Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane

by Rob May

  THE END

  PART ONE

  THE VOYAGE

  When I was young, my spirit free,

  My feet, they led me to the sea.

  No place in this world could ever be,

  A cage to hold the soul of me.

  I.i

  Beginning of a Great Adventure

  Snow lay thick on the forested lower slopes of the Starfinger Mountains. It was midwinter—Kal’s favourite time of year, when running through the trees and valleys warmed her fur-clad body, but the crisp air still tickled her nose and ears with cold. As she paused to suck oxygen into her lungs, her breath steamed, visible against the bright blue sky.

  The snow deadened all sound, driving animals into shelter and turning a familiar landscape into a ghost world. The only noises were snow slipping off the branches of fir trees and crashing to the ground, and, once, the heavy beat of wings, as a hungry tawny owl scouted the white wilderness for a glimpse of a mouse or vole.

  As her breathing and heart rate slowed, Kal listened; he was out there, somewhere, hunting her, and like the other animals of the forest, Kal’s tracks were easy to follow. The snow was a foot deep—fresh, virgin snow that had fallen overnight—and it would be child’s play to follow the path she had forged through it.

  She picked up her weary limbs and tried a new tactic: running rings and figures-of-eight around the pines. She stopped again barely a minute later. This was futile; she might put him off the scent for five minutes, but she would waste five minutes creating the diversion.

  Kal’s eyes fell on a fallen tree: a twenty-yard giant brought down by the recent storms and not yet collected for timber. But she didn’t just run straight up and on to it … she ran past it, stopping at the foot of another tree, one she hoped looked like the sort she might be expected to try and climb and hide in. Then she retraced her steps, placing her feet carefully in the furrows she had just made, and only then did she jump onto the fallen tree’s dead trunk.

  She scuttled along its length. When she reached the other end, she saw another welcome sight: a frozen-over stream that normally she would have heard babbling from some distance away. Now she knew where she was. All she had to do was reach the stream and follow the ice home.

  The problem was, the stream was ten yards away: too far to leap. Unless … Kal’s gaze fell on the slim, frosty branch of a bare elm tree. If she could reach that and swing …

  She made up her mind, pulled off her rabbitskin gloves, and took a run at it. What was the worst that could happen? A wet and sore backside if she fell into the snow?

  Kal leaped off the end of the deadfall and grabbed the branch. Her cold fingers slipped off the icy bark, but by then she was already flying through the air. She fell hard on the frozen stream, but the three-month-old ice didn’t break, and she actually slid downhill on her belly for twenty yards, skidding up the bank at the first bend.

  Half an hour later, Kal found her way to a straw-thatched cottage in a forest clearing. A young man with a beard and long hair was outside, shirtless in the snow, chopping wood. He put down his axe and gave Kal a hug and a kiss. ‘Are you alone?’ he said, looking around.

  ‘Alone and starving!’ Kal replied. The man smiled and went inside, returning moments later with two parcels wrapped with linen and tied with string. Kal stuffed one in her satchel and unwrapped the other. As she took a bite out of the huge pork sandwich that dripped with fat and apple sauce, she spotted a small figure emerge from the forest, following in her tracks.

  ‘Here he comes,’ Kal said. ‘I bet him my lunch that he couldn’t catch me before I made it home.’ She shouted across the snowy clearing: ‘What kept you? I’ve been waiting here for ages!’

  Kal’s pursuer, a young, serious-looking boy, stepped forward to accept the remains of the sandwich that Kal proffered. He was damp and covered in pine needles. ‘I fell out of a tree and into a snowdrift, looking for you, Kal,’ he grumbled.

  The bearded man laughed. ‘So what have you two got planned for the rest of day, then?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re going on a quest to find the treasure of Dark Dell,’ Kal told him excitedly.

  ‘Alright then. But be careful, Kal. You know the rules: be back before the sun falls below the mountains, and don’t go beyond the Watcher Tree. And look after Deros here—his mother will kill me if he picks up so much as a bruise.’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ Kal said, although she had already forgotten what the rules were.

