Children of Blood and Bone

by Tomi Adeyemi

  You don’t have to die.

  “There are only three people who know about the ritual. If we’re all on the boat…” He clears his throat, swallowing the fatal thought. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing. No matter what, one of us has to survive.”

  Alright. The words slip to the edge of my lips, desperate to escape. “But Zélie,” I choke out instead. “If anyone stays behind, it should be her.”

  “If we stood a chance in hell without her on this ship, I would be persuading my sister instead.”

  “But—” I stop as the water of the arena surges, splashing onto the boat. In minutes the chamber will be covered, trapping me inside this burial chamber. If I’m going to run, it has to be now. In a moment it’ll be too late.

  “Amari, just go,” Tzain presses. “Please. We’ll fight better if we don’t have to worry about you getting hurt.”

  We. I almost find the heart to laugh. Behind us Zélie grips the railing, eyes closed and lips quick as she practices the incantation. Despite her obvious fear, she still fights. No one allows her to run away.

  If you’re going to act like a little princess, turn yourself in to the guards. I’m not here to protect you. I’m here to fight.

  “My brother is after me,” I whisper to Tzain. “My father, too. Staying off this boat does not keep me or the secret of the scroll alive. It only buys me time.” As the water splashes my feet, I step forward, joining a team at the cannons. “I can do this,” I lie.

  I can fight.

  Be brave, Amari.

  This time I hold on to Binta’s words, wrapping them around my body like a suit of armor. I can be brave.

  For Binta, I must be everything.

  Tzain holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. He leaves to take his place. With a groan, the boat surges forward with the water, taking us to battle. We sail through the final tunnel. The screams of the crowd grow wild, frenzied for our blood. For the first time I wonder if Father knows of this “entertainment.” If he knew, would he care?

  I grip the railing of the ship as hard as I can, a futile attempt to quell my nerves. Before I can brace myself, we enter the arena, exposed, out for the world to see.

  The smell of brine and vinegar hits like a wave as I blink in the astounding sight. Nobles line the first few rows above the arena, vibrant silks waving as they pound their fists against the railings.

  Turning away, my heart constricts as I lock eyes with a young, wide-eyed divîner on another boat. His blank face says it all.

  For one of us to live, the other must die.

  Zélie laces her fingers and cracks her knuckles, walking to the bow of the ship. She mouths the incantation, steeling herself against the distractions before we begin.

  The crowd roars with each new boat that enters the games, but as I survey the opponents, a terrible realization strikes. Last night there were ten boats.

  Today there are thirty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ZÉLIE

  NO …

  I count again and again, waiting for someone to announce that there’s been a mistake. We can’t outlast twenty-nine other boats. Our plan could barely outlast ten.

  “Tzain,” I shriek as I run to him, betraying all my fear. “I can’t do it! I can’t take them all down.”

  Amari follows, shaking so much she nearly trips on the deck. The crew trails her, bombarding Tzain with endless questions. His eyes go wild as we swarm him, trying to focus on any one thing. But then his jaw sets. He closes his eyes.

  “Quiet!”

  His voice booms over the madness, silencing our cries. We watch as he surveys the arena while the announcer riles up the crowd.

  “Abi, take the boat on the left. Dele, the one on the right. Form an alliance with the crews. Tell them we’ll last longer if we target the boats farther away.”

  “But what if—”

  “Go!” Tzain shouts over their objections, sending the brother and sister running. “Rowers,” he continues, “new plan. Only half of you guys stay at the paddles. Keep us moving. We won’t get much speed, but we’re dead if we stay still.” Half the laborers scramble to resume their positions at the wooden oars. Tzain turns back to us, the agbön champion alive in his eyes. “The rest of you join the cannon assembly line and aim for the boats in front. I want steady cannon fire. But be measured—the blastpowder will only last us so long.”

  “And the secret weapon?” Baako, the strongest of the crew, asks.

