Akani: The Adventure Starts Here

By Leah Adeola

"My fate as a woman followed me around like a solemn shadow, offering nothing but cooking, cleaning and other dreary tasks, but I was not yet ready to submit." Akani is the tale of a young girl's reluctant journey into adulthood, set against the excitement and turmoil of an adventure story. Set around 100BC, in and around the mountains of North Africa, in what is now Morocco, Akani's story unfolds, revealing a world that is both reassuringly recognisable and exotically different. The challenges she has to overcome force her to re-examine the relationships she has with her emerging femininity, her family and her community.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483514635

Book preview

9781483514635

Prologue

Akani shook her head to get rid of the buzzing sound. It was her trusted alarm system and it had been with her all morning, accompanied by an unwelcomed feeling of something being amiss; but what?

Slowly she glanced over each shoulder, finding nothing she shrugged and returned her gaze to the little princess playing with a ball.

The child rolled it along the rugs made from rich silky wool that felt like new grass beneath the feet. She giggled as the ball rolled under a table laden with fresh figs and melons. There was also steamed sea bream and roasted quail, a king’s feast.

Many people envied her position as chief body guard to the royal children and Akani was proud of her status, but it was not an easy task. Her eyes had to be in ten different places at once, her ears always pitched to hear even the tiniest rumble of danger from kidnappers and assassins.

Today, however should have been more relaxed, no royal duties to attend, no strangers in the palace, let alone the room, so why was the buzzing sound still there, making the hairs on her neck stand to attention?

The little princess’s giggles mingled with the deeper anger tones of her elder brothers. They were arguing again. The younger one lunged at his brother with a short wooden blade. They were practising swordsmanship, but there was an edge to their games, they each resented the other.

The elder one was better at debating, poetry and public speaking, qualities he would need when he inherited the throne. At fourteen summers, the younger one was already accomplished at weaponry but had a wild nature and an explosive temper.

The screen slid aside and one of the palace soldiers came in, his blue tunic contrasting with the warm glow of the room, created by the many golden objects which in turn, reflected the open fires dotted round the place.

Akani smiled at him and received a curt nod in response. It had taken five summers to eek that much out of them. The soldiers, all male resented her position as bodyguard, she was part of an elite circle, whereas they were mere foot soldiers. Her hand went up to touch the pendant around her neck, a carving of a woman sat on a throne with long horns like a bull, The Goddess. It reminded her that she was from a long, long tradition; she was of the Goddess, a sacred community of women, trained in the art of sacred temple rites and the ways of the warrior.

The pride she had felt on being initiated was still the same, but the sect’s power was beginning to wane. One could see it in the temple where there were now more priests than ever before, their art of divination being more dramatic and therefore more popular.

The warrior sect was still strictly female, though their numbers were dwindling. There seemed to be an unconscious stigma attached to joining. Fear stopped it from being openly voiced but she sensed it was only a matter of time.

The King still followed tradition so she guarded the household as generations before her had done. There was that buzzing sound again, she frowned, perhaps it was a remnant of that dream she’d had last night, a dream of revenge. She took some deep breaths to relax her body.

More food was being brought in, this time little white balls of goats cheese surrounded by black olives. She had watched the preparation of the food earlier that day.

The little princess squealed with delight at the sight of the cheese. She reminded Akani of her own young nieces aged five and two summers. The younger one bore her name and was full of mischief, clever and fearless. Akani smiled with pride, she would make an excellent warrior, but she doubted the mother, her sister would allow that.

The princes had settled on separated rugs to eat. Slaves brought the plates to them. The princess had a ball of cheese in her hand. Suddenly the screen was smashed aside as Capesh, a servant ran into the room shouting

NO!!!

The princess was about to take a bite when Capesh snatched the ball out of her hand, making the child gasp in shock and then begin to wail in fear. Behind Capesh stood the Queen, breathless from running.

Capesh’s stance was triumphant, with something like spite blazing from her eyes. The Queen turned to her

Are you sure?

Yes Capesh said I am certain there is something in the food

Impossible Akani said I watched it being prepared myself

The Queen was in a dilemma, Capesh cleared her throat, her pock-marked face held a sneer

Pardon me, but if she watched the preparation then she has nothing to fear Capesh held out the ball of cheese to her.

It was a challenge, Akani saw the flash in Capesh’s eyes and understood that the food was indeed poisoned and that Capesh, herself had put it there, but why? She vaguely remembered that Capesh’s request to join the warrior sect had been rejected but surely she would not.... Akani saw the doubt on everyone’s faces, this incident would further damage the already fragile reputation of the sect. To back down now would be to admit guilt.

