Spirit

It be already past midnight and di full moon, Crimsion, she de high up fi di sky, peeking through di rift, but not as full or as large as Silvion, di one more commonly known as di mother moon, because of ha size and consistency fi di sky.

Everywhere de quiet and peaceful, save fi di sound of crickets in dem hideout, lending dia noise to di ruffle of di bush by di breeze. Even with di quiet, dere still be something a bit unsettling about di night. Unsettling enough to make Ona toss and turn fi di stable roof fo a while, gazing ’pon di night sky as he await night to give way to light.

Insomnia be a familiar state fo him since he be eight suns old, when him ah been whisked away from di rulers of Daka by Dajuma, him former blademaster, and smuggled down south. Since den, sleep done be very unfriendly, bringing up nightmare of di past, things Ona wish to forget. On dis night, though, no be di nightmare, or fear of dem, da withhold sleep, but di peculiarity of di night sky, being unlike any other night sky since him start living in Ebon Hill.

Crimsion seem particularly reddish dis night and even mother moon get ha own peculiarity. Di type da make your skin crawl if you no from dis part. Both paint di sky half deep red and half silver-ash. Making everything below lack color and substance. Maybe na dis strangeness da puzzle Ona enough to drive di sleep from him mind. Him baba always tell am say di stranger di sky, di stranger di times. All you need to know is written in the sky.

In ’bout two moons come, di eze be accepting kola nuts and palm wine from suitors requesting him daughter hand, di princess Ada, fo marry. Normally Ona go imagine himsef a suitor, riding into di village on a royal steed, as escorts de ’bout, proposing, “Nnanyi, I bring you kola from the Amarian farms and manya nkwu from The Palms, the palmwine of the gods.” Any other night he fo done entertain dis thought, but not tonight. Fo tonight di eeriness of di sky done drive such thought from mind.

Unfortunately fo am, it be all wishful thinking. In another life, maybe, but fi dis life everything be horseshit and he be a stableboy, sleeping behind a southern palace, fi di stable roof. Far from home.

In him favorite tale by moonlight, prince Ali ah been born fi di streets of Daka but him arise to di highest rank fi di royal militia, going on to overthrow di ruthless zar and assuming di position. But everything always favor di hero in stories, and Ona no be prince Ali, nor do he be in a moonlight tale.

Dere be a saying down south, “n’oge nsogbu ka e ji a mata dike”, only in hard time do great men be known. Dose been hard times, and da na Prince Ali. Fi di real world, stable boys no marry princesses. Him sadness must ah been overwhelming, fo amid di unsettling night and ennui, sleep find am.

Him dream be almost like di others, one of two type. When he no be dreaming of him baba and him time in Daka, di north of Tarefa, he be dreaming of time with di princess. Dis night, he dream of di latter. Di dream usually start with ha walking into di forest under di guise of riding, with ha handmaid, just to steal a few moment alone with him.

Dem stroll through a small stream branching out of di river Mmiri, where Ona once pray to di river goddess Ymaja. Not da she be him matron goddess, but because he been meet Ada here a few suns after arriving Ebon Hill, di capital of Ebonda. Di silver moon de fi di center of di sky da night, but it be di light from di sapphire moon da bath dem, flaming purple fi di distant firmament as she arise fi di horizon.

Ona and di Princess waka -walk - hand in hand, while ha handmaids - deaf and dumb, he call dem - waka a few pace behind. Di princess Ada, under di escaping light from di tree branch, look as beautiful as di river goddess in ha prime, or at least da be wetin everyone say. Princess Ada, di pride of di land and di heart of Ebon Hill, clad in ha royal regalia, stand beside Ona, gazing into him eyes with eyes as large as an udara, pupils like opals, ringed with gray, gold and some blue, making ha eyes seem to glow fi di dark. She look absolutely magnificent. While he hold ha hand, looking silly in him stable garb.

“Under the ember moon is when he wants to give me away” Ada say, looking down at di brown soil. “He said he wants the message to travel far and wide, throughout the southern lands, so he wants to give it time. It is no longer under the amber moon like we thought, as that time is soon come”

Dis mean say Ona get ’bout a hundred days to think of something clever. Dat still no be enough time, but more time dan when di ceremony fo de conducted in sixty days.

“This gives us some time.”

“Not enough time. What are we going to do?” She squeeze him hand too tightly, but he triy no to wince. “Run away with me, Nna. Let’s go up north.”

“And live the rest of our lives as fugitives? You know the eze is not going to stop chasing us. You’re his favorite daughter, after all”

“We don’t have to live as fugitives. I have enough gold saved to take us from Tarefa to Aesea. We can settle there, in an amarian farm, and live like Jimima and Zalazi.” She say di last part, almost wishfully. Jimima and Zalazi be infamous royals from rival families, who, against di advice of dem parents, abscond to Aesea, causing one of di greatest family wars Tarefa done ever seen. Dem story no end well, and Ona fear da if him and di princess elope, it no go bode well fo dem either. Besides, no one abscond with di woman dem love, it go dishonor ha. A stableboy cannot wed a princess, he remind himsef.

Ona keep walking, lost in thought, with di princess beside ’im and di handmaids a few pace behind. Dis side of di forest be Ofia, a small quiet forest beside Ebon Hill, where di river mmiri flow, dedicated to Ymaja fi di Age of Orisa. Ona often come here to rest or contemplate life. Na di one place he need no worry about him past. But since he start to see Ada, now he come here fo alone moment and to share dis nature with ha. But now, he think of him past and how he fit easily make dis alliance if him birthright still stand.

“Ona!” Di princess call out but he de too deep in thought to respond.

“Ona!” Ada shout, trying to pull him off him reverie, but still, he be lost in thought. What he fit possibly do from now to di amber moonrise to improve him chance? Although di date done change, still di thought of improving him odds linger. Should I do like she said and we both abscond? He shake di thought from him mind. Silly him. What him ah think, running away with di princess of Ebon Hill, one of di most powerful lands fi Tarefa?

“ONAA!” Di princess scream, ha voice intertwining with da of a young boy calling out to Ona, both di princess and di young boy disjointed in time, two different dimensions.

Di scream, being as loud as it be, pull Ona from him reverie - dream - waking him up. He rub him eyes, getting dem to focus fi di form before am. Light from di sky, though not very bright, flood him eyes, causing dem to squint, to water. He rub dem again, den open dem. Di young person in front of him be Yke, him fellow stableboy and friend. Di small, lanky boy, too small fo fourteen, squat before Ona, looking worried.

“What is it?” Ona ask, him voice rather husky. He clear him throat, waiting fo Yke’s response.

“People were found dead this morning. In their chambers. Dead during the night.” Yke look around, almost as if he be expecting someone to listen in on dem. People dead? Ona look up at di morning sky. Di familiar morning fog covering both land and sky de thicker dis morning, di skylight barely lighting anything. Ona inhale, breathing in di humid air, feeling almost sickly from it.

