by Kwame Mbalia
“Fetterlings,” I said in a growl.
The iron monsters behind the throne were unanimated and camouflaged to look like part of the statues. They were bigger than the bossling in MidPass, but still I wondered how they had managed to overcome Nyame.
“How can they hold back the sky god?” I whispered to Ayanna.
“I don’t know, but—Look! The crown!” She pointed to Nyame’s circlet, and at first I didn’t notice anything unusual.
“What?”
“Just wait…. There, did you see it?”
I did. “The jeweled butterflies. They’re moving, flapping their wings, right?”
“I don’t think those are butterflies.”
The trace of fear in her voice sent a shiver through me.
“Ayanna—”
“Those are brand flies, Tristan.”
“Wait, what?”
“They’re poisoning him. He’s too powerful to be killed by their stings, but their poison is keeping him paralyzed. He couldn’t do anything when they came and took his people. He could only watch.” Ayanna was on the verge of tears, and, seeing the brand flies pressing against Nyame’s forehead, I could understand why.
Can you imagine being forced to watch as the people you loved and protected were hunted down and dragged away, never to be seen again?
A tear welled up in my eye, too.
Anger welled up in my heart.
“Not anymore, they aren’t.”
The rhythm inside the hall got louder and faster. It swelled into a thumping beat that sent needle pricks down my arms, like they were recovering from falling asleep. My little story reenactment stopped, the sandy scene falling to the floor.
“Hey!” Gum Baby protested, before realizing that something else was going on. But I ignored her.
Finally, something I’d learned in this world was going to come in handy.
I stalked up the three steps to the throne. Nyame’s eyes glittered with rage, and beneath that, pain.
I lifted my chin. “I’ve come to help, Sky God.”
He scowled. Have you not done enough?
Not yet, I thought. It was time for a bigger, louder story.
I drove my right fist into the palm of my left hand. “What if I told you, Nyame, that you gave Kwaku Anansi your stories after he did the impossible?”
I willed that story into the throne room. Nana loved telling it, and it was the first one Eddie had written in the journal. Grains of golden sand and dust bounced on the floor before rising and swirling in the air. The waterfalls on the walls stopped flowing into the pools—instead, droplets began flowing upward, sparkling like diamonds as they joined the story above our heads.
“Anansi visited the sky god and asked to buy his Story Box, with all the stories inside. Nyame, humoring him, agreed. But only if Anansi brought him Leopard, Python, and one of the Mmoatia, the forest spirits.”
Out of the whirling sand and water drops a scene appeared. Anansi—sometimes a smiling man, other times a large spider—strolled through a forest. He stopped in front of a tree, where a giant leopard slept in the branches. He bowed, and the leopard raised its head, then hopped down. Anansi pointed at a pile of leaves beneath the tree, and when Leopard prowled over them, the great cat fell into a hidden trap.
“Anansi tricked Leopard, then brought him to you, Sky God. But he wasn’t done.”
As I spoke and pulled the story out of the sand, I kept an eye on the giant fetterlings. Their chains began to rattle.
Anansi continued to walk through the forest, this time carrying a long staff. He stopped at a giant boulder beside the trail, where Python lay in the sun. Anansi bowed, then studied the snake and the wooden pole, comparing the two. He shook his head, saying Surely the staff was longer? Python hissed, insulted. His length was his pride, and no mere walking stick was more impressive than he! Anansi looked unsure but laid his staff on the ground. Python flicked his tongue out, slithered off the rock, and stretched out beside the pole. Quick as a flash, Anansi tied the great snake to the staff and carried it away.
“Anansi tricked Python, then brought him to Nyame. But he wasn’t done.”
Now the bosslings were clearly agitated. Their chains lashed like angry snakes. The brand flies buzzed in irritation, and a few peeled off from the sky god’s head like wet leaves and fluttered weakly to the ground. Ayanna dashed forward and hammered them with her staff.
Nyame turned his head. What are you doing? Your actions confuse me, usurper.
