Yes. It’s very painful. But smothering is the only way to stop it.
Reyta was right. The flame died once she closed her jaws over it.
It’s out, Reyta, said Nyira. Open your mouth, so I can heal the wounds it gave you.
I’m afraid for you, replied Reyta. That evil boy is still butchering my brothers.
You can’t keep me in your mouth forever, replied Nyira. Let me help you stop him. Put me on the bank.
I don’t feel good about this, child. But I’ll do as you ask.
Reyta moved to the bank and pushed Nyira out of her mouth.
The boy and the warriors had begun to skin some of the crocodiles they’d killed. But when Martolé saw Nyira lying helpless in the mud, he couldn’t resist a chance to finish her.
“Yaako, give me your spear,” said Martolé.
The warrior handed the long-bladed weapon to the boy.
“Maybe you should let me, my Prince,” said Yaako. “It might be—”
The boy snatched the spear. “Are you saying I can’t kill one little girl?” He glared at the huge man, who dropped his eyes.
“No, my Prince. It’s just that she—”
“Shut up! Or I’ll feed you to these starving crocodiles!”
The boy grasped the spear two-handed and charged at Nyira. When he got within two feet of her, she sat up and tried to make eye contact. The boy quickly turned his head.
“Not this time!” said Martolé. “I’m not as gullible as my mother!”
He raised the spear. Suddenly a huge reptilian tail swung out of the canal and swept him off his feet. He fell into the water.
“Help me,” cried Martolé, flailing. “I can’t swim! Help me, you fools!” He was screaming at the warriors, but they were afraid to get in the water.
Don’t hurt him, Reyta, said Nyira. I’ll try to get him out. She picked up the long-handled spear and reached it toward the boy.
“Grab it,” said Nyira.
“How do I know you won’t drown me?” said Martolé.
“Don’t be foolish,” replied Nyira. “You’ll drown anyway. Now take it!”
Martolé grasped the spear, and Nyira began to pull him to the shore.
“You cowards will pay for this!” he yelled at his warriors. “I wi—Auuugh! Auugh!”
Nyira pulled faster, and Martolé made it to the bank. When he emerged, his right ankle was bleeding badly.
“My foot! My foot! What happened to my foot?” Nyira was shocked to see the boy’s right foot was gone.
Reyta! I asked you not to hurt him, said Nyira, disappointed.
It wasn’t me, replied Reyta.
It was me, said Bapha. He had surfaced, and you could see one of his eyes was missing and he had a foot clamped in his jaws. That was for my eye, and for mother. She needs something to eat, and this will be better than nothing. He submerged, clutching Martolé’s foot. The warriors ran to the boy and lifted him onto their shoulders.
“Wait!” said Nyira. “Wrap a piece of cloth around his ankle. It will stop the bleeding.” Martolé had already passed out from the pain and blood loss.
Reyta came up on the shore as the warriors carried the boy back through the opening in the foundation.
I’m very afraid, Nyira, said Reyta. Bapha shouldn’t have done this. The chief will want blood for the injury to his son.
That’s probably true, said Nyira.
I didn’t know how my life would end, but I never wanted to be slaughtered in this canal. I’ll never see the river now.
Don’t give up yet, Reyta, said Nyira. We just need a way for you to get out.
How? We’re trapped here.
But you’re not always here. How do you get to the market?
The canal has a grate underwater. When they ring the bell and open the grate, I follow the canal around to the ditch in the market.
So it’s a grate we have to open?
Yes. I know how to go through it because I’ve been trained. But my brothers have always been in this space below the stone floor. It’s all they know.
Will they follow you out?
I don’t know.
We have to try. I’ll open the grate. We’d better go now—before Abdullah comes.
How? You’re trapped just as we are. There is no way for you to get through the stone floor.
We have to go through the canal.
Can you breathe underwater? Because it’s deep.
No, said Nyira. But you can. Take me in your mouth. Make a pocket of air in your cheek, and I’ll go there to breathe.
