The Bone Maker

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Ahead of them, a construct with a metal frame, steel feathers, and the remnants of flesh clinging to once-human arms rose from the grasses—it had been hidden there, perhaps since before the earth opened up to disgorge the army of horrors.

  In one hand, it gripped a three-foot blade, a narrow flash of silver.

  Kreya saw it all in a millisecond. Less. But before she could scream a warning, the construct plunged the blade into Stran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was happening again.

  She was going to lose someone she cared about. Someone she was responsible for. And it was her fault. She’d led them here, given the orders, and made the mistakes.

  Kreya slowed to catch Stran as he stumbled, his hand over his chest. Red spread across the front of his shirt. Suddenly, the others were there too, supporting Stran.

  The construct lunged with its sword a second time, and Stran lurched forward, out of their arms, swatting at the enemy with his own sword. The skull flew off the monstrosity’s neck, as Stran landed hard on one knee.

  “Where did it hit?” Zera asked, her voice shrill.

  “Pressure on the wound,” Kreya said. “Stop the bleeding.”

  It had sliced through his shoulder. She couldn’t tell how close it had come to anything vital, but if they didn’t get him out of here now, it wouldn’t matter. They’d all be cut apart before he even had the chance to bleed out.

  He’s not going to make it, she thought. None of us are going to make it.

  She twisted to spy Eklor—far enough away that she couldn’t see his features but only his silhouette, standing atop the rubble that was his ruined tower, looking the same as he did in her memories: tall, with the arrogant posture of a wealthy man and the thinness of a starving one, his coat with its bone pockets billowing in the wind around him. And that snapped her out of her despair.

  I’m not losing anyone, she thought.

  “Zera, what happens if you use a flight talisman on the ground, combined with speed?”

  “I . . . haven’t tested for that.” But she was digging talismans out of her pockets. “Flight word is ‘renari,’” she told Jentt as she dropped them in his hand.

  “You’ll know when to use it,” Kreya said to him. “Zera, you and I will clear a path as far as we can. Jentt, come back for Marso when Stran is clear.” As the team runner, Jentt was the fastest with the speed talismans. He knew how to eke out every bit of advantage from the boost of power, honing his body into an arrow through the air. His feet barely touched the ground. It was, he’d told Kreya many times before, akin to flying. Felt like it to him. Combined with the flight talisman . . . he should know exactly what to do.

  “How can I help?” Marso asked.

  “Scream,” Kreya told him. “As loud as you can. Distract Eklor. Keep him from issuing new orders.” Left to their own devices, the soldiers were stupid. Eklor, though, with his bird’s-eye view . . . “But don’t die. No one die.”

  They sprang into action.

  With the nimbleness of a goat, fueled by a steadiness talisman, Marso skipped over the top of a metal construct. He sang at the top of his voice, “Death to you, death to me, death above, death behind, death below!” He pointed at Eklor. “I see you!”

  Kreya didn’t wait to hear Eklor’s response.

  She strapped knives to her wrists and squeezed a talisman in each hand. Flanking Jentt, she and Zera ran, matching his pace. They both struck out with their knives, using strength talismans to power each blow, speed talismans to boost the strike speeds. They whirled through the enemy, slicing a path through the army.

  Her muscles trembled as she felt the talismans give out. Short bursts, Zera had promised. She hadn’t expected that short. She hoped it was enough. “Now!” she told Jentt.

  Jentt, with the half-conscious Stran, shouted, “Renari!”

  Carrying Stran, he propelled himself forward, leaping as he ran, and the flight talisman kicked into action. He flew between each footfall.

  Knives ready and already blackened with filth from the undead soldiers’ bodies, Kreya and Zera faced the army as it closed in on them.

  “What now?” Zera asked.

  Evading the soldiers’ swords, Marso was still shouting, spinning out a prediction: “I have seen you, against the bloody sky! Your hand upraised! Severed! Until the white sun gleams and all is sand, sand, sand in your throat, as you swallow but do not drink. Your thirst unslaked. Your hunger unending, until the bones cast you down, down, down. Until death is not a door but a path you walk. Sunset after sunset, sweet but never tasted until your last day, unceremonious and unspoken.”

