INTO THE VOID

CHAPTER 9: FLASHES FROM A PAST

Xaviere looked up. His vision was blurry and he had a ringing sound in his ear; everything seemed to echo. He groped around; using his fingers to scan the floors for his glasses.

“Hey…hey… can you hear me?” He heard someone ask. He could not place the direction of the voice. He could feel a sharp pain in his head and had blood dripping from his nose. He was handed the glasses by someone he could not recognize at the time. The left lens of the glasses was broken with most of it gone. All that remained where broken pieces of glass sticking from the frame; the right lens remained intact. At the sight of his blood stained fingers, Xaviere could hear explosions.

“Shields up, take cover.”

“Enemy approaching; throw the spears.”

“These bastards think they can kill our men, desecrate our lands, spit in our faces and go scot-free? They are sorely mistaken. Give them hell.” A man shouted. Judging from the attention the other warriors paid to him, one can easily conclude that he was an officer of high ranking.

Xaviere stood up slowly looking around the battlefield. He looked at his hands; they were shaky and covered in blood. He looked at the right and the then left and saw men; black men, crouched in battle stance, wielding unsheathed swords in one hand with a shield in the other. Their armor was shining; made of glistering metal, the shields beat with bronze.

“Alakume!” The high ranked warrior shouted and at the sound of his voice the men charged forward. Xaviere saw these men, probably over a hundred of them charging towards a hoard of heavily armed men. The enemies could easily out number them five to one but yet these men with seemingly no fear ran towards the hoard. All of a sudden, he watched himself move forward. He reached down and pulled out two battle axes from an impaled warrior on the ground. One of the axes was lodged deep within the chest of the man while the other he pulled from the man’s head. All Xaviere could do was watch. He seemed to have no control whatsoever over his body; all he could simply do was watch.

He jammed the axes together and ran forward quickly. Xaviere watched his limbs moved, felt his heart thump against his chest; he saw himself running towards armed assailants but he had no intention to. He was like a paralyzed person with a phobia for heights being rolled in a wheelchair towards the edge of a cliff; he had no control. Before this moment, the closest he has been to violence was when Logan convinced him to play an online battle shooting game. Now for some weird reason he is in the heart of a war.

As they ran towards each other, Xaviere could hear the sounds of galloping horses and heavy footsteps of the warring factions. Like an Olympic sprinter he ran forward intermittently looking right and left. He could feel the wind in his face; he could see the dust raising and hear shouting angry men charging forward. As the gap closed between the men, shields were raised up in attempt to cover the upper bodies of the wielders and spears were thrown with intents of impaling the enemies.

At the arrival of an assailant, Xaviere used his right foot to stomp at the shield the man held pushing his body to the ground. He flung the axe in his right hand at the head of the fallen man. In an instant, he reached for a sword that was lodged in a scabbard slung across his right shoulder; killing him. He swung the blade at another man, clashing swords with him. The blades made a loud clanging sound. The men struggled for a while, swords pressed together then Xaviere delivered a head-butt so powerful the man lost his balance and took few steps backwards. Immediately the separation was created, Xaviere made a quick s***h across the man’s belly spilling his entrails.

At this point, the field was filled with the sounds of colliding metal, the screams of dying men and the blood of the dead. Xaviere could not believe what was happening. Was this some sort of dream? He had terrible aim; the reason he never played basketball or darts but he just watched an axe, flung by his arm with precision perfect enough to hit a man’s skull and a throw powerful enough to penetrate the helmet that guarded the said skull.

“Arrghh.” A man screamed as he tried to hit Xaviere with a s***h of his sword, the blade raised above his head firmly clasped in both palms. The man had jumped so as to use gravity to the advantage of his strike. The man was still midflight when Xaviere caught a glimpse of him with his newly discovered keen warrior eyes and using his also newly discovered warrior instincts, made an upward diagonal s***h across his torso. The man, who jumped living, landed on the ground a corpse.

Another very motivated warrior ran towards Xaviere. Unbeknownst to this man, the person he charged towards had killed two men with the ease of stabbing a training bag. He charged forward and then they crossed swords. The man was fairly more skilled than the previous men. He took a s***h at Xaviere’s head; Xaviere dodged. The man attempted a downward diagonal s***h but before he could land the blow, Xaviere kicked him in the gut and then quickly drilled the sword into his stomach. He then twisted the handle of the blade and forcefully pulled it upwards towards the man’s heart. At this attack, blood gushed out from the man’s trunk staining Xaviere’s sword, his armor and the helmet. The man gasped for air while blood spewed from his mouth. Xaviere kicked the dying man off his blade and took a stance; looking around for his next victim.

