The Bones of the Past (Books of Dust and Bone)

by Craig A. Munro

  “That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll be fine, girls.” His trembling hands and the drops of sweat beading on his forehead belied his calm words.

  Skeg pulled a small knife out of his arm and passed it through the flame of a candle before quickly cutting open their wounded leg just above the ankle. Blood started to patter onto the floor.

  “Don’t sit or lie down. Keep floating like that for as long as you can, but let me know if it starts to become difficult to hold yourselves up.” Then he tied a thick leather strap around their thigh and massaged their leg, trying to push the poisoned blood down toward the cut. A large puddle was spreading on the floor below them. Skeg looked down at it for a moment. “I don’t dare bleed you any more or it will do more harm than good. I’ll bandage this up and then you’ll need to drink a special tea to cleanse your blood. All we can do after that is wait.”

  Skeg moved around the shop and quickly assembled a number of ingredients into a small cauldron before hanging it over the fireplace. A few minutes later he ladled some of the mixture into a cup and handed it to them.

  Nial wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell when she took the cup from him. “I added some honey to cover the bitterness. It should taste better than it smells.” Nial took a sip and nodded.

  “Drink as much as you can. Let me know when your cup is empty and I’ll get you more.”

  “I will.” She gulped the first two cups down quickly.

  “Has the numbness spread anymore?”

  “I don’t think so, but it hasn’t gotten any better, either.”

  “Give it time. I’ll remove the tourniquet in a little while. Sleep should help as well.”

  Skeg talked to them then about his day, his problems, his customers, anything to distract Nial from the poison. But she wasn’t fooled. Every time he thought she wasn’t looking, Skeg’s eyes darted to their leg.

  When Skeg finally removed the tourniquet, Nial gasped in pain. “That’s a good sign,” said Skeg. “Pain is much better than no feeling at all. Your wound has also mostly healed so it’s not slowing down your demonic healing.” He looked at her carefully. Poor girls have been holding themselves up with their power this whole time. Even they must be exhausted. “I want you to stay with me today, girls. You can have my bed upstairs. I’ll sleep on the floor next to you in case you need me.”

  Nial hesitated for a moment, thinking about home. But her father was still terrified of her and avoided her as much as possible in the close confines of their little house. He certainly wouldn’t be bothered if she wasn’t there when he woke up in the morning. “Thank you, Mister Skeg. We’d like that,” Nial answered in a dull voice.

  Skeg got them settled in his little bed and pulled the blankets up over them. They were asleep almost instantly. Skeg just sat on the floor and watched them sleep. As the sun rose from dawn to noon and their breathing was still strong and deep, he finally allowed himself to curl up and doze a little.

  CHAPTER 7

  It took days for Nial and Zuly to recover from the poison, days where they slept more than they were awake, thrashing about and getting little rest. Skeg watched them as often as he could and would start awake each time they moved. Hardly surprising that they would have nightmares. Or that Nial would, at least. To a certain extent, it was reassuring how human the girls were acting through this ordeal. Even during their nightmares, he hadn’t once felt threatened by them. On those rare occasions that they woke and were lucid enough to speak, he pretended everything was normal. But there was no hiding his worry from them. He barely left their side and was always there when they opened their eyes. The shop below remained dark and empty, the door barred and every ward raised around it.

  On the third night, Skeg finally felt like the worst was over. He left the girls in his bed reading a book and went down to relax in his shop. Skeg settled behind the counter and let his mind wander, the stress of the past days finally starting to fall away. He had been preparing an experiment of his own when the girls had gotten hurt. Now that they were recovering, his thoughts drifted back to his ritual.

  Skeg was startled when he heard the signal that meant someone was approaching his door. Several someones maybe . . . to think I’d be annoyed at customers coming to my door.

  He grunted with effort and pulled himself to his feet. It was early in the night for any serious customers to be around, but after having been closed for the first time since he’d opened the little shop, he really didn’t know what to expect.

