Daughters of Nri

by Reni K Amayo

  Her feet pounded through the dense green forest.

  What’s the plan? Naala thought, her mind racing faster than her feet. She couldn’t repeat the actions that she had taken before, not unless she wanted to waste more time getting locked up. She would have to sneak into the village, and speak to her grandmother. Naala was certain that if they spoke, face-to-face, without the prying eyes of the villagers, she would be able to convince her. She could save her grandmother and the children and—Naala stopped.

  Her heart leapt to her throat and her head started to spin. A sickly smell of iron and smoke filled the air and, over the thudding of blood in her ears, she heard screams. Naala doubled over with tears coating her sore eyes; she didn’t want to be right. She would have rather been insane. Please let me be insane, she pleaded to the ghosts of the gods. Naala staggered towards the village in a trance. A quiet voice told her to run away; the only thing you will meet there is death, it whispered harshly. However, her body tugged her towards the people she had loved all her life, and whom she had failed to save.

  The jade-green forest thinned out and she was close enough now to see the carnage. Bright splotches of blood and scattered bodies. She could hear a gnarled and disturbing sound. It sounded like a wounded animal; it took her a moment to realise that it was her screams. She walked undisturbed among the dismembered bodies of her neighbours. A combination of disgust, despair, and anger surged through her, the most potent emotion being anger; it swirled through her mind like poison, and she grew dizzier with every step.

  She was furious at her village for ignoring her plea. Look at you now! she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Naala cursed herself. She wanted to claw out of her body and beat herself senselessly. After all, she had known; why was she surprised? She had seen what was going to happen, sensed it for weeks. She had truly known about the danger ahead, and she had failed to convey it. She had failed her people, just as they had failed her. She should have tried harder; she should have had a smarter approach; she should have been able to convince them. Once again the word ‘should’ was dust in her mouth. ‘Should’ couldn’t help anyone now, she thought, as she witnessed the brutal slaughter that had taken place.

  Naala continued to walk openly through her village. All around her were the Eze’s men, rounding up and hacking away at the remaining few villagers left to kill. They paid her no attention. Naala stepped wordlessly along, just as she had done for years. However, instead of warm smiles and open arms, she was met by disfigured corpses. Her legs were heavy and stiff; she dragged them along like planks of wood. She strolled past the men, with her eyes glazed over and mouth gaping silently. Suddenly her world stopped.

  Here lay her grandmother—her small grandmother with leather-soft skin, thin white hair and a strong back, which she had used for decades to beat the fluffiest pounded yam. Her dear grandmother was lifelessly on the dust-red ground. Over her body stood a large man with a long straight scar on the right side of his face, extending from his ear to his chin, and he gripped a red-stained abara. Despite the streaks of wet blood sliding off from the weapon, the abara’s jade coating shone brightly. It was strange and vibrant, as though not made out of a solid substance, but rather an almost living liquid, thick like ink, and radiating an unspeakable power.

  The soldier had similarly green-snake eyes. Naala had never seen such a thing before. His eyes were bright against his dark black skin, and Naala blinked as something briefly flashed behind them, something warm and familiar, almost like recognition. Quick as a flash, the man moved with purpose towards her.

  Naala would have run but she was frozen in place—but not by fear … she was far beyond that. She had begun a descent into despair. Her gaze left the monstrous man and found its way back to her grandmother.

  She felt her heart collapse into turmoil, and a strange chill took over her body. It started off as the familiar tug that had gripped her stomach in recent days, but spiralled into something far more powerful. An incredible sensation rippled through her body as a high-pitched, eerie scream escaped her mouth. The world eased down into a slow heartbeat. Naala could feel everything and nothing at the same time.

  She could feel the earth beneath her come alive. Naala clenched her fists and the ground shook with fury. She raised her arms and the red dust whirled into the air. The soldier stepped away, holding his hand to his head as the dust swarmed around him, choking him with Naala’s vengeance. Naala looked down at her hands in shock.

  ‘What am I?’ she whispered, as the particles lost their energy and sifted towards the ground. Before she could dwell on that question, the soldier approached again, with the red soaked abara still in hand.

