Omata always smelled like oranges in the afternoon.

Walking into the town’s market during that time was more like walking onto a battlefield. At its busiest, the roar of the Omata Main Market could be heard a kilometre away. To a newcomer, the sights and sounds would be disorientating and indeed, many got lost and were often found drunk or worse every year.

But Somadina wasn’t some oblivious newcomer. Having frequented the market since he was a child, he was a grizzled veteran, wise to the tricks of the markets and its denizens. Coming in with one of the long streams of humanity, Somadina turned into the nearest junction and made a beeline for the Green Place.

Despite its apparent chaos, the Omata Main Market was neatly organised. To the west lay the Armoury, where armour and clothing were crafted and sold by the town’s spinners. A tunnel, just out of sight, led downwards to the imaginatively named The Forge, where spears, staffs and all sorts of weapons were sold, disassembled and repaired by the village’s Forgers. Glass, steel and all sorts of materials were also brought there to begin the complicated process of taking them from minor to major. The North contained the Menagerie where various animals and the rare soul beast roared their fury and great slabs of cow and goat meat glistened in the afternoon sun.

But Somadina was headed east, to the Green Place, where giant trees with trunks twice as thick as a man was tall sheltered shops selling spirit materials and foodstuffs. They were always in need of new products and hopefully, he would be able to offload his haul for a good price.

He knew he had arrived when the temperature dropped considerably, the thick canopy above helping to ward off the worst of the sun. Grim looking traders and chattering buyers jostled past, great loads of baskets and sacks of vegetation balanced expertly on their heads.

A bellowing trio of cassava sellers hailed him as he passed and he waved a quick hello, dodging the wildly flailing arms of their potential customer. Shaking his head at the colourful curses emanating from both parties, Somadina turned into a small shop, half-hidden by a hibiscus bush, its branches alive with bright red blooms. The shop itself was a typical affair. A cramped, box-shaped structure with stone walls and an eternity of shelves that groaned under the weight of preserved specimens of a variety of materials. The few stalks of lavagrass available had a section all to themselves, well away from anything flammable. The minorglass roofing above bathed the shop in green-tinted light and Somadina breathed in deeply, smelling the musty and cold scents of the twinkling glowshrooms and frostweeds and the intoxicating aroma of the strictly controlled giggleweeds.

Smiling, he walked briskly to the counter and rapped on it with the air of someone at home. A wizened old crone, half bent over with age, appeared from a side room at once. An annoyed frown marked her wrinkled face, but it was one that relaxed into a smile once she saw who had summoned her.

“Somadina. I was wondering if I would see you today.”

“Ah Mama G. I promised I would come, didn’t I? And you know I never break my promises,” Somadina replied as a sloppy kiss was planted on his forehead. He had received one far too many times to be disgusted at this point, and he deftly wiped it off when she wasn’t looking with a handkerchief he’d bought specifically for that purpose. Mama G turned away from the perusal of her many shelves and faced him, arms akimbo and a sharp, predatory gleam in her eyes.

“Oya. Let’s see what you have.”

Bracing himself for the oncoming battle, Somadina hoisted his satchel onto the counter and began to offload its contents. Out came leaf-wrapped bundles containing delicate stalks of sunlilies, quartz-flowers and more glowshroom spores. Mama G raised an eyebrow and kept it raised as the satchel disgorged more of its contents.

“Hian Somadina. Where did you get all of these? None of my usual suppliers have ever been this lucky!”

Somadina merely shrugged and smiled mysteriously. “The Mother provides.”

Mama G clucked her tongue at that and glared, but there was no heat to it, and after a beat, she went back to considering the herbs.

“Alright,” she declared. “I already have more than enough sunlilies and quartz-flowers, but because it’s you I’ll give you one hundred and ten manillas for all of them.”

Somadina’s answering frown was swift. “You must be joking. Which one is one-ten again? It’s like you’re not serious today.”

“Children of nowadays. Their eyes are always bigger than their bellies,” complained Mama G to the ceiling. “Fine. Since I’m in a good mood I’ll just close my eyes and give you one-eighty.”

