Bone Crier's Moon

by Kathryn Purdie

  Another cry escapes me, this one mangled with rage. I stab the Chained again, but he only grips me harder. I keep stabbing, keep screaming. I fight to control my betraying thoughts—the image of Bastien if I’d done this to him.

  No blood spills from the Chained, although my blade plunges deep. I’m hurting him, but not disabling him.

  “Let her go!” the Unchained woman shouts, and rushes at him. “I need her to—”

  I gasp as the soldier flings her over the edge, but I can’t pause to feel pity. While he’s distracted, I jerk away and swivel out of his hold. I whip my leg out and swing back for him. My kick strikes like a hammer, and he’s thrust off the cliff.

  I’ve barely turned around when the next person confronts me. She doesn’t glow with chazoure. She’s alive.

  I slash my knife through the air between us, a warning. I’m all too aware she can bleed. “Don’t interfere, Jules.”

  “With what?” she demands, but her wide eyes dart around us. “What are those voices? What are you fighting against?”

  She knows—I told all my captors in the catacombs—but she’s still unbelieving. “The dead.”

  She swallows and looks over the cliff, keeping as far back from the edge as she can. Jules doesn’t have the vision to perceive the chazoure of the souls, but she can hear their raging screams and see thirty-four women below battling an invisible army.

  I scan past her while she’s stunned. A faint and deadly glow shines fifty yards away, limning two boulders. The entrance to the hidden staircase? More dead will emerge from there any moment and join those scaling the cliffs. I need my former captors out of the way. I need to get to my mother.

  I whirl to my other side, feeling Bastien close in. Under the starlight, his rough-cut beauty is stark and raw, a siren song of its own. A rush of warmth prickles through me, but I stare him down. “You shouldn’t have come here.” He’s going to get himself killed.

  “You shouldn’t have left.” He glances around us. “You were safer in the catacombs.”

  Is he mocking me? He starved me of Light. Stripped me of my grace bones. He might as well have cut out a vital organ. “Is that why you came back, to keep me safe?” I chance another peek at the boulders. If I make a run for the stairs, maybe I’ll have fewer Chained to fight there. “Are you going to protect me or kill me?” I throw a pointed look at the crude knife in the white-knuckled grip of his hand.

  “Excellent question.” Jules briefly tears her gaze from the growing roar of the dead.

  Bastien’s jaw muscle flinches. “Wouldn’t you kill me if you were able to?”

  “Gladly,” I snap, but my conviction dies in the truth blazing between us. My heart skips faster. He knows I spared his life tonight when I ran away. And he spared mine when I fell into the pit. Still, how does that change our fates? “I’ve trained all my life for this. I don’t need your protection.”

  He doesn’t look so sure. “Why are the shouts coming louder now? The land bridge is gone.”

  My chest tightens. I spin around. The soul bridge has submerged so deeply that no one is standing on it anymore. My mother is in the shallow water near the beach, wrestling two Chained. Maybe I can throw the flute down to her. Maybe it’s not too late. If she can’t raise the Gates tonight, we’ll have to wait another month for the next new moon.

  A glowing hand slams over the edge of the cliff. A woman’s hand, close to Bastien. Her chazoure wrist bears chains.

  “Move away!” I reach for him. Jules dives at me. I twist to dodge her, but not in time. She grabs the bone flute from my sash.

  I gasp. “Give that back!”

  The Chained woman drags herself up. Her hair glitters with jewels. I don’t have time for this.

  “Please, Jules, you don’t know what that really is.”

  “It snared Bastien to you, and now it’s summoned the dead. It’s evil and needs to be destroyed.” She arcs her arm back to throw it into the sea.

  “Stop! My mother needs that,” I rush to explain. “When a different song is played on the flute, it opens the Gates of the Beyond—the afterlife, Heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

  “It’s a key?” Marcel lopes toward us. “Then it may help break the soul-bond.”

  That’s the last of my worries right now. “If the dead can’t cross the soul bridge, they can’t leave this world.”

  “I will never leave this world.” The Chained woman stalks forward and unties a velvet ribbon from around her neck. “My riches are mine.”

