The Dominant Chant
Afọlabi kept a steady pace; not falling too far behind to prevent the Jama from attacking suddenly and not advancing too far ahead to ensure the Jama did not lose track of him. He kept his mind clear and his goals set, 'on the field of battle the only enemy a warrior should fear is himself'. He has heard about the Jamas of Ilọrin, their strengths and their weaknesses; the benefits of allegiance and the consequences of aggression. The Kankan fo once said that the Jamas are like a sword with two edges, one edge to strike down its opponent and the other to strike down its wielder. They are like a pack of wolves always ready for the hunt, howling in joy at the sight and smell of blood. How many times had the Alaafin tried to recapture the blessed land of Ilọrin from the savage hands of the Jamas and failed, until the king of the Yoruba Empire had no choice but to give up and accept defeat, the very legacy of Ọramiyan, left in the hands of the Fulani. If only the Ẹṣọs were stronger, then Ilọrin would have been part of the Empire and there might have been peace. Now that there is peace, it is only a momentary calm that may explode into a full-blown war at any time, Thus, the aggression between the Ẹṣọs and the Jamas.
Afọlabi sighed as he brought his awareness back from his brief observation of history, to focus on the present situation. Afolabi evaded another slash from the spirit sword and kept on moving as quickly as he could, not out of fear, but because it was a direct order from the team leader, Bọlaji himself. "Ṣeyi is capable of handling one of the Jamas himself, our mission is to even the odds. Pick an opponent, defeat him and bring him in, alive," Bọlaji ordered. Afọlabi had it in his mind to slay all the enemies of Ilu-inọ village, his intention was to slay as many Jamas as he could but one Jama can be a handful, most especially this one the one with the spirit sword. This Jama has six times the power and six times more troublesome to handle.
Afọlabi jumped into a nearby Iroko tree, then jumped again, and landed on a stone hill ten feet high, then turned to face his opponent preparing for an attack. The Jama emerged from the foliage of the trees and landed on the stump of a dead palm tree, to measure his opponent.
"Finally, you have decided to turn and fight, I was getting tired of this boring game of cat and mouse," the Jama mocked
"Unfortunately for you, yes," Afọlabi replied in a calm tone
"Funny dress" the Jama mocked
'Funny dress,' Afọlabi growled, Ẹṣọs usually wear blue sleeveless tops and blue short ṣokotos as one of the basic uniforms of an elite warrior, others dress in white sleeveless over long brown ṣokotos. Such a mode of dressing, however, is not compulsory for all Ẹṣọ, therefore most warriors wear whatever they want. In Afọlabi's case, he wears an Agbada of a funny design over a ṣokoto that does not match the Agbada and a strange oversized fela on his head. The fela is so long that it drops to his shoulders and so large that it hoods his eyes, most people who know Afọlabi on a personal note find it impossible to predict his emotion because the fela makes it impossible to read his eyes. Over the years, Afọlabi has continuously wished for Lekan's superior physical appearance, fully developed muscular system and slightly brutish personality. Instead, he inherited the tall, slim frame, silent face and a mysterious personality. Ọbatala was never fair when it came to moulding the human race, he shaped everyone as he pleases, not as he wishes and not as one should be. He moulds based on how sound his mind is at the time, life is never fair. "War!" He growled "The universal language of power and greed, where thousands of innocent warriors die in the service of the king, Pitiful."
Bọlaji had the absurd opinion that he was a pessimist, someone who always complained about everything. To a point, Afọlabi observed some truth to his words, but what is wrong with that? Afọlabi always makes his own decisions and expresses his feelings openly. He knows the world is a dark place, he knows how those at the top believe that they are gods and wish to turn those at the bottom into slaves; so what if he voices out his own opinion about the world, it's better than keeping silent and pretending that nothing is happening. His opinion is always contrary to Bọlaji's ideals, funny how they get along so well. Bọlaji is like the representation of the positive, a light while he is the symbolic representation of the negative or the darkness. What binds them together is the harmony that Bọlaji deduces after comparing their opinions, 'logical choices are made with the help of both the positive and the negative opinions'. To his displeasure, Bọlaji is always right.
