Page 98 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

In the sky, the last of the pale glow of the sun winks out.

A sharp crack of thunder explodes from above, a flash of lightningso bright it blinds the eye dances up from the summit of the mountain to the clouds, leaving sparking, dancing dots behind. And in my ears there is a roar so loud it’s like the sound of fire but a thousand times more, an echoing static. It is deafening, so it takes me longer than it should to hear the screaming. And longer still to realize that the screams are coming fromme, hunched over as though I’ve taken a knife to the gut, hands pressed over my ears to stop the pressure and the pain, eyes screwed shut so tightly they hurt.

I’m loud enough to catch the attention of those nearby, even over their songs of praise and thanksgiving. Loud enough that the Council turn as one toward me. Loud enough that Silas, still steps above, and Rannoch, who has not moved from beside him, flinch. I am screaming, screaming, screaming, and the bones are screaming through me. They are shattering glass in my ears, scraping my skin with obsidian blades, stuffing my eyes with sharp quills. Every moment in my life is just this moment now, with no beginning and no ending, just unceasing, unrelenting pain. The bones are screaming, and they use me as their vessel.

My voice is raw and red before it gives out, and with the dying note of my agony, the rain stops. And the bones fall silent.

Raek, face dark, lips twisted into a sneer, spittle flying as he stalks across the courtyard, points a shaking finger at me. “What have youdone?”

What have Idone? What haveIdone? I don’t understand the question, but I open my mouth to answer, when, as a single entity, the bones raise their voice one last time, loud enough so even the Father and the Council can almost hear, the pressure enough to rupture eardrums, loud enough that the people on their knees in the dirt cock their heads as though they feel a cold breath down the back of their necks.

Run, the Bones scream, and then,RUN! RUN! RUN!

All around the village, bones begin to shatter, rapid pop-pop-pops, like frozen trees exploding in the winter Storms, and in the darkness cast by the racing clouds overhead, bright soul lights flare to agonizing sparks, then just as quickly fade. Song after song wails outfrom the ruptured bones, a sharp, staccato keening, then is gone. It starts at the back, where the oldest bones are, and I feel a stabbing pang in my heart.The Oldest Mother. But there is no time. People are on their feet now, frightened rabbits, wide eyed sheep, looking around for a leader.

“Out of the way,” Raek tries to command, but he is shaking, swaying, his cry a high, trembling screech of fear. He was not made to carry the weight of the voices of bones; something in his brain has come loose. “Clear a path for the Council! Clear the way!”

It’s a toothless bark, more a plea, and he is not obeyed. In that moment, his eyes meet mine with murder clear in their depths. I have no time for him, for his promise of death. If death wants to take me, I’ll drift into his arms like smoke and be carried to a place with more gentleness and peace than this one. He will be my lover and I his consort, and I will be faithful to him for eternity for delivering me from my living hell. But now, now, the Bones command me and I must obey.

From the shadow of the Council House I raise my voice as loud as I’m able. “Run,” I yell, echoing the bones, shaking with effort. Drawing myself up, I motion toward the lower gate. “Down the hill to the outermost wall. Pick up the children. Leave all else. There is no time!’

Word is passed in a shower of splintering ivory; the villagers rushing to grab their young, slipping awkwardly down the path. The rain which moments before had been a source of such joy now proves treacherous as people push and shove to move forward.

“With care! With care!” Silas’s voice booms out as he leaps off the stage, directing the exodus. Panic is high in the crowd; he keeps them in check only through the weight of tradition and sheer willpower. He is the lightning and the thunder, the earth and the sky, and it’s impossible to look away from him. “Quickly and quietly. Move forward. Pass the children along.”

It’s working — the people are shaking with effort, but itisworking. Until, from behind me, a groan rings deep inside the mountain, so low and ominous it is the song of a nightmare come to life. From the rock cliffs, from the stone faces, fissures crack open, jagged linesrunning from the very summit down to the base in lightning bolt patterns, crackling and snapping, full walls of sharp edged boulders calving down in careless chaos. When its skin is torn away and the veins are exposed, the mountain shows its blood; deep from its chest, the shimmering, luminescent blue heart of Everfire pulses forward from its depths. It’s slow, seeping, but unexpectedly beautiful, weeping from the ragged tears on the mountain’s side. The people left in the square turn to stare at it, moths helplessly drawn to torchlight.

