THE COLLECTION - SHORT STORIES FOR THE CHRISTIAN WALK

For two hundred years the war between the two mighty kingdoms of Ussa and Hagona had been going on with no end in sight. The plains, hills and valleys surrounding these kingdoms were soaked with the blood of men, women and children and yet there was no end in sight. The battles raged from one generation to the next and the children of each generation were told to win at all cost. Children were plucked out of their families at a tender age and sent to warrior camps where they were schooled in the art of war.

A war culture had taken over these societies and no one was willing to farm anymore because the enemy would devastate the crops. Famine was now imminent, and hopelessness was rife among the people. Yet stubbornness and pride continued to have the upper hand. Had any sensible peacemakers been born yet? Everyone pondered over this question, yet no one dared to ask.

Tarala the warrior, king of Ussa was now old and his pressing objective was to get his sons

ready to lead his kingdom to victory, albeit an elusive one. He had seven sons and trained them in combat and statecraft relentlessly from sunrise to sunset every day. Tarala noticed however, that his youngest son Prince Junpa was different from his brothers in almost every way, and he sometimes lost patience with him, often calling him a dreamer.

Junpa was a highly skilled warrior with a bravery that was legendary but would often sit alone, deep in thought and even when he was engaged in a practice fight, he hardly said a word nor showed any emotion. In reality, there was a fire raging in him that would soon change the course of history of the two kingdoms.

Junpa dreamed of peace and nurtured a fierce hatred for war but could not voice out his dissent lest he be branded a traitor, an enemy of the kingdom. He was angry about the inability of grown men to reason together to bring peace to their subjects. He vowed to change things one day and this had become his preoccupation.

One evening as the princes sat at the dinner table with their father, a loud trumpet blast sounded from the northern watchtower, an ominous sign that the kingdom of Hagona was preparing to launch another attack. They had just been beaten back a month ago in a fierce battle that raged in a mud-filled valley, in a rainstorm the likes of which had not been seen in years. That day, the blood of men mixed with mud flowed along the bottom of the hills and as if

in protest, some trees had fallen in the path of the flowing mud to make its passage difficult. The King quickly got up and said to his sons, “make history today my sons, make history for Ussa”.

Junpa rose from his seat and without a word, hurried out of the room. The time had come for him to execute his daring plan. As he descended the long flight of stairs to his royal quarters,

he said to himself, “make history today Junpa, may Ussa never be the same again”. He grabbed his sword, strapped it on and rode out in the dark towards Hagona.