Children of Virtue and Vengeance

by Tomi Adeyemi

  The thread takes all that I have, though there’s barely life to give. The world blurs out of focus as the moonstone’s light dims.

  Roën’s body floats back to the ground and my body falls with him, slumping over his corpse. I press my ear to his chest. The blackness closes in.

  Oya, please …

  My vision goes first. Then my body hangs limp. Sound starts to disappear, but as it goes, I hear it. Soft like the ocean tides.

  The fragile beating of his heart.

  Now connected to mine.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  AMARI

  FOR THE FIRST TIME since his death, I wish Father still lived. Chained up in the palace cellars. Somewhere I could talk to him.

  As the sun breaks over the mouth of the cave, the voice in my head isn’t enough. I need someone to give me answers. Tell me which path is right.

  “We need to go after them!” Tzain breaks through my thoughts. Concern sharpens all the hard lines in his face. He doesn’t beg to follow them as he has every hour. This time he states his command. “Something happened.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions!” I snap. I can’t have Tzain unravel on me now. I’m already unraveling on myself.

  What do I do?

  What can I do?

  What should I do?

  With each passing second, our victory slips away. The future of Orïsha goes up in flames. We need to take Mother and Inan out now, while they’re isolated and alone. If we can’t do it here, we won’t win this war.

  You’ll never beat her. You can’t. For Mother, no sacrifice is too great.

  Inan’s right. I can’t win unless I play their games. But can I really go through with this? Is any cost too great if it’ll end this madness?

  I think of all the villagers we saw in Dakarai’s search; the children playing in the lake, the parents lining up at the village well. I think of what it will actually mean to wipe Mother and Inan from their earth.

  I think of the fact that Zélie could be alive inside those walls.

  In what world could I sacrifice her after everything she’s done for me? Everything she means? She and Tzain are the people I love most in this world.

  Who will I be if I sacrifice that love just to win the war?

  “Look!”

  I snap my head up as Kâmarū runs to the entry point. Khani screams as Nâo rises through the carved hole, water propelling her upwards.

  She collapses onto the rock, blood and bruises coating her skin. My gut clenches when I realize that Zélie and Roën aren’t with her.

  “What happened?” Tzain rushes to them. “Where’s my sister?”

  “I don’t know,” Nâo says through her coughs. “There were explosions—”

  Before he can hear the rest, Tzain takes off, sprinting toward the cave’s exit.

  “Tzain, no!” I scream after him. He can’t go into the village. He doesn’t know what’s about to happen.

  “Tzain!” I yell, but he sprints like a man possessed. Other elders follow his lead. There’s only one way I can stop him.

  “Ya èmí, ya ara!”

  It’s like ripping my own heart in half to wield my magic against the boy I love. Tzain grunts as the cobalt blaze strikes him in the back. With a lurch, he tumbles to the cave floor. His legs are frozen stiff. He’ll never forgive me for this.

  I shall never forgive myself.

  “What are you doing?” he yells, and my resolve threatens to crack.

  “You can’t go in there.” I clench my fist. “None of you can.”

  He bares his teeth, but the rage falls away as realization sets in.

  “What did you do,” he breathes. “Amari, what did you do?”

  Everyone’s questions begin to mount at once, drowning me in their chaos. Kâmarū realizes Jahi’s absence first. Khani screams her sister’s name.

  Mother wouldn’t stop.

  I press my hands to my ears, trying to block out the noise. She would sacrifice anyone to win this war. How can I end it if I won’t do the same?

  “Amari—”

  “Everybody shut up!” I scream as the seconds tick away. The sun rises higher and higher into the sky. I dig my hands through my curls.

  Strike, Amari. Father’s face comes to me. I don’t need him alive to know what he would say. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was his first choice or his last resort. It wouldn’t matter if it cost him everyone he loved.

  I will be a better queen.

  My last words to him play through my ears. If I go through with this, I won’t be any better.

  But if I don’t, I’ll never get the chance to save Orïsha.

  When the sun hits its mark the soldiers patrolling the village will change guard. We only have seconds before we lose it all.

  They’ll find us at any moment.

  “I’m sorry.” I whisper the words to the wind as I bring the horn to my lips.

  My tears fall as the signal blares.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  ZÉLIE

  I DON’T KNOW if it’s possible to feel more drained than I do now.

  My body drags like lead.

  Every step pushes past death.

  Roën still lies unconscious, his remaining arm draped around my neck. My own is hooked tight around his waist as I drag him forward.

  “Almost there,” I whisper to him and myself. I don’t know how long we lay by that mountain lake, but when I opened my eyes, the moon still shone above. After hiking across the cold rocky trails, I see my old village glinting like a single star in the night. The pyramid ahérés rise a full kilometer away, creating their own mountain range around the lakes where Tzain and I used to play.

  I thought coming home after all this time would only fill me with more pain. That I would only see the horrible night of the Raid. But in the mountains, I see the nights Baba and I laid outside our ahéré, counting the stars. I remember watching Mama and the Reapers chant on the highest peaks, cleansing the village of spirits under the full moon.

