She looked away. “Actually, I think I did die. But I’m not dead yet.”
Deftly plucking the seeds from the bare plants, she put them back in the soil and sang.
With a nod of gratitude, Parknel took the pots and turned to go.
“Captain,” Joshen called. “Did you find Lery?”
Parknel stopped. He said over his shoulder, “He’s dead.”
Senna gasped and a sob caught in her throat. “How many … besides Lery?”
Parknel’s shoulders sagged. “Eight.”
He shut the door behind him.
Open-mouthed, Senna tried to gasp for air, but she couldn’t. Her lungs froze, refusing to draw breath. The pain was so raw and devastating, she was certain it would kill her.
Crawling under the blankets, Joshen hung onto her as if she’d die if he let go. “Breathe, Senna. Breathe.”
Why was he comforting her? Why didn’t he hate her? After all, Lery was Joshen’s friend. And it was her fault he was dead. She took a strangled, gasping breath and then a sob finally tore free.
He stroked her hair. “That’s it. Let it go.”
She was crying too hard to make him understand. Another person taken from her. Another person made to suffer because of her. Would it ever stop?
19. BALANCE
Senna awoke with a jerk. Something had wrenched her from a deep sleep, but what? She squinted in the pale moonlight, but saw nothing out of place. And then she heard it again. Musket fire. Throwing the blankets off, her feet hit the floor at a run. She wrenched open the door just as the hatch to the lower decks burst open and more sailors scrambled into sight, Joshen among them.
With nothing more than his trousers on, he pointed a warning finger at her. “Stay back.” He ran in the direction of the other men, musket in hand.
Senna hefted her skirts. She had no intention of staying put.
When he saw her following, he gave her an exasperated glare before pulling her behind him. At the rail, Joshen tugged her down beside him. He loaded his musket and pulled back the hammer.
Peeking over his shoulder, she saw the stars and moon gleaming harshly on two boats filled with fleeing sailors.
Resting his musket on the banister, Parknel spoke, “Pick a target carefully and fire at will.” Lifting the sight, he closed his eyes as the wind tugged at his beard. “Slight breeze from the west.” He realigned his musket.
Senna couldn’t help but jump as the muskets fired. Puffs of blue-black smoke plumed from the pans. Joshen and the others reloaded. Parknel was the first ready to fire again. After another round of shots, the Captain held up his hand. “They’re too far now, men.” He shook his head. “I wonder what that was about. They must have known we’d see them and not a one had a musket.”
Joshen looked askance at Senna. “Permission to keep watch tonight, Captain?”
Parknel didn’t miss Joshen’s glance. “Granted. Keep a sharp eye out, boys. I’ve a feeling they might be planning something else tonight.”
“Joshen—” she began.
“Go back to the cabin, Senna. You should stay out of sight.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t argue. Once inside, she shut the door softly.
Tarten must be close, she thought, I can smell the most wonderful flowers. She inhaled deeply through her nose. She suddenly felt extremely tired. Rubbing her eyes, she patted Bruke’s head. “Why shouldn’t I be tired? I almost died today.” She took a step toward the bed, but her feet were so heavy her toes dragged across the floor. She blinked and barely managed to open her eyes again. Squinting, she searched the room, her mind working furiously. But she couldn’t access her thoughts—it was like they were locked behind a closed door.
But just because the door was locked didn’t mean she couldn’t sense the chaos behind it. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
She had to get away. Stumbling backward, her hand fumbled for something to brace herself against. She grasped only air. She tried to right herself, but her body responded with frozen stiffness. She crashed onto her bottom. The impact jolted her. With a small whimper, she tried to crawl somewhere. Anywhere. But her limbs seemed to have lost their bones. “Help me!” she croaked.
Shattering glass. Senna looked up as a dozen vines the size of her arm snaked through her window. She recognized it as the deadly plant, barbus. Swirls of panic tried to overwhelm her, but they were distant shouts from behind the door her thoughts were locked behind. She was so tired.