Okay. I can try. We don’t really have a choice.
The crocodile opened her mouth, and just as Nyira was about to climb in, the foundation door opened again, and warriors poured through.
Run, my brothers! cried Reyta. Follow me! The child will help us escape!
The creatures were a little slow to respond, and when Abdullah emerged through the opening, Nyira saw his rage. She jumped into Reyta’s mouth, and the creature scooted into the water.
“Kill them all!” shouted Abdullah. “Don’t let one escape, or you’ll be sorry!”
He swung his machete and hacked off the tail off one creature that was just making it to the water. The rest of the crocodiles began to scatter quickly. Some of them were cut off by warriors before they reached the canal. They were as wide and long as a child’s canoe and had the presence of mind to attack the warriors. This allowed some of the smaller creatures a chance to reach the water.
Reyta dove deep and made her way toward the opening, but something strange started to occur. A stone door descended over the opening.
Oh no, Nyira! There’s another door I’ve never seen. They mean to trap us for sure! I need to let you out. You should be able to squeeze through the grate. You’re small enough.
No! Wait Reyta. We— The beast pushed Nyira out of her mouth, and she was forced toward the door.
As Nyira made her way to the opening, another large crocodile was in her path. It was Bapha.
This is the last chance I will have, said Bapha. I was going to eat you. But I see you are trying to free my brothers. But wait!
He wedged himself under the stone door, keeping it open.
I will hold it as long as I can. It’s the best I can offer, child.
Nyira slipped past the beast and searched for a mechanism on the grate. She was about to give up when she spied an algae-covered handle protruding from the lodge foundation. She tried putting all her weight on it but was out of breath. So she went back to Reyta.
I’ve found the release handle, Reyta. But I need to breathe.
The crocodile opened her mouth, and Nyira climbed in. She only needed a few moments and was out again. The other crocodiles were all gathered at the door. Nyira could sense their fear and confusion. But she had to do her part. The stone door was crushing down upon Bapha as well. She swam under the door again and was able to push the latch down and open the grate.
Tell them to go now, Reyta. I’ve opened the grate.
The crocodiles began to stream through the opening that led out of the canal and kept going. The river was high, so they were able to swim over the side of the canal and directly into the river.
Nyira, said Reyta. Bapha and my mother didn’t come through. Oh, this is terrible. What am I to do?
I’ll see if I can help. Nyira dove again and saw Bapha, struggling to hold up the stone door.
Bapha, said Nyira. Your brothers and sister are waiting for you in the river. You can release the door and go to them.
I won’t be coming, said Bapha. I must stay with mother. She can’t come through the opening, and I won’t leave her.
But you know that Abdullah means to…
Yes. I wouldn’t do well in the river, anyway. This is the only life I know. They have Reyta. She will be mother now.
He pulled himself from under the door, and it closed. Nyira swam back to the surface to give Reyta the bad news.
Once the crocodiles had escaped into the r
iver, Nyira climbed out of the canal and made her way back to the tent behind the lodge. Abdullah was there when she arrived—looming in the darkness near the tent.
“My son is a cripple! Do you understand that? He will never be a warrior!”
“I didn’t hurt him,” replied Nyira. “He tried to hurt me. I—”
“You insisted! I warned you to stay away from my wife! But you—” He was so angry, he could hardly speak. “The Dutchmen will be here tomorrow. Why didn’t you escape?”
“I have to go with them,” replied Nyira. “I believe that was what papa’s vision meant.”
“I’ll be glad. At least I’ll receive some value for all the strife you’ve caused.” He stalked off.
8
Enriquillo got no sleep. His guilt at the loss of another friend kept him awake, and he worried that Etienne had discovered his tribe’s cave, along with Abiodun’s.
He spent the next few days guarding the mouth of the mother cave.
“It’s not possible, Enriquillo,” said Agueybana. He had gone outside to keep Enriquillo company in the heat from the jungle. It occurred to him that he was too old to sweat so much. There wasn’t much flesh left on his ancient bones as it was, so he had every incentive to coax the boy back into the cool of the village cave.
