by Reni K Amayo
‘More than you, it seems,’ Eni chuckled. ‘She’s right. I travelled to the castle once when I was young. I’ve seen them; they’re quite a sight.’ Azu huffed and stormed off. ‘Never mind him,’ Eni added softly to Naala.
‘I never do.’ She shrugged as she looked at the broken tree, carefully collecting some of its fragile bark. ‘Have you really been to the castle?’ she asked curiously. Long before the village attacks, she had always dreamt of going to the city herself, however, even in her dreams, she hadn’t imagined a world where she could actually enter the castle itself.
‘My cousin is a servant there; he snuck me in one time,’ he replied, as she nodded.
‘It must have been amazing to see the ọkụ shapes,’ Naala said, not knowing why she wanted to carry on the conversation.
‘Yes, but it’s also sad.’
‘Sad?’
‘They—the people in the castle—they are all so … wasteful. Here, we only use what we need, but there they use up what they can. They can use a whole uchie tree, purely for the entertainment of the senior lords. Year after year the people of Nri take scraps from these dead uchie trees that produce no new offspring. It’s a finite resource now, yet they’re eating away at it as though we still live in a world where Anyawu can simply conjure more. Soon enough there will be none left, and then what will we do?’ Eni watched as the survivors carefully broke off and stored pieces of the sacred bark, saying silent prayers to the lost fire goddess as they did so.
‘We’ll reap the consequences,’ Naala replied bitterly, as Eni flashed a look back at her.
‘You won’t; I’m sure you can get your monkey friend to find some uchie bark for you regardless.’ He teased, as Naala looked up to see Enwe swinging through the trees, following the survivors on their new pursuit.
Naala was happy to see her little friend. She had begun to notice that a dialogue of some sort was growing between her and the monkey. Recently, if she pointed or gestured at an object in Enwe’s presence, the little monkey would scramble to bring it to her. At times, she wouldn’t even have to point at it. It was bizarre, but Naala enjoyed it immensely.
In due time, they had finally put what Azu described as an adequate distance between themselves and their previous camp, and the group released a sigh of relief.
They all slumped down in their new location. Once their aching muscles were given respite, they were reluctant to move. One by one, people gave in, and hooked their hammocks to the nearest trees, before climbing up and falling instantly into a deep sleep.
Naala had never found it so easy to drift into sleep. She dreamt of orange and blue zebras dancing across a blackened sky as a group of elephants sang one of her favourite childhood songs.
An eagle nests in the iroko tree—a rare giant tree!
While other birds bath with glee, glee, glee,
The eagle watches high in the grand iroko tree.
The King of Birds swoops with glee, glee, glee.
A magnificent plumage! Out of the iroko—
One by one the elephants stopped singing. After a brief moment of stillness, they crashed down onto Naala’s head and she woke with a jolt, catching herself just before she fell out of her hammock.
She sighed softly in relief. Slightly obscured behind the spread of dark leaves, she could still see the night sky adorned with blinking stars. She allowed her focus to blur and the promise of sleep swept over her; that is, until she heard movements in the hammocks around her.
Naala pressed her eyes shut as she listened to the people moving out of their hammocks and creeping down their tree trunks. Naala felt an intense urge to jump up and point at them accusingly. She knew it! She knew that something was going on. However, rather than blowing her cover, she chose instead to lie completely still. Tonight she was going to discover exactly what they were up to.
Naala lay in silence as she waited for the last of the scuffles to die down, her ears straining to gauge the direction of the fading footsteps.
She crept out of her hammock, climbed down the tree, and stood amongst endless rows of long brown tree trunks, illuminated with the soft yellow lights of glowing insects, which hung in the air like a bejewelled cloud. The ground was soaked with the dim fluorescent green glow of the bulbous ero fungus. Clusters of it were scattered between sturdy leaves and throughout the forest. Naala had always been fascinated by the ero, a harmless fungi that was muted and dull during the day, but at night filled the forest with lights. Her uncle had told her that the god, Agwu, had blessed the ero centuries ago, so that the mood of anyone passing by them would alter the colour of their glowing lights. Naala was surrounded by a sea of soft green light, the neutral and natural glow of the ero. Deeper into the forest, Naala spotted a burst of yellow light. Activity, she thought, before setting off to follow the trail.
