Something that looked like a monkey crawled on all fours behind Prince Segun. Its body was wrapped in a shawl of brown animal skin with a white cloth on its head. As the thing approached a cordoned off area just beside the throne, it got on its feet and walked on two legs like a human. It sat in the secluded area. It looked human.
“What is that?” whispered Kamara in a shaky voice.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back, but sensed it was connected to evil.
Chapter Three
The king got up from his chair and raised his hand.
“Hail King Kenzi! Hail King Kenzi!” erupted soldiers who stood in rows, several columns deep, with one fist raised.
Their voices were like a clap of thunder.
This time I squeezed Kamara’s hand. With so many soldiers here, I was nothing but a cornered animal. Raw fear like a cold chill traveled down my spine. This didn’t look good. How do I make the best of a bad situation?
The thing that looked like an animal came out of its location and crawled on all fours. When it got to the king, it stood on its feet and threw off the white cloth on its head.
There were other gasps. I wasn’t the only one distressed by this image. It looked shrunken and wrinkled like a new-born baby just pulled out of the mother’s womb before the cord was cut.
“Ifaka, the king’s conduit,” whispered a soldier standing by our right side. “She is the king’s direct connection to the gods.”
“Not of the gods,” spat the soldier with the limp. “More of a connection to black magic.”
“Careful,” said the new soldier through gritted teeth.
I ignored them. The rest of the children and I were already in a vulnerable situation. And if you disparaged the king, or took the other side, you could become an outlet for their frustrations.
I looked up at the platform and Ifaka. It looked like she would speak. She had a horizontal slit in her lower jaw where her mouth should be. Above them were two holes, the type visible in a shrunken corpse; her nose, I presumed. Thick, snow-white eyebrows were perched above empty-looking sockets that held round, bright eyeballs.
“Oh, King,” said Ifaka in a sharp shrill voice. “Son of the soil. Conqueror of nations, the only living god, today is a day of great joy.”
One could hear a fruit drop from a tree. All eyes were on Ifaka.
“Our daughter, the princess, has returned after a ten-year sojourn in Qtari, the land of our friends. They have sent her back with wisdom and material goods. To commemorate her return and uphold our tradition to the gods, the Harvest of Blood will begin.”
She paused and looked to her right on the platform where some people had gathered.
Ifaka continued. “The soil shall eat and be nourished and then be able to support plants which we eat. The gods have spoken. Instead of one, all the children brought in will be delivered to the gods. We shall begin with the youngest and work our way up to the eldest.”
A few people gasped in the crowd. What does she mean by all the children would be delivered to the gods? Wasn’t that the practice? They are taken to the temple to pray and make offerings.
It seemed like somebody else had gotten on the platform. I strained my neck to get a better look and inched forward with Kamara. Someone new was on the platform, but who? I whirled to the sound of a scuffle behind me.
Children bolted out of the way as two soldiers approached. My heart dropped into my stomach as they continued their advance. The pressure from Kamara’s hand was crushing. There was no doubt who they were coming for. What did I do? The soldiers got to us, and it was not me they were after. Each grabbed Kamara by the shoulder and pulled her away from me.
“No! No!” screamed Kamara.
I held her tight, and she did the same. More soldiers came from the front, and people parted to let them through. My eyes darted to the front of the line, and I froze. A man with an axe stood in front of a tree stump with a basket beside it. It was clear they would chop off our heads and collect our blood. All that talk about serving in the temple was only that; just talk. Kamara’s grip on me slipped. I gripped her with both hands.
“Nuju!” screamed Kamara as her grip on me slipped and she was dragged towards the axe man. Kamara fought and scratched like a chicken about to have its throat slit. She broke free, rushed to me, and wrapped her hands around me in a death grip.
“Come! Come here,” said the axe man.
The soldiers watched the axe man continue to sweet talk Kamara to walk over. There was dead silence apart for his voice and the crying voice of Kamara.
The soldiers snapped out of their trance, took a few steps, and were upon us, but Kamara was the focus.
Finger by finger, they released her grip, and a soldier pulled her off me. I held on. A few sharp blows to my knuckles with the base of a sword, and I let go.
“Nuju!” yelled Kamara.
Heat rushed through me. I stepped forward, wrapped my hands around Kamara in a tight hug, and pulled.
My back, my head, all over my body exploded in pain as the guards struck me again and again.
“Let go! Let go!” yelled one guard.
I cried out as pain wracked through me.
“You can start with the older girl then,” said Ifaka. The beating stopped, and the guards shifted their attention to Kamara, who held tight to my leg. They detached her from me.
“No, Nuju,” cried Kamara.
The soldiers pounced on me and dragged me over to the axe man. They placed me in front of the tree stump, stained black with old blood. Dried pieces of flesh hung on the surface. They will chop off my head.
“Hold down her neck,” yelled the axe man.
The soldiers forced my head down towards the stump. Marks from previous executions crisscrossed the stump. I felt something hard behind my neck. The soles of a soldier’s boot. Pain shot through my throat and chest each time I tried to breathe. My lungs burned.
“Watch my leg,” said the soldier with his foot on my neck in a voice that lacked confidence.
