Children of Blood and Bone

by Tomi Adeyemi

  “Help!”

  I try to scream, but bubbles rush through my throat. Horror sinks into my bones. Mama was right.

  This blood magic will destroy me.

  I swim for the surface, but each kick is harder than the last. My arms lose feeling, then my feet.

  Like vengeful spirits, the blood magic overwhelms me, clinging to my mouth, my chest, my skin. Though I fight for the surface, I can’t move. Once so close, our ship now falls farther and farther away.

  “Tzain!”

  The crimson sea muffles the sound of my screams.

  The little air I have in my lungs disappears.

  Water rushes in.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  AMARI

  I GRIP THE EDGE of the boat, heartbeat racing as its sinking slows to a rough halt.

  “She did it!” Tzain pounds a fist against the ship’s railing. “Zél, you did it!”

  But when Zélie doesn’t resurface, Tzain’s triumph disappears. He yells her name over and over again, shouting himself hoarse.

  I lean over the edge of the ship and scan the waters, frantically searching for a shock of white hair against the red. There’s only one vessel left, but Zélie is nowhere in sight.

  “Tzain, wait!”

  He jumps overboard, leaving the boat without its captain. The final ship turns in the water, altering its course.

  “And just like that, our final competitors are out of blastpowder!” the announcer’s voice sings. “But only one captain can make it to the end. To win, only one captain can live!”

  “Tzain!” I scream over the edge of the ship, heart quaking as the final boat nears. I can’t do this on my own. We need him to take down the last ship.

  The enemy’s rowers paddle as fast as they can, while those who manned their cannons arm themselves with blades. Our own crew abandons their posts, scrambling for the spears and swords attached to the ship. Though I shake, they do not hesitate. They are ready, eager, prepared to bring this hell to an end.

  Relief rocks my core when Tzain breaks above the surface, one arm wrapped tightly around Zélie’s unconscious body. I untack a rope from the side and throw it over the edge; Tzain secures it under Zélie’s arms and yells at us to pull her up.

  Three laborers join me as I yank, raising Zélie onto the deck. The enemy is moments away now. If she can summon her animations again, we can all live through this.

  “Wake up!” I shake Zélie, but she doesn’t stir. Her skin burns to the touch. Blood drips from a corner of her lip.

  Skies, this won’t work. We have to bring Tzain back up. I claw at the knots binding Zélie’s torso, but before the final knot is undone, the enemy ship smashes into ours.

  With a wild roar, our competitors jump aboard.

  I scramble to my feet and wave my sword like a child trying to keep a lionaire away with a flame. There is no technique in my thrust, no sign of the years spent in pain.

  Strike, Amari, Father’s voice thunders in my head, bringing me back to the tears spilled when he commanded me to fight Inan. I dropped my sword. I refused.

  Then my brother’s blade ripped through my back.

  My stomach lurches as our crew dives into the fight, the chance at victory spurring them on. They overpower the other crew with ease, blowing past their swords to land lethal strikes. Crazed men run toward us, but by the grace of the gods, our crew cuts them down. One man dies just steps from me, blood pooling in his mouth as a knife protrudes from his neck.

  Let it end, I plead. Just let me make it out!

  But as I pray, the captain breaks through, sword plunging forward. I brace myself for the attack, but then I realize he’s not coming at me. His sword aims down, angled to the side.

  He’s targeting Zélie.

  Time freezes as the captain nears, his glinting blade drawing closer and closer by the second. Everything around me goes quiet.

  Then blood splatters into the air.

  For a moment, I am too shocked to realize what I have done. But when the captain falls, my blade goes with him. Pierced straight through his gut.

  The arena falls quiet. Smoke begins to clear.

  I cannot breathe when the announcer speaks.

  “It appears we have a winner.…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ZÉLIE

  538.

  That’s how many times my body was ripped apart.

  How many spirits perished for sport. How many innocent souls shriek in my ears.

