PROLOUGUE

The white-backed vulture soared effortlessly on its broad wings; sharp gaze swept over the West African savannah below, missing nothing. A herd of gazelles leapt across the Omehrvon River, each herbivore trying to outleap its companion in a vain show of virility. It was mid rainy season, with plenty of supple grassland to graze on. The herd was strong and its calves healthy. A weak or ill stray for the vulture to stalk was less likely as its gaze sought out other prey.
A pride of lion feasted on their kill, a lioness glared, balefully, up at the prowling vulture, unblinking gold eyes followed its flight passage. Rapidly losing interest, the vulture must have decided the carcass was not worth the trouble so it flew on, gaining more height with a few flaps of its large wings. Something else caught its attention as it banked to investigate. ‘’HUMANS’’, its savage heart beating in rhythm with its wings, these creatures kill for sport, not for want of food. Where there is man, there must surely be carrion to feed on. The vulture banked, wings effortlessly guiding it through the rocky crags, searching a place to perch in waiting. At last, settled on a tree stump overhanging a great rock, it sat, observing the humans below. Suddenly, a guttural sound sent it leaping off the rock in a surprised squawk, and flying away.

The warrior chuckled again as he watched the vulture’s retreating figure shrink away into the distance sky. He had squatted silently, watching the vulture observe the men below, ‘’you have come too soon, favoured bird of Baba Ogiuwu, lord of the underworld. Tonight you may yet feast on dead men,’’ he mumbled.
He rose to adjust the broad sword at his hip, chain mail clinking, he will not need it tonight; he sighed as he drew it. The Eben, a bronze harvester of lives, shaped like a leaf and as long as an elephant grass, with ivory hilt, a large bronze ring at the end to twirl in combat, wielded only by the elite Edo warriors of the empire, heavier, deadlier and sharper than the Umozo, the single edged cutlass commonly used by the peasant warriors. The warrior continued the vulture’s vigil, unblinking eyes washed over the armies gathered below in battle array, his Eben held before him like a walking stick. His polished bronze armour caught the setting sun, high collared chainmail to protect his neck in combat, patterned in the likeness of coral beads, bronze breastplate patterned in feather carvings flowed down to his knees and parted at the thighs, held at the waist with a leather belt made from leopard skin, with feet protected only by a pair of cowhide sandals, arms bared except a gold band hung around an arm inlaid with gourd charms and cowries, and the quadrangular warrior bell, Egogo around the other. A wristlet made of bronze, with chain clasps to link the Eben to his sword hand in combat, thus the saying ‘

'’Eben is soul, only in three ways can you take it from an Eben wielder, he gave you, and you are his son, he gave you, for he is sworn to you, he gave you, defeated in combat and has passed on to Baba’s realm where he needs not its aid in the land of fighting spirits. On his head, he wore a helm of polished bronze, carved in the shape of a lion’s head, a work of dedicated casting, the lion’s mane and diamond eyes, a lifelike delicate work of art.
‘’My prince,’’ a grizzled older warrior stalked over, similarly garbed but with less colour and a bared head, a leopard skin with cowrie charms sewed in adorned his left shoulder, his bearded face flushed from his climb up the hill. ‘’Olobiri the skeleton smith has issued his challenge for the fourth time today,’’ he said as he joined the younger warrior in his vigil, ‘’the men are beginning to drink from the cup of restlessness when you did not come down to respond, for when the cat is not home, the mice flaunts around.’’
The prince ignored him as he continued to observe the army below.

