27. WITCH FIGHT
Evening faded into dusk and dusk into night. A full moon shone down, casting the world in silver and slate. Everything grew to gigantic proportions, from the ferns to the flowers. It was an odd, intoxicating mix of the forests of her home and the jungles of the Tartens—beauty that belied the danger Senna faced. A Witch's habitation, if ever there was one. She found no comfort in this. The flows of nature were all wrong, grating against her like a high-pitched squeal.
The deeper she wound into Espen's lair, the more the trees shifted and groaned, as if whispering furtive secrets. But no matter how hard she strained to catch the words, the meaning escaped her. More than once, she paused to study them. They were unlike any other trees she'd ever seen. Sort of like a weeping willow, except the leaves formed a faultless circle. Each tree bore one piece of perfect, white fruit. In wonder, she reached out and cupped one. The fruit vibrated like a beehive inside her hand. The whole tree trembled and pulled away. Senna jerked back. That wasn't fruit—and these weren't trees. Not really.
But if not trees, what were they?
The possibility drove away her gaze. But then she caught sight of one tree. It, more than all the others, seemed somehow familiar. Unable to look away, Senna moved toward it as if in a trance. She stretched out to touch it. The whole tree strained forward. Branches wrapped around her shoulders, holding her tenderly against bark that felt as soft as skin. A hauntingly familiar scent warmed her. She suddenly understood. "Mother," she said breathlessly. "It can't be!" But it was. Senna had no doubt. She rested her forehead against the unnaturally pliable bark. "What has she done to you?"
The limbs caressed her back, stroked her hair. Stepping back, she surveyed the other unnatural trees. Each of them must be a Witch. Some, like her mother, trembled in excitement, reaching toward each other, whispering. Others stood stiff. Carefully, Senna approached one of the still ones. She held her hand against its rough bark. It showed no signs of recognition. "You've been here much, much longer, haven't you?" That's why Espen couldn't search for her. She had to watch her new prisoners.
Senna backed away with a shudder.
How had Espen done this? No seed Senna had ever heard of could turn flesh into trees. Perhaps it was some kind of potion—something like Ioa. Espen must immobilize her prey and then force them to consume it. So the key would be defensive seeds. Seeds that would keep Espen at bay ... at least at first. After, Senna would have to find a different way to combat her.
A wisp of hope grew within her. Perhaps this knowledge might help her where the other Witches had failed.
She felt a branch at her back, gently pushing her back the way she had come. She turned to face her mother. "No. You couldn't stand back and watch her capture your friends. And I can't leave you like this. Not while I have the strength to fight. Besides, maybe, just maybe, I'll defeat her."
Her mother sagged, her lovely, gleaming branches trailing on the jungle floor.
Senna's heart sank. Sacra had sheltered her from this fight her entire life. She'd always believed her mother was trying to protect her, but what if she was simply afraid Senna's song wasn't strong enough ... and never would be? She turned away from her mother and the others. Senna felt the call of the Ring of Power. With tears welling in her eyes, she moved to answer it. Shafts of light appeared, growing into beams the closer she came to the clearing. At the edge, still in shadow, she paused and thought ruefully how exactly her dream mirrored reality.
Her dream. Terror squeezed the air from her lungs. In the dream, Espen always defeated her.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Senna forced herself to step into the moon-bright clearing. Willing her stride not to falter, she climbed the gentle rise toward the center. Just like in her dream, Espen emerged from the opposite side and strode out to meet her.
A few paces apart, both women stopped and faced each other. Senna was surprised by Espen's beauty—somehow, it seemed wrong that someone so evil should be beautiful. Her waist-length, dark hair shifted softly in the wind. Her skin was impossibly clear, with a smattering of innocent-looking freckles across her nose. Senna was dressed after the manner of the Witches, in shades of green and gold—the colors of life and growth. Espen wore a black cloak with a red dress—the colors of death and blood.
Desperate to make the first move, Senna threw a barrier seed and started singing it to maturity. Not very original, perhaps, but the tree would protect her from anything physical Espen grew. Espen smiled—the smile of a starving woman about to delve into a table of delicacies. She also threw down a barrier seed.
Senna would have liked to grow her barrier tree a little bigger, but she didn't want to lose the advantage of her slight lead. Her deft fingers dove into a pocket of her belt and grabbed a handful of seeds as small as sand. Her song changed.
Wind, carry my seeds upon thy back,
Toward the Witch with purpose black.
The wind gusted past her, twisting her hair around her face. She threw the seeds high into the air. It caught them and carried the majority past both barrier trees, where they pelted Espen like the gritty wind before a storm.
Senna immediately switched her song.
Thine, with vine of thorn,
Bind up Espen, her song to scorn.
