Chapter 4 Ìlú-Ìmo – The Home of Knowledge Second Ring, Kingdom of Oru #2
Alawani waited for Baba-ìtàn to be out of sight before returning to L’?r?’s side.
‘Why’d you tell him? I’ve never heard him so angry.’
‘What should I have done, lied?’
‘Yes!’
‘I’m not going to lie to my father. Anyway, it’s good for him to know,’ L’?r? said, glancing at the house.
The children scattered off, clashing their wooden swords and laughing as they ran away. It was too late to play ‘soldier and thief’, but who was going to stop them?
L’?r? and Alawani sat across from each other by the fire, delaying the inevitable. He had to go. Baba-ìtàn would never allow him to stay over in their home.
‘Come here,’ L’?r? said, shifting to make space for him on her mat, hoping to get out of him whatever had fixed worry lines across his face.
Alawani snuggled next to her, and they put their hands towards the fire to warm up.
He smelled like earth, and she couldn’t stop herself from inhaling, pretending to be taking in the heat.
His face was angular, with high, strong cheekbones that made him appear chiselled from stone.
His arms rubbed against hers, and she glanced at the tattoos that decorated them.
A pair of black bands against his reddish-brown skin and an intricately designed image of the sun between both bands.
A sign that he was of royal blood. She couldn’t see the other arm, but she knew it had the design of flames, like a fire starting from his wrist and growing towards his shoulders.
And, of course, the single lines on either temple told the world he was born of Oru.
His marks represented ìlú-?ba – the capital city and first ring that shielded his birth place, the Royal Island of Oru.
She raised her hand to her own temple, feeling the three lines inscribed with a hot blade when she was a child, which told the world she was born of Oru and was from ìlú-ìm – the home of knowledge and second ring of Oru.
L’?r? stared at the sands beneath their feet to avoid gazing into his eyes.
The cowries around his ankles came into view – two rows of them.
Nearly two dozen kills. L’?r? never asked whose souls they belonged to.
Especially as a couple of those shells would have been hers if he hadn’t stepped in to protect her.
He was the reason L’?r? didn’t have a single cowrie anywhere on her person.
She’d often done a lot of damage but had never taken a life, and for that she was grateful.
She was so lost in thought that when he touched her fingers, she flinched.
‘You’re freezing,’ he said. Without waiting for her response, he cupped her palms in his and blew warm air into them.
Her face grew hot, and her heart raced. She shoved him off and pulled her hands to her side.
‘I was only trying to help,’ he said, laughing.
‘You can do that without eating my fingers.’
‘Okay, fine, come here.’ He took her hands again and wrapped them in his. He awakened his agbára, and a soft glow flowed through his palms, warming her to her core. Even the harsh breeze that had threatened to freeze her nose off now felt like the heat of a midday sun.
She quickly removed her hands again. It felt good. Too good. She couldn’t trust herself not to do something stupid with the way his beautiful brown eyes peered into hers.
They were just friends. Nothing more and thank the sun nothing less.
‘That’s new,’ she said, pointing to the string of white coral beads on his wrist.
His eyes shot to them, and he placed a hand over them. By the next moment, he’d slipped the bracelet off and tucked it away. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I was trying something new but it doesn’t fit.’
L’?r? wanted to pry further, as she was prone to do, but he spoke first.
‘I want to tell you something,’ Alawani said, slowly reaching for her hand and locking his with hers.
‘About why you skipped training and have been moody all evening?’ L’?r? said, keenly aware of how perfectly their hands fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.
L’?r? moved to stand and Alawani blurted out, ‘I heard something today. Apparently, someone from ìlú-p? arrived at the capital gates.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘It was a boy who said he’d been called. He said he was àlùfáà – one of the chosen.’
L’?r? bent low, closer to the fire and held the crescent pendant that drooped from her neck. It was a gift from Baba-ìtàn when she was younger, although she didn’t remember receiving it. It had always just been a part of her.
‘What does that mean?’ L’?r? asked.
‘Didn’t your father explain how all this works?’
