by Katie Cross
“Look on the wall!” another witch cried in a shrill voice. “They’re going to attack. Run!”
Panic gripped the market, and witches began to flee, grabbing whatever they could carry. Never, in the hundreds of years since the passage of the Mansfeld Pact, had the High Priests of two Networks stood together with an army of Guardians behind them. It allowed only one awful conclusion.
War.
“Marten! Jikes, old man,” I muttered. “Where did you go?”
He transported into sight several steps away, nearly colliding with a witch who had picked up her small cart of trinkets and was attempting to run away with it. I stopped in relief.
“Bianca,” he called, waving to me. “Over here. I just spoke with Tiberius.”
“It’s happening, isn’t it? They’re going to attack just like we thought?”
When I looked back at the wall, I saw only Mikhail and his army of Guardians. Had I imagined Dane?
“Get out of here,” Marten said, not bothering to answer my question. “Send any witches you see to Letum Wood and tell them to hide or run for their lives. Tell anyone who can transport to do so. But above all, get home. Report to Stella. And do not, I repeat, do not try to be a hero today.” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me to drive home the point. “Do you understand? You must be safe. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
“Yes, I understand. Where’s Papa? Does he know?” I asked, breathless. Witches ran past us, screaming. The happy lull of the market had given way to the strangled cries of stunned panic. The ice blue flags of the Southern Network flapped behind us, sounding as loud as the crack of a whip.
“Derek is already aware.”
My thudding heart slowed for just a second. If Papa knew, we had a chance. My eyes strayed back to the intimidating ranks awaiting us. A very small chance.
“And Tiberius?”
“Just arrived. Guardians are transporting into Letum Wood and the other villages as we speak. They’ve already trained for this. Go now, Bianca. Go! I’m going to help protect and evacuate the children and witches who can’t transport while Derek deals with the fighting.”
He shoved me away from the wall and transported away. A full panic had overtaken the market, drowning out the strange quiet that had fallen when Mikhail first appeared. Fleeing witches knocked a torch into a wooden stand, setting the dry boards on fire. A vat of fresh ipsum fell, spilling sticky liquid and making the air smell like smoke and yeast. Only a desperate few witches remained behind to collect goods, but even they began to give up, retreating with empty hands.
I climbed on top of a bale of hay. There, in the distance, near the road leading into the Southern Network, stood Papa. He stared at Mikhail with a fearless, calculating expression that made me shudder.
“Be safe, Papa,” I whispered and turned away.
I jumped down to transport back to Chatham but stopped when I heard the shrill scream of a little girl behind me. My cape twirled with me when I spun around to find a lone child.
“Mama!” she cried, standing alone in the midst of the pandemonium. “Mama!”
She had soft blue eyes and blonde hair and wore a cheap dress of gray wool. She stood alone, fingers in her mouth, face streaming with snot and tears. I glanced around but saw no one that seemed to belong to her.
“Mama!”
“Run!” a witch bellowed, arms flailing as he ran past me. “They’re about to attack!”
One glance confirmed it. The South Guards had disappeared off the wall, leaving it strangely empty save Mikhail and his Ambassador, Dmitri. I dodged the panicked witches and grabbed the little girl. A roaring boom shook the ground. A plume of black smoke exploded from the entrance to the wall, not far from where Papa had been.
“Where’s your mama?” I asked, but the little girl continued to sob. Her arms and feet felt ice cold. Another explosion rippled through the air, closer this time. Wagon wheels and bits of hay flew through the air in the gray cloud that followed. Bright red ash rained from the billowing plumes of smoke. Witches underneath the falling ash dropped to their knees, screaming in agony. Instead of being extinguished, the ash flared white-hot when it touched their skin, burning through it in moments.
“The good gods.” I pulled off my cloak, wrapped the child in it, picked her back up, and started to run. Only the most powerful of witches could transport others, which meant I had to escape on foot to save both of us.
By the time I dodged the stalls and broke free from the market, four more explosions had sounded, each closer than the last. The final boom sent me to my knees. I clutched the girl closer to my body as I stumbled but caught myself before I fell on top of her. Shards of rock hit the backs of my arms and legs, drawing blood. When I looked back, my heart nearly stopped. South Guards poured through the wall on ropes, using holes blown in the stone and the main entrance. They ran with murder in their eyes, swords raised, headed straight for us.
“No!” I yelled. “I will not die this way!”
All the witches in the Southern Network would lose their magic for the rest of their lives for breaking the Mansfeld Pact, which meant they’d have to fight like mortals. Even though we had magic on our side and could surely defeat them, I still felt a heady rush of fear.
The little girl screamed until she gagged. I put a sleeping incantation on her while struggling back to my feet. She went limp in my arms seconds later. Although she was nothing more than dead weight now, at least I could focus. My eyes widened when an ax flew through the air at my side, striking a witch running ahead of me in the spine. He fell to the ground, his face skidding in the dirt. Flashes of my last dream resurrected in my mind. Blood. Bodies. Death.
Let my daughter go.
The familiar half-armor of the Central Network Guardians streamed out of Letum Wood to meet the oncoming South Guards when I started running again. A young Central Guard with blonde hair and a goatee slowed when he passed me.