After she’d walked for a few minutes, the ero adjusted back to its sea-green glow. They’ve stopped, she thought.
The trees were becoming increasingly sparse, and Naala could see a small clearing in the forest ahead. Naala squinted before suddenly ducking behind a tree; she had seen them: the three puppet masters, huddled together in an intense discussion.
Naala let her heartbeat settle before looking for a way to get closer without being noticed. She poked her head around the thick tree trunk; they were all looking intently at Kora who was lost in some sort of tale, her hands moving animatedly.
Naala came out into the open and crept towards a closer tree, pressing against its trunk as she listened intently.
‘So what is the update?’ Eni asked.
‘Madi …’ Kora said carefully.
‘No,’ Madi warned, as a ruby glow emitted from the ero clusters at his feet.
‘He is the only one, Madi—the only one—and he is in the general’s squad. This is not something we can just overlook … please try to understand.’
‘Understand? There is nothing to unde—’
‘It would be madness to throw away this opportunity.’
‘He is not an opportunity. He’s my brother and I said no.’
‘You have to look at the bigger picture here—we don’t have any other options. They have killed off all the villagers who had joined the army before—before all of this. We ca—’
‘—and you want to add Emeka to the list now?’ Madi fumed.
‘Madi,’ Eni said quietly, his deep voice solid and final. Madi took a step back and groaned loudly.
‘Did you tell them?’ Madi said, after a long pause, as he drew his hands away from his face. They remained silent.
‘Did you tell them?’ Madi repeated, his voice slightly louder.
‘Of course she did,’ Eni replied sharply. ‘Listen, Madi, I understand your pain, but there’s no need to blame Kora. She is simply the messenger here.’
‘Is she, though? Kora has wanted this from the very beginning. She was the one who told them that Emeka was in the Eze’s army. This has been her doing!’
‘Madi, we all decided to tell them about Emeka,’ Eni noted. ‘We all want to see this thing come to an end, we all want justice.’
‘I don’t know what she writes to those people and neither do you … none of us do! This is not a team. There is no we when it comes to those messages—it’s just her and them.’
‘Madi, the three of us are in this together!’ Kora exclaimed, inciting a burst of pale yellow light from the silent ero. ‘I’m on your side. I’m sorry to say this, but you are really letting your emotions cloud your judgement here. Okay, yes, the plan is not perfect or ideal—but it’s all that we have—Emeka is our only option. If you could just take a step back and believe that he can do this— because he can, and he will. Do you hear me? Emeka can do this—and when he does, we will all be free from this terror.’
‘Stop talking about him like you know him,’ Madi snapped. ‘You don’t know him at all. None of you do. He is not an option—he is my little brother! I know what he is capable of doing. You don’t.’
Kora
opened her mouth briefly before shrinking back with her arms crossed over her stomach.
‘Did you tell them that he is just a child?’ Madi implored. ‘That he is weak, that he only joined that bloody army to prove something to our father? Did you tell them that when he spared me during our village attack—after watching our father die at the hands of his comrades—it was the bravest thing he had ever done, and even that was out of shame, not honour. You want so badly for this to be a solution that you won’t listen to me. He can’t do this.’ His voice was thick with emotion. He paused for a moment, but no one interjected.
Naala, with her back still firmly pressed against the thick tree trunk, slowly turned her head to the right, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on. To her frustration, she could not see a thing. She would have to step outside the shield of the large tree to see them, but she couldn’t risk getting caught. Naala was starving for more information; she had yet to fully grasp what was going on.
‘Madi, with all due respect, that is not for you to say,’ Eni eventually said. ‘He is your brother and I understand that, but your brother has made a choice—a choice, I would wager, that all of us would make in his position.’
