Bone Crier's Moon

by Kathryn Purdie

  Like the one who killed my mother.

  The only way to truly defeat the Chained is to send them through the Gates. Which is now impossible. Ferriers can fight the dead, but the dead can’t be killed again.

  One of the Chained catches Maurille off guard and throws her off the bridge into shallow water. I backtrack another five steps in the sand. This is chaos. I have to leave. I’m not skilled enough to help anyone or to defend myself. I clutch Ailesse’s shoulder necklace. I only have two grace bones and . . .

  My breath hitches. Maurille is bleeding from the head. She must have struck it on a rock. She rises to her feet in the water, coughing and flinging rows of braids off her face. She tries to walk, but she staggers.

  The Chained man who attacked her jumps off the bridge and lunges for her in the water. Maurille is a seasoned Ferrier, but her graces won’t help her if she can’t even stand up straight.

  The Chained throws his fist. It connects with her jaw. “Maurille!” I cry as she careens down again.

  I’m running. Faster than I’ve ever tested my grace. Maurille was my mother’s closest friend. I can’t let her die ferrying, too.

  The Chained grabs Maurille’s neck and holds her head underwater.

  “Stop!” I frantically pull my bow off my back and grab an arrow from my quiver. I shoot and strike the Chained man’s arm. He winces with a growl, but doesn’t bleed like Maurille. And he doesn’t let go of her.

  Chazoure flares in the corner of my eye. More souls flock the beach. They’re attacking each other now, as well as the Ferriers.

  A brawling pair crashes in front of me and blocks my path. I don’t stop running. I jump. I’ve seen other Leurress do better, but I’ve never cleared this much air. Another grace from my nighthawk.

  I land without tumbling over and don’t pause. I sprint for Maurille.

  She’s twenty feet back from the shoreline. Her legs thrash in the water. Bubbles spray above her head, then slow down. She’s expelling her last breath. The Chained man won’t release his vicious hold.

  I kick through the water. I’m not moving fast enough. My adrenaline doesn’t give me the strength I need. I should have killed the boar, the horse, the wolf.

  Ten feet from Maurille, I unsheathe Ailesse’s ritual knife from my belt. It won’t kill the Chained man. I pray it will at least ward him away.

  I charge the remaining five feet.

  With a sharp cry of exertion, I strike for his chest.

  25

  Ailesse

  THE NARROW TUNNEL I SQUIRMED through when I entered the catacombs has been dug out—probably by the Leurress when they tried to rescue me. Now my path is wide and easy to climb.

  My graces guided me back here, like being pulled by an invisible string.

  A silvery beacon shines at the end of the tunnel. I shudder with a feral pang of longing.

  The Night Heavens.

  Elara’s Light.

  I crouch and break into a run, lunging at it, charging for it. I’m a tiger shark, thrashing through the water. A peregrine falcon, diving through the sky. I’m desperate to breathe the open air and feel Elara’s energy.

  The tunnel opens, and I burst outside. Elara’s stars shatter the darkness. I gasp as strength floods into my limbs and lifts me light on my toes like wings. I laugh, tipping my head back. How I’ve missed this vitality. It steels my bones and rushes like blood through my veins.

  I sprint up the steep ravine with ease and race through the trees. I’m beaming, laughing harder, running faster and faster. The ground is soft at my feet. The air in my lungs is fresh and clean. I’ve risen from the graves of Dovré and the blinding dark of the catacombs. I’m alive. I’m me again.

  A tall boulder looms ahead. In one jump, I bound onto it and land with perfect ibex balance. I pivot and take in my surroundings. My falcon grace stretches my vision two miles in every direction. My tiger shark’s sixth sense helps me feel even farther. It doesn’t take long before I orient myself in the vast forest outside Dovré.

  I look up at the constellations and draw an imaginary line from the lodestar on the Huntress’s brow to the two stars on the claw of the Jackal. I make adjustments for the day of the month and general position of the lodestar, and then determine the time. It’s already midnight.

  My pulse spikes. I need to hurry.

  I spring down from the boulder and launch toward the west coast, praying I can find the land bridge quickly.