  It turned out to be four members of a small street gang. “You Skeg?” the larger of the young men asked after a few seconds of staring around at the shop in confused wonder. Skeg nodded. “Guy we been working for paid us for our last job with this thing.” He held up a delicate-looking wooden carving of strange design. “Told us you’d pay good coin for it.”

  Skeg held out a hand. The thug hesitated for a second then handed the carving to Skeg. A spell anchor, he thought to himself immediately. And it’s active. By the Silent God, if this fool had dropped it, he could have set off the spell it’s holding, whatever it may be. He looked the carving over for a few more moments, noting the breathtaking complexity of the spell, then nodded again. “This guy you did the job for, who was he?”

  “No idea. He always wears a mask, but he always pays. So you want the thing or not?”

  Skeg pulled out a small coin purse and put it on the counter. The thug eagerly picked it up and looked inside.

  His eyes widened seeing gold and silver inside. “Serious?”

  “Serious. Now clear out,” Skeg snapped, using his talent to make his eyes flare red.

  The street thugs rushed out of the room as fast as they could. After they had left, Skeg studied the anchor for a long time, but try as he might, he couldn’t make out the individual strands that made up the weave it held. Hopefully, the girls will have more luck. Shade had come through on his end of the deal at least. Smart of him to use it to pay off two debts at once with it too. Still, the coin he had given the gang members was nothing. A fortune to them maybe, but trivial to Skeg. In his business, knowledge was power, and an active spell anchor was worth many times its weight in gold.

  It was several weeks before Skeg showed the spell anchor to Nial and Zuly. They had recovered quickly after the first few stressful days and fell back into their old routine of hunting early in the evening before returning to Skeg’s shop to study and practice. They barely ever returned to Nial’s father’s home anymore and spent most days curled up in a blanket in the back room. The whole incident had left Skeg more shaken than the girls, and he wanted to be absolutely sure they were up to their full strength before they tried to tackle anything so advanced as Shade’s spell.

  Nial looked at the spell anchor in wonder. The weave it held was much more complex than anything she had seen before. Different strands of varying power were woven together in dizzying patterns.

  “What does it do?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, child. This is as far beyond me as making the sun disappear at noon. All I can see is a solid block of energy. I can’t even make out a hint of the individual strands.”

  “Should I take the weave out of the anchor?”

  “No!” Skeg said. He stood there for a few moments feeling embarrassed by his outburst. “Sorry, child. We have no idea what it would do. It could blow us up or practically anything else you can think of. Besides, if it’s not meant to have a lasting effect, it would vanish and we’d be left with nothing.”

  “It looks like there are three parts to it,” Zuly said.

  “That’s good. It gives us a place to start. Choose the smallest part and see if you can copy it, very, very carefully—it has to be absolutely perfect.”

  “Okay, Mister Skeg.” A frown marred her little forehead as Zuly and Nial got to work.

  Skeg watched Nial in silence, all the while trying to ignore a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d always known Nial and Zuly would surpass him, but watching them try to replicate an unkno
wn spell by themselves was nerve-racking. Skeg could see them working but was unable to understand what they were doing. They turned the spell anchor in their hands slowly, staring at it intently. Power was building in the air above them as their own weave took shape. Skeg toyed with the objects that were currently inserted through his skin, moving and reorganizing them again and again. It seemed like hours before they lifted their head and looked at him.

  “I think it’s done,” Nial said with a grin.

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes. We’re sure.”

  “I’d still like you to check it again, just in case.” With a sigh Nial nodded, and they went back to studying the anchor. Skeg jumped to his feet and scrambled around the shop looking for a suitable target for the spell. After considering a number of random items, he finally settled on an old tree stump that he sometimes used as a stool. He grunted as he lifted it and carried it into the back room. Skeg set the stump down carefully in front of them, then waited for them to finish their last check. A moment later Nial looked up.

  “You were right, Mister Skeg. One thread was a little out of place.” Skeg nodded and tried to look calm.