  The color drains from Jules’s face. She looks to Bastien. “Did you hear that?” she rasps.

  He nods soberly. “Don’t throw that away.”

  The Chained woman doesn’t bat an eye at them. She stretches her ribbon tight between her hands.

  Jules shoves the flute in her pocket. “Fine. Then let’s get what we really came for.” She twirls her knife. “Come on, Bastien.”

  His face hardens, but I note the tremor in his knife hand. He and Jules draw in closer toward me. They don’t know it, but they’re flanking the Chained woman.

  I backtrack for more room to fight. I can handle four people.

  Marcel retreats in a different direction. “Ailesse has my knife,” he points out.

  Jules turns worried eyes on him. “Stay near, do you hear me? We don’t know what . . .” He hurries away. “Marcel, wait!”

  Three people, then. Even better.

  Jules looks back at me with gritted teeth. She’s the first to attack. No surprise. When her blade slices for me, I leap into the air and cartwheel over her head. The move is so quick she doesn’t have time to react before I land and nick her arm. She hisses and whirls to face me. She tries to stab me three times, in places she won’t kill me, but her strikes are easy to block. She fights in an identical style as Bastien did at Castelpont.

  He hovers at the edge of our struggle, his brows pulled tight. Is he hesitating or just trying to find a way to cut in?

  Flares of chazoure burst above the cliff like twin suns. Two more Chained climb over the top. They’re not stealthy like the jeweled woman. Once they’re on their feet, they race toward me, but Jules stands in the way.

  “Watch out!”

  She doesn’t. One of the Chained—a man—grabs her by the waist and heaves her aside. She screams and flies several feet before tumbling to the ground. The Chained man comes at me next. I prepare to strike, but I’m snagged back. I can’t breathe. The Chained woman has her velvet ribbon wrapped around my neck. I choke and struggle, and the Chained man punches me in the stomach. My eyes squeeze shut against a shock of hot pain. I sense the third Chained circling like a vulture.

  My vision pulses as I open my eyes. I see Bastien in flashes. He’s trying to get to me, aimlessly slashing his knife through the air. He can’t abduct me if I’m dead.

  He can’t live if I’m dead.

  And I can’t get the flute to my mother if I’m dead.

  Think, Ailesse. My brain is foggy, starved for air.

  I lean back against the woman to support myself. When the second Chained rushes at me again, I swing my legs up and kick him hard. He’s thrown onto his back and skids across the ground.

  I remember my knife. By some miracle, I haven’t lost my grip on the hilt. I plant my feet and reach past my shoulder. I slice the woman’s left wrist, then her right one. With a raging scream, she lets go of me. I suck in a burning gasp of air and shove her into the third Chained, stealing his opportunity to lunge at me. Before the two souls regain their balance, I spring in the air, turn my blade down, and fall on each of them. I wound them deeply, then dart away toward the entrance to the stairs.

  I don’t make it far. Three new Chained pour out from between the two boulders. A moment later, two more follow. I halt and scramble in the other direction.

  Bastien catches up to me. He makes no move to attack when I freeze as more souls flood over the cliff. He takes a defensive stance, positioning himself with his back against mine. “Where are the
y?” he asks, his knife drawn.

  I shake my head. “Everywhere.”

  Five more Chained pull up to their feet after they finish climbing. Two of them I’ve already fought—the soldier and the man with the shaved head. Their chazoure-glowing eyes lock on mine. They’re not after Jules and the flute; they’re after me. I played the siren song.

  There’s magic at work here I don’t understand. But if a song from the flute bound me to Bastien, what does that mean for me and the dead?

  The Chained converge on us, picking up speed. “Mother!” My desperate cry shudders through the air. The Chained can’t be killed, only ferried. All this fighting is in vain. If I can’t get the flute to Odiva quickly, she’ll have to come and take it from Jules. I glance around for her, but can’t find her past the oncoming swarm. “We’re surrounded, Bastien. There are too many!”

  The muscles in his back tense against mine. “How do we break through them?”

