Sa Maza Gudu Hausa Book By Madakin Gini

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BOOK 1 — PARTS B & C
 

Part 1: The Dark Reign of Madinatul Zauwara

A long time ago, deep within the ancient Arabian Peninsula, there existed an era where no commercial trade was more prominent or lucrative than the slave trade. In this period, a magnificent and sprawling metropolis was built, known as Madinatul Zauwara.
The city of Madinatul Zauwara was under the absolute rule of a notorious and mighty king renowned for his unparalleled bravery. He was a legendary warrior and a terrifying phantom to every other monarch across the continent. This fearsome king was called King Sharkuf bin Aufan. Almighty Allah had blessed King Sharkuf with every luxury, pleasure, and comfort wealth could buy in this world. He was the father of nine children; eight of them were sons, and he was blessed with only one daughter. His eldest son, a thirty-eight-year-old man, was named Prince Lahaman.
Prince Lahaman inherited his father's fierce warrior spirit, unmatched valor, and battlefield prowess. He was the supreme commander of the king's armed forces, personally leading the royal cavalry whenever they went out on their brutal SLAVE HUNTS. In the entire history of his military expeditions, having gone out on sixty-three slave hunts, he had never once returned home defeated. Whenever he went out, he never returned with fewer than three thousand captives. Often, when Prince Lahaman set out for a slave hunt, he would not return until two or three months had passed.
As a reward for his military success, one-third (1/3) of the total profits generated from the sale of these slaves belonged exclusively to Prince Lahaman, while the remaining two-thirds (2/3) went directly to King Sharkuf. However, as an incentive, every soldier who participated in the hunt was gifted two slaves for their service.
Because of this lucrative arrangement, Prince Lahaman was undisputedly the wealthiest among all of King Sharkuf's sons. Consequently, the citizens widely anticipated that he would be the one to inherit the royal throne. However, King Sharkuf firmly refused to declare who his official successor would be.

Part 2: Princess Malika and the Royal Rift

Out of all his nine children, there was no one King Sharkuf loved more passionately or held more dearly in his heart than Princess Malika. Whatever Princess Malika spoke into existence or desired, as long as it existed on the face of the earth, King Sharkuf would immediately procure it for her. There was no favor she would ask of him that would ever be denied.
In fact, due to King Sharkuf's intense affection for Princess Malika, whenever he attended the royal court (Fada), she accompanied him. They would sit side by side on the Throne of Power. Furthermore, if there was any highly critical diplomatic meeting that the king could not personally attend, he would dispatch her to represent him as his official proxy. Even the rest of the king's sons, whenever they sought a favor or something valuable from their father, had to use Princess Malika as an intermediary; otherwise, their requests would be flatly rejected. For this reason, all her brothers felt compelled to show her absolute obedience, despite the fact that they were all much older than her.
Prince Lahaman was the only sibling who refused to listen to her or bow to her whims. Deep-seated hatred, animosity, and intense jealousy quickly brewed between them. This bitterness stemmed from his constant paranoia that the king might bypass him and hand the throne over to Malika.
If it weren't for the fact that Prince Lahaman harbored an intense dread of King Sharkuf, he would have long since arranged for Malika to be secretly assassinated to relieve the anxiety gnawing at his heart. What aggravated Prince Lahaman's fury even more was that whatever he could achieve with his vast wealth, Malika could match it—and sometimes, she even surpassed him. She could purchase the most expensive luxury items because she ran an underground, highly secretive commercial empire without the king himself knowing about it.
It reached a point where more than half of the merchants in the metropolis were secretly working for her. Throughout the entire continent, there was no merchant—man or woman—who dominated the cross-border trafficking of food supplies and weapons of war more than Princess Malika.
Through this secret network, she established deep alliances and exceptional trade relationships with various foreign kings and elite billionaires. Many of these foreign kings and wealthy tycoons only saw her face once a year, at the end of the year. This was the specific period when she would embark on a tour across various nations to collect the enormous revenues accumulated by her trusted business agents who managed her trade empire. King Sharkuf was completely oblivious to this hidden commerce; all he knew was that at the end of every year, she prepared for a massive journey to visit the four great ancient empires to worship at the famous grand temples located in Kisra, Persia, Yemen, and Egypt.
During this era, no ordinary citizen was permitted to enter these grand temples except for royalty, billionaire merchants, legendary warriors, and elite sorcerers. Whenever Princess Malika set out for these monumental year-end journeys, the Grand General of Madinatul Zauwara personally escorted her with a formidable force of three thousand elite troops to guarantee her safety. She was also accompanied by the kingdom's supreme sorcerer, a powerful mystic named Muzambil bin Samrad.
It was this massive security apparatus and impenetrable defensive detail surrounding Princess Malika that frustrated Prince Lahaman's plans. He couldn't launch an ambush against her because he knew that only he possessed the martial strength to face their Grand General and their high sorcerer. Furthermore, if he attacked them personally, they would instantly recognize him through his distinct combat style and his unique dark sorcery. On the other hand, if he sent his henchmen to do the job, they would be captured, his secret would be exposed, and the king would know he was the mastermind.
Prince Lahaman's ultimate ambition was for the king to die so he could usurp the throne. He secretly plotted that on the very day he ascended the throne, he would order the immediate arrest of Princess Malika and her mother, throwing them into the deepest dungeon to serve a sentence of life imprisonment without them ever committing a single crime. As for his remaining brothers, he planned to force them into absolute submission. Anyone who dared to resist would face one of two brutal fates: they would either be permanently made to disappear (assassinated) or thrown into prison to rot for the rest of their lives.

