“See you later,” said Enitan as we parted ways at the corridor.
I rushed to the training room, knowing I was late.
“Little girl thinks she can show up whenever she likes,” said Kintola in his scratchy voice once I stepped in through the door.
Some of the boys stopped to watch. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone.
Kintola’s eyes bounced around the room. “Who told you to stop? Continue with your practice,” he barked. His eyes roamed the room like a hawk searching for prey. They settled on me. “Let’s pick up from where we stopped yesterday.”
The practice was as demanding as the day before, but this time, I knew what to expect.
I practiced with Kiki. She still acted like I’d wronged her and was literally trying to maim me. Warding off her attacks drained the reserve energy I had. I knew I’d wronged her, but she’d started it. I blocked her attacks until she surprised me with a thrust to the stomach with the stick and knocked the air out of me. She’d had a lot of practice with that weapon. I eyed the bow and arrow hanging on the wall a few tables away, bad ideas coming to my mind.
At that point, Kintola stopped the fight and sent Kiki to the bow and arrow table. She picked up a bow and clumsily knocked in an arrow. The instructor at the station worked her through. It was what I did with Kemi a few days ago, and Kiki was clumsy. I smiled; I could beat her at that.
Kintola took over for Kiki and sparred with me. “Kiki beat you like a dog,” said Kintola. “Always keep your eyes on your opponent’s. The eyes never lie.”
We circled each other. I soon got tired of looking into Kintola’s bloodshot eyes and shifted my gaze to his forehead.
“Focus! A seasoned attacker will notice the slightest shift in your eyes. He will also give away his or her next move in his eyes, but you have to be ready and fast.”
Kintola reached out fast and touched my right shoulder. I hadn’t seen it coming.
“What? Are you sleeping?” asked a perplexed Kintola. “You didn’t move a muscle. Do you sleep with your eyes open? My knife would have been embedded in your chest.” He shook his head.
I ignored the sniffles from some of the other volunteers. We shall see how they perform when it gets to their turn.
I went to the rang table. It was a weapon that had eluded me since yesterday after Kintola showed us how to use it.
“You can do that tomorrow morning,” said Kintola. “Come in very early and practice. Go to the knives.”
I went to the daggers for knife throwing. A wooden pole about the average height of a man was placed several yards away. “Don’t cut yourself,” warned Kintola, and handed me a set of three knives.
I did better at knife throwing. Baba had taught Dotan and me when we were kids, but back then I’d paid more attention to the bow and arrow. I watched Kintola closely, how he held the knife, his posture when he flung the knife at the target.
“Good, little girl! Maybe the knife is your friend.”
By my third try, the knife was embedded deep in the wood. I let out a long sigh, stood up straight, and squared my shoulders like a weight had been lifted off them. About time I did something right.
“Practice with the knife, too, when you come in early tomorrow morning,” said Kintola. “It’s good to be an expert in at least two weapons.”
I walked towards the target to retrieve the knife, a smile on my face. From the corner of my eye I tried to see if any of the boys had seen me throw the knife and connect. Nope. I grasped the knife handle and yanked. But it wouldn't come out.
The hair at the back of my neck rose, that sixth sense you develop when someone is watching you. I turned, and it was Olajuwon. He had a smirk on his face. Our eyes met and held, then he turned away towards the entrance, attracted by something else. I followed his gaze. At the entrance stood Rahima, hands on her hips, looking in as if she owned the place.
“Rahima!” Kintola walked over to her. They exchanged greetings in Qtari, all smiles. How in the world could they have met before? They spoke in Qtari and glanced at me a few times.
Kintola waved me over, his face flushed with excitement. “Little girl, you’ve already met Rahima.”
I nodded and wished he would stop calling me the little girl. A white dot of saliva foam collected at the corners of his lips.
“Rahima and I met ten years ago,” said Kintola, “When I escorted Princess Bonetta to Qtari for the first time. We met again after five years when we went to check on her.” He turned to Rahima. “Your father is now the head of the King’s army in Qtari?” asked Kintola, looking at Rahima.
