Rebelled, an Arelia LaRue Novel #7

by Kira Saito

  Eventually, I reached the mountains and climbed the rocky ledges with simple agility and force that was easily able to navigate tricky peaks and deadly cracks. The moon was high and bright and cast a ghostlike glow on the bones, dead bodies, decapitated heads and stray animals that were lurking on the rocky edges of Morne Rouge. I came to a large clearing in which a runaway camp had been constructed. It was a tiny village consisting of thousands of scantily dressed men, women, children, stray sheep, skinny cattle and dogs that had been trained to rip any unwelcome visitor to shreds. Whispers surrounded me and soon the tired yet angry faces of the Maroons began to appear with distrusting expressions.

  I walked through the village with my head held up high, and my one arm raised in the air daring them to try to attack. The clear night was interrupted by a deep clap of thunder that echoed throughout the deep ravines of the mountains. “Are you Him?” asked a hard-faced Maroon. He pushed a machete against my throat. I grabbed him by his neck and threw him with such force that he crashed with a deafening thump against a cattle. The villagers fell to their knees in worship as lighting fell from the sky and electrified my body. At once, I could see the spirits as if they were flesh and blood. I knew their names and what they had dominion over. I was now the boss of them. The factions of loa included the Ghede, Petro, Rada, Kongo, and Nago all stood in front of me in wonder and admiration. Erzulie beamed at me. “I’m so proud of you, my son,” she whispered.

  “Son?” I asked the question even though I had long suspected this is why she had shown me favor.

  “Oui. You are the son of the True Living God, and you have been sent here to rebel against the ugliness of slavery and to conquer and dominate. Tonight the invisible God will become visible.”

  For a moment, I simply stared at the various factions of the loa and quickly calculated how they could be used to divide and conquer various aspects of the existing order so that it would crumble in front of the slaveholder’s faces. The spirits surrounded me with determined faces ready for battle. The villagers rose from the ground and linked arms. A gigantic circle formed around me, and words that I had never spoken or heard before came flowing out of my mouth. “The God who created the sun which gives us light, who rouses the waves and rules the storm, though hidden in the clouds, He watches us. He sees all that the slaveholders do. The god of the slaveholders inspires them with crime, but our God who is good to us orders us to revenge our wrongs. He will direct our arms and aid us. Throw away the symbol of the cross that has so often caused us to weep, and listen to the voice of liberty, which speaks in the hearts of us all. I offer you liberty and immortality in the new world that I will create.”

  At my words, the fatigued faces damaged by the harsh wind and sun started to sing and beat on manman, segon, and boula drums. Fire filled the night sky, and a chant started to echo through the entire mountain top

  * * *

  Eh! Eh! Bomba! Heu! Heu!

  Canga, bafio té!

  Canga, mouné de lé!

  Canga, do ki la!

  Canga, do ki la!

  Canga, li!

  * * *

  Erzulie took her dagger and sliced open a wild black pig. Its blood was poured into my mouth. I drank with a ravenous thirst. I knew that I could never be satisfied with another drink again unless it was blood. I wondered what human blood would taste like and how to extract it with the maximum amount of suffering feasible. "We need to shed as much blood as possible! We need to be more terrible and more horrific than the enemy. Tonight, I will tell you what you need to do to obtain eternal liberty, equality, and fraternity!” The Maroons and spirits cheered me on, as I continued to drink the blood and eat the organs of the raw pig.

  “Drink it all, my son. Don’t leave one drop,” Erzulie commanded. I laughed as the drumming got louder, and the flame of a gigantic fire lit up the dark sky. “The king of this world has arrived! He is here!” she screamed. “We will kill them all! Kill them all! Kill them all!”

  The Maroons and spirits joined in on the chant. “We will kill them all! Kill them all!”