And so, when the fracturing pieces of stone still tumbling down slam into the square, villager after villager are knocked from their feet, pinned to the ground beneath unforgiving weight. Screams bounce off the walls, the ground, the Council House doors, filling the square with panic where only moments before songs had swept the streets. Fear is a living snake in my stomach when I realize that, even crushed and broken, life draining from them, the people trapped on the ground are still craning their heads toward the Everfire, still straining to see the incandescent rivers of flame.

Silas is halfway across the courtyard now, easy to spot, a full head taller than any around him, pulling villagers from the wreckage, pushing people toward the First Gate, doing anything he can to help. Raek and the rest of the Council are nowhere to be seen; even the Protectors are gone, leaving their people behind them covered in dirt and blood, in final death and chaos. Only Silas and Rannoch are still in the rapidly emptying keep, Rannoch directing movement from close to the Council House, Silas from the center, near the Sun God’s pillar.

Beneath my feet, the ground trembles.

It’s such a small shiver at first that I almost don’t feel it, but I’ve lived in the pocket of the Earth too long to ignore the bite of need pulling at my muscles. Terror is an electric current in my soul, and I cast my eyes around me in desperation.What am I missing? What am I missing?In the shadow at the Sun Pillar, Silas is oblivious to anything but the people around him, ignoring the tiny cuts covering his skin from sharp flung stones, the water and blood mixing and drippingfrom his face as he commands the villagers in focused determination. Beside him, the pillar vibrates.

“Silas!” His name is torn from my throat, the warning so clear and crimson his head whips around, looking for me in the shade of the Council House, missing the danger to himself.

Wren! NO!Lorcan cries out from my back, so much pain in the words it’s like the effort it takes him to speak is cracking him into pieces, but he’s too late.

“Silas!” I scream again; my feet finally obey me, and I step forward into the keep, just enough so that he can see my raised hand, pointing to the pillar beside him. Glancing up in confusion, he leaps back just in time to avoid the iron brazier plummeting toward the ground, coal dust exploding from it when it hits, covering anyone near it in muddy ash. And then, in one, jarring clap of sound, the earth beneath it boils, and the pillar, which has stood in the heart of our village for the whole of bone memory, topples, leaving him on one side, and me on the other.

From the edge of the overhang above me, tiny rivulets drain from the oily stone. The water hisses when it hits my skin, burning me like living flame, and I frantically stumble back into the still dry area protected by the massive, stone slab roof. The earth is still rippling, almost convulsing, moving in waves of brick and bone across the keep, churning bodies to piles of flesh and blood; the walls of the central square quiver and collapse in rocky ruin, exposing tiny, glinting pieces of white bone that were entombed within. Everything is falling apart, everything is ravage and wreckage, dead bodies and dissolving souls. And there is nothing I can do,nothing, because I am caged in beneath the Council House.

None of the souls in the square are singing anymore; the rain and the ruin absorb their music in ravenous jaws — I am too far to Guide even one from the Silence, if that is even where they are going, watching helplessly, hands outstretched, heart shattering. My ears are full of dissonance, eyes truly blinded by flaring and fading souls.

So I do not hear it when, above me, the heavy obsidian overhang, put there by the Sword himself when the village was founded,shudders. Don’t notice when, beneath it, the pillars holding it sway, then bend, then splinter and break. Don’t move when, suddenly, in one terrible and inevitable motion, the stone cracks and plummets down in crushing certainty.

“Wren!” Silas’s distraught voice rings out across the square, his hand reaching in an echo of mine from moments ago, as though he could prevent what is to come. But he is too far, much too far now; another groan echoes from deep within the mountain and the Earth opens beneath me.

BOUND BY DUTY

SILAS

She falls.

She just…falls.

Hovers for a moment, like a bird, like the goddess, white hair haloed around her head, eyes wide and frightened, and I swear, Iswearthat for a moment sheseesme, that her blank eyes focus in on me and her mouth parts just slightly in horrified surprise, and then…

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