Dark Requiem (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 3)

by A. D. Koboah

  He expected Jow to show great pleasure in telling him this, but she was perfunctory, her gaze lowered. He thought of charging past Jow to Alayai's room. In the end he turned and exited the temple.

  When he returned home, Tanu was sitting outside the house gazing at the stars. He did not look at his father when he moved past him and entered the house. Rutia was fast asleep with Essa in her arms, as she used to do with Tanu. Akan lay awake that night, the snake in his chest moving uneasily, round and round in a slow, nauseating circle. He had expected something like this, but the pain of it still shocked him, especially since he knew his son was sitting outside experiencing a deeper, more wrenching pain.

  Akan turned over onto his side and stared at his daughter’s plump little face, his mind still on Alayai.

  Was there a chance Alayai would continue to refuse to see him? Had he lost the child he had come to love as much as this little one asleep in her mother’s arms?

  Akan heard Tanu enter the house a few hours later. Akan was not worried about him having snuck away to see the goddess, as he knew Tanu would never disobey him. He doubted Tanu slept either that night.

  The following morning Tanu left for the fields, choosing to forego his morning meal. Rutia watched him leave. She clucked her tongue.

  “So the two of you are fighting over her now?”

  Akan looked up sharply.

  “You knew he was visiting the goddess and you did not tell me or try to stop him?”

  “Do not take that tone with me, Akan. This is because of you. How can you do one thing and not expect him to follow?”

  “He thinks he is in love, Rutia. Do you know what they would do to him if they ever caught them?”

  “And you, Akan. Yet you still take the risk.”

  “I am all she has.”

  “Perhaps you should take your own advice and spare yourself the heartache. This will not end well. Mutata will soon find a reason to proclaim her a false goddess and kill her. And there will be nothing you can do.”

  Her words cut painfully into him and it was difficult to speak. Rutia spoke again, her tone unusually gentle as if she were speaking to one of their children.

  “It will not end well for any of us. The real divinity sees and hears everything and knows we worship a false goddess in her place. She will not let us escape her wrath.”

  “I do not believe the goddess of the moon would hurt Alayai or us.”

  She snorted in derision. “How would you know?”

  “I know because...because I have seen her.”

  Rutia came to a stop and faced him, her golden eyes wide with surprise.

  Akan rose to his feet, his head lowered, his voice thick with emotion when he spoke.

  “I believe in the true goddess of the moon. She will not punish us or Alayai for Mutata’s sins.”

  He exited the house. He could see Tanu in the distance, walking toward the fields, his movements slow and lethargic, all strength and joy gone from him. There was nothing he could do but let time heal him. In a few years Tanu would fall for another and eventually marry, forgetting all about Alayai. The child goddess had no such hope. Rutia’s words remained with him, along with the words Alayai had spoken whilst in the grip of the ekniwa.

  You will watch them all die.

  He shuddered although it was a warm day.

  He returned to the temple the next two nights and received the same message from Jow. The goddess was asleep. On the third night Jow moved aside to let him enter the temple.

  Alayai sat before the altar, her countenance similar to that of Tanu’s over the past week, all strength, all joy gone from her, her small delicate face bowed, her mouth puckered in anger.

  He moved to the altar and kneeled before her, something he had not done at night for many years. When he straightened and met her gaze, he saw her mouth had turned down slightly and it quivered as if she were struggling to fight back tears. Indeed, he too felt the weight of tears he could not give in to.

  “Alayai, my goddess. I am sorry my actions have caused your displeasure, but you have to know I am completely devoted to you. Not even the real goddess could take away my devotion to you. What I have done is for your safety as well as my son’s. What he has spoken to me of, what the two of you wish, can never be. Mutata need only hear of your affection for Tanu and he will denounce you a false goddess and kill you.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  She did truly appear to understand and Akan sensed no resentment from her for forbidding Tanu to see her. And so things returned to the way they had been, although he could not pretend the deepening sorrow he saw in Alayai’s eyes from then on were just shadows cast by the scant light within the gloomy temple.

