The Bone Collar

By Jared Millet

Majadan has fallen. The Empire of the Sea-Elves is next.

Moth Blackwater is the last of her kind, a shapeshifting nomad – part human, part raven – whose tribe once wandered Majadan’s skies. Now that the Wight Lords have murdered her family, and the city of Majadan itself has been conquered, Moth is on the run half a world away in an ancient archipelago of sea-faring elves.

The Empress Tatiana, once a prisoner of the Wights, has ruled her island empire for two thousand years. The power of her navy has brought peace to the world, but never has the Empress turned her strength against the Wight Lords’ evil. As their oncoming war threatens all of civilization, there are some who believe she won’t lift a hand to stop them.

During a desperate gamble to survive, Moth stumbles on the secret at the heart of Tatiana’s reign: a hidden connection between the Empress and the Wights that endangers all the nations of the world. As Tatiana’s admirals plot to retake Majadan by force, Moth will join a conspiracy to dethrone the Empress herself.

At first, Moth was searching for nothing but a home. In that search, she was swept up in the fight to save her people. But when all sides turn against her, when every friend becomes a foe, when the threat of destruction hangs over all she holds dear, can one lost girl stand against an Immortal?

No matter the odds, Moth will have to try.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jared Millet
• Release date: Jul 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005166731

Jared Millet

Jared Millet spent over twenty years as a public librarian before shifting gears to write full time. His work has appeared in multiple magazines and anthologies, with even more stories to come. His travel writing, including tales of ten months circumnavigating South America, can be found online at TheEscapeHatch.net.

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The Bone Collar

The Bone Collar

The Battle for Majadan : 2

Jared Millet

THE BONE COLLAR

Copyright © 2021 by Jared Millet

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be copied, reproduced, or transmitted in any form without express written consent except in the case of brief excerpts used for review purposes.

This is a work of fiction. All persons, locales, organizations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: July 2021

www.SecondEarths.com

Maps © 2021 by Joel Millet

Cover by Olivia Pro Design

Many thanks to Sara Hogendoorn and Jonathan Millet

for planting the seeds of my heroes, Moth and Aust.

City MapWorld Map

Blackbirds, blackbirds, watch me, do,

Sing me a tale, and count me true:

One for a sadness drenched in rain,

Two for a gladness free of pain,

Three for a girl in a lovely dress,

Four for a boy in a tattered vest,

Five for a silver-ransomed king,

Six for a golden wedding ring,

Seven for a secret black as tar,

Eight for a wish made on a star,

Nine for a promise sealed with a kiss,

Ten for a night of joyous bliss.

Blackbirds, blackbirds, skyward roam,

Sing me a tale, lead me home.

– traditional Scenga children’s rhyme

The Story So Far

My guard urged me down the hall with the butt of his spear. We were three floors above the dungeon where I’d spent the last seven days, and I’d paused for a moment to take a breath of fresh air. The sea-elf marine escorting me hadn’t been living in a windowless prison with two hundred other refugees.

If my sense of direction held true, then this corridor led through one of the sea-fort’s outer walls toward the tower on the island’s northwest corner. A row of archery slits on my left let in the sound of crashing waves and a salty ocean breeze. It was all I could do not to stop and look out.

As we neared the end of the passage, a door behind us thudded open. An instant later, the guard grabbed my shoulder and pushed my back against the wall. He gave me instructions quickly, in a whisper.

Face front, eyes down, don’t talk, don’t move.

As soon as I nodded, he snapped to attention beside me, and we stood like statues as a group of officials passed by. They were led by two sea-elves old enough to wear beards, who argued with each other and seemed blind to their surroundings. One wore the silver and blue of the Empress, while the other sported a black leather coat that would have looked at home on a much younger man.

Hurrying to keep up was a motley collection of soldiers and servants. The blue-liveried guards carried hand-cannons and sabers, none of which looked ceremonial. Two dark-robed scholars bore bundles of pages that they almost couldn’t keep from falling out of their arms. There were three whom I guessed to be messengers by their loose-fitting clothes and soft shoes. My own bare feet ached for something to stand on but stone.