  Glancing toward the tower, Kreya saw that Eklor was focused on Marso, drinking in his words, trying to glean meaning from them. Kreya wasn’t sure there was any. She was also sure that Eklor was exposed, secure in his belief that his army could defeat them. If she timed it right, she could attack, strike before he even noticed her—but then she’d be leaving Zera. Again.

  She couldn’t do that.

  “What kind of talismans do you have left?”

  “You want me to take inventory? Now?”

  They had to do something the army wouldn’t expect—the soldiers were prepared for them to run and prepared for them to fight. “Any steadiness?” Kreya asked.

  “It’s a flat plain—”

  “All of them are wearing helmets. Think of them as stepping stones. Like Marso did. Flight plus steadiness—push off for lift. They won’t see it coming.”

  “Love it.”

  Hate it, Kreya thought. There were too many risks. But the army had far too many swords, axes, and spears. Catch them by surprise, and they had a chance.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jentt spurt toward Marso. Empty-handed. Either Stran was safely beyond the wall or . . . Or he was dead.

  She thought of Amurra. And the children. How would she tell them—

  As Jentt twisted to evade a soldier’s spear, she saw his shoulder: an arrow was sticking out of it. Kreya faltered for an instant, and a skeletal soldier slammed against her. She shifted her focus back to fighting as Jentt scooped up Marso and sprinted away with him.

  “Follow him,” Kreya ordered.

  Zera tossed her the talismans. Simultaneously, they activated them and ran up the nearest soldiers as if their bodies were ramps. She didn’t let herself think how stupid this was or how bad the odds were. She called out to the flight talisman as she pushed off the helmet of one soldier.

  Landing for only a second on the next one, she pushed off again and felt the flight talisman propel her farther. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zera leaping as well.

  They crashed down on the other side of the soldiers, beyond the edge of the army. Kreya felt every bone in her body jolt. She was going to pay for that later, she knew. Please let there be a later!

  “Run!” Zera shouted.

  Side by side, they both ran.

  “Any more speed talismans?” Kreya called.

  “Gave them to Jentt! We’re out!”

  Close behind, the army chased them. She heard them roar, like a howl of wind. Glancing back, she saw some of the soldiers were gaining on them.

  She searched her brain for another clever plan. A new trick. Anything—

  It’s not going to work, she thought. We’re not going to make it.

  Ahead, in the distance, she saw the wall. It was at least two miles. She knew she couldn’t outrun them for two miles. Maybe in her youth. Not now.

  Her side ached. Her breath burned in her throat. I’m sorry, Zera, she thought. Jentt. Stran. Marso. I’m so sorry.

  She hoped at least a few of them had made it, to spread the warning to the rest of Vos. It might be too late for her and Zera, but she had to hope it wasn’t too late for the world.

  “Kreya, they stopped!”

  She shot a look backward and saw it was true: the soldiers had slowed, hanging back. She slowed as well, catching her breath. Every gasp hurt. “Why?” And then she guessed th
e reason: “Orders not to be seen.”

  Just like the patrol the last time. That was how Eklor had kept them secret. He’d kept them away from the wall. And they were obeying that order now, either because Eklor cared more about keeping them secret than he did about running down his prey, or because Marso had distracted him from remembering to issue a new order. Either way, she’d take it.

  “Keep going,” Kreya said, forcing her body to move again even though every step hurt. He could still change his order. “We’re not out of this yet.”

  Reaching the wall, Kreya saw the guards were alert. Probably for the first time in their tours here.

  They were the ones who had shot Jentt, she realized.

  And they would happily riddle Kreya and Zera with arrows as well. She spared an instant to worry about Jentt, Stran, and Marso—she didn’t know what it meant that Jentt hadn’t returned. His speed talisman could have failed. His arrow wound could have disabled him.

  She refused to think he could be dead.

  Or that Stran most likely was dead.

