Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(101)

“Please! I can handle these two.” She’s laboring for breath. Her face is flushed. “Get off the bridge!”

My blood pounds faster. Ailesse can’t fight like this much longer. She needs to channel more energy. I look at my packs. “I’ll be back soon! I’m going to blast apart the ceiling!”

She leaps over an invisible something and spares a quick glance at the ceiling. Her eyes widen. “Hurry!” She jabs an elbow behind her.

I race away, my knife swinging aimlessly in case any Chained attack. I need to ignite the powder casks before more get to Ailesse.

I grab my two packs and my lantern and sprint into the tunnel. Some of the Chained came in this way, so it has to lead outside. At any rate, I can’t jump high enough to catch the shaft rope again.

Limestone bricks line the tunnel and lead to a staircase. My legs burn as I climb each zigzagging flight to the top. There must be twice as many steps here as there are in the three stories of La Chaste Dame.

The stairs end, and I see a hatch. The Chained have already pried it open. I look above—at a clear sky full of stars and the perfectly round moon. I let out a huge breath. “Thank you,” I say to no one in particular.

I climb outside into a meadow surrounded by a thick forest. I’m standing in the middle of a circle of stones that barely rise above the wild grass. Some are engraved with phases of the moon.

My pulse races as I quickly rummage through the grass and search for the wooden planks I saw from the cavern. This is taking too long. Ailesse is probably fighting more Chained.

At last, I find a couple boards with dried clay squeezed between them. More are nearby. Soon I’m able to trace the long edge of the patched-up strip that matches the soul bridge below.

I set down my packs and remove the casks of black powder. I place three of them evenly apart along the strip. I uncork the fourth cask and spread a trail of powder that links each cask together, and from there to the edge of the meadow, several yards away.

I crouch and pull my candle from my lantern. My shaking hand makes the flame quiver. This could be disastrous. The explosion might crush Ailesse or break the bridge. But I have to risk it. She’s not going to give up now. She needs a fighting chance to finish ferrying.

I take a steeling breath, roll to the balls of my feet, and lower my candle to the trail of black powder.

A brilliant flame ignites. It rapidly snakes toward the nearest cask.

I bolt for the forest and send a prayer to Ailesse’s gods.





46


Ailesse


MY MUSCLES BURN AS I wrestle the last of the three Chained close to the swirling black dust. The man has an unrelenting grip on my shoulders. I slap the back of his elbows to stun him, and his hold on me weakens. I quickly hook my foot around his ankle and try to sweep out his legs. He doesn’t budge. My pulse throbs through my head.

He grapples for my shoulders again. I twist before he can grab me, and shove him backward. He loses his balance, but doesn’t fall. I grit my teeth and shove him again. He finally tumbles through the Gate.

I lean my hands on my knees and struggle to catch my breath.

Chazoure flares from the hole of the mining shaft. My stomach tenses. I straighten, tightening my fists. The soul drops to the ground. No, no, no. Not him. Not yet.

He leers at me. “I thought I’d find you here.”

It’s the man with the broken nose, thick arms, and chains crisscrossed over his chest.

The one I fought in the quarry. The one who invaded Jules’s body.

I swallow hard. I’m too sapped of strength. And he’s too vicious and powerful. How much Light did he steal from Jules?

His nostrils flare, but his brow twitches when he looks past me to the Gate of dust. Its lure brought him here. “You can’t make me go to Hell. I don’t belong there.”

I lift my chin and square my shoulders. I won’t let him see my weakness. “Prove it. Take off your chains.”

He growls. He knows very well they’re irremovable. “I’ll kill you first.”

He launches onto the bridge.

I tense to spring over him with my falcon grace. I’m standing right in front of Tyrus’s Gate. If I’m quick enough, I can roll aside and he’ll barrel through.

In mere moments, he’s upon me. But he’s veering toward Elara’s Gate. I dive to block him, but even with my graced reflex, I’m too slow. He catches my leg. The sudden stop throws him off balance. He’s going to fall and pull me with him through the Gate. I kick and thrash. Adrenaline pummels through me, but I still don’t have the strength to overpower him. He doesn’t let go. He steadies himself and drags me up to my feet. His meaty hands have a vise grip on my arms.

“You’re the one who doesn’t deserve Paradise.” His breath is rancid. Chazoure spittle flies from his mouth. “Would you like to meet your own Hell? Look below.” I don’t. I know what I’ll see—a torturous drop into nothing. He sneers. “I’ll send you there.”

He moves to hurl me off the bridge. I fight to anchor my footing with my ibex grace, but he’s too strong. I fumble to unsheathe my knife. Just before the Chained throws me, I stab him in the stomach. He roars out in pain and releases me. I land ten feet back on the bridge, just shy of falling off the edge. My sixth sense weakly patters a warning, and I scramble to stand. The Chained is already running for me, his face ferocious.