by Vered Ehsani
Scowling, Le-Eyo departed for the earth to watch over the children and ensure that any who fell to harm would be resuscitated. Thanks to the generosity of Enkai, death did not exist for the children of men. Instead, they enjoyed the warmth of the sun and refreshing drops of rain without fear.
The other gods looked down upon Le-Eyo from the heavens, either pitying or despising his lowly position. It was solitary work and caused Le-Eyo’s mind to wander where it should never have gone. One night, as he gazed up at the night sky, he fell in love.
Olapa was the consort of the Creator, the moon to Enkai’s sun. Where the heat of Enkai’s presence could burn a man to ashes, Olapa’s light was gentle and embracing. Creatures cowered before the blinding force of the sun but were grateful for the soft illumination provided by the moon. She ensured that no night was too dark. Humans worshiped the sun but loved the moon.
It wasn’t long before Le-Eyo’s disinterest in his job transformed to interest in something altogether different and forbidden. Every night, he called out to Olapa and spoke of her full, shapely curves and beautiful light.
While Olapa was faithful to Enkai, she was too kind to turn Le-Eyo away; secretly, she enjoyed his flattery. Every night, the two would softly converse, she in the heavens and he sitting upon the earth.
One night, a child died in a nearby village. Le-Eyo at once set out to save the child so it could continue its journey. Glancing up at the moon, he paused in his stride.
“Olapa,” he called. “What is wrong? You are no longer full and round with your silver light. There is a chunk of you missing.”
“Le-Eyo, fear not for me,” she sighed. “It is true I am no longer full. I am dying and will soon leave the night to the stars. They will provide light to the human children when I am gone.”
Abandoning his task, Le-Eyo flung back his head and howled. “This cannot be. The stars are not sufficient. I won’t let you die.”
Before Olapa could reassure him that all was as it should be, he spoke the Prayer of Life, pouring all his energy and power into the words and directing them to his beloved. Ignoring her protests, he depleted his power for her so that none was left for the human child.
Collapsing onto the grass in exhaustion, Le-Eyo panted, “Now you will return and never truly die, my beautiful Olapa.”
Even as he spoke, a wailing rose from the village as the people realized the child would not return to them. A fierce wind swept across the earth, bending trees into submission and stirring up loose soil and leaves so that every creature was unable to see despite the presence of the moon.
“Le-Eyo, you have disobeyed me,” Enkai’s voice boomed from the heavens. “Because of you, the children of men will die too young, limiting their progress. Because of you, Olapa will never know eternal peace but will continue to experience the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth.”
Cowering against the ground, Le-Eyo pleaded for forgiveness but Enkai was not known for his mercy. “Because you rejected your station amongst the children of men and misused the Prayer of Life,” the Creator proclaimed, “I shall banish you from the heavens and the earth to the Underworld where you will preside as God of Death.”
So saying, Enkai tossed Le-Eyo into the depths of the earth, far from the Sky Kingdom and his beloved moon.
Chapter Twenty-One
KAM FINISHED HIS recitation of the story, and we remained in silence. Death ignored us, his gaze upon the sky, his eyes distant and blurry.
“How touching,” I murmured.
Yao frowned at me. “No one is touching anything, Miss Knight.”
“I suppose not,” I said, still watching Death. “Why did Enkai punish Le-Eyo for saving his wife?”
Anansi’s pincers clicked as he squealed; my question had amused him. Kam shook his head, and Koki murmured, “Why do the gods do anything?”
“Jealousy, anger, petty vendettas and forgetfulness,” Yao promptly recited.
Death snorted. “I wish we suffered from forgetfulness,” he said. “But I assure you Enkai forgets nothing, especially disobedience.”
“It doesn’t matter, as we aren’t going to the Sky and therefore won’t have an opportunity to find out,” I said.
“Yes, yes,” Anansi said as he bounced on his front four legs. The ground trembled.
Leaning toward Koki, I whispered, “Is he agreeing with me that we won’t go, or is he saying we will?”
