It took me years, but today, OLA is complete.
And I have decided to share with the good people of Nairaland.

My name is Daniel and I write in the genre I call African Fantasy.
Like them fantastical tales-- Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and the Twilight series? Then I'm sure you're gonne love OLA.


Please, this is my original work and it is protected under the copyright law. Reproduction of any kind will be termed plagiarism and culprit(s) will be prosecuted accordingly.

I'll post the first two chapters and depending on response, I'll continue to post.
Please, constructive criticisms are welcomed as you read.
Thanks.

ONE
The quiet of midnight chilled the air. Above, thousands of stars twinkled in the moonless sky. Flapping wings screeched as they flew across.

Each owl landed on a flat stone at the mouth of the cave and in an instant, all four were in their human witch form—hair in long, thread-covered twigs and a black wrapper neatly tied around their body from the chest down.

Around, in the tall grasses and bush, deep-forest insects cackled and droned, and once in a while evil birds shrieked from the high trees.

The good people of Odu feared the cave of Akwalu, the meeting place of the witches of Odu, as much as they did the evil lord himself. Relief to their dismay, the cave rests far in wilderness, beyond any form of human association. King Oduma would have done something otherwise, the tough king of Odu held no mercy for witches, and neither their properties.
The women rose and started walking toward the gloomy end of the cave. The wavering flames of the fire pots sitting all around the space had only created little light and their half-formed shadows danced eerily on the walls. The smell of dirt and damp and evil hung in the air. They stood in front of their seats, head lolling down and hands folded at the back, awaiting Ezenwanyi’s arrival. The two stone benches lay facing each other, across from the tall seat Ezenwanyi sat on. She was queen, and always arrived later than them.

Ezenwanyi’s black wrapper occupied her bulk well. The long clothing almost swept the ground as she strutted along, in her usual full confidence—head held up straight and eyes steady and daring. With one hand she clutched her black cat to her armpit while the other held her long, shiny staff. The twigs of her hair were longer, fatter, held round with a beaded, reddish band.
They bowed as she passed them and climbed onto her seat. “We greet you, Ezenwanyi!” they chorused.
She adjusted herself into her seat. “Welcome, great wings of the night,” she said, her voice as grating as always.

She flicked her fingers in the air in a gesture for them to sit.

They discussed at length about the coming festival, about their plan. The Moon Festival, the biggest festival in Odu, celebrated by all Odu on the first full moon month of every year approaches and the witches had started to plan again, like they always did. Even now that the coming festival was going to be a special one—it had been predicted that the year is going to host two full moons, an event that have not happened in the last fifty years. Which is why the witches would not rest for they knew what the power of the elder moon could afford them. Their seniors had failed many years ago, but another failure is what they wouldn’t risk this time. The Great Master must rise. No moon maiden has been named, the moon stone has disappeared; everything now worked to their good. “Ezenwanyi, but what of the girl,” asked Didi. She was the youngest, and perhaps also the wiliest.

“Yes, Ezenwanyi, the girl,” Ujuaku spoke, “wouldn’t she do anything to thwart our plans this time?”
Ujuaku had the soft and smooth voice required of someone who led the witch song. She was slender with small pitiful eyes.
Ezenwanyi turned to regard her. Then she began pulling at one of the twigs of her hair. She did that often— pulling and sometimes twisting the long, thread-clad twig of hair, her reason not very apparent, even to her fellows. But they knew the action indicated anything but happiness.
“The girl knows nothing yet,” Ezenwanyi finally said, and returning her hand back to stroking her cat. “She can’t do anything.”
“But her powers only but grows, Ezenwanyi,” Ujuaku said.

“Then we must drink enough blood before then, Ujuaku. E-n-o-u-g-h!”

They broke into throaty giggles.

“Perhaps the blood of royalty this time,” Ugedu suggested, her voice made hollower by laughter. “It gives unimaginable strength!”

Ugedu’s words heightened the amusement and this time their laughter resounded throughout the cave. She was oldest, gangly and giggly. And by far the ugliest—she had jutting front teeth.

“I say we kill the girl before the festival comes,” came the deep, manlike voice of Ajulu. She hardly spoke and sometimes would not even join them in the giggling. She started keeping to herself since the day she lost contest for the title of Ezenwanyi—the leader of the coven, who solely held the power to commune with Akwalu, the Great Master.

“No, Ajulu,” Ezenwanyi said. “Not until we have the stone. Killing the girl would mean our losing the stone forever.” “Forgive me, Ezenwanyi, but how can we even talk about killing her when our powers are useless against her?” Ujuaku’s voice went quieter. She’d always been the jittery one.

Ajulu frowned. “And who said we will be needing our witch powers to kill her, Ujuaku?” Clenching her fingers in demonstration, she said, “We will squeeze life out of her if need be!” Ugedu snorted with laughter. Ezenwanyi eyed her and she turned quiet.
The witches feared the moon maiden. She probably was the only one strong enough to ruin their plan. Since Azuma, the last moon maiden, died many years ago, they had wreaked havoc freely in the land. Even to the extent King Oduma had to go out of his ways to organize a witch raid himself.
“I say we kill the girl and bother about the stone later,” Ajulu went on. “We should be thankful Ajo Udele have revealed her to us now that she is still without her powers. I see no reason to wait.”

