by Ayana Gray
They met each other’s gaze for only a second before breaking into a sprint, skipping stairs two at a time. Ekon thought he knew where these led—to the other end of the temple’s ground floor, not far from the stable. He was relieved when they reached the last stair and he saw he’d been right: They were back in the lower-level hall where they’d been earlier that morning.
“That way,” he said to Koffi, pointing up ahead. They had started toward the double doors that led outside, when—
“Hey! Check downstairs!”
Fear shot through Ekon’s body. Without thinking, he grabbed Koffi by the waist and hauled her into one of the hall’s alcoves just as footsteps sounded at the other end. He peeked and, to his horror, recognized who’d just entered. Fahim and Shomari.
“Was someone already here?” There was wariness in Fahim’s voice.
“Not sure, but it’s better we confirm.” Shomari sounded much more confident.
Ekon froze as torchlight neared their hiding spot. The alcove wasn’t deep enough to hide them completely; any minute now they’d be exposed. He felt Koffi’s back pressed hard against his chest, her body shuddering against his as she tried not to make a sound. Shomari and Fahim had looked over the other side of the room, but they were getting closer, dangerously close—
“Mensah! Adebayo!”
Ekon nearly jumped out of his skin as yet another voice echoed from down the hall. He would know that voice anywhere, and his heart seized. It was Kamau. His mouth went dry as his brother came running into the room, looking between Fahim and Shomari. “Let’s go! Father Olufemi thinks the intruder went into the kitchens!”
The three turned on their heels without another word and raced up the stairs. Ekon didn’t relax until the hallway was silent again. Koffi’s breathing was still shallow, and he found his own heartbeat had synchronized with hers. Slowly, their bodies relaxed, but they still didn’t move. Warmth flooded his face when he realized his hands were on her waist. He moved them immediately.
“Now what?” Koffi whispered.
“The other door,” said Ekon. He moved from behind her, inching toward the door to the stable. The hallway was still silent, but he kept his ears pricked for noise nonetheless. His fingers wrapped around the old brass doorknob and pulled. Bright sunlight poured into the hall, and in that moment it was the most glorious thing Ekon had ever seen. Without another word, they both slipped through the door and into the blazing sunlight.
* * *
There was no mercy in an afternoon Lkossan sun.
But Ekon was grateful for it; he relished its burn on his bare arms and face as he and Koffi wove through the lunch crowds of the city’s central market. He kept waiting for them to be stopped, to be caught. He hadn’t gotten permission to leave the temple, so this was probably going to ruin the second chance Kamau had given him. Even now, he fought to keep his breathing slow and even. His fingers tapped at his sides.
One-two-three. One-two-three. One-two-three.
They’d found separate places to change clothes in the stable before heading into the market, and now he was wearing a plain brown kaftan instead of the white one befitting a servant of the temple. It wouldn’t prevent someone from recognizing him if they saw his face, but at least it would garner less attention. He glanced at Koffi.
“We need to look at the journal,” he said in a voice only she could hear as they walked side by side.
“Where?”
Ekon looked around, frowning. After a moment, an idea came to him, and he nodded. “I know a place,” he said. “Follow me.”
They said nothing as they cut through streets and alleys, Ekon leading the way until they reached another district of the city. His lungs burned as a stench like earth and fire filled them, and a metallic clanging assaulted his eardrums in a steady, repetitive rhythm he could appreciate. Billows of black smoke thickened the air, nearly obscuring them in darkness, and by the time the first of the blacksmiths’ tents came into view, he was relieved to find his instinct about this place was right. He gestured toward a spot behind one of the many working tents, and Koffi obliged.
“The Sons of the Six don’t linger in the Kughushi District.” He had to lean in to be heard amid the constant hammering of the anvils. “No one really does unless they have to.”
“I can see why.” Koffi was holding both hands over her ears, grimacing. “I can barely hear myself think.”
“Let me see the journal.”
Koffi shrugged her bag off her shoulder and started to withdraw it, but Ekon’s eyes caught the white glint of something else. He squinted. With a distinctly guilty look, Koffi tried to shove whatever it was back into her bag, but he caught her wrist.
“What is that?”
“If you must know.” Koffi gave the journal a final tug to get it out of the bag before shooting Ekon a daring look. “It is a dagger.”
“From where, exactly?”
Koffi fidgeted. “I may have procured it while I was in the Kuhani’s study.”
“You weren’t supposed to take anything else from the study—”
“Yeah, well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?” She rapped him on the arm with the book, and he scowled. “You want to look at this thing or not?”
Ekon started to say more, then thought better of it. He nodded and carefully took the book from her. He sighed as he read the foiled lettering on the cover:
SATAO NKRUMAH
SCHOLAR OF THE ESHŌZAN CONTINENT IN GENERAL
AND THE ZAMANI REGION IN PARTICULAR
“Wow.”
“You can read that?” Koffi asked.
