Dark Requiem (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 3) (23 page)

I remembered nearly all
there was to remember, although some of the faces I had known were
still a blur.

I understood now, but I
suppose a part of me had always known. There had always been a
yearning, even as a child, and a sense there was something terribly
important missing in my life. I thought of my grandma and how she
had been around me. She had always doted on me and at times treated
me with a reverence that, when I look back on it, had been
extremely unusual for a grown woman to have toward a child,
especially the brat I had been. I vividly remember that on one
occasion, shortly after one of my relatives had been murdered, she
had taken hold of my hand, love and respect shining in her
eyes.

“
You’re special, Dallas.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you anything different. You’re the one
who will bring an end to this and change everything for our family.
You’re the only one who can.”

The words had confused me,
but I still basked in her love and adoration. And deep down, even
then, I had known she was right.

All the while the painting
of Luna stared down at us from its place above the
fireplace.

Luna.

I knew I was Luna. But it
was still so very difficult for me to call myself that. I turned to
look at Avery, his long legs sprawled out before him. It was
probably one of the few times he had slept right through the day
since I had been here.

My poor Avery.

My heart twisted with
anguish when I thought of all he had been through, how burdened his
years had been and his guilt over the past.

He had spent the last few
days preparing to carry out an exorcism of sorts at the chapel. An
exorcism he would be unable to carry out.

I understood that I needed
to be the one to confront the chapel entity. But it wouldn’t make
things any easier for him if things happened as they were likely to
once we got to the chapel. But this had to end.

I stood at the window and
continued to stare at the sky. The sun had set completely and the
moon, which to my eyes was an orb of molten white gold, lit the
world with its tender light. It had me enthralled this night, my
thoughts still on the memories; especially the very last image that
had terrified and confused me so.

I heard Avery stir and my
gaze was wrenched away from the moon. I made my way back to bed and
sat down to watch his beautiful face as he awoke, his eyes
brightening, a slow smile spreading onto his lips when he saw me
sitting there staring at him.

Akan

Later that day, as
twilight was slowly eaten away by the coming night, Akan stood at
his door and stared at the growing darkness. Exhaustion from the
stresses of the last thirty days was like a heavy hand on his
shoulder, weighing him down. Dread over what he would find when he
returned to the temple gnawed at him. He had resigned himself to
the fact that the little girl was gone, her mind destroyed by the
trauma of what had been revealed to her in the ekniwa. Anger curled
in Akan’s stomach at the thought of Mutata and the young life he
had sacrificed, all in his quest for total power.

Rutia barely made any
noise when she walked, her movements graceful and quiet, but he
heard her anyway. Soon he felt her arms around him, one of those
rare moments when she showed affection.

“
You did what you could.
No one else tried to save her,” she said.

“
How did you
know?”

“
How could I not know?
Only the fool who rushed into battle against an army twice the size
of his would try and save the girl from Mutata.”

Rutia moved from behind
Akan when Tanu ran up to the two of them and he instantly missed
the feel of her warmth. Tanu pulled on his father’s arm.

“
Can I go to see the
goddess with you?”

Akan picked him up and
stroked his hair.

“
No, Tanu. You know
children are not allowed in the temple. We do not know if the
goddess will be with us for long. She may have already left us to
return to her home in the sky.”

“
But I have something for
her.”

He produced a posy of
flowers he had picked from the field by their home. They were tiny
flowers the colour of snow with red tipped petals shaped like tear
drops. Tanu had clumsily weaved the stalks together.

“
I will give it to her,”
Akan said, thinking of the way her face lit up at the toy he had
given her and which she probably still clutched even
now.

He placed Tanu on his
feet.

With a heavy heart, he
left his wife and son and made his way to the temple.

He entered to find all the
torches lit, dousing the temple with a scorching orange light. The
temple was full as was usual at the ceremony to mark the end of the
ekniwa. The excited murmur of the crowd, the suffocating smell of
incense and the chanting that pervaded the temple jarred Akan,
setting his teeth on edge. He manoeuvred through the tightly packed
crowd, most of whom were jostling for a better glimpse of the
child, their eyes like that of hungry hawks, their lips curling in
excitement at the spectacle they expected to see. Relief brought
tears to Akan’s eyes when he finally saw the child. She was sitting
up unaided, and although she was unnaturally pale and looked like a
living skeleton in her robes, she was alert. Her eyes darted to the
shadows in the corners of the temple and she peered into the faces
of those gathered, her brow furrowed and her face often twisting in
anguish as if she saw things that were not there.

When Akan took his seat,
her eyes met his. He did not see the child he had encountered a
month ago. Her face was like a mask made of bone and her gaze
resembled the flat cold gaze of a statue. He stared at her, hoping
for the little smile she had bestowed upon him in the past, but it
was as if she had never laid eyes on him before. He felt crushed
when she glanced away to peer intently at the shadows behind him as
if she found hidden meaning in their depths. Akan was the only
member of the ruling elite who was able to meet her gaze. The rest
looked away as if her gaze had the power to strike them dead. They
either stared at the altar behind the child with dogged
concentration, or became fixated with picking at the threads of
their kilts.

Mutata strolled into the
temple a short while later. He had been absent during the thirty
day ritual, no doubt believing the child was either already insane
or would soon be dead. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw the
child sitting cross legged before the altar, his eyes almost
popping out of his head, his mouth gaping open at the fact that she
appeared lucid. He quickly moved to the altar and faced the
crowd.

