Bonesmith (House of the Dead, #1)(3)

“A race,” Inara said, darting a glance up into the trees before looking down again. “First one through wins.”

That was already, more or less, the purpose of the trial. It was not timed, but being last to finish would not look good. Everyone wanted to be first, Wren most of all.

“And the second one through?”

Inara turned her head enough to frown, as if the answer were obvious. “Loses.”

Wren smirked. It was sufficient motivation for both of them, but… “That hardly makes things interesting. I plan on winning whether you dare me to or not.”

Inara licked her lips, her gaze fixed on the ground. “If you win, I’ll give you Nightstalker.”

That caught Wren’s attention. Nightstalker was the Fell ancestral dagger, currently sitting in Inara’s open hands and gleaming in the moonlight.

Like Wren’s own blade, it had a long history within the House of Bone and had belonged to dozens of talented valkyrs over the years—most recently, Inara’s mother. She had been Wren’s father’s schoolhouse rival, just as Inara was hers.

How sweet would it be to lay claim to such a weapon? To show her father that she had not only outclassed her greatest competition—and in a lesser way, his—but now possessed two valkyr blades?

They were more than just practical weapons; they were symbols of the valkyr order itself, representative of their place within the House of Bone. They were not given lightly and could only be taken by a worthy opponent during a formal challenge. Or by the head of the house if a blade bearer was deemed unworthy.

Wren couldn’t imagine a more powerful way to prove herself. To be spectacular.

There was, however, a flip side to the arrangement.

“And if I win,” Inara continued, “you give me Ghostbane.”

Wren’s dagger, and her father’s dagger before her. It felt heavy suddenly, sitting in her palms, causing her arms to tremble with the weight.

Once this night was through, Wren would either have two ancestral blades… or none.

But with or without the bet, she had no intention of losing, as Inara put it, and not coming first. Then again…

You cannot simply pass tonight…. You must pass spectacularly.

“Oh, one more thing,” Inara added, with the superiority of someone who has set the bait and is ready to release the trap. “We have to take the Spine.”

The Spine. It was the hardest path between the trees, slicing right through the middle of the forest. It was the shortest way, but also the oldest and most severely haunted, traversing the very heart of the Bonewood.

It was the surest way to run into trouble, even if they weren’t traveling together. But they were. They’d be directly in each other’s path the whole way through, which presented its own opportunities and obstacles. Much as Wren flouted the rules on principle, she didn’t intend to sabotage Inara. But if they traveled together, she could.

And, of course, Inara could sabotage her, too. Doubtful, since Inara was a teacher’s pet who loved the rules, but this was the Bonewood Trial. The stakes had never been higher.

It would be risky, and reckless, and make what was already a challenging test twice as dangerous.

You cannot simply pass tonight…. You must pass spectacularly.

A horn call sounded, making Wren jump. She looked up at the moon, just now cresting the highest branches. She lurched to a standing position along with the others, her grip on her dagger achingly tight.

She glanced at her father once more; then her gaze shifted to Inara. “You’re on.”

The moon cleared the bonetrees.

All eyes fell on Lady-Smith Svetlana. It was she who had called them to arms in the first place.

Ready your blade.

And it was she who spoke again now.

“Defeat the undead.”

The Bonewood Trial had begun.





TWO


The forest was ten miles wide and another ten deep. Some said the ancient bonesmiths had been giants, their limbs as long as Wren was tall—but it was more likely that they had stretched and distorted the bonetrees, making them narrow and spindly or thick as oaks.

That was the magic of the bonesmiths, the ability to sense, move, and manipulate dead bones without touch. Within a ten-foot radius, bonesmiths could summon a bone to their hand, guide its movements in midair, or heft bones much heavier than their muscles alone could bear. Valkyrs like Wren carried bone weapons, their magic lending them extra speed and strength, as well as pinpoint accuracy.

Bonesmiths could also see spiritual tethers—the fibers that connected the ghost to its bones—that were indistinguishable to the non-bonesmith eye.

If Wren was totally honest, they were often invisible to her eye as well. It came down to training and natural talent—the former of which Wren hadn’t bothered with, knowing that it was the realm of the reapyrs and she was meant to be a valkyr, and the latter she’d simply been born without.

Reapyrs had a more delicate touch, able to detect and label every bump and groove, and were better at sensing and locating the anchor bone—the bone that connected the ghost to the body. While all bones in a dead body contained some trace of the spirit, the anchor bone was the strongest. It was usually the bone nearest the mortal wound that had killed the person, or in the case of death by illness or age, the bone nearest the ailment or first organs that started to fail.