A few weeks ago, as people been go to di shrine to worship, di village been de startled by di deaths of livestock near di Ofia forest. Den as di days progress, di death of livestock spread from di forest further into di village. And den di sickness been start, like a plague, people falling ill to fever, rash, sore throat and headache.

Herbalists been de dispatched throughout di land, trying to cure and heal di ill fated, while di healthy and less afflicted been slowly emigrat from Ebon Hill to other villages in Ebonda. Now di village be almost empty, not from emigration, but because many of its occupant remain indoors. As di plague worsened, na only a matter of time fi di deaths of humans to begin.

Ona sit up fi di roof, resting him back on di stone wall alongside it. “How many?” He ask, him heart waiting to explode. He hope say di death toll be minimal. He done advise mama to leave di village fo a while and she refuse to go without him. He think say she refused to go, period. He hope di deaths go be few.

“About twenty people, mostly children” Him heart relaxe a bit. Twenty no too bad. But children. Dis mean mama de alive. Dis mean Ada de alive also. But children! A lot of weeping mothers go abound fi di next coming days. Ona shake him head. Di image alone haunt am. Mothers waking fi di middle of di night to find dem babies beside dem, dead. Dia cry must ah been heard fi di night. How come he no wake?

“Their cries woke the entire village a few hours ago.” Yke sit beside him. Ona blink. So dere be wailing fi di dark. He must ah been too tired to be roused by dem. He listen to di silence of di fog, den he hear di sorrow carried by di light wind. Dem still be wailing, dia voice just muffled by di thick fog. Ona rob him eyes again, but dis time, not from weariness, but because dem sting. Him fingers come away wet. Dead children.

Ona stand, pull him robe after am, wrapping himsef before heading to di edge of di roof. Yke following suit. By di roof’s edge, Ona climb down one of di pillar holding di roof up. A pillar cut from a tree, using di lumps, where di branches fo de, as a means of support to get dem down di roof.

Getting down, dem hear muffled cry from inside di stable. A lamentation. Ona turn to di ajar gate, pushing it further open and heading into di dark palace stable, di wooden gate creaking in dia wake. Inside di stable, by di extreme edge, where di eze’s horse be groomed, Ona see a lump fi di floor, and an old man - Agan di stable master - slumped over it in sorrow. Hearing di boys approach, di stable master look up at dem with sad red eye too wet to see from.

“It’s Agumbwede, he’s dead” Di old man bend over di horse again, resuming him mourning. Agumbwede - Nightbeast - di eze’s horse. Dead. Di king no go de pleased. Him beloved steed. But dis no be what dishearten di oldman. He done de look after di beast since it be a foal. A well bred southern steed. A rare breed, it been grow to be a large formidable stallion used by di eze on very special occasions. To Agan, dis fo as well be di death of a child.

“How am I going to tell him this news, eh? How?” Agan look di roof, waving him right hand in frustration. “Anwu, eh, gini ka anyi mere?” He shout at di orisas, almost with rebuke. No need blaming the gods now, Ona think, sadly. Most people go blame whatever gods dem serve, as few done do since di sickness start, but not Yke or Ona, often priding demsefs in dem logic over belief. Yet, Ona no fit help but wonder what plague go target only infants, killing dem fi di dead of night, without affecting adults. If dis no be one of dose superstitious happenings, den what?

Yke be quick at Agan’s side, Resting him hand consolingly fi di old man shoulder. “Oko, it is alright. The gods are not to blame.” Di man’s back continue to heave, muffled sound of weeping fill di stable. As if di sadness be felt by di other horses, dem shift nervously, sorrowfully, in dem shelter. An ode to dia dead kin.

Ona look fi di other stalls, fo Akira, di princess’ lamel, him heart quickening when he no see ha in ha usual section, near Agunmbwede. Scanning di place, him eyes come to di lamel resting ha head fi di opposite end, cluttered with a few other horses. Agan must ah move dem from di sick ones. Relieved, he head over to ha, patting di woolly creature fi di nose. He no know what he go do if she been die. Or di princess, fo da matter.

After greeting with di lamel, Ona turn and start fi di door before Yke even realize he be leaving. “Where to?” him friend ask as Ona reach di door.

“I have to see mama.”

+++

Di fight done go on fo a while and still di victor be yet to emerge, di wrestlers quickly running out of breath and strength. But as most of di spectators still cheer and await a victor, di wrestlers get no choice but to tarry. Di sand floor, now wet from di sweat and blood of di wrestlers before dem, make it even harder fo dis two to hold dem own. Dem strained muscles and di muddy floor drag dia movement.

Fi di center of di fighting cage be Orokk - a name meaning di Young Cub - a young man of about twenty-two suns. Taller dan most men by at least half a head, with shoulders broader dan dem ought, and muscles as thick as stone, sweat glistening and dripping from dem. As huge as di Young Cub be, he still be no match, in terms of height and size, to him opponent, Maleze di Ape. An apt name, as di man be both ape and man. From him facial features, hairy covering and body structure, you go de right to assume him from Samarula, from one of di primate regions, descendants of apemen, and Maleze epitomize da ancestry as he be more ape dan man. Shoulders as broad as a thatch roof and body as thick as di walls of Daka, di man alone fit fortify an entire city. Yet, di Young Cub give am a run fo him cowries.

Dem weapons de nowhere to be found as dem time fighting done dislodge dem from dia hands, losing di weapons fi di chaotic process. Now dem fight with fists and legs, a form of gidigbo da require punching, kicking and fighting to di death. With dis non-traditional form of wrestling, di fighters fit use weapons, punches, and other fatal method to eliminate dem foe within di fighting parameters.

Di Young Cub and Maleze di Ape ah been fighting fo a while, arms and necks intertwined, trying to choke each other out or break an arm and a leg. Dem remain still, feeling each other out, as still and motionless as di Serpentine Sea during di hot windless summer, waiting fo a weak moment, a chance to strike, interlocked in an opportunity to best di other. Breathing heavily, dem ignoring di cry from di onlookers. Some screaming fo dem to disengage and resume di menacing bouts of punching and kicking, others screaming fo one to find a way to finish di other. People who done place bets on either fighter scream dem throats sore fi di victory of dem respective fighter.

Di Young Cub and di apeman pay dem no mind, focusing instead on a careless opportunity da go enable either of dem emerge di victor, meaning di death of di victim. Di Young Cub no care. He no mind.

Di Cub pants, tired. Though many suns younger dan di apeman, he no care if him win nor lose, searching instead fo a worthy opponent. He hope fo victory today, not because he want him life. To be honest, win or lose no matter to him as he done often fight like he be willing to lose him life. But tonight, a certain lady awaits. A lady who done de difficult to get fi di past few weeks. Dia rendezvous being past midnight, she ah make him promise to come to ha sweaty and bloody, so she kin clean him hasef. And as he done try to get ha fo over a moon now, he figure dis be di best opportunity. And so, he persist.