  I feel everything I thought I lost. I feel my parent’s love.

  Despite everything that hurts, it’s another reminder to carry on.

  I push myself, moving despite how my legs shake. Ripped fabric bandages my shin, the only way to put pressure on my own wounds. I can barely support my weight, let alone Roën’s. His breathing remains shallow, but his heart still beats with mine. I pull strength from our connection even as it drains me to keep him alive.

  I don’t know how long we have before the connection eats through us both, but the command to live still breathes within me; a fire burning brighter than it ever has.

  I don’t want to run. I don’t just want to survive. I want to fight.

  I want to thrive—

  Wa-ooooooooo!

  My heart skips a beat as a horn rings through the air. I wait for Nehanda’s tîtáns to descend. But the horn doesn’t sound like any they’ve used before. In fact, it’s strangely familiar.

  It sounds like one of ours …

  I lay Roën down as the winds change direction. The flutter of flapping wings fills the air. Black-feathered hawks fly overhead, invading the sky like a storm as the horn blares again.

  I grab the nearest ledge, dragging myself up through their piercing shrieks and squawks. The hawks don’t fly toward us. They run from something else.

  I don’t know what awaits me as I pull myself over the cliff, but when I see it, my hands fall limp. Above, the winds move in a violent circle. They pick up speed as they come together, a sphere of air creating a dome.

  “What in gods’ names?”

  The enclosure touches down to the ground—a gate closing around Ibadan’s borders. No, not a gate.

  A barrier keeping everyone in the village locked inside …

  Amari, what is this? I squint, searching for the glimmer of our colored armor. But all questions fade when I realize the true nature of this attack. Rust-colored clouds build in the distance.

  The Cancer’s gas cli
mbs into the sky, rising a full kilometer into the air. It creates a wall within the dome of wind, just waiting to be unleashed on my helpless village.

  “Amari, don’t do this,” I whisper, pleading from afar. There’s a breath as the cloud hangs at Ibadan’s borders, growing higher and thicker by the second. But when the horn rings again, the cloud surges forward.

  The gas unleashes its attack, launching the wall of death.

  “No!” I scream.

  The cloud moves like a wave, crashing over everything in its path. Birds squawk as they try to escape, only to hit the rotating sphere of air and be thrown in another direction. One’s wings fold as it’s flung into the cloud.

  The second it’s hit by the gas, its body shrivels. It plummets to the ground.

  “Run!” I scream at the top of my lungs, not caring who hears me. In the distance a few villagers exit their homes, marveling at the orange smoke.

  I try to climb down from the ledge, but I only crash to the ground. There’s no way my legs will be fast enough. I have to use my magic. I have to move like Mâzeli.

  “Èmí òkú, gba ààyé nínú mi—”

  Four shadows of death twist from my hips like ribbons as I wrap my arms around Roën. I think of the way Mâzeli flew through the jungle as my shadows shoot forward.

  Rocks crack as they dig into the mountain stone. An instant is all I have before my body lurches through the air, propelled by my shadows like a slingshot.

  I grit my teeth, clutching Roën’s body as the world flies by. Mountains blur against the pale orange wall and I struggle not to inhale. As I’m propelled forward, the sky becomes the ground. I don’t have much time to orient myself before my descent. Though my magic wanes, I push again.

  “Jáde nínú àwon òjìjí re. Yí padà láti owó mi.”

  The wall of gas closes in as I swing through the mountain peaks with my shadows. Ibadan’s village center nears. The last place the toxic gas will hit. Landing there will buy us time, but where do we hide? If Nâo were here, we could dive into the lakes, wait in the water for the gas to dissipate—

  The well!

  I hone in on the circle of granite rock as the idea takes hold. Baba used to walk me there every morning, letting my legs dangle over his strong shoulders.

  As more villagers spill into the streets, I know it’s our only shot. We have to get inside. Barricade ourselves and pray to our gods.

  “The well!” I scream as the last shadow lowers me to the ground. “Get in the well!”

  Feet thunder as the villagers follow my command. I drag Roën over the edge and hand his body off to those who’ve already climbed down.

  “Come on!” I wave my hands as more people climb into the shelter. Hysteria transforms to honor as people push their spouses and children to the front. The wall of gas swirls like a storm, an endless orange cloud closing in from every direction.

  There’s not enough time.

  No matter what I do, they won’t all make it.

  “Wait!”

  The desperate plea rises above every other cry. I turn to find a woman with tears in her eyes. She pushes out her arms, frantic to save the baby in her hands.

  The gas is only seconds away. The woman cries out as it hits the back of her head. Blood shoots from her mouth on impact. Her skin shrivels as it turns black.

  I see the moment she realizes that she won’t make it. The baby falls from her hands.

  “Èmí òkú, gba ààyé nínú mi—”

  It’s the fastest I’ve ever seen a spirit transform. The mother’s corpse doesn’t even hit the ground before the incantation allows her soul to course through me, granting me new shadows, new arms. They reach out, catching the baby before it can hit the ground.

  The shadows retract as I pull the infant to my chest before the spirits transform.

