The Underground Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (12 page)

Emmeline scrambled off the bed, her stomach protesting, and grabbed the splintered leg of the table. Holding the broken leg in front of her like a sword, she aimed it toward the door.

“What do you want?” Emmeline shouted as
loudly as her weakened voice would allow. 

The jingle of keys
scraped against the lock until the door swung open to six sailors. Emmeline gasped and took a step back. Each one of them looked into her eyes as they took a step into the room. She was right; they had come for her power. But no one carried a flame, and for that, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Emmeline held the table leg higher.
“Get out.” she said.

“Her eyes
aren’t shining,” one of the men said.

“Look at em’,” Another said. “They are si
lver. They weren’t silver when she got here, were they?”

“They were blue.”

“How would you know?”

“I snuck a pee
k.”

“I bet it means they’re gettin’ ready to shine.”
His brows creased as he looked around the room. “But there ain’t no dead in here. I hear that’s how she gets her power – by sucking the life out of people.”

“
That’s vamps, you ijit,” said another.

“
I don’t care!” responded the first. “She is a witch. She’s getting her power somewheres and making this storm!”

“We’
ll all die unless we throw her overboard,” a third sailor shouted as he reached out to grab her.

Emmeline
thrust the table leg toward him. It met only air and the sailor laughed. He held out his palms toward her.

“
Whoa there, pretty little thing. I’m not planning on hurting you.”

Emmeline held the table leg higher.
“What exactly are you planning? To throw me overboard? I did not cause this storm! I don’t want to drown anymore than you do.”

A sailor in the back whispered to the others.
“Don’t look at her when she talks. She is weaving a spell on us. We have to cast her into the sea or we’ll all meet our deaths. My Pap said only water can stop them.”

The sailor nearest the front rolled his eyes. “Your Pap? What does your Pap know about
witches?”

The others laughed and the sailor in t
he back bristled. “I still think we should throw her overboard.”

Seeming to
agree at once, all six sailors advanced on Emmeline. She sunk the table leg into the arm of the nearest man. He yelped and jumped back, but the other five dragged her into the companionway and up the stairs to the deck. They ignored her protests and carried her into the storm where sheets of rain pounded against her cheeks and blurred her vision. They were right about one thing, the water could stop her power, but it meant nothing if she had no fire to begin with.

A
surging wave sent a wall of water over the rail, ripping her from the sailors’ grips and knocking her to the ground. Drenched, she pushed to her feet and flung herself against the nearest mast. Up above more sailors clung to ropes as they battled with the riggings, their feet failing them as they slipped left and right.

The ship tilted
portside and Emmeline held on as another wave crashed into her. The cold water pounded against her back, tugging at her dress until the ship righted itself and the water sloshed to her feet. Wiping her hair out of her face, she took a calming breath before bracing herself for her the next wave. It hit moments later and she feared it would carry her out to sea.

Small hands gripped her skirt and Emmeline
peered over her shoulder to find O’fin clinging to her. With his eyes squeezed shut, he turned his face toward her and shouted words that blew away almost before they escaped his lips. He tugged on her skirt and pointed across the ship. Emmeline strained to see, but the rain pelted her face and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She saw nothing but a blur of wood and sails.

O’fin
tugged on her skirt again and Emmeline took hold of his wet hands and pressed them against the mast, hoping his little hands could hold on. It wouldn’t be long before another wave threatened to capsize the ship. Thinking better of it, she tucked O’fin between her and the mast, hoping it would hold against the storm. It was wider than any tree she’d seen in Dolmerti, but the storm seemed so much stronger.

O’fin
pulled away and punched his fist into the air, a small finger pointing in the direction behind her. He craned his neck to look up, his eyes falling just shy of meeting her own. But it was enough for her to see the alarm in them.

