Daughters of Nri

by Reni K Amayo

  ‘You … you can’t mean that. We can’t all go; we will all be caught before we reach the palace wall,’ Naala said quietly.

  ‘No, we won’t,’ Madi said softly with a smile. ‘We can all be brought into the palace via the merchant. You and Eni will be escorted through the palace, and Kora and I can trail you—and if something goes wrong and you need a distraction, we will assist. We will all protect you.’

  ‘It’s not safe,’ Naala murmured. She did not like the idea of putting any of her new friends in harm’s way. The thought of all of them entering into this fight just to support her felt wrong … like a waste of life.

  ‘You’re not the only one who wants to destroy that stupid goat of a man,’ Kora responded with a smile.

  ‘It is better that we all go; it will increase our chances,’ Madi added.

  ‘We’re going,’ Eni said.

  Naala said, ‘So … you don’t despise me? For being a … for having these powers?’

  ‘Despise you?’ Madi exclaimed. ‘Certainly not! Are you kidding? It’s amazing!’

  ‘I—we just want to protect you,’ Eni replied, and Naala felt a chill. Suddenly a huge flurry of leaves lifted from the ground and encircled them all in a dance before settling again. Naala laughed at the shock and delight that spread across all their faces.

  ‘Hate to break it to you, Eni,’ Kora exclaimed. ‘But I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one protecting us! But at least we’ll there to cheer her on.’

  THE NZUZO GARDENS

  CITY OF NRI

  SINAI LAY STILL in the pitch-black room, her eyes closed and her body heavy with fatigue. Her thoughts lay still in a thick pool, and complete nothingness consumed her. She could not recall where she was or even what she was; all she knew was that she needed to sleep. Suddenly a thin light cut through the room and familiar sounds bounced across the walls. A girl spoke, her voice hushed and filled with sadness and angst. Moments later, a woman’s face appeared. Even though her features were largely hidden behind the velvet darkness, Sinai knew the girl to be Ina.

  I’m sorry, Sinai tried to say, but all that escaped her mouth was a series of croaks. Sinai was sorry for cutting Ina’s hand, she was sorry for causing Meekulu’s death, she was sorry for being weak. Most of all, she was sorry that it was not her that the soldiers had taken away outside the palace walls. Just as the thoughts rushed into her head, they rushed out and Sinai was left again with nothingness.

  A sudden jolt unnerved her. Was she moving?

  Sinai could not feel her feet against the ground, but she could feel cool air brushing her cheeks. It slowly dawned on her that there was a tightening sensation around her body, almost as though she was being hugged. No carried, I’m being carried, she thought, before drifting back into nothingness.

  I’m being carried? Sinai opened her eyes. The faded grey moonlight hazed her vision momentarily, but soon enough figures materialised. She was being carried, and was no longer in her room. Sergeant Olu held her in his strong arms, whilst Ina led them through the sleeping palace. Before Sinai could process how she felt about this, her body gave up and drifted back into nothingness.

  Ina looked back nervously at Sinai as she lay lifelessly within Sergeant Olu’s arms. The girl looked so small against Sergeant Olu’s solid frame, like a broken bird nestled in the crook of a tree, waiting to die. Please let this work, Ina prayed, as she quickened her pace towards the Nzuzo garden.

  AFTER MEEKULU’S BURNING, Ina was shocked to find that the site had not been cleared. Typically, after a burning, servants would clear away the ashes and charred wood, and give the remains to the family or state to bury. However, days after Meekulu’s death, the site remained untouched and abandoned.

  Numerous times, Ina had demanded that someone clear the site, but the servants were either too distraught or frightened to touch it. Meekulu had been an incredible force; both her life and death stirred up intense feelings within the people of the palace.

  Frustrated at the inactivity, Ina had decided one day that she would clear the site herself. She’d rushed down to it, determined, only to find that one of the kitchen girls had beat her there. The small girl had sniffed back tears as she swept ashes into one of Meekulu’s large mortars.

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ Ina had said, as she bent before her. The girl had been shocked.

  ‘No, that’s okay, Lolo, I can do it, I should have … but I … sorry—’ she began, before dissolving into a flood of tears. Ina watched her uncomfortably before resting her palm on her shoulder.

