The beginning of an edge-of-your-seat, motion‑packed epic fantasy sequence from the irreverent Jackson Ford, the place a wild band generally known as the Bone Raiders harness the facility of gigantic, fire-breathing lizards to defend their homeland.
Learn an excerpt from The Bone Raiders (US), obtainable now, beneath!
One
Garrick
I used to be out taking a piss, and I almost stood on her!”
Garrick slowly opened one eye. Which was an enormous mistake, as a result of that was when his hangover selected to announce itself by whanging arduous towards the within of his cranium. He closed his eye with a pained grunt, rolled again over.
When it got here to pissing on folks, he didn’t wish to know. He actually didn’t.
“Almost kicked her within the head.” The speaker was outdated Batu, simply past the flap of Garrick’s tent. The person was addressing a crowd, it appeared like: a hubbub of excited voices. “She was down within the lengthy grass, all sneaky. If I hadn’t been retaining a watch out, nobody would have discovered her. Nobody!”
Garrick somewhat doubted that. Batu couldn’t discover his arse if the instructions had been tattooed on the again of his wrinkled fingers. Not one of the villagers might.
A burst of agonising gentle lanced by his cracked eyelids. Somebody, some deeply evil fuck, had pushed open the flap of his tent. He held up a hand, however it did no good by any means.
“Garrick, you’ll want to come!” a hazy form shouted. “Batu caught a raider!”
The form vanished as rapidly because it had appeared. Garrick propped himself up on his elbow, blinking, tongue bitter in his mouth.
Raiders.
Been some time since any had come this manner. The brand new Khan and his military had been exterminating them, wiping them off the face of the Tapestry. All a part of the Khan’s grand plan for this land.
A raider scout that allowed themselves to be caught was a really poor raider certainly. Likelihood is, outdated Batu didn’t know what he was speaking about. Nonetheless, Garrick didn’t belief the villagers to not cock this up. Someway.
With a sigh, he discovered his technique to his ft, doing his finest to disregard the horrid pounding in his mind. To his left, his anvil sat, darkish and silent. Instruments close by, organized neatly on a picket bench.
He would have given something to remain inside; the tent was unbearably sizzling, mud hanging within the nonetheless air. However it might be hotter on the market, the place the dual suns might cook dinner you in your boots.
Garrick supposed he’d be needing his axe, for present if nothing else. It lay propped towards the material wall. His fingers closed on the weapon’s worn haft. He slotted it into the sheath on his again as he stepped out, squinting into the searing noon gentle.
The blacksmith stood a head taller than anybody within the village. He was tanned and lined, however the pores and skin on the neck of his sleeveless, boiled leather-based jerkin was nonetheless pale pink. In contrast to the lads of this land, with their neat goatees, his beard ran to his chest in a black river, flecked with gray rapids.
He’d come to the village a yr earlier than, a traveller passing by. He spoke the language, and had bartered for a spot to sleep and a cracked bowl of millet broth. He’d ended up liking the place, and had stayed, providing his expertise at metalwork. There have been rumours of what had pushed him from the west, whispers of scandal and betrayal. Garrick would solely smile when requested, and say that it was a very long time in the past.
There have been loads of settlements identical to this one within the huge, rolling grasslands of the Tapestry. It stood on a hillside, which led to a cliff excessive above a dashing river. The colorful felt tents—gers, they known as them in these components—ran all the way in which up the light slope to the cliff edge.
As Garrick ducked out of his personal ger, one other villager brushed previous him. This one was laughing—at what, Garrick didn’t know, solely that they sounded nervous they usually had been manner, manner, manner too fucking loud.
Garrick clutched his splitting cranium; he’d as soon as been informed that the fermented mare’s milk they drank in these components—airag, they known as it—wasn’t that sturdy. He briefly fantasised about discovering the person who’d informed him that, and beating him to demise. The fundamental stuff wasn’t, to make sure, however the folks of this land had a manner of distilling it that did horrible issues to your mind.
He took a number of deep breaths. As he did so, and with out actually that means to, he glanced to his left.
On the damned banner.
