CHAPTER 159: CHAPTER 159 - BY MOONLIGHT AND SILENCE

The moon was high when Naliaka summoned them.

Sixteen warriors stood in a single line outside the forest base, shadows dancing over their grey and black cloaks. No one spoke. Only the wind rustled through the trees, whispering through the moss-covered branches like an old song.

Naliaka stepped forward, flanked by Ndengu. Her expression was unreadable—calm, but alert.

"Onyango, your squad has been chosen for a mission of immense importance," she began, her voice low but firm. "From this moment forward, you are no longer required to look for spies within Nuri."

Her gaze swept over them. "You are to support the operation in Kongo. Your orders come from Prince Khisa himself."

Murmurs rippled—surprise, pride, and the subtle straightening of backs.

Ndengu stepped forward and unrolled a scroll. "You are to proceed to Lusimba. There, you will meet Faizah and Kiprop and receive the last intelligence gathered from Kongo. From there, you are to cross into Buganda. Under cover of night."

He let that sit for a moment.

"You will not all cross."

A silence fell.

Naliaka raised a hand. "Only one will enter Buganda to meet with the Kabaka personally and request safe passage through the forestlands along their western border. That person... is Onyango."

All eyes turned.

Onyango, standing at the far end of the line, nodded once. He was tall and quiet, a broad-shouldered man with sun-darkened skin and calm eyes that always seemed to see past the obvious.

Trained in silence, restraint, and measured thought, despite his massive frame he was a patient man.

Naliaka stepped closer to him.

"You will speak with the Kabaka as a shadow of peace. Not as a threat, not as a soldier. Be swift. Be clear. And trust no one who is not the Kabaka himself or his chief guard."

"I understand," Onyango said simply.

"Good. The rest of you will hold at the Buganda border, hidden in the forest. Once Onyango returns with word, you will split."

Ndengu pointed to the map laid across the stone table beside them.

"One camp will be established between Buganda and Kongo—deep enough to remain unseen, close enough to strike or extract. The other will stay between Buganda and Nuri, in case communication or escape is needed quickly."

"You will not engage," Naliaka warned. "Unless absolutely necessary. The goal is support, surveillance, and silence. Do not compromise your mission for glory."

The Mkono wa Giza nodded in unison. No salutes. Just quiet understanding.

She studied their faces. Young, disciplined, hungry for service.

"Go to Lusimba," she said. "You leave at dawn."

The journey took a day and a half.

Through open fields and dense valleys, the sixteen moved like whispers. They traveled under leaf and shadow, speaking only when necessary, using the new signal drums and stone glyphs etched on trees to relay their direction.

Faizah and Kiprop waited just outside Lusimba under the boughs of an acacia grove, seated near a quiet stream. Faizah rose as the team arrived.

"You came quickly," she said.

"We were chosen," Onyango replied.

Faizah handed over a leather-wrapped satchel. "These are Lumingu’s known sympathizers within Buganda. And here—" she pulled a second parchment, tightly sealed with red wax— "this is the code you will use to verify yourselves to the Kabaka’s court, should it come to that. The royal guards will recognize the mark."

Kiprop added, "You will only have one chance to get this right. Buganda’s border security is tight right now. Lumingu may already be trying to influence them too."

"We’ll manage," Onyango said.

That night, they rested in silence—just a few hours, heads against bark, hands on hilts.

By the second moonrise, the team had reached the edge of Buganda territory.

The air was thicker here, filled with the scent of wet soil and flowering vines. Somewhere in the distance, drums echoed faintly from a village across the hills. Light smoke curled through the trees. The border was close.

Onyango crouched in the brush, tightening the straps of his sandals. The others waited silently behind him, their bodies low, pressed between roots and stone.

He glanced at each of them, exchanging a silent nod with the second-in-command—a short, stocky Mkono named Muna.

"If I don’t return in two days," Onyango whispered, "you retreat to Lusimba. No questions."

Muna hesitated, then nodded.

Onyango stood.

No armor. No weapons save for a hidden dagger beneath his sleeve and a scroll tucked against his ribs.

He moved through the forest like vapor.

Silent. Measured. Every footfall chosen with care. Every breath matched to the rhythm of the wind.

