Witch Born (30 page)

After drying her hands, the Composer reached inside a satchel and pulled out a book. “This is what remains of an account by Jolin Lyon, Head of Plants and a friend to Lilette. It was transcribed by one of her grandchildren. The account itself has been rewritten numerous times as the books have fallen apart.” The spine cracked and the pages rustled like dry leaves as Ellesh opened it to a marked page.

“We died by the thousands,” she read. “Buildings collapsed around us. Lightning and hail attacked any who dragged themselves from the wreckage. The Circle failed. Lilette braved the storm, creating a Circle alone—as none had ever done before or since. She rose into the rending sky, lightning slamming all around her.

“She sang. Lights came to life around her until it hurt our eyes to look upon her and we were forced to hide our eyes.

“Suddenly, the storm stopped—was pushed back. The sun broke through the clouds and she said, ‘I thought we were ready. I was wrong. But someday a Witch will become the kind of woman the world needs. Wait and watch. For on that day, the Witches will rise from our own ashes and the world will be reborn.’”

The Composer shut the book. “Lilette had moved Calden much further south and wrapped a protective barrier around the island. She was never seen again.”

Senna washed her hands in the dirty water. “And you think I’m the answer—that I was born to save you?”

Ellesh chuckled. “No. Heroes are not born. They make themselves. The potential to save the Witches has rested in many—including Espen. Are you the one Lilette spoke of? Perhaps, but I’m not going to wait to find out.

“We have been planning our escape from this island for centuries. In cursing Tarten, your Witches pushed the two of us into an alliance. Then you proved the barrier could be destroyed. We won’t find a better time.”

Senna dried her hands. “But Grendi hates Witches.”

The Composer studied her. “Exactly. But the only thing she hates more than Witches is Haven’s Witches. I agreed to restore Tarten and destroy her enemy. She’s in no position to barter for more.”

Thinking of all the women she’d left behind—her mother foremost among them—Senna closed her eyes. “And what makes you think Tarten will keep that promise?”

“Because if they don’t, I’ll sink all their ships and their lands won’t be healed.”

With Tarten’s army backing them, the Caldash Witches had more than enough strength to destroy Haven. And the Heads were ignorant to all of it. “What do you know of the Witches on Haven? Have you met them? Have you seen the good they do?”

Ellesh nodded toward Tarten. “You can say that after what they did to Tarten? If we don’t destroy them, they will annihilate every nation who crosses them.”

Senna folded her arms across her chest. “You would be different, would you?”

”Yes.”

“Then be different now! There are innocents on Haven—Witchlings and Apprentices.”

Ellesh hesitated. “Has your Head of Water not taught you that there are always casualties in war? Do any of them deserve to die?”

“Ironic that you would punish Haven for the same crime you plan on committing.” Senna voice was tight with anger.

Her movements stiff, the Composer replaced the book. “After Haven has surrendered, Grendi will turn the survivors over to me. They will be grafted into Caldash.”

“You cannot justify the murder of many by the saving of some.”

The Composer looked angry. “You freed us, Senna. When you cursed Tarten, you provided us with the army we so desperately needed. Your part in this is undeniable. You are also Creator-touched. I would not risk harming you. Nor would I risk facing you.”

Senna wondered if now was the time to act, to sing and warn Haven. But she was inside a tree. There was no clear path for the Wind to escape intact.

“They are hard decisions, Brusenna. Decisions someone has to make.” Ellesh sighed. “Perhaps if I fail to restore the world, you will have your chance.”

While Senna hesitated, the old woman backed to the door and spoke to the Guardians on the other side. “Bring Cord.” She studied Senna. “Mistin has told me much about you. Your Discipline Heads fear you. Your peers mistreat you. Your Guardians oppose you.”

Shaking, Senna faced her. “You’re cruel.”

“You don’t trust me, Brusenna. I can’t fault you for that. After all, I don’t trust you. Only a fool would leave a threat such as yourself in our midst, especially since we don’t know how strong you shall become. Some have urged me to lock you away deep in the earth—bound and gagged until Haven has been defeated. Or simply killed outright.”

Senna suddenly couldn’t breathe. She felt the Composer’s knife gaze on her.

“But I will offer you an alternative.”