“I can.” He felt Koffi’s eyes on him as opened the front cover. The first page featured a map of the entire continent of Eshōza; the next page featured a map of the Greater Jungle. He studied each in turn. The journal’s pages were made from old papyrus, soft to the touch. Perhaps it was the sunlight filtering in, but there was a strange beauty captured in them, a special care. He flipped back to the first map. It stretched like an intricate web, a thousand lines and shapes spidering out in all directions from the map’s very center to the farthest corners of the paper. He took in the Zamani Region’s most famous features—the treacherous bay known as the Tusks for its jagged shape, the Eastern Ndefu River that Brother Ugo had told him stories about—but there were places new to him too. He saw the Ngazi Ranges of the north, the Nyingi Isles of the south, even the legendary Katili Desert in the west. It was the entire continent of Eshōza, laid bare. Some parts of the ink still held their original black; others had faded to gray translucence. He couldn’t believe a single person had created a thing so detailed.
Koffi ran a finger over one point on it before looking up at him. “What’s that?”
“The Kidogo River, northwest of here.”
“And here?” She pointed to another spot, bordered by a large cluster of trees.
“That is Lkossa,” he said. “There are other small townships in the Zamani Region, of course, that aren’t on here, but Lkossa’s the largest. This big cluster is the Greater Jungle, and the one below it is called the Lesser Jungle.”
Koffi leaned in, then pointed to something small at the bottom of the map. “What’s that?”
Ekon followed her finger again and squinted. It was a word he didn’t recognize.
“It says . . . sanda,” he read with a frown.
“What’s that mean?”
“Don’t know.” Ekon shrugged. “Could be a reference note. The old masters used all sorts of specific codes to make their maps.” He flipped over to the map of the Greater Jungle again and took a second look. This map was clearly drawn by the same hand, but it still felt different. The quill strokes seemed slightly less precise, the labels messier. This map looked more like a first sketch. He noticed something on it and paused. “Huh, that’s interesting.”
“What?”
>
“This section.” Ekon nodded. “It’s called ‘the Heart of the Jungle.’ ”
Koffi raised an eyebrow. “Is that important?”
“It could be.” Ekon raked his fingers through his hair. “My guess is that it’s probably considered the center of the jungle, or maybe the oldest part of it.”
Koffi stared at the map a second longer, then: “I think that’s where the Shetani lives.”
Ekon frowned. “That wouldn’t make sense. Look at where that is.” He pointed again. “That’s at least a few days’ walk—”
“For something with two legs.”
He stared at her. “You really think it could go back and forth that quickly?”
Koffi pressed her lips together, thoughtful. “What do we know about the Shetani?”
“Well, people say—”
“Not speculation,” said Koffi. “What do we know to be fact?”
Ekon hesitated, thoughtful. That kind of question reminded him of the way Brother Ugo had quizzed him as a boy. Answer the question I ask, and answer the entire question. He paused.
“We know the Shetani has been alive for nearly a century, at least,” he said. “Possibly longer.”
“What else?”
“We know the Shetani attacks at night.”
“Always?”
“Always.” Ekon nodded. “There’s a pattern. People go missing after sundown, then their bodies turn up the next morning at the jungle’s edge. The timing is always the same.”
“Which means this thing is nocturnal and deliberate. It hunts like a classic predator, with a practiced method. Find the prey—”
“Kill the prey.”
“Then hide.”
“The most recent killing happened three days ago,” said Ekon.
“So it would be hiding now,” said Koffi. “Waiting until everyone’s guards are down again. Which means . . . it would be somewhere no one would go. No one’s ventured that far into the Greater Jungle before and returned. It would think of that place as a safe haven.”
Ekon looked at the map, walking his fingers back and forth between the Heart and Lkossa. “It would take us three to four days to get there, if we don’t . . .” He hesitated. “If we don’t run into trouble.” He traced along the edge of the jungle. “This small space that separates Lkossa from the jungle is called the borderlands. That would be the most direct path into it. It’s also part of the Sons of the Six’s patrol route.”
“Is there a way to get past them?”
Ekon paused. “There is, but it’s a slim chance.”
“Then it’s the one we have to take,” said Koffi. She massaged her temples. “Thank the gods it’s just us going after this thing,” she muttered. “I don’t know what I’d do if this were any more complicated.”
Ekon swallowed the words in his throat. He’d just been about to inform Koffi of the hunting party, but something stopped him. What if, after he told her, she reneged on their deal? What if that one extra detail ruined the whole thing? No, he decided it then. He wouldn’t tell her about the hunting party, at least not yet.
Koffi looked from the map to him. “When can we go?”
“Tonight.” Ekon looked to her. “If you’re ready.”
Koffi nodded. “I am.”
“We’ll buy supplies,” said Ekon. “Then lie low near the borderlands until dusk so that we can go in without being seen. If we keep to that schedule, we’ll be in the jungle before nightfall.” He didn’t say his last words aloud.
And then, the hunt begins.
Invisible String
ADIAH
In and out.
I blink hard to keep the tears in my eyes from falling, but I taste their salt anyway.
In and out.
I can’t find Tao, so today I don’t go up to our secret place to hide. Instead, I sit at my parents’ house, in my tiny bedroom, dreading when they’ll be home from work. I know by then they’ll have gotten the report from the temple, so they’ll know about what happened today. I can already imagine their disappointment, the shame. This time I deserve both.
