by Peace Nkeiruka

History had it that two brothers traveling in search of greener pasture fought over a fertile land. The younger killed the older and banished his late brother’s surviving family. This older brother’s name was Ube, and the younger was Akidi. Akidi established a settlement on the land and named the village Alandu after he was crowned King of the land. For generations, Alandu did not cease to receive attacks from the surrounding settlements, especially that of Ube, the settlement of the unjustly murdered older brother.

As the years went by, it became a common saying in the neighboring villages that Alandu would one day be overthrown because it was founded upon cruelty. The priests who prophesied the fall of Alandu said it would happen because the spirit of Ube, their murdered ancestor would hunt and never stop until he had his land back.

Years later, Alandu was as always a small dreamy village, full of life and flushing green in sight when gazed upon from the distant hills. It was half surrounded by little hills and rocks. It was a haven of nature. The people lived in red, black and brown mud houses with thatched roofs having straws pointing up to the sky in the middle. The ruler of the people had passed away and the Prince had just been coronated King of Alandu. This new King was a lax fellow, despite the history of the village he failed to understand the zeal with which the hinder settlement wanted to overthrow the land and have the beautiful settlement for themselves. He felt relaxed in the fact that Alandu had conquered in all their previous attacks and had not suffered any attack for the last twenty years. His lax leadership led to lax security until the day it all happened.

It was just another noon, the women and children were returning from the farms and the whistle pines were whistling songs in the cool breeze as the clouds began to gather and the air smelt of rain. The farmers rejoiced because the rain would fall and water their newly planted crops which could mean an early harvest for them. The thunder roared deeper and louder beyond the clouds as the children ran helter-skelter to take in their clothes from the hanging lines outside. Other children were running home from the playground where they had gone to play games. The domestic animals were chased into their shelters and everyone retired into their homes as the lurking rain began to descend in calm showers.

Clouds got thicker and darker and the men of the village readied themselves for a lone time in their beds. It was not a market day so the people felt the rain was welcomed. As they looked out the windows of their mud houses, they knew it was going to be a heavy downpour. Unknown to them, something else was lurking. An ambush!

The men of the hinder settlement had come up against the beautiful village and besieged it behind the hills and rocks. It was going to be an attack in the rain! There had never been an attack in the rain before because wars were usually fought at dark dawn. This time, it was going to be an attack like nonother. They had come along with a reputable rainmaker who stood proudly on a hill peak, waving his chain of cowries and animal teeth to the clouds and reciting vehement incantations. The rains descended with full force, raining cats and dogs over Alandu.

The men of Alandu remained unaware as the enemies drew closer and closer until they sneaked into houses and attacked every male they encountered, slaughtering them and capturing women and children. The enemies had marched through puddles and macheted many before the palace guards brought the urgent report to the King of Alandu.

“Long live the King,” said the Chief guard.

“Is that an irony?!” Yelled the King. “How did this happen? Where is the Chief Priest?” He asked. Someone quickly ran out to go and call the Chief Priest. “Fight this war till you drop. Go! Go! Go! Get rid of these invaders now!!” The King ordered the Chief guard.

All the men in the palace chamber trooped out quickly. The King got up and dashed into his personal chamber, he paced up and down, stopping occasionally to look at the many charms hanging on the wall. He suddenly startled as his wife and two sons entered the room. He quickly grabbed the amulets and charm necklaces on the wall and swang them over their necks and then his. Someone else entered the room, the Chief Priest.

“What is going on?” The King asked him.

“My King,” he began in a rather calm voice, “the prophecy..” he said.

“What prophecy?” Interrupted the King.

“Your Highness, you must come with me!” Cried a guard barging into the chamber.

“You are not allowed in here!” Said the King in an authoritative voice. Before anyone could say anything else, they heard the song of war drawing closer to the palace.

The guard led the Priest, the King, and his family safely out of the palace. They ran and wanted to hide away from the invaders but it was too late. The hot pursuit began when the invaders noticed that the royal family was trying to escape. The King was surrounded and captured. Agu, the fierce leader of the invaders stepped forward with his machete to meet the King who was standing tall and proud even though the moment of his death was upon him.

“Surrender! Your precious Alandu has been captured,” said Agu.

“Never!” The King replied with boldness.

“Surrender or die true!” Agu’s voice rang again in the rain that was slowly dying down.

“I will never surrender my father’s land!”

“Your father was a thief and a murderer!”

“I will never believe that!” The King said aloud.

“One day is always for the owner…” Agu said to the King drawing closer. His machete dripped off raindrops. “Long live the King,” Agu said before raising his machete to slaughter the King. The rain stopped.

This was no ordinary war. The rain had lasted for hours and the village behind was partially flooded. The rainmaker descended from the hill walking into the village, his amulets dangling around his wrist and colliding with one another in a familiar tune. His bare feet splashing into the water as he went. His brown wrapper knotted above his left shoulder and his long staff picking through the ponds. The once wonderful Alandu was littered with bodies, it became an account to be reckoned with. A besiege in the rain. Beauty and love may happen in the rain, so also death and evil.

About the Author:

Peace Nkeiruka is a writer from Imo state, Nigeria. She has had two of her poems published since September, 2020. She writes fiction stories and poems and can be reached on Facebook through https://www.facebook.com/peace.nkeiruka.56.