  The brief calm I felt under Tzain’s leadership evaporates. My chest squeezes so tight a sharp pain runs up my side. The weapon isn’t ready, I want to shout. If you put your faith in her, you’ll die.

  I can picture it now: Tzain screaming above the water, me holding my breath as I try to push my magic out. I’m not the maji Mama was. What if I can’t be the Reaper they need?

  “It’s under control,” Tzain assures him. “Just make sure we stay alive long enough to use it.”

  “Who’s ready … for the battle of a lifetime?”

  The crowd roars in response to the announcer’s goading. Their screams drown out even his amplified voice. I grip Tzain’s arm as the crew splits. My throat is so dry it’s hard to speak. “What’s my plan?”

  “Same as the old. We just need you to take out more.”

  “Tzain, I can’t—”

  “Look at me.” He puts both hands on my shoulders. “Mama was the most powerful Reaper I’ve ever seen. You’re her daughter. I know you can do this.”

  My chest tightens, but I can’t tell if it’s fear or something else.

  “Just try.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Even one animation will help.”

  “Ten … nine … eight … seven…”

  “Stay alive!” he yells before positioning himself by the armory.

  “Six … five … four … three…”

  The cheers rise to deafening levels as I run to the ship’s railing.

  “Two…”

  There’s no chance to back out now. We either get the stone—

  “One!”

  —or we die trying.

  The horn sounds and I jump overboard, crashing into the warm sea with rushing speed. As I hit, our ship shakes.

  The first cannons fire.

  Vibrations shudder through the water, rippling through my core. Spirits of the dead chill the space around me; fresh kills from today’s games.

  Alright, I think to myself, remembering Minoli’s animation. Goosebumps prick my skin as the spirits near, my tongue curls at the taste of blood though I keep my mouth closed. The souls are desperate for my touch, for a way to return to life. This is it.

  If I’m truly a Reaper, I have to show it now.

  “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn, mo ké pè yín ní òní—”

  I wait for the animations to swirl out of the water before me, but only a few bubbles escape my hands. I try again, drawing from the energy of the dead, but no matter how hard I concentrate, no animations come forth.

  Dammit. The air in my throat thins, going faster as my pulse quickens. I can’t do this. I can’t save us—

  A blast thunders from above.

  I spin as the ship beside ours sinks. Corpses and shattered wood rain down. The water around me reddens. A bloodied body plunges past me to the bottom.

  My gods …

  Terror grips my chest.

  One cannonball to the right and that could’ve been Tzain.

  Come on, I coach myself as the air in my lungs shrivels further. There’s no time to fail. I need my magic now.

  Oya, please. The prayer feels strange, like a language half-learned and entirely forgotten. But after my awakening, our connection should be stronger than ever. If I call, she has to answer.

  Help me. Guide me. Lend me your strength. Let me protect my brother and free the spirits trapped in this place.

  I close my eyes, gathering the electric energy of the dead into my bones. I’ve studied the scroll. I can do this.

  I can be a Reaper now.
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  “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”

  A lavender light glows in my hands. Sharp heat courses through my veins. The incantation pushes my spiritual pathways open, allowing ashê to flow through. The first spirit surges through my body, ready for my command. Unlike Minoli, my only knowledge of this animation is his death; my stomach aches from the cannonball that ripped through his gut.

  When I finish the incantation, the first animation floats before me, a swirl of vengeance and bubbles and blood. The animation takes the shape of a human, forming its body out of the water around us. Though its expression is clouded by the bubbles, I sense the militant resolve of its spirit. My own soldier. The first in an army of the dead.

  For the briefest moment, triumph overpowers the exhaustion running through my muscles. I’ve done it. I’m a Reaper. A true sister of Oya.

  A pang of sadness flashes through me. If only Mama could see me now.

  But I can still honor her spirit.

  I will make every fallen Reaper proud.

  “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”

  With the dwindling ashê in me, I chant, casting one more animation to life. I point to a ship, then give my command.

