Kingdom of Souls

by Rena Barron

  One does not see a craven, my father said. One feels its presence. They chose not to reveal themselves to Oshhe the day he hunted the white ox, but Rudjek hadn’t been so lucky. His family crest is gone; the craven that killed him in my vision took it. “I get the feeling there’s more to the cravens than the stories led us to believe.”

  “The stories don’t do justice to what they are.” His voice shakes. There’s so much pain brimming in that simple declaration that I reach up to stroke his cheek. He turns his face against my hand, his lips brushing my palm, and inhales. His skin is so hot. “They can do things that I’ve never seen before . . .” He stares at me with eyes full of a desperate longing that tears into my heart. “I don’t know if I can trust my own memories.”

  “Rudjek,” I whisper. “What happened to you?”

  “I fought a craven who damn near cleaved me in two,” he says, weariness punctuating his every word. Then he adds, “I died.”

  Silence stretches between us as he lifts the black tunic to show me his smooth, unmarked belly. “The craven’s claws cut me here.” He moves his hand from left to right across his middle, and I trace the same path. Warmth spreads through my body and goose bumps prick his flesh beneath my touch. The invisible cut ends above his hip bone, and my hand lingers there for a moment too long. I can almost feel the anticipation pulsing in his veins, same as my own.

  “But Re’Mec brought you back?” I ask, pulling my hand away and glancing up at him.

  “No, he didn’t,” Rudjek says, his cheeks flushed. “I healed myself.”

  My mouth drops open, ready to ask more, when a familiar tingling rises across my forearms. Rudjek must feel it too for he spins around, his shotels ready. We both stare into the bleeding darkness.

  “Well, isn’t this a lovely reunion,” purrs a familiar voice that sends ice down my veins. “It took time to take down the orishas’ wards on this place.” Merka steps into the torchlight. He’s still in the fisherman’s body—lanky with pockmarked cheeks, with the mangy ginger hair he had in cat form. But he moves with a strange new grace. “Your sister’s worried sick about you, Arrah. She would’ve come herself, but she’s quite . . . busy.”

  The chieftains’ whispers start again, so loud that my head feels like it will crack open.

  Rudjek and I back away from him, but something in the darkness shifts behind us.

  “Looks like this is my lucky night,” Rudjek growls. “I get to kill my very first demon.”

  Dread fills my belly. Rudjek doesn’t know what he’s up against. His shotels will be useless if what Tam said in the alley is true. The more souls they consume, the more powerful demons become. Four more demons step out of the shadows behind Merka.

  If they’re here, then Efiya is close and so is her army.

  “It’s going to be a pleasure to kill your kind.” Merka grins, and the other demons charge. As Rudjek raises his shotels, someone grabs me from behind. I kick and scream and punch, but something slams into my head so hard that my legs falter, my vision fades in and out. Rudjek tries to reach me, but he’s surrounded by a horde of demons now—more than I can count.

  “Did you miss me?” Merka whispers in my ear, his voice slick as honeyed wine. He drags me into a room and slams a heavy door behind us, then shoves me forward. I almost stumble and fall. He’s stronger than before, faster too; it shines in his glowing eyes.

  We’re in a small study with no windows and no escape save for the door behind him. Lit jars of oil line the floor along the walls. A single chair and a table sit in the corner. I back toward the table while Merka closes the space between us.

  He smiles. “I thought we could use some privacy.”

  “Where is my sister?” I ask to distract him.

  “Waging war on her enemies.” Merka shrugs. “She sent me to deal with you.”

  It’s not hard to figure out what he wants—what Efiya wants. She’s never been able to see inside my mind. She’s sent Merka to get information—does she know that the chieftains’ kas are with me?

  His eyes shimmer from jade to sea green to emerald to jade again. My heart drums against my chest as his gaze lulls me into calm. I’m sinking into warm quicksand. It draws me into its belly, and the deeper my descent, the more I bask in its sea of tranquility. My worries slip away; Efiya no longer matters, and neither does Rudjek nor my father. All that matters is that I go deeper inside Merka’s eyes, travel to his soul.

