Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,63
Slowly, a cloud of the maji’s consciousness appears. Wispy and blue like the others, twisting above his head. As I touch it with my hand, the dead man’s essence hits first: a tinged scent. Rustic. Like burnt timber and coal.
My lips curl as I sink into his lingering psyche, reaching for it instead of running away. A single memory begins to flicker into my mind. A quiet day when his temple teemed with life. He ran across the manicured grass, hand in hand with a young boy.
The more I release the hold on my magic, the bigger the flicker grows. A whiff of clean mountain air fills my nose. A distant song rings through my ears. Each detail becomes rich and robust. As if the memory stored in his consciousness is my own.
With time, new knowledge begins to settle. A soul. A name. Something simple …
Lekan—
Metal heels clank against the stone cliff.
Skies! With a start, I force my magic down.
The smell of timber and coal vanishes in an instant. A sharp pain in my stomach reappears in its stead.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my head reels from the whiplash. Moments later Kaea emerges from the thick underbrush.
Sweat-soaked hair sticks to her brown skin, now splattered with Lekan’s blood. As she nears, I reach up to make sure my helmet is still covering my head. That was far too close.…
“There’s no way across,” she sighs, sitting down beside me. “I scouted a full kilometer. With the bridge destroyed, we can’t travel between this mountain and the next.”
Figures. In the brief flicker I got of Lekan, I guessed as much. He was intelligent. He pursued the only path that would allow them to escape.
“I told him not to do this.” Kaea removes her black breastplate. “I knew this wouldn’t work.” She shuts her eyes. “He will blame me for their resurgence. He’ll never look at me the same way again.”
I know the look she speaks of; like she’s the sun, and he the sky. It’s the gaze Father reserves for her. The one he shares when he thinks they’re alone.
I lean away and pick at my boot, unsure of what to say. Kaea never breaks down in front of me. Before today, I thought she never broke at all.
In her despair, I see my own. My concession, my defeat. But that is not my place. I must be a stronger king.
“Stop moping,” I snap. We haven’t lost the war yet.
Magic has a new face.
That simply means I must attack with a new blade.
“There’s a guard post east of Sokoto,” I say. Find the maji. Find the scroll. “We can send word of the collapsed bridge with your firehawk. If they dispatch a legion of stock laborers, we can build another one.”
“Brilliant.” Kaea buries her face in her hands. “Let’s make it easier for the maggots to return and kill us when their powers are restored.”
“We’ll find them before that happens.” I’ll kill her.
I’ll save us.
“With what leads?” Kaea asks. “Getting the men and supplies alone will take days. Building it—”
“Three days,” I cut her off. How dare she question my reasoning? Admiral or not, Kaea cannot defy an order from me.
“If they work through the night, they can get it done,” I continue. “I’ve seen stockers construct palaces with less.”
“What use will a bridge be, Inan? Even if we build it, there’ll be no trace of that maggot by the time it’s done.”
I pause and look across the cliff. The sea-salt scent of the girl’s soul is almost gone, fading in the jungle’s underbrush. Kaea’s right. A bridge shall only take us so far. By nightfall, I won’t be able to sense the divîner at all.
Unless …
I turn back to the temple, recalling the way it made voices surge in my head. If it could do that, perhaps it can allow my magic to sense more.
“Chândomblé.” I shift the sênet pieces around in my mind. “They came here for answers. Maybe I can find some, too.”
Yes, that’s it. If I discover what’s amplifying my curse, I can use it to pick up the girl’s trail. Just this once.
“Inan—”
“It’ll work,” I interrupt. “Summon the stockers and lead the construction while I search. There will be traces of the girl there. I’ll uncover the clues to where they’re headed.”
I pocket Father’s pawn; in its absence, the air hits cold against my skin. This fight is not over yet. The war has only begun.