  Naala allowed the surge of power to storm through her body, raising her hands towards the soldier. The ground trembled and he lost his balance and fell to the ground. Large waves pulsated through the earth’s surface, flinging the people around Naala into the air. They floated as though the air had turned into a substance as dense as water. Naala screamed with her arms outstretched. Her eyes shone with brilliant gold, her fingers clutching onto the air, whilst energy gushed out of her body.

  Boom!

  The world exploded. The dead, the emerald-eyed soldier, her village, all melted into nothing. Naala was completely lost. There was only one thing left for her to do.

  She entered the black.

  THE REQUEST

  CITY OF NRI

  SINAI TRIED to wipe the sleep from her face, but she couldn’t stop yawning so widely that small tears spurted at the corner of her eyes. The sun crept out of the morning clouds, sending sharp rays across the pink sky; the air was fresh and pleasant, doused with the scent of the fresh frangipanis flowers and sweet bread.

  Sinai had woken up especially early, in the same manner that she had been waking up for days. She felt completely consumed by an airy feeling, almost as though she had spent the night floating in the air and had suddenly crashed down into her akwa nest. She would clutch at her soft furs or the cold golden rails, gasping for breath. Sinai concluded that these episodes, similar to the one outside of the soldiers’ quarters, must have been some kind of side effect from the concoction that Meekulu had given her to assist with her healing. This thought added fire into Sinai’s walk to the kitchen. After days of waiting, she was finally getting an audience with Meekulu.

  SOON AFTER SINAI had formulated her plan, she rushed to find Meekulu. She had thought that her injuries, though largely healed, would still serve as an excellent excuse for speaking with the old woman, but she quickly learnt that Meekulu’s time was in especially high demand. Sinai struggled to even request time to see the cook. She had sent several messages through Ozi, her hamerkop messenger bird, but they had all gone unanswered. Even when she’d tried to access the old woman in person, she was stopped at the large doors of the kitchen quarters by someone or other.

  ‘Ehh Meekulu said you should come back later,’ the shy kitchen girl said to her when Sinai arrived for the third time in a row.

  ‘That’s what she said last time, and I am back later,’ Sinai sighed. A soft song from the corner of the hall interrupted her thoughts. Sinai turned to find a nnunu woman crouched on the floor. Sinai had never seen a nnunu up close before; they were not permitted to dwell within the palace walls. The adjacent kitchen quarters were perhaps the closest to the actual palace that they could come to. The nnunu was larger than Sinai had imagined, a little taller than her, in fact. The bird woman’s eyes were large and the skin at the top of her face was deep red, as though someone had swept a paintbrush over it. Instead of a nose and mouth, the nnunu had a hard, broad, brown beak. A flurry of brown and black feathers sprouted from her head and clothed her body, as though she was wearing a feathered robe. The nnunu cocked her head and belted out her beautiful song even louder, her hands outstretched for golden shells, that she would no doubt use to petition the Eze for the gift of flight.

  ‘Yes, Lolo, but Meekulu is busy today as well,’ the kitchen girl muttered, bringin
g Sinai out of her thoughts. The young girl let her back leg bend slightly into a short bow.

  Lolo: the title given to the noblewomen in the palace. Sinai was rarely ever addressed with such formalities. The girl was too young to decipher how unimportant Sinai actually was. On a normal day, Sinai would have told her to not to bother, she was no Lolo. But Sinai was desperate to see the old woman; perhaps if the girl thought that she was far more powerful that she actually was, it would help her get in front of Meekulu faster.

  ‘Did you tell her it was important?’ Sinai asked again, attempting to raise her chin towards the sky, as the senior lord’s wives did whenever they asked for things that they already knew they would inevitably obtain.

  ‘Yes, Lolo,’ the girl replied hesitantly.

