I thought I'd give everyone a peek at the story that I'll be submitting to the My Africa Diaspoa short story contest. I really had to tone down the violence in this one. Kind of like a crackhead being required to do half a pipe. LOLOLOLOL!!Ahem...anyway, I hope you enjoy the story!Skyboat StrangersByRonald T. JonesEveryone knows when the white men arrived. No one in all the empire that was Benin had ever seen the likes of one. Light of skin, almost pink. Hair that looked like grass spouting from their scalps. They wore shiny armor and carried strange looking sticks called muskets that made thunderous noises and spat out little projectiles in blooms of smoke and fire. Time quickly eroded the whites’ novelty. Pale skinned as they were, the whites were still recognized as men.Then rumors floated to the Oba’s palace one hot afternoon of the arrival of more strangers. Whites? The Oba wanted to know. The messenger who brought word said that these strangers were neither white nor human.Were they gods or demons? The Oba demanded. The messenger could only shrug. Who knew? They could have been one or the other or both.Not satisfied with answers that revealed nothing, the Oba sent me, Ewu, to lead an expedition to the frontier of mighty Benin to discern the nature of these strangers.My military title is Ezoma. That makes me the third in command of the army of Benin. I gathered 5,000 men for the expedition. I did not want to chance rushing into an unknown situation at less than full strength. There were additional disturbing rumors that these gods or demons were burning villages, and slaughtering their inhabitants. Part of our army was dealing with a rebellion in the west. The Oba enlisted the aid of white mercenaries to crush it. I would have loved to have had some of those whites with their muskets accompanying my force. I would have valued more so Benin soldiers trained in the use of muskets. But the whites’ religious leader forbade the sale of firearms to black men. So be it. A Benin soldier with a shield and sword is worth more than a dozen whites. I only wanted the whites’ muskets. I resolved to do without. I marched out of the capitol at the head of a formidable host.For three days we were on the move, winding through forests so thick, night and day were indistinguishable. A day long march across a vast grass covered plain quickened our pace. We consumed our rations, lived off the land, and finally the generosity of the occasional village we came across. Whether the villagers’ willingness to share their provisions was generated by love of the empire or fear of its armed servants was a question that I entertained and abruptly dismissed. I had a mission to focus on.As we were preparing to leave a village weighted with supplies for our journey, my senior officer, Genogbe approached me. In his company was a withered, bent old man, who looked ancient enough to have witnessed the rise of the first Oba.This elder has something to say, Genogbe told me with an odd look. My senior officer stepped aside and the old man spoke. I had more than an inkling to dismiss the honored elder’s tale as the product of a diminishing mind. Except, the man’s tale, accorded with rumors floating around the capitol. The clear headed manner in which the elder recounted his story spoke of first hand experience. A boat falling from the sky in a blanket of fire. Strange creatures exiting this skyboat spreading across the land, pillaging, killing, destroying.We sped up our departure and, on the old man’s word, headed north to where this skyboat supposedly landed. Trepidation gripped the ranks. According to reports from my junior commanders, the men were becoming increasingly unsettled. Some were convinced that gods were walking the Earth. Or that the ancestors were unleashing their wrath upon their wayward descendants. Or that we were marching to our doom. I honor the ancestors and worship the gods, but I cannot see nor touch them. As such, I cannot truly devine their purpose. But I know the ways of men. I was determined to make sure that my soldiers knew my ways. I authorized my commanders to execute any man who voiced fears about this mission. After that, I heard no talk of Earth walking gods and avenging ancestors.We passed a number of blackened acreages that used to be villages. Scattered bodies of villagers provided sustenance for ubiquitous carrion birds. The smell of corruption assaulted the nostrils. Men, women, children, even animals lay among the dead. The skyboat strangers spared no one.The men marched with a new energy. I could feel it. It was an energy fueled by our rage, sustained by an itching desire to exact retribution from those responsible for these dreadful incursions into Benin territory.Two days after we left the last razed village, we met the enemy. It was in a valley of swaying grass, dotted with gnarled trees that looked like malformed old women. The skyboat strangers must have been awaiting our arrival, because they were formed up into a solid mass. Upon first glance, it was unnervingly clear that the strangers were not men. They were short of body with long slender arms and legs. Their faces were shaped like yams and every bit as parched looking, with black dots for eyes, nothing indicative of noses, and vague, creased suggestions of mouths. They wore green attire that covered their awkward forms from neck to feet. There was nothing fear-invoking in their appearance. Not even their weapons, which were little more than skinning knives, warranted much concern from me.It was when the skyboat strangers released a collective howl that the depth of their unearthliness was driven straight to my bones. Then they charged, their long strides closing the gap between our armies at speeds the fastest man could never hope to challenge. I shouted for us to hold firm, counting on my voice and my steady presence to strengthen my men’s resolve.Benin archers darkened the sky with projectiles. The arrows hit home numerous times, staggering the enemy’s advance. Scores of skyboat strangers tumbled to the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies like grisly frills. Next, Benin spearmen flung their iron-tipped spears, impaling more enemy soldiers. The skyboat strangers, even as their ranks thinned, sustained the crashing momentum of their charge until it collided into the solid wall of our shield bearing infantry. For an eternity wrapped in minutes, a serene valley churned violence. The skyboat strangers exhibited frenzied aggression combined with a frightening facility in the use of their modest weapons. More than a few Benin soldiers fell to skillfully delivered blade slashes and thrusts. I was very nearly sliced across my neck by a blade-wielding skyboat stranger. Only my nimble reflexes in conjunction with a timely intervention by my personal guard stayed death’s hand. My guard cut the skyboat stranger down with a single sword stroke and moved on to engage the next foe. The skyboat strangers fought with a tireless fury despite being outnumbered three to one. They should have retreated. Even as their numbers dwindled beneath the pitiless teeth of Benin swords and spears the enemy never broke. We pressed in on the skyboat strangers from all sides, hemming them in with our shields while we hacked and stabbed like madmen. Enemy dead fell precipitously at our feet. We closed the circle, reducing a sizable army into a ragged knot of holdouts.It was after the last of the skyboat strangers was killed that I noticed that their blood was deep yellow in color, like a thicker version of piss.We spent part of the aftermath mourning our losses and tending to our wounded as best we could. Then we moved on. I wanted to see the strangers’ skyboat.A half day later, we discovered the skyboat. It was in the middle of a forest perched on ground that had been scorched to ash by the vessel’s descent. I hardly knew what to make of this gray, round, smooth skinned behemoth. Its immensity overwhelmed. The skyboat was larger than a cluster of villages. Its flawless craftsmanship put our best iron forgers to shame. Utterances of awe and fear wafted from the men. I dredged up the courage to approach the vessel. No, Genogbe, warned. I ignored his plea. Something compelled me closer to the vessel…coercive magic? Insanity? Or, perhaps, simple curiosity. I placed my hand on the strangely cool surface of the skyboat…I woke up to looks of agitation from my soldiers. Genogbe told me I blacked out. All I know is that the skyboat spoke to me. It spoke of beings from another world coming to our world to conquer. The beings had weapons that could have erased my expedition in a single sweep. How fortunate for us that those weapons did not work on this world. Rather than return to their home in failure, the beings chose to continue their mission, knowing they would die.We swiftly cleared away as the skyboat rumbled to life, rose from its crater, and soared into the sky.The skyboat strangers died well.We headed home.
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