“Moko Jumbies,” Kwao shouted. The giants wore long multi coloured pants that fluttered when they moved. White long sleeved shirt with frills on the ends of the sleeves made them look like pirates. They looked down on the warriors. The attackers began to retreat one by one. One of the Moko Jumbies picked up an attacker and threw him into the jungle. The rest of the attackers ran off screaming,
“Thank you,” Akosua said. The Moko Jumbie reached down and touched her with one of his fingers and smiled, then turned and walked into the jungle his friends right behind him. The tops of the trees moved, birds scattered in every direction, then there was silence.
“Is everybody alright?” Adofo asked and pulled Akosua to him and hugged her. One of the boys had blood running down his arm.
“You’re bleeding,” Akosua said. The boy took one look at his arm then fainted. Henry and Adofo rushed to him and caught him just before he hit the ground. Akosua looked around.
“Where is Lassette?” Akosua asked the machete still gripped in her fingers.
“Lassette!” they screamed and the frightened woman emerged from behind a tree, she was shaking tears rolled down her cheek. Akosua went up to her and hugged her. She melted into Akosua’s arm sobbing. Kwao looked around making sure the attackers were not regrouping, but the jungle was silent, no wind rustled the leaves, no flapping of wings, or grunts, or barks, just dead silence.
They checked each other to make sure no one else was hurt, and then turned to one of the attackers that lay on the ground motionless. They walked over to him and looked down. Like the others he was naked, but his whole body was covered with red mud. A feather stuck out of a headband around his head. His skin was olive coloured and his forehead was flattened. His long hair was also caked with the mud making it look like a pig’s tail after it had dragged its butt across the jungle’s floor.
“Who are they?” Henry asked. Lassette who had finally composed herself spoke up,
“Those are the Arawak, the natives of the islands. They are supposed to be the peaceful tribe unlike their enemies the Arawaks.” She said.
“Their eyes looked like they were dead.” He said,
“The Ligaroo King must have turned them into Jumbies,” Akosua said and for a second they stood in silence looking down at the motionless man.
The Wounded warrior moaned and they looked down at him. He had a deep cut on his arm, blood flowed out of it and he winched in pain as he went in and out of consciousness. Akosua ripped a piece of her dress off and tied it around the boy’s arm. The white material quickly turned red, but it stopped some of the bleeding. Amelia was not satisfied. She turned to Adofo and told him to put pressure on the wound then turned and went into the jungle. She reappeared with a fistful of leaves and applied it to the wound then retied it.
“That should help stop infection,” she said and stood up. Suddenly there was a blast of thunder. Lighting struck the spot where the Arawak lay, and when the smoke dissipated his body was gone. They braced themselves, as ear splitting laughter filled the jungle. Behind them bushes parted and a figure emerged. His whole body was covered with red armor that was made of iron. He held a machete in his right hand, weapons of all kinds hung from him and they clanged whenever he moved. He stopped in front of them and started doing a strange tribal dance. His weapons clinked in time with every move he made. Akosua and the warriors stood, their machetes held over their heads. Suddenly he rushed at them swinging his machete so fast it was a blur.
“Ogoun,” Henry said, Ogoun stopped in front of them.
“Don’t you just love the sound of a good battle,” he said, then threw his head back and laughed.
“If I had my way I would destroy you right now, but Baron Samedi instructed that I leave you to him. Go to Jumbie Island, have your battle with the Ligaroo King, oh what a battle it will be, good against evil, the angelic Obeah woman against the monster blood suckers.” He said as he moved swinging his machete as if doing a choreographed battle dance.
“You don’t care who wins do you? We are just pawns. You will use any means to satisfy your lust for war.” She said, Orgoun swung his machete again and laughed.
“You silly little girl, there will always be someone to possess. You humans are weak, that’s why you are mortal and we the Loas are immortal, we can manipulate you. Look around you, you enslave each other, you destroy whole tribes. Who do you think is controlling all of this, you mortals? Now go home and play with dolls and stop pretending to be a spiritual leader.” He shouted. Birds flew into the air, hoofs of frightened animals pounded on the jungle floor. Thunder blasted and lightening flashed.
“Black magic will never triumph over us,” Akosua retorted. Ogoun laughed again, and then looked at them one at a time pointing his machette at each one.
“Are you going to stop it?” He said. Each word designated to the person he pointed to. He put his hands on his stomach and laughed. Tree branches broke and fell, leaves floated slowly between them, yet there was no wind. A light rain began to fall even though there were no dark clouds in the sky.
“Why, because you are the chosen one? Look at yourselves, pathetic.” He roared then walked up to Henry,
“Sweat dreams little one,” he said then turned and walked slowly disappearing before he reached the bushes, but they parted and closed as if he still walked through them.
“We will be waiting, but in the meantime, don’t let your guard down.” He said. Henry exhaled and turned to Akosua. She handed the machete back to the boy she had taken it from,
“Next time bring your own,” he said and smiled. Suddenly the rain storm grew stronger. The drops were so big they hurt as they bounced off Henry’s skin.
“Come on lets get back to the village,’ Akosua said. Adofo and Kwao picked up the wounded boy and began walking. Henry, Lassette and the other warriors followed them.