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SLAVE TRADE (Fataucin Bayi)
Author: Mansur Usman Sufi
King of Martial Arts Writers
08137237071
Copyright: Mansur Usman Sufi
Year of Publication: 2023
WARNING
I do not permit anyone to unauthorizedly manipulate, distribute on social media, read on the radio, broadcast on YouTube, post on websites, or otherwise exploit this book without my explicit permission. Doing so will lead to legal prosecution. Beware.
Or accountability before the Ultimate Rewarder, Allah (SWT).
Message from the King of Martial Arts Writers
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
All praise is due to Allah (SWT) for the strength and grace granted to me to write this book titled SLAVE TRADE. May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, and his pure family.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to all lovers of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, wherever they may be across the globe.
Printed and Distributed by: SUFI PUBLISHING COMPANY
Rijiyar Lemo, Kano State, Nigeria
08137237071
CHAPTER ONE
It was a magnificent vessel, crammed to maximum capacity with male and female prisoners, adults and children alike. Their hands were bound tightly with heavy, formidable chains fastened securely to the wooden timbers of the ship, making escape an absolute impossibility.
A single glance at the captives revealed they belonged to the exact same tribe; their identical physical statures, facial features, and uniform clothing made this unmistakably clear.
At this moment, the ship was traversing a vast, endless ocean. Heavily armed warriors stood guard at every single corner of the vessel, arrayed in magnificent battle armor and carrying lethal weapons, pacing back and forth to maintain absolute security. The ship sailed smoothly across the expanse for two hours and two hundred seconds without a single disruption. This vast body of water was known as Baharul-Sawara.
As they journeyed onward, a massive, towering soldier among the vanguard approached another warrior—who was clearly their commander—and bowed respectfully before speaking:
"O my leader, I believe it is highly necessary to unchain these prisoners and feed them, for they are thoroughly exhausted. They could easily lose their lives at any moment. As you well know, the death of even a single captive is equivalent to losing all of our own lives."
Upon hearing these words from the soldier, Sharkar, Commander Yasiran looked at him with an expression of deep concern. In a harsh, commanding voice reflecting his immense warrior spirit, he replied:
"O Sharkar, you have indeed brought a good piece of advice. However, let us make haste slowly. Are you not afraid that unchaining these prisoners might cause a catastrophic problem for us?"
Sharkar burst into a loud laugh at the question and countered: "Alas, my leader! Look around and see how overwhelmingly numerous we are. How could you possibly think anyone here has the power to escape us? Right now, we have only one of two choices: either we feed these prisoners to keep them alive, or we leave them to let hunger and thirst become their ultimate end."
When Commander Yasiran heard Sharkar's reasoning, he conceded: "Your words are as solid as rock, O Sharkar. It is imperative that we implement the counsel you have brought."
The moment he finished speaking, he ordered forty warriors to unchain two hundred of the prisoners, distributing dry flatbread and a thick, viscous water to serve as their meager morning meal.
While the soldiers were carrying out this task, one warrior stepped forward to hand a piece of bread to a young girl. Before his hand could even reach her, she completely blindsided him. With lightning-fast reflexes, she snatched a slender dagger concealed on his forearm and plunged it directly into his groin. She then slammed both her feet forcefully into his chest, launching him backward over the edge. He plummeted directly into the ocean, screaming in agony.
This sudden act of violence instantly drew the attention of the remaining guards. Dropping the food rations, they drew their weapons and charged furiously toward the girl.
Seeing them swarm her, the girl grabbed a long rope. With astonishing agility, she tied a rapid series of chaotic knots and hurled it directly at the oncoming guards. In the same breath, she executed a massive leap and threw herself into the ocean, holding firmly to the other end of the cord. The flying rope instantly entangled the legs of the charging soldiers, violently dragging them over the edge and into the sea along with her.
Witnessing this disaster, Sharkar bellowed a command to the remaining guards to re-secure the rest of the prisoners, while ordering the helmsmen to bring the ship to an immediate halt. He then signaled fifty warriors with a wave of his hand, and they rushed to the edge of the vessel.
When they peered over the side, they were met with a gruesome sight: the corpses of their fallen comrades had already floated to the surface, every single one of them cleanly executed with their throats slit.
This sight filled the warriors with absolute astonishment and burning rage. What baffled them completely was how a young girl could possess the supernatural physical strength required to slit the throats of fifteen elite, battle-hardened soldiers.
