Beasts of Prey

by Ayana Gray

  Fedu was getting closer, only a few yards from them now. Koffi looked down at her own hand, inches from Adiah’s too-still paw. For some reason, the longer she stared at it, the more clearly she heard Adiah’s voice. She remembered the two of them standing in the Greater Jungle, the moment she’d looked into the eyes of a girl who was lost, tired, afraid.

  I cannot endure this pain for another century, she’d said. I am not strong enough to fight Fedu if he captures me, do you understand?

  Koffi had understood. They’d had a plan, and now it was gone. Fedu had won. He would take Adiah away, just as he’d always intended to, and use her for his own means. And Adiah would let him, not because she wanted to, but because she had nothing left, because she couldn’t keep running anymore.

  Once upon a time, another lifetime ago, she’d been someone else, a girl with hopes and dreams and loves and wants. She’d been a girl caught between her heart and her mind. In the end she’d chosen both, a scarier thing, but the braver thing. Koffi reflected on that. Maybe there was something to be said for learning how to do that, how to make the braver choice. In the back of her mind, she remembered the offhand words of an old woman in a marketplace, a lesson: Anything can be bartered for, if you know its true value.

  In that moment, she knew what to do.

  Her fingers extended, the smallest of movements, until they brushed Adiah’s fur. They were barely touching, but that was all she needed. As soon as the splendor felt her touch, a new host, it came to her, tearing through as suddenly and powerfully as a storm surge. She watched in a haze as Adiah’s body began to change again, morphed and reshaped into something more human. In the distance, a voice cried out.

  “What are you doing?”

  She didn’t look at him, but Koffi could hear the bewilderment in the god’s voice, his confusion. She ignored him. The rush of the splendor drowned the rest of the words as it overtook her, overpowered her. In the same moment she felt it fill her body to the brim, she knew that it was too much—far too much—but she didn’t let go. This was her choice, her choosing, her barter.

  She thought she heard the air shift when she finally let go of Adiah and sat up. The movement cost her something; her muscles ached, and her shoulders pounded. She felt . . . heavier.

  “How are you doing that?”

  She looked up and found that Fedu had stopped mere feet from her, his eyes genuinely wide with shock. “How is your body able to hold so much of the splendor? It shouldn’t be possible—”

  “I want to make a barter.” Koffi could barely keep her eyes open. “Leave Adiah and Ekon alone and take me. I’ll go willingly.”

  “Koffi, no!”

  Something ripped inside her as she looked in Ekon’s direction and watched horror spread across his features. It was worse than she could ever have imagined. She made herself look at the god instead, waiting.

  “Very well.” Fedu was still staring at her, face full of surprise, but he seemed to be coming around to the idea. He was nodding. “You’ll come with me, now.”

  Koffi didn’t argue. It took every fiber of her will to lift herself from the ground, to walk toward the waiting god. The splendor reverberated through her with every step. Her mouth went dry as Fedu’s fingers fettered her wrists, no different from the ropes that had once bound her hands, but she resisted the urge to wince. She would not show fear, not here. She would not show anything. She glanced at Ekon a final time; he was the last thing she saw.

  And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 34

  Beasts of Prey

  There was a flash of light across the garden, and then there was nothing.

  It took several seconds for the ringing in Ekon’s ears to abate. Even after it did, his eyes stayed shut. Seconds passed before he sat up, coughing through the haze of smoke and debris that filled the air. He looked around the garden a moment before his heart dropped.

  “Koffi? Koffi!”

  He jumped to his feet, ignoring the new pain. The entire sky garden was beyond recognition, burned and charred as though an unseen force had ravaged every iota of life there. Even the soil, once rich and brown, had turned brittle and ash gray. He stared at the place where Koffi had stood opposite Fedu just seconds ago while his mind tried to put together the pieces. She’d been there, right there. Now she wasn’t.

  No. The panic was instant, pervasive in Ekon’s mind. For the first time in a long time, an old haze threatened his vision.

