Page 81 of Firstborn of the Sun
This name Tofa recognized. Milúà was the warrior maiden Ìyá-Ayé had sent after Alawani and L’?r?.
‘Kill her,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said in a single breath, and Tofa adjusted again.
‘No,’ Ìyá-Ayé gasped. Her voice took on a menacing undertone. ‘We both let children who ought to have returned to the sands live among us. Mine is a warrior maiden serving the gods and the Holy Order. And yours will be the end of our kingdom as we know it. So if we are counting mistakes and errors, look in the mirror, Àlùfáà, and don’t throw stones, lest they crack the image you put up.’
Àlùfáà-Àgbà sighed. ‘It wasn’t just for Àdùnní’s crimes that her child had to die. Milúà’s father –’
‘She doesn’t know who her father is,’ Ìyá-Ayé quickly jumped in.
There was a brief silence. Then Tofa heard Àlùfáà-Àgbàsay, ‘Milúà is just as much a threat to this kingdom as L’?r?. The day she discovers who her father is, she dies.’
Tofa heard their footsteps and rushed out of the corner and down the corridor. He ducked into another corner, then stopped, confused about what he’d heard and whose fate had been sealed for death. He sighed. He really shouldn’t be skulking around in his own palace. As he leaned against the wall, thinking of what to do about this enemy from the north, he considered his position in his own kingdom. When he took the throne on the next day of the first sun, who would be at his side? His father would have relinquished his role as the regent, and returned permanently to the Sun Temple to lead the Holy Order as their High Priest. Àlùfáà-Àgbà – the Elder Priest – would likely spend the rest of his days grumbling as he did now, longing for the power his previous posts had afforded him. And Tofa would be the king and supreme leader of the land of Oru. His sisters would be his council, but if they were anything like their predecessors, they would always steer him in favour of their birth rings. He was naïve enough to imagine that after granting K?ni her freedom, she’d want to remain at his side the way she’d been compelled to. He needed the Order of the Secret Twelve.
Those who seek strength and the spirit of a warrior call upon
Ògún – the god of iron and war.
Those whose anger boils for justice call upon the dragon-like fire-breathing god of fire and thunder – ?àngó.
Those with desires that cannot be spoken aloud call upon
?ya – the goddess of wind, storms and the rebirth, while those who yearn for family call upon
??un – the goddess of love, fertility and beauty.
26
Ìlú-p?, Third Ring, Kingdom of Oru
L’?R?
L’?r?’s dream was always the same. Pillars on both sides of her. Winds that moved in a loop. The same fixed line across the horizon. The same sand dunes and hills and the blistering sun above that burned her skin raw. Once, she’d been terrified of this dream, but now, all this was normal. So when a figure appeared in the distance, a black spot floating towards her with what seemed like many arms floating in the wind, and she started to sink into the sand beneath her, she screamed and forced her eyes open.
They were heavy, and it felt like prying open old heavy doors whose hinges hadn’t been oiled for ages. She tried raising her hands to her face when she realized she couldn’t move; she couldn’t feel her arms, legs, or any part of her body. Panic seized her breath, and her mouth wouldn’t open when she tried to speak. She forced her eyes closed and opened them again. Easier this time, but no other part of her body could move. She tried shifting in the bed to wake Alawani, but it was as though the part of her mind that made her body move was gone. Her breaths came in short bursts of white mist, and her mind flooded with terror and panic. What in the gods’ names was happening to her?Move.Move. Move, she commanded her body, but it remained stuck to the bed.
She tried to relax, but her breathing was shallow, her chest refusing to rise. She would die in this bed beside Alawani, and he wouldn’t even know. There was no calming her now. She tried to scream, but the voice in her mind couldn’t break through her frozen lips. Suddenly, Alawani stirred, and hope flared in her chest. He shifted towards her and placed his hand over her stomach but didn’t wake up. She strained her eyes in frustration. The only movement she could make.
She kept struggling to move, to break out of this cast, but despite the battle raging in her mind, her body didn’t hear her pleas. A few agonizing moments later, a tingling sensation spread over the area where Alawani’s hand rested. His arm seemed to thaw whatever had frozen her in place. She flexed her torso, and it moved. She focused on every part of her body, every limb, and every movement she wanted to make in her mind, then fought with everything in her to move. Finally, something shifted, and slowly, her body came back to life. Every stretch and crack ached, but she was glad to feel anything. She was glad to take a full breath again. She sprang and crawled on her knees. Her legs were still recovering from their stasis.
She stretched to wake Alawani but the black lines that had disappeared the night before were re-forming across her hands. Was this what dying felt like? Watching your body rot from the inside? She’d have gotten off the floor and run home to Baba-Ìtàn if she could run fast enough. She placed her hand over her face and groaned, ‘Help me.’ She wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Definitely not the gods of the sun and sands. Not the old gods, either. She didn’t know them enough to dare. Still, she whispered again to whichever one of them would listen, ‘Help me.’
Alawani stirred again and sprawled across the bed. He couldn’t help her. There was no point worrying him about what had happened. He was losing his own agbára. He had enough to worry about. She realized how often she chose not to bother him. She supposed she’d been so happy to have a friend that over the years she’d decided it was best not to overwhelm him with things he couldn’t do anything to change. Or maybe it was so that she didn’t scare him off. Whatever the reason, as she sat on the floor deciding not to tell him she was dying, she realized how much she’d kept from him since they became friends.
Somehow, they’d managed to avoid any difficult conversations, never having to confront the hard truths of their life. Not about Baba-Ìtàn’s sentence as an outcast and not about Àlùfáà-Àgbà, his grandfather, who was responsible for her mother’s death and was the one sending them into this exile. All that was too much for what she was now seeing as too fragile a bond. She realized the man she loved, with every breath she had, might only know the side of her she’d revealed to him, and she couldn’t help but wonder what parts of himself he might have kept from her too. She jumped at the bang on the door, followed by a loud cry, ‘Prince Alawani!’
At that moment, everything around her seemed to come into focus. The smoke seeping in from beneath the door filled her nostrils and started to choke her. Outside she heard faint cries of people and hooves of animals as they raced out of the building. The pounding on the door got louder until eventually, the door rattled against the bed. The bed wasn’t strong enough to withhold the force and as the door gradually opened, the smell of smoke and the crackle of fire filled the room. L’?r? shrieked as Alawani leapt off the bed, allowing the door to crash open.
The figure in the doorway moved quickly. ‘Get up. Now!’
‘Who are you?’ Alawani said. He groaned as he channelled his agbára, a dull orange glow lighting his outstretched hand. L’?r? imagined how much it’d hurt to pull on his waning powers.
The figure removed their hood and L’?r? immediately recognized the young woman from the night before. ‘It’s you,’ L’?r? said, ‘from the bar. You were with that man, Mfà.’
‘There’s a fire downstairs and the royal guards are nearly here. I imagine you don’t want to be here when they arrive.’
Alawani reached for his blade and L’?r? did the same, as they moved closer to the woman who raised her hands in surrender. ‘Gbk called those guards and while I don’t know what kind of trouble you are in, I know that you,’ she pointed at Alawani, ‘are supposed to be in the Sun Temple as Àlùfáà.’
Voices shouted from beneath them. The royal guards were in. The fire was just a distraction; most people in Oru could control the intensity and movement of flames as well as the smoke they produced. They’d be on their floor in no time.