‘He is just a child,’ Madi added quietly.
‘He has reached his fourteenth year, Madi. He is young, yes, but he is no longer a child. He has witnessed, perhaps even participated in, the killing of innocent villagers. He wants to escape, but he also wants to help. He needs this … he needs to feel absolved of some of the atrocities that he has committed. Wouldn’t you?’
‘He will die,’ Madi said sombrely, as the ever-present mist of floating, glowing insects cast muted shadows on his downcast face.
‘He won’t. But if he does,’ Eni said carefully. ‘Surely it would be better than remaining in such a soulless environment.’
‘He will not die,’ Kora added, her voice sharp and resolute. ‘He will steal the key and save us all. Your father’s name will be upheld for generations to come. Madi, you need to believe this. They would not have presented us with this option if they thought it was doomed; they would have found another way.’
‘We don’t even know who they are,’ Madi sighed, frustrated.
‘We know that we would not have survived as long as we have without their help,’ Kora pointed out. ‘Madi, you know this.’
‘What do you mean by that? So because they’ve told us how to collect some food, and given us a map of supposedly safe locations, I should now offer up my brother like a goat ready for the slaughter?’
‘No, Madi … I’m just saying they’re not the bad people.’
‘They’re not the good people either,’ Madi muttered.
Another uncomfortable silence settled over the group and then Madi began to move towards Naala. She held her breath as he unknowingly brushed past her.
The silence continued until Kora whispered, ‘What if he’s right … we would have lost the only contact in the army and Madi … would have lost his brother. He would never forgive me.’
‘Kora, you told them, didn’t you?’ Eni asked swiftly. ‘You told them that Emeka was young and … you told them, right?’
‘How could you even ask me that?’ Kora responded.
‘How could I not? This could be the everything—the difference between our survival or demise. If we get this key, we finally get a chance to fight back—a real chance to avenge our families. I desperately want this to work and I know you do too. If it stood in the way of this mission, I’m not sure I would have told them, which is why I have to ask. Did you?’
Another brief, tense silence fell between them.
‘This conversation is over,’ Kora suddenly announced. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
Again, Naala heard footsteps coming towards her way. More footsteps than she had heard previously. They must both be leaving. She tensed, willing herself to be as still and silent as possible. Naala strained her ears, and closed her eyes. All she could hear was the soothing light symphony of the night’s insects, luminous frogs, and restless beasts as they prowled around in the starry midnight.
Naala stared into the night wistfully, as the low light from the glowing insects sparkled around her. She was finally alone with her thoughts but she couldn’t begin to process what she had heard.
She had known that the group had a secret, but she had not, in her wildest dreams, imagined it to be to this large. They were planning something, something big, something that could bring down the system that had destroyed her village. Naala could not believe it. She didn’t know what to think, other than knowing that, somehow, she needed to get involved; she needed to help. The thought of fighting back and avenging those that had been stolen from her was so powerful that, for the first time in weeks, she felt like herself again. She took a sharp breath and placed her head against the tree. Suddenly a hand cupped her mouth and pulled her backwards before she could scream.
‘What are you doing here? Eni growled in her ear.
THE GIRL WHO FOUGHT
CITY OF NRI
THE NEWS that Sinai had been waiting on for days, weeks even, finally came knocking at her door.
‘Ndewo, Lolo Sinai,’ Chisi said, placing her crossed palms over her chest and letting them fall in greeting.
Sinai repeated the gesture back to her, before waiting attentively for her to speak.
‘Meekulu said that she has the soup that you requested,’ Chisi said, as her eyes darted into Sinai’s bare room.
Chisi had taken a liking to collecting Sinai. Sinai knew that the girl was busy with the hundreds of various errands that the kitchen piled on her. She could have easily sent a hamerkop bird in her place with messages from Meekulu, yet Chisi always took the time to fetch her. Sinai often wondered what Chisi was hoping to find, something salacious like a sleeping naked man, or something expensive enough to steal, like a large pretty jewel.