He’d been attempting not to consider it; actually, it was a part of the rationale he’d acquired so drunk final night time. Troopers had planted it two days earlier than, on the backside of the hill. Two white suns and a moon, topped with orange flame on blue material, rippling within the heat wind. The Khan’s Will, it was known as.
Raiders weren’t the one factor the Khan appeared set on exterminating. Villages like this one weren’t a part of his grand plan. Ditto for the various teams of nomads wandering the Tapestry, with their horses and wagons.
The outdated Khan had been content material to let all of them exist, so long as they paid him tribute. The brand new one? That evil little prick needed everybody below his thumb. Which was dangerous information in the event you occurred to love residing out within the grasslands of the Tapestry.
The Khan needed a military. He needed manned borders, garrisons at areas of strategic significance. The official purpose was to be prepared if Dalai invaded, from the north, or Ngu, from the south. Garrick somewhat suspected it was as a result of the person preferred the thought of 1000’s of troops at his beck and name.
And as an alternative of scattered villages and roving bands of nomads, he needed a single shining metropolis, with a large wall and leagues of farmland. Karkorum. His capital. He needed everybody within the Tapestry in a single place, the place he might regulate them.
That was the purpose of the banner. Hey, villagers: these of you who can maintain a sabre, ship your self to army coaching publish haste. Those that can’t, ship your self to Karkorum, and report for work. These metropolis partitions aren’t going to construct themselves, and that grassland gained’t turn out to be good, ordered rows of crops except you set your backs into it.
Didn’t like the thought? Didn’t fancy ravenous in a crowded, diseased slum, or struggling pressured marches for no good purpose? No downside. You could possibly run, or you possibly can… no, really that was about it. Run, and hope you escaped the Khan’s discover, or that one of many battalions roaming the Tapestry didn’t come throughout you. Good luck.
The entire thing pissed him off. Life within the Tapestry was arduous, however it suited him. Residing in a nation-sized army camp didn’t.
For the reason that troopers planted that banner, the entire village had been in an uproar. Everybody knew what transferring to Karkorum meant—no person got here again from there. So that they’d argued and debated and fought, and wasted precious time.
Later immediately, the troopers could be again, asking pointed questions on why the villagers had been nonetheless right here. The type of questions that normally ended up with somebody’s coronary heart on a picket stake.
Hangover or not, Garrick supposed to be lengthy gone earlier than issues acquired to the hearts-on-stakes bit. He had no intention of combating within the military, or slaving away within the metropolis, and he couldn’t cease the Khan on his personal. This land was completed, however he wasn’t. He’d go north, over the mountains maybe. To a spot the place they made booze that didn’t hole out your cranium from the within.
Nonetheless, he’d take care of this raider scenario first—if it was certainly a raider scenario. Least he might do.
He frowned as he took within the crowd: an offended, noisy mess of individuals surrounding their captive. The gang was transferring, dragging their prisoner up the slim road between the gers, stepping previous the village’s single wagon—an historic contraption with three remaining wheels, the naked axle propped up with wooden blocks. In on a regular basis he’d been right here, Garrick had by no means seen it transfer. Nobody even appeared to know who it belonged to.
When this village decamped, headed to Karkorum to start their fabulous new lives in service to the Khan, it might be the one factor left behind. A monument to what the Tapestry was.
He trailed the group as they dragged their prey to the sting of the cliff. The river sat fifty ft beneath, gleaming within the suns, reflecting a noon sky crammed with puffy, billowing clouds. Past the river, shimmering grass stalks stretched to the mountains on the horizon.
He was going to overlook this place. What a waste, to empty it of individuals, pressure them to dwell behind partitions or in army camps.
There was a dusty, historic picket pole sunk into the bottom close to the cliff—Garrick had by no means acquired round to asking what it was for. Possibilities had been, nobody would know anyway. They had been tying somebody to it as he arrived, shoving her to take a seat on the dust, binding her wrists above her head with a strip of tough fabric.
For as soon as, outdated Batu had been useless proper. This was no traveller. Travellers didn’t put on paint. Hers was a jagged pink slash, working from proper temple to left jawbone.
