Hi all, this is the 2nd installment; enjoy!
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CHAPTER 1

Obododike village.
Six seasons later.
Nma opened the door and walked out into the new day’s rising sun. The chickens were already clucking away, picking at anything that as much as caught their fancies. The goats, inside their pen, were bleating for food as loud as they could.
Nma yawned carelessly and stretched her body, causing the beautiful jigida beads strung around her small, shapely waist to rattle softy. The compound’s small bamboo gate – if at all it deserved that name – creaked as it was opened from outside and Ezemmuo walked in. His steps were slow and measured. He had the look of a mask and his nzu-marked body absurdly reminded people of an anunu-ebe tree. He was Nma’s father.
Nma’s face lighted with a warm smile as her hands spread out to welcome her father.
“Nna m, i lota!” she beamed.
Ezemmuo’s stony features couldn’t hold out long against his only daughter’s angelic smile; he suddenly grinned from ear to ear. That was exactly what Nma was aiming for, and on seeing her father grin, she broke into mild laughter.
“I knew you were trying to be stern on me, papa,” she said laughing, “ but it won’t work!”
Ezemmuo laughed again and looked at his daughter – so youthfully beautiful and full of life – he shook his head and let her carry his bag. They had gotten to the single mud hut in the compound and he ducked underneath to sit on a low stool while Nma went inside to bring him water.
Ezemmuo sighed and held his chin in his hands, his nzu-painted eyes looking far into the distance and his thoughts wandering off. If what the two messengers sent out two Eke market days ago had reported to the Ichie council was true, then Obododike village was doomed. If what they had reported…
Nma suddenly reappeared, talking at the top of her voice and interrupting his train of thoughts.
“…Eh papa, you haven’t slept in this compound for more than three times in the last ten days – in fact since the harmattan winds subsided.” She stopped momentarily and looked accusingly at her father.
Ezemmuo looked at his daughter with a sad smile; she was talking again but he wasn’t listening. He was looking at her innocence and beauty, barely twenty-one seasons. She’d been the only joy in his life since his wife, Akwaeze, died mysteriously more than fourteen seasons ago; the only thing worth living for since mmuo-ala chose him as its priest. Ezemmuo’s smile widened – Nma was babbling.
“…You’re seldom at home now. Though I’m a woman now and can take care of myself, but something could happen, you know.”
“Nothing can ever happen to you, Adanma!” Ezemmuo said so passionately, calling Nma by her full name that she was slightly startled.
“Yes papa,” she said slowly, turning away. “It’s just that I get lonely – sometimes.”
Ezemmuo’s eyes misted. He reached out and hugged his daughter, and she hugged him back.
“It’s alright. The gods will always be with you.”
But even as he said it, Ezemmuo knew that it wasn’t the gods that his daughter wanted; it was her father.


* * * *


“For Amadi’s sake, that’s enough!” Igwe Obi Ihegbu thundered. He had reflexively jumped to his feet and his whole body was shaking with barely controlled rage and frustration. His eyes, which he had involuntarily shut, suddenly snapped open and he surveyed his court with eagle-like scrutiny. Presently, his gaze settled on Ichie Munonyeyi, his latest source of annoyance. “This situation looks grim enough to me, Ichie Munonyeyi,” he said levelly. “ Don’t make it look any grimmer.”
“Igwe, what he is saying is the truth; it is no good running away from it.” This was Ichie Nnabuenyi, the oldest man in Obododike and head of the Ichie and Ozor council. “A man doesn’t run away from his problems, he faces them squarely. Or else, they deal with him flat.”
Nnabuenyi was already stooped with age, entirely hairless, and had only five teeth left in his mouth. This had the effect of making his speech come out gurgled like that of one with water in his mouth.
Obi Ihegbu sat down, breathed deeply and sighed. By comparable standards, he was quite young to be Igwe – just about forty-two, whereas the accepted age was fifty – but his father had passed on early. Being the only son, he had taken control in a way that amazed even the elders and earned him a reputation of being aggressive. It also served to quell any signs of disloyalty. The elders say that when a child washes his hands properly, he gets to dine with kings, and so Igwe Obi Ihegbu’s cabinet of twenty was entirely of very old and respected ozor-titled men, well versed in the affairs of men.
But at the moment, none of them – not even Ichie Udor and Nze Egbeonu, the two wise toads that had cheated death twice – none of them could solve the terrible puzzle of death looming over umu-Obododike. But what is a man supposed to do when the gods decide to take sides against him? What were the chances of winning a wrestling contest against Ikorommuo, the masked spirit of the dead?
Obi Ihegbu sighed again.
“Ezemmuo has not shown up yet?”
Nze Egbeonu docked under the shade of the Igwe’s obi and looked into the sky, noting the sun’s position. “He should be here soon,” he said.
At that moment, the courtyard gates were pushed open from outside and Ezemmuo walked in, his stout walking stick striking the ground at regular intervals.
Obi Ihegbu sat back and tried to relax.
Ezemmuo walked into the obi and immediately went straight to his reserved seat at the extreme left of the Igwe. But just as he was about to open his mouth, the Igwe spoke:
“An elder is supposed to set good examples to the younger ones. I have never identified you with lateness, Ezemmuo.” Some of the Ichie nodded.
Ezemmuo coughed perfunctorily. “The frog never runs in the daylight for nothing, Igwe. Something must happened have to the cocoyam that made it cry out beneath the soil. However, a man who refuses to admit his mistakes must not have children to inherit his name. Ndi Ichie, Igwe, please accept my apology, I was held up.”
“It’s alright, Ezemmuo,” said Obi Ihegbu with a half smile. “Even the gods sometimes make mistakes. Besides, we have a more pressing matter before us; it certainly won’t be in our interests to chase rats while our houses are on fire.” A momentary silence, then he continued. “You all were here yesterday night when our messengers came back and reported their findings.” He pointed at two tired-looking young men in a corner, eating boiled corncobs. “You all heard what they said. A terrible calamity has befallen the land; Umuogba has been wiped out, its remaining people have fled their homes for very far distant lands. Alaokwara is now a desert town and Umuokwa has long been exterminated – actually six seasons ago. Obododike is next.
“The gods are angry; Ikorommuo is blood-thirsty. If the countless goats and rams of Alaokwara, and the innumerable cows of Umuogba didn’t satisfy him, I don’t think that the bony chickens of Obododike will. Ndi Ichie, something must be done. We must find a way to protect our wives and children, our loved ones, our homes, our village. We must unite and find a way to prevent Ikorommuo’s deadly cane from descending on our village, or else Obododike will soon be extinct, "