Witch Born (28 page)

“I’m only one Witch.”

Krissin studied her. “Yes, but I know what’s happening to you.”

“What’s happening to me?” Senna echoed breathlessly.

The Head looked out the window. “All Witch song influences the music around them. But you—you can hear the music. The strength of your song fluctuates—there are times when you can match a full choir. Other times your song seems almost normal.”

Senna shook her head. How had Krissin known? “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

Krissin leaned forward. “Your Witches don’t understand how songs really work. We strengthen the Four Sister’s music, bend it if we can. But we can’t hear it. You, however, can. And what’s more, you can create music.”

Create music?
Senna couldn’t seem to get enough air. Was that really what she’d been doing? “How do you know this? How do you know anything about me? Calden disappeared long ago.”

“We have our spies—people like Cord and Mistin—to keep us appraised as to the goings on of the world.” The candle cast dark, flickering shadows across Krissin’s face. “Long ago, a young Witch became disillusioned with the way Haven ran the world. She garnered a secret following. One night, she stole into the Head’s secret libraries and took many of the books filled with Witch secrets. Then she and her followers fled to her homeland: Calden.”

Senna already knew this story. “But Calden was destroyed.”

Krissin’s gaze held Senna’s. “Not destroyed. Moved.”

Espen’s hastily scrawled word’s flashed in her mind. “But that would have taken hundreds and hundreds of Witches…”

“Oh, would it now?” Krissin calmly sipped her tea.

Senna’s gaze narrowed. “You know it would.”

Krissin pursed her lips. She’d been willing to share some secrets. Apparently, this wasn’t one of them.

It was true the Witches could move Haven, if there were enough of them, but Senna hadn’t known it was possible for any other place. Clearly, Haven’s Witches hadn’t either. It must be true, because the evidence sat in front of her. “How could you stay hidden for so many centuries?”

Krissin’s thumb traced the handle of the tea cup. “You’ll understand it better when you see for yourself.”

Senna slumped onto one of the chairs and poured herself a cup of tea, adding a generous dollop of clotted cream. “Really, what’s the point of all this mystery?”

Krissin smiled. “I will not reveal all our secrets to you, Senna. Know I will not harm you. In fact, all of us have great respect for you and what you’ve done. As long as you refrain from interfering, you will be treated as an honored guest.”

Senna felt the Four Sisters inside her. She could harness them within seconds, sink this ship and every other ship within a hundred leagues.

Krissin must have seen something of this on her face. “Don’t. Mistin would knock you senseless, and we would drug you until this is all over. I can’t guarantee the potions wouldn’t addle your wits or make you a slave to them, either.”

Senna swallowed her rage. Krissin was right. She had to wait for the right opportunity. “When I defeated Espen, I thought I was saving more than just the Witches. But that’s not true, is it? Hundreds of Calden Witches could have stepped in after we were gone and righted the world. It was never really in danger after all.”

Krissin rolled a handful of berries around on her palm. “Give yourself a little credit, Brusenna. We were hiding from Espen just as much as your Witches. She could have overthrown us just as easily as she did Haven.” Krissin stood and gestured for Senna to follow.

She obeyed, but only because there was no real choice.

Krissin led her back to her tiny room. “Mistin will stay with you to make sure you don’t attempt to sing. Don’t test her. She’s our best Stryker. I suggest you rest. Tomorrow will be trying enough.” She shut the door and Senna heard the lock click into place.

Senna let her eyes adjust to the dark. “Stryker?”

Mistin flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Witches trained as fighters.” She hesitated. “I told you there is more to a Witch than just her song.”

Absolutely exhausted, but still fighting her fate, Senna grunted. “I never disputed that.”

“I know,” Mistin said softly, her eyes glinting in the darkness. “That’s why I’m your friend.”

Senna felt like screaming. “Friends don’t lie to each other. They don’t betray each other. And they certainly don’t kidnap each other.”

“This friend does.” Senna heard the laughter in Mistin’s voice. The Stryker rolled over and said seriously, “Not everyone looks at me the way you do. Haven certainly didn’t. I’m small. I’m female. I’m young. And worst of all, I have a weak song. But I’ve found a way to turn all my weaknesses into strengths. People underestimate me. They pass me over as unimportant. This makes me the perfect spy. You don’t have to be big and strong to throw a knife or to worm your way in as the Head’s secretary.”