‘You think my father, who turned his back on the Holy Order and their gods and is still living out his punishment for leaving, will sit under this tree and tell me how the stupid hierarchy of the Order works?’ she scoffed. ‘I’ve had to pick up all I know by myself.’
‘I guess not,’ Alawani sighed. ‘Well, the call is about appointing new priests to the Order and continuing the royal line.’ He paused. ‘To explain this, I need to talk about my grandfather, and I know you don’t like any mention of him or what the Order did to … It’s important, I promise.’
L’?r? nodded, eyeing him cautiously as he went on.
‘My grandfather was no one before his call,’ Alawani said, avoiding her gaze.
‘But then the gods called him and changed his life. And as the lone survivor of the stripping ceremony right before the queen’s death nearly eighty first suns ago now, he was chosen to be the next High Priest. His firstborn son, my father, became the new crown heir and in the eighteen first suns before my father’s coronation, my grandfather ruled as Lord Regent of Oru.
The day my father died, the cycle continued, and your father left the Order, so Babátúndé was chosen as the new High Priest and Lord Regent for his firstborn son, crown heir Tofa. ’
L’?r? shrugged. ‘So, it’s that time again. When the Holy Order leads boys to their death. Why do you care?’
‘I. I just –’ Alawani sighed. ‘I don’t remember much about my father.
I’d only seen four first suns and a few blood moons by the time he died.
It’s been so long now that without his statue in the palace to remind me of his face, I might have forgotten what he looked like.
What I do remember are his last words to me. ’
‘What did he say?’ L’?r? said, closing the gap between them and wiping off the single tear that rolled down his face.
‘He – he –’ Alawani tried speaking, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘I think he wanted me to join the Order.’
‘Gods forbid,’ L’?r? said as quickly as the words could get out of her. ‘It’s against the law. No one’s going to make a prince an àlùfáà.’
‘They shouldn’t,’ Alawani said, his face grim with fear.
‘I’ve been thinking about that. Tofa’s coronation is in a few blood moons, and because he is so young, whoever survives the trials now is unlikely to ever become High Priest. So if there is little risk my bloodline could return to the throne, maybe I could be called up? ’
‘Why would you even consider this?’
‘The trials aren’t all about priests and heirs.
Without the Red Stone, the people of this kingdom will lose their agbára.
What kind of a life would that be? Children of Oru would be born without the blessing of the gods.
That’s a fate worse than death. I don’t want to be responsible for such a curse on our land. ’
‘Even for the sake of preserving the agbára of future generations, you cannot truly think any of this is worth your life.’ L’?r?’s heart tightened as she spoke.
What she wanted to say was, I have no agbára and I can confirm that it is in fact a curse.
But that would mean telling him her secret and even after many first suns together, she wasn’t ready for that just yet.
So instead, she said, ‘Your father couldn’t have wanted this. What exactly did he say to you?’
Alawani shook his head, the tremor in his voice returning. ‘He scared me. He said the gods would change the rules and I had to yield to their will. It shouldn’t happen, but I’ve just begun to fear that it might. I am so scared, Tèmi. I don’t want to die. I don’t want the life of a priest.’
L’?r?’s heart skipped a beat every time he called her Tèmi and it hurt now to see him so terrified.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, moving to kneel before him and placing herself between his legs.
She held his face in her palms. ‘Your father, may his soul find the city of light, is dead, and the dead cannot decree. He cannot condemn you to a fate worse than death. Forget the sound of his voice, Alawani, and listen to mine,’ she said with a shaky smile, and wiped at his tears. ‘They haven’t called you, have they?’
Alawani stared at her blankly, his eyes glassy with tears.
‘Have they?’ L’?r? asked, panicked. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself standing on a platform alone in a desert of black sands and stones, surrounded by two pillars that held a shade over her head – shielding her from the blistering heat.
At that moment, one of those pillars cracked at its base, the split running all the way up to its top, shaking the platform she stood upon.
Her world was crumbling. He could be taken from her.
No. She shook away the thought. ‘Have they?’ she shouted.