“Quiet, Ajulu, I am the queen here and only I says what and what not to be done.”
“But Ezenwanyi…”

“Quiet!” Ezenwanyi yelled. Her cat meowed. “She must not live beyond this month!” Ajulu said still. “I, Ajulunuzo ajulunohia, said it!”

Ezenwanyi fixed her with a scowl. “Ajulu, I bade you remain quiet this moment or leave us!” she said. She would not tolerate any form of rebellious attitude from her again. “E-z-e-n-w-a-n-y-i!” the others chorused, bowing their heads in respect.

But Ajulu has gotten too upset to grovel for forgiveness. She stood, gave Ezenwanyi a brief appraising stare and walked out. She got to the mouth of the cave, knelt and stretched both arms in the air. They became wings as the rest of her body took the shape of an owl and she flew off.

Ezenwanyi turned to the others. “Now listen all of you, we all crave for Akwalu to rise again but we must be ready for him too.”
They nodded humbly.
“He must have the moon stone, he must have that which the goddess had used to defeat him or else he won’t be any pleased with us. Or who dares to face the wrath of Akwalu?”

They shook their heads. “Who?!”
“Nobody, great queen.”
“But Ezenwanyi, how can she lead us to the stone if she hardly knew who she really is?” Didi asked.
“And she must not know, Ugodidiyamma,” Ezenwanyi said. “She must not!” She turned to Ujuaku. “Ujuaku, did you hear me?”
Ujuaku bowed. “Yes, Ezenwanyi.” She looked thoughtful. “But my queen, what if Efu names her before the festival?”

Ezenwanyi laughed— a long jerky laugh like a series of hiccups strung together. “The fat priestess no longer holds the power to commune with the white goddess,” Ezenwanyi said in between laughter.

Their eyes widened at her utterance.

“How do you mean, great queen?” Ujuaku was first to ask.

“Efu desecrated the sacred temple a long time ago and the white goddess had ceased speaking to her.”

They glanced round each other, eyes glittering with surprise.
“And no one knows?” Didi said.
“Not a single soul.” Ezenwanyi continued laughing and they soon joined her.
“Akwalu must rise,” Ezenwanyi said as her laughter died out. “It is his time.” She reached to her neck and caressed the piece of bone hanging on a string there. “All the items are ready. With the moon stone in his grip he can hold off the goddess forever.”

“What is the goddess even without her vessel?” Ugedu said, initiating another bout of laughter.
The thought of Akwalu rising and taking over the high mountains of Odu lightened up the witches’ hearts. With his rising, they would go from being hunted to become mini-gods, respected and feared by all. It was the Great Master’s promise after all. Ezenwanyi relaxed back into her seat. “Ujuaku, music!”

Ujuaku cleared her throat and began the witch song.

“Oyo yoyo tili jo, kweze, oyo yoyo tili jo…” the soft melody of Ujuaku’s voice rippled all around the dark cave. They squirmed round in their seats, hands with nails like talons floating about in the air.
Ezenwanyi wriggled in her seat, swaying her neck to the rhythm of the song and stroking her cat. In the peak of the excitement she opened her mouth in her usual toothy smile, revealing a set of hideous dark-stained teeth.

***

Fhemmmy: ^^^ This will be a hard one to read . . . Break it down into paragraphs, i am sure it will be a nice story.

Thanks @fhemmy. I think it's better now.

it makin sense... keep it comin

...TWO
Ko koro koo! The red-colored rooster crowed from the backyard barn.

As it did the second time, the door of the hut Ola shared with her little brother, Ikem, squeaked and opened.

Ola came out and dropped on one of the stumpy logs of wood lying by the side of the hut.

Dawn was still at its first stroke and neither a thing could be seen. Raucous singing of nocturnal insects still filled the air.

With a mild sigh, she leaned over and buried her face in her lap. The dreams always meant the end of sleep for that night. Though she’d been having them since she was like nine, it was still the one thing she hated to discuss. Only Nne knew—‘their little secret’ as she called it, before her death. She was probably afraid they’d call her a witch and have her burned too, so she told no one else.
Ola remained outside till a flock of okri birds perched on the tall tree behind the hut. Their characteristic giggle—kwii kwu kwi kwi, indicated full crack of dawn.
“Ola.” Nnaa’s voice startled her. She jerked and sat upright. “Did you sleep outside?”

“No, father,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I came out in the morning.” This time her voice was distorted by a yawn.

“Was it too hot inside?”

Ola’s lips drew apart but words couldn’t come out soon enough. She could have said yes, that it was too hot inside because it had not rained in Odu for many months now. The rains have taken to inconsistent patterns since the witches started playing with the moon. But it wasn’t the heat inside that brought Ola-edo outside. It was something else, something else she preferred not to talk about. Though she’d always known she was different and even allowed herself think she was a witch at times too, but she’d decided, as Nne always told her, never to see herself as any less a normal maiden of Odu.

