Prologue - Part 2

Ikenna then chuckled with mockery when Uche grumbled and shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Why not bring yours?” Uche glared angrily. The two men started arguing, and soon, the small room turned to an uproar as each man tries to voice down the other.

“The elf and dragons have destroyed us already.” Pa Uta whispered weakly.

The room quieted down when they heard his voice. It was so soft but powerful enough for those arguing to halt.

He was the chief of Umudike—the mage—and even though the threekingdom had been beaten into one by the whip of the taskmasters.

The people within themselves ruled their own affairs. Pa Uta’s respect spread throughout the people.

“We shouldn’t devour ourselves yet. The taskmasters would do that for us.” Uta’s eyes went to Uche and Ikenna, who still glared at each other but saying nothing.

“This is a proper proceeding, and I won’t tolerate elders who have the propensity for brawling. Yes, for raising your voice in this meeting, both of you will present the circle with two tubers of yam each. If you are unhappy with this, you can use this displeasure in the battlefield, towards our enemies.” Uta added.

The offenders grumbled uneasily but accepted their punishment without further ado. They both knew how futile it was to argue with Pa Uta. It will only worsen the matter.

Uta bit his lower lip and nodded to the other clan’s chief, who was smiling at the noise penalty he placed on both offenders.

“Thank you, Pa Uta,” Ndu said, “We are here to discuss our progress, not our downfall. Well, if we keep deliberating on who would willingly bring his wife so that a child will be born of the power of Gini, then we would spend another day without achieving anything.”

“Besides, this is the 12^th meeting we are having concerning this issue, and it is not fun to keep on talking about it, but nothing is happening. We must finalize it now. Anyway, I have a proposal. Let us just pick a lucky winner via a lot. In that way, we would find a candidate without necessarily forcing anybody.” Ndu continued it casually as if it was a joke, but no one treated it as such.

Ndu’s words hung on the air for a while until the clansmen finally reacted.

It divided the ten men in the room into three different groups. Some of the men agreed with him. Others disagreed, while some neither disagreed nor agreed.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Uta said. This time, his words made the party that agreed with the casting of the lot to chorused a big, Yes.

Though they agreed, the fear that walked in their faces could easily be seen.

Nobody wanted his wife to meddle with the power of Gini, an ancient power that the fathers had talked about for thousands of years.

It was a cursed power, which has brought nothing but sorrow and pain to the land, but despite that fact, they needed it, they must bring it back to the world, since it was their only choice

Ndu, walked outside, but came back almost immediately, bearing a small goatskin bag. He undid the lace, which was used to tie the bag and placed it on the center of the circle, underneath the standing torchlight.

Uta could see the eyes of every man in the room as they studied the bag. The looks on their faces reveal the anxiety. It was as if every man was waiting for a snake to crawl out of it.

“The bag you see has been imbued in bitter kola juice, so as to prevent the seers or the mage from unveiling its content. We would like each pick from the bag in a clockwise direction.” Ndu shook the bag to mix the content properly. “Pa Uta, you go first.”

Uta’s heart skipped a beat. He studied the bag on the dusty floor and the faces of his fellow countrymen.

A part of him told him to decline, to find an excuse to avert his picking. But deep down, he knew it was for the betterment of all and sundry.

Shooting the men one last look, he heaved and deepened his hands into the bag. He picked up something that looked like a twig.

The bag was passed around until the men were done in their picking.

Uta’s heart was racing as he held tightly and hid the twig-like object under his weak palms.

“Please,” Ndu’s voice cracked, but he recovered his composure with a quick uneasy smile “kindly place what you have picked on the floor where every eye can see.”

Uta, again was the first to drop his own object. True to his thinking, it was a twig made from the cedar tree. The rest of the people dropped their own object, each man bearing an identical twig with that of Uta. 

“What next?” Uche asked, “They all look the same.”

“No, there must be a mistake somewhere,” Ndu stood up from his seat. Alarm and worries were crisscrossed on his aging, tea-colored face. “I am sure I marked out one,” he said and picked up the goatskin bag.

Ndu searched the bag inside out but could not find the eleventh twig he had marked out.

“Did you also imbued the twigs in bitter kola juice?” Bola asked.

“No,” Ndu replied, “Just the bag.”

“Then you don’t have to worry,” Bola said. His eyes were white now, “I see a child, running to show his mother the beautiful colors on the twig.”

“Whose child?” Uta asked. The relief in his eyes knew no bound. But he would like to know the unfortunate family.

“It’s vague?” Bola said and snapped out from his trance, “I can’t place the face, I am sorry.”