Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  “I expect that we will be mounting the tree too, soon,” said the captain.

  “You’re Bruno,” said one of the men waiting in the tree.

  “Yes,” replied Bruno.

  “I’m Maurice. Me, Francois and Babette were coming to join your camp. And we were bringing these.” He handed Bruno a machete.

  “Thank you, Maurice,” said Bruno, taking the weapon. “Well, as of this moment, this is my camp.” Babette came over and embraced him.

  “How is my sister?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” replied Bruno. “We should ask him.” He referred to Christian as he made his way up the trunk. “Maurice and Francois, please tie Christian to a lower branch. If he resists, you can chop his head off.”

  “You do remember that you are still our prisoner, slave,” said the captain.

  “There are no more slaves here, captain,” said Bruno. “And the only prisoners are you and your men. Welcome to my camp.”

  Maurice and Francois climbed down to a lower branch to intercept Christian. There were only three troopers left, including the captain. They had ample limbs to tie them to.

  “I also have some good news for you and the others, Maurice,” said Bruno. All the runaways rejoiced at news of the Master’s imminent demise.

  “So you say Master ordered the troopers to leave him chained to André?” asked Francois.

  “Was he out of his senses?” asked Maurice.

  “I can’t say for sure. But he was willing to risk everything to kill André.”

  “André will not die easily,” replied Francois.

  “That’s what I’m hoping—though his chances are slim.” Babette climbed down to the branch Christian was tied to.

  “How is my sister and her baby?” she asked.

  “You mean Bruno’s baby, don’t you?” said Christian.

  “I mean my sister and her baby.”

  “Get me one of those machetes, and I will tell you.” Babette climbed back into the upper branches without her answer.

  “You will pull me up, slave,” said one of the troopers to Francois, as he tried rappelling up the tree by a vine; none of them held. “Pull me up, I say, and I will limit the number of lashes you receive for escaping.” Francois thought about it for a moment and then tossed a vine to the trooper and hauled him into the tree. The trooper seemed very pleased with himself when he arrived. “Now that is a good sla—” Francois hit the trooper in the face with the butt of his machete. The man fell headfirst back into the floodwaters.

  “There are no slaves here!” cried Francois. “I am a free and clear man!”

  “You will pay for that,” replied the captain. “If he doesn’t come up, you will hang.”

  “You will hang if you don’t shut up,” said Maurice. “I lost a good friend to one of your patrols, captain. And I no longer have a master.” When the captain made it up the trunk, they secured him to a branch away from his remaining man and Christian. The one Francois struck had not surfaced again.

  “What have you to eat?” asked Bruno, as the wind gust picked up and slammed into the tree.

  “We have fruit and some bread,” replied Maurice. “It’s wrapped in oilcloth and tied to a branch further into the canopy, to protect it from the rain.”

  “It’s about time for your baby to come, Bruno!” yelled Christian, over the wind. “Hopefully the wind doesn’t blow it away.” He chuckled at that idea. Bruno climbed down to the limb Christian was secured to.

  “I want you to know that if we survive this storm,” said Bruno. “I am leaving you in this tree and sending word to the slave quarters that you are here.”

  “So you are afraid to fight me then?” said Christian.

  “That is an option, too. We shall see.” A powerful gust pitched the tree left and right, and a surge of rain battered the inhabitants like a wet club. Christian discovered that vine did not make the best tying rope, especially when wet. He was soon able to loosen his restraints. When Babette climbed down with food, he asked: “Are you going to feed me?”

  “Yes,” she said and placed a bit of wet bread into his mouth.

  “Will you help me get one of those machetes?” he asked Babette. “Because if they kill me, you will never learn the fate of your sister.”

  “Even if I do,” replied Babette. “You will still be outnumbered.”

  “I only have to kill Bruno. Then you will all be a part of my camp.”

  “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “Why would I hurt you? You’re my wife’s sister.”