Before Koki could respond on behalf of her husband, the elephant-sized spider lowered his front half until the two eyes on top of his head were now staring at me, their dark, glassy surface glittering with my reflection. Using his back legs, he began to extract fibers from himself and weave them together into a braid as thick as my arm. The speed of his weaving increased until his limbs were a blur out of which flowed upward a thick cord of silk the color of the moon.
“I guess he changed his mind,” I said, frowning at the ever-lengthening silk.
“Let’s go,” Kam said as he tossed an unprotesting Mr. Turner over one broad, muscular shoulder, strode past the spider and scaled a nearby tree. Crawling out onto a branch, he jumped toward the spider’s thread and wrapped his arms and legs around it. “Don’t get caught by the legs or you’ll be woven into the cord,” he shouted as he rose up into the air.
“Surely there must be another way,” I said, mentally cursing the giant arachnoid for experiencing a change of heart. That he had a heart was shocking. “Kam, remind me why can’t you fly us up there.”
“This is funny, Miss Knight,” Yao shouted as he followed Kam’s example.
Shaking my head at the vampire, I corrected him. “Fun, Yao, not funny, and it’s neither.”
“I’m not allowed to fly there,” Kam shouted down, “and neither is your horse.”
“Hurry, or we’ll have to climb the entire thread,” Koki urged me. “It’s an exhausting ordeal.”
“Being with all of you is an ordeal,” I retorted as I tied my walking stick against my back.
Death had already leaped from the tree onto the cord, his braids’ shells clicking in time to Anansi’s pincers. Koki clambered amongst the branches with the ease of someone accustomed to such behavior.
“I’m hardly attired for such an endeavor,” I complained as I attempted to haul myself up to the first branch while protecting my skirt from being snagged by a thorny bush.
Koki reached down and, before I could protest, grabbed my arm and yanked me upward. Depositing me on the large branch from which the others had jumped, she dashed down its length and sprang off the end while yelling, “Hurry up, girl.”
“At least if I die, I know I’ll return,” I said as I crawled along the branch. A gale created by Anansi’s weaving gusted against my face and caused the branch to tremble. Or perhaps it was my own trembling. The tree hadn’t seemed so tall from the ground but from my new vantage point, I knew I couldn’t afford to miss the spider’s thread.
Glancing down, I gulped at the rapidity of Anansi’s four back legs. The sharp hooks at the end of each limb stabbed, yanked and twisted the steady stream of silk.
Far above me, Koki shouted but the wind blew apart her words before they could reach me. My hands tightened around the branch, the bark scratching my palms. Pushing myself into a squat, I loosened my grip and stood up, arms waving to maintain a semblance of balance. The branch dipped.
Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply. Anansi smelled like a dusty, cobweb-filled attic; the scent coated my nose and tongue. I could only wish I were in an attic.
“Jonas was right,” I mumbled into the wind. “I should’ve stayed home.”
On that reassuring note, I stumbled to the end of the branch and jumped.
Chapter Twenty-Two
WHEN TWO GODS and a she-demon instructed me to jump onto a spider’s thread, I didn’t think too profoundly on the wisdom of such an action. It is my personal conviction that too much pondering provides the mind with far too many possibilities about which to worry. A little bit of ignorance goes a
long way.
Of course, that ignorance could also result in a rapid plummet to one’s messy demise but life’s full of little risks.
Such was the situation in which I found myself. As my hands grasped at the cord, the lower and significantly heavier portion of my body swung outward, loosening my grip. My hands slipped down, and only the sticky substance coating the cord prevented me from sliding into the mass of snapping spider limbs below me.
Unappealing grunts slipped from my lips as I kicked at the air. The movement swung me against the cord face first.
“Disgusting,” I muttered into the sticky substance. “This is worse than the various liquids oozing out of baby Grace.”
Peeling my face away, I grimaced as I stared down. The large spider seemed smaller as the cord grew upward, carrying me farther from the ground. Wrapping my arms and legs around the pillar of spider gunk, I closed my eyes and prayed Simon wouldn’t learn about my latest adventure. Surely I would never hear the end of his ranting and raving regarding my thick head and wayward nature.
