Warrior of Time

"That is what happened. So now, with the ring on your finger, you can return back to your city. You can become king again," I say.

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Pixabay

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"King? Is that the pinnacle of everything? Is that why i ran away? Why i became an exile? To be king? There should be more. For all my suffering, for the friends who died to get me here, there should be more. A kingdom is not enough," the youth replies.

"What then is enough? At what point will your ambition find surcease, after there are no warriors to bear your standard to battle and the few friends left are yellow bones in the sunset? When will it be enough? Take the throne and be thankful there is still a throne to claim," I say.

"No! I will not be king of a backward kingdom lost in the rainforest. I will not be an exposed root waiting for termites to shit on me. I am a conqueror not a clerk. I go to conquer," he replies.

I move to stop the young man but another stops me, holding my arm, pulling me back.

"Let him be. He is young. He thinks he has time. He thinks the horizon is but the string of a boot. Leave him be. He will learn," the minister of war says.

"At whose expense, minister? People will die for his ambition. I am weary of war and conquest. My grip slackens and my sword arm trembles. I need rest. I need to close my eyes and not dream of ghosts," I reply.

"Ghosts? We all carry ghosts with us now. There is no escaping that. Maybe that is what he seeks; an escape from the ghosts that haunt his sleep," the minister says.

I laugh. It was brief and grim. The field is almost empty. We are loading up to depart for the capital, the hard worn palace which my sullen pupil now rejects as too small for his scrawny ass. If only he is still young enough to thrash with a whip. If only a whipping will solve my problems.

"You were there at Jakpa. You heard what the seer said. Why is no one talking about this malignant prophecy?" I ask, getting enraged again.

"You are a soldier. Stick to soldiering. Leave the speculations and superstitions to priests and dreamers," the minister replies.

I am too tired to argue. It is a waste of time. No one sees what i am seeing. The moon is a yellow harmattan moon, fat & ugly. It means nothing but anytime i look at it, it seem as if a face i have struggled to forget leers at me. She once said i will see the end and i will be helpless to do anything about it. She promised me a slow death. I laughed then, high on the euphoria of victory. I have not laughed in years. I sigh, turn wearily from the sight of dawn edging its head over the horizon.

"There is nothing left here. I ride for the city," i say.

The minister stare at me, speculation in his eyes. There is something in his mind but he nods and turns away.

The soldiers are excited. They speak of wealth, wine and their lovers back home. Some speak of meeting new beauties in this new city. I envy their enthusiasm. When did i become so old? When did this growing happen? On the battlefield with an enemy’s sword hammering away at my shield? Once upon a time, i thought i would be a shaman, a healer. Instead of setting bones and brewing herbs for fevers, i have learnt a thousand ways to severe a man from life. My path branched off into unknown territories a long time ago.

I wonder what my father will say if he sees me now? I wonder if he still breathes here? I wonder if that small house on the hill still stands and my mother still hangs her washing on the line tied between the two old mango trees before the garden? I wonder.

When i open my eyes, i am falling from my horse, an arrow in my chest, screaming in my ears and fire in the sky. An ambush. From where? Who? The prince! The prince!! I try to move but my weight is too heavy to pull off the horse. My eyelids are heavier and then darkness.

When i open my eyes again, i am in a healer’s quarters. Clean cloth has been wrapped around my chest. Someone is hammering something close by and it is loud and painful. I close my eyes and i can feel the hammer behind my eyelids. I sigh. My mouth is bitter with unnamed roots and herbs.

"You are lucky," a voice says.
"I don’t feel lucky," i reply without looking to see who speaks. I already know.

"This boy king who sees himself as a new conqueror will be the death of you and your men," the voice replies.

"What do you know of the living, Siren?" I ask.

A shadow shifts at the edge of my sight but doesn’t come into full view. A chuckle escapes soft as breath. I can smell the surf in it.

"Why are you here? Our contract is done," i say.

"Is it? You still carry the amulet with you. You still stand by the child as if he will save you from what is coming? You were supposed to be at the beginning of the desert by now but here you are, stopping ordinary arrows with your body as if you are a testing range," the siren replies.

