C3 Three Masks Sentence Us to Death (By Awakening)

The place was huge, stretching away as far as the eye could see. Giant golden buildings twinkled in the distance and overhead, ghostly figures chased each other through the blue sky. The sun wasn't harsh here – it was rather pleasant actually – and trees bearing tangerines stood guard at intervals. Brightly coloured stalls and canopies took up prime positions in the arena. They held baskets full to bursting with kolanuts, chalk, figs, mangoes and surprisingly – bars and bars of chocolate. Their owners called out to people or else haggled loudly with them, arms flailing about.

"It's a market," I.K laughed, pointing at a stall that sold jumping beans. Even Kosi looked impressed, her eyes huge with wonder.

"The House of Life is more than just an institution," Iboma said. "It's the very heart of our culture."

Two old men hurried past, clutching thin metallic staffs festooned with charms at their sides. They nodded to the god and after taking one look at us, began to mutter excitedly to themselves.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"They are excited," my chi explained. "They rarely get to see acolytes in their teens. Most dibias start their journey from adulthood."

"Okay, hold up a minute," I said, raising a hand. "What do you mean that we're dibias? Do we look like we practice rituals and other fetishes in our spare time?"

"A dibia is born, not made," my chi explained. "Each of you is a descendant of Eri, the first king of the Igbo people."

"I thought Igbos never had kings until the coming of the white men," I.K mused.

"Most didn't," Iboma agreed. "But Eri wasn't just a king. He had a special relationship with Chukwu, the Supreme God. Every proper dibia in existence – and some of the more powerful ones – can trace their ancestry to the first king."

"But I... I can't be a dibia," I said. "My dad's a pastor! He would never agree to it."

My chi made a disgusted sound. "Don't you get it? Our dibias were forces of good. They kept the balance and made sure God and man were in harmony. But then the white men came and demonized everything about our culture. We and the other gods were branded as evil and tossed away. Christians," he spat. "They're the reason we are in this mess."

"What mess?" I.K asked gently when he saw that I had been rendered speechless. "What's going on?"

The god sighed and his shoulders drooped. "Igbo gods are quite different from other gods. We are completely connected with the people's wishes. That's why gods can be killed and wiped out from existence if the people decide that they don't want them anymore. That's what happened to the major gods. They were forgotten, sealed away in a realm outside of time. Lesser gods like us chi hung on either because we were tied to something that couldn't be easily forgotten—like a river—or we were an intricate part of the people. You can't throw away a part of yourself."

"Okay, but what has that got to do with us?" Kosi asked.

"It has everything to do with you," replied the god. "Or rather Amobi in particular. Fifty years ago, your grandfather undertook a most vital mission. To free the gods from their prison."

"Why?" I asked, eyebrows knitted.

"He asks me why," my chi complained to the sky. He turned to me, a dark frown on his face. "Tell me, what do you think happened when the gods were sealed away?"

"Bad things?" I tried.

Iboma pinched his nose, muttering darkly to himself.

"I... erm... I guess the world fell out of balance without the gods," I.K stammered. "The primordial wheel was broken and knocked out of place."

We all stared at him.

"It's just something I read somewhere," he muttered to the ground, looking like he wanted it to open up and swallow him whole.

"Yes, I couldn't have put it better myself," Iboma cried happily. "I'm so jealous of Meki right now."

"Who?"

"Your chi. He says hi by the way. Anyway, as Ikem has brilliantly pointed out, the world fell out of balance. There are other reasons for your grandfather’s decision which we won’t go into, but this was one of the more important ones. There are other pantheons and gods of course, but they can't maintain the cycle forever. Let me show you something."

He snapped his fingers and a giant bicycle wheel materialized above us. It began to spin round hypnotically.

"Think of this wheel as the universe and its movement as the natural cycle of things. Remove just one spoke from the wheel and the bicycle will keep on running just as fine. But you've created a weak spot and though it may take some time, eventually..."

The bicycle wheel suddenly collapsed into dust. We were quiet for a beat.

"But how do you know that it has to be me?" I ventured. "Why can't other dibias go? You know, dibias that are more powerful and more experienced?"

"It has to be you," my chi replied firmly. "Your grandfather started the process and it must be you who must finish it."

For the first time, I really disliked my grandfather.

"Make no mistake, the weather anomalies will only grow until the world is destroyed and plunged into eternal darkness. The gods must be freed or all is lost."

And with that cheerful thought in mind Iboma started leading us towards the golden buildings. We passed several of the ethereal-looking beasts from earlier except these weren't flying and were running around like excited puppies. They kept shifting in and out of focus so I couldn't be sure what animal they were.

Iboma looked around frowning. "Where is Chioma?" he muttered. "She promised to meet us here."

Almost immediately a person burst into existence in front of us. The rest of us jumped in surprise but I.K let out a scream, then clapped his hands against his mouth. She was dressed in a polka-dotted dress, over which she wore some sort of amulet made from what looked horribly like human teeth. Her short, dark hair was braided with cowries and she clutched a thin metallic staff devoid of any charms in her right hand. Her face was a picture of complete disdain.

