Page 25 of Children of Blood and Bone

“What are you—”

She presses her hand to my mouth and pushes me against a shanty’s wall. It’s only then that I notice the narrow space we’ve squeezed between.

Please work.For the second time in over a decade, I lift up a prayer,calling to any god who might still be there.Please, I beg.Please, please hide us.

My heart threatens to break free of my rib cage, pounding so hard I’m convinced the sound will give us away. But when the troop nears, they rumble by like rhinomes chasing prey.

I look up to the sky, blinking as the clouds pass overhead. Bright rays of light shine in between their gaps. It’s almost like the gods have risen from the dead, resurrected from the graveyard formed after the carnage of the Raid. Whatever’s up there is blessing me.

I just hope that blessing doesn’t run out.

We shimmy out of the crawl space and tear down another path, accidentally slamming into a pair of curious divîners. One drops his bottle of rum, and the sharp scent wafts into my nose, so strong my nostrils burn. With its odor, another lesson from Mama Agba’s hut resurfaces.

I scoop the bottle off the ground and scan the streets for my missing ingredient.There.It’s only a few meters from the girl’s head.

“Grab the torch!”

“What?”

“The torch!” I shriek. “The one right in front of you!”

It takes her a second to wrestle the metal torch from its hold, but when she does, we take off running. As we pass the last of the slums, I rip a piece of cloth from my cloak and stuff it into the bottle.

“What is this for?” she asks.

“Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

We break free of the slums, and the wooden gate of Lagos’s entrance comes into view. The key to our escape.

Barred by a royal blockade.

My stomach sinks as we skid to a halt before the endless line of armed guards. The soldiers ride menacing black panthenaires, each giant beast baring its fangs. Their dark fur shines like a thin layer of oil under thesun, matte rainbows of color embedded throughout their black coats. Even as the panthenaires crouch, they still tower over us, primed and ready to pounce.

“You’re surrounded!” The captain’s amber eyes bore into me. “By the decree of King Saran, I order you to halt!”

Unlike his soldiers, the captain rides a vicious snow leopanaire nearly as big as my hut. Eight thick horns protrude from its back, sharp and glistening in black. The monster licks its long, serrated fangs as it snarls, eager to decorate its spotted white coat with our blood.

The captain has the same dark copper complexion as the girl, skin free of wrinkles and the scars of battle. When the girl sees him, her hands fly to her hood; her legs begin to shake.

Though the captain is young, the guards follow his lead without question. One by one, each soldier unsheathes his sword, pointing the blades our way.

“It’s over,” the girl breathes in dismay. Tears stream down her face as she kneels to the ground. She drops the torch in defeat and pulls out a scroll of wrinkled parchment.

I pretend to follow her lead and crouch, touching the cloth in the bottle to the torch’s flame. The acrid stench of smoke fills my nose. As the captain closes in, I hurl the weapon at the line of panthenaires.

Come on, I will the glass bottle, trailing its arc with my eyes. As it flies, I worry nothing will happen.

Then the world erupts in flames.

The fire burns brilliantly, sweeping men and horned panthenaires into its blaze. The beasts howl in hysteria, bucking their riders in an attempt to get away.

The girl stares in horror, but I grab her arm and force her to move. We’re only a few meters away from the gate now, only a few meters away from freedom.

“Close the gate!” the captain yells as I brush by. The girl crashes into him but manages to slip through his grasp when he stumbles.

The metal gears groan and churn and the wooden gate starts falling down. The checkpoint guards brandish their weapons, our last obstacles to freedom.

“We won’t make it!” the girl wheezes.

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