Chapter 83 - Flames in the Dark
The wind that swept over Shewa carried with it the scent of pine, steel, and quiet dread. In the fortified heart of the town, Khisa and Tesfaye stood side by side on a rising hill as rows of exhausted soldiers trained below them. There was no formal parade, no elegance in their stance—only sweat, bruises, and determination. The clang of wooden weapons echoed across the field, punctuated by sharp cries of correction from the Shadow Guard.
Khisa watched silently, a faint breeze tugging at his robes. "Bring me anyone who can sail," he had ordered the night before. "Fishermen, smugglers, retired navy officers—I don’t care if they’ve only ever paddled a canoe."
Now they came in droves. Sun-worn fishermen with calloused hands, grizzled former Abyssinian navy officers with haunted eyes, and the wild-eyed sons of pirates—all stood shoulder to shoulder. There were no uniforms, no banners—only the unspoken understanding that they had to fight for their homeland, even if it meant dying nameless in some foreign bay.
Tesfaye had worked tirelessly, reaching out to nearby towns and commanders. Through grit and loyalty, five towns under Shewa’s influence had launched covert sweeps, unearthing deep-seated networks of Adal and Ottoman spies. With help from Shewa’s garrison, they dragged out the informants from their holes, confiscating letters hidden in carved wooden icons and beneath floorboards.
The stolen letters were damning. Detailed maps showing secret mountain passes. Trade routes long forgotten by official records. Even diagrams pointing toward hidden mineral deposits, long considered legend. Tesfaye’s hands shook as he spread the parchment before Khisa.
"They’ve been bleeding us from the inside," Tesfaye muttered, his voice low and tight with fury. "We were blind."
Khisa’s eyes were hard. "Now we see. And now we act."
Training intensified.
The Shadow Guard—clad in simple black tunics, their faces unreadable—took personal charge of Abyssinian units. Men stood in the dirt at dawn, bleary-eyed and aching, only to be thrown to the ground again and again by the relentless drills.
"Move like water. Strike like thunder!" shouted a Shadow named Kipkosgei, sweeping a soldier’s leg from under him. "Again!"
Sweat fell like rain. Soldiers repeated strike-and-block routines, practiced ambush formations, learned to fight in confined terrain. They simulated street battles with wooden crates, practiced scaling cliffs with rope, and even learned how to move through thick fog.