“I don’t fear your curse!” Grendi shrieked. “I turned one of you once and she nearly destroyed you! I’ll turn one of you again!”
“I would leave the city if I were you, Grendi,” Senna said.
“And why is that, Brusenna?” Grendi asked. “Is your curse going to blow in a storm?”
The Witches brooded until Chavis spoke inside their minds, Let’s destroy it now.
Coyel gave her a withering look. Not until Reden comes back and tells us the city has been evacuated. Besides, we have to give Parknel enough time to reach us. Reden said he’d inform us when the ship came into sight.
Drenelle shifted uncomfortably. “My hands are numb.” She wiggled her fingers, working to increase the blood flow.
Senna had already noticed her hands were a dusky blue. “It won’t be much longer,” she promised. She tried to calculate how far the ship had gone after they’d spotted Carpel. But she hadn’t been paying much attention. Perhaps half a day, perhaps more?
Glancing at the other Witches, Senna knew they wouldn’t be able to wait much past nightfall. Their fatigue was obvious. Senna felt dizzy from lack of food and water. Under the cover of darkness, their plan must be set into action.
At dusk, Reden returned with his musket in hand, two pistols strapped to his sides and a large bag. In Tarten, he spoke to the guards. When they left, he said, “Most of the city is gone. Grendi is in a fine fit about it, but I told her about your evil plants and how I feared you’d put up a fight before you gave up. She finally allowed it. But I must warn you, not a single soldier has left.”
“They will,” Senna said solemnly, for she didn’t wish to kill them. “Are you ready, General Reden?”
He checked his musket and pistols. “As ready as I can be.”
Senna and the other Witches began their song.
Forests and trees, lend me thy seeds.
Over the city Carpel, spread thyself well.
The sound of rushing wind began from far away. When it hit the city, it pelted every surface with seeds, branches, even rocks. When the gale finally settled, the Witches began singing, but this, like their curse, was more chant-like.
All of the seeds within the city,
We ask of thee, take no pity.
Crush rock, shatter stone,
Topple building, streets groan.
Grow with power ripe,
For on this night,
The Witches take flight!
A deep-throated groaning began, like the moans of a thousand ghosts. It echoed strangely from the square building’s walls. New shadows appeared in the moonlight. Senna felt a jungle sprouting within the city. In every crack, in every crevasse, a plant was growing, expanding, heaving. At the corner of the room, a small green vine grew stark across the cold stone floor.
Within minutes, the groaning was pierced by fierce cracks followed by crashes as weaker walls gave way. Outside, the frightened shouts of the soldiers rang out, until the sounds of cracking and crashing overpowered them.
Grendi rushed in, her hair frazzled as if woken from sleep. “Stop! I demand you stop!”
As if in response, the Witches’ song reached its apex. The walls around the State Building shivered and groaned. A deafening crack fractured the air. A fissure shot up the side of one of the walls like ice splitting. Reden took flight, lodging himself between the two thrones. Grendi scampered across the rock-strewn floor after him. With a shiver, the wall crashed down. Trees and vines tugged, pulled and pushed. Grendi cowered.
The cries of the soldiers again reached Senna’s ears, but they grew more distant. They were fleeing.
As the Witches sang, more seeds blew in and took root, springing up around the Ring of Power and pressing against the roof. With a circle of trees around them, the power of their song intensified and the three remaining walls collapsed. The plants continued to grow, shattering the chunks of rock into shards and covering them in green. Grass and flowers sprang up, completely covering the ruined capital in green so thick and lush no one would guess a city had ever stood atop the mountain. Only the most beautiful jungle in all the world.
The Witches went silent. Within moments, the barrier shimmered and slowly dissipated. Senna’s limbs were stiff and cold from sitting on the hard granite floor for hours and their songs had drained her. Shakily, she struggled to her feet. A look around revealed they were all weary—some much more than she.
Senna peered in awe at the world around her. The Witches had created their own Ring of Power, encircled with full grown trees. In the center, a perfect granite floor. Of the State Building, only the four thrones still stood stark and white against the deep jungle green. Reden emerged from behind one, his musket still in hand.
