Witch Fall

by Amber Argyle

  The water seeped through the soil, pooling in her palm. Something within her seemed to wake, stirring to the sounds of the wind and water. She sang softly.

  Take in light,

  Take in air.

  Spread thy roots,

  Thy leaves grow fair.

  A shoot of green poked through the soil. Roots spread across Lilette’s palm, soaking up the water. Two leaves appeared, and a flower grew between them.

  Nassa gaped at the plant. “You only sang once!”

  Enthralled with the power coursing through her, Lilette didn’t immediately register the shock in Nassa’s voice. But at the wary look on the older woman’s face, the thrill seeped away like water through rocks.

  “Sing it into seed. We’ll need the pesnit if someone develops a fever.”

  Lilette sang again and the pretty flower aged, the leaves going a darker, older green before turning brown around the edges. She sang again and the flower curled up like a dead spider. A shriveled petal drifted down to the dirt on her palm.

  Nassa caught the falling seeds in her hand and let out a breath. “Well, that’s a more normal reaction. It usually takes three songs to achieve results—it’s why we have guardians. We are powerful, but we’re not fast. We balance each other.” She held open a small leather bag. “Put the soil back. We can reuse it.”

  Lilette scraped the soil into the bag and brushed her hands together to dust off the remnants. Nassa tightened the drawstrings. “Well then, I’d estimate you between a level six and seven—very strong, and you’ll certainly be a solid seven by the time we finish your voice lessons.”

  They practiced singing for hours, long after Jolin had returned and disappeared below decks, until Lilette could no longer hit the high notes and her throat felt tight and dry. After announcing that the lesson was over, Nassa studied Lilette with a calculating gleam in her eyes. “We’ll have to start you as a witchling, but you’ll advance quickly to an apprentice. Practice your scales every morning. I’ll join you after the midday meal and we’ll work some more on your pitch, power, and delivery.” She didn’t give Lilette time to ask questions. She simply stood, brushed off the back of her dress, and walked away.

  Lilette’s skin was beginning to burn in the relentless sun. She reluctantly moved down to the stuffy hold, where she spotted Jolin separating hundreds of seeds into squares of cloth spread out in front of her. She looked miserable. She didn’t glance up as Lilette dropped down beside her and wrapped her arms around her knees. Lilette wiped the sweat on her forehead with the back of her arm and asked, “Is it this hot in Grove City?”

  Jolin dropped a few more seeds into a piece of cloth. “Keepers control the weather, so it’s pretty much perfect. It rains every night, with a gentle breeze and pleasant sunshine every day.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  When Jolin didn’t respond, Lilette took a deep breath and ventured, “I’m sorry about what Nassa said.”

  “She’s a leech. She knows you could easily become one of the most powerful women on Haven, and she’ll use you to further her own plans.”

  Lilette watched Jolin painstakingly sort a few seeds the size of a grain of sand. “I don’t like her.”

  “Neither do I, but she’s the best at what she does.” Jolin’s voice held more than a touch of bitterness.

  “She’s wrong. You’re not a waste.”

  “I know,” Jolin said softly. “But it . . .”

  “Hurts that others see you that way,” Lilette finished.

  Jolin turned away. “It isn’t fair,” she said so quietly Lilette could barely hear her over the sounds of the waves against the hull. “I should be Head of Plants—I deserve it. But without the song, I’m nothing.”

  Lilette took her time answering. “If the witches cannot recognize you for the brilliant woman you are—if they’re blinded by power—then they are fools.”

  Jolin wiped at her eyes. “It doesn’t help when a woman as beautiful as you has a voice like that, while mine is as plain as my face.” She blanched as if she couldn’t believe she’d been so blunt.

  “I’m not perfect, and neither are you,” Lilette replied, barely containing her sudden anger. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Jolin grunted. “Beauty and power go hand in hand. Just be glad you’re on the powerful end of things.”

  Lilette chuckled darkly. “Because being beautiful has made my life better?” She ran her hands through her hair and lifted it off her sweating neck. “People use me—nothing more.”

  Jolin gathered the corners of the squares of cloth and tied them up with a strip of twine. “Better than to be ignored and pitied.”

  Lilette leapt to her feet and strode toward the ladder.

  “Lilette . . .” Jolin began.

  She whirled around. “You think I don’t know what it’s like for people to never see past your face, to see what’s inside? I know, Jolin, probably better than you do.”