Part 3: The Destruction of Baitul Laharas

With only three days left before Princess Malika was scheduled to depart for her annual year-end pilgrimage, Prince Lahaman returned from his latest slave hunt. On this particular expedition, he and his army had traveled to an entirely different continent, where they stumbled upon a small, peaceful country. They launched a devastating, unprovoked assault on the nation in the dead of night, causing horrific destruction.
On that very night, the young king of the country had just celebrated his royal wedding. He was wrapped in the arms of his beautiful new bride, preparing to enjoy their first night of marital bliss, when Lahaman suddenly materialized before them like a demon out of the shadows. Immediately, the young king was seized and tightly bound in chains. Forced to watch helplessly while weeping in absolute agony, he witnessed Prince Lahaman brutally assault his bride. The moment Lahaman finished his heinous act, he drew a sharp dagger and plunged it deep into her stomach, causing her to slump to the ground, dead.
When King Hilairu saw his beloved wife murdered in cold blood, the sheer trauma caused him to lose consciousness and pass out on the floor. Lahaman burst into a wicked, booming laughter. He turned to his soldiers and barked, "Seize him! Shackles on his wrists! He is my slave now. I am the dark night that turns kings into servants!"
"I am the dark night that turns kings into servants, and I am the sweeping plague that arrives without warning!" Lahaman chanted boastfully, praising himself as his forces rounded up their human cargo. They captured approximately four thousand men and women in that small town, burning countless homes and plundering immense wealth. They tightly chained the captives, including the broken King Hilairu, and marched them out of their ruined city, which was called Baitul Laharas, setting a direct course back to the kingdom of Madinatul Zauwara.
It was Prince Lahaman’s sick tradition that any woman he assaulted, he immediately murdered on the spot. Even back in the capital city of Madinatul Zauwara, everyone knew him for this monstrous trait. It wasn't until King Sharkuf issued a strict royal decree—warning Prince Lahaman that if he ever assaulted or murdered another woman, he would strip him of his royal title and sentence him to life imprisonment—that the women of the metropolis finally found peace and security.
Lahaman’s deep-seated hatred for women did not stem from nowhere; it was a direct reflection of his intense malice toward his sister, Princess Malika. Malika was fully aware of this, and his monstrous behavior towards women was the primary reason she detested him more than anyone else in the world.