"Have you realised that running away is a waste of time, is that why you stopped?" The Jama inquired
"I was not running because I was afraid, I was running because I wanted you to know I can run" Afọlabi replied with a hint of sarcasm in his tone
"So you are a joker, good" the Jama observed, "Makes it easier to kill you"
"No" Afọlabi replied "I hate jokes, jokes, only symbolize the illusion man uses to cover his weaknesses. Every man desires to dwell in the false reality of paradise, whereas the world is a place of pure suffering, hate and delusions"
"Of all the Ẹṣọs in the entire village to make an opponent" the Jama wailed "You the brooding one"
"It is the gods who give everyone a different nature" Afọlabi defended "That nature is a part of you till the day you pass on to the ancestors, the gods are never fair"
"Enough talk about the gods, prepare for the fight of your life," the Jama snapped, drawing his sword from its leather scabbard "I hope you are ready" the Jama mocked lifting the Ida towards the sky in preparation for another attack, the blade immediately dissolved into nothing. "Do you know why you are going to die?" The Jama taunted
"I'm not the one who's going to die" Afọlabi replied "In fact, I have already won"
Two blades appeared from nowhere to strike the Ẹṣọ down, but to the Jama's amazement, the Ẹṣọ was not at the receiving end of the killing blow.
"That was a lucky escape" the Jama commented
"You still don't understand, that blade in your hand is your enemy" Afọlabi pointed, "I can see your attacks before you even plan to strike, in my opinion, I would call this an uneven match. You need someone beside you to fight on your behalf"
"ME!" The Jama reacted in a rage "I am the sunrise of war"
"I am the sunrise of war
One who bends fire and ore
Who kills and craves more
With a million soul swords in my store
I am Abiye the one born to live
Bearer and the wielder of the Ida Adaemi
The sword of the spirit that lives in me
You are nothing but a fly
And I will cut you to pieces, to feed the birds of the sky
You are wise to fear me
Because I Abiye, I was born to live and watch others die
By the edge of the spirit sword Adaemi"
"In other words, your name is Abiye and the name of that stick in your hand is Adaemi the spirit blade," Afọlabi said in a bored-to-death tone "Well my name is Afọlabi Ogundipọ the banner of Ogun god of iron, fire and war" then there was a long silence
"That's it?" Abiye shot after a long pause, "No praise in your name, nothing to make the enemies tremble in fear at your feet?"
"A friend of mine once (Bọlaji) told me that praises are nothing but a form of deception that men create to make themselves feel like gods" Afọlabi replied
"An excuse for the weak to hide their weakness" the Jama observed
"Or a cunning ploy of the strong to hide their strength" Afọlabi added
"Cunning," Abiye said "a poor excuse for weakness, those who fear to claim power as their own. We are Jamas, we are not fools and we are not weak. The moment we see power; we claim it"
"And once you claim that power, it will corrupt and subvert you. Why, men are such fools, seeking self-destructive paths with glee and shunning true knowledge which breeds true power" Afọlabi lamented,
"Keep your foolish ideas to yourself," the Jama reacted angrily, especially to the fact that Afọlabi referred to him as a fool "And die while true men seek power…"
Abiye instantly launched a spirit blade at his opponent, hoping the sword would end him in a single strike. An attack that Afọlabi easily sidestepped
"Spirit seal," Abiye chanted "Adaẹmi seal him in his place,
He will be unable to move,
Not a finger and not a toe
Thus shall he remain, until, I strike him down,"
Afọlabi evaded the second attack by jumping out of the way before the 'Spirit seal' could complete its hold on him; Abiye undaunted by the failure of the first attack renewed the chant and fired it again hoping to paralyse his opponent. To the Jama's confusion, Afọlabi evaded each new binding chant with pinpoint accuracy, it is as though he knew exactly where the attack was coming from and that's impossible almost all weak chants worked by both Ẹṣọs and Jamas are invisible; so how is he evading the attacks. Afọlabi made another perfectly executed circumvention, landed on a nearby branch amongst the trees and then vanished. The bewildered Jama gasped in shock.