Muscles strain, fighters breath heavily, eschewing pain and aches as dem animal instincts and suns of training drive dem. Di Young Cub lock him right leg with di Ape’s left, bending him head forward as if to snap da of him opponent. Dem groan as dem both try to deliver a mortal act. Di Young Cub feel him knee snap off dem sockets and as di pain shoot up him left thigh, no be him groan but di other man. Loosening di grip he get on di Young Cub, di Ape stagger forward a bit. His legs too, they must have snapped as well! Di Young Cub, trying to hide him pain, seize dis opportunity to attack, slamming him good leg into di other man’s shattered sheen, making di apeman’s legs unnaturally bend di other way, di man scream like a southern forest spirit, an ungodly shriel.

Di Ape stagger fo support on him good leg, but give way as di ground magnet am downwards. He put him hands out in front fo support, but di Young Cub kick dose out of di way, letting di man fall unprotected, him head hitting di ground hard, but not before di Young Cub pounce on him, delivering di finishing blows to di Ape’s skull, a series of jabs da render di man unconscious.

Di Young Cub sit fi di Ape’s chest fo a while, breathing heavily, sucking as much air as him nostrils and mouth go permit. Dere do be loud cries around him, di small audience clapping in excitement. But di Cub’s ears ring in silence, he no fit hear dem. No sound but him heartbeat, di air he suck in and di ringing of him ears. Di beast in him calming as him breath become better regulated. Him eyes catch him hands, blood drip from dem, di sand around stained red. Di apeman lay still, faceless and bloodied too. Di Cub no see red anymore.

He look up from him foe, to di crowd. Not everyone cheer, not everyone acknowledge dis victory. Not di people who bet on di apeman, not di Ape’s owner either, di man who stand by di cage’s gate, him head bow in disappointment. Not everyone de happy, and definitely not di Cub’s master, Ogasa, a portly man half a head shorter dan di Cub but with di same broad shoulders and thick arms. He look away from di Young Cub, looking, instead, to di exit.

“Finish him!” Di Young Cub turn to di source of di command. Di officiator, Gaban, dress in all black, with a huge fighting rod in one hand, sitting fo him high chair outside di cage. He no only officiate dis match, but also own dis fighting cage, an underground ring da, if found by di Inquisitors of Daka, go mean di heads of every last man here. But, as with all underground rings, dis place be only known to a handful of traders, slavemasters, heartless chiefs fi di south, corrupt emirs fi di north and spoilt princes everywhere who look to squander dem heritage. Besides, most cage fights never happen fi di same location twice in a sun cycle, as most locations be carefully scouted wastelands or hidden forests in some forgotten part of Tarefa.

“End am!” Gaban shout, stamping him rod hard fi di ground. Without thought, as done many times before, di Young Cub snap di neck of him opponent, cracking bones join di cries only momentarily, ending di life of di unconscious man. Some clap, some boo, but it no matter to di Young Cub. Orokk get up, stagger fo a bit, leaning more on him good leg, and limp out of di cage, towards Ogasa him master, who done already go.

+++

Oldman Okadibo sit in front of him hut, contemplating life in Aesea, a western land sharing borders with Tarefa. Okadibo be smoking him pipe, listening to little Tawara read him a story, Di Lion and di Jewel, a song da de ’bout a forest spirit lusting after a virgin girl. Di story no de particularly entertaining, at least not to di man anyway, but di flow of di narrative be very compelling da Okadibo no fit help but appreciate di popularity of di story. Growing up in Tarefa, it be a tale he read countlessly. Storytellers tell it under trees, around a bonfire, by di moonlight. Thespians perform am fi di most elegant bushbars or beer parlors. Fond days, dose. Aeseans no get da tale, enjoying stories of samori and hasasin instead. Di kind mon prefer.

Okadibo de smoke him pipe outside, enjoying di evening breeze and di company of little Tawara. People fi di village compound move about dem own activities, like dem be normally wont to do. Lasad, a village fi di southeast of Aesea, get a mixture of people from all over. It no uncommon to see di people here, even though heavy with beautiful aesean features, bear some resemblance to dose from Teopea and Nuba, seeing as both Tarefan lands be a boat ride from di east.

Tawara read up to di point where di virgin girl go to di river mmiri to fetch water, singing by di stream to di river goddess Ymaja, just before di lion hear am, and approach. Di virgin’s voice, like a river nymph, enchant di beast to ha, and instead of killing am, di beast love up. A fine story, no doubt, but a love story, and di old man done get him fair share of love stories, and instead he choose di life of solitude. So such stories, in him opinion, be fi di romantics. But it be too fine a story da he go read am every now and again, or more recently, he go let Tawara read to am.

Even though di little girl done see only thirteen suns, ha voice, as both a vocalist and singer, be very mature and adept. She’ll make a brilliant orator someday, if she so chooses. But what do Lasad need an orator fo? Largely dem be peaceful people, not as warring as tarefans or as manipulative as di Arundis. Aeseans only get time fo dem family and livestock. What do people without a ruling system need orators fo? Afterall, most renowned orators in Tarefa are liars.

Here, especially, people live in communities and tribes da closely resemble extended family units, Like di shared compound Okadibo reside. Lasad, being near di southeastern ports, done become, over time, a land da descend from travelling traders who been settle. Traders who move through Lasad to di trading ports. So, unlike other aesean nations, in Lasad, dere be no real generational family.

Now though, di port no longer in service, traveling tradesmen be few fi di area, and after many suns of few activities, di place now resemble an old and disused village with old and disused people. A place fo forgotten people. Perfect fi di man.

After many suns of traveling, hunting, both fo game and fo relics, raiding and fighting, Okadibo done decide to leave da life behind, or at least da be what he tell him brother who constantly argue da it be just excuse, but not him real motive. Five suns of no trouble and relative peace, Okadibo think di decision be, thus far, di right one. Though, sometimes, he no fit help but feel different, like something amis fi di horizon.

From di hut next to him, Tamara, Tawara’s mother, poke out ha head. “Tawara, food”. Di little girl close di book, leaving it fi di stool, before running up to dia hut. Tamara look at di man, endearingly, den approach, with da ha customary smile. “Okoman, you look well today.” She examine am, folding ha hands under ha breasts.

“I am well.” She be right, he do feel much better dan di last few days. He been get a recurring nightmare, a dream da bring back images of him past. Images he go rather forget. Di nightmares been come with a mild fever, making di man inactive. Him illness be di reason little Tawara read to him. He go love to go to di farms, or di forest, or bloody fishing, but as dis be weekend and, traditionally, days of relaxation, him companions done advise am to remain indoors, especially to recover. An advice he, unusually, follow, albeit even gladly. Maybe I am getting old.

Di breeze blow up him sleeves and he pull dem further to cover him wrist, and inadvertently di tattoos and scars thereof. He notice Tamara’s eyes, which she promptly shift as she see him regarding ha. She done see di scars on him arms and back, together with di tattoos, but she never ask him anything. Not one question. Here, everyone is running from something.