Emmeline jerked her head up and winced as the stinging rain bit into her face. She relinquished her hold on the mast and put a hand over her eyes
. O’fin stopped tugging. Still, she saw nothing. The ship pitched again and Emmeline grabbed hold of O’fin just as a wave tossed them across the deck. Her ears filled with water, giving her a sense of the ocean’s silent power.

They slammed into something hard and the last of her breath whooshed out of her.
Gasping for breath, she felt for O’fin’s little body. But her hands came up empty.

“
O’fin!” she shouted. She pushed onto her hands and knees and searched the deck. “O’fin!”

O’fin’s
face suddenly appeared in front of hers, his nose inches from her own, and his eyes down.

“Get up! They will find you!”
he said in his desert accent.

Emmeline sucked in a breath and choked
on the moisture in the air. How could she have forgotten the six sailors? She scrambled to her feet and screeched at the sudden pain shooting through her scalp. Her head jerked back as a hand clutched a fistful of her hair. She lost her footing and slipped to her knees.

O’fin
scampered away.

The six
sailors made laughing sounds, but their eyes darted from one to another, betraying their unease. Emmeline reached behind her head and tried to pry the fingers off her scalp, but the sailor’s grip tightened.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”
he said. “The only place you belong is in the sea!”

Without loosening
his grip, or giving her a chance to catch her footing, he dragged her toward the bulwark rail. Emmeline thrashed and kicked, desperate to rip her hair from his grasp, or from her scalp, whichever freed her first. She thrust her bare feet against the deck only to have them slide across the wet wood. With his free arm, the sailor gripped her around the waist and tucked her under his arm like a rag doll. She pounded her fists on his round belly, but nothing she did weakened his hold.

“Put me down! I didn’t cause this!”
she shouted.

“
Shut it, witch!” He slapped a hand over her mouth and continued toward the rail. The other sailors followed, their footsteps like a funeral march behind her.

The ship rolled starboard
and the sailor’s grip loosened. Twisting her body as much as possible, Emmeline threw an elbow into the sailor’s gut. He grunted and lost his grip just as a wave washed over them, wiping their legs out from underneath them as it tossed everyone to the opposite side of the deck.

Emmeline’s
knee cracked against a barrel and lights flashed behind her closed eyes. As the water pushed and pulled, she curled her body inward and cupped her arms over her head until the wave spilled across the deck and finally lost its power.

Emmeline
crawled toward the main mast, ignoring the searing pain in her knee. The central stairs, she believed, descended into the dark hold where she was hoped she could find a place to hide. She’d heard the soldiers complain about not being able to find anything in the belly of the ship, that the stacks of crates and barrels were too difficult to search. Emmeline pushed forward, knowing it might be the only place she could hide until the storm passed. That is, if they all didn’t end up at the bottom of the sea.

Only a body length from the stair opening,
Emmeline’s heart quickened with hope. A gust of wind whipped around her, threatening to topple her, but she dug her nails into the slippery deck and pushed forward. Only a few more crawling steps and she would be safe from the sailors.

A
booted foot crashed down on her back and her arms collapsed underneath the force. Emmeline cried out, but the sound stopped short as the full weight of the sailor pressed into her back, his boot pinning her to the deck and pressing the life out of her.

“Not so fast,” he said as he grabbed her
bodice and yanked her to her feet. He pushed her forward but her knee buckled and she lurched forward. Catching her fall, the sailor tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, seemingly unaffected by her kicking legs and pounding fists.

The sailors
followed, cursing and spiting, and blaming her for the storm. “Witch! Witch! Witch!” they shouted.

The
wind hushed and the rain lessened as if the elements were pausing long enough to witness the last Incenaga Witch take her final breath.

“She knows her death is near!”
a sailor shouted. “Her powers are weakening.”

A muffled thump silenced the sailor.

“Ha! I told you, my Pap said water would stop her.”

“
Why don’t we just tie her up out here so we don’t have to kill her?”

Emmeline twisted
her neck to see who had spoken. A sailor braced himself between two others, his arms over his head as the others walloped his head. She suspected he had been the one to suggest she live.

