Coyel began the funeral song.
One of our own has passed from our sight.
We know not whence her soul took flight.
We trust in the Creators’ tender care,
That Tiena may find a better fare.
The song was high and keening; the sailors couldn’t hold their tears. They lifted the plank and Tiena’s body slipped into the sea. Senna heard a splash and choked on a sob. Desni didn’t know her daughter was dead. Years of waiting, only to be parted like this.
The process was repeated three more times.
She knew they were lucky. Tarten’s strongest army had captured them; Grendi had sworn to murder them all. It was a miracle any had survived. But the thought was little comfort. Four Witches were gone. And that was four too many.
Senna blamed herself. She’d freed them. It had been her plan to escape from Carpel instead of fighting Reden and his army inland.
When the last of their songs slipped over the rolling waves, the Witches slowly moved away. Only Sacra, Coyel, Senna and Joshen remained.
Sacra stared at Senna’s hand intertwined in Joshen’s. She sighed heavily. “When I was young, I met a man. A man who made my heart sing. We brought two children into the world. Of the three members of my family, I only have one left.” Her bright eyes bored into Senna. “Make your decisions well, for you may not be able to keep everything you bring into this world.” She pressed her lips against Senna’s forehead and turned to stand at the stern of the ship, for it was her turn to coax the wind.
Senna tried to understand the sudden urge she felt to scream. Joshen’s arm tightened around her. “Come on, Senna.”
Her mind was too muddled to protest as Joshen led her below decks. With a gentle kiss to her lips, he left her alone. Of their own accord, her feet carried her to Coyel’s side, where she lay beside the older woman and fell asleep.
Senna woke to shouts from above. It was no longer pitch dark, which meant daylight had come. Senna blinked through her bleary eyes and worked her sandpaper tongue over the roof of her mouth. Oh, but she was thirsty! And hungry, too! During the long night when they’d fought for the lives of the injured, she’d had little more than a few hard biscuits and some water.
Rubbing her dry eyes, she climbed back up the stairs and stumbled above decks. Judging by the sun, it was early morning. She’d slept through the remainder of yesterday and all of last night. She heard another round of shouts and recognized Joshen’s voice. Her eyes widened at his words. “Back off him!”
“He’s one a’ them ain’t he!”
“The Witches trust him, what more do you want?”
Senna was running now, up to the poop deck. Untroubled, Reden leaned against the rail, while Joshen and another sailor shouted at each other. Other sailors had gathered; most wore hateful expressions that she’d been the recipient of all her life. Her eyes met Reden’s and she couldn’t be sure what she saw—something akin to calm acceptance? But there was something else. Her eyes widened as she realized he was appraising her. Half the sailors on the ship wanted to throw him overboard and Reden was still trying to figure her out.
“Reden is a Witch friend,” she said calmly.
The sailors shot her incredulous looks.
It infuriated her. “I’ll say it again, he’s a Witch Friend. If you want to remain one, leave him be.”
She stood breathing hard as the other sailors slowly moved away. Eventually, she was left with Reden and Joshen. Joshen clapped a hand on Reden’s shoulder, “Sorry ’bout that. As a general rule, Nefaliens don’t trust Tartens.”
“Nor Tartens Nefaliens.” Reden didn’t take his eyes off Senna.
Joshen studied her disapprovingly. “Have you had anything to eat?” She shook her head wearily. “I’ll get you something.”
He left her alone with Reden. The Tarten General was still contemplating her, as if he couldn’t quite understand something. “You’re a leader,” he finally concluded. “I’ve trained soldiers all my life, so I know the difference between the type of man who gives orders and the ones who follow them. You, Senna, give orders.”
She looked away quickly, shame burning her ears. “No. I’m not any good at it and I hate it. I’ve always hated it when people look at me.” She’d never told anyone that, not even Joshen.
Reden only chucked. “Perhaps it was crushed out of you when you were young. But it was always there, waiting for you to find.”
Senna looked Reden up and down. “Find what?”
He shook his head and started to pass her, but he paused long enough to say, “Your calling in life.” He trotted down the steps.
Her heart was still pounding as Joshen handed her some food. She sank to the deck. As she ate, she puzzled over Reden’s words. Joshen, however, didn’t seem to notice her distress. “I’ve never been on a ship moving this fast. We’ll be in Nefalie in days.”