“What alternative?” Senna asked, realizing her chances of escape were slipping by the second.

The door opened, letting in a breeze that stirred the tendrils of her hair around her shoulders. Cord came through, his dark eyes grave.

Ellesh nodded toward Cord. “Take on Cord as your Guardian.”

Senna looked from him to the Composer. “I’ll take my chances with the cave.”

Cord winced. “Don’t be stubborn, Senna.”

Ellesh held out a small jar of ointment. By the musky smell, Senna recognized it as the potion that allowed a Witch to create a Guardian. “I will permit you to roam about the city of Lilette unfettered.”

Unbound…Senna would have a much better chance of escape. Still, she glared at Cord. “I already have two Guardians.”

He didn’t respond.

She hesitated. Ellesh was far too keen to risk Senna escaping or warning Haven, which meant having Cord as a Guardian was somehow as secure as confinement. Dared Senna risk falling into their trap for the chance of escape? Did she really have a choice?

Obviously reading the defeat on her face, the Composer put the wooden jar in Senna’s hand. “Sing.”

Senna stared at the ointment, her head spinning. “Fine.”

Ellesh visibly relaxed. “The song for our Guardians is slightly different than yours.”

“Composer, perhaps—” Cord began.

Ellesh silenced him with a slicing motion. He clamped his mouth shut, but he didn’t look happy.

Senna eyed the sheet music Ellesh held out. She sang it once.

Guardian of Sisters and Witch Companion decree,

Bound in purpose and solidarity.

Hesitantly, Senna stepped toward Cord.

His lips were pursed. “Ellesh, she doesn’t—”

“Shh,” Ellesh whispered. “It is nearly done.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but Senna had the song in her heart now. She walked toward him and began the verse again. Rubbing the potion onto her lips so it would gather the residue of her song, she sang softly. The music of the Four Sisters coiled around her like hundreds of silky threads.

On the third and final repetition, Senna stood directly in front of Cord. She looked up to find the concern on his face replaced with awe. She should have been used to that reaction to her song by now, but it never failed to surprise her. The look of rapture always made her feel like she could never live up to the beauty of her voice.

Ellesh whispered, “Hold the final note for eight counts on the third rotation.”

The final note rang from Senna’s mouth as she hesitantly rolled up Cord’s sleeve.

One.

The strands of thread spun faster. Like a hurricane.

Two.

Cord couldn’t see it, but he must have sensed something. His face was filled with a sort of longing.

Three.

Seeing his bare arm, she hesitated. She’d only ever made one other Guardian—Joshen.

Four.

With a pang in her heart, she looked back to Ellesh. The woman motioned for her to continue.

Five.

Senna gazed into Cord’s inscrutable eyes. She didn’t want to do this. Something was wrong. But it might be her only chance for freedom.

Six.

She closed her eyes and thought of Joshen.

Seven.

Her lips buzzed with the residue of power from the song.

Eight.

She pressed a kiss against the soft skin on the inside of Cord’s arm. She pulled back and studied the perfect green imprint of her lips. Suddenly, the white filaments around them snapped tight, jolting Senna into Cord’s arms. Only his firm grip kept her from falling.

Quick as a striking snake, Ellesh pressed Senna’s wrist against Cord’s and shoved a tiny, doubled-edged blade between their arms.

Senna blinked and shook her head. She glanced at her enemies in confusion. Warm, sticky blood beaded between her skin and Cord’s. She felt a tingle—like a wriggling feather—between their arms.

Senna jerked free. Beneath the sheen of fresh blood, a waning gibbous had formed on Cord’s arm. That wasn’t right. It should be a circle. With a start, she realized the wiggling feather feeling hadn’t stopped when she’d pulled her arm away. Her heart heavy with dread, she lifted her wrist. Just beneath the shallow cut, a waxing crescent was forming on her skin.

Her eyes traced the partial moon on Cord’s wrist. She knew if she pressed them together, they’d form a perfect circle. Ellesh’s satisfied smile woke a terrible intuition in Senna’s mind. “What have you done?”

Ellesh gestured to the pendant at Senna’s throat. “Long ago, we discovered how to incorporate the process used to make the Lilette Stone to alter the potion used to bond a Guardian to his Witch. Now, Cord will always be aware of you. He’ll be able to keep you safe.”

