by Amber Argyle
“Then how did she find it?”
Pogg bared his teeth. “Betrayers!”
So, one of the eight remaining Witches was a traitor. But who?
The trilling sounded in Pogg’s throat again. “Espen.”
“Espen,” Senna rolled the name around her tongue. It tasted bitter. Her mother had reacted with loathing at the mention of it.
But why?
Senna’s thoughts were interrupted when the houses ended in a circular clearing—much like the one Mother had used at home. The clearing rose into a gentle hill, the highest point of the valley. Lifting her green dress, she climbed the rise. “Is this where they sing the songs to control nature?”
Pogg stared over the rolling green grass. “Yes. Ring of Power.”
From the top, she had an unimpeded view. Like a bird’s aerie, the island nestled inside a ring of jagged cliffs. Waterfalls cascaded at even intervals along the faces. “The Four Sisters.” Senna breathed as she pointed, “Water, Plants, Sunlight and on the outside, the volcano makes Earth.”
“Comes,” Pogg gestured. “You sees Ring of Power. Now you sees books.”
Still in awe, Senna followed Pogg to the other side of the clearing to an enormous tree house. Inside, she found walls covered from floor to ceiling with books. Pogg refused to go inside. “Pogg not goes. Only Witches. Pogg cares for Joshen. Senna learns to kills Dark Witch.”
Senna opened her mouth to protest, but Pogg dropped to all fours again and ambled away. A strange feeling pricked the back of her neck as she surveyed the shelves. All around her, signs of habitation, yet the buildings stood empty. She wandered through the library, feeling overwhelmed. A book lying open on the table caught her eye—as if someone had left it in the middle of reading.
She traced the pages, leaving a trail through the dust. Rubbing the residue between her fingers, she stooped down and blew. Dust erupted around her, making her sneeze. Using her hand, she wiped the chair and sat down. Her eyes skimmed the page. Handwritten. This was no book. It was a journal.
Her name jumped out at her. Eagerly, she read.
Brusenna,
If you’re reading this, then know you are the last. Even now, she’s here. We’ve lost. She’ll find me soon and imprison me with the others, using our songs to feed her own. There we’ll stay until we give her our loyalty. Then she will have her unwilling army. An army to hold all men hostage. We’ll hold out until our last hope is gone. That last hope is you. I’m sorry I didn’t teach you the songs. I only wanted to keep you safe. I was wrong. Stay here, for here you are sheltered. Even now, the betrayer’s blood cools in death. I wish—
There was nothing else. Senna hadn’t realized she was crying until a drop splashed the page, smearing the ink. With a corner of her sleeve, she blotted it. She blinked to keep others from falling. So it was true. Her mother was a prisoner. She’d suspected for months, but now it all seemed so sickeningly real.
How could she save them? She thought of Coyel, so powerful she need not even sing for the plants to part before her. And the eight of them combined hadn’t stood a chance. How could she, an untrained girl, succeed when the others had failed?
She closed her eyes as the fear caught fire within her. Witchcraft was passed from mother to daughter. And she was the last Witch left. If she remained here, the Witches would die. Espen would win. If she fought and failed, the whole world would be thrown into chaos. Climates would cross hardened boundaries. Seasons would fail to shift. Seeds would rot in the Earth. Her mother and the others would remain prisoners or be forced to become slaves.
Something soft turned to stone within her. She had no choice. She had to fight. She had to win.
Senna stared at the books lining the shelves. She would read them—to the last. She would learn. And then she’d free them.
Or join them.
Bruke shifted at her feet. Senna followed his gaze to the doorway. Joshen lumbered up the path to the library, his breath coming in wheezing gasps that clouded the air around his head. The sight brought a pang to her chest. He’d almost died trying to help her. The one person in the world who cared about her and she’d nearly got him killed. She sighed. “Winter’s coming early this year.”
He leaned against the door frame. “Senna, where’ve you been?”
She stared at the words in the book without seeing them. “Hasn’t Pogg taken good care of you?”
