Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  “So you really are a sorceress, Camille?”

  “Yes, Father. I have been since the day I was born.”

  “And are you in league with Satan, then?”

  “How could you ask me such a thing, Father?”

  “It is not I who will be asking, Camille. I’m only trying to prepare you. I do have something that’s been troubling me.”

  “What is that, Father?”

  “The powers you used to set the trooper’s club ablaze, where do they come from?”

  “I don’t know, Father. I had never done such before. I was only trying to protect Nolwazie.”

  “So you had no knowledge of this ability until it happened?”

  “No. I never know until the moment I or someone I love is attacked.” He leaned forward, sighed and placed his head in his hand.

  “This is what I feared.” He stayed quiet for time as he considered the implications. “You do understand, that this is the reason you are all to be condemned. You, Esmerelda, Claude and the boys.”

  “Have they taken them? They’re not sorcerers, Father.”

  “It is written in our texts and our doctrines, Camille. That your kind and any that would shield or coddle you shall be condemned to fire.” Nyira turned her face to the wall and cried a little. “But the question that is most crucial, Camille: is would you harm others to protect them?” Nyira sat for a moment sniffling and looking down at her hands, as a bit of sunlight came through the portal and cast small shadows off them onto the floor by her feet. She finally looked up at him.

  “I don’t care what happens to me, Father. But I have no choice but to protect those I love.”

  “I see. They would burn someone with even the hint of your powers, child. And you could very well destroy this town and everyone…Lord give me strength.”

  “I have only ever sought to protect those I love, Father. Where are Nolwazie and the boys? Are they safe?”

  “I don’t know. They have been arrested, though. I believe the archdeacon is keeping them hidden, to control you.”

  “Where? Everything was destroyed by the storm.”

  “They’ve been busy constructing new barracks for the troopers and new jails. But they are not anywhere I can find.”

  “Are you not in danger as well, Father? Just by speaking with me?”

  “I am committing blasphemy. Like you, I am more concerned for others than myself. And I fear what you might do.”

  “I don’t choose to do anything. I have only sought to live with those I love, and who love me.”

  “What if you I can locate your family, child? At least Claude and Esmerelda?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I am only being practical, Camille. You and the others will have a trial. The diocese will send a vicar general to organize and preside over it. Unless they designate the archdeacon, a prosecutor will be appointed. These are all formalities. They don’t need evidence. Their ultimate end is to execute you and your family. When that occurs, you will be forced to protect them, causing the troopers to attack you, and be slaughtered. I seek to prevent that. Now, if I can find them, could you get to them by some means?”

  “I, or someone that I send, Father.”

  “Someone that you…there are others like you? Where child?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They, like me, are only concerned with the safety of those they care about.”

  “But you must promise not to harm others, Camille.”

  “I promise to do the best I can, Father. I have no control over what other people might do.” Father Reyes got up and left the cell after Nyira’s reply. He was well aware of what “other people” would do and felt it best he get to the girl’s family as quickly as possible.

  54

  “We must not interfere, Enriquillo,” Agueybana said. This after Enriquillo learned that Nyira had been captured and likely faced execution for witchcraft.

  “How long was I sick?”

  “It took us two weeks to heal your wound and secure your soul,” replied Higumota.

  “I should have seen it in my dreams. Why didn’t she come to me?”

  “She is being condemned for healing those injured during the storm,” replied Agueybana. “The white men have always had a strange type of justice. It is based on cruelty. She was condemned by the very one she healed.”

  Enriquillo was still weak and had not fully regained his stamina. As he lay in his father’s hammock, he remembered something from his first dream with Nyira, that he only had to want something and he would see it. He had an idea—and very much wanted to be a small insect to carry it out. His first couple of tries at wanting, nothing happened; and afterward he was exhausted. The next morning, when he opened his eyes, there was a fly alighting on his nose. This insect sat for a moment, rubbing its legs together and looking in his eyes:

  You are going about this all wrong, it seemed to say. He realized it was right. So he took a small dipping gourd out into the jungle. When he got to the remains of the fish they’d cleaned the evening before, he trapped one of the flies swarming over the smelly pile and took it back to the hammock. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing, and while he was healing, Agueybana didn’t do a dream walk with him.

  He ducked under the covers on the hammock and released the fly, and spent that day and the next two studying its every detail. On the fourth day, he let it go and then sat down on the floor of the bohio and wanted again. After two hours of this, one wing sprouted from his back.

  This is much easier in dreams, he thought.

  Then a scary thought occurred to him: What would happen if I became a fly, but one that was the size of a human? It would frighten Higuamota and probably the whole village. So he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and went out to the secret cove to practice wanting. It took two more days for the second wing, and he was actually able to take off and fly up into the trees. But he had to use a vine to get down because he didn’t know how to fly down. He had to remind himself to keep trying to get small as well. By the end of the week, he could transform completely into a fly. When he flew over to the cove to have a look at himself in the waters, it frightened him. A fly had so many eyes that he was horrified, and wouldn’t do that again. Once he’d mastered the shape, he had to shrink himself down. It was only after he had attained fly smallness that he realized how many spider webs there were in the cove. He was caught by one as he rose into the air to fly out of the pine and elm trees. When the spider tried to attack him, he grew out to the size of a pineapple to escape.