Sinai’s curiosity had finally got the best of her. ‘Chisi, I’m more than happy to see you, but surely you have better things to do with your time than coming to send me messages?’
Chisi’s eyes widened before she looked down in embarrassment.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Sinai exclaimed. ‘I didn’t mean—I just feel bad that you have to run up and down on account of me!’
‘Lolo Sinai, I really don’t mind. I like your room,’ Chisi replied, smiling shyly.
‘Really? Why?’ Sinai pondered. Her room was standard, perhaps even a little subpar for a noble; surely Chisi would have had a glance into one of the other more prestigious rooms on one of her many journeys to fetch her. Chisi bit her lip as though wrestling with something in her mind.
‘Well … I like … I like the air … the air dances in your room,’ she finally said, darting her eyes from Sinai to the window.
‘The air dances?’ Sinai replied, as she caught her breath. For a brief moment, Chisi’s statement reminded her of the episodes that she had experienced while taking Meekulu’s healing serum. Once Sinai had fully recovered and stopped taking the mixture, those episodes had subsided. She had since put those thoughts to the back of her mind; after all, she was far more preoccupied with her Ọnye Nyocha assignment. She had yet to even broach the subject with Meekulu, and now that those side-effects had come to a stop, she had little incentive to do so.
Sinai peered at the area by her window that Chisi kept glancing at. Sure enough, small gusts of wind whirled around in light and intricate spirals, but Sinai knew that they were not what they seemed.
Sinai smiled to herself. She lived in the corner of the grand castle, just at the point where the shade and the sun competed for attention. She had read once that the air acted strange at such points where the light and shadows intertwined.
‘Oh, Chisi … I wouldn’t worry about that. It is quite normal for the air to do such things near shaded areas,’ Sinai noted.
Chisi nodded but still bit her lip. Sinai could see that the girl still had a lot to say.
‘Yes …’ the girl sai
d carefully. ‘But I have not seen anything like that in any other area in the castle.’
‘I understand what you are saying, Chisi, but trust me, it’s sayensị. I’ll give you a parchment on it sometime,’ Sinai replied, as Chisi’s eyes widened slightly in fright at the mention of a parchment. Sinai had seen that same look cross the faces of many servants who had caught her reading. It was a look of fear, caused by encountering something completely unknown, so unknown that dark thoughts would fill the void caused by unanswered questions. Suddenly that thing became something bigger, something shrouded with infinite mystery and dark brewing magic. Sinai suddenly felt bad for offering the parchment; the girl probably couldn’t read a single word of Nsibidi.
‘Well, since you like the room so much, are you sure you wouldn’t like to come in?’ Sinai asked for the hundredth time, but Chisi shook her head vigorously.
‘Oh no, not at all, I should be getting back,’ Chisi repeated as usual; it was the same phrase she had said every time Sinai extended an invite. ‘But … you are coming? Yes? For the soup?’ Chisi edged deeper into the hallway, her slender black arms beckoning Sinai forward.
Sinai’s ‘soup’—the disfigurement lotion that she had sworn an ọbara oath for—was ready.
‘I just need to finish up with some things here; I’ll come to meet Meekulu a little later.’
‘Oh, but she will be busy later, and the soup will get cold. Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be there shortly. Please do not worry,’ Sinai said, as she closed the door softly on Chisi’s face.
She laid down on her akwa nest, her gaze glued to the high stone ceilings that encased her. She watched as the patterns on the hay-coloured roof began to slowly dance before her eyes. She had spent weeks salivating over the prospect of seeking retribution for her fall, and now that it was here, within her grasp, she was completely unenthused. The social events, the games, the lion, the Eze … all of it had drained her.
Stop being stupid, a voice in her mind hissed; go and collect that concoction!
If she didn’t, she would have become a Ọnye Nyocha for nothing. She would have risked her life, perhaps even her soul, for absolutely no gain.