Part 4: The Chance Encounter and Instant Love

Late in the afternoon, Prince Lahaman and his triumphant army marched into the gates of Madinatul Zauwara, dragging the long line of chained captives who were being mercilessly whipped and pushed forward by the guards. One look at the slaves revealed the severe trauma and starvation they had endured during the long, agonizing trek across the desert.
As for King Hilairu, he had attempted to commit suicide three separate times during the journey out of pure grief, but Lahaman's soldiers violently stopped him each time, beating him brutally and subjecting him to extreme humiliation. Every time King Hilairu remembered how his deeply cherished wife, Zailat, was murdered, and how he had been stripped of his sovereignty, his wealth, and his people, he would break down into uncontrollable, bitter tears, completely hating his own existence.
King Hilairu was an exceptionally handsome young man, possessing a striking, magnetic aura and the majestic poise of a natural leader. However, he was not a warrior by nature. He had never fought a battle in his life, and he hadn't even inherited his throne through traditional royal lineage. The former king of their land had died without leaving behind any sons or grandsons, and he had no living relatives except Hilairu. Hilairu's mother had been a mere palace maid to the late king, meaning he was technically the son of a slave woman, not a freeborn noble. That was how he unexpectedly inherited the crown.
At the exact moment Prince Lahaman’s army entered the city gates, it happened that Princess Malika was heading out with a small hunting party of about forty guards to ride into the wilderness. Right at the massive city gate, the two royal siblings collided.
Prince Lahaman was initially in high spirits, ecstatic over the immense plunder he had secured—the likes of which he had never captured before—and the healthy slaves he knew would fetch an incredible price from elite buyers. However, the moment his eyes locked with Princess Malika’s, both of their expressions instantly hardened into icy, deathly glares, as if they had just received news of a tragedy. They passed each other without exchanging a single word.
When Princess Malika looked at the massive haul of plundered wealth and the sheer volume of miserable captives, a wave of profound disgust washed over her. She knew in her heart that only Allah knew the horrific atrocities and cruelty Lahaman had committed to capture these innocent people.
Suddenly, Malika’s gaze fell upon King Hilairu. The moment their eyes locked, her heart skipped a violent beat. For the very first time in her life, she felt an overwhelming, intense wave of romantic attraction toward a man. Completely losing control of her composure, she stared at him blankly, her eyes glued to his face as they passed one another, even turning her head back to look at him.
What intensified her attraction was that Hilairu was also staring back at her with an expression of absolute shock and bewilderment. He froze in his tracks, stopping completely until a guard violently struck him with a heavy wooden club, shoving him forward.
In reality, King Hilairu was not staring at her out of romantic infatuation; he was paralyzed because Princess Malika looked exactly like his murdered wife, Zailat! The resemblance was uncanny—as if a single stalk of wood had been split perfectly in two. Back in the ruined city of Baitul Laharas, Lahaman’s soldiers had already been gossiping among themselves, whispering that King Hilairu's wife looked identical to Princess Malika. In fact, that striking resemblance was part of the reason Prince Lahaman took pleasure in killing her; since he harbored a pathological hatred for Malika, he naturally detested anyone who looked like her.
Even as the procession moved further apart, Princess Malika could not stop looking back, her heart pounding rapidly. Right then and there, she made a fierce vow in her mind: no matter what it took, she must possess that specific slave whom she had fallen desperately in love with at first sight. Her biggest dilemma, however, was that she knew Prince Lahaman would never sell him to her, no matter how many millions she offered, purely out of spite.

