ALONI - THE ANCIENT WARRIOR

The sound of war drums echoed across the valley. Boom!Boom!Boom! The sound travelled through the thick forest of Bantana, frightening birds from the trees and sending villagers rushing towards their compounds. Women hurriedly gathered their children. Old men stood at the entrances of their houses, looking towards the distant mountains. The warriors had returned. But something was wrong. They were returning much earlier than expected. A young boy pushed through the crowd, breathing heavily as he tried to see what was happening beyond the tall wooden fence. “Papa is coming!” His voice carried excitement. His mother immediately grabbed his arm. “Aloni, come back here!” “But Mama, I want to see Papa!” “You heard me. Come inside.” The boy frowned. He was only seven years old, but whenever his father went to war, he waited for his return as though the entire world depended on it. His father's name was known throughout Bantana. Chief Warrior Amoni. Some called him the Lion of Bantana. Others called him the Spear of the King. But to Aloni, he was simply Papa. The little boy struggled against his mother's grip. “Please, Mama. I will not go close. I just want to see him.” His mother stared at him for a few seconds before releasing a tired breath. “Stay beside me.” Aloni smiled immediately. “Yes, Mama!” He ran beside her towards the village entrance. The entire village had gathered. Drums continued beating. Boom! Boom! Boom! But there was no celebration. There was fear in the eyes of the people. Aloni noticed it. He looked at his mother. “Why is everyone afraid?” She did not answer immediately. Instead, she stared towards the forest. A few moments later, the first warrior appeared. He was covered in mud. His shield was broken. Blood stained his animal-hide clothing. Behind him came another warrior. Then another. And another. The men were walking. They were not singing. They were not celebrating. The women who had rushed forward to welcome them slowly became silent. Then Aloni saw him. His father. Chief Warrior Amoni walked at the front of the returning warriors. He carried a long spear in his right hand. A large shield hung from his left arm. There was blood on his forehead. His chest rose and fell heavily with every breath. Yet he walked with the same confidence he always carried. Aloni's face immediately brightened. “Papa!” He broke away from his mother and ran towards him. Amoni stopped. The warrior who had faced hundreds of enemies without trembling suddenly dropped his shield. His stern expression disappeared. He opened his arms. Aloni jumped into them. “Papa!” Amoni laughed. “My son.” He lifted him from the ground and held him tightly. “I missed you.” “I missed you too, Papa.” Aloni looked at the blood on his father's forehead. “Are you hurt?” Amoni smiled. “It is nothing.” His mother stepped forward. “Amoni.” The smile disappeared from his face. He looked at her. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. She understood. Something terrible had happened. “Come home,” she finally said. Amoni nodded. “Yes.” The villagers slowly began following them. Nobody spoke about the battle. Not yet. That evening, the compound was unusually quiet. Amoni sat beside the fire while his wife cleaned the wound on his forehead. Aloni sat across from him, watching every movement. He wanted to ask questions. His father had always told him that children should listen before they speak. But curiosity was eating him alive. Finally, he could no longer hold it. “Papa?” Amoni looked at him. “Yes?” “Did we win?” His father stared into the fire. The silence lasted longer than Aloni expected. “Did we win?” Aloni repeated. Amoni slowly lifted his eyes. “We survived.” Aloni frowned. “That is not what I asked.” His mother immediately looked at him. “Aloni.” Amoni raised his hand. “Let him speak.” He studied his son carefully. “You want to become a warrior?” Aloni's eyes widened. “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you are a warrior.” Amoni smiled faintly. “That is not a reason.” Aloni looked down for a moment. “I want to protect Mama.” His father remained silent. “And I want to protect you too.” Amoni's smile disappeared. For some reason, those simple words touched something deep inside him. He leaned forward. “Listen to me, Aloni.” The boy moved closer. “A warrior is not the man who knows how to kill.” Aloni listened carefully. “A warrior is the man who knows what he is protecting.” Amoni pointed towards the forest. “Your enemy can carry a bigger spear than you. He can have more men than you. He can be stronger than you.” He tapped his son's chest. “But if you know why you are fighting, you will have something that your enemy may never possess.” “What?” “Purpose.” Aloni nodded slowly. He did not completely understand. But he remembered the word. Purpose. That night, after Aloni had fallen asleep, Amoni and his wife remained awake. The fire had almost gone out. His wife looked at him. “What happened?” Amoni lowered his head. “The enemy was not alone.” Her face changed. “What do you mean?” “There were men among them who knew our movements.” “From the neighbouring kingdom?” Amoni shook his head. “No.” He looked around the compound. His wife immediately understood his concern. “You think…” “I know.” His voice became lower. “There is a traitor in Bantana.” His wife stared at him. “Are you certain?” “I saw our battle formation before the