“Discovered her skulking within the reeds, I did!” Batu bleated, to anybody who would hear. “If I hadn’t had the boys with me, she would’ve run me by. Almost took off Nugai’s ear earlier than we acquired her pinned.”
Nugai grinned as a number of others slapped him on the again. Blood trickled down the aspect of his head, staining his beaded blue healer’s headband.
The scout wouldn’t cease struggling. She was younger, twenty maybe, with a spherical face and a tough twist to her mouth. Tall—over six foot, simply, with a physique like a reed. Pores and skin lined in nicks and scars, mementos of previous battles.
Her hair wasn’t lower quick, like so many different raiders. As an alternative, she had a single lengthy, black braid working right down to her waist.
One of many villagers grabbed it, laughing as he wrapped it across the pole and tied it to itself in a careless knot, pulling the scout’s head again towards the arduous wooden. They’d taken her sash, and her light gray deel hung open, the gown exhibiting powerful leather-based beneath.
Among the villagers had been passing the lady’s sabres round. The truth that she had two weapons was unusual in itself: combating with twin blades was silly. It seemed flashy, however you couldn’t defend your self, or grapple. You’d get skewered in the event you didn’t transfer like lightning. It was precisely the type of combating that they preferred within the palace in Karkorum, funnily sufficient, the place all you needed to do was entertain the Khan whereas he had his breakfast.
“She’s Black Arms!” somebody shouted. “Must be!”
“Not an opportunity,” mentioned one other voice. “We despatched them working ages in the past.”
Garrick grunted at that. There wasn’t a lot we about it, if he remembered proper. Simply him.
“Arkan’s Eagles then. None of them even know the fitting technique to maintain a blade, no shock one among them acquired herself caught.”
“Down by Arsi’s tent.” Batu was nonetheless going. “Discovered her myself after I went to take a piss!”
Garrick crouched, learning the scout. She caught his eye and really snarled at him. It sounded pressured, theatrical, like a mummer in some play.
He discovered he pitied her, only a tiny bit. Should you needed to decide a profession with no future within the Tapestry, being a raider was on the prime of the checklist. Even those nonetheless on the market, which apparently included this younger pup, had been on borrowed time.
Awfully arduous to make a residing as a raider if there have been no settlements left to raid, in any case. Or if the military is taking particular pleasure in wiping you out.
You could possibly quit, after all. Faux to be a villager, or attempt to be a part of the military your self. Simply one other citizen obeying your Khan’s orders. But when they caught you…
There was one thing about this raider, although, that made the pores and skin on the again of his neck prickle.
“Who do you journey with?” he murmured, simply loud sufficient for her to listen to. “Communicate.”
She spat at him. The glob of spit didn’t fairly make it, splashing into the dust. The raider lashed out along with her unbound ft, catching nothing however mud. Twisting towards the rope round her wrists.
There was a necklace at her throat, most of it hidden beneath her leather-based armour. The factor prickling the again of Garrick’s neck began to maneuver down his backbone as he reached over, snagging the string, ignoring her bared enamel. Lifting it out.
Bones.
Polished white chips, threaded on the woven string.
Most raiders within the Tapestry weren’t value a rattling. You could possibly struggle them off on day, stand your floor. However most didn’t imply all. And there was one group specifically, a bunch who Garrick had solely heard of, by no means really seen…
Panic had a wierd manner of exhibiting itself. For such a vicious emotion, it at all times got here on regularly. The set of somebody’s shoulders. A tiny crack in one other’s voice.
It began to unfold by the villagers behind Garrick the second they noticed the bones. The lady gave him a sluggish, twisted smile, and for the primary time, she spoke. Above the trembling murmur of the group, her voice carried completely.
“You’re so fucked.”
And identical to that, the villagers misplaced their minds.
All of them began shouting, bumping into one another, scrambling of their haste to get away. Certainly one of them nonetheless held the scout’s sabres, almost impaling one other villager as he spun in place. A phrase saved arising, rising above the tumult repeatedly.
Rakada.
Garrick didn’t imagine within the gods of this land. Didn’t imagine that Father Sky and Mom Earth had woven the Tapestry, 1000’s of years earlier than. However he couldn’t assist himself pondering, only for a second, that they had been vindictive bastards nonetheless. First the Khan’s Will, and now this? What else might probably befall this village?