“Pleasant morning, Nnaa.” Ikem was stretching and yawning as he plodded out of the hut.
“Ikem, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Nnaa.”
Nnaa left them and walked to the back of the hut.

Ikem dropped to the ground beside his big sister. “Pleasant morning, Ola.”

Ola gave him a big smile. “How was the night, Ikem?” “Fine.”

“Ola, please sing nwaniga for me,” Ikem said, in his usual pestering manner which Ola finds the least pleasing. Though she hardly lets him notice, not even now the little boy had unknowingly done her a favor. “Ikem, it is still too early.”

“Please.” He reached for Ola’s hand and shook it.

“It’s still too early, biko. I’ll sing after we come back from the stream.”

“You will tell me you want to sweep.”

“Then after the sweeping.”
“No, you will start cooking.”

Though Ola-edo does not sing much, she sang well. She had the clear, sonorous voice required to call the moon. Only Ikem, and Nene sometimes, had enjoyed her voice. Once, she finally agreed the join the other girls and go to the palace to sing at the king’s coronation anniversary, after Nene’s aggressive persuasion. The king would reward them well. Each girl may get a full hand of beads and several heads of wrapper, the girl whose voice impressed the king the most would even get more gifts.

Ola had stood in line with the other maidens, sixth from the person in front as they swayed and jiggled into the ceremony ground. But after she turned again and noticed the prince’s eyes were still on her, a wave of awkwardness swamped over her and she crept out. Not too many noticed her abrupt exit though, but the handsome prince of Odu wouldn’t let her be since after that day. He had hunted her like game, precious game.

“Ola!” Nene’s voice echoed all around the small compound. “Ola-edo!”

Ola came out of her hut. She had washed her face and changed her breast cloth—a narrow piece of clothing worn around the chest and knotted at the back. A waist cloth—a larger piece of skirtlike clothing was worn at the waist. Sometimes, strings of waist beads were worn with the waist cloth, though only by those who could afford it.
“Ikem we are leaving,” Ola said. She lifted her water pot and strode toward Nene who was busy adjusting her breast cloth. She was plump and some inches below Ola. Her breasts were full and sometimes it became a burden holding them in place with the narrow strip of breast cloth. Ikem grabbed his own small pot and ran toward them.
Ola plucked a dried leaf from a dying shrub at the side of the narrow road and fingered it.

“Ola, I ask you!” Nene yelled.

Ola looked at her, absently crushing the leaf in her hand. “I really don’t know, Nene. There is nothing spectacular about the festival again. I’ll wear any of my old clothes.”

Nene stared at her. “This coming festival will be different.”

“And how do you know that, Nene?”

“I don’t know, I just knew.”

Ola gave an amused snort. “I wonder why you concern yourself so much.”

Nene shot her a frown of incredulity. “Ola, we have been without the rains for over six months now and I have not seen bright moonlight again since I was a child. These days you can hardly make out the cloaked moon in the sky and you think I’m being unnecessarily concerned?” She swallowed. “Ola don’t you remember those times we used to run around under the full moon, the times that night looked like day? The times we—” emotion caused her to pause.

Ola gave a deep sigh. “They said until the priestess names another moon maiden, things will never change.” “Change?” Nene cut in, annoyance showing in her voice. Ola wondered if she had said something too wrong. “Can’t you see things are getting worse by the day?” She pushed out her water pot to Ola. Ola held the pot while she adjusted her breast cloth again.
“There’s nothing we can do, Nene,” Ola said, trying to sound comforting. “We are just maidens.”

Nene stared at her and did not say another word. There was a long pause before any of them said anything again.

“But do you think Efu is ready to name anyone yet?” Nene asked. She now sounded calmer, consoled.

“Well, we just have to pray she does, and soon enough too,” Ola said.

“I pray o, otherwise I will just have to run away from this kingdom.”

Ola laughed. “To where if I may ask?”

“Anywhere but Odu.”
Ola shook her head in mock pity. “Such a journey will take days without a horse, and moreover—”

“Ola!” someone called from their back.

It was a voice Ola was familiar with. Even Nene too.

They halted and turned back. “Greetings, Your Highness,” they chorused, kneeling.

They remained on their knees till Prince Onyema got to them. It was the custom, though Onyema hardly ever minded. In that, and in so many other ways, he was different from his father, the king.
“Rise, beautiful maidens of Odu,” the prince said. Onyema’s voice easily disclosed what beauty of a man he was. As one of the girls from the group gossiping about him would say, “Even a blind girl will feel the shivers on the mere hearing of his voice.”
The maidens of Odu did that often—cluster in small groups to discuss their men. Only the very handsome, and the very ugly, make interesting topics. The former would throw them into several frenzied acts to demonstrate their longing and the other, the creator of gales of sardonic laughter. “Thank you, my prince,” the girls chorused as they rose

“Permit me to leave, Your Highness,” Nene said, bowing.
The prince inclined his head and she took Ikem by the hand and they started down the path. Ola lifted her eyes to his face and thrust down face at once. Her hands tightened around the clay pot hugged to her belly. It was her usual way of looking at him—briefly, her eyes darting away as quickly as they landed on his face.
Though she had never allowed her eyes to stay a minute longer on his face, she knew his handsome features well—the dark and thick brows framing his eyes, the two bold eyes flanking a nose so straight and pointed one would be imagining if it was carved by hand. There must be something about those eyes, something scary in them, something that frightened Ola so much she dare not look into them. It probably was their vividness, the clean sparkle they cast in daylight, amid the smooth dark background of his face.
Onyema walked to her front. “How are you today, beautiful one?” he asked.