Down the center of this jumbled parade came six serving girls, their hair perfectly coiffed, their faces attentive, their blue gowns barely showing a wrinkle. Like a cadre of elite soldiers, the handmaids marched in a column behind their elders, shaming all the others with their discipline and poise. That is, except for the last and youngest girl, who straggled at the end, apparently lost in thought.

Once the entourage was safely down the hall, I turned around and craned my neck to peek through the arrow slit behind me.

Beyond an expanse of white-flecked waves, a shining city in the west reflected the morning sun. It was my first sight of Shi’El-Tasna, the ancient home of the sea-elf race. Though I’d never seen it before, the three giant towers on the peninsula that formed the city’s breakwater were unmistakable. Shi’El-Tasna had been my destination and many others’, before being captured by the sea-elf navy and brought to this island prison.

With a thump, the doors and the end of the hallway closed.

Excuse me, asked a young girl’s voice. Are you Thomas Eóster?

I turned, stunned to hear a name I hadn’t used in years. The hall was now empty save for my guard and the last of the handmaids. I guessed her to be twelve, thirteen at the most. She stared at me with beaming, inquisitive eyes.

Master Eóster? she asked again, using a poet’s diction.

My friends call me Aust. I immediately wanted to kick myself. A simple yes would have sufficed.

Aust. She spoke the word as if sculpting it. Her eyes were green and her ears were small, but with the sharp points of a pure-blood Shi’El. She chewed her lip for a moment, then said, I read your book.

My what?

Your memoir, she said, about the fall of Majadan.

Oh, I said. Oh no. In my first days at sea, I’d borrowed a logbook from the captain of the Valerie and scribbled down all the events that I’d witnessed on the night when the Wight Lords took Majadan. I’d thought that logbook lost when the navy sank our ship.

I said to the handmaid, I’m sorry.

Her face scrunched. Why?

Because the story was too ugly for a twelve-year-old to read, but I kept that thought to myself.

I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant, I said, or well-written. I probably shouldn’t have used so many swear words.

It was confiscated along with the rest of your captain’s papers. Her eye twinkled with a conspiratorial gleam. I’m certain the seneschal didn’t mean for me to see it.

Oh.

I wasn’t prepared for the relief that washed over me. Most of those who’d died that night would forever remain nameless, but if my book had survived, then those in it would be remembered: Blaylock and Mahri and Vandal. Eris and Jenin. I still felt the ache of their loss, and I’d only known them for a handful of hours.

I rubbed my eyes to keep them from watering, but then the horror of it all came back. I’d poured everything I’d seen and heard into that book.

My gods, I’d confessed to murder.

Was that why I’d been summoned? Had someone in authority read my account, and was now going to bring the hammer down for what I’d done? I’d sworn to accept responsibility for my actions, but I wasn’t familiar with Tasnan law. Did they hang killers here, or did they burn them?

As if she could read my mind, the girl said, Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. They’re going to call for you in a moment. I just wanted to say first how sorry I am for what you went through.

I don’t know why it felt reassuring to be comforted by a child, but it did. I pointed at the window to steer away from my past.

I’ve been looking at the city. It’s the first chance I’ve had.

She tilted her face to the sliver of light behind me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it from here.

I gave the view a performer’s flourish, then realized she was too short to look out. Excuse me, I said to my guard, who was acting like he’d turned to stone. Paying no mind, I grabbed a wooden bench and dragged it to where the girl could look out. She stepped up onto the seat and I joined her.

I wondered if she was older than she looked. My young friend Moth was much the same. The raven-haired Scenga who’d escaped with me from Majadan was almost fifteen, but small for her age. This girl was the same height, but her poise suggested years of training and maturity. Nevertheless, when she stood on her toes to peer through the slit, she looked like the child that she was.

The elf girl sighed as she gazed at the city. Shi’El-Tasna blazed in the light of the sun, though a deep bank of indigo loomed on the horizon. Apparently, autumn storms were common in the Tasnan Isles. When I’d last seen the sun rise over my own city, it had come with a flood summoned by my friend Jenin, calling on her water-goddess to save the lives of thousands. Though she’d vanished, I chose to believe she was alive. At least now, I knew she’d be remembered.

I felt water on my cheek and wiped it off. Hoping the elf girl hadn’t noticed, I said, I don’t see the Empress’s palace.

