The king of Ita with his men would rather camp at the Valley of Orin for eternity until the mighty wall of fire faded into the air. The king of Ita would not even dare close his eyes for a moment to answer the nature’s call of sleep for he had cursed his own sleep by putting a term of Wale’s head on it. More so, he knew he could only go back to the Great Oba of Ojoola with the son of the Great Oba redeemed into his hands. As it was, neither Wale’s head nor the Great Oba’s son was in his hands, so the king had no excuse to sleep or retreat.
“Tonight our fates must be decided, your flame of trick will soon fade away!” The king of Ita would often roar over the wall of flame as the night breeze took it to the other side for Wale and his men to hear.
But what the king of Ita did not know was