‘’Arualan’’, the older warrior snapped.
The climb must have been harder than he had imagined to have made his old mentor so quick-tempered, the prince mused.
‘’The Iyase is not pleased. You may be a prince general of Benin but he is still the commander of the entire elephant host.’’
At last, Arualan tore his gaze from the host to stare at the older warrior, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, tall and broad at the shoulders, undisputedly the tallest man in the Empire. It was said that his mother, the Oloi Ohonmin was the granddaughter of the giant Orhumorhia, slain by his father the Oba Ozolua in his youth. The prince’s plain ebon face, glistering with sweat was singled out by his fierce black eyes that seems to blaze when it catches the sun.
“You are Ezomo, the second in command. Why are you here instead, and not at his side?’’ He said, bending down to flick a rhinoceros beetle off his sandal.
“The Iyase preaches caution’’ the old general snarled in contempt.” “By Osanobua the creator of all things, the fool has palm wine mixed with his blood. Iyase Ekpengba wants the army to withdraw from Udo borders. The Udoma will see it as an act of fear and attack, and they are already bold as it is.’’
‘’I was not born yesterday Imadiyi,’’ the prince returned his attention back to the restless host below. ‘’So spare me from the web of chances spun by your war chiefs. You chose to be here in the hope that I resist the generalissimo’s order and save your own neck and pride in the process,’’ prince Arualan smirked.
‘’Do not play coy with me boy, you know what is at stake here,’’ the Ezomo sighed, ‘’with Olobiri calling out the lion of Benin, and the army withdrawing, then you have kindled his already flaming reputation. More people will flock to his banner and Udo will become an independent state. Soon, other tribes will follow. The skeleton gatherer must be stopped.”
‘’Boy?’’, Prince Arualan chuckled, ‘’my first son has earned his own Eben and he is in the army down below us.’’
‘’Having children does not make you a man, prince’’, Imadiyi countered.
‘’Tell me what you know about this self-acclaimed liberator Ezomo Imadiyi,’’ prince Arualan said, abruptly ending the argument.
‘’He is Udoma born. Where he learnt his battle skills from no one knows for he was taken away as a child during the Udo tribal wars and then returned as a man, apparelled in armour made of skeleton. It is said that he killed his victims by pulling the bones from their bodies and other horrible practices that as fuelled his reputation as a bane to the empire. For a while he had led the rebel forces from the background, choosing to come out now to challenge you is a mystery only the gods can decipher’’.
‘’Like you said, if he slays the lion of Benin in single combat, more people will flock to his banner and if I do, the war will end quickly, maybe he was just tired of your game of chances. Come general, let us get this over with before the sun sinks to Baba’s underground palace.’’

CHAPTER ONE

The welcome roar from the Edo host coupled with the clanging of a hundred thousand Egogo, the quadrangular warrior bells, shook the savannah as the prince came down from the hill top as a band of warriors rode to meet them.
‘’The eight principal war-chiefs of the Benin empire, the Iyase at their head’’, Imadiyi said, ‘’is not a good sign. In all the nine hundred years of the Ogiso and Eweka dynasties, never had the Edo chiefs walked together. If the roof is not wary it collapses, if the house is not wary, it is burnt down, if the house owner is not wary, he will be robbed of his possessions; Caution they say is the watchword of the sages, o’ prince.”
“For the partridge treads with caution,’’ Arualan mused, rounding up the adage.
‘’Address them with caution my prince. They may not be as influential with the people as the Enogies; dukes of provinces or the metropolitan titled chieftains, except maybe the Iyase who also holds the prime minister title but they are powerful in their own rights, for they are the pillars that hold the empire. You need them behind you to be announced as Edaiken and earn the crown prince title in order to successfully ascend your fathers stool. They all fear Queen Idia as it is,’’ Imadiyi said.
A flicker of anger flared across Arualan’s face at the mention of his step mother’s name.
‘’So I should bow to their whims and tolerate their bickering so they can favour me over my half-brother Osawe? The weakling that hides all day behind the capital’s wall, chasing women and looking pretty while his mother the warrior queen, Oloi Idia fights in his place? Our father, Ozolua n’ibaromi the conqueror has much sense to hand over the empire to him. The elephant throne is mighty, and only the strong can possess it. Pillars wither and are replaced old friend but the ivory stool endures. I, Arualan, the lion of Benin, bows to no man.’’

‘’Lamogun O’’, Iyase Ekpengba saluted as the generals drew near, ‘’health and strength to your limbs o’ prince.’’
‘’Lavbieze’’, the prince replied, ‘’may your wisdom never diminish war-father.’’
The Iyase was old and as hard as a baobab tree. Battle scars decorated his sword and shield arms like tattoos, proclaiming a long and hazardous life. He sat his horse with the air of a younger warrior, scowling down at the Ezomo.
‘’I see the basket mouth has already told his highness the decision the chiefs had concluded on,’’ he sneered.
‘’Concluded eh, Ekpengba you old soot, or you bullied us into agreeing,’’ Ezomo Imadiyi sneered back and would have continued ranting had the prince not laid a hand on his shoulder.
‘’Peace, Ezomo Imadiyi for if I can ignore the fact that the chiefs sit their high horses to stare down at me as if I were a commoner, you can as well swallow a little insult’’.
At this, the chiefs clambered down quickly from their mounts in a bustle of apologises and clanging Egogo. The Iyase seemed to take his time about it, dismounting with a snail paced dignity as his shield bearer held his horse in place.
‘’Apologies highness, we meant no disrespect, but when fire burns a man’s cloth and that of his child, he puts out his own first before attending to his child’s. The matter at hand overrides rules of state. I assumed you must have heard of my plan to move the army back from hostile borders,’’ the Iyase drawled.
Ezomo Imadiyi cursed under his breath; ‘’you mean to expose our backs to Udoma spears and arrows eh Ekpengba’’, the Ezomo cuts in loudly, ‘’you can as well offer our throats to Olobiri’s bone knives, some master plan it is.’’
Some of the chiefs grumbled in agreement as the Iyase grounded his jaw in suppressed outrage. Maybe they were not as united as Imadiyi had said, Arualan silently mused.

