revenge in his brown eyes. "As you wish Kabiyesi."

***

At sunrise, the battle begins.

By midday, half of the Tadenikawo's men are slain and rotting on the soil. Tadenikawo underestimated and forgot the advantage the forest men have fighting in a familiar ground. Their raffia clothing is not for show, blending in with the forest, it is like fighting with a snake in green grass. The Yoruba do not dress heavy either, wearing white sokoto and matching white shirts, some carry shields, others hold on to their cutlasses and juju hidden in their shirts.

The forest people are faster too, quick on their feet and almost unnoticeable if not for their loud cries of battle. Tadenikawo suffers a spear wound to the side that bleeds freely. So he buries himself in his anger and guts through anyone standing in his path. The soil is wet with blood and the trees splashed with them, the king ignores the feel of the blood on his feet as he moves.

He resists the urge to grip his side, knowing it a dangerous move; alerting enemies to his weakness. He has lost his horse and shield some hours ago, his sword is his only companion.

Around him, cries boom in the air and the stench of blood mixed with sweat makes him gag. The sun shows no mercy either, glaring down with biting force. No one has noticed he is the king yet, Tadenikawo is certain that is the only reason he is still standing. He is yet to spot Amadi either.

He shakes his head, refusing to be lost in thoughts. Tadenikawo lets out a muffled cry as he moves too quickly to dodge an incoming spear, white hot pain slices into his side.

He dances to the left, almost careening into a shrub as he runs his sword through an incoming man in raffia. Blood splashes and pools on his plain white clothe.

Exhausted, he leans briefly against a palm tree, using the brief second to scan the battlefield, he sees several of his men fall to their feet in death, he sees the raffia men stumble backwards as his men press toward. Too often, his men fall.

Kosoko said the enemy troops were a hundred, but they appear to be more than a hundred, for every man that falls, another appears.

The king pushes himself away from the tree in time to parry an attack from a swordsman, he grunts and pushes strongly. The man is almost twice the size of the king and with a bald head.

The raffia man whirls around to escape a slash of the weary king's sword and retaliates by kicking dirt up. Tadenikawo staggers back, swallowing his cry of pain.

He lets the fury guide him and he feigns a stumble, the man draws closer and with a swiftness, Tadenikawo's cutlass rises in the air and slices through the man's shoulder. The wounded man drops his sword in an anguished cry and collapses, not dead yet but would soon be when he bled his life force dry.

With a renewed strength, the king begins cutting his way through to the front line of the battle. His men watch with renewed courage and counter the enemy's attacks. Tadenikawo savours the look of surprise on a dying man's face as the he drives his sword through his heart.

The next man is weaponless and is skilled enough to catch the king from behind, quick to jump on Tadenikawo's back and wrap strong hands on his neck. The king smiles grimly, well aware and nursing his own trick. He whirls around, slamming the man repeatedly and harshly against the strong bark of a tree, dazed, the half naked man loosens his hold and slides to the ground.

Tadenikawo bends down to slash the fallen man's throat, who in return gurgles and chokes on his blood. Fighting left and right, the king's strength does not wane.

"Press forward!" The king screams in all glory, hoarse and broken voice carrying through the battlefield and echoing like the cry of thunder.

Horses trample, sword clashes against sword, the clang of metal irritating to the ears. Spears whoosh in the air, reaching target and some missing target.

By sunset, the enemy begins to retreat. Cries of victory begin to echo, bloody smiles spread on gaunt cheeks. The battle is far from won.