  When he arrived at the ship where Nyira was being held, he couldn’t find her. He’d never been on a ship. It occurred to him that he didn’t need to know where she was, he just had to follow the white men; they would lead him to her. When they entered the hold, he still didn’t see her but heard her voice.

  “Here is your meal, Camille,” said the guard. “We have placed some fresh bread here, too. Please let us know if you want more.” He placed the plate on the floor not far inside the door.

  “Thank you, Paul,” said Nyira. Enriquillo realized that she had a hood upon her head.

  “What are you doing, my love?” asked Enriquillo, as he crawled up her arm to her shoulder. “Why are you allowing yourself to be held in this way?”

  There was a mounted police just outside her cell, so she could only speak to him in his mind.

  Enriquillo. I am so happy to see you. They are holding my mother and Claude and the boys in some secret place. Father Reyes told me as much. The archdeacon believes I will not try to escape if they are hidden from me until the trial. He’s right, of course. I’m bound here until I learn of their whereabouts.

  “But what if they’ve already been killed?”

  I would know if Nolwazie was dead. The archdeacon knows I will do nothing as long as they’re safe.

  “But they mean to kill you; you know this. Why don’t we escape and search for them while you’re free?”

  They won’t live long if I don�
��t stay here. I have to, Enriquillo. I’m the reason their life is in jeopardy. I have to do all I can to save them.

  “Even if you die? Even if I lose you? What about me, and our life together?”

  You are strong Enriquillo. You will still be strong without me. I don’t have a choice. My heart would die if I left without them. I wouldn’t be much good to you then. So please be patient. I sense they are well, but they must have them a distance from me. I can no longer hear Nolwazie’s thoughts.

  Enriquillo left the cell dejected. He couldn’t argue with her. He would do the same if his mother or Agueybana were held captive somewhere. He made it back to the cave before his mother knew he was gone. There had to be something he could do. He would not accept the loss of his dark princess. Not without a fight. He lay down in the hammock and rested a while. The transformation had sapped his strength. He knew now that he had to save it for emergencies only. He had an idea but would wait a few days before he acted on it.

  55

  Her name was Cassandra. Both Bruno and Francois had heard of her, but only glimpsed her once. In a carriage, beside Master Bissett. She was a slave, but there was no way to tell by looking at her. She was about sixteen, tall with auburn hair and brown eyes. She was the most beautiful person on the property. The mistress hated and resented her, of course. Bissett paraded her around the town like a prized colt, and he refused to sell her. She was his daughter, so it wasn’t even considered. She was hiding behind the armoire in the first bedroom when they rushed in.

  “What are you slaves doing in here!” she said. “Get out. Or I’ll call the overseers!” Francois was not fazed in the least. He just stood there grinning like a fool who’d just captured an angel or a unicorn.

  “I never thought I’d get this close to her,” whispered Francois, as if the girl wasn’t standing right there in front of him. “What are we going to do with her, Bruno?”

  “We need to get out of here, Francois,” said Bruno. “We’re not going to do anything with her.”

  “But we can’t just leave her. I want to touch her.” He moved forward, and the girl backed all the way to the window.

  “Get away from me! I’ll scream.”

  “You better do as she says. We can’t take her with us, you fool. Let’s go look for the food and get out of here.” But Francois was transfixed. “Let’s go, Francois. We—” Someone outside yelled into the building.

  “Hey! Anybody in there!” Francois rushed the girl and put his hand over her mouth.

  “Okay, girl,” he said. “We don’t mean you any harm. We’re just looking for some food. Nothing else. Tell us where you’ve got some and we’ll leave you in peace.” She nodded her head, and he took his hand away.

  “I’ll tell you on one condition,” she said.

  “What condition, girl?” asked Bruno. He didn’t like the sound of this.

  “You have to take me with you when you go.”

  “Yes! Absolutely!” said Francois. He almost started to dance at the idea.

  “No! No! No!” said Bruno. “Are you insane? They might be waiting out there for us when we come out.”

  “I’m not insane. I’m in love,” said Francois.

  “You can’t leave me here, Mistress Bissett wanted me to die. That’s why she wouldn’t take me with her. She had Josephine tie me to the bedpost.” She still had the rope tied around her wrist. “But Josephine doesn’t tie too well. I’m glad it wasn’t Pierre Paul.”

  “They saved your life,” said Francois. “The master and the mistress are both dead.” Cassandra thought about the implications of this for a moment.

  “What about Gustave?”

  “He’s up on the barn with some of the slaves,” said Bruno. “We can’t take you, girl. We swam in here. We have to swim out soon, too.”

  “I can swim,” said Cassandra. “I was taught with Gustave. I can read and write, too.”

  “None of which we can eat. You’ll just slow us down.”

  “Then I want to put a potato in the woods. Can you help me do that?”

  “It’s underwater. He wouldn’t find it.”

  “If you try to leave me, I will scream, and they will come back.” Bruno pulled out his machete.