Akani reached out and took the ball of cheese. She put it in her mouth. There was no bitterness. She chewed. She swallowed. She felt the morsel slowly slide down her throat and hit her stomach like a pebble in a pond. For a few moments nothing happened. Then she gagged and her eyes filled with water. She knew the poison would take a long time; it would slowly wind itself around her body like a snake, then bit-by-bit it would close in and strangle her.

She closed her eyes as shame, regret and the sheer stupidity of this loss clouded over her. When she opened them again she was alone with Capesh who still wore a smile of triumph. Akani licked her parched lips why? she managed to whisper

Because you said No. All my life, all I have ever wanted was to be a member of your warrior sect, my whole family was against it, but I still wanted to join. And you said No. I gave up my family for you, and you rejected me. Capesh’s smile had turned into a pout why did you say no? she seemed almost tearful.

Because you weren’t ready Akani spoke hoarsely

Because you weren’t ready mimicked Capesh, with a cruel twist of her mouth, the tearfulness evaporated as her anger burned bright. You reduced me to the life of a servant. And now, I shall ruin your life the way you did mine. I shall ruin it right down to the root, so it will never sprout again

Akani closed her eyes again. She was feeling heavy, her limbs like stone. She felt herself falling of a ledge. She gave in to the feeling.

TEN YEARS LATER

CHAPTER ONE

I shall begin my story in my twelfth summer, in a tree. A tall stately cedar, which was difficult to climb, but the farmhand had taught me how to shimmy up the bark using a rope and my feet.

My mother had forbidden me to climb this or any other tree. She said it was unwomanly and that at my age, I really ought to be learning to prepare the dishes I would cook for my husband and family. I tried to look interested as she spoke and nodded in all the right places, but that kind of talk bored me; it seemed so remote from where I was then. My fate as a woman followed me around like a solemn shadow, offering nothing but cooking, mending and other dreary tasks. But I was not yet ready to submit.

Held in the arms of my forbidden tree, I savoured the warm spring sunshine on my face. It felt like the colour orange, boasting vitality and with good reason, it had been missed. The winter months had been hard and had stretched over our terraced fields in uncaring sheets of ice, in stark contrast to the black mountains that surrounded our farm.

It was an isolated place, our nearest neighbours being half a morning’s walk away, and the nearest village, almost a day away. Unlike the other dwellings in the area, our farm house was not built from mud brick, but from solid stones quarried from the nearby river at the base of the mountains. There were three houses all together, our two storey home and next to that a barn for the animals. We kept three cows and a bull, two horses and a donkey as well as a small herd of sheep and goats. The eight hens and rooster were supposed to be my responsibility, but they annoyed me with their endless clucking.

The other small house was for the farm hand and his family. Their children were allowed to run around near naked with snotty noses.

Aki! I heard my mother’s shrill voice coming from the kitchen quarters, but I choose to ignore it. I knew that once I stepped in there, I would be swept up in the general commotion. It was a few days before my elder sister Rusal’s wedding and the house had been taken over by an army of neighbours and hired help for the preparations.

But only the women, the men folk had gone up into the sacred caves, to perform secret rituals that would ensure wealth and fertility for the intended couple. I wished I was amongst them.

I looked up as a flock of birds, yellow tailed squawkers, flew above my head. I tried to imagine what the birds could see. Though I could not read, I spent a long time poring over my father’s map. I loved the different colours marking out the terrain, green for the sea, brown for the land, and pink for high places like our mountain. I could scarcely believe that so large and colourful a world, could fit onto a sheet of papyrus four by two hands width. I knew that if the birds turned east, they would come to the sandy dunes of the desert where my father’s people came from. And if they kept flying straight, they would eventually come to the lands of Egypt and Nubia.

If they flew west over our mountains and passed the villages, with their mud-brick houses almost invisible against the yellow rocks, they would come to the great wall of our city, Huxel and if they continued they would meet the stormy Western Sea and the edge of the world.

The map also showed another sea, much smaller to the north, called The Inland Sea, because it is surrounded by land, trapped like a puddle. My mother’s people came from this sea long, long ago, that is why they are pale. They brought with them the colour purple. There are new sea people now called Rumi, they have planted lime trees to keep us out and mark the edge of their territory.