“Get into the woods!” he yelled, pulling an arrow from his quiver and firing it. The slam of a falling body sounded too close behind me for comfort. “Go now!”
Spurred to great speed, I sprinted past him, dodging the torrent of Guardians roaring by. Letum Wood engulfed me. Once ensconced in the safety of the dark canopy, my legs seemed to gain strength. I moved faster, with more certainty, carrying the quiet child in my tiring arms. Central Guards popped up from time to time, usually in pairs, but they paid me no mind as I fled. It was clear by their determined, knowledgeable movements that they had practiced this before.
Although I didn’t know any trails in this part of Letum Wood, I followed a path that seemed to appear the moment I needed it. Branches and leaves parted steps ahead of me, showing me the way.
I plunged deeper into the brittle branches of the forest, panting, but even the canopy I loved so well couldn’t entirely protect me. Two minutes later, I heard the telltale sound of running feet behind me. I surrounded myself with a protective incantation to keep spells as well as physical objects away, making a mental note to thank Merrick later for teaching it to me. One glimpse over my shoulder took my breath away. It wasn’t South Guards who pursued me.
“West Guards,” I whispered.
Why were West Guards in Letum Wood?
I pushed myself harder. The West Guards could follow the impression of my magic, but I still didn’t feel comfortable removing it. My chest heaved in panic as I wove through the trees, my legs taking me as fast as I could go.
Just when my body threatened to give out, several branches rattled off to my right. My eyes caught a large rock formation with a small cleft. A cave! I veered that direction abruptly, sliding through a thick copse of trees. I slipped inside the cave, glancing behind me just long enough to notice that my footprints hadn’t remained in the snow. I removed the protective spell and threw myself and the child into the dark space.
The West Guards stopped just short of the cave. With determined effort, I slowed my breathing. The two of them hissed back and forth
in a foreign tongue. I swallowed, my heart pounding. The little girl stirred but didn’t move. The West Guards chattered on, their hasty words sounding livid. I waited for them to burst through the trees, to grab me and the little girl, but they never did. It was as if they didn’t even see the cave.
Was it possible that something else protected me? That some other magic had caused the appearing path, the rattle of branches, the lack of footprints in the snow?
I set the girl on the ground and crouched low, peering around the rock near the ground. As soon as the West Guards turned their backs, I put a paralyzing incantation on both of them. They fell to the ground, faces pressed to the snow, and didn’t move.
“Well done.”
I whirled around, protecting the child with my own body. A group of ten witches emerged from the darkness of the cave.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“The same as you, likely, considering you speak our language and just paralyzed two West Guards,” said a middle-aged man with a thick black beard. “We sought shelter here as you did. How did you know about this hiding place?”
“I didn’t. I just kind of … found it.”
He stared at me with questioning eyes. “I know you. I know your face.”
I ripped my cloak off the little girl. “Who I am doesn’t matter now. Do you know this child?”
A woman in the back stepped forward. “That’s my cousin’s daughter,” she cried, rushing forward. “What happened? Where’s her mother, Merna?”
“I don’t know. I found her alone in the market. She’s fine. I put a sleeping spell on her so she’d calm down. Can I trust you to get her back to her family?”
The woman scooped her out of my arms. “I am her family.”
“Thanks.”
The bearded man stopped my departure by stepping forward.
“You’re the High Priest’s daughter, Bianca,” he said. I hesitated. Not many witches wholeheartedly supported my father these days. Or, by extension, me. Normally I just transported away before their opinions grew too heated.
“Yes.”
His eyes softened with despair. “I guess he’s been right all along, hasn’t he?”
“He normally is. It’s annoying.”
“If Derek is leading this fight, he has our support.”
I found a semblance of a smile. The woman tried to offer me my cape back, but I waved it off.
“Keep it,” I said, glancing around. “You’ll need it more than I will. I’ll use a levitation spell to take these two back to the Central Guards just outside of Letum Wood before I head back to the castle,” I said, motioning to the West Guards. “You stay here and be safe.”
“This is war,” said someone in the back. “It has to be. They wanted to kill us.”
“The Mansfeld Pact is broken now, isn’t it?” the bearded man asked.
“Yes,” I murmured, glancing at the two massive men lying facedown on the ground. “So it would seem.”
Do Not Come
“Michelle?” I yelled, taking the stairs to the Witchery two at a time. After leaving the Southern Covens, I’d transported to the kitchens to find Michelle, but she wasn’t there. I went to Sanna’s cottage, but Michelle was nowhere to be found, which left one more spot.
The Witchery door slammed open ahead of me, hitting the wall with a smack. I skidded to a halt. Michelle sat at the table, face pale. A crinkled letter sat in her trembling hand. She looked up at me with horror-stricken eyes.
“My family is under attack,” she whispered.
I rushed to her side and read the letter over her shoulder. It was hastily written and barely legible.
Meesh,
The Southern Network is here. They set fire to the village. We’ll write more later. Papa said DO NOT COME.
There was no signature. I put my cold hands on her shoulder. “The Southern Covens are under attack,” I said. “I was just there. The Southern Network broke the Mansfeld Pact. Marten is trying to evacuate all the residents as we speak. Central Guards are already there, fighting back.”