  Kalina Moonheart was ten years old, and about to set out on another great adventure.

  I.ii

  The White Spot

  Kal dreamed of snow and forests, and also of ringing bells.

  She woke instantly. Back in the village of Refuge, bells meant danger. But she wasn’t in Refuge any more. She was in her city apartment, and the noise meant intruder! There were a cluster of tiny brass bells hanging from cords just above Kal’s bed. The cords ran, via a network of loops fixed to the walls, to both the window and the door. Judging by the blast of cold winter air that hit her in the face, it was the window that had been breached.

  Kal affected a stretching yawn, slipped her hand under her heavy straw-packed pillow, and closed her fingers around the handle of her dagger—one of several she kept concealed around the room. She could hear someone moving around, trying—but failing—to avoid the creaky floorboards. Kal prepared to leap out of bed and attack the intruder …

  Then she heard the clinking of glasses and the glug glug of a drink being poured. She opened one eye slowly.

  Kal’s apartment was open-plan. From her bed she could see that her small table, where she usually ate alone, was set with a candle, two shot glasses and her most expensive bottle of brandy. A figure in a black leather greatcoat and black tricorn hat was crouched down, setting a flame to kindling in the fireplace.

  Kal threw off her feather-and-down blanket, sprang out of bed stark naked, and crossed the room. ‘Damn it, Lula,’ she said. ‘You can’t just turn up in the middle of the night and light the fire!’

  The girl in the hat looked up and smiled. ‘I just did, Kal.’

  ‘No,’ Kal said, kicking ashes over the blossoming flame. ‘I mean you can’t light the fire because the chimney is blocked. There’s a dead dog stuck up there or something.’

  Lula backed off and sat down in one of Kal’s cowhide-upholstered bucket chairs. ‘This whole building looks like it’s condemned, Kal. I almost fell to my death climbing the crumbling mortar. Why do you still insist on living here? I keep offering to let you winter with me.’

  Kal took her dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. It was fine red silk, imported from the far-off Empire of the Moon. Golden dragons coiled around Kal as she yanked tight the belt. ‘I like it here. The rent is cheap. What do you want, Lula?’

  ‘I want to get warm,’ Lula replied, taking a slug of the brandy. She shuddered as it went down. ‘That’s a start, anyway!’ She tossed away her hat, shaking free her glossy black hair, and examined the label on the bottle. ‘Spirit of the Revolution? They serve this stuff at the governor’s parties in Port Black. Did your friend Ben get it for you from the Senate House?’

  ‘He doesn’t get things for me,’ Kal said, prickling at the dig at her rich patron. ‘I stole it.’ She took the other glass and knocked the fiery spirit back as if it were water.

  Lula was impressed and they chinked glasses. ‘We just got in on the high tide,’ she said, pouring out two more shots. ‘And we’ll be leaving again before dawn. I want you to come with me, Kal.’

  ‘What, tonight?’

  ‘Yes! You need to escape this city, Kal. Get away from the crowds, the politics and the bad weather. Join me on the open sea. Swim with me in blue lagoons, and drink rum on beaches where the sand is still warm at midnight!’

  ‘Come on, Lula,’ Kal scoffed. ‘You didn’t sail halfway around the world and wake me in the middle of the night to give me the opportunity to change my lifestyle. I’m guessing you’re here on busine
ss … and no good business, I imagine.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Lula said. ‘The crew are all out over the city right now making drops. I just delivered a package personally to one of your highest-ranking senators. But that’s not why I’m here. We’ve been friends for a few years now, Kal, haven’t we? Always helping each other out?’

  Kal nodded. The Island girl sitting opposite her, all leather, long hair and coffee-coloured skin, was twenty-six—Kal’s age—and, thanks to her skills with ropes, boats and cutlasses, had helped Kal out of many scrapes in the past. They made a good team, but the balance of favour probably lay with Lula … and Kal guessed that she was about to be called to account.

  ‘So you need my help with something?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lula admitted. ‘But you’re not going to like it.’

