Chapter 10
The ride to Maiwuri is even smoother than I imagined, Maida’s wings gently gliding over the wind currents as the ocean sprays mist softly over us. Nenneh Kadeh is clearly adept at guiding the horn ray, so I just lean back and savor the experience—the sun beaming gently on my face, the refreshing coolness of the blue water…It’s so clear, I can see the fish dancing just under the surface. I watch, fascinated, as a school of tiny silver fish leap out of the water, the fins on their sides spreading into wings, which they use to flap away from the larger purple fish leaping behind them. I know I should be tense and on the defensive, that I should spend however much time it takes to get to the city strategizing contingency plans, but the combination of the warm sun and cool ocean spray lulls me into a dazed contentment I haven’t felt in months—perhaps even years.
Later, I can panic. Later, I can be apprehensive. For now, I just want to be.
As my eyes slide closed, I become aware of something strange: a low, soothing thrumming that seems closer and closer with every passing moment. I would mistake it for the thrumming I heard in the vales, except it’s deeper. Richer.
Welcoming.
Here!Ixa suddenly calls from beside me, where he’s been flying in the form of a small blue bird, his nightflyer form. Except he’s not speaking to me. Deka and me here, he says to his mysterious questioner.
When I open my eyes, alarmed, I see Ixa rapidly shrinking as he transforms into a new creature I’ve never seen before: a tiny scaled being that almost looks like his former kitten guise, only this one is scaled all over and has velvety, almost bat-like wings of a brilliant, jewellike blue.
“Ixa?” I ask as he flaps down toward the waves.
But he doesn’t seem to notice me anymore.
Ixa here!he says happily, speaking to something beneath the waves, something that is so massive, the water around us darkens as it approaches, sending those purple fish fleeing for the depths.
I scramble over Maida’s side to get a better look, and that’s when the breath gasps from my body.
There, just beneath us, swims a group of creatures that are at once familiar and yet not: massive reptiles with gleaming blue scales edged with gold, and golden horns crowning their brows as well as jutting out all the way down their backs. They look something like sea drakos, those colossal swimming reptiles I once thought Ixa was descended from, except sea drakos don’t have liquid black eyes that shine with intelligence and compassion.
But Ixa does.
I gasp: these must be the ebiki, Ixa’s kind.
I hadn’t imagined I’d get to see them here—much less so quickly.
Ixa swiftly flaps down to the single ebiki at the front of the group, a craggy leviathan whose scales are more gold than blue and whose head is considerably larger than all the others—so enormous, in fact, it seems almost like an island, a shimmering oasis under the water.
As I watch, Ixa lands on that immense head, which, when it crests the surface to look at me, causes waves to surge around us. Eyes filled with the same gentleness and intelligence as Ixa’s peer into mine, their gaze so arresting, I gape, unable to look away. So this is a full-grown ebiki.
Even the horn rays stop advancing and instead settle for making low circles on the wind currents.
“Deka,” Britta gasps, staring at the creature. “Is that—?”
Mother,Ixa happily informs me. Deka, Ixa’s mother here.
I gape at Ixa. “Your mother?”
Just the sheer magnitude of her…it’s almost more than I can comprehend.
Even Li is, for once, at a loss for words. “That’s one big mother,” he whispers.
As my friends and I remain where we are, mouths agape, Nenneh Kadeh and the rest of Sarla’s godsworn rise from their perches atop the horn rays, the movement so fluid, I know they’ve done it countless times before. They bow deeply to Ixa’s mother. “Queen Ayo,” Nenneh Kadeh declares, “we are honored by your escort.”
Those gigantic black eyes, each one the size of a single horn ray, don’t move from my face. They just continue staring. And then finally, that colossal mouth opens.
The sound that emerges from it is a rumble that vibrates through my entire being. Even stranger, it’s immediately understandable.“Deka,” Queen Ayo says the single utterance so powerfully, my body suddenly feels light—lighter than it ever has before.
And then I hear it again, this time from another ebiki. “Deka.”
And my body lightens again, that emptiness inside me, for a moment, almost seeming to disappear, erased by this feeling of lightness, of connection.
“Deka,” another creature calls.
Then another. And another.
One by one, the creatures call out my name, each vocalization so filled with power, my body trembles with it.
“Deka!” Britta gasps, urging her horn ray over. “Look at yer skin!”
She points at my hand, where, slowly, surely, the gold that still stains it from Melanis’s attack is retreating—or, rather, being absorbed back into me. And it’s not the only thing that’s changing. That emptiness in my belly, that hollowness that I’ve felt for so long, has been erased, replaced with a strange, content feeling—as if I’m whole again.
And it’s all the ebikis’ doing. I can see it in their eyes, their expressions. Every utterance of my name is a prayer, an invocation to the Greater Divinity Myter spoke about earlier, on my behalf. And it’s healing me. Not just the few blemishes that remain on the outside, but all the damage on the inside as well, the damage that even Myter, using the full power of a Maiwurian god, could not undo.