In him first suns here, ha husband, Tawari, ah been alive and he be friends with Okadibo, often playing hez together most evenings. Shortly after da, Tawari die, leaving him wife and daughter behind. Tawari been never speak of what he run from, but from him accent, and name, Okadibo done deduce da dem hail from north Aesea, probably close to di nightlands. A part of Okadibo, a long buried part of him, a very curious part, think of what di lands dere go be like, a place di sun never shines.

To ha earlier remark he respond, “I do feel ok.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She sound more dan glad. Speaking amarish, she still manage to reduce di harshness of di language. She truly can make anything sound beautiful, can’t she? “I will get Tawara to bring something out for you, okoman” Tamara mock, smiling. As she turn to leave, Nwokediabuo arrive. Tawara stop by di lanky man of forty-four suns, speaking with him, both of dem eyeing Okadibo, after which Tamara head into ha hut and Nwokediabuo approach.

“Oko, morning meets you well” Okadibo’s brother speak amarish to di hearing of Tamara. “She says you’re feeling better,” he switch to ebo now da she be out of earshot. A boyhood tongue dem only speak among demsefs, maybe out of di nostalgia it evoke. Even di name dem openly bear do be ebo ones. Nwokediabuo - di double man - and Okadibo - Di strong one - even though neither man be from south Tarefa.

“I ate a full plate of peppered gizzard just now.” Okadibo shut him eyes, di thatch roof shading him from di morning sun, him legs stretch in front of him and ’im back fi di wall of di hut. With arms on him stomach, di man bask fi di early morning weather, feeling gratitude to di golden sun.

“Then you must be well in deed” Nwoke drop di items he carry in front of Okadibo’s hut, “issorite” a rubani slang. Nwoke, being widely read and diplomatically travelled, know twice as many tongues as Okadibo, but you no go know just by looking at di man. He lift di book before sitting fi di stool.

Nwoke, more a friend, dan a younger brother, somehow manage to retain him youth, looking more like a young man of thirty something. If he no get some grey peppered in him hair, it go difficult to convince anyone of him advanced age. And wisdom too. Dem both be of an age, but Okadibo, fo sometime now, be referred to as okoman - old man - partly from him carriage, partly from him dark demeanour, partly from him solitude and introspection, but mostly because every single hair on him be white. White, long, flowing locks and thick mane of hair around him visage. Aguoko, the Greying Lion.

“Where is Baby?” Okadibo realise da Azoka no follow him brother.

“She comes. Stopped over at Agadinwanyi’s.” Nwoke comot - remove - a small horn of wine, reclining like Okadibo, and drinking in bits. “The sun is nice this morning.”

“And shining down on us” Okadibo recline further “unlike tarefan sun.”

“The tarefans vexed their gods.” Nwoke drink him cacao. Okadibo try fo sleep, breathing in di sweat morning air. Soon to be di yule tides, di seasons go soon change, fo light fog cover di mornings, and smokey fog fi di nights, di sweet air coming back from di Shivering Sea, ushering in harmattan. Soon to be cold and wet, but with as much green in Lasad, it still go be a lovely weather. Okadibo de look forward to di rain. Showers of Blessing, he call dem. Send down the rain, like Fashek di rainman.

“It’s all the blood spilled on the land.” Nwoke and him theories. Dis be why Okadibo read few books. You read too much and your brain go muddle up. “You cannot spill that much blood and not anger the gods.” Nwoke continue.

“They spilled the first blood” Okadibo make an offhanded remark, eyes still close.

“This is true” Nwoke flip through di book of stories, “You hate this book” he drop di book fi di floor between dem. Di book belong to Nwoke, as do many books fi dem hut, and be among him favorites, claiming it to be a tarefan masterpiece. Nwoke’s favorite tale na di one ’bout a slave burned fo him treachery, only to transform into a phoenix and ascend to haven, thus inspiring di Aflamed religion, Nwoke’s religion.

“Little Tawara seems to like it” Nwoke observe. Na true, di little girl do seem to like di stories, and why not, dem be written with people like ha in mind. As if thinking of di little girl make ha comot - come out - of di hut.

“Speak of jinns and they appear” Nwoke speak into him horn of cacao as Tawara walk up to di two men, food in hand. With ha right hand, she hand one bowl to Nwoke, bending ha knees in respect. Nwoke pat ha head, “ma wu mi, my good daughter” in amarish, before she hand di second bowl to Okadibo, repeating di gesture. Okadibo bow, collecting di food from am. She rush back to ha hut, not wasting any time fo ha usual chatter. Typical Tawara, waste no time when food be concerned. Between ha and Nwoke, and Azoka, he kin no tell who love food di most.

Jollof rice and diced roasted fish with chunks of fried onions and red hot pepper. A nice meal da be incomplete without di tomato sauce, and dis tomato sauce de splendid. Di men eat, wolfing down each spoon. Nwoke pass Okadibo di wine horn after taking a sip, but Okadibo shake him head, opting fo a cup of water instead. No wine until full recovery. Dem eat in silence, savouring each mouthful. To Okadibo, normally, food be food, a necessity and no more. But after di past few shivering days, food taste great, like dis one. Nwoke, a natural born eater, chop dis food like every other he done eat, like na him last, relishing each chew before swallowing. Food is definitely not food to him, Okadibo smile.

Before dem finish eating, a young woman approach dem hut, a bag of some bushmeat slung over one shoulder. Slender and nimble though she be, she still look like someone who fit lift more dan ha weight, evidenced by di muscles of ha exposed arms.

“Okoman, at least you’re eating.” Azoka stop before dem, unslinging di pack from ha shoulder, hanging di bushmeat on di hook poking from di thatched shade.

“Baby. you look tired” Okadibo inspect ha, dust and forest life all over.

“You can say that again.” She hang di goods, den come closer. “We caught some for you. Wild rats and rabbits everywhere. The hunt was good”, ha ebo spoken like a native, though she be a dakari woman.

“I can see.” Di old man observe di huge rat, almost as huge as di hare itsef. Even though he be weaning himsef off meat, he no fit help but salivate at di prospect of roasted bushmeat.

“Someone was in town asking of you” Azoka inform am, entering di hut, to get a stool fo hasef.

“Eh?” He turn to ha, waiting fo more, but na Nwoke who continue in ha place, swallowing before speaking;

“Yes, yes. Baby, thank you. How silly of me to forget. Old age. Yes, nwannem, the waziri, from Doha, di exiled one who now stays in Bilaad.” Okadibo ken di description, nodding. “He was in the village bushbar asking of you. I didn’t see him, but many people did.”

“I saw him, just now” Azoka emerge from di hut with a stool da she place between dem, collecting Okadibo’s bowl and wolfing down di remainder of di food, mostly di fish. “He is on his way down here. I thought to hurry on ahead, so you’re not caught unawares.”

Him past life de always come and go like a cat, Okadibo reflect on what foreboding dis cat de ’bout to drag in? Him mind pace.

