Page 139 of Firstborn of the Sun
‘Allow me to explain,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà had said. ‘Our family line must continue. Our seed must always be on the throne of Oru. The gods have declared it. Only then will our kingdom be safe from the hands of our enemies in the north. Our family will wage war on this continent, and bring under the command of the gods of the sun and sands all who have scorned their names. Your father understood this.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, yes, he did. So we did what had to be done. My child, we had to make it so that the call for Àlùfáà would be within the same sun cycle as the ascension to the throne.’ Hechoked on his words, and Alawani thought he saw tears form in his eyes.
Everything stilled around them, and Alawani could hear the loud drumming of his own racing heart. He had thought the timing meant that he could never be selected as High Priest.
Àlùfáà-Àgbà’s gruff voice broke through his thoughts. ‘Using the temple records and going back as far as the day of the First Sun, we worked out the timelines for the next few cycles of stripping ceremonies. Our calculations led us here. Where you, a prince of Oru, can become part of the Holy Order. It had to be the gods’ will to give us such a wondrous moment as this. The Order allowed your entry because of how young the crown heir is and how many more first suns and stripping ceremonies they expect him to see. But they did not consider that kings die all the time. Most of all, they did not consider the real threat of their decision and expected you to die long before your final stripping. But this moment is one we created knowing they would want to test you with the Red Stone first, and once you passed, our plans could begin.’ He laughed. ‘I suppose I cannot blame them for underestimating you, but in doing so they underestimated me and my ability to keep you from the brink of death. I may have yielded my position of High Priest to Babátúndé, but the gods have taken their power from me.’
Alawani found the voice that had been stuck in his throat. Despite the throbbing pain, the need to get his words out was stronger. ‘How?’
‘The Àgbo that Milúà gave to you. What did you think it was for? Did you not feel its effects as it pulled your soul back into your body?’
The realization struck Alawani like thunder, and he remembered. He had felt it. He knew that with every sip,his breaths came easier, and the pain dulled, but he never would have imagined that he was cheating death. That he had cheated. With this thought came another. L’?r? did all she did for nothing. His life was never in danger.
‘How could you?’ Alawani’s strained voice croaked with fury.
‘Your self-righteousness serves no one. The Red Stone will not claim you. Not after all we have sacrificed for you. Not when my son sacrificed his life for you. If he had not left the throne when he did, you would never have had the chance to be a part of this cycle of chosen ones. As your fate had decided before I intervened, you would have been nothing.’
‘What do you mean leave the throne?’ Alawani’s anger fuelled his core. ‘Did you kill my father?’
‘No! Never. The king took his own life. I only provided the means.’
‘The means?’
‘The king chose poison. May his soul find the city of light.’
Alawani’s voice was raw, ‘You killed him!’
‘Your father knew and understood our family’s purpose. His sacrifice made it so that you could be the right age to join the Order, just as Tofa approaches his coronation. Another ten first suns on the throne, and you’d have been too old to be called. But this way, you are where you need to be – young enough to be called to the stripping ceremony that is close enough to a king’s coronation to make our plans work. Moments like these are not coincidences; the gods placed this plan in my heart many first suns before even your father was old enough to walk. My son sacrificed his life because he understood that we cannot continue this system of kings, regents, priests and heirs. We need a stable throne, a true line blessed and chosen by the gods. The crown must return toour bloodline. We are the true heirs of Oru, and we must occupy the throne until the day the sun falls from the sky.’
Alawani’s heart had raced as he tried to absorb the shock of the news. His tears poured as he remembered his father’s words, the ones he made him repeatedly chant, even on his deathbed.Death may come for us, but our line will never end.So this was what he truly meant. This was what he’d agreed to.
As if his grandfather could hear his thoughts, he said those exact words himself.
‘Your plan can’t work. The order can’t choose a High Priest until the death of a king. Tofa is young and will ascend the throne in a few blood moons. He won’t die. Your plan depends on the death of a healthy boy you trained yourself and you can’t kill him.’
‘I am not a murderer, boy! I won’t kill him. In fact, your sole purpose until the boy takes the crown is to keep him alive. If he dies before taking the throne, the crown will go to his sisters, and more people will have to die. No, he will stay alive until he is crowned king. But as is the way of the world, young kings always die in battle, and it is time for us to conquer the north. There, the boy will meet his fate. I tell you, my child, before the following first sun comes, you will wear your father’s crown.’
‘How did the Lord Regent not see through this plan? You manipulated them all. You did all this to kill his only son.’
‘I have loved Tofa from the moment I held him in my arms. No one in this kingdom will ever think that I would kill the boy who I have so openly cherished. His sacrifice will hurt me just as my son’s death did.’
Alawani listened in horror as his grandfather’s voice thundered through him and he wondered how he could ever weave himself out of this fate.
He was pulled out of his dream memories now as the battle rhino stopped at the entrance to the Lord General’s keep. Regardless of his grandfather’s proclamations, he always assumed the old man would find another way to rid Tofa of his crown. But when he had found out his L’?r? was the true firstborn, it had broken him. For if L’?r? died and Tofa’s claim was revoked, Àlùfáà-Àgbà would have his plan work without having to kill the boy he’d raised like a son. She was an easy target and one Àlùfáà-Àgbà would never let out of his grasp. So Alawani had been even more determined to get her to freedom. Even if it cost everything he held dear.
And it had.
Once the soldiers helped them off the rhino and attended to Tofa, who was now awake but barely conscious, he walked into the keep and made his way to the dungeon where he’d spent the night with L’?r?. The air was filled with her scent. He sat on the bench, folded his knees up to his chest and wept.
He cried because he knew he’d never see her again. Sometimes Alawani felt that he was doomed to lose everyone who was dear to him. For a long time, he’d wanted desperately to explain to her that his father had requested more than a promise from him. He’d drawn an oath from his lips. An oath to fulfil another which had been made on his behalf. He wasn’t free to make vows. Not in the way she’d wanted. He’d hoped the Red Stone would take him and free him from all oaths and the consequences of the decisions he wasn’t brave enough to make but it hadn’t. Instead, he’d survived and it had proved to his grandfather that he was the chosen one. Every time he’d tried to tell her, his fear of his grandfather had kept his lips sealed. L’?r? would never be safe in Oru. His grandfather would never allow it. Just like her brother, their days were counted.
Alawani lay across the bench in a foetal position. He didn’t know when he drifted to sleep and found himself back in the Sun Temple, lying on the Red Stone. Once again, he found himself looking up into the eyes of his grandfather. He screamed and shuffled off the stone, holding his torso to fight the pain until he realized there was no pain.
‘Where am I? What’s happening?’ Alawani asked as he spun to face his grandfather.
‘Where is the girl?’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said in an even tone.
‘She’s gone.’
The black of his grandfather’s eyes ran over the whites and Alawani found himself staring into what felt like a pit of darkness.