‘’If we do not move now, we will be moved sooner or later in disgrace,’’ Iyase Ekpengba barked at his colleagues. “The river Omehrvon is pregnant with rain, flows rapidly behind us and the rocky crags of Udo land stands on either side of us. Perhaps you are all blind to see we are hemmed in too tight. Lift a spear and you impale your shield brother. The Udo men know their stony land. Here we are like children playing at adults with an Ayo board game. We move now in array with our dignity intact or you explain yourselves to the Emperor why the elephant herd returned with broken teeth.’’
‘’There is nothing but wisdom in your plan war-father, Arualan said, but you will forgive the elders if they mistake it for cowardice, for retreat in the eve of battle is taboo to an Edo warrior and to turn his back in the face of a battle in which the outcome is yet determined is a shame unto his ancestors and descendants’’.
‘’Surely you do not mean to agree to this Lamogun,’’ the Ologboshere said, her voice quivering with anger. ‘’My son died in defence of your honour this morning, his body a plaything for the monster Olobiri. You mean to ignore his challenge and leave my son un-avenged?’’
Arualan grimaced painfully. Obosa, the Ologboshere was the only woman amidst the war chiefs, her valour surpassed only by Oloi Idia. She had inherited the title from her father, who had died without a male issue, and had trained Obosa in the act of war with fevered dedication with the latter taking it all in as hot sands swallows water, her savagery in combat worthy of her predecessors, the Ologbosheres before her; Her only child Ise, recently been gifted his illustrious grandfather’s Eben as he came of age, had been trying hard to prove to everyone that earning it had been by merit and not by the influence of his mother.
Shortly after Olobiri’s second challenge that morning, he rounded it up by pulling down his under cloths and defecated on a Ivie branch, the emblem of Arualan’s office in the presence of the entire Benin army, an insult to his person, bringing an outcry of outrage from a hundred thousand mouths, in a blind rage, Ise had charged him unarmoured and was quickly followed by the members of his age sect, not daunted; Olobiri had calmly wiped himself with the leaves, and arranged his cloths before Ise had covered the distance, stooped calmly under the sword meant for his head, grabbed hold of Ise’s midribs, broke a rib and stabbed it upward toward his heart, the poor boy had died on the spot, it had happened so fast, his sect members took it as an act of Juju sorcery and had beat a hasty retreat without bothering to retrieve his corpse.
‘’Your boy was a fool of fools Ologboshere Obosa, Iyase Ekpengba sneered, ‘’now his bleached skull has been added to the skeleton smith’s trophy collection.’’
‘’Baba Ogiuwu take you Ekpengba,’’ the Ologboshere cried, hands held her three pronged spear, the Ogala in a death grip, ‘’insult my son again and Baba will entertain you and I tonight.’’
‘’I spit on your dead son woman,’’ the Iyase snapped back, ‘’try me and Baba will receive only one guest tonight, I will make you the messenger as you bear an errand to the dead deity on my behalf, your boy was a vain fool to have believed he could take on Olobiri, a warrior that has been fighting even before you met his own father, as an Eben wielder his foolhardy death has shamed us all.’’
Shrieking with rage, Obosa hurled herself at the Iyase who had the common sense to beat a hasty retreat, the other chiefs tried to restrain her as arguments broke out between the chieftains in support of her and those behind the Iyase, each trying to out roar his rival. Arualan scowled with distaste as he looked on, the army shifting in alarm, as the evening breeze carried the quarrelling chief’s voices towards them. Are these the pillars he was to kiss and cuddle in exchange for support? He would kiss Olobiri first. Once each chief’s valour and fame had held him in awe growing up, now he saw old men spiteful with jealousy and arrogance, it was the disharmony amidst the chiefs that prolonged the rebellion this far in the first place, with each war chief trying to prevent his colleague from getting all the glory for himself.
‘’Enough of this, he snapped, the chiefs choked mid word, each of their faces a mixture of contempt, shame and anger.
‘’Lavbieze you dishonour the dead, remember you will walk the lonely path sooner or later. Ise deserves honour not revilement, for doing what even I hesitate in doing, though he acted rashly, like the proverbial snail playing at horns like the ram, he died as a warrior should, and in doing so becomes our patriarch in death. He deserves honour, you owe the Ologboshere an apology.’’