  Trees rush past me as I pick up speed. I leap over streams and rivers and scarcely use a bridge. The pines give way to a grassy plateau, and I breathe in salty air. Along the horizon, the cliffs of the Nivous Sea appear. I race to the edge of one and gaze below. Waves crash onto the shore, but I don’t see the Ferriers. I didn’t expect to on my first try. The location of the soul bridge is a secret that the Leurress only learn after completing their rites of passage.

  I follow the curving cliffs to the south. Why haven’t I found the bridge yet? It should be within a reasonable distance from Château Creux. I backtrack to my starting point and set off northward, searching in the other direction.

  All I see with my far-reaching vision are lapping waves. All I feel from my sixth sense are buzzing vibrations of sea creatures.

  Then a prickle of energy rises above them. It heightens to a thump, then a beat, then a distinct and forceful pound.

  My heart stops as I hear a new noise, like a rushing waterfall. When I listen closer, I realize it’s a chorus of shouts and battle cries.

  The Leurress have started ferrying. Somehow without the bone flute.

  I dash to the edge of a high cliff where the sound thrashes loudest. I glance over the steep drop-off and suck in a sharp inhale.

  The soul bridge.

  A flurry of white dresses dances within a storm of chazoure. I’ve never seen the color before, but this must be it. The dead are wearing it. They’re made of it.

  It’s more breathtaking than I thought possible.

  Tears prick my eyes. I’m really here. For as long as I can remember, joining the Ferriers has been my dream—standing alongside the elite of my famille, wrestling the Chained and gently leading the Unchained.

  But then I blink. And I see. My stomach hardens like a rock. None of what’s happening below is gentle. The souls are waging war on the Ferriers, and the Ferriers are ferociously fighting back.

  My mother’s face comes into focus. The calm strength she always exudes is gone. She’s frantic and distraught, battling five Chained souls at the end of the bridge. I look just beyond her, and my eyes fly wide. The Gates haven’t appeared. That’s the reason for all this madness. Odiva can’t send any souls to the Beyond.

  Perspiration flashes across my skin. I have to help her.

  I sprint along the cliff in search of the elusive hidden stairs, but I don’t see any sign of them. I can’t jump from here. The beach must be at least a hundred feet below. I have to find another way to get down there. My mother needs to play the flute while on the land bridge. That much she taught me.

  I clutch the pouch of grace bones around my neck, remembering my crescent pendant. The ibex grace can help me scale down the cliffs.

  I hitch up my skirt and run toward the rougher cliffs on the other side. When I pass the inner bend of the inlet, my nerves tingle on the right side of my body. A mile across the plateau, in that direction, I see three people. My vision pulls to Bastien, and my heart trips faster. I grind my teeth and turn away. He’s no threat to me now that I have my graces.

  I keep running, but then I glance out to the sea and my knees lock. I stumble to a stop. The land bridge has started to submerge. The Ferriers are now standing in an inch of water. The Chained tug at them, trying to drag them into the depths. I don’t have time to descend the cliffs. I need to act now.

  I draw the bone flute from the sash at my waist. The unique siren song that opens the Gates is imprinted in my mind. My mother often played it on a wooden flute in a secluded meadow near Château Creux. I’d hid
e in the wild grass and watch her. She had the deepest look of longing in her eyes.

  I blow in the mouth hole. The song comes clumsily at first, but then I steady my trembling fingers. Coming from the bone of a golden jackal, the siren song sounds so much richer and more harrowing.

  Will anyone hear me? The chaos below is cacophonous.

  Maurille looks up from the beach. She has a hand pressed to her bleeding head. Soon Giselle, Maïa, Rosalinde, and Dolssa turn and lift their eyes. They’re on the shore, closer to me, and have the sharpest hearing. A moment later, another Leurress follows their gaze.

  Sabine.

  My chest swells with a rush of happiness, despite the horror below. Her face mirrors my shock and my joy. The fifteen days I’ve spent without her have felt like a thousand.

  She’s holding a bone knife—my ritual knife—in a defensive stance. I don’t understand. Is Sabine a Ferrier? A lump forms in my throat. The two of us have never hunted for grace bones without each other.

