by Amber Argyle
He tipped his head toward the sailors.
She leaned around him to get a better look at the men, but Joshen elbowed her again. “Don’t look,” he whispered. “Just listen.”
Taking a nibble of her honeycake, she heard one of the sailors say, “No, haven’t seen any of them for months now. And I tire of this damnable fog.”
Senna exchanged a glance with Joshen and leaned around to get a better look at the sailors. A dark-skinned man answered, “Perhaps they’ve business somewhere else, Cap’n Parknel.”
“Their headquarters are ’round here somewheres,” said a dark-skinned man with crooked teeth. “They’ll be ’round to fix things ’fore long.”
The first man, Captain Parknel, grumbled. “Mark me. The ocean feels it first. This fog might keep us all shore-bound, but it won’t end there. Storms of the kind to bury a ship with a single wave’ll be next.”
“I hear of bad droughts inland, too,” said the bald sailor.
Captain Parknel took a swig of something from a tin. “If those Witches don’t come back, won’t be haulin’ merchandise on the waters no more.”
Senna and Joshen exchanged glances. “We must be close,” she whispered eagerly.
Joshen’s brow furrowed and he said loudly, “You mean you don’t know exactly?”
“Shh!” Senna leaned in as the sailors cast glances their way. “I’ve never been there before.”
Joshen lowered his voice. “Then how’ll you find it?”
“I’ll find it,” she assured him.
He shot her a dubious glance before shrugging his shoulders. “Witches.”
Senna smiled. He’d said it like a grudging compliment instead of an insult—like a friend might. Swinging her feet over the water, she handed Bruke a piece of her roll.
After they finished their meal and replenished their supplies, Senna and Joshen agreed to put a little more distance between themselves and the Hunters before nightfall. They’d traveled about half a league north of the city when darkness fell. They ate their food while a chilly wind blew the smoke from the fire into their faces.
Finished, Senna laid her bedroll on the ground next to Joshen. His brow furrowed in confusion.
Her cheeks flamed scarlet. She spoke quickly, her words tripping over each other in her embarrassment. “There aren’t any trees to sleep in. And I thought it might be chilly. Plus, people wouldn’t be as likely to stop.”
His eyebrows rose higher. “So … you want to share blankets?”
Her mouth fell open. Had there been any ground cover nearby, she’d have gladly sung it over her head. She tried to speak, but it came out as a croak. Shaking her head, she realized showing him might do more good than stammering around.
She dug a hole in the ground and filled it with a seed the size of a small plum. After she’d replaced the dirt, she sang.
Oh shelter seed, I sing to thee,
Take up thy boughs and cover me.
A tiny, gray shoot burst forth. It grew flat, like the blade of a shovel. Yawning wider, it stretched until it encased them both in a tight shelter, like an overturned dish.
She smiled weakly. “It’s called a Shelter Seed. It takes on the characteristics of the landscape to hide the inhabitants and provides instant shelter. But if you want, I can sing an opening and you could sleep outside.”
Joshen stared at her in a mixture of awe and fear.
She felt hot and uncomfortable. What if he said no? She hadn’t meant to flirt with him. She’d only thought he’d want to be out of the wind. “I should’ve asked,” she said.
He swallowed. “I’d like to stay. If that’s alright.”
She nodded and flopped down, banging her shoulder on the hard ground. Suppressing a groan, she lay perfectly still. Eventually, their body heat warmed the shelter and she relaxed. Joshen’s breathing deepened. She exhaled the last of her tension. She didn’t know why, but though he wasn’t much older than her, there was a sort of undeniable strength about him. A strength that shielded her like a warm blanket. After she was sure he was asleep, she finally whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Joshen surprised her by responding.
At dawn, she awoke to Bruke’s furry body warming her stomach and Joshen warming her back. His arm was thrown over her shoulder. She lay there, reveling in the strange, wonderful burning that emanated from Joshen’s touch. Although she loathed to leave the warmth of their shelter—or Joshen—she carefully moved his arm and pushed herself up.