  Corpses float among the wood in the never-ending sea of blood. Their presence stains the air, invading my lungs with every breath.

  Gods, help us. I close my eyes, trying to drown the tragedy out. Through it all, the cheers never stop. The praise never ends. As we stand on the platform, the crowd rejoices as if there’s a reason to celebrate this bloodbath.

  Beside me, Tzain holds me close; he hasn’t really let go since he carried me from the ship. He keeps his expression vacant, but I can sense his remorse.

  Though the competitor in him has prevailed, we’re still covered in the blood of those who have fallen. We may have triumphed, but this is no victory.

  To my right, Amari stands still, hands clenched around her bladeless hilt. She hasn’t said one word since we got off that ship, but the laborers told me she was the one who protected me and killed the other captain. For the first time, looking at her doesn’t remind me of Saran or Inan. I see the girl who stole the scroll.

  I see the seeds of a warrior.

  The announcer forces a grin as Dele and Baako roll the shimmering chest of gold away. Gold he probably intended to keep, gold traded for every death.

  The crowd roars as our crew is awarded their prize, but not one laborer smiles at the bounty. Wealth and freedom from the stocks are nothing when this horror will haunt them every night.

  “Get on with it.” I grit my teeth, stepping away from Tzain’s protection. “You’ve already had your show. Give up the sunstone.”

  The announcer narrows his eyes, his brown skin crinkling with hard lines.

  “The show’s never over,” he hisses away from the metal cone. “Especially when it involves a maggot.”

  The announcer’s words make my lips twitch. Though my body feels hollow, I can’t help but plot. How many animations would it take to drag him into the carnage, drown him at the bottom of his own red sea?

  The announcer must sense my silent threat, because the smirk falls from his lips. He steps back and raises his cone, turning back to the crowd.

  “And now…” His voice booms through the arena. He sells the performance with his words, though his face barely hides his dismay. “I present … the stone of immortality!”

  Even from a distance, the sunstone’s warmth seeps into my shivering bones. Oranges and yellows pulse behind its crystal exterior like molten lava. Like a moth, I’m drawn to its holy light.

  The last piece, I think, remembering Lekan’s words. With the scroll, the stone, and the dagger, we finally have everything we need. We can head to the sacred temple and perform the ritual. We can bring magic back.

  “You’ve got this.” Tzain places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Whatever happens, I’m right by your side.”

  “Me too,” Amari says softly, regaining her voice. Though dried blood coats her face, her eyes are reassuring.

  I nod at her and step forward, reaching for the golden stone. For the first time the crowd around me falls silent, their curiosity heavy in the air.

  I brace myself for what might come from holding a living fragment of Sky Mother’s soul. But once my fingers touch the polished surface, I know nothing could have prepared me for this.

  Like the awakening, touching the stone fills me with a force more powerful than anything I’ve ever known. The sunstone’s energy warms my blood, electrifying the ashê surging through each vein.

  The crowd gasps in amazement as the stone’s light shines between the gaps in my fingers. Even the announcer backs up; as far as he knows, the s
tone was only a part of his hoax.

  The surge continues to fill me, bubbling up like steam. I close my eyes and Sky Mother appears, more glorious than anything I’ve ever imagined.

  Her silver eyes shine bright against her ebony skin, framed by the crystals dangling from her headdress. Tight white coils fall around her face like rain, twisting with the power radiating from her being.

  Her spirit swells through me like lightning breaking through a thunder cloud. It’s more than the feeling of breathing.

  It’s the very essence of life.

  “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—” I whisper the first few words of the incantation under my breath, relishing a rush like no other. With the sunstone’s power, I could call hundreds of animations from the dead. I could command an unstoppable army.

  We could rip through the arena, take down the announcer, punish every spectator who cheered on the slaughter for sport. But that’s not what Sky Mother wants. It’s not what these spirits need.

