Chapter Twenty Yeeran #3
Reena was watching her. Her hand hovered above her drum, ready to strike. Yeeran was at the crate now. The petals smelled savoury and fresh, similar to fennel.
As she leaned down to pick it up, she saw Reena’s hand move as though to strike. But Malak’s hand caught her elbow from behind.
What is Malak saying, Pila?
‘…plant matter, it will be consumed too. Let them have hope for now. It will crush them all the more.’
Though Yeeran didn’t fully understand the snippet of the conversation, she did know one thing: she had to get out of there fast.
Pila lowered her horns to carry the crate, and Yeeran quickly balanced it on top.
Do you think you can run with that, Pila?
Yes, climb on.
Though no drumfire came their way, Pila ran as though chased by an army, her horns adorned with a bright yellow beacon of petals.
And Furi’s salvation.
—
‘Is that it?’ Rayan asked as they crossed the boundary.
Pila lowered her head and Rayan laughed.
‘I can’t believe you actually did it! The chieftains let you leave with this many petals?’
Yeeran jumped down, a frown knotting her brows together.
‘I didn’t see the chieftains, it was Malak’s regiment who were patrolling the entrance. They were loyal to him so carried out his orders.’
Rayan’s smile slipped. ‘What’s wrong? This is a good thing, right?’
‘Yes, of course, we finally have the cure. But there was something odd about the whole exchange.’ She recounted everything.
‘You are sure that the uniforms were not being rolled out in phases? It could be that Waning simply were not wearing theirs yet.’
It seemed the most likely scenario, but something still felt off. She’d seen other soldiers in Waning wearing the new uniform the last time she’d been there.
‘Why, what other reason could there be?’ Rayan asked, reading the concern on her face.
‘I’m not sure, a coup maybe?’
‘Do you think Malak capable of it?’
His words came back to her…‘It will crush them all the more…’
‘Yes, I think like the army itself, I may have underestimated Malak too.’ She relayed some of the conversation they’d had in the prison.
Rayan and Yeeran looked at each other. Had they just exchanged their most valuable asset in ending this war?
‘We had no choice,’ Yeeran said, breaking the silence. They may have acted rashly, but every second wasted was a second closer to Furi’s inevitable death.
She picked up the crate. ‘We shouldn’t delay, let’s get the petals steeping in owen tree sap as quickly as we can.’
‘Yes, and as we walk let me tell you of what else I’ve learned about Afa.’
Yeeran was intrigued and was about to say as much when she heard a faint rustling.
Pila’s ears pinned back. The leaves are coming, Pila said urgently.
Leaves?
‘Can you hear that?’ Rayan said.
Yeeran turned to the boundary opening. ‘Wings, not leaves, Pila. Wings.’
An insect flew into Mosima and landed on her arm. Its pale green body was thick, the size of her middle finger, and delicately patterned in stripes and spots.
It jumped from her hand and into the hister flower crate.
No, no, no, no.
Yeeran didn’t think twice, she grasped its body and squeezed. But it was soon replaced by another.
‘Locusts,’ Rayan said with bone-chilling dread.
Then the swarm arrived. A cloud so thick Yeeran could no longer see in front of her face.
‘We need to protect the hister flowers,’ Yeeran shouted.
Together Yeeran and Rayan began to weave their magic together to create a protective barrier around the crate.
‘Steady!’ Yeeran shouted, as the swarm battered the magical cage, trying to gain access to the bright yellow flower.
The locusts were in Yeeran’s hair, their legs skittering across her scalp. One was crawling across her ear to her neck and another had got caught in her jacket, but still she did not move. She would not give up the cure.
Pila snapped at the locusts with her jaws, flinging away what she could, but there were too many.
It felt like an hour Yeeran stood there, but it must have only been a few minutes. Sweat pooled in her collarbone from the effort. She had exerted her magic over the last few hours, and she felt the exhaustion in her marrow.
Soon the rustling of the locusts’ wings abated and all that was left was the sound of her panting breaths.
She let her magic dissipate and went to inspect the petals.
‘Only a few damaged, but we should get them to the apothecary now,’ Yeeran said. ‘Malak’s trickery runs deeper than I thought–to send locusts after me? He is devious.’ She was angry at herself, furious for being so na?ve, even after Malak had warned her.
‘We need to seal the boundary immediately, no more waiting for any obeah to return,’ she continued, then realised she’d had no response from Rayan. ‘What is it?’
He was standing at the top of the steps that oversaw Mosima. His finger pointed into the distance.
Yeeran went to see what he was looking at.
Her stomach sank. The cloud of locusts had found the agricultural land and were sating their appetites.
‘They’re attacking our food,’ he said softly, almost in wonderment, like this was some kind of dream.
But few nightmares could have conjured up such horror, and Yeeran found herself wondering what was best: To die from sickness or famine?