They say when you’re about to die your whole life flashes by in front of you. All I saw was a blurry vision of the basin underneath me. I closed my eyes and called on the gods to come to my aid—the God of Thunder, the God of Hunters, the Sky…
Chapter Four
“Stop! Stop!” a voice screamed. The language was Ode, but with an accent I couldn’t place.
“By the gods, its Princess Bonetta, Princess Bonetta,” whispered some voices in the crowd.
“Father, we cannot continue with this barbarism! A young girl’s life should not end for a wish for a bumper harvest. There are many ways to make the land yield again. The soil does not need blood. What it needs is water and manure.”
The pressure from the foot on my back eased. I jerked my head up to look towards the platform where the king and his entourage sat; the voice had come from there. A girl of about seventeen or eighteen stood on the platform close to the stairs, her face a mixture of fear and fury.
“Lack of rain is one reason the harvest is poor. That can be fixed,” said the princess. “We can divert the river to water the fields.” Princess Bonetta walked closer to King Kenzi. “Father, there’s no us and them. We might look different in many ways, but we all bleed red when we’re cut.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Since we think we’re superior and must spill blood to the gods, what better blood than that of royalty and nobility?”
The princess looked at the Oloyes, some cringed as her eyes swept over them. The silence was as loud as the drums had been a few minutes ago.
I got on my knees and cocked my head to get a better view of the princess. She stood there, chin up, head held high and nostrils flaring. Either her whole body was trembling or the gentle swaying in the breeze of the sheer material she had over her tunic and pants made it seem so.
King Kenzi’s mouth had dropped open, his eyes wide. Only Ifaka was alert; her eyes darted from side to side, analyzing.
It seemed like something ove
rcame the princess, and she realized her folly. She walked over to the king and dropped to her knees. “Father, sorry for my outburst. Please forgive me.” Her voice quivered as she spoke, but it carried into the crowd. She lowered her head.
In that instant, I forgot my predicament. What was King Kenzi going to do to his daughter? This was a brutal man, and I feared for her.
King Kenzi closed his mouth and stared at his daughter’s bowed head for a few seconds. A smile parted his lips and progressed into a deep-throated laugh.
“My daughter, welcome back!” said King Kenzi.
The Oloyes and other important people on the platform now smiled halfheartedly as they glanced around, not sure how to respond.
King Kenzi tapped the princess on the shoulders, but she didn’t get up, as was customary. She looked up at the king, and there were tears in her eyes.
“Arise!” said King Kenzi in his deep resonating voice. He took her hand as she stood and raised up. His army responded.
“Hail, King Kenzi! Kenzi, Kenzi, Kenzi…” The king raised his other hand and shut them off. He turned to his daughter. “Ten years ago, you departed for the land of our friends as a cub, but today you have come back a lioness. Come sit.” He directed her to a stool a servant had just placed beside the throne.
The soldiers close to me stood watching and waiting like everyone else. Someone tapped a beat in the background, not as loud as before. The princess sat down.
King Kenzi stood and faced the crowd. “The princess has come back with some ideas. I have always performed the Harvest of Blood based on the directions of Ifaka, our connection to the gods. People of Ode, my daughter, your princess, has made an emotional appeal. We will set aside the planned events for the day for the moment.” He paused and looked around. “This would have been dealt with in private, but, as the situation just presented itself in front of the people, we have no choice but to address it now.”
The tension in the air felt like an arrow in a bow pulled to full capacity, a deadly force to whoever it was directed at. I looked around and considered any escape options, but there were none. Kamara had rushed over and held me. I squeezed her hand.
“This is a delicate matter,” the king said and turned to face the conduit. “Ifaka, please guide us on the next steps to take.”
I rubbed my neck. My heart thundered in my chest. It was not over yet. Did the gods hear my call to them? I was so confused. If the king still believed in the gods, why did he destroy Oyiria? Why did he destroy the place where god-like powers were bestowed on men?
Chapter Five
My heart sank. There was no way this would end in our favor. I looked around, expecting a helping hand, but there was none. A murmur rose in the crowd. With the decision left to Ifaka, anything could happen. I prayed to the god of my father, the god of hunters, to help me. I looked up at the sky and wondered if I should get on my knees and extend my arms as I did before. Would the sky darken again?
A hush went through the crowd and pulled me out of my mulling. I looked up and saw Ifaka on her feet. She looked at the king, then at the princess, and extracted a small pouch from twine tied around her waist. Opening the bag, she pulled out several small bones and tossed them on the animal skin hide she’d been sitting on. She examined them as one would study a book.
“Sọ fun, mi asiri rẹ! Tell me your secrets!” said Ifaka in the language of magic. More incantations spewed from her lips as she removed a piece of white chalk from her pouch and made marks on the animal hide. She hopped from one leg to the other, dancing to a melody that must be in her head alone. Without warning, she fell to the floor and started to shake as if stricken by a convulsing illness.
A gasp escaped the crowd. Ifaka seemed to consult with the spirits like the priestesses had done at Nuso. I wished she would clutch her heart and die a sudden death and leave the decision making to people who are living. I didn’t trust the spirits she consults. The shaking lasted only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity, then it stopped.