Ola did not reply fast enough. It was obvious she had started feeling somehow again. It was not their first meeting, yet each had had her wishing the prince never met her, never liked her. Perhaps meeting the prince could pass for the one thing she was now really afraid of. Witnessing Nne’s death had had her hardened. She’d blamed Nene a few times for talking her into going to the palace that day, into taking herself to the prince. But each time she did, Nene would hiss and say, “Was I the one that asked Ihe to give your skin the color of the sun or were you the only maiden at the ceremony on that day?” Ola would remain quiet.
“Ola-edo, I ask you,” Onyema repeated, “how are you?”
She lifted her eyes and peeped at his face again. “You remembered my name?”
Onyema smiled. “Precious things are not easily forgotten, my dear,” he said, still smiling. He had expected her to say thank you or at least smile —like any normal maiden of Odu would do, but she said nothing, did nothing. She continued watching her fingers as they purposelessly twined around each other.
As she finally opened her mouth to say something, something interrupted. The warmth of his palm around her wrist. “Ola, why do you behave strange around me?”

Strange? Now what is he saying? She frowned, an all-purpose frown. “How do you mean, my prince?”
A girl approached and she jerked her hand from his grip. With the brimmed pot weighing down on her head, the young maiden managed to kneel. “Greetings, good prince of my land,” the girl said, her face devoid of any sign of strain. Onyema nodded and waved her away.

“Permit me to leave now, my prince,” Ola said. She cannot stand more people seeing her standing alone with the prince of Odu on a lonely bush track used by the not-so-classy people of Oji village.
“Why?” Onyema asked. “Where are you going?”
She stole another peep at his face. Spoilt brat. He doesn’t even know what a water pot is used for. “I should be heading down to the stream now, my prince.”
From the corner of her eye, she noticed he was staring at her in a way she thought was funny and she walked off quietly down the path.
“Wait! Not so fast,” Onyema said.

She halted, she had to. He was the prince of Odu after all. Not just an ordinary wooer, like Ibe, the boy she’d slapped few days ago, after several times of warning him to “leave her alone.” The round boy had stopped her again that evening as she was returning from their farm, burdened with a bunch of firewood. Before Ibe could finish his usual story of how he had dreamt about them again, a hot slap had landed on his left cheek.
But Ola knew the prince was different, that he was one wooer a slap wouldn’t chase away. There might be something this particular wooer was doing right too, because a thought of slapping him had never crossed her mind.
Onyema took a few steps to meet her. “I have something for you,” he said. She watched as he reached into the front leather pocket of his shorts and brought out a gold bangle. It was ona, shiny, royal and expensive.
She stared at the piece of jewelry in his hand. Now the prince had lost it. How could he have expected she’d accept that? “No, thank you, Your Highness.” She kept her tone humble enough, grateful enough.
“Don’t call me that,” Onyema said.
She remembered he had told her that before and it still surprised her why a prince would not want to be addressed properly. Perhaps the privileges of being a prince had become too numerous it had now turned burdening. “I appreciate your gift, my prince, but I’m sorry I will not accept it.”

Her forehead had creased. Had the prince been observant enough, he would have realized she was no longer comfortable. She’s had enough of him.

He reached to touch her cheek instead and she drew back. “Please, you must permit me to leave now, my prince,” Ola said. She hugged her clay pot firmly to her side and strode off.
Prince Onyema stood still, gazing at her, her wiggling hips.
He finally looked down on the bangle in his hand when she had gotten too far off sight. He enclosed it in his palm and put it back into his pocket.
He looked at her again, her shape had grown indistinct. He turned to walk home.
He had wondered why she was different. Why she, of all, seemed to be the only one not interested. Others had always acted differently. Some had even gone as far as faking errands from their parents just to have him talk with them.
Truly, Ola thought of the prince differently. She had never for once allowed the thoughts of finally becoming the prince’s maiden linger in her mind. He was already betrothed, to someone more beautiful, more suitable— Ngala, a chief’s daughter whom no one in Odu would think twice before addressing as the incarnation of beauty.
And even if the prince hadn’t been betrothed, the possibility of King Oduma, the mean king of Odu, allowing his only son to marry a farmer’s daughter was virtually non-existent. Again too, that is only if the prince’s motives had been genuine. She had also reasoned it might not be. After all what is a Crown prince supposed to be looking for in an ordinary girl from Oji?