Bruke stumbled sideways. Even though his legs trembled, he stepped between Senna and the plant that snaked toward them, his nose low to the ground and his tongue lolling out.
A shadowed silhouette appeared against the window frame. Even with his face obscured by darkness, Senna knew who it was. Wardof had come for her. Bruke growled and then lurched to the side. Tears came to her eyes. He should have collapsed long ago.
But she knew he was as helpless as she. Vines and flowers covered half the room now. Part of her wanted to give in to the enormous weight pressing on her. To sleep. But another part knew if she did, her eyes would never open again. Wardof leveled a musket at her.
It was over. Looking into the barrel, her body panicked and struggled to break free of the drug.
With a sudden burst, Bruke let out a vicious bark and lunged forward. The gun went off. Her ears rang. Bruke’s body jerked. He slammed into the ground and didn’t move.
No! her mind screamed. No! No! Digging her fingernails into the wooden floor, Senna pulled herself toward him. “Bruke?” her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. Her arm slipped in a pool of warm, sticky blood. She grabbed a handful of fur and tugged.
Bruke didn’t respond.
A flash of steel glinted in Wardof’s hand.
Rage boiled inside her. She wished she had the strength to curse him and any spawn that sprang from his body. Every step he took, the plants around him would wither and die! The food he brought to his mouth would rot before he could taste the sweetness of the Earth!
But she was as weak as a baby as he came toward her with his knife. She was going to die.
Senna heard the door behind her fly open. A dull thud as numerous bodies collapsed. “Hold your breath!” she recognized Parknel’s voice.
Wardof lunged for her. Balls whizzed around him, slamming into the wood of the ship and shattering the remaining glass. His nostrils flaring and his face red from lack of air, he ran for the window. And then he was gone with the sound of a splash.
Parknel appeared next to her, his eyes raking the room. Yanking his knife free, he dropped beside her and began cutting at something. She looked down. The barbus had snaked around her legs.
She hadn’t noticed.
Senna felt familiar hands under her arms, hauling her back. Then she saw the plant had entangled the entire lower half of Bruke’s body. She reached toward him, silently begging Joshen not to forget him.
The moment she breathed the clean air, the door that had closed her thoughts slowly creaked open. Someone had sent a barbus plant after her. The musket fight had been a distraction. If not for Bruke’s bark, the sailors would have been too late to help her. And then he had lunged at Wardof and taken the ball meant for her. He had saved her life. She looked into Joshen’s gray eyes as he leaned over her. “Bruke,” she managed.
Joshen’s eyes widened. He rushed back in the room. He reappeared, heaving a sleeping Parknel by the collar and Bruke by the scruff of his neck. Gasping for air, Joshen motioned to some of the other sailors. “Don’t just stand there, get those other men out! And somebody fire at that escaping boat!”
Gradually, the numbness in her limbs faded away. The report of musket fire shattered the stillness. Trembling, she crawled toward Bruke. His bloody chest rose shallowly. He wasn’t dead. She closed her eyes in relief. Ripping off her cloak, she pressed it against the wound.
Joshen’s fingers felt for an exit wound. “I can’t find it. But at least the bleeding seems to be slowing down.”
Bruke whined deep, as if he dreamed.
Parknel and the others began to stir.
“Senna!” Joshen cried.
Her head jerked up. Barbus snaked through the door. Noxious orange blooms filled the air with their sweet, deadly fragrance. If she didn’t stop it, the whole crew would be carried under.
Joshen took over pressing the cloth into Bruke’s chest. She rose shakily to her feet and sang.
Barbus! I command thee retreat!
No more to carry out thy dark feat!
The barbus quivered and pressed on. Stepping forward to block its advance, Senna repeated her song. Trying to find a way around her, the plant arched up. She sang harder. Trembling, it backed away a little. And then a little more.