  “Bring it down!”

  To my surprise, the animations tear through the water with the speed of arrows. They shoot forward at my target, moments away from a strike.

  The water rumbles when they hit, blowing straight through the vessel’s hull. Planks of wood fly like spears, twisting as water rushes in.

  I did it.…

  I don’t know whether to search for Oya in the sky or within my own hands. Spirits of the dead answered my call. They bent to my will!

  The water swallows the ship whole, capsizing the vessel. But before my excitement can settle, falling divîners crash into the water.

  I spin, taking in the collateral damage. The fallen crew thrashes for the top, kicking toward the edge of the arena. Terror hits when I see one girl plunge through the water with limp limbs. My chest seizes as her unconscious body begins to sink like lead.

  “Save her!”

  I push the command out, but my connection to the animations withers like the final breath left in my chest. I can already feel the spirit soldiers fading, leaving the hell of this arena for the peace of the afterlife.

  As I kick upward, the animations dive like horn-tailed manta rays, surrounding the girl before she can hit the bottom of the arena. Ashê buzzes in my veins as they pull her up to a floating piece of dirftwood, granting her a chance to live.

  “Ugh!” I cough when I break through the surface. Something leaves me as the animations disappear. I send silent thanks to their spirits as I wheeze for air.

  “Did you see that?” the announcer booms. The arena erupts, not knowing what took the boat down.

  “Zélie!” Tzain shouts from above, a crazed smile on his face despite the nightmare around us. His grin holds a glow I haven’t seen in over a decade, a light he would have whenever he watched Mama’s magic at work.

  “That!” He points. “Keep doing that!”

  Pride swells in my chest, heating me from within. I take a deep breath before diving back down.

  Then I begin to chant.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  AMARI

  CHAOS.

  Before this moment, I never truly understood the word. Chaos meant Mother’s screams before a luncheon. It meant the scramble of oloyes to their gold-lined chairs.

  Now chaos surrounds me, pulsing through every breath and heartbeat. It sings as blood splatters through the air, screams as boats explode into oblivion.

  I scramble to the back of the boat and cover my head as a boom rings. Our vessel shakes as another cannon strikes its hull. Only seventeen ships float, yet somehow, we are still in this fight.

  Before me, everyone moves with unmatched precision, fighting despite the mayhem. Tendons bulge against the rowers’ necks as they drive the ship forward; sweat pours down the crew’s faces as they load more blastpowder into the breeches of the cannons.

  Go, I yell at myself. Do something. Anything!

  But no matter how hard I try, I cannot help. I cannot even breathe.

  My insides lurch as a cannonball rips through the deck of another boat. Injured cries hit my ears like shattered glass. The stench of blood stains the air, bringing Zélie’s old words to mind. The day we came to Ibeji, she tasted death.

  Today I taste it for myself.

  “Incoming!” Tzain yells, pointing through the smoke. Another vessel approaches, its rowers panting with spears at the ready. Skies …

  They’re going to board us.

  They’ll bring the battle here!

  “Amari, take the rowers!” Tzain yells. “Help me lead this fight!”

  Ever the fearless captain, he takes off, disappearing before he can see the paralysis in my feet. My lungs gasp for air; why can’t I remember how to breathe?

  You trained for this. I grip my sword as the boat nears. You bled for this.

  But when the enemy crew jumps aboard, years of forced lessons freeze in my fingertips. Though I try to flick my blade open, my hands only tremble. Strike, Amari. Father’s voice rumbles into my ears, cutting deep into the scar on my back. Raise your sword, Amari. Attack, Amari. Fight, Amari.

  “I can’t…”

  After all these years, I still can’t. Nothing has changed. I cannot move. I cannot fight.

  I can only stand still.

  Why am I here? What in the skies was I thinking? I could’ve left that scroll and returned to my quarters. I could still be grieving Binta’s death in my room. But I made that choice, one fateful decision that once seemed so right. I thought I could avenge my dear friend.