  Emotions swirled deep within Ina’s soul as she stood beside the weeping girl and the old woman’s ashes. Ina was reminded how cruel life could be, and it filled her with an uncontrollable rage. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or scream.

  Suddenly Nzuzo gardens flashed in her mind, and Ina instantly felt calm.

  ‘I know a beautiful place where we can lay her to rest,’ she said quietly.

  The Nzuzo gardens had been her secret for as long as she could remember. She had discovered it as a child, a hidden wilderness within the palace walls. Up until that point, she had always known there to be just five gardens within the palace. All five were beautiful, pruned, and always full of people.

  Nzuzo was different. It was wild, with overgrown shrubs, imperfect trees, and an indescribable harmony. The place filled her with ease, and she found herself sneaking off to it during moments when she couldn’t silence the loud cutting voice in her head. Nzuzo was unknown to most, if not all, of the people in the palace. Ina had yet to hear anyone refer to the sixth garden, nor had she ever encountered a single soul there.

  That is exactly where Meekulu should be buried, she had thought; somewhere beautiful, wild, and protected. Ina had taken the kitchen girl to her secret place, and together they’d clawed open a small area of ground and buried the old woman’s remains.

  Ina had not thought about that day or Meekulu’s burial ground for weeks after. It was not until Sinai had almost sliced Obi Ife’s throat that she had an urge to visit the hidden garden.

  Ina had felt emotionally drained and the sides of her head were tight with fatigue. She was in desperate need of respite, and so she’d rushed to her favourite place in the world. Ina had almost screamed when she arrived in the garden and found a huge flame tree at its centre, where just weeks ago she and the kitchen girl had buried Meekulu’s ashes.

  The tree stood large and majestic; its bundles of bright-red flowers whistled in the air, illuminated by a soft glow. The same kitchen girl who had helped her bury the ashes stood before the tree. She’d turned with a full beautiful smile.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she had said.

  ‘Yes,’ Ina had agreed softly. ‘It is just what she needs.’

  THE FLAME TREE

  CITY OF NRI

  SINAI FELT herself sinking into the black: a thunderous ink-black darkness that caressed her skin and pulled her into an ocean, deep within another realm. The last time that she had encountered this realm, she had felt electrified and charged. She had been in total chaos and had yet retained full control. She had felt as though she could soar far above the skies and touch the sun. However, this time she felt slow and heavy, weighed down by a blanket of death. Sinai knew that the black realm would take her and would not give her back. The forces lured her further and further in. Her breathing slowed, her body felt numb, and all she could see was complete darkness. She sank deeper and deeper.

  Until suddenly it all stopped, as though the invisible ropes dragging her down had suddenly snapped, and unravelled, to slither off her body. Sinai heard a distant but clear voice.

  ‘Forces may work against you, but you have the power to make them work for you— wake up!’

  Meekulu?

  Sinai felt herself rising to the surface of the black realm, as rich energising power surged through her bones. She blinked her eyes open, and looked around.

  She was in a garden, one that she had not been in before. From the look of it, no one else ha
d been in it for a while.

  There was none of the usual order customary in other perfectly-groomed palace gardens. Instead, it was filled with complete mayhem and unbridled beauty, with wild feather grass tossing its plumes. A large flame tree stood in the middle of the garden, its branches flushed with glowing, ruby-red flowers that touched both sides of the cream palace walls that framed the garden. There was no ceiling, so the bright moonlight showered the majestic tree in shimmering white rays.

  A vivid image of Meekulu, her red wax braids and white puffs of curly hair, burned fiercely in Sinai’s mind. Sinai could smell the old woman’s scent of rose, lavender, and myrrh oil, and she instantly felt awake. She felt more awake than she had been in weeks.

  Sinai realised she was cradled in Sergeant Olu’s arms with Ina nearby, and she was overcome with the urge to move. Sinai pushed herself out of Sergeant Olu’s arms, as a warm glow strengthened her body.

  ‘Sinai—’ Sergeant Olu protested, but Ina silenced him by placing her palm against his shoulder, her gaze transfixed on the girl.

