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I n the following days, Sholei felt the effects of war.

Wounded men from the front line were transported back to the army camp with various injuries. The medicine camp overflowed, and she couldn’t stand back without helping. She felt conflicted about assisting Mukuru’s enemies but couldn’t deny the Imperial Physician needed help. He was overwhelmed by the number of wounded men.

Under Litonde’s guidance, she marshaled Mueni and several other soldiers to help. She categorized the soldiers’ injuries and the order to be treated. She requested more supplies, which Litonde provided with few questions. Somehow, he allowed her free rein at the campsite.

It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time to work under an Imperial Physician. Sholei wasn’t used to supervising such a large number of people, but she couldn’t ignore the watchful gaze of guards who followed all her actions. The medicine yard in Mukuru capital wasn’t that big or active. The camp was well supplied with every material she needed, unlike the medicine yard where she went out and sourced herbs.

“I can see why the general did everything possible to bring you back alive,” Litonde said, as he handed her pieces of white fabric to act as bandages. Since Litonde was someone Sholei worshipped, she jumped at his every word, eager to please him. His praises lifted her spirit more than anything. His title as an Imperial Physician showed in his excellent skills. Besides, he listened to Sholei and guided her on different ways to prepare medicine and deal with the sick. While Musembi scolded her whenever she made a mistake, Litonde was patient in his guidance.

In the days Sholei spent by Litonde’s side, she told him about how she encountered Ojore. She figured she needed a confidant to help when the need arose, though Sholei didn’t think she could count on him; the Imperial Physician admired his general and spoke very highly of the man.

“He’s the one who stabbed me. How can he be my killer and savior at the same time?” Sholei wrapped a bandage around the soldier who passed out in front of her. He sported a deep cut on the side of his head. Half of his face was swollen, and Sholei doubted if he could see.

“Things are not always what they seem. Maybe he’s planning to give you another life. A better one,” Litonde said, and Sholei gazed at him from underneath her lashes. She suspected the older man seemed to be on a mission to help Sholei blend into her new situation.

“There was nothing wrong with the way I lived before,” Sholei said. Her life in Mukuru wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t hate it either. She enjoyed being a physician despite everything Musembi put her through. She missed Tula and the medicine yard.

“Sometimes we must focus on what is ahead and not on our past.” Litonde helped another soldier lie down.

“What if the future is darker than the past?” Sholei walked past beds full of men with various forms of injuries. She washed her hands before she handled another patient. Musembi’s sanitation lessons stuck with her, and Sholei wondered when she would see the old woman again.

“You can’t always judge people by what you see, young one.” Litonde’s tone was somber, his words carrying heavy meaning. Sholei didn’t press for more information when he didn’t explain himself. She understood him more than she could explain, being an outcast too.

“My Lady, a soldier is vomiting blood.” Mueni hurried to her side and wiped her brow. Sholei rushed to check on the patient.

“Stay away.” The wounded man pushed her away and clutched his stomach. His lips were coated with blood. “You are from Mukuru. How can I trust you to cure me?”

“She wants to help you before you cough up more blood,” Mueni defended her and stood between Sholei and the soldier.

“How can I trust her?” the soldier asked with raised eyebrows. “We are at war with her people. She might end up killing everyone here.” The injured man waved his hand. Several people turned in Sholei’s direction.

“If I don’t stop you from bleeding, then you will surely die.” Sholei stepped in front and pulled Mueni behind her. He wasn’t strong enough to hurt her.

“My Lady,” Mueni protested as she gripped Sholei’s arm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a stubborn soldier. Get me clean water,” she assured her maidservant.

“The general may put his trust in you, but you will remain the enemy.” The man glared at her.

“Save your energy and focus on healing, or else how will you survive in battle?” Litonde came and forced the man to lie down. “All of you, get back to your duties.” He dispersed the small crowd that had formed around.

“You have internal wounds. Were you hit anywhere?” Sholei ignored the looks she received and tried to assess his injuries.

Litonde was wrong. She didn’t have a future here.

To them, she was the enemy.

Ojore stabbed the alliance soldier who charged at him. His sword sliced into the man’s stomach as the soldier waved his sword at him. Ojore pushed his sword deeper into the man, twisted it, and tore through his flesh before he pulled back. The man fell, dead, with part of his intestines out.

With a grimace, Ojore gazed up as another alliance soldier ran to him. He sliced his sword at the man’s neck. Blood gushed from the wound and sprayed down Ojore’s face. As the man fell, Ojore wiped his hand across his face. Blood, grime, and sweat painted his face black and crimson. Part of his armor was torn, and his hair came loose from his head and fanned across his face.

“Round them up!” he shouted and turned to Akima, who kicked down an alliance soldier. They had managed to fight the alliance soldiers outside the Keseve Market for several days and won. Ojore’s target was Prince Gane, but the man hid behind the fortress of the market. They had to find a way to force him to open the great iron gate.