  Chapter 32

  The following year the very thing Akan had been dreading finally came about. For the first time in years, it rained consistently for most of the warm season, the sky above heavy with dark storm clouds which hovered over the village like a flock of vultures. The crops were certain to fail as a consequence, giving Mutata a reason to proclaim Alayai a false goddess. Akan had spent many years preparing for this day by befriending each of the temple elders, finding out what their motivations were. He had discovered that each of them, for whatever reason, hated Mutata almost as much as Alayai. But her behaviour over the years, the open malice she displayed toward Mutata, had not helped his cause.

  Ever since the rains Akan had sensed impending doom, a hidden tide moving out of sight and which he would be unable to halt. He just was not sure when or how it would manifest. So when Akan reached the temple, having walked through yet another thunder storm that had cast a punitive gloom over the village, he felt as if he were entering into battle, but blind and unsure of his abilities to avert disaster and save the life of his child goddess.

  Mutata was already on his feet when Akan entered. He felt hatred curling within his stomach even at the sight of Mutata, but his expression remained blank as he moved to take his usual seat.

  “The crops will be ruined if this rain continues,” Mutata said, his gaze fixed on Alayai, the hatred in his eyes like sparks from a flint and iron. “Is that not a sign the gods are displeased with the Enwa people, Celestial One?”

  Alayai listened to it all in silence, a taut smile on her lips, her eyes growing narrower the longer Mutata spoke, a black light in them Akan recognised as rage. When Mutata finished she stared at him in silence for a few moments before she spoke.

  “Thank you, Mutata. You spoke often of the gods and if they had destroyed the crops as punishment. But you did not once speak of me, the living goddess and why I have seen fit to blight the crops. Perhaps it is as I said before. The inhabitants of this village have grown too fat. Too pampered, too used to ease. But since you speak of the will of the gods and ignore my own, then perhaps you should look to the underworld for your answers. For the first time in years, the ekniwa will be performed.”

  “I asked you last month about this same thing and you promised rain before the week had ended. You can undertake the ekniwa once more but it will not save the crops.”

  “I did not say I would undertake the ekniwa, Mutata.”

  She stared pointedly at him. Mutata paled and his lip quivered.

  “You...you want me to undergo the ekniwa?”

  Her demeanour changed, the taut smile softening, the black light in her eyes waning.

  Akan felt a prickling of alarm.

  Alayai’s voice was as soft as fur when she replied. “No, of course not, Mutata. I do not desire that you undertake the ekniwa.”

  Mutata let out a deep breath, visibly relieved.

  “That sacred honour will fall upon your firstborn son, Seng.”

  Akan felt his stomach drop at Alayai’s words and nausea seized him. He stared up at her in bewilderment, but she would not look his way.

  At first Mutata was still, all colour draining from his face. Then, almost in a daze, he moved forward and it was only those close to him that prevented him from lunging a
t the goddess.

  “You motherless runt! You have taken enough from me. You will not take my son. I will throttle the life from you before you take him from me!”

  The mood in the temple had grown decidedly uneasy and they all looked about in confusion at what Alayai was proposing.

  Akuna, a short, swarthy elder who had been most against Mutata, moved to Mutata’s side.

  “Divine One,” he said. “You told us it is forbidden for a child to undergo the ekniwa. You only survived because you are a god. Making a boy perform the ekniwa means sending him to his death.”

  “Yes, it does,” she spat. “I survived the ekniwa because I am a god, something Mutata has clearly forgotten just like the rest of you. His son will undergo the ekniwa and if it is my will that he lives, then it will be so. Otherwise, he will be fed to the vacoma.”

  She pointed to Akuna.

  “Go and prepare the herbs. We will not wait until nightfall. He will take the herbs now.”

  Akan got to his feet. “Goddess.”

  She rounded on him, her body tensed like that of a scorpion about to strike.