Grendi rose to her feet, her eyes wide with rage. Spit flew from her mouth as she pointed and screamed, “I want them DEAD!”
Reden gave her an odd look. “Yes, Chancellor Grendi.”
She snatched a knife from his belt and rushed forward, murder bright in her cruel eyes. Reden rammed the butt of his musket into her skull. She crumpled. “That felt good.” Reden shook his head as he retrieved his knife. Rushing forward, he jerked his blade through the cords binding Senna’s hands. When she was free, he handed her the other knife and the two went to work.
Within moments, all the Witches were free. He pointed to the bag. “Your seed belts are inside. Put them on and then pull your hoods over your heads. And stay together!”
After she’d found her seed belt, Senna tugged her hood up and followed Reden away from the Capitol Building. What used to be a road was pockmarked with rubble and jungle. Reden had lost his landmarks and the trees made it impossible to see the docks below the city. They had to rely on his sense of direction and their noses to lead them toward the sea. Senna’s heart hammered wildly with fear. This time, there would be no quarter and no General Reden to see that they were protected from the other soldiers. They’d be shot.
Senna’s legs felt like rubber as she rushed through the heavy trees. She hadn’t the wind to sing for the jungle to hide their path and some of the older Witches struggled to put one foot in front of the other. At least their way was downhill, harder on their muscles, but easier on their lungs.
Senna knew Reden was frustrated with their pace. He was used to the speed of a trained army, not exhausted women. He kept glancing nervously behind him. The fact that his weapons were primed and ready didn’t escape her.
Beside her, Tiena tripped over a root. No sooner had her body hit the ground than Sacra and Coyel pulled her back to her feet. She looked back and realized why Reden had insisted they wear their hoods. In the dark, they were little more than blurs of green.
It seemed her whole life had consisted of running. A cry erupted behind them. The Witches unconsciously increased their pace, some bracing others up. A shot rang out and the Witches tucked their heads and rushed faster. Senna could smell the sea stronger in the air, but she wasn’t sure they’d make it.
“Hurry!” Senna dropped back. Her blood pounding in her ears, she shoved a seed into the Earth, ran a few yards to the side and plunged in another. She sang the barrier trees to life. It seemed to take forever for the shoots to mature. She could no longer see the others. She had to slow the soldiers, had to give them more time!
She could hear footfalls. They’d come close enough she could see the triggers of their muskets. She ducked deeper into her cloak and prayed they wouldn’t see her. “Let no one pass!” She cried as she bolted to her feet and ran for her life.
Shouts. Shots rang out. She heard a ping and saw a spark as one ricocheted off a rock at her feet. Another smacked into a tree at her side. Splinters exploded in her face. Her feet flew over the Earth. One of the soldiers reached toward her. Her cloak choked her and her hood fell back. He dragged her to the ground and shouted in triumph.
Just as she filled her lungs to scream for help, a branch wrapped around his middle. His shout of triumph turned to a shriek as it sent him flying. Her stomach in her thr
oat, she scrambled to her feet and ran. More shrieks followed as other soldiers went flying like rocks from a slingshot.
Where were the others? Had she lost them? What if they left her behind? No one had noticed her drop back. No one would be looking for her. Her chest burned with every breath she took and her lips and hands tingled. Her head felt light and though she hadn’t eaten for nearly a day, she felt like she might vomit. Yet she knew stopping to rest might very well mean death. Or worse. She couldn’t bear to think what Grendi would do to her.
She surged through the trees, little more than a dark shadow passing through the starlight. When she finally caught a glimpse of more dark figures ahead, she nearly cried out in relief. Her fear had left her weak and shaky, but other than that, it was like she’d never left.
Reden raised his hand for them to stop. His breathing was labored as he pointed through the trees. Inky black water, crested with starlight. Senna had never seen anything so beautiful. “There are the docks. Go to pier seventeen. It’s the longest.”
“What are you going to do?” Chavis asked breathlessly.