  ‘Okay.’ Sinai sighed after a long pause, letting her pretences slide off her body like water. She turned and headed to the nnunu woman, dropping two golden shells into her palm. The nnunu woman nodded, with what seemed like a smile on her beak. If the nnunu received enough shells, she would be able to gain an audience with the Eze, who could then use the Mother’s crystal to transform her into a hamerkop messenger bird. The nnunu woman would have to accept a binding servitude to the kingdom, a price all of them begged to pay for the chance to fly again. Sinai had never understood why the Eze would dangle such a prize in front of the desperate nnunus. After all, he had the power to give them the flight they so longed for, so why not transform them unconditionally? As far as she knew, Ekwensu had never had to enslave the nnunus in order for them to send his messages, so why did the Eze? Why couldn’t anything in this city be more straightforward? she wondered.

  ‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ she murmured softly, with her back still turned to the kitchen girl, before walking back to the formidable palace.

  A FEW DAYS LATER, the same girl knocked at Sinai’s door, wide-eyed and filled with excitement.

  ‘Meekulu has requested that you come and visit her,’ she said giddily, happy to have good news for once.

  ‘Really?! Oh, finally! Yes, thank you!’ Sinai exclaimed, as she began to ready herself to leave for the kitchen, but she was stopped in her tracks by the girl’s nervous expression.

  ‘Oh, not now, sorry, Lolo. Tomorrow morning—at sunrise. She can see you before she starts her day.’

  ‘Ahh.’ Sinai paused; she was slightly disappointed by the delay, but a smile remained on her lips. ‘Thank you …?’ Sinai continued, slightly ashamed that she did not know the girl’s name.

  ‘Oh! Chisi, my name is Chisi.’ The girl beamed.

  Sinai smiled before waving her off. She finally had a chance to set her plan into motion.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sinai stood outside Meekulu’s kitchen; days ago, she had decided what she was going to say. Sinai was going to tell Meekulu the truth. She was going to tell her exactly how she had fallen, the torment that she had suffered over the years at the hands of Ina, and her plans for getting retribution. Sinai thought that her plans, overall, were reasonable. After all, she was not planning on killing the girl. In fact, technically she wasn’t even planning on disfiguring her; she was just going to teach her a lesson.

  Sinai had even thought of suggesting she should become Meekulu’s apprentice, as a means to pay her for her help. It was unheard of, perhaps a little uncouth, but Sinai was desperate for this to work, and what else did she have to offer the famous cook?

  A gush of air pushed the heavy wooden door open before Sinai’s knuckles had even met its thick frame.

  ‘What took you so long?’ the old woman said in a low voice, as Sinai lowered her hand. Facing Sinai, she was seated behind a large wooden table, her wrinkled black hands busy plucking a small mound of dark green leaves. Meekulu was not alone; beside her sat a large soldier. His face was far younger than his imposing body appeared to be.

  ‘Ndewo,’ Sinai greeted hesitantly, ‘I was told to come at dawn?’ She cautiously walked towards the table. She did not want to appear defensive, but she also wanted to make it clear that she would not disrespect the old woman by showing up late. Sinai was also unnerved by the presence of the soldier; she did not want an audience here, and she did not like the way he looked at her.

  He stared at her openly, but not as many men before him had done with suggestive whistles and indecent claps. Rather, it seemed as though he was studying her, taking note of the curve of her cheeks and the dips in her nose. Sinai wasn’t sure which of the two she hated most; both types of stares made her feel like some sort of animal. She refused to look away in shame. She hated seeing women hide their head in their hands when men leered at them. Sinai was part of the cohort that looked back sternly, either completely ignoring those men’s existence or, if the man was being particularly terrible, kissing her teeth and delivering a cold cutting side-eye. She had heard of some women, particularly those of the lower ranks, receiving a slap after doing such things. The thought of that made Sinai’s blood boil; she almost wished a man would try that with her. She would kick him so hard that he wouldn’t even be able to think of siring a child without receiving pain.

  Sinai looked back coolly at the soldier. His strange, emerald eyes lit up his black face and Sinai took note of the large scar that extended down its right side.