  “Do you know why your sister chose to remake me first?” Merka asks.

  I’m sitting in the chair now and he kneels before me. My lips move to speak, but I’m too tired, so I shake my head.

  “She brought me back because of you,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “She thought my particular talents would be useful. It is much the same as the old Ka-Priest’s, but unlike him . . . I can make it very pleasurable.”

  I blink and I’m alone on an empty plane in Merka’s mind. Soft light glows around me, but his perverse darkness crawls across my skin, invading every inch of my body. There is nothing good inside this creature—only sweet illusions. I can see his true face. He’s taller than should be possible and misshapen, two-headed with a mouth of blood and no eyes.

  “Let me know your mind, Arrah.” Hearing my name again snaps me out of his trance and I am back in the half-lit room, back in the chair. “Tell me your secrets.”

  “Tell me yours first,” I croak out, barely able to breathe. “Are you nothing more than my sister’s chained dog?”

  Merka slaps me. My jaw cracks and the pain that follows would’ve brought me to my knees had I not already been sitting. The blood in my mouth tastes of wet soil, but it clears away the last of the fog. The magic inside me mends my jaw, and the pain is nothing more than a fading memory. My mind is sharp as it vibrates under my skin.

  “I admire your spirit.” He grits his teeth. “It will be a pleasure to break it.”

  From the gap beneath the door, I see dark shadows flitter across the room as the battle rages on in the antechamber. If there’s still fighting, then Rudjek’s alive. There’s still hope.

  Sweat trickles down the small of my back as Merka grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him again. But I’m ready for him this time; the Mulani chieftain tells me what to do. Her magic digs into the deepest corners of his mind. He is a creature of vices, and beyond that he is a withered-up thing of no substance. Power surges through me as I twist him to my will as easily as crushing herbs. His eyes go wide with surprise, then fear.

  In an echo of the Mulani chieftain’s commanding voice, I say, “Let me go.”

  Merka nods, his jaw and arms falling slack. My palms glow white and I press them to his cheeks. His jade eyes turn almost translucent. He struggles to speak as cracks stretch across his face, but I hold him still. His skin begins to flake away like burned paper. His flesh blackens and sloughs off his bones. Our eyes lock one last time, and he curses before the transformation spreads to his entire body.

  My fury has no limits, and when I’m done, there’s nothing left of him.

  Thirty-Five

  Fury still running hot in my blood, I can’t stop staring at my hands, thinking of what they did to Merka. What I did of my own free will. I killed him. I can’t blame the tribal magic like before when the demon magic killed those men at the sacred tree. Now I understand that the fire raging inside me is mine alone. I control it. Even then the demon magic answered to me, it enacted my wishes, however devastating. I’ve dreamed my whole life of having magic. Now that I have it, I can’t help but wonder if this is why Heka had refused me his gifts at the Blood Moon Festival. He knew what I was capable of.

  The magic cools inside me and my rage ebbs away as Rudjek bursts into the room, throwing the door back on its hinges. He’s covered in blood, and he lets out a long whistle. I sigh with relief. He’s okay.

  “Twenty-gods—did you do that?” He looks to the pile of ashes—the only thing left of Merka. Awe and disbelief lace his next words. “I guess I’m not the on
ly one with a secret.”

  The next hour is a blur of action. We can’t wait for our friends. There’s no time, and the truth is, they aren’t safe with me. Efiya will send more demons or she’ll come herself. I don’t trust the orishas or their plan, but I have to do something.

  I try to convince Rudjek to stay behind too, but my heart isn’t in it. He refuses to even listen to my protests. It isn’t like leaving him behind after the Vizier banished my family worked out so great for either of us. Barasa said that Rudjek and I together could stop my sister—and Rudjek makes it plain that he’s coming. I’m relieved that he’ll be at my side at the end.

  We leave the Temple, descending into the heart of Tamar. At the western edge of the city, we see the distant outline of the Barat Mountains. To my relief, no one recognizes us when we stop to buy supplies and horses and a staff for me. People are too busy with making ends meet and surviving another day. Seeing the glimmer of defiance in their eyes in the face of so much destruction fills me with hope. I can’t save myself, but maybe I can save them.

