The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 74 - Whispers at The Gate

As promised, Khisa and the Shadows left the supplies behind. They took a single covered carriage to help transport the rescued women. Khisa had decided that whenever they encountered enslaved captives, they would free them and leave them in the care of the nearest town. It was more practical than bringing everyone along through the dangerous roads ahead.

Since Biruk was well known in this region, he easily convinced the villagers to help return the women to their homes. His name carried weight—he was one of their own.

The reaction to the Shadow Guard was the same everywhere. Suspicion first. Awe second.

Women wielding weapons was unheard of—especially with such precision and control. Even stranger was how these warriors managed to successfully raid and destroy Adal camps. Something that had tormented these lands for years had suddenly been broken apart with swift, surgical force. Entire villages watched them with a mix of reverence and disbelief.

Soon enough, word began to spread through the valleys and highlands—Adal encampments were burning.

Some whispered that it was internal betrayal. Others said vengeful spirits had risen from the earth to defend the people. One old woman insisted that the gods had heard their prayers and sent wrath upon their tormentors.

No matter the explanation, joy broke out like spring rain across the hills. Finally, the tide was turning.

But Khisa and his group did not stop to celebrate. They pressed on toward Shewa, the heart of the highlands, rescuing as many captives as they could along the way.

Faizah trained diligently each day—sweat glistening on her brow as she repeated sword forms, her lips murmuring new words in Swahili under her breath.

The Shadows, too, had made it a priority to learn the local tongue, Amharic. They couldn’t be effective spies without understanding what their enemies were saying. They practiced with each other at night, under starlit skies and beside crackling campfires.

Biruk observed all this with wide eyes. He wasn’t old, but he had never seen such discipline, such precision. His admiration for Khisa deepened by the day.

"Maybe I can be like that too," he thought, thinking back to the battle at the pass.

He hadn’t even seen Khisa raise his axe. The Shadows moved faster than the eye could follow. Their mastery over their weapons was terrifying and beautiful.

He was especially drawn to Ndengu—the wild, untamed warrior who roared through battle like a thunderstorm. "This is what a real man is," he thought, silently, awestruck.

After several weeks on the road, they finally saw it.

Shewa.

A grand city ringed by thick stone walls the color of sunbaked clay. Guard towers stood at the corners, manned by soldiers in layered white tunics with sashes of indigo and crimson wrapped around their waists. The scent of spice and dust drifted through the dry air as caravans of traders lined up at the wide, fortified gates.

The group drew immediate attention. Twenty-one foreign warriors, many of them women, wrapped in darker leathers and southern fabrics. Some villagers recoiled. Others simply stared. Children pointed. Women whispered behind clay pots and woven baskets of grain. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

"Is that a woman with a sword?"

"They look dangerous, are they mercenaries?"

"No, no, I heard they are Adal agents. Sent to infiltrate us."

"That tall one looks like a demon. Look at his eyes!"

Biruk stood at the front of the group, trying to smile and wave as if giving a tour to wealthy guests. He wore a blue shawl and had his blade concealed, trying his best to look harmless.

They reached the gate, guarded by two soldiers in curved helms and thick, linen tabards over chainmail vests. Curved blades hung from their belts, glinting in the sun.

The taller one narrowed his eyes. "What is your business here?" he asked, voice clipped and suspicious.

"I am escorting these visitors to Shewa," Biruk said confidently.

The second guard stepped forward, eyeing the Shadow Guard’s hardened faces and weapons.

"They look violent. Are you sure they’re not Adal spies?"

Biruk hesitated. "They’re from a kingdom in the south. Here to discuss trade."

"Merchants?" the first guard said, his voice dripping with doubt. "What kind of merchants travel with no goods, no camels, and carry more blades than bags?"

His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

In an instant, the Shadow Guard drew their weapons, the metal ringing like a song of war. Civilians nearby screamed and ducked for cover. Baskets of fruit spilled. A child cried.

Khisa sighed deeply. He stepped forward, his axe still strapped to his back, his hands empty.

"You still have much to learn," he said to his soldiers. "If you lose your cool so easily, you’ll never survive what’s coming. Sheath your weapons."

They obeyed, reluctantly, though their eyes stayed on the twitching hands of the Shewa guards.

Khisa walked calmly to stand beside Biruk, his presence suddenly commanding the space around him.

"Please forgive them," he said to the guards. "My name is Khisa. Prince of the southern Kingdom of Nuri. I request safe passage into your city to speak with your commander."

The guards flinched. "Prince?" the shorter one asked, his grip tightening.

"I’ve never heard of this... Nuri," the taller one growled.

"That’s understandable," Khisa said. "We are small, but we come in peace. We seek allies. We will not cause trouble."

"If we let you in and you’re lying, it’ll be our heads on spikes," the shorter guard said.

"Then arrest us," Khisa replied smoothly. "You keep your jobs. I get to speak to someone who can think."

The two guards stared at each other, then grudgingly called for backup.

Khisa and his group were surrounded by soldiers and escorted—under armed guard—through the gates.

They were marched through the streets to the prison. Shewa was alive with sound and color—women in woven shawls and embroidered scarves, men in tall turbans and beaded vests, merchants yelling about lentils, spices, goats. All eyes turned to watch the strange group being paraded through.

Rumors ignited like wildfire.

"They’re spies!"

"No—mercenaries! The commander summoned them!"

"I saw one with eyes like fire—he looked right at me!"

Inside the stone-walled prison, Khisa sat calmly on the bench while his warriors grumbled around him.

"I can’t believe you got us arrested, Prince Khisa," Ndengu said, kicking the iron bars lightly. "We could’ve just fought our way in!"

Khisa was unfazed. "We needed a way inside. Fighting would have cost us time and turned Shewa against us. When war rages, paranoia grows. This was the easiest way."

"Doesn’t feel easy," Faizah muttered, sitting cross-legged and sketching words in Swahili on the floor with her finger.

Hours passed.

And then—rage.

Inside the command post, a soldier ran to deliver a report.

"What do you mean we have captured Adal spies!?" the Shewa commander bellowed, rising from his desk. "Why am I just hearing this now!?"

"I-I’m sorry, sir," the young man stammered. "They refused to identify themselves at first. The guards were trying to—buy time."

"Idiots! All of you. Take me there now!"

The commander stormed through the streets with two escorts, his armor gleaming beneath his ceremonial robe, his brows knitted in fury. A crowd followed him at a distance, whispering eagerly.

At the prison, he stepped into the cell corridor. His eyes swept over the group. Locals... and foreigners. Armed. Silent. Too calm.

He narrowed his gaze—and locked eyes with Khisa.

Khisa smiled faintly and leaned back against the wall.

"Finally," he said. "Took you long enough, Commander."

The commander stiffened. "You don’t look like a spy... but you don’t look like a mercenary either."

"I’ve been told I’m full of surprises," Khisa replied.

"And full of tricks?"

Khisa stood slowly, raising his hands in peace. "Only wisdom. Let me tell you about Nuri—and what we plan to do to the Adal Empire."