He pressured himself to look away from the girl’s triumphant smile. “Sufficient,” he bellowed.
Amazingly, they listened.
He turned slowly, taking within the frozen villagers. His hangover was gone. This was why they wanted him: to be a gradual hand when others wavered.
He couldn’t defend them from the Khan’s Will, nobody might… however he might stand agency towards raiders. Even these raiders.
“Bayar,” he mentioned, his lips barely transferring. The person with the sabres gazed up at him, trembling. “Get everybody to security. Take them to the river, and observe it east. The place it widens, the grass is tall sufficient to cover in.”
There was the sound of wooden on leather-based as his axe slipped free. “The remainder of you: with me.”
“Are you aware what the Rakada are?” one of many ladies snarled. “Are you aware what they do?”
“You need your bones hanging from their horses, pale man?”
“It’s a trick! It needs to be! We have to struggle.”
“No no no. We ransom her, sure? Again to these monsters.”
“The Bone Raiders gained’t care. Minimize her throat, and have performed with it! One much less raider to struggle later…”
Garrick examined the load of his axe. How a lot time did they’ve? Minutes? How lengthy earlier than the Rakada missed their scout? He listened arduous, forcing his well past the panicked voices of the villagers. Listened for the sound of howling, carried on the wind.
The sound of rattling bones.
They didn’t come. As an alternative, there was a really peculiar, rumbling growl.
Garrick turned, pondering it was too late, that the Rakada had already arrived. However the factor coming alongside the sting of the cliff in direction of them, from the north, wasn’t a raider. It wasn’t a soldier, come to hold out the Khan’s orders.
It wasn’t even human.
Garrick had heard tales of warfare elephants, within the kingdoms past the mountains. He’d seen enormous crocodiles within the rivers of the southern deltas. The factor strolling alongside the cliff seemed as if a sorcerer had melded the 2, introduced them collectively to create the one largest creature Garrick had ever seen.
The lizard—that’s what it was, a fucking lizard—was twice his top on the shoulder, with a large, muscular physique swaying back and forth. Scales the color of summer time grass. The tail swished the air, the tip a thick, bony membership the dimensions of a boulder.
4 highly effective legs caught out, thick as tree trunks, the knees bent at ninety levels. Toes with splayed, hooked claws so long as sabres. Garrick stared, mouth slack, amazed at how quietly it walked. One thing that massive shouldn’t be capable of transfer that silently. It wasn’t honest.
And the top…
A full half of its size was taken up by a protracted, tapering snout; the enamel reminded Garrick of the knives he’d made when he was nonetheless an apprentice smith. Jagged and uneven. Behind the enamel was a forked tongue the size of a person’s arm, purple as mountain flowers. Two horns caught up from the highest of its head, little nubbins of gray bone.
The gang froze, attempting to know what they had been seeing. As a result of araatan—that was the title for them, wasn’t it?—didn’t come into the Tapestry. They didn’t come wherever close to the Tapestry. They lived within the distant Baina Mountains: solitary, retiring animals that ate goats and wild horses, together with any tragically unfortunate tigers who acquired somewhat too formidable with their looking grounds.
Garrick had actually by no means seen one—and undoubtedly not one casually marching into the village, 100 miles from the closest mountain. It didn’t make sense.
For a wierd second, he puzzled if the captive scout might need summoned it—that this was the Bone Raiders’ actual trick, that they might in some way command araatan. However no, the sure girl was staring on the animal too, eyes enormous and horrified.
The lizard’s eyes discovered Garrick, every as massive as his head, yellow and feral. Earlier than he might even suck in a breath, it began to maneuver sooner, ft pounding the earth. Coming proper for him.
Transfer, Garrick thought. And he did.
Not even near quick sufficient.
An infinite, clawed foot took him on the waist. His left leg bent the flawed manner, snapped like a twig as he crashed to the bottom. Axe gone. He couldn’t cry out, couldn’t even breathe.
