Iniko used her air magic to push the debris out of her way, then zeroed her mind’s eye on the location of Kuumba. He was in the village square with two other fetish priests and a group of infected white Obayifo slavers. They stood surrounded by charred bodies and waning firelight. Zawadi was chained, held captive behind the fetish priests, but Iniko could see in the low light that her daughter no longer held her head low or cowered in defeat.
Zawadi’s eyes were rejuvenated. Her child stealthily tried to unlatch the brutish hand shackles. Iniko floated and touched down in the square, causing a small earth tremor when she landed. Her air magic made the firelight burn brighter. Iniko focused on her husband. This was the closest that she’d been to him in many years. Her heart sobbed at the wasted years, and the fact that her daughter had been raised without the love of both parents. She sensed she now had more control over the mate bond and considered opening it to encourage him, but she used words instead.
“Kuumba, release our daughter. I don’t want to kill you, but I will.”
“That is not my child. It is impossible for a son of Eshu to birth a girl.” Kuumba’s voice sounded scratchy.
“Your magic isn’t as strong as mine, and the daughter of Mawu births warrior women.” Iniko opened the mate bond so he could feel that her words were true. She connected with his conflict and finally, his understanding, but the evil funneled between them like a barrier.
“You murdered my adoptive family for nothing because you believed you lost your magic to me, but you became strong because you shared my magic.”
One of the slavers barreled towards her. He was attracted like a moth to his death. Iniko put her dagger into the sheath and held up her hand to allow her air magic to hold him suspended. She used her internal eyes to use air to expand every cell in his body until he imploded from the inside out, leaving chunks of human fat and blood clumps in a puddle on the ground.
Kuumba’s eyes flamed as he held his head back in shrieking laughter.
“Mawu’s missing child. We have been searching for you.”
Slithering noises streamed inside and around Kuumba’s body as a misty redness grew. The Obayifo slavers all bowed their heads and went down on one knee as they chanted, “Guhruhi. Guhruhi.”
Fear returned to her daughter’s eyes as the burgundy mist swarmed and threatened to choke away her very existence.
CHAPTER SIX
The Guhruhi
The Guhruhi was so vast it needed three human vessels. It slithered from the vessel called Kuumba’s mouth and into the other two vessels, slowly taking possession of all three men at the same time. Anger formed inside the burgundy mist when it realized Kuumba was no longer under full control because of the mate bond.
Kuumba resisted.
Mawu’s daughter affected his best vessel along with the knowledge of his having a daughter. The Guhruhi understood. It, too, was drawn to the light. The power rolling from her made it want to live off her essence. It wanted to taste and feed from her magical soul.
“Nana Buluku.” It made all three vessels speak in unison. “We will convince this one to join the Guhruhi. We will control this universe, too.”
Nana Buluku made no response as usual. The ancient battle between the two had waged across the cosmos for as long as the Guhruhi could remember. If it took this universe, then darkness and negativity would rule the three universes forever. Nana Buluku would be defeated. It compelled the vessels to yowl, deep from the belly. Indignation burned as the vessel called Kuumba stopped.
The Guhruhi would deal with his insolence, later.
Pure magic beaconed. The Guhruhi understood these humans were not enough to steal this universe. It needed pure magic. These humans were animated sacks of clay and water. The Guhruhi made the vessels drop down their elongated fangs.
It wanted to taste the blood and magic of Mawu’s daughter. If it could have convinced Mawu to let it bond with her in the womb, the power would now have been intoxicating. The Guhruhi despised the earlier rejection. It must continue to consume. It must survive. There could be no positive without negative. No light without dark.
It slid in and out of each human vessel then rolled forth from their mouths. It could not control Kuumba’s awareness, but it could compel him to be immobile while it showed Mawu’s daughter the power of the joining. It surrounded her body with the full weight of itself, to force obedience, just like the others.
“Join us.” The Guhruhi made the other vessels speak in a unison of possession as it slinked and squeezed her.
The power of her magic made it want to caress and seduce her into submission; a mixture of pleasure, with suffocating pain. Mawu’s daughter coughed from its smell of pure power. The human vessel, Kuumba, opened the mate bond and tried to use it as comfort. The Guhruhi made Kuumba’s body heavy like dried clay, but it pulled back. It wouldn’t damage her. It needed the joining.
“Together we can rule.” The raw hunger gnawed, but the Guhruhi exercised patience and fed spiritually off a nearby servant.
The beautiful one said, “Evil, you will die by my magic and war blade.”
“We are Guhruhi. Join me. You will come to understand.” The beautiful one unsheathed her blade of righteousness that burned.
Its attention moved.
The vessel, Kuumba, broke free from the hold. What had he done? Another surge of magic exploded from the girl. Kuumba unhooked the little one’s shackles. Foolish vessel!
The Guhruhi made itself misty and spread flat to sop up what was left of the magical energy while crushing Kuumba down to one knee, compelling his head to bow in full submission.
The small cry was almost inaudible under Kuumba’s groan of pain. “Don’t take my mama.” The little one used her touch fire magic to disintegrate her captors. “I will be your vessel. Take me!”