A shadow crossing into another kingdom.

By the time he reached the outer sentry lines of Buganda, the night was still and cold. He whistled once—soft and sharp. Then waited.

It was answered. A rustle. Then a voice.

"Who seeks the court of the Kabaka in the dark?"

Onyango stepped into the faint torchlight, holding up the scroll.

"A shadow with no name—but a message that must be heard."

The guard studied him. Then stepped aside.

"Come. But keep your hands where I can see them."

Onyango entered the unknown.

The palace was not what Onyango expected.

It was not a towering stone fortress like Abyssinia’s citadel, nor the walled symmetry of Nuri’s rising capital. It was sprawling—built of timber and cane, decorated with leopard hides and polished horns. Dozens of lanterns burned in hanging baskets, their glow catching the gold threads of ceremonial cloth strung across entryways.

Onyango was escorted through a courtyard where warriors trained with spears under torchlight. Eyes followed him. Most in silence, some with narrowed suspicion.

But no one moved to challenge him. The scroll of Khisa’s seal carried weight.

They reached the innermost chamber, guarded by four men in red and black. One stepped aside and tapped a drum once. A low sound. Permission.

The curtain parted.

The Kabaka sat on a wide, woven throne beneath a canopy of barkcloth, flanked by two counselors and a scribe. He was younger than Onyango expected—no more than fifty—with thick locs tied back and a leopard cloak draped over one shoulder.

He regarded Onyango in silence as the guards stepped back.

"Shadow of Nuri," the Kabaka said, his voice calm and imposing. "Why do you step across my borders by moonlight?"

Onyango did not bow deeply—shadows were taught to respect, not grovel.

He knelt on one knee, pulled the scroll from his belt, and offered it with both hands.

"I come with no threat, no trick. Only words from my Prince," he said.

The Kabaka gestured to his scribe. The scroll was opened, inspected, and passed to him.

He read slowly.

Silence.

Then: "So it’s true. Kongo stirs again. And you do not come to fight... but to watch."

"We seek only to observe," Onyango said. "The man we let go—Mbuta—will return to Kongo with knowledge of what he saw in Nuri. We do not know how his masters will respond."

The Kabaka leaned back slightly.

"So you ask to build a nest on my branches, little bird. One in the west. And one in the east."

Onyango didn’t move. "Only for a short while. If Lumingu makes a move, we’ll see it from there. And if war comes, we’ll meet it outside your lands. Not within."

One of the counselors leaned toward the Kabaka and whispered something. The king listened, then raised a hand.

"I know Prince Khisa," the Kabaka said. "He is no fool, and he does not beg. If he sends you, he sends someone he trusts."

A pause. Then a smile.

"And I like that you walk without swords."

"I have a dagger," Onyango admitted. "But I haven’t drawn it in weeks."

The Kabaka laughed. "Honesty, too. Rare."

He looked to his scribe. "Write them a token. Permission for temporary passage. Any Bugandan warrior who sees it will let them pass—unless they cause harm."

He turned back to Onyango.

"You will stay no more than two moons in my forest. After that, I want updates. If Lumingu crosses my line... I expect to know."

"You will," Onyango said.

"And if he attacks Nuri?" the Kabaka added.

Onyango held his gaze. "We’ll bleed before he reaches you."

The Kabaka nodded slowly. "Go. Tell your team the trees welcome them—for now."

Moments Later – Back at the Forest Line

The night was darker now, heavy with dew. Crickets sang through the brush.

The team stirred as Onyango emerged from the undergrowth, scroll in hand, face unreadable.

They tensed—until he gave a single nod.

"We have permission. Two months."

Kiprop grinned quietly.

"Split into teams," Onyango ordered. "Four go south to establish camp near Kongo. The rest remain here, between Buganda and Nuri. No fires. No noise. No movement in daylight."

He handed the token to Muna. "You’re in charge of the eastern team. If anything goes wrong—burn this. The smoke color will alert me."

"And you?" Muna asked.

"I go west. I’ll make contact with the Kongo squad when they arrive."

He looked over the forest with the sharpness of a hawk.

"The lion hasn’t roared yet. But he’s awake."

And the hunt had begun.