He brought Enriquillo a gourd of water and a pineapple treat. Higuamota had dipped the dried fruit into some cane syrup she’d boiled down. The pineapple was then skewered on small sticks and roasted over the flame. Enriquillo took the candy and looked at it a long time as if something within the caramelized sugar might provide him the answer he sought. Agueybana finally took the treat and put it in his own mouth.
“You are not a normal child, Enriquillo. But even you should know the purpose of candy.”
“I’m not hungry,” replied Enriquillo, he was sitting on the ground leaning against the trunk of a palm tree. Periodically he looked up and saw that Taki chased a bird across the lightly clouded blue sky. He reached up and broke a broad green leaf off a nearby fern, and then passed it up under his nose as if he wanted to inhale its scent.
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Ageybana, and sat on the ground beside the boy. There had been a lot of rain the night before, and the ground was still very wet. “You will answer for the white man before you can enter Coaybay. But no one could have known the boy would—”
“Did you?” asked Enriquillo, looking Agueybana squarely in the eyes. “You always know, Agueybana. So did you know he would do it?”
“What does it matter now? Knowing won’t always help—”
“I could’ve stopped him!” cried Enriquillo. “I would’ve maybe…”
“Fought off Etienne and the soldiers? They were searching for him, Enriquillo. They were never going to stop searching.”
“I could’ve hidden him better.”
“You mean like we are hidden? You can become invisible, Enriquillo. Therefore, you can live your life outside. He didn’t have that choice.”
“He was afraid, and I made him come out anyway.”
“You were trying to be his friend,” said the behike.
“I just wanted a friend,” replied Enriquillo. “Someone I could…”
“You helped him be free, Enriquillo. That’s what friends are supposed to.”
Something dropped out of the sky and landed in Enriquillo’s lap. It was the body of a crow that Taki had killed.
“It’s time to come back inside, Enrquillo,” said Agueybana, his old bones popped as he stood. “The overseer didn’t know of our hiding place. If he had, soldiers would be here by now.”
9
The Dutchmen were the first white men Nyira had ever laid eyes on. Her father had spoken of the strangeness of white men—of their clothing that covered every part of their bodies, even when the sun was at its highest, but it didn’t prepare her for the actual look of them: pale and thin with flat hair. These men did not wear pagne, and their feet were clothed in black all the way up their legs. They also kept long skinny knives at their waists. She only saw them from a distance when they entered the compound. One of the warriors, who was guarding the slaves and seemed willing to help them as much as he was able, told her of the white men’s arrival. His name was Chifundo. He told Nyira that he had once been a slave, too. Only because he was big and looked fierce, they offered the opportunity to be one of Abdullah’s warriors. The choice was obvious. He had even been able to facilitate the occasional escape—though they rarely succeeded. Most slaves could not survive on the river—not without a boat, or a means to return to their village, which the Mikoni destroyed. That was why he stayed because there was no other place for him to go. He did not envy her sale to the Dutch slavers. She would have a better chance escaping and living in the jungle, where they found her. When she told him it was her destiny, he wished her luck. Perhaps the others were better off if she was with them, but he warned her that white slavers were not as kind as Africans.
The captain of the Dutch slaver was named Antonie Matthias. He was a tall, slim dark-haired man with a silent manner. He didn’t do much talking; his first officer named Shelley Rubin did the majority of the negotiating, while the captain stood scowling as if ill-at-ease among so many well-armed natives.
The majority of the slaves were paraded out on the morning of the Dutchmen’s arrival. All except Nyira; she was told to stay behind in the tent.
“They want a chance to view their special prize, in private,” Benzia told her. Nyira wasn’t sure what that meant. It proved to be an accurate assessment.
Abdullah along with a few of the warriors—Chifundo included—came to the tent with some of the Dutchmen. Rubin was a young man—quite a bit younger than Matthias. He was half a head shorter with red curly hair; he stood for a moment gazing at Nyira as she sat on the ground in the corner of the tent.