She gave Iboma a short bow and turned her gaze on us. "They are the ones?"

The god nodded. "They were at..."

"St. Gregory's I know," she interrupted. "It's the nearest asylum."

We frowned. "St. Gregory is not an asylum. It's a school for troubled youngsters."

"Why did you bring them yourself?" Chioma asked Iboma, completely ignoring me. "Why did you even bring them at all? We are handling things very well here."

"Yes, I can see that," Iboma said sarcastically, then waved that aside. "I had to. Amobi was attacked by the Lord of Rhinos. If I hadn't helped him form a connection to his patron god, he would be dead."

"The voice in my head was you?" I asked, but the god and Chioma continued talking like we weren't even there.

"The Rhino Lord attacked him?" Hers was the tone of one who'd heard that a king had inexplicably made a beggar his heir. "Why?"

"His grandfather is Linus. You know what that means."

"Your grandfather's name is Linus?" I.K asked, giggling. "What kind of name is that?"

"Hey," Kosi yelled impatiently, effectively interrupting both conversations. "I thought we were going somewhere."

"Be patient," said the girl dismissively. "Don't be faster than your shadow."

"I'm sorry but I don't speak Nigerian," Kosi replied haughtily. "Could you explain what the hell it means?"

Chioma's face twisted and the two girls looked on the verge of an epic showdown, but Iboma intervened.

"Kosi control yourself," he snapped. "And you Chioma, you should know better. Were you seriously thinking of attacking an uninitiated acolyte?"

The girl scowled, looking mutinous. "Sorry," she said finally through grated teeth, though I heard her mutter "spoiled brats" under her breath when Iboma wasn't looking.

"Now that that's settled, is the Masquerade House free?"

"It's always free these days," Chioma said sadly. "Nobody goes there anymore. Not since..." she cut herself off and glared suspiciously at us.

"Chioma," Iboma warned.

"They are uninitiated," she said firmly. "They are not privileged to hear secrets of the House of Life."

Iboma sighed.

"Why are we going to the Masquerade House?" Kosi asked.

"We are going to talk to the ancestors," he answered. "Hopefully, they know what must be done to free the gods."

"I thought the ancestors live in the spirit world," I said frowning. "Can't we go directly there?"

"You don't just pack up and go into the spirit world," Chioma exclaimed, staring at me as if I'd suggested we jump into a volcano. "Even initiated dibias can't stay there for long."

"And if an uninitiated person were to go there?" I.K asked curiously.

"Your body will wilt and die as your mind shattered and collapsed into insanity."

"Oh."

"Besides, there's an easier way to talk to the ancestors. We never enter the spirit world unless we have no choice. It's too dangerous for mortals, even dibias."

"This method isn't exactly safe for you guys either," Iboma mused. "The ancestors aren't very happy with mortals and what they've done with the world."

"So naturally, they're the ones we have to meet," I sighed in resignation. "Come on, let's get this over with."

We continued on our former course towards the golden buildings. They were even bigger up close; massive structures held up by pillars the size of school buses. There were three of them, and they were surrounded by a wide patch of empty land. They glowed with a faint light.

"What are they?" Kosi asked in awe.

"The proper word has been forgotten, but they have been descrived as temples, even anchors that hold this world in place. But mostly they represent the state of our culture." Chioma's face was drawn again. "There used to be a lot more, but now only these three are left and even then they're fading. There was a time they were a lot bigger."

I stared at the cathedral-sized buildings and tried and failed to imagine them as they were in their prime. I was suddenly overcome with sadness for something I had never known.

"We'll free the gods," I said firmly. "We'll change things."

Chioma looked sceptical but she nodded all the same. Kosi, on the other hand, was a lot more pessimistic. "Yeah, we'll save the world, if our ancestors don't kill us first."

None of us had an answer to that. They led us past the giant buildings, and through a short alley to the back of the place.

"That's where the uninitiated acolytes live when we have some," Chioma said, pointing a group of actual mud huts. I.K and Kosi made a face.

"Glad we won't be living here then."

Our guide pointed to a set of much more modern looking buildings in the distance. I even spotted a couple of satellite dishes sprouted from some of them. "That's the town where most of the dibias live. Some of them are only part-time, staying only on holidays or weekends."

Suddenly a purple cloud exploded from one of the buildings. Chioma sighed.

"And that would be Francis. If you survive this mission and decide to stay with us, you'll be seeing a lot of him. He's the youth leader."

"Why would you make a cloud a leader of anything?" Kosi asked, feigning confusion. Chioma ignored her and continued walking. I hung back to talk to her.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like her," Kosi said promptly. "Did you see the way she looked at us like we were something nasty that she'd stepped on? And she keeps on treating us like we're subhuman! Its Matron Ada all over again."

"Just give her a chance okay," I pleaded. "Look at it from her perspective. She's probably trained her whole life to be a dibia and just when it looks like she'll get to put that training to good use, she's told that the mission has to go to some rookies. I'd be pissed if I was her."