Sizzling breath on his face, stinking of outdated meat. Jaws, enamel, tongue, open extensive above him. If he might simply discover his axe…
The jaws didn’t snap shut. A brilliant level glowed inside them, and a wave of sizzling air buffeted Garrick, thick and syrupy. The screams of the villagers rose round him.
No—!
After which there was nothing however hearth.
Two
Sayana
Sayana had grown up within the palace, in Karkorum.
From a younger age, her mother and father made her attend court docket. Students stuffed her days, drilling her in manners and elocution, instructing her tips on how to comport herself with grace and modesty. They taught her that there was an accurate and eloquent response for each scenario.
Sadly, her training didn’t embrace what to say in the event you had been tied to a pole whereas a large lizard burned a person to a crisp in entrance of you, then ate him. So what got here out of her mouth was: “Holy fucking shit!”
The beast bent its gigantic head down, snapped its jaws across the blistered, twitching hulk, and ripped it off the bottom. Sayana yanked arduous at her sure wrists, twisting backwards and forwards. Which not solely didn’t work—in any respect—however ripped her pores and skin to shreds and made her pull a muscle in her shoulder, due to course it did.
She was the one individual really attempting to get away. Everybody else—everybody, each final soul within the village—simply stared on the araatan in frozen shock because it swallowed its prey.
That lasted till the fool holding Sayana’s sabres dropped them into the dust. The lizard instantly lunged ahead, plucked him up in its jaws, and crunched down.
At that time, your entire crowd misplaced its collective thoughts. They scattered, screaming, scrambling. It was the good factor to do, and really dangerous information for Sayana, as a result of she was nonetheless tied to the pole.
“Hey.” She gave her wrists, tightly sure above her head, one other futile yank. She couldn’t fairly imagine issues had gone this flawed. “Don’t simply go away me right here!”
The opposite Rakada weren’t going to get there in time—they had been in all probability nonetheless ready for her to come back again from her scout. The probabilities of them showing to chop her free had been about the identical because the lizard transferring on with out noticing a tasty and conveniently tied-up meal.
“Oh, Father Sky shit in your heads,” Sayana yelled on the scattering villagers. She normally did her finest to not take the names of the Weavers in useless, however actually. She scooted spherical on her bottom, attempting to get behind the pole. It wouldn’t assist, however she had completely no concept what else to do.
Of all of the raids to go utterly flawed within the worst manner doable, it simply had to be this one, didn’t it?
It had been weeks since they’d discovered a village or a band of nomads to raid: everybody was leaving, pressured by the Khan to journey south to Karkorum. The Rakada had been low on meals, provides, every little thing from needle and thread to spare stirrups, they usually’d actually wanted this raid to go proper.
Then that arsehole virtually stepped on her, throughout her scout, and now this… factor confirmed up. What was the fucking araatan even doing right here? They lived within the mountains. They didn’t hunt within the grasslands…
Certainly one of her sabres was a couple of ft away, mendacity within the dust, and you recognize what? She might ponder the mysteries of araatan behaviour later. Ideally when she was very distant, and had drunk sufficient airag to make a horse black out.
Swallowing her panic, Sayana thrust her ft out to snag the weapon. If she might drag it shut sufficient, even simply get a toe on it…
She strained and strained, heel digging a furrow within the dust, however it was no good. Too far. And it wasn’t like there was one other blade close by; not a lot as a skinning knife.
She was going to die right here. The thought was chilly, skinny as a needle.
Sayana had by no means regretted changing into a raider. She’d hated the gilded cage she was born into, hated having each second of her complete life chosen for her. Hated that she was anticipated to be quiet, obedient, submissive—to everybody. Her mother and father, her future husband, even the kids she was anticipated to have.
No different raiders, so far as she knew, had grown up within the palace. However residing in a village or as a part of a nomad band wasn’t significantly better. It was arduous work, obligation, marrying who your mother and father informed you to, working the roles the elders demanded. The Tapestry was lovely, however in the event you lived in a village like this, you didn’t get to understand it. Your life was one among service, and for some folks, it chafed and bit like a badly fitted saddle.