After the fight, they spared the lives of some alliance soldiers. Smoke from fires filled the air with black billows. Even the sun chose to seek refuge from it behind the clouds. The air was filled with groans of men in pain and the smell of blood and despair. Ojore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wished to be somewhere else, away from all the bloodshed. He opened his eyes to see the ever-present eagle circle above him. Its eyes flashed at him.

“We are ready, general.” Akima’s voice dragged him back. His second in command ran up to him. Akima didn’t look any better. He sported a black eye and bled between his eyes with a cut on his right cheek. The single cowrie shell on his forehead sprayed with blood.

“Let’s do this.” They bumped forearms, and Ojore swiped his sword in the air, getting rid of the dripping blood. He walked to the alliance soldiers who knelt before Keseve gate. The Dembe soldiers bound the alliance soldiers’ hands behind their backs. Ojore tore a piece of his inner robe and wrapped the black material on his head, keeping his errant locks away from his face .

“Tell me.” He grabbed the neck of one of the alliance soldiers. The man’s eyes were filled with feigned bravery. “Between me, who wants to take your life, and him,” he pulled the man’s head back until his gaze landed on Prince Gane on top of the northern gate of Keseve Market, “who has a chance to save you but won’t, who is the greater sinner?”

“We shall never…” the man shouted, but Ojore never gave him a chance to finish the sentence. He took his life with a deep stab in his neck. Ojore didn’t wipe the blood splatter away, but allowed the warm, sticky liquid to drip down his face. The man fell on the dusty ground and the captives around him stiffened.

Ojore walked to the next man. “Gane, if you don’t open the gates, your men will lose their lives one after another for each minute you waste.” Ojore pointed his blood-stained blade at the gate.

In the end, Gane didn’t open the gate, and all the alliance soldiers outside the gates were slaughtered.

As he returned to his makeshift quarters outside the Keseve Market, Ojore wrapped a bandage around his left bicep and grimaced. The slash on his arm hurt. He frowned at the angry red gash and tightened the white bandage.

“Maybe you should get someone to look at that.” Akima handed him a flask full of water, and Ojore splashed the water on his face, wiping off the blood, sweat, and grime.

The Dembe Southern managed to annihilate the soldiers outside the Keseve Market but had yet to gain entry. The alliance proved challenging to break, and they held their ground in the preliminary fights.

“How many causalities do we have?” Ojore asked. Every day after a battle, he would take inventory and check on his men. It helped Ojore as he planned his attacks. They fought against a big army, and he needed his men in shape.

“Minor injuries are being treated here. We sent the ones with serious wounds back to the camp,” Akima reported.

“Our supplies and weaponry?” Ojore asked and circled the table where the map of the Keseve Market lay. “I have a feeling they will target our supplies next. We need to reinforce the security around the camp.”

“Well-guarded; the alliance won’t be able to reach them.” Akima stood by his side and pored over the map.

“Judging by their fighting, we will be able to crash through their defense very soon. After taking over the market, we must plan how to break their alliance or sow discord among them.” Ojore crossed his arms and tapped his bicep. “The alliance doesn’t have a strong defense, partly because of quick allying. They didn’t have time to plan for much.”

“After we take over Keseve, they will return to protect their cities. We use that time to hit the final blow. I don’t want this war to be long.” A drawn-out war didn’t benefit anyone. Ojore preferred to hit fast to save resources and his men’s lives.

“I received a message from the camp earlier.” Akima stood back .

“Is everything okay?” Ojore cocked his head to one side.

“Your plan seems to be working. Sholei thrives in the medicine camp, under Litonde’s guidance,” Akima said. Ojore smiled for the first time in their gloomy days. “There were some minor skirmishes…”

“Is she hurt?” Ojore’s smile disappeared, and his stance hardened.

“Some of the men weren’t comfortable with her treatment, but she managed the situation,” Akima recapped. He raised a thick eyebrow at Ojore.

“She has a knack for dealing with stubborn patients. I should know,” Ojore chuckled. “Sholei has a gift for medicine. If she establishes herself in the camp, it will be easier to incorporate her into the Dembe Kingdom. Maybe even get her to work with Imperial Physicians.”

“You don’t plan to use her as a pawn in this war?” Akima asked.

“She was never a pawn.” Ojore returned to his map.

“You had her working with the Imperial Physician to pave her way in the capital?” Akima didn’t give up questioning Ojore’s motives. When his friend didn’t answer, he narrowed his eyes at him and went on, “I think you have feelings for her.”

“She was being wasted back in Mukuru. I am giving her a chance to practice her skills without much interference.” Ojore held Akima’s narrowed gaze.

