Curse of the Full Moon (The Amanze Beast) – Episode 4

Click Here To Read The Last Episode: Curse of the Full Moon (The Amanze Beast) – Episode 1Curse of the Full Moon (The Amanze Beast) – Episode 2Curse of the Full Moon (The Amanze Beast) – Episode 3

Episode 4

The ride to Mami Falls was fraught with many dangers. It was a complete three to four days journey on a horse’s back, but Emeka traveled by both day and night until he arrived by the second day. Along his journey, he had been ambushed by bandits more than once, and all the times he had slain them using the edge of his sword. He had taken all the shortcuts he knew, all of which had traps set by people of malicious intents who lay in wait to pounce on the weak and old. Emeka had defended himself, his heart and mind affixed on Wura.

Emeka was afraid. And he hated when he was afraid and couldn’t do anything about it. If Wura went on with the marriage, Emeka wasn’t sure what he would do. Wura was a one in a million rare gem. She was the fairest girl in all the kingdoms of the Niger. She was a godsend angel to him, who knew about the darkness within him and yet accepted him for who he was. She was the one who made baring the Curse of the Full Moon bearable. Without her, Emeka would be lost. Without Wura, Emeka saw no reason to remain breathing. Wura was his life. Wura was his essence, and by god was he going to do his damndest to stop that wedding, even if it meant beasting out on the ceremony.

By the second day, Emeka found himself in a hilly area. His tired horse treaded on a sandy path hedged in by the base of a rocky and shrubby mountain on one side and a thick slightly hilly forest on the other. The air was cool and rich with the smell of the open sea. It was dark and a crescent moon stood bare in the heavens. Ahead, the path opened up to a wide area. At the opening there was a company of guards who wore the uniform of Sabontashi.

Emeka already felt tired, however underneath his skin he could feel the Curse alive and waiting for him to summon it. Usually, the moon, whatever shape, activates the curse. When the curse is active, Emeka can easily beast out at will. It was only during a full moon that the curse was beyond Emeka’s control.

Emeka stopped a ways from the company of guards and pulled out his sword from its scabbard attached to the horse. The moment Emeka took a step towards the guards, his horse neighed, collapsed on the ground, and breathed its last. Emeka looked at the horse with a loving care, shook his head in pity, and walked on.

“Halt, who goes there?” barked one of the guards.

Emeka raised his sword and ran towards them. They were about seventeen in total and they just kept on coming. Emeka let some of the curse take a hold of him, giving him increased strength, agility, and speed. Emeka felt like he was high on some weed like herb. He lifted one of the guards with one hand and threw him against about five others coming up behind him, and they all fell like dominoes.

Emeka became so fast he blurred. The night filled with the screams of dying Sabontashi guards and the clash of blades. Some minutes later, the ground was littered with the dead bodies of the guards. Emeka dropped his sword and walked into the clearing.

Emeka’s attention at first was on his surroundings. There were nubile ladies all around the sandy beach, looking at him and whispering. Emeka was alert in case one of them tried to do something stupid or in case a warrior was hiding in their midst. There must have been about twenty of them, and each of them was a sight to behold.

Emeka looked ahead to the water, and this was when he saw Wura. She was stark naked under the moon. She stood in the river, the surface of the water reaching up to her knees. She turned her neck and she saw him in the corner of her eyes. She looked away and stared right at the distant horizon, where the surface of the river met the sky. For a while, Emeka was mesmerized by Wura’s pristine state, and Wura didn’t seemed uncomfortable to be naked in his presence.

After what felt like ages, she lifted up her hands and a lady ran into the river, handing her a robe. Gently, provocatively, she put on the robe, which was a flimsy translucent cotton material that covered her body alright, but was so tight fitting that it left little to the imagination.

Wura turned and faced him. She walked out of the river and approached Emeka, stopping about five yards away from him.

“Wura…” Emeka started.

Wura cut in, “I’m getting married, Emeka…”

 

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