Senna drained the cup he brought and began stuffing food in her mouth. Joshen chuckled. “And you said I eat fast!”
Senna shot him a dirty look as she took another bite.
Senna had taken her turn singing to the wind. As dawn approached, the sun emerged from the waves wet and shimmering.
Oh morning light, hear my cry,
To Haven, I must fly.
The mist rose before them, leading to the northwest. It had done so for days. Before the sun reached its zenith, Senna saw black cliffs jutting out of the churning sea. Coyel, Parknel in tow, came to Joshen, who rarely left Senna’s side. “The other Heads and I have discussed it. We wish your presence on the island as we usher in Fall.”
Joshen grinned from one ear to the other as he slapped Parknel’s back. “It’s the most amazing place.”
Captain Parknel dispatched numerous fully loaded boats. In the last boat to make the underwater journey, Senna counted to two hundred before calling to the sea.
Oh sister sea plants, I ask of thee,
Take me to the place none but Witches see.
The kelp pulled the boat under the cliffs and into the caves within. The Witches emerged into the light. The island was a bit unruly after their long absence. Pogg met them at the entrance, tears dripping down his mottled cheeks. “Pogg knews Senna brings Witches backs! Pogg knews!”
He threw himself into Senna’s arms and then moved down the line, hugging Witches while wailing and keening. Parknel gaped at the Mettlemot.
“Now, we go to sing to the gardens, but at midnight, we meet at the Ring of Power,” Senna told them.
As the tendrils of moonlight lit the island, Senna waited with her Keepers outside the Ring of Power—something that hadn’t happened for four years. All emerged from the trees at once and grasped forearms.
To the lands that winter touches with frost,
Shed thy leaves and turn to dross.
Slumber now and in sleep remain,
Until in spring we call again.
The wind whipped their songs away, pouring them across the leaves and plants. Heeding the Witches’ call, the trees would soon drop their leaves. It would take months of singing in shifts to even begin returning things to how they’d once been. But it was a start. Senna smiled with joy and ran to Joshen. “Come on! There’s something I want to show you.” Taking his hand, she led him through the valley to the sheer side of a cliff. There, a hidden stairway led up a ridge.
Up the flight of stairs, Senna’s feet flew to a high balcony. Here, they could see the whole valley, with the Circle of Keepers in the center and the evenly spaced waterfalls that lined the cliffs. Lanterns lit the treehouses like hundreds of tiny stars.
Senna closed her eyes to concentrate on the warm wind on her face. She turned to see if Joshen approved of the view. But he wasn’t looking at the valley. His eyes were fixed on her. “You are the most beautiful woman to ever live. You know that, don’t you?”
Tears sprang to Senna’s eyes. He meant it. She could see it in his face. It made her dizzy.
Clearing his throat, Joshen looked away, embarr
assment touching his ears with red. “I know your mother doesn’t approve of us; not with how dangerous things are. And I have to agree. Marriage would lead to children and they would certainly be targets, helpless ones at that.” His gaze turned back to her and there was a fierceness there, a need greater than any Senna had ever seen in a man’s eyes. “But just because we can’t marry does not mean we can’t be engaged.”
Senna’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as Joshen took both her hands in his own. He pulled something from his pocket. A ring made of a willow tree’s thin branches woven around a single pink pearl. “Coyel sang its shape,” he apologized, “and Parknel gave me the pearl. I promise, we’ll get you a real ring when we get to shore, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to know. Will you promise to marry me?”
Senna took the ring from Joshen. She slipped it over her finger and admired it in the moonlight. A pearl. Like a tiny moon. A smile broke across her face. “Yes, Joshen. I’ll marry you.”
Joshen sighed in relief.
Senna tipped back her head and laughed. “How could you possibly think I’d say no?”
Scooping her up, he swung her around and then set her down and smothered her laughter with a kiss.
Pure joy, Senna thought as tears slipped from her eyes. In this moment, I know pure joy.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amber Argyle grew up with three brothers on a cattle ranch in the Rocky Mountains. She spent hours riding horses, roaming the mountains and playing in her family’s creepy barn. This environment fueled her imagination while she was writing her debut novel.
She has worked as a short-order cook, janitor, and in a mental institution, all of which gave her great insight into the human condition and has made for some unique characters.
She received her bachelor’s degree in English and Physical Education from Utah State University.
She currently resides in Utah with her husband and three young children.
Amber Argyle, Witch Song
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