“Well, yes.” He hesitated. “But it’s been three days since I’ve even seen you.”
Senna slipped her mother’s journal out of the stack of books she’d already read. Wrapping a light shawl around her shoulders, she stepped out of the library and into the sunlight. Settling onto one of the natural benches made by the roots of the library tree, she caressed her mother’s journal. “My mother left this for me in case the worst happened.”
Joshen reluctantly sat beside her as she read aloud Sacra’s words.
Espen has a secret. Somehow, with every Witch captured, her strength grows. By the end, she’ll have no rival. If the last eight of us cannot unearth this secret, you must find a different way. Something we’ve all failed to see. Or you must live your life in hiding.
Senna traced the loops and whirls of her mother’s handwriting with her fingertips. “I have to find a way to stop Espen. Preferably one that doesn’t involve dueling her.”
Hearing the sadness in her voice, Bruke tried to nudge under her arm.
“And what way is that?” Joshen asked.
Senna nodded toward the library. “I’m going to search the books. Somewhere, there must be an answer.”
Joshen’s eyes widened. “All of them?”
Senna stood and brushed off her skirt. “Until I find the answer, yes. In my spare time, I’ll train myself for a duel.”
Joshen gripped her arm. “You don’t even know where Espen is. Or the first thing about dueling. Or how she caught the others. You think you can just read a few books and beat her? If that is all it took, your mother and the others would’ve done it.”
Senna’s cheeks flamed. “You don’t need to make me more afraid. I’m already terrified.”
Joshen released her. “Father told me about Espen. She’s evil, Senna.”
Senna let out a heavy sigh and walked briskly away. Joshen hustled to catch up with her. “Let me help you. I want to be a Guardian.”
She didn’t slow.
“My father was one, as was my uncle—Tomack, the sheriff of Gonstower. They sent me to keep an eye on you—to make sure you’re safe.”
“There is no need, Joshen. Espen can’t come here unless another Witch brings her. There aren’t any left to do that.”
Joshen was already panting and white-faced, though he tried to hide it. “I’ll wait with you. When we leave, then I’ll keep you safe.”
Senna suddenly felt much older than Joshen. He was still a boy and she’d become a woman overnight. He wouldn’t willingly leave her. And if she let him stay, he’d die. And leave her. As everyone else did. She could stand being alone, if she knew Joshen was alive and safe. But his death … better to push him away than have him forced from her side. “You can’t stay.” She’d familiarized herself with the island over the last week. A cave loomed before her. She entered the darkness, Joshen close behind.
“Senna, I know you think I can’t help you, but I can.”
She rounded on him, her arms folded across her chest. “You won’t be able to find Haven again. Not without a Witch. So don’t look.”
His brows furrowed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Get in the boat, Joshen.”
“I’ll not! I …”
Before he could finish, Senna sang.
Plants of the sea,
Take Joshen away from me.
To the shore,
That he comes no more.
Joshen ran for the cave mouth. She changed her song. Trees sprang up to block him. She sang to the sea plants again. Kelp snaked around his ankles. “Senna no! Listen—” She sang the ke
lp over his mouth. Still, he mumbled through it.
“Stop fighting,” she begged. “You’ve been so sick. You’ll only wear yourself out.”
He stopped struggling. Senna sighed and moved to the side of the boat. “I’m sorry. But I can’t ask you to involve yourself any longer. She won’t kill me. She needs me.”
At least Senna hoped that was true. She cleared the tears from her throat. “But you, she won’t hesitate to destroy. And you’re no match for her.”
His eyes shot white-hot needles at her. She flinched, unable to bear the look of hatred on Joshen’s face. “Please don’t hate me. I can’t lose you, too,” she whispered.
Avoiding his gaze, she sang away some of the kelp and kissed his cheek. Slipping a handful of gold coins in his pocket, she sang again. The kelp encircled the boat and hauled him down. She watched as it shrank beneath the water. She stared at the dark pit until her eyes burned with the need to blink. But if she did, he’d really be gone—and she’d really be alone. Finally, she turned to Pogg. “The kelp will take him ashore. Can you make sure he reaches Corrieth?”
