by Amber Argyle
Reden had said sometimes soldiers had to be left behind to save the majority. Unfortunately, Senna, Mistin, and her two Guardians were the ones who had to be left behind.
Senna locked the song into place so strongly she knew it wouldn’t stop until they were nearly to Nefalie. There was no way a Tarten ship could stop them.
Breathless, she shook away the dizziness threatening to pull her under. She stepped to the edge of the boulder. “All right, let’s go.” She gathered herself to drop down just as everything exploded around her.
She came around on the ground, her ears ringing. Cord was shouting at someone as he dragged her back toward the terrified horses.
“What happened?” she asked.
Cord cast a worried look her way. “Cannon shot the boulder out from under you.”
Joshen and Reden fired at Tarten soldiers who were impossibly close.
“Where did they come from?” she cried.
Cord relentlessly dragged her forward. “Rushed us just after the cannon fired. Must have broken away from the main group and crept closer to us as soon as they heard you singing.”
Joshen and Reden shot and retreated, then shot and retreated again. Both were loading their muskets when another soldier leveled his gun at Reden. Senna screamed.
Out of nowhere, Mistin leapt from the trees, lifted her musket and fired. The soldier toppled backward.
“Mistin, you’re alive!” Senna cried out.
After dropping the empty musket, Mistin emptied both her pistols and shoved them back in her holsters. All three of her guns were empty now. Senna expected her to come back to the horses, but instead, she reached in her shirt. Her motions blurred as she threw a knife. With uncanny accuracy, she cut down the soldiers advancing on Reden and Joshen.
Senna blinked at her friend in shock.
“Get on!” Cord hefted Senna onto the saddle.
She fumbled for the stirrups. Suddenly dizzy, she swayed and grabbed the saddle horn to steady herself.
Under Mistin’s furious assault, the Tartens fell back enough for Joshen and Reden to turn and sprint toward Senna, Mistin, and Cord.
“Go!” Reden shouted at Mistin, who had been steadily pressing forward.
She threw another knife before dashing back. She swept up her discarded musket and launched herself into the saddle.
Senna let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. They were going to make it.
And then her hopes shattered around her feet. Soldiers burst from the trees between Senna and her Guardians, cutting off their escape.
Reden and Joshen fought with their bayonets, but they were forced back, towards the first group of soldiers. They were outnumbered two dozen to one.
For half a heartbeat, Joshen’s gaze met hers. She could see the realization in his eyes, and she knew. He and Reden were trapped. She dug deep, searching for the power she’d held only moments before, but it had abandoned her. She couldn’t sing anything to stop the soldiers—not without hurting Joshen and Reden, too.
Mistin threw a knife, saving Reden’s life. “I only have one left.” She started loading a pistol.
Cord fired his musket. Half of the second group of soldiers turned and sprinted for them.
“Run, Senna, run!” Reden shouted as he blocked a bayonet stabbing at him.
Senna couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes off Joshen.
“Senna! You promised!” Joshen shouted, grief already tingeing his voice.
Yes. She’d promised that if they both asked her, she would obey. Horror shot through her, burning away all feeling until she was dead inside. “I can’t.”
Cord reached over and slapped Sunny’s rump. “Move!”
Sunny lunged forward with lightning speed. Senna looked back. The last thing she saw was Joshen grunting in pain, his eyes rolling up, before he fell to the ground amid coats of red.
Senna screamed. The Four Sisters were so in tune with her they reacted. The world trembled.
24. Earth Song
Collapsing on the hard dirt, Senna buried her face in her palms. Was Joshen’s life the price she would pay for her recklessness?
With a grimace, Cord pulled his shirt over his head. Mistin murmured softly while she examined the splinters sticking out of his back like quills. She pulled them out one by one. Cord winced and grunted each time. Gently, Mistin poured water over the wounds and washed away the blood.
Senna stared. She’d never seen Mistin hold a knife, but the girl’s hands had launched several with unerring accuracy. Knives she’d had hidden all over her body. That kind of ease only came from hundreds of hours of practice.
Without warning, a memory washed over Senna like a wave of icy water. An attacker, standing over her and throwing a knife at Reden, a knife that had cut his arm.
Senna’s breath came in short gasps. Her gaze swung to Cord. Scars riddled his body. It was so much like Reden’s body—more like the body of a career soldier than of an untrained but hopeful Guardian. One scar seemed fresher than the others. It was puckered and purple, newly healed.
She remembered a man chasing her on a moonless night. The gag, so tight it had made her lips crack. Her hand shoving the shard of glass into his guts. Hot blood washing over her skin.
Mistin’s voice was a deep alto, easy to mistake for a tenor. Cord’s voice was a bass.
With shaking hands, Senna primed her pistol. When she looked up, Cord was watching her, his expression wary.
Numb, she rose to her feet. “It was you.”
Mistin glanced up. Some of her long black hair had come loose and partially covered her face. She looked so young, so innocent. How could she have done this?
“It was you two I overheard that night at the tree house. You who attacked me.” She pointed a shaking finger at the wound on Cord’s side. “And you I stabbed.”
Silent, he and Mistin rose to their feet.