  “Spare him.” Akan’s tone was sharp with warning. “No child should ever have to endure such suffering. If it is your will one of us undergo the ekniwa, then I will take the boy’s place.”

  For a few seconds she looked shocked, hurt in her eyes. Whether it was at the fact that he was challenging her openly, or because he was offering himself—her only ally—to be slain, he was not sure. Anger soon replaced the hurt.

  “Sit down! I decide who will undergo the ekniwa and who lives and dies. I will decide if the people eat or if they starve. You will not challenge me. Bring the child to the temple!”

  Akan remained standing, anger churning through him, and for a few moments, fear passed behind Alayai’s eyes.

  It was that fear, even in the face of the atrocity she was about to commit—the knowledge he was all she had—that made him relent. For if he remained standing, openly disobeying her, it might sound a silent call for others within the temple to do the same, snatching away the power she had over them.

  Akan forced himself to kneel before her, his jaw clenched. Then he sat back down and would not look at Alayai as Mutata’s son was brought into the temple.

  Mutata was still being restrained, his anger having long turned to abject terror.

  “Poor Mutata,” Alayai cooed, her smile alight with gleeful malice. “Do not worry. The true, pure eye of the goddess will hold your son’s life in her hands and decide his fate. I will even prepare the ekniwa myself as a show of devotion to my loyal subject.”

  True to her word, she prepared the ekniwa herself. Akan was not the only one to notice she poured twice the amount of the herb into the mixture. She moved to Seng, a short, chubby boy. He stared at her with his father’s arrogance and disdain. Her mouth spread into a smile so devoid of benevolence it was a sneer.

  “Here little one. Drink. Pain will purify you and decide if you are worthy.”

  The boy took the drink she offered. With one last lingering glance at Alayai that spoke of utter contempt, he drank the potion.

  With a triumphant smile at Mutata, Alayai exited the main chamber of the temple flanked by her attendants, leaving Mutata to pull his son to him, his body wracked with sobs.

  When the boy began to vomit and go into convulsions, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, Akan got to his feet and exited the temple.

  ***

  That night Akan came through the hidden tunnel to see Jow standing at its entrance, blocking his path.

  “The divine one is asleep. She—”

  Akan pushed her aside and entered the temple. He could hear Seng’s cries, his screams having a liquid quality, as if he had screamed and screamed until his throat bled. Akan moved down to the room at the back, Jow close behind, threatening to call the guards.

  He entered the tiny, windowless room. Alayai was sitting in the farthest corner of it, her face twisted in anguish, her hands over her ears to try and block out the unending screams of pure terror that rang through the temple. When she looked up and saw Akan standing in the doorway, relief softened her eyes and a smile chased away some of the anguish. That was until she saw the rage in Akan’s eyes. Fear crossed her face. She sprang to her feet as Akan moved toward her.

  Akan struck Alayai, sending her flying to the ground. A cry escaped her lips. She rose to her feet and cowered against the wall. Jow was immediately at Alayai’s side, using her body to shield her.

  “Stop, please stop!” Jow cried, a tremor in her voice, raw agony in her eyes.

  “I should wring your neck for what you have done!” Akan said to Alayai.

  At first Alayai had merely been shocked he had struck her. Now anger flared, her face darkening with fury even as she cowered behind Jow.

  “You dare to strike me? I am a god! I will have you killed where you stand!”

  He closed the space between them, causing Jow to cry out, pulling Alayai to her so that all of Alayai that could be seen was her face, her eyes wide with fear, rage dancing behind that fear. Akan merely removed his blade from beneath his robe and tossed it at Alayai’s feet.

  “If you want me dead, then go ahead and kill me!”

  Alayai merely stared at him, her lip quivering as tears sprung to her eyes. Akan moved so his face was inches from Alayai’s, his voice low when he spoke again.

  “In the morning, you will tell Mutata you will spare his son and end the ekniwa. Do you understand?”

  “You do not tell me what to do. I am your goddess—”

  “You will do it, Alayai! Do you hear me?”