“Or as my so-called friend.” Senna rubbed her eyes. “You know they’re not evil.”

“This war has been coming for centuries.” Mistin’s voice had hardened. “When it’s over, you’ll have a place among us, if you choose it.”

A place with these Witches but not with those on Haven. Senna rested the back of her head against the door and slid to the floor. This was what Espen was trying to warn her about. This was the danger coming for Haven.

The island’s walls were no protection. Not against Witches.

Senna lay on the lumpy mattress, staring at the ceiling and worrying about Joshen. She relived everything that had happened, finding a hundred places where she’d gone wrong, a hundred decisions she should have made differently. Mistin slept soundly beside her. She had considered singing while her “friend” slept, but anything loud enough to be effective in these cramped quarters would surely wake the girl. And she’d seen how fast Mistin could move.

Still, Senna might have risked it. It had worked before, when she’d hummed to the Four Sisters. But now she was in the middle of the Darkwell Sea. Where would she go?

No matter how many times she looked out the tiny window above their shared bed, she saw only the stormy seas. The last sense left to her was listening. She sometimes heard the sailors above the wind and rain. And always the steady sound of a Witch singing to the ship.

That in itself was curious. The woman’s song was strong—she should only have to sing every now and then, but she hadn’t stopped but for an occasional break since she’d started hours ago.

Her song suddenly ended. There was silence except for booted footfalls. And suddenly, Witch song rang out. At least four of them were singing. In response, wind whipped against the ship, which surged forward.

That many Witches could sing them up to a speed that would snap the mast. “Are they mad?” Senna wondered aloud.

Mistin sat up, listened, and said groggily, “We’re headed to the barrier. That means we’ll be home by nightfall. When I left, I never thought I’d see it again.”

“Where are we?”

“You might have heard it referred to as the Darkwell Squall.” With a sleepy smile, she lay back down.

Darkwell Squall—Senna had heard of it, but she couldn’t remember where. Was this what Grendi had meant by the place of storms? After pushing back her blankets, Senna knelt before the window and rested her chin against the casement. The dark had a texture so deep it felt like velvet all around her. And still all she saw was the endless ocean and clouds and rain.

Using the illumination of an unseen lantern, she looked back the way they’d come and noticed the slant of the rain and the direction of the waves. The ship was going against both. That must be why the Witch had to sing all night, but that didn’t explain the sudden addition of three more.

Senna shifted her line of sight to look ahead and saw something astonishing through the blur of rain. A shimmer of color. A curving wall of bruised green and purple emerged from the storm, stretching as far as she could see.

An intense foreboding crashed over her. If the ship touched that color, something horrible would happen. They must turn around and never come back. The feeling was so overwhelming that it felt as if her brain were shutting down. There was only one thought:
flee.
A small cry of fear passed her lips.

Mistin patted her back. “It’ll be over soon.”

The room was filled with color as the ship sliced through the wall. Senna was suddenly inundated with music—the strangest music. Cringing, she listened to a song of forgetting and forbidden places.

A moment later it was gone, and she was left with nothing except utter confusion. Even the storm was gone. All was calm and quiet. She looked out the window.

The wall was no longer foreboding. It was a rainbow of bright, liquid colors. Senna finally understood. This barrier was much like the barrier that surrounded the Ring of Power and protected the Witches during their songs. But instead of an uncrossable boundary, this one created fear and a sense of impending doom to keep strangers out.

“How is it possible?”

Mistin yawned. “The currents and winds keep ships away. The storms blind them. If either of those fail, the barrier won’t let anyone in from the outside. Even those of us who left—I didn’t think I’d ever be able to come home. But that changed a few weeks ago. Now it just scares the hide off anyone who approaches it, but it can be crossed both ways. I don’t know why.”

Senna’s heart beat faster. The first time she’d Traveled, she’d come upon something she couldn’t pass, so she’d altered it to let her through. Altered, but not destroyed. “If no one could traverse the barrier, how did you go through it the first time?”

