Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 27

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.