Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,82
I need my magic now.
Oya, please. The prayer feels strange, like a language half-learned and entirely forgotten. But after my awakening, our connection should be stronger than ever. If I call, she has to answer.
Help me. Guide me. Lend me your strength. Let me protect my brother and free the spirits trapped in this place.
I close my eyes, gathering the electric energy of the dead into my bones. I’ve studied the scroll. I can do this.
I can be a Reaper now.
“4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”
A lavender light glows in my hands. Sharp heat courses through my veins. The incantation pushes my spiritual pathways open, allowing ashê to flow through. The first spirit surges through my body, ready for my command. Unlike Minoli, my only knowledge of this animation is his death; my stomach aches from the cannonball that ripped through his gut.
When I finish the incantation, the first animation floats before me, a swirl of vengeance and bubbles and blood. The animation takes the shape of a human, forming its body out of the water around us. Though its expression is clouded by the bubbles, I sense the militant resolve of its spirit. My own soldier. The first in an army of the dead.
For the briefest moment, triumph overpowers the exhaustion running through my muscles. I’ve done it. I’m a Reaper. A true sister of Oya.
A pang of sadness flashes through me. If only Mama could see me now.
But I can still honor her spirit.
I will make every fallen Reaper proud.
“4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”
With the dwindling ashê in me, I chant, casting one more animation to life. I point to a ship, then give my command.
“Bring it down!”
To my surprise, the animations tear through the water with the speed of arrows. They shoot forward at my target, moments away from a strike.
The water rumbles when they hit, blowing straight through the vessel’s hull. Planks of wood fly like spears, twisting as water rushes in.
I did it.…
I don’t know whether to search for Oya in the sky or within my own hands. Spirits of the dead answered my call. They bent to my will!
The water swallows the ship whole, capsizing the vessel. But before my excitement can settle, falling divîners crash into the water.
I spin, taking in the collateral damage. The fallen crew thrashes for the top, kicking toward the edge of the arena. Terror hits when I see one girl plunge through the water with limp limbs. My chest seizes as her unconscious body begins to sink like lead.
“Save her!”
I push the command out, but my connection to the animations withers like the final breath left in my chest. I can already feel the spirit soldiers fading, leaving the hell of this arena for the peace of the afterlife.
As I kick upward, the animations dive like horn-tailed manta rays, surrounding the girl before she can hit the bottom of the arena. Ashê buzzes in my veins as they pull her up to a floating piece of dirftwood, granting her a chance to live.
“Ugh!” I cough when I break through the surface. Something leaves me as the animations disappear. I send silent thanks to their spirits as I wheeze for air.
“Did you see that?” the announcer booms. The arena erupts, not knowing what took the boat down.
“Zélie!” Tzain shouts from above, a crazed smile on his face despite the nightmare around us. His grin holds a glow I haven’t seen in over a decade, a light he would have whenever he watched Mama’s magic at work.
“That!” He points. “Keep doing that!”
Pride swells in my chest, heating me from within. I take a deep breath before diving back down.
Then I begin to chant.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AMARI
CHAOS.
Before this moment, I never truly understood the word. Chaos meant Mother’s screams before a luncheon. It meant the scramble of oloyes to their gold-lined chairs.
Now chaos surrounds me, pulsing through every breath and heartbeat. It sings as blood splatters through the air, screams as boats explode into oblivion.
I scramble to the back of the boat and cover my head as a boom rings. Our vessel shakes as another cannon strikes its hull. Only seventeen ships float, yet somehow, we are still in this fight.
Before me, everyone moves with unmatched precision, fighting despite the mayhem. Tendons bulge against the rowers’ necks as they drive the ship forward; sweat pours down the crew’s faces as they load more blastpowder into the breeches of the cannons.