She nodded, her eyes not leaving me.
Kintola laughed. “It's like we meet every five years.”
I nodded at Rahima, and she nodded back. Olajuwon had walked up to us and tried to get Rahima’s attention. If she saw him, she gave no indication.
“Princess Bonetta sent Rahima over; she wants her to work with you. I’ve already told her you’re close to useless.”
“Hand-to-hand combat?” said Rahima.
Kintola’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? You are a weapons expert.”
“I’ve added more skills to my portfolio,” said Rahima in her sing-song, heavily accented Edo.
“Alright. Remember, don’t hurt each other,” said Kintola.
My plan was not to cave in, no matter what Rahima threw at me. Some of Rahima’s moves I could predict from my days wrestling with Dotan. I tried to outmaneuver her, but she was fast and kept on surprising me with slaps to the cheeks, tap on the head, and whatever humiliation she wanted to dish out. She was better than I was. There was no doubt about that.
I saw an opening when she kicked, aiming for my torso. I grabbed her left foot and, in one smooth move, kicked her right foot out from under her. Rahima fell fast with a cry. I was on top of her and reached to grab her in a neck lock, but her body was limp. She lay there, not moving.
“What happened!” yelled Kintola. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing!” I said, shrugging and palms facing forward. I tried to say more, but words deserted me. Excitement coursed through my body. Every beat of my heart was a throbbing in my head. Rahima lay there, not moving. The gods! Have I killed her? Her face was smooth and wrinkle free, as if she was taking a nap. I looked at my hands and at the girl, not believing what I was seeing. A laugh bubbled up from my stomach, and just before it exploded out of my mouth, I cut it off.
“Is she breathing?” asked Kintola.
My eyes went from Rahima to Kintola as he approached the mat; his lips hung open, his eyes wide.
I reached down for Rahima’s wrist and checked her pulse. It was pounding and full. I exhaled. She was alive. I was about to turn to Kintola and say she was okay when I felt a firm grip on my wrist. Rahima yanked me towards her and placed me in a headlock. Something cold pressed against my neck.
Rahima’s breath was hot on my neck, and her lips brushed against my ear. “They say don’t kick a dead horse. I say always put a knife in a dead horse to make sure it is dead.”
Chapter Nineteen
The aches and pains were now dull reminders of what I’d gone through. I got up early on the third day and wolfed down some akara balls, fried black-eyed pea batter, and custard Enitan had brought up early in the morning before rushing off to the training room. I planned to learn as much as I could, the rang in particular. Three weeks was not a long time to master the weapons.
I wanted to have another go at the rang, a strange weapon that eluded me. It was supposed to return to you after you threw it. Kintola had shown us how to throw it, but mine never came back.
I entered the training room and Kiki was the only person there. She was at the rang table. She must have overheard when Kintola said I should come early to practice. It was time I mended fences with her, I thought. Let me be the bigger person.
“Hello, Kiki, how are you?”
Kiki was picking up and dropping the w
eapons without looking up or acknowledging my presence.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what I did in the first place to upset you, but I’m sorry.”
Kiki ignored me.
“We’re going on this quest together and fighting each other is not the best. Let’s be friends.” I stuck out my hand for a handshake.
Kiki walked away to the bow and arrow table. She picked up an arrow, knocked it into a bow, aimed at the target, and fired. She missed the circle painted on the wood.
“You know, if you take a few deep breaths as you draw the string back, hold your breath as you aim, and let half of the air out before letting go, your hand will be steadier.”
If she knew I was there and talking, she didn’t indicate. She shot several arrows in rapid succession, not hitting the target at all. I shrugged, my conscience cleared. I moved to the swords section. Nobody would say I didn’t try to reconcile with her.
