Still at only half-strength, she strained against them. A few popped free of their roots, enough that she could sit up slightly. She searched for Espen. The other Witch was covered in blood, her skin caught in the barbs that stretched it cruelly.
The Dark Witch must have freed enough fingers to reach her seeds, for Senna could see a gray plant growing between Espen and the Thine. It was bulky, thick and soft. This accomplished two things at once. One, it was putting a soft barrier between Espen and the thorns. And two, it was pushing the thorns away. Any second now, Espen would free herself.
With renewed determination, Senna strained against the bindweeds. More popped free. Her right hand broke free. She shook off the weeds and reached for her seed belt. But her hands only encountered her green dress.
Panic lanced through her. She searched frantically and finally found the belt lying near the circle’s center. Tugging with all her might, she managed to free her left hand. She jerked and kicked at the weeds binding her legs like a too-tight blanket. Finally breaking loose, she stumbled toward her belt.
She heard Espen’s song changing and knew the woman had reached her seed belt. She ran furiously for her own, but as she did, she felt the wind howling at her, felt seeds pelting her. When she was a mere few steps away, a plant shot up all around her. She knew it immediately, though this variation was darker than the kind in her belt. Kine—a low-growing cactus. But instead of leaves, it had millions of razor-sharp blades the length of her thumb. And it had completely encapsulated her seed belt.
Senna took one final step forward. She felt the blades pierce the soles of her shoes, stabbing her foot. She cried out and forced her hand toward her belt. The vines shredded her skin. She felt a poison working through her flesh from her wounds. But she had to reach her belt. She shoved her hand forward again, straining, stretching. She felt the belt’s smooth surface under her fingertips. But a voice stopped her.
“You may as well stop.”
Senna winced and turned to see Espen standing free of the Thine, a handful of seeds in her hand.
She’d lost.
Withdrawing her shredded hand, she cradled it against her and felt the blood soak through her dress and run down her belly. Her hand and foot stung and burned. But it didn’t matter. Trees didn’t feel pain like people did. She waited for Espen to turn her into one. Part of her was coldly curious to find out how Espen did it.
But Espen surprised her by speaking. “No other Witch has had the courage to face me in my domain.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’ll admit, your song is amazingly strong. Stronger than I ever anticipated. Stronger than my own was and I had no equal. Which is why I actually dueled you instead of just ending it immediately. You see, I wanted to put you in your place.”
Espen laughed. Senna tried to wrap her mind around the Dark Witch laughing—or holding a conversation, for that matter. Somehow, in Senna’s imaginings, Espen had never seemed capable of something as bright as laughter. “A Witchling. Untrained. And you very nearly had me.”
Espen sang a simple song and the Kine vines curled up, though the ones around Senna’s belt stayed firmly in place. Senna felt the blades leave her feet and nearly sighed with relief. But she still felt the poison spreading a strange lethargy through her limbs. Odd, since the Kine she knew had no poison.
Espen’s bright eyes shone with excitement. “The two of us would be a force so great, the other Witches would have no choice but to join us. So, the question is, does your intelligence equal your strength? Or would you rather join your Keepers?”
Bitter panic rose in Senna’s throat. She considered lifting her skirts and running, but Espen wouldn’t allow that.
Her life suddenly seemed precious. If she accepted, Senna could even have Joshen. But the thought was fleeting. She refused to consider it any longer. Clamping her jaw, she searched one last time for something so simple she might have overlooked it. If only she could have a few moments more. She had to stall. “What do you offer me?”
Triumph leaped into Espen’s eyes, but she kept her face impassive. “In all the world, you will answer only to me. Of the riches, one eighth. Lands are negotiable. I prefer…”
Espen continued, but Senna had stopped listening. Desperately, she searched for a way to save herself from her mother’s fate. Joshen’s words of long ago echoed in her head. You don’t have to do everything alone.
She shook her head to clear the memory. She was alone! The last of the Witches. Her belt was trapped beneath an unreachable layer of Kine. Her body was battered and shredded. There was no one and nothing left to help her! How could she have thought she could defeat Espen when all the others had failed?
Perhaps the only ones left with the power to stop Espen are the Creators themselves, she thought bitterly.
That notion stopped her frantic thoughts cold. She gaped at the Ring of Power as if she’d never seen it before. It could work. It might work. Even if it didn’t, she had nothing to lose.
Espen was watching her expectantly. Taking a chance, Senna limped forward. Espen moved into a defensive stance, but she didn’t prevent Senna from overtaking the circle’s center.
Senna took a deep breath. She would only have time for one song before Espen retaliated. Lifting her face, her song began.
Wind lift me high,
That my words reach to’rds the sky.
Espen’s eyebrows arched in surprise, but she made no move to halt the wind’s slow swirling. “And who will you call for, little one? There are none left. Even if there were, they wouldn’t come in time to save you.”
But there are some left. If only they can hear me. If only they will come, she thought. The trees bent and swayed as the wind lifted her higher than she had ever been before. “Higher,” she sang, until she was dizzy from lack of air and chilled to her bones.
Her song changed.
Givers of life! Creators!
The Keepers have failed,
Their hold dispelled,
Heed my call,
Or our Earth shall fall!