“No now. One-eighty is still small. I brought you glowshroom spores. Spores o! Not maize seeds.” He held up the packet for emphasis. “I knew I should have gone to Mama Okey.”

Mama G’s hand flashed forward and Somadina let out a shrill yelp as the old trader seized one ear and gave it a sharp twist.

“How dare you mention that old hag in this shop?” she demanded, tightening her grip. “It’s like you’re not afraid.”

“I’m afraid o! I’m very afraid,” Somadina said quickly. “I was just trying to make a point. Oya bring two-fifty and we’ll call it even.”

Mama G grumbled darkly to herself, muttering something about children with no home training. But she released his ear and reached for her purse. Somadina backed away until he was safely out of reach and nursed his smarting ear mournfully.

“Here,” she said gruffly, slapping some coins onto the table and swiping the packages out of sight. Somadina snatched them up, a smile growing on his face at the sight of the three one hundred manilla coins.

“If you like, spend it all on something useless,” Mama G grumbled, but he could tell she was trying to hide her own smile. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Your generation is stupider than a goat-hound.”

“Yes ma,” Somadina said, affecting contrition as he pocketed the coins and made for the exit. It was just like Mama G. Soft hearted despite her prickly exterior. He shoved the door open, but her shout brought him back.

“Here,” she said, thrusting a vial of blue liquid into his hand. “For your mother. I talked to the town Healer and they said it might ease her condition.”

“Thank you.” Somadina reached for his coin pouch. “How much do I owe you?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “None. I won’t have it said that Mama G doesn’t appreciate her greatest supplier.” Her eyes narrowed. “However, if I catch you anywhere near Mama Okey’s shop I’ll cut off your legs and feed it to you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes ma,” he replied with a grin, offering her a salute. She clucked her tongue in response, reaching for one of her slippers and he fled, laughing. Mama G said something to his fleeing back but he didn’t hear it, heart too filled with light and hope. Things were starting to look up for him and his mother. And with luck, it would stay that way.

***

The sun was dipping its head below the horizon when Somadina came home. The branches of the baobab tree, long and cracked with age, cast a vast shadow over the field. Somadina ran a hand over the tall stalks of the spear grass, dried to a crispy brown by the merciless sun and felt his spirits lift. No matter how many wonders he saw, to him, nothing could ever hope to match the sight of the Rush and its baobab tree, branches spread out in welcome. Omata and the Forest of Dreams were specks behind him, and he spared them no glance as he entered the cave at the foot of the tree.

His mother had carved it herself when she'd first come here, bleeding and wracked with labour pains. He thought of it often, unable to imagine the kind of strength it must have taken to pull something like that off. The cave itself was small, barely having enough room to move around. But it had always been enough for the two of them. Casting his satchel and coin purse to one side, he walked over to the bundle ensconced on one of the two beds.

"Hello, Mama. I'm back."

His mother, Kambili, did not respond, unseeing eyes staring past him into lands unknown. Somadina had not expected any different. He kissed her forehead and moved to prepare their dinner.

Mama G's extra coin had been an unexpected boon. With that, he had been able to buy ingredients for something other than their usual nightly fare of soaked cassava and sugar. Cutting the yams into cubes and setting them to boil didn't take long and soon enough, the savoury aroma of yam pottage enveloped the room. He scooped out two bowlfuls, covered them, then settled down to wait.

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He didn't have to wait long.

Dusk came quickly around here. Like clockwork, the instant the last rays of the sun faded, his mother's eyes sharpened and she sat up quickly.

"Somadina," she called, searching.

"Here." He rose and went to her, smiling when she placed her palm on his cheek and saw him.

"Good evening Mama. I made yam pottage." He reached for the bowls. "Want some?"

She blinked at him for a moment, then smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

"Of course," she said, taking one bowl and a spoon. "Thank you, my son."

Dinner was over in a heartbeat, and then Somadina was lying in her lap as she braided his hair.

"How was your day?" she asked as she twisted the thick, black locks into place. "Tell me how you came by all this."

Somadina hummed, weighing the question.