I picked up a broad sword and groaned as I lifted it. Too heavy to be an effective fighting weapon for me. I put it down, picked up a scimitar, and pulled it out from its scabbard. Now that’s a sword, light and curved. I waved it around, comfortable with the light weight and the way it fit into my palms. I moved to daggers. Safer to throw from a distance. They were my second weapon of choice. I reached for a set of knives.
“Yes!” Kiki yelped.
I turned to her; she’d hit the bullseye at last. I took aim at my target, did two mock throws, took a deep breath, and threw the knife. “Where did it go?” I whirled around, my eyes darting all over the room.
Kiki continued to squeal. “I did it!”
Did I throw the knife at her? She seemed alright, no knife protruding from anywhere. My hand felt uncomfortable, sticky. I looked at my hand and jumped. My fingers were still wrapped around the dagger. Did I stab myself? There was no sight of blood, no pain.
I sniffed my hand. It smelled familiar. Someone put glue on the knife handle. My body went tense, heat rushed through my body. It was only Kiki and me in the training room. I glowered at her.
Kiki turned to look at me after a few seconds and tried to keep a straight face. She didn’t last two seconds. “Anything wrong?” She burst out laughing with guilt written all over her face.
I showed her my fist with the knife.
Kiki’s eyes lingered on mine for a second longer. “I’ll help you get it off.” She went to the corner and picked up a small calabash and walked over to me.
“What's in it?” I asked.
“It’s a solvent.” She poured some on her hand. “This will loosen the glue.”
A sharp smell drifted up to my nose. I was still considering what to do to Kiki, but her talking to me had reduced my anger. “It’s obvious you had something to do with this. Why?”
Kiki didn’t answer and busied herself with the solvent. She poured more of the liquid on my hand and pried my fingers off the handle, one after the other. The dagger came off with a sticky sound and left my palm a gooey mess. Using a piece of cloth she picked up from the floor, she wiped each finger, then the knife.
“There, all clean,” said Kiki.
“Congratulations on hitting the bullseye,” I said.
Kiki giggled. “Thanks to you. Friends?”
I looked at the palm she extended. She still hadn’t answered the why. I shook her hand. “Okay, friends.”
“What's that smell?” asked Olajuwon as he entered the training room looking in our direction.
I ignored him.
“Come, I’ll show you,” said Kiki, dismissing Olajuwon’s question. She led me to the rang table. “It’s easy to make these come back to you.”
We left Olajuwon inside and stepped outside, surprising some early morning runners and servants going about their duties. Kiki showed me how to grip the rang and throw. It took a few tries, then I threw. The rang drew an arc in the air and came back to me.
Chapter Twenty
At the start of training, every day had been worse than the day preceding it. But after a week, the aching subsided. By the end of the second week, I didn’t feel the pain anymore, and I looked forward to the training. My stamina had improved, I could hold my own with the stick against Kiki and throw the knife with my eyes shut. Yes, Kintola had blindfolded us and made us throw knives at objects using only our hearing as a guide.
“When blindfolded, listen until you see the source of the sound in your mind’s eye,” Kintola had admonished. “Only then do you throw.”
The rang came back dutifully to me each time I threw it, as if I’d sent it on an errand.
For the past two weeks, Mama Rikki had tried everything to get me to embrace my Ashe, make it do something, but it eluded me. One time I was so frustrated and asked her how I was supposed to use it when magic was gone from the land.
“It’s not gone! It’s everywhere,” yelled Mama Rikki. “You have to harness it.”
To prove it, she had grabbed my hand in her skinny fingers, and the impulse surged through me. I would feel the energy, but no matter what I tried, I could not direct it to do anything. And once she let go of me, it would die down.
This morning, I arrived at Mama Rikki’s hut, and she was not in a good mood. We stayed inside her overheated hut. She always had a fire going even though it was hot outside.
“You have power in you,” said Mama Rikki. “Healer, shifter, fire, seer, a water spirit, lightning and thunder summoner—it could manifest or show up in many ways. But you must call it and embrace it.”