The vines shot up around Espen's ankles. Espen ignored them. Instead, she focused on Senna, her song a soft murmur. The Witch threw something in the air. Senna saw the wind catch a white powder as fine as flour. She had time to do little more than suck in a deep breath before the powder engulfed her.
The powder seemed to stick to Senna's sweat. It burned and stung as though driving needles through her skin. The worst pain was in her eyes. She barely had the presence of mind not to gasp and fill her lungs with the toxic stuff. She wasn't sure what the powder was, but she knew she had to get away from it. She couldn't sing if she couldn't breathe.
Senna stumbled back, her eyes on fire. Without any other option, she shut them and ran blindly away from the defense of her barrier tree. When she'd finally freed herself from the choking vapor, she turned frantically to find Espen. Through her tear-filled eyes, she saw the Dark Witch nearly covered in vines. Only her face remained uncovered, her mouth working frantically.
Desperately trying to catch her breath, Senna staggered on her feet, her hands reaching inside her seed belt. But before she could form a song on her lips, she felt a presence behind her. Eyes wide, she whirled to face this new threat.
In an instant, she realized what Espen had done. The powder had driven her away from her barrier tree—her physical protection—toward another barrier tree. One Espen had been busily singing to life while Senna's thine had been binding her.
The great tree stretched toward her. Senna dove to the side. She felt the whoosh of air as a branch barely missed her. She scrabbled madly to get away. Feeling another branch coming, she dove. But this branch whipped out at the last second, cracking across her ribs.
She felt like she'd been branded by a white hot, iron rod. Gasping, she twisted away from the scrambling branches' hold. She was nearly out of the tree's reach. She'd just managed to get her feet under her for the second time when the tree stretched out, wrapping one of its longest branches around her ankle. It snatched her up so fast it felt like she'd left her stomach on the ground that was fast falling away from her.
It flicked like a whip, sending her careening end over end through the air. She saw ground then sky, ground then sky, moving together so fast they blurred together.
And then her whole body hit the ground. She felt herself flatten, her bones vibrating and stretching to absorb the shock. The blood in her veins sloshed madly. The air was forced from her lungs in an inhuman cry. Then all was blackness.
She wasn't totally unaware of herself, though. She knew there was pain, but in the same way she knew the sun was hot. It was far away and only tendrils of it reached her. Gradually, she became aware of movement all across her skin. A kind of cold slither. She tried to make sense of it, but making her mind work brought her closer to the pain.
Still, she knew she had to wake up. Had to or die. As she forced herself to think, she realized suddenly the cold, slithering feeling was vines moving around her.
And then her mind formed one word—Espen. That shocked her out of unconsciousness. She opened her eyes. Her body did a quick assessment of its injuries. Nothing broken. But terribly strained and bruised.
She tried to push herself up, but the vines had been hard at work. She knew instantly that these were not Thine vines. Those had vicious, hooked thorns to discourage their prisoners from wiggling free. No, these were simple bindweeds and grasses. But they'd been circling her by the score.
Still at only half-strength, she strained against them. A few popped free of their roots, enough that she could sit up slightly. She searched for Espen. The other Witch was covered in blood, her skin caught in the barbs that stretched it cruelly.
The Dark Witch must have freed enough fingers to reach her seeds, for Senna could see a gray plant growing between Espen and the Thine. It was bulky, thick and soft. This accomplished two things at once. One, it was putting a soft barrier between Espen and the thorns. And two, it was pushing the thorns away. Any second now, Espen would free herself.
With renewed determination, Senna strained against the bindweeds. More popped free. Her right hand broke free. She shook off the weeds and reached for her seed belt. But her hands only encountered her green dress.
Panic lanced through her. She searched frantically and finally found the belt lying near the circle's center. Tugging with all her might, she managed to free her left hand. She jerked and kicked at the weeds binding her legs like a too-tight blanket. Finally breaking loose, she stumbled toward her belt.
She heard Espen's song changing and knew the woman had reached her seed belt. She ran furiously for her own, but as she did, she felt the wind howling at her, felt seeds pelting her. When she was a mere few steps away, a plant shot up all around her. She knew it immediately, though this variation was darker than the kind in her belt. Kine—a low-growing cactus. But instead of leaves, it had millions of razor-sharp blades the length of her thumb. And it had completely encapsulated her seed belt.
Senna took one final step forward. She felt the blades pierce the soles of her shoes, stabbing her foot. She cried out and forced her hand toward her belt. The vines shredded her skin. She felt a poison working through her flesh from her wounds. But she had to reach her belt. She shoved her hand forward again, straining, stretching. She felt the belt's smooth surface under her fingertips. But a voice stopped her.
"You may as well stop."
Senna winced and turned to see Espen standing free of the Thine, a handful of seeds in her hand.
She'd lost.
Withdrawing her shredded hand, she cradled it against her and felt the blood soak through her dress and run down her belly. Her hand and foot stung and burned. But it didn't matter. Trees didn't feel pain like people did. She waited for Espen to turn her into one. Part of her was coldly curious to find out how Espen did it.