  It was Kal’s turn to refill their glasses. ‘I’m not going shark-hunting with you again,’ she said, holding up her forearm to show off a scar. ‘And diving to that sunken galleon was more trouble than it was worth in the end. Three pieces of eight didn’t stretch all that far—’

  ‘It’s vudu, Kal.’

  Kal felt a chill crawl up her spine, as if an insect with a hundred legs had found its way inside her dressing gown. Vudu! Dark, ancient magic … the magic of the gods …

  ‘I can’t help you with magic, Lula,’ Kal told her friend. ‘Show me something I can see and touch, and I’ll fight it to the death for you, but vudu … count me out. I can point you to some philosophers and theologians at the university who can—’

  ‘No, it’s you and only you who can help,’ Lula said. ‘I need someone smart and brave to find out why my people have been cursed!’

  As if the night could get any colder! ‘Cursed?’ Kal repeated incredulously.

  ‘Yes,’ Lula said in a low voice. ‘We have either displeased our god, or shown ourselves to be unworthy of her. The people of the Auspice Islands have been struck with a terrible curse that turns their flesh to ash and their brains to salt. Almost everyone I know—my friends, my family, half my crew—has succumbed to it … has become a zombie.’

  Kal was shaking her head. The Islanders were a superstitious people, still worshipping gods that the people of Amaranthium had given up as dead centuries ago. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Kal said. ‘I can’t believe in curses. I refuse to believe in zombies.’

  ‘You will, Kal,’ Lula said. ‘I’m only half Islander—as you know, my mother was a merchant from this city—but the curse has begun to take hold of me, too. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got …’

  And to underline her tale, Lula raised her right hand in front of Kal’s face. In the centre of her brown palm was a inch-wide blemish that stained her smooth young skin: a perfectly round, dry and cracked white spot.

  I.iii

  Mooncusser

  Kal pulled her sea chest down from the top of her wardrobe. The old knocked-about teak box was well-travelled—Kal had been to the Auspice Islands before, but never to Port Black itself. That time, Lula had advised they steer clear of the town since two pirate lords were at war on the streets. Would that have been more or less dangerous than a town besieged by zombies? Kal wondered.

  She lined the inside of the box with a couple of shirts. But she could pick up clothes anywhere, so she packed the rest of the space with weapons and books. She had a collection of blades of various sizes—made from a razor-sharp stainless metal crafted specially for her by her friend Nim Phyn, a doctor at Amaranthium’s university. The books were Kal’s favourite kind: outrageous adventures that featured warriors, wizards and a multitude of monsters. Concealed among the pages though, were more important documents: letters of introduction from her friends Ben Godsword (a consul of Amaranthium, no less) and Zeb Zing (owner of the world-famous gambling den, the Snake Pit). With friends like those, Kal could be assured of a line of credit from both official and underground channels almost anywhere in the world.

  Kal paused before closing the lid. What weapon would be effective against zombies? She had a sudden thought, and went over to her rack of kitchen implements. Her meat cleaver would be a good choice for lopping off limbs, or for smashing skulls with the blunt back. She smiled; Nim had crafted this for her, too.

  Before she left her small apartment, Kal took a scrap of paper and a pencil and wrote out a note for Ben: Something came up. Back whenever! KM xxx. The truth was though, that Ben probably wouldn’t miss her: since he took on the role of consul at the start of the year, he had barely needed her help, and spent most of his time in a huddle talking politics with his co-consul, Ganzief Greatbear.

  Well, Kal thought, after running around after you for so long, I deserve a holiday!

  She pinned the note to the table with a dagger and left, locking the door and kicking the key back underneath.

  ***

  By the time Kal got her chest down the four flights of narrow stairs, Lula had brought a pony and trap around to the front of the building. Kal’s friend had a wide smile; her mood had lifted considerably the moment Kal had agreed to come away with her.

  It was four in the morning, but there was already activity in Satos Square as market traders set up their stalls ready for the dawn. Kal jumped aboard the trap, and Lula shook a stick above the pony’s head to get it moving. From the end of the stick, a carrot on a string dangled.

