Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  “Don’t look at me, slave! Get up, No!”

  The gold child sprang to his feet.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Take the girl to the parlor. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  No happily took Nyira’s hand again and escorted her up the hallway past Martolé and the other children with him.

  The parlor was smaller than the central room but still very large. There were ebony and gold statues situated in various corners around the room and a large colorful patterned rug in the center of the floor. The walls in the room were decorated with tribal designs that seemed to depict the various conquests of chief Abdullah’s ancestors. A massive diamond and ebony throne stood before a large window facing the doorway. A gold boy was stationed next to the throne. His head down, hands out before him, palms up. The floor underneath the colorful rug was composed of quartz stone from the mountains. Nyira had to do a double take, because she’d somehow missed another gold boy, floating on his back above the floor, and also a masked man sitting beneath him, as he rotated like meat on a spit. Nyira noted that the boy was crying. His tears plunked like big raindrops onto the quartz floor. The masked man was very casual in the tasks he performed over the floating boy as if he was bored. He too wore nothing but a loincloth and was as black and wrinkled as Benzia. He was also very slim. Arrayed on the floor beside him were a series of small decorated wooden bowls. Some of them glowed with tiny flames. The old man dipped his fingers into one of the bowls and then sprinkled the substance over the rotating boy. The child let out a shriek of agony.

  “Stop! You’re hurting him!” cried Nyira.

  “Shhhh,” replied No. From his clenched hand, she felt him trembling.

  The old man glanced over at them then. His mask was carved with the image of some hideous fanged creature.

  Ahhh, No. There you are. The old man’s voice was a deep vibration that emanated from the walls and ceilings. No dropped Nyira’s hand and ran for the door. The old man casually dipped his fingers into another bowl and blew its contents toward him. Nyira heard No squeal as he raced through the central room.

  The old man clapped his hands, and the floating boy exploded in a cloud of gold dust. He then stared at Nyira.

  Come sit with me, child, the voice said.

  Nyira noticed something strange about the old man’s voice. She didn’t really hear it. She felt it and saw it. And she didn’t like its color. Her papa had warned her that certain dangers had strange colors, particularly voices.

  “I am to see the mistress,” replied Nyira. “Not to sit with you.”

  Are you afraid? asked the voice. Don’t be. I just want to taste a bit of your powers, child.

  “I don’t have powers.”

  Oh yes you do, said the voice. You use them so easily you don’t even realize it. No one can resist my request to sit with me. Yet you wade through me like I was water. It is I who should be afraid. But you’ve made a mistake. Look closer.

  The light in the room changed, and Nyira found herself in the middle of a different landscape: a dry Sahara. The land was flat and windy. Thick brown grass and brush covered the area. Then she saw the lioness. Just to the right of her, in her peripheral vision. She suddenly remembered this area, because her papa had once brought her to this region. She also knew why the beast was there: It was going to kill her because somehow she had changed into a gazelle. And then the lioness was upon her.

  6

  Agueybana didn’t occupy a cedar hut, like other nobles in the tribe. The behike had instead chosen a cave in the far corner of the village enclosure. It was more of a crevice, really. But entering it was no easy task. You had to crawl through a small tunnel in the rock, and once inside, it was totally black.

  “Why would I need a torch in my own home,” replied Agueybana, when asked. “When all that wasn’t there when I came, I brought.”

  Enriquillo stood outside the opening for a long time before he had the courage to crawl through the tunnel. When he emerged into the room, Agueybana was lighting a small coral pipe. The flame momentarily illuminated the old man’s ancient features. Enriquillo was relieved when the light went out because he didn’t want the behike to see he was crying. For a long time, he was content to sit in the dark and endure the bitter aroma of the old man’s pipe tobacco. Agueybana seemed to enjoy his pipe and the silence, too. But finally said:

  “You wanted it more than he did, Enriquillo.”

  “You’re wrong, old man!” cried Enriquillo. He got up to crawl back through the tunnel.

