Chapter 13 - The Cost of Victory
The weight of this battle hung heavy over the villagers. Though they had won, they knew their people were still in danger.
Khisa walked toward his battered father, watching as the chief stood tall despite his injuries. On the battlefield, Lusweti's leadership had shone brilliantly—commanding warriors, making decisive calls, and leading from the front. In this moment, Khisa finally understood why people looked up to him. Tactics alone weren't enough. A leader's presence was just as important.
"Father, that was a glorious victory." Khisa said proudly.
Lusweti scooped him up in a tight embrace, his strength reassuring despite the exhaustion in his muscles.
"Thank you, son. This victory is yours. Without you, we would have never had the strength to fight." His father smiled, pride filling his heart. He had always known his son was clever, but to see him command a battle like this... He never expected his cheeky boy to become a warrior of the mind.
Lusweti turned to the warriors, raising his voice so all could hear.
"People of Abakhore! Today, we proved our strength in battle. We drove our enemies to their deaths! But our battle is not over. Our people are still in their hands, and the enemy still has warriors willing to fight for them. We have suffered losses, but they have lost even more. Gather the survivors, seize their weapons and animals—
Tomorrow, we bring our people home!"
A roar of triumph echoed through the battlefield. This was the most incredible battle they had ever fought—outnumbered, facing superior weapons and fast animals, yet they had won.
The warriors moved quickly, rounding up the remaining survivors of the Angwenyi. To their surprise, most of the horses had survived.
'This will give us an advantage in future battles. We just gained over three hundred horses, along with weapons and armor.' Khisa thought, already planning ahead.