  “Focus your weave on the stump, and let’s see if this part does anything on its own.”

  Nothing happened. Nial jumped to her feet outraged. “It didn’t do anything!”

  Skeg could see a sheen of magic surrounding the stump that was quickly fading away to nothing but couldn’t make out any other effect either. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I wasn’t expecting it to do anything without the other two parts, but then you never know . . . ,” Skeg said as he looked over the stump and the air around it carefully. “Now I want you to make the same weave again. Exactly the same as before.”

  “But why? It doesn’t do anything!”

  “I know that, Nial. But it’s the first real challenge you’ve had weaving a spell. It took you nearly three hours. I want you to be able to do it in less than half that time before you try the next part.”

  Nial sighed loudly again. “All right. I think we can do that.” She sank back down to her spot on the floor and started working again.

  On their second attempt, Nial and Zuly managed to finish the weave in just under an hour. “Can we try the next piece now, please?”

  “Go ahead and take a good look at it, child, but only look. You can try to reproduce it tomorrow night. I have work to do, and you need to go home and rest.” Nial looked like she was going to argue, but Zuly agreed with a quick nod.

  Their skills are improving at a frightening rate, even with these more advanced weaves. Soon I’ll be of no use to them at all. The thought made Skeg feel hollow. But it also steeled his resolve to go ahead with his own experiment tonight. Skeg had grown complacent over the years. For too long he’d just sat in his shop and done little more than buy and sell. When he’d first opened the shop, when he’d found ways to become indispensable to so many opposing powers in the city, it had all been to make something more of himself than an apprentice, to prove the Arcanum wrong. Zuly had unwittingly shown him a path if he but dared to walk it. Skeg moved around the shop, slowly tidying up and assembling the tools he’d need for his experiment. It would be a great risk. Possibly the most reckless thing he’d ever tried in his life. The slow methodical accumulation of resources has done nothing to further my goals. . . . Time for something big.

  He set up in the middle of the circle in his back room, moving a number of small spell anchors into place around himself so they’d be within easy reach when he needed them. Each had cost him a small fortune. Each spell had been prepared by one of his customers in trade for components they had purchased from Skeg. Not being able to make complex weaves yourself doesn’t matter if you can activate them and have enough other mages who owe you. As far as he knew no one had ever attempted a complex ritual using nothing but third-party anchors. But there’s a first time for everything. I just hope none of them made a mistake. In the center of the circle, he placed a small crystal carving of a winged demon. It would be the focus of his work tonight. Then he removed the obsidian sphere Nial had helped him prepare and set it down in front of the carving. He walked around his shop making sure his wards were all active and the door secured. Then he drank and ate as much as he could, before coming back to the circle and taking his place within.

  Enough preparations, time to do this. Skeg felt a mixture of fear and excitement. He lifted the first anchor and activated the spell within, focusing it on the crystal carving. The carving started to melt as if it were made of wax. The fluid started to smoke and swirl as it resolved itself into the form of a minor demon. An imp. The first spell went off perfectly, binding the imp and preventing it from moving or even perceiving anything more than it would have when it was stuck within the carving.

  Imps were sometimes bound as messengers or spies. They were among the least of the demons summoned by men. The creature was vaguely humanoid, thin to the point of frailty and stood about knee high to Skeg. It had rough gray skin, and wide batlike wings protruded from its shoulders.

  But I’m not looking for a messenger. Skeg lifted the second anchor, forcing himself not to hurry, not to make any mistakes. His heart was hammering inside his chest. The spell activated and coalesced around the obsidian sphere.

