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With The Blood of Scoundrels:: The Series - Ep. 2
With The Blood of Scoundrels:: The Series - Ep. 2
“I have a question? Now I’ve known you for quite some time
now and I can say with all confidence that you are one of the
stealthiest killers I’ve ever worked with. I’ve seen you sneak
into the center of camps, bursting with warriors, kill your man
and leave unseen. More ghost than man if truth be told. So tell
me. How is it that some old Uda hag saw you steal our morning
meal?”
“Maybe I’m getting old. And I did have a lot of sorghum last
night. Losing my touch.”
Night washed over the city, unseen by the prisoners. Its black
coat sparkled with twinkling stars, ushering the land to sleep
and dreams of fortune and nightmares. Along the once-busy
streets crept five shadows. If anyone were awake to see,
they’d have noticed them make their way from the Avenue of
Yoon and cut through Ja Square towards the Tower of the
Bronzes. Quick words passed between them and the shift-
commander. He led them into the tower and down into the
dungeons.
Lamin was asleep when rough hands yanked him up and bound
him in heavy rope. Lamin kept his serene composure, giving
them little fight. N’gara was wide-awake, but gave them little
struggle, taking his friends lead. A burlap sack fell over his head
and tied around his neck. The men shuffled them up the stairs
and out into the night. Lamin and N’gara took in deep breaths
of the crisp night air. They felt the breeze wash over them
through their sacks. N’gara felt the soft texture of an aba cloak
cover his shoulders. He took in the air and began to feel the
itch again. Luckily for him, when they bound his arms he
already had his hand under his belt, so he could scratch without
interruptions.
They made their way within the shadows. Lamin and N’gara felt
callous palms guiding them through the streets. They had no
idea were they were going, but the smells from the day still
blew in the air. First came the foul odor of the souk. Spoiled
meat and rotting fruits stained the wind. Shortly after, the air
was scented with a mixture of burning torches and incense. A
raw pungent smell, used to keep away evil spirits from along
the streets of the nobles and temples. After a few breaths,
they were led up a wide staircase, through a threshold, and into
a large room. They made there way up another set of steps
and down a hallway. The smells were sweet with the fragrance
of lilies and fragrant oils. Sandalwood and Aouzourian teak
delighted his nose. N’gara took a long whiff and exhaled an
easy sigh. The men stopped them and removed their sacks.
And there, behind a long mahogany table sat Magistrate Leeyti
of Tel. A few pelts covered the floor around the table and a
large n’goubou skull hung on the wall behind him. A wide space
flanked by pristine banco-plastered stone pillars separated
them. Lamin and N’gara took full account of the space and
noticed that the only lit torches glowed over by the magistrate
and over them at the threshold. The space between them was
a blackened hall, a deep chilling black. One of the five men cut
their bonds and shoved them forward.
N’gara saw his friend attacked and turned just as another man
came running towards him with his club raised over his head.
He caught the man by his forearm, and with a short swing,
bashed his foe across his face. As the man fell to the ground,
N’gara snatched the hardwood mace before he hit the ground.
N’gara smashed the man’s skull with two quick cracks. Lamin
turned and smiled; N’gara did all this with his hand still in his
loin-wrap.
Four more men jumped out from behind the pillars and Lamin
charged into them, N’gara close at his heels. Whoever got past
Lamin received a crack from N’gara. Lamin twisted around one
attacker, and as he dropped low, drove his fist in between
another’s legs. The sound of two bodies hit the floor before
another attack came from his blindside. But before the
attacker realized it, Lamin jumped, closing the distance
between them, and drove his knee up under the man’s chin.
N’gara saw the man’s head snap back. “Too old my ass!” he
yelled, dodging an attack to his head and with unimagined
grace, kneecapped the attacker before pinning him to the floor
with a heavy crunch. He looked around and noticed no more
attacks. But Lamin bent over hands on his knees and laughing.
He approached Lamin, frowning at the strangeness that had
taken over his friend.
“Very well done. I thought you may have gotten dull in your old
age, Moon-Eye,” Leeyti said. He was still seated behind the
table. He was raking his ringed fingers through his full beard.
Lamin noted his well-manicured hands and neatly plaited rows
rolling down his scalp and over his shoulders. “I heard about
your misfortunes in Zinder.” He also noticed his weapons on the
table with N’gara’s.
Lamin stole a glance over to N’gara and felt the heat coming
off his body. But, his friend kept a passive composure. His own
face burned and he folded his arms, making sure that Leeyti
saw his arms bulge – a promise of pain.
“It was probably that fat juicy one you mentioned,” smirked
Lamin.
N’gara shrugged his numb shoulder so that his limp arm waved
high and then dropped to his side.