  No, no, no.

  He remembered the look on her face abruptly, the two emotions warring with each other in every inch of her expression. There’d been a terrible sadness in that look, but also something scarier still—resolve mixed with resignation, a decision being made. Koffi had made a choice to go with Fedu, but where had he taken her? Where had they gone?

  His eyes cast over the sky garden again, then stopped. A small movement caught his attention. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing, and when he did, his blood cooled. It was a body. Slowly, carefully, he approached it, muscles tensed. He came to a stop and stared down at it, confused.

  The body belonged to a woman of an indeterminate age. She was tall and thin—with dark curly hair framing her face in a halo. Flower petals and leaves were littered across her naked body, and her eyes were closed in the gentlest way. Ekon supposed she could have been sleeping, but somewhere deep down he knew she was not. He also suspected he knew who this woman was, or at least who she’d once been. There was no hesitation as, carefully, he lifted her. Some of the flower petals that had covered her fell away, but others seemed to cling to her with a loyalty as he carried her to the once flower bed and lowered her into it. There wasn’t enough dirt here to bury her, but something kept him from leaving just yet. He searched the ground around him until he found a rock with a sharp enough edge and kneeled beside her a second time. Every muscle in his body hurt as he traced the words in the dirt, but he made himself take his time anyway. When he was finished, he studied the letters.

  Satao and Adiah

  It was inadequate, he knew that as he stared at the tiny inscription, but it was all he had. With effort, he rose again, letting the rock slip from his fingers and clatter against the stone. Something in the air seemed to shift, but he kept still, waiting for a thing he wasn’t even sure he could name. There was an irony to it; all his life, he’d been taught the ways of being a warrior and thought those were also the ways to be a man. Burying the body of a young woman hadn’t been part of that training, but in doing it, he felt distinctly older, like he’d paid a sort of quiet price. It wasn’t the custom of his people, the act didn’t follow the tradition, but he found he wasn’t sorry for it. He gave the daraja one final look before heading for the garden’s trapdoor. It felt strange dropping through it this time, landing on the stairs amid fragments of wood from the door Adiah had destroyed. Distantly, he heard the sounds of party revelers still in the temple’s worship hall, but they felt like inhabitants of an entirely different world now, like something separate. Quietly, he emerged from the stairway and closed the door behind him. He knew, at some point, someone would likely find the trapdoor and the sky garden; by then, he’d likely be long gone.

  He crept down the hallway, back toward the dormitories. A plan began to unfurl in his mind. He would grab supplies from his bedroom, food from the kitchens if he had time, then—

  “Ekon?”

  Ekon tensed, at once uneasy and afraid. He’d known, from the moment he heard the voice, who he’d see when he turned around, but that didn’t make it any easier to meet Kamau’s eyes. His brother was standing at the other end of the hallway. The skin between his brows was pinched hard in confusion.

  “What are you doing here?” Kamau asked. His brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you at the feast?”

  “I’m leaving, Kamau.” Ekon swallowed. “I can’t . . . I can’t be a Son of the Six.”

  “Lea
ving?” His brother repeated the word like it was foreign, then shook his head. He even gave a half-hearted laugh. “You wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to me, or Brother Ugo.”

  Ekon’s heart drummed painfully in his chest. Even if, in this moment, he was horrified by his brother’s actions, he didn’t relish having to tell him the truth. He took a deep breath, then drew himself up to full height. “Kam, Brother Ugo is . . . gone.”

  It was as though he’d slapped Kamau across the face; his brother actually stumbled back as the words hit him. There was a sad moment as real horror crossed his face.

  “Gone,” he repeated hollowly. “What do you mean, gone?”

  There was no hiding it. Ekon’s voice trembled. “He’s not here anymore.”

  “But how?” Kamau took a step forward, visible pain rippling across his face. “Why did he—?” He paused, as though something was dawning on him; then his expression contorted with rage. “You hurt him.”