  Sixteen months later, Saint Domingue, 1729

  It was all that the people who lived on the plantations and in Le Cap could talk about. Soon, the entire island was gripped in a crisis of outright terror that they had never experienced before. Day in and day out, their worst fears were manifested in front of their eyes. First, there had been isolated attacks in the dead of night by machete-wielding Maroons who possessed superhuman strength. They quietly entered plantations in the middle of the darkness and killed entire families in their beds. The drivers, overseers, and masters who survived vowed that these were no ordinary men. They had supernatural powers that gave them the force and brutality to carry out hideous acts of violence without hesitation, regret or delay. Heads were hacked, organs sliced out and skulls became drinking bowls for human blood. The sight of torches racing across dark fields, the sound of war chants accompanied by strange drumming, and bare feet thumping across the tough earth became normal.

  Then, the fires that were set to cane fields arrived. They sizzled and danced in the night air leaving behind burnt bones, ashes, dead animals, and pools of blood that turned the bright blue rivers a rusty shade of red. Slaves, seeing the opportunity which was in front of their eyes, ran to the mountains and begged to join this growing band of rebels that was headed by a king with strange eyes and power which came from a realm that they could not see but desperately wanted to access.

  Then, the deadliest terror of all which was poison manifested. It spread all across the Plane du Norde. The first targets were animals. The livestock was the first to go. Horses, cows, sheep and pigs started to die in mass all across the countryside. The stench of rotting flesh and decay filled the air and replaced the once fresh sea breeze. The planters and farmers soon ran out of fresh meat to eat and sell. The poison slowly crept into the houses of the slave owners and found its way into closed wine bottles, freshly baked bread, tightly sealed jars, medicine bottles and every other imaginable type of food and drink. It made the victims bleed black blood out of their pores; their entire bodies swell four times its normal size, skin burned and fell off in rough lumps and patches.

  Not even those who lived in Le Cap were safe. The poison found its way into sealed carts of liquor that were freshly unloaded off great ships. It found its way into the banquet halls, bread shops, and fruit stands. Cases of cigars and packs of cigarettes were avoided for fear of being infested by the terror. Restaurants and hotels were avoided for fear of infection, and large public gatherings were becoming rarer. The more blood that was shed, the more powerful I became as did the powers of the spirits who were helping me.

  The weather also took a strange and most gruesome turn. Floods constantly raged through the manure-filled streets of the cities and wrecked havoc on the emerald fields. Earthquakes increased with a violent ferocity that brought the inhabitants to their knees. Large hail beat, bolts of thunder, horrific winds and rain as hot as lava raged and the people grew increasingly perplexed by the sudden turn of events.

  The streets of Le Cap toiled with death bells, and the churches ran funeral rites at all hours of the day and night nonstop. Prayers for the dead crawled their way down the narrow streets of the city and fields of the plantations. Like a mad hymn, the prayers grew louder and louder. The people cried out, but their prayers and devotionals were not heard. The faces of every citizen were gray, glum, drawn and gripped by terror and fear of when and how the next attack would occur and in what form it would occur in. The whites clung to their crosses in hopes of being saved by their sleeping god. Little did they know, the real God was already walking among them and judging them for their immoral actions.

  The white slave holders became terrified of their slaves and started to ruthlessly torture them in hopes of extracting a confession that would help capture this strange man who was on the lips of everyone on the island. It didn't bother me that these slaves were being tortured because I knew that I would ev
entually take care of their masters, and they would be free.

  My human army had grown. Behind each soldier, there was a spirit that energized their power. The human soldier and spirit became one and birthed a new creature that was capable of acts that no human or spirit alone could carry out. This fusion between the physical and spiritual allowed the warrior to wander between both the land of the spirits and the land of flesh and blood without restrictions. This is how they administered poison in places that were impossible for the average human and the reason they were able to carry out tactics so brutal that any ordinary soldier would have resigned long ago.

  The more blood a soldier shed, the more powerful the spirit fueling him became. I knew that if my army continued to shed blood, it would soon become invincible, and a new creation would be birthed on the earth. I wasn’t sure exactly how much more blood needed to be shed for the transformation to be permanent, but I had no hesitation in finding out.