Pogg nodded. “Pogg can finds his way back.”
Long after the Mettlemot had left, Senna stood in the flickering light of the cave, staring into the dark gray water.
How long would she be here? Alone.
13. UNBINDING
Shivering, Senna drew her shawl closer as she stared at the rain pounding her window. She made out Pogg’s warped shape slogging through the soggy grounds. Putting her book down, she rubbed her tired eyes. Two months had come and gone since she’d sent Joshen away.
Pogg dropped his catches at Senna’s feet before stomping up the stairs. She watched him go and shared a look of concern with Bruke. Though she had only been on the island a few months, she had learned Pogg’s volatile moods were often associated with the sea’s turmoil. As Bruke tore into another chewy starfish, she lifted her long green, velvet-like dress that she thought might be a Witch uniform and eased up the stairs. At Pogg’s room, she leaned against the door frame. “What’s Espen done now?”
A shrill trilling erupted from Pogg’s mouth. Senna forced herself not to flinch. She hated when Pogg did that. It grated her ears and frayed her already tattered nerves. It ended abruptly and she found herself unwilling to breach the silence for fear of triggering his keening again.
To pass the time, she counted the number of times Pogg rocked back and forth. She’d reached thirty-eight before he spoke, “Pogg not wants to scares Brusenna. Pogg angry becauses Dark Witch hurts sea.” He clicked his tongue. “Meddler! Meddler! Meddler! Changes things not to be changed! Ocean rivers not flowings in right places. Sea turtles not reaches beach for eggs. Baby turtles dies! Warm water turns cold; cold water turns warm! Meddler!”
Senna shook her head. “How do you know all this?”
“Turtles tells me.”
She straightened up. “Turtles?”
“Yes. Yes. And whales says warm water too colds for babies, cold water too warms for food.”
Senna felt an epiphany creeping along on the edges of her mind. “You can speak to the other sea creatures?”
“Yes. Yes. Creatures speaks.”
“All?”
“Air breathers speak. Not water breathers.”
Her heart pounded inside her chest. “Do they know where Espen is? Where she’s keeping my mother?”
Pogg’s eyes went wild. On all fours, he scampered past her as fast as she’d ever seen him move. Hiking up her skirts, she flew after him. Outside, she didn’t even pause to pull her shawl over her hair. Water sheeted down on her head and slogged up from the ground as she ran.
The wet made everything cling to her—clothes, hair, shoes. Within minutes, she was as drenched as if she’d dunked herself in the ocean. Thinking it some kind of game, Bruke raced ahead and then waited for the two of them to catch up before taking off again. Senna reached the cave in time to see the ripples from Pogg’s plunge in the water. She paced at the edge of the pool. Waiting. Waiting.
If Pogg was right, the sea creatures might know where Espen was. Maybe she could sneak up on the Dark Witch and immobilize her before she could retaliate. Water dripped from her hair and rolled down her face. She brushed it away in annoyance. Wringing out her shawl, she draped it back over her shoulders and wished she’d worn something warmer and more watertight. Finally, she resorted to practicing her songs.
Bruke had long ago given up any hope of fun. He curled up at the edge of the cave, only an occasional whine escaping him as he dreamed. Senna’s stomach growled as the light began to fade. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the pool.
Pogg appeared suddenly, triumph on his face. “Whales says evil songs comes from land of red flags.”
Senna closed her eyes as a flame of hope flickered, warming her. But it didn’t last long. The men of Tarten bore red flags. The color of blood. The color of the conqueror. They were no friend to her country—hadn’t been since they failed to conquer Nefalie decades ago. Hiding among them was brilliant.
But how could she cross the sea Espen was very much in control of? Pogg seemed to have no problems navigating the raging storms, but he’d said the shipping had all but ceased. She froze. She’d read of a complicated potion few Witches had attempted.
Ioa.