Throughout di many suns he done see, men from all over di three great lands done sought am out, asking him to help retrieve, rebuke or vanquish something or someone. Men done try to arrest him, tried to kill him or tried to coax information from him. Everytime he try to move further away from it all, everytime it go come back calling, until he go finally give into him nature. A waziri from Doha, one exiled for smuggling? What does he want?

Hiding dis deep in an obscure fishing village with barely a name, he been hope to, at di very least, see over twenty suns before him past go come knocking. But now, him spirit tell him da, like many times before, he de ’bout to be asked a difficult question. One he go refuse, but one da fit force him hand. “Za hiri al za hiri” di old man mutter in asari - Di past is di past.

“Speak of jinns.” Azoka remark, shifting “That is not a subtle man.” fi di distance, a small entourage of men on camelback approach.

+++

Dem poach di boy at fifteen, chaining him with a few others, taking dem through di forests of di Palms in south Tarefa, keeping to di solitary zones and moving mostly at night so as to avoid di prying eyes of di Inquisitors. Strategic holding yards ah been built along dem path, built during di budding slave trade era in Tarefa, which di present zar of Daka done end about seven suns ago. Somehow dis illegal trading route persist due to di florishing slave trade fi di Arundis and di mines of Ajaokuta.

Di boy no know of di thriving slave activity in Tarefa and therefore no expect to be enslaved, enjoying a warm evening by di river mmiri before being taken by poachers with intention to sell am to some elite Tarefan criminal. After seeing how much damage di boy fit do with di sword and hammer, dem change dia minds. A strong one like him go do well fi di Arundis, dem say, and cart him off, up north, to auction him illegally.

To be auctioned with him, to di Arundis, be a few others. Young women to be sold to pleasure houses. Men to be sold to di farms. Children to be sold to slave groomers to prepare dem fo dia future occupations, and some wrestlers sold as mandingos fo entertainment. Including wild beasts and birds caged and displayed as exotic or rare. But as all dis upset di boy, na di captured grimcat da upset him most, fi di beast be kept in it’s own separate cage and tortured every night fo fun.

Di beast, in a moon cycle, ah been subdued to di worst kind of existence, cut and wounded in places, chained fo nigh on sixty days, fed nothing but hard bones so da its ribs begin to show under its fur, and it do get a lot of fur, more dan most beasts. Its cry every night disturb di boy. So instead of planning to free himsef, he plan to free di beast.

Being held up and beaten many nights in a row, to subdue him, must ah allow darkness to enter him spirit, fo, on one of dose nights when di moons be high and full, and di breeze light and cool, as di boy ah been brought back from di toilet by him jailer, he witness di beast flogged and poked, and something come over di boy, something incorporeal, ethereal of sorts, strengthening him, making him blackout.

Fi di blackout, di boy snap, attacking him nearest captor, snapping di man’s neck, bone and all, before proceeding to di others da de ’bout. Using any weapon he fit find, di boy kill di closest man, before unlocking di cage with di grimcat, letting di bushcat run back into di forest where it fo de, free from di torture it been endure.

Dis be when di poachers make up dem mind. Dem no go sell di boy in Tarefa or to di Arundis anymore, he go now de sold to di mines of Ajaokuta, fo much more dan dem bargain. With strength like him own as a lanky boy, dem ken da he go be more formidable when properly groomed and trained. More expensive too.

So him captors carve a slave mark beside ’im eyes, chain am in a cage, with wild beasts fo company, ensuring to flog and torture him every night, more dan dem do before. Exercising him with di axe, stone and hammer, brick and mortar, while feeding him fufu, di thick southern kind called akpu, to thicken him muscles and broaden him shoulders. And like so, Orokk’s first two suns as a seasoned slave been commence, in preparation fo Ajaokuta.

Waking from him sleep, Orokk ley in bed with him hands under ’im head, gazing at di ceiling, di dream - memory - still hunting him. He wonder wetin - what - di sky go look like if di roof no obfuscate am. Di naked body of Marisa press up against him, di one awaiting him victory. Though ha figure shapely and tighter dan most women, and ha height as tall as any man’s, buttocks firm and rotund, clearly displaying under di fabric, he still no get what he been come fo. She be wetin any man, and some women, go want, including him. But di pleasure he been anticipate no equate di pleasure him get. As always.

Di same way with most things he anticipate, often making dem better in him mind dan di actual encounter. He wonder if di entire night been worth living fo. Di Ape be a worthy fighter in skill and equally matched as he, maybe even better. Orokk been no hope on winning, thinking he done finally met an opponent worthy enough to end am. Him victory do be luck, unfortunately, and dis gift beside, in bed, no de satisfying, leaving him emptier dan before. Fi di end, every one of him women end up feeling like di same woman, di same pleasure, di same dissatisfaction, yet he keep going after dem, hoping to meet one who go be, like di wrestlers, a worthy woman. Worthy enough to bed.

Nevertheless, he hold ha beside. Ha succulent skin softening under him touch. He feel ha sides, carefully, letting him fingers absorb every sensation from ha skin. Di light from di window illuminate ha side of di bed. Ha rich mahogany complexion looking more colorful under di half light. She move at him touch.

He try sleep but no fit. Him wasted life feeling even more wasted by di passing time. As a slave wrestler, him life be forfeit, belonging to Ogasa to do as he please, and di only other slaves lower dan him be di miners in Ajaokuta. Him only luck being da Ogasa no make him feel like one, yet Orokk never forget, di mark fo him face no go let am. Ogasa been no even want him to fight fi di cages, calling it di death of any man, but Orokk been insist. If he go be fighter, he fo as well fight with di best of dem. If he go be slave, den he fo as well die with di rest of dem. Now he be carted from one Tarefan land to another, from one cage to another, fo entertainment. Where is that burning wine?

Orokk sit up, naked, feet hitting di freezing floor. He no wince as di cold pierce him skin. Crimsion shine through di window, bleeding di sky, figuratively, di cold already reaching di outer parts of Daka, heralding di coming harmattan. Orokk welcome di cold on him chest as di curtains flap fi di wake of di wind. He look to di side table, dere do be a large gourd with two horns beside am. He stretch, picking up di gourd and putting it to him mouth and upending its content, more palm wine run down di side of him mouth, down him neck and chest, dan enter him mouth. He gulp, almost choking from di sudden outpour of di drink, but expertly resume gulping down di entire content. Emptying it, he fall back in bed, hoping di alcohol go get to ’im head and bring ’bout quick sleep. Or death. It no bring di latter, but it do bring di former.

+++

“I don’t hunt anymore.” Chewing on him stick and spitting di chaff fi di sand beside him, Okadibo try not to look directly at waziri Jibiri Sanusi, di visitor from Doha, sitting before Okadibo and him brethren, watching dem closely. Di demise fi di waziri’s eyes almost contagious. He just finish to explain him reason fo being here. Him daughter, a princess, taken by what di waziri think fit be darklings, di man kin no make up him mind on what exactly be di things da him ah seen, switching from one description to another.

