Page 57 of The Gilded Ones

“Don’t touch my friends,” I growl. “I’ll break you to pieces before you can land a single blow.”

“An’ I’ll help her scatter them all across Otera when she’s done,” Britta sniffs beside me.

I drop him back onto the dusty ground and make a show of contemptuously dusting off my hands. As I do so, a warm, buoyant feeling steals through me. Exhilaration. I can’t believe I did it, can’t believe I defended myself – my friends – against that man. Just a few months ago, I would have just cowered in a corner.

“Good on ye,” Britta whispers proudly to me as I continue on.

Keita, meanwhile, moves his horse closer to mine, the other uruni swiftly mimicking him so they’re a barrier between the crowd and us. “I would never have imagined it,” he says with a laugh. “Our little Deka, finally showing her teeth.”

“Keep twittering on like that, and they’ll sink right into you,” I humph.

But now the man has turned to the crowd for support. “They’re demons!” he shouts. “You jatu can’t lie to us – we know what you’re up to on that hill. We know you’re doing all kinds of unholy things. We can’t have such filth among us!”

“He’s right,” the grandmother in the sun mask calls out, clutching her grandsons closer.

“We don’t want their filth here!” another man shouts.

My tension begins to rise, and my hands steal towards my atika’s hilt. I’m grateful this one is made of steel, unlike our practice swords. I have to be prepared for anything.

As I do so, Captain Kelechi abruptly turns his horse to face the crowd. “Very well,” he calls out. “If you want them gone, then who wants to take their place on the raid of a nearby deathshriek nest we’re going on?”

The crowd quiets, confused by the question.

Captain Kelechi continues. “If my soldiers are demons, and therefore not worthy of fighting – no – dying for Otera, who among you will replace them in our ranks?” He glances mildly at the man. “Will you?” Then he points to another member of the crowd. “How about you? Or you?”

One by one, Captain Kelechi points out people in the crowd, asking them to take our place. The crowd falls silent with alarm…and shame. Scores of people, and no one can look him in the eye.

When no one steps forward, Captain Kelechi nods again. “The next time you want to rob me of my soldiers, make sure you’re ready to take their place first.” He casts a severe look at the man, who slinks away sulkily. He wasn’t expecting anyone to question him, that much is obvious.

I watch the man go, relief building inside me. The people in the capital are much less dedicated to their hatred than the ones in the villages, it seems.

Once he disappears, Captain Kelechi turns to us. “What are you waiting for? Move out!”

We quickly do as we’re told.

As we continue down the street, the familiar sound of Emeka’s Tears thundering in the distance, I turn to Keita, perplexed. “Is he always like that? Captain Kelechi, I mean.”

Keita turns to me and shrugs. “He’s both better and worse than you can imagine.”

The eastern outskirts of Hemaira are dusty and dry, the orderly beauty of the city giving way to a wild, uncultivated plain filled with yellow grasses and towering baobab trees. Baobabs are native here, but the summer heat has so parched them, their leaves have shrivelled on the stems. Even the streams and waterfalls have dried up, all of them seared away by the sun’s unrelenting heat.

The farther out we go, the higher my anxieties build. The nest we’re raiding is at the edge of the jungle, deep inside a cave. Captain Kelechi tracks the deathshrieks’ movements via coucals, the messenger birds he trades with his scouts. The creatures have been unusually active today. I can already feel them out there, a vague, distant presence that causes my blood to rush faster and faster. Ever since I started taking lessons with White Hands, my blood has gotten more and more sensitive.

The plan is to attack the nest early next morning, when they’re at their most vulnerable. Like humans, deathshrieks are active during the day and sleep at night.

As the day wears on, my nerves tighten more and more. I’m excited to finally begin killing deathshrieks to fulfil the purpose the karmokos have been training me for and avenge Katya’s death – but what if I can’t use my voice? I’m used to summoning it during lessons with White Hands – what if I can’t do it here, without her to guide me?

My nervousness grows as we set up camp at the edge of the jungle, my thoughts consumed by the fear of what if, what if. I’m so preoccupied, I don’t notice Keita when he sits next to me on the log where I’ve been mindlessly sharpening my atika for the past thirty minutes.

“Still at it?” he whispers in my ear, amused.

My heart nearly jumps out my chest. “Oyomo’s breath, Keita!” I gasp. “You almost made me slice off my finger!”

He carefully takes the sword from my hands, examines it. “This is the fifth time I’ve seen you sharpening it since we set up camp, and it hasn’t even tasted any blood yet.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Frightened?”

“Of course I’m frightened,” I sniff.

“You’d be insane if you weren’t,” he agrees, leaning against the tree at our backs.

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