The Guhruhi wanted her power too. She was not as strong as her mother or her grandmother, but she would be a tasty addition, an almost suitable replacement. The Guhurhi formed a plan to use the daughter as bait. With the little one and a ritual sacrifice of the three current vessels, it could live off of her for a hundred years, or long enough to convince the mother to willingly say “yes” and accept the joining. The little granddaughter continued to disintegrate two more servants. She had the power of death with her fire magic and turned them into dust. But her abilities drained quickly.
The Guhruhi made the vessels scoff including Kuumba. “Your little one offers a foretaste. We will take her. We will feed from her. We will suckle her magic, and if you do not come to take her place, we will join with her.”
Mawu’s daughter screamed, “No!”
The plan to convince her of the joining worked well. If it could have smiled, it would have. The Guhruhi commanded two of the three vessels to use fetish priest translocation magic to open a swirling portal.
“Take the little one, but bind her hands,” it hissed to the servants.
The Guhruhi receded as the gateway began to translocate to a place of powerful magic. Mawu’s daughter swung her blade of light to slice the followers. She would be too late to save her daughter, but primed for the Guhruhi’s needs.
The vessel, Kuumba, tried to resist. The Guhruhi took violent control. It made Kuumba blast her with an intense wind to knock her down and then forced his steps towards the funneling portal.
“We will be at the castle by the ocean. Come before the moon rises tomorrow and your little one will be spared. Don’t come and she will replace you.”
The Guhruhi made the vessels lick their lips as they disappeared into the translocation portal. It was confident. Either way, it would feed the ravenous appetite.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kuumba
Kuumba drowned in the full weight of the Guhruhi. The scarlet mist entered every orifice of his body, contracting and expanding until Kuumba’s human form collapsed. The Guhruhi relentlessly rushed him like a giant ocean wave taking him under, bashing his head on the floor, then throwing his broken body against t
he slave castle wall.
When the pain and agony became too much, Kuumba pleaded, “Master, please forgive.”
“We have no mercy.” The Guhruhi slithered into his left ear, smashing through his brain, clean through to the other side. Kuumba’s eardrums burst. The Guhruhi bent him over and barreled up his anus with a sulfuric acid missile. His body exploded.
Kuumba saw surreal stars as he lay motionless, looking at his own severed arms, legs, and feet. He was helpless as the Guhruhi slowly dragged his human form together, reattaching his limbs as if he were a clay puzzle. When he was fully reassembled, the caustic redness surrounded him and held his arms and legs in a pain-filled suspended animation.
“Your insolence has a price,” the Guhruhi whispered. “You will ensure the joining with your wife. You will use your mate bond to force her acceptance, or you will suffer eternal pain.”
Kuumba thought of his beautiful wife and child. His father had been wrong. All those years, he’d been wrong. He could have had a beautiful family. He could have loved and cherished his wife; instead, he chose retribution and murder. Reopening the mate bond opened his heart to the truth about Iniko and who had the most magic. Iniko’s abilities made his magic stronger. She was the reason he was strong. She shared her goddess magic with his weak human soul. He was the real burden—he’d been a fool.
Kuumba wanted to be free of the cursed Guhruhi. He wanted to be a good father to his daughter. He wanted to be a loving husband to his wife. His thoughts became cloudy, and within his soul, he heard the peaceful feminine voice of good. It shielded a part of his soul from the Guhruhi.
“Nyame Biribi Wo Soro. There is good in the heavens. You can always let go of the Guhruhi. You can choose to release the debt on your soul.”
Kuumba wanted to change. He wanted to be different. He turned his heart towards the brilliant light. His soul left his cursed form and landed in a cosmic realm. He was between life and death.
A beautiful woman appeared dressed in a white ceremonial dress and head wrap embroidered in gold, and approached him with a golden gourd.
“Kuumba, do you agree to protect this universe from evil?”
He looked at the drinking gourd filled with light. “Yes.”
“Then drink from the power of goodness and freedom.” The woman lifted the golden gourd to his mouth, and he drank.
The goddess smiled. “I am Nana Buluku, and you have been charged to rid this universe of Guhruhi. Your journey will be dangerous and bloody, but you can save your wife and child with your body as a sacrifice.”
Kuumba handed the drinking gourd back to Nana Buluku. “I will do what it takes to atone. I am made anew.”
Nana Buluku touched his forehead and drew an Adinkra symbol, Aya, the fern. “Endurance, defiance, against difficulties.”
Kuumba’s soul fell into the cursed body he shared with the Guruhi, but his soul was different—cloaked. Kuumba took a cleansing breath. He heard her voice and saw a vision of how to imprison the evil and rid this universe of the negativity—forever.
At that moment, he decided he’d free his family even if it meant his death. A good thought formed. He smiled inwardly; for now, he would agree to do what Guhruhi said until he could unleash the plan to defeat darkness.
Kuumba bowed his head in false submission and in a scratchy voice said, “I will ensure the joining with my wife. I will use my mate bond. She will become one with the Guhruhi.”
Suddenly, Kuumba’s body dropped, he could breathe normally, and his body returned under his control.
“Master, one more plea...”