“
Blessings on this night,
this—”

“
Did I say you could
speak, Mutata?”

Her clear, birdlike voice
cut through the temple. Mutata turned to her, his mouth flapping
open as if he were a confused fish. He clamped his mouth shut and
smiled although anger moved into view behind his eyes.

“
Goddess,” he bowed. “I am
sure you are aware—”

“
I have still not told you
to speak. You.” She pointed to Mutata’s brother in law. “Get to
your feet.”

Mutata’s nostrils flared
as his eyes widened like that of a startled vulture.

“
Take him outside and slit
his throat,” the child said to two of the guards.

Mutata paled as his
brother in law, who looked as shocked as Mutata, was dragged
outside the temple. The child looked on with steel in her eyes
until Mutata’s brother in law disappeared from sight. It was only
then that she directed her gaze to Mutata again.

“
Sit down, Mutata, and
speak only when I say you can.”

Mutata sat down, his head
lowered, but there was no mistaking the rage in his
eyes.

The child stared intently
at those gathered for a few moments. Only Akan and Mutata were able
to meet her gaze, the latter’s burning with anger. She spoke, her
words and demeanour that of someone much older.

“
As you can see, the
ekniwa was a success and the spirits of the underworld have
favoured the Enwa people by returning the earthly body of their
goddess to them. The crops and harvests will be favourable this
year as a reward for your devotion to your goddess.” She directed a
glance as sharp as a blade at Mutata. “The sky gods have never
required human sacrifices from the Enwa people. The death and
destruction that was foreseen will not come to pass so long as you
believe in me and trust what I say to you.”

A sound of relief, of
suppressed joy, rippled through the crowd. Her gaze still on
Mutata, she continued speaking.

“
Being a temple elder is a
privilege given by the people. Not even the earthly incarnation of
a goddess can interfere with that choice. But subjecting a child to
the ekniwa is not something even the beings of the underworld
approve of, Mutata. As penance, your home and lands will be taken
away. You and your family will be given new lands by the burial
mounds.”

The ripple of relief that
passed through the crowd settled into a tense silence.

Mutata rose to his feet
and made as if to speak, his eyes dark with rage. The child paused
and stared at him, her chin tilted, her eyes steady and unblinking,
her bottom lip pursed. Mutata stared at her and perhaps he saw what
Akan saw: The child who had sat before the altar a month ago was
gone. Whether changed by her communion with the otherworld or
possessed by one of the vacoma was difficult to discern.

Mutata sat down. A small
smirk passed over the child’s lips before she continued; her gaze
on Mutata.

“
After the third moon,
your goddess may require another sacrifice, of sorts, but that
remains to be seen. But for now, go. Celebrate. The next few days
are to be ones of joy and festivity.”

The crowd arose and a
shower of cheers reigned down within the temple. Only Mutata
remained silent, his gaze on the child—no, not child. Goddess.
Mutata turned and pushed his way through the departing crowd. The
goddess watched him go, hatred in her eyes.

Akan got to his feet and
turned to follow the crowd out of the temple, unsettled by the
changes he saw in the child goddess.

That clear, sharp voice
rang out again, halting him.

“
You have something for
the goddess?”

He turned around and
kneeled before her.

“
I beg your forgiveness,
but I think you must be mistaken, Divine One.”

A hint of a smile touched
her lips. “Are you going to go back and tell him you did not give
me his gift?”

“
Of course. Forgive me,
Goddess. It is a small gift my son asked me to give to
you.”

Akan pulled the little
posy of flowers from his robe and kneeling before the altar,
offered it to the child goddess.

She took it, her
expression unreadable for a moment as she stared at it. He rose to
his feet.

“
It is just a small thing.
A child’s—”

“
What is this flower? I
have never seen one like it before.”

“
It is called Heaven’s
Tears. There is a small field of them near my home.”

She looked up at him, her
gaze intense.

“
Tell him the goddess is
pleased with his gift. He will be rewarded with good health and a
long life. You may go now.”

Akan nodded, bowed, and
moved toward the temple door.

Just before he ducked out
of the temple, he turned back to glance at her once more. Her gaze
was on the flowers, her little face soft once more. She looked up
at him and smiled.

Relief so intense it
brought tears to his eyes settled over him. A smile came to his
lips.

On the eve of the last
battle Akan had fought, the battle that nearly claimed his life,
the real goddess of the moon had appeared to him.

On that day he was waiting
outside the village in the woods for his second in command.
Although he was as still as the trees he stood beneath, there was a
dark knot in his stomach that kept him tense, his nerves and
reflexes as sharp as the spear he carried.

Then the very air in the
woods seemed to still and the warm summer evening was swallowed by
a dark chill that melted through his skin to his bones. Silence
descended around him as the air a few metres from him thickened as
if it were turning to liquid.

A woman stepped through
the liquid air, appearing a few feet from him. A thin film of sweat
broke out over his skin and he felt goose bumps along his arms, his
breath catching in his chest. She came to a stop and turned to him.
He held his breath and stared at her. The Enwa did not have a clear
description of what the goddess of the moon looked like, but his
soul recognised the divine one the moment he saw her. Her skin was
the colour of night, her hair a dark storm cloud around her face.
When she moved, turning to face him, her image wavered and her hair
became like cascading black water. Her eyes, like a cat’s, took him
in and, to his surprise, recognition moved behind them like fast
flowing water. A hint of curiosity pinched her dark
brow.