CHAPTER 187: CHAPTER 187 - THE SILENT RESCUE

With Lumingu and the main army gone, the capital fell into uneasy quiet. The grand avenues were nearly empty now, patrolled only by scattered guards and frightened civilians who moved like ghosts through the dim streets.

In that silence, the Shadows moved.

Their attention had shifted entirely to the foreign commander—the one who had been working in the background, supplying Lumingu’s coup with weapons and information. They did not yet know his name, but they knew his caution.

He was different from Lumingu.

Where Lumingu barked orders and sought glory, this man hid behind layers of defense. His guards were disciplined, his routines erratic, and his compound—just outside the capital—was a fortress.

It would take time to reach him.

But first, there was someone else who needed saving.

Faizah.

The name carried weight among the Shadows. She had been their link, their eyes in the enemy’s stronghold. When she was captured, every one of them had felt the loss like a missing limb.

Now, with most of the soldiers drawn away to Lumingu’s campaign, her rescue was finally possible.

Joyi, with his medical expertise, was the obvious choice. Sarai volunteered before anyone could stop her. Together, they moved under the cover of darkness, slipping through the alleys toward the compound that had once been Faizah’s prison.

The night air was heavy with the scent of smoke and damp soil. A half-moon hung low, painting the city in pale silver.

At the compound’s edge, two guards stood half-awake, their spears leaning against the wall. Sarai motioned with her fingers—two taps, then a circle. Joyi nodded. They moved like whispers.

Two breaths later, the guards were down, their bodies eased silently into the grass.

The inner courtyard was eerily quiet. Only the soft creak of a hanging lantern broke the stillness. Sarai’s heart pounded in her ears as they slipped into the central corridor, guided by Joyi’s memory of the map Zara had drawn from intelligence reports.

They found her in a narrow cell, sitting against the wall, barely conscious.

Faizah’s face was swollen, her lips cracked. Dried blood marked the corner of her mouth, and bruises darkened her arms. When she saw the faint light of their lantern, her eyes fluttered open.

Her breathing was shallow, her lips cracked, but her eyes still burned faintly when she looked up and saw them.

Joyi dropped to his knees beside her. "Faizah... it’s us. You’re safe now."

"I didn’t break..." she whispered, her voice rasping and broken. "I didn’t tell them... anything."

Sarai dropped to her knees beside her and took her hand. Her voice trembled. "You are braver than all of us combined. You can rest now, sister. We’ll get you home."

Faizah nodded once — slow, weak — and then went limp in Sarai’s arms.

Joyi moved quickly, checking her pulse, examining her wounds. "She’s dehydrated. Ribs—possibly fractured. I need to stabilize her before we move."

Sarai kept her watch on the door, whispering, "Make it quick. We can’t stay long."

Outside, a patrol passed. Their voices echoed faintly—laughter, tired, careless.

Joyi worked quickly, tearing strips from his tunic. He pulled a small pouch from his belt, the scent of crushed herbs spilling into the air — mugwort, aloe, and ground bark. He mixed them with water from his flask, creating a paste that he pressed against her wounds. The herbs stung sharply, but soon her breathing eased.

They carried her between them, slipping through the shadows. Two more guards crossed their path—alert this time. Sarai didn’t hesitate. She moved forward, swift as wind, her blade flashing once, twice. Both fell before they could cry out.

They reached the outer wall and disappeared into the night.

By dawn, Faizah was lying on a bed in the catacombs beneath the city, her chest rising and falling steadily. Joyi worked by torchlight, cleaning her wounds and murmuring words of comfort.

When Zara arrived, she knelt beside the sleeping woman and touched her forehead gently. "You kept your promise," she whispered. "Now rest. We’ll do the rest."

Three hours later, the Shadows gathered in a small hut on the outskirts of the city. The single lantern flickered weakly against the mud walls, casting long, thin shadows that swayed like ghosts.

Zara stood at the center, her arms crossed. Onyango, Kiprop, Taban, Mwinyi, and two scouts sat around a low wooden table covered in maps and coded notes.

"He’s a tricky opponent," Kiprop said, tapping the map with the blunt end of his knife. "No lazy guards, no gaps. We can’t reach him without taking down his entire perimeter."

"Which would alert him instantly," Taban added. "He’s the kind who plans for chaos before it happens. If we rush him, we lose."

Mwinyi leaned forward, his deep voice steady. "So we make our own chaos. A diversion strong enough to draw him out."

Zara nodded slightly. "Agreed. But not tonight. We’ll watch for one more day—mark the guard rotations, the shift patterns, and their exit routes. Once we’re sure, we strike."

Kiprop frowned. "Even if we isolate him, his men won’t scatter easily."

"Then we make them scatter," Zara said. "Small fires, distant noise, a false attack from the west wall. They’ll rush to defend the wrong side while we move in through the east."

A slow grin spread across Taban’s face. "You’ve done this before."

"Too many times," she replied dryly, her memory drifting to her time in Abyssinia.

Onyango rose, placing his hand on the table. His voice was calm but carried steel. "Then it’s decided. Sharpen your weapons, Shadows. We strike tomorrow night. We end this and go back to our families."

He looked around the room—each face hardened by years of fighting, lit by the flicker of the single flame.

"For Nuri," he said quietly.

The others echoed in one voice, low but powerful: "For Nuri."

Outside, the wind rose, carrying the sound of distant drums from Lumingu’s army far away. But here, in the dark heart of the capital, another war was beginning—one fought in silence, shadow, and blood.