So they knock me clean off my horse. Knock me so hard that I think is my own wind (not wind) that hit me. Kick me clean off my horse, fling me high up in the air, to fall flat on my back and coughing. In the quick Venin dismount and run to me, but they slap her down so hard that she twist and fall, crying. They, not just him, not just Jakwu. Maybe five or ten, maybe every single man I kill. I try to get up but they knock me down again, then hands—I can feel them grab my legs and drag me across the road. Mossi jump off his horse, pull his two sword, but they circle around him, pitch him forward and twist his own sword toward him, trying to get him to fall on it. The Tracker run and pull back. The hands at my ankles are pulling me into bush, too fast for me to write any nsibidi. And I have no words. The Nnimnim woman tell me more than once to learn the words, to practice invoking them, but I never did. Somebody’s word riding the air, and is not Jakwu. Somebody chanting something. Mossi charge after me but they knock him down again. Only the Ogo stand. When he go to stand before me, they prod and push and slap but none move him. Venin, I don’t know what she doing, but she grab a stick and mark in the dirt. Maybe she been looking at me writing nsibidi long enough to know the shapes if not the meaning.
It work. They sound like wind squealing,. All of them going back to wherever they come from. One grab my hair and pull a chunk out.
Mossi run over to help me, but Venin jump between me and him.
“She not to be touch by no man,” she say.
The Tracker’s face as surprised as mine. The Ogo lift me up on her horse she is fine with, though. We continue on the road until the path narrow into one smooth stretch. My head is coming back but still don’t feel like my own, and if I dismount I will likely fall. A causeway built by some long-gone empire, must be, Mossi say. In daylight it come to me that while just about everything about this Tracker strike me as flawed, stupid, ridiculous, or wrong, I have no gripe over his pick of men. And this one. Even with skin the color of what you use to mark skin, he is striking form of man. And a real warrior, unlike everybody else here. The one man not picked by the water sprite might be the one man of use. Nothing like the men I always see save for the thick lips. Hair wild and loose like my horse. Beard riding up a sharp face, nose hanging over like hawk’s beak, and when he pass close, eye like a pool of water. Also this, he is taller than the Tracker. But so is every other man, not just the Ogo.
“Am I alone in hearing that?” Mossi say.
“I hear it too,” say the Ogo.
Just as the Tracker nod, from both flanks it come, a rumble, a crack, then a wave of cracks, then a thunder from below, coming from deep, and coming up.
“Fuck the gods, what else going trouble us this morning?” I say.
Venin grab her staff and pull it apart into two lances. Must be from the housemaster, I say to myself. Sadogo sniff the air. Heat break from the earth and with it a stink that burn the nose. This also break from the ground, wicked wild laughter from women. Wilder as they get closer and closer and closer until they erupt from the ground.
“Gentlewomen and -men. Go!” Mossi shout.
Four at once, two to a side. Blasting chunks of earth with them that rain down on us like boulders. See how they rise, taller than the Black Sparrowhawk tower, hear how they cackle and scream. Women, the breasts, chest, waists of women, but the hands of giants and below the belly, a body of serpents as thick as tree trunks. Rising high out of the ground and reaching higher, then suddensome they mark us and dive. The frightened horses throw us off. Skinny, scrawny, scaly, and black, hair red, eyes red also, fangs snapping for flesh. The ground crack open and two more surge up. One swoop down and knock over the Tracker, then flick out her claws, but right then come Mossi with his two swords, spinning like a whirlwind, slicing and chopping off the devil’s hands. She scream and duck back into the ground.
“Mawana witches!” Sadogo shout.
They smell food. They smell us. I too weak to summon wind (not wind).
Sadogo charge one just as she grab a horse. She will take it down with her but the giant jump on her snake end, thumping and punching until she let slip the horse. Sadogo climb her like a tree. One dip in for me but Venin run in front of me, swinging and jabbing with her two lances just as how Mossi was swinging and jabbing with two swords. Where she get this skill from, she will have to answer me. The witch tremble and swing and dive trying to toss the Ogo, but he hold on and his weight alone push her down. At her face, her breath smoking, he punch her forehead over and over until her head crack and she fall. That frighten the others still trying to grab Mossi, claw the Ogo, and swoop up the horses. A witch catch one, take him up too high before she let go. I watch Sadogo watch the horse smash and die. He furious now, and is a long time since I see an Ogo let loose. He jump another one, lock his arms around her neck. Neither her breath nor her claws save her from him strangling her to death. One of them try to swoop the Tracker, but pull back when he turn around to face her. And Venin. This girl run all the way up Sadogo’s back, leap off his shoulder, and scream all the way over to a witch she land on by pinning both lances in her back. As some start to fall the witches start to falter. The Tracker take advantage, chasing after the younger one with his two axes out. She try to dip back into the dirt before he reach, but not before he swing both axes at her neck. Another, seeing that I am the only one too weak to fight, make for me, diving in fast. Venin run before me, right underneath the witch, who can’t stop herself from smashing her chest against Venin’s blades. She fall over, yelping until black blood fill her throat. The other witches stop shrieking and dive back into the ground. We huddle together, all weapons ready, and stay there, hearing nothing but our heavy breathing, until the rumble underfoot go quiet.
“Well, look at witch attack witch,” the Tracker say.
“Well, look how none attack you,” I say.
“You see it by now. Iron have no power over me. Nor gold, nor silver or bronze,” he say.
“All of them are flesh. Don’t tell me that you never see the last one backing away from you.”
“Running scared.”
“You not the one among us to be scared of.”
“Where you going with this, woman?”
“You sleep last night?”
“What you think, witch?”
“I say did you sleep?”
“Just about the only thing I didn’t do last night. You witness it yourself, didn’t you? Back up on the cliff.”
Whatever word is in me, he take it.
“Best we go. Now!” I shout.
Now we down to one horse. Mossi walk, while Tracker for a time ride Sadogo’s shoulders until it come to him that he look like a child doing it. I on the horse, with Venin behind.