I ignored him. I was starting to understand.
Iron monsters didn’t just react to stories about them. They reacted to stories, period.
When I told a tale, something pulled at the creatures. The knowledge, the history, the culture—it drew them like magnets. Tell a story, or, if you were an Anansesem like me, bring a story to life in their presence, and they’d drop whatever they were doing to get at it.
Now I just hoped the second part of my idea would work.
A series of loud clicks echoed around the throne room, and I swallowed. The bosslings released their grip on Nyame and shuddered. Four large iron monsters spread out in front of us.
No, six. Two more had disengaged from Leopard and Python and joined the group.
Nyame slumped down in the throne behind them. Leopard and Python collapsed to the ground.
Okay, yep, I really needed to start on the second part of my plan.
“Tristan,” Ayanna said. “What do we do now?”
She held Chestnutt, and Gum Baby scrambled up into my hoodie. Together we all backed up as the huge bosslings stalked forward. I eyed the story swirling in the air, felt the itch to continue in my palms, then took a quick glance behind me.
“Gum Baby, do you remember the statue that talked to you?” I asked.
She wriggled in my hood. “Gum Baby does not want to hear about that again. Why you always living in the past?”
I winced as two of the fetterlings squealed. “Well, I’m sorry, but times are hard. When I give the signal, everyone run back out and touch the first giant bronze statue you see. The big one, right in front.”
Ayanna shook her head. “You want us to what?”
“Trust me. Just do it!”
“But—”
All six bosslings screeched, and they lunged forward. I severed my connection to the sand story above our heads and shoved everyone toward the entrance. “Go, go!”
A LOUD WHUMP SOUNDED BEHIND us as the wet sand landed directly on the bosslings. They collapsed in a cacophony of grinding metal and shrieks as they struggled to extricate themselves.
“Nice,” Gum Baby said, peeking out over my hood. “Gum Baby taught you some good strategy.”
“Whatever,” I said, gasping as we sprinted for the waterfall exit. “Just get ready.”
“Get ready for what? Gum Baby staying right in here.”
The seam in the waterfall opened, and we dashed out into the plaza. I headed for the path at the opposite end. Rumbling sounded from the palace behind us, and stone and water exploded outward as the stampede of bosslings burst into the sunlight. They quickly gained on us—we weren’t going to make it.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I reached behind me. “Sorry,” I said in advance.
“What? What are you—? Hey! Unhand Gum Baby! This ain’t no party! Hey!”
I grabbed her out of my hood, aimed at the giant bronze woman in the courtyard, then threw the best spiral I’d ever tossed in my life. Like, fifty yards, easy. I should’ve played football. And I hate football.
Gum Baby soared through the air, shouting insults as she flew.
“You gonna regret this day, Bumbletongue! Gum Baby gonna kick your—”
Splat!
She landed just below the statue’s knee and stuck there. Her little arms and legs flailed helplessly, but I couldn’t watch her anymore.
“Tristan, look out!” Ayanna called.
I skidded to a stop as a bossling lunged in fron
t of us. Ayanna moved next to me. She held a quivering Chestnutt in one hand and her glowing staff in the other. Iron monsters stalked around us, snapping their collars and screeching.
“What now?” Ayanna asked, but I didn’t answer. “Tristan,” she said again, almost pleading, “you have a plan, right?”
“Just wait,” I said.
Chestnutt peeked up at me and I couldn’t meet her eyes. If I was wrong…
All six bosslings shrieked at once, and one of them lunged forward, reaching for my throat.
A bronze foot the size of a compact car smashed it to pieces.
Chestnutt screamed, and Ayanna brandished her staff, but I raised my hand. “Wait.”
“But—”
“Look,” I said, pointing.
The ground trembled as the giant bronze woman stepped down off her pedestal and twisted her foot, grinding the bossling into dust. The remaining iron monsters screeched at this new enemy, and they thundered past us to attack her.
