by Sarah Chorn
If he’d had lips, he would have smiled. Instead, he sent out a wave of pleasure, and felt a wave roll back, echoing his sentiment.
Something else had changed, as well. Something he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t really alone in his mind anymore. Not quite. There was someone else there, someone with different abilities, but the same purpose. She was out there, far to the west of him. Occasionally, he saw flashes. Visions of her crouched somewhere, feeling like a stranger in her own skin, feeling that ebb and flow of the change inside her. Confused and frightened, she needed him, and he needed her. They were tied together, the two of them.
He tried reaching out to her, and sometimes he could almost hear her voice, but she could not hear him. She wasn’t ready yet. So, he watched while the transformation grew inside her. A different beast, but from a similar family.
He wondered what she’d do. She didn’t have his disease, he could feel that much, but she was hungry. So incredibly hungry, devouring, as he had; trying desperately to fill the pit yawning inside of her. Her beast was demanding its fill. Soon, she’d either have to eat her mortality, or become devoured.
Only the strong would survive what was happening and he wanted her to be strong. He wanted her to Become. She’d run at him like the past, and he’d come at her like the future. They’d crash together like forces of nature. Their united purpose, their similar instincts, would drive them—and wouldn’t that be magnificent!
Like singing while the world burned.
So, he led his army west and he watched over her, this stranger far out there, struggling with what she was becoming. He felt impotent, almost frustrated, as if he was still capable of feeling such a mortal emotion. He clung to his own hollow version of hope, with fingers crossed, that she’d have the strength to become.
The further he walked, the more people—those starved and forgotten by Eyad and his infernal grain requisition, the wasted and dying—got up from their barren plots of earth, gained their feet, and restlessly joined his band of bones. They bit off their skin, their muscles, their tendons, all the way down to their bones, eating the world along with their humanity. Above them, the barren sky watched impassively. Below their feet, the dry earth turned from hard and brown, to black and dead. The plague of hunger was spreading, and he was its host.
It was fucking glorious.
This was power.
This was what he had been born for.
It was heady, intoxicating. It was the most fulfilling thing he’d ever been part of.
He knew they were going toward Lord’s Reach like an arrow shot by Fate herself. Thinking of it made him giddy. A walled city full of people. Humanity piled on top of humanity. He had an entire army waiting for him there, ripe for infection, eager for transformation. There was no antidote for what he carried. Starvation was no longer something that one endured until it finally ended. He’d changed it from a passive threat to an active promise. He carried it in his bones, and that city almost glowed with fertility, thousands of people ready for his infection. The disease hadn’t hit them yet, but it would. He was bringing it with him on wings straight from Hell.
He shook himself out of his thoughts, and studied the world around him, felt the earth unmaking itself with each step he took. It was like erasing history, unsculpting a statue, unpainting a mural. First, you have to break to become. He had broken, and now he was Becoming. What he was Becoming, he didn’t know; but whatever it was, he was the tool the earth was using to make itself new again, to prepare itself for whatever would come next.
But then what?
He wasn’t sure. He had no idea what they were marching toward, but he heard its siren call, a voice that seemed to be crooning his name. They marched toward it, drawing ever closer to the Reach, their numbers growing with each mile they traversed. They walked in shining white lines under the unforgiving light of the sun and the silvery glow of the moon, silent and armed with intent.
The Reach called them. It was a diamond in the middle of a pile of shit, and it would be theirs. It already belonged to him. The disease was coming.
To the Reach! he sent out to his bone army. He felt their anticipation return to him a thousand-fold, mirroring his own. The earth trembled under their feet.
Once he had been called Taub. Now he was the Bone Lord.
Neryan
Neryan felt a strange helplessness as he sat beside the curled, unmoving form of his sister. Her heart beat, her lungs expanded and contracted as required, she lived; but she wasn’t waking up, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. They’d been apart for five horrible years, and now he sat next to her bed as the days slid past, slowly turning into a week, and watched, waiting for her to do something, anything, that showed that she was still part of the world. Her only sign of life was swallowing when he dribbled broth into her mouth, day in and day out.
