Chavis studied her. “Let her stay. She came through Tarten undetected. Perhaps her knowledge of the terrain can help us.”
Coyel nodded in agreement.
Two of them. Senna breathed a sigh of relief. Two was sufficient.
“That’s far enough,” Chavis said as Tiena translated.
The commander took them in, searching for their leader. Just as Chavis began speaking in Tarten, he held up his hand for her to stop. “I speak fluent Nefalien, though the weak language grates upon my ears.”
He waited for a response, but the Heads refused to let him bait them. He shifted in the saddle, obviously still unsure which of them was the leader. “I am Reden, General to the kingdom of Tarten. You have been accused of Witchcraft, among other charges. I’m under order to bring you in for trial.”
Coyel cocked an eyebrow. “And what ‘other numerous charges’ have we unwittingly gleaned?”
“Our borders have long been closed to Nefaliens; your presence alone is against our laws. In addition, lawlessness, recklessness, evading arrest, trespassing.”
“Would you like to add stealing Tarten air while you’re at it?” Prenny said through clenched teeth.
“We didn’t come here of our own will,” Drenelle added in her shrill voice.
Coyel rested a warning hand over Prenny’s arm. “We only wish to depart your lands. Let us pass in peace.”
“That’s not for me to decide. The Chancellors make those decisions.”
“And if we threaten to curse your land?” Chavis said while studying her fingernails.
Reden lowered his head, his lips curving down disapprovingly. “I’m a soldier, Witch. I follow orders. I’ll bring you in, one way or another.”
“What chance of fair trial would we have?” Coyel exclaimed.
The man’s determined eyes shifted to her. “I say again, that is not for me to decide. I’ll guarantee you fair treatment while under my care. Though you will of necessity be gagged and bound.”
The Heads exchanged glances. “We’ll discuss your terms and return with an answer.”
Senna studied the man as the others moved a few steps away. His gaze shifted to her, evaluating her as she did him. But his unreadable expression revealed nothing.
“Senna,” Coyel called.
Reluctantly, she turned away. The Heads had moved out of earshot, forming a tight circle. She bent her head with theirs.
“What are we to do?” Drenelle asked in a low voice.
“I’m a healer, not a warrior. We have no chance against so many,” Prenny growled.
“I’ll not rot in another prison. This one probably worse than the last!” Drenelle countered through clenched teeth.
“We must run!” a Witch cried from the crowd behind them.
The Heads ignored it. Chavis’s eyes darted from one face to another. “You know as well as I we cannot outrun horses on foot. We are in the middle of Tarten; where could we hide? There are thousands of them! Most of us would be captured immediately. The others shortly thereafter. Many would die.”
Senna glanced back at Joshen. “There is an underground network to hide Witches. They helped me.”
Chavis nodded slowly. “That could work. A few might escape unnoticed. Young Witches. Runners.”
Coyel’s brows gathered in concentration. “This network, you could find a contact?”
Remembering Kaen, Senna nodded. “Joshen and I both could.”
“Our only chance is if all of us run,” Drenelle interjected, a touch of panic around her eyes. She must have known she would not be included in the small group to run for it.
Prenny groaned in disgust. “Don’t be a fool! If we all run, the whole army will come after us. If we fight back, they’ll kill us in droves. Those left will either be locked away or killed.”
“Being locked away and killed is inevitable,” Drenelle cried.
“Maybe not.” Senna hesitated as Drenelle shot her a murderous glare. For a woman wrapped in lace, Drenelle could look as dangerous as a gut-shot bear. She was obviously set on escaping and didn’t like Senna interfering with her chances.
“Go on, Senna,” Coyel said.
Senna moistened her lips with her tongue and avoided Drenelle’s glower. “We’re miles inland with ten thousand soldiers blocking our way. The capitol, Carpel, is near the shore. We stand a better chance of escape from there.”
“She’s right about the capitol,” Tiena agreed. “It’s Tarten’s main port. There are hundreds of ships.”
“I see no other viable choice,” Chavis said, looking at Coyel.
Coyel nodded. “I agree.”