Part 5: Memories of a Failed Ambush

When Prince Lahaman noticed Princess Malika riding out into the wilderness with a tiny escort of only forty soldiers, a dark thought crossed his mind. He immediately contemplated disguising his identity, doubling back into the forest, wiping out her guards, and murdering her on the spot.
However, a voice of caution countered the thought, warning him that it was an incredibly dangerous gamble. If his cover was blown, the consequences from the king would be fatal. He vividly remembered a similar incident that had occurred in the past, where he barely escaped the king's wrath by the skin of his teeth.
That incident had taken place on a standard day in the royal palace. Both he and Princess Malika were seated in the grand court alongside King Sharkuf; Malika sat to the king's right, while Lahaman sat to his left. Suddenly, a panicked city gate sentry dashed into the courtroom, trembling with terror. He threw himself flat on the palace floor before the king, his voice shaking violently as he kept his head lowered.
"Oh, my great ruler! Please be informed that while we were performing our standard guard duties at the main city gates, we suddenly spotted a mysterious cavalry unit dressed entirely in pitch-black armor with their faces fully veiled, charging directly toward the city gates! The moment we moved to blow the royal war horns, they abruptly halted their advance, wheeled their horses around, and vanished deep into the dense forest as if they never existed! Because of this bizarre event, we have been unable to find peace of mind. We felt it was vital to report this immediately so you can determine the necessary military action."
Upon hearing the report, King Sharkuf burst into a booming, confident laughter. "They clearly know whose house holds the heaviest club! Fear gripped their hearts, which is why they retreated. However, there is a hidden conspiracy behind this. Never in our history have bandits or raiders dared to approach the gates of this metropolis; they usually limit their operations to the distant forests. Truly, water does not sour without a cause, and it takes an insider to betray a city from within! There is treachery being plotted by someone among us!"
Finishing his speech, the king turned a piercing gaze toward Prince Lahaman. "Prince! Take a thousand elite troops immediately, track the footprints of these stealth raiders, and pursue them. If they have exited my borders, let them go. But if they are still within my territory, attack them, slaughter them, and do not leave a single soul alive!"
Upon receiving the command, Prince Lahaman stood up instantly, eager to leave and prepare his trap. But Princess Malika also stood up abruptly, blocking his path. "My dear brother, I beg of you to let me ride out with you. My eyes desperately want to see what kind of shameless, fearless fools think they can launch an attack against our empire!"
Everyone in the palace court was stunned by her request, especially King Sharkuf. He knew very well that the Prince and Princess were not on speaking terms, yet here she was, begging to accompany him into a war zone. Prince Lahaman looked at the king to see if he would allow it, and to everyone's utter amazement, King Sharkuf granted permission.
This shocked the court because King Sharkuf cherished Malika above all else and never allowed her near danger. He also knew the lethal animosity between her and Lahaman. Why then did he allow her to go? Malika herself pondered this question in her heart as she happily followed Lahaman out of the palace.
Once outside, Lahaman put on his battle armor, gathered a thousand troops, and mounted his warhorse. Malika was brought her horse, and they rode out into the forest, tracking the mysterious hoofprints. When they reached a fork where the path split into two distinct directions, Lahaman pulled his reins, bringing his horse to a sudden halt. He analyzed the tracks, turned to Malika, and said coldly, "You will stay right here with half of my troops to guarantee your safety. I will take the rest and charge ahead until we locate where these enemies are hiding."
Malika flatly refused. "No, absolutely not! Right now, you have no absolute certainty which path the enemy took. It is better that my unit takes one path, and if we encounter them, we fight. If your unit encounters them, you fight."
Prince Lahaman let out a sinister smile. "If tragedy befalls you out here, do not dare blame me, since I offered you a safe position and you rejected it."
Malika smiled back defiantly. "Keep your mind at ease, brother, because tragedy itself fears to cross paths with Malika. If it ever strikes, it will consume someone else, but never me!"
A brutal ambush eventually took place deep within that forest. Every single soldier assigned to Malika's unit was slaughtered, yet she miraculously survived completely unscathed and returned to the city. Upon their return, the king subjected Lahaman to an intense, aggressive interrogation, causing the prince to sweat profusely as he struggled to deflect suspicion. Remembering how close he had come to execution, Lahaman abandoned his plan to attack her in the woods today. Instead, he vowed to return to the forest later, execute her hunting party, murder her, and blame the deaths on ruthless desert bandits or wild beasts.
Secondly, he resolved that even if he didn't kill her, he would ensure she never laid a hand on his new slave, King Hilairu. He had caught her intense gaze and knew she had fallen for him.

Part 6: Hidden Captives and Haunting Faces

Upon arriving at his estate, Prince Lahaman secretly separated seventy of the healthiest, most handsome male slaves and thirty of the most beautiful female slaves from the rest of the group. He ordered his guards to transfer them to a highly classified, private mansion that no one else knew about. He hid them there with the intention of keeping them out of sight until the day of the city's grand international market, where he could sell them for an astronomical fortune to elite foreign billionaires. Among these selected hundred premium slaves was King Hilairu.
When Hilairu and the other chosen slaves were shoved into the mansion's large quarters, they were stunned to see a lavish spread of high-quality food and clean water placed before them—luxuries they hadn't seen in over forty days since their kingdom was destroyed.
The starving slaves completely lost their minds, aggressively pouncing on the food like wild animals, fighting and shoving one another—men and women alike—just to grab a handful.
King Hilairu simply stood back, his eyes fixed on them as they behaved so shamelessly. He strictly maintained his royal dignity, refusing to beg or scramble for food despite the agonizing hunger clawing at his stomach. He quietly retreated to a dark corner of the room, sat on the floor, and tilted his head upward in deep thought.
His mind was completely consumed by one thing: the unforgettable face of Princess Malika. He asked himself in absolute bewilderment, “Is it possible that my wife didn't actually die? Or was the woman I saw at the gates today a shape-shifting jinn sent to haunt and torment my soul?”
Unbeknownst to him, Prince Lahaman had explicitly ordered his elite guards to keep a round-the-clock watch over King Hilairu, ensuring he could neither commit suicide, attempt an escape, nor be stolen by anyone.