The early morning in Mandeland was shrouded in steady, relentless rain. The rhythmic patter of raindrops echoed through the streets of Mandeland as dark clouds hung low in the sky, casting a somber pall over the once-vibrant hub of the village.

The weather could not have been a better mirror to reflect the mood in the village. It was nothing but doom and gloom that had enveloped the streets since Dreck had taken over.

And it did not look like it would be ending any time soon.

***

“Good morning, my loyal bandits!”

“Good morning, our Lord!”

Smirking and nodding as he faced his team of bandits, Dreck sat atop the throne once occupied by King Karomo, his cruel eyes glinting with a sinister satisfaction as he gazed upon his loyal servants. Their faces etched with malice, they grinned eagerly as they anticipated what their wicked leader had for them.

They had conveyed a message through the elders to him, and as he had called for them that early, they were sure that he had an answer for them.

“So, I have an announcement for you all,” Lord Dreck began, his voice dripping with cruelty. “Last night, I had a little meeting with our esteemed elders.”

He nodded in the direction of Bikama, Sakisor, Munito and Soayi, who sat nearby in the chairs set up for them.

 They have conveyed all your wishes to me, and I am here to respond to you on that.”

Anticipation arose in the room.

“I know that since we came here and took over this wishy-washy village, you’ve had to put up with just patrolling the streets and dealing with those who breach the curfew. Like that one over there.”

They all sniggered as he motioned at a captured villager, bound and trembling in the corner of the room.

“I know you all want nothing more than to for chaos and suffering to reign in the villages of Mandeland. I know you want to turn things upside down and do the worst. Guess what?”

He paused for effect, then continued.

“I am fully in support of it.”

Cheers and fervent nods of agreement erupted from the bandits, their loyalty to Lord Dreck unwavering.

“The villagers of Mandeland have cowered for too long. It is time they felt the true weight of our wrath. I want Mandeland to burn! To feel the true weight of what it means to cross Lord Dreck. So, go forth and break free, my men. Wreak havoc upon them. Burn and plunder all their precious belongings, and hurt them in any way that pleases you.”

The bandits nodded eagerly, some gripping their weapons tighter.

“Do not tolerate any resistance. Those who dare stand against you must pay the ultimate price.”

He then picked up a dagger on the table next to him and looked at the bound villager, that malicious glint in his eyes. The villager’s eyes grew pale with terror and he shook his head vigorously.

“Here’s a brief example of the ultimate price to be paid,” Dreck commented, one eye shut as he focused on the villager aiming to get a direct hit.

With a swift, merciless motion, he flung the dagger right at the forehead of the villager.

The dagger hit its mark with stunning accuracy, and the villager’s life was extinguished in a flash.

Gasps and cheers rippled through the bandits.

“Excellent aim, my Lord!”

“Nice shot, my Lord!”

“That was absolutely perfect, my Lord!”

Dreck nodded, pleased by the praises they rained upon him. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Now, my brethren, you may go out there and let the villagers of Mandeland know that their nightmares are just beginning. Let chaos reign!”

***

Customers were nowhere to be found around Mandeland’s market square; many of them were hiding in their houses, terrified of the evil that lurked outside every day and night. It was a wonder how the vendors still chose to brave the rain and the fear to make it there.

As they tended to their goods and waited in vain for customers to arrive, however, they soon wished they had not made the effort.

A couple of bandits, drenched by the rain but undeterred, arrived at the market square, a sinister air accompanying their presence. Their leader, Oren, stood in front of them, his wet hair clinging to his face as surveyed the scene with cold, calculating eyes.

Those who were seated in their various stalls saw the black, hooded men at the entrance and trembled in fear.

Oren turned to his fellow bandits. “Rain or shine, it makes no difference,” he announced, his voice carrying on the moist breeze. “Let’s have some fun and bring this place to its knees.”

They instantly spread out through the drenched market, the vendors who had braved the elements to conduct their business watched in grim resignation and grief.