“Bianca,” she said. “That’s my family. Next to Nicolas they are—” She swallowed. “They’re my whole world.”
I knew her glazed look of helpless shock. After living through more than fifteen years of Papa serving as the Head of Protectors, and now as High Priest, I understood the horror of living through questions like Will he die? What did I say to him last? Will I see him again? So I knew exactly how to help her out of the sludge of those darkest thoughts.
She needed a task, a mission.
“I know how much your family means to you,” I replied, tightening my grip on her thick shoulders. “But we can’t do anything for them here in the Witchery. And your brother is right: We can’t go down to help right now. We wouldn’t even know where to find them, and we’ll just put ourselves in greater danger anyway. Let’s go see Stella. She’ll know what we can do.”
Michelle glanced up, blinked twice, and seemed to move back into herself. I watched her gather her inner strength.
“Yes,” she said distantly. “I’ll follow you.”
After I reported to Stella, who embraced me with a quiet breath of relief, she put us to work immediately. I didn’t even ask for updates; I could see in her eyes that no good news came from the Southern Covens.
“Later,” she said, squeezing my hand and reading the unspoken question in my eyes. “I’ll tell you everything I know later.”
Michelle and I found work in the formal Dining Room, where Camille and Leda were already cutting bandages and preparing medical supplies. The wounded Guardians who were still able to transport were already returning to the castle for care, then transporting back to the fight. Women, attacked by South Guards, showed up, their faces pale with shock. Three had been raped. Two beaten. The hushed, whispered reports painted a bleak picture of chaos and fire. No one seemed to know what was going on, and we had to be satisfied with conflicting rumors and reports. I watched all their faces for Merrick, but he never appeared.
Hours later, when evening came in full strength and spare rooms overflowed with cots and moans of pain, a hand gently grabbed my arm as I offered a Guardian a fresh drink of water. When I turned around, Stella pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for me to follow. I passed the water to Leda, who sent me a questioning glance as I left.
“Transport to my chambers,” Stella said in the hall, and we both disappeared from the corridor. Once safe in the calming air of her rooms—which smelled like lemongrass—she faced me with weary eyes.
“I thought you, of all witches, deserved the truth since your father is leading the fight and you know more than most. It goes without saying that I trust you, probably too much.”
The reminder thickened my throat. “What’s going on, Stella?” I asked quietly, swallowing. “What do you know?”
She let out a long breath and sank to a chair. With Papa on the front lines, she bore the burden of carrying the Central Network forward without allowing it to panic, and I marveled at her strength.
“I haven’t told anyone how extensive and detailed the reports have been from Zane, Tiberius, and your father, but suffice it to say that the entirety of the Southern Network is pouring into ours to fight. And now, within the last two hours, West Guards have started attacking at random.”
I didn’t want to explain that I’d already seen them. “West Guards?” I asked. “What?”
“The Southern Network broke the Mansfeld Pact,” Stella said. “They have borne the consequences. Now that the Pact is broken and the battle well on its way, the West Guards move freely about our Network. They seem to have retained their power, which means they aren’t officially in league with the Southern Network.”
“But they can’t help the Southern Network, can they? Surely that wouldn’t be allowed—”
“They aren’t helping the South. They’re just attacking us.”
The truth halted a dizzying breath in my chest. It was all coming to pass just as we had
feared.
“Surely Mikhail can’t expect to win against us without magic.”
“No, but winning may not be his agenda. Distracting us, crippling us, hurting us, any of those may be the goal. They may not have magic, but they still have hands and legs, don’t they? They can fight and burn and rape and pillage. And they are. Obviously with some success based on what we’re seeing come back to the castle. We’re only seeing the healthiest of the wounded, you realize. The rest of them are dying on the battlefield or stuck in the Southern Covens.”
I sucked in a deep breath. Too fast. All this was happening too fast. Hadn’t I just been at a market festival that morning? Hadn’t everything been so happy?
“That’s ridiculous!” I retorted. “Fighting without magic is … it’s insane! They may as well be mortals. Surely not even Mikhail is so mad as to fight against my father, against the Central Network, when all they can do is throw axes.”
“You’re almost right,” Stella said with a sudden note of steel in her voice. “But the West Guards are bringing a magic to the battlefield that we’ve never seen before. We have to spare Protectors and Guardians to fight them, which leaves us stretched a bit thin.”
I felt the color drain from my face, already seeing the answer in her eyes.
“Almorran,” I whispered. “The unknown magic is Almorran, isn’t it?”
She closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face with a humorless chuckle. “I have no other explanation.”
“Is there any way we can stop this before it becomes a full war? Can’t this just end in one battle? What about the East?”
“Diego will not come,” she said. “You know that as well as I.”
I cursed under my breath.
“The north!” I cried. “What of the Northern Network?”
“What of them?” she asked with a sad little laugh. “If there are still witches living in those treacherous mountains, they want nothing to do with us. It’s been hundreds of years since we’ve had any communication with the Northern Network. They shall not swoop in to save us. No, Bianca. This is our war. We must fight it.”