In a fit of fury, Sharkar ordered ten warriors who were exceptionally skilled swimmers to dive into the ocean and hunt down the girl's position.
Alas! Truly, ignorance is darker than the dead of night. Had these unfortunate souls known what awaited them, they would never have made the reckless choice to dive into those waters. What they failed to realize was that as they plunged into the deep, a colossal fish had opened its massive jaws wide in a yawn. By sheer misfortune, they dove straight into its maw. The beast swallowed them whole in a single gulp and dove deep back into the abyss.
In total, Sharkar had sent fifty warriors into the sea, yet not a single soul returned alive.
Suddenly, a massive cluster of soldiers' corpses floated up from the depths of the ocean. This terrifying sight struck absolute panic into the hearts of Commander Yasiran and Sharkar.
Commander Yasiran let out a raw, blood-curdling scream. His face contorted with a dark, deathly rage, as if he had just received a DEATH LETTER. He opened his mouth and began chanting dark sorcery talismans, pointing his finger toward the exact spot where the young female prisoner had submerged. Instantly, the water in that area froze solid into thick ice. He then unsheathed a pair of massive, heavy swords from the scabbard on his back, executed a tremendous leap, and dove beneath the icy surface to hunt her down.
By this time, the sun had reached its absolute peak, radiating an intense, scorching heat. The remaining captives fell into a state of severe, agonizing distress. The young children began losing consciousness, collapsing to the deck one after another, while some crossed over into the afterlife. The mothers whose children had died broke into desperate, sorrowful wailing. Had any outsider been standing by to witness this tragic scene, their heart would have broken, and they would have wept bitter tears.
Meanwhile, Commander Yasiran spent half an hour diving through the depths of Baharul-Sawara, searching frantically in all directions for the escaped girl, yet he could find no trace of her. This unexpected defiance filled him with immense astonishment and rage, driving him to dive even deeper.
When he had spent two uninterrupted hours conducting this relentless search, suddenly and completely out of nowhere, a brutal, devastating punch struck him squarely in the neck.
The sheer power of the blow sent him spinning underwater three times. He lost his grip on his swords, letting out an involuntary scream of agony beneath the waves.
With vicious agility, he spun around to face his attacker. He froze in sheer disbelief. Standing before him was none other than the fifteen-year-old girl, holding the very swords that had slipped from his grasp.
The first thing that shocked him to his core was how this young girl possessed the formidable physical power to slaughter his elite troops, fighting with the fierce might of a legendary warrior queen.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, his body began to tremble violently. His eyes turned blood-red with fury, and his hair stood on end. He drew a pair of secondary daggers from his arm guards and swam furiously toward her, using dark sorcery to breathe underwater.
Seeing his approach, the girl adjusted the reed breathing tube in her mouth. The moment they clashed, they locked into a brutal, terrifying duel beneath the waves.
Commander Yasiran and the young captive fought with unparalleled intensity, trading ferocious slashes and strikes with astonishing martial skill. The speed of their movements was so flawless that they appeared to be guided by automated machines. At certain moments, their fierce struggle would breach the surface of the water.
Back on the ship, elite warrior Sharkar grew increasingly anxious. Two full hours had passed without any word from Commander Yasiran, and the sight of prisoners dying on deck drove him to near panic. He knew that if they arrived at the palace with the cargo destroyed, they would forfeit their own lives before the king.
He plunged into deep thought, searching for an immediate solution. The first question that crossed his mind was whether he should unchain the remaining prisoners and provide them with food and water to ensure their survival. Furthermore, should they resume their journey immediately, or continue waiting for Commander Yasiran to emerge from the deep?
As Sharkar weighed his options, his mind grew increasingly conflicted. It was only through sheer resolve that he finally came to a decision.
He turned and marched toward a specific section of the deck, ordering twenty warriors to lift a massive hatch. The soldiers executed the task immediately, revealing a flight of ten steps leading down into the ship's cargo hold. With a subtle, non-verbal glance, Sharkar signaled his men. They unchained the prisoners, led them down into the belly of the ship, and provided them with food and drink.
Sharkar then returned to the deck, his eyes fixed intently on the spot where Commander Yasiran had submerged into the waters of Baharul-Sawara.
Beneath the waves, the brutal clash between Commander Yasiran and the young captive raged on. As the wise elders say, "He who starts the journey before you will always be a step ahead."