  One by one, the shrieking dead race through me, not to become animations, but to escape. It’s just like the cleanse Mama led every full moon. A final purge to help the spirits pass on to alâfia.

  As the souls escape their trauma for the peace of the afterlife, the image of Sky Mother in my mind begins to fade. A goddess with skin like the night takes her place, clothed in waves of red, beautiful with her dark brown eyes.

  My gods.

  Oya shines in my mind like a torch against the dark. Unlike the chaos I glimpsed when I used blood magic, this vision holds an ethereal grace. She stands still, but it’s like the entire world shifts in her presence. A triumphant smile spreads across her lips—

  “Ugh!” My eyes fly open. The sunstone glows so brightly in my hands, I have to look away. Though the initial rush of its touch has passed, I can feel its power humming in my bones. It’s like Sky Mother’s spirit has spread through my body, stitching every wound left by the blood magic’s destruction.

  With time, the blinding light fades and Oya’s stunning image disappears from my head. I stumble backward, clutching the stone as I fall into Tzain’s arms.

  “What just happened?” Tzain whispers, eyes wide with amazement. “The air … It felt like the whole arena was shaking.”

  I press the sunstone to my chest, trying to hold on to the images that danced in my mind. The light that glinted off the crystals in Sky Mother’s headdress; the way Oya’s skin shimmered, dark and enchanting like the queen of the night.

  This is how Mama must’ve felt.… The realization makes my heart swell. This is why she loved her magic.

  This is how it feels to be alive.

  “The Immortal!” a man from the crowd shouts, and I blink, reorienting myself to the arena. The cry travels throughout the stands until everyone joins in. They chant the false title, rabid in their praise.

  “Are you alright?” Amari asks.

  “More than alright,” I reply with a smile.

  We have the stone, the scroll, the dagger.

  And now we actually have a chance.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  AMARI

  IT TAKES HOURS for the celebrations to die down, though I don’t understand how anyone can feel like celebrating. Such a tremendous waste of life. One stolen by my own hand.

  Tzain tries to guard us from the masses, but even he can’t overpower the force of the spectators as we pour out of the arena. They parade us through the streets of Ibeji, creating titles to commemorate the occasion. Zélie becomes “the Immortal,” while Tzain reigns as “the Commander.” When I pass, the spectators shout the most ridiculous name of all. I cringe as it rings once more: “The Lionaire!”

  I want to yell of their mistake; replace “lionaire” with a more fitting title like “coward” or “impostor.” There is no ferocity behind my eyes, no vicious beast hidden inside. The name is nothing more than a lie, but fueled by liquor, not one of the spectators cares. They just need something to shout. Something to praise.

  When we near our rented ahéré, Tzain finally breaks us free. With his guidance, we make it into our clay hut and take turns out back washing the blood away.

  As the cold water runs over me, I scrub as hard as I can, desperate to wipe every remnant of that hell from my flesh. When the water turns red, I think of the captain I killed. Skies …

  There was so much blood.

  It seeped through the navy kaftan pasted to his skin, leaked through my leather soles, stained the hem of my pants. In his last moments, the captain reached for his pocket with a shaking hand. I don’t know what he wanted to grab. Before he could retrieve it, his hand fell limp.

  I close my eyes and dig my nails into my palms, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. I don’t know what disturbs me more: that I killed him, or that I could do it again.

  Strike, Amari. A thin whisper of Father’s voice plays in my ears.

  I wipe him from my mind as I wash the last of the arena blood from my skin.

  Back in the ahéré, the sunstone glows inside Zélie’s pack, lighting the scroll and the bone dagger in reds and sunflower yellows. A day ago I hardly believed we held two of the sacred artifacts, yet here all three sit. With twelve days left until the centennial solstice, we can make it to the sacred island with time to spare. Zélie can perform the ritual. Magic will actually return.

  I smile to myself, picturing the glittering lights that escaped Binta’s hand. Not cut short by Father’s blade, but everlasting. A beauty I could witness every day.