"Do you want to know why you are going to lose?" Afọlabi inquired from his hiding place
"As if that is possible," the confused Jama replied
"I have the dominant covenant" Afọlabi replied with a hint of humour in his voice
"There is no such thing as the 'Dominant covenant'" Abiye growled, "Nothing can dominate the power of my blade, Adaẹmi"
"Foolish words coming from one who has an appetite for power" Afọlabi observed "In order to obtain power, you must first study power. There is no such thing as absolute power; every covenant has its weakness and every element its bane"
"So you are saying that you have a weakness?" The Jama mocked, "Because I have none"
"Arrogance," Afọlabi said, more to himself than about his opponent's high headedness "Knowing one's weakness helps that person to be stronger, even you know that Iron has its weakness and that Ida of yours, though a spirit Ida is still made of iron"
Abiye sighed bitterly, Afọlabi has made his point; his blade is indeed made of Iron and therefore subject to the strengths and weaknesses of Iron. How in the world can this worthless Ẹṣọ have figured that out he wondered, the Ida in the palm of his hand was forged in the holy land of Ilọrin on the sacred forge of the priest Alimi himself. The blade was shaped by the direct descendants of the priest and imbibed with power, by the cult whose duty it is to keep the old tradition. Adaẹmi has the ability to become one with the spirit of its wielder, the ability to dissolve into the spirit realm; transcending speed, distance and numbers. Through the power of his spirit Ida he had slain hundreds of innocent individuals, ripping their souls from their bodies; shredding their existence with the ghost-like phantom of death. He chuckled at the memory, how he gazed into the eyes of his victims as the last spark of living flames within their dying flesh went out, as they reached out to grab a hold of any small glitter of hope, craving for life.
The one thing he enjoys the most is watching his victims die, he loves to look deep into their eyes and leech on the very last emotions they have in this miserable existence. It gives him the sense of satisfaction, filling up the void that dwells deep within; allowing him the momentary peace that he needs to survive another day. "I can't wait to look into your dying eyes Afọlabi, I'm sure it's going to be pleasant," he growled. Sometimes he feels the guilt and sometimes he simply relishes the moment, seeing the life that Oluwa had freely given leak away because of his cold strike, but there is no helping it, this is what he does for a living. Money is the language of power, as long as he is paid, then someone must die by his blade and anyone who gets in his way will die too; Afọlabi is just another name on his hit list.
Afọlabi wisely hid within the foliage of a nearby tree, quietly reciting a chant that would allow him to immobilize his opponent with minimal bloodshed. A binding chant for the Jama's body and a numbing chant for Abiye's sword hand, simple enough, or so he thought.
"Duro bẹ (stop there)" Abiye chanted pointing towards Afọlabi's hiding place
"Wow," Afọlabi said, unperturbed "I am impressed, you got me, congratulations,"
The Jama had wisely used the same chant he used on Ṣeyi earlier, several spirit blades hovered and rotated around Afọlabi pushing the motionless Ẹṣọ's back towards a nearby tree. As soon as Afọlabi's back touched the cold bark of the nearby tree, the Jama spoke…
"Now it is time for you to die," he declared, as he brought down his sword for a final blow
The spirit swords that rotated around the unfortunate victim instantly responded to their master's call, swinging erratically with the cold intention of slicing Afọlabi into little bits. However, as soon as the spirit blades made contact with Afọlabi's skin, they bounced off without inflicting any damage; except for his clothes, which now resembled an oversized rag.
"How?" The Jama whispered in a chaotic tone
"As I said, I have the dominant covenant" Afọlabi replied gloatingly
"No," the Jama exclaimed in denial "This is impossible"
"Cunning" Afọlabi mocked
"Explain," the Jama demanded tightening his chanted hold on the Ẹṣọ "Why can't I cut you with my blade?"
"The dominant covenant, every Ẹṣọ knows that his covenant has its strengths and its weaknesses, as I mentioned earlier" Afọlabi began with a mocking smile "Every Ẹṣọ is subject to his covenant and every covenant possesses its strengths and its weaknesses. Your Ida is made out of Iron and therefore must obey the laws of iron"
Abiye cautiously tightened his hold on the Ẹṣọ realising that he had overlooked something very important during the cause of the battle and it may prove to be his undoing. None the less Afọlabi continued
"Haven't you noticed that throughout the course of our battle, I have not launched a single attack?" Afọlabi pointed
"Why, because you fear me?" The Jama said
"No, it's because I've dominated this battle from the very beginning, and you never suspected" Afọlabi replied "My name is Afọlabi Ogundipo of the Ogundipo tribe, our tribe was once faithful worshippers of the deity Ogun god of Iron, fire and war. The great god Ogun blessed my tribe with a gift, the gift of mind above Iron. Do you understand now? I have the dominant covenant"
The revelation and the implication of Afọlabi's words flashed through the Jama the same way cold water would quench a campfire. He has heard of the Iron covenant before, those who are blessed with such a formidable covenant possess the ability to bend and shape Iron with their minds; according to the rumour, those who govern the covenant of Iron are immune to the cold edge of the Iron's blade. The very weapons he wields can be set against him as an enemy; he uses Iron while his opponent controls Iron.