  “Your anger is poisoning you,” replied Agueybana. “It has mixed up your mind.”

  “I’m not mixed up!” Enriquillo screamed in the darkness. “You weren’t there!”

  “Then say what happened.”

  *

  They had been playing along the trail that led from the mountains down into the bush. Enriquillo had finally gotten the hang of Chase the Leopard and had even won a few times. Not many, but enough to make it competitive. Abiodun continued to gain courage outside his cave. He’d also grown more comfortable coming out during the daylight. Though Enriquillo knew he couldn’t push him too far. But after two weeks of racing through the jungle, climbing up into the upper branches of the pine trees, and chasing Taki along the cliffs near his hideaway, Abiodun was a different person.

  “I can’t play today, my friend,” Enriquillo told him that morning. “I must go down to the cove and catch some fish for the tribe.”

  Abiodun got a strange look.

  “I was the best fisherman in my family,” he declared. “I could help you bring back more.”

  Enriquillo wasn’t comfortable with this suggestion.

  “Thank you, Abiodun. But I don’t need any help. I’ve always done most of the fishing for my village—since I was eight.”

  “But with the two of us, we could catch hundreds more fish.”

  “I… well, we just shouldn’t though,” replied Enriquillo.

  They were standing outside the cave after Enriquillo had brought fruit for his friend. The day was bright with a few flimsy clouds floating over the eastern mountain range. There was also a slight breeze, and Abiodun was feeling invigorated by the salty air coming in off the ocean.

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I want to live. I know I can’t hide in my cave forever.”

  “It’s good that your fear is gone, Abiodun. But we should wait for another day. When there’s not a task to be performed.”

  “I can’t believe this! I’m finally ready to live my life. To ‘be’ free—like you said. Am I only to be free when you need a playmate?”

  Enriquillo had to concede Abiodun’s point, so he allowed the dark boy to follow him down the hidden path that led to a waterfall on the other side of the forest.

  The trees within the cove were twice as tall as those on other parts of the island, and their high dense canopies only let in small amounts of sunlight. This allowed foliage on the jungle floor to grow green and hardy. There were plants in this section that didn’t grow on the mountains or anywhere else in Saint Domingue. The boys even stopped to pick mangos and chop a few pineapples with Enriquillo’s fish ax.

  “These are bigger than the ones from my village,” said Abiodun. He had stuffed his mouth full of pineapple and mango. “And sweeter, too.” This made Enriquillo burst out laughing.

  “What is so funny,” asked his friend.

  Enriquillo finally caught his breath.

  “Your mouth is so full you look like a blowfish.” Abiodun’s confounded expression started him laughing all over again. His response was to run and tackle Enriquillo, and they tussled until they fell into the beautiful blue water of the cove.

  “We should probably get out and finish our task,” said Enriquillo, as he climbed onto the bank. “Otherwise, mother and the rest of the tribe will go hungry.”

  They fished and swam for most of that day. The bejuco Enriquillo had brought to hang the fish on was almost full along its entire length, and left just
enough to tie onto a branch they cut to carry between them.

  They were right at the midpoint of the trail into the mountains when they saw the overseer. He was standing at the far side of the trail, in the brush. Abiodun was so shocked he dropped his end of the fish branch.

  “It’s Etienne,” he whispered and began to breathe hard. Enriquillo saw the fear overtaking him again.

  Enriquillo had never seen the overseer but had heard stories from Abiodun. This white man didn’t look anything like the monster he’d pictured. He was tall and slim but was broad in the shoulders, like he’d once done some work. He was wearing a white shirt that was tucked in, and there was what Enriquillo recognized as a small fire weapon tucked into the front of his pants. And he smiled at Abiodun.

  “Pierre,” said Etienne. “You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

  Abiodun didn’t respond but had started to cry.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “I guessed right,” said Etienne, as he took a step toward the dark boy. “I knew you hadn’t gone very far into the mountains. And that the Indians were hiding you.”

