by J. Elle
“Humans… idiots,” someone says and the students around me had snickered but I ignored it.
The teacher had given me this look, like talking about this was some sort of crime. “If you’d read the text, you’d know that answer.” Somehow, her nose rose higher in the air, her dark curls bouncing. “We are studious here, Miss Akintola. I suggest you try harder to keep up.”
She’s lying. I read that shit. That’s not in the book.
“Actually, the text starts with commencement of Founder’s Day. I did read it.”
“A-ah, mind your tone.”
My tone is fine, but I change it up anyway. “I just meant that the book you gave us doesn’t go into detail about what Ghizon was like before the Chancellor united the clans. It doesn’t even say how many there were, where they were, wha—”
“And why would it?” She interrupts. “This isn’t the History of the Four Indigenous Tribes on the Isle of Ghizon class. This is the—”
“So it’s not in the text. How am I not keeping up?”
All eyes on me.
She crossed the room, a wild look in her eye, and got real close to my face.
“This is History of New Ghizon, the Ghizon full of magic and wonder.…” Her arms swept in the air in grand gestures. “A peaceful land of magical innovation. Thanks to the Chancellor’s incredible ability to engineer raw magic with his bare hands.” She was so exhilarated she almost ran out of breath. So dramatic, I swear.
“And to take that power and so kindly share it with us. I just…” She closed her eyes, holding her palm to her chest. A few people clapped. Someone give this woman an Emmy.
“Benevolence. Duty. Fidelity. That is what we are learning about, Miss Akintola.”
“So, it was four tribes then?”
She turned pink and pointed to the door. I’d become used to that. I packed my stuff, and when I reached the door, I turned back. “It’s messed up that you know what Ghizon was like before the Chancellor, but we can’t.” I got a few lingering stares as I left. Didn’t go to History class or any class much longer after that. Ms. Totsi’s selection of books was a little better. I learned about the village Aasim is from. How they were dying out years before the Chancellor swept in. And sadly, even the Chancellor’s magic couldn’t save them.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—in Ms. Totsi’s old books could have prepared me for the inside of Yiyo Peak.
CHAPTER 24
MY SIDE BURNS. My eyes too. Inside the cave, the heat clings to my skin and I scream. I scream until my throat burns.
I’m on fire. I have to be.
I blink several times.
My hands appear fine. My clothes feel the same.
It’s hot. So hot. But inside me somehow, not out, like my very bones are made of flames.
I stagger.
“Rue, you okay?” Aasim reaches to steady me and I use his arm to get my bearings.
“I… I’m fine.” I think. After a few moments, the heat settles—not like it’s gone, but like it’s at home inside me.
Flames dance in oblong stone bowls hovering overhead. Everything grows brighter as my eyes adjust to the dim orange light. A rocky cavernous ceiling twinkles above us like a sky dotted with stars made of smoky glass.
Onyx.
Humid air clings to my skin and a thick, industrial stench burns my nose. On my right a path deeper into the cave extends under a low ceiling held up by wooden beams. To my left are carts piled high with black stone discs, spilling over their edges in heaps on the ground. Flickers of orange lick their surface, reflecting the firelight hanging from the jagged ceiling.
“Th-there’s so much of it.” I grab a piece of onyx and it’s cold. I don’t know why I’m whispering, but I have the distinct feeling someone is watching me. Someone other than Aasim.
“This way.” He gestures for me to walk toward the narrow tunnel. It looks like a partially collapsed construction zone, only without hard hats.
But the onyx is just sitting here, out in the open.
Why does he want to go the other way?
He gestures again, more urgently this time. I slip the hard stone in my pocket and follow.
The tunnel’s ceiling is so low, my breath shortens with each step. I run my hands along the jagged surface made of bits of brittle rock and glassy stone. The firelight from Yiyo’s entrance fades the deeper we go, but there’s a faint light up ahead. The ceiling is lowering. Walls tighten. Finding even ground for each step is harder than the one before it. Where are we going? This is madness. We pass a sign plastered with stamped letters that reads STOP.
We keep on going.