“We can’t just leave her,” one of the walloping sailors said. “She
’ll tell someone it was us who took her out here. Plus, she’ll only get mad and start a new storm as soon as she dries.”

“She’ll never dry in the ocean,” another shouted.

They reached the rail and Emmeline pushed against the sailor.

“Please! No!” she cried. “I have no power. I’m not causing the storm!”
Didn’t they know she needed fire?

The sailor
gripped her waist and began pulling her off his shoulder, but Emmeline grabbed a fistful of his wet shirt and held on. She figured he couldn’t throw her if she didn’t let go. Another swell rocked the ship and the sailor lost his footing. In an effort to catch his own fall, he pushed her away and Emmeline found herself plunging toward the sea.

Emmeline shrieked and threw her hands forward, desperate to find any sort of hold. Her fingers grazed the edge of the railing, and somehow managing to get a grip, she curled her fingers over the slick wood. Her body slammed into the side of the boat and her breath left her for the second time that night. With her feet dangling toward the turbulent waters, the waves licked up to drag her under. She held on with all her strength as the sky let loose another downpour and her hair whipped around her body like a thousand strips of cold leather.

Emmeline’s
fingers strained, threatening to fail her at any moment. Gripping the rail from the safe side, the sailors looked down on her with sneers. One of them raised his fist as if to pound her fingers, but his hand stopped midair, his face turning white. He lowered his fist and turned his back toward Emmeline, concealing her fingers barely gripping the slippery rail.

A
loud bellowing filled the air followed by a small, high pitched voice calling her name. She knew the small voice. O’fin. She knew the bellowing voice as well and despite the weather, her mouth went dry.

“Where is she?” shouted
Tiergan.

Emmeline trembled.
Did he want to toss her into the sea as well? Surely he knew enough about Incenagas to know she needed fire to manifest her powers?

The ship heaved and Emmeline let out a scream. Her grip
slipped until her thumbs fell off the rail. Only four fingers in each hand kept her from falling to a watery grave.

Three.

Two.

The
sailor hiding her slipping fingers stumbled to the side and Tiergan’s furious eyes met her own.

One.

Tiergan pitched forward and gripped her collar, yanking her up with one quick movement and tossing her to the deck. O’fin kneeled next to her, his small hand rubbing circles on her back as she gasped for air.

“I had to tell someone.” O’fin whispered.

Emmeline nodded. While she hated that Tiergan was the one to save her, who else would it have been? She had no one else.

“Who is
responsible for this?” Tiergan shouted. He grabbed the nearest sailor and held him over the rail, his arm showing no strain under the sailor’s weight. “Who is responsible for this?” Tiergan repeated.

“She is a witch!” the sailor cried.
“She is causing this storm!”

Tiergan
’s face turned red. He roared like a bear and tossed the sailor into the black sea. Grabbing the next nearest sailor by the neck, he held him over the railing and asked the same question.

“Who is responsible for this?
” He shook the sailor.

The
whites of the sailor’s eyes shone in the dark. “Her eyes did not shine. I tried to tell them her eyes did not shine!”

Tiergan
roared again and dropped the sailor into the sea. He whipped around to grab another, but the sailors jumped back.

“Who else looked into her eyes?
” Tiergan shouted. “I forbad any of you to look into her eyes. When they shine,
I
will be the one to look upon them! She will be
my
slave. She will serve me!”

Tiergan’s entire frame shook
. “You idiots! You fools! How dare you defy me?” He lunged forward and grabbed sailors at random, throwing them overboard one by one. The men scattered and Tiergan leaned against the railing, his fists clenched, his breathing labored.

Emmeline
inched away, but Tiergan’s eyes focused on her like a viper waiting to strike. Grabbing her elbow, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her behind him to her cabin. He tossed her inside and stomped into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Emmeline stumbled to the ground.
Her body ached, her knee throbbed, and her hands felt as if they were on fire. But she pushed the pain aside and forced herself to stand. She would never cower near Tiergan. Without flinching, she turned to face his rage.