Pulling her shawl over her hair, she ducked back into the onslaught. The cold and wet was even more miserable now. At the library, she threw her soggy shawl on the floor and flipped through the ancient potion books with as much care as she could.
She found the concoction in an emerald book with black writing. Her eyes widened at the complex instructions. She startled when thunder rang so loud she was afraid the lightning might peel apart the library like a knife through a raw egg. Bruke scrambled under the table, shivering and cowering. The rain sheeted down harder.
She imagined the chaos at sea. “She’s not giving me much time, is she?”
Senna was dreaming. It was night. But not dark. The light from the moon cast everything in blue-black and silver. Senna stepped forward, her slippers silent on the soft grass. She paused at the edge of the clearing. The shadows were her companions. Her friends. If she stepped into the light, she could hide no more.
The wind tugged at her dark green cloak as if begging her to run. But in the dream there was no choice. Her feet automatically carried her into the circular clearing, toward the center. Almost immediately, she saw her—the Dark Witch, striding out to meet her. “I’ve waited many years, Brusenna.”
Instead of replying, Senna studied the trees behind Espen. Hundreds of them. All heavy with fruit. There was something … unnatural about them.
“Do you like my little grove?”
Senna fixed her attention back to the Dark Witch. She’d traded the traditional dark green cloak and lighter green dress for a black cloak and red dress—life and growth for blood and death. “I’ve come to end it. One way or another.”
A slow smile spread across Espen’s face as she reached inside her black seed belt that held her dueling seeds.
Senna mirrored Espen’s movements, removing a handful of seeds. Seeds her life depended on. They threw them to the ground. And then both sang, their Witch songs as deadly as the plants snaking toward each other.
As Espen’s vines crushed Senna’s and snaked around her ankles, she knew. She wasn’t strong enough. Just as all those before her had not been.
Senna gasped and sat bolt upright. Bruke’s head jerked up beside her. “I had the dream again.” She ran her fingers through her damp hair. Clasping them behind her neck, she leaned against her bent knees. “It always ends the same. With her defeating me.”
As she’d immersed herself in her studies, she’d become more attuned to Espen’s interference. She concentrated on that interference now, feeling the air pressing on her as the wind whipped through the valley. Thunder shook her tree house. The rain sheeted down even harder and for a moment, lightning bleached the night. Espen was at work again—c
hanging the rules of nature, unbinding the barriers that held the world in order. When it was this bad, the dreams came … dreams of failure.
Bruke rested his head on her thigh. She scratched behind his ears. Usually, he was one of her few comforts, but right now, she wanted to be alone. “Stay.”
His eyes followed her as she swung her bare legs over the side of her bed and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. Easing open her door, she glanced back to make sure he was obeying her before hurrying outside.
She took a deep breath before plunging into the storm. She was free. Her feet flew across the waving grasses of Haven. As it always did, the cold and wet seeped deep inside her. She raced on, her heart pounding warmth through her. At the center of the Circle, she paused, her breasts rising and falling with her every breath. “How very much like my dream,” she whispered. She thought of Espen, of her dark songs. “Somehow, we are connected, you and I. Opposite ends of the same rope.”
In a few more months, it would be a year since she sent Joshen away. She was sixteen and he seventeen. A deep ache spread through her at the thought of him. His warmth. The safety of his presence. She shook her head to clear the memories, wishing they would stay buried deep inside her. That they’d stop hurting after all this time.
As she’d seen her mother do so long ago, Senna spread her arms and sang.
Wind, lift me high,
That my words reach to’rds the sky.
The violent wind slowed, like a herd of raging colts pricking their ears to listen to her song. She sang again. Slowly, it bent and circled her. As she continued the song, it became a lazy whirlwind that twisted her hair up and made the trees at the edge of the circle sway as if entranced. The air thickened, testing her weight.
She sang one last time. And this time, the wind lifted her. Her feet dangled above the ground. “Higher,” she sang. The wind obeyed, twirling her skyward as easily as a handful of dandelion fluff. She didn’t stop until she could see the churning sea beyond the island walls.