It shocked her that they didn’t deny it. “Why?” It came out as more of an accusation than a question.
Cord held up his hands. “We never meant to hurt you.”
He had an accent now. She’d heard it before—furtive whispers in the night. She reached towards the nearly healed bruise on her head. “So the stone wasn’t supposed to knock me unconscious?”
His hand fell. “Well, yes, but we couldn’t very well let you sing, now could we?”
“Why?” Her voice betrayed so much hurt Senna wished she could pull the word back into her mouth.
Mistin held very still, as if afraid any sudden movement might scare Senna off. “We were trying to save your life.” Her accent had surfaced just as Cord’s had.
Senna laughed, but there was no humor in it. She aimed her pistol at Cord’s heart.
He studied the gun before his gaze met hers. “You going to shoot me?”
Her hand held steady. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He stood still, waiting.
Grief and anger made her finger tighten on the trigger. But then she remembered the soldier she’d shot before. The smell of gunpowder. The sudden emptiness. Her muscles went soft. She was not a killer. She backed towards the horses and then took their reins in her free hand.
“Mistin?” Cord said, his voice tight.
She closed her eyes as if listening and whispered, “Just let her go.”
Careful to keep her gun trained on Cord, Senna climbed into the saddle, her foot fishing for the opposite stirrup. Suddenly, she noticed the music around her shifting. But that was impossible. Unless…
There are other Witches here, she realized with a start.
She didn’t have time to react. The earth beneath her exploded. Sunny hit the ground hard, pinning her leg beneath his barrel chest. She couldn’t draw a breath—her lungs felt paralyzed. Sunny rolled until his feet were under him and lurched to stand. Senna’s leg was free at last.
She gasped a breath full of dust and coughed. Wind pressed down on her, pinning her to the ground, drowning out all other sounds. A golden flash
of horseflesh streaked into the trees.
Joshen had given her that horse. And she’d lost him. Again.
Shaking, Senna listened to the song, took a breath, and began her own. Her song battled with theirs for control of the melody. Slowly, the wind eased away from her. Shaking and bleeding, she pushed herself up.
Mistin stood beside more than a dozen women, their faces twisted with concentration as they battled her songs. They were dressed in long tunics and loose pants—just like Mistin’s. Around their waists were seed belts.
Witches. Witches not of Haven. These were the women Senna had felt before, the women who represented a threat to Haven. Calden’s missing Witches. Senna had sought them out, but instead they’d found her.
She spun the wind around her, battering the other Witches further away and stealing their songs from their lips before they were strong enough to do any good. Using earth song, she directed pressure to build under them, until the ground trembled beneath their feet. The women collapsed, their faces terrified.
One more song, and it would swallow them whole. Just as they’d tried to do to Senna days before.
Dark, damp, deep, and cold
A knife trembled in Mistin’s hand. Her gaze locked with Senna’s. Mistin set her mouth. Slowly, her hand fell to her side.
A brief spasm of conscience wouldn’t save Mistin from Senna’s fury. Not after all her lies and treachery.
Gaping chasm, open fold
“Senna!” she heard Cord shout above her song. He gestured to the east. There were Tarten soldiers in the distance, closing in on them fast.
Did he think she would spare him because of a common threat? No. She would deal with these Witches. The soldiers would be next.
Grit and rock and mineral tang
The ground softened beneath the Witches. They were sinking.
Down to the depths—
Something hurtled into her from the side, slamming her so hard into the ground that the song on her lips shattered into a cry of pain. A gag shuttered the cry. She felt the weight of a man on top of her. More hands tying her wrists. She strained to lift her head.
Cord stretched a hand towards her as if he wanted to intervene, to help her. His expression was full of regret. But he and Mistin had kept Senna distracted while this man had crept up from behind. She glared at Cord with all her pent-up rage as her bonds were tightened.
Cord’s chest heaved, his hand falling to his side as the wind slowly dissipated.
Senna was surrounded by men dressed in dark tunics. She hadn’t seen them before, but she knew instinctively they were Guardians to these Calden Witches. She was pulled to her feet. Only then did she realize the familiar weight of her seed belt was gone.
Soon it wouldn’t matter. The Tarten soldiers were so close Senna could almost make out the details of their uniforms.
Four Witches strode towards Senna without fear. A small army of Guardians fell in behind them. They held their muskets tightly, their faces hard.
“This is Brusenna?” the center Witch asked Mistin.
“Yes,” Mistin said, refusing to meet Senna’s gaze.
Senna squared her shoulders and glared this new threat down.
The Witch who’d spoken smiled. “Yes. This is her.” She stepped forward. She resembled Mistin, but then all the women did. Even Cord had the same look—dark hair and eyes with creamy gold skin. “My name is Krissin,” the Witch said. “We’ve been searching for you for a long time.”
25. Stryker
With a sick feeling of dread, Senna recognized the authority this woman wore like a second skin, so much like Coyel the two could be sisters. Krissin was a Discipline Head—the Head of Sunlight. And Senna realized she’d heard the name before, when she’d overheard Cord’s and Mistin’s furtive whispers that first night.