At the stream, Nene sat with Ikem on the big trunk of a fallen palm tree lying at a corner of the riverbank, waiting for Ola. Their filled pots lay on the ground beside them.
As Ola saw them, her pace mechanically slowed. The thought of having to face Nene’s intrusive questions again that morning frightened her. Each time Nene was aware she had met the prince, she must always ask the questions.
Nene did not wait for her to come close enough. She stood and walked to meet her. “How did it go?” she asked, and as usual sent eager eyes piercing through her. The kind of look that has had Ola wondering, once, if her friend had been in league with the prince.
Nene wanted to say something else but Ola nodded toward her back. She turned and saw Ikem bending over from the palm trunk, plucking tiny mushrooms growing on it. Nene got the message and both of them moved slightly away. Her voice was lowered when she spoke again. “Ola, the prince really likes you,” she said, letting her envy show in her face.
Ola cared less about it. “How do you mean?” she asked with an expression of incomprehension, even though she’d understood her perfectly.
Nene frowned. “What do you mean by how, Ola? Isn’t it obvious the prince likes you?”
“It’s a waste of time, Nene.”
Nene looked at her and caught the sadness underneath. Concern took over her annoyance. “Why would you say that?”
Ola turned her face away without a word. “Ola, we have seen fifteen moon festivals already and after this coming festival, we’d follow in the next maiden dance after which we would become ready for marriage.” Ola turned to her with an amused face.
Surprise and puzzlement warred on Nene’s face. “Why do you smile?”
“You talk of marriage, Nene, have you forgotten the prince is betrothed already?”
“Ngala?” Nene’s tone was dismissive.
“Yes, her.” Ola’s reply was affirmative.
“Isn’t it obvious the prince doesn’t fancy her?”
“Does it matter? It’s the king’s decision to make and no king will allow his only son to marry ordinary girls like us.”
The casualness of her voice did not fully mask the underlying bitterness inside, a wish that she hadn’t been ordinary. “Let me fill my pot so we leave before Ihuoma and her friends arrive.” She walked down the stream.
Nene crossed her belly and gazed emptily at her. The word ‘ordinary girls’ rang repeatedly in her mind. Never for once had she dreamt of marrying a prince before, but now it had been struck to her face that it would never happen, she couldn’t help but ask why? What is really so bad about being ordinary?
She was still asking these questions when Ola climbed to the bank with her filled pot.

“You can’t be so sure, Ola,” she blurted out. “You just can’t be so sure.”
Ola looked at her with surprise. She didn’t know she had been mulling over her comment.
Nene moved and carried her pot. “Ikem, let’s go.”
But as she turned, what, or whom, she saw showed clearly on her face she would never have wished the sight. “Ola, look,” she whispered.
Ola turned and instantly felt a pound in her chest. But she quickly straightened out her features with ridded herself of any sign of fear. She waited, coolly, till the three maidens approached.
The one in front was Ihuoma, Ola’s childhood friend and grown-up enemy. She walked just as dauntless as her eyes were. As she came closer, she set the big round eyes to Ola’s face and made sure the scorn in them infiltrated her before walking past. Ola inhaled deeply, swallowing her fury.
But just when she thought it was all over she heard the word as Ihuoma turned to one of her companions and whispered something. She had said, “The yellow-skinned one did not fetch her water in the night as usual”, but Ola had heard only “yellow skin.” And she knew she must reply. With a small purposeful smile she lowered her water pot to a corner, gracefully clapped her hands clean and dropped them on her waist. “Only the chicken puts her mouth in a pot to address the eagle.”
As intended, the chicken heard it. And she reacted. She turned and made her way back to the eagle, both her face and step devoid of any features of a chicken.
Ola steeled herself and waited. Nene lowered her pot and got ready too. Little Ikem too.
As Ihuoma mounted herself in Ola’s front, her companions took their positions behind her. As if in a match, Nene and Ikem quickly moved to Ola’s side.
Ihuoma craned her neck so that her face nearly met with Ola’s. “Now the chicken looks the eagle in the eye. Won’t she break a neck or at least pluck out an eye? Or has…”
“The noble bird only but corrects. I see the chicken has already learnt her lesson not to repeat her previous utterance.” Ola let her smile spread out a bit. She had seen it in a mirror once and knew she looked good with it. Fury surged through Ihuoma and it threw her out of control. “Yellow skin! Yellow skin! I call you yellow skin, now do your worst!” she yelled.
And as if in obedience, Ola’s palm covered herself with tremendous force. And the fight began. Hands and fingers twined all around each other, tousling hair and twitching ears. It could have been three to one, but Nene was fast enough to pick one over to herself. But two was still too much for one and in a moment Ola-edo was on the ground.
Then Ikem came in with his only weapon—teeth! It didn’t take him much time to cause one of the girls to scream out loud. She abandoned the fight and ran after the little boy. But when he proved harder to get than she had anticipated, she halted and was returning to the main fight when, abruptly, the fight ended. With Ola looking dirtiest, the five girls stood with bowed heads as the two elderly women that arrived the stream lashed out at them.

Come on man! Post more! Sweet stuff. Thumbs up.