  She was silent.

  Akan left the room, pausing at the door to glance briefly at the two of them. Jow was shaking and there were tears streaming down her face as she held Alayai to her, stroking her hair. In all the years he had been coming to the temple at night, he had never realised until today that Jow most probably loved Alayai as much as he did. Even now, Alayai was oblivious to it, her face puckered in petulant anger as she glared at Akan.

  He sighed and moved out of the room to go to Seng. Akan gave the boy the antidote to counteract the ekniwa, but it was a few hours before the boy stopped screaming. He lay trembling, his eyes vacant, thick drool seeping from his lips.

  When Akan exited the room into the main chamber of the temple, Alayai was sitting before the altar waiting for him, a tearful Jow by her side. Jow had her arms wrapped around the child. Akan gave Alayai a long, cool stare before he moved to the hidden door.

  “Akan,” Alayai called, her voice sounding small.

  He continued walking toward the hidden entrance.

  “Father.” There was a tremor in her voice.

  He paused at the hidden entrance for a few moments before he opened it and entered the tunnel that would take him out of the temple.

  Outside in the muggy, warm air, he struggled to contain his conflicting emotions. There was pride at that word Alayai had uttered before he left the temple. Father. But he was still furious with her and at the heart of that anger was fear. He had seen the faces of the elders earlier that day. They were not happy with what she had done. They had watched her goad and torment Mutata for years, but she had crossed the line this time.

  As he walked home, he noticed the rains that had beset the village and the crops had stopped. But too late. A good harvest was unlikely to save Alayai the next time Mutata tried to denounce her as a false god.

  Akan moved through the dark, silent streets, his chest heavy, his stomach churning with anxiety. He had to believe there was still a way to save her.

  ***

  The following morning he arrived at the temple long before it opened to find Mutata waiting outside, praying. Akan felt stirrings of sympathy, but he could not give into it for Alayai’s life was still in danger.

  Inside, Alayai was triumphant and utterly without compassion for her fallen foe.

  “Mutata, my loyal servant,” she cooed to him. “Your godde
ss has decided to spare your son’s life. You may take him home.”

  Mutata merely stared at the wasted form of his son, who lay quivering on the floor before him, drool running down his chin, his eyes blank.

  The other elders all looked at the boy with similar expressions of revulsion at the pitiful sight before them.

  There was an unspoken accusation in their gazes whenever they cast them in Alayai’s direction. She remained brazen in her lack of remorse and met the accusation in their eyes with a challenge.

  None dared meet it, especially since the rains had ceased.

  Although Akan was angry with Alayai, his heart was eased. She was safe for another year.

  She was safe.

  Chapter 33

  Perhaps Akan could have continued to protect Alayai from Mutata indefinitely, but it seemed Alayai’s fate—and that of the Enwa people—had been sealed long ago. Maybe the gods themselves chose to punish Akan for his cowardice in not doing what he had wanted to do ever since he saw the child goddess: Free her from the suffocating temple. Or perhaps they sought to punish Alayai for subjecting a child to the ekniwa. Maybe they merely wanted to punish her for daring to believe she really was the earthly incarnation of the goddess of the moon. Either way, the heavens themselves moved to seal the child goddess’s fate.

  The heavens spoke at midday. It was a warm, humid day. The harvest was over and a celebration planned for that night which would be filled with much merriment, food and dancing.

  Akan was near the fields when someone pointed at the sky.

  “What is that?”

  He realised then that an eerie silence crouched in the village. He had not been aware of it before, but the sound of the birds singing had gradually become quieter. Now they were completely silent and there was a hateful waiting in that silence.

  He looked up and knew the day he had been dreading had arrived. The sun was a dazzling golden ball, but something, some cold, dark fury was eating into the golden sphere. Someone screamed as icy fear washed through Akan. Several people got to their knees to cower beneath the sky, scared to even look at the sight above them. Others could not tear their eyes away from it and gazed into the face of death, their mouths hanging open.