The dreary weather seemed to have foreshadowed this impending calamity. If only they had stayed behind…

With wild and reckless abandon, the bandits began their rampage, flipping tables, smashing goods, and trampling over fresh produce. Rain-soaked fruits and vegetables were scattered across the muddy ground, mixing with the rainwater that collected in puddles.

Market men and women wailed miserably as they could only watch on in despair while these deranged human beings destroyed their livelihoods with smiles on their faces. Those who tried their best to prevent the chaos from happening were swiftly threatened with a dagger or a sword, rendering them helpless and at the mercy of these unruly bastards.

Oren approached a fruit vendor, looked at the apples, pineapples and watermelons on the table, and grinned sadistically. “How about a little fire to warm things up on this rainy day?” he suggested.

The vendor, a man of many years, fell to his knees, his tears running down his face along with the raindrops that fell. “Please, sir, please, have mercy, I beg you!”

“Oh, you’re begging me to warm things up, huh? Not a problem!”

Deliberately misinterpreting the man’s pleas, Oren lit a torch despite the rain’s attempt to quench it, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it onto the vendor’s stall.

It was instantly set ablaze.

The screams and cries of the old man were drowned out by Oren’s psychotic laugh of madness as the flames hissed and sputtered in the rain, casting a flickering light as they consumed the fruits and vegetables.

At this rate, most of the vendors had scrambled out of their stalls and were running out of the market square as fast as they could. They had lost their produce and that was bad enough; they didn’t need to lose their lives as well.

The bandits continued their rampage, setting more stalls on fire, smashing pottery, and destroying whatever they found in their path, pleased that they could finally let chaos reign.

***

Later that afternoon, when the rains had subsided and the sun had returned to its rightful place in the sky, Billa and Diyaka were out in the fields with a few other young men, picking wheat for their homes.

Usually, this would be a time where laughter and camaraderie would be in full effect among the lads, with jokes, songs and teases in abundance. But that aura was visibly absent this time around. Everyone was working in a hurry, wanting to get back to their homes as quickly as possible.

“Did you hear what happened this morning?” one of the young men, Kadose, mentioned out loud as he picked at the crops.

Diyaka looked at him curiously. “No. what happened?”

Kadose shook his head, disgust apparent on his face. “Those bandits went to the market square and crashed it. Burning stalls, destroying produce… just causing destruction for no good reason.”

Billa looked at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”

Kadose nodded. “My grandad came home from the square. He said one bandit burned up his stall. It was horrible.”

Diyaka sighed, his hands on his hips. “Goodness gracious! What is the meaning of all this? Why are they doing this to us?”

“I wish I knew why. All I know is that it’s really dangerous out here, and the sooner we get our wheat and leave here, the be-“

“Look what we have here, lads! Some fresh sport for our amusement.”

Kadose froze.

He, Billa, Diyaka and the other boys turned in the direction of that sinister voice, and froze.

A number of bandits stood a few metres away, armed with bows and malicious grins.

The presence of those two were enough to indicate that the reason for their showing up there was not a friendly one.

The bandit in front of the others observed them keenly, that dastardly smile still plastered on his face. Then he turned to his fellows.

“Time for a little game, lads. Let’s see who can down the most of them!”

Panic spread among the young men as they realized the impending danger they suddenly found themselves in.

The bandits, in response to their colleague’s remark, enthusiastically took out their bows, nocked their arrows and took aim at the sky, their steep angles ensuring the arrows would travel in a dangerous parabolic trajectory. They exchanged wicked grins as they prepared to unleash their cruelty.

The panic among the young men elevated to terror.

“THEY’RE GONNA KILL US!” Billa screamed.

“RUN!” Diyaka yelled.

The young men immediately took to their heels, just as the bandits released their arrows, sending them whistling through the air.

“Ah, such sport! Look at them scatter like frightened rabbits!”