I love dis. Well done

THREE
Ola knelt beside the three stones that held the cooking pot in place, blowing into the stubborn fire.
The sweltering afternoon sun flowed into the thatched shed they used as kitchen through the open side. “Patience with the fire, my child.” Ujuaku’s voice startled her. She had come through the backyard as usual. Ola turned, concealing the annoyance on her face, she said, “Welcome.”
Ola knew Ujuaku as the poor, childless widow that lives a few compounds away, the woman that once helped her out with a tune of a song she didn’t know well. Nnaa had gone to the farm and she was home alone with Ikem that afternoon when Ujuaku knocked. Ola asked her what she wanted and she said she had come to buy basket from Nnaa. In his free time, Nnaa wove baskets from ekwere—thin strips of fiber gotten from palm fronds.

Ujuaku finally offered to teach her the correct tune of the song she’d heard them singing while she was coming in. Ola agreed and was instantly captivated by Ujuaku’s sweet voice. But ever since that day Ujuaku came, she had been seeking to spend more time with Ola. According to her, she was lonely and needed a friend. But Ola did not know how to start becoming friends with a woman older than her own mother.

“What would we be discussing?” she had said to Nene that evening as she told her the story. Nene had laughed out loud and told her to ask Ujuaku if she could still play the game of oga well too.

Ola turned and blew at the fire again. She caught smoke in her throat and started to cough.
“I told you to be gentle with the fire,” Ujuaku said. “It will obey you if you show it some respect first.”
Ola managed a perfunctory smile and turned back to what she was doing. How daft Ujuaku might have sounded. How can one show fire respect?
Ujuaku walked close to the fire. “Let me.” Ola shifted and she moved into place before the fire. She pulled out one of the long sticks of wood arranged under the pot and tossed it round as if to create space. She then lowered her neck and gave the fire one long blow. Lively yellow flames popped out from the sticks.

Ola smiled her gratitude and wiped the smoke tears that had clouded her eyes.
“Can I sit?”
“Sure.” She carried her tray of vegetables from the short bench for Ujuaku to sit. She moved and sat on the upturned mortar.
Ujuaku sensed she didn’t want to sit with her on the bench as there was still enough space. “I saw your father on his way to the farm and decided to come and see you,” Ujuaku said.

“Ok,” Ola said, and when she realized the word had seemed too brief, she added, “hope there is no problem?”
“Oh no, not at all, my dear,” Ujuaku said. “Just came around to check on you that’s all.”

Ola nodded and forced another smile, pretending to be happy she bothered. There was a long pause before any of them spoke again. Ola seemed too occupied with her vegetables now, as if plucking vegetables now required a certain kind of serious precision.
“Hope the night treated well?” Ujuaku asked.
“Yes. And you?”

“The night was good, my child.”
They lapsed into another silence.
Ola was right. There wasn’t much she could discuss with this woman. The thought of them becoming friends was just as unfathomable as the expression on her face right now.


“I bought you a little something,” Ujuaku finally spoke. She loosened the bulging knot of her wrapper lying close to her armpit and brought out a beaded necklace.

“Here, you can try it on, it’ll match any cloth,” Ujuaku said, proffering Ola the jewelry. She was smiling, in the way very generous people do.
“Oh, Ujuaku,” Ola said, feebly expressing her surprise. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I don’t wear jewelries.” She touched her neck to confirm what she just said. She was only lucky she hadn’t worn the blue necklace Nne had given her that afternoon.
“But you can have it. It will look good on your neck,” Ujuaku pressed.

“Gratitude, Ujuaku, but I still will not accept.” This time she did not look up from her tray.
Ujuaku fought hard to hold back the irritation boiling up inside her. A maiden of Odu refusing jewelry?—quite unheard-of.
Ola put down the tray. “I must finish cooking now,” she said, rising. “Nnaa will soon return.” She moved to her pot and opened it. The boiling soup puffed, chanting.
Ujuaku understood it is time to go. She stood. “If you can come to my place this evening, I have meat”—she bent and whispered, “anu nchi,” smiling.

“Ok.” Another fake smile. Ujuaku left that afternoon, her face marred by disappointment. The disappointment that later turned to anger when Ola did not come that evening. How could she have resisted the thought of eating meat too? Why won’t witches just hate moon maidens?



Ajulu stood in front of her hut, pacing. From time to time, she would look up at the stars twinkling in the sky above and shook her head. The witches won’t be meeting tonight—it was an oye, one of the three days in a week they rested at night. Unless of course they had personal assignments.

But Ajulu was not resting. She had stayed up all night thinking. She considers Ezenwanyi soft, too soft to lead the coven. She thought about something and her nose wrinkled up in a disappointed snort. The thought of Akwalu not rising this moon festival concerned her more than her mates. It would be her only chance to converse with the Great Master and let him know how better qualified she is to be the Ezenwanyi.

But she faced a big problem. The Great Master as a god would hardly give easy ear to verbal conviction. She must present strong proof if ever Akwalu was to listen to her. But what can she do? She hugged herself and continued pacing. Then she went motionless and stared straight ahead.

On recovering, she spread her arms in the air and knelt.
She stretched out her wings, flapped them and disappeared into the darkness. She landed on the roof of a hut very close the palace of Odu and screeched out in distress.