But Espen surprised her by speaking. "No other Witch has had the courage to face me in my domain." She cocked her head to the side. "I'll admit, your song is amazingly strong. Stronger than I ever anticipated. Stronger than my own was and I had no equal. Which is why I actually dueled you instead of just ending it immediately. You see, I wanted to put you in your place."
Espen laughed. Senna tried to wrap her mind around the Dark Witch laughing—or holding a conversation, for that matter. Somehow, in Senna's imaginings, Espen had never seemed capable of something as bright as laughter. "A Witchling. Untrained. And you very nearly had me."
Espen sang a simple song and the Kine vines curled up, though the ones around Senna's belt stayed firmly in place. Senna felt the blades leave her feet and nearly sighed with relief. But she still felt the poison spreading a strange lethargy through her limbs. Odd, since the Kine she knew had no poison.
Espen's bright eyes shone with excitement. "The two of us would be a force so great, the other Witches would have no choice but to join us. So, the question is, does your intelligence equal your strength? Or would you rather join your Keepers?"
Bitter panic rose in Senna's throat. She considered lifting her skirts and running, but Espen wouldn't allow that.
Her life suddenly seemed precious. If she accepted, Senna could even have Joshen. But the thought was fleeting. She refused to consider it any longer. Clamping her jaw, she searched one last time for something so simple she might have overlooked it. If only she could have a few moments more. She had to stall. "What do you offer me?"
Triumph leaped into Espen's eyes, but she kept her face impassive. "In all the world, you will answer only to me. Of the riches, one eighth. Lands are negotiable. I prefer..."
Espen continued, but Senna had stopped listening. Desperately, she searched for a way to save herself from her mother's fate. Joshen's words of long ago echoed in her head. You don't have to do everything alone.
She shook her head to clear the memory. She was alone! The last of the Witches. Her belt was trapped beneath an unreachable layer of Kine. Her body was battered and shredded. There was no one and nothing left to help her! How could she have thought she could defeat Espen when all the others had failed?
Perhaps the only ones left with the power to stop Espen are the Creators themselves, she thought bitterly.
That notion stopped her frantic thoughts cold. She gaped at the Ring of Power as if she'd never seen it before. It could work. It might work. Even if it didn't, she had nothing to lose.
Espen was watching her expectantly. Taking a chance, Senna limped forward. Espen moved into a defensive stance, but she didn't prevent Senna from overtaking the circle's center.
Senna took a deep breath. She would only have time for one song before Espen retaliated. Lifting her face, her song began.
Wind lift me high,
That my words reach to'rds the sky.
Espen's eyebrows arched in surprise, but she made no move to halt the wind's slow swirling. "And who will you call for, little one? There are none left. Even if there were, they wouldn't come in time to save you."
But there are some left. If only they can hear me. If only they will come, she thought. The trees bent and swayed as the wind lifted her higher than she had ever been before. "Higher," she sang, until she was dizzy from lack of air and chilled to her bones.
Her song changed.
Givers of life! Creators!
The Keepers have failed,
Their hold dispelled,
Heed my call,
Or our Earth shall fall!
Help us!
Help us!
The whirlwind caught her words and bore them away, but whether they would ever reach their destination, or be answered if they did, she couldn't say.
She looked beneath her dangling feet. The Ring of Power seemed so far away. A small, lighter dot amidst leagues of darker green.
Small, but not insignificant.
Below, Espen waited for her.
As the wind's hold over her lessened, she could do nothing but watch as the clearing rose toward her and Espen's features clarified. She was suddenly very tired.
"A fool's choice," Espen said as Senna returned to hearing range. The respect that had been in her eyes was gone.
"But one that all, excluding you, have made," Senna replied as her feet touched the ground and the wind calmed.
Espen gestured to the unnatural trees. "Obviously. That's why I called it a fool's choice."
Why did Senna feel it was already over? It seemed her fate had been sealed before her birth—that this end had always been inevitable. She closed her eyes and thought of Joshen. She'd tried. For him. For her mother. That was all that mattered. "You might call me a fool. Others would call me courageous."
In response, Espen flung a black seed into the air and sang.
Her body consume!
Senna waited for Espen to continue the song, but the Dark Witch remained silent.
Senna followed the older woman's gaze. Her body went cold. The black seed had not fallen.
It should have. It was too heavy for even a strong gust. And Senna felt no wind at all. But instead of falling, it floated in the air as if held by an unseen hand. Slowly, it floated toward her. It seemed to steady and travel incrementally faster. Even as she tried to wrap herself around this impossibility, her doom dawned on her as it must have on all the other Witches. There were plants to counteract other plants, potions to change her form, plants to protect the singer, but there were no weapons to defend against something as small as a single seed.
