“Help me up,” he ordered Adjei and Salifah.
“But you’re sick,” Old One,” Adjei protested. “You’re still too weak to ...”
At the expression that crossed his father’s face then, Adjei bowed his head and, along with his mother, lifted Kipchoge to his feet. Together, they helped him to the doorway. What they saw outside the shrine caused even the battle-hardened Adjei to shudder in dread.
Horror had invaded Aduwura ... horror in the form of leaping, rending monstrosities rendered all the more ghastly by their unmistakable resemblance to humankind. So swiftly did they move that their appearance was revealed only for fleeting seconds – yet those moments were more than sufficient to unravel the courage of even the boldest.
The invaders were man-sized, but went on all fours. Their smooth, naked skin was slate-gray in hue, as were the tangles of hair sprouting from their sloping skulls. Beast-like talons tipped their fingers, and dog-like snouts jutted from faces otherwise human in configuration.
The creatures swarmed over the people of Aduwura. Blood fountained from slashed throats, spattering against the white clay walls of the houses. Hearts were torn from chests pierced by iron-hard talons. Limbs and heads tumbled through the air like rotten, dripping fruit ...
By now, the celebrating Akan had been transformed into a shrieking, terror-mad mob. Most were pulled down from behind by the rampaging beast-things. Others, who had retained their weapons even on a night of revelry, hacked and stabbed at their snouted tormenters, opening great, gaping wounds from which no blood flowed. Like a flood at the height of the wet season, the melee swirled around the abosonnan.
“Look after the Old One, Mother,” Adjei said as he released his grip on his father’s shoulder.
Before Salifah could protest, Adjei unsheathed his sword and plunged into a knot of beast-things attacking a group of desperately battling Akan. Adjei’s sword decapitated one of the monstrosities. Two others leaped on him, but his armor thwarted their fangs and claws. Heartened by Adjei’s courage, other armed Akan clustered around him. Together, they began to take a toll on the gray creatures, thought the invaders seemed impossible to kill.
“Maybe they can hold these things off,” said Kofi.
“No, old friend,” said Kipchoge. “These are tuyobene – living dead. They are the spirits of your ancestors, given shape and purpose by the mchawi of Ishigbi.”
“Those ... are ... my ... ancestors?” Kofi choked.
“She has warped them to her own ends, Kofi,” said Kipchoge. “They do not know what they are doing. My son and the others are brave. But they cannot kill the tuyobene, for the tuyobene are already dead.”
“You brought this upon us!” snarled Ekupanin, bitterness overcoming his fear. “It is you your sister seeks, not us. Where is your healing now, outlander?”
“How dare you?” Salifah hissed between clenched teeth.
Before she could further berate her nephew, Kipchoge spoke.
“Only mchawi can offset mchawi,” he said. “And there is still mchawi left in me. Even after all these rains, I can feel it. I am still a mganga. Ekupanin: will you denounce me, or be the akuapem? I will try to stop the tuyobene. You must get all your people out of the city.”
Turning from Ekupanin, Kipchoge looked at Salifah.
“When I came to Aduwura, I made a vow to Mungu never again to make use of mchawi,” he said. “If I use it now, I will never again be able to heal.”
“Do it,” said Salifah. “You will still be the same man.”
“It’s too late, healer!” cried Kofi. “They are coming for us now!”
Half-a-dozen tuyobene, their muzzles dripping Akan blood, loped with appalling swiftness toward the abosonnan. Salifah screamed and tightened her arms around her husband’s waist. Both Kofi and Ekupanin raised their arms in futile gestures of self-defense.
Kipchoge swung his arm in a slashing motion. It was as though he had materialized a taut, unseen wire in front of the tuyobene: they halted in mid-leap and tumbled to the ground.
Now Kipchoge stood straight and steady, his pain and fear forgotten. The old, dark ecstasy of the stirring of his mchawi warred with his deep loathing of that joy. He thrust the loathing aside.
Again, his arms slashed the air, this time in a raising motion. And he spoke a word of command that echoed over the cries of the beleaguered Akan.
The tuyobene halted their attacks ... and suddenly rose several feet from the ground, where they dangled like fish caught on a line.
“Run! Now!” Kipchoge shouted. He shoved Salifah toward Ekupanin, who reflexively grasped her in his arms.
“Go! All of you!” he cried. “There is nothing more you can do here! But do not run toward the river!”
“Yes, run!” Ekupanin echoed. “Do as he says ... now!”
The authority conveyed in the akuapem’s voice galvanized the Akan. Almost as one, they fled the blood-splotched streets, carrying the wounded with them and leaving the dead behind.
Adjei was not among those who fled. He lay facing the sky, his throat opened by the fangs of a tuyobene.
Salifah fought savagely in the grasp of her nephew as he bore her away from the carnage.
“Kipchoge, Kipchoge, I cannot leave you!” she wailed.
But Ekupanin would not let her go.
Kipchoge did not hear her. He knew the tuyobene would not long be forestalled by his spell ... not against power such as Ishigbi’s. Within moments, she would free them from their bonds and they would course like hounds through the bush, hunting down the fleeing Akan.
However, Kipchoge had never intended to wrest control of the tuyobene from Ishigbi. His mouth opened. His tongue flicked across the roof of his mouth. His voice emerged in a chant that sounded as though it were being spoken underwater:
“Lolololololololololololololololo...”
Through the quiet that suddenly enveloped Aduwura, the answer to Kipchoge’s summoning came. Loud splashing from the river ... thunderous bellows louder than the roar of a lion ... the crash of heavy bodies moving swiftly through the bush ... Kipchoge knew then