“You must help me. These things, these creatures, they’ve been plaguing the farms for many moons now.” Di waziri speak in harsh asari. “What used to be a folklore has become commonplace in some of the fishing villages.” Di man rob him eyes in weariness. “Though I have known of your whereabouts for sometime now, I have left you alone, until now. Shouldn’t that say something?”

Na true da di waziri done know of Okadibo’s whereabouts. Him ah been first exiled to Aesea, under di same sun Okadibo moved here too, albeit in different lands. Only a few people know where Okadibo de. Mostly people who done help him fi di past, people he feel obligated to, or people he been work with. And not all of dose kin find him easily.

“Am sorry but this is something I cannot do.” Okadibo bite into him chewing stick again, contemplating. “How are you even sure I can still track them?”

“We tracked them through some of the villages that were affected and they seem to be on their way up, from Bilaad to Lasad. I think they go further north.” Di waziri lift him cup to ’im lips fi di first time since he be handed di drink, sipping without tasting di fine cacao. “They mostly travel at night, from what we gathered, especially foresty places. And they travel in packs too, it seems. It’s like the stories, Creatures of the Night.” Di stories he speak of be about women who solicit men fo night, emptying dem pockets, but Okadibo no correct am, fo he ken di waziri to mean Night Creatures.

“Nightcrawlers!” Azoka, wide-eyed, hang ha mouth open, excitement not fear. Dere be no doubt about it, di description do be like olobiri - nightcrawlers. Okadibo done encounter a few of dose in ’im days, but never in large packs and never spiriting people away, en masse. Da do seem rather calculating fo olobiri Yes dem do get some sencience, with less refined communication skills. However, dem still be brainless creatures, killing and consuming di blood of dem victims, being generally chaotic around any form of remote civilisation. Iniquitous creatures.

Because of dem animal instincts, dem be keen on living deep fi di forest, away from people. And di tenderness of dem skin no let dem move freely under di sun, or any kind of bright light. But dem no de patient enough to go long hours without disagreeing, invariably killing dem captives or each other in dispute.

But again, being blind to light and travelling at night do be like nightcrawlers. Fo dis be how dem navigate around men, eschewing society. Okadibo look deep into him cup, thinking. If olobiri be running amok fi di land, something need be done ’bout it. Retire or no.

As di thought of another adventure come to mind, he shake him head. He kin no put Baby through another danger, not with ha coming an inch of ha life di last time. Azoka fit de old enough and act tough, but she always be Baby to dem. And him brother, Nwoke, going through many near death experiences as dere be fingers on both hands. Dem been all choose to retire fo a simple reason, di endless journeys into forests and deserts done age dem. And dere be no way he go quest without dem tagging along. Aesea suppose be a respite fo dem sins.

“I cannot do this thing.” Him talk am with as much conviction fo him voice, sounding as conclusive as possible. Shame da waziri Jibiri Sanusi done come all dis way, it customary to aid a traveller if dem come a long way to see you. But dis no be Doha. Aesean customs be vast and different, land fo land, tribe to tribe and region to region. Okadibo ponder fo a moment as di silence between him and di waziri stretch. Nwoke, sitting beside, just study dem face. Okadibo kin tell he too no want go either.

“Then there is nothing fo me here.” Di waziri drop ’im cup fi di stool, leaving more dan half di fine wine undrunk. He stand, a move da signal to him entourage da dem depart. Dem gather around dia waziri, as di small procession exit di shared compound. Okadibo take another sip of him drink, in tandem with him brother. Dem hold each other’s gaze, unconsciously, both men pensive about di nightcrawlers.

+++

Ona sit opposite Mama, both at a game of ncho which she be winning. As it stand, him stones be fewer in ’im side of di game’s pockets. Insofar as dem play as dem normally do on many occasions, it being dem pass time and all, still na far from a joyous game, fo both dem faces be downcast in melancholia.

Yke sit on di bench next to dem, leaning him back fi di clay walls, as he munch on a pear. From di way he squeeze him face, you kin tell di fruit no de palatable. Di food here too be going bad, like di crops fi di land. Dis sun cycle go be di second without rain. If it go any longer now, some children go grow up not knowing what rain be. It de so bad da most food now be imported, fo lack of fertile soil to grow dem on.

“Mama Obong’s small boy died too” Mama shift uncomfortably in ha chair. “I heard her scream at night and ran out to see. She was cradling the poor boy when I entered her room” She shake ha head in pity. “I was afraid something might have happened to you.”

“Hmm.” Ona look up at ha fo an instant, seeing da she really mean am, like many times before, but he kin no help but wonder if him imposition on ha fit be more burdensome and obligatory dan voluntary. If him die, da fit free ha, no? “So far, the dead ones seem to be very young.”

“Yes, children.” She pack ha palm full of pebbles, den play ha turn, going round di pockets, placing one pebble fo each, ending in Ona’s pocket full of six stones, him most stones. She pack dem, increasing ha chances dramatically.

“Mostly boys” He contemplate how to gain a little edge.

“I didn’t notice” She look pensive at di word, as if some foreign thought ah just come to ha. “Hmm, there’s something strange about it.”

“It was the first thing I noticed.” Yke offer, still trying to eat di rotten pear. He’ll eat anything, that one. Even if it contained poison. He go point it out, complain about it, but inevitably eat it. If ever a person kin die eating. “Below the ages of three so far. Everybody I checked mostly lost sons. Daughters are fine. However, among the livestock the god of death didn’t distinguish between genders.”

“Very peculiar indeed. Even though it requires studying, I will not pray that this thing continues past today.” Mama remark, watching Ona play him hand. She be right. Di phenomenon de curious, and do be requiring studying, but praying fi di omen to linger in order to study it go be an evil thing fo anyone to think. “I’ll visit Ikwerre tomorrow.” Di boys share a surreptitious glance. Ikwe di scribe adore mama and go go lengths to find wetin she sought, but mama no go ever admit am.

Mama play ha final round, winning di game. She look up at him to see if he be disheartened but Ona no de offended by di loss, seeming almost used to it. Instead, he start preparing fo another round. He go like to study dis strange phenomena, see where di occurence lead, as evil as di thought be.

+++

Di wine gourd look half empty. Di morning sun quickly give way to noon as Sion change from him golden color to blinding white, burning something awful from di firmament. Orokk de behind di general kitchen, a container used as a makeshift cookery, he adjust him cloth. Bodela, one of di dakari women in tow of di wrestling caravan, a young cook almost twenty five suns grown, pull down ha gown, sweating and looking up at Orokk.

“The ‘Young Cub’ my ass. They should have called you the tiger, or the ravager.” She arrange ha blouse as well, robbing di crease in hope of smoothening dem.

Orokk stand, leaning against di container, adjusting him trouser with one hand and drinking more wine with di other, some of di wine pour down him chest, soaking ’im tunic. Gods, is it hot!

“Save some for me” Bodela smile over to him. He, regretfully, hand ha di wine, fo he ken da him next drink fit well be when di mini caravan ride back into Outer Daka. Bodela, pretty enough fo a cook, put di gourd against ha lips, dragging in di palm wine. Eyes closed as she enjoy di drink. “Hmmm. This is good wine”. Na bad wine, but Orokk no argue. Good or bad, dem always serve di same purpose fi di end, to numb him mind. Dere be so much he no want to think about.