"I found a meadow today, far off from the places I usually search." He smiled. "There were so many spirit materials Mama. I have never seen so many before. As long as I spread the types I take and let the meadow replenish itself, we will never have to worry about money ever again."

"Thank the Mother and Father. I'm so proud of you Somadina." She beamed and offered her hands to the sky. "What would I do without you?"

"But you'll always have me. I'm not going anywhere."

Kambili smiled and finished the braids with one final affectionate pat. Somadina sat up, and as he did, his eyes lingered on the soulmark on her neck, too faded to make out what it had once been. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Olisa and Kainene.

"I ran into two foreign dibias today."

She went still. "What?"

"Yeah. I sort of stumbled into where they camped out."

"Who were they? What did they look like?" Kambili fixed him with an intense look. It made him uncomfortable.

"I don't know. They didn't say." Because they were too busy threatening me. "They weren't hostile though." Much. "And they were around my age. I think they were headed somewhere else."

Kambili considered this, then relaxed and Somadina let out an internal sigh of relief. He'd made the right call, downplaying just how perilous his day had been. His mother tended to worry. A lot.

"I know you're almost a man grown and I shouldn't worry so much. I know you can take care of yourself." She gave him an imploring look. "But you're the only thing I have. It would kill me if something happened to you."

Somadina covered her hands with his. "I'll be fine Mama. I promise. I'm always careful."

She studied him intently, as if trying to detect a lie, then gave a single nod. Somadina watched her reach for a chewing stick, hesitating. But eventually, his curiosity won out over his caution.

"I don't get it. You always freak out whenever I bring up foreign dibias. What is there to be afraid of?"

Kambili chewed her stick in silence for a moment. Then she spoke.

"It's a cruel world out there. Far crueller than you know. Life can be hard for the weak. The people of Omata are kinder than most and they still follow the old ways. But out there, away from the valley, to be weak is to invite disaster."

"Is that what happened to your clan?" Somadina asked quietly.

Kambili hesitated. "Yes. It was a rival clan. They had long wanted the river that crossed our territory. Fish was bountiful there and it was even rumoured that some had Awakened and become soul beasts, though we never found one." She leaned back, lost in memory. "They came at night. Your father was the first to sense them. By the time we managed to rouse the rest of the village, they were already upon us." She sighed. "We fought bravely. Disciple against Disciple, while us Practitioners duked it out above them. For a while, the fight was evenly matched. Then their Patriarch stepped in." Kambili gripped the chewing stick with feverish intensity while Somadina listened in awe. She had told him many stories of her time among her clan, but she'd never told him this one.

"Know your enemies, Somadina. It's the first thing we were taught in the clan. And we thought we did. Their trade routes were monitored, their supplies routinely sabotaged. We even sent in spies on occasion. And yet, somehow, their Patriarch advanced to Ordained and we didn't know. Our own Patriarch, an old Practitioner filled with experience and wisdom went to face him. He lasted ten minutes. With his death, the Ordained turned his attention to the rest of us."

She trained a soft gaze on him. "That was when I ran, with you in my belly. Your father died, shielding me from an attack from the Ordained. It still struck though," she added, hovering a hand over her faded soulmark. "It was my fault. I was so close to Ordained. If I had worked harder, cultivated more, I would have had the strength to defend our clan. You would still have a father, an Ancestral Seed to call your own and our clan’s Firstborn scroll would never have been lost."

That was a part of the story he'd heard before. Somadina reached for her hand. "It's okay. What's done is done. And, from the looks of it, if you had pushed for Ordained, you never would have had me. There would have been no time."

That earned him a smile. "Very true my son. I am sorry for all the things we lost. But I am not sorry about you."

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, reassuring. Then their conversation turned to other things. She asked about the village and the haul again, demanding to know the species he had found and how he had harvested them. She seemed much more lucid than normal today, which he took for a good sign. So it was with a hopeful smile that Somadina presented the tincture Mama G had given him. His mother sighed when she saw it.

"You'll have to thank her for me, but we both know this won't work. My channels were damaged when the Ordained struck me. Nothing can heal that."