Gum Baby straddled the statue’s big toe like a horse and whooped with joy. “Stomp these fools, Bronzey! Look, that one’s feeling froggy! Aha-ha-ha-ha, squish that chump. Yeeeeah. Y’all don’t want none of this. Oh, where you going?”
She pointed at a bossling trying to sneak around the statue’s foot. It looked like a mouse creeping around an elephant, and I grinned when the statue kicked it so hard it flew into the sky and disappeared.
“Aha-ha-ha-ha! Did y’all see that?” Gum Baby slapped her knee and howled with laughter. “Bronzey chucked that thing into the bratosphere!”
“You mean the stratosphere,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Yo, why you always correcting something? You Professor Bumbletongue or something?”
Ayanna kept a firm eye on the remaining bosslings. “Can you two put off the bickering until after we’re safe?”
The statue leaped high in the air, so high the sun framed her and gave her glaring angel wings.
SMASH!
When I opened my eyes, four oversize fetterlings were writhing beneath both of her heels, like roaches being smooshed on a kitchen floor. She twisted her heels again, then took two ground-shaking steps back.
I looked around. That was the last of them. “Well…I think we’re good now.”
Gum Baby peeked over the big toe and sucked her teeth at the sight of the defeated iron monsters. “Y’all should’ve been raised better,” she said to their remains. “Ain’t got no home training.”
“Kumi!” Nyame’s voice boomed out of the palace, and we all flinched. His voice wasn’t only in my head anymore. “Bring the usurpers to me.”
The bronze giant reached behind her back, pulled out a giant spear with a broad-leaved blade the size of a windshield, and leveled it at us.
Ayanna stared at me, and I cleared my throat. I’d thought we were safe.
Gum Baby crossed her legs and shook her head. “Y’all in trouble now.”
“You have come for the Story Box.”
It wasn’t a question. The four of us stood in front of the throne, where Nyame slouched to one side. It seemed the effect of the brand flies’ poison still lingered in the sky god’s system. Yet his eyes were alert. He gathered us all in his gaze, the gold flecks in his eyes glinting in the setting sun. Leopard and Python were curled on either side of him, staring at us with distrust.
“Yes,” I said.
“With the hope Anansi will aid you.”
I nodded.
“And you think I should help you…why? For your efforts just now? You have my thanks, but my support?” He shook his head.
“MidPass is dying, Lord Nyame,” Ayanna said. She still held Chestnutt in both arms. “The iron monsters are tearing our families apart.”
“The monsters tore my country apart!” Nyame accused.
“Yes, but—”
“They attacked my people. The monsters chased them and captured them and stripped them from their homes and lives and families!”
“Mr. Nyame—” Chestnutt squeaked, but the sky god’s words rolled right over her.
“The monsters took them off to die!”
His eyes flashed as he gripped the arms of his throne, daring us to speak. Ayanna bit her lip. Chestnutt buried her head in the crook of Ayanna’s elbow. Gum Baby hurled little balls of sap at Leopard’s tail as it swished in agitation.
This was getting us nowhere.
I ground my teeth, ignoring Nana’s warning that I’d wear them down to the gums eventually.
I knew what had to be done. I didn’t want to do it—not at all—but I had no reason to keep my secret anymore. When I revealed it, each word felt like a hot iron hook being ripped from my flesh.
“They’re not dead.”
Leopard’s tail went still. A ball of sap landed right on the tip. (“Got ’im!”) Ayanna turned and stared at me, and I did my best not to meet her eyes. They burned a hole in the side of my face, and I didn’t want to deal with that problem just yet.
“Not dead?” she hissed.
“Not dead?” Chestnutt asked, her ears flicking up in hope.
“Not dead?” Nyame whispered.
I sighed. Out with it all, Tristan. “I saw them. Before we left MidPass, I saw them, in a dream or a vision. They were alive inside…something.” Now I did look at Ayanna, and I flinched at the anger and the betrayal in her eyes.
Her nostrils flared and she shook her head. “You knew? This whole time, you knew?”