As I ascended, the wind pummeled me and threatened to snatch me away. The temperature plummeted to the freezing point; bits of ice stung my skin and coated my hair. Frozen moisture glued my eyelashes together, so even if I wanted to enjoy the view—which I didn’t—I couldn’t open my eyes. My limbs quivered from the cold and the effort of gripping the sticky rope. Just as I was convinced I would die from hypothermia, the wind ceased to blow.
After a moment of frozen reflection, I realized I was no longer moving, and someone was shouting my name.
“What’s wrong with Miss Knight?” someone else demanded.
“She’s frozen to the spider silk, stupid fly,” came the response. Only Koki would dismiss a vampire so readily.
“We can’t leave her down there,” Death said. “I need her assistance.”
“So glad you care,” I muttered through shivering lips.
“She’s still alive!” Yao said and clapped his hands.
“Stupid males,” Koki snarled. “I’ll retrieve the human.”
The spider’s rope shuddered as something heavy landed on it. It quivered and bounced.
“I was wrong,” I said, my lips moving against the rope. “I’m not going to die of hyperthermia after all. The rope is going to snap, and I will plummet to a decidedly messy demise.”
No sooner had the words left me when I was immersed in the scent of freshly cut grass and a rich, flowery perfume. Even before she spoke, I knew Koki was near me.
“What rubbish,” she said. “I’d never let you die in such an untidy fashion.”
“How terribly considerate of you,” I said and forced my eyes open.
The triangular face of a large praying mantis loomed before me. Her front arms scooped me into an embrace that would normally be lethal for anyone unfortunate enough to be so close to the she-demon in her insect form.
Turning around, she scuttled up the rope to a platform made of clouds. Death, Yao and Kam watched our progress with varying degrees of interest. Upon our arrival, Koki deposited me at her feet and shifted back into her womanly form.
My metal hand creaked and transformed into a human hand as a large, silver wolf materialized by my side. It licked my face and barked once. I hugged the beast to me, enjoying its warmth and grateful for the peculiar power of the African spirit world to give physical form to my wolf.
Yao clapped his hands a few times, the sound echoing around us. “Yao is so happy you are still alive, Miss Knight,” he gushed.
“Makes two of us,” I groaned as I staggered to my feet. Cool strands of cloud swirled around my legs but at least the air was warmer.
“Yes,” Yao said. “Because we still need to finish negotiating with Jonas for Wanjiru.”
Death glared at Yao, and Koki snickered. Mr. Turner grunted and groaned, his mouth hanging open in a parody of a smile. Kam ignored us all as he stared across the fluffy platform. I glanced around and could see nothing but gray and white clouds. There was no noise apart from our voices; even those were muted.
“This is heaven?” I asked, frowning at the lack of anything remotely heavenly. “It’s not too impressive.”
“Were you expecting a chorus of angels playing harps to greet you?” Koki mocked.
“I was hoping for a bit more color, at least,” I said.
Yao bounced up and down, his leather skirt dangerously close to exposing his nether region. Before he could say anything, Kam said, “The Sky is through that archway.”
So saying, he strode forward, his arms swinging in a determined manner. He didn’t bother to check if we followed or not.
“What archway?” Yao asked, bending so his mouth was close to my ear. “Yao doesn’t see anything but clouds.”
“Are you a sky spirit?” Koki asked.
“Well,” Yao began, tapping his chin with a finger and gazing up.
“That was a rhetorical question,” Koki said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not and of course you don’t see anything, you miserable, insignificant fly.”
Yao straightened up and pounded his fists against his naked chest. “Yao isn’t miserable.”
“You will be if you don’t stop dawdling,” she retorted as she strolled after Kam.
Death shook his head, his braids swishing about his face as he gestured for me to follow. “It’s astonishing you haven’t killed each other by now.”
“Give us time, Le-Eyo, give us time,” Koki said.
On that optimistic note, we followed Kam in single file across an expanse of shifting cloud. My lips pursed, I squinted my eyes but saw no archway and no sign of life. Even our own energy fields were suppressed.