Help us!
Help us!
The whirlwind caught her words and bore them away, but whether they would ever reach their destination, or be answered if they did, she couldn’t say.
She looked beneath her dangling feet. The Ring of Power seemed so far away. A small, lighter dot amidst leagues of darker green.
Small, but not insignificant.
Below, Espen waited for her.
As the wind’s hold over her lessened, she could do nothing but watch as the clearing rose toward her and Espen’s features clarified. She was suddenly very tired.
“A fool’s choice,” Espen said as Senna returned to hearing range. The respect that had been in her eyes was gone.
“But one that all, excluding you, have made,” Senna replied as her feet touched the ground and the wind calmed.
Espen gestured to the unnatural trees. “Obviously. That’s why I called it a fool’s choice.”
Why did Senna feel it was already over? It seemed her fate had been sealed before her birth—that this end had always been inevitable. She closed her eyes and thought of Joshen. She’d tried. For him. For her mother. That was all that mattered. “You might call me a fool. Others would call me courageous.”
In response, Espen flung a black seed into the air and sang.
Her body consume!
Senna waited for Espen to continued the song, but the Dark Witch remained silent.
Senna followed the older woman’s gaze. Her body went cold. The black seed had not fallen.
It should have. It was too heavy for even a strong gust. And Senna felt no wind at all. But instead of falling, it floated in the air as if held by an unseen hand. Slowly, it floated toward her. It seemed to steady and travel incrementally faster. Even as she tried to wrap herself around this impossibility, her doom dawned on her as it must have on all the other Witches. There were plants to counteract other plants, potions to change her form, plants to protect the sin
ger, but there were no weapons to defend against something as small as a single seed.
The seed was gaining speed. Senna couldn’t help it. Even if it was hopeless, she had to try. Whirling, she ran as fast as her battered and bloody body would let her. How many before her had done the same? Just before she reached the edge of the clearing, Joshen burst into the moonlight. “Senna!”
Her soul shattered into a million pieces. “Joshen, you promised!”
“I couldn’t leave you! I just couldn’t!”
Just as she reached him, a sharp pain hammered her spine, pitching her forward. Joshen caught her in his arms. The pain spread. Her body suddenly went rigid.
“Senna?” Joshen tugged at her, trying to force her to run. But her feet were already rooted to the Earth.
With the last bit of dexterity she had, she tipped her face to his, “I love you.” She’d finally managed to say it. As soon as the words left her, her lips grew together, sealing everything else she wanted to say behind them.
Joshen’s face screwed up in anguish. At last, he understood. “Oh, Senna no!”
Senna felt Espen coming up behind her. She ached to scream for Joshen to run, but with each passing moment, her body grew more unyielding.
Espen came into view. She glanced at Joshen before turning to Senna with a look of relief. “You realized what was coming sooner than most, but there was nothing you could do. Nothing any of them could. You should’ve joined me.”
Senna couldn’t answer as her body grew more wooden. Joshen gripped her, but she could no longer feel his touch. Only see him. And even that was beginning to fade. With a groan, her body stretched toward the night sky. Of their own accord, her arms grew and splintered into main branches while her fingers shivered and split into smaller ones. As she grew upward, her feet separated and her toes plunged into the cool Earth. Leaves burst from her fingertips. She groaned and fought, but it was useless. She was no longer human. If her shoulders remained, they would have sagged. As it was, she could simply stand stiff and still, only her thinnest branches capable of movement.
In front of what used to be her face, a beautiful white flower appeared.
Espen sang.
Oh little flower, change for me
Into a seed with ripe fruit be.
Senna had no choice but to force nutrients and water into the flower. She felt her Witch song gathering inside as the flower changed into a fully mature fruit. It was finished. Every part of her that was a Witch now dangled before her face. She groaned in despair.
As the last of her hope leeched from her, Joshen snatched the fruit. Whirling, he ran toward the jungle.
“Run, Joshen! For the love of life, run,” she tried to scream but couldn’t.
Espen waited until he reached the line of trees before singing. A tree snagged him in a tight embrace. He cursed. The tree wrapped a branch around his mouth, silencing him. Senna cried out, but the sound came out as little more than a wooden groan. She fought to pummel Espen, but her branches refused to obey. Instead, they gently shifted in the breeze.
Espen sauntered toward him. Taking the fruit from his hands, she inhaled its aroma. With a look of intense satisfaction, she took a juicy bite. Smiling as she chewed, she sauntered toward Senna.
Senna wanted nothing more than to squash her, but she was Espen’s servant now. As were all the other Witches. Had it really ended so quickly, so completely? Watching Espen consume her song, she yearned to weep.
Espen licked the juices from her fingers and then held up a black seed. A seed that mirrored the one in Senna’s back. “It took dozens of my Servants’ lives to create Lathel—a seed that could hold a Witch captive and give me her song. After consuming dozens of Witch songs, I had strength for a song strong enough to micromanage a wind to propel my seed. The Keepers had no hope after that. Really, it wasn’t me at all. Just an undefeatable plant.” She slipped the seed into her seed belt. Another flower bloomed on Senna’s branch. Espen handled the blossom tenderly, “And this is the reason I’m trapped here. I had to consume your Witch song daily to glean your power. What a relief it is to have the last of you captured. I’ll be able to leave now.”
