‘Bàbá, they are – the royal guards are coming for you,’ the boy said through shallow breaths.
Alawani and Kyà burst in from the bedroom. ‘What’s happening?’ Alawani asked.
‘There’s no time for questions. You must all leave now.’ Baba-Ìtàn brought out a red pouch of coins, and tossed it into the bag Kyà was carrying. L’?r? recognized it as the pouch where he kept all their life savings. The pouch that had kept them alive, one coin at a time. She tried to object but he said, ‘You’ll need it more than I will.’ She could’ve crumbled to the floor and wept – if she had the time. She managed to turn the corners of her mouth upward and give half a nod. Baba-Ìtàn reached for the maps and tucked them into her bag too. ‘Go to Ìlú-Idán, avoid the King’s Road. There’s a letter here for a woman who will help you,’ he said with reddened eyes and shaky hands. ‘Her name is Àdùk, she’s an old friend. Once you cross the borders into Ìlú-Idán, you need only say her name to the wind, and she will find you and help you out of Oru. Do you understand me?’
‘You’re not coming?’ Alawani asked.
‘No,’ Baba-Ìtàn replied, and L’?r? heard the coldness in his voice. Only then did she realize he’d always taken that tone with Alawani. She’d thought then that he was an overprotective father, but now, knowing what she knew … it all made sense.
‘I can’t go either. My family is here. My brother,’ Kyà said to L’?r?. ‘The Holy Order don’t know who I am. Between the hoods and the dark night, I don’t think they could have recognized me. I’ll be fine.’
L’?r? selfishly longed for his steadfast company but shecouldn’t imagine ever asking him for anything else. She’d disrupted his world far too much already. She only hoped that Kyà’s face and name were as hidden as he assumed. She moved to hug him and placed a kiss on his cheek. ‘Go. Thank you. I owe you, Kyà. I’ll make it up to you. I swear it.’ She hugged him again and smiled as his arms went around her. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered one last time, and pulled out of his embrace.
Kyà leaned into her ear, ‘I don’t know what your magic is, but remember, you were trained in the pits of Gbàgede. You’re a warrior. Make them sorry they ever tried to hurt you.’
L’?r? nodded, the lump in her throat heavy and tight. She didn’t know what it was like to have a sibling but she loved Kyà so much in a way that was different from the way she loved Alawani – and different from the way Kyà loved her.
Kyà smiled at her and bowed to Baba-Ìtàn. He looked at Alawani, and L’?r? could feel the tension between the boys, who’d been friends long before she came into their lives. They didn’t touch or hug. Just a mutual firm nod of understanding and then Kyà quietly slid out of the library’s door and disappeared around the corner.
‘What about you?’ L’?r? said to Alawani. She wished she didn’t have to ask, but she did.
Alawani raised his palm to show the mark of their oath, and her heart leapt in her chest. ‘I’m with you,’ he said, holding her gaze.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, and again hated that she did.
Baba-Ìtàn interrupted, ‘Don’t make promises to my daughter that you cannot keep. I blame you for this. If you had left us alone when I told you to, none of this would have happened.’
‘Baba?’ L’?r? called out, stepping between Alawani andher father. ‘Don’t say that. Alawani would never do anything to hurt me.’
‘That remains to be seen,’ Baba-Ìtàn scoffed.
‘I made my choice the moment I followed her out of the temple,’ Alawani said to Baba-Ìtàn. ‘As you know, there’s no going back now.’
L’?r? sighed in relief. She’d been holding her breath until his response. Then she returned to Baba-Ìtàn, whose lips quivered.
‘But you won’t come,’ L’?r? said.
Her father only shook his head. ‘My place is here. Between you and the evil that comes.’
L’?r? looked at her father, trying to commit his face to memory. Carving every line and curve, every shade and blemish into her mind.
‘Tèmil’?r? mí,’ Baba-Ìtàn said with a sad smile on his face. He guided her hands into his, ‘be careful with this power. It’s not a curse but it can do a lot of harm.’
L’?r? nodded, fighting back tears as her eyes caught the loose seams in his clothes that she never got around to fixing. There was so much she was leaving undone. So much she should have done.
Her father pulled out a single cowrie from his pocket and placed it firmly in her palm. ‘In this land, this is a sign of one’s kills, but in your mother’s homeland, your homeland, this is a sign of those you loved and lost. I kept this when I lost your mother – take it with you, and may her spirit sing to you the way she did when she was alive.’
L’?r? choked at his words, and it took all of her to not crumble as the pillars in her mind trembled as if shaken by the ground beneath them.
Baba-Ìtàn held her face in his palms, ‘Remember the daughter of whom you are.’
While the rest of the continent fought with bows and arrows, swords and spears the scions of the old gods used à?? to command the elements.
They summoned the winds, moved the earth, controlled water and breathed fire.
With all this power, they should have won the fight to come but a kingdom is only as great as its weakest link.
They did not win the war to come.