  “What?” Ekon started. “No, Kamau—”

  “I told you he was praying.” Kamau stalked forward, teeth bared. “You weren’t supposed to disturb him. Now you’ve done something to him.”

  Ekon’s heart thundered wild in his chest. The words his brother was saying, the emotions, none of them were logical. A sliver of moonlight from one of the hall’s windows illuminated Kamau’s face as he came closer. In that fleeting moment, Ekon saw it.

  Kamau’s pupils didn’t look right. They were wide—eerily dilated.

  A sickly sweet scent filled the air then, stinging Ekon’s nose as he tried not to inhale. He tried to keep his voice even. “Kamau, listen to me.”

  There was no warning before he charged. Ekon barely had time to brace himself before Kamau was upon him. Stars exploded in his vision as they collided, then crashed to the ground, bodies smacking against the stone floor. He tried to get free, to wriggle out of Kamau’s grip as his brother grabbed his wrists and pinned him down. Up close, he smelled the remnants of the hasira leaf on his brother’s clothes, saw the unnatural bloodshot quality of his brother’s eyes. He kicked as hard as he could and sent Kamau reeling back, but it cost him. A stab of renewed pain lanced through one side of his body like fire without warning, and he winced. It was all Kamau needed. In seconds, he was back on top of him, this time with his fingers closing around Ekon’s neck. Ekon gasped. Spots were forming in his vision, the world growing hazier by the second.

  “Kam . . . ,” he wheezed. “Kam . . . please . . .”

  He didn’t know exactly what did it, whether it was the quality of his voice or the way he said Kamau’s name. But in that fraction of a second, past the hard glassiness of his brother’s eyes, he saw something else—a flicker. It was infinitesimal, barely visible, but there all the same. That flicker, that tiny modicum in Kamau’s eyes, was the part of him the hasira leaf’s poison couldn’t reach. Ekon held his brother’s gaze and locked on to that something, pleading.

  “Please.” He whispered the word as his brother’s grip tightened. “Please.”

  Kamau’s fingers loosened slightly, only for a moment, but Ekon took advantage of it. He shot up abruptly, knocking heads with Kamau so hard his brother fell back and slumped on the floor, out cold. Slowly, Ekon rose, trying to ignore the hazy world around him and the new throbbing in his forehead. He stared down at Kamau’s sprawled body and fought to temper the tightening in his throat. When the tears welled and fell, he didn’t stop them; he was too tired. All his life, he’d been taught the same things. Men didn’t cry. Warriors didn’t cry. He’d wanted to a warrior, believed that the title and rank would give him something he wanted, needed. Emotion had been a thing to bury without remorse because that was how to show strength. So, he’d buried his pain. He’d spent years burying anything that made him uncomfortable, upset, or nervous, and he’d run from his own nightmares until they’d hunted him down like beasts of prey.

  He was tired of running too.

  Ekon knelt beside his brother, gently lifting until Kamau was propped against the wall. He squeezed his hand before he stood.

  “Goodbye, brother.”

  Then he turned and ran.

  * * *

  By the time he reached the temple’s back door, the starry sky was obscured in cloud cover. Every muscle in Ekon’s body protested as he crouched low, but there was no choice; he couldn’t be seen. He said a silent prayer of thanks as he crept under the Takatifu District’s golden arches and found its posts abandoned; either the warriors usually stationed here had gone to the feast, or they’d been alerted that there was trouble elsewhere.

  The city’s streets were empty too, an indication of how late in the night it was. Ekon winced as the first drizzles of rain pelted his bare arms, slicking his sandals so that every step was harder and harder. He was close to the Chafu District, the city’s slums, and if he could just get there and hide until he was rested enough to travel to the Greater Jungle . . .

  “You there,” a voice rang out. “All citizens have been ordered to their homes. State your business!”

  Ekon’s blood went cold as he picked up his pace.

  He heard the crunch of someone else’s sandals in the dirt, following him.

  “Halt!” the voice rang out, its speaker starting to run. “In the name of the Six!”