I thought about the witches that selected people for the Harvest of Blood. How did they know who to pick? Did they have power in them, too? How did all this work when magic is no more? “Maybe, after we unite the stones, I will be able to use the power.”
“Well, there is the Oyiria power,” said Mama Rikki. “Which is good, and then there is black magic.”
So which one is in me? The good power or the bad power?
“You have less than a week before King Kenzi will send you to find the stones,” said Mama Rikki. “Working with Kintola has made you physically strong, but what about spiritually? You’re the only one that has a strong Ashe.”
“The others have, and it’s not strong?” I asked.
Mama Rikki flapped a hand in dismissal. “No, they don’t have any. After the gods distributed the gifts hundreds of years ago among the Oyirians, many intermarried among themselves, and some with people from other kingdoms, most of the time with royalty. Everybody wanted a piece of the goodness that was Oyiria. These marriages strengthened or weakened the Ashe. Some, like royalty and the nobles over time, tried to keep it in the family through arranged marriages. Sometimes it doesn’t materialize. For some, it took adversity to bring it out, around the age of ten, and for others, it never shows up.” Mama Rikki cleared her throat. “If it doesn’t show up by ten years of age, then you don’t have it.”
I wanted to know more. Now Mama Rikki was in a talkative mood. My stomach tightened. “How did you come into your Ashe?” I asked in a low voice.
A gentle smile tugged at Mama Rikki’s lips. “My father was the king, so it was expected.” Her voice was low and distant. “By the time I was ten, it had not materialized in a big way, but I knew it was there. I felt it inside me. Then there was a war, and Papa and Kenzi went to fight. News from the fighting wasn’t good. We got anxious at Ode. Then the news came that Kenzi was missing, captured by enemy troops.”
“Kenzi… King Kenzi?” I asked. I already knew she was the king’s sister, and I feigned surprise to keep her talking.
“My brother and I were close. I knew he didn’t have it, but if he felt it inside the way I did; that was enough stress to bring it out in him. That same night after I heard the enemy had captured Kenzi and he would be beheaded if Father didn’t surrender by morning, my Ashe came alive. At first, I thought it was a dream. I was in the war front looking down at the battlefield and at the enemy’s camp. I saw their positions and where they held Kenzi.”
“Se
er?” I asked.
Mama Rikki shook her head and looked at me with eyes blazing. “I was over the enemy’s camp.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “When I woke up, I told Mama what I saw, and she sent a runner to Father at the front that same night. Father sent his most trusted soldiers, and they rescued Kenzi and overran the tired, unsuspecting enemy.”
I smiled. “So, it ended well?” I said, relieved to find a positive angle I could use to lift Mama Rikki’s spirits and maybe lift myself out of her hut and back to the palace.
Mama Rikki shook her head. “No, it was the beginning.”
Chapter Twenty-One
With Mama Rikki reminiscing about a time long gone and staring into space, her face grimacing in what could be a smile or cry, she waved me away. Enitan would not come until later, so there was no need to wait for her. I hurried back to the palace earlier than usual. On my way to my room, I saw Bisi in the corridor and told her to tell Ronke I was back to save her a trip to Mama Rikki’s place.
I headed straight for the shower once I got in. When I finished, my stomach rumbled in protest. With a lot of time on my hands, I thought, I should eat early. I walked down the stairs and made my way to the dining hall. The smell of fried fish and yams put a spring in my step.
I walked in and scanned the room. It was still early, and people were trickling in alone or in ones and twos.
“Nuju!”
Kiki waved me over. I walked over to their table. The other girls in our group, Dola and Ifeoma, were there, plus Tokunbo.
“It seems we all finished early today,” said Ifeoma, her deep voice even more profound. “We should do something together.”
“Like what?” asked Tokunbo.
Kiki shrugged. “I don’t know. Go to the market or look around town? Since I’ve been here, all I’ve done is visit the gym and go back to my room like clockwork.”
Betrayed Page 7
