Words of Swords

The rain had felled its final drops
Pulling the last of its liquid ropes
Up the savannah and eloping away with the season
Till it's next visit it crowns this kingdom barren

Then a much awaited lover comes knocking at the sky's door
And the land of Indarari welcomes her with songs seldom sang before
For the Moon of the Harvest only appears when rain plays it's annual hide and seek
And hopes to stay long enough to silence a past that threatens to speak

•••

The horse jerked, a sudden ferocious movement that made Dije fall off balance, all her grips loosening and she shut her eyes, waiting for the thump of her back hitting the rough ground and the grazing pain to radiate through out her body and free itself in a scream through her lips but none of that came. All that did was a warmth that enveloped her, holding her frame in a protective embrace.

Dije opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might find to be the cause of this alternation in events and indeed she was right to fear for holding her in his arms while kneeling in dirt, was a man. A strange stranger clad in indigo with incandescent eyes igniting a flame that pierced through her soul. Before she had realized it, Dije had pushed him off and sauntered to her feet, her head spinning from the rapidity of it all.

"Who are you?"

•••

Set in pre-colonial Western Africa against the backdrop of the 17th century Foulah revolt, this story promises to take you on an epic journey of loss, love and everything that lies in between.