Whenever Yasiran unleashed a ferocious strike, the girl would parry with her swords and dive downward to evade, only to surge back up with a counter-attack. However, the prolonged battle was taking a heavy toll; she was growing severely exhausted, her movements slowing to a purely defensive posture as she struggled to draw breath through her tube.
In the heat of this grueling exchange, Yasiran caught her completely off guard, delivering a vicious slash across her back. The strike left a massive, gaping wound. Blood gushed into the water, and the searing, white-hot pain caused her to scream in agony. She lost her grip on the swords, her body going completely limp as if the life had drained from her entirely.
Meanwhile, in the belly of the ship, as the guards were busy distributing food to the captives, a group of twenty elite young women—who were highly trained masters of the blade and tactical warfare—blindsided the soldiers. They launched a lightning-fast assault, snapping the necks of the guards before they could even react.
Following this swift victory, a remarkably beautiful young woman with a commanding, radiant aura stepped forward. She addressed the other women among the prisoners:
"I want you to continue distributing this food to our people. No matter what happens outside, do not dare step foot out of this hold, and do not call out our names; simply pray to our deities. Understand this: none of us will return to this room unless we have secured the survival of our city's remaining citizens and extracted vengeance against King Husnalu."
When the beautiful maiden finished her speech, the captives were filled with an immeasurable, bounding joy. She reached into her garment, pulled out a pouch of banju powder, and handed it to her fellow fighters, saying: "We will use this powder to incapacitate them before we claim their weapons. I trust you understand the plan."
With that, she turned and slipped out of the hold, the other warriors following closely behind.
Moving with stealth and utilizing every piece of cover, they made their way toward the galley. When the beautiful maiden, whose name was Nabihat, arrived at the entrance of the ship's kitchen, she pulled out the banju powder and blew it into the room. A few moments later, they stepped inside to find the kitchen staff completely incapacitated, locked in a deep sleep.
The women stripped the unconscious guards of their uniforms, putting them on and concealing their faces beneath heavy iron helmets. They stepped up to the massive cauldrons simmering over the fires, lifted the lids, and poured the banju powder directly into the food before covering them back up.
After ten seconds had passed, they ladled the poisoned food into small bowls, placed them onto silver platters, and exited the tents. They began moving systematically through the vessel, distributing the food to the unsuspecting guards on deck until they reached a prominent warrior.
Nabihat handed him a bowl. The warrior took it, opened it, and took a large bite. He looked up at Nabihat and remarked, "O Himairu, how on earth did you make this food taste so incredibly delicious?"
Hearing this, Nabihat simply smiled and nodded, moving past him without offering a reply.
They continued distributing the meals until they approached the post of a fierce warrior named Hushaibu. Nabihat handed him a bowl. Hushaibu accepted it, but just as he opened it to eat, an intense, sudden premonition struck his heart. He violently threw the bowl aside and sprinted toward the galley.
By this time, Nabihat and her fellow warriors had concluded the distribution and retreated to a secure hiding spot on the vessel to await the effects.
Hushaibu burst furiously into the galley tent, only to find the kitchen staff stripped naked and fast asleep on the floor.
Overwhelmed by rage and panic, he drew his sword and ran back out, screaming a frantic alarm to the rest of the crew.
This sudden commotion caught the attention of Sharkar, who drew his sword, intending to bellow orders to his men.
At that exact moment, the banju powder took full effect. Guards began collapsing across the deck, falling into a sudden, deep sleep. Before Sharkar and Hushaibu could comprehend what was happening, more than half of the ship's vanguard was completely incapacitated. Struck with absolute horror, Sharkar began running across the deck at top speed, screaming frantically.
The remaining warriors who had not eaten the food panicked, drawing their weapons and pouring out from every corner of the vessel.
Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, Nabihat and her female warriors burst from their hiding spot like an erupting volcano, charging the oncoming guards with a terrifying, blood-curdling war cry.
The guards rushed forward to meet them, and the deck transformed into a chaotic, terrifying battlefield. Had anyone been standing by to witness how a mere twenty young women fearlessly confronted hundreds of elite soldiers, they would have been struck with awe and forced to salute them as legendary, unparalleled champions.
The two forces collided in a brutal, horrific clash. The entire ship echoed with the violent clang of steel against steel and the desperate roars of men.
Nabihat and her warriors unleashed a relentless torrent of slashes and strikes, moving with such fluid, terrifying speed that their bodies seemed detached from human limitation. Within forty seconds, they successfully slaughtered over fifty guards and severely wounded more than two hundred.