After sipping di wine, she hand it back to him, den get on tiptoes to kiss him. Unfortunately, because of di disparity in height, she kin only kiss him neck. “You said you’d be quick.”

“I thought I would” He respond offhandedly, tying di ropes around di neck of him tunic.

“We should head out, the van moves soon” She turn to leave when di curtains fi di container flap open and a boy of ’bout thirteen peek in, looking from Bodela to Orokk.

“Ogasa want word, masa.” Di boy, Kojo, deliver di message very quickly da if Orokk no de used to dakari street tongue, he go done miss di words, half sounding like an asariman and half like a foreign tongue. Orokk nod, den stagger out of di container, leaning on him good leg, bidding bodela good day. At least she’s a much wilder flower than Marisa.

Orokk half limp and half stagger behind Kojo, trying to keep him composure but knowing how badly he fail at it. Sion burn white fi di sky, and di wine in Orokk’s head do more to incapacitate him dan anything else. Burning sun! Sweat and wine glue him cloth to ’im body. He manage di walk, swatting at di large angry forest flies buzzing, like annoying beez, fi di air.

Most people around di vans look him direction, but more because of him size and weight dan anything else. Dem de aware of him fighting match and think him weak from exhaustion, but no be like say he care if dem think him drunk. He stagger on.

In what fit done be ages, dem arrive at Ogasa’s tent with di old man sitting outside. Kojo go inside while Orokk approach him master who de feed three heavy dogs raw meat. Di beasts fight over di meal, even though it be more dan enough to feed all three of dem twice over. Burning greedy beasts!

“You’re alive!” Di man belch, throwing Orokk a suspicious look. Di kind he always threw di young fighter. Ogasa no support Orokk’s behaviour, at least not where women and drinks de concerned. But he allow Orokk dis enjoyments, if you fit call dem da, because, when it come down to it, he still fight well, at any rate. Plus, Ogasa done be fighter once, so he ken dis to be di few pleasures of di trade.

“That’s your opinion” Orokk approach. Di dogs catch him fi dem peripheral, den growl, inching backwards, away from him, unnerved by him presence. He pay dem no mind, sitting beside Ogasa instead.

“They grow fond of you.” A wry humor, him master throw a huge bone towards dem. A bone dem promptly fight over, disregarding di other untouched bones around dem. Stupid dogs!

“You wanted word?” Orokk groan, as he stretch him legs before am. Di dry land around and di haunting forest in front of dem give dia surrounding a very ominous, very isolated feeling. A feeling Orokk prefers to di city, save for the heat and burning flies.

“We agreed that you will no longer throw your life in the cages.” Di man turn to Orokk, a bit upset at di young fighter.”

“We did.” Orokk’s head hurt from speaking and moving. And from di drinks. A sick feeling fi di pit of him stomach. Why do humans have to speak, or think, or live?

“You requested cage fights. If I have my way, you’ll only fight in the arenas. That way, I don’t have to worry about you being careless or dying.” Di dogs roll around, di bigger of di three grabbing one by di throat. “What would Haua think?” He turn to Orokk, di name guilts di young fighter but he respond not.

“You should rest, get your legs looked at” Ogasa observe, looking closely at di fighter’s knees. “Instead you galavant with those thirsty women.” Di old man comot him pipe, put it to ’im mouth, “If I’d known you’d be so taken by it, I would have gifted you differently, earlier on.” Ogasa open a pouch before him, “Back den you didn’t care for these things, but now...” He stuff dry taba leaves from di pouch into di pipe. “You know, one day, you’ll have to tell me the woman who left the hole in you. You cannot drink and sleep your way to an early grave.”

But that’s exactly the plan. Orokk sit in silence, as usual. Drink or no, poke or no, an early grave is welcomed. Ogasa regard him fighter’s face, seeing di pain and stress on him, den hand him di taba pouch, which Orokk collects, pulling him own pipe from him tunic pocket. Ogasa, after lighting him own, hand Orokk di firesticks, pulling from him pipe thick white smoke, which he let dance with di hot wind. Orokk do di same, and both men smoke in silence fo sometime.

“There is an event in south Tarefa, Ebonda to be precise.” Di old man drag from him pipe again, holding di smoke fo a little while before letting it, again, dance with di wind. “The event is under the amber moon, so we have time to prepare.” Orokk turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “Some royal ceremony, meaning the usual suspects. They’ll put on a masquerade that includes a wrestling event.” dis time, it be di young wrestler who let out smoke. “As soon as we get into the Outer City, we do a fight or two, then we pack up and leave for South South.”

Orokk make to get up, him cane chair rattling as he move. Ogasa place a hand on him, pausing di young man. “I have wine here. I asked a tapper to save some. I figured you’ll need it.” Orokk stop at di words, relax fo him sit and collect di keg Ogasa hand am, taking a sip. An event in Ebonda, eh? It ah been a while since he visit di lands down south. I wonder if the women are as good as Bodela.

+++

Sion be more white dan orange, still illuminating di sky even though na nearly evening. Normally you go expect di heat to burn down below with a color such as dis, but coolness prevail. Di brightness even help di still lake glitter fi di light, like stars fi di waters. Di lone canoe, frozen in motion fi di middle of di lake, do naught but sway with di occasional breeze. Di two men fi di canoe lay with dem backs reclined and dem straw hats shading dia faces. Di fishing poles hooked by di side of di boat, before dem, awaits a greedy fish.

Okadibo and him brethren enjoy di evening, basking fi di chill. Di still lake making dem fishing rods motionless fi di windless eve. On di surface of di waters, however, from di dot where di fishing ropes touch di lake, light waves ripple outward, sparkling. Okadibo, half asleep, half thinking, pre-occupy himsef with di thought of di crawlers. Of late, di strange stories from Tarefa, children dying in dem crib, people missing fi di forests as dem wives go missing fi di farms, poached. Lands drying up with nary a crop in sight. If di old man be reading di signs well, at least dis much mark di end of di ages.

Di sky ready itsef fi di appearance of di moons as di sun set fi di distant horizon. Di red clouds mark di spot Crimsion de arise from, ha reflection tinting di sea, giving di brothers something to bask in.

“Olobiri hasn’t been sighted in a long time.” Him brethren speak from under him hat, voice light fi di breeze. “Not even we have seen any in a long time.” He start chewing on him stick, ruminating. Okadibo contemplate di words himsef, thinking back on di last time dem come across an olobiri. Creatures da kin no see, telling dem prey only by sound and smell. Dem been never see any of dose fo ages.

A sound fi di distance, shrubs moving lightly among each other, cause Okadibo to open him eyes, looking ahead. Di sound no de enough to rouse even a dog, but living fi di forest, among di wild, far longer dan being among your own kind, be giving a man certain unexplainable instincts. Him eyes, seeing clearer dan da of most beasts, search di forest ahead, going from one part, expertly, to di next. Den he see it, almost imperceptible to di human eye, blending nicely with di trees fi di background, something de watch dem.