The seed was gaining speed. Senna couldn't help it. Even if it was hopeless, she had to try. Whirling, she ran as fast as her battered and bloody body would let her. How many before her had done the same? Just before she reached the edge of the clearing, Joshen burst into the moonlight. "Senna!"
Her soul shattered into a million pieces. "Joshen, you promised!"
"I couldn't leave you! I just couldn't!"
Just as she reached him, a sharp pain hammered her spine, pitching her forward. Joshen caught her in his arms. The pain spread. Her body suddenly went rigid.
"Senna?" Joshen tugged at her, trying to force her to run. But her feet were already rooted to the Earth.
With the last bit of dexterity she had, she tipped her face to his, "I love you." She'd finally managed to say it. As soon as the words left her, her lips grew together, sealing everything else she wanted to say behind them.
Joshen's face screwed up in anguish. At last, he understood. "Oh, Senna no!"
Senna felt Espen coming up behind her. She ached to scream for Joshen to run, but with each passing moment, her body grew more unyielding.
Espen came into view. She glanced at Joshen before turning to Senna with a look of relief. "You realized what was coming sooner than most, but there was nothing you could do. Nothing any of them could. You should've joined me."
Senna couldn't answer as her body grew more wooden. Joshen gripped her, but she could no longer feel his touch. Only see him. And even that was beginning to fade. With a groan, her body stretched toward the night sky. Of their own accord, her arms grew and splintered into main branches while her fingers shivered and split into smaller ones. As she grew upward, her feet separated and her toes plunged into the cool Earth. Leaves burst from her fingertips. She groaned and fought, but it was useless. She was no longer human. If her shoulders remained, they would have sagged. As it was, she could simply stand stiff and still, only her thinnest branches capable of movement.
In front of what used to be her face, a beautiful white flower appeared.
Espen sang.
Oh little flower, change for me
Into a seed with ripe fruit be.
Senna had no choice but to force nutrients and water into the flower. She felt her Witch song gathering inside as the flower changed into a fully mature fruit. It was finished. Every part of her that was a Witch now dangled before her face. She groaned in despair.
As the last of her hope leeched from her, Joshen snatched the fruit. Whirling, he ran toward the jungle.
"Run, Joshen! For the love of life, run," she tried to scream but couldn't.
Espen waited until he reached the line of trees before singing. A tree snagged him in a tight embrace. He cursed. The tree wrapped a branch around his mouth, silencing him. Senna cried out, but the sound came out as little more than a wooden groan. She fought to pummel Espen, but her branches refused to obey. Instead, they gently shifted in the breeze.
Espen sauntered toward him. Taking the fruit from his hands, she inhaled its aroma. With a look of intense satisfaction, she took a juicy bite. Smiling as she chewed, she sauntered toward Senna.
Senna wanted nothing more than to squash her, but she was Espen's servant now. As were all the other Witches. Had it really ended so quickly, so completely? Watching Espen consume her song, she yearned to weep.
Espen licked the juices from her fingers and then held up a black seed. A seed that mirrored the one in Senna's back. "It took dozens of my Servants' lives to create Lathel—a seed that could hold a Witch captive and give me her song. After consuming dozens of Witch songs, I had strength for a song strong enough to micromanage a wind to propel my seed. The Keepers had no hope after that. Really, it wasn't me at all. Just an undefeatable plant." She slipped the seed into her seed belt. Another flower bloomed on Senna's branch. Espen handled the blossom tenderly, "And this is the reason I'm trapped here. I have to consume your Witch song daily to glean your power. What a relief it is to have the last of you captured. I'll be able to leave now."
She sang again and the tree pushed Joshen toward her. She tipped her head as she studied him. "Such a loyal one, Brusenna. And so strong. Really. I'm impressed." She ran her fingertips across one of his straining muscles. "It's only fair you recompense me for Wardof and Garg. Two bumbling idiots for the price of one competent servant. A fair trade." She pulled a waxy substance from her belt.
Senna stretched and groaned and wept anew. Through her foggy vision, she recognized the potion. Yarves. All records regarding its creation had been destroyed long ago, but the violent blue could be nothing else. Espen had either found a missed record or discovered how to create it herself.
She smeared the substance on her lips and rubbed them together. She circled him, her eyes taking him in as a buyer does a horse.
Desire most fervent
To be Espen's servant.
To heed my call,
You will give your all.
As she repeated the forbidden song, Joshen struggled and fought, but he couldn't break free. Espen sang the branch from his mouth. "No!" he cried as Espen leaned forward to kiss him.
Unable to bear it, Senna refused to watch. When she forced herself to face it, she wished she hadn't. A vacant stare had come over Joshen's face. He was no more Joshen now than Senna was herself.
Espen sang him free. He stood dumbly before her. "Who is your mistress?" she asked him.
"Espen," he said hollowly.
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