  Sinai stepped out from his grasp and walked toward the grand tree, and a wave of memories poured through her mind.

  ‘Don’t be soft, girl.’

  ‘You don’t know how to cut simple plantain?’

  ‘But then the world changed, and so I changed.’

  ‘You are strong, you must know this.’

  Meekulu’s voice ruffled Sinai’s thick hair and her loud cackling laugh pierced her heart.

  ‘She’s here,’ Sinai whispered, as she moved closer to the tree, looking back at Ina and Sergeant Olu. Her heart flipped in delight as a rush of joy flooded her broken body.

  ‘Do you feel it?’ Sinai said louder. ‘She’s here—you must feel it.’

  She couldn’t explain it. Sinai was certain that she was not mad. She knew that she had a full grasp on her senses. She felt clear-headed, clearer than she had felt in months, if not years. Sinai knew that she was looking at a grand flame tree, and yet she also knew that she was looking at Meekulu. She knew that Meekulu’s spirit dwelled within the dark-brown branches and crimson leaves.

  Sinai took another step forward and tears of joy filled her heart and sprang to her eyes, as more images poured through her mind. Meekulu climbing the stool to fetch the supposed ọbara powder, Meekulu bouncing up the hill on their expedition, Meekulu tugging at her cheeks with a wide, warm smile on her face. Sinai looked up at the tree, and a ripple of life flew through its leaves. Its trunk bent back and forth, as though it were dancing.

  Sinai was filled with a beautiful sense of peace that tingled from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers. She wanted to laugh and dance and sing and cry for joy. Never had she felt so happy to be alive, and to find true joy amidst heart-wrenching sorrow. She felt connected to everything and everyone, and as though she had discovered a truth she hadn’t known she needed. She was blessed to have felt a love so strong that it tore her apart, and to witness the beauty of eternal peace.

  ‘Chukwu Di Mma,’ she said, as she gazed at the beautiful tree with tears running down her cheeks. She let that statement sink into her soul, realising she had never felt such gratitude before. ‘Chukwu Di Mma!’ she cried out to the heavens, her head thrown back as she erupted into laughter.

  Seconds later, a massive rush of petals flew up into the air and swirled around the garden, creating intricate beautiful shapes as they weaved in and out. Ina and Sergeant Olu watched with shocked amazement as the red petals brushed lovingly against their cheeks. Sinai leapt into the air and danced alongside the flowing petals with her arms outstretched.

  ‘She’s here!’ Sinai proclaimed, as she turned to Sergeant Olu and Ina with an infectious smile.

  Ina looked back at her with a similarly wide smile, and small tears in her eyes, ‘she’s here,’ she whispered back, before breaking into a laugh.

  A NIGHT’S DANCE

  Furuefu Forest

  NAALA THOUGHT that the sky looked particularly beautiful. Its highest point was a dark navy colour that slowly melted into a lustrous turquoise closer to earth. It was lined with soft pink clouds and twinkling with stars that couldn’t wait to emerge into the night.

  The low rumble of Bayo’s talking drum hit her in waves that were perfectly intertwined with Leto’s light voice, as she sang old tales of the gods. It was the first time that Naala had heard Leto make a sound, and yet the usually quiet and timid woman sang so wonderfully that Naala wondered why she didn’t do it all the time. Wispy clusters of small radiant insects illuminated her in a beautiful glow as they swayed to her delicately beautiful voice.

  The group of survivors circled an ọkụ flame. It was shaped as a circle lined with small triangles, similar to artists’ renderings of the sun. It was the most intricate ọkụ shape that Naala had ever witnessed. Bayo, it turned out, was a skilled flame tamer. He and Binyelum also provided some music for the occasion; as they performed, the rest of the survivors clapped and danced with their feet lighter than Naala had ever seen before. The ground shone with deep yellow, orange, and green light from the vibrant ero fungi. The survivors were all fuelled by a new unnamed and invigorating energy that had been sparked by fear of all things.

  THAT AFTERNOON BAYO had revealed that the merchant would be crossing their paths the next evening. That realisation hit Naala as hard as a boulder; hours later, she was still struggling to get out from under its sombre weight.