  They block off the top of the well as the gas howls overhead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  AMARI

  I REMEMBER THE morning after the Raid as if it were yesterday.

  You would think the sun wouldn’t have risen, or the moon would’ve gone dark, but everything started exactly the same.

  I awoke with a start, six years old and searching for the pleated lines of Binta’s bonnet. My dreams had gifted me an adventure on the seas. I had to tell her everything.

  “Binta, where are you?” My voice echoed against the gold decor and pastel pinks of my quarters. But when the door swung open, a tall handmaiden entered, a kosidán with thin lips and a sharp chin.

  I sat with balled fists as she scrubbed my skin too hard. Pulled my hair too tight. Whenever I dared to ask where Binta had gone, the handmaiden pinched my arm. I broke free of her grip the first chance I got.

  “Father!” I slid across the marble floors as I ran. I thought the handmaiden shrieked after me with rage. Perhaps it was actually terror.

  I burst through the oak doors of the throne room, ready to make my case. But Father was still.

  So unnaturally still.

  “Father?” I stepped back into the hall. He always watched the sun rise over Lagos, but that day the very air held its breath around him.

  In that stillness I knew something had changed. We would never return to a kinder time again.

  All these years, I’ve wondered how he must have felt.

  Today I feel it myself.

  “No!”

  Tzain thrashes like a wild animal, desperate to break my mental hold. I can’t stomach the way he writhes. The tears and snot that drip past his nose.

  “How could you!” His screams are like shattered glass echoing in our silence. “How could you?”

  The toxic Cancer clouds begin to dissipate. Not even a single breeze moves between Ibadan’s mountains.

  I try to ignore the hollow pit in my chest. I won the war.

  But at what cost?

  Strike, Amari.

  The world spins around me though my feet stay rooted in place. There’s no going back from this. This is a strike Tzain and the elders won’t forgive.

  But I cannot allow that weight to break me now. We have our victory.

  It’s up to me to declare it.

  “Let’s go.” I march to my cheetanaire, mounting its leather saddle. This is the moment that will spread throughout the lands. The story that shall birth Orïsha’s future.

  A new kingdom will rise from these ashes. A kingdom worthy of these sacrifices. But no elders follow my lead. They all stand still in shock. Shock I don’t have the luxury to feel.

  They’ll understand in time.

  Right now I must go declare the end of this endless fight.

  I snap the reins of my cheetanaire, racing away before they can see me crack. I can’t stomach the sound of Tzain’s tears. The agony of his whimpers.

  My hands shake beyond my control. I can’t believe all the lives I took.

  Inan. Mother.

  Those soldiers. Those villagers.

  Zélie—

  No.

  I push away the weight I could never bear. If Zélie were alive, she would’ve returned with Nâo. The monarchy killed her with their explosions.

  Zélie’s sacrifice allowed us to win the war.

  That is the story we shall tell.

  But as I approach Ibadan’s borders, stories aren’t enough. Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.

  I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.

  I picture my best friend.

  Strike, Amari.

  Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.

  “Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”

  I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  ZÉLIE

  WHEN MY EYES flutter open, I don’t know where I am. It feels like I’m suspended in darkness. A light ci
rcles above my head.

  The rough cords of a rope are wrapped around my chest before I’m pulled toward the light. The infant still screams against my neck.

  “Pull her over the edge,” a weathered voice instructs.

  Firm hands latch onto my arms, pulling me over the side of the well. I shield my eyes as someone takes the baby from my hands and another bends to unwrap the soaked bandage from my bleeding shin.

  “Allow me.” I blink at the older woman who kneels by my side. She takes the white gele around her gray curls, using it to re-bandage my leg.

  “You saved us.” She shakes her head. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  I close my eyes, trying to think past the pain. My mind throbs with a vengeance. I can’t feel my legs. But the memories start to piece themselves together, bringing me to the well we used to escape. The shadows I channeled before everything went black.

  “Roën.” I clutch my chest, straining to feel him. His heart still echoes through me, but it grows weaker by the second.

  “They’re tending to him. They’re doing the best they can.” She points and I follow her hand to a pyramid ahéré beyond the well. Its stone doors are thrown wide open, revealing the village Healers and kosidán who huddle around his wounded form.

  “I have to go.” I bat her away, struggling to rise to my feet. I can feel his life within me, but his pulse is still too weak. The pressure is already building in my chest. The same crushing weight that hit before Mâzeli’s death.

  I don’t know how long I can sustain the connection before his dying body kills us both.

  “Zélie, please.” The woman holds me down, forcing a cup of fresh water down my throat. She clicks her tongue. “Just as stubborn as your mother.”

  “You knew Jumoke?”

  “I’ve never seen another Reaper move like that.” She nods. “I thought she had risen from the dead.” She sits back and looks out at the carnage. “Just when I thought the war would leave us behind.”

  Beyond her, I see the first body lying in the street. The man’s red cap sits in the dirt. Blood stains coat his lips and nose. The whites of his eyes are now yellow. His dark skin has turned black, shriveled from the Cancer’s gas.