I winced. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No! You should’ve told me. You should’ve told us.”
“I wasn’t sure it was real, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and—”
I broke off, because no excuse was going to cut it. I had no right to decide what they were or weren’t capable of handling. Adults were always doing that to me, and I hated it.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I should’ve told you—I should’ve told you all.”
Ayanna shook her head and looked away as I notified the sky god about the visions I’d been having, the haint with the white flowers, the captured Alkeans and Midfolk in the walls.
Nyame drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You saw them in a dream? And I am supposed to believe this?”
I started to protest but stopped, surprised, when Ayanna beat me to it. “I believe him, Lord Nyame. He wouldn’t lie, not about this.” She glared at me. “If he says he saw it, then it’s true. You have my word as a pilot.”
“Hmph. The word of a pilot.”
His fingers beat at a faster pace, and some of the sand began bouncing on the floor.
“And my Story Box will aid you in the fight against this ghost and the Maafa? It will free my people?”
“Yes…. At least, we think so,” she answered. “If we have it, Anansi might come out of hiding and accept it as payment, since, you know…”
“He wanted it badly enough before,” I finished.
“As in your story, Anansesem.” Nyame watched me carefully. “But what do you mean by ‘payment’? Payment for what?”
I straightened. “We need the Weaver to close the tear in the sky. If he does, it will cut off the iron monsters’ power. Then we might stand a chance in defeating the Maafa once and for all.”
My words spilled out of my mouth at a breathless pace, and we all clenched our fists and waited for the sky god’s verdict. Nyame looked at Leopard, then at Python, before rubbing his forehead where the brand flies had been fastened.
Nyame’s hand stopped, and then he waved toward the circle in the floor. “The Weaver is still in Alke. That I can assure you. Where he is, I don’t know, and whether he will accept your bribe is another question. But go ahead, Anansesem…. Fulfill your mission.”
I gaped in surprise. “For real?”
Nyame raised an eyebrow and I walked toward the trapdoor. I’d expected more resistance from him. I mean, we had originally intended to steal the Story Box, and now Nyame was just going to give it to us.
What were the od
ds?
The background rhythm of the story still beat in the throne room like a pulse. Once again I willed the sand to come to life above the circular door, and I barely had to pull the figure of Anansi into existence before the grooves in the floor blazed to life. The sound of stone grinding on stone echoed through the space, and the panel slid open. My friends and I gasped simultaneously.
A polished pedestal made of gold-tipped wood rose from beneath the floor. Detailed carvings decorated every inch. More adinkra—some I recognized, but many that I didn’t. The panel closed under it and the pedestal settled gently on top.
Our gasps turned into groans.
Nyame waved his hands and a bitter smile crossed his face. “Tell me, did none of you think your plan too obvious?”
I squeezed my hands into fists so tight I may have drawn blood.
Ayanna bit her lip again.
Chestnutt buried her head in her paws and shivered, and Gum Baby’s jaw dropped.
“You are not the first usurpers, nor the second. I am sorry, little ones, but you will need a new plan.”
The pedestal was empty.
The Story Box was gone.
“YOU KNEW ABOUT US,” I said. “You knew, when we arrived, what our plans were.”
“I did,” said the sky god.
A whisper of wind brushed through the palace’s rooftop garden. Nyame stood in front of me, hands clasped behind his back, as he stared at the sun setting over the city. I was sorry my friends were missing out on the view, but the sky god had asked for a private consult with me.
Nyame had shifted to a normal size now—a bit shorter than Granddad—and he wore a cream-and-dark-brown-striped tunic and loose cream pants. If I didn’t know better—if the gold-flecked eyes didn’t brim with many millennia’s worth of knowledge—I’d swear he was just one of the chess-playing old heads at my apartment complex in Chicago.
“You used the statues,” I said. “You looked through their eyes.”
He nodded. “Yes. That is how I witnessed what happened to my people. If only I had foreseen what was to come, I might have been able to prevent it. To save at least some of them…”
