12. SECRETS
Senna pulled at the collar of her shirt. Sea salt had settled into the fabric, making her itch like she'd rolled in hay. And worse than the itch, she smelled of vomit. She longed to change her clothes, but if she left and something happened ... With a sigh, she worked the rag down Joshen's long arms, across his chest, down his stomach, neck and forehead. She wrung water into his hair. Smoothing it back from his face, she fanned him.
How many times had she repeated this process over the long night? Fifty? A hundred? She'd gone through all her scales and practiced the Witch songs in her mother's journal until her voice went hoarse. But at least she still had the journal. She had Mcbedee and his watertight drum to thank for that.
Pressing her ear to his chest, she listened for any sign of the rattle. She closed her eyes in relief. Still gone. With a moan, Joshen tossed beneath her. Senna's face wet and hot, she watched him squirm, like he was trying to twist away from the fever and pain. He groaned again, the whites of his eyes showing, before finally settling back to his unnaturally deep, harsh breathing.
If he didn't start getting better and soon, he'd die. A tremor shook her to her bones. Tears slipped from her eyes faster than she could wipe them.
At the sound of Pogg's floppy feet on the steps, she turned toward the door. The Mettlemot had a limp fish clamped between his jaws. The fish fell to the floor with a dull thud. "Senna eats."
She shook her head. "I can't leave him 'til he's a little better."
Pogg made a disapproving gurgle as he jerked a sheet from the bed and dunked it in the bucket of water. He draped it over Joshen, crouched on the end of the bed and started awkwardly fanning.
Senna blinked in surprise. "Wish I'd have thought of that." Pogg didn't answer, but she hadn't really expected him to.
All of a sudden, she couldn't bear to be here another moment. At the door, Bruke's head swung between Senna and Joshen. Finally, he let out a frustrated whine and hurried after her. After finding some wood and lighting a small fire in the stove carefully surrounded by bricks, she cooked the fish quickly, practically burning it in her hurry. Bruke was still working on the head and tail when she hustled upstairs to check on Joshen.
Pogg hadn't moved from his crouch. His eyes shifted her way. "Senna takes bath. Smells like fish. Witches not likes that."
She was too tired to be offended. Besides, she knew she smelled worse than fish. Rubbing her eyes, she nodded. "Where?"
"Fresh water." He pointed, the webs between his fingers crumpling like wet laundry. "Senna finds it?"
She nodded.
She raided the house for soap and found some relatively clean yet slightly musty clothes and headed off in the direction Pogg had indicated. As she walked, she studied her surroundings. Unimaginable lushness surrounded the barren houses with windows as black and lifeless as the eyes of a corpse. She shivered. So beautiful ... and so empty.
Near one of the cliffs, she found a shallow pool filled with emerald water that felt luxuriously warm—probably heated by the volcano. After she'd bathed, she started back, shivering as her wet shift clung to her and the scrubbed laundry dripped from her arm. She arranged the clothes over the plants outside and hurried upstairs to find Joshen tossing again.
Pogg studied her with an unreadable expression.
With her arms crossed self-consciously over her breasts, she took a deep breath. "Thank you."
He handed her the fan and waddled out the door.
She worked over Joshen, her arms heavy with fatigue and her back sore, long into the night. The entire time, she sang, as if some part of her hoped the songs she sang to strengthen plants might do the same for Joshen. At some point, she noticed sweat beading on his upper lip and hair line. Tossing the rag into the nearly empty bucket, she touched his forehead.
He was cooler!
Over the next hour, she watched as Joshen sweated out the last of his fever. His body relaxed. Finally, he let out a long, deep sigh.
"Thank the Creators," she said with relief. Too tired to feel anything but a numb joy, she collapsed beside him.
***
Senna awoke to find sunlight drenching the room in gold. As though pulled by some unnatural force, she rolled over and her gaze met Joshen's. She swam in the sea of his gray-blue eyes. "Joshen?"