‘You’re right, they won’t,’ Alawani said, shaking his head.
L’?r? let out a deep shaky breath and pulled him into an embrace.
‘Damn these trials and rituals, damn the Holy Order and their murderous ways.’ She pulled away and wiped the tear that hung on his eyelids.
‘This is what you’ll do. You’ll go about your life like normal.
Like you were born to. A prince with no claim, no title, no responsibilities.
And if for some senseless reason the gods call you their own, you tell them no. ’
‘Your father left the priesthood and look at his life. He’s an outcast. He’s been branded a –’ Alawani didn’t complete his sentence.
Her eyes widened, and she could feel her fists clenching with rage. The only thing that kept her from punching him was the crestfallen look on his face. He knew he’d gone too far.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
L’?r? leaned in closer to him. ‘There’s no way your father wanted death for you.’
‘I don’t think he thought the trials would kill me.’
‘But he’s not here to keep you alive, is he?’
His eyes fell, and with those words she’d tipped the scales. It was her turn to be sorry.
‘It’s you and me against the world, Alawani. Against it all. Don’t let the gods ruin your life and take everything from you. Please, I’m begging you.
‘Promise me,’ she said, her voice, soft with the night’s breeze. ‘If the Order calls for you, you’ll choose us. Choose me. Choose this life with me.’
A light-hearted smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. His gaze turned towards the flames, fixed as though the dancing sparks spoke to him.
The pillar cracked again. The deep split branched off in all directions. The lonely life she had lived before he came into her world threatened to return.
L’?r? brought out a knife from her pocket, drew a cut across her palm and handed the blade to him. He looked at her, his jaw dropping in surprise. He hadn’t seen her do it, so the blood startled him. But he knew what she meant.
‘Nothing in this world binds stronger than the words of oath spoken in blood. Even the gods won’t dare break it,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘If one breaks it they will go mad; this is your way out of whatever oaths they want to bind you to.’
He stared at her bleeding hand for so many heartbeats that she worried he might not agree to the oath. But finally, he took the knife from her and made a similar cut on his palm.
L’?r? placed her bleeding palm in his and said, ‘Us against the world. Till the sun falls from the sky.’
Alawani’s face softened into a smile, and he nodded in agreement. He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed, then lifted the bond to his chest. ‘Us against the world. Till the sun falls from the sky. This is our vow.’
To seal the oath, he turned on his agbára and waited for her to awaken hers.
‘Close your eyes,’ she whispered.
His forehead creased in a frown as he contemplated her request.
‘Do you trust me?’ L’?r? prompted.
He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in resignation before he obeyed.
Gently, she led both their hands into the flames.
One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.
His powers would protect him from the heat, but she had nothing to protect her.
Only the will to keep her secret hidden.
So even as the flames burned her skin, she said in unison with him, ‘Hand to flame, we burn the same.’
The moment lasted only a few heartbeats, but she felt every sting of the fire. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming and allowed him to pull her into an embrace, and it was all she could do not to cry in his arms.
Her hand hadn’t burned but the pain was so agonizing she felt dizzy and allowed her body to rest on his, placing her head in the crook of his neck.
‘Tomorrow,’ L’?r? said abruptly. ‘Tomorrow we’ll get tattoos.’
Alawani cocked his head. ‘Tattoos? You literally have no tolerance for pain.’
L’?r? smiled and glanced at the flames, then hid her bloody palm. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Are you sure?’ Alawani said.
L’?r? nodded furiously. ‘You can draw the design.’
‘You really don’t have to,’ Alawani said, smiling softly. ‘But if you’re sure,’ he added when she raised an eyebrow, ‘I know a place.’
‘Perfect, I’ll get paper and you can sketch something for us,’ she said as she walked towards her house.
She’d heard once that tattoos were a constant reminder of an oath. So even when she wasn’t with him, he’d see it and remember. At least this way, she’d keep him in her life. A blood oath was sacred and couldn’t be broken. Not even by the gods of the sun and sands.
In her mind, the crack in the pillar remained, but now it was sealed and held in place by blood.