Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  A hood was hastily drawn down upon her head.

  I’m glad Nolwazie is not here, Nyira thought to herself. She would be very disappointed.

  “Is that what you wanted to see, Father?” asked Nyira through the hood.

  “Yes… yes, that will do fine, child,” said the vicar general. “Can you tell us where you sent them? Are they alive?”

  “No, I will not. But they are alive and safe.”

  Nyira had never been to Bruno’s main settlement. She did know of the lower camp. When the boys appeared there, they startled André, who’d just returned from a fishing trip to the secret cove.

  “Where have you all come from?” he asked.

  “We were at Nyira’s trial,” said Diego, who could walk now. “After she healed me, she sent us away. So we’d be safe.”

  “Why didn’t she come, too?”

  “She is probably trying to find Claude and Esmerelda.”

  “Enriquillo said he would be there, too,” said André. “I hope he can get her out before they burn her.”

  “We do, too,” said Diego. André led them the rest of the way into the mountains, to the new site of the settlement.

  The mounted police guided Nyira back to the defendant’s box.

  The prosecutor seemed apprehensive about how to begin.

  “I… I think that I will rest my case now,” replied Father Montaine. “I believe the court has enough evidence to make a decision.”

  “Yes,” replied the vicar general. “I believe we do. The evidence is very clear, Father Montaine. Guards, please remove the girl to her cell.”

  The mounted police escorted Nyira back to the jail.

  64

  Juliette did not want Bruno to go meet Christian.

  “I don’t want to go either,” said Bruno. “You know I can’t leave the child in his hands.” Juliette could only cry then because she knew that was true.

  “What if he has—”

  “I don’t want to think about that. I have to go.”

  “Maybe I can go and speak to him,” replied Juliette.

  “You will never speak to him again! I don’t care if he kills me! You will never speak to him while I live.” Bruno took one of the horses and sent a scout to survey the location, in case Christian had planned an ambush. Bruno had no doubt he was capable of it. The scout came back to say Christian was waiting just at the beginning of the drop off into the gulley. He and Amelina were sitting on the ground. Bruno was relieved. At least he hadn’t killed the child. It was bad enough she was still with him. He took off on the horse at a quick trot; he wanted a show of strength that the horse could provide. He had told his men to stay back, and that if he fell, they were to make sure Christian didn’t leave the valley alive. To make sure he was no longer a threat to Juliette and his child.

  When Christian saw him coming, he stood up, holding the little girl’s hand, like a kindly friend. She had a bunch of flowers. Christian released her hand as Bruno rode up. The little girl ran to him.

  “Look Bruno. I have a lot of flowers for the baby!” she said. Bruno dismounted.

  “Thank you, Amelina. Give them to Yiella. She’s waiting there just over the hill.”

  It was early, so the sun had not reached its peak, and the mist from the forest was still floating along the valley floor.

  “She is a sweet child. She knows her flowers,” said Christian.

  “Is that what this is about, Christian?” asked Bruno. “You came here to pick flowers?”

  “No, Bruno. I’m here to kill you. We each have a missed opportunity. It ends here, though.” Bruno drew his machete and smacked the horse on the rump, to send it away.

  “I agree. I’m tired of thinking about this all the time.”

  Christian looked past him to the hill where a crowd had gathered. Most of Bruno’s men were armed. Some of them had been his men. That changed when they learned of his intended betrayal.

  “I gather I don’t get out of here, even if I kill you.”

  “You gather correctly. This ends here and forever.”

  So Christian charged and brought his blade down with everything he had. Bruno wasn’t fazed; he met the strike quickly and held the weight, not letting Christian pull back and slice again. He pushed back, but wouldn’t let Christian move back to gain momentum with his size.

  “You’ve been training,” said Christian. “It won’t help. I have anger on my side.”