“So you say she is a sorceress, Abdullah?”
“Yes, captain,” replied Abdullah. Nyira was shocked by the big man’s deference to the small pink man. His shoulders dipped so, he seemed to be bowing. “She is quite manageable. But headstrong.”
“Is that so?” said Rubin. He started towards her. “Will she talk to me, perhaps?”
“She might,” replied Abdullah.
Show them your value, girl. She heard his mind say. Or I may not be able to send the old woman. She has no value to them. And I don’t want her.
The Dutchman reached into his pocket and pulled out something.
“Would she accept a sweet, perhaps? Here you go, girl. Come and get it.” He had the strangest grin on his face as he handed the item to her. Nyira found him more fascinating than what he had in his hand. She would’ve preferred to touch his pink face to see if it felt like real skin, and he also had an awful smell to him.
Please take the item, implored Abdullah. So that you can go with them.
Nyira got up and took the sweet, and stood gazing at the Dutchman.
“She is a beautiful creature,” said the white man. “Her eyes are the strangest green I‘ve ever seen.” He reached his hand out to stroke her cheek.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Abdullah.
Rubin stopped and pulled his hand away.
Nyira might have allowed it though—just to see what he felt like.
“She is a rare creature,” said Rubin. “And she is in the best condition of any of the slaves we’ve ever purchased from you. In fact, they all are. You have obviously taken very good care of them. That is very smart and profitable, Abdullah. You will see.”
“Yes, captain,” Abdullah replied. “At great personal expense. My son… It doesn’t matter.”
“The green eyes are a very good indicator of magical abilities,” said Rubin. “And she is a healer as well?”
“She was taught by her father. He was a well-known medicine man in the region she comes from.”
“It would be wonderful if we could see a demonstration of her powers.”
“I can’t promise that. But she is very protective of t
he other slaves.”
The white man looked pleased, and he smiled at Nyira. She didn’t return his smile. She’d been warned about the evil Dutchmen hid behind their smiles. Rubin went and received a mumbled word from the brooding Captain Matthias.
“All right, Abdullah. You have sold us. We will take a chance on this quiet little one. But if she doesn’t deliver, we will deduct the value from your next shipment.”
Abdullah looked very pleased.
*
On the day she was scheduled to be shipped off with the Dutch slavers, Abdullah barged into the tent where Nyira was housed with the rest of the female slaves.
“All of you get out!” Abdullah ordered, as a couple of warriors followed him, carrying some type of brass platter between the two of them. Another group of warriors started to move the slaves out into the yard in front of the lodge. Nyira started to leave with them.
“Not you, my little sorceress. You stay,” said the big man. “I’ve brought a gift just for you.”
Nyira was wary, since there was nothing he could offer she might want, but the warriors strolled toward her and stopped near where she sat on the ground.
“I don’t want anything from you,” said Nyira. She turned around and faced away from the warriors.
“Oh, now you are being a silly child,” replied Abdullah. “Of course you want this.”
She could feel him standing very close behind her. It didn’t make any sense. He smelled of coconut oil—just like Gnangi. She felt like crying. How dare he ruin her memory of the beloved woman.
“I promise you will not want to miss this. I’ll give you a hint. Little girls usually love guessing riddles: It’s from a very recent, close friend of yours…”
A recent close friend? What was this evil man talking abou— she jerked around.
“No! You—” Abdullah snatched the cloth from the platter, and Nyira screamed.
Gord’s large majestic head stood in the center of the shiny metal. Nyira lunged for the platter, but the warriors snatched it away. “You promised!” she cried. She fought and scratched the warriors. “Please! I must touch him! He was my friend! Oh Gord! Oh Gord I’m sorry!” But she was no match for the large men. She finally gave out, rolled into a ball on the ground and wailed until she had no tears left. After a while, she sat up and looked at Abdullah. “Why? You promised!”
Nyira and the Invisible Boy Page 6