This time, I really messed up.
Even now, the memory of Azaan’s face makes me nauseous, a stain on my conscience like spilled palm wine on linen. I remember every detail, the full lips and straight nose, the squarish shape of his jaw. I remember the way his features pinched when the pain hit him, the sound he made.
I remember all the things I don’t want to.
* * *
My memories pull me back to an earlier part of the day, to the before. Azaan and I are standing in the midst of the temple’s sparring lawns, inside a large circle made from fist-sized stones. To our right, Brother Dwanh presides.
“We will follow the standard rules of sparring conduct.” He eyes us both, explaining the rules in his reed-thin voice. “The match is over when one of the participants steps outside of the outlined parameters. Remember, this is strictly a hand-to-hand combat. Do not summon the splendor.”
“Ready.” Azaan, standing several inches taller than me, offers a cocky smile. “Don’t worry, Adi. This will be quick.”
I keep my expression neutral, impassive. “That’s just what I was thinking.”
“Very well.” Brother Dwanh nods and steps back. “Begin.”
We take our stances at opposite sides of the circle, feet apart and arms spread wide. I know Azaan well enough to know how this is going to go. He’s a Combatant, built tall and lean like a scarecrow, probably best in our class after me. He tends to strike to debilitate, light rapid hits that take an opponent down before they even know what’s hit them. He’s fast.
I’m faster.
He winks at me, kicking his foot in the ground to create a cloud of dirt that’s meant to distract. I don’t fall for it, and brace myself as he lunges for me and tries to kick me out from under my feet.
I jump just in time.
I’ve barely landed before Azaan switches tactics, using the advantage of his height to drive me back in an onslaught of quick punches I have to duck from. In other cultures, people don’t believe that men and women should fight each other this way, but Azaan and I are equals. I know he won’t hold back because I’m a girl.
One of his punches finally connects, a blow to the shoulder that tears a cry from me. The sound of his triumphant laugh is infuriating, and carelessly, I go for an undercut that he immediately blocks. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know that we are nearing the edge of the circle’s border; a few more steps and I will lose this.
That can’t happen. I can’t lose today.
I feint right, and just as I was expecting, he takes the bait, following my body. Instead of throwing a punch or kick, I shove him square in the chest to give myself space, then leap into the air. As though time has slowed, I bring my knees up to my chest and open my hands, drawing the splendor to me like an instinct. It rises from the earth, answering my call as it courses through my veins in a sudden rush. When I come back to earth, my palms slap against the ground, a tremendous boom shaking everything around me. I watch with a thrill as the splendor leaves my hands and moves in unnatural ripples toward Azaan.
I know as soon as it reaches him that I’ve made a mistake.
The earth shudders a second time as the force of my power sends Azaan flying high, as though he’s been pulled backward by an invisible string. There’s a terrible pause while his body arcs, suspended, and then he comes crashing down. I hear the clean snap of his bones as they break on impact, watch blood seep into the dirt around him. One of his legs is bent at an odd angle. He doesn’t move as the other darajas run toward him. I know I should too, but I can’t.
“It was an accident.” My words are barely audible, but I need to say them, I need someone to understand. “I didn’t mean to. I—”
“Adiah.” Brother Dwanh’s eyes cut to m
e, wary. He doesn’t sound angry; he sounds afraid. “It’s . . . probably best you go.”
I want to say more, but I don’t. I just turn and run. I’m fast, but I’m not fast enough to outrun the whispers I imagine chasing at my heels.
Dangerous, those whispers say. Volatile. Unstable.
Later, I learn that Azaan was taken to the temple’s infirmary with several injuries, but thankfully none that are life-threatening. His broken bones will mend, and the open wounds on his body will heal.
My reputation will not.
Dangerous. I hear my classmates now, the things they’re probably saying about me back at the temple. Volatile. Unstable.
I start to wonder if they’re right, to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.
In and out.
I have to learn how to control myself.
In and out.
I have to learn how to control this power.
In and out.
Before it controls me.
CHAPTER 15
The Old Darkness
Ekon felt the jungle’s presence long before he saw it.
When he was honest with himself, he supposed he always felt it in a way, lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments. They were still a little under a half mile from the borderlands, but already he could see the tops of the Greater Jungle’s oldest and tallest pines peeking above rooftops. With each step, the old voice in his head grew louder. He’d expected it, of course, but that made it no easier to hear.
Ekon. Baba’s voice was faint this time, wavering, the sound of a man truly suffering. My son, please . . .
Ekon screwed his eyes shut as the usual images flooded him: thorned vines as thick as his arm, the roots of black trees rising from the soil like coiled serpents determined to entrap him. Suddenly, he was a little boy again, alone. He heard a low snarl, met the gaze of an ancient creature with cold, empty eyes. He’d been so small in comparison, and its teeth had been so large. His skin turned clammy at the memory, lips going numb as a familiar darkness began to seep into the corners of his vision. It was getting harder to breathe by the second; his mouth was far too dry.