“That is what you think you are doing, but to Sholei, she’s your hostage. You are at war with her people. It would be a surprise if she didn’t turn against you. ”

Ojore shook his head and tried to convince himself Sholei wouldn’t betray him. If she could get herself stabbed to gain the favor of Prince Gane, who could say she wouldn’t turn against him for the same reason? He leaned on his seat, angry at the thought.

“Are you willing to take that chance?” Akima asked, his voice low.

”You are quite bold today, Akima.”

“I am worried about you. This decision seems a little bit...” Akima bowed slightly. Ojore hated how his friend backed down when he used his noble voice, but it was the only way for the questions to stop.

“Reckless.” Ojore finished the statement and rubbed his temples in frustration. Sholei running around the medicine camp was a risk, but so far, she hadn’t tried anything to raise his suspicions. The men he sent to spy on her hadn’t reported anything out of the ordinary, and Litonde had nothing but praise for his protégé.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude,” Akima said, head bent. Ojore stood before his friend and helped him stand straight.

“I know the risk I am taking by keeping her around. But if we manage to integrate her into our capital, she will be a great asset,” Ojore said. Akima nodded and didn’t pursue the matter further. He produced an arrowhead from his waist pouch.

“Do you remember this from your assassination attempt? Our men have traced it back to one of the blacksmiths in the capital. He was highly secretive and refused to reveal his customers. He was willing to die rather than say anything.” Akima handed the small metal object to Ojore.

“An enemy from within? Someone from Dembe hired an assassin to come after me?” Ojore twisted the arrowhead between his long fingers. “I have to watch my back not only in the war but at home, too.”

”I will do everything in my power to figure out who did this,” Akima said through clenched teeth.

“I thought if I avoided taking part in court politics, my fate could be changed, but it turns out once one is born of royalty, he is born with a target on his back,” Ojore said.

“Do you suspect someone?” Akima was hesitant. “The queen?”

”Walls have ears. Watch your words.” Ojore turned toward his confidant.

“It’s infuriating to what extent she would go to try to kill you.” Akima lowered his voice. “No matter how far you are, she hunts you down. I think it’s time to inform your father of what is happening.”

“You think King Kaza has no idea what is happening in his court? In his harem?” Ojore dropped the arrowhead on the table. He picked up a bowl of water and emptied it in one gulp. “The queen holds too much power in the court because of her clan and half the officials are on her side. Father needs their approval to control the kingdom. He will overlook the atrocities she commits.”

“You don’t covet power and have brought immense honor and prestige to Dembe. That should earn you respect, not a poisoned arrow in your back.”

“Either way, run through our men again and fish out the assassin before his second attempt.” Ojore stood up. “ At dawn, we must break through the alliance’s defense and capture Keseve.”

Akima bowed and left the tent.

“Generals, we must hold our fort to win this war. We can’t afford to lose our resolve now.” Gane hunched over the map of Keseve with several generals from the alliance.

“We will win this war, Prince Gane. The Dembe have met their match. They can’t break through our defense,” said the General of Etago, a short, stout man who loved to talk big.

“That is true. They can’t break through the gates,” another one chipped in. “But at what cost, the lives of our men?”

“To retreat does not mean one is surrendering. Sometimes retreating is a sign of advance.” Gane curled his hands into fists on the table holding the map. A good number of their men died outside the gate; the coppery smell of blood hadn’t receded from the air after the carnage of the previous day.

“It is true. We can’t be too sure. Remember, they have camped outside the gates,” the general commanding Iranda’s city army commented, his brows furrowed. “How many casualties did we suffer versus them?”

“They are counting on us to be complacent before they attack with a final blow. Ojore is known for his brutality, and I fear what we have witnessed it is only a small demonstration. His army is the largest in the region. Even with our combined forces, we are yet to be his equal. We fought against him, but he remains steadfast as we dwindle in numbers.”

A murmur broke through the crowd, and the mood in the room dropped into a suspenseful tension.

“What would we do if he captures Keseve?” the quiet general from Lwala city asked. He leaned against a wood post. There was silence before the general continued, “We all know they will come for our cities after this.”

“That is why we must be steadfast in the alliance. We can’t afford to break up. Our unity will prove to be our strongest weapon.” Each city in the alliance bore differences with each other, and if, by chance, they lost Keseve, the shaky foundation of their coalition would be threatened.

“Prince Gane is right.” The Iranda army general patted Gane on the back. “If we lose Keseve, we must protect our kingdom from attacks. We should prepare for it. A messenger should be sent to warn our people of the impending danger. By preparing for any outcome, we can secure our homes.”

The men nodded their heads in agreement.

After final touches on the plans to enhance security, they left the room to retell the meeting proceedings to their subordinates. One of Gane’s spies appeared inside his makeshift quarters.

“Did you manage to send out my message?” he asked the man who bowed before him.

“Yes, my lord. We will have our answer very soon.”

“We must take advantage of Ojore’s time on the battlefield to get our message through. Remember to be cautious.”

With a nod, the soldier slunk back into the darkness.