  Taking up most of the room in the trap was a six-foot-long bundle that hung over both the left and right side. ‘What’s this?’ Kal asked. ‘What are you smuggling this time, Lula?’

  Lula snorted. ‘We don’t call it smuggling. We call it … enabling the free market! Challenging unfair trade sanctions and price-fixing.’

  Kal laughed. ‘You know me, Lula. I don’t judge. I don’t romanticise things either, though. I doubt you’d be doing this if there wasn’t a nice profit involved. Is it a body? Wait … is it a zombie?!’

  Now it was Lula’s turn to laugh: a loud, hearty chuckle that made people turn and notice her. ‘No, it’s not a zombie. Take a look.’

  As the pony clopped along the Kingsway, Kal peeled back the tarred cloth and discovered that Lula’s cargo was just a bolt of bright red material. ‘Is this cotton?’

  ‘Calico,’ Lula answered over her shoulder.

  ‘Well, that’s not very exciting,’ Kal said. ‘Didn’t you used to bring in tea, coffee and liquor?’

  ‘Now who’s being romantic?’ Lula jibed. ‘Calico is cheap to buy, and because imports are banned completely—something to do with protecting the Republic’s wool trade, I think—it sells for a nice profit. The best thing about smuggling calico, though, is that you’re not risking the noose if you get caught: just a thousand crown fine and three months in the Cut. Even so, the man I was taking this to tonight got cold feet and refused to take delivery. His loss, though—we always insist on payment up front.’

  Kal smiled to herself. Lula was a smart operator: a girl after Kal’s own heart. Kal herself made most of her income from gambling, but she always played a straightforward, safe system that was designed to win slowly but surely. Nobody ever got rich quick, in any walk of life. Well, nobody who had to build their life up out of nothing, at least.

  They passed through the East Gate. The two guards on duty didn’t even glance at the trap, which Kal thought odd, until Lula looked back and gave her a wink while patting her pockets. So she had bribed them; the two young, bored guards would probably take the price of a pint of beer to look the other away even if someone was to lead a dragon into the city.

  Lula guided the pony and trap across the Field of Bones, its hooves crunching through the hoar frost. It was bitterly cold, but it hadn’t snowed yet. This far south, snow was an event; back in the Starfinger Mountains snow was just another word for winter. Kal huddled up in her woollens; she had piled on several layers—old clothes that she hoped to throw overboard one-at-a-time as they sailed towards the sun.

  She wasn’t concerned that they hadn’t headed straight down to the city’s harbour. She imagined Lula’
s ship was hidden in some smugglers’ cove somewhere on the rocky coast. The old excitement was stirring, and the thought of a month at sea before they reached Port Black was a sweet agony. Perhaps knowing that they would have plenty of time to talk on the voyage, Lula hadn’t troubled Kal with any more horror stories about the zombie curse. Instead, she happily chatted away about her other recent exploits, telling an outrageous tale of how she rescued forty slaves from a sultan in Nubara.

  ‘The sultan agreed to give them to me as my own personal slaves … in return for his hand in marriage.’

  Kal could only shake her head in wonder at the situations that Lula got herself into. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I married the cretin, of course! The marriage lasted six hours: from the ceremony, all through the quite excellent feast, right up until the moment when I slit my new husband’s throat in our bed chamber. Then I just walked out of the palace with my slaves. The sultan’s eunuch guards were too well disciplined to do anything but stand there and let me go!’

  Lula laughed to herself. ‘Well, that was enough excitement to last me for years, so I decided to keep my head down for a while by joining this gang of respectable smugglers.’

  Kal smiled. Respectable! Travelling with Lula certainly wasn’t going to be boring. She was easy company, even pretending to understand and laugh along with some of Kal’s clumsily-told tales of bad beats and lucky draw-outs at the card tables.

  And while they talked, the second of Amaranthium’s ringwalls approached: the ultimate frontier that protected the city’s farmlands and country estates from the dangerous Wild beyond. The guards there tended to view with suspicion anyone entering or leaving the city, so a bribe would be quite pricey. As they approached the gate, though, Lula swung the carrot to the right, and the pony set off down a narrow track.