Witch Fall

by Amber Argyle

  “That one,” she said, pointing.

  The horse balked at stepping on the pier. Abandoning the animal, Han pulled Lilette from the saddle and shoved her in front of him. “Run!”

  But Lilette’s body refused to obey, and her legs buckled. She struggled to push herself up until Han tossed her roughly over his shoulder and sprinted down the pier. The guardians brought up the rear, ready to fight off any soldiers who came after them.

  Han hustled up the gangplank and deposited her next to the gunwales. A cluster of sailors took one look at the armed guardians and dove off the side.

  “Does anyone know how to operate this ship?” Geth called out.

  Silently cursing her illness, Lilette searched the crowd, hoping someone else would step forward. After all, she’d never run anything larger than Fa’s fishing vessel, which only had one sail. But there was no one. She took a deep breath. “I can.” She hoped. “But I don’t know the way.”

  “I can navigate us by the stars,” Jolin spoke up. “And witches never run into bad weather.”

  Lilette pushed to her feet. Her body trembled and her coordination was off, but she could move. “See if you can find some charts.” Jolin left and Lilette glanced up at the sails. “Untie them. Two guardians at the bow—watch for snags in the harbor.” Lilette moved to the stern and studied the enormous rudder. “Three guardians to man this.”

  “Uh, miss, you better hurry.” She turned to find Galon behind her.

  “You’re alive!” She started to smile, but he pointed toward a group of soldiers coming down the pier. “Pull in the gangplank!” Lilette ordered. “Untie the ropes! Witches, sing us a wind!”

  Guardians hurried to untie the ship while the witches sang a wind to fill the sails. Others sang for the kelp to shoot out of the water and snatch at the soldier’s legs.

  A handful of soldiers ran onto the ship just before the ship moved out of range. The guardians met them, dispatching them within moments.

  A low-toned gong cut through the chaos. Lilette froze and turned toward the city, wondering what the sound meant.

  “We have to get out of the harbor before they raise the ship breaker!” Han shouted.

  Lilette whirled to face him. “The what?”

  “A chain across the harbor mouth.”

  “Creators’ mercy,” someone said.

  “Sing!” Lilette cried. “Our lives depend on it!”

  A dozen witches formed a circle, the injured in the center. Their songs called forth a wind that whipped across the sails, filling them to capacity within seconds. The ship strained forward.

  Lilette pushed through the press of bodies towards the bow. Han motioned to the circle. “Shouldn’t you join them?”

  She didn’t pause. “If we stray from the channel, all the singing in the world won’t stop us from running aground.” She shouted commands to the guardians manning the rudder. They guided the ship into the deepest channel in the harbor. Lilette’s eyes scanned for sandbanks or snags.

  Stretched across the harbor in front of them, she could see water buffalo being strapped to an enormous wheel. They strained against their yokes, turning the wheel. A rusty chain as tall as Lilette scraped out of the water.

  Knowing the center of the chain would be the lowest point, she aimed the ship for it. Helpless to do more, she watched with the guardians as the chain slowly clanked out of the water, one link at a time.

  The wind whipped them from behind, flinging Lilette’s hair in her face and stinging her eyes. One more clink and she could make out the entire long line of rusty chain. She glanced at the sails. She wasn’t sure they could take more wind without tearing, but if they didn’t make it past that chain, it wouldn’t matter.

  She started singing with the others, her voice blending with theirs. The ship seemed to move a touch faster. Then the chain passed out of sight under them. Lilette held her breath.

  The ship shuddered, and a high-pitched screeching filled the air. Crouched down, Lilette waited for the crunch of the wooden hull. The ship tipped up as the chain lifted the stern out of the water. But their momentum carried them forward. When they slammed down, Lilette lost her balance and pitched into Han. Something splintered, and Lilette gripped his armor and held her breath, waiting for the ship to come apart beneath them.

  But they were still moving forward. She searched for signs the ship was taking on water—slowing down or sitting deeper. Nothing. She released her breath and let go of Han. “See if the hold is taking on water. Be thorough—if there’s a small leak now, it will be an enormous one by tomorrow.”

