Chapter 109 - The Valley of Fire
Dawn cracked over the valley, golden light spilling across treetops like spilled oil. The Adal camp below stirred with the grumbling rhythm of men who’d grown too used to power. Their fires were smoldering embers, their laughter crude and careless, echoing off the surrounding cliffs. They numbered just over a thousand—armed with rifles, curved swords, and the bitter confidence of those who had gone unchallenged for too long.
The Abyssinian army crept through the ridges above, crouched low in the tall grass, the scent of wet soil and tension heavy in the air. Mekonnen crouched at the cliff’s edge, scanning the camp through a spyglass. Lieutenant Hana joined him, jaw tight.
"Ready?" Mekonnen asked.
"As we’ll ever be. Scouts marked three watch towers, and prisoners are kept near the southern edge, near the low boulders. Guards rotate every hour."
"Good. When the fighting starts, take your unit and get them out. Don’t look back."
Hana nodded. "We’ll burn the cages if we must."
A grim smile touched Mekonnen’s face. "Then go."
Hana slipped away into the brush, his fifty-man unit fanning out like smoke. The main force waited, guns loaded, blades unsheathed. And when the first signal—a flaming arrow—shot across the sky, the valley roared to life.
Gunfire cracked. Smoke billowed. And war began.
Adal Camp, Minutes Before the Attack
Commander Idris of the Adal forces leaned back against a log, picking his teeth with a dagger. He was tall, broad, and reeked of spiced wine and arrogance. Around him, soldiers boasted, spat, and passed around dry bread and jugs of date liquor.