  Enriquillo didn’t like what he saw happening to his friend. Abiodun was frozen. The feet that were faster than his hawk appeared to be sinking into the dirt.

  “You don’t have to be afraid. Master Bissett—”

  “You don’t have a master,” said Enriquillo, as he came up behind his friend and gave him a shove. Just to make his feet move. “You’re free. You’ve always been free. Remember?”

  Abiodun looked at Enriquillo like he had never seen him before, and the words appeared to set something off in him.

  “That’s right… I don’t have a master anymore!”

  “What’s the matter with you?” replied Etienne, moving closer to him. “You need to come home, boy. All your friends miss you. We—”

  “They’re not my friends,” said Abiodun. “They’re property—the master’s property. All my friends are free. Like my family, like me!”

  Etienne lost his cool in the face of this “free” boy.

  “You’ll never be free, Pierre. Not ever! No matter what this Indian tells you. Take him!” Soldiers rose up from the thick brush that surrounded the trail. “Take the Indian, too. Alphonse will want him, as well.”

  Enriquillo saw Abiodun’s speed then. One minute he was standing, and the next he was halfway up the trail.

  “Cut him off!” cried the overseer. “I’ll take care of—” He’d pulled his weapon to point it at Enriquillo, but he was gone, too.

  “What in the name of… Cut him off at the cave!”

  Enriquillo didn’t like the sound of that. They apparently knew about Abiodun’s hiding place. He ran as fast as he could up the trail. If only he could fly, Enriquillo was thinking. He’d give up invisibility for flight right now. The soldiers had the ridge outside the cave surrounded when he got there. But Abiodun had climbed up the rocks above the cave. One of the soldiers was aiming his fire spear at his friend’s back. Etienne grabbed the man’s gun.

  “Don’t shoot him, you fool! I want him brought back alive, so that others won’t even consider trying to escape. Go up there and get him!” The soldier put down his weapon and began to climb after Abiodun.

  “I know where he’s going,” said the overseer. He took the shortcut over the rocks and up the backside of the cliff. That shocked Enriquillo; he thought only the Taíno knew of it.

  How long has he been watching us? wondered Enriquillo. He had obviously been wrong. White men did come into the mountains. He was also afraid of what else Etienne knew, about his people’s hiding place.

  By the time Enriquillo made his way up the rocks, Etienne had reached the cliff.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Pierre,” said the overseer, as he watched the dark boy mount the ledge. “You’re too valuable.” He backed up and gave Abiodun space.

  “That’s not true,” replied Abiodun, a bit breathless from his climb. “I’m not valuable. Master Bissett has over four hundred slaves, just like me.” When he stood up, he actually began to move toward Etienne.

  “None of them are like you, Pierre. None of them have tried to escape.”

  “But they will,” replied Abiodun. “After they hear about me, they’ll know they can try.”

  As he ascended the rocks, Enriquillo noticed a peculiar tone in his friend’s voice. He didn’t sound afraid anymore—even though the overseer was closer to him.

  “There won’t be anything to hear, Pierre, because you’re coming back. Just like Master Bissett directed.”

  “He doesn’t own me,” replied Abiodun. “No man will ever own me again!”

  “Have you lost your mind, slave? You’re coming with me!”

  “You were right, my friend,” said Abiodun, looking at Enriquillo as he came up the rocks. “I’m a person. And I can’t be owned.” He then turned and ran.

  “What are you doing?” cried Etienne and ran after him. But Abiodun was already over the edge and seemed to be flying. Enriquillo had started running, too. He wished so much to fly. Why didn’t he have that gift instead of invisibility? What good was it? It hadn’t helped him save either of his friends. All it had done was hide him from… the overseer was right there in his path. He should have stopped, but something was about to burst inside him and the only thing that would stop it, was to get his hands on Etienne, to rip him apart. For both of his friends, for his whole life of hiding, for even being in his land and hurting those he loved. Instead, Etienne went flying, too—when Enriquillo ran into him. The overseer’s face was a mask of shock, like this was obviously some strange mistake, that he was falling along with his slave.