Ajulu had always craved power. A good dose of royal blood can ensure any witch of Odu unimaginable strength. With enough of it, she could even kill Ezenwanyi and swiftly take her title. It was not like she had any other strong contender.

But she faced another serious problem. She knew well about the circumstances surrounding the palace of Odu and a witch’s entry. Azuma had cast a witch-repelling magic around the entire palace before her death. Any witch that dared to fly into the palace or even across it would get pinned in the air, so was the story. Others say the witch’s wings would stiffen and she would plunge to her death. Whatever was true, Azuma’s spell had ever worked its purpose—protecting all of royal blood.

Only Ichere, the former Ezenwanyi had dared to enter the palace since Azuma put her spell. She’d had herself fortified by Akwalu himself days before the quest. That night she turned into a black cat and when she got to the palace gate, evoked her power of invisibility. She succeeded anyway, killing the queen and the little baby princess. But the quest took its toll on her, and for several weeks she remained sick and later died.

Ajulu flapped her wings and flew off from the roof. She perched on a lofty tree even closer the palace.

The guards at the entrance of the palace never sleep. They turned to look up at the tree when they heard her hooting. But they were not her worry. She remained on the tree and hooted a while longer before she flapped her wings again and flew back home in frustration.

babyzai: I love dis. Well done

jjagz: Come on man! Post more! Sweet stuff. Thumbs up.

Thanks guys...happy u enjoying it.

FOUR
“Jagara! Jagara! Jagara!” The bells on Efu’s ankles and the string of tiny gongs hanging around her long wood staff rattled as she swaggered to the palace.

The fading evening sun cast a funny shadow of her on the ground. Still, her shadow looked no too amusing than she really looked, than a priestess of Ihe looked. She wore a long red wrapper bedecked with mirror discs and shells and her hair was made into a mass of plaits packed and twisted into a big lump on the top of her head. A line of white chalk ran below her left eye and white dots speckled her cheeks, top of her shoulders, arms and part of her legs.

Her maids— two young maidens clad in similar-patterned breast and waist cloth and also dotted all over in white followed her from behind. One of them carried her raffia bag and the other a calabash containing worship items. Every now and then they’d sing, “Nwanyi ka ibie—Greater woman, lead us, guide us, speak for us!” Efu would sway and waggle her shoulders before moving on.

Though it was wrong for the priestess to have maids, for she was only a servant, her duties devoted only to the service of the moon maiden and the good people of Odu.

The guards at the palace gate like the other people she passed on her way bowed as she approached them. “Greetings, wise one,” they greeted.

As usual, she responded with only a clank of the gongs on her staff and walked past.
She was called wise one, a title given to the one that communed with the gods. For in the incomparable wisdom of the gods she spoke.

Inside the palace, Efu and her maids stood in front of the palace hall—a rectangular space walled with artistic weaving of canes and bamboo, and waited. The roof of the hall was of classy fine thatch and made into steps.
The king was not on his throne when they entered the compound and one of the guards had gone to his chambers to call him. If it had been someone else, someone more common, they must have to leave to come back later. But the visit of the priestess of Ihe was real treasure, especially in these times.
“Greetings, good king of my land,” Efu said as the king approached. Three of his personal guards walked behind him. They were clothed in a slightly different outfit than the rest of the guards and the two in front carried huge knives. Efu only bowed slightly when she greeted the king. Her mother, Erulu, knelt to greet the king; only a moon maiden was not supposed to. Many things had changed since Efu became priestess.
“Greetings accepted, wise one,” King Oduma said.
Efu, though plump was quite taller than him. She would have looked more beautiful if not for the facial markings, roomy dress and funny hairdo.
The king entered the palace hall and she followed. Her two maidens stayed back at the mouth of the hall.
King Oduma pulled up his long robe which swept the ground as he walked (all his royal garments did) and climbed onto his throne. The many stories of King Oduma’s deeds did not match his size at all. As one group of gossiping maidens deduced, Onyema’s handsome face may be from him but the prince sure got his height from his mother.

King Oduma truly had the strong handsome features of his son, only he was darker—probably it was age and his lips weren’t as full—may be that too, Onyema had inherited from his late mother, queen Asamma. He had bushy sideburns which had started to turn grey just like the short beard on his chin.
The king settled down and one of the three guards following him picked the long fan propped against the side of the throne and began to fan him. The tall throne stood at the far end of the hall facing a narrow central way flanked at each side by an array of armchairs constructed from shiny wood. Plane wood carvings of a lion head above two crossed huge knives and a large image of breastfeeding woman hung on the wall atop the throne. The other two guards with huge knives and very mean faces walked behind the throne and stood at each side of it.
Efu stood at the middle of hall, vibrating.
“Efu, mouth of the great goddess, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” The king’s voice calm and calculated, as always.
Efu stopped vibrating and hummed. “Good king of our land, I come with a complaint.” “Speak.”

Efu eyed the king guardedly. “The festival of the moon approaches and I’m yet to see the people at the temple with their sacrifices.”

After the disappointment last year when no moon maiden was named, King Oduma had ordered his people to stop taking sacrifices to the temple. According to him, it was high time they showed the goddess how they really feel about her continued silence.