‘’Only his blood can sate me for what he said tonight’’ Obosa rages.
‘’Peace, mistress of spears, Arualan said, trying to soften his voice. ‘’Accept both my condolences and forgiveness for had I responded early, Ise would still be with us, he was a steadfast and dedicated youth and would have grown to be a great warrior, but alas, the cockerel will herald the approach of dawn and he will be deaf to its crow for he already walks the lonely path, but I promise you my lady Obosa, pray and implore his shade to travel slowly because Olobiri will accompany him tonight.’’
At this, the chieftains started, another barrage of emotions played on their faces, as anger darkened the Iyase’s brow while the Ologboshere’s face shone with furious joy.
“I forbid you Arualan,’’ the Iyase growled.
Arualan stiffened.
‘’You have no right to forbid this war-father,’’ he replied, polite but firm. ‘’I have no right to dispute your order, for the warriors will withdraw as you said, but my duel with Olobiri is personal, it is now a matter of honour or will you deny me that too? You stop a goat from getting fodder; will you also stop it from chewing cud? Olobiri has cleared the bush, I must pack the grass, Olobiri has desecrated the Ivie leaf, and he will find no shade under its tree, the bone smith thinks he riles up a dog, a lion will answer, your word is law Iyase, even the Oba, long may he reign cannot change it, but to walk away will soil my name forever, I will fight and defeat him tonight or escort brave Ise to the land of fighting spirits.’’
The war chiefs murmur their approval at this, ‘’Lamogun O,’’ they chanted, clasped fists rose up towards him in salute.
“Honour? Arualan,’’ the Iyase laughed bitterly, ‘’you mistake pride for honour, prince of Benin for neither fear nor caution held you from taking up the bone smith’s challenge today, for you fear no man. But for your pride, you delayed in taking up Olobiri’s bone gauntlets in order to water your ego, these old drunks may lap up your deceitful words like dogs but I will not risk the elephant’s herd to suit your selfish desires, I have lived this long, attained my illustrious career because I have been cautious, and may Ogun the deity of war strike me down if I allow you ruin me now and shame me before my king with the ill luck behind the circumstance of your birth.’’

The chieftains gasped at this, unanimous shock duplicated on their faces, the Iyase has gone too far this time around, few things riled up the lion of Benin, and mocking him about his misfortune at birth topped the list, quite a foolish few had been sent screeching with regret to Baba’s realm for it. They drew back hastily from the Iyase to avoid sharing in his retribution, stealing wary glances at the prince where he stands, rigid as a rock. Arualan’s face was blank, devoid of emotions but his eyes burned like coal, rivalling the setting sun behind him.
‘’Iyase Ekpengba, with your permission, I will meet the rebel leader in duel,’’ he asked with a deadly calm.
The Iyase paled. An angry Arualan was rash and dangerous, striking immediately like a Gabon viper and forgets, but a calm Arualan is deadlier, for the first time in many years, the lord commander of the entire elephant herd of imperial Benin felt cold fear, not only for his life but for entire his household.