Being a raider meant freedom. Doing what you need, while you needed. Driving below open skies, with no person however your clan to reply to. It meant residing a life the place you possibly can take pleasure in the Tapestry, take pleasure in the Weavers’ work.
At any time when any Rakada doubted what they had been doing, at any time when anybody had second ideas, Chimeg—their Chief—reminded them what this life provided. You could possibly dwell in regular society, working from suns-up to suns-down doing what you had been informed, simply to outlive… or you possibly can attain out with each fingers and seize maintain of what you needed.
It was value killing for. Should you had been good about it—and the Rakada had been—you by no means killed anybody you didn’t should. That was the worth, and Sayana paid it gladly.
However there was a flipside: demise might come for you too. You accepted the danger, accepted that any day could possibly be your final (which meant you’d higher profit from the one you had been at the moment residing).
Sayana had at all times thought it was a good commerce. Till now, tied to this pole, which had made her begin to query her life decisions.
Her eyes landed on a stone within the mud, somewhat smaller than her fist. Certainly one of its edges was jagged, and it was simply inside vary of her left foot.
No manner. A stone wasn’t a blade, and even positioning it…
Then once more, it was that, or dinner.
There was just one manner this went down. Just one technique to get the stone the place she wanted it. Nonetheless, she forged her eyes skywards, abruptly regretting her earlier outburst. “Little assist?” she requested, in case both of the Weaver gods had been listening, and would maybe take pity on her by conjuring up a helpful sinkhole that will swallow the lizard.
To the shock of exactly nobody, this didn’t occur. “Proper,” Sayana muttered. “Understood. Thanks ever a lot.”
She started kicking on the prime of her left boot along with her proper, winkling her foot to assist it alongside. The boot was good leather-based, worn and comfy, and fitted snugly. Getting it off was agonisingly sluggish, and at each second, she was satisfied that the lizard was going to show round, have a look at her like she was an fool, after which eat her.
Lastly, her foot was free. She skittered the stone in direction of her, snagged it between massive toe and second toe, instantly dropped it. Picked it up once more, foot muscle mass already beginning to cramp, holding it as tightly as she dared.
She scooted her butt ahead, away from the pole, sliding her again down the picket floor—so far as she might, anyway, along with her fingers tied above her. Then she lifted her legs off the bottom, bending on the waist, her abs screaming at her. She’d at all times been grateful for her hip flexibility, which allowed her to bend double with ease, however she’d by no means as soon as thought it’d save her life.
If she might get her ft up and over her head, get the stone to her questing fingers…
No good. There was nonetheless a number of inches between her ft and fingers. She wanted to get her butt and her decrease again even additional ahead, squeeze out just a bit bit extra from her hips.
She thrust her head and torso out, away from her sure fingers—and instantly jerked to a cease.
Her braid. It was nonetheless tied across the pole.
Sayana snarled in disbelieving fury, twisting her head backwards and forwards, attempting desperately to undo the free knot. The others had been at all times giving her shit about her braid. You spend an excessive amount of time attempting to maintain it clear, Sayana. Somebody can seize it in a struggle, Sayana. It’ll get you killed.
Properly, fuck them. Simply because she needed to get as distant from the palace as doable didn’t imply she couldn’t preserve no less than one factor from her outdated life. All the identical, she was actually glad the remainder of the Rakada weren’t round to see that they had been proper about her hair getting her killed.
The knot got here free. Sayana gasped in triumph, pushing her decrease again even additional away from the pole, lifting her ft as excessive as they might go, toes screaming at her as they clutched the stone. Her core trembling, burning, fingertips stretched out.
Together with her luck, this was precisely when the lizard would discover her. She wouldn’t simply die, she’d die trying exceptionally silly.
Her fingers brushed the stone’s floor…
And he or she had it. Gasping as she let her legs fall again, eyes on the lizard. Weavers’ Breath, the beast was massive; she was drowning in its shadow. It chewed on its prey, head bent, its again to her. That massive tail thrumming the air.
Slowly, she rotated the stone till the jagged edge confronted in. The sting alone wasn’t going to be sufficient. She’d have to make use of her fingers to noticed the material backwards and forwards.