  The next morning when she came to bring him some fruit, Babette also smuggled a machete. When she turned to leave, Christian grabbed her and slit her throat. He then pushed her body out of the tree. When he climbed out of the lower branches, Christian discovered that Bruno and the other men were waiting for him.

  “I warned her not to trust you,” said Bruno. “But she was desperate to know the fate of her sister.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied Christian. “My wife hardly ever speaks of her. But I would have told her that her sister carries the child of a dead man.” When Maurice and Francois made a move toward Christian, Bruno stopped them.

  “This is my fight,” he said. “Neither of you are allowed to help me. No matter what.”

  “But what if he—”

  “Then so be it. Just make sure my wife and child get to safety.”

  “No more talk!” yelled Christian, as he slashed at Bruno’s legs from below.

  “No need to jump,” said Bruno, as he used a vine to swing out of the arrow of rain that shot into the branches. He brought the blade down so hard against Christian’s sparks flew. Christian wasn’t ready for Bruno’s burst of power and lost his footing.

  “That’s the only slip you get,” replied Bruno. Christian lunged, holding a vine and barely missed Bruno’s head. He’d ducked and got a nick on his forehead.

  “Once again, I draw first blood!” cried Christian. Bruno dove at him again. When Christian tried to swing away, Bruno cut the vine. Christian dropped and hit the branch below him. There were more than enough vines to keep him from falling out of the tree. The fall definitely knocked the wind out of him.

  “Now who is slow getting up?” said Bruno. He swung down and knocked Christian off the limb, with a knee to the chest. “That was for sweet Babette.” Christian grabbed a small branch as he fell. It snapped under his weight. He dropped his machete as he plummeted through the branches, and hit a number of them on his way to the water.

  45

  Agueybana did not trust the horse, but he couldn’t fly and needed to get to the boy quickly. Guayo had shared his discussion with Enriquillo concerning his intent to attack the white men. The behike was already aware of the boy’s intention. He hadn’t needed a dream walk to know Enriquillo’s heart. They had set out right after the storm hit. This was the time cohoba had shown it would happen. Agueybana just needed to find the exact spot in the mountains.

  “The beast needs to slow down,” he told Guayo. “I have to listen to the wind. It’s too loud now, but cohoba has shown this trail.”

  “We shouldn’t slow down too much, behike. Lest his soul be gone when we get there. Hold on tight. We must run.” A number of the warriors were trailing them on their own horses. “Look! There are bodies,” cried Guayo. “This must be the dark cacique’s settlement. We’re close.” They dismounted and rushed into the jungle, passing dead troopers and runaways.

  “It’s not much farther,” said Agueybana. “He has left a few bodies of his own. It’s as I feared. We must hurry, Guayo. His soul will be hard to find if it escapes his body!” The old man broke into a run, and it was as if he made no movement. Guayo and the warriors had never seen anything like it. Before they got to the woods, he ran back past them, carrying the boy.

  “How did you—” said Guayo.

  “Hurry!” said the behike. “I can’t run as fast while I’m holding him. We must get to your horse, Guayo.” It occurred to
Guayo that the boy had been taller and larger than the behike. He wasn’t now. He looked like a small child in the Agueybana’s arms, and there was a lot of blood.

  “You move so fast,” said Guayo. “Why not use your speed to get him to your cave faster?”

  “I have attached his soul to mine, and he is draining my energy. If I run, I won’t be able to maintain it. If he dies, he takes me with him.” The horse wouldn’t cooperate.

  46

  “There must be some type of restraint,” said the archdeacon to Madame Dugard.

  “For what reason!” cried Madame.

  “Just until this storm has passed and the mounted police can take her into custody.”

  “She is not a danger, Phillipe,” replied Father Reyes. “Why should we restrain her?”

  “So she cannot escape, Artemus. Had you not considered that? Some leg irons should be sufficient.”