  Chazoure streaks off the sinking land bridge. The color floods the water and swarms onto the shore. The dead are coming closer to me.

  The Leurress aren’t the only ones who heard my song.

  I trip back a step. I can’t think about Sabine right now. I’ve failed to open the Gates. The dead are flocking to me now, like I’m a living Gate—a door that some want to embrace and others want to destroy.

  I curse the names of the gods.

  I desperately pray to them.

  Tyrus, Elara, what do I do, what do I do?

  Past the oncoming flood of chazoure, I meet my mother’s dark and determined eyes. She’s not looking at me directly. Her gaze is latched on the bone flute in my hand. She holds another flute, but its color isn’t aged. And it clearly didn’t open the Gates.

  My mother’s nostrils flare. She strides toward me through the rising water above the bridge, another half inch deeper. She must think I lied about the flute. But I didn’t. I thought it was gone.

  A Chained man retreats off the bridge. He’s slower than the others—and he’s in Odiva’s way. Her lips curl back, and she springs for him. She delivers a powerful kick on his back. He slaps the water face-first. She drags him up, spins for momentum, and hurls him into the sea. He crashes against a protruding rock. She turns back to me, her eyes narrowed.

  I ball my hands into fists. Bastien and the others are a half mile behind me and getting closer. I can’t worry about them yet. Several Chained are scaling the cliffs. Any moment now they’ll reach me.

  I inhale and set my jaw. Slide the flute into my sash. Focus on my graces.

  I’m my mother’s daughter, and she’s just dared me to prove it to her.

  26

  Sabine

  I GASP AS THE DEAD flood to Ailesse. The Ferriers look as shocked as I feel. Odiva doesn’t pause. She charges through the water of the sinking land bridge and attacks every Chained in her path. Her eyes are livid and desperate. She thought Ailesse was dead. Or she lied, saying she was. Either way, she must be frantic about retrieving the bone flute. It’s the only way to get rid of the dead—if it’s not too late to raise the Gates.

  “We have to stop the Chained!” I call to the Ferriers. “Ailesse can’t fight them all at once!”

  Élodie squares her shoulders. Roxane lifts her chin. They chase after the souls, their staffs lifted. The other Ferriers shout a battle cry and follow after them.

  Maurille is sitting on the stone I eased her onto after saving her from the Chained man. Blood drips down her brow, but she seems more alert now. “Take my staff,” she says.

  I look to where it’s floating in the water near the shore. I’ve trained to fight with a staff like every novice Leurress, but only halfheartedly. I never wanted to harm my sparring partners. And I never wanted to be a Ferrier. “Will you be all right?”

  She nods and squeezes my hand. “Go. Ailesse needs you.”

  I suck in a steadying breath and race for the staff. I feel like I’m diving into the lagoon all over again, but this time it’s a horde of Chained that can’t be killed, not a tiger shark, that threatens my best friend.

  I kick through the shallow water, grab the staff, and dash back to the beach, grateful for my graced speed. Almost every Chained who’s on the shore is engaged by a Ferrier. Another flare of chazoure draws my focus to a Chained man. He’s climbing the cliff wall to get to Ailesse. He’s too high for me to reach, so I draw an arrow from my quiver. I shoot and miss. It takes a second try for me to hit him. His body lurches, but he doesn’t fall; he keeps climbing.

  I cast off my bow and quiver and bolt for him, praying my nighthawk grace will help me clear enough air. I plunge the end of my staff in the sand and vault as high as I can. I fly even higher than the Chained man and kick him as I arc down.

  He’s knocked from the wall. Before I drop any farther, I push off the wall and flip backward. My landing isn’t elegant, but the sand absorbs most of the shock as I crash and tumble on the ground. I’m up again in a moment. The Chained is just pulling himself to his feet. His chazoure face turns a shade darker as he growls with rage.

  I pluck up my staff, amazed at what I just did. Ailesse will laugh with pride when I tell her.

  Ailesse.

  My pulse quickens. She can’t defeat all these Chained on her own. I glance up. Some souls have already climbed over the cliff, and two more are nearing the top. I can’t vault that high.