She started working. Each time the stone slipped, even somewhat, her coronary heart threatened to smash proper out of her ribcage.
One of many villagers crept into view. The one whose ear she’d almost sliced off, sporting the blue headband of a healer. He circled to the rear of the lizard, holding a rusted sabre. Why he selected that weapon when a wonderfully good pair of sharp blades lay within the dust by his ft, Sayana didn’t know. Fairly what he thought he was going to do with the blade was much more of a thriller; taking up an araatan with it might be like attempting to kill a mountain with a tree department.
“Over right here,” she hissed, pausing her work on the material for a second. “Minimize me free. I may also help!”
She wasn’t going to assist. She was going to run as quick and so far as she might, however he didn’t have to know that.
The person ignored her, specializing in the lizard. He raised his sabre, and in that second, the beast twisted, lunged and ripped him off the bottom.
“Oh, come on!” Sayana howled as blood spattered the dust. She began sawing at her bonds once more, frantic, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. She had no concept if it was working—
—after which her fingers had been free, springing free so quick she wasn’t prepared for it.
She scrambled up, mud caking her one naked foot. A number of gers had been on hearth now, black smoke curling into the blue sky. She darted ahead, and grabbed her boot, adopted by her closest sabre. She turned to get the opposite—and stopped.
Her weapons ought to have been subsequent to one another within the dust. Somebody—perhaps the healer, perhaps the lizard itself—will need to have kicked the second blade out of attain. It now lay very near the beast’s clawed rear foot.
High quality, she’d lied about her braid being the one factor she’d saved from dwelling. Her sabres had been outdated associates, ones she used to sneak away from court docket to coach with. And it wasn’t nearly dropping one thing particular. The considered having her sabre find yourself within the fingers of a clueless villager, one who might boast about taking it from a Rakada—a Rakada who ran away, no much less—was unimaginable to abdomen.
The beast had its again to her nonetheless, tail swishing, the thick knot of bone dragging a furrow by the dust because it tore on the now very useless healer.
She wasn’t going to waste the possibility. She tiptoed in direction of the creature, attempting to be as unobtrusive as doable, eyes on her misplaced sabre.
Nearly there. She reached out a hand…
Which was when the beast swung its head round and stared down at her.
The beginning of an edge-of-your-seat, motion‑packed epic fantasy sequence from the irreverent Jackson Ford, the place a wild band generally known as the Bone Raiders harness the facility of gigantic, fire-breathing lizards to defend their homeland.
“Superior. Masterfully executed. Incessantly hilarious.” — Nicholas Eames, creator of Kings of the Wyld
WE DIDN’T START THE FIRE . . . BUT OUR GIANT FIRE-BREATHING LIZARDS DID.
You don’t f*ck with the Rakada. The folks residing within the grasslands of the Tapestry name them the Bone Raiders, from their charming behavior of displaying the bones of these they kill on their armour. However being a raider is hard nowadays. There’s a brand new Nice Khan within the Tapestry. He plans to make use of his sizeable army to do away with the raider clans. After which there are the massive fire-breathing lizards which might be straying into the grasslands somewhat too typically nowadays.
Sayana is a raider scout. She is aware of that to guard their lifestyle, she wants do one thing drastic. Like convincing her clan to journey these enormous lizards, as an alternative of horses. Sayana doesn’t know tips on how to do it with out being eaten and/or cooked alive, however she’d higher determine it out quick – or she and her clan, together with each different raider within the Tapestry, can be worn out.
“Ford begins this new sequence with quirky characters, a great deal of nice motion sequences, and his trademark model of humor.” — Booklist
“The Bone Raiders is a relentlessly cheeky, ofttimes unserious, and undisputedly rip-roaring little bit of fantasy that may solely be written by Jackson Ford. Badass feminine protagonists, discovered household, and big lizards — what extra do you want? Add this one to your TBR. I absolutely assure you’ll be entertained.” — FanFiAddict
For extra from Jackson Ford, take a look at:
The Woman Who Might Transfer Sh*t With Her Thoughts
Random Sh*t Flying By way of the Air
Eye of the Sh*t Storm
A Sh*tload of Loopy Powers
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