Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #19 October 2015 | Page 13

“Vodun?”
“My people’s religion. My mother taught me
the ways, and her mother before her. I had lost my father long ago, when he was sold, as was my love when
we were united on my master’s property. In a life of
losses and stolen loves, Vodun is the only thing that
has remained in my possession. It has also been the
one thing that led to my liberation. And you—do your
people have a tradition? A connection to your ancestors or the spirit? You look like an original Islander,
before the influence of the Spanish.”
“I am Taino. Our people did have our own
way, our own traditions, but... that was all stolen from
us. When Columbus arrived.”

Feeling at ease with Christine, Bana obliged.
She told the Vodun practitioner about her past on Hispaniola, her people, her family, the slavery, escaping
to join pirates, nearly a decade of plunder, the recent
overseas battle in which she lost those closest to her.
By the time she had reached the end of her story, Bana
was in tears. She hadn’t realized how much pain she
had been carrying, all of those years.
“Dreadful,” Christine noted. “You’ve been
through many hardships, just like us. I want to welcome you into our camp.”

“I see. Columbus was far before my arrival to
Haiti. Interesting to see just how far apart our times
truly are. We’ve lived on this island for nearly three
or more years. The pain of Africa and the Caribbean
are far behind us. We established a new community,
where we could worship our gods and ancestors without fear. Every now and then, we’ve had a few outsiders land here, besides you.”

Christine and Bana soon came to a clearing,
where many African peoples had gathered, focusing
on an assortment of activities—making food, playing
instruments, dancing and singing around a communal
campfire. They had created tents and carved sculptures. Herbs burned, creating pleasant aromas.

“Who else?”
“Military men lost at sea. Vagrants and murderous pirates. They usually come in small numbers,
floating adrift from shipwrecks, aboard wooden planks
and rafts. I never imagined that I would have to use
the skills the gods granted me for such stern purposes
but... the gods are capable of great good and harsh
justice, what some of the ignorant would dare call evil.
These intruders haven’t come in peace, and that was
when we had to use the powers of the gods to punish
them.”
Bana didn’t need an explanation. She looked at
the zombified servants, walking slowly behind them,
moaning and groaning occasionally, soulless.
“And what about me?” Bana asked. “What
makes you think I am trustworthy? Didn’t I point a
gun at you?”

“I trust my instincts. The loa have guided me
well to this point, and I could tell you were only protecting yourself from uncertain danger. Besides that, I
feel we could become sisters, allies. Well, I have told
you my story. Why don’t you tell me yours? The story
of your Taino people?”

A big, strong man with broad shoulders and a
shaved head turned from the fire and stared at Christine with some astonishment. Obviously, he was surprised to see the woman in pirate’s clothing beside her.
He walked towards them.
“Who is she?” the man asked in a mixed accent of French and Ewe. “Why is this outsider in our
quarters?”
“She is a friend, shipwrecked from the beach.”
Christine glared at the man’s eyes with an intense,
challenging fire.
“We’re supposed to deal with outsiders on
the beach! That’s what your vigils are for.” The man
looked hatefully at the zombies behind Christine and
Bana. “And what are they doing up here? Send them
back! Those undead watchdogs cannot spoil the peace

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