Chapter 24 Ìlú-Opọ, Third Ring, Kingdom of Oru
ìlú-p?, Third Ring, Kingdom of Oru
MILúà
Milúà had seen ten first suns when she earned her first cowrie.
Taking a life was a privilege given only to the mother’s favourite daughters.
She’d cried then and thought that the face of her mark would hunt her all the days of her life.
It didn’t. By the time she’d seen fifteen first suns, her cowries were long enough to make the waist beads she wore beneath her dress.
Now nearly nineteen first suns past, she wore two anklets made of cowries, and she remembered none of the victims’ faces.
As she raced after the girl she now knew was called L’?r?, she expected to forget about her, just like she did the others.
She tightened her grip on her battle rhino as it thundered through ìlú-ìm, heading towards the north gates leading into ìlú-p?.
Her thighs were sore from the hard ride from the capital, but she was determined to catch Alawani and L’?r? before they got too far.
Every moment away from the temple and ìyá-Ayé was one more moment that she didn’t know who exactly killed her mother.
Before this incident, all she’d wanted was to know more about her mother.
Now she desperately needed to remain a temple maiden.
A title she hadn’t been fond of in the past but was now the only thing keeping her alive.
Milúà didn’t enjoy killing although she was quite good at it.
However, earning another cowrie for ending L’?r?’s life would be a reward for all the pain the girl’s actions had caused her.
‘Steady now,’ she said, patting the beast as it grunted again, no doubt exhausted from the chase. ‘We’re almost there.’
The rhino huffed in response, and she patted it a couple more times. ‘I don’t want to be here either,’ she said, trying not to slip off as the beast sped up.
Alawani’s disappearance wasn’t something Milúà had anticipated and she questioned herself on how she had missed the signs.
He had been reluctant at first, but she’d gotten her hopes up after the stripping, thinking he actually might survive all the trials to come.
And then he was gone. She ought to be in the temple figuring out who killed her birth mother.
Instead, she was here, on a hunt for a foolish and ungrateful prince.
She sighed. He thought the Red Stone was painful.
Just wait until she got her hands on him.
Memories of her nights in the weeping chamber flashed through her mind, and she grimaced.
ìyá-Ayé had healed every wound before Milúà left home, making sure she was equipped for this errand, but somehow the memories brought phantom pain that felt real enough to make her wince.
She tightened her grip on the reins. Curse you, Alawani.
Milúà had waited for ìyá-Ayé to return from the Regent’s court before leaving on her hunt, so even though ìyá-Ayé had told the Lord Regent that Milúà was miles away from home, she had in fact been waiting patiently for her mother’s final word as instructed.
Once their meeting was over, Milúà followed àlùfáà-àgbà into the temple to the dungeon where they kept the boy L’?r? and Alawani left behind.
Why would anyone be so foolish as to bring a friend along on such a dangerous heist?
Why would anyone be so foolish as to have friends at all?
She couldn’t imagine making herself so vulnerable as to put her life in another’s hands.
Not even Bùnmi, whom she’d grown up with, was her friend.
Kyà was the friend’s name. Milúà wondered if he was still alive. She winced as she remembered hearing his screams. She didn’t know where they’d found him, but she knew the priests had tortured him for a full day, getting nothing from him before, as usual, calling her to do what they couldn’t.
Milúà hadn’t expected to learn that it was the boy’s own brother holding the seven-tailed whip that lashed across his back.
And it surprised her even more that although the brother held and swung the whip, it was he who wept as flesh tore from Kyà’s broken skin.
She could not remember the last time she cried for any of her sisters in the weeping chamber.
Her mother would not stand for such senseless displays of weakness.
She would instead really give her something to cry about.
àlùfáà-àgbà had not been able to control his anger during his interrogation. ‘You dared to come into my temple, to defy the gods, to defy me!’ He had held Kyà’s face in his hands in a short pause between the whippings, and the boy groaned. ‘Where is the girl?’ he shouted.
That was when Milúà knew she had to step in. The old man was wasting time. ‘I think it’s time to try something else,’ she said.
àlùfáà-àgbà shot her a dirty look when she ordered the whipping to stop.
‘He can’t speak if you keep torturing him,’ she said firmly.
The Elder Priest’s eyes burned with anger, but he conceded, stepping back as the palace guard cut off the ropes that held his brother’s arms up and guided him to the floor.