He looked so beautiful; she wished she could reach out and touch his face. She bit her lip and wondered if she had the courage. No. What if he awoke and caught her? He might think she meant something by the touch and she was pretty sure she didn’t.
Even if she did, he’d never reciprocate.
The thought brought a pang deep in her chest and tears to her eyes. Pushing herself up, she sang softly for the shelter to split and pull back, like a wooden curtain rolling to the side. She crawled over Joshen and outside. Immediately, the cold wind slapped her skin and she was glad for their shelter.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and blinked away the tears the wind tugged from her eyes. Within moments, light struck her from behind, casting her shadow across the stone strewn ground and into the freezing water. She sang.
Oh morning light, hear my cry,
To Haven I must fly.
The mist gathered and led east—through the water. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“So that’s how you know where to go!” She whirled to see Joshen peeking through the shelter with a look of amazement.
Strangely enough, she didn’t care if Joshen knew. Somehow, she’d grown to trust him and trust loosened her tongue. “East! There’s nothing east but more water!” She plopped down and chucked a rock into the ashes that covered the coals of their fire like a fur coat. “Do they expect me to swim there?”
Joshen settled down next to her and nudged her with his shoulder. “Come on now. The golden fog thing pointed east. So east we go.”
Senna glowered at him. “And how do you propose we do that?”
He tipped his head in the direction of the village. “We just came from the piers, didn’t we?” He stood and offered her a hand.
She took it grudgingly. “A whole day wasted and now I have to go back to that place.”
Bruke whined in agreement.
After traveling back the way they’d come, they skirted the city and headed for the wharves, near the place they’d eaten earlier. Joshen approached the red-bearded sailor they’d overheard yesterday. “Captain Parknel, isn’t it?”
The Captain nodded, his eyes flicking to Senna.
Joshen glanced at the sailors standing behind the Captain. “Where would we go to buy a small boat?”
The Captain scratched his beard. “What you need a boat for?”
Joshen shrugged, “Fishing.”
“Fishing, huh? In this fog.” He eyed Senna suspiciously. “Well, if that’s all you want, Mcbedee’s has a couple that’ll float, but you’d best be careful. The sea isn’t herself these days.” He pointed and gave them directions to one of the side streets.
Joshen thanked the man and started off.
Senna started after him but felt eyes watching her. She glanced back to see Captain Parknel studying her with a knowing look. With a sinking feeling, she realized he knew what she was. Her gaze flicked to Bruke for any sign of mistrust, but the dog was too busy staring at a pallet of fish.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned him.
With a high whine, he trotted toward her.
Casting one last glance back at the Captain, she turned and hurried after Joshen.
At a dilapidated building with a boat and lathe sign marking it as a boat maker’s shop, Joshen held the door for her. The moment she stepped inside, she sneezed. Everything was covered in sawdust mixed with regular dust. She sneezed again and peered out the greasy windows. Holding her hand over her nose, she wondered if she preferr
ed the overpowering smell of fish to the stale, dusty air of Mcbedee’s shop.
A dark-skinned man appeared from the back. Flecks of wood dotted his unkempt, graying hair, which bore a striking resemblance to a bird’s nest. “What can I do you for?”
“Captain Parknel told us you had fishing boats for sale,” Joshen said.
The man grunted. With an impatient wave, he gestured for them to follow him. “I take old boats and make ’em serviceable again,” he said as he opened the door.
Senna quickly saw what he meant. A few rickety old boats with fresh patches of wood were scattered haphazardly across the floor. She cast a dubious glance at Joshen. “Captain Parknel warned us about the sea.”
“They’ll float,” Mcbedee said as he cleaned some dirt from under his fingernails.
She eyed the boats. She thought they resembled hollowed-out corn husks more than boats, but she doubted they could buy more without raising real suspicion. “But that’s about all they’ll do,” she whispered to Joshen.