  ‘My dear,’ Meekulu said. ‘Dawn is when I start cooking the royal breakfast; you must arrive before that if you seek my counsel. And you are late so please be on your way—it’s also time for you to leave too—both of you.’ Meekulu slid off the wooden stool and took the bowl of crushed leaves to the water basin.

  ‘Leave?’ Sinai gasped. She quickly lost all interest in the soldier; her entire mission for revenge was at stake!

  ‘No, please, I’ve waited so long and I really need your help, Meekulu,’ Sinai pleaded, as she paced towards Meekulu, dipping her body in a slight, albeit clear, bow. Meekulu may have been a force within the palace, and Sinai may have been an efuọla girl, but Sinai was nonetheless a noble, and Meekulu a servant. Sinai was crossing a very serious line by subjugating to the old woman, but she was desperate. Who knew when Ina would strike next?

  Meekulu did not flinch at Sinai’s action.

  ‘Stand up straight, child,’ she said. ‘It’s not me you should be bowing to; Sergeant Olu was the one who saved your life.’ The old woman chuckled, as she turned to soak her chopped leaves.

  Sinai’s head spun; she felt as though she was being pulled in ten different directions at once. Part of her wanted to convince Meekulu to hear her out; another part wanted to understand whether or not Meekulu was playing a practical joke; a large part of her wanted to pay her respect and thank the man who allegedly had saved her life; and another part wanted to analyse why she felt so uneasy around him.

  You need to get it together, Sinai, a cold voice whispered sternly inside her mind. She took a deep breath and dipped into a sensible bow, low enough to not be viewed as a slight, but not desperate either.

  ‘Thank you so much, Ozo,’ Sinai said. ‘I’m sorry for taking so long to find you; I was told you had been deployed on a mission. I’m so grateful that you are back safe. Please tell me how I can repay you for saving my life.’ Her heart beat ferociously as she uttered those last few words. The man had saved her life, and while it was custom that she offered him something in return, she was apprehensive about what he might ask her to do.

  He could demand marriage or, worse, request her as his concubine. How would she get out of that without having to take his life or form some other conniving plan? She was yet to be successful with her plan against Ina. The weight of the palace, and its many cruel rules, pressed against her skin. She wanted to scream out to the heavens. Instead, she forced a small smile and lifted her head slightly, beckoning for a quick response. Tell me my fate, she begged in her mind.

  ‘Your smile is all that I need for repayment. Keep safe, little one.’ The soldier moved towards the door. ‘Meekulu, I’ll return soon,’ he said. ‘Oh and give the girl her counsel before she tries to jump off another window l
edge—my back can only take so much.’ He winked, before closing the door behind him.

  Sinai stared after him curiously; he had set her free from her obligations. She had never known anyone in the palace to do such a thing; perhaps her uneasiness was unwarranted. Sinai had always considered herself to be a good judge of character, but she was not infallible; she could have been wrong about him. His words echoed in her head, and suddenly a deep frown formed on her lips.

  ‘I didn’t jump …’she muttered. ‘I didn’t jump, I was pushed,’ she called after him, but he was already gone.

  Sinai was abruptly reminded of the main reason she was requesting counsel from the old woman.

  ‘Meekulu, I—’

  ‘I know what you want, dear; no need to wait about till I fall into the grave,’ Meekulu chuckled, before pausing to face Sinai with a warm smile. ‘And I am willing to give it to you on one condition,’ Meekulu said, as she turned back to softly kneading the crushed leaves into a thick dough.

  ‘I’m not sure that you know …’

  ‘You have been bitten, no?’ Meekulu replied, shaking her head as the girl looked down at her bare arms. There were no bumps or blotches that would suggest a bite.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘I can see the venom running through you. The thirst for revenge … my girl, it is written all over your demeanour, seething in your eyes. Why else would you come to visit me?’

  ‘Well, no—not exactly. There are other reasons to … I also wanted to say … I think the medicine you have given me has a side effect,’ Sinai muttered, as her cheeks became warm with shame.

  Meekulu let out a loud cackle as she turned, shaking her head.

  ‘You want me to believe that you bowed to me so that you could tell me about a side effect? What is it, girl? Have you grown a tail?’