“Hunt them down; every single one, nobody leaves.” The high ranked warrior screamed. He mounted a horse and pointed his blade forward in the direction of the fleeing enemies. After hours of tumultuous clashing, the enemies intended to retreat. They turned around and ran but the opposing faction had no intention to let them off the hook that easy. Both the infantrymen and cavalry followed in hot pursuit, flinging spears, shooting arrows and slashing men. The wisdom of their enemies was consumed in the confidence of their numbers. They thought they could outwit the skilled warriors but to their demise they were badly mistaken.

Bodies were heaped in piles, spoils were taken and weapons were washed in a river that flowed a distance from the battle field. The water was clear and moving fast and ended in rapids that fell of a peak. Xaviere was at the riverside, squatting as he washed himself in the water. He was stained in blood; from his breastplate to his shield and helmet. As he poured the water over those surfaces, the water of the part of the river where he stood turned momentarily red before turning clear again due to the speed at which the water moved. As he took off his helmet, the he saw in the water was not his. He dropped the helmet and stared at the stranger in the water.

The flora of this place felt tropical. The smell of the glass that covered the land was somewhat familiar to Xaviere. It was the same smell he perceived in his father’s village every morning for the two weeks they were there. That was the only time he had been to Nigeria. His paternal grandfather had died and being a titled man, it was an essential part of the burial rites that all his children be present. Mr. Chinedu Williams being the richest amongst those children was mandated to be present so as to perform the other rites; some of which attracted heavy monetary commitments. It was from this experience Xaviere could tell that the earth on which he stood; on which he slaughtered men by their numbers, was African.

“Let them come; in their hundreds. Let them come… from the South, from the East, from the west. Let them come. The lions of Nubia will devour them. We will strip them of their flesh and cut of their heads. The empire of Kush shall remain.” These were the concluding words of the speech the high ranked warrior; Agu Feri they called him. He was a strong man, a good leader and the other warriors respected him for that. “Many men died today. Many young, brave lion cubs lost at the hands of those bastards. We will ensure their deaths are not in vain.” He took brief pauses during his oratory. During such pauses the men roared.

“Shambasa; you fought well today. Your efforts did not go unnoticed.” The man said looking directly at Xaviere who stood in the midst of the men. All eyes were on him and suddenly the men around him picked him up on their shoulders and the cheering continued. “Alakume.” The men roared on. He was a hero. Yes he was in a murderous, muscular young man’s body but he was a hero. Never has he been celebrated like this. He had seen Andrew on numerous times raised like this; maybe after sinking a winning basket or a buzzer beater or after a slam dunk during practice. He had seen it but never experienced it. But now, here he was on the shoulders of great warriors being celebrated in such fashion. It still did not make sense but this was a feeling he could get use to.

“Xaviere, Xaviere… hey look at me.” Petrichor said. Xaviere turned his head from side to side, furrowed his brows and slowly opened his eyes. “Alakume.” He whispered. “Hey, it’s ok.” Petrichor said.

“What is happening? Where is every… what?” Xaviere said incoherently while trying to sit up on the bed. He put his hand to his head and said, “Ouch”.

“You’re in the clinic Mr. Williams. You got hit by a puck in the ice rink. Your friends rushed you here. You suffered a mild concussion and an injury to the nose but you’re fine now.” A young woman in scrubs said.

“I am so sorry Xaviere. It is my entire fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to come with me.” Petrichor said.

“No, no you were amazing on the ice.” Xaviere said slowly and in a monotonous tune. He was still trying to recall what happened. The events at the battle field was like a distant memory; it was all vague and in patches.

“How long have I been here?” Xaviere asked.

“Just over thirty minutes.” The nurse said. “If he needs anything, do well to tell us. I will be back soon.” The woman said.

“Hey, how’s your head?”

“It hurts. It hurts a lot”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Xaviere said. “Next time; we go to the library.” He added with a smile. Petrichor giggled.

“Enter the void.” Petrichor said.

“What?” Xaviere asked.

“What?” Petrichor responded

“I thought I heard you say…” he was still speaking when a phone call interrupted him. The phone rang aloud so he knew it was not his.

“I have to pick this call.” Petrichor said as she took her phone out of a pocket on her jacket.

“Desertwind; it has been a month and three weeks. Agent activation doesn’t normally take this long.”

“I know sir. I have tried all my best; verbal cues and even physical triggers. Nothing seems to be working.

“We observed some high threshold activities in his soul some minutes ago. Whatever physical trigger you’re using step on it.

“Copy sir”

“Over and out” Petrichor ended the call and put the phone back into her pocket. She returned to Xaviere’s side and sat down on the chair by the bedside. She took his right hand in hers and they continued their conversation.