CHAPTER TWO

Arualan’s stomach clenched with controlled rage as he stride purposefully towards the ground between the two armies, it took a lot of self-will stopping himself from drawing his sword and beheading the Iyase on the spot. By Osanobua, the creator of all things Iyase Ekpengba will pay, he swore silently, taking deep breaths in order to calm himself, it is unwise to duel when angry for anger confuses the mind, ending in mistakes and then death. Anger was also useful, feed it with determination then use it to destroy your enemies instead. Iyase Ekpengba is a matter for another day, Olobiri is a buck, and Ekpengba is rabbit, he resolved, oblivious to the cheers from the Edo warriors. The lion has answered the bones smith’s challenge. He had to admit, the Iyase’s guess about his intentions had been partially truthful, he had purposefully delayed meeting Olobiri’s challenge in order to study his foe, and Ise’s rash death had ruined everything, for he had wanted their duel to be memorable, a fight to the death between two formidable warriors, the like the empire has ever seen. He had anticipated a long and bloody conflict that will withhold breath from men who will have count themselves lucky to have witnessed the legendary duel, and proudly recount the duel to their children’s children when they are wizened old men. Curse on them all, he would now have to slay Olobiri quickly, which would be less than the madman deserves. His challenger already stood waiting. Olobiri, the skeleton smith, the bone gatherer, the bane of Benin was albino, tall and handsome. Nearly as tall as Arualan, wider at the shoulders with arms the size of tree trunks. Garbed in his terrible bleached bone armour, a large buffalo skull for helm sat firmly on his dreadlocked head. In each of his hands, he held a long jagged knife made of bones; a collection of human skulls decorated his waist, clattering together in the evening breeze, finger bones taken from his victims, held together on a string was tied around his neck. Olobiri was apparelled to strike fear in his foes hearts, powerful warriors had been said to have hesitated when they beheld him for the first time. A yard apart, they stood straight and proud, grudgingly observed each other, a sliver of respect and approval on their impassive faces; each acknowledging the other as a worthy adversary. Threats and taunts commonly shared by duellist, promising a painful exit or abusing one another’s great, great grandmothers was irrelevant, they were above such measly practices, they mutually concluded. The elders said the heavens was big enough for birds to fly, without colliding against each other, but the saying does not apply to them for they were leviathans among birds, the heavens will not and cannot support the two of them, one of them must die this night. Arualan drew his Eben, lifting it high above his head and stuck it down on the rock hard ground, calling the lord of the underworld’s decaying name three times, the bronze ring at the hilt clangs as it quivered, the ritual involved in initiating the deadly hand to hand combat called IjaiKadi. He had involved Baba into the fight, the dead deity will sit in judgment and the loser’s soul will become meat for Oro, his hound of darkness. Like he said, he will not need his sword tonight. He rose up to stare a challenge at Olobiri, the latter’s mouth curled in contempt; it was no news that the Lion of Benin is accomplished in the act of IjaiKadi, he will not be drawn into playing his game, for he knew he was a better swordsman, seventy and six warriors has bitten his knives already.
“Do what you do best, Benin dog and I will do mine,’’ he sneered and charged, howling his dreaded battle cry. Arualan also rose to meet him lopping slowing in contrast to Olobiri’s breakneck splint, both armies screaming themselves hoarse as their champions covered the distance between each other.

Arualan was an Ogboni initiate, mastering the act of IjaiKadi since he could walk, he held his breath as he ran, blood pounding in his ears as he dulled his senses in exchange for the one he needed, the armies roar muted into a dull hubbub, Olobiri’s looming figure bleary before his weak eyes. This was the risk behind the secret Ogboni act, all his senses suppressed in exchange for a single enhanced ability as Olobiri’s graceful splint slowed to a drawl, he wasn’t slowing down, Arualan was slightly faster. As they drew up, Arualan slumped to his knees, sliding the rest of the way as Olobiri’s knives flashed drawing a screech as they stroked his bronze helm. Weaving to the bone smith’s side, a hand lashed out; swept Olobiri’s legs from under him, his momentum carried him flipping into the air, but Arualan was not done, he sprang up after Olobiri’s sailing form, twisting so that his other hand found the bone smith’s head, guiding it toward the ground as he simultaneously let go of his abnormal speed in exchange for strength, smashing Olobiri’s head on the rocky ground with a roar. Like Ise; he had no chance as his shade fled his body, dodging Oro’s smoky jaws. Has he had refused to seal the ritual involved to complete the pact, the ghost hound’s howl of outrage faded away from Arualan’s restored earing. Everything had happened in an heartbeat as the cries from the watching men died down in confusion, the warriors at the rear still shouting without clue of what has happened, it took another full minute to realise the anticipated duel had ended as soon as it had started and the Udoma champion lies dead. A stunned silence held the savannah as both armies gaped in disbelieve, jaws dropped further when Arualan strolled calmly towards the vanguard of the Udo warriors, hands nervously fingering the swords at their hips as the man who had just slain their indomitable champion as a housewife wrings a fowl’s neck.
‘’Olobiri walks the lonely path,’’ he said, glowing black eyes held the men in a trance, ‘’your leader lies dead; so there is no further need to throw your lives away, return to your clans, return to your wives and family, the Oba, long may he reign is benevolent and is willing to forgive and see to your grievances, so surrender now for your course is not just, for your leader lies broken, it was his intention to bring many of you to the destruction he was destined for so let the rebellion end today with water not blood, Benin is forever and Udo will strive and prosper under her shadow.’’
The Udoma stared silently at him as their ranks parted, vomiting a group of heavily armoured veterans, the war chieftains under Olobiri. A warrior stepped forward to meet him, fierce eyes glared at Arualan with disapproval, not daunted in the least. A patch of grey at the front of his bared head shamed his strong body.
‘’Who are you to think our fight is unjust prince of Benin; Udo fighting to be free from subjugation is hardly unjust. Olobiri fought for Udo land as you fight for Edo land. The foot called the scorpion unjust when it stings, the foot shouldn’t have mistaken the scorpion’s head for the floor in the first place, we are Udoma, and we fight for Udo.’’ The Udo chieftains hollered in approval, ‘’you speak our mind, son of our mother,’’ they said.