He leaned in and spoke softly in her ear, “It can’t be too far. How could a Witch make it without a crew, otherwise?”
Senna hoped he was right. She knew nothing about boats or the sea.
Mcbedee scratched his scalp and studied Senna with a knowing look on his face. “I’ll even sell you a watertight drum. Store all your delicate items inside. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
Senna licked her lips. Joshen stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
Mcbedee sold them the boat, but now they had the dilemma of how to get it and the horses back to camp. They didn’t think the poor thing would survive being dragged across the rocky shore, so they finally decided to stable the horses and paddle the boat back to camp.
By the time they had it all arranged, it was well past midday. Forgoing the chance for a hot meal, they carried the cumbersome boat to the docks. Joshen held it steady while Senna climbed in. The thing rocked and skittered like a drunken horse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she had her seat.
But then Joshen placed a foot inside. Hoping it would hold the two of them without falling apart, she held her breath. He eased down. It groaned in protest but seemed determined to hold together. The two dipped their paddles in the sea and pulled. The boat did a neat circle by the dock. “You have to paddle on the other side, Senna,” Joshen said.
She blushed as she noticed a group of sailors watching in amusement. “Sorry.” She put her paddle on the other side of the boat and they managed to meander in the general direction of their camp. Just as they built up momentum, the next dock appeared.
“Senna, we have to turn. Put your oar on the same side as me,” Joshen said.
She could tell Joshen was trying very hard to be patient with her and it only made her feel that much more inept. She switched sides and they very narrowly avoided colliding with the solid dock—a collision she doubted their corn husk would have survived. Luckily, she had mostly figured out rowing by the time they left the dock.
Sharp pain dug between her shoulder blades and night had completely overwhelmed them by the time she finally spotted their old campsite. Exhausted and wet, they ate bread and cheese before falling onto their bedrolls. In fact, she’d have missed dawn entirely had it not been for Bruke nudging her with his cold nose.
As it did yesterday, the mist pointed east. Shoulders and arms weary and sore, Senna helped Joshen heave the boat into the water. She dipped her oar in the shining water. Finding a rhythm, she pulled at the sea. It wasn’t long before cold puddles pooled about her feet.
“I don’t want to lose sight of the shore,” Joshen cautioned.
She looked back at the shrinking coastline. “We’d never find our way back.”
Joshen laughed. “Sure we would. We’d just have to wait until I could see the stars to do it.”
She glanced down at Bruke, who cast an unhappy look at the water. “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.” But the words were more for herself than him.
About the time the shore was small enough she could cover it with her forearm, something black appeared on the horizon. Senna and Joshen exchanged a glance and pulled for it. As the last of the coast disappeared, an island took shape. “That has to be it!” Senna exclaimed. But as they drew near, imposing cliffs jutted out of the water and pointed ominously skyward.
“We won’t be going ashore here,” Joshen said.
“We could try and climb it,” she suggested.
Joshen pointed to the base of the cliffs. “Those waves would pull us in and dash this little boat to pieces. Then the undercurrent would suck us down. We have to find another way.”
Though it took most of the day, they circled the entire island. On the farthest side, Senna noted rising smoke. “Look Joshen, maybe someone’s camped on shore!” Digging in their oars, they came around the bend and froze. Smoke rose from a cone that gaped at them like a hungry mouth from the cliff’s face. The water swirled with a reddish tint. Black rock steamed and gurgled as the water splashed against it. Holding his oar across his lap, Joshen stuck his hand in the water before jerking it back. “It’s warm!” He frowned at the hissing rocks. “That’s not a campfire, it’s a volcano!”
Senna’s eyes widened. “Maybe we should make a wider berth?”
Joshen nodded and they moved back out to sea.
Other than the volcano, the shoreline never strayed from impassable cliffs. Her arms and shoulders felt hollow and weak. “Joshen, I’m not sure I’ll be able to row back if we don’t go soon.”