  “We need to cut her throat and get out of here, Francois.”

  “No wait, Bruno!” said Francois. “Let me talk to her first.”

  “Well, I’m going to go look for some food or whatever they have we can take with us.” Bruno left the bedroom and walked cautiously up the hallway like the place was still inhabited by the Bissett family. He didn’t know what this girl was up to. For all he knew there were others hiding up there. When he searched the rooms down the hall, he found a stash of smoked meat in a cabinet next to the bed in the largest bedroom. This was probably the bedroom of the master and mistress Bissett. There was a large armoire with expensive looking clothes. He also found a pistol and ammunition. He didn’t think he’d need the weapon but tucked it in his waist anyway. He cut a sheet to wrap the meat in and tied it around his waist. He then went back down the hall to the first bedroom to get Francois so they could leave.

  “I can’t leave,” said Francois.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Bruno. “Are you injured? I’ll swim close to you. You’ll be fine once we get in the water.”

  “I can’t leave her, Bruno. She wants to escape. We have to take her.” Bruno considered using the pistol in his waist, but it wouldn’t take care of both of them. It would also make a lot of noise.

  “You are a fool, Francois. I don’t know why I didn’t see that when we started. How is she going to swim with what she’s got on? Not to mention she’s a white woman. She’ll stand out.”

  “I’m not a white woman. I just look like one. And if I stay here, I won’t be safe without master to protect me.”

  “I’ll give you a few more minutes to make up your mind, Francois. Then I’m leaving.” Bruno hoped the man wouldn’t be difficult, because he didn’t want to have to kill him, or the girl. He went back and searched the bedrooms again. Francois had to know his was a foolish idea.

  56

  Nyira was correct in her blind assessment: Almost everything in the town had been destroyed. What still stood included the forty-foot bell tower and the cabildo, which had been badly damaged but was yet intact. Most of the structures built with granite or limestone had held up, too. That meant the church still stood and a few brick buildings as well. Unfortunately, the stores were all gone. The public market was just an empty flat space as if it had never existed. The auction house was also badly damaged. The section that had existed before the large brick auction area was added had collapsed. Artemus had witnessed the devastation after a war: the final campaigns during the war of Spanish Succession. This, along with the scent and sight of death, was not new to him. The dormitory had washed away, along with most of his cowls and his papers. The priests, as a rule, did not maintain many possessions. He did miss the journals he took notes in and a pendant given to him by his mother when he left for seminary. They were now housed inside the chapel, which had a number of offices now used for quarters. These were only for senior clerics. The deacons resided in tents on the land where the dormitories once stood, and thus assisted in their re-building. The cabildo was cleaned and the damaged furniture removed as the carpenters replaced the paneling and the baseboards along the walls.

  A week later, Artemus was having a casual conversation with one of the troopers guarding the cabildo, when he asked where they were keeping prisoners, with no jail available. At the end of a week of subtle inquiries, he received a message from a captain of the mounted police, a man by the name of Patrick Dumaine. Captain Dumaine had not consented to meet the Father at the church as he’d requested. Instead, Father Reyes was directed to meet him at the rear of the newly constructed livery just off the downtown square of Port-a-Piment. Artemus found this strange but decided that perhaps the man was operating so far outside channels, that he didn’t want to be discovered. He could
definitely appreciate that.

  It was a late afternoon meeting, and being it was in town, he didn’t need a buggy, so he walked.

  The livery was closed at that point in the day. Or perhaps the proprietor had boarded all the horses and buggies his establishment could hold. Artemus entered through the stables. He suddenly realized how strong and unpleasant the smell of horses and their dung was. Why this should occur to him then, he didn’t know. The parish had also rebuilt the stables behind the cabildo, but the odor of it had never seemed this strong.

  Perhaps they’re not cleaning it properly.

  He moved quickly past the stalls and headed toward the office. The door was open, and a lamp was lit.

  “Hello?” called the Father. “Is anyone about? I have an appoint—” A short, bald, fat man stuck his head out of the rear of the office.

  “Yes? How may I help you?”

  “I’m Father Artemus Reyes. I have an appointment with Captain Dumaine.”

  But someone else came out of the office behind the little man. It was the archdeacon. Father Reyes was flabbergasted.

  “I… what are you doing here, Phillipe?” The archdeacon just stood and gazed at his fellow priest for a long moment.

  “I am here as Captain Dumaine,” he finally said.

  “What? What are you saying?”

  “What are you doing, Artemus? That is the quest—” The archdeacon’s knees buckled, and Artemus rushed to his side.

  “I’m all right. Just let me sit for a moment.” The stable owner rushed over with a chair for the priest.

  *

  After the archdeacon had recovered, the stable owner brought him a cup of liquid.

  “Here you are, Archdeacon. This should help revive you.” Phillipe accepted the cup without question and to Artemus’s surprise, took a sip.

  “Oh, that is quite delicious! What is this wonderful concoction?”

  “It is only tea, Father.”

  “Oh… well, it’s delightful. Thank you, Monsieur Devoe.” Artemus stood watching this scene, still not sure what it meant.