  I rake my gaze over the tightening circle. “I don’t think we can. Stay close to me.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I’ll tell you when to attack.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  The Chained man with the shaved head is the first to charge at me. The woman with the velvet ribbon leaps for Bastien. “To your left!” I cry, and swipe my knife at the man. Bastien blindly stabs the woman with his blade, and Jules’s throaty voice cuts the air.

  “Stay away from them! It’s me you want.” I see Jules now, standing on a lone boulder several yards away. Wisps of her golden hair have sprung loose from her braid. She holds the bone flute high in her right hand. “I’m the one with the flute, and I can send every one of you to Hell with it!”

  A bluff, but the Chained man and woman stop attacking. Chazoure flashes as the other souls turn conflicted gazes on Jules. Bastien’s brows hitch up. “Jules, what are you—?”

  “Run!” she shouts, and jumps off the boulder. She sprints across the plateau and away from the cliff.

  Half of the Chained follow.

  Bastien expels a sharp breath. “Merde.” He bolts after her.

  I race alongside him. My heart beats a frantic rhythm. “Come back!” I yell at Jules. She just saved us, but she can’t take the flute away from here. It’s the only thing that can stop the Chained.

  If Jules hears me, she makes no indication. She only runs faster, keeping her distance from the Chained. Marcel jogs a little ahead of her. His floppy hair whips in the breeze. Eventually they’ll both tire, but the Chained won’t.

  The souls that don’t follow Jules pursue me and Bastien. “Careful!” I say, as one draws near him. I reach for his hand and tug him out of the way. We keep our fingers locked as we race onward. He veers when I pull him. “On your right!” I warn. He whips out his knife and cuts another Chained man across the chest.

  “Is he dead?” Bastien looks back as we race faster.

  “He was already dead.”

  “Right.” He tightens his grip on my hand.

  Two Chained come at us from both sides. “Duck!” I shout.

  Bastien drops to the ground and dodges a brutal punch. I roll over his back and stab one of the Chained men in his side. I turn to fight the second one, but Bastien’s already sliced his legs. He kicks him down, then jumps back up.

  Our hands come together again, and we keep running. I glance back and scan the now-distant cliff for my mother. Or Sabine. Or any Ferrier. But all I see is the grassy plateau glowing with the chazoure of the dead.

  I have to stop them before they reach Jules and Marcel—and then all of South Galle.

  I have to get the flute.

  28

  Sabine

  MY LEGS BURN AS I near the top of the long flight of stairs. I’ve fought and outrun two Chained already, but at least five more are ahead of me. Finally, I’m close enough to one to attack.

  I raise my staff to slam it down on him, when someone grabs my dress from behind. I swing my staff around, but the staircase is too narrow. My staff hits the limestone wall with a loud crack. Instinctively, I kick and shove the Chained off me. But then I see she wears no chains. She’s only a young girl, at the most twelve years old, with chazoure-glowing ringlets.

  Her eyes round as she tumbles backward, falling down the steep stairs. My chest pangs. “I’m sorry!” I run down three steps after her, but then I force myself to stop. I’ve hurt her, but she won’t die. Ailesse might.

  I turn around, but the other Chained are already gone. I race up the last steps and squeeze through the narrow gap between the boulders. Once I’m through, my mouth falls open. The bluff is lit up with chazoure. Twenty or more of the dead are up here. Mostly Chained. Some are fighting among each other, as well as a few Unchained. The rest retreat from the cliff.

  Hope surges through me until I see Ailesse in the distance. Her auburn hair billows as she runs directly away from me, across the plateau. The souls aren’t leaving her—half are following her, and she’s chasing the rest.

  I start to call her name, but my throat runs dry. My sharp vision focuses. The Chained around her separate just enough for me to see that she’s with someone—Bastien. And they’re holding hands.

  My feet trip. A rush of dizziness seizes me. I don’t understand. Ailesse escaped Bastien to come here and bring back the bone flute.

  Didn’t she?

  She’s running with him, not being dragged behind. It almost looks like she’s leading him.

  Of course she is. She’s the only one who can see the dead. And if the dead kill Bastien, she’ll die, too. She’s only fleeing with him because it’s her better chance to survive the Chained. Though that doesn’t explain why she’s pursuing some of them.