  Ekon broke into a run. He veered right, then ducked into a narrow alleyway as the sounds of more warriors neared. These alleyways weren’t familiar to him. He wasn’t sure if he was managing to lose the warriors or get himself more lost. He came to the end of one street and stopped. He was reaching his limit, his body still beaten from his encounter with Fedu.

  “Tsst!”

  Ekon jumped. The street around him was dark, empty, but the sound he’d heard was distinct. His eyes panned, searching.

  “Tsst, boy,” said a female voice. “In here, quickly!”

  Ekon looked left. The door to one of the shops he’d thought was closed had abruptly opened, and a hooded figure was peeking out of it, beckoning frantically.

  “Come!”

  It was a dangerous risk, and maybe a stupid one, but Ekon was out of choices. He darted into the shop; the figure who had waved to him moved out of the way only long enough for him to get inside before shutting the door behind them both. They weren’t a moment too soon; seconds later, the pounding sound of marching Sons of the Six warriors passed. When they were gone, Ekon took in his new surroundings.

  It was impossible to discern what had once been sold in this shop. Slowly, Ekon looked to his savior.

  “Who . . . who are you?”

  The figure, still hooded, didn’t answer.

  “Why did you help me?” Ekon pressed, keeping his voice at a whisper.

  This time, the figure nodded. “You’re hurt, and you need treatment.”

  Ekon frowned. “Not until you tell me—”

  “I’ll explain everything, I promise,” she said. “But first, come with me, before you make things worse. I have a place you can lie down.”

  Ekon wanted to ask more questions, but his fatigue was growing. Slowly, he followed the hooded figure along a crooked hall until they reached what looked like the back of the shop, where usually inventory would be kept. But this was no inventory room. Its dusty walls were illuminated by a small, flickering oil lamp, and several sacks of what appeared to be flour were pushed together in one corner in a makeshift bed. The figure gestured for Ekon to sit. As soon as he did, the pain crept in. He’d never felt so sore in his life, and worse, there was still something throbbing painfully in his side like a knife. Involuntarily, he rubbed the spot, and the pain increased tenfold. He groaned.

  “Lie down,” the figure ordered. “Your injuries are severe.”

  Through his haze Ekon stared at the spot on his side where the pain was worst; there was nothing there. He stared back up at the figure, trying to find a face beneath the hood’s shadow.


  “I’m fine,” he muttered. “There’s nothing there.”

  “I’m not talking about your physical wounds, boy.”

  Ekon started to argue, but without warning the figure finally drew her hood back. Ekon started.

  He’d only seen the old woman once before, but he recognized her. It was a strange sensation, and he felt something return to him like a half-forgotten dream. He saw short cottony hair, dark skin, and an amulet hanging from a leather cord around her neck. Up close and in better light, he saw a symbol was crudely carved into the metal, but he still didn’t know what it meant. The first time he’d seen her, in the streets of the city’s slums, she’d looked different, but . . .

  “You. You’re the one who—”

  “My name is Themba.” The old woman introduced herself matter-of-factly before pointing to the sacks. Bits of white cottony hair stuck out from her head wrap. “Lie down and stop moving, before you hurt yourself.”

  “I’m fine—” Ekon stopped short at the look she cut him, her eyes full of challenge. “All right.”

  Themba placed her knobby hands on Ekon’s shoulders and pressed him down onto the flour sacks with surprising strength, then straightened to inspect him. After a moment, she sucked her teeth.

  “Worse than I thought,” she said, as though talking to herself. She cracked her knuckles and looked to Ekon, her expression wary. “I will try to do this gently, but I must warn you. It will still probably be painful.”

  Ekon barely had time to sit up. “What are you—?”

  And then he was in pain, even more excruciating than what he’d felt in the garden. His back arched as he felt something pulled from him, something with a viselike grip. Just as quickly as the pain came, it was gone, but fresh tears still sprang to Ekon’s eyes.

  “That’s the worst of it,” said Themba. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Now let’s get you some sustenance.”