His brows wrinkled and he sounded battered, as if he had been dragged behind a horse. "Senna?"
She threw herself onto his chest. "You're okay," she sobbed.
He weakly embraced her, his arms patting her bare shoulder. "Well, of course I am. Hungry as a half-starved horse, but other than that ..." he trailed off as Senna's sobs increased. Gently, he pulled her back. "Senna, what's the matter? And why are we in the same bed?"
She shook her head, wiping her tears. "You've been sick."
His brow creased. "For how long?"
"This is the third day."
His eyes widened.
She smiled and pressed her palm to his cheek. She felt giddy, like she could dance and sing and cry all at once. "You said you were hungry. I'll go make you something."
Outside, she threw on one of the borrowed dresses before hurrying to the kitchen to prepare an herb stew.
Pogg came in dripping wet, a fish wriggling between his clamped jaws and a starfish tucked under his arm. The Mettlemot grinned broadly at her. She winced. It wasn't like a human smile. Pogg must have known people widened their mouths to show they were happy. So he did too. But it didn't have the same effect.
Feeling guilty for her reaction, she smiled weakly back. Even still, he seemed genuinely happy as he handed her the fish. "Other does better. Fish makes strong." He tossed the starfish to Bruke, who immediately tore into the chewy treat.
Senna figured Mettlemots must be like a seal or walrus, hunting in the seas but living on the land. She felt a surge of fondness for the creature. "I'm not sure Joshen should have meat yet," she said gently.
Pogg looked at her oddly. "Fish makes boy strongs. Gives him strengths."
She debated. Joshen hadn't had solid food for days. Better to start small. But perhaps some fish broth would help. She cut the meat into chunks and dumped it in a pot with the herbs.
"Fish," she mumbled as she set the entrails on a plate for Bruke. "I'm so sick of fish I could eat a whole steer." But as far as she could tell, the island had nothing else. Not even chickens.
She strained meat from Joshen's bowl but left hers alone. Joshen slid eagerly back on the bed as she came into the room. She handed him the bowl and sat beside him. One look at her soup and he traded his for hers. Before she could argue, he gulped down half of it. With a sigh he leaned back against the wall. "Senna, I'm sorry."
Examining his broth with distaste, she set it down on a side table. "For what?"
"For using my knife on the kelp. I didn't understand, I—"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. Her skin tingled at the contact. "Shh. You didn't know. No real harm done."
Joshen nodded and gulped a few more swallows of soup. Already, his eyelids drooped heavily.
Senna stood. "Rest for a while. By tomorrow, you should be able to move around."
Finishing the rest of the bowl in one gulp, Joshen nodded and scooted down in the soft covers.
Senna made her way quietly toward the door. When Bruke started to follow her, she shook her head. "No, stay."
His tail hanging between his legs, Bruke trudged over to Joshen's bed.
Downstairs, Senna dumped the broth back in with the rest of the stew and made herself another bowl. As she ate, she fidgeted under Pogg's watchful eye. "Would you like me to get you a bowl?"
"Pogg eats them in water," he informed her.
Imagining him swallowing fish whole, she shuddered. But he continued to stare at her. "What?"
"Senna comes with Pogg."
Casting a nervous glance upstairs, she finished her soup and followed Pogg out of the tree house and deeper into the island. The bleak windows seemed to stare back at her. She imagined the Dark Witch watching from the shadows. "Will the Dark Witch find me here?"
Pogg shook his head. "Only Keepers can find Haven. When Dark Witch imprisoned, Witches took Dawn Song from her."
"Then how did she find it?"
Pogg bared his teeth. "Betrayers!"
So, one of the eight remaining Witches was a traitor. But who?
The trilling sounded in Pogg's throat again. "Espen."
"Espen," Senna rolled the name around her tongue. It tasted bitter. Her mother had reacted with loathing at the mention of it.