  “We shall do no such thing,” said Madame. “We don’t put shackles on our slaves. We don’t even have any.”

  “I only want to make sure the girl doesn’t flee, Madame,” said the archdeacon. “Have you at least some rope in this structure?”

  “I have never been in this structure, Archdeacon. But I know we don’t restrain our slaves.”

  “Then how do you keep them from running away?”

  “We don’t because they never do. It’s unnecessary.”

  The archdeacon was aware of this fact but had never thought about it in any concrete way.

  “So you have no means of securing your investment?” cried the archdeacon. “That seems very irresponsible, Madame.”

  “On whose part, Archdeacon? Ours for not abusing them, or the slaves for not running away?”

  “This discussion is pointless, Madame,” replied the archdeacon. “I, as the church’s representative, take custody of this girl. Father Reyes, please ensure that the child does not escape.”

  “I will do the best I can, Phillipe.”

  “We should probably search out some mechanism to keep her on the premises.”

  “I think we already have it.”

  “What would that be, Artemus?”

  “The storm, Archdeacon.” The archdeacon was quiet for a time, as he considered a reply.

  “I would feel better if there was some rope involved, as well. I would do it myself, but I don’t yet have the strength to stand.”

  “I will see what I can do.” Artemus was starting to feel a bit of anxiety because the storm’s strength seemed to be subsiding. He went and spoke to Nyira. “You must be ready when the storm ends, child. The archdeacon has taken custody of you.”

  “I am not concerned for myself, Father. I have not had to protect myself since I have been on this island. I fear for Nolwazie.”

  “That is true. He has not considered her; he is so focused on you.”

  “I would ask that you help protect her and Claude, for he is a true innocent. And Nolwazie will do anything to keep him safe. Would he be—”

  “Yes, child. He is condemned as well.” Nyira turned to look at Claude as he sat with Esmerelda’s head in his lap and his hand stroking her face and rubbing her shoulders. “I have faced all manner of threat since my village was destroyed over four years ago, Father. This condemnation is something I never imagined. Even if I gave you my life, it would not save them?”

  “No, Camille. It would not. They will seize all who attempt to coddle and conceal you.”

  “But I have listened to the stories of your God. His life was sacrificed to save others. Is that not something you hold dear?”

  “It is not the same, Camille. It’s more difficult to explain. And it will not save you. Simply stated: The powers you possess are meant only for the divine. I will leave it at that.” As the Father finished speaking and sat quiet for a time, he heard a very unsettling sound. Silence. The storm’s winds had abated, and someone was outside the mill, calling Madame’s name. When he went to the window and looked out, there were boats arrayed around the mill, and standing in the bow of one of them was Major Dugard.

  47

  The runaways searched the floodwaters for Christian.

  “Maybe he’s dead,” said Maurice. “He hit a lot of limbs before he fell into the water.”

  “I will believe that when I find his body,” said Bruno. “Now we both have a missed opportunity to kill the other. We must keep watch.”

  The water was not peaceful as the wind moaned and the rain growled and crashed into the tree. “I hope this storm passes soon, because we don’t have enough food for a long stay in this tree,” said Bruno.

  “I have seen pigs swept by in the water,” said Francois. “We could capture one and slaughter it.”

  “That will only be possible when the rain stops,” said Maurice. “Because we would need to make a fire.”

  “We expected to be at your camp by now, Bruno,” said Francois. “Or we would have brought more food.”

  “It does us no good now, though,” replied Maurice. “We will have to think of something. Perhaps there is fish.”

  Just then, the body of the trooper that Francois struck floated near the tree. It looked like he might be caught on a vine. He didn’t move with the churning water and seemed to be attached to the trunk of the tree.

  “I don’t know if I would eat fish from this water,” said Francois.

  “Why don’t one of you go down and cut him loose,” said Bruno. “So he can go with the tide.” Francois took the task since it was he that killed him. He repelled down and got the task done quickly. The body was carried away by the churning floodwaters.