  And Marso . . . She didn’t know if he’d made it either.

  But she had to focus on the immediate problem.

  So far, the guards hadn’t seen them yet. Unfortunately, the grate they’d used before wasn’t an option anymore. She spotted at least two guards patrolling near the culvert.

  Side by side, Kreya and Zera dropped into the grasses and surveyed the wall. Built at least fifteen feet high, it would be tricky to climb without being noticed, especially with the guards on alert. She didn’t have access to any constructs that could blast through it or dig under it.

  “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it,” Zera said.

  “I like any idea better than staying here.” She couldn’t guarantee that Eklor wouldn’t risk the guards’ seeing his soldiers. In fact, several constructs could already be creeping up behind them, using the tall grasses for cover, the same way they were.

  “I let myself get caught—”

  “You’re right. I hate this idea.”

  Zera held up her hand. “I can talk my way out of this. Bribe as many of them as I have to. You’d be surprised how much gold I’ve amassed over the years. Those poor guards should be better paid anyway.”

  “You’re assuming they’ll let you talk. And that they have no moral fiber.”

  “We’re running low on talismans, and we still have to get through the valley. Let me sweet-talk the children on the wall.”

  Kreya studied the guards. Even from this distance, she could tell they were clutching their bows. “They shot Jentt. I don’t think they’re in a talking mood.”

  “Hard to be persuasive if you’re riddled with arrows,” Zera agreed. “Even if you’re as charming as I am. Fine. How about a disguise? Knock out a guard and dress in his or her armor. The confusion might buy us a few precious seconds.”

  It wasn’t a terrible idea. Well, yes, it was a terrible idea, but she didn’t have a better one. And Jentt, Stran, and Marso needed them. Or they could be beyond need. She immediately shut that line of thought down. Don’t even think it. They’re not dead. They can’t be dead. “Do it. Two guards at the grate. You get the one on the left; I’ll get the one on the right.”

  “I want the one on the right.”

  “Why?”

  “Absolutely no reason,” Zera said. “You were just looking stressed so I thought I’d be arbitrarily ornery.” Her voice was light and breezy. Wasn’t she worried about the others at all? Or themselves?

  Of course she is, Kreya thought. This was how Zera coped.

  It was damn annoying.

  Together, they crept through the grasses.

  Kreya glanced behind them as they went, alert to danger both in front of and behind them. Using stealth, as minimal an amount as possible to preserve the talismans, they darted behind their targets, thumped them hard with rocks to their heads, and then pulled their unconscious bodies under the arched culvert, out of sight.

  Quickly, they stripped off the most visible armor: chest plate and helmet. Zera swam under the grate first, and Kreya passed her the armor through the bars. Then she swam through.

  “This won’t fool them long,” Kreya warned.

  “Follow my lead,” Zera said. She put on the chest plate and crammed the helmet on her head. Rushing out into the open, she shouted, “They went under the gate! They’re on the plains! Shoot them!”

  The archers on the wall pivoted to aim at the plains, and Zera, with Kreya close behind her, ran for the forest. They had only seconds before the archers realized they’d been tricked. Kreya and Zera plunged in between the trees as arrows thunked into the earth behind them.

  The greenery and the mist closed around them.

  They kept going. Kreya felt her arm throb. One of the soldiers’ blades must have nicked her. She also felt a cramp in her side, but she couldn’t let that slow her. “We need to find the others.”

  Zera produced a talisman from her pocket. “Bloodhound bone. Not popular with buyers. Only have the one. Should be enough.” She activated it and pointed. “This way.”

  In minutes, they found them—the boys hadn’t made it deep into the valley before collapsing. Jentt was slumped against a tree, and his face looked ashen. Kreya dropped to his side. “My Jentt—”

  “Tend to Stran,” he told her.

  She wanted to protest: He was hurt! Badly. But Stran was worse.

  Marso was beside Stran, holding him up to elevate the wound. Kreya noticed a talisman was clutched in Stran’s hand—stamina, she guessed, keeping him alive. But for how long?

