CHAPTER 202: CHAPTER 202 - THE ROAD HOME

The road to Lusimba was long and uneven. Each jolt of the wagon made Khisa’s breathing hitch, so they moved carefully, never too far, never too fast. Ole Samoei ordered frequent stops, and at each camp, the Shadow Guard built their fires in a ring around Khisa’s tent, keeping vigil even in silence.

That night, the jungle air was cool. The sky above was velvet-black, spattered with stars. The fire cracked softly, throwing golden light across the faces of the gathered soldiers. Their armor had dulled with dust and sweat, but their spirits were still bright. They had survived, barely and for now, that was enough.

Taban poked at the fire with a stick, sparks dancing into the dark. "I still can’t believe we made it out of that fortress alive," he said with a shaky laugh. "Those restores were tough, I swear one of them grazed my ear."

Sarai smirked faintly. "You’re lucky he didn’t take the whole head. You weren’t exactly subtle out there."

"That’s rich, coming from you," Taban shot back. "You charged into that courtyard like you were possessed."

"I was," Sarai said softly. Her eyes flickered toward Faizah, who sat quietly at the edge of the firelight, her hands wrapped around a tin cup of warm water. "We both were."

The group fell into a thoughtful silence. Faizah’s shadow stretched long behind her, wavering with the fire. She hadn’t spoken much since Mengo. When she finally lifted her gaze, her voice was steady, but low.

"I remember when they brought me in," she began. "They wanted to break me, the soldiers, their commander. They thought pain would make me talk. But after what the Adal did to me years ago..." She paused, her breath trembling. "What they did in Abyssinia was far worse. They took everything, my dignity, my name, my faith in people. When Prince Khisa found me, I didn’t even know how to live anymore."

No one spoke. The crackling fire filled the silence between her words.

Faizah’s fingers tightened around her cup. "But he saw something in me. I don’t know what. I was broken, and he still told me I had purpose. He said I was not a victim, I was a survivor. That I could be more. He gave me a home again. So when they tortured me in Mengo... I remembered his words. Every blow reminded me why I fight. For Nuri. For him. My life belongs to the Prince, until my dying breath."

Her voice shook, but her eyes blazed with conviction.

Zara had been passing by when she heard that last line. She stopped, the torch in her hand flickering. Slowly, she walked into the circle and crouched by the fire, her face lit with both warmth and fatigue.

"Faizah," she said gently, "Prince Khisa would never demand your life. That’s not who he is."

Faizah blinked, startled by her tone.

Zara continued, her voice steady but full of emotion. "I was there when we found you. You had fire in your eyes, even then, you wanted to live. Khisa didn’t give you a reason to die; he gave you the strength to live on your own terms. He trained you, not to serve him, but to stand tall beside him."

The group listened quietly as the flames popped and swayed.

"This goes for all of you," Zara added, looking around the fire. "Nuri will never ask its soldiers to throw away their lives carelessly. Your families matter. Your dreams matter. That’s what we’re fighting for, so that your children won’t have to grow up with war in their blood."

Sarai nodded slowly. "It’s strange, isn’t it? We were raised to think dying for honor was the greatest thing a warrior could do. But Khisa... he fights so we can live. It’s different."

"It’s better," Kiprop said from across the fire. "Because it means there’s something after the fighting."

Taban chuckled softly, his usual mischief dimmed but still alive. "Yeah. Like a real home. Maybe a farm. Maybe peace."

"Maybe silence," Onyango added, grinning faintly. "After marching with you lot, that would be nice."

Laughter rippled through the group, brief but genuine, the kind that breaks through heavy hearts and reminds people they’re still alive.

Ole Samoei, sitting just beyond the firelight, watched them quietly. "Khisa would be proud," he said at last. "You’ve all grown. You’ve learned what it means to fight with purpose."

Faizah’s gaze drifted to the dark horizon where the trees swayed gently under the starlight. "Then I’ll live with that purpose," she murmured. "For him. For all of us."

The conversation drifted after that, stories of the battle, of tactics that had seemed impossible but worked nonetheless. Baraka marveled at how the ambushes along the river flank had turned the tide, while Ole Samoei described the Kongo soldiers’ confusion when their lines were broken by their maneuvers. There was pride in their voices, but also awe — awe that Khisa’s plans, drawn on worn maps and dirt, had once again saved them all.

The fire burned low, casting long shadows that danced among the trees. Fatigue began to settle over the camp, but for the first time in many nights, peace came easily.

In the distance, Khisa stirred faintly inside his tent, murmuring something inaudible. Zara turned her head, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

"We’ll make it home," she whispered to herself. "And when he wakes up... we’ll tell him everything."

The fire had burned low, its glow now soft and amber. The soldiers had fallen quiet, lost in thought. Only the chirping of crickets and the occasional crack of wood filled the night air.

Zara leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes were fixed on the flames, though her mind was elsewhere. "You know," she began, her voice calm but heavy, "this war with Kongo won’t be the last."

Taban frowned slightly. "You think there’ll be more?"

Zara nodded slowly. "Yes. We’ve seen what the Portuguese are capable of. Soares wasn’t acting alone. He was a commander, but he answered to someone higher, men who see this continent as something to carve up. We didn’t even get a chance to look through his journals or maps before we left. We had to hand everything to King Nzinga’s people and hope they share what they find."

