EJIMA

CHAPTER 9

How long had they carried her? Ejima whizzed, fighting through the rope that gaged her mouth. It was hard to get enough air, especially since her hands have been tied backwards. The firm grip of the guard which locked her to the body of the Ostrich did not add any ease at all. She tried to struggle but realized just then that there was no strength in her. The weakness of childbirth was kicking in and it was taking all of Will's power not to drift into the world of serenity.

The pace of the Ostrich eased as they came before two burning torches. The Palace guards alighted, and one of them undid the rope that held her to the Ostrich. She fell heavily from the animal and cursed, but the gag in her mouth would only let a gibberish undertone.

She coughed and sat up, trying to suck air into her burning lungs, but all effort was like water poured on a stone. Where were they taking her?

Ejima's coppery eyes searched the night. The creeps of the cricket could be heard as they announced the death of the sun. Nothing stood for miles, just the hood of darkness and the silhouette in the shadows. Silence spoke, its voice was loud enough to drive fear into her stomach.

She tried to swallow, but her lips burned. The gag was beginning to tear her mouth. Thirst, sweat, and pain were the only loyal companion she had at the moment. She could also use a warm bath, but that was a luxury for a wishful mind.

As if sensing her pain, one of the king's guards opened his water skin and splashed the content on her face. Ejima was grateful at first, but horror struck her when the water stopped coming and her throat burned as they yearned for more.

"Move it, woman. We don't have all day," The other guards said and tugged the rope.

Ejima hurried to her feet, despite the pain that enveloped her body. The looks on the men's faces said that they were ready to drag her if she protested or showed any sign of resistance.

They walked deeper into the night, but the place lightened up when they came to a cave that was candled with torches burning on their stool.

"Kneel," The guards with her rope commanded, and Ejima complied without complaint. Some village elders were there. She could tell from the red beads and the red caps they wore. They hid their faces under some masks, leaving their dark, soulless eyes to the mercies of the dry, stuffy air.

"Udele na agwuba. Mba, ha enweghi njiko obula (There is no relationship between a Vulture and a shaving blade)"

Ejima lifted her head to the voice of the Dibia. The woman had not changed since the last four months they met. Her features were still small and gnostic. Tattered hair and clothing, with white cowering hanging here and there, matched the colours of the skulls on her staff but contrasted the dark-hooded eyes. The only significant thing that seemed to have changed in her appearance was the white ceremonial chalk lines that masked her face.

"Only the stubborn fly follows the corpse to the grave." The woman continued. She held a clay pot in her free hands and her back was turned to Ejima. She must be in some kind of prayer or something dark because she didn't act as if she felt the presence of anybody. Even the whispers and side talk from the elders were not enough to break her from the trance.

"Kwube. Nwaodibo gi na-anu (Speak for your servant listens)" The Dibia said after some time.

The silence continued to declare its presence as the woman spread the white powder on her shrine-which was a bird, carved out from a stone. She finally turned back to the King's emissaries after spreading the power three times.

"My fathers," The woman said. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and sadness. With the chalk lines on her face, it was impossible to read the expression correctly. "Chi ejila na eghighie. (An abomination has happened)"