“Did they look
in your eyes?” he shouted. He stood so close that drops of spittle landed on her forehead.

With a disgusted swipe, Emmeline wiped her forehead clean.
“Yes,” she said.

Tiergan slammed
his fist into the wall mirror. Glass shattered under his fist, shards spraying to the floor. “Did your eyes shine for those worthless idiots?”

“No.”

“Did they shine at all?”

“No.”

Tiergan’s shoulders squared and his breathing slowed. “It is too dangerous to leave you unclaimed.”

Emmeline stiffened.

“Boy!” Tiergan shouted. “Where is that little rat?”

O’fin
appeared almost immediately.

“Fetch me the
Dolmertian,” Tiergan said. “I want to be certain I do this right.”

O’fin
nodded and scampered out of the room, leaving the door open to the sounds of chaos on deck.

“What
Dolmertian?” Emmeline asked with clenched fists. She had a feeling she already knew.

Tiergan released a wicked
grin but said nothing as he folded his arms across his chest and stood in front of the open door. Moments later, O’fin returned followed by a man Emmeline had hoped to never see again.

“Mahlon,” Emmeline said
between her teeth. “I thought you might be behind this.”

Mahlon
gave a curt bow and straightened without saying a word. He met her eyes and Emmeline noticed something missing. Hatred? Anger? No. Power. He no longer had power, not even the potential of power, and it was killing him.

“How is this to be done?” Tiergan asked.

“No one will own her today,” Mahlon said with a calmness that challenged the furor of the outside storm.

Tiergan’s gaze fell on Emmeline
and then back onto Mahlon. “What do you mean? Does she have a choice in the matter?”

Mahlon’s gaze bore into her. “She must be broken.”

With the exception of the howling wind, the room silenced as the men studied her.

Tiergan scowled. “She’ll do whatever I tell her to do.”

“I will do no such thing,” Emmeline said at the same time Mahlon laughed through his nose.

Tiergan’s eyes narrowed
but the corner of his mouth turned into a reluctant smile. “When we arrive at my castle, you will come to respect my power, Princess. I have no doubt your eyes will shine for me once you are in the comforts of luxury again. I can see now that this pitiful vessel must stunt your gift. I will lavish you with jewels and silks and your power will shine for me.”

Emmeline held up her chin.
“Your finery will bear no enticement for me.”

“
My intention is not to entice you. You need comfort to access to your full power again. Am I right? I see strength in you that has been misdirected under these poor living conditions. I only wish to direct that strength into more appropriate paths.”

“And if I refuse your guidance?”

Tiergan shook his fist in front of her face. “Then I will crush you. I will beat down your strength until you beg for mercy.”

Emmeline pushed his fist out of her face.
“You are a half-witted barbarian.”

Tiergan threw
his hands up and whirled around to Mahlon. “What is the meaning of this? I thought you said she could be controlled.”

“She
must be broken,” Mahlon repeated with a shrug.

Tiergan turned back to Emmeline.
“Your boldness never ceases to surprise me. Make no mistake, I will help you channel it into more appropriate uses. You will serve me well, Incenaga.”

Emmeline held her tongue.
A storm raged inside, fed by throbbing pain and the reminder of Mahlon’s treachery. As soon as she had a flame, she would not hold back her fury. She no longer cared about the past. She’d lost the past. She wanted revenge.

“Very good.” Tiergan said
with a nod. “I expect to see this same cooperation once we arrive at the castle.”

He turned on his heel and
the moment he and Mahlon left her alone, her legs gave out and she crumbled to floor, weeping into her clenched fists. She had failed herself. The day she let Mahlon get away would forever haunt her. He had betrayed his Crown Prince for what he believed was the better of Dolmerti, and now had gone one step further to betray all of Dolmerti. Why? Why give up so much for a country only to betray it less than a year later?

