We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Rogba Payne’s debut novel The Dance of Shadows. It’s out now from Gollancz, and fuses high fantasy with West African spirituality.

Before we share the prologue with you, let’s check out the official blurb:

Rumi and his family are Odu, stricken with poverty and disparaged by the other tribes. When ruthless agents of the Palmaine – the colonising nation that dominates the continent of Basmine – threaten to destroy the village market, Rumi takes it upon himself to liberate his family. Taking a place in the prestigious Golden Room, where earnings from his music offer a chance at freedom, he shoulders his pride and resentment in a bid to make it to the top.

On what should be Rumi’s greatest night at the Golden Room, his life is turned upside down. A terrifying individual known as the Priest of Vultures attacks Rumi and his family. Before her death, Rumi’s mother, Adunola, solicits the help of a dying god and saves Rumi, setting him on the path to become a Shadowwielder: warriors with the ability to use their shadow as a weapon. But Rumi’s need for vengeance may be more important to him than the future of his people…

The Dance of Shadows is available now. You can order your copy HERE

Prologue

The Alaafin had always thought it would rain on the day he died. Instead, the sun stood at its full height above him with no opposition from the clouds. The heat made his dark skin glisten with sweat. Sunny days usually made him smile, but this was not a day for smiles. Before the day was done, he’d be dead. ‘Don’t die before you are dead,’ Oya said, placing a hand on his chest. ‘Be strong, my love.’

She peered up at him and smiled. To smile like that when she knew what was coming was an act of uncommon strength. He tried to smile back but it was in vain. He didn’t have it in him. Not a true smile. Only she could do that.

She had skin like smooth earth, with a full head of braids that trailed down her back like thick black snakes. Her boubou of nine colours had loose-fitting sleeves and a bodice tight to her form.

Her love was like honey spooling in a bowl. Sweet and slow; thick and full. A gift he could never truly be worthy of. The Alaafin would have given anything to sing to Oya in the way she deserved, to praise her, to exalt her, and worship her. Now he feared all he would have for her would be screams.

No, I won’t scream, I won’t let her hear me scream. I have to be strong for her. He straightened.

Their house was no fortress. He’d built it himself with his hands, perseverance, mudbrick, and palm leaves. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to protect them.

They could run, but even if they did, they could not outrun him.

There had been a time when he could vault a nation with a stride, part the waters, call the wind to carry him and be sure it would obey. A time before all this; when men still called his name. A time when, if he dipped his toe in the ocean, the world heard the splash. That time was long gone.

It was a cruel way to die, awaiting slaughter like a goat on festival day. The whistle of the wind was like laughter in his ears. Oya touched the small of his back. ‘He is close. I can feel him.’ The cord in his neck pulsed. The Alaafin could feel him, too.

He drew in breath. ‘I am going to get my double-axe.’

Oya’s hand glided slowly from his back to his shoulder. Her touch still made his skin tingle. ‘There is no sense in that, my love. Just hold me – for now.’

He bit down on his tongue and pulled her close, burying her head in his chest. Her nails dug deep into his back as he locked his fingers in her hair. For that small, eternal moment he felt whole; blessed and stout-hearted. But it was only a moment.

A disgusted squall from above drew their attention. A vulture, alone and unafraid, loomed overhead. Its wings stretched wide, as though expecting applause.

Oya glanced up at the bird, her gaze cold as the night sea. The vulture glared back. Daring them, almost. A normal vulture would not goad the living, but this was no normal vulture.

The Alaafin arched his back and stared up at the sky, then he called lightning by its name. A bolt from the heavens struck the bird directly. A shriek rang out as it fell dead to the ground. If the Accuser wanted to kill them, they would not go quietly.

‘I am going to get my double-axe.’

This time, Oya did not disagree. He could almost feel her fury flare as her countenance changed.

‘I am with you, my husband.’

At last, he smiled. They would die as they had lived, and that was enough.

They gathered their weapons and adorned themselves with every charm they owned. Damudamu, to confound their enemy’s senses; isora, to blunt every enemy blade; and aferi, to become invisible to the naked eye.

Oya washed her two-edged ida sword with pepper and poison to paralyse at a touch, then wore a necklace with the single black cowrie that warned her of danger. The Alaafin sharpened his double-axe and put on the amulet of Jarishma, which made his skin impenetrable. Their faces were painted with the blood of enemies long dead. Finally, the Alaafin donned his war helmet. Hard iron, wrought in the shape of a snarling dog. It made a sharp sound as he snapped it shut.

They stood as one. Ready to die.

The Alaafin let out a sharp breath. ‘Let him come.’

A ripple in the air announced the arrival of their executioner. He was dressed all in white with bleached, near-translucent skin, and pointy teeth like knives. He moved like he had all the time in the world, every step bereft of urgency. Like a man who owned the earth.

The Alaafin narrowed his eyes. The Accuser.

A boy appeared next, also dressed in immaculate white. The boy watched the Accuser with all the eager calm of an apprentice watching his master’s work. His smile was that of a hunting dog staring at cornered prey.

When he spoke, the Accuser’s voice was like water wrenched through an empty husk. A voice that came in an unsteady drip-drop, with high and low notes falling with no rhythm. ‘The Alaafin and the Mother of Nine. I know you sensed that I was coming, yet you have not tried to run. Tell me, have you decided to serve the Son?’

The Alaafin parted his lips but Oya spoke first, her voice taut with rage. ‘Bind the Son to hell! Dara the Skyfather remains Lord of All.’

The Alaafin smiled again.

The Accuser’s stare was pitiless. ‘So, it is death. Will you die quietly?’

The Alaafin’s eyes narrowed to dark slits. Old strength reared up inside him. ‘It will be loud.’

The skies grumbled overhead. It was going to rain after all. He etched the crossroads sign of Dara the Skyfather across his sternum and raised a hand, calling forth his shadow. Sheets of effervescent black mist oozed from his skin as his shadow rose in a column of black froth. A sharp and sudden storm wind whipped black fumes into a spiralling updraft. Power flooded him, roaring through his bones and body, calling him to act. He hefted his double-axe in his right hand and stretched out his left. A night-black curved blade coalesced from dust in his outstretched grip. Clouds ambushed the sun, telling all things living to find shelter.

Brimming with the power of his shadow, the Alaafin raised his double-axe high and screamed his own name: ‘Xango!’

The Accuser’s expression was almost one of delight, a quirk in

his lips the only response to the Alaafin’s show of power. They were amusing to him. He chuckled and raised his own hands to the sky. The Alaafin jerked back.

To the eye, nothing had changed – but to the Alaafin, it was a declaration. He could sense the foreboding press of the Accuser’s incredible power. It was as though the air itself was being strangled.

The Alaafin cursed. ‘Shege.’

A thin, grey-white sword materialised in the Accuser’s hand and he started to chant.

‘And the Son shall cast them down, erase their names, their seed in the land.’

Oya’s arms quivered as her sword-grip went slack. Tears trailed down her cheeks, smearing the war paint. This is not how it should end.

She glanced at him and when their eyes met, she smiled, for the very last time. ‘I love you . . . Xango.’

The Dance of Shadows is available now. You can order your copy HERE