"I still have you at my mercy, you are bound to a tree," the Jama screamed in desperation "I know a chant that will fuse you with that tree. You're still going to die, I swear it!"
"Jamas don't know the sealing chant," Afọlabi said in confidence
"I know the sealing chant, and I am not afraid to use it" the Jama laughed "Prepare to spend the rest of your life as a tree"
As Abiye raised his hands to meet the ritual requirements for creating the seal, he felt a sudden pain in his right hand. At first, he ignored the pain counting it as a minor inconvenience, but to his horror, his right hand exploded, shattering his flesh and bones everywhere and spilling his blood on both himself his victim and the surrounding trees.
"Iron comes in many forms," Afọlabi said, still in the mood to lecture his opponent "Shapes and sizes, and we can manipulate them all. Including the ones running through your veins, now release me before I splatter your remains all over this forest"
Abiye stubbornly held onto the binding chant, very reluctant to let go, knowing that he may as well be dead. The legs of the Jama began to bleed in addition to the waves of pain that washed through his body, causing him to groan in pure agony, the Jama knew that it was futile to resist. Even though, the Ẹṣọ is bounded, because of the pain he won't be able to seal him inside the tree; should he remain stubborn and hold the binding spell for as long as possible, the Ẹṣọ would kill him and wait for the spell to wear off or for his teammates to find him and release him. Either way, he has lost this battle. The only option is to surrender, he released his opponent and then he fell helplessly to the ground free of pain but with one arm short.
"The dominant covenant," he said painfully
"Don't worry, I am not going to kill you," Afọlabi consoled, "we were ordered to bring you back to the village alive for questioning"
"So you're not going to kill me" Abiye grumbled, "Someone like you must really enjoy killing"
"No one enjoys killing," Afọlabi said "Except of course if they are already dead, it is just an excuse for the wicked to be feared and worshipped. The world is filled, with those who are blind and the blind believe that those who can see are fools creeping over the surface of the earth trying to live their own worthless lives in peace, only when you look closer would you be able to see the truth. We are men, puppets of the gods and slaves bounded by our greed, lust, ambition and pride; a wretched race"
"There are some who are tired of living yet they are afraid to die, there are those who are not worthy of heaven, yet they do not deserve hell. There is no pleasure in life, but still, we live on and I wonder why"
"To find purpose," Abiye replied weakly
"Then answer this question," Afọlabi said "Is it your purpose to kill? Did God in all his wisdom create you for the sole purpose of killing?" The Jama gave no reply "Just as I thought, the miracle of Olodumare is not a forceful command, it was a free hand gift with the hope that man would be good. We men crave to do evil and gain joy from spilling the blood of others; instead of peace, we crave war. The most painful aspect of life is that the number of those doing evil continues to rise and the numbers of those who obey the will of Olodumare continue to dwindle"
"That is the way of life," the Jama defended, "There will always be the predators and there will always be the prey. To survive in this world, one must be strong and smart; there will never be peace for a weakling"
"Wise words, coming from one so cold-blooded," Afọlabi said in a sarcastic tone "Excuses to justify evil, answer this question truthfully. Each time you take someone's life, do you feel peace?"
"Yesssssssss!!!" The Jama gritted
"How long does it last?" The Ẹṣọ countered, and again Abiye was silent. The truth is, the more he killed to fill the void within his soul the emptier he became, the more tormented he felt; and the peace he boasts of is only present when he looks into the eyes of his dying victims
"There is no peace," the Jama admitted, "there is only the desire for more blood until all is lost," he confessed
"So I conclude. This world is not a paradise; it is just another piece of hell, the only difference is, that we can escape this world and go to heaven, but if we get to hell there is no escape" Afọlabi said with conviction "It is the only reason why God allows evil to prevail in this world"
The Jama digested the words of his opponent and started to examine his life, there are some elements of truth in the Ẹṣọs words, he admitted, but it is too late for a monster like him to change. Afọlabi picked up his opponent, using a powerful chant to stop the bleeding and proceeded to the village soberly.