  “Me too,” snarled Bruno, who slid his blade down and sliced Christian’s thumb. Christian was surprised by the precision of it. “But I have more anger and practice.” Christian looked at his own blood for the first time and went crazy slashing and chopping, using his weight to take Bruno off his balance. While Bruno did have more practice, Christian’s bulk moved him around. Their blades clanged across each other and Christian was still pushing. Bruno didn’t know why Christian suddenly looked very confident. He smiled a bit, and just then Bruno’s blade caught him across the nose.

  “Bruno, look out!” called a voice from the hill. It was Juliette.

  “It sounds like my wife is worried about you,” said Christian. “She should be!” He charged, and Bruno took a chunk out of his shoulder. But Christian kept coming and took another slash across the chest. Suddenly Bruno was falling. He had forgotten where he was and Christian had maneuvered him to the edge of the gulley. He fell hard and then rolled down to the bank. He turned over just in time as Christian was coming down at full stream with his blade. He hacked off Bruno’s left hand with it and raised it again. Bruno knew this was—

  “Christian! Don’t!” came a voice from the top of the gulley. It was Juliette. And she was standing holding her child. “Don’t kill him, Christian. You have no reason to. I love him, and you can’t do anything about it.” Christian thought about it for a moment.

  “All right. On one condition.”

  “What condition?”

  “Give me the baby as a hostage. So I can get out alive.”

  “Juliette, no!” cried Bruno. “Let him kill me. But don’t give him my child!” Christian raised his blade.

  “It’s his choice.”

  “No, wait!” said Juliette. “I’ll do it. But you must promise not to harm her.”

  “I promise,” said Christian, as he moved to go up the gulley.

  “Juliette!” cried Bruno and tried to rise, but Christian slashed him across the back of his left leg. “Juliette, please! Run!” Christian charged up the slope.

  “Don’t worry, Juliette. You know you can trust me,” said Christian. “It’s probably my child anyway. I would never harm my own child.” He made it to lip of the rise and moved toward her. “On second thought. I think I have another option!” He raised his blade and rushed her.

  “Juliette! Run!” But Juliette didn’t move.

  “That’s what you did to my sister,” she said. She dropped her bundle and had a flintlock pointed at him. She fired and blew him off the ridge. “Babette trusted you, but I never did.”

  65

  “We must keep the child away from her mother and father so that we might be better able to carry out her sentence.” This from the archdeacon.

  His obvious knowledge about the girl had finally gained him an audience with Father Montaine.

  “Yes. You have a point, Phillipe,” replied Father Montaine. The archdeacon was delighted to hear someone of significance say his name out loud—and to heed his recommendations.

  “I suggest the hood be kept upon the girl. That way she can’t focus on anyone to work her evil magic.”

  66

  The trial of Claude and Esmerelda was much quicker than Nyira’s. It was an already established fact that they had coddled and concealed her. The proceedings were merely a formality. Their sentence was decided and pronounced to them while they were still in the room: death by hanging, to be carried out immediately. That’s when Claude lost himself and dropped like a stone falling from a cliff. He had never really grasped the nature of his crime, nor t
he consequences. When Esmerelda kneeled down and cradled his precious head, he asked:

  “What have we done? How has this come upon us?”

  Esmerelda didn’t have a real answer. None that would make it easier for him to accept.

  67

  The court was more cautious when giving Nyira her sentence.

  “What has become of my mother and Claude?” she asked the officials through her hood, as they stood before her cell to deliver the vicar general’s ruling.

  “They have been treated well, child.” This was Father Reyes’s voice she heard. The vicar general and Father Montaine felt it might be safer to have someone she was familiar with issue the ruling. “We must take you to the plaza now.”

  “Am I to be killed now, Father?”

  “You will be with your family, child. Is that not what you have wished?”

  “Yes.”

  They walked her to the wagon sitting in the yard behind the jail.

