Blood Metal Bone: An epic new fantasy novel, perfect for fans of Leigh Bardugo

by Lindsay Cummings

  But then she would leave without her answers, without Soahm.

  So she swallowed the taste of bile in the back of her throat, telling herself that an outlaw was only as good as their self-control.

  Revenge wasn’t always best served cold.

  Sometimes it needed to fester and fever like an old war wound.

  “I only want the truth,” Sonara said, snapping back the reins on her rage. She tapped the drawing of the flaming bird again. “Is this not the very same symbol on your ship?”

  She thought she saw him sigh, as he took a step closer. “It’s the exact same bird. Maybe… it’s possible that my parents once came… but of course, there’s no way that they would have taken someone. Something, always, but someone?” He spoke like he was trying to solve a riddle in his own mind.

  The others suddenly joined him, five Wanderers in their crimson armor, faces hidden beyond heavily darkened visors.

  “Karr!” A woman Wanderer, judging by the voice, but far, far taller, stopped just behind him. “Is there a problem here?” Her hand flinched, as if she wanted to reach out and place it on his shoulder. She lifted it instead, signaling the others to step closer.

  The short Wanderer, Karr, glanced backwards. “It’s fine, Jameson.” He lifted his own hand into a fist.

  The others stopped.

  As if he commanded them. So strange, for his voice and his face were far younger, his size so much smaller than the group behind him. “We’ve never taken a soul from any place we visit. Talk to the Captain, if you don’t believe me.” He pressed a hand to the side of his red helmet. “Cade, there’s someone who’d like to speak to you.”

  A pause.

  His hand dropped, and Sonara assumed he was speaking to her again. “I’m sorry. I’ve nothing to offer you, and the Captain is otherwise engaged.”

  She was about to speak again, to choose her next question wisely, when a new aura suddenly grabbed her curse’s attention.

  An ancient and furious presence, gnashing its teeth, like the last warm trickle of sunlight before an endless, frozen winter.

  It was the very same one from the journey here, the one that had sent Sonara tumbling to her knees. She wobbled, feeling the world tilt sideways and back again before she steadied herself.

  “Sonara?”

  Behind her, she felt Jaxon’s presence as he stepped from the small crowd that had gathered, but she could not speak.

  Her eyes watered from the pure power of the aura. She tried to swallow it away, but before she could, it surged again.

  More insistent this time, like it was pushing her to pay attention. For a moment, she felt whisked away from her body, cast into her curse as it pounded its fists against the cage and roared. She could sense her own sword. Not the blood and metal and bone but the ancient steel within it. The hands that had once forged it, female and long forgotten and laid in a deep sandy grave.

  It was impossible.

  The aura flared outwards and away from the pommel, beckoning her towards the Wanderer boy. It landed where his heart pulsed in his chest beneath his red armor, his blood sharp as iron as her curse inhaled without her consent, breathing him in.

  It laid out a path for her. A path she felt she was compelled to follow.

  From sword to Wanderer heart.

  Kill him, her curse whispered.

  It sounded, suddenly, like the voice that had spoken to her ten years ago, when she’d been cast into an otherworld of half-darkness, half-light. Choose, the voice had said then.

  Kill him, it said now.

  Terror surged through her. For she tried… Sonara tried to push it back, to harness her curse and force it inside of its cage. But she was helpless to its spell.

  The hair on her arms stood on end as she felt her own hand responding to the order. She looked down, horrified as she fought back to no avail. That aura and the voice that came with it, so strong her curse would not relent, commanded her very motions.

  No, Sonara thought, overcome with panic. You have no power over me.

  Her grip tightened on Lazaris anyway.

  Sweat beaded on her brow, but she could not release the blade.

  And then, as if in a dream, she felt her own arm moving, lightning quick. She saw the blur of black and blue sweep past her vision as she lifted Lazaris, and in one swift motion… it slid right through his sleek armor as Sonara stabbed the Wanderer boy in the heart.

  Chapter 15

  Sonara

  The Wanderer bleeds red.