“Well, I don’t!” Drenelle hissed. “And don’t you pull that, ‘I hold the sway vote,’ nor the ‘Witch General’ nonsense. Prenny and I have equal weight. I demand a council be convened.”
“There’s no need,” Prenny said with a shake of her head. “I agree with them.” Drenelle balled her lace trimmed skirt in her fist. Prenny merely shrugged. “I can’t order my Keepers to suicide. Much as I hate admitting it, the sprout has a point. The soldiers will take us where we want to go. We stand a better chance of escape from there than here.”
Chavis straightened. “It’s agreed, then. Two groups stand a better chance of survival than one. Joshen will lead a company of five Witches to this network. The rest of us will try to escape from Carpel. I’ll round up some good candidates for escape.” Lifting her skirts, she strode toward the Witches with a critical eye.
Senna stared blankly after Chavis. Joshen. Leaving. She ran after her. “I’m young. I can run. I’ll go with them.”
Chavis shook her head. “No. We might need you to lead us to that Captain Parknel you told us of. Now, where is this Joshen?”
Senna’s heart fell to her feet. “Let me tell him?”
Chavis nodded curtly. “Yes. That would be faster.” She turned away.
Senna froze when she saw Joshen rushing toward her. Tears brimmed her eyes. She angrily wiped them away. He slowed and approached her cautiously. “I know that look,” he growled.
She couldn’t meet his gaze. “You’re to lead a group of Witches to Kaen and have him help you get them to Parknel.”
He gave a quick nod of approval as he studied the mountains. She could see him planning the route already. “That’s smart.”
She winced and finally met his gaze.
He took a step back as understanding dawned on his face. “You’re not going with us, are you?”
She shook her head.
“But Senna, I’m your Guardian! They aren’t supposed to separate us.”
“They’re the Discipline Heads. They can do what they want. Besides, whether or not I’m even allowed a Guardian hasn’t been decided yet.”
“Cow dung!”
She couldn’t help a small smile at Joshen’s cursing. “It might not be fair, but you know it’s the right thing to do.”
Joshen gripped both her arms. “I haven’t left you yet. I’m not going to start now!”
“If they imprison us, you must go to Nefalie and appeal to the city-states,” she whispered fiercely. “If you don’t, no one will ever help us!”
“As if Nefalie would interfere!” he shot back.
She flinched, knowing he was right. His gaze turned from angry to pleading. “Come away; we’ll escape the same way we came.”
Senna looked away to hide her fierce desire. No. She wouldn’t deny she wanted to run. Wanted it desperately. She closed her eyes as the fear overcame her. “Understand, Joshen,” she said breathlessly, “I came all this way to free them. And I did. If that leads to their deaths, I’ll never be able to live with it.” She thought of adding that her mother needed her, but the words wouldn’t come. “Please, Joshen. If not you, who else?”
Agony in his gaze, Joshen looked away. “All right,” he finally relented. “I’ll lead them to Parknel. But then I’m coming back for you.” He kissed her, his lips hard. “Stay alive. I don’t care what you have to do, stay alive.” W
ith another kiss, he sprinted toward Chavis and a small knot of Witches gathered around her. And one very withered woman. Desni. Without looking back, they disappeared into the crowd. Senna knew within moments they’d be in the jungle.
And one of the women had been Arianis. Senna couldn’t help the fierce jealously gnawing at her breast. She didn’t know how long she stared after him. But at the sound of thundering hooves, she turned.
So, General Reden wasn’t waiting for their answer. He was coming for it instead.
31. ENEMY
Senna waited with the Discipline Heads. They all knew it was useless to fight. Against a thousand, they had a slim chance. Against ten thousand, they were little more than a mantis pitted against a horde of ants.
Mounted on a sleek, gray horse, General Reden cautiously approached them. Grudgingly, Senna had to admit he was handsome, in a brutish way. He was broad, built like a wrestler, with a long, puckered scar across his jaw. His eyes gleamed so dark they bordered on black, with hair to match. She couldn’t venture a guess on how old he was. He might be in his mid-twenties or early forties. When he stood mere yards away, he paused, his musket trained on the ground. “Your decision?”