  Nyira was a bit nervous as the wagon progressed silently around the rear of the Cabildo and then made its way through town—as if to put her on display. She heard various words of malice from those they passed. That was the only way she was aware that they were going through the city.

  68

  Enriquillo and Camaguey had been preparing for this inevitability. He felt it a lucky thing that the priests were still in the tent city. He needed something they possessed. Bruno had even lent a few of his horses and five of his men. Enriquillo was sitting on Nyira’s shoulder when they delivered her sentence.

  “Don’t be afraid, my princess. We will be ready.”

  Please don’t do anything, Enriquillo. I must see my family safe.

  “But they are taking you—”

  Please, Enriquillo. You must trust and be patient.

  “I suppose you are right, Nyira. But how long should we wait?”

  You will know when the moment presents itself. My papa used to say that.

  “But what does that mean?”

  It means be patient.

  That was not the answer he had hoped for. Though he was aware of Nyira’s incredible powers, he was afraid she was overlooking her limitations. Like suppose they kept the hood on when they set the blaze? He couldn’t argue really. It was her life. And the white men were counting on her subdued state until the last moment.

  69

  When they pulled into the plaza, the wagon stopped. As Nyira was taken from the vehicle, the hood was removed. That’s when she saw that the square in front of the cabildo was filled with people. The day was clear and bright, and not a cloud came anywhere near the sun. The crowd was so large it clogged the streets all the way to the market. She’d loved that market and all the merchants who had been so kind to her. Like the baker that gave her a sweet bun when she and Esmerelda came to his stand. Even now, the boy Archie hawked them through the crowd. The children whose parents could afford to buy one for them, skipped through the throng laughing. Nyira found herself smiling too, as she watched them. She had not seen this many people in the square since the juggler and the circus laid anchor in the harbor. This seemed to be an almost festive occasion. But then she gazed toward the center of the square and saw the pyre.

  A number of slaves milled around the area, as well. Most of them were household slaves coming from the market with the food they had purchased. Nyira noted the small children with the servants, some of them little girls.

  She made eye contact with one small dark child holding a basket as she had on her first day in the market, though this child’s master was not as rich and generous as Major Dugard. She could tell by the fact that neither the child nor the older slave wore shoes and their clothes were torn and filthy. She obviously would have rather not be a slave, but it made life bearable when the owner chose to treat them well. Nyira smiled at the child, and she smiled back and then hid her face in the dirty skirts of the woman she accompanied. That was when the archdeacon crossed into her vision.

  “You will not be smiling for very long, witch.”

  He turned to see if he could discover who or what she was smiling at.

  “I see no smiling in the pyre.” He appeared furious that viewing her fate had not caused her to tremble and plead for her life, as others had.

  “You shall not have the satisfaction of my fear, Father,” said Nyira. She focused on the end of the rope that cinched his cowl around his waist. The end of it suddenly began to smoke. The priest recoiled and quickly put the rope out.

  “Cover her head again!”

  They walked her across the plaza. When they removed the hood again, Nyira saw Claude and Esmerelda standing at the base of the bell tower. When Esmerelda saw her, she broke down in tears. The sight hurt Nyira’s heart, for she had never seen Nolwazie so afraid. They quickly replaced the hood again.

  “I just wanted you to know the fate of your family,” said the archdeacon.

  “Why harm them, Father? Isn’t it enough that you are to kill me?”

  “They are just as guilty as you are. Coddling and concealing is punishable by death as well.”

  Nyira was more afraid of Esmerelda’s pain than any that might be inflicted by the pyre.

  She reached out to her:

  Please, Nolwazie. Don’t cry. I promise to think of something.

  I’m not crying for myself, replied Esmerelda. I cry for Claude. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. I would rather die alone than to watch him die not knowing why. He is concerned about you.

  I will try to speak to him? Will he be frightened if he hears my voice in his head?

  He might. But I believe it will allow him to be at peace if he can have counsel with you.

  So Nyira reached out.

  Claude? Can you hear me, Claude?

