Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(39)

“I’m fine.” He starts moving ahead, but I grab his arm, forcing him to stay still. Moments pass in silence as I wait for him to recover. It’s strange to see him this way.

The Ojore I know always rushes into battle.

He never seems afraid.

“I don’t know why it had to be Burners.” He closes his eyes. “I’m sure the Iyika have Reapers. Cancers. They could’ve attacked with anything but fire.”

He touches the burns on his neck, and his face twists with pain. I can almost see the flames burning in his mind. Staring at Ojore, I wonder if this was part of Zélie’s plan. Moons ago I brought the fire to her shores. I burnt her people. I destroyed her home.

This could be her way of paying me back.

“If you don’t want to do this—”

Ojore holds up his hand, cutting me off. “They’ve tortured us long enough. It’s time for those maggots to crawl back into the dirt.”

The hatred that settles on his face looks out of place, so different from the grin I know. I open my mouth to say more, but Ojore forges ahead. I have no choice but to follow.

Another hour passes as the distance stretches between us and Lagos. It feels like we’re halfway to Ilorin before we finally hear chatter. As soon as it echoes, we stop in our tracks. My muscles tense as we crouch behind a tree, scouting the Iyika’s camp.

“There it is,” I whisper, leaning forward to get a better look. A few dozen meters ahead, the rebels cook a hyenaire over an open fire. They all sport red-tinted armor as they pass around wooden plates.

From the strength of their attacks on Lagos, I expected to find dozens of maji, but only nine sit around the flickering flames. The same rage Raifa ignited in my core returns as I take in the faces of the rebels who’ve made my city burn.

“Where are the rest?” Ojore whispers. “I was told dozens stormed Lagos when magic returned.”

“Maybe this is all they could spare. After all, they only needed enough soldiers to keep us trapped in the capital.”

“Let’s turn back.” Ojore nudges me. “Your mother and her t?táns should be more than enough to wipe them out.”

We rise to our feet, but when we turn toward Lagos, two rebels stand in our path.

“Drop your weapons!” the older of the two barks, the flames in her hand illuminating her snarl. My lips tremble as Ojore and I exchange a glance. With no other choice, we drop our swords and raise our hands into the air.

“Send word to the elders,” the girl orders. “Tell them we have the king.”

“Why wait?” The other Burner steps forward. “Let’s send them his head—”

Ojore lunges without warning, grabbing his sword from the ground. I flinch as he drives the blade through the rebel’s neck. Blood flies as the Burner falls into the dirt.

“Daran!” The girl’s shriek brings me back to life. I tackle her to the ground, driving my elbow into her temple.

“Attack position!” a maji yells from their camp, spurring the rest of the Iyika to action. My legs turn to lead as they form one circle, chanting in unison.

“òòrùn pupa lókè, tú àw?n iná r? sórí ilè ayé—”

The magi lift their hands into the sky, igniting the red sun. It burns with a vengeance, so bright it covers the forest in its crimson light. The air scorches around us, almost too hot to inhale.

“We have to stop them!” Ojore tears across the forest, racing toward the flames. He runs like a man possessed as he reaches for the throwing knives clipped to his belt. No regard for his life. No fear of his death.

“Ojore, wait!” I sprint after him. Back in Lagos, someone sounds the Iyika alarm.

Ha-wooooooooo!

The siren blares, deafening despite how far we are from the city. Trees catch fire around us as the red sun grows. The flames sear my skin as I run.

Ojore grunts as he races, throwing two knives into a Burner’s chest. A guttural roar escapes the Iyika leader’s throat as her soldier falls. When she spots Ojore, her lips curl.

“Odi iná, jó gbogbo rè ni àlà r?!”

Ojore stops in his path as a wall of fire appears out of thin air. It builds in strength, flames lighting the horror on his face.

“Ojore!” I scream as time comes to a stop. The maji swings her hands back to attack. My mind goes blank.

Magic swells inside me, a surge beyond my control.

I raise my hand and my magic explodes with such force I hear the bones shatter in my arm.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


INAN


A FULL HOUR passes before the monarchy’s forces find us. Soldiers hold me down as the medic bandages my arm. Others erect a canvas tent over my head, blocking out the celebration at the destroyed Iyika camp.

I grit my teeth to cage my screams. The pain is so great, I can hardly breathe. My arm aches as if every single bone has been smashed to pieces with a hammer.

“Inan, keep still!” Mother rushes in, an array of colorful glass vials in her hand. She picks up one filled with a dark blue liquid and forces the bitter sedative down my throat. “We’re still scanning their ranks for Healers, but this should help.”

I grab on to her as she props me up, keeping my bandaged arm still. The sedative hits like a wall. I exhale as it clouds my mind and numbs the pain.