King Ochola has fallen, the gods have entrusted the kingdom to his young and inexperienced son Otim. It’s to be questioned for it’s against tradition, but the gods are wise.
Far in the land of the enemies sounds of laugher and jubilation fill the atmosphere. Finally the obstacle has been swept away from their path, with a young and experienced king, it will be easy for them to conquer the grate Ola kingdom, its fertile land, rich minerals and make slaves of her people, but most important, king Odum finally can catch a glimpse of hope for the sword of power that he has so much longed for. The master key to the mysterious treasure of power that for so long has been entrusted with Ola kingdom which has made her invisible and unbeatable in battle.
King Otim must successfully accomplish his father’s mission. King Odum will not stop at anything till he has avenged against Ola kingdom.
With all hope gone, they still trusted in their gods, for the gods are wise…
This is how it all begun…
In the days of the reign of the grate Othioman Empire, in the land of Ola, a single island that lies high above the blue waters of Lake Magimotia slopping down plough land with amaze of paths beneath forest cover from ridge behind ridge, lived a king called king Ochola. He married a maidenhead who bore him a son and they called him Otim. King Ochola reigned for 70 years; aged; his reign ended and he joined his ancestors in Atrova, the magic island.
The untimely departure of King Ochola left the throne of Ola empty and the people helpless like sheep without a Sheppard. The council of elders and chiefs would later sit to discuss the fate of the kingdom.
Unlike other kingdoms, kingship in Ola was not hereditary. Kings were appointed by gods; they were mere custodians of the powers bestowed upon them, through them, the gods ruled.
Before king Ochola could be sent away to the river as per their tradition, the sit on the throne had to be filled. This called for the sitting of the council of elders and titled chiefs who later, after consulting with Otunga the mouth piece of the gods, declared seven days and nights of prayer and fasting. This was a holy period in which they would pray to the gods to select for them a befitting king.
On the seventh day of the month of Adoran’ka, all the people of Ola kingdom were called upon to gather at the village center; near the stream of power from which every king of Ola had to drink from. Otunga the royal magician and the spokesman of the gods threw the sword of power into the stream as the people looked on. The sword swung around several times and remained in the air above the still waters. Then the brave men who had come to try their luck were asked one by one to step forward and stretch their arms towards the sword that now swung in flames. He that the sword would come to and hurt not, would be the next king of Ola kingdom.
One by one they tried and all perished. “All have fallen for they’re not worth of the sword of power,” said Otunga while gesturing to the corpses that now lay on the ground still. “Show us then,” he went on, “who is worth of the sword of power, who is the lucky man who holds the immortal keys of royalty to our now empty throne?”
There was silence, the sword still swung in the air in a cycle of flames. Otunga was at the verge of adjourning the ceremonial rituals to the next more six days and nights when little Otim walked forward and shouted: “I am worth of the sword”
Everyone looked in astonishment as the 15 year old boy stood in silence murmuring words that were only audible to him and the gods. Otunga dared not interfere, he too stood dump folded. How could a child do such a thing?
Old men and women started wailing, Otim’s mother could barely believe her eyes. The people were crying For in Ola, the most painful occurrence was the death of a child. But the boy was driven forward, not by courage, not by pride, but by destiny it self. He was just answering to the call of the gods. ‘here I am use me.” He whispered.
The sword which still swung disappeared beneath the dark waters and came back with such a force that those who looked on closed their eyes. Otim’s mother ran forward to shield her son from the sword, but the boy shouted, “stand not on my way mother, stand not on the way of the gods.”
Otunga, knowing this was no ordinary happening, asked that the now uncontrollable woman be taken away, before they knew it, the boy held the sword of power in his mortal hands. Around his head stars revolved and a golden crown shone with the radiance of royalty on him.
This was strange. The people of Ola kingdom were left in odds. Some said something was wrong somewhere. For never in their history had their kingdom been ruled by a child. How could such a grate and mighty kingdom be ruled by a child young and not learnt in wisdom? They wondered.
Some said the ritual should be repeated. But Otunga stood up and said, “Men of Ola kingdom, it’s a strange happening yes, but the gods are wiser than mortals. Who are we to stand against their will? The boy already has the mark of royalty on his head, let him ascend the throne.”
Now In those days the Oturomok’kno Empire was strong; a fierce, unified empire in one ambition of subduing the entire land and lake. It housed three grate kingdoms: Lebagok, Achoemin and Odorekisk. The three united kings had subdued all the land and lake in their reach with exception of Ola, which was the greatest of all under the kingship of king Ochola. Now that their obstacle had been cleared from the way, war was inevitable.
The news of the down fall of king Ochola spread like bush fire and was received with sounds of jubilation amidst the enemy kingdoms: “With a young and inexperienced king, it will be hard for Ola to organize any successful resistance, I already smell the scent of victory and the grate sword of power is just a few paces away,” Thought king Odum.
The new king was just but a few days old on the throne when he received a letter from the enemy asking him to surrender and be subject to the grate Oturomok’kno Empire or be subdued, made-he and his people- slaves in their own land. The response was to be given within a short period of days and failure called for war.
The matters at hand were urgent; king Otim wasted no time but called for an urgent meeting of elders and titled chiefs to find solutions: “the king of the grate Oturomok’kno Empire has written to us a letter challenging us to war. If in 8 moon days we do not comply-they have said, they shall kill our people subdue our land the survivors shall be taken captive and made slaves in our own land.”
