SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
Eri would die, and she knew it. The gash on her right shoulder sank deep, and despite attempts to burn off the surface, the injury throbbed, pulsing like a second heart.
She ignored it or tried to, as she sat beneath the foliage.
I succeeded. She thought. I destroyed them all.
Her lips parted into a smile, and for a moment, she forgot her exhaustion. Yes, she'd charged into battle and avenged her king and husband. She'd made the enemies pay for what they did to her, her family, and her kingdom.
A sweet sensation coursed through her chest, and she burst into a wild, loud laughter. After days of planning, after moons of sleepless nights. She finally got this. Justice was served. Yes, the debt of blood has been paid; her husband's spirit would rest.
She wiped her tears as the laughter dwindled. Soon she would be with him. Soon she would gaze upon his beauty and strength. Soon they would walk the aisle into the serene hall of Uwaoma, a place without fear, anxiety, injustice, or suffering. She would be free. They would be free.
A stabbing pain jutted into her lower hip, sharp and quick, and disappeared when she tried to react.
She gnashed her teeth and stared in horror at her stomach. It was bigger now and much heavier.
By the heavens. She thought. Darkness above! How can a woman forget her unborn child?
She patted her stomach, trying to reassure the little one.
I will keep you safe. She thought, I promise.
Chewing up more ogirishi leaves, she winced as she shuffled the munched debris into the wound. Though not a powerful anticoagulant, its effect would prevent infection and blood loss, she hoped.
She grabbed her spear and stood amid the pains that pricked her hip like a thousand needles.
Her bones vibrated, protesting vehemently at the attempt. She disregarded it, trying to focus on the goal ahead. She must move forward; she must give this child something to live for, something better.
I can do this. She thought, breathing in, I am stronger than this.
Her eyes flashed towards the distance, determination surging in.
I can't die here. Not here.
Ember glows rose into the night as she kicked blood-soaked sands into the fire—her husband had taught her. To cover your tracks, he had said, burn all leaf wraps and leftovers. Drown every lighted fire with sand and walk like a ghost.
She tightened her fingers on her spear, and using it as support, she sauntered towards the direction of the moon.
The enemy camp was days behind, in smoke and ashes. She remembered the massacre, the burnings, the screams. The deaths.
She gulped the nausea. Whatever happened in that camp wasn't her. She was weak. The noble queen Eri was frail and kind and…weak. She wasn't a lone warrior or a killer. Or an avenger.
No, one night won't define her. What happens in battle stays in battle. Nothing can change that. Nothing.
The moon sat brilliantly somewhere behind the dark clouds. Its light swathed into the forest through the fog and blended with the shadows. Yet, that light. That light was her way back, her only guide if she must find her way home. The moon has been known to lead hunters and warriors alike. It was a traveler's companion, one she hoped would lead her.
The trees in this forest touched the skies, with broad leaves and spine billowing out of its bark like a hedgehog waiting to catch its prey. Mist rose in all directions, melding with the harmattan wind that ploughed the vegetation. In Ezeudo, this forest would be harvested for timbers and processed into weapons, housing materials, and other vital implements—if one excludes their desolation, that is. Eri was no builder herself, but she knew how useless this forest was. The trees were tall, yes, but the twisted vines made it a good candidate for a woman's cooking pot. There were no good branches or plants, and the soil was infected with sulfur. It was a wasteland, so to speak. A cursed land.
I mustn't die here. She gnashed her teeth and started towards a new direction. If her calculations were correct, she would be out of the forest before the Sungod appears in the sky tomorrow. Her baby would be safe. They would be safe.
Almost there. She thought, clenching her spear. We just have to…
She gripped her knees, and her nails dug into her skin as a fresh wave of agony tore through her body.
"No, not now! No!" She panicked, searching around to find something, anything, to serve as a gag.
She found nothing.
The pain struck again like lightning, persistent and insistent. It was sharp and lasting and…
She screamed.
Her breath ragged in agony, punctuated by guttural moans that echoed through the forest. Sweat pooled at her temples, and every muscle in her body tensed, trembling under the strain. Her fingers clawed into the dust, seeking something to anchor her as the contraction pulled in a sharp and demanding compulsion. The primal urge to push overtook her, unstoppable, undeniable. She arched her back, a raw cry ripping from her throat, the sound both feral and fragile.