As if being suddenly aware of di old man staring at it, di creature slide smoothly into di background, becoming one with di bush, di thing disappear from view. From even Okadibo. Too distant to make out, it been seem like an olobiri - a nightcrawler. Not sure of what he just seen, Okadibo refrain from raising alarm.

“We should leave” He sit up and start to pack him things gently, reeling ’im pole in and folding di rods, before tying dem to him backpack and slinging dem across him shoulders. Nwoke follow suit, sans question of di sudden capriciousness. Nwoke, by now, de used to Okadibo’s instincts, often regarding dem as di world’s own way of guiding dem path. Okadibo no pay dis instincts any more mind dan he pay breathing, not regarding it as a gift, but more a necessity fo survival. Like breathing. People de often refer to him as being strong in Spirit. He who walks in spirit, walks in truth, him baba used to say.

Dem start rowing back to shore, di same side he done seen di olobiri peeking. Mother moon already fi di sky by di time dem reach ashore. Tying di boat by di makeshift dock, dem shoulder dia bags and hasten into di village further down di valley, after di forest. Although a small forest, too small and thin fo any nefarious creature to lurk, yet Okadibo think on di apparition.

Dem quickly move through di bush, both men shooting wary glance about di place, more perfunctory dan purposefully. Nothing seem amis by di time dem make it to di other side of di trees, di clearing, where di village fo de visible, albeit as dots fi di distance. Dem de forced to stop, fo, fi di distant part of di forest, dem see a few creatures, too far to make out, but short and thick, with bright red hair, walking away from dem, not in fear or hurry, but like ones on a journey. Mpis.

“I thought I’d seen something else.” Okadibo apologise with him eyes fi di alarm. Nwoke no seem to hear, looking instead at di mpis, peaceful humanoids da migrate, like birds. down south once in every sun cycle. Dem drag heavily saddled donkeys fi di solar pilgrimage.

“Is it that time of the sun already?” Nwoke sound surprised, “Boy, how time flies.” He shake him head, as if expecting time to stand still so he kin finish di bevy of things he no get planned. Di rotation of di moons be one way to count di solar cycle, but di pilgrimage of di mpis down south be another way aeseans count am.

“We should head back” Okadibo pull Nwoke along, who go rather stay back and watch di green creatures. By di time dem make it to di village, di compound dem share with about twenty other households, di second moon done join ha mother fi di firmament, evening becoming night in a glorious shower of starlight. Di brethrens move through di first few compounds watchfully, looking fo anything out of di ordinary. Nothing.

As di community be very few and relatively peaceful, di people been see no need to employ watchmen or build watchtowers. If anything go wrong, dere go be no one to protect dem. Protection be up to di few who take it upon demsefs. It ah been fi di line of duty da Tawari done lost him life, as a vigilante, leaving behind him wife and daughter, and di responsibility of watching di small community to Okadibo and companion.

Nothing happen throughout di night besides di usual. Okadibo play a game of hex with Nwoke, as dem drink fine kav by lamplight and listen to di children tell stories. Tawara play with Pat, di native baker’s apprentice, both of dem singing ‘Sunny Waters’ from Nwoke’s book, while Tamara and Azoka chatter di night away. Everyone go to bed early and by di time anything serious occur, dere be no one to hear it save fo two middle aged men and a resilient woman.

A lone girl returning from di wells, fi di hour of di rooster, scream at di top of ha lungs. Too far to be heard, but near enough fi di vigilant.

Before dawn di village girls do go to di nearby stream in preparation fi di early morning cleaning of di compounds, to wash and fetch water fi di early morning light. On dis particular morning di girls dem ah been ambushed by over a dozen olobiri. Defenceless, most run but to no avail. Only one girl make it back to di compound without being taken.

Okadibo and Nwoke, awake as she come running in, respond di best way dem know how, arming demsefs and running into di forest to recover di taken girls and hopefully track di creatures to dem rendezvous point.

Fi di heat of di pursuit, Okadibo entertain no thought besides catching up to di flamming things, so he and Nwoke do di best dem kin on foot, running expertly through every shortcut dem remember fi di nearby bush behind di village. Fo di girl done point dis direction.

As dem run through di forest, ahead of dem, dem hear something running, almost a few yards away, obscured by di bush and few trees. Dem pick up dia pace, running faster dan dem kin manage. Di creatures must just be a few feet away now. As if hearing dem behind, one of di creatures stop and about-face dem, weapon in hand. Weapon? olobiri carried no weapons. Di brethrens brace demsefs fi di confrontation as it attack.

“Baby?” Nwoke inquire, unsure if na Azoka or if di creatures kin assume familiar forms. Di young woman relax, relief on ha face. She walk up to dem shaking ha head. “I couldn’t catch up with them. I heard the cry.”

“What are you doing here?” Okadibo almost admonish. “By yourself?” di young woman fire him a hot look.

“You could have gotten yourself killed.” Nwoke soften di heat.

“Well, I wasn’t sure anyone else was responding to it, besides, our huts are yards away.”

“It’s the same compound. You should have waited for us.” Nwoke remind ha. Di heedless woman always take to jumping into crazy situations without thinking. “Anyway, did you glimpse them?”

She shake ha head as Okadibo, in disbelief, observe da; “It’s almost dawn, why didn’t they attack at night?”.

“I thought so at first. The whole thing seems too organised for them.” Azoka drop ha spear hand, freeing ha tied hair. “I saw a few of them make their way into the forest, but I think I lost them.” She always pride hasef in fighting alone, as if some hidden medallion be handed out to lone fighters, regardless of how many times he done warn ha against its imminent dangers.

“Heedless girl, even I don’t fight alone” He regret am di moment it comot him mouth. He ken he done often be forced to fight alone, not because he want to, but because he be alone at di time and di situation been demand. Telling ha stories of him sojourns, since she been just a pikin, done only help in making ha try to best him, as if to prove something to someone.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that, okoman” As she whip ha hair to di side, mockingly, dem come into di village, most people awake and questioning di running girl. As dem enter di yard, people turn to dem curiously, questions fo dem face. Dem notice Pat and Tamara walking, forlorn, towards dem. Di old man look about widely. In a commotion such as dis, it be unlike Tamara to leave ha daughter behind. Spirits be good that she’s still here, spirits be burning good.

As di two others walk up to di party of three, Okadibo hear dem sad words before dem be even uttered, Tamara shake ha head in shock as Pat speak, “It’s Tawara, we cannot find her”

“That girl says she saw her taken at the well.” Tamara look dem beseechingly. In Nwoke’s eyes, Okadibo see di determination fo another quest. Azoka’s eyes seem to mirror di same resolve. Now, fo sure, nothing go stop Okadibo from dis path. Dat ominous feeling of doom finally abate, he now knows why dem been settle in Lasad, dia raison d’etre.