King Oduma tilted his head back and looked at Efu in a way that came across as withering. “Is there going to be any festival this year?” He made an expressive wave. “I mean what’s the point when the goddess had remained silent still?”
Efu’s brows bunched together in a sudden frown. She was clearly unhappy with the king’s comment. But what could she do? He was king after all.
Her hand clenched round the orb of her staff as she took a step forward. “The gods are wise, my king.” King Oduma nodded. “Oh yes, they are, my dear,” he said, not minding if the irony in his voice came out too obvious. “Always.”
Efu ignored it. “Even I cannot explain the way of the gods, Your Majesty,” she continued. “I’m only but their voice. I speak only when they tell me to.”

King Oduma nodded again, but this time it was difficult to tell if there was any association of irony.
Efu stamped her staff on the floor so that the tiny gongs hanging around it jiggled and rattled. “Well, my king, with a glad heart, I tell you I bring good news this time.”
Interest popped out of King Oduma’s face as he pulled out of the chair. “Let me hear of it.”

Efu’s lips quivered in a small smile. “I’m glad to inform you, Your Majesty, that our goddess has finally spoken.”
For a moment, King Oduma only stared blankly at her. Then he swallowed hard and said, “This is good news.”

Efu grinned. “Yes, my king, the great goddess has finally chosen her next maiden. She will be named on the night of the festival and all shall become well again.”

“This is indeed great news!” King Oduma said again, his face giving way for a large smile. “The gong man will spread the message this evening and the sacrifices shall begin at once.”
King Oduma may be strict, but he took no delight in the suffering of his people. The many unfortunate happenings in his kingdom had left him very upset over the years.

“You will live long, my king.” Efu bowed and left.


The gong man walked that night. All were happy to hear the good news from the priestess. The thought of seeing the full moon again, the rains coming as early as they should, and the eventual end to all suffering, flooded each heart with joy. Now the people would bring the largest of their tubers and their fattest goats and cocks to the temple, all in hope of a greater harvest next season.


At the cave that night, each owl landed on a rock before taking their witch form.

“Ajulu, kneel.” Ezenwanyi’s voice resonated with anger. Ajulu stepped forward and knelt before the witch queen.
“We shall have your apology now or you face fitting punishment.”

Ajulu held out her two palms in the air and lifted her eyes to Ezenwanyi’s face. “Forgive me, oh great queen.”
Ezenwanyi gave her a long, piercing stare before nodding. “You may rise.”

Ajulu rose and turned to her mates. “Apologies, fellow wings of night.” Didi and Ujuaku nodded their acceptance.

“This is becoming more of a habit,” Ugedu grunted.
Ajulu shot her a frown before joining her in the seat.
“It is now roughly three months before the festival,” Ezenwanyi began.

They exchanged glances, nodding.
“I can’t say for any of you but I know that is not so much time for us.”

They nodded their agreement again. “Ezenwanyi, we heard news that Efu claims the goddess has finally spoken to her,” Didi said.
“Yes, Ezenwanyi, she said the next moon maiden will be named come this festival,” Ujuaku added.

“I heard that upsetting announcement too,” Ugedu joined.

“Never!” Ezenwanyi shrieked. She pulled at one of the twigs of her hair. “Lies! All lies! The white goddess dare not speak to Efu again.”

Ugedu coughed. “My queen, may be the goddess has finally decided to forgive her. After all she has more pressing issues at hand now.”
“Never! Efu’s offense was a deplorable one. Abominable!”

“But, Ezenwanyi…” “Silence!”

“E-z-e-n-w-a-n-y-i!” they chorused, their heads dropped down in a bow.

Ezenwanyi turned to Ujuaku, her face taking on an expression of complete disappointment. “Ujuaku, you have failed us.”
Ujuaku dropped to her knees at once—an act Ajulu would have considered unnecessary. “Forgive me, Ezenwanyi.” Ezenwanyi ignored her. “Didi, you must go to the girl now. Find out what she knows. As you said, let her lead you straight to the stone.”

“Yes, my queen.”

The faint smile that lingered on Didi’s face showed how much she had longed for Ezenwanyi to finally consider her proposal. For her it is a way to finally prove her worth to Ezenwanyi and the entire coven. Because she was youngest, she sometimes saw the others as neglectful of her true worth.

Ujuaku hung her head as the stench of her incompetence drifted all around the space.

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I luve this tread pls post more

Vigorous V: I luve this tread pls post more

Thanx VV

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Dan, am enjoying ur story, more grease 2 ur elbow. Update plzzz

fizzygirl: Dan, am enjoying ur story, more grease 2 ur elbow. Update plzzz

Tnx Fizzy. #Grateful

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This story is awesome............. I found it yeaterday and didnt stop till i got hia..

Pleeeeeeeeze could u drop d next chapter??
More grease to ur elbow

Wonderful creativity.....your ability to describe each scene with great detail gives me a feeling like i'm there....your ability to relate the characters on different levels is great too..
I don't have all the words to explain this work so far, but in one sentence I say......This is magnificent



It gives me this sweet african feeling..

More of the same pleasssss