There it is, she said, right above the towers.

I looked again and let out a small gasp. Floating in the sky was a white-walled castle I’d mistaken for a cloud in the distance, though now I could see it cast a shadow on the towers below. As amazing as it was, I’d thought it would be bigger.

A moment ago, you were thinking about Jenin’s flood, said the girl. How she’d guessed, I didn’t know. We have that in common, you and I. We both owe our lives to Morgrae women.

Oh? I said. This handmaid must have had a pretty interesting childhood.

She nodded. You were saved by one of their priestesses. I was rescued once by a sword-maiden.

Come on, I said, shaking my head. There haven’t been sword-maidens for…

I shut up. Oh gods, I’d said too much already. There hadn’t been sword-maidens for two thousand years, not since the Morgrae fell into decline. I climbed down from the bench, onto my knees, and bowed as low as I could.

Her name was Jane Majh-Dan, the girl went on. I’m horrified by what the Wight Lords did to your people, but I’m saddened for personal reasons as well. When I founded your city, you see, I named it in my rescuer’s honor.

There was more than a hint of amusement in her voice. I didn’t dare look to see if she was smiling. Instead, I kept my head down before Tatiana, Empress of the Shi’El, daughter of the gods of the sky, and immortal light of civilization on earth.

The door at the end of the hall creaked open. A throaty voice said, Your Majesty?

A moment, Mevis, said the Empress. Master Thomas… Aust. Please rise. I give you leave.

I obeyed her command, shaking. There I was, barefoot, in clothes little better than rags, standing in the presence of the most powerful woman in the world. Right then I wished that my guard had knocked me unconscious before I’d overstepped my bounds.

Tatiana smiled. She held back a laugh, in fact. I’m sorry if I deceived you. Her crisp voice took on a formal air. It is rare that anyone addresses me with such familiarity. On occasion, I resort to trickery to prolong it. I apologize. I have enjoyed our conversation. You will be sent for momentarily.

The Empress walked to where the blue-robed elder waited. The door shut behind them, and I kept from passing out. My guard, whom I’d taken for a dullard, had simply been frozen in shock. Sea-elves are so pale that I hadn’t noticed his white-knuckled grip on his pike. Now his face burned red, and I suspected that the Empress’s impending summons was all that stopped him from running me through.

Thomas Eóster? called one of the clerks a few minutes later. I followed him through the door into a dining hall that had been converted into a royal audience chamber. Blue and silver banners covered the walls, while daylight filled the room from windows overhead. In the center stood a pair of tables that were covered with parchments and maps.

At the head of the chamber, at a slight remove, Tatiana sat on a makeshift podium. Her throne was low enough for her feet to touch the floor, but her platform was high enough to put her face above everyone else’s. She sat in silence while the elder in blue and the elder in black argued some point of military allocations. I waited on their attention, wishing for invisibility or a sudden heart attack.

Master Eóster, said the blue-robed counselor whom the Empress had called Mevis. We have read your account of the invasion of Majadan, and we have questions for further clarification.

Mevis didn’t look at me when he spoke, but the sea-elf in black gave me a disapproving stare. Before they went further, the Empress whispered to one of her handmaids, who in turn whispered to Mevis. He looked to his liege with surprise, at myself with confusion, then gestured to one of the guards.

You may be seated, he said as if he could barely believe the words. The guard, a young woman, presented me with a chair.

The questions began.

You say that you witnessed Majadan’s army’s return from its campaign against the Mravans, said the man in black. You claim that you saw General Aidan Arkwright himself. Is that correct?

Yes, I said. My lord, I added.

But you admit later in your document that these were not Majdani soldiers, but were in fact the Mravans themselves in disguise?

I nodded, but he waited for me to answer out loud. Yes, my lord.

How do you account for this?

Hadn’t he read my story? Or was he trying to trip me up, to find some inconsistency so he wouldn’t have to believe it? Well, to hell with him. I knew what I saw.

Magic, I said.

Magic. Ah, yes. According to your story, you once studied magic. You were expelled from the Lyceum, what, ten years ago?