  Rudjek doesn’t say much, but he watches me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I do the same. At times he turns inward, his eyes distant, his expression guarded. I’ve seen his face become a mask before, but never a fortress like this. I’ve changed too, for there are moments that take me back to Kefu and quicken my pulse. Moments when I break into a cold sweat upon hearing the crack of a twig beneath the horses’ hooves. Moments I see my father’s sad, silent face, begging me to set him free.

  We ride most of the day, pushing the horses more than we should. Both of us trained to ride at a very young age for fun—a popular activity among people with coins to spare. Although it’s hardly a thing you see in practice within the city limits. As the sun starts to wane, my legs and back ache from spending so long in the saddle. Neither of us is very good at riding, but Rudjek seems to be faring better than me.

  After a short respite at dusk, we’re back on the dirt road traveling the farmlands on the Kingdom’s west flank. Rudjek keeps biting his lower lip as he works up to ask me something. The way his teeth pinch into his soft, supple skin sends my mind reeling and a flush of heat down my neck. The only sounds are the wistful neighs of the horses and the crunch of their hooves on the dirt. All at once, after hours on the road, the strangeness of our silence becomes too much.

  “It’s not like you to hold your tongue,” I say to distract myself from my thoughts.

  “How did you kill that demon?” he counters, fast as a whip.

  “One of the chieftains told me how,” I answer after a pause. “I don’t understand the mechanics of it exactly, but their magic answers when I call.” I shrug. “It seems to know what I want even if I don’t quite know myself—at least it does most of the time.”

  “And it’s not taking your years?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over me. “Like before?”

  I look away, unable to hold his intense stare. He doesn’t know that I traded more of my years in Kefu. “No . . . it isn’t.” I force a smile. “No thanks to the orishas, or Heka for that matter.”

  The rest of the day, the conversation is awkward, spotted with bouts of nervous laughter, anticipation, and longing. We find a place to settle for the night not far from a stream, where we replenish our water skins. The valley is quiet save for the owls and the occasional trees whispering in the wind. Sheep roam free in the grassy hills nearby, and the smell of their dung coats the air.

  For supper, we nibble on stone bread and cheese, but we’re both too nervous to eat much. Rudjek flashes a smile that causes me to straighten my back. Am I reading too much into that wicked gleam in his eyes, or how he doesn’t know what to do with his hands? He washed at the stream using soap that’s left him smelling like perfect skies. Heka, save me. I can’t control how my body reacts to the sight of him, not when he looks at me like that. We sit close enough that our arms touch, neither of us daring to retire to the tent.

  “I can sleep out here.” Rudjek scratches the back of his neck. “There’s plenty of space.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  Rudjek laughs. “I’m not so sure.”

  I’m not misreading his glances, nor is he misreading mine. I wasn’t expecting anything like this. If this is what I think it is, I will have my kiss by the end of the night. I need some air. I stand and Rudjek jumps to his feet too.

  His eyes flit from me to the fire, his face flushed. “Re’Mec told me many things when I was in the Dark Forest. I don’t know if I believe everything he said. I need to tell you something, and I can’t figure out how to say it.”

  “Tell me when I get back.” I glance in the direction of the stream, then cast Rudjek what I hope is an inviting smile—a promise.

  He frowns up at the sky as night cloaks the valley. “Don’t stay away too long . . . I might get lonely.”

  I hadn’t planned to, but I need a moment to myself to think.

  As I walk through the trees to the stream, I spin through the possibilities of how the rest of the night will go. How far do I want to take things? I splash cool water on my neck, but it does nothing to douse the yearning burning through me. Before I forget, I swallow some powdered cohosh root mixed with herbs. Not that I expect things to go that far, but I’m prepared in case they do. The tincture will ensure I don’t become with child.