  The Chained I attacked lunges for me. I swing my staff and bring it down on his head. It strikes with a sickening crack, but there’s no gash, no blood. He cries out in pain and stumbles to his knees. I cast aside my quiver and bow—the staff is a better weapon—and rush for the opening of the cave and toward the base of the hidden stairs. I’ll get up to Ailesse this way.

  The cave isn’t empty. Three of the dead are also racing for the stairs at the back. Dolssa is in here, fighting to drive them away. Her staff whips one direction then the next as she attacks from all angles. I jump in to assist her.

  I strike one of the Chained from behind. He’s thrown into the air. Dolssa skewers him. I swallow against the brutality and turn to confront the next soul. A man. Unchained. The one with that hat who asked me why the land bridge led to nothing. He tries to scurry past me to the stairs, but I block him. “You shouldn’t go up there.”

  His lip trembles. “But the song . . . it’s calling me home. My wife is already there.”

  My chest sinks. “That isn’t the way home. You need to stay near the land bridge until you hear the song again.” Odiva might get the bone flute back tonight, but it can’t make the tides recede. That won’t happen again for another month. What will the Ferriers do about the dead until then?

  “I’ve waited long enough!” he says, and shoves me back with surprising strength.

  Just as I fall to the ground, Dolssa swings her staff. The man’s head jerks to the side, and he crumples. I blink at her in shock. “He was Unchained!”

  Her face is severe and unrelenting. “All the dead are dangerous now.”

  Another Unchained soul barrels into the cave. Dolssa runs to stave her off. More Chained are darting from the beach toward us—toward the hidden staircase in the cave. They’re after Ailesse.

  I push to my feet and begin my chase up the flight.

  I’ll battle every soul on the 167 steps, if I have to.

  I’ll get to Ailesse first.

  27

  Ailesse

  MY MOTHER IS CALF-DEEP IN the water above the sinking land bridge. Our eyes briefly meet as she charges forward, fighting three souls at once. She’s still struggling to get to me—to the flute—but she’s only made it halfway down the flooding bridge.

  On my left, a flare of chazoure rises over the cliff—a man with a shaved head and a thick neck wrapped in chains. I bolt for him in one leap and strike his head with my heel. He loses his grip on the limestone and plummets off the cliff. I wish I had wings to fly with him. I need to get down to the shore and give my mother the flu
te so she can rein in this crisis. But dozens more souls riot between us and continue to flood toward me.

  Another person climbs up the cliff on my right. She hefts herself up onto the grass and stands. I tense to attack, but I don’t see any chains.

  “Help!” She clutches the loose-fitting gown over her stomach and runs to me. “They won’t let me see my baby.” Translucent tears spill down her cheek. “I need to go back. I didn’t even get to hold him.”

  My heart squeezes. She must have died in childbirth. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you back your life.”

  “Please.” She falls to her knees.

  A broad-shouldered man races toward me from behind. I’ve no idea where he came from. He’s wearing a chain-clad uniform. A soldier, trained to fight.

  “I killed in the name of my king!” he shouts. “You can’t drag me to Hell!”

  “If the gods marked you with those chains, you must have lusted for your kills.”

  He lunges for me with a savage growl. I pull back from the woman, but she catches my skirt. I’m knocked off balance, and the man cuffs my jaw. I gasp with a bright shock of pain. He grabs my arms and slings me across the ground. I roll to the edge of the cliff.

  “Ailesse!”

  My heart kicks. Bastien. He sounds concerned. I want none of it.

  I jump back up and duck another punch from the Chained. I barrel into his chest and push him to the brink of the cliff. His feet dig into the chalky dirt. Pebbles skid off the edge. He seizes my shoulders and shoves against me. He’s strong, but not as strong as my tiger shark. I can drive him over the edge. But if I do, he might pull me with him.

  I wrest one of my arms away. I yank Marcel’s knife from my sash. With a cry of exertion, I stab the soldier in the chest. His eyes bulge in pain. If he were alive, this would be a killing blow.

  It’s how I would have killed Bastien on the ritual bridge.

  I swallow the bile scalding my throat. This isn’t murder.

  Like my rite of passage would have been.