Rakka Of Rivers (African Folklore) CHAPTER 1

Rakka's people are captured by slaves traders and he must sell his soul to get them back. is he willing to make that sacrifice or does he have more tricks up his sleeves.

The fog seemed omnipresent, spreading across all corners of the Amora forest. The rancid atmosphere of decaying wood and rotting carcass forced Rakka to strain his hearing beyond its limits. The knots in his muscles were tighter than a bowstring, but he moved with effortless grace. His fingers gripped the bow and arrow until his knuckles were white and his dreadlocks had become nappy and heavy.
Rakka wanted to be here, it seemed less precarious than settling quarrels and combing over unnecessary politics. He caught himself daydreaming and returned his focus to his current environment. Facing a group of bandits alone was dangerous, but warfare on unfamiliar ground was foolish. Rakka knew this but still trudged on, sweat trickling down his face.

He felt it before he heard the whoosh of the arrow. It pierced his shoulder, the concussive forced knocking him aside. The pain was sharp and forced a grunt from his lips. He fell to the muddy ground grasping for air. There was little time for pain so he smeared his body with the mud, working fast before they notice the movement. He was camouflaging himself, of course it wouldn't fool the Vishanti for long but he didn't need a long time for his plan to work. A plan dreamed up just seconds after the arrow hit, so not the best plan but a plan nonetheless.
The distant sounds of the Vishanti became closer, they inched forward with precision. Carelessness would kill even the most fearsome man and they knew it. The first Vishanti man came closer, a scout no doubt, he was barely a man. His frame was thin and he had a small scar on his forehead. The scout was trembling, unsure of his fate. He was bait.

Rakka saw through their plot, send the rookie and when he falls they will easily find his position and finish him off. The scout, still terrified looked around the forest again, but found nothing. He soon called out to his superiors. “Sagini, he is no where to be found” no one answered, they knew better. He spoke again, loudly this time “I think he ran away, everyone knows of the might of Vishanti” the silent response was repeated. After some time the Vishanti showed themselves, maybe the scout was right and the intruder ran away. Everyone and their mother knew of the Vishanti’s might. He was probably just a foolish warrior with a death wish they thought.

Rakka was not just a warrior, he was king and this king was a harbinger of death. A fact that would be proven to the Vishanti. There were five Vishanti including the scout, weapons were strewn all over their bodies, the confidence in their power radiated in their movements. Time was running out for Rakka, the arrow in his shoulder was agonizing and that agony was peeling away at his resolve. He had to act now, while they were distracted. First he needed to take down the biggest one in the bunch, not a daunting task for one with an arrow drawn.
Rakka let the arrow fly, striking the butch man in the neck, his hands instinctively clawed at the arrow in his throat. The gurgling sound was loud, like a pig being slaughtered, he was dead in seconds. The Vishanti thought they were hunting a hotheaded warrior, this was far from the truth. They were facing Rakka the Sun King, the warrior of light, the shepherd of lions. They were prey and their death was imminent.
The surprise didn't last long, they turned to face Rakka who was already on his feet, mud plastered all over his body. One of the men, an archer drew his arrow and fired. Rakka side stepped quickly and the arrow flew past his head.
The forced pushed his hair aside.
This archer was a problem, he needed to die quickly. Rakka rushed towards the cowardly scout dropping his bow on the mud, he grabbed him close to his body and turned just in time. The second arrow hit the scouts back, protecting Rakka. The archer was fast, faster than Rakka expected. The scouts body hit the ground soundlessly. No more cover. Rakka sprinted and dove behind a tree dodging another arrow.

The other two men, brothers by the look of it. Held only swords and couldn't attack from a distance, but this didn't stop them. They knew if they gave this strange man time to think they were in big trouble. The older brother ran just as fast as Rakka did towards the same tree Rakka thought would protect him.
The older sibling caught him by surprise and connected his fists to the King’s jaw. Blood was drawn, but Rakka was steadfast in his resolve. This was not the time for anger, a clear mind was a warrior’s greatest tool. Before Rakka could react the man before him swung his blade but Rakka was fast, he jumped back before the blade hit him. The younger sibling had joined his brother and tried a second swipe. Again Rakka was faster, he dodged the second attack. The sheathed dagger on Rakka’s hip was begging to be unsheathe. Rakka obliged, his right hand drew the dagger while the left hand landed a jab on the older siblings face. It wasn't lethal, but it was effective. The older sibling staggered back. “Move you imbeciles, i cant get a clear shot” the archer was getting frustrated. The brothers didn’t hear him, the rush of battle clouded their senses.
The stunned brother was starting to regain his senses but it was too late Rakka thew his blade into the older sibling’s left eye. The impact made a wet sound as the brother went down. The younger sibling realized what had happened. His face contorted to a hateful scowl, he swung his blade at Rakka with all his strength. This was exactly what Rakka wanted. He launched himself before the swing was complete and body slammed the younger sibling to the grounded, he fainted.
The archer saw his opening and fired. Rakka saw the arrow, instinctively he lowered himself to the ground and missed the kiss of death.
There was an idea forming in his head, it was not going to be pleasant. Rakka started to run, not away from the archer but around him. He was running in circles and the archer had a hard time to pin him down, the fog was also a problem. The archer had had enough, he started to chase Rakka. Now Rakka could guide the movement of the archer. Excellent.
Rakka’s bow was on the ground where he left it, he ran towards it the archer behind him. A second before he reached the bow, he pulled the arrow from his shoulder. The pain stung, but he pushed through it. He did a front roll, grabbed the bow. As his feet steadied the arrow in his hands had already been drawn. The archer was not expecting this. Rakka freed the arrow, it went straight through the archer's head. The life in his body was taken away, he fell to the ground with a soft thud.

