Khisa kept up his training routine with the children. He finally got around to making the training weapons and incorporated so light sparring into their practice. The past few days had been peaceful, almost idyllic. The bricks for the play area were almost fully dried—it would probably take about four more days. Then, he could finally begin making the play area for the kids.
It felt good to see the village so lively. The warriors had even started playing Mbumbwa, finding that it helped with flexibility and reflexes. Khisa had been careful not to introduce too many changes too quickly. He wanted them to enjoy the simple pleasures first, to let happiness settle into their lives before he did anything drastic.
He had ti.
Or so he thought.
Khisa was laughing with his friends when he heard it—shouting, high-pitched wailing, the unmistakable sound of panic. His body tensed. It was coming from the village entrance. He exchanged a quick glance with the others before sprinting toward the commotion.
A group of won stood at the entrance, their faces streaked with tears, their bodies shaking. Their cries filled the air, cutting through the village's usual calm. Several young warriors surrounded them, attempting to calm them down, but they themselves looked unsettled.
Khisa's stomach twisted into knots. He could feel the weight of sothing terrible pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Then he saw Mama Nanjili.
Her eyes were red and swollen, her hands clutching at her chest as if she were trying to keep herself from falling apart. She was wailing, her voice raw with grief.
Lusweti erged from the main hut, his powerful fra stiff with tension. His presence alone quieted the chaos slightly, but the anguish in the air remained.
"Enough!" His voice bood. "Why are you screaming and crying? What has happened?"
Mama Nanjili fell to her knees. "Oh, my chief, we are so sorry!" she sobbed. "Nanjala has been taken!"
Khisa felt his breath leave him.
Taken?
His mind rejected the word, tried to twist it into sothing else, sothing less horrifying.
"What do you an, taken? Explain yourself! Who dared to take my wife?" Lusweti's voice trembled with barely restrained fury.
The villagers exchanged fearful glances. Soone whispered Nanjala's na in disbelief. She had been here this morning.
Mama Nanjili sobbed. "We—we went to the river to fetch water. It was just like any other day. Then, out of nowhere, they ca. They had warriors waiting in the trees. We didn't even hear them until it was too late. They overwheld us, took Nanjala and three others—" She gasped for breath. "They left a ssage for you, Chief."
"Who took my wife? Tell , Nanjili!"
"The Angwenyi clan," she answered fearfully.
A murmur spread through the crowd. The Angwenyi clan had long been a rival, constantly clashing with them over resources. But for the past two seasons, there had been no incidents. Lusweti had believed they had finally let go of their grievances. He was sorely mistaken. His oversight had just cost him his wife.
The na ant nothing to Khisa. He looked around, searching the faces of the villagers for answers. Their reactions told him everything—shock, fear, anger. This was not a small matter.
Lusweti's expression darkened further. "Those cowards," he muttered.
Khisa's confusion deepened. The Angwenyi clan? Who were they? Why had he never heard of them before?
One of the older warriors, Simiyu, spat on the ground. "We should have seen this coming. The Angwenyi never truly let things rest."
"We let our guard down," another muttered.
Khisa's frustration bubbled over. "Who are they?" he asked, his voice sharp.
Lusweti turned to him, montarily taken aback by his son's ignorance.
"The Angwenyi clan has been our enemy for generations," he explained, his tone heavy. "We have fought them over land, food, water. The last battle between us was two seasons ago, and since then, we believed the conflict had ended. Clearly, we were wrong."
Khisa felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath his feet.
'All this ti, I've been training, playing, making bricks and gas... and I had no idea we had an enemy waiting in the shadows?'
Khisa clenched his fists. His heart was pounding against his ribs.
Lusweti took a step forward, his hands tightening at his sides. "What is the ssage? Tell !"
Mama Nanjili swallowed hard. "They said... you must relinquish the mines, or they will kill them."
Silence.
Lusweti's expression darkened, his features carved into sothing cold and dangerous. His body trembled, but it wasn't from fear—it was rage.