Tears fall down my cheeks. All these weeks of pain, of sheer, unrelenting panic. Every day in struggle, in desperation. But now I’m here, and I’m bathed in light and wonder and everything that is good.
It’s as though these creatures’ vocalizations are striking straight to the core of me, purging me of all my pain, my worry. And all the while, Ixa’s mother stares at me, that black gaze never blinking.
Not even when I begin to sob, heaving desperate tears.
“Thank you…thank you,” I whisper to Queen Ayo.
I’ve been so frightened these past few hours. Frightened the sores would swiftly come back. Frightened that Mother would not be here, or, worse, that she would reject me and I would never find my divinity.
But now I’m here and the ebiki are here and I’m whole again. Truly whole, not just on the outside but on the inside as well.
I can feel everyone staring at me, puzzled, but I don’t care. I just want to exist in this happiness for as long as I can. For however long I’m here on Maida, the ebiki surrounding me, I want to revel in this feeling of being perfectly safe.
And the ebiki seem to understand, because they circle around me, rumbling my name reverently to the wind until finally, I’m out of tears. Out of emotion. And there is just peace.
Just the ocean breeze wafting where sobs once did.
When their songs have quieted, Ixa flitters over to me, pleased. Deka all better, he says, flying back up to cuddle on my chest. He wraps those wings around me, which are just as velvety and warm as I imagined, if not more so. Mother say Deka have two weeks now before get weak again, maybe more. Ixa happy.
Two weeks…That’s how much time I have before my life force begins depleting again, before the sores start opening again. I’m not even dismayed by the thought. It’s much more time than I thought I’d have. I’ll treasure every day, every moment that I can go without pain.
I look down at Ixa, this miraculous creature that’s been so instrumental to my well-being, to almost every move I’ve made since my blood ran gold, and I squeeze him tight.
“Thank you, Ixa,” I say. “Thank you for everything.” Then I glance at the other ebiki, all of which are still waiting patiently underneath Maida, gentle eyes unblinking. “Thank you all.”
The reply, when it comes, is a deep, reverberating sound. “Welcome,” Queen Ayo says in that unending rumble, and then she starts moving again, the other creatures following behind her, waves surging in their wake.
The entire group watches them go, awed, as I am, to have been witness to what is almost certainly a scene out of the deepest, most hallowed mythology.
Only when the ebiki are a distance away does everyone regain their faculties.
Nenneh Kadeh turns to me, awe in her eyes. “You are most fortunate, Angoro,” she remarks, “to earn the loyalty of the ebiki. Not every god is as fortunate, particularly not the fledgling ones. It is a deep honor.”
I nod. “It is,” I agree.
I hold on to this feeling as we continue on, letting it buoy me all the way to the city and whatever victories and treacheries wait there.
If Maiwuri seemed beautiful from afar, it’s stunning up close. Those jewellike buildings gleam in the warmth of the setting sun, making the entire island seem lit from within. Its cloud foundation, which I noted earlier, is just lowering to the ocean when we reach the city, those clouds scattering into sparkling white sand the moment they touch the water. Power tingles through my body as the island’s colossal trees begin stretching even taller, their brilliantly hued leaves misted by the waterfalls that curve along the floating hills, each one dividing the city into distinct districts.
There, to the west, is a district filled with gardens—plants and mushrooms of all colors and shapes growing in voluptuous abandon while vines wreathe every building and monument, every statue and gate. To the east is a more austere district filled with forbidding white buildings that hold the intimidating aura common to institutions of law. It’s flanked, almost ironically, by a pleasure district, immediately apparent by the hordes of drunken people spilling out of brightly colored houses, goblets and horns of wine in hand, their bodies in all the colors of the rainbow. Yet another district seems filled with libraries and bookish people in all manner of dress, most of whom have affixed strange glass contraptions to each eye, and who are all, to the very last person, pale-and-shimmery-skinned like Lamin and his aunt.
These must be the godsworn of Sarla, the god of wisdom. A paler and more academic lot I’ve never seen in my life. I can’t help thinking that Acalan, the most scholarly of our uruni, would feel at home there.
I can’t wait to tell him about it the moment I see him.
Then I remember: I probably won’t ever see Acalan again. Nor Adwapa and Asha, nor Katya and Rian. Nor any of my other friends. Not in this form, at least.
If what Anok and White Hands told me is true, once I meet Mother, she’ll lead me to my kelai, and then I’ll ascend to divinity and smite the gods, thus bringing Otera into an era of peace, free of divine meddling and celestial aggression.
The thought fills me with conflicted feelings; relief at being able to finally free Otera from its divine oppressors, sadness at leaving my friends…I reflect on this as Maida drifts to a landing in the waters just in front of the city. Once I’m a god, Otera will finally be peaceful. Everyone will lead the lives they want to. Except for me. Yes, I’ll be happy the gods are gone, happy Otera is safe, but I’ll be separated from everyone I love—my friends, Mother.