The journey back home was not as tedious, the weight of violent purpose and uncertainty did not linger as it did before. He had acquired a wound which was nagging at him but he summoned his will and trudged on.
In the distance his boat was anchored to a small tree by the river that connected the amora forest to his village. On the boat was Idami his manservant, he was lost in a trance so deep he had not heard his King's footstep nearing him. "Idami, if death is what you seek do so after you have ferried me to my land" Rakka was in the boat already before Idami could react. He murmured under his breath, an apology Rakka assumed and accepted.

Idami was a dreamer and unreliable but his hand could row for days. Without another word Idami had started to row, his muscles twisting and contrasting with the rhythm of the river, he stared at his King's shoulder for a heartbeat and averted his eyes to focused on the task at hand. He had wanted to ask the King about his recklessness but even he was not as brave.
Seeing the questioning look on his face Rakka answered his silent inquiry, using his fingers he traced a circle around his shoulder "It will heal before the full moon arrives, your concern is not founded" Idami slowed the rows "We could have sent General Adeyemi and his men, is it not what the trade is for?" Rakka considered this question and spoke softly like he always did with his subjects. "Our exchange was one of knowledge not war, I assure you our men will be safe just as theirs are safe with us. On a better note it gave me a chance to engage in combat, sparring was getting stale. Not like you would know anything about sparring", "I can fight" said Idami in defiance. Rakka laughed which made Idami's embarrassment deepen. Idami was a giant with toned muscles that would cause envy but in a fight he was as good as a child. No one knew why he was fearful of conflict but they mocked him for it, which was why he was assigned the oars.
Rakka was tired and as the sun dipped into the sea he drifted to sleep.

The helpless cries in the distance stirred Rakka from his slumber, Idami's face coalesced the thought in Rakka's mind. The cries came from Edong.
Flames licked at thatch roofs offering an unnatural cast on the river, Idami didn't need words- he rowed faster. They had not reach the village port yet, but Rakka was impatient, he jumped into the river and swam towards the village.
The cries where louder than before and smoke filled the air, and covered the skies. The people around him where screaming but his ears had been filled with blood, a buzzing sound deflected all sounds from him. Beside him in a bit he could see woman inside a collapsing hut, a child in her arms and no where to go. The entrance was blocked and the window was too small. One of the beams that held the structure was half gone, if it collapsed half of the hut would go with it. Only half, there would then be a way out.
She saw him, but his image did not assuage her fears, he motioned for her to move to the edge of the hut. Speaking would be of no use as the roar of the flames would swallow his voice. She did as was told and Rakka pulled his bow and placed an arrow on its string. He pulled and released it, the beams collapsed and just as he guessed half the hut went with it, she stepped out and ran towards the sea, her child in her arms, there was no appreciation and Rakka understood.

There were many who needed help but Rakka’s heart was at the palace. His wife was there, his mother too. He took off towards the palace.
The fire was out when he arrived, he bolted inside and immediately his fear was quelled. There in the palace entrance was his wife and mother, they were both in tears. Eleme had cried twice in her life, the day she met him and today. She grabbed him by the arms and led him to their private chambers, Rakka followed silently, when the reed door was shut she turned to him anger and pain seething through “Where were you Rakka?” it wasn’t a question as much as it was an accusation, he ignored the question. “What happened? I see none of the men here, where have they gone?” “Its all your fault Rakka, you were not here to defended us” if this continued he would not get to the bottom of this mystery. So he left his wife in the midst of her accusations and screams.

He walked to his mother who was still in the palace. She saw him and wiped her tears, “the fault is not yours, she only blames you because she is in pain” “She is right” Rakka replied sharply. “Tell me mother, what happened here?” he inquired. She motioned for him to sit, he did not, so she pulled a reed chair and sat down.

“ When you were away, the attackers came. Some called them gods, but I know a man when I see one, their skin was like chalk and their held thunder in their hands. They had come with a half-wit who spoke our language and theirs. Through him they asked for the strongest of our men and most beautiful of our women, they said they would take them to a better land at the end of the world. Of course General Adeyemi said no.
He had never seen anyone like them before but he would not let them have our people. They threatened to destroy us but they were only 20 men and we had hundreds. We did not know about the thunder they held in their hands. When the sun was high in the sky they came, their threats was irritating and Adeyemi confronted their leader. He was struck with thunder and died. They went on to kill any who opposed them, the rest of our people were put in chains, they took them away and set our village on fire.” She stopped to catch her breath, the memory of what happened just hours ago still burned into her mind.
Rakka had heard enough. His blood boiled with a rage that would melt the iron chains they cast on his people.
By this time a third of the flames was reigned in. Idami had gathered the men that remained. Eight they were. They did not need words for the action they were about to take for the same resolve was shared by them and the king. The gathered weapons and charms, a bitter war was going to be fought and they knew it.