  Something pricks the back of my neck. I slap my hand across it and stare at the smear of blood on my palm and the crushed mosquito. If Efiya releases the Demon King, will humans be nothing more than mosquitos to swat? A bout of dizziness overcomes me as the witchdoctors’ voices start again. They whisper of their hopes, dreams, and fears, as if confessing to me will give them another chance at life.

  There’s not much time left for me. How many years did the magic take to break my mother’s curse? Too many. How does one tell their best friend that they will be dead soon? Dread sinks in my belly, knowing how it will devastate Rudjek when the dagger finishes the deed. This night will be one of our last together.

  As I’m washing up, the moon and stars disappear. A knot tightens in my stomach. Koré, the moon orisha, is gone because of me. She sacrificed herself for a charlatan because she wagered that I could stop Efiya. I hope she’s right.

  Without the moonlight, I stumble through the trees along the path to camp. I’ve walked for too long and see no sign of fire. Have I gone in the wrong direction? Chills rake down my back as Familiars flit in and out of the trees and across my path like a pack of wild dogs. My heart slams against my chest. Wherever they go, trouble follows.

  Efiya.

  I break into a run, bushes cutting across my feet and ankles. The camp is nowhere in sight. No matter which direction I go or how far, the path takes me back to the stream. Sweat streaks down my forehead as I stop with my hands on my knees, panting. My chest burns. I’m trapped in a maze.

  She has him.

  I should’ve known better than to let Rudjek come with me, no matter what the orishas say. Efiya is more terrible than our mother. A girl with almost limitless power, who can’t even tell the difference between right and wrong.

  “Rudjek!” My voice echoes in the dead of night.

  The silence that answers is vast and impenetrable.

  Tears cloud my eyes as tingles crawl up my arms like an army of spiders. I imagine the worst. She’s torturing him. She’ll make it slow and painful if she’s in the right mood. I should’ve sent him away the moment he appeared at the Temple.

  Oh Heka, please, no.

  I can’t lose Rudjek too—not when I’ve only just gotten him back after all this time. It’s foolish to pray to a god who has turned his back on his people—a god who let Efiya slaughter the tribes like cattle—but I pray anyway.

  “I will find my way out of this maze,” I shout into the darkness, through gritted teeth, “and I will find Rudjek!”

  Deafening silence rings in my ears like bitter laughter. The chieftains helped me before, but
they don’t speak now, when I need them the most. There must be another way. I wrack my memory for a ritual that can help. Efiya can’t affect my mind, so the maze must be only a trick of the eye. I only need to see the right path, like I did escaping the villa in Kefu. At the water’s edge, I pick up several stones and throw them into the trees. Some travel far, but some disappear into thin air only to land at my feet. I could throw rocks all night and pick my way through, but by that time Rudjek could be . . .

  The witchdoctors’ whispers finally come. One voice stands out above the rest—a man with a tone that flows like a gentle river. I focus on only him—his words. I can see him in my mind. He’s tall with semi-translucent brown skin. The Kes chieftain. I don’t let my fear push aside his voice. I sink into it, let it flow through me, and it invades every space in my mind until his is the only one I hear.

  I am not alone.

  I can show you the way.

  “Show me,” I whisper to the darkness.

  The Kes chieftain appears at the edge of the tree line. He shifts in and out of focus. He only stands there, waiting. His eyes, white speckled with gray. His cheeks twitch like he wants to speak but can’t. It could be that the energy to create this fragile physical form leaves him too weak. He looks down at me, then beyond the trees to tell me to hurry. I step aside and he begins to wade through the trees, twisting and turning, walking in circles. I can no longer hear the gentle flow of the stream, even though it appears to be within an arm’s length.

  Instead I hear laughter. Rudjek’s laughter. I let out my pent-up breath. If he’s laughing, then he’s okay. But why is he laughing? The witchdoctor in my mind fades to nothingness, and I lurch forward, shoved through an invisible door.

  I’m back at the stream again. No, no, no. I ball my hands into fists. But the moon has returned and the stars too. If they’re back, then I must be out of the maze. I run through the trees and this time I can see the campfire in the distance. As I grow closer, I slow my pace, legs threatening to collapse.