  Lilette scanned for any sign of a reef they probably wouldn’t be able to avoid anyway. She didn’t see any darker shapes, or the break of waves on rocks. She set up a watch at the stern for pursuit and at the bow for snags.

  Geth trotted toward her. “The rudder caught on the chain. It’s ruined.”

  That must have been the splintering sound. Cursing, Lilette hustled to the stern as fast as her exhausted body would allow. Sure enough, the rudder had shattered at the narrowest point.”

  “Pull it up and see if you can’t rig something to get us by until we can reach Grove City.”

  “And how do we steer in the meantime?” Geth asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Right now, steering isn’t as important as getting out of sight. If the ship is damaged, we won’t outrun anyone.”

  “But with the keepers singing—” Geth began.

  “Their singing won’t stop us from sinking or sitting so low in the water we can’t move,” Lilette interrupted. “We can steer the ship with the wind, at least a little.”

  She felt Han’s solid presence beside her. “I didn’t find any holes.”

  They were going to make it. Lilette couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at the city of Rinnish as dusk stole over the island. Through the blur of rain, smoke rose toward the sky. Lightning lit up the clouds. The palace still lorded over the city, looking pristine among the destruction.

  Lilette let out a breath. “This isn’t the first time I’ve fled this city while it burned.”

  Han made a sound deep in his throat. “I remember.”

  All these years of trying to get back to her sister, and they’d had less than an hour together. Sash had taken Lilette’s place, and Lilette had abandoned her. “I’ll come back for you, just as you came back for me.” The wind caught her promise and carried it away. Lilette wished her sister could hear it.

  Knowing the image had burned a brand in her memory, she turned away. They’d made it, but how many had fallen behind?

  Guardians were hauling the injured below decks while the witches continued singing. Jolin wove through the mass of guardians and witches toward them. “I found some charts to plot our course by,” she said, then turned and headed back.

  Lilette motioned for Geth and followed Jolin to the hatch. They waited as Han went down first. “How long will it take to reach Grove City?” Lilette asked.

  Jolin looked toward the circle of witches, her eyes narrowed with concentration. “If we keep a steady rotation of singers, five days.”

  Lilette went down next. Her trembling legs barely held her weight, and she went slowly so she wouldn’t fall. The hold was one long room full of barrels, crates, and swaying hammocks. Someone had already lit the lamps. A couple dozen injured had already been laid out. Witches went among them, doing the best they could.

  Lilette turned in a slow circle as Geth and Jolin dropped down. “Any food?” Lilette asked.

  Han found a crowbar, then pried open a crate and reached inside. He pulled out handfuls of what looked like twisted ropes of fine, shining hair. “Looks like they’d just loaded their cargo—raw silk.”

  Lilette found one with bits of fruit peeking out. “Over here.” There were barrels of water too. “How many of us made it out?”

  Jolin peered hungrily between the gaps of the crate. “Twenty witches. Thirty-two guardians.”

  Lilette hesitated as Geth pried anothe
r crate open—this one held rice. “How many were lost?”

  Jolin’s face fell. “Too many.”

  They moved among the crates, trying to estimate if they had enough food for over forty people. “If we’re careful, we should make it,” Geth finally surmised.

  Motioning for them to follow her, Jolin strode through the injured to the stern, where there was a screened-off partition—probably where the captain slept. She gathered a rolled-up map and a small chest. “I have some calculations to make when the stars come out in about an hour. I’ll be topsides if you need me.”

  “Geth—” she tipped her head toward the drafting table “—bring that, if you will.” But she paused at the doorway and nodded toward a group of guardians who were pulling apart some planking. “What are they doing?”

  Lilette grunted. “Making a new rudder.”

  “Oh. Well, then. I suppose as long as they don’t take any important pieces.” She departed, Geth lugging the table behind her.

