Witch Born(58)

Joshen and a stable boy struggled towards them, but the horses they led were fighting their leads, no doubt sensing the ferocity of the building storm and startled by the sound of their hooves on the planking.

“Leave them!” she shouted to be heard over the wind.

“We need them!” Joshen shouted back.

Sailors were still bringing hay on deck, where others waited to haul it below.

Senna stared at the sky as lightning stabbed across the sooty clouds. “We aren’t going to make it.”

Just then Joshen started up the plank. One of the horses, gold in color with a white mane and tail, reared, terror showing in his eyes. Joshen expertly dodged his hooves. When the horse came back down, Joshen put him in a headlock. “Get me a blindfold!”

A sailor stripped off his shirt. Three men struggled to cover the horse’s eyes. Blind, he froze, his muscles quivering.

And then Mistin was there with another man. Locking arms behind the horse’s rump, they forced him onboard. The other horses came with only half as much effort.

Thunder shook the world. Horses whinnied. Sailors shouted. The ship rolled with a wave.

“Parknel!” Senna cried. “Please.”

The captain pursed his lips, clearly unhappy. “Sailors on board. Shove off!”





18. Wind Song





Sailors hustled to untie the ropes and pushed from the pier with long poles. The sails unrolled from the masts, and the ship took to the open water.

“Watch out!” a man cried from the crow’s nest.

A wave crashed into them. Senna gasped as freezing cold water battered her. The ship rolled, swinging back towards the piers. They were going to smash into another ship. Parknel spun the wheel.

Senna’s song burst forth, calling the wind to propel them forward.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the sails caught the wind and they began to turn. Another wave hit the ship, tipping sailors from the rigging. They fell, screaming, to the deck. The bales of hay slid, pinning men against the rails. They pushed at the bales, shouting for help until more sailors appeared and freed them.

“No time to haul it below decks,” Captain Parknel shouted. “Tie it down before someone else is crushed!”

A solid wall of rain moved towards them.

Mistin struggled to the upper deck. “Can I help?”

Senna pointed to the bow. “You sing there. It’ll increase our range.”

Dodging sailors, Mistin crossed the deck.

“Tie yourselves in!” Parknel shouted again and again as he and another man strained to hold the wheel.

They cut into the curtain of rain, and Senna was immediately drenched. Joshen snatched a rope and tied it around her waist before doing the same for himself and the men at the wheel.

Senna belted out another song. The ship shot through the hole she created in the storm, rolling down another mountainous wave of what looked like broken glass. Sailors clung to whatever they could hold onto and muttered oaths or prayers or both. Lightning split the sky.

A sailor called out, “Just over eight knots, sir!”

“She’ll not take more speed,” Parknel called from the wheel.

Halting her song, Senna wiped salt spray and rain from her eyes.

Parknel groaned against the strain of holding the wheel. In two steps, Joshen had the spokes in his big hands. “Senna!”

“How many knots?” Parknel grunted, his face cherry red.

The sailor watched the rope disappearing over the side. “They’re moving too fast for me to count, sir.”

The wind blew harder, until Parknel’s orders were snatched from his mouth so fast Senna couldn’t understand him from a few spans away. The waves grew higher, colliding with the ship and slamming Senna onto the deck. The breath was knocked from her.

Water streaming down her face, she watched men rolling across the deck. Some were thrown over the side, and the ropes that held them to the ship strained with their weight. No one moved to help them. No one could.

Rain slashed down from the sky, and Senna realized what Parknel and the other sailors must have known for a while now. They weren’t just trying to escape before the storm locked them into port—they were running for their lives. The Heads hadn’t just called in any storm. This was a hurricane.

Warm hands gripped her icy ones. Joshen shouted at her, water running down his face in sheets.

She shook her head, unable to hear him over the raging music of the storm.

He brought his mouth to her ear. “Call on that power you had before! When we were on Haven!”

She shook her head again. “I already tried. It’s gone.”

But she’d promised Parknel she’d get them through safely. She meant to keep that promise. Holding onto Joshen for stability, she sang a soft, gentle lullaby.