All this time, I just wanted to hold her again. To smell her scent. Hear her voice. But I’ll only get to do that for a few moments, a few hours.
As tears sting my eyes, a shadow shifts beside me: Keita, hand extended to help me off Maida while Nenneh Kadeh unsaddles the massive horn ray.
The devastated expression on his face as I step off the glistening gray animal is an exact replica of mine, but he tries to hide it with a rueful smile. “Nervous, Deka?” he asks, glancing pointedly at the island, those jewel-hued trees rising in front of us.
“Terrified.”
“Once you meet your mother, it’s the first step to divinity….”
“I know.” I can’t help the misery that creeps into my voice at the thought.
Keita hooks my arm in his and then squeezes it, the simple touch so overwhelming, it’s some moments before I realize he’s speaking again. “You know…you’re healed and your body isn’t in imminent danger of breaking again. Otera won’t fall apart tomorrow if you wait a day or two to repair your bond with your kelai.”
“Except it will.” I sigh. “Every second I delay…”
“The One Kingdom worsens.” Keita sighs as well, weariness seeming to weigh down his entire being. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to not have the fate of an empire on your shoulders.”
“Peaceful, I expect.”
As we both consider this, Nenneh Kadeh walks over. I swiftly turn to her. “So, where do I find Mother?” I ask.
“In the Hall of the Gods,” the older woman says. Then she shakes her head. “But meeting her is not possible at this very moment, I’m afraid.”
I’m immediately on the alert. “What do you mean?”
“Your mother is godsworn not only to Sarla but also to Baduri, deity of hearth and home and keeper of Maiwuri’s temples.”
“But I thought ye could be godsworn to only one god.” Britta’s look of confusion as she walks closer mirrors my own. “I mean, it seemed that way from all the explanations.”
Nenneh Kadeh inclines her head. “That is the usual case. There are, however, exceptions….”
“Which occur only under the direst circumstances.” Lamin’s entire body is strained as he turns to Nenneh Kadeh. “Has something happened? Is something the matter with Deka’s mother?”
A thousand worries rush through my mind. Then Nenneh Kadeh shakes her head. “To my knowledge, it was a precaution, given Umu’s origins. Baduri can never leave the temple, which means their godsworn cannot either.”
“So she is a prisoner.” Rage fills me as I understand what she’s saying.
“More like an honored guest,” Nenneh Kadeh swiftly corrects. “One who chose her circumstances, as all godsworn do. So, as Umu cannot come to you, you must go to her.”
“Let’s go, then,” I say, striding onward, even though I have no idea where the temple is.
Nenneh Kadeh shakes her head again. “Unfortunately, I cannot take you at this very moment. The path to the Hall of the Gods opens only at certain times. The earliest you can see her is this evening.”
My rage builds. “Three months,” I say, advancing toward her threateningly. “Three months I’ve spent, racing across Otera, fighting all sorts of monsters, all so I can see my mother, and now you tell me I have to wait till evening?”
Nenneh Kadeh looks so miserable now, it’s as if she wants to melt away. She shakes her head. “My deepest apologies, Angoro Deka. I cannot control the pathways.”
“Well, you might not be able to,” I begin, “but I—”
“—find it perfectly understandable.” Keita hurries in front of me before I can finish my sentence, then nods at Nenneh Kadeh. “As do the rest of us. We understand and we will adjust.”
I whirl to him. “No, I—”
“Deka,” Keita says, swiftly cutting me off. “You may be healed, but you are hungry and exhausted and suffering from blood loss. And you are meeting new gods. Gods you have never seen before.” He lowers his voice pointedly as he says this. “Better to meet them when you are at your peak.”
“I am at my peak!”
“And what about the rest of us?”
When he glances at the others, I follow his gaze. That’s when I notice: my friends all look haggard and weary. The same sort of weariness I felt before the ebiki called to me. Even though they’re standing here, nodding me on, they all seem weighed down, by pure exhaustion.
Keita lowers his voice again. “We all need to be prepared for whatever we may find.”
Like Mother in captivity…I silently fill in the words he’s not saying out loud.
“Which means—”
“—we need rest.” I finish Keita’s sentence with a nod in the affirmative.
One of the very first principles we learned in the Warthu Bera: Take any opportunity you can to rest. You never know when you’ll need it.
“And food,” Li adds, ambling closer.
I have to clench my teeth. “I suppose a bite won’t hurt,” I say grudgingly.
“And a bath too?” Li seems hopeful.
“Don’t push your luck,” I growl.
Then I notice the way Belcalis subtly perks up at the suggestion. Yet more guilt rises inside me. I’ve been so focused on my own needs, I forgot I’m not the only person on this journey. Not the only person who has needs to tend to.
Thankfully, my friends have forgiven my selfishness.
I sigh. “And a bath too.” Then I turn to Nenneh Kadeh. “Lead us on to dinner. And then I see Mother.”
Nenneh Kadeh nods, pleased. “And then you see your mother.”