  That left Lilette alone with Han. He eased himself onto the floor and carefully removed his shin guard and boot. The material beneath was dark and unnaturally heavy. He pulled up his pant leg, exposing a nasty gash in his calf.

  Lilette took a step toward him. “When did that happen?”

  “Chen gave it to me.”

  She knelt before Han, inspecting the wound without touching it. “Can you move it?”

  One side of his mouth crooked up. “I’ve been running on it for half the night.”

  She shot him a glare. “Didn’t that hurt?”

  He shook his head. “That always comes later.”

  “I’m going for help,” she said, pushing herself up.

  Han reached up and gripped her arm. “Just bring supplies.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure I’m the best—”

  “Have you met our physicker? I can handle myself.”

  That made sense, and it wasn’t like Lilette hadn’t dealt with wounds before. She stepped back into the hold, weaving her way among the injured. She asked about supplies. Someone had found an apothecary kit. She managed to procure a needle, pig-intestine thread, and a bucket of cold seawater.

  Kneeling before Han, Lilette rolled his trouser leg over his knee, cringing at the feel of cold, sticky blood beneath her fingers. “You’re lucky. It’s with the grain of the muscle instead of against it. You’ll still have use of your leg. As long as rot doesn’t set in.”

  She felt him watching her. “Have you done this often?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Fa and I could never afford the physicker.” She met Han’s searching gaze. “This is going to hurt. Do you need someone to hold you down?”

  “No.”

  She poured seawater onto his wound, washing away clots of blood. Through the seeping was an unnaturally dark strip. She picked out a piece of his trousers and separated the cut with the pads of her fingers, washing and cleaning it out as she went.

  Han winced and tensed up beneath her, but he never made a sound. When she’d finished, she glanced up to find him watching her, his face soft.

  A blush wound up her neck as she washed the blood from her hands with more seawater. Careful not to look at him again, she called for someone to help her press the sides of his flesh together while she stitched.

  When she finally finished, she wrapped the wound with strips of boiled cotton, then mopped up the blood and water, wringing the filth into a bucket. She wiped imaginary blood of her hands and studied Han as he lay on the floor with his eyes closed. His scar was on this side. A lock of hair had fallen across his face, and she had to resist the sudden urge to smooth it back. She looked quickly away and began unstrapping her stolen armor and setting it in a neat pile.

  Last, she felt the weight of Chen’s pendant. She began to remove it, but Han reached toward the pendant before his hand fell back to his side. “That’s the token of the imperial house.”

  “It was his.”

  Han’s gaze met hers. “Wear it. Promise me.”

  She hesitated. “Why?”

  “Just promise me.”

  She wanted to say no, but he’d already lost so much. She could give him this. She let the pendant fall back against her chest. “All right.” She settled down beside him. “What will you do? You don’t have to be a soldier anymore.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

  “Will you come with us?”

  Han opened his eyes to study her, and his gaze felt like the lick of flames against her skin. “You might need me yet.”

  Lilette wrung her hands as something warm and soft built in her middle. “I . . .” Her words grew thick and heavy in her throat. “Thank you. For what you did.”

  “Lilette . . .” He hesitated. “What did you mean when you said you were saved for this—just before you knocked me out?”

  She cast him a sheepish glance. “My mother came to me when I lay dying. She said I had to save as many as I could. I knew that if I didn’t free the witches, they would destroy Harshen, and somehow that would put into motion events that would destroy the world.”

  He blinked at her. “So now that you freed the witches, Harshen is safe?”

  She let out a long breath. “Yes.”

  Han was silent a moment. “I never forgot you.”

  The delicious warmth in Lilette’s middle spread outward.

  He closed his eyes again. “You climbed into the cherry tree. I could barely see you through the blossoms.”

  “My first day in the garden behind the palace.” Sometimes she forgot that all her memories of Rinnish were not tainted by ashes and burning.

  She had climbed down and Han had shown her the fountain. They’d sat on the edge, their feet dangling in the water, while the flashing goldfish nibbled on their toes, and pink petals stuck to her wet legs. “You were teaching me to speak Harshen.”