“This can’t be it,” he finally relented. “There must be another island somewhere.” He started turning the boat.
Senna paddled behind him, pushing the little boat up to speed. She turned to look once more at the island. “Wait.” She saw something green on the cliffs. Some plant that grew in the shape of an—“Oh no! It can’t be.”
Joshen followed her gaze, “What do you see?”
Carefully, Senna studied it. In one spot, the jagged cliffs lined up. “On the face there! The moss grows in the shape of a crescent!”
His eyes widened. “The mark of the Witches?”
“In part.” She sat down and pulled her necklace out of her shirt. “I read about it in my mother’s journal. The Witches believe we are all parts of a whole. Like the phases of the moon. Together, we complete the circle and bring balance.”
“Unity. We are stronger together than apart,” he grunted. “So where’s the waning gibbous?”
Excitement danced in Senna’s eyes. “Let’s get closer.”
With careful strokes, they came as near to the cliff’s edge as they dared. With Joshen back-paddling to keep them from being sucked forward, Senna scoured every inch of the cliffs. But there was no waning gibbous. “Maybe it’s below the water line.” She stood to peer at the space left by the retreating waves.
“Careful, Senna!” Joshen cried.
A crashing wave tipped the boat. Senna lurched forward. With no time to catch herself, her chest slammed into the bow. The impact left her whole body limp. She slipped forward. The frigid water slapped her hands. She was falling. Joshen grabbed her ankles before she went over. The boat tipped precariously; he threw his weight to the other side, still holding on to her leg.
They were being sucked toward the cliffs at an alarming rate. “Don’t stop paddling!” she cried, fumbling for a grip on the boat.
Releasing her, Joshen back-paddled.
Bringing her knees under her, Senna winced and rubbed her chest as she pulled herself up and away from the water. Forgetting about the pain, she leaned forward and squinted into the water. A hazy, near-circle of green grew on the sea floor. “There! Below the boat!”
Joshen peeked over the side and looked back up at the crescent on the cliffs. “I don’t understand.”
Senna scrutinized each crevice in search of an opening. Nothing. “There has to be a cave or an opening. I know this is it!”
“Then how do we get in?” Joshen said. Senna turned toward him. His face
flushed with the effort of keeping the boat from inching toward the deadly cliffs. “I can’t hold it much longer. My arms are dead.”
She looked back at the island. “But we’re so close.” She took a turn paddling. “Maybe there’s an entrance just below the waterline and we have to swim in?”
Joshen looked at her as if she were mad. “Do you have any idea how cold that water is, Senna? We’d both cramp up and drown, or die of exposure and that’s if the waves didn’t smash us to pieces against the cliffs.” He looked back at the island. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow.”
Senna sighed and her weary shoulders drooped. “All right. Tomorrow, we find our way in.”
10. BETRAYAL
“You’re sure a boy and girl purchased the boat?”
“Said they were doing some fishing,” the man at the boat shop replied.
Wardof grunted. “Where exactly were they going to fish?”
“You’re more than welcome to look over my books and see if I marked that detail,” Mcbedee said as he scratched his scalp.
Wardof clenched his fists. His bruises had healed; perhaps it was time to make some new ones.
Garg shifted from one foot to the other. “C’mon. We don’t need no more trouble.”
Wardof shot Garg the glare he’d been using to no effect on Mcbedee. With a growl, he turned toward the door.
“’Spect me to keep tabs on his sister … He can’t even keep her under control and ’spects me to …” Mcbedee grumbled
Wardof slammed the door behind him. “At least we know she came this way. My bet is she’s looking for Haven. If she bought a boat, the island must be around here somewhere.”
“Yeah, but nobody but Witches get in that island and she could change the location ’fore we find it.”
“That’s why we have to find her before she gets in! Besides, she’s an ignorant little Witch. She doesn’t know how to move it, you idiot!” Wardof turned in frustration.