The storm
abated and the rain quieted to a soothing hum against the window. Emmeline’s body ached as if she’d been tossed down a mountain. A cold, wet mountain. She cringed at the memory of herself clinging to the slippery rail, the deep sea churning beneath her. Her fingers still bore the sting of having to hold on so tight.

But nothing tested her limit more than when she stood face to face with Mahlon
once again. He had broken her once and had abused her power more than she thought possible. She’d never felt so weak, so used. So repulsive. He’d surrendered his control so that Erick’s brother, Prince Weldon, could take her as part of the plan to send Dolmerti into war. And then he’d gotten away. It disgusted her.

Emmeline wondered how much Mahlon had revealed to Tiergan.
Did Tiergan know her weaknesses? Did he know what made her break in the first place? She doubted it. Mahlon couldn’t even have fully understood the reasons why she broke. He thought brutal beatings and a small flame were the trick, when in reality it had been her broken heart. She believed she’d never see Erick again and it tore her apart. Much like she felt now. Emmeline shuddered, realizing for the first time how vulnerable she was.

Tiergan slammed his fist into the Dolmertian’s stomach and the Dolmertian doubled over, grunting. He straightened and stood tall, his face hardening.

“You undermined me in front of the Incenaga,” Tiergan said.

“You broke our deal,” the Dolmertian replied with just as much anger.

“The Crown Prince became more valuable alive than dead. You can do what you want with him once the Incenaga is mine.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed!” the Dolmertian shouted.

“I don’t care! I am the King and I’ll do as I
please. The Incenaga cares what happens to him. I can’t dangle a dead lover over her head.”

The Dolmertian took a step closer, his defiance obvious by the set of his ja
w. Tiergan wanted to beat his skull into dust for daring to challenge him, but he still needed the man to tell him how to control the Incenaga.

“I don’t like to be crossed,”
the Dolmertian said with a lick of his upper teeth.

Tiergan closed the distance between them until their chests nearly touched
, his breath coming out in puffs. Tension filled the room as they stared each other down, and soon hot rage boiled up inside Tiergan. How dare this man defy him!

A chair slid back and
the sound of Demyan’s sword sliced through the silence. Without breaking his glare, the Dolmertian backed away.

“I’ll never get another opportunity to breach Dolmerti’s walls,” the Dolmertian said. “So in my mind, you’ve broken our agreement and
therefore, I have no incentive to divulge what I know about the Incenaga to you.”

“I can toss your carcass into the sea.”

“And you would still know nothing of how to control her.”

Demyan stepped forward
, his face a mask of indifference. “We have the girl in our possession and should have no further need of Mahlon.”

Mahlon. Tier
gan had forgotten his name. To him, the Dolmertian was a tool, a servant who should do nothing more than obey him. Servants shouldn’t have names.

The Dolmertian barked a laugh. “You think you can just ask her to shine her eyes for you and she’ll comply?”

Tiergan shrugged, but Demyan said nothing.

“You need me
to show you how to control her,” the Dolmertian said.

“She doesn’t look like a woman who has been broken before,” Demyan said.
“You have no proof that you owned her.”

The Dolmertian
nodded. “It wasn’t easy. Much harder than rumored to be.”

“The Incenaga Witches didn’t put up much of a fight
,” Demyan said. “Most of them fell within a day or two.”

Tiergan
’s brow creased. Why hadn’t Demyan told him this before? Demyan’s wealth of knowledge never ceased to amaze him, but this shouldn’t have been the first time Demyan shared this information. Almost from the day he had been crowned King, Demyan had been key in providing vital information for the success of his plans. And yet since the day they had captured the Incenaga, Demyan had offered very little by way of opinion or insight on the girl. Tiergan brushed his distrust aside. Demyan had proved a valuable, loyal servant from the beginning. He wouldn’t begin to distrust him now when victory was so close he could smell it.