  “We will wait a day and see how this progresses,” said Bruno. “Then we may have to go back to the plantation to look for food.”

  “I had hoped not to see it again,” replied Maurice.

  “If we can locate some potatoes, or find the smokehouse, you will be happy.”

  “You’re right. Hopefully, everything isn’t under water.”

  “We can hope,” said Bruno. “But we still have to swim a distance to find out.”

  “I still remember how, I think,” said Francois. “I was the fastest swimmer in my village as a boy.”

  It took the storm a little more than a day to pass. In that time, the water rose five more feet up the trunk of the tree. When the winds and rain stopped, Bruno and Francoise got in the water and swam toward the center of the property, not aware of what they’d find or what refuge they might get to before fatigue set in.

  48

  When Agueybana approached Guayo’s horse, the animal backed away, pawed the ground and tried to rear. Guayo tried to hold it, but the stallion wouldn’t allow them to place Enriquillo onto its back.

  “There must be something else around the boy’s spirit that’s scaring this beast,” said Agueybana. “I will have to frighten it away if we want to get him to the cave in time.” He placed Enriquillo on the ground and lay beside him. The behike appeared asleep but had actually pushed his spirit out of his own body and into Enrquillo’s. He recognized the thing immediately.

  “It is a knef,” said the behike, getting up and going to Guayo’s horse

  “What kind of creature is that?” asked the commander. Agueybana untied a pouch from Guayo’s horse’s long thick mane.

  “It’s a creature that feeds on fresh vulnerable souls. I’m glad I got here when I did, because if that thing damaged the boy’s soul and he dies, he will be left wandering with no possible rest. They’re attracted to war and death.” He took a hand full of something from the pouch and laid back beside Enriquillo. Once he was back inside the boy’s spirit, he took the cemi from around his spirit’s neck and placed it around Enriquillo’s. I would fight you myself, he told the flimsy one-eyed being. But I must get this boy to his home, so I can save his life. He also flung the handful of burned gold dust at the thing to disorient it for a while. It blinked when the dust landed in its eye and floated off. Agueybana then went back to his own body. “Quick! Let’s get him on the horse! The dust
won’t hold it for long, and the Cemi won’t matter if he dies.” They put Enriquillo on the horse, and Guayo rode away.

  “They will have everything ready when you get to the cave,” said the behike. The commander saw a blur of him shoot up a trail leading over the mountains. When Guayo reached the mother cave, a number of ni-taíno tribe members were already waiting. They wrapped Enriquillo in a cotton garment and quickly took him into the cave. Higuamota was in the dark chamber with the behike.

  “Give me your hand, Higuamota,” said Agueybana. The cacica presented her hand, and the behike sliced it in the palm. He then placed it on the wound in the boy’s chest. “He has lost a lot of blood. So we must be very diligent in replenishing it throughout the night.”

  *

  Meanwhile, Enriquillo was in a fight. The knef had returned and was pursuing him. He was running and shooting arrows at it and ducking when it swooped down at him. He tried hiding in the forest, but wherever he went, it was there waiting, as if it knew what he was thinking and what he might do before Enriquillo did.

  Agueybana was worried because the boy wasn’t getting stronger, and he was sweating like he was working in the sun, when the cave was cool.

  “I think I know what’s happening,” said the behike.

  “The monsters are chasing him?”

  “Not the ones from his dream. The thing that would feed on his weakened soul must’ve come back. You will have to go and help him, Higuamota. Let him know he has nothing to be ashamed of, that he is safe here with us.” Higuamota lay down beside her son while keeping her hand upon his chest.

  “Don’t fear, my son. I’m coming to give you courage.” The behike placed his hand on the cacica’s stomach, which was the center of the soul.

  49

  When they had swum for about twenty minutes, Bruno recognized the tree that stood out behind his old shack.

  “We could climb it and take a break for a moment,” said Francois.