  “You were lonely with no one to talk to.”

  She studied him, trying to make his face match the face of the kind little boy. “Why did you warn my parents?”

  “You were my friend,” he said simply.

  She lay beside him, feeling the gentle swaying of the boat. Once her muscles relaxed, she could no longer move. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

  Chapter 20

  That day I realized something was different about Lilette. Her song wasn’t just strong, her witch sense wasn’t just accurate. Something else was happening. ~Jolin

  A hand on Lilette’s shoulder shook her awake. Jolin crouched beside her. Han was nowhere to be seen. Lilette pushed the hair out of her face and sat up. Inside the hold, the heat of midday had made her tunic and trousers stick to her body. Her whole being ached, her heart worst of all, for her sister was gone.

  Jolin gave her an orange and a cup of water. Eyes closed, Lilette held the fruit against her lips. She heard the tearing and smelled the orange rind as Jolin peeled her own breakfast. Lilette started into hers.

  “We’ll begin where we left off,” Jolin said. “You’re a fast learner.”

  Lilette took a bite of tangy sweetness. “I don’t need lessons in the Creators’ language—I remember it.”

  “When did that happen?”

  Memories assaulted Lilette again. Her sister twirling in the air, tears streaming down her face as Chen and the emperor forced her to kill. Lilette frowned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Thankfully, Jolin let it go. She taught Lilette witch songs until it grew unbearably hot below decks. By then, Lilette’s headache was better, so they went topsides. She held her hair up to let the breeze reach her neck while she looked for Han, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  For lunch, they ate rice cooked on bolted-down braziers, and chewed on salt fish. There were mangoes, so sweet Lilette groaned with pleasure at her first bite. She sucked every last morsel off the pit before throwing it overboard.

  By midafternoon, her head throbbed again and her thoughts were fuzzy.
She held her hands over her ears. “Stop! My head can’t fit anymore.”

  Jolin smiled to herself and Lilette realized that had been her goal—to fill Lilette’s thoughts with something besides heartache over leaving her sister. She and Jolin took a nap curled under the shade of one of the masts.

  When Lilette woke, the sun wasn’t quite so hot, and a woman stood over them. She was a bit older than most of the keepers on board, and pale as a snail’s belly.

  Jolin quickly sat up. “Lilette, this is Nassa.”

  The woman sat down beside Lilette without so much as a glance at Jolin. “The famed Lilette. Your song was rumored to be strong enough to guarantee your place as Head of Light one day.”

  Lilette remembered singing for strangers—thousands of them. As a child of seven, she longed to play with her sister, dig in the garden behind their tree, or go swimming with her father. But there were always lessons and performances.

  Shaking herself out of her memories, Lilette noticed the tension between her friend and Nassa. “Jolin?” she said hesitantly.

  Geth moved toward them. “It’s time,” he said to Jolin.

  She stood and brushed off her dress. “Geth agreed to let me stop at one of the smallest islands to gather the seeds I lost in Rinnish. I’ll see you later.”

  Lilette watched her climb onto a small boat, a dozen guardians going with her. “Such a keen mind,” Nassa said. “Such a shame it is wasted.”

  Lilette’s gaze narrowed. “Jolin’s mind hasn’t been wasted.”

  Nassa tsked. “Well, not completely. She’s brilliant with potions, but she cannot sing for her concoctions or even her garden. She has to have a keeper on hand to help her. That’s why she’ll never be Head of Plants, no matter how many breakthroughs she has.”

  Lilette watched as the boat was lowered. “I thought Plants was chosen because of proficiency with potions.”

  “Certainly, but a Head must be a full keeper, and Jolin will never move beyond an apprentice.”

  Before Lilette could respond, Nassa went on. “Let’s test your song then.” She held out a small seed between her forefinger and thumb.

  Lilette hesitated before reaching out her hand. Nassa dropped the seed into her palm. She opened a little bag, spilled black soil across Lilette’s palm, and drizzled it with a bit of water.