Sarai’s eyes narrowed. "You don’t think they will?"

Zara sighed. "Nzinga will, maybe. But the men under him, the court, the merchants, they’ll see power in that knowledge. And power like that isn’t easily shared."

Ole Samoei nodded thoughtfully. "You’re right. It’s information that could reveal the Portuguese trade routes, or worse, their allies inland. If they’re planning to expand, we’ll need to be ready long before they reach our borders."

Onyango poked at the dying embers with a stick, sparks leaping into the air. "Then we have to fix what went wrong this time. We nearly lost each other more than once because messages didn’t reach the other teams in time. Our runners are brave, but too slow. We need a better system, flags, smoke, birds, something."

Taban tilted his head, considering it. "Maybe a series of signal towers between cities," he said. "If each one relays the message instantly, we could reach Lusimba in hours, not days."

"That’s not a bad idea," Samoei said, looking intrigued. "It could be done. Brick towers, manned by trusted soldiers. We can test the system when we return."

Sarai leaned back, her expression distant. "Then maybe... maybe the next time we face something like this, we won’t have to lose so many."

Zara glanced at her and nodded. "That’s the point. We can’t just win wars; we have to evolve after every one. That’s what Prince Khisa believes. Each battle teaches us how to build a stronger Nuri, not through conquest, but through preparation."

Faizah looked up from her cup, her voice soft but sure. "Then when he wakes, he’ll see a kingdom that learned from his fight."

Zara smiled faintly, eyes glinting in the firelight. "Yes. That’s what he’d want."

The fire crackled, scattering one last spray of sparks into the cool night air. The group fell silent again, the weight of their words sinking in. Above them, the stars burned bright and distant, silent witnesses to a new Chapter of Nuri’s destiny waiting to be written.

***

By the time they reached the outskirts of Lusimba, the sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of amber and violet. The weary column of soldiers moved slowly down the red-dirt road, boots crunching over the dry earth. Banners bearing Nuri’s crest fluttered weakly in the evening wind, the first sight of home after weeks of uncertainty.

As they entered the capital gates, the city came alive. People rushed from the streets and markets, their faces a blur of disbelief and joy. Whispers rippled through the crowd:

"They’ve returned!"

"The prince— is he alive?"

"Praise the ancestors!"

Zara rode at the front beside Ole Samoei, her eyes scanning the familiar rooftops and winding alleys. Relief flooded her chest, but it was laced with fatigue. Behind them, Khisa’s stretcher was carried by four soldiers, shaded by a makeshift canopy. The healers who had accompanied them kept close, whispering prayers under their breath.

The palace courtyard was already filled when they arrived. A line of attendants and guards waited, their faces solemn. At the front stood Queen Nanjala, regal in a deep indigo robe embroidered with golden vines, her expression calm but tight with worry. Beside her, half-hidden behind the folds of her mother’s dress, was Princess Ayuma, her wide eyes glistening as she searched the group for a familiar face.

When the soldiers halted, Queen Nanjala stepped forward, her gaze falling on the stretcher. For a moment, the composure she had worn since morning cracked, just a flicker, before she drew in a steadying breath.

"Welcome home, brave ones," she said softly, her voice carrying both strength and sorrow. "You have done what many thought impossible. The kingdom owes you all a debt beyond measure."

Her eyes lingered on Khisa. "Bring him inside."

A group of royal healers emerged from the courtyard, older men and women clad in white linen, carrying satchels of herbs, clay jars of oils, and rolls of fresh bandages. They bowed to the Queen, then to Ole Samoei, before taking over Khisa’s care with swift, practiced precision.

"He will be treated in the royal chambers," one of them said. "His fever has eased. The journey did not worsen the wound. That is a good sign."

Nanjala’s shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you. Do whatever it takes."

As the healers carried Khisa inside, Ayuma wriggled free from her mother’s grasp and ran forward, her tiny feet pattering across the courtyard. She reached Zara and tugged gently on her arm.

"Is my brother going to wake up soon?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope.

Zara knelt, her tired eyes softening. "He will, Princess. He’s very strong. He just needs to rest a little longer."

Ayuma nodded, clutching a small wooden doll to her chest. "Then I’ll wait. He promised to teach me how to ride when he came back."

Zara smiled faintly. "Then you’d better be ready. He always keeps his promises."

Queen Nanjala stepped forward, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her voice, though gentle, carried authority. "That’s enough for now, Ayuma. Let your brother rest."

Turning to the soldiers, she said, "You have all done more than anyone could ask. Rest now. Food and quarters have been prepared for you. King Lusweti will arrive within two days for a full debrief. Until then, this palace and all within its walls are at your disposal."

Ole Samoei bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, we are grateful for your kindness. Nuri stands because of your strength."

Queen Nanjala’s lips curved in a faint, weary smile. "No, General. Nuri stands because of his vision." Her eyes flicked toward the palace doors where Khisa had been taken. "And because of your loyalty."

The soldiers bowed and began to disperse, guided by attendants to their quarters. Zara lingered for a moment, looking back at the doors that had closed behind Khisa’s stretcher. The sound of distant chants echoed faintly within, the healers at work.

Sarai came to stand beside her. "He’s home," she said quietly.

Zara nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes... but the battle isn’t over. It’s just changed."

Together, they turned and followed the others into the fading light, leaving the palace courtyard bathed in gold and shadow.