  I made my way around the entire island in various forms. As I was now the physical manifestation of the invisible God, I took any form that suited me and my mood. At times, I was a bird, a bat, a bee and other times a drop of rain, a pillar of smoke and fire. I visited her often, but she was unaware of my presence. She no longer tormented my every thought. She became the fuel I needed to conduct my mission and transform this world into one that was vastly more just and fair for all.

  My sweet Elena had given birth since I had been gone, and the master had agreed to keep the baby girl in the house as long as Elena obeyed his every command. I specifically told my army not to touch Breda plantation because I wanted to take care of Pierre myself but not before I rescued her.

  I watched her through a window. She sat in a wooden rocking chair singing sweetly to the infant. The baby’s rosy cheeks shone under the light of a candle, and I felt my powers draining. I entered her room in the form of a mosquito and took a seat on her bed. The more I watched her, the weaker I felt. My powers were thrown off guard by her purity and sweetness. A sudden guilt over the number of humans I had ruthlessly killed gripped me. I had not only killed slave owners but their children as well.

  Suddenly without warning, I morphed back into my human body. She opened her mouth to scream, but I quickly hushed her with my blood-stained hands. Her eyes widened, and she clutched the tiny baby to her chest. "You're alive," she whispered after I had uncovered her mouth.

  “I am,” I said.

  “You’re responsible for all of this, aren’t you?” she asked as if she were afraid of the response.

  “I am. You’re the one who told me that we needed to take massive action. I have done exactly that. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to end slavery on this island?”

  “Yes, but everyone is dying. Death itself has manifested in the flesh. The smell of rot and disease lingers in my nostrils, and terror has gripped the hearts of all the people even the poor slaves and you…”

  “I what?” I asked.

  “You’re different. You’ve changed. I can smell the blood on your breath and can see the vengeance in your eyes. I’ve lost you.”

  "I have changed. I've changed and have become a true king. The king all of you have been waiting for. I am no longer a coward who cannot defend his woman. Be my queen, and we will build the new kingdom together. You haven't lost me at all. I am here, and I am ready to take you with me."

  Her thick lashes fluttered as she looked down at the tiny baby in her arms. "What happened to our plans of fighting this horror within the confines of the law? The man who I fell in love with was strong, noble, powerful, intelligent but also kind. When I saw you on that dock what struck me most was your energy. It was full of such warmth even though you had just stepped out of a boat of horrors. All those nights you held me in your arms you spoke of changing the rules in a manner that was civilized. What you are doing to the slave owners and whites is no better than what they are doing to our people. I already have a man who indulges in ruthless acts of torture and terror. I don't need another one."

  I was taken aback by her sudden change of heart. “Once I kill all the slave owners, I promise that I will not shed another drop of blood.” I would find a way to stop my addiction to death and blood for her. I had to find a way.

  “You promise?” she asked in that innocent way that made me forget all of my grand ambitions and pulled me back into the world of mortal men.

  “Yes,” I said eyeing the baby. “What’s her name?” I asked suddenly thinking of what kind of clothes, shoes, and education I would purchase for the tiny doll that rested in Elena’s arms.

  “Her name is Lillian, but I call her Lily. I dream of naming all of my children after flowers. Sounds childish, doesn’t it? What is a good name for a boy named after a flower? I can’t imagine.”

  “No, I think it’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.” Thoughts of being king and god faded further and further away as the child wrapped her tiny pinky around my rough thumb. “A great name for a boy named after a flower is Chrys. Everyone would assume that it means Chrystopher when it really would stand for chrysanthemum.”

  Elena laughed as she watched me carefully search for other names that would be fitting for a boy named after a flower. “I’ve missed you,” she said softly, randomly and out of nowhere.

  “You have?” My eyes met hers, and I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arm.

  She nodded, rose from the rocking chair, and placed the baby in her wooden crib. "I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him," she said looking at the space where my arm had once been.