Coyel held out her hands in surrender. “You’ve given us little choice.”
He gestured to the men at his sides, who stepped toward them. “That was my intention. Your name?”
“Coyel.”
“Very well, Coyel. Allow my men to bind your hands and mouths and I’ll ensure you receive fair treatment. Agreed?” The men approached them, cords in hand. Senna eyed them warily.
“And what assurance will you give me that you will honor your word?” Coyel asked.
He chuckled. “Asking you to surrender was a courtesy. If I had wanted to take you by force, I’d have done it already.”
“And if you had, a great many of you’d be dead by now,” Chavis said.
Did the woman have no fear? Senna wondered.
Coyel shot Chavis a warning glance. “Fair enough, Reden. But I’ll hold you to your word.”
Reden nodded to his men—two for each Witch. The soldiers who approached Senna stripped her of her seed belt. They tied a soft cotton rag across her mouth. The man who bound her hands did it strong enough she couldn’t pull free, but loose enough she didn’t lose circulation. A small part of her dared to hope Reden might keep his word.
The men took positions, one on each side. With their mouths covered, did Reden really think them dangerous enough to warrant two guards per Witch? Senna thought it excessive, until she began to move through the host of soldiers, who glowered at them as they passed. Only then did she understand they were the Witch’s protectors just as much as they were their guards.
“I’m assigning my most trusted men to guard you,” Reden said as they moved. “You’ll be allowed to remove your gags while you eat, but they will have loaded muskets trained on you the entire time. I have given them instructions to shoot should one syllable leave your lips.” His gaze rested on Chavis. “Understand there will be no mercy granted should this rule be broken.”
When they were surrounded by ten thousand Tartens, they were strung together like pack animals. She and her mother were separated, Sacra in the back. All Senna could think of was Joshen—somewhere in the jungle without her—so she didn’t notice she was first in line until Reden dismounted in front of her and signaled for her gag to be removed.
The Heads frowned at her suspiciously. She shrugged. Her hands tied in front of her, she waited.
He studied her. “How is it a mere girl came to free the Witches?”
How could he know it was me? she wondered. She wanted to look to Coyel for help, but she feared giving something away.
When she didn’t answer, he continued. “And a single man traveled with you. It doesn’t make much sense. What use would the Witches have for one man?”
“I don’t see why it matters,” Senna replied hotly.
“It doesn’t,” he replied. “I’m just trying to satisfy my curiosity. We have little else to do while we wait.”
Senna felt the heat of the soldiers’ stares. She forced herself to remain stoic. What was he going to do? “Wait for what?”
He stepped back and gripped his wrists behind his back. “For my soldiers to find the five Witches and the man you sent away.” He leaned toward her. “I have been a warrior for my entire life. Don’t think you can outsmart or outmaneuver me. I don’t want to kill any of you. But I will. Do you understand?”
Senna backed away and looked toward the jungle. “I’m not a leader; why are you telling me this?”
“Because it was your idea.” Reden followed her gaze. “Don’t worry. My men will not kill anyone unless they use deadly force.”
Joshen would certainly try. She swallowed hard. “How many soldiers did you send after them?”
Reden caressed his musket with his palm. “Send? I sent no one. You were surrounded long before you saw us coming.”
Gunfire echoed off the side of the mountain. Senna whirled toward the jungle. Reden began rattling off commands in Tarten. Within moments, a group of armed men headed toward the sound.
Senna’s hands flew to her mouth. He’s right. It was my idea, she thought. Even now, were bullets piercing those she’d helped escape? “Oh, Joshen,” her lips mouthed behind her fingers.
Joshen felt torn in more ways than one. Splitting up gave them a better prospect of someone making it through. But how could he leave them? He was a Guardian and if giving his life gave them a better chance, he wouldn’t hesitate—though he hoped with every fiber of his being it wouldn’t come to that.
