“Shut up,” I whisper.
We shuffle closer. The boy’s cry turn into a full bawl, but as he turn around only his mouth crying. His body still as a statue, his eyes as blank and calm as somebody waking up. His face perfectly peaceful even as loud bawling come from his mouth. And the other boy, the shape of a boy, blood is dripping from his feet. His eyes wide open but nothing he see. All over his skin pop open with holes like a wasp nest, while in, out, and all over come bugs. Several squeeze through his eyes and fly up to the ceiling, where up to now nobody look. Eloko the green-hair grass demon I see first, then I blink and see two. Then a short one, all black hair, fingers and toes, then him, Ishologu, still in his handsome man form, his wings spread as wide as the room. Their back against the ceiling as if they lying down on floor and we hanging upside down. The boy cry again. Above! a guard shout, but then Ishologu flap his wings, thunder shake the room, and lightning cram the whole room with bright.
Burning hair bring me back, but the blinding bright take me out. My eyes open but they feel like somebody opening them. They open to everything hazy, then they shut, then the fear hit me that my skin is burning, burning up, my skin roasting and roasting quick, blinding white, blinding burn. I wake up screaming, but everything is still a haze. One Eloko, then two, then two more, one with something dangling from his mouth, a leg, then a foot, then a toe, he swallowing it. Bodies of soldiers burst apart and scattered, while some soldiers run around crackling lightning without and within. Smoke—no, mist. A cloud of flies swarm two soldiers and lift them off the ground and they scream until bugs fill their mouths and pop into their skin until they are just a host for flies. Two flies fat with blood pass my eyes. The swarm leave the bodies and I can see right through the holes as the corpses fall. The swarm clump together to form a ghoul with yellow eyes and claws. My eyes go dark again and open to gold. Swords fly while monsters laugh. The room blur and all the screaming make my ears hurt. Then right in front of me, green hair above a face like an arrowpoint, red with white stripes—no, white with red stripes, eyes spinning, his bone dagger about to go into my chest. He pull back to stab but somebody yank him away so hard that his leg kick my face and my eyes shut again. And air is under my feet, my body is rising and is not my wind (not wind) doing it. His hand wrap around my neck firm, but not a squeeze. I open my eyes to his square jaw and moonlight-white skin. White hair streaking black hair and leading into feathers at the back of his head. I blink and his face is all eyes and beak, blink again and he is a man and my voice slur about how he handsome. See his hair come down to a point between brows and his lips curl unto a wicked smile. He open his mouth but I still hearing thunder echo. I can’t look down. Ipundulu. No, Ishologu. My head start to burn . . . not from the lightning . . . he trying to enter my head . . . just like the Aesi. He curse something. I hear him. Then he flick a claw and touch between my breasts.
And my chest is on fire, then my chest is wet and I open my eyes again to see him cutting in me. But then he jump—a knife is in his shoulder and his blood is black. He let me go and I fly, no I fall, I hit the ground—my feet, my knees my belly, my head—black again. Eyes open and Jakwu cackling as the two Eloko jump him, one from the floor and one from the ceiling. Ceiling Eloko swing right into Jakwu, clobbering him in the chest. Floor Eloko slash his thigh but he laugh again, dodge a blow and smash his face. Third one I don’t see what he do, but I hear him scream and grab his belly. Jakwu don’t wait, he smash the grass demon into the floor. The cloud of bugs swarm Sadogo, who swat and swat and crush but can’t stop them piercing his skin until a bottle of oil smash on his chest. Rub it on your arm! somebody shout. Tracker. My eyes dip. They return as Adze’s bugs drip out of the Ogo. Lightning men fight Mossi and his two swords. Two swords are blurs and spilled lightning is everywhere. I try to get up but under my skin start to roast again. Ishologu’s lightning leaping from his chest onto me. He whip his wings open and drop a thunder that make everything shake and fall. And break off. The room don’t move, for everyone get knock down. Ishologu turn back to me and just then a torch hit him in the back. He look at me as confused as a baby before he burst into flames.
They hang over him, I can count them all. Nobody come for me. I cough and my chest spit blood. I smell who they hang over. At my side I see a cooked bird. All his wings roast off, skin black and red, charred like a goat. Smelling like a botched sacrifice. They talking hard about him, but then they look at me and the harshness don’t change.
“What is his name?” Mossi ask.
“Nobody ever name him,” Tracker say.
“Then what do we call him, Boy?”
They gather around Ishologu. Jakwu coming up from behind me, kick me in the back.
“Moon Bitch don’t rise soon, all her spirits will know she is weak,” he say.
“What should we do with this one?” Mossi say, pointing to Ishologu.
“Kill him,” Jakwu say. “Kill him. Then kill he—”
The wall and window break away and in come a ninki nanka. No, not a dragon, something with wings, bigger wings than Ipundulu. A big chunk of wall knock Sadogo down. Not a dragon, he have legs like a man. Not a man, his legs have claws. The feet kick Mossi through a wall. He knocking over stuff with his wings, black skin with no feathers, like a bat, not an Ipundulu. Sasabonsam, somebody shout. He turn to go for the Tracker, and I squeeze my hand and the wind (not wind) knock him off his feet and pin him down. I hold him down, but each time he push my chest hurt. I can’t hold him no more. Sadogo rise to his feet. Sasabonsam grab Ishologu’s leg with his iron claw hand, take up the boy with the other hand—the boy run to him—and fly away.
The noise of rebellion swell and burst over my ears, then fade as another mob move away. Now I am outside on a wet floor. Above, one caravan is burning and another just fall. The Queen’s palace don’t have any ropes. They surround me and I go out again. I wake up in night almost falling off a horse riding through the dark, fall asleep again, wake up feeling rope tying me to somebody’s back, fall asleep again, then wake in the morning.
“There is no way we’ll catch them,” Mossi say, eyeing the door still open.
Outer Dolingo.
“She didn’t send those pigeons to Dolingo. She send them to the Aesi,” Tracker say. It inflame my mouth, but not the rest of me.
“You lie, you . . . you is lying child of a bitch . . .” I say.
“He already dispatched an army to Dolingo. See her plan? To imprison us, snatch the child for herself. Present both to the Aesi like a fucking gift. Aesi kills the child and this corrupt monarchy is saved,” the Tracker say.
“How fares that enterprise?” ask Mossi.