"You mean the mission has to go to you," she gave me a shrewd look. "You're not seriously thinking you're a superhero or something are you?"

"What if I am? I'd be good at it too. And my superhero name would be Lightning Man."

"God that's so cheesy," she giggled and I smiled with her. She didn’t need to know that I really thought of myself as a hero who’d just had a heavy burden thrust upon him. It felt nice to be wanted for a change.

"We're here," Iboma announced suddenly and we came to a halt. Here was a small shed that looked like it hadn't been used in a hundred years. A coat of dust sat thickly on its once green exterior and the door hung crookedly on one hinge. The shed gave off a general feeling that one stray gust of wind would be all it would take to knock it down.

Chioma hesitated for a moment, then disappeared into its gaping maw. The rest of us went in together, trying not to get slime mould on our shoes. The inside was surprisingly tidy, if completely bare save for an animal skin rug tossed carelessly to one side and a trio of creepy looking masks sitting on iron stands. Their accompanying body suits made from raffia were folded neatly beneath them.

"You guys really let this place go," Kosi observed.

"We had no choice. The ancestors banned us from ever coming back here on pain of death." The expression she wore was slightly guilty. I was about to ask about that but then Iboma started muttering some incantations and I was distracted. The dialect of Igbo my chi was speaking was so ancient it took me a moment to fully understand what he was saying. Basically, he was calling upon the forefathers of dibias past to come and grant us their wisdom.

Just when I thought nothing was going to happen, a strange sigh swept through the room and the eyes of the masks lit up. They were each a different colour; red, blue and black, but their visages were the same. Short noses, wide staring eyes that were now glowing like fireflies and mouths full of rows and rows of sharp teeth. The masks shuddered and turned in unison to stare at us.

I may or may not have wet my trousers.

"Who dares to summon us?" demanded Blue Mask, its voice a strange mixture of a myriad of other voices. The mouth of the mask didn't move, but its voice echoed across the room.

To his credit, my chi didn't immediately flee in the other direction like I would have. "I did," he said. "The time we feared is almost upon us and we must act if the world is to be saved."

"Why should we care about the world?" asked Red Mask, its lolling tongue flashing like fire. "They have clearly forgotten us. I say we forget them as well."

Here Chioma – quite bravely I might add – decided to intervene. "Spirits of my fathers, please heed my words. Many have turned away from the old ways, but many still, do follow it. Even the fallen ones haven't completely forgotten where they came from. Will you punish the sins of the fathers on their ignorant sons?"

"Are you not part of the ones we warned never to face us?" growled Red Mask. "You are brave to defy us. And quite foolish as well. As to your question, ignorance has never been an excuse for a crime."

"You are protectors and guardians," said a voice. It took me a moment to realize that it was mine. "I grew up listening to stories of my grandfather about how our ancestors fought for what was right. He told me that when I died I would join them to watch over the newest generation and that it was the most sacred of tasks. Yes, you have been forgotten and yes, most of us might not even deserve to be saved. But this is about doing what's right, even when it is difficult. Other peoples, other nations, other gods even, stand in peril because of a mistake that must be corrected. Allow us to make things right."

There was a moment of silence in which I was sure that the masks were going to blast me for my insolence. Even my friends and personal god were staring at me in shock. Finally, it was the black mask that broke the tension.

"Well you have your grandfather's silver tongue, I'll give you that," it said and paused for a moment, its glowing eyeholes scanning us. "You Iboma are blinded by concern for the boy. Do not deny it, "it added when the god opened his mouth to speak. "He is your ward and it is the nature of your relationship. You Chioma are consumed by a thirst to prove yourself. You would not have dared face us a second time if you hadn't. And as for you," The mask hesitated, staring at my friends. "I can see that you have gone through great trials in your short years, and yet there is a strong loyalty between the three of you. Whether that shall last is the real question."

The black mask seemed to deliberate for a moment. "Perhaps you shall succeed in this mission."

I released a breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding.

"However," began Blue Mask. "We must be sure that you are truly dibias. Initiate them, awaken their powers and if their patron gods respond, we shall give them the quest."

"You keep on saying them," Kosi said tentatively. "Isn't this quest Amobi's?"

"The boy cannot do it alone," Red Mask answered. "We sense that you shall all have a role to play in the events to come. Return to us if they survive and we shall know that they are the ones that have been chosen." The strange sigh went through again and the masks went dark.

We were all shaken up by the session and we didn't linger long. Chioma and Iboma had dark looks on their faces and I.K kept rubbing his arms as if he felt cold. Kosi, on the other hand, had a look of confusion on her face.

"What did the masks mean exactly by initiation? And they kept using the word survive."

"It’s simply a ritual to awaken your abilities," Chioma said. "It should go smoothly if you're a true dibia."

"And if we are not?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"Why, you will die in excruciating and agonizing pain," Iboma replied. He clapped his hands excitedly. "Let's go awaken you."