This devastating onslaught completely shattered the morale of the vanguard, driving them into a state of furious desperation. As elite warriors, the shame of being utterly dismantled by a small group of women was unbearable. The soldiers steeled their resolve, launching a vicious counter-attack to overwhelm Nabihat's forces.
In the heat of this chaotic melee, a massive warrior swung a brutal, horizontal slash aimed directly at the neck of one of the maidens. With incredible reflexes, she ducked beneath the blade, causing his sword to strike empty air. Before he could recover his stance, she drew a slender dagger from her arm guard and plunged it deep into his throat, simultaneously driving her foot into his chest with all her physical might.
The immense force of the kick launched the armored soldier into the air as if pulled upward by a crane, and he plummeted into the ocean with a desperate scream. The maiden instantly turned and plunged back into the fray, continuing her relentless assault.
As the fierce struggle continued, Sharkar managed to blindside Nabihat, landing a devastating blow that smashed her to the deck, leaving her gasping for breath. He lunged forward, wrapping his powerful hands around her throat, gathering all his strength to snap her neck.
Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, Nabihat balled her fists and delivered a brutal, double-fisted strike squarely to Sharkar's face.
The extraordinary power of the punch sent him spinning through the air three times before he crashed violently to the deck. He let out a sharp cry of agony as a tooth erupted from his mouth amid a spray of blood. Yet, demonstrating the indomitable willpower of a true champion, he sprang back to his feet, wiped the blood from his mouth, and squared his stance.
Nabihat instantly rose to meet him, and the two locked eyes in a tense, silent standoff before charging each other once more. As the duel commenced, Nabihat completely outmaneuvered Sharkar, driving both her feet into his chest with a powerful leap. The immense impact launched him into the air, and he crashed directly into the waters of Baharul-Sawara.
Having secured this massive victory, Nabihat rushed to aid her comrades, leading a final, devastating sweep against the remaining guards. Within moments, they wiped out the rest of the vanguard completely.
Nabihat immediately ordered three of the maidens to take the helm and resume their journey.
Trembling with anxiety, one of the captives turned to Nabihat and asked, "O Nabihat, how can we simply sail away when young Lazimat is still missing in this ocean? We have no idea what condition she is in, or whether she is alive or dead!"
At these words from Sharimat, tears welled up in Nabihat's eyes. She looked at her gently and replied, "O Shamirat, I truly do not know if young Lazimat still draws breath. Should we risk staying behind to search for her, or should we sail this vessel forward to save the hundreds of our people below—the children, the women, and the elderly? Let your heart be at peace; if Lazimat is still alive, destiny will bring us together again."
Hearing this, Shamirat nodded with a heavy heart, moving back to join her companions as they steered the ship toward their homeland.
At that very moment, Commander Yasiran breached the surface of the ocean. His face was contorted with a dark, furious rage, as if hot coals had been scattered across his head. The stump of his severed arm—brutally amputated by Lazimat—was pouring blood into the water.
As Nabihat continued to guide her liberated people across the expanse of Baharul-Sawara, fleeing at top speed to secure their freedom, they sailed uninterrupted for two hours.
One hour into the journey, Nabihat ordered the rations from the ship's secure hold—dry bread and refined wine—to be distributed among the captives so everyone could regain their strength.
While they were resting, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, a massive fleet of approximately twenty warships materialized on the horizon, surrounding them from every single quadrant: east, west, south, and north.
Struck with absolute horror and panic, Nabihat ordered the ship to a halt. The young women rushed to the armory, grabbed weapons, and gathered in the center of the deck, squaring their stances as their hearts pounded with profound terror.
As the hostile warships closed in...
2. Structural Analysis & Literary Commentary
A. The Mechanics of a High-Stakes Opening
The text drops the reader directly in media res onto a moving slave ship, utilizing a brilliant dual-layered conflict:
- The Immediate Threat: The physical captivity and the scorching environment.
The Environmental Threat: The hostile, mystical waters of Baharul-Sawara, home to leviathans and magical barriers.
B. Subverting Expectations via Tactical Warfare
Unlike typical fantasy narratives where liberation comes from an external hero, Sufi crafts a narrative of internal rebellion. The uprising occurs in two distinct, coordinated phases:
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[Phase 1: Distraction] ──► Lazimat's violent ambush ──► Draws command out of the ship
│
[Phase 3: Liberation] ◄── Combined armed assault ◄── [Phase 2: Sabotage] Chemical warfare via Banju Powder