Everything’s hard to see the darker it gets. Light glimmers on the edge of Aasim’s frame hunched over ahead of me. The tunnel narrows even more and I bend deeper, my back aching. My hair grazes the top of the cave and Aasim reaches back for my hand to lead the way. I don’t take it, but I stay on his six.
My pulse tap tap taps faster in my veins. I ease out a breath hoping to slow my heart rate. How much deeper? What’s back here?
Several more steps and my neck aches from being stuck sideways.
Crash.
I yelp, my heart punching my chest.
My lungs burn.
I’m coughing.
Everything’s a cloud of dust and a portion of the ceiling is a heap of rubble at my feet.
“It’s okay,” he says, coughing. “Come on. Not much farther.”
Behind us the entrance to the cave is small in the distance. I squint through the haze, another cough tugging at my throat.
“Where…” The rest of my words come out a squeak when a ray of sun cuts through the darkness. Someone’s opened Yiyo’s doors.
Footsteps.
Shit, we’re being followed.
Backtracking a few steps, I crane around the twisted tunnel for a glimpse at Yiyo’s entrance. There is a tall frame, rigid in stature, looking both ways. A wisp of light sweeps over his face. I’d know that steel mug anywhere.
The General.
My heart lodges in my throat. “Aasim,” I whisper.
He turns back and sees what I see.
“With me, now,” he whispers back, but his words ripple like waves and the General’s head turns our way. Shit!
Bang. Streaks of light dart past my face like an arrow, shattering the rubble at my feet. I scramble up and stumble forward, faintly aware of the back of Aasim’s shirt up ahead. Run. Another bang and more rock crumbles.
“Hurry, come on,” Aasim says. My steps are clunky over the craggy tunnel floor.
“Run all you want, Aasim, Rue,” the General’s voice echoes off the walls, turning my blood to ice. “There’s no way out of here.”
The General’s steps are louder. He’s so close I can hear his raspy breath. A dagger of light, as lethal as a live wire, swooshes past. I press the stinging spot on my face and blood trickles between my fingers. He hit me!
I urge my feet faster.
Don’t think. Don’t breathe. Just run.
I’m hunched over so much I’m practically crawling, grabbing, pulling, shoving myself forward any way I can. My foot catches and I’m on the ground, my knee pulsing with pain.
“I…” Aching rips through me. The walls close in around me and I’m dizzy. It’s no use. I can’t—
“Rue!” Aasim’s high pitch slaps me to my senses.
I have to keep going.
His hand wiggles for my reach.
This time, I take it.
“A little farther,” he says, looping my arm over his shoulder. A swirl of fire slams into the wall, its heat licking my neck.
The General laughs, his voice not nearly far enough away as I’d like it to be. “I love a good chase,” he says. The space between the echo of his footsteps grows shorter. My side throbs, but I ignore it and push, limping as fast as I can.
I refuse to die in this cave.
The cuff burns hotter, like fire itself is in my pocket. Several more feet of hazy dust. My n
eck aches and my thighs are crying for me to stand up straight.
Then we stop.
Just stop at what looks like a dead end, a solid stone wall inches from my nose.
“Put your hand here.” Aasim places my hand on the scratchy stone. The wall’s chill pulses through me. “Push,” Aasim says.
Push a stone wall? Is he serious?
“She’s quite the nosy one, Aasim. Been meddling in all my business.” The General’s voice reverberates down the cave. He’s close, so close. Another flash of magic explodes rocks behind us. Aasim ducks and presses my hand to the wall harder.
My hand shakes.
I can’t think.
“Rue, push, NOW!” I push the stone wall with every bit of strength I can muster. It ripples like quicksand and he shoves me forward.
“Go.”
“Wh-what?”
“Go, hurry!”
Through the wall? This is absurd! I suck in a breath and step into the rippling wall. Cool washes over me like I’ve stepped through a waterfall and for a moment the raging fire in my bones is gone. I step out on the other side and air assaults my head.
Streams of magic and the General’s shouts dissolve into the solid stone wall behind us.