  The rag doll constructs pressed themselves over Stran’s wounds, and their fabric bodies were saturated in blood. Zera unpacked the bandages and wound kit. Kreya joined her.

  “Hold him still,” Zera said. “I’ll sew.”

  “We have to clean the wound first,” Kreya said.

  “I know that!” Zera snapped. “You command our missions, but the mission is over, in case you didn’t notice.”

  Seeing Stran had shattered her cool façade. Now Kreya was seeing the tension that Zera hid beneath it. She doesn’t think he’ll make it, Kreya thought. A cold fear spread through her.

  “Marso, can you fetch water from the river without freaking out?” Zera asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Marso said. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and wobbled between the trees. He stumbled over a downed log and crawled into the underbrush.

  Kreya started a fire, a small one, clawing out a hole for it in between the roots of a tree. She used matted dried vines for kindling and struck a spark on a fire-starting rod. Blowing into the smoke, she grew the flame until it was a small fire.

  Zera held a needle in the flame, sterilizing it.

  Marso returned with water in his canteen, and they set it to boil. “Stone fish in the river,” he reported. “Didn’t die.”

  “Good, Marso,” Kreya told him. “You did good.”

  He beamed at her, looking at once like a child who had seen little of the world and like a ghost who had seen too much.

  Turning from him, Kreya examined Jentt’s wounds as the water for Stran boiled. He had two arrow wounds, but thankfully, neither had pierced anywhere serious. Missed an artery in the thigh. Missed anything vital in his shoulder. He’d limp for a while, and he’d ache probably forever. But he’ll live.

  This time.

  She wasn’t as sure about Stran.

  His breathing was thin and rough, and his skin bore a glossy sheen.

  Once the water was boiled, they used it to clean his wound, dabbing the water on and then pouring it after it was just cool enough to not burn him. His flesh turned bright red anyway, and he screamed until one of the rag dolls stuffed its one un-bloodstained arm into his mouth.

  “How many stamina talismans do you have left?” Kreya asked. “Can they keep him alive long enough for us to get out of here? Long enough for us to get him help?”

  “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. If we only use
them for him, there might be enough.” Zera sewed the wound quickly and precisely, as only someone who’d spent her life in careful and precise work could do. Stran bit down on the construct’s arm, his eyes wide in pain, desperate to scream. Using a strength talisman, Kreya held him down so he wouldn’t thrash.

  When they’d finished, he’d passed out.

  “Can’t tell if he’s bleeding internally,” Zera said. “Even if we had all the stamina talismans in the world, I don’t know if—” She cut herself off, unable to finish the sentence, and Kreya knew what she wasn’t saying. Even after all they’d done, even after escaping the plains, he might not make it.

  Kreya glanced up at the trees. A ruby-colored bird flew between the branches, and she heard a monkey cry. How long until the monsters of the valley noticed them?

  Turning their attention to Jentt, they dressed his wounds. The arrows had stanched the flow, but once they were yanked out, his wounds needed to be sewn shut as well. He bit a hunk of wood to keep from screaming and alerting the valley predators.

  Finishing, Kreya collapsed backward and realized that the forest had gone quiet. The only sound was the rush and tumble of the nearby river.

  “They’re coming,” Marso whispered.

  Kreya didn’t know if he meant Eklor’s monsters, the border guards, or river creatures, and she didn’t care. Fleeing was their only option, regardless of who chased them. She knew it wasn’t smart to move either Stran or Jentt, but she also knew they had no choice. “How far to the wagon?” she asked Jentt.

  “Not far,” he replied, and pointed, his arm shaking with the effort.

  She had lost her sense of where they were, but she trusted him. “Strength, Zera?”

  Zera tossed her a talisman. “It’s just a minor boost—we used up all the good ones,” she warned. “So move fast.” She used one herself. Lifting Stran, she started in the direction in which Jentt had pointed. Kreya carried Jentt. Marso stumbled along with them.

  Around them, Kreya saw the rustle of branches and the familiar shadow of a croco-raptor. She swore under her breath. If she saw one, the others would be closer.