He waited as if he were a humble servant. “If we wish to ensure that she gives herself completely, I need time alone to convince her to agree to the joining before the moon rises.”
Kuumba withheld his smile as the plan blossomed inside his mind that would free his family.
“We hear your need, Kuumba, and it is granted. Make sure Mawu’s daughter is at the ritual site by moon rise or suffer unimaginable pain.”
Kuumba watched the sulfuric redness dissipate. He stood up on shaky legs, and walked out into the bright sunshine of the slave castle courtyard among the Obayifo slavers and captured magic bearers. He moved quickly through the courtyard. The beginnings of his plan were unfolding.
Kuumba’s sandals slapped against the stone steps as he entered the governor’s chambers, where female slaves were kept who would become brides for the Guhruhi. He traversed the interior until he found his daughter.
She sat on a stool in shackles as the women prepared her for the ritual with paint and beads. Some braided her hair in ritual designs.
Kuumba allowed his voice to boom. “Leave us.”
The women stopped. “But master, we must prepare this one for the moonlight ritual, and the female cutting ceremony is not complete.”
Kuumba acted the part of the fetish priest. “You are not suitable. I have another in mind to get her body prepared for the trokosi ceremony. Go! Before my temper turns.”
The women scrambled out of the chamber.
“Have you come to kill me, Father, or make me a slave?” Zawadi looked so much like her mother, Kuumba almost broke.
He walked over to her to release the shackles binding her hands and feet.
“Shh. We must leave this place at once. I will take you to my sister who will protect you as her own. You will remain with her until your mother comes to retrieve you.”
Zawadi hugged him. His body tensed but relaxed. A father’s loved beamed from his heart and he knew how much he’d lost in his foolishness.
He kissed Zawadi on her forehead, stood up and held her small hand. Using a fetish priest’s translocation magic, he spirited his daughter away to his family. He would have to hurry back to finish the final pieces of Nana Buluku’s plan, but at least his daughter would be safe.
Kuumba smiled broadly as he stepped through the portal, feeling the force of good within his soul as he thought through the plan to completely save his wife and daughter. He hesitated in the uncertainty of having to betray Iniko again, but he must take this chance if his family were to be free.
When Iniko retrieved their daughter, he hoped she would remember him fondly and come to forgive him in time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Iniko
Iniko travelled through the day until she’d reached the slave castle by the ocean. This was the place where they sold clans people to the white man. Her heart was grieved, but she lifted her chin. One day, she’d mount a revolution to free her people, but today she focused on her mission to, at least, save her sweet child.
Iniko dressed in her fighting outfit with black, balloon-like pants, strung tight around her small waist and a piece of fabric covering her breasts. This, along with a bit of swirling dust from her air magic, helped her to sneak in unnoticed with a group of newly-abducted women.
She quickly made her way to one more spot of darkness in the slave castle of sorrows. She sped to the dungeon within striking distance of where she guessed they held her sweet Zawadi. Since she’d entered the slave castle, there was a dampening effect like a thick cloak hampering her ability to sense her daughter, so she used her warrior skills of deduction. The dungeon was pitch-black and oppressive. Her outfit would allow her to remain hidden within the darkness of the dungeon slave holds until the sun set.
The slaves were shackled, foot by foot, in the filth of feces and had lost all hope. With each terrified moan from her sisters, Iniko’s heart cracked, bled, and scarred again; until the heavy ache in her chest threatened to bring her to her own knees. Iniko had to save her daughter. Only with Zawadi’s power, would she eventually find a way to rid this universe of the demonic force that caused this to happen.
The sun finally set, and she slipped past the fattened Obayifo slavers. She wanted to save up her cloaking air magic for when she retrieved her daughter. Iniko’s sandals quietly slapped the stone on the staircase that led from the women’s dungeon to the governor’s chambers. Her daughter woul
d not become the concubine of evil.
She heard more female screams as another group of Obayifo slavers raped, gorged on blood, and stole the magic of those girls who weren’t important to the Guhruhi. Her insides boiled, but she continued to move stealthily up the stairs. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was discovered; since she was out in the open, she moved as fast as she could before bringing attention to herself. When she’d made it near the top, screeching sounds behind her made her pause. She turned as the infected slavers attacked.
Iniko bowed her head, went down on one knee, unsheathed her dagger, and pointed her Akofena war sword to the earth. She was tired but took a deep, cleansing breath.
“Great Mother, strengthen my soul.”
Iniko stood, turned and charged the oncoming zombie-like creatures. They were fat and slow. She jabbed one in the belly, pushing him down the flight of stairs. The other one swung his fist and made contact with her face. She shook off the pain, holding the hilt of her dagger and coming down hard into the top of his shoulder. Iniko pulled out her dagger as the beast crumpled to his knees, and swung her body to the other side as she used her sword to chop his neck.
Iniko didn’t have time to finish him off because she heard what sounded like her daughter’s screams. She would not fail her sweet baba. Clutching her bloody sword, Iniko raced to the top of the stairs and down to the doorway where she kicked it opened and sped inside. Upon entering, her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior and her nose to the smell of strong, numbing incense.
Origins of an African Elemental Page 4