Her necklace. The necklace that allowed the two halves to always find each other. Somewhere, Joshen had the other half. Senna swayed on her feet. And now Cord was linked to her even more intimately. “Aware of me how?”

Ellesh shrugged. “He will be able to feel your location.”

“How?”

“Through the connection forged between your blood.”

She turned her fierce glare to Cord. “You knew!”

He stared at the floor.

Joshen. She was bound to a Guardian, and it wasn’t Joshen. She ran to the basin of water Ellesh had used before. Senna snatched the soap and scrubbed her skin. Bloody bubbles formed, turning the water pink. She clawed at her arm, trying to scratch the crescent off. Her skin welted and turned bright red, but the mark didn’t budge.

Cord’s hand closed around her arm. “Senna, it won’t come off.”

At his touch, something rushed inside her. A foreign awareness. A bundle of emotions. Dread and hope and a cautious longing.

She sagged against the basin, water soaking into the front of her tunic. She could cut her arm off, but it wouldn’t break the connection. It was in her blood. “I can
feel
you.”

The pendant felt impossibly heavy around Senna’s neck. Joshen’s ring on her finger seemed to tighten as if sensing the betrayal. “Why? Why would you do this to me?”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It was me or someone else. I couldn’t bear for it to be someone else.”

Her hands curled into tight fists. “So it was a kindness? To tether me forever to yourself?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She felt his regret building inside her mind. It was a dim echo of emotion, a shadow of true feeling.

Somehow, she was going to escape. She was going to find a way to warn the other Witches. And she was going to free herself from this link.

“Cord?” Ellesh said.

He stared at the floor. “She’s plotting her escape.”

Senna gasped soundlessly.

Ellesh nodded. “Make sure she fails.”

She was as shackled as if she was gagged and bound. Shifting her weight, she hauled back her arm and punched Cord in the jaw. He saw it coming and he probably felt her intent, but he didn’t try to avoid the blow.

Pain erupted in Senna’s hand. Resisting the urge to cradle it against her body, she ignored the sharp pain echoing from Cord’s jaw and stormed past them. She paused at the door. “You’re worse than the Haven Witches have ever been. Both of you.”

Cord didn’t look up from the floor. Ellesh had the grace to look abashed. “It was necessary,” she said. “I cannot risk killing or harming a Creator-touched.”

Senna stormed out of the tree.

Their voices followed her out. “Cord?”

“She’s doesn’t have a plan. She’s just running.”

“Follow her.”

He came after her.

She knew because she felt him. As she felt the direction of the sun by the heat on her body, she knew Cord was three steps behind her and a little to the left. But that wasn’t all. Cord’s emotions seeped inside her. And right now it was so hard to tell where his emotions ended and hers began.

Her body. Her mind. They weren’t her own anymore.

She broke into a run to escape the horror, but how could she evade her own blood?

Senna hugged her knees to her chest. Her cheeks felt tight where the salty tracks of her tears had dried. She looked down at the city of Lilette—part city, part forest. The setting sun cast a golden haze over the scene.

She felt Cord behind her, close enough to stop her should the sudden urge to jump off the cliff come to mind—his thought, not hers. Grunting, she stared at the drop a few paces away. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. She could launch herself off, feel the rush of the wind all around her, then nothing.

She felt Cord’s concern grow. With the scrape of gravel under his sandals, he sat within arm’s reach. Her body went rigid. Her hand still ached from hitting him. She didn’t think it was broken, just sprained. Still it had been worth it. It might be worth it to do it again.

“No.” His voice sounded rough. “It still feels like you dislocated my jaw. And you need at least one serviceable hand.”

She glared at him, wanting so badly to hit him again.

“I won’t let you,” he said softly.

She winced—he’d read her thoughts again, while she was trying her best to ignore the hints of emotions and hurt seeping through. But if he could manipulate the connection, so could she. She concentrated on the small swirl of emotions mixing with hers like a drop of milk in hot tea. His jaw did hurt, right at the joint. He was overwhelmed and frightened, and so very sorry.

She ignored the last bit and explored further. The link between them was more like a leak—like a bit of his emotions and thoughts spilled into the crescent moon on her arm, into her blood, where they mixed with hers.