"We can't stop trying," Somadina replied, frowning. "You're not dead yet. Please. Take it."

Kambili sighed again but obeyed. Satisfied, Somadina returned the emptied vial to his satchel, then noticed the book. Thinking quickly, he gave it to his mother. Her eyes widened the instant she saw it.

"Where did you get this?"

And so, he reluctantly told her about the cave and what had led him to the discovery. She wore a grim expression when he finished.

"This isn't good. Direbeasts this close to a village isn't normal." Her gaze dropped to the book. "And then you've gone and found a bound book."

Somadina blinked. "A what?"

"It’s a book that's been scripted to be illegible unless you have its cypher stone." She regarded it with a critical eye. "It's a very expensive process and is usually only applied to very important books." She scanned it some more, then halted at the addition.

"Omaliko Dike? From the actual clan?"

"I believe so," Somadina agreed excitedly. "I didn't explore the cave fully but I know the cypher stone should still be there. Imagine the knowledge this could contain," he added, eyes shining.

But his mother was less impressed.

"That's true. But we still have the Direbeast to worry about."

"But it's dead. The drop from the waterfall must have been lethal." Hopefully.

"Maybe. But Direbeasts rarely travel alone. Its pack will be looking for it." She dropped the book and grabbed his hand. "Promise me Somadina. Promise me that you won't go back. They'll hunt you down and kill you and I'll be alone. Promise me."

Somadina thought she was exaggerating but reluctantly agreed. Satisfied, she handed the book over and he returned it to the satchel. When he turned back his mother's eyes were fluttering, the fog starting to reclaim her. Gently, he laid her back and draped a sheet over her.

"Good night," he said.

She muttered something in response, then shut her eyes fully. Sighing, Somadina blew out the candle, before he too surrendered to the darkness.

***

They had stopped sensing it near midday, at the time when the yellow face was close to its zenith and their abilities were smothered. At first, they hadn't been bothered. That one was the leader, old and powerful. If it had been here, it would have claimed the cobra-cat they'd brought down for itself, and left them only scraps. Besides, it wasn't unusual for the old one to wander out of range. And so, they had feasted and given it no further thought.

But then hours passed and when the white face appeared with no sign of their leader, the maned one demanded they investigate.

It had been a lion once, close to completing the delicate Awakening dance of animal and spirit and becoming a soul beast, when a Direling found and corrupted the anwansi in its body. It still held the authority of what it would have become, and in the absence of the leader, the other Aberrations, who had all been simple creations of the void, obeyed its command.

It didn't take them long to find the leader’s scent and they quickly tracked it to a newborn soul tree. The others barked excitedly at the prospect of the new prey, but a sharper, more intoxicating scent soon seized their attention.

Human.

And entangled with it was the scent of their leader.

At the command of the maned one, they gave chase, following the path the old one had carved. The two scents disappeared when they came to a river and they halted for a moment, confused. Then, the maned one raised its head, casting out its senses. The human's scent continued over the river, then back again, weaker than before, as if it had been masked by something. The maned one's thoughts turned to the two humans with the powerful souls they'd sensed before and carefully avoided. Could they have intervened?

The short one with the two tails, the runt of the pack, crept closer to the river, sniffing, and the maned one was just about to command it to stop when it gave a sharp whine and roared. The maned one sniffed as well, then began to growl. They had located their leader’s scent. And it was gone, plunging downwards with the waterfall.

As one, the pack let out a howl of fury, then charged after the scent of the human. It was even weaker than before, and the maned one recognised the work of the cursed scripts the humans loved to employ against them. This fanned its fury even more and it increased their pace.

For a full minute, they tore through the forest in complete silence, ignoring the animals and soul beasts that fled from their wake. Then, they reached the edge, and the maned one called for a halt. There was a sizable human pack beyond, and even from there, it could sense the power of their leader. Trying to pass through would be suicide and so, with a lower growl, the maned one ordered a retreat for the time being. Nearly as smart as the previous don, it knew the human would return sooner or later.

And they would be waiting when it did.