Ifaka picked herself up and faced the crowd. Only the whites of her eyes were visible. I shuddered as many people around cringed.
“I have seen, I have heard, the gods have spoken,” said Ifaka. “I can smell blood, I can taste blood. Blood will flow as it has always flowed and will continue to flow.” She stopped speaking and grimaced as if in pain, turned full circle, stopped, and pointed at the princess.
The princess took a startled step back and clutched her chest.
Ifaka’s hands wavered as she pointed at the princess. “The cub that has become a lioness in one moon must unite the Eternity stones of the twelve kingdoms. If she rejects the task, all the Harvest of Blood children must be sacrificed!” Ifaka paused and looked at the crowd. “If the stones are not united at the end of four weeks, the princess must be sacrificed to the gods. But she can be helped by a member of the royal family to get the task completed. A volunteer of their own free will.”
“Oh!” the crowd moaned.
Ifaka waved a hand, and everybody became quiet. “Once she reunites the stones, the need for sacrifice will end, and the powers enjoyed by the Oyiria of our forefathers will be reborn.”
Ifaka’s eyes became normal again. She looked like she’d just woken from a deep sleep. She picked up the small bones and returned them to her pouch and sat down.
Tension left my body like a heavy boulder taken off my shoulders. Right away, the crowd started to mumble. Everybody was trying to talk. From the pieces of conversation I picked up, some people were for magic and wanted Oyiria restored. Some were against it, and some took no position. Nobody talked about the lives that would be destroyed based on the outcome.
“Are we safe now?” asked Kamara.
I looked over at the axe man; he looked dejected. He would not be chopping off my head or any heads today.
“For now, I think so,” I said in a hoarse voice and rubbed my neck, remembering where it had been not too long ago.
“Is the princess going to do it?” asked Kamara in a shaky voice. “Is she going to save us?”
At the platform, some of the noblemen conversed with each other. The king sat on his throne, forehead furrowed, eyebrows narrowed.
“Where are the stones?” asked a nobleman. His deep baritone voice carried to where Kamara and I stood.
King Kenzi seemed to have aged in the last few minutes. He exhaled before he spoke. “Nobody knows. They were lost at Oyiria during the fight. Never found.”
Chapter Six
“Princess Bonetta must make a choice,” said Ifaka. “Either she says yes, and the Harvest of Blood participants have a longer lease on life, or she says no, and the sacrifice progresses as planned. The soil must drink.”
The princess’s eyes found the floor. She shook her head, probably in regret, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
I now understood why they never told us at the villages what really happened to some of the children picked for the harvest. If people knew, they would resist and fight.
I cupped my ear so I wouldn’t miss anything they said. “Come on, Princess,” I muttered. “You can do it. My life depends on you.”
Prince Segun, who had remained passive throughout the ordeal, now had a spark in his eyes. He looked at his sister, then at the crowd. It seemed like he had something to say.
“I’ll do it!” blurted Prince Segun.
People in the crowd started to talk at once. King Kenzi leaned toward Segun. “What did you say, Segun?”
Prince Segun’s nose flared as he inhaled. “Father, Bonny has just come back from being away for a long time. We should let her rest. I volunteer to find and unite the Eternity stones. I believe my experience in traveling around the country, crossing rough terrain to create maps will serve me well.”
“Yes!” I said and squeezed Kamara’s hand. Hope at last. The crowd was not sure how to respond; some people cheered, others remained silent.
“Prince Segun,” said Ifaka with a loud shrill, and all the
noise died down. “By volunteering, you have absolved the lioness of this task and the repercussions that come with it. You must succeed or face death.”
Beads of sweat mushroomed on Prince Segun’s forehead. He swallowed and turned to King Kenzi, his lips trembling as he opened his mouth to speak. “This… this is a huge task and… I cannot do it alone,” said Segun with a stammer. “I’ll need help, and I’ll ask it of the people here.”
The prince looked around. Oloye’s military top brass sitting with the king all found something to do and looked away, avoiding eye contact with Segun. He turned to the king. “My Father, my king, the lives of children brought in from the villages are at stake. A positive outcome of the endeavor will be to their advantage. Just as I volunteered, any one of them that is old enough can volunteer to come with me on this quest. If we succeed, everyone will benefit. And if we fail, their faith is sealed, just like mine.”
King Kenzi stared at Segun for a long time. He got up and hugged him. “That’s my boy,” said the king.
“I want to volunteer,” whispered Kamara.
I looked at her and wanted to say you might die during the quest, as it might be dangerous.
“What about you? Are you going to go?” asked Kamara.
Don’t rush into a decision, I told myself. My close encounter with death had opened my eyes to wanting to live. Volunteering for this mission sounded like a risky venture. It is one thing to survive a surprise attack by a panther, but foolhardy to run headlong into danger.
“Nuju?” asked Kamara. There was concern in her voice.
“Give me a few moments, Kamara. I’m still thinking.” If I stayed back at the temple and prayed with the priests, wouldn’t that be safer, and at the same time help? I struggled with the decision. This was tough.
Betrayed Page 2