  If we succeed, Binta’s death will mean something. One way or another, Binta’s light will spread throughout Orïsha. The hole she left in my heart might one day heal.

  “Can’t believe it?” Tzain whispers from the doorframe.

  “Something like that.” I give him a small smile. “I’m just grateful it’s all over.”

  “I heard they’re out of business. Without the coin from the pot, they can’t afford to bribe the stockers for more laborers.”

  “Thank the skies.” I think of all the young divîners who perished. Although Zélie helped their spirits pass, their deaths still weigh on my shoulders. “Baako told me he and the other laborers will use the gold to cover more divîners’ debts. If they’re lucky, they’ll be able to save hundreds of people from the stocks.”

  Tzain nods, looking at Zélie as she sleeps in the corner of the hut. Freshly bathed, she’s almost hidden against Nailah’s soft fur, recovering after her blinding display with the sunstone. Watching her, I don’t feel the prickle of discomfort that usually surfaces in her presence. When the crew told her that I was the one who ended the fight, she gave me a look that almost resembled a smile.

  “Do you think your father knew about this?”

  I snap my head up. Tzain averts his gaze and his face hardens.

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “But if he knew, I’m not sure he would bother to stop it.”

  An uncomfortable silence falls between us, stealing our brief moment of relief. Tzain reaches for a roll of bandages, but winces. The pain in his arm must be too great.

  “Allow me.” I step forward, avoiding the reddening bandages around his bicep. His only battle wound, sustained because I got in his way.

  “Thanks,” Tzain mutters when I hand him the roll. My stomach tightens with the guilt that eats away at my core.

  “Don’t thank me. If I’d stayed off that boat, you wouldn’t have this wound at all.”

  “I also wouldn’t have Zél.”

  He meets my eyes with an expression so kind it catches me off guard. I thought for sure he’d resent me, but if anything, he’s grateful.

  “Amari, I’ve been thinking.…” He picks at the roll of bandages, unraveling it only to wrap it up again. “When we pass through Gombe, you should go to the guard post. Tell them you’ve been kidnapped, blame everything on us.”

  “Because of what happened on the boat?” I try to keep my tone even, but a slight shrillness breaks in. Where’s this coming from? Just a moment ago
he was thanking me for being here.

  “No!” Tzain closes the space between us, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. For someone so large, there’s a surprising tenderness to his touch. “You were amazing. I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if you weren’t there. But the look on your face afterward … If you stay, I can’t promise you won’t have to kill again.”

  I stare at the ground, counting the cracks in the clay. He’s offering me another escape.

  He’s trying to keep the blood off my hands.

  I think back to that moment on the boat, back when I regretted everything and wished I had never stolen the scroll. This is the out I prayed for. I craved it with all my heart.

  It could work.…

  Though a flash of shame hits me, I imagine what would happen if I turned myself in. With the right story, enough tears, the perfect lies, I could convince them all. If I showed up disheveled enough, Father might believe I’d been kidnapped by the evil maji. Yet even as I play with the possibility, I already know my response.

  “I’m staying.” I swallow the part of me that wants to give in, tucking it deep down inside. “I can do this. I proved that tonight.”

  “Just because you can fight doesn’t mean you’re meant to—”

  “Tzain, do not tell me what I am meant to do!”

  His words stab like a needle, locking me back inside the palace walls.

  Amari, sit up straight!

  Do not eat that.

  That’s more than enough dessert for you—

  No.

  No more. I have lived that life before and lost my dearest friend because of it. Now that I’ve escaped, I shall never return. With my escape, I must do more.

  “I am a princess, not a prop. Do not treat me any differently. My father is responsible for this pain. I will be the one to fix it.”

  Tzain jerks back and raises his hands in surrender. “Alright.”

  I tilt my head. “That’s it?”

  “Amari, I want you here. I just needed to know it was your choice. When you took that scroll, there’s no way you could know everything would turn out like this.”