“He can’t get through there, can he?” I ask, panting.
“Shouldn’t be able to.” Aasim’s behind me and I blink several times, adjusting to the light. Whispers from my pocket burn my ears and the rock wall behind us glows a moment like it’s dotted with a thousand fissures, then shifts. The stone wall buckles and cracks, folding in on itself, loosing clouds of dust, doubling in thickness… like it’s protecting itself. Whoa.
Where there was just a layer of stone wall is a packed stack of boulders layered on one another. It looks secure.
I hope it’s enough.
The space around us is tall and towering again, much like the entrance to the mountain. No piles of onyx in the corners. No sooty smell. Just empty, open air. I smooth my bloody hands on my hoodie and the wound on my cheek stings.
“He knows the way through the tunnel now,” I say. “This place was secret before, right?”
“It was.” Aasim pats the wall. “He still has to get through there to reach us.” He reaches for my face. “You’re hurt.”
I jerk back out of habit. “S-sorry.”
He nods in understanding and I feel bad. “I-I never said thanks, by the way.” I study my feet because that’s easier than looking at him. “F-for the necklace you gave Moms. I-I should have at least said thank you. For that.”
He doesn’t say anything, just nods, a solemn look in his eye.
“So, wh-what is this place?” My voice echoes as clacking footsteps grow louder our way. Out of the haze of dimness comes an older man with brown skin as rich as sable, his arms held wide with a smile to match.
H-he’s Black?
What’s he doing here? Inside this cave?
Creases hug his eyes like we’ve known each other for years. His floor-length robes are trimmed in black and gold and two leather belts wrap around him, one at his waist, another on his chest.
“Welcome, Jelani.” He bows, then glances at the gash on my cheek. “I am Bati.”
How does he know my name? That name? I flash a nervous smile and wave.
“We were followed,” Aasim says, embracing Bati in a hug.
“Aasim, good to see you.” Bati glances at the wall a moment, worry knitting his brow. “I am sorry to hear it.” He studies the wall. “Strong enchantments seal that wall,” Bati says. “They should not be able to pass.”
His smile dissolves and I swear I hear him whisper, “I hope.” He gestures for us to follow, but my heart’s still thumping in my throat.
“Please, come,” he says, clasping his hands. “We have refris prepared. And let’s get that gash patched up.”
Aasim follows without question. It’s going to be okay. We’re out of death tunnel, so anything is an improvement from that. I fall in line behind them.
We pass beneath a wooden archway carved into the onyx walls and come to a large room filled with wooden chairs and low tables. Golden light seeps between rectangular slits cut into the stone walls, like there’s fire hidden behind there. Wide bowls full of flames hang from chains anchored in the ceiling swaying gently.
A brown-skinned heavyset woman with hair tied in a colorful head wrap lights lanterns along the perimeter with her finger; a tiny girl with braided hair follows close at her feet.
What is this place? Who are these people?
“This way,” a young guy with velvety umber skin says, gesturing toward an oblong table lined with chairs. Ornamented dishes piled with meats, fruits, and grains line its center. Eating? We don’t have time to eat. What are we doing? Why are we here? I don’t wanna be rude, so I keep my mouth shut, but Aasim has about five minutes to let me know what’s up.
I take a seat.
“Is everyone here… like us?” I whisper to Aasim.
He nods and I settle into the back of my chair, a bit more relaxed. Around the room lines of people shuffle through, glancing our way. Some look and smile, others stare.
All these people—brown-skinned people—in Ghizon?
Why are they here, hiding?
I have so many questions.
I crane around and small faces with curious eyes peer at me from the shadows. I squint and they scatter. Aasim is deep in a whispered conversation I can’t make out.
“Refris?” asks the guy who showed us to our seats.
“Uhhhh.” I glance at our greeter, Bati. He’s busy whispering in someone’s ear, his narrowed eyes full of concern.
“He says, do you like something to drink?” Bati catches me staring. “A refreshment? If you’re not hungry for supper we also have lots of treats.” He gestures at a table at his rear smothered in cakes in a pool of glaze, braided chunks of dough, pies with crumbled topping, and chunky squares of what looks like fudge.