attack.” He picked up a small stick and drew lines in the soil. “We were supposed to approach from the eastern valley. Nobody outside the council knew that.” He drew another line. “But they were waiting for us.” His wife covered her mouth. “Who told them?” “That is what I am trying to find out.” “Does the King know?” Amoni looked into the fire. “I have not told him everything.” “Why?” “Because I don't know whom to trust.” Those words frightened her more than anything else he had said. Bantana was built on trust. The elders trusted the warriors. The warriors trusted the king. Families trusted their neighbours. But if someone within the kingdom was secretly helping their enemies, then nobody was safe. Amoni looked towards the room where Aloni slept. His expression changed. “I am worried about our son.” His wife looked at him. “Why?” “If these people discover what I know, they will come for my family.” She moved closer. “Then leave the matter alone.” Amoni shook his head. “I cannot.” “You have already fought enough wars.” “This is different.” “How?” He looked at her. “This time, the enemy is wearing our clothes.” The words remained between them. Neither spoke again. Outside the compound, the night became strangely quiet. Amoni slowly reached for his spear. His wife noticed. “What is it?” He raised his head. “Did you hear that?” She listened. Nothing. Then suddenly... A faint whistle came from the darkness. Amoni stood. His wife grabbed his arm. “Amoni.” He moved towards the entrance. “Stay here.” He stepped outside. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds. The compound was surrounded by darkness. Amoni looked towards the forest. Nothing moved. He tightened his grip around his spear. Then he noticed something on the ground. A small piece of red cloth. He walked towards it and picked it up. His face immediately changed. He knew the cloth. It belonged to one of the royal guards. Amoni's heart began pounding. The whistle came again. This time, it came from behind the compound. He turned. A shadow moved between the trees. “Who is there?” No answer. Amoni raised his spear. “Come out!” The shadow disappeared. He ran towards the trees. But whoever had been there was already gone. Amoni returned to the compound with the red cloth tightly held in his fist. His wife looked at him. “What happened?” He did not answer. Instead, he stared towards the room where his son slept. That night, Amoni made a decision. He would begin training Aloni earlier than he had planned. Not because he wanted his son to become a killer. But because something was coming. Something dangerous. Something that would change Bantana forever. Several days later, the village returned to normal. Farmers went to their fields. Hunters entered the forest. Women gathered at the river. Children played around the compounds. The drums sounded again. But Amoni remained watchful. He started taking Aloni into the forest. At first, he taught him simple things. How to walk without making noise. How to recognize animal tracks. How to tell when someone had passed through a forest path. How to listen. Aloni enjoyed every lesson. One morning, his father handed him a small wooden spear. “This is yours.” Aloni's eyes widened. “For me?” “Yes.” He held it proudly. “Will I fight with it?” “Not yet.” “Why?” “Because you have not learned how to use your eyes.” Aloni frowned. “My eyes?” Amoni nodded. “Your eyes must become your first weapon.” He pointed towards the trees. “Tell me what you see.” Aloni looked. “Trees.” “Look again.” He looked harder. “Birds.” “Again.” Aloni became frustrated. “There is nothing else.” Amoni smiled. “Exactly.” The boy looked confused. “What do you mean?” “If you enter a forest and see nothing unusual, you are not looking properly.” Amoni crouched beside him. He pointed to the ground. “Look.” Aloni followed his finger. There were footprints. Small ones. “Someone was here.” “Who?” “I don't know.” Amoni nodded. “That is the beginning of becoming a warrior.” Aloni smiled. He wanted to learn everything his father knew. He did not know that one day, those lessons would save his life. He did not know that one day, he would walk through forests where entire groups of men would be hunting him. He did not know that his father's enemies would eventually know his name. He did not know that the simple wooden spear in his hands would one day be replaced by a weapon feared across kingdoms. At that age, Aloni knew only one thing. He loved his father. He loved his mother. He loved Bantana. And he believed nothing could ever take them away from him. He was wrong. Very wrong. Because while Aloni was learning how to read footprints in the forest, a stranger had already entered Bantana. And that stranger did not come to trade. He did not come to hunt. He did not come to make peace. He came carrying a secret. A secret that would eventually bring blood to the soil of Bantana. And somewhere beyond the forest, men who had never seen Aloni's face were already discussing his father's death. One of them slowly unfolded a piece of paper. On it was a drawing of Chief Warrior Amoni. Beside his name was another name. ALONI. The stranger stared at the name for several seconds. Then he smiled. “Before the boy becomes a warrior,” he whispered, “we must destroy his father.” Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains. And for the first time in many years, the ancestors of Bantana were said to have awakened.