Aki!! my mother was calling again and this time there was an implied threat. I sighed and turned to watch my brother, Bao and his friends playing amongst the lilac bushes, their heads disappearing and reappearing like a conjurer’s trick. I envied their freedom, their claim on childhood.

Last night my mother had come and sat on my bed, folding her clothes neatly around her, as was her habit. She wore a thick green dress with a flowing skirt. I liked the border which had been embroidered with flowers. The women of the village did not wear such extravagant clothes. She did not stroke my face, the way she would have Rusal’s, instead she had fiddled with her hands.

The years have gone by so quickly she had said and her voice had had a wobble. You are almost a woman She had smiled then, as if that were a cue, some covert signal. There are things you need to know

Oh Ama I had groaned you have already told me all about THAT but she had shaken her head and smiled shyly

Not just that, there are other things, things of the heart

Oh! Can’t it wait I had pulled the blue woven blanket closer and yawned dramatically and my mother had laughed.

Oh Aki, you remind me so much of my sister I was greatly pleased by this, her elder sister, also called Akani, had once been body guard to the royal children, a very prestigious position, especially for a woman. But her story did not end happily, she had died in mysterious circumstances, something to do with a cult, but no one would tell me the exact details. In my mind she was a legend, riding a wild horse, brandishing a sword, fearless and above all, free.

Well my mother had said, getting up and wincing slightly, There is still time Later I would regret not having listened to those secrets of the heart. I would forever feel robbed of those things a mother shares with her daughter.

A-KA-NI!! the stress on each syllable warned me that her anger was about to erupt, I knew better than to push my luck.

I walked along the stony path between the barn and the house and stopped to stroke Durkis, my favourite horse. They would soon be put out to pasture on the upper valleys. I reached down and pulled on some mint leaves and inhaled the strong scent. The chickens clucked in welcome. They had come to associate me with the handfuls of mush I scattered for their meal. I said a loud Boo to scatter them.

As I entered the kitchen quarters a hush descended amongst the women and they all turned to stare at me. It was a disapproving hush, a silent tut. I looked down at my dress, with its fresh tear from climbing, its hem smeared with mud.

My mother had on the tight pained smile she always wore whenever I had embarrassed her in public. She ushered me to the well to wash, then set me to work helping Capesh, our housemaid, make the little rabbit dumplings that would be served at dinner that night.

Through the open haze of the fire, I felt Capesh watching me. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Capesh had not been born in our green valley. My mother said she had arrived in the middle of the night, asking for refuge saying she was being chased, and by morning she had made herself indispensable, taking over most of the household duties She had been with us since before Bao was born, but she had remained essentially a mystery.

She was a stout woman older than my mother, nut-brown like me but with light hair, ugly and coarse, like burnt stalks of grass, which she kept hidden under a scarf.

Her face and forearms were lined with ancient scars, fascinating nicks and gorges, but she would not tell how she got them, no matter how much one pleaded.

To avoid her gaze I looked around the kitchen courtyard. In between the well and the stone domed oven, three of our dappled coloured goats were tethered. They would soon be slaughtered for Rusal’s wedding banquet. I recognised some of the women come to help from the village. There was the washer woman who came every seventh day to collect our clothes and took them down to the river to pound on the large boulders. And there was the older toothless woman who always came when animals were sick or birthing; and next to her the calm patient one who taught us young girls how to weave.

Later that night I watched my sister Rusal combing her hair by the window, illuminated by the moonlight. She had hair like our mother’s; it grew long and thick passed her waist in gentle waves. I envied it. Mine was tough and wiry and sat like a bush on top of my head.

Rusal was only three summers older than I was, but she was already a young woman. My eyes followed the new curves of her body, from the swell of her breast to the delicate slope of her waist and hips. I was still surprised by how much her body had changed and I feared that mine would soon do the same, against my will it would grow in places, shrink in others and become alien to me.

It will be a full moon in two days I said A very auspicious time for a wedding

You sound like Capesh she replied and then she turned to face me, seized by some emotion, I could not tell in the flickering oil lamps if it was fear or elation, but something came off her in waves.

Are you scared or excited? I asked

Both she breathed Both Then with a skip she went over to her wooden chest and took out her grass basket. She dipped her hand inside and produced two dangly earrings, flattened silver discs embedded with amber pieces. She held them up to her ear and pulled out our mother’s little bronze mirror.