  Instead, I will only die.

  I press against the side of the ship, hiding away as the crew fights through the invaders. Their blood spills at my feet. Their anguish rings, filling my ears.

  The chaos envelops me, so overwhelming I can hardly see. It takes a moment too long to realize that one of the blades is coming for me.

  Strike, Amari.

  Yet my limbs do not move. The blade whistles toward my neck—

  Tzain cries out as his fist collides with the man’s jaw.

  The attacker collapses, but not before his sword slashes through Tzain’s arm.

  “Tzain!”

  “Stay back,” he yells, grabbing his bleeding bicep.

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Just get out of the way!”

  Hot tears of shame well in my eyes as he runs off. I retreat into the back corner of the ship. I shouldn’t have boarded. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have left the palace—

  A thunderous crash rings through my ears. Our vessel jolts with a violent force, knocking me to the ground. I grip the railing of the ship as the boat shudders. This is it.

  We’ve been hit.

  Before I can scramble to my feet, another cannonball blows through our deck. Shards of wood and smoke fly through the air. With a lurch, the bow of the boat tips up. Smoke fills my lungs as I slide across the bloodstained deck.

  I grab onto the base of the mast and squeeze for dear life. Liters of water rush across the carnage on the ship.

  With another lurch, our boat begins to sink.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ZÉLIE

  “ZÉLIE!”

  I break back to the surface and whip my head up. Tzain grips the rail of the ship, teeth clenched with strain. Blood covers his clothes and his face, but I can’t tell whether it’s his.

  Only nine other vessels float through the arena. Nine vessels left in this bloodbath. But the stern of our boat groans under the surface.

  Our ship’s going down.

  I take a deep breath and plunge back into the water. Immediately, bile rises in my throat. Clouds of red and debris make it all but impossible to see.

  I struggle to keep my eyes open as I kick as hard as I can. Each stroke down is a stroke through water thick and heavy with blood.

&nbs
p; “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”

  Though I chant, the last of my ashê dwindles from my fingers. I’m not strong enough. My magic’s run dry. But if I can’t do it, Tzain and Amari might die. Our ship will go down, our chance at the sunstone will disappear. We won’t be able to bring magic back.

  I stare at the scar on my palm. Mama’s face flashes behind my eyes.

  I’m sorry, I think to her spirit.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I bite into my hand. The copper tang of blood fills my mouth as my teeth break through the skin. The blood spreads into the water, glowing with a white light that wraps around my form. My eyes bulge as the light travels within me, vibrating in my blood, radiating through my core.

  Ashê tears through my veins, searing my skin from the inside out.

  “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”

  Waves of red flash behind my eyes.

  Oya dances for me again.

  Water twists around me, writhing with new and violent life. The blood magic takes over, enacting my will. With a rush, a new army of animations swirls before my eyes.

  Their watery skin bubbles with blood and white light, coming alive with the force of a storm. Ten more animations awaken to join the army, water swirling as their bodies take form. They draw the blood and the debris into their skin, creating new armor for my army of the dead. They look to me when the last animation comes forth.

  “Save the boat!”

  My spirit soldiers shoot through the water like dual-finned sharks, fiercer than any ship or cannon in sight. Though my insides burn, the thrill of my magic overwhelms the chaos of our fight.

  Pleasure swells through me as they follow my silent directive and disappear into the holes left by the cannonballs. A second later all the water inside begins to rush out.

  Yes!

  In an instant our ship gains buoyancy, bobbing back up to the surface. When all the water is out, the animations join with the wood, patching the holes with the watery remains of their bodies.

  It worked!

  But my wonder doesn’t last long.

  Though the animations have disappeared, the surge of the blood magic remains.

  My skin sears as it tears through me, burning as if the blood magic is ripping my organs apart. The violence shreds through my muscles. My hands go numb.