Her body was present, but Seraphina wasn’t home. Holy Mother, why bring her back to him if only as this ghost, this memory etched in bone, an echo of who she used to be?
They’d shared everything together, every moment of their lives: from the point of inception; through the awful school for those bred and born into slavery, those pale creatures like themselves who were good for nothing but servitude; and then into Premier Eyad’s service. He knew his sister as well as he knew himself. He could always reach her, always get to her somehow. Now, she just wasn’t there, and he couldn’t figure out how to change that.
She didn’t seem injured. He couldn’t find any immediate, overlooked hurt that would explain her condition. Mouse had checked her more hidden areas, those personal spots men, especially brothers, shouldn’t look. She’d looked sad after, but said there was nothing hidden under the robe that would prevent her from waking up. Whatever was hidden under that fabric was Seraphina’s story to tell and Mouse refused to elaborate.
He kept a constant vigil, holding her hand in his own, pressing his lips against her warm skin, hoping against hope that some part of her would register that she was safe now, with him, and they’d never be apart again. He made her promises, and apologized for her pain. Each unresponsive hour was another wound carved into his soul. Each time he spoke and she didn’t answer, another scar marred the tender flesh of his heart.
He cursed Eyad, and baptized Seraphina in his tears. Nothing changed.
He was an empty vessel. He had nothing to give but his touch. The void inside grew bigger, gained eyes, and started staring back at him. This was the worst thing he’d ever felt. It was worse than being sold. It was worse than being at the slave school. It was worse than Eyad and his slippery mind. Worse than being separated.
Just worse.
Exhaustion stole through him. The events of the past week had taken their toll, and his emotions had strung him out and wound him tight. He kicked off his shoes and crept onto the bed next to Seraphina, being careful to keep from jiggling her body too much. Her touch soothed him, despite her unresponsive state. He could feel the water in him stirring, pulsing, flaring to vibrant life, wanting a way out. He could feel the answering pull of her fire, burning away the surge of his element, balancing him. This was what he’d needed, this connection between them, opposite elements touching and feeding off each other in perfect harmony. He felt like he could breathe again.
It had never been like this before. Seraphina had been able to light a fire in a hearth with her talent, but that was about it. His had stretched only as far as making a fountain work, impressive but ultimately useless. Now, he was an ocean in a raindrop. He was a torrent. A deluge. He could feel the water in the earth, hidden deep, tucked down but eager to be used if he called upon it. He felt the sea far, far away to the south. He felt the water in his sister’s body, and knew that Vadden was nearby because he felt the water in him as well.
He wasn’t sure if he was more water or man, and it frightened him as much as it intoxicated him. He didn’t know why this was happening, why his grasp of his talent was suddenly changing, becoming so much more vo
latile. This change was why he’d been so eager to get to his sister. With her, he had some control. Without her… he was afraid to imagine what would have happened without her fire keeping his water in check. He’d been on edge. One push away from falling and losing himself to the flood inside of him. Now, the sea was still there, taunting him, but Seraphina’s fire was keeping him firmly rooted inside himself.
He closed his eyes, and sleep claimed him.
Vadden woke him with a soft grunt and the sound of his body slamming into the chair that Neryan had once inhabited. He still lay next to Seraphina, but Seraphina was laying a bit differently, her face turned toward him, her left hand resting on top of his gently. Did she realize that he wasn’t Eyad? Was she coming back to herself? His heart beat faster fueled by hope.
“Seraphina,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “Seraphina?”
“She moved about an hour ago, just a little bit. She rolled toward you.” Vadden’s voice was a low whisper, full of exhaustion and worry. “We need to talk.”
Vadden ran his hands over his face, propped his elbows on his knees, and groaned.
“Something’s wrong with Mouse. Amiti and Kabir are missing, and we need to move out of here soon, whether your sister’s awake or not.”