As he spoke, one of the clerks shuffled through a logbook that I now recognized as my manuscript. He found the page in question and underlined a passage.

It was an illusion, I said. Most likely some form of Coins magic. I saw Aidan, I saw his army. The troops looked like our own soldiers, not trogs.

Someone coughed, breaking my train of thought. I went on.

When the illusion broke, I noticed that the trogs wore armor and uniforms taken from our army. I think they used the captured gear as tokens to carry the enchantment. As far as I know, our whole army was slaughtered in battle.

One of the handmaids started crying. Tatiana nodded to one of the others, who led the sobbing girl from the room. Blue-robed Mevis spoke next.

So you suggest that the… Mravans… were able to impersonate members of Aidan’s army. You claim that someone impersonated Aidan Arkwright himself.

That’s what I saw. I’d seen him before, and I saw him as clear as I can see you.

Indeed, said the man in black. "As we see you too. Perhaps we should see who’s hiding under your face, hmm?"

Mevis cleared his throat. You offer the conjecture later in your text that the man impersonating Aidan may have been none other than Lord Zet himself.

That was a guess, I admitted. I saw Lord Zet later that night through a spying-glass. His mannerisms reminded me of Aidan during the victory parade.

Yes, Mevis said, your observational skills are acute.

The interrogator in black glared at him, then went on. About that spying-glass. Tell me how it worked.

He asked most of the questions that followed, with Mevis breaking in now and then for clarification. They skipped back and forth in the narrative, never quite throwing me off balance, but giving their clerks fits trying to keep up.

Do you believe all of the Wight Lords were present for the attack on the city? How many can you account for yourself?

You describe an explosion that destroyed the Lyceum, and another that destroyed the Palisade. Can you give us any details on the weapon they used?

You mentioned a portal that one of the Wights used to bring reinforcements into the city. How exactly did he create it?

You were captured at one point by Zet’s consort, Queen Zûr, who directed you to write a chronicle of the invasion. Are you still working under her orders?

Would you like some tea?

Excuse me? I said. The question had come from Mevis.

Tea. Would you care for some?

Yes, please, I answered as meekly as I could. It felt like we’d been at it for hours, though their questions had become less accusatory and more probative.

How do you take it? Milk? Sugar?

Just… plain, if you don’t mind. Thanks.

I sat in awkward silence as Mevis instructed the handmaids to fetch tea for most of those present. The sea-elf in black conferred with the scribes and corrected their notes. I relaxed a little in my chair and waited for the next shoe to drop.

The Empress hadn’t uttered a word in all this time, aside from the occasional whisper to one of her maids. I dared a glance up and found her looking back. I blushed, but didn’t turn away. A smile flickered across her face.

Two servants appeared bearing cups on silver plates. The tea had a spicy aroma that reminded me of how my father’s ships used to smell after coming home from trade runs to the south.

Now, Master Eóster, said the man in black, to the matter of Lord Istus.

I choked on my tea and felt some burn its way up my nose. My heart shrank into a knot. Lord Istus was a merchant who had joined our band of refugees during the night of the invasion. After an attack by a roving band of ghouls, he’d called one of the women who’d been slain a whore. Let her rot, were his exact words – and I killed him. Right there, in the sewer, I killed him.

I rose and set down my tea. I felt I should stand for this.

Regarding Lord Istus, the man in black said, I believe the law requires–

Regarding the merchant Istus, said the Empress, we desire that no action be taken against Thomas Eóster. We acknowledge his guilt in this matter, but we also recognize the extreme circumstance in which the act took place. We believe the sincerity of his remorse, and we accept the vow of nonviolence that Master Eóster took in the presence of the priestess Jenin Cair-Haydn as assurance that no such act shall ever occur again.

She paused before continuing. The man in black, to my surprise, did not seem put off by her judgment.

Furthermore, my lord Thalaine, while the city of Majadan, in the sovereign state of Kechea, has ever been considered a protectorate of this throne, we have never desired to impose Tasnan rule of law upon its citizens, nor shall we do so now. Should the rightful authorities of Kechea ever seek to prosecute him, Master Eóster will be subject to their justice. Until then, we offer him our amnesty and our mercy.

Your Majesty, Thalaine answered. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I swallowed hard and tried not to float off the ground.