“Are we dead?” I asked no one in particular as I studied my hands.
“Not yet,” Yao answered as he spun around and walked backward in order to face me. “Pretty wolf, come here.”
My wolf sniffed at Yao’s outstretched hand and growled, lips peeling away from a set of impressively sharp, white teeth.
“How does Wanjiru tolerate you?” Koki asked, smirking at Death’s jealous stare. No doubt she’d asked the question to taunt the jilted lover. Wanjiru had refused Death’s romantic overtures; granted, his concept of romance included kidnapping her.
Oblivious to any discomfort his happiness might create, Yao grinned and bounced up and down a few times. “She adores Yao. She is so delicious, more than human heart and fairy liver. She is my sun and…”
“Forget I asked,” Koki muttered, striding to catch up with Kam and distance herself from the romantic driveling of a lovesick vampire.
Before Death could toss Yao off the cloud—if that was even possible—Kam held up a fist and halted. “We’re here.”
We all gathered around him, staring at nothing, except for Mr. Turner who was shuffling in a circle. My wolf followed him, sniffing at the walking corpse.
Fixing a fierce stare at each of us, Kam ordered, “Follow me exactly and don’t stop. If you veer off the path, you will miss the entrance and be lost.”
“Wait, what?” I asked but I was speaking to his retreating back.
Not wishing to get lost on a cloud, I hastened after him with Koki right behind me. We’d taken only a few steps before Kam disappeared.
“We’re lost,” Yao wailed. “He’s abandoned us to our fate, and now Yao will never marry his lovely Wanjiru, the light of—”
As I took one more step, a soft roll of thunder cut off Yao’s words, and I stumbled into an open field. Spinning around, I admired the large expanse of bright-green grass and multicolored wildflowers. Clusters of fruit trees dotted the landscape, their branches heavy with ripe, sweet-smelling fruit. The scents of rich, damp soil and flower perfume wafted around me on a breeze that warmed my skin. A brilliant blue sky dazzled my eyes, and I had to lower my gaze even though the sun was nowhere to be seen.
Koki materialized behind me, followed in rapid succession by Death, Mr. Turner and my wolf. Yao was last to come through and he collided with Koki.
“Imbecile,” she hissed.
Ignoring his close brush with decapitation, Yao nodded and twirled around as he admired the scene. “This is more like it,” he said.
Despite the lushness of the meadow, an unnerving silence filled the space, as if I were utterly deaf.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, glancing around the field. “Why is it so quiet? For such a fertile looking place, I’d expect at least to hear insects or birds. There’s nothing. The Underworld has more life than this place.”
Sneering, Death said, “That’s because this place is reserved for the gods. They aren’t a particularly lively bunch.”
“So what will Yao eat?” the vampire demanded, his eyes widening upon hearing that the land through which we traveled was devoid of blood-filled life forms.
“You won’t,” Koki said.
Mr. Turner grinned and clapped his hands. A maggot fell out of his mouth.
“I’m delighted you agree, Mr. Turner,” I said as I focused on a distant view that didn’t include the walking dead man. “Please do try to keep your mouth closed. I’m not sure the supreme being Enkai would appreciate you dropping worms here.” I glanced at his waving hands and realized one had only four fingers. “Or body parts, for that matter.”
Koki studied our surroundings with as much interest as I did. “I can see I haven’t been missing anything,” she said before turning to Death. “If access to this place is the perk of being a god, I’m not sure why we’re bothering.”
Sighing, Death waved a dismissive hand to encompass the Sky. “Access here means access to the Underworld. They are connected.”
The subdued air caused my skin to prickle. If we’d been on earth, it would be the silence before a storm or an attack; yet this place was eternally embalmed in it. Shivering, I muttered, “Intolerable. Where shall we find Enkai so we can finish up and leave?”
“You assume he’ll let us go after our trespasses,” Koki said, snickering at my naïveté.
Frowning at her, I said, “If I don’t work on an assumption that I will survive the day, I would never bother getting out of bed.”