‘’Surely the scorpion should also remember that the foot will stamp down in retaliation, destroying it, the bamboo bends to the wind and prevails while strong trees are uprooted and felled, Udo is like a pebble on the path of a rapid, sooner or later it will be rooted out and carried away, why follow Olobiri unto this path when you know it will all end in tears?’’ Arualan countered.
‘’Because we are Udoma, the war-chief answered simply, we remembered when we were once free men, a caged lion no matter how long is still a lion at heart, you know this Lion of Benin, that is our answer; we are Udoma.’’
‘’Now I see where I inherited my stubborn nature from,’’ Arualan muttered loudly, the chieftains stiffened at this.
‘’What do you mean by that prince of Benin,’’ the lead warrior said.
‘’I am Arualan, Oloi Ohonmin is my mother, she is of Udo, I will not spill the blood of my mother’s people, surrender I beg you and Udo will rise someday if not today,’’ he said, an edge in his voice, angry at himself for the little slip.
The chieftains stirred anxiously, only the lead war-chief held on to his stern countenance, his fierce eyes washing all over Arualan as if searching for something.
‘’You are Udoma born; he said simply, I see it now. I am Osemwughe, the Iyase of Udo; i see you, Arualan slayer of Olobiri, I see you, Son of Ohonmin daughter of Udo, it was said that an Udoma born will free us from the shackles of Benin, we mistook you for the skeleton smith and thought all was lost when we saw him bit the dust, but we see now that the prophesy endures still,’’ he paused at this, frowning as the other chieftains argued silently behind him, a stark contrast to the Edo war-chiefs. Osemwughe raised his head, bringing an end to their debate, another difference; he held his colleague’s respect, unlike Iyase Ekpengba.
“You are Udoma he said simply,’’ ‘’eeh! The chieftains acknowledged.
Arualan stared, perplexed at this, the Iyase drew his Eben, bending his kneel before Arualan.
“I am Osemwughe, son of Ogiemabo, father of Egin. my Eben is yours till you give it back or baba take me, to the land of fighting spirits, where all vows are erased.’’
The chiefs shared in Arualan’s surprise but he recovered quickly and answered.
“I accept your Eben, Osemwughe, son of Ogiemabo, father of Egin, arise and guard my back quickly for it grows cold.’’
The other chiefs also swore one after the other, each after a long hard look and a simple ‘’you are Udoma.’’
“Does this means the rebellion is over?’’ Arualan asked the fierce eyed Iyase.
“We accept you as the Enogie of Udo, we will share water and spill it in place of blood, we are yours now; for you are Udoma.’’
‘’Odd people’’ Arualan mused, the massed ranks of warriors quivered like the body of a giant caterpillar as they all bowed to the lion of Benin.

nice work

zubike01:
nice work

Thanks...much appreciated

Loving this. Kudos bro.

Btw is it Arualan or Aruahan?

Nice work.

opal4real:
Loving this. Kudos bro.

Btw is it Arualan or Aruahan?

Nice work.

thanks.. .its more or less like a pronunciation context...like oranmiyan and oranyan which are the same.