The Wrath of the Unchained

Chapter 7 - The weight of Gold and Blood

Chapter 7 - 7 - The weight of Gold and BloodKhisa kept up his training routine with the children. He finally got around to making the training weapons and incorporated some 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 time.

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 women 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 something 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 emerged from the main hut, his powerful frame stiff with tension. His presence alone quieted the chaos slightly, but the anguish in the air remained.

"Enough!" His voice boomed. "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 something else, something less horrifying.

"What do you mean, taken? Explain yourself! Who dared to take my wife?" Lusweti's voice trembled with barely restrained fury.

The villagers exchanged fearful glances. Someone whispered Nanjala's name 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 came. They had warriors waiting in the trees. We didn't even hear them until it was too late. They overwhelmed us, took Nanjala and three others—" She gasped for breath. "They left a message for you, Chief."

"Who took my wife? Tell me, 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 name meant nothing to Khisa. He looked around,

"The chief is meeting with the elders. Go play, and we will come get you once he is free," one of the warriors said gently.

"Don't treat me like a child! I know someone took my mother. I need to see my father. Let me 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 me join the meeting. 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 home soon."

Khisa suddenly dropped to his knees. "Please, Elder. I'm begging you."

"There's no need for that," Namwamba said, shaking his head. "Come 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 performed 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 meeting, Father. Mother is in danger, and time is of the essence. We need to rescue her as soon as possible."

"This is not a game, child," Mumia warned.

Khisa's gaze didn't waver. "We don't have time for this. Explain the situation, Father."

Lusweti studied him for a long moment before exhaling.

"The Angwenyi clan took Nanjala and three others at the river today. They somehow 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 means 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 games. Laughing.

And all this time, 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 time period.

Lusweti rubbed his temples, his shoulders slumped, exhaustion heavy in his every movement.

"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 time before the Dutch arrived. If he didn't act now, their village would be swallowed whole.

And he would never let that happen.