  "It's not your fault," I said taking a step closer to her and wrapping my arm around her. "Come with me, and I promise that as soon as this war is over, I will stick to our original plan and fight within the confines of the law."

  She searched my eyes and for a few minutes remained utterly silent and reflective. “Okay,” she said when she finally spoke. “As long as you promise that Lily will be safe.”

  “I promise.” I gave her my solemn vow.

  “Make love to me,” she said out of nowhere as she took off her cotton nightgown. I took in the sight of her body and was fully a man again. She had only become more enchanting since I had been gone.

  “Are you sure?” I asked trying my best to sound like a gentleman when this had been the one thing that we had not yet done and the one thing that I desperately had wanted to do with no one else but her.

  “Yes. Everyone is asleep, there is no danger if we keep quiet,” she said teasingly as she pulled me to the bed. I glanced at the bed with its soft linen and was relieved that at least Pierre had kept his word and was treating her with the dignity she deserved.

  We made love as the moon bathed us, and for a fleeting few moments, the stench of death and terror had been completely erased from my memory altogether. Her sweet scent and soft skin overtook my senses, and our hearts beat as one. Our limbs entwined as did our souls. Hers erased the ugliness that had been imprinted on my spirit from the moment it had manifested into this physical world. My place was with her, by her side and with Lily. Afterward, I held her in my arm and made vows to her that I said were unbreakable. I would never leave her or forsake her.

  “What is going on, my love?” Elena murmured as she felt my body stir and Lily cry. My eyes opened, and a beam of light from an oil lamp shone on our faces. It was held by none other than the master, Marcel and a handful of other barefoot slaves. I put my arm around Elena and quickly tried to transform us both into a beast, the wind or a pillar of fire. It didn’t work. A certain amount of my powers had been drained after I had made love to her. I leaped out of bed and with the power I could muster choked ten slaves one after another. They dropped like flies. Elena screamed as she saw how I had easily popped off their heads as if they were no more than mere puppets. The ground was full of heads, bodies, and blood.

  Elena got out of bed and immediately took Lily into her arms and covered her eyes with her hands as if the infant were capable of remembering what was taking place in front of h
er. Elena's eyes were full of terror, and I felt more of my power drain. One hundred slaves surrounded me, and every inch of my body was covered in chains. Every time I freed myself from one chain, another would be placed upon me.

  Pierre grabbed the baby from Elena’s hand and gave her to a female slave. He then grabbed a fist full of Elena’s hair and tugged it so viciously that it caused her to drop to her knees. “Lily! No, don’t hurt her, please!” Her wild cries were high and tormented with so much anguish that it was as if my very soul burned at the sound of them. The more she screamed, the weaker I became. “Let her go,” I said to Pierre calmly. “Let her go. You can have me, but you have to let her and the child go.”

  "No! Let her be killed! This useless girl is nothing. You are a god and gods don't die!" Erzulie's angry voice filled the room. A strong gust of wind accompanied her voice, and I knew that Bade, the wind spirit was angry. I didn’t care what they thought. I had dominion over them.

  “I will do this my way!” I screamed.

  “What is this savage raving about?” Pierre asked as he examined my face.

  “Let her go!” I demanded once again. “Let her go and you can have your way with me.”

  He released Elena’s hair but grabbed the tiny infant. “Give her to me,” Elena pleaded.

  Pierre smiled wickedly taking horrific pleasure in Elena’s agony. My heart broke, and I was fully human again. “Your battle is with me, not her,” I said no longer resisting my chains or fighting the group of slaves that surrounded me. Gods couldn’t die. I wouldn’t die. I would be back. “You can kill me. You can torture me, but if you touch a hair on her or the baby’s head, vengeance will come down on you with full force.”

  Pleasure, shock, and utter dread filled cocky Pierre's eyes. He fully well knew that I had an army that would come for him. He could stop me, but he couldn't stop my spirit or the legions of followers I had already created. The bastard quickly put on a brave face, and a fake smile replaced his fear. He turned towards Elena, "You either burn him, or you burn your baby. The choice is yours."