The last song of the ancestors

Yasini woke up with her head pounding like a gong. Her ribs ached and her shoulder hurt too. She looked away. A lady with plant branches was rubbing the leaves over her body. She shook the leaves from head to toe, as if she were sweeping the ailments from her body. The old woman kept the prayer firmly on her withered lips.

Mother Ilza was an old praying woman. She was a healer in the eyes of the superstitious, a practitioner of folk medicine by scientists, a saint for the sick. Mãe Ilza was all this and more. With her rites, she expelled illness from the body through words and nature. That's what illness was: negative energy accumulated in the body.

When she had finished praying, she picked up the dried leaves and left the room. She returned with a healing herbal ointment. She applied the green paste to Yasini's skin. He spasmed. The woman continued the treatment even more carefully. When she had finished, she lit a pipe and said:

"Almost, you saw my son. If that boy hadn't brought you to the slum, I would have given it to you at night."

"Thank you, Mother Ilza. I'm glad you're still here."

"You could be and you could not be. Stop doing these things. Don't play games with death. It's asleep for some, and with its eyes wide open for others."

"I know, Mother Ilza."

"There are people who want to see you. Shall I send them in?"

"Yes."

Mother Ilza got up and left. Kinyua walked through the door and came across a frail Yasini. The medium was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. Bandages with ointment had been tied to his body. The dark circles under his eyes showed that he had had a hard night.

The boss of Chrome Hill had been startled by the news that his bodyguard, his second-in-command, had been knocked out by a kid. He didn't know anything about mediumship, but if Yasini had lost to Akachi, it was because the boy had potential.

Kinyua lit his mint vape. He pulled out an old chair with torn upholstery and said:

"Then buy a box of candles for our old lady."

"You bet, I'll buy more than that."

"I never imagined you'd lose to that kid, Yasini. You're losing your touch."

"It was a technical draw."

"That's not what your injuries say. Akachi brought you to the gate on your back. After that he passed out too. He woke up two hours later. He still needed medical attention. His situation was different. He looked like a dead man, man, you're very ugly when you're close to death."

He remembered vaguely. He had been possessed by his Ori Guardian. He didn't know if he was weak as a medium or if Zuber was too powerful for him. The spirit wasn't around. He wanted to avoid an argument with his medium. Yasini wasn't worried about that.

Kinyua snapped his fingers to get the young adult's attention. He crossed his legs and exhaled the greenish smoke.

"We're in big trouble. The Fourth Estate has cut off our arms suppliers. No smuggler, whether local or international, wants to do business with us. We're running out of time. Our informants have sung us a bad song. Ilu Nla seems to have a close relationship with Ata. They're using the son of a bitch to create a genocide. They've sold him cutting-edge military weapons, from jetpacks to bipod tanks. We're short on weapons, bro. If the Fourth Estate gets in here, it'll fuck everyone up. I might fall, but I want to fall shooting. I just don't have any weapons."

"We can intercept the incoming cargo…"

"Are you crazy, Yasini? It's the Armed Forces and the militia's Arms Trafficking Division. I don't want to die, Dad. I need a way around this situation, and now."

The medium became pensive. For him, war needed two basic things to happen: weapons and people willing to kill or die. The struggle for geopolitical and economic hegemony after the industrial revolution, the kidnapping of a woman by a foreign king, the division of a country over slavery issues, all served war.

Yasini saw war as the language of civilization. They were born, grew up, went to war and died devoured by other civilizations. Much of this philosophy was dissolving by the drop. I was no longer a medium, a warrior belonging to a clan with the respect of the people and a stake in the affairs of state.

Now he was just a mercenary selling his skills to the highest bidder. At the very least, to whoever would give him the best shelter. However, he was still alive. He could experience war and end up at the end of his journey. To meet the criteria of life, as his master said. Yasini turned to Kinyua.

"Polymer weapons."

"What?"

"3D-printed ABS firearms. Hackers can download models from military companies' databases. In Chrome Hill, there are many of these printers. We can confiscate them and use them to increase our arsenal."

Kinyua let another puff out of his lungs. He smiled like a child receiving a sweet. He hadn't thought about it until then. He clapped his hands. He said goodbye to the medium and left.

The room fell silent. The lamp flickered, emitting a fickle light. Yasini pulled the blanket tighter.

"ZUBER! Come out, pig spirit."

The spirit floated in with its arms and legs crossed, its head down. It avoided looking at its medium.

"Don't shout at me like that, you idiot. I'm still your ancestor."

"You had the audacity to possess my body, and you still lost the fight. It was all about control…"

"All about your lack of control, that's what! We underestimated the little boy. That kid's got some fiber. Despite everything, he saved your filthy life. After that, I gave in. Those two idiots are real warriors."

"Akachi has always been a mystery to me. Perhaps the Spiritual Key of Faith is safer with him. I have a feeling he's going to change things around here."

"How are you so sure?"

"I'm not, it's just an intuition."