  It was the only thought that came to Sonara’s mind, as she removed her sword in one fluid motion, the blade slicing through a gaping wound in his chest. It had sunk right through his armor, blood and metal and bone.

  Someone gasped in shock, before a scream erupted from the tall Wanderer at his side.

  Well done, Sonara’s curse hissed. She felt it settle back down into its cage, satisfied.

  And then Sonara was stumbling backwards, a bloody Lazaris still in her grasp, as Jaxon yanked her away from the chaos and hauled her into the crowd, pulling them away just as another scream rang out from behind them.

  “SEIZE THEM!” the Wanderer woman shouted.

  Sonara’s feet moved of their own accord as Jaxon ran, hauling her along, cursing under his breath as they shoved past fires and campsites and beasts awakening from their slumber as the screams intensified, following closely behind on their backs.

  Jaxon stopped, yanking her into the shadows of an empty makeshift booth, wares packed away and locked up for the night. A crate of hand-woven carpets leaned against the booth’s edge, and Jaxon pulled her down behind it, yanking Sonara to her knees as she shook, Lazaris still locked in her iron grip.

  “What the hell?”

  Jaxon shook her, his eyes wide and… afraid. Jaxon was afraid.

  “What the hell, Sonara?”

  She couldn’t stop shaking. “I don’t know, Jax. Goddesses damn me, I don’t know what happened!”

  She looked down, saw Lazaris in her hand, and dropped it, hands shaking as she tried to wipe away the trickle of the Wanderer boy’s blood that had flowed down it.

  “My curse… it… controlled me,” Sonara tried to explain, but the words failed her, for what could she say, how could she make him understand what had just come over her, standing before that Wanderer boy? How could she tell him the strange voice that had made her choose a side in that otherworldly half-place before death, that had been whispering to her all these years since, had finally taken hold of her?

  Too many times, her curse had gone awry.

  “Stay here,” Jaxon said, untying the red bandana from around his neck. He scrubbed at her hands, trying to get the blood away. She gripped the worn fabric like a lifeline. “We’re getting out of here. Far away, and then you’ll explain.”

  He stood, creeping around the edge of the booth as shouts rang out, and a group of Soreian and Wasteian warriors ran past, shouting questions at passersby. Some of Jira’s Diamond Guard stomped past after, spears in their hands. The queens, the king and the Wanderer leader had to be aware by now.

  They had to get out of here before someone discovered her.

  “The job,” Sonara said. “The Princess.”

  “Screw the job,” Jaxon growled as he crawled back over. “Jira’s daughter can do her own damned mission.”

  He removed his worn hat from his head, placing it over Sonara’s hair. “We’re going to find Markam. His curse can help us get you out of here unseen. Head down. Hand over mine. I’ll lead you.”

  “But—”

  She didn’t get to finish her thought before there was a shout.

  She peered out of the shadows as a group of Dohrsarans closed in around one of the Wanderer soldiers, shouting curses.

  The Wanderer held up his hands, as one of the Dohrsarans shoved him… but then another Wanderer jumped in. Others followed from each side, and soon there was an all-out brawl.

  The unease spread like a cloud, stretching its dark fingertips a
cross the valley, snaking its way around Dohrsaran and Wanderer until there was a rift that had not been there before.

  Sonara could feel the tension, a palpable monster birthed to life as shouts grew and weapons were hoisted, and the peace between the two was shattered.

  And suddenly a shot rang out.

  Sonara couldn’t see if the body that fell was Soreian, Wasteian or a Deadlander… but all kingdoms, all allegiances seemed to have been swept aside as screams tore across the Garden of the Goddess, and the Wanderer leader gave the command to attack.

  All around her, the Garden of the Goddess melted into chaos. Shots pierced through the screams, screams turned into gurgles of blood, blood stained skin as bullets hit home in Dohrsaran chests. The world became a blur as everyone ran in different directions, the need for escape controlling their actions.

  The aura intensified with every retort of a Wanderer weapon, with every thump of footsteps as the people around her scrambled for escape.

  There were no kingdoms now.

  There was only survival.

  “Run!” Jaxon yelled in Sonara’s ear.