At the sound of voices, he flattened himself. The others followed his lead. He studied the thick tangle of trees, watching for movement. He didn’t have to wait long. Soldiers were riddled throughout the trees. Waiting for them. The only way they could be in front of them so quickly was if they’d been there all along. Cow dung! His plan disintegrated.
As a group, they’d all be caught. “Split up! And if you’re captured, don’t give them a reason to kill you!”
He darted hard to the right. He’d try and avoid them along the outskirts, hoping they’d focused their strength on the most obvious path of flight. He was a fast runner. He ran low to the ground, taking long, sweeping strides. He knew how to move quietly. Above his own soft noises, he watched and listened.
He paused at the sudden sound of a Witch song. At least one of the five was in trouble and fighting back. He wanted so badly to go back and help, but he had to get through. He had to get help!
He darted around a large tree and saw a cluster of red. Diving under a fern, he pressed himself flat against the ground and waited. He counted to fifteen before chancing a look. They hadn’t seen him. But if they didn’t find him soon, they’d start tightening the noose and sending more soldiers. If he wanted any chance to escape, he had to take it now.
He was grateful for his dirty shirt and even more grateful the soldier’s red tunics made them so easy to spot. He waited for his breathing to quiet before crawling forward. Placing his hands and feet with extreme care, he inched away from the pocket of soldiers. A little farther, the ground disappeared before him.
At some point, the rains had cut a deep swath through the soft Earth. Dry now, it would provide excellent cover. He looked back at the soldiers. If they’d discovered it, they’d watch it. But if not, he could run flat out. Too tempting, he thought. Senna would be more cautious. At the thought of her, he had to fight the impulse to run back to her. They better keep her safe, or they’ll have more than Tarten soldiers to worry about.
He peered up and down the wash. The faster I find Parknel, he thought, the faster we can get Senna out of here. Jumping down, he jogged forward. But the sloped sides also blocked his vision. Voices. Close. And coming closer. He pressed his back against the dirt and lifted his musket. He counted every time the blood pounded in his head.
The voices moved closer. Had they heard something and come to investigat
e? He wished he spoke Tarten!
Rocks and dirt rained down on his shoulder. He heard them shout for others.
He had to get out of here! Not caring how much racket he made, Joshen sprinted full-tilt down the wash. Gunfire followed him. Musket balls whopped into the dirt around him. He darted to avoid being an easy target. If I make it out of this, I’ll never shoot another deer again. I swear I won’t! he thought.
After the soldiers had spent their first round, he chanced a glance behind him. He saw a sea of red. He cursed silently. For the briefest moment, he considered surrendering. But he tossed the idea quickly. They were unlikely to take mercy upon a Guardian with a musket. Especially since he planned on taking a few soldiers with him. No, he had to keep moving, keep ahead of them.
He ran as hard and fast as he could. Before long, the shouts and flashes of red fell behind and disappeared altogether. He changed course, cutting out of the jungle and sprinting through meadows and past farmers’ huts.
He had little but water to fill his belly in the days to come. When he could, he stole a piece of fruit from an accommodating tree. Occasionally, he found nuts and more than once he borrowed food from a farmer’s field—or the fire in front of their homes. He didn’t know how many miles he covered in those few days, but it had to be over a hundred. And it rained every single day.
That’s how he found himself, filthy, half-starved and ragged in front of a familiar home. Even from a distance, he could smell tantalizing food wafting toward him. Without knocking, he pushed the door open to find Kaen and his family with Ciara and Tren. Not caring what kind of meat it was, he tore off a chunk and swallowed.
Kaen stood, wide-eyed and afraid. “The Witches? Senna didn’t free them?”
Joshen shook his head as he tore off another chunk and began hammering it with his teeth. He was pretty sure it was snake. It wasn’t too bad. “She ’reed ’em alright. But the ’oldiers didn’ let ’em get ’ery far.”
Kaen ran a hand through his hair and quickly translated Joshen’s garbled explanation. He shook his fist toward the rafters. “This will start a war, mark my words. The Boors have suffered enough. If the Class imprisons Witches who are perfectly capable of healing the land, there will be an accounting. We have to let Nefalie know of this!”