“gods forbid!!” shouted one elder. Ignoring the interruption, Otim continued, “I am a peace loving king. Yet today I am faced with a grate challenge that over powers my independent mind. I have therefore called for this gathering that together we may try and find answers.”
“First speak your mind the lion of Ola kingdom, our opinions should be guided by your wise counsel. Tell us, to war or not to war,” remarked Ojemiro, one of the elders.
“Gone are the days of war my kinsmen. Why should we kill one another? Let’s talk them to peace…”
“What if they won’t talk peace, what if they stand by war?” inquired another elder, interrupting.
There was a moment of silence. King Otim was saddened. He knew this was a taste of his power, courage and strange for in Ola’s history kings made grate names by the wars they fought and won. Yet his conscious wouldn’t let him choose war. This set him at cross roads with his mind, knowing they were all looking up to him for the answers they already knew.
Otemoki, an elderly man, slim bodied with a bald head, broke the silence: “My king, my people, why are we are the verge of allowing cowardice and shame rule over us? Who doesn’t know that when the grate Ola kingdom roars other kingdoms tremble? Remember the grate Oteramok battle where our grate warriors killed thousands of the enemy warriors, leaving their bodies a meal for the vultures!!Thousands surrendered and up to date tilt our land us slaves, under our mercies they live. Who doesn’t know that, my people?” He inquired, furious now with the burden of proof.
Looking around, eyes wide open, he kept quiet for a moment, and went on, “Have you forgotten? Four kingdoms against us, did they win in the grate battle of Olimo??? We have never been defeated in war; war has never been a threat to us. If they want war, let’s give them war!!”
“The grate wars we won you pride of,” Interrupted Timono, a tall dark skinned man with gray heir.
“Think about the people who died the guilty and innocent. I personally fought in those wars. I Left my nearly wedded wife behind, my family and never saw them again. I went to war. Yes we emerged victorious, but did glory feed us, did victory bring back the lives of our children, women and men who died in the war? Oh mortal, why do we think war is a solution to everything? Why in quest for kingdoms and chasing dreams have we left love and respect for life behind? “He cried out. He was now getting emotionally.
All that while, Okalitong, sat silent. He was known not to speak anyhow but only spoke when he had important remarks to make. His remarks where never taken for granted for he was respected for his wisdom and had been part of the two councils that had voted war in the previous wars the kingdoms had been involved in. clearing his throat, he staggered getting up, and supporting him self on his walking stick, stared at the elders who were now looking at him with eagerness waiting to hear what he had to say.
“We don’t like war, no one does. We know well that when elephants fight, it’s the grass that suffers.” the elders nodded their heads in approval. He continued: “what if, my people, they attack, kill your neighbor come for you, rape your wife and children before you. What will you do? Will you stand and watch? Will you? I believe, as it is said that if we all believe in freedom, there comes a time when we must all standup in defense of it.”
He took his sit.
King Otim now rested his chin on his palm. He seemed to be staring far beyond them; his mind was now not with them, the man was troubled. No. Not to war he thought.
All over the land rumors had already spread. Some said the king was a coward for he would not choose war. Those who didn’t support his rise to power said the gods had finally decided to show king Otim their wrath. For they solemnly believed Otim had bribed Otunga and that’s why the sword of power choose him, that’s why, even though it was against tradition, he ascended the throne.
Do not believe them dear reader, for Otim’s rise to power was more than the making of fate but destiny it self. It was no accident or coincident, for in African there is a strong force behind every happening, accidents don’t exist.
That night king Otim could barely sleep. Turning and turning on his bed, he thought how he had once envied his father on the throne. “Imagine all the authority and power, how wonderful it is to be king.” His father would always laugh him off, and in a mocking voice would tell him: “its sacrifice, when your king someday you will understand.” This always perturbed him for he knew kinship in Ola was not hereditary. It finally got clear to him that his father had the answers he was looking for when such questions filled his mind.
“So father knew all this”
He now lay looking at the thatch, his mind far. Slowly sleep took over him and he fell to dream, but it was more than a dream but a revelation. In the revelation, was his father standing by his bed side.
“father…”
“Heavy is the load you bare my son.”
You knew all this would happen.”
“Yes son, it was decided before you were conceived in your mothers womb”
“Oh father its too heavy for me.”
“Have you ever bothered to find out why the gods put you on the throne even though it was against tradition?”
“You taught me not to question the ways of the gods.”
“I know son, but a longtime ago there was a king called Olarek. He rose to loyalty following his father’s death, for by then kingship was hereditary. He built an aristocracy and established the worst kind of tyranny Ola has ever known. Forced labour, heavy taxation and slavery were the order of the day. In quest for land for conquest he got many of our sons killed in his wars of conquest, deaths that could have been avoided.
King Olarek passed on in his season and his son ascended the throne upholding his fathers’ tyranny. There was an out cry from the people for a savior. The gods came to their rescue. King Olarek II died a miserable death at the battle of Otuntung. And so the man who had assumed the power of the gods died a dog’s death. His body was fed to vultures.
After his death, the family members fled to exile, among them was Odum, the man who has challenged us to war. He was supposed to be the heir to his father throne and has never given up on it.” It’s just a matter of time.” He has always said.
“ While in exile with those loyal to him, he reorganized his army, annexed Oele’p kingdom, stationed him self as king for life and with the wealth stolen from kingdoms he annexed and by strengthening ties with other ambitious kings, he built a grate Empire.