“Getting out is easy. Getting back in is—was—impossible.” Mistin rolled over and tugged the blankets around her shoulders, clearly wanting to go back to sleep.

After crossing the barrier, Senna had been attacked by foreign Witches who lived on an island not far from a land with mountains—Calden was just over a day’s sail from Tarten. It all made sense.

Beyond the inky sea, buildings gleamed like pearls in the moonlight, with candles shining in their windows. The ship headed for a wide river.

Their speed lagged against the river’s drag. Her hand on the casing, Senna almost felt the ship straining to overcome the pull of the water. The Witches’ song nudged them steadily forward. They slowed before breaking past the lips of the river and into its mouth.

Senna studied the hushed city. Beams of wood poked through the roofs. The walls seemed to be made of some kind of plaster. Late as it was, she still caught sight of people, all wearing flowing tunics and sandals.

She peered down at the river and was shocked to see Pogg swimming through the water, a fish in his mouth. A cry started from her mouth, but died when she saw another Pogg. And another. She sat back on her heels.

Pogg wasn’t the last Mettlemot. He was just lost from the rest of his kind. Senna closed her eyes as the depth and breadth of the Witches’ mistakes overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry, Pogg,” she mouthed.

She risked looking back out the window. Beyond the city were groves of dark, small-leaved trees. Across the hills, a flock of sheep had bedded down for the night. They looked like a cloud that had lost the sky. Senna watched the landscape change, grow even more barren and windswept. At some point she fell back asleep.

Mistin’s hand on her arm woke her. “They’ll be coming for us soon.”

Senna looked outside again. It was early morning, so early the sun hadn’t even awakened yet. The world was grainy and gray, that fuzzy time that lacked clear details. They’d come to another city; their ship was docked at one of the wharves.

Senna combed her tangled hair the best she could with her fingers. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and slipped on her boots. She was ready when a group of four Guardians opened the door, Cord among them. Beyond them, Krissin and the other Heads were waiting for the gangplank to be lowered.

Cord smiled, obviously trying to soften the fact that Senna was under guard. “Time to go.”

Mistin leaned over. “None of our sea-going ships can go farther than Ilyss. We’ll board smaller vessels.”

Cord stepped aside, clearly expecting Senna to come without a fight. By the Creators, she wanted to prove him wrong. But four Guardians and Mistin would silence her the moment the song left her lips “I don’t trust you.” She cut a glance at Mistin. “Or you.”

Cord stepped closer, his proximity making Senna squirm on the inside. “When I was hidden and half dead of pain, I overheard them sometimes—your Haven Witches. They accused you of lying, of seeking attention. Even Joshen tried to stop you from leaving. So you tell me Senna, who’s the better friend?”

How dare he say anything against Joshen! She slapped Cord, making her hand sting. The other Guardians stepped closer.

“He deserved that,” Mistin said quickly.

Rubbing his cheek, Cord motioned for the other Guardians to relax. “Maybe I did.”

Krissin glanced back at them. She pulled a vial of purple liquid from her seed belt and held it up for Senna to see. “I will use it if I must.”

Senna suddenly felt cold all over, though the predawn air was warm. Yarves would make her mind as malleable as mush. She stepped away from Cord, her hands fisted at her sides until her scar ached fiercely.

Krissin shoved the vial back into her seed belt and strode down the gangplank, her sandaled feet slapping the wood much differently than the click of Senna’s boots. Hating her every step, Senna followed. Dark-clad Calden Guardians flanked her on every side and steered her towards the pier.

They stepped into a smaller boat that was intricately carved from fine wood. Senna ran her hands over the inside, searching for the seams where one board met another. With a start, she realized there were none. The entire boat must be sung into shape from a single tree by Witch song.

Stunned, she withdrew her hand. She’d never heard of a song to shape a boat. Never fathomed it. Could it be possible the Calden Witches were even more knowledgeable than the Haven Witches? That they were somehow stronger?

If so, what did they want with her? Why go to all this trouble for one Witch? Krissin was right that the power of Senna’s song surged sometimes, but not strong enough to stop these Witches.