“Wow, don’t hold back, Vadden,” Neryan grumbled sarcastically. He pulled himself to sitting and crawled out of the bed.
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “Which problem do you want to pick at first, Neryan?”
“Mouse, I suppose. Let’s start with Mouse. What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s been eating literally everything she can get in her mouth. Everything, Neryan. I’ve had to hide food from her, small objects, even. She ate a spoon the other day, just shoved it right down her throat. She says she’s starving, but she puts more into her than anyone should be able to, and still she’s losing weight, wasting away.” He clapped his hands on his knees and leaned back in his chair.
“Problem is, we have almost no food left. We’ve eaten almost all of the apples and potatoes. Haven’t been able to find a single grain anywhere nearby. All we’ve got left is this watery broth. It’s worse out in the countryside. Everyone who can still walk is moving west, getting out, taking their chances in the Red Desert. There’s no meat left. The forests have been hunted clean. Eyad’s requisition of livestock has fucked everyone almost as much as his collective farming. Whatever animals were left, have been eaten. The rest are property of the state.” He sighed with his whole body. “What I’m saying is, there’s literally no food around here unless you fancy calling up some water so we can boil boots and tree bark. Add Mouse’s recent appetite to that equation, and you understand the point I’m driving at, right? We will starve if we stay here much longer. I’m finding some food, but not enough to keep all of us fed for long. We can’t live on roots and berries, Neryan.”
Neryan had no idea things had gotten that desperate. It was chilling. “Shit, I’ve been ignoring her. Where is she?”
“She understands. You have a lot weighing you down right now.” Vadden paused, looked pointedly at Seraphina’s sleeping form. “Mouse is outside. She says that she doesn’t want to come in the house or get too close to you. She’s afraid she’ll hurt you somehow. She’s irrational, Neryan. I’m worried.”
That was saying something. Vadden was stoic, calm as a glassy ocean, and just about as deep. He never admitted fear or worry about anything. Another weight settled like a boulder on Neryan’s shoulders, bowing his back. How much more could he carry before he broke? He felt like he was holding mountains. Weren’t mountains made for climbing, rather than carrying?
Water surged in him at the thought, seductive and potent, begging to be used. Mouse relied on him and he’d abandoned her, and now something was wrong. That strange parental, protective feeling that had grown in him over these past few years stirred and stretched, waking up after a week of slumber. He was all she had. He ran his hands over his face and grunted.
“I’ll go talk to her, see what’s going on.” Fear gripped him with icy hands. This was what it was to be a father. It was a dizzying fall. An unexpected stumble into the unknown. A spirit that was so full it ached. He needed to see Mouse. He needed to look her in the eyes, and know she was alright.
“We need to finish our conversation first. We’ve talked about Mouse, now we need to discuss Amiti and Kabir,” Vadden replied. He was too calm, too locked down, his dreadlocks hiding his face, his body stiff. It was his eyes that gave away his pain. Twin orbs glittering in the darkness, full of a universe of sorrow; all that black and no stars, no light.
Neryan grabbed an empty chair and sat. He fixed his attention on his friend and got comfortable. “What happened to them?” He finally asked. He almost didn’t want to know, was afraid to find out.
“I went out there two days ago to check on them. Stayed hidden in the forest, but saw enough. I assume they were arrested. The inn was burned down.” His words were wooden and inflectionless. “Probably hauled off to a labor camp somewhere. My guess is Slotskaya.”
Neryan whistled low, something curdling deep in his gut. Amiti and Kabir were amazing men, and family at this point. No one survived Slotskaya. Kabir would be the first to go. He had some pale slave in him a few generations back, and worshipped the Three. Both aspects made him a target. Amiti would last longer but…
“Amiti knew he was being watched, wanted us out before this happened. The man must have had a sixth fucking sense.” Vadden surged to his feet and started pacing. “I told him to come with us. I told him to get Kabir and go, run away, hide. He could always build another inn somewhere else, always feed peasants elsewhere, but that stubborn bastard just stayed there waiting to be arrested.”