  She laced her fingers through his as they sprinted through the crowd, stumbling over fallen bodies as bullets sprayed. Jaxon stumbled over a crumpled booth, flames licking up the sides of the fabric. Sonara tightened her grip, crying out as she hauled him back to his feet and they ran.

  On all sides, tents crumpled or erupted into flames. People cried out, trampled under rushing feet. Sobs of others mixed in, holding their dead, the clang of swords and hiss of Wasteian soldiers loosing arrows against the Wanderers.

  In seconds, the peace had been shattered and an all-out war took its place.

  And Sonara had done it.

  Sonara had been the catalyst.

  Another wave of bitter, cold revenge swept her curse up.

  Movement, everywhere. Dohrsarans running, soldiers from Soreia, the White Wastes and the Deadlands grouping together as the queens themselves dove into the battle. They lifted their blades and spears and faced their sudden enemy. Beasts stormed about, knocking tents over, stamping through fires that blazed and spread high. The vines on one of the goddess’ fingertips caught flame, the glowing flowers melting as the fire licked upwards, ever higher. Wanderer soldiers closed in on all sides, shooting her people…

  Goddesses, what had she done?

  Sonara felt like a sword had been stabbed into her temples as she screamed and her curse unleashed itself full force. She gasped as it swarmed every sense, making it impossible to breathe.

  “Markam!” Jaxon shouted his brother’s name. “Help me with her!”

  “Oh, Sunny, what did you do?” Sonara felt Markam’s gloved hand grip her other arm.

  “Get us out of here!” Jaxon commanded as they helped guide Sonara along.

  Her legs felt numb. Her body felt like it was shutting down.

  “The exit is blocked,” Azariah said, emerging from the smoke with Thali at her side. “There are too many trying to leave at once. It was not supposed to go this way.”

  Something in the distance exploded, and heat scalded Sonara’s face. The ground rumbled as if a bomb had gone off.

  Duran’s soul-ember flared white hot in Sonara’s chest. He was panicking, wherever he was.

  “Duran!” she shouted. “Where is he?”

  She couldn’t see him.

  Steeds ran everywhere, the herds let loose from their pen, but he wasn’t among them. She remembered his panic, ten years ago when he’d run from the Wanderer ship that stole Soahm… would he leave her now, lost to his own panic again?

  Desert cats sprung and attacked, without their riders to control their terror. A flock of wyverns soared into the air, screeching as they left the chaos behind. One fell, its wing ablaze, and tumbled headlong into the mountains, carrying its riders with it.

  Metal, Sonara’s curse told her.

  A great wave of it coming from the north, growing stronger with each second that passed.

  “It’s coming!” Sonara gasped out. “Jaxon, their ship is coming!”

  They kept running.

  The grass was ablaze now. Flames licked across the sea of green, leaving smoke and ash in their wake. Then the wind kicked up, fanning the flames higher. Sonara felt her heart slam against her chest, as the ship from her childhood appeared again, the flaming red bird aglow as the engines screamed.

  The ship’s belly opened wide over their heads. A great black orb shot from its depths, the size of a steed, with wire connecting it to the ship. It tumbled down to the sand, where it landed with a thud that Sonara felt in her bones.

  She stared at it, shock slowing down the moment she took in its details.

  The giant orb was made up of hundreds of strange metallic beetles, as if they’d all locked together to form a hive. It remained motionless, but she swore she could hear it, feel it humming as they ran past.

  As if it were alive.

  “This way,” Thali directed, as an opening emerged through the smoke. “Hurry!”

  There was Razor, appearing through the crowd. Three Wanderers aimed their rifles at her belly, but Razor let loose a war cry, dipped her head left, and blasted them with emerald fire. The Wanderers melted before her.

  Her great tail lashed out like a whip, sweeping aside three other Wanderers closing in nearby. Their bodies soared across the Garden of the Goddess like falling stars.