Aren’t they beautiful? she asked

Ama will skin you for taking her mirror

Rusal made a sour face at me and went on admiring her reflection. The earrings were part of her engagement present from her fiancé, Kimo. He was a bland official in the army, at least ten summers her senior. Kimo came in his dark blue officer’s uniform, cap in hand and an oily smile smeared all over his face. He had only been my sister’s lover for six moons, before him there had been Metti, a son of our nearest neighbour.

Metti and Rusal had been childhood sweethearts, but that was before Kimo came along with his shiny gold medals, dazzling my silly sister with his wealth and good family connections.

They said Metti had been broken hearted and had gone South, where the sun kissed your skin like a jealous lover, leaving you with blisters and sores. In the next heart beat Rusal’s mood changed. She let out a long mournful sigh and her shoulders slumped. Do you miss Metti? I asked helpfully. She did not respond at first then, she shook her head said through tightly pursed lips

Metti would have been an imprudent match

But you loved him, and you don’t love Kimo She drew herself up with a determined shrug.

Kimo will provide for me, and provide well. I won’t have to walk in cow’s shit any more. I shall have long silk dresses and ruby necklaces

I frowned.

As she finished plaiting her hair there was a wall of silence between us. Across the room Bao stirred, kicking out in his sleep. On the wall above his head was a woven tapestry, a beautiful flawless scene depicting women bathing by the river. Rusal had made that when she was one summer younger than I was then. I looked away to my wooden chest against the wall. On top stood a set of six ivory camels, the largest one as big as my fist and receding in size. They were a gift from my father’s father, of the nomad tribe. I remembered when we had visited him in his elaborate tent, divided into rooms and the pleasant way the desert shifted underfoot.

Rusal blew out the lamp and got onto our thick sleeping mat, turning her back to me. I could not bear long sieges.

I’m sorry I said into the night

No I am sorry her voice was muffled. You were right. I do miss Metti, just to hear his name is like an axe to my heart, but... She let the end trail off.

Sacrifice, I thought, my sister had sacrificed her heart for a good name and a trinket box full of exotic jewels. I felt distain for her choice; I saw her refusal to acknowledge her love, to follow her heart, I saw this as a weakness just as surely as she saw it as a strength. Suddenly I felt very alone, as if my family had moved away from me. The thought scared me.

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning I woke early, before the birds had begun to sing, before the indigo sky fell away in layers, each one paler than the last. The sound that had woken me was the deep base of my father’s voice. I had seen twelve summers but when I thought of my father, I was reduced to six or seven. He was the most solid thing I knew.

I edged off the mat, careful not to wake Rusal, I wanted him all to myself for a while. I followed the boom of my father’s voice down the stairs, my bare feet cold against the stone, and into the kitchen. I was about to enter when I heard my mother’s cry of alarm. The door was ajar and I was hidden by the shadows.

It cannot be true she breathed, taking out her handkerchief and fanning herself. Our mother loved hysterics. My father took her hand and led her to a stool, pulling up another to sit opposite her. He stroked her hand. His face was grave.

It simply cannot be true she said again

Now my love, we knew this day might come It was then that I noticed his sword on the kitchen table. It normally lived on the wall in the family room, next to his shield.

But it is only a rumour my mother was saying And there have always been rumours

It is fact my father replied Sunai, the warrior Prince is gathering his army, and they are marching towards the city, unless we stop them, they will advance further and further until everything we own and love is swallowed up by his dictatorship

But, but my mother was saying. I realized I had taken a deep breath in, but not out. I was scared to exhale in case it escaped as a howl or a hiss or worse, a sob.

I put my hands over my mouth and carefully edged out of my hiding place and out of the kitchen. I ran out of the house and down a narrow path that led to the river. Halfway I swung left and followed my own path, invisible to an outsider, until I came to my cave.

The entrance was hidden by a bushel of twigs and leaves. The cave had a tiny spring bubbling from a crack in the rock and I drank greedily before sitting down to reluctantly digest these new facts.

Three new moons ago, two strangers had appeared asking for my father. It turned out that they were old friends of his, from his army days. I had eavesdropped on their conversation.

My father was a retired general from the Old King’s army. My father said the Old King had ruled over all the land, but on his death bed he had given the Kingdom to Hulima his eldest son, whilst Sunai the younger son was given the army to command.

As I understood it, there had always been hostility between the two brothers, but luckily Sunai and his army had been away fighting in other wars, hiring themselves out as mercenary soldiers.

Now it seemed Sunai the warrior prince had grown bored and bold, and was even now marching towards our city, no doubt planning to overthrow his brother.