But why?
Senna's thoughts were interrupted when the houses ended in a circular clearing—much like the one Mother had used at home. The clearing rose into a gentle hill, the highest point of the valley. Lifting her green dress, she climbed the rise. "Is this where they sing the songs to control nature?"
Pogg stared over the rolling green grass. "Yes. Ring of Power."
From the top, she had an unimpeded view. Like a bird's aerie, the island nestled inside a ring of jagged cliffs. Waterfalls cascaded at even intervals along the faces. "The Four Sisters." Senna breathed as she pointed, "Water, Plants, Sunlight and on the outside, the volcano makes Earth."
"Comes," Pogg gestured. "You sees Ring of Power. Now you sees books."
Still in awe, Senna followed Pogg to the other side of the clearing to an enormous tree house. Inside, she found walls covered from floor to ceiling with books. Pogg refused to go inside. "Pogg not goes. Only Witches. Pogg cares for Joshen. Senna learns to kills Dark Witch."
Senna opened her mouth to protest, but Pogg dropped to all fours again and ambled away. A strange feeling pricked the back of her neck as she surveyed the shelves. All around her, signs of habitation, yet the buildings stood empty. She wandered through the library, feeling overwhelmed. A book lying open on the table caught her eye—as if someone had left it in the middle of reading.
She traced the pages, leaving a trail through the dust. Rubbing the residue between her fingers, she stooped down and blew. Dust erupted around her, making her sneeze. Using her hand, she wiped the chair and sat down. Her eyes skimmed the page. Handwritten. This was no book. It was a journal.
Her name jumped out at her. Eagerly, she read.
Brusenna,
If you're reading this, then know you are the last. Even now, she's here. We've lost. She'll find me soon and imprison me with the others, using our songs to feed her own. There we'll stay until we give her our loyalty. Then she will have her unwilling army. An army to hold all men hostage. We'll hold out until our last hope is gone. That last hope is you. I'm sorry I didn't teach you the songs. I only wanted to keep you safe. I was wrong. Stay here, for here you are sheltered. Even now, the betrayer's blood cools in death. I wish—
There was nothing else. Senna hadn't realized she was crying until a drop splashed the page, smearing the ink. With a corner of her sleeve, she blotted it. She blinked to keep others from falling. So it was true. Her mother was a prisoner. She'd suspected for months, but now it all seemed so sickeningly real.
How could she save them? She thought of Coyel, so powerful she need not even sing for the plants to part before her. And the eight of them combined hadn't stood a chance. How could she, an untrained girl, succeed when the others had failed?
She closed her eyes as the fear caught fire within her. Witchcraft was passed from mother to daughter. And she was the last Witch left. If she remained here, the Witches would die. Espen would win. If she fought and failed, the whole world would be thrown into chaos. Climates would cross hardened boundaries. Seasons would fail to shift. Seeds would rot in the Earth. Her mother and the others would remain prisoners or be forced to become slaves.
Something soft turned to stone within her. She had no choice. She had to fight. She had to win.
Senna stared at the books lining the shelves. She would read them—to the last. She would learn. And then she'd free them.
Or join them.
***
Bruke shifted at her feet. Senna followed his gaze to the doorway. Joshen lumbered up the path to the library, his breath coming in wheezing gasps that clouded the air around his head. The sight brought a pang to her chest. He'd almost died trying to help her. The one person in the world who cared about her and she'd nearly got him killed. She sighed. "Winter's coming early this year."
He leaned against the door frame. "Senna, where've you been?"
She stared at the words in the book without seeing them. "Hasn't Pogg taken good care of you?"
"Well, yes." He hesitated. "But it's been three days since I've even seen you."
Senna slipped her mother's journal out of the stack of books she'd already read. Wrapping a light shawl around her shoulders, she stepped out of the library and into the sunlight. Settling onto one of the natural benches made by the roots of the library tree, she caressed her mother's journal. "My mother left this for me in case the worst happened."