Still singing, she paused outside the cabin, unwilling to breathe in the contaminated air. When the plant had fully retreated, she called for the wind to scour the room. With it whipping her hair about her like mad, she stepped inside. A potted plant, vines straining hungrily against her song, perched on the side of the window. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pushed it over. She didn’t stay to watch it drop into the waves.
She ran back to Bruke. He hadn’t moved and his teeth were slightly bared.
Joshen reached toward her. “I’m sorry, Senna. He’s dead.”
She blinked, unwilling to believe it. “He saved my life. That ball was meant for me.” Pain slammed into her chest and dug vast roots throughout her body—pain so much deeper and far-reaching than a musket ball or changing into a seal could ever touch. She wrapped her arms around herself and wished for death. The inevitability of Wardof killing her and everyone she loved twisted a knot in her gut. “He’ll never stop. Not until he takes everything.” Tears slipped silently down her face as she rocked back and forth.
“That’s not true,” Parknel answered gently. “Balance, Senna. Good and evil, joy and sorrow. All things strive for balance. And that means good and bad things end. Someday, so will this.” He struggled to sit up. “Joshen, take her inside and stay with her.” His face lost its softness. “Everyone else, back to bed or your posts. The wind’s picking up and no oarsmen could match us. Even if we are in a boat full of holes.” He glanced at the stars and his features darkened. “Besides, we’re closer to Tarten than we realized. I’d be willing to bet sometime tomorrow, we’ll see land.”
Numb, Senna stood at the jagged teeth of what remained of Parknel’s window, staring across Tarten’s vast landscape. It was truly beautiful, this land Espen had chosen to trap the Keepers.
Mountains rose, but mountains unlike any Senna had ever seen. There was no gradual climb. No hint of a mountain until one suddenly thrust itself up from the forest at an incredible angle. Nor were they peaked, but rounded across the top. Yet, as impossible as it seemed, cities crusted some of those mountains. Carpel, Tarten’s greatest city, seemed carved out of the ground, the Capitol Building shining white at the top.
“It’s so beautiful,” Joshen said.
Senna didn’t have the energy to respond. Ever since the fog had lifted, the air had been heavy and hot, leaving her sticky and groggy.
She felt his eyes on her. “After Parknel finds us somewhere remote to put to shore, how will we find them?”
The sound of his voice grated on her ears. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll find them. Not you. You’re nothing but a liability for me.” She knew she wasn’t being fair. If not for Joshen, she wouldn’t have made it this far. For some unimaginable reason, it infuriated her.
His jaw tightened. “And what if Wardof and Garg find you? What then?”
She shrugged. “I’m a Witch. Wardof and Garg are no danger to me.”
Joshen backed away from her, his eyes glittering with anger. “Like your last few encounters with them?”
Couldn’t he understand that she must continue alone? She had to be strong enough without him. “So I’ll stay alert, I’ll—”
“You can’t be alert every second of every day! Didn’t you realize that last night?”
Last night. Bruke. She tried to speak, but the words came out broken, “My fault. Always my fault.” Shaking her head, she tried again, “I want to see him.”
Joshen stopped pacing. “He’s already gone, Senna.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. They’d already tossed him overboard? Without telling her? Without giving her a chance to say goodbye? “Why? Why would you do that?”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and glared at him. He sighed. “Because we thought it might be easier if—”
She clenched her fists to her side. “How dare you!”
“Senna, I—”
Rage overcame her. She pounded on his chest.
Joshen gripped her tight. Her injured arm ached, but she welcomed the pain. Welcomed any pain that stopped the all-consuming fire burning her from the inside out. She tried to push him away, but he was so much stronger. Always had been and she hated him all the more. “I never want to see you again, you detestable—”
He shook her hard. His eyes gleamed with anger. “Stop it! I’m not leaving you, so stop pushing me away. Bruke’s gone. I know you loved him. I know he was one of your only friends, but that’s because you won’t let anyone else in, Senna. Not me, not Parknel, not Lery. No one!”
She glared at him. “Don’t! You still have all your family. Your home. Your life.”