  Now the tricky part. Skeg lifted the last two spell anchors and activated them simultaneously—one in either hand. One spell targeted the demon while the other he cast on himself, feeding every ounce of energy he had into it. The imp started to shriek, keening high-pitched screams that threatened to break Skeg’s concentration. Its flesh started to smoke again, and the smoke was drawn into the sphere in front of it. Skeg felt a pull within himself. The strength of the pull grew with the demon’s screams. Before long Skeg’s screams joined the demon’s as he fought a desperate tug-of-war with it to save his own soul. The pain! Pain of the flesh is nothing compared to this! Gods, what have I done?! It’s tearing my soul apart! The demon’s skin bubbled and boiled. The pain increased beyond all description. And then suddenly it was gone. The imp puffed into smoke and was drawn through the orb into Skeg, then the orb exploded, sending a shower of shards in all directions. Skeg only just had time to throw his arms up in front of his face.

  He barely felt the impact of the shards that shredded his skin. Hundreds more were driven into the ceiling and walls. My little talent might have saved my life, he thought ruefully as he looked down at his arms and chest. Small nicks and cuts had never hurt him, nor had they ever bled much. Not that I’ll ever react to pain the same way after that ordeal. It was a moment before the realization hit him. I did it! He felt within himself and there it was. A core of power nestled beside his own life flame.

  I can’t stop now. Skeg took a deep breath and drew the demon’s energy into his own. It burned. The wrongness of it, the flavor of its energy, was sickening. But the power was undeniable. His muscles spasmed, became denser; his blood flowed slower and thicker. His whole being was rearranging itself, growing into a shape more befitting the strength and energy it now contained. There was pain, of course—no change could be made without it. But after the soul-tearing agony of the ritual, this was nothing. Oh, yes, this is almost sweet. The whole process was over faster than he could have expected. He felt good. Better than ever, in fact. He rushed over to a mirror and inspected himself carefully.

  There was little outward sign of what he had done to himself. His skin was a few shades closer to gray, but his face was his own. His body had only become a little leaner and stronger than it had been before. Much better than I had feared, and not even enough to tip off the Night Guard when they come snooping. He focused his talent and was overjoyed to feel the wild rush of power, far more than he’d ever had at his disposal before. Picking up a cup to drink, Skeg was surprised when he crushed the clay in his fist. I guess this will take a little getting used to. His stomach rumbled. And I guess with greater strength comes greater hunger, he thought with a grin. Still, the
experiment was a great success. He had taken a demon’s ability to steal and consume souls and turned it back on itself—absorbing it into his own soul. I wonder what would happen if I used this on a demon that had already eaten a soul or two? . . . Would the soul be freed to the afterlife as it was when the demon was permanently destroyed? Would he consume it himself and so gain even greater strength? Could he use it to steal souls like a true demon? There was great power in a soul, as Nial and Zuly had shown him, and there were certainly souls in this cesspool of a city deserving of being used or even used up. But then the memory of the pain returned. And with it came fear. No, this ritual won’t work a second time. If I want to absorb another demon, I’ll have to find a way to do it without using my own soul as a fulcrum. . . . The thought ended when his stomach growled again.

  When the girls arrived back at the shop the next night, they knew something was wrong the moment they stepped through the door. They found Skeg lying on his back in the middle of the shop, his stomach hideously distended. The remains of random foods were scattered around him.

  “Mister Skeg, what have you done?” Zuly asked.

  He looked up at them with bloodshot eyes. “Something monumentally foolish, I’m starting to think.” He gasped and held an arm over his stomach, while his eyes darted around the floor looking for more to eat.

  “You are no longer entirely human.”

  “An experiment I tried last night—” He broke off with another gasp of pain. “I used the orb you made for me to consume a small demon, an imp. . . . I pulled it into myself.” He finished with a grimace.

  “It’s the hunger you’re feeling,” said Nial. “Every demon feels it, even us. But it has nothing to do with food.”

  “Then what can I do?” Skeg pleaded. “I’m so hungry I can’t stand it.”

  “It’s a hunger for power, not for sustenance,” said Zuly. “Though for our kind”—she paused—“the distinction is meaningless. It will never lessen, never ease. You will have to learn to live with it.” Skeg’s eyes had gone wide. “You can dampen it for a time, but it will not last. The simplest sources of power are blood and flesh. Though that will only satisfy the weakest of demons.”