“Stay here and keep them off.”
“You only have three shots before you have to reload!” Senna cried.
“And a saber,” he reminded them. “That’s at least four kills. I imagine up to seven, depending on how many rush me. And that’s only if they don’t obey my orders to search elsewhere.”
But Senna doubted the soldiers would believe Reden. If Grendi wasn’t already awake, she would be soon. Reden had betrayed her. If he stayed here, he would die. Senna made a quick decision, one she knew posed a huge risk. “Those of you with the breath, create a boundary. Barrier trees and barbus. Anything you can think of to hold them off! Those of you who can’t, get down the pier and wave in Parknel’s ship; it’s called the Sea Witch!”
The Witches obeyed her as if they’d done so their entire lives, dividing into two groups. The larger group scurried to the forest, plunging myriad seeds into the ground and singing them to life. They created a semicircle around the piers, as wide as possible. Senna knew it wouldn’t take long for soldiers to come at them from the water; there was little she could do about that. Few defensive plants grew in the sea, besides kelp that could drag them to their deaths and flip over boats. But all the kelp in the harbor wouldn’t stop ten thousand soldiers. Not for long.
Reden wandered among them, his musket and pistols ready. They planted barbus behind the barrier trees, so any who managed to get beyond the trees would fall into slumber. Soon the air was heavy with the smell of the enormous orange blossoms—a smell that would plummet almost any man into slumber.
Thorny plants were also abundant, to scratch the men who might pass the barbus and barrier trees. And beyond that, every plant imaginable with the ability to irritate and burn the skin. The effect would be double because the poisons would seep into the cuts and enter the soldiers’ blood streams. Any who survived the quickly erected forest would itch for months.
When the first explosion and flash of light erupted, the Witches huddled and finished the task at hand before running to the pier. But Senna hadn’t reached as close to the water as she’d hoped. She kept plunging in seeds as she sang in desperation.
The soldiers hit the barrier trees. Soon, their bodies were flying through the air. Seeing the danger, the others backed away and concentrated on firing.
A plume of sand erupted beside Senna and then another. A strong hand gripped her shoulder and hauled her back. “Come on! You’re no use to any of us dead!” Reden half-dragged, half-steered her toward the pier. A ball ripped through her cloak. Senna jumped and froze. Her arm burned at the memory of being shot by Wardof. Reden kept her going.
They both floundered in the sand before they hit the wooden planks. Senna covered her head with her hands as her footsteps echoed across the boards.
“We’re out of range,” Reden said.
Her step felt lighter. The other Witches had made it to the edge of the pier. Some faced the shores. Senna saw soldiers coming at them in small boats. The Witches were sending the wind into their faces, forcing them back with every stroke. Others sang to the kelp, which flipped the boats.
But even with their desperation, their voices were faltering. They were drawing upon reserves already drained. Senna felt her own exhaustion keenly. Her body was numb with weariness and her lungs and voice raw. She searched through the darkness. Parknel would come from the north. Standing at the end of the pier, she sang to the wind to bring their ship in.
“The soldiers are abandoning the boats,” her mother said.
“What are they up to?” Chavis asked.
Light flickered behind her. Senna turned to see blue flames.
“They’re burning the barbus!” Prenny cried.
The barrier trees wouldn’t be far behind.
“Please Joshen,” she whispered. “If you don’t come soon, it’ll be too late.”
35. WIND SONG
Joshen felt the wind picking up behind them, blowing harder than it had since noon. It was pitch dark and every sailor among them was scanning the shore for signs of the bay. “Fire!” the man in the crow’s nest cried. Joshen saw the eerie blue flames licking the starry sky. “Is it the city burning?” he asked.
Parknel’s eyebrows nearly drew together. “I don’t see any lights. No signs of the city at all. Surely, that’s the bay.”
Joshen studied the rounded mountains, trying to remember if these were the same ones he had seen days ago. But this had to be the inlet; it was the only one they had seen before they had thrown anchor.
“To port!” Parknel cried; the ship groaned as it turned into the bay.