  Claude jumped and looked around like he’d been struck.

  What? What sorcery is this?

  It is mine, Claude. Camille. I just wanted to put your mind at rest. You have done nothing wrong. You were a good father to me.

  This didn’t stop Claude’s sobs, and it only added to Esmerelda’s.

  “These good people shouldn’t have to die for my actions, priest,” replied Nyira, and began to sob as well. The archdeacon smiled and made sure to stand behind her.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Show the proper remorse, witch. But this is not the best part. Your family will watch from the tower as you burn. That will be the last sight they see, as they hang. And their bodies will remain in view for a week.”

  Nyira thought that he was wise to have her head covered. She was so furious that she would have broken her promise to Father Reyes. But Artemus was watching as well. He was standing just behind the archdeacon.

  “There is no need to taunt her, Phillipe,” he said. “They will die just the same. What benefit is it to display such cruelty to the people?”

  “So they might see that evil will have no quarter in my—”

  “Your…?”

  “I meant to say… his majesty’s colony.”

  At that moment Nyira felt a buzz at her ear. It was a small, oddly colored fly.

  “Now can we attack, my princess? Your family is here,” buzzed Enriquillo.

  I have a plan of my own, replied Nyira. So do nothing.

  “What? I—I… but they—”

  You must trust me, my love.

  The mounted police escorted Esmerelda and Claude up the steps to the bell tower, while a second troop along with the priests marched Nyira to the pyre.

  A larger crowd of townspeople had gathered in the area. The wood was stacked so high that at first there was no way for Nyira to be tied to the stake protruding out of the pile. Once she was secured, the hood was removed again.

  Even though Nyira knew she was condemned, she held no bitterness toward the people in the square, as they called for her death and flung fruit or other objects. Some of which struck the priests, particularly the archdeacon. One little girl, having made eye contact with Nyira—she gave her brightest of smiles—flung a
tomato that caught the archdeacon on his narrow evil nose.

  The brightness of the sun and sky continued to defy the solemnity of the occasion. As if they both knew something she didn’t. But Nyira was still wondering what she might do to prevent Claude and Nolwazie’s impending death. For once, she was at a loss. She didn’t want Enriquillo to know this, lest he start a war with the few warriors that were left of his people, and get himself killed, too. It was also much harder to think once she saw Claude and Nolwazie up in the bell tower, with nooses displayed ominously before them. She could see the terror on Claude’s face, but Nolwazie’s had become serene. When a flicker of sunlight glinted off the shiny brass buckle of a mounted policeman in the tower, Nyira knew that the fire would take her.

  *

  Father Dominic took advantage of his opportunity to be in the middle of this event and spoke some words to the crowd: a bitter, vitriolic sermon on the merits of good and the wages of sin. Nyira barely heard it. She was focused on Claude. If she had time, she would have gone into his soul, just to reassure the entity waiting there. To ask it not to desert too soon, for Claude would need it to be strong.

  She was impatient for them to get it over with, and she hoped that they wouldn’t kill Claude and Nolwazie before they set her aflame. She had no desire to watch them die. She would go first. That was what the archdeacon had promised. The last words the priest uttered were: “Burn, witch!” And the pyre was lit…

  70

  Enriquillo watched as they set his dark princess ablaze. He felt his heart and his hope begin to burn with her. He had seen others in the square when they were burned on the pyre. First, they screamed from fear of the fire, and then they screamed as it actually overwhelmed their flesh. It made them look like the demon they were accused of being. None of these things happened to the dark princess. He realized something different was occurring when he didn’t feel her pain. He had linked his soul to hers, which essentially meant when she died, so would he. He felt no pain. He did feel some heat, but not a burning heat, just a glowing, pulsing ember of light. Like a small torch ignited in the darkness that kept getting brighter and brighter until it engulfed the dimness of the cave. And since she was not burning, she didn’t cry out.