  It doesn’t matter. She still needs help.

  She still needs me.

  I race after her, then shriek as another soul lashes my arm. He’s using his dangling chain as a whip. The blow knocks my staff away.

  I clutch my arm and stagger backward. The man comes for me again. He swings his chains above his head. I have no weapon to block him.

  His chains slash downward. I drop, wrapping my hands over my head to protect myself. Nothing hits me. I look up and gasp. Odiva is here. The skirt of her dress drips with seawater. Her raven hair ripples like black fire. The man’s chains are caught around the end of her staff. With incredible strength, she throws him far off the cliff.

  I’m awestruck as she pulls me to my feet. “Are you all right?” she asks.

  I nod, dazed, and release a shuddering breath. “But Ailesse . . . Bastien has her again.”

  Odiva winces, just a slight flare of her nostrils, and looks across the plateau. The moment she notices them, she stiffens and curls her hands. Her darkening glare makes my blood run cold.

  Pernelle dashes over to us. “Did you see her, Matrone? Ailesse is alive!”

  Finally, I’m vindicated for never doubting.

  Odiva averts her eyes. “Yes, she must have survived her fall in the pit.”

  “Her amouré survived, too.” Pernelle steps forward. “I thought you said he died with her.”

  Odiva lifts a single black brow. “I am as shocked as you are.”

  Pernelle shoots another frantic look at Ailesse. “We need to go after her at once, or the boy might take her back to the catacombs.”

  “Or before the Chained reach her first,” I say, flinching as another rush of souls streaks by.

  Odiva’s mouth forms a determined line. “Call the others, Pernelle. Some are fast enough to outrun the dead. Tell them to stop fighting and to race after my daughter. Retrieving the bone flute is our priority now.”

  “And saving Ailesse,” I add.

  Odiva takes a tense breath and briefly meets my gaze. “Of course.”

  “What about the boy?” Pernelle asks.

  “Capture him, but do not kill him. Ailesse must be the one to do that.”

  My fingers wrap around the hilt of Ailesse’s ritual knife at my belt.

  Pernelle bo
ws to Odiva and runs off to do her bidding.

  I lunge to chase after Ailesse, but Odiva grasps my arm. Her hand is alarmingly rigid. “Wait.”

  “But she’s getting away.” I struggle against her hold.

  “I am commanding you to stay back, Sabine.”

  My cheeks burn. “Why?” Why isn’t she running after Ailesse straightaway? Odiva is faster and stronger than any of us.

  When the matrone doesn’t answer, I turn to her. Her unblinking gaze is riveted on something to the north. On the far horizon, at the very last stretch of my graced vision, I spy a silhouetted animal. Maybe a wolf.

  “It is a sign, Sabine,” Odiva says in a hush of great reverence.

  What is she talking about? Why are we stalling when Ailesse needs us? “A sign from whom?”

  “A god.” Odiva clutches her bird skull and ruby necklace, and the hair on my arms rises. “He’s accepted my sacrifices,” she murmurs, like she’s forgotten I’m even here with her. “He’s giving me one more chance to bring back . . .” Her voice goes hoarse with emotion, and she shakes her head. “But I must do this his way.”

  “Do what?” I ask. My stomach folds as my matrone’s face hardens into a mask of cool resolve. The last time I saw this same expression was when she claimed Ailesse was dead.

  I frown and take a closer look at the animal on the horizon. Its tail and legs are a little shorter than a common wolf’s. It also has a longer torso and a narrower, more pointed muzzle. “Is that—?”

  “Tyrus’s gift to us.” A slow smile spreads on Odiva’s gravely beautiful face. “That’s his golden jackal.”

  29

  Bastien

  AILESSE’S WARM HAND PRESSES TIGHTER against mine as we race into the forest, past the edge of the plateau. “How many of the dead are still behind us?” I ask. I hear their pounding feet, growls, and vicious cries coming closer.

  A strand of her auburn hair whips across her face as she glances backward. “At least twenty. All of them are Chained. I don’t know what happened to the others.”

  “Chained?” I pant for breath as we keep running. Ailesse isn’t winded at all.