"God of my fathers!"
She heaved. Her breathing raced as her entire body tried to adjust, working in brutal harmony to escape the pain.
God of my fathers. She panted as a sudden determination began surging through her bones. I am Eririohu, Daughter of Ifedinanwa, crowned queen to the throne of Ezeoha and the mother of war. I can do this.
She took a long breath, and with fingers digging deep into the dirt, she pushed.
A gasp of relief broke through the tension as a slippery form slid into her trembling hands. Its cries were agonizing, weak, fragile, and… sweet?
Tears mucked her vision as she cradled the child to her chest. She shuddered with exhaustion, yet the triumph of bringing forth a new life made the agony of the past three years irrelevant. Her child was here. The child she had—
"What's that?" She asked, "Who's there?" Clutching her baby, she pointed her spear awkwardly towards the opposite direction. She had seen something, a movement behind the gray vegetation.
Her fingers tightened on her spear, despite the sudden fear that gripped her.
Did they find me?
A man walked out of the shadows and stood about an arm's length from her. But for his blue eyes and dark hair, everything about him was white. No, this wasn't white. It was whiter than white, like the radiance of the sun itself, like the blaze of an eternal flame. It wasn't shining; it was…burning! Yes, that's it. His skin burnt with whiteness, which radiated a beauty beyond comparison or description. A golden cord rested on his waist, contrasting with his blue shoes. His hands were clasped behind him, and even as he moved, his steps created ripples on the sand in a gentle but strange manner.
"What…who are you?" Eri said, lowering her weapon. Her hands no longer shook with fatigue or fright. She should be afraid, and she knew it. Yet, there was a certain peace beyond understanding that engrossed her. Its warmth comforted her, and for a moment, she felt like leaping to her feet and dancing.
Odd. That's very odd.
I GO BY MANY NAMES. The man said. His mouth was unmoving yet, Eri heard the firm voice, clear and detailed in her head. He had spoken in an old Oha dialect, a tongue which only her mother uses to converse with her.
SOME CALL ME THE ANCIENT OF DAY; OTHERS CALL ME THE BREATH GIVER, THE WAY MAKER, THE PRINCE OF PEACE, AND THE GIVER AND TAKER OF LIFE. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME; I AM.
I am? Eri thought, weighing the words. A strange name, fitting for a strange being. Of the seventy-seven gods and goddesses in Ezeoha, none bears such a name. None radiate such innocence and holiness.
"Are…" she cleared her throat. Her vision had become vague. She must have lost too much blood. The wound no longer bled, but she knew her time on earth ticked away. Life was slipping out of her grasp.
"Are you also the one called death?" she asked. "Have you come for me?"
The creature smiled, or so she thought, for the expressions on his face didn't depict what she sensed to be joy and peace.
IN A SENSE, YES. The man said, FOR DEATH IS MY SERVANT AND OBEYS ME. SO YES, I AM NOT DEATH. I'M MUCH WORSE. I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END. I AM EXISTENCE.
"You're one of the gods then." Eri said, looking down at her child, "I know you're here to take my spirit into the tranquil hall of Alaoma. But what would happen to my child?"
SHE WOULD SERVE ME. The one called I am said, THROUGH HER, I WILL ESTABLISH MY NAME IN THIS LAND.
Eri breathed in. Her joints had grown numb and her vision hazy. Death calls on her. She could hear the silent whisper beckoning.
She dropped her spear, and using her teeth, she separated the umbilical cord. "Hear the plea of a dying woman," Eri said after tying both ends of the umbilical cord, "I give this child to you. Keep it."
The creature stretched forth its hands and took the baby, resting it perfectly like a mother of many children.
YOUR CHILD IS DESTINED FOR GREATNESS. I WILL SHINE MY LIGHT THROUGH HER.
Fair enough. Eri thought as she steadied herself. She was ready to face death. She was ready to meet her husband, who was waiting for her on the other side of Alaoma.
"Take me home," she whispered, "I am ready."
NO. The man called I Am said in her head, YOU WILL NOT DIE. YOU STILL HAVE A PART TO PLAY.
Eri didn't understand what the words meant. Not that she cared. Her child was sa
fe; it was time to meet her husband. It was time to go home.