Well then, said Thalaine, I believe that will be all.

A moment, my lord, said the Empress. We would have words with Master Aust before he is dismissed.

Thalaine nodded. I took advantage of the pause to take another sip of tea. Tatiana shifted on her throne and gestured to my chair.

Please, sit.

Your Majesty, I said, and took my place.

We would hear about your companions, she said. After the noon meal, we will speak to your friend, Master Dukane. Is he well?

Poor Shadmar. He’d stood up to a Wight and paid the price. Lately he’d taken to wearing a hood to conceal his ruined face. The burn of Queen Zûr’s hand would forever mark him.

He’s as well as can be expected, I said. He was ill for most of our voyage. Infections… I motioned to my left eye, the one Shadmar had lost. He’s getting better. Your physicians have taken good care of him.

She nodded, then inched forward. And Master Jago?

Jago’s good. The manwolf from the Far West had made a full recovery, which he credited to the sea-goddess, or Old Edna as he called her. He can’t wait for our quarantine to be over, but he’s coping better than most.

At my mention of the quarantine, Mevis gave Tatiana a worried glance. She didn’t acknowledge it.

And Moth? she said.

I sipped the last of my tea and kept my eyes on the floor.

She, uh… She died, Your Majesty. She was injured by Queen Zûr, and we thought she was all right, but she took ill and… We gave her body to the sea a week before we arrived.

I felt my eyes redden. I sniffled and looked up at the Empress with all the sorrow that I could dredge up.

Whatever I expected to see, I didn’t. Tatiana wasn’t shocked, saddened, or horrified. Her eyes had narrowed to slits and a smile curled the edge of her mouth.

She knew I was lying. Somehow, she knew. Gods on high and gods below, I’d lied to the Empress of the Shi’El and she knew. I waited for her to tell Lord Thalaine to pull out his thumbscrews and ask me again.

She didn’t. Instead, she wiped the knowing smirk off her face.

We are saddened, Master Eóster, and we grieve for your loss. We are glad to have spent this morning with you, and we thank you for your insights regarding our current crisis. We now give you leave to depart.

She rose, and everyone stood at attention. I made as if to go, then changed my mind. I approached her podium and went down on one knee. She offered me her hand, and I kissed it.

She then laid her hand on my head and intoned, May the blessings of Aster, Artem, and Amun be with you. Go with gladness as a friend of this court. Fare you well.

I stood and, head bowed, backed to the door. On the other side, my guard waited to escort me to the dungeon.

Even though we refugees were being held in a prison, the others and I weren’t locked into cells, and we had the freedom of the sea-fort’s courtyard and mess hall. When I arrived at the yard, there were two dozen others enjoying the morning sun. The autumn storm was on its way – I could already smell it in the air – but we still had some time before it arrived.

I could hardly blame the Shi’El for being cautious. Using powers of illusion, the Wight Lords had marched their whole army unchallenged through the gates of Majadan. What was to stop them from doing the same here, with legions of trogs masquerading as beggars? Given what I’d seen, a quarantine was only fair. How long it would last, no one would say.

Once again, I wondered what had become of Moth. She wasn’t dead, as far as I knew. The only thing I was sure of was that of all the exiles who’d been taken from their ships, there was one who wasn’t trapped in in this prison on the sea.

Moth was the one who got away.

Part One

An Unkindness of Strangers

I

It took three weeks for the merchant ship Valerie to sail from Majadan to the Tasnan Archipelago. Captain Forgil had plucked thirty souls from the waters near the mouth of the River Keche in those first days after the invasion. We were still two days from Shi’El-Tasna, by his reckoning, when our voyage came to its unexpected end.

After a night of fitful unrest, I woke to someone hammering on my cabin’s door. The ship had been lurching through rough seas since sundown, and I still hadn’t learned to sleep through the weather. The banging on the door almost drowned out Moth’s voice.

Mister Aust! Mister Jago! There’s another ship. Come see.

My hammock swung in time with the swell. Our cabin didn’t have a window, so I reached through the dark in the direction I thought was up and felt for the beam above me. Once I found it, I pulled my legs free and swung down in time with the crest of a wave. Jago’s bunk was directly below mine, and I’d discovered the dangers of simply rolling out of bed.