Joshen reluctantly sat beside her as she read aloud Sacra's words.
Espen has a secret. Somehow, with every Witch captured, her strength grows. By the end, she'll have no rival. If the last eight of us cannot unearth this secret, you must find a different way. Something we've all failed to see. Or you must live your life in hiding.
Senna traced the loops and whirls of her mother's handwriting with her fingertips. "I have to find a way to stop Espen. Preferably one that doesn't involve dueling her."
Hearing the sadness in her voice, Bruke tried to nudge under her arm.
"And what way is that?" Joshen asked.
Senna nodded toward the library. "I'm going to search the books. Somewhere, there must be an answer."
Joshen's eyes widened. "All of them?"
Senna stood and brushed off her skirt. "Until I find the answer, yes. In my spare time, I'll train myself for a duel."
Joshen gripped her arm. "You don't even know where Espen is. Or the first thing about dueling. Or how she caught the others. You think you can just read a few books and beat her? If that is all it took, your mother and the others would've done it."
Senna's cheeks flamed. "You don't need to make me more afraid. I'm already terrified."
Joshen released her. "Father told me about Espen. She's evil, Senna."
Senna let out a heavy sigh and walked briskly away. Joshen hustled to catch up with her. "Let me help you. I want to be a Guardian."
She didn't slow.
"My father was one, as was my uncle—Tomack, the sheriff of Gonstower. They sent me to keep an eye on you—to make sure you're safe."
"There is no need, Joshen. Espen can't come here unless another Witch brings her. There aren't any left to do that."
Joshen was already panting and white-faced, though he tried to hide it. "I'll wait with you. When we leave, then I'll keep you safe."
Senna suddenly felt much older than Joshen. He was still a boy and she'd become a woman overnight. He wouldn't willingly leave her. And if she let him stay, he'd die. And leave her. As everyone else did. She could stand being alone, if she knew Joshen was alive and safe. But his death ... better to push him away than have him forced from her side. "You can't stay." She'd familiarized herself with the island over the last week. A cave loomed before her. She entered the darkness, Joshen close behind.
"Senna, I know you think I can't help you, but I can."
She rounded on him, her arms folded across her chest. "You won't be able to find Haven again. Not without a Witch. So don't look."
His brows furrowed. "I'm not leaving you."
"Get in the boat, Joshen."
"I'll not! I ..."
Before he could finish, Senna sang.
Plants of the sea,
Take Joshen away from me.
To the shore,
That he comes no more.
Joshen ran for the cave mouth. She changed her song. Trees sprang up to block him. She sang to the sea plants again. Kelp snaked around his ankles. "Senna no! Listen—" She sang the kelp over his mouth. Still, he mumbled through it.
"Stop fighting," she begged. "You've been so sick. You'll only wear yourself out."
He stopped struggling. Senna sighed and moved to the side of the boat. "I'm sorry. But I can't ask you to involve yourself any longer. She won't kill me. She needs me."
At least Senna hoped that was true. She cleared the tears from her throat. "But you, she won't hesitate to destroy. And you're no match for her."
His eyes shot white-hot needles at her. She flinched, unable to bear the look of hatred on Joshen's face. "Please don't hate me. I can't lose you, too," she whispered.
Avoiding his gaze, she sang away some of the kelp and kissed his cheek. Slipping a handful of gold coins in his pocket, she sang again. The kelp encircled the boat and hauled him down. She watched as it shrank beneath the water. She stared at the dark pit until her eyes burned with the need to blink. But if she did, he'd really be gone—and she'd really be alone. Finally, she turned to Pogg. "The kelp will take him ashore. Can you make sure he reaches Corrieth?"
Pogg nodded. "Pogg can finds his way back."
Long after the Mettlemot had left, Senna stood in the flickering light of the cave, staring into the dark gray water.
How long would she be here? Alone.
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