She sang again and the tree pushed Joshen toward her. She tipped her head as she studied him. “Such a loyal one, Brusenna. And so strong. Really. I’m impressed.” She ran her fingertips across one of his straining muscles. “It’s only fair you recompense me for Wardof and Garg. Two bumbling idiots for the price of one competent servant. A fair trade.” She pulled a waxy substance from her belt.
Senna stretched and groaned and wept anew. Through her foggy vision, she recognized the potion. Yarves. All records regarding its creation had been destroyed long ago, but the violent blue could be nothing else. Espen had either found a missed record or discovered how to create it herself.
She smeared the substance on her lips and rubbed them together. She circled him, her eyes taking him in as a buyer does a horse.
Desire most fervent
To be Espen’s servant.
To heed my call,
You will give your all.
As she repeated the forbidden song, Joshen struggled and fought, but he couldn’t break free. Espen sang the branch from his mouth. “No!” he cried as Espen leaned forward to kiss him.
Unable to bear it, Senna refused to watch. When she forced herself to face it, she wished she hadn’t. A vacant stare had come over Joshen’s face. He was no more Joshen now than Senna was herself.
Espen sang him free. He stood dumbly before her. “Who is your mistress?” she asked him.
“Espen,” he said hollowly.
28. EARTH, WATER, PLANTS AND SUNLIGHT
The breeze tugged at Senna’s leaves, reminding her of when the wind had caressed her hair. She wished she could close her eyes to block out reality. But at least her sight was dim and fuzzy; it made it easier to believe none of this was real. She struggled to move her thinnest branches. How long would it be before she took the path the other Witches had and forgot everything? How long before Joshen’s memory no longer existed for her? How long before she was fully a tree, a woman no more?
Espen had disappeared for a while. She returned with an axe in hand. Senna suspected she wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. Espen handed the axe to Joshen. “Come.” She stood before Senna, her arms folded across her chest. “I don’t need you anymore. Only your continued interference stopped things from progressing. Besides, I need to test the loyalty of my new servant. You understand. And even if you don’t, I forbid you to stop him.” She pointed to Joshen. “Chop down the tree. Burn the wood.”
Senna wanted to lash out with her branches. Wring Espen like wet laundry. As best she could, she sang for Joshen, but it came out as little more than the rustle of her leaves.
Joshen took a step forward then stopped. Sweat broke out on his face.
Espen circled him, her eyes gleaming. “I see I’m going to have to be very specific with you. Using the axe, cut down this tree. Do it now.”
Arms trembling, Joshen lifted the axe into the air. Senna longed to cringe, close her eyes, scream. She couldn’t.
His whole body shaking as uncontrollably as if fevered, Joshen lowered the axe.
Espen’s gaze narrowed to a fuming glare. “I command you—CUT DOWN THE TREE!”
Joshen quaked. His skin turned a magnificent shade of red. His eyes bulged. Through clenched teeth, he said, “No.”
Espen reeled. She glanced at Senna and then back to Joshen. “Then you are of no use to me.” She removed a small vial from her seed belt. Senna recognized it. A simple poison. We’ll both die this night, she thought. But at least we’ll die together.
The selfish part of Senna wished she could go first. So she wouldn’t have to watch Joshen die. But at least her sorrow wouldn’t last long. Nor would she fear her own death, but embrace it. She didn’t wish to remain in a world Joshen wasn’t a part of … one Espen ruled.
Espen unstopped the vial and tipped Joshen’s head back.
br /> The vial touched his lips. Senna stretched and groaned, trying to struggle as hard for Joshen as he had for her. The liquid shifted toward his waiting mouth. Then Espen suddenly stopped. Senna could have cried with joy as the evil little container lowered to her side. But then she saw it, too. Though it was still deep night, the sky was brighter. Much brighter.
Shoving in the vial’s stopper, Espen pulled a seed from her belt, her stance defensive.
With a shimmering pulse, the sky flashed, blinding Senna to anything but light. Espen and Joshen shielded themselves from the intensity, but Senna’s weak eyes were able to look into the brilliance. At first, she saw nothing. And then colors appeared. Long thin shapes of green, blue, brown and very last, gold.
The long, thin shapes clarified into the curved shapes of women. The Creators. They had come after all. The light faded, or perhaps Senna simply became accustomed to it. There were four of them. Everything but their skin was a single color whose tint varied by the moment. The brown one had hair of black Earth that brightened to the light red of clay. The blue woman’s hair and dress went from turquoise to nearly green-black. The green Creator’s color varied from the color of baby grass to the deepest evergreen. But the golden one—whose hair and dress varied from sun yellow to corn silk to ripe wheat—studied Senna.
The brown one examined Espen’s cowered figure. The blue one’s eyes were closed and the green one considered the forest beyond the clearing. After a moment, the blue Creator sang like the rush of wind over breaking waves.
The seas are in havoc, their creatures tortured.
The green Creator answered.
The plants are weak, sick and dying.
The brown Creator sang.