  Markam practically threw Azariah onto her back, Thali right after. “Go!” Jaxon shouted, just as Duran’s hooves thundered past. He hoisted her onto Duran’s back, then leapt on behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her middle as her fingertips locked into Duran’s mane. Then they were galloping away, the beat of Duran’s hooves beneath them, the shadow of Razor above. She could see the exit now, the lone road down the mountainside. They were going to make it. They were going to get out of here, safe.

  The screams rang out, louder and louder.

  They were nearly there.

  Darkness, Sonara’s curse hissed a warning. A shot rang out behind her, a breath later.

  A terrible, beast-like cry came from Jaxon, and his fingers slipped from her waist.

  It was too late when she realized, with horror, that he was falling.

  “NO!” Sonara screamed. She reached for him, kicked her heels and tried to turn Duran around, but he was going too fast, overtaken with fear. He reared beneath her, a screech of terror.

  “DAMN YOU!” Sonara screamed at him, demanding him to listen through their bond. “GO BACK FOR JAXON!”

  But the chaos was a monster, raising its ugly head, baring its rows of teeth.

  Duran only ran faster away from Jaxon. His body was fading, his hand reaching out for her as his edges blurred from the distance, and in her mind, Sonara saw Jaxon turn into Soahm, lying on the sand, screaming, Wait, Sonara, wait!

  Duran reached the mountain pass just as the orb of beetles came to life.

  It exploded outwards, a mighty swarm of darkness. Buzzing filled the air as they soared across the valley. Sonara saw, with horror, one of the bugs collide against a Soreian soldier, latching on to the back of his neck. Blood burst as the metal bug burrowed its legs into the place where spine met skull. All around the Garden of the Goddess, the metal bugs found hosts, and dug their sharp claws into Dohrsaran necks.

  When they were done, a crackle sounded from the ship.

  Sonara watched as that same blue light from ten years ago shot down from its belly and stretched across the valley like a blanket. It tucked itself close to the ground, nestled up against the sides of the mountains surrounding them, stretched high up towards the ship.

  The Dohrsarans running towards it were suddenly thrown backwards, as if the light had become a glowing wall.

  A prison, that trapped everyone inside.

  Two Hours Later

  Geisinger Tower, Beta Earth

  The message came at midnight.

  The young assistant stopped at the heavy wooden door that led to his boss
’ private sitting room, pausing for a moment to steady his nerves before he knocked twice.

  “A message… sir.”

  His voice shook in time with his knees. He waited, wondering if he’d already made a mistake. If perhaps, like the last assistant had warned before rushing from the office, the monster had finally come out to play.

  No mistakes, boy.

  You do what he says at a moment’s notice.

  You get in, you get out, and you certainly do not ask questions.

  “Come in.”

  The answer was more of an ordered bark, so he opened the door, shuffling inside with the small chip held carefully on a silver tray.

  Friedrich Geisinger sat in a wingback chair by the glass wall that overlooked the entire city. A cup of tea sat untouched on the table beside him, surely gone cold now.

  Beside it, two small black pills.

  His second batch of the day.

  “What is it?” Geisinger asked. He sat with his back to the door, staring out the wall as rain pounded on the glass, warping the view of the city beyond.

  The assistant walked closer, holding out the transmission chip. “It came in just moments ago, from one of the jobsites.”

  “I have plenty of them,” Geisinger said, voice teetering on the edge of anger and annoyance. “Details, boy. They make every story you’ll tell one worth being heard.”

  “Dohrsar,” the assistant blurted out. “It came from one of your camera drones on Dohrsar.”

  Friedrich plucked the chip from the tray, then slid it effortlessly into a small dock on the arm of the chair. Two taps of his fingertips across the top, and a hologram appeared before them, flickering against the glass.

  It was a king, a veritable giant, standing amid a cloud of smoke. Soldiers in crimson suits stood around him, flames flickering in the distance.

  “It is done,” the king said.

  The transmission paused at a tap of Geisinger’s fingertips.

  “Leave me,” he commanded. “I’m not to be disturbed until morning.”

  The assistant left as quickly as he’d entered. Hours later, he still couldn’t erase the image of the alien king from his mind. Couldn’t stop seeing the grotesque, hollow socket on his face, where one of his eyes should have been.