"I will leave him when he is ready to stand on his own," i reply.

"Hear yourself! Your world plunges into ruin and you are here worried about a speck on your shirt. Your duty to the boy is done. You have returned his ancestor’s throne back to his spoilt backside. It is time to face what comes. Don’t use the child as an excuse," the siren replies.

"I will leave when i am ready," i say.

"She will not wait for you to be ready. As i speak, she has claimed the Atlantic with over ten thousand ships and guess where they are headed?" the siren asks.

"I will leave when i am ready!" I yell.

Feet scrape and scramble towards my bed. The candle light diminishes and a pretty nurse stares at me with concern on her wide eyes. I sigh and rest my back down on the bed. I did not know when i raised myself. The siren is gone, its work done. The seeds of doubt were lodged deep in the roots of my mind. The nurse raises a small cup to my lips and i part them without thinking.

"Drink. Drink deep. saviour of the world. Drink and sleep. Sleep the long sleep. Sleep...," she says.

— i fade into nothing.

I fall for aeons, the world loses its shape, loses the song that has held it together and then silence. Only then i realize i have been screaming. I look around me. I am standing. I am standing on a black road, with yellow lines on it, tall glass buildings all around me and strange boxes screaming all around like bees in a fever. Suddenly, a terrible sound like metal tearing reaches me and one of the boxes suddenly stops near me. A man jumps out screaming what i am sure are curses but i don’t understand what he is saying. He is dressed in a strange garb.

Where am i? What day is this? Is this the land of spirits? What is the hour? Everything seem rushed as if i am moving in tree resin. A hand touches me gently and pulls me away from the swearing man. I turn to see a little boy. He smiles at me.

"You have come a long way, warrior. Will you listen to destiny now?" He asks.

I shiver at the depthlessness of his eyes. I know who he is. Time dressed in stolen flesh; Chronos in all his infinite glory.

"What is the meaning of this?" I ask.

"You needed to see. You think divinities are patient beings? A sorceress whom you created in your greed for power is about to destroy your world, you are concerned about your lover’s son. The boy doesn’t even see you or care for you. All he cares about are the stories of conquest you fed him in his crib. The world crumbles and you play nursemaid to a half-baked tyrant. See what will be left when all is done according to her will," the boy says, pointing randomly.

I look but i don’t see a thing. People are living their lives. A little bit faster and flashier but this is nothing new.

"There is nothing to see, Chronos. Take me back to my bed," i reply.

"What bed? You think when you return you will find things as is? Do you know what was in that cup? The one you drank? If not for my intervening, you will be fossil fuel in someone’s vehicle by now," Chronos replied.

"I don’t understand? Am i dead?" I ask.

"She won, you fool. The moment you drank that cup, she won. She took over the world and moulded it to her own image. I told you to look but you are still blind. This is what used to be known as the Atlantic Ocean. It is now a big city and the desert you were asked to defend is now a dead sea that breeds no life," Chronos replies angrily.

"She turned the desert into a sea?" I asked, feeling stupid.

The boy shook his head, stopped a man pushing a cart and took a cone from him. I watched his tongue lick the ice on top the cone in obvious pleasure.

"Warrior, your world no longer exists. This city you see is the last bastion of the human race and that boy you were so eager to protect; do you know what and who he is now?" Chronos asked, light in his eyes, obviously enjoying himself.

I shook my head still confused by what i was seeing and hearing.

"He is consort and prime minister to the queen of the empire. You may guess who is queen?" he added.

"They are still alive," i asked.

"My dear nameless warrior, your wilful ignorance is one of the reasons why i wonder what the Ifa oracle saw in you to make you the touch bearer for this war. You are simply an idiot. Of course they are both alive. How do you think this illusion is maintained?" Chronos asks.

"This is an illusion?" I ask.

"Yes sir, and everything is dust, the boy replies and it is true.

I look and behold i am standing on a mountain of bones. And beside me, a throne and on the throne, sits she, my one true love and the most dangerous being I know. She smiles at me.

"Ha… my love, finally you see. See how far we have come? See, I have made our dream come true. Come. Kiss my feet," she says.