The laughter of the bandit leader echoed across the fields as they ran, doing their best to move as far away as possible. Anything to avoid that shower of deadly arrows…

… that rained down among them instantly.

“AARGH!”

“OOOOFF!”

Billa and Diyaka looked to their sides, horror engulfing them as they saw their comrades downed by some of the arrows.

“FIREEEE!”

Another batch of arrows were dispatched into the air.

“We’re not gonna make it! We’re not gonna make it!” Billa cried hysterically.

“Don’t say that!” Diyaka reprimanded him, gasping while moving. “Let’s just keep moving. We can make it. We can!”

“Agreed!” Kadose echoed, running alongside them. “We should be out of their sights soon. Just a few more mil-“

He was silenced for good, as one arrow penetrated his neck and downed him.

The brothers shrieked.

This was not good at all. They had been about seven young men on the field when they gathered to harvest the ears of wheat. Now they were only three; the other four having been struck by the missiles of these bandits.

But why were they suddenly switching to just killing them for fun? What was the point?

Well, at that moment, there was no space for pondering on such questions. Just adrenaline to get as far away as possible.

And as the bandits released another line of arrows in the air, the brothers knew they had to get out of sight.

Thankfully, they were almost out of the fields and into the main village. Just a few metres more and they would hopefully be out of range.

“We’re almost there, brother! We’re almost there!” Diyaka uttered breathlessly.

“Yesss!” Billa gasped delightedly. “Just a few seconds more…”

They continued pushing themselves, ignoring the stitches in their sides and forging ahead to the main village.

They were almost there…

“Finally!” Billa blurted out. “We’re he-“

He was cut short.

By the searing, blinding pain of an arrow piercing right through his leg.

“AAAAAAARRGGHHH!”

“BILLA!” Diyaka yelled, stopping in terror as his teenage brother fell to the ground, wailing in agony. He couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of the arrow sticking through Billa’s leg. It was absolutely gruesome.

Heaven knew how much Diyaka could not stand the sight of such things. A human body part impaled by a sharp object. It was a personal put-off of his, the type of sight enough to make him violently retch.

But there was no time for this quirk to take center stage; his brother was in pain and needed to be helped.

He grabbed him, carefully lifted him up, and dragged him as quickly as he could as they entered the main village, finally out of the range of those arrow-toting bandits.

They had escaped once again. But only by the skin of their teeth.

And now there was a major casualty.

***

“Aaaaaahhh!”

Billa, lying on a blanket spread out on the floor, couldn’t help but let out a groan of pain  as he clutched the arrow shaft protruding from his leg. His parents both looked on with anguished expressions as they crouched over him, their eyes filled with concern. Diyaka stood nearby, his brow furrowed in worry as he recounted the harrowing events of the day.

Never had they been this close to death.

Ubar turned to Diyaka. “So they just came after you for the sake of it?”

Diyaka nodded solemnly. “They said it was time for a little game, and that was what it was. Shooting us down as a sport. They slayed some of our mates in the fields. We’re just lucky to have escaped.”

Ubar shook his head. “This reign of terror must come to an end. It must. We can’t continue to live in fear like this. Now they’re coming for us and striking us down for fun. We can’t continue this way. We can’t!”

Tabani, who had placed a comforting hand on Billa’s forehead and whispered soothing words to him, looked up. “But how do we? Lord Dreck is so powerful and… and-and so evil. How do we stand up against him?”

Ubar sighed. “I don’t know, my dear. I don’t know. It feels like an impossibility at this stage. But… we can’t give up on hope. Evil can never triumph over good in the end, I believe that. I know eventually, we’ll find a way to defeat this demon slime and take our village back.”

Tabani nodded quietly, her gaze on her suffering son. “We will. Surely, we will. For now, let’s tend to Billa’s wound and hope for better days. Diyaka, bring the tongs and let’s get this arrowhead out.”

This just ain’t getting any better, is it? Billa may have just escaped death, but danger still looms large. It’s crazy, it really is…