Witch Born (27 page)

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.”

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. She 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.”

Senna didn’t know this confident, powerful woman. Had everything about Mistin been a lie? She must have been the one who attacked Senna with the slingshot.

The girl watched Senna carefully. “If you start to sing, Cord and I will subdue you. This room will be flooded with Guardians. You won’t be given another opportunity.”

Senna considered her chances. She could certainly get a few notes in before they knocked her unconscious and stuffed a gag back in her mouth. But it wouldn’t be enough time.

“Are you even siblings?” Senna asked in disgust. “Or does everyone from Calden look alike.”

Mistin narrowed her eyes. “Just because everyone from Calden has dark features doesn’t mean we all look alike. But no, we’re not siblings. Just friends.”

All those stories about Mistin growing up in the streets, her dead sisters and mother. Living a life of fear for being a Witch—all of it had been to manipulate Senna into empathizing with her. Senna clenched her fists at her sides. “Is there anything you two haven’t lied about?”

Mistin frowned. “We really are your friends.”

Senna had to suppress the urge to hit her. But if she was going to escape, she’d need all her strength and her captors relaxed. She perched on the edge of the bed and started eating. A creamy cheese was spread over thick, soft bread. Atop that, Mistin piled meat with a tangy, sweet sauce. For a time, they were silent except for the sounds of eating.

She’d thought these two were her friends. She’d been wrong. “What’s going to happen to me?” she asked finally.

Mistin exchanged a glance with Cord. “We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

Senna palmed a handful of the berries. They exploded in her mouth, tart and sweet with little nuts inside. “Safe from what?”

“From the Tartens and Haven,” Cord said.

Senna snorted. “Who’s going to protect me from you?”

Mistin’s eyes filled with sorrow. “We won’t hurt you.”

Ha! They’d already hurt her, numerous times. She studied them both. There was no way Mistin was working alone. Her song wasn’t strong enough to sing a boat through the underwater cave that led to Haven. “Who was the other traitor? Drenelle?”

Mistin opened her mouth to say something, but shut it when Cord nudged her, a chiding look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Senna looked between them.

Cord shrugged before taking the empty tray and leaving the room.

Senna washed her hands in the water basin. Soon, she felt the ship move out to sea.

She was leaving Joshen behind. Who knew what Grendi would do to him? And Reden. If either of them were still alive. Senna lay on the bed as far away from Mistin as she could get and twisted her pearl ring round and round her finger.

Joshen was all right. She was going to escape. She was going to free him and Reden. She repeated it in her head like a mantra.

When the door opened again, she expected it to be Cord coming back. Instead, Krissin stood there—the sound of Witch song drifting in from behind her. Senna sat up. She wanted to sing, wanted it desperately. But it would only cost her what little freedom she had. She had to bide her time.

“Senna, you will come with me. Mistin, stay close.” Krissin said.

Steeling herself, Senna followed Krissin out of the room. She was surprised to see twilight coming on. There was no sign of land; the ship must be well out to sea. Judging by the way they skimmed across the waves, they were making excellent time. Black storm clouds churned on the horizon.

Krissin led Senna and Mistin into the captain’s cabin and shut the door behind the three of them. Senna retreated to the far side of the room. Mistin shadowed her and watched her every movement warily.

Krissin lit a dozen candles. “Do you know who we are?”

Senna nodded. “You’re the Witches planning to take over Haven.”

Krissin’s face remained blank. “Yes.”

“Did you send an Earth tremor after Haven?” Senna asked.

Krissin smiled. “Very good. Mistin informed me your Heads were growing suspicious. We needed a long-term distraction.”

“What about the damage you did to Nefalie’s coast? The people you killed?”

The smile faded to a frown. “I regret that.”

Senna snorted. “Why did you send Mistin and Cord to kidnap me?”

“Because you were the only thing that stood between us and Haven.” Krissin poured herself a cup of tea.