  7

  Nyira knew it was color. She couldn’t stop the lion, but she did have the presence of mind to change the color. When she did, the Sahara vanished, and she was looking at the old man again, lying about five feet away. He was on his back like he’d fallen. The carved mask had come off, and Nyira saw his withered face. His eyes were as white as his hair. The medicine man was blind. It didn’t seem to slow him down, though. He sprang quickly to his feet and backed away from her.

  “That was… It appears I’ve been taken outside myself,” said the old man.

  “Those colors hurt,” replied Nyira.

  “Yes. I see.” He reached down and picked up one of the wooden bowls—the one without a flame. “Would you possibly be interested in something to eat?” He held the bowl out to her.

  “I didn’t come to talk to you!” snapped Nyira. “You eat what’s in the bowl.”

  The old man’s hand twisted toward his face, and his mouth opened.

  “No!” cried the old man. “I’m not hungry. I don’t—”

  “Enough!” cried Vandella, as she rushed into the room. “Goodbye, girl!” She ran to the throne and slammed her hand on a spot behind it. Nyira dropped through the floor.

  She landed in a body of water. Before the opening above her closed, she heard Vandella say: “I know I promised him I wouldn’t take a hand in it. But you couldn’t even…” The floor shut above her. Then something grabbed her feet and dragged her under the water.

  She tried to kick her legs to push herself up, but the thing was enormous, and it was pulling her down. At first, she was afraid, but something about it was familiar.

  Let me go, she said. I need to get to the surface to breathe.

  Nyira? the thing replied. What are you doing in here?

  The thing released her leg, and she rose to the surface and swam to the bank at the side of the water.

  The lodge had been built right over a canal off the backwater, turning it into an enclosure. The banks on each side of the canal were about seven yards wide, from the central foundation, to possibly five on the opposite shore. The water was clouded by bits of algae, leaves and silt washed in from the backwater. When Nyira climbed onto the bank, it was crowded with crocodiles, and then the huge creature she had conversed with at the fair surfaced.

  Reyta? said Nyira.


  The crocodile continued to shore and heaved herself onto the bank.

  Nyira. I’m so sorry, said Reyta. I thought you were food. That’s how they feed us. They drop things through the opening above. I’m so ashamed; I almost hurt you. You are the only one who has ever said a kind word to me.

  But another crocodile that Nyira sensed from within the group lumbered toward them. It was almost as massive as Reyta and was not happy.

  We should eat this, Reyta, it said. Why are you speaking to it like it’s not our dinner? We are starving! They haven’t fed us for weeks. Our mother is weak and won’t survive if we don’t give her this food.

  Bapha, replied Reyta. This is not our food. This is my friend.

  If it is your friend, replied Bapha. Why does it not help us? By allowing us to eat it!

  Eating me won’t fill you up, Bapha, replied Nyira. I’m not very big.

  Before Bapha could reply, something landed on one of the crocodiles lounging on the shore. It was a blaze of some kind. It caught quickly and engulfed the creature in flames. They looked up and saw that the boy, Martolé, stood at an opening in the wall of the foundation. There were a number of warriors with him. They rushed out among the reptiles and began to stab and slash at them.

  Run, Nyira! cried Reyta. The boy takes his sport by killing us!

  “Kill as many as you can!” cried Martolé. I’ll use the hides for the chairs in my chamber!” One of the warriors stepped on Bapha’s back and drove his spear through the creature’s left eye. “And I brought something for you as well, girl!” He held one of the wooden bowls of flame from the medicine man. “From Tongo himself. He taught me how to use it.” He blew the flame, and it covered her before she had time to move. Nyira jumped in the water, but it was fueled by it. Reyta came to her aid as she flailed. The massive crocodile opened her mouth and swallowed her. Do not move so much, Nyira, said Reyta. This fire feeds on the water. Be still, and I will smother it.

  But will it not burn you, Reyta? asked Nyira.