Witch Born(19)
The branches shifted aimlessly in the breeze. The once-glossy leaves were now covered in a crusty blight. Half of them seemed to litter the base of the tree. Wetting her lips, Senna stepped forward, leaves crunching underfoot. “Espen?”
The tree heaved a little as if stirring in its sleep before going still again.
“Espen,” Senna tried again.
This time the tree seemed to rouse itself. Senna almost felt it looking at her. The leaves quivered as if in recognition. The branches snapped toward her.
Senna had prepared for this reaction. After all, she was the one who’d forced Espen into this form and stolen her song.
Stop.
The branches struggled as if against an invisible current, but Espen was in essence a plant, and plants obeyed Witch song. Though the Dark Witch trembled with anger, she couldn’t move.
Espen retreated into herself. A clump of bark dropped from her trunk. With a start, Senna realized the Dark Witch was dying. The drought wasn’t just killing the Tartens.
Suddenly, Senna didn’t feel frightened anymore. She could still feel Joshen’s hand in her own. And for once, she was in control of the situation. “I have questions the Discipline Heads refuse to answer. As payment, I can ease your suffering. Water. A song to take away the blight.”
Her eyes never straying from the tree, Senna crouched down and brushed the ground free of leaves, revealing dark, dry earth.
Espen slowly stretched a branch forward and wrote in the dirt. “Free me.”
Anger flashed through Senna. “I can’t free you. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. The Creators took your song, remember? You have no fruit and therefore no seed.”
The leaves rustled as she wrote, “Not save from life.”
Senna opened her mouth, closed it again.
“Free me!” Espen wrote in deep gouges.
Senna stared at what remained of the Dark Witch until the tree stained her after vision. “It’s no more than you deserve.”
Espen didn’t respond.
Senna took a deep breath. “Fine. I will come to Tarten and free you.”
Espen seemed to sag in relief.
“What is Traveling?”
A branch came forward and scratched against the earth. “Obvious.”
Senna grimaced. “That’s what I’m doing—Traveling? How do I control it, stop from being attacked?”
The branch stabbed at the same word, “Obvious.”
“No. It isn’t. I could have died tonight!” Crouching, Senna brushed the word away and jabbed at the blank earth. “Tell me how to stop it, how to protect myself.”
With exaggerated slowness, Espen wrote, “Witch song.”
Senna stared at the words as the simplicity of it crashed down on her. Espen was right. It was obvious. You fought Witch song with Witch song. It wasn’t a perfect solution. Her song was strong, but not as strong as the whole of those other Witches.
“How is this possible that I can Travel?” Senna whispered.
Espen bent forward and wrote again. “Creator touched.”
Senna’s breathing came faster. She’d been right. More than just her song was changing. This was bigger than just taking Espen’s song. “What happens to someone who is Creator-touched?”
The branch scratched a single word into the ground. “Death.”
Senna’s breath caught in her throat. Was this what she’d overheard the Heads speaking of? Weighty as the rectangle of earth above a grave, the word lumbered from her mouth. “Death?”
The wind trailed Espen’s branches.
Senna’s gaze narrowed. “You’re just trying to frighten me.” Still Espen didn’t answer. “Why would I believe anything you have to say? You’d gladly see all the Witches dead.”
The tree rustled and the branch scratched in the soil. “Not dead. Rulers!”
Senna flinched. How often had she thought the Witches were meant to be more than a cluster of frightened women hiding on an island? Their songs transformed the world, and mankind hated them for it. “And the hundreds of other Witches outside of Haven?”
Espen went very still, so still the breeze didn’t seem to touch her.
Senna rose from her crouch. “I’ve felt them. On an island much like Haven.”
The tree strained forward. Espen swiped the earth blank and wrote, “Don’t know.”
Senna glared at the trembling tree. “You know something.” If Senna didn’t know better, she’d think Espen was afraid.
“Impossible,” the Dark Witch wrote.
“What’s impossible?”
Espen didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she wrote, “Calden. Lilette.”
Senna stared at the unfamiliar words. “What do they mean?”