  Naala could not understand what was holding her back. After all, she had agreed to get involved with the fight; in fact she had sought it out. Naala still wanted to avenge her loved ones and protect those left. She wanted to believe that she could do it—but she did not.

  Naala had never mulled over decisions; she had always preferred to act first and think later, an approach that had landed her in many tricky situations, but had nonetheless always propelled her forward. Now, for the first time, she felt stuck. A strange feeling stirred within her, as though she was missing something, something vital, and its absence might be her downfall.

  Naala had said nothing when Bayo told her that her mission would start tomorrow. She had also said nothing when Bayo attempted to dissuade Madi, Eni, and Kora from joining her.

  He’d growled, ‘I won’t allow it—you people will ruin the whole mission. We already have strong people, trained spies and assassins placed along the way and in the palace to assist Naala. All you can provide is a distraction!’ To his annoyance, he had been met by an unrelenting team and their new plan. Madi had stalked him, Eni threatened, and Kora attempted to bribe him.

  Finally, Madi had said, ‘Naala said that if we don’t go, she won’t.’ She had said no such thing, and yet when Bayo looked back at her with terrified eyes, she hadn’t repudiated Madi’s statement. She had stared back at him wordlessly.

  In truth, Naala had actually agreed with Bayo’s arguments, but the fear of going to the city of Nri all on her own kept her silent.

  Eventually, Bayo had sighed and conceded.

  ‘Fine. If you want to go to your funeral, that’s fine, but know this: my people are there to protect the girl and the crystal, and them alone—if you get in the way, you will be taken out.’

  AFTER THAT, everything was set. All they had to do was wait until the next day. Suddenly the whole mission to the palace, and its dangers, felt real and tangible, and a wave of sadness flowed through each of them. It dawned on them that it was very possible that not all of them would make it back. Kora, in the face of such doom, insisted on throwing a party. Some sort of celebration to ease the mood and ensure that, regardless of the outcome, they enjoyed what could be their last night together.

  Naala tried to step out of herself and enjoy the festivities. Madi brought out a batch of palm wine that he had retrieved from a tree he had sapped on their journey. Other than Kora, all the women had re-braided their hair. It felt like a true party.

  Yet Naala found herself sitting alone, watching orange flames dance in the darkening night. Her mind w
andered to her lost family, her sweet grandmother, her little cousin and her … uncle. Suddenly a thick fog of shame clogged her throat. She couldn’t picture him. She couldn’t picture her uncle’s face anymore. She could hear his loud voice, she could even recall his woody scent, and whilst she might have been able to describe them, she couldn’t pinpoint his features.

  ‘Heartless girl,’ she muttered, a phrase that her uncle had used to describe her cold attitude many times. She had always thought it was a joke, but all along he had been right. She could not remember her family and she was allowing her new friends to follow her on a suicide mission. What type of person am I?

  Naala jumped out of her thoughts momentarily when she found Eni looking at her from the other side of the fire. His piercing eyes cut through her soul, and in that moment she realised that he knew exactly what she was.

  Naala suddenly felt exposed. Sickening shame curdled her gut.

  Why can’t he just leave me alone? she thought, as she turned to one of her favourite emotions: rage. Hot anger burned away any remnants of her shame. Naala could not stand to remain in the party any longer. She stood and stormed out of the area.

  As she walked through the forest, her anger seeped away, replaced by a slow trickle of guilt. She paused momentarily. The party was supposed to raise the group’s spirits, and she had let her mood drag it down. Kora, Eni, and Madi were risking their lives to help her, and she couldn’t even muster up the strength to be happy?

  Naala heard a branch break and she turned to face Eni.

  ‘Go away,’ she said, before she could think. He paused before nodding slowly and turning to leave. Good, Naala thought, but she didn’t feel it. She felt empty and alone. Suddenly, she stormed after him.

  ‘You need to leave me alone,’ she blurted, and he looked confused.

  ‘I will—I am—look, I’m sorry. I just wanted to check if you were fine. You seemed upset earlier, but if you don’t want me here then I’ll go.’