Neryan wasn’t sure what to say, so he just sat still and watched while his friend lost control, sparks flaring up and down his arms, the lightning bolt tattooed into his cheek twitching. Three even breaths, and Vadden was outwardly calm again, though his eyes betrayed that lie for what it was. Eyes full of storms, clouds filling them. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away. Then Vadden closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and when he opened them again, they looked normal.
“I have done so many things wrong,” Vadden finally whispered. “But now with Amiti and Kabir gone, we have nowhere to go. We’ll starve if we stay here. There’s food in the Reach, and we could take our chances in the Red Desert, but it seems as though we are going to need to make some hard decisions soon.”
Neryan licked his lips. “Vadden, I have respected your privacy. I haven’t poked where you didn’t want me to, but I need to know about your relationship with the Premier, and whether it will cause us any problems in the future. Before we decide which way to go, we need to know about the risks of either option. I don’t relish going to Lord’s Reach, but,” he looked at Seraphina. She needed help. “It is closer than the Desert. With an influx of refugees, we may go unnoticed.”
It was doubtful, but he was stuck between two terrible options and a sister who needed a hedge witch. The best chance of getting one would be Lord’s Reach, but he needed to know the risks—all of them—first.
Vadden’s eyes met his in a clash of steel and will, man against man, an entire battle fought in a breath, fate decided in a blink. What, Neryan wondered, would happen when whatever Vadden was keeping caged inside of him was let out? When the storms he controlled broke and that lightning tattoo on his cheek wasn’t just a sign of what he could control, but an active threat?
“Eyad and I were revolutionaries. We…” he ran a hand through his hair, tugged on his dreadlocks, and swallowed hard. “We were close and… things happened and we had to split ways. It’s dead, though. Buried. The risk of going back to Lord’s Reach would be if we were recognized by guards at the gates, especially your recently escaped sister.” He paused, his eyes going distant before shaking his head. “Eyad may know when we enter the city.” He tapped his temple. “It’s a risk, Neryan. He tunes into people, and he’ll be tuned in
to all of us.”
The quiet that hovered between them was frail and timid. “Vadden, I’d rather die than go back to Lord’s Reach, but we are a day away from it, and Seraphina is ill. I think we may need to take our chances.”
“Okay,” Vadden whispered, and started pacing. “Okay. We should talk to Mouse. She knows ways in and out of the city. She could get us in and hide us in one of her bolt holes. It’ll be better than taking our chances at the gates.”
Vadden’s eyes were already looking far away, into the distance. Then, suddenly, he spun on his heel.
“Neryan, if I’m going into the city, I’m not leaving until I confront Eyad. You should know that before you decide anything. This thing between him and me needs to be put to bed. I need closure.”
It wasn’t the admission that caught Neryan off guard, rather the emotion that fueled Vadden’s words. They were dark and full of angst, an intensity filling them that he’d never known his friend was capable of feeling. Still, confronting a man as powerful as the Premier seemed like an overreach in the extreme. Might as well try to hold a star in his hand. A bolt of fear slipped down Neryan’s spine.
“I always thought I was doing some good out here,” Vadden murmured. “That I was helping people in need, maybe undoing some of the mistakes I made all those years ago. Amiti was right. I’ve been running straight toward what I thought I was running away from, and taking everyone else with me. All this time I was fool enough to think I was free.” His words were soft, and edged in winter’s frost. “It’s time this ends, Neryan.”
With that, Vadden turned and exited the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
Neryan slumped into his chair, felt his whole body go limp. So much was happening, so many thoughts weighing him down. Vadden was on edge. Seraphina wasn’t waking up. Mouse was sick. Amiti and Kabir were gone, off to some horrible fate he couldn’t, didn’t, want to imagine. The land was drying up all around them and people were dying. He was living in a world fueled by the nightmares of a madman.