“I will offer you a boon, Brusenna. We will remove your gag, on the condition you swear not to sing. Break that promise and you will be violently silenced. Then you will be gagged and bound for the remainder of our journey. Do you agree to the terms?”
Senna nodded once.
Cord freed her wrists before snipping the gag. “Sorry.” He held a knot of her golden hair in his hand. He watched her like she was an agitated cobra that might strike at any moment.
She knew better. She would need time to bend the Four Sisters—time she wouldn’t have surrounded by Guardians and Witches.
One of the other Heads touched Krissin’s shoulder. “They’re coming.”
Krissin glanced at the coming Tartens, her face going carefully blank. “Take her to the ship, quickly and silently, but before they see her.”
Before they see me? But they already saw me, Senna thought.
Five other Guardians flanked her, including Cord. Krissin turned expectantly towards the approaching Tartens.
Realization exploded in Senna’s head. These Witches weren’t running, because they were allied with the Tartens. “No,” she gasped softly.
Crouched ahead of them, knives in both her hands, Mistin watched her.
“When you went missing before, you were retrieving your Witches.” It was not a question.
Mistin nodded, an apology and a promise in the simple gesture. Then she melted into the trees before them. Senna guessed she was acting as some kind of fore guard.
Cord reached out to take Senna’s arm. She jerked away. “How could you ally yourselves with them?” He gripped her tighter, relentlessly pulling her out of sight. She fought him every step. “And if you are allies, why haven’t you lifted the curse?”
“Because then Haven would know we exist.” Despite the fact that she could hear the Tartens conversing with the Witches, she continued to fight him. He hauled her around to face him. “Grendi has more than a horse’s weight in gold on your head. We can’t protect you if she finds you with us.”
Nothing made sense. Grendi wanted to exterminate every living Witch. So why was she allied with them? Senna was an enemy of the Tartens. So why were their allies protecting her?
Senna tried to wrap her mind around the impossible realities. Calden and Tarten had been hunting for her…and now she was helpless against both of them. Maybe it was better if she was captured by the Tartens instead. If she cried out and they found her, at least she’d know if Joshen was…
A sob shook her so hard, her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees.
“Cord, keep her moving,” one of the other Guardians growled.
Cord crouched before her. “Listen to me, Senna. Grendi can use Joshen to manipulate you. She won’t want him dead.”
Tears glazing her eyes, she looked up at Cord. He was close enough she could smell his breath—sweet and dark, like licorice. And she remembered her visceral reaction when she’d stumbled into him the first time they’d met on the ship. She hadn’t realized, hadn’t understood what that reaction had meant. But somehow her body remembered what her mind didn’t—that Cord had held her before, when he’d attacked her on that moonless night and she’d shoved a shard of glass into his guts.
He moved as if to wipe away her tears. She turned away. “I’m sorry I didn’t kill you the first time.”
His hand dropped. “If the Tartens capture you, they won’t have any reason to keep Joshen alive,” Cord said, his voice hard. “Do you understand?”
Hope bloomed within her, and she could breathe again. “What about Reden?”
Cord pursed his lips. “Senna”
She fisted his shirt in her hands. “Tell me!”
He clenched his jaw. “Grendi hates him even more than she hates you.”
That meant there was little hope for him. A soft cry of pain escaped Senna’s lips. She’d thought she’d accepted that this might not end well. She’d been willing to risk her life, determined to save Haven. And Joshen and Reden had seemed so indestructible that she’d never fully internalized the peril they faced.
The soldiers were dangerously close. One cry, and they would find her.
Senna made her decision. Sh
e would go with them until she had a chance at freedom. Then she would find Joshen and free him, no matter the cost. She allowed Cord to pull her up.
Guardians fanned out of sight into the bare trees, moving as silently as ghosts. All Senna heard over the ragged sound of her breathing was the distant waves.
Cord stopped often, giving her water to wet her parched throat. Finally, they reached the city Senna had bypassed on her first trip to Tarten. The geography lessons drilled into her head supplied the name: Epal.
The Guardians emerged from the trees and took up flanking positions. The streets were eerily quiet, but Senna occasionally caught sight of a dirty face watching them. Windblown debris gathered around the buildings, while heavier items remained abandoned in the street. A child’s sandal caught her attention. One of the leather straps was broken. Senna couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to its owner.
All this destruction—it was partly her fault. She’d only wanted to undo it, find answers to the danger looming over Haven. And now Joshen…Senna stared at her feet and didn’t look up again.
They reached the dock and boarded the Calden Witches’ boat. The craft was smaller than Parknel’s ship and sat higher on the water. Its sails were different, too. The ship looked fast. On its side, Mirage was painted in blue.
Cord took her to a small cabin on the main deck. Except for a bed, basin, and chamber pot, it was empty. Senna glared at the man.
Much to her annoyance, he didn’t show any reaction. “You should sit. I know you’re exhausted,” he said.
Though her muscles quivered with fatigue, she stood straight.
Mistin interrupted the tense silence a moment later. She had a tray of food that immediately sent Senna’s mouth watering.
Ignoring Senna, Mistin sat on the bed, her legs folded beneath her, then looked up. “You have two choices—eat and keep up your strength, or refuse and grow weaker.”