(PART FOUR) DARKNESS COMES: A FANTASY

INTERLUDE

Sango o!
The cowries sang but your eyes were asleep.
The sky bled beneath the voices
You rose from the deep.
War! Sango o!
You have seized the spear and raised for the dead
A testament of your faith in the world beyond.

Sango o! You have killed us.
Come and see my son,
He is here somewhere;
Your brand, your mark, your love
Is seared among his ribs, my lord.
Look at his open maw;
See how it screams your praises, oh Sango.
Look at his twisted limbs;
See as he runs to do your deeds, oh Sango.
You have killed us all Sango.
You have killed us all.

Son of Olodumare!
Father of the sky!
When will you go home?
Will you not go to the sky to rest?
The earth reeks of your stink
And she needs to catch her breath;
Go Sango, go!
Before there is nothing left but dust.
-An excerpt from the Thunder Lament sung by the mad woman who sat before Oduduwa’s palace gate when news came that Orunmila was dead. Nobody knew her name or where she came from or where she went when her song was done.

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PART FOUR
Sango’s eyes fell from the sky to the destruction about him. The scent of sweat and the stink of blood hung from him like a cloak, as he shuffled among the dead and the dying. He opened his palm and his spear fell and disappeared. He walked across the burning length of the battle field, his head down, his eyes counting each squelch his feet made in the bleeding mud. He stopped before a body and stared at it. It was a boy who had barely seen eighteen moons. He had curled into his pain, his knees on his chin, and so, his spirit had fled his broken body. Sango looked at the tattoo on the boy’s shoulder; he was one of his own.

He stared at the world and he felt the ashes on his tongue. The world had burnt and he had held the torch. He stared at the tattoos inked on the arms of his disciples, of his children from mortal women, as they laid, roasted on the pitch of battle. He stared at the distant sea, lapping and drinking from the shore with each tide, and then he sighed and turned away, his eyes closed. He began the long trek back to sanity.

He staggered forward and away from the bodies, flinging his arms in front of him as if to brush away the sight of death but this was the works of his hands, these were the children of his thoughts, he could not deny them access to their father. He stumbled over the carcass of a hyena. The beast had been torn open by lightning and its tongue lolled by the side of its death grin. He turned about as the world fell silent. The battle was over.

Across him as if in a mirage, he saw a maiden walking among the dying, she was covered in white and it seemed she gave succor to the dying men. He struggled towards her but he found nothing but dead bodies when he got to where she had stood some seconds ago. He groaned and the sky moaned with him. He turned and ran away to his fireside.

---

Some distance from him, unseen by any eyes stood the stranger of Orunmila’s vision. He stood with his curious white material wrapped about his body. He stared at the retreating soot-stained giant’s back. He watched him lumber away with the weight of the world on his shoulders; tears filled his eyes and he wept for the giant who now carried the shame of his lineage.

The plan had worked, they are divided among their selves. Olorun will not spoil a plan drafted millennium ago.

He gathered into himself, everything that made him human, then he pressed it within. His face fled off colour and his lips became blue. His skin grew grey like the softest, downy ash and his body hardened into something strong, something unbreakable. He drew out his spear and twirled it. The air blurred before him and he stepped through.

Sango’s men stood up as soon as he entered.

“What happened out there?” he asked.

The men stared at him, their eyes round with fear. No one replied.

“I asked a question! Why are my men dead among the enemy? What sort of weapon did Ogun use on us before he fled the battle field?” he asked.

A soldier coughed and Ogun turned red eyes on him. The man bounced on the balls of his feet, then he stepped forward;

“My Lord, this was not the work of your brother, the lord Ogun. This was your handiwork sire.” He said, softly.

Ogun grabbed the man about his throat and lifted him from the floor.

“You dare accuse me of killing my own men?” he asked, in a roar. The sky rumbled above and vultures landed near at hand as if expecting more flesh.

“All their wounds have scorch marks on them and some of them have their eyes burnt out of their sockets, my lord.” A woman said, walking out from the crowd, twirling a lock of hair in her finger.

Ogun turned to look at her, then he sighed and dropped the man, who on falling to the ground, scrambled back, rubbing his throat with his hands.

“Your anger was so great that you grew blind to this world. You saw the enemies that hid within your ranks, you saw the evil that hid within them and you struck them down. You cleansed the earth of evil this night, my lord. It was you who did this but you did not do it out of bloodlust, no; this was justice.” The woman added.

“Priestess Amia, I do not seek for speeches of motivation this night. I seek nothing of you.” Ogun replied as he staggered away from the gathering.

"But I have everything you need, Sango." The priestess muttered.

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He walked to a small river that flowed along the edge of the field of battle, on its way to join the sea. He sat on his hunches and stared into the water;

What have I become? Is this justice? The others have been corrupted by darkness and it was my duty to wipe it off but is this the only way? Will I kill everything I love in the bid to be true to a vision that only I have seen?

He summoned his spear and stared at its length;

What are you? What is your purpose? What have you made me into?

He turned as he heard sticks crack in the bush behind him. An antelope stood still in the darkness, staring at him. He stared back at it;

“My lord…” a voice said.

He turned so fast that he blurred in the half light of the slowly rising moon. His spear had drawn blood before he could stop himself. It was the Priestess Amia;

“Woman what do you seek? Do you want to join the flesh in the stomach of vultures this night?” he asked.

“You stink of blood and sweat, my love. Let me wash you and help you relax your weary limbs.” She whispered as she touched the blood beading on her neck and touched her finger to her tongue. Her lengthy dreadlocks hung down to the bottom of her buttocks.

She drew close to Sango and rubbed his broad arms. She looked so small before him but she had no fear of him in her. She took off her clothes and stepped into the river up to her navel then she turned to face him, standing nude before him; her dark skin glistening with sweat and heat. She gathered her full breast together, raised them to him, then she raised her head and smiled;

“Come Sango, spear of thunder, war monger, the justice of the gods, come and wash the memory of pain and fear off your skin, come and forget what has been done.” She muttered, her eyes glowing red in the night.

Sango struggled to his feet, as if in sleep and entered the water. He fell to his knees before her and the water rose to his laps. He bowed his head as she waded to him and circled her arms around his waist

“The bones have spoken this night, my love. The water witch has sent her daughter to seek the Ogiso and find a way to stop justice from taking its full course. We must stop her. We must find Osun and seize her crown.” The priestess whispered.

“We must find Osun and seize her crown.” Sango repeated. His eyes glowed as the command settled on him.

The priestess smiled.

Darkness come.

TO BE CONTINUED
If you enjoyed this story and you seek the beginning, you can check out the previous parts below;
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

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