The ship tried to slip out from under me as I stumbled. Jago snored like a wolf cub, oblivious to the sea and the racket Moth was making. I opened the door midway between blows and glared at my tormentor.

Mister Aust, there’s a ship, she said. Tasnan navy, maybe. Come on, come see.

I let her lead me by the arm. Her black curls were cropped so boyishly short that she almost could have passed for one of the crew, had it not been for her frilly red dress. She wore three or four bracelets on each arm, brass earrings that she’d charmed from one of the sailors, and several beaded necklaces, none of which were actually worth anything. In addition to these items, she wore a tight leather cord threaded with slivers of bone around her neck, the token that marked her as a Scenga of the Blackwater clan.

She clambered up the steps to the deck, and water sprayed down when she opened the hatch. Moth and I had taken to going barefoot like the crew, but if the deck was cold and slick it might have been wise to go back for my boots. I paused, but Moth yelled, Hurry up, snail. I was too groggy to fight her indomitable will.

As I’d feared, the deck was slippery with spray, and the whole ship bucked up and down like a stallion. The waves didn’t look as bad as they felt, but the helmsman was steering directly into the swells instead of taking them at an angle. The sails had been dropped, and teams of sailors scrambled to secure every foot of canvas. I pulled Moth under the quarterdeck steps so that we’d be out of the way.

Moth seemed excited by all the commotion. In truth, I worried about her. Not a month had passed since her clan had been slaughtered, but instead of grieving, Moth had buried her loss beneath a torrent of enthusiasm. It had endeared her to the crew, but I wondered what would happen if her cheer ever faded.

There, see? Moth pointed to starboard.

When the Valerie topped the next crest, I saw a tall-masted warship bearing down on us, perhaps a mile away. Her wind-taut sails were silver and blue, and she seemed unusually narrow for her height. The warship’s sides bristled with cannons.

The Valerie lurched. Moth and I grabbed the stairs. Captain Forgil bellowed orders from the quarterdeck, but another voice cut through the air from the direction of the approaching ship. I couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like someone was yelling through a pipe.

What’s going on? I asked.

Not a clue, me. This is great.

A light flashed on the Tasnan ship’s forecastle, followed moments later by a boom. One of the planks on our starboard rail exploded, and something the color of lead flashed through the air. Splinters clattered around us like hail, and I tried to shelter Moth with my body.

Let’s hope that was a warning shot, lads, said the bosun. Now get that last fucking sail down and run up the colors!

My chest filled with dread. It had been weeks since we’d had any news from the outside world. If the Tasnan navy was attacking ships on sight, the situation out there must have been worse than we thought.

Let’s get back below, I said.

"Hells no, gasho. I'm staying here."

Then keep your head down. I stepped out from our hiding place to get a better look. There were two approaching ships, I now saw. One peeled out from behind the other on a course that would cut off any escape. The first ship tacked in the other direction, the better to catch us in a broadside. I could make out a handful of the words being shouted: halt, down, and something like ordered or hoarded. Another boom shook the air, followed by a fount of seawater over the forward rail.

The bosun rang the ship’s bell, over and over. Every sailor who wasn’t already on deck came running topside.

All hands, all hands, he shouted. Inspection stations! Prepare to be boarded.

That sounded better. To be boarded and inspected was infinitely preferable to being sent to the bottom of the ocean. Coasting on momentum, the Valerie tipped drunkenly as one of the warships approached our port side.

The Valerie’s complement arranged themselves on deck. The sailors shuffled on their feet, looking back and forth between the Tasnan ship, their captain, and each other. Some of my fellow refugees had come above too. The ones with sense stayed out of the way, but a few leaned over the rail and waved at the approaching ship. I kept a firm hand on Moth’s arm, and we watched from our shelter by the quarterdeck.

The first warship drew close enough to see the faces of its crew and to read the name Insistent painted on the bow. As our forward motion came to a halt, the Insistent aimed two harpoon-guns at our side. They fired long barbs into the Valerie’s hull, trailing cables that the elven crew used to winch the two ships alongside each other.

Once we were close enough, two teams on the Insistent extended boathooks