Khisa barely noticed. He was drowning in his own thoughts, his own guilt.
'I had ti.This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was fine. Why? Why?'
He had been playing gas. Laughing. Living in blissful ignorance while his mother was being dragged away by strangers.
[Khisa, you need to snap out of it.]
Ayaan's voice cut through the fog in his mind.
'They took my mother, Ayaan. I couldn't protect her. What do I do?'
[You need to find out exactly what is going on.]
'Right. I need to talk to my father. I didn't even know we had enemies willing to kidnap our people. I really have been ignorant. I just wanted everyone to be happy.'
[Your sentint is a wonderful thing, Khisa. Don't let this situation change your ideals.]
'We have to save her—whatever it takes.'
Lusweti exhaled sharply and turned away, his face unreadable. "Call all the elders. We will et in the main hut to decide our next move."
He stood there for a second as if trying to comprehend what just happened. He clenched his fists then stord off.
Khisa had never seen his father like that before.
The villagers scrambled to obey, but Khisa remained rooted in place. He wanted to run after Lusweti, but he hesitated.
Because for the first ti, Lusweti didn't look like the strong, unshakable chief of their village.
He looked... lost.
Khisa reached the main hut and tried to push past the two warriors at the entrance, but they blocked him.
"Let through! I need to see my father!"
"The chief is eting with the elders. Go play, and we will co get you once he is free," one of the warriors said gently.
"Don't treat like a child! I know soone took my mother. I need to see my father. Let in!"
The warrior sighed. "I can't let you in, no matter what. Let the adults handle it."
"What's going on out here?" Elder Namwamba stepped outside, his brows furrowed.
"Please, Elder," Khisa pleaded. "Let join the eting. I beg you. My mother is missing, and I want to help."
Namwamba studied him before sighing. "I understand your frustration, boy, but let the adults handle it. Your father will bring your mother ho soon."
Khisa suddenly dropped to his knees. "Please, Elder. I'm begging you."
"There's no need for that," Namwamba said, shaking his head. "Co on, then. But stay quiet and do not interrupt."
Inside the hut, Lusweti sat at the head of the table, flanked by Mumia and Wafula. The old woman who had perford the ritual stood silently in the corner.
"Khisa? Why are you here?" Lusweti's voice lacked its usual strength.
"I want to be part of this eting, Father. Mother is in danger, and ti is of the essence. We need to rescue her as soon as possible."
"This is not a ga, child," Mumia warned.
Khisa's gaze didn't waver. "We don't have ti for this. Explain the situation, Father."
Lusweti studied him for a long mont before exhaling.
"The Angwenyi clan took Nanjala and three others at the river today. They sohow managed to cross into our lands unnoticed and took our people. They are demanding the mines in exchange for their release. They have a thousand warriors. If we go to war, we cannot win."
Khisa's eyes narrowed. "What's in the mine?"
"Gold," Namwamba answered. "Our people have protected it for generations, but we lack the ans to extract it."
Khisa's world tilted, the ground beneath him feeling as if it had suddenly disappeared.
Gold.
He had been living his second life in ignorance. Playing gas. Laughing.
And all this ti, his village was sitting on a gold mine.
'I should have known. I should have prepared more thoroughly. I should have learned about our surroundings instead...' Khisa grit his teeth in frustration.
His heart pounded in his chest. In his past life, he hadn't been the smartest man, but even he knew that possessing a gold mine was like painting a target on your back—especially in this ti period.
Lusweti rubbed his temples, his shoulders slumped, exhaustion heavy in his every movent.
"I should have known this peace wouldn't last," he muttered. "I should have been prepared for this. Nanjala... my people..."
He clenched his fists. His shoulders sagged as doubt crept into his eyes.
"Maybe I have failed this village."
Khisa's breath caught. His father, the man who always stood tall, looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back.
No.
Khisa gritted his teeth. He wouldn't let this happen.
It was only a matter of ti before the Dutch arrived. If he didn't act now, their village would be swallowed whole.
And he would never let that happen.
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