She observed as Kyà struggled to stand upright in her presence. A strong one, she thought.
Milúà bent down beside him and moved her lips to his ears. ‘Tell me where they went, and I promise the pain will stop. At least for today.’
He remained as he was, eyes closed and head hung in despair.
She leaned in closer. ‘You know they won’t stop at just you,’ she said, distancing herself from the people who inflicted pain on him.
‘They’ll kill your brother. They already know he helped you.
That’s why he’s been made to do this. They’ll find your parents, parade them through the capital, and chop off their heads in front of everyone.
’ She paused for a response, then sighed when he still didn’t move.
‘If you make àlùfáà-àgbà feel the need to use old magic, there’ll be no coming back from that.
’ Nothing. Not even the soft whimpers from earlier.
‘They’ll kill the old man, too,’ she spat out, frustrated.
‘The girl’s father.’ If, after several light beads of torture, he still held his tongue, perhaps she could play on that sense of loyalty that often got people like him killed.
Nothing.
Milúà lost her patience and thrust her hand into his chest and squeezed against the bruised flesh. Her hand glowed with agbára, and Kyà screamed so loudly the walls seemed to echo after him. When she removed her hand, Kyà’s chest was bruised and bleeding but … not burnt.
Milúà blinked, unable to believe her eyes. His chest wasn’t any worse than before she’d touched him with her agbára. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
She glanced back at àlùfáà-àgbà, who took a brisk step closer.
Then she again thrust her hand at Kyà’s chest, nearly breaking a rib, and allowed her agbára to shine bright and hot.
Smoke oozed from the touch, simmering off the sweat from Kyà’s body, but when she removed her hand, there was no burn or blister. Just raw skin torn by the whip.
àlùfáà-àgbà’s eyes grew to double their size, and Milúà could see the whites of them for the first time. Nothing ever shocked the old priest. But this … this was impossible. Agbára oru burns all but the wielder.
‘What evil magic is this?’ àlùfáà-àgbà slapped Kyà across his face, and the boy groaned.
Milúà’s gaze shifted to the boy’s brother, whose eyes were red with tears.
She moved fast and cornered him against the wall.
Before he could speak, she slammed her palm against his chest and poured out her agbára.
He screamed just as loud as his brother.
Louder. When she removed her hand, flakes of burnt skin clung to her fingers.
She brushed them off. So, it’s not a family thing.
She turned to àlùfáà-àgbà, ‘He’s immune to agbára oru. Did you know this?’
‘How can I know what isn’t possible?’ àlùfáà-àgbà shouted at her. ‘Burn him again. Burn his tongue! That way, he won’t whisper any incantations to the old gods.’
Milúà shook her head. ‘He didn’t speak a word. I would’ve heard if he did.’
‘Get out,’ àlùfáà-àgbà said. Kyà’s brother slowly and reluctantly walked out of the cell, hunched over in pain. àlùfáà-àgbà turned on Milúà, ‘You too.’
Milúà raised a questioning look to àlùfáà-àgbà. The fury that burned in the old priest’s eyes gave a glimpse of what he had planned for the boy.
Milúà knew pain as well as she knew how to breathe.
So, it wasn’t often she felt pity for anyone who had to endure it.
Even the stripping at the Red Stone, while agonizing, felt bearable.
At least some of those boys survived. She shot one last glance at Kyà and, perhaps for the first time in her life, felt pity.
This was why one didn’t have friends. It didn’t matter what brought Kyà to the Sun Temple.
He was never getting out. Mercy wasn’t something Milúà was taught so it shocked her every time she even considered it, much less acted upon it.
She shook all thoughts of Kyà from her mind, another thing she’d have to explain to her mother. She should’ve killed him.
Milúà slowed her battle rhino to a halt as she approached the border gates that led into ìlú-p?, blocking off the memory of the boy held deep within the darkness of the earth beneath the Sun Temple. The mighty beast huffed, grunting as it slowed, its pin-sharp horn slicing the air before it.
‘Don’t be grumpy now. Just a bit longer,’ she said, patting its thick armour. ‘We’re almost there.’
She had got nothing from Kyà, but figured her first stop on the hunt should be the home of the boy who nearly escaped with them but got killed in the crossfire. Ma?ywa.