He stepped back, his breath ragged. “Knowing what you know now, would you still have come all this way? Or just stayed on your land in Gonstower and hoped for the best?”
She turned her back to him. “I’d have followed my mother. Even if it meant Espen capturing me. Even if it meant the end of the Witches. At least I wouldn’t be alone.”
He took a ragged breath. “Yet you’ll do the same to me. Perhaps you’re more like your mother than you thought.” He shook his head. “I left it all behind for you. All of it. And I’d do it again.” Without another word, he stormed out of the cabin.
Trembling, she stared at the closed door. Was she really doing the same thing to Joshen?
Yes.
The answer startled her. She held her head in her hands. All her life, her mother had tried to protect her from danger by hiding her. But no matter what they may have faced, Senna would have gladly stood beside her mother and the other Witches rather than live among those who shunned her.
When she’d forced Joshen from Haven, had he felt as lonely and abandoned as she had?
Joshen was right, curse him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to force him to stay away from a battle he’d chosen to fight. As the realization overcame her, some of her tension faded. Maybe she didn’t have to do this alone after all.
Suddenly, the door swung inward. Joshen hurried in, looking relieved to see her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “You were right.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Am I really that stubborn?” she asked.
“Yes,” Joshen said unequivocally.
Senna tried to suppress a smile.
“The last time we disagreed,” he continued, “you tied me up and had the kelp drag me to shore.”
She swallowed her laugh.
His face grew serious. “Promise me something?”
She paused, waiting expectantly.
“Promise you won’t ever do that to me again.”
Senna turned back to the window, a sigh on her lips. “The dragging you to shore part, or the tying you up part?”
He pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal the green circle of the full moon. “Was this just some kind of meaningless symbol to you? Because it meant a lot more to me. It meant I’m bound to you. Do you take that so lightly?”
Searching his gray eyes, something deep within her stirred. To her relief, some of the pain over Bruke’s death faded. “I’m trying to be angry with you, but in truth, I’m angry with myself. If I were strong enough to do this alone, I wouldn’t have to endanger you. And Bruke,” her voice caught, but she pushed th
rough it, “would still be alive.”
He took a step closer. “That was Wardof’s fault, not yours.” Senna suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. “As for me, I’m right where I want to be.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. A warm, almost painful burning emanated from his touch. “Do you promise to stop pushing me away?”
Some of her panic returned, battering against the soft reservoir of peace Joshen had given her. “I promise to try.” She felt his tension easing as he sighed. She shook her head. “But the others must go back. They’d draw too much attention and I can’t keep them all safe.”
Joshen slumped in the chair in front of the bolted-down desk. “You really have no idea where to go from here?”
She shook her head.
“So what do we do?”
Senna tried not to let her fear show. “Row to shore and figure it out.”
20. WITCH FRIENDS
The ground seemed to roll beneath Senna. Steadying herself against Knight’s sweat-damp shoulder, she watched the tiny figures aboard the Sea Witch. At this distance, the holes in the vessel’s side gaped like the ragged teeth of a giant’s maw. “Are you sure you can make it back?”
Parknel was loading her saddle bags with hard tack and salt fish. “We’ll patch it. Long as we don’t hit any major storms, we’ll be alright.”
“But—”
Parknel surprised her from behind with a breath-stealing hug. “Now, don’t you worry about us. We’ll make it back. Have Mcbedee fix her up right in Nefalie.” The wrinkles around his eyes faded. “Maybe you’ll finish ’fore we do, then we can all go back together.”
She closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her dread. “No. Don’t wait.”
He nodded. “All the same, we’ll be here a few weeks.” He shook Joshen’s hand. “You’re a right good man. Keep her safe.”
Joshen looked down at his feet and nodded.
Swinging an axe onto his shoulder, Parknel disappeared in the jungle.
Her legs wobbly, Senna climbed into the saddle with a sigh of relief. Now, if only she could escape the waves of heat rolling over her like the steam from a bread oven.