“Oh.” I shake my head, my stomach churning. “It looks tasty, but nah, I’m good.” I don’t eat just everybody’s cooking. Been in one too many questionable potluck situations.
“Thank you for such welcome,” my father cuts in. Everyone digs in and I pause, expecting to hear Seyeen, the prayer of thanks to the Chancellor.
It doesn’t come.
Tiny fingers touch my shoulder. The little girl’s no longer hanging on her mother and instead is hanging on me. Neon beads ting at the ends of her braids. Her ebony skin, as smooth as silk, almost glows it’s so radiant. She’s so beautiful. A little goddess.
She cups her empty hands together, smiling so wide I can count every single tooth in her grin. Her hands open and where there was just air, a tiny purple flower is blooming. Magic.
“For me?”
She nods.
Wait. She’s so young. How is she Bound?
I take the flower by the stem with a smile, shifting in my seat. How does she have onyx? At what, five years old? The Chancellor doesn’t bind until seventeen.
Uneasiness churns inside.
The larger woman, her mother I think, mutters something and swats the girl’s hand.
“Oh no, it’s fine. She’s not bugging me,” I say, but my words dissolve in a buzz of excitement over the food the woman has. A tray piled with sautéed qui, crusted ksi ksi, which are like sweet collard greens, chunky kwello root, which are kind of like sweet potatoes but red instead of orange and savory instead of sweet. In the center of the bed of vegetables is a chunk of glazed meat. With a flick of her wrist, the hovering tray moves to the table in one smooth motion. I salivate. Maybe I could take a small taste. She smooths her hands on her apron and pulls the little girl away. She waves, running off.
Wait.
Her wrists, that little girl’s wrists…
There’s nothing on them.
I break my neck for a glance at the mother, but she’s already too far to see. Aasim clears his throat and it takes all the focus I can muster not to watch where they rush off to.
The guy who ushered us to our table is across the room fussing over a stone bowl that won’t stay lit, the flames from his fingertips barely there. I tilt my head for a better view of his onyx. Maybe theirs are different?
His wrists… there’s no onyx on his wrists either.
My thoughts are a haze of confusion. “I-I d-don’t understand,” I say, louder than I intend to. All heads turn my way. The scrape of utensils and chairs halts and dead silence hangs in the air.
Bati smiles. “Your father hasn’t told you much, I see.”
“I didn’t know if she’d listen,” he says.
That stings. But I guess… I guess it’s true.
“And besides,” he says, “she needed to see… for herself.”
“All these people here”—I don’t remember standing, but I am—“I… I don’t see onyx on anyone here.”
Bati and Aasim’s eyes stay on me. But everyone else glances at one another, like my words don’t make sense. Like it’s not weird for people to be walking around Ghizon, even if it is in a mountain, floating platters, making flames, growing flowers—without onyx infused with the Chancellor’s magic.
“Does she have it?” Bati asks.
“Do I have what?”
“She does,” says Aasim. “In her pocket, I believe.”
“If I may…” Bati clasps his hands, but only I look his way. He rises from the table, holding up his hands. My pocket jerks every which way.
What is he—? I tug my hoodie still, but it squirms more violently. His hands tremble and his face is all determination like this pains him or is hard for him… or something. The cuff rips open my zipped pocket and snaps to his hand like a magnet.
No onyx on his wrists either.
WHAT IS GOING ON?!
My stomach plummets, like I’m standing on the edge of some cliff I’m supposed to jump off, teetering on the edge of a truth I can’t make sense of.
Bati rotates my cuff in his hands. “Ooo, hot.” He switches the finger he’s holding it with. “Jelani, you don’t need onyx to get your magic back.”
When did I tell him my magic was broken?
“You never lost it. Nor have you ever really used it—not truly.” He walks toward me and all I can hear are his footsteps and my heartbeat. “Those few spells they teach are useful, sure.” He chuckles. “But you, my dear, are of the oldest blood of ancient Ghizon. Your magic is within.”