I walk down the spiralling wooden steps that connect the ground to my treehouse. Heshima trails behind me. It’s not every day that somebody comes to visit little old me.

  As I confront the man, it soon came apparent that he wasn’t a man but a boy.

  At a little over six feet tall with shoulders and torso thick with muscle and broader than the gates of any city wall, this ‘boy’ is already larger and more developed than most men. His face is all too familiar to me. Chiseled, large mouth and teeth, oval/oblong shaped head, medium sized brown eyes and the Mandingo frohawk. Definitely of West Ikwubaran stock, more specifically, The Neo-Wagadu Imperial family. He wears nothing on his near shredded upper half apart from a single chainmail sleeve attached to colourful kapok/quilted pauldrons and a pair of bazubands – vambraces made from a mix of quilted padded cotton, chainmail and strips of steel. On his lower half, he wears a simple pair of dark blue trousers and a pair of boots.

  “Ah, finally, the great Mikumbi decides to show himself,” says the boy then he looks at me with a level of intrigue. “I thought you'd be taller. I suppose that you're tall for Mbuti... and short for a Nilote.”

  This is the moment where I would roll my eyes (I don't). If I had a gold coin for every time somebody made a so called clever remark about my height and heritage, I'd be richer than many monarchs.

  “May I ask, are you related to Anokye Wagadu?” I say.

  “Of course,” boasts the young man, his face beams with pride. “He's my father.”

  “A good man. A great warrior. He fought with me against the earth demon king and his army of lava demons, many years ago.”

  “I know the story.”

  The young man stands impatiently, looking 'through' me. You heard me. It was like I was just another obstacle in his way.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “How did you manage to find this place?” I ask.

  “You weren't hard to find,” he scoffs.

  I have to give the boy credit, he's intelligent.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Ain't it obvious. I've come to challenge you. I want to see if you truly are this 'great hero' of Ikwubara.”

  Oh boy. Another cocky challenger wants to see if my skills are the real deal. That my exploits were more than just embellishments. I swear you save the continent multiple times and every warrior wants to make a name for themselves and nearly every woman wants to sleep with you... Not that I mind the second part.

  “I really don't have time for this,” I say.

  “Then make time,” he snarls, baring his large, pearly white teeth. “Cos I'm not leaving without fighting you and with your blood on my spear.”

  He points his impressive weapon at me. A steel double tipped spear that's slightly longer than the boy's height. Hmm, I might make me one of those.

  Heshima is having none of it, he roars so loud that it echoes throughout the forest, scaring all the birds from the surrounding treetops. Heshima jumps in front of me, standing on his legs, beating on his powerful chest and bearing his large canines in a threatening display. Typical silverback behaviour. Typical Heshima. Khonvoum help anybody that catches Heshima on a bad day. He doesn't take kindly to threats against him or his loved ones.

  The man laughs a little, while still pointing his spear. “Awww! How cute. Are you going to let your pet monkey fight for you?”

  Heshima's heavy brows furrows. He hates being compared to monkeys.

  “Drop the spear, so Heshima can show you what a 'monkey' can do.” (Sorry Heshima).

  “Better yet, why don't you call off your pet, otherwise he'll end up as a stuffed trophy.”

  Without warning Heshima charges at the spearsman. Two hundred kilograms of bulk become an agile and surprisingly graceful killing machine of large canines and superhuman strength. It still shocks me and only a fool wouldn't be afraid of such a force of nature. Yet... The boy just stands there. Damn near perfectly still. With no visible signs of fear on his face. Except for his eyes. They don't display any fear. No, they display something even more shocking. Bloodlust and predatory instinct. It's not Heshima going to attack him. It's prey willingly jumping into the jaws of a predator.

  “Halt, Heshima,” I yell at the near top of my lungs. “Get back here.”

  Heshima returns to my side but not without giving a scowl to the intruder.

  “Enough talk and chest-beating,” he says impatiently. “Let's get the fight started.”