Joshen heard distant popping sounds and saw smaller flashes of golden light. “Musket fire!”
“To arms!” Parknel screamed. “Load the blasted cannons!”
Sailors tore open the door to the Captain’s cabin while other men thundered below decks to load the cannons. Joshen grabbed his own musket, ran back to the bow of the ship and loaded it. But he wasn’t in range yet. All he could do was watch as a cluster of Witches at the end of the pier struggled to rip up the planks so the soldiers couldn’t reach them from the shore. Some were singing desperately to the wind that drove their ship, others were intent on stopping the soldiers in boats. There was a man with them. Three Witches took turns loading his musket and pistols. He fired as rapidly as he could at the advancing soldiers. It seemed all the soldiers of Carpel had converged on them.
Joshen couldn’t help but wonder who the man was and why he was helping. The ship wasn’t in musket range yet, but it wouldn’t be long. “Prepare the gang plank and the stern cannon! Force those solders back!” Parknel screamed. “And disable the other vessels so they can’t follow us!”
The ship bucked as the cannons fired. Some of the balls slammed into docked ships, while others careened toward boats filled with Tarten soldiers. The musket fire forced the soldiers to shift focus onto the Sea Witch, but it didn’t halt their advance. The sailors aboard the Sea Witch had the high ground and a rail to shield them. Steadily, they managed to curtail the Tartens’ progression.
Not much farther in, Joshen recognized Senna, Coyel and an unfamiliar Witch loading the man’s muskets. Grasping ropes as thick as his arm, Joshen and a handful of men jumped from the ship. He hit the pier with enough force to send painful shudders up his shins. Fast as he could, he tied the rope to the pier. The ship groaned and the hull nose-dived. Water exploded from the stern, throwing sailors and cannons helter-skelter.
His fellow sailors wrestled with the awkward gangplank while the ship bucked like a colt. The moment it touched the pier, Witches ran up. Joshen saw the danger immediately. He opened his mouth to shout a warning when shots began popping, hitting the exposed Witches as easily as chickens on a fence post. More than one crumpled. The sailors rushed to help, but there was little need. The Witches behind the women simply heaved them up without so much as a break in stride.
The very las
t to come were Senna, Coyel and the man. Joshen was tempted to throw him overboard, but there wasn’t time for it. All the while, the cannons never stopped firing as the cannoneers took aim at whatever targets they could find.
“Quick!” He heard Senna say. “Before one of them tacks onto our wind song!” With the Witches singing, the ship turned and jerked forward, rendering all but the stern cannon useless. It continued firing. Breathlessly, Joshen waited to see if the Tartens would follow. Parknel’s ship wasn’t up to another sea battle.
But no other ships surged forward. He sagged in relief and then went to see if Senna was safe. He found her bent over a Witch who was obviously Tarten. Her hands pressed over the wound in her leg that gushed warm and red between her fingers.
“Tiena, can you feel the ball?” Sacra asked.
The woman’s voice was strained and accented, “In my bone!”
“It has to come out!” Prenny said gravely. “We’ll never be able to control an infection if it doesn’t.” She gazed up at Joshen. “You and Brusenna hold her. Sacra, help me.”
They gave her the hem of her cloak to bite down on. Joshen and Senna gripped her arms while two others laid themselves over her legs. Tiena screamed as Prenny’s fingers disappeared within her flesh. Her face white and strained, she pulled back her crimson fingers. “It’s too slippery, I can’t grasp it.”
Parknel appeared with a pair of pliers. Prenny dug back in and finally came out with a ball. The Witches went about healing the injured and calling upon the wind.
As exhausted as they all were, their work was not yet finished.
36. CIRCLE OF KEEPERS
The wind gusted hard, whipping Senna’s hair around her like a thing alive. It stuck to her tear-lined face. But she was too exhausted to care. If not for Joshen shoring her up on one side, she wasn’t sure she could withstand even the swaying of the ship. A good many of the Witches weren’t strong enough to come; many had wanted to.