  Lilette stormed back topsides, not even realizing what she was looking for until she found him. Han stood at the bow, leaning forward with his weight on his elbows. She moved beside him, mimicking his position. He eyed her sideways before looking back out at the water.

  The ship was pulling away from the island. Some of Lilette’s tension drained away, replaced by sadness. Han’s entire demeanor had changed, as if the sight of his homeland fading away had bled the hope right out of him.

  They were leaving Harshen, leaving Sash. The circle could only hold for another day and a half at most. “Now what?” Lilette said. “Will Chen . . . will he hurt my sister and the others?”

  Han pressed his lips into a tight line. “They’re the only protection he has against the witches. There’s no going back.”

  “No,” Lilette said.

  A shudder rolled through Han, and he looked out to sea again. “The emperor was not a good man, but he was my father, and my actions resulted in his death.” His voice remained steady, but anguish simmered beneath his words. “And my brother . . .”

  To save her life, Han had lost everything. Lilette took a deep breath. “No, you did not betray anyone. Sometimes love and honor conflict, and you chose honor. You were loyal to your country . . . and to me.” She couldn’t fathom why. She’d been nothing but trouble for him.

  His gaze finally met hers, and she saw the boy he’d once been—the boy who’d had kindness beaten out of him. But it was still there—still at the core of him.

  “We should be enemies,” he finally said. “But we never have been.”

  She leaned in and rested her temple on the point of his shoulder, as she had when they were children. “No. Never.”

  Chapter 21

  Some are broken by grief. Others refined. The difference is a small but oft-made choice. ~Jolin

  By their third day at sea, Lilette found herself at the bow, watching for the land Jolin said would come into sight at any time.

  Han walked over to stand beside her. “Geth said you wanted to see me?”

  Eyes watering, she held her hand out to block some of the light. “Shh, just watch.”

  The sun finally slipped below the horizon, backlighting a thin, dark streak. “There.” She pointed. “That’s Kalari.” The homeland of the witches.

  He squinted into the light. “Are you sure?”

  Lilette smiled up at him. “I’m sure.” She looked back at the horizon, but the brief flash of land was gone. “Now we follow the coast for three days, and then we’ll reach Grove City.” Her voice shook as she added, “The circle is broken by now.”

  His gaze fell. “I know.”

  She braced herself to ask her real question. “You’re sure he won’t kill her?”

  Han looked at Lilette, his gaze steady. “I’m sure.”

  “What will he do to them?”

  “Bind them up, better than he did before.”

  “Will he hurt her?”

  “Not unless he has to.”

  Lilette felt the wind caressing her face.
“Will he force them to sing again?”

  “To protect Harshen? Absolutely. I’m hoping that with Father dead Chen will hold off the invasion.” Han hesitated. “There’s talk among the guardians.”

  Her eyes scanned the endless horizon. “About?”

  He shifted so he was a little closer. Lilette was very aware of his arm touching hers, the warmth building between her skin and his. “They say you’re stronger than any other witch they’ve ever heard.”

  “What does that have to do us?”

  He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “There’s even talk that you’ll be a discipline head someday—I’m guessing that’s like the witches’ emperor.”

  “There are four discipline heads who rule over the four elements—earth, plants, water, and light—and all the followers for each element.” Nassa had explained all this to Lilette earlier.

  He studied her, a sadness weighing down his face. “They’re already vying over who will be your guardian.”

  Lilette turned away. “Nassa says I won’t have a guardian until I’ve passed all the courses. I’ll start out as a witchling with a bunch of little girls.”

  Han traced the grain of the wood. “You won’t stay a witchling for long.” He turned to face her, his expression open and tender. She saw past the scar, past the scowl he wore to protect himself. He was beautiful—just like Jolin was. But neither of them could see it.

  “The point is,” he went on, “you’re a little intimidating.”

  “I don’t mean to be.”

  “You are who you are.”

  Lilette looked at him sidelong. “You could be my guardian.”

  “Why me?”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “I’m not, well—you’re very good with those swords. And you’re kind. You helped me when no one else would have, and I . . .” Her words trailed into nothing.

  “You can do better than me, little dragon,” Han said softly.

  Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. He’d made some kind of decision. She could see it in his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  He hesitated a moment. “Somebody has to fight for Harshen, Lilette.”

  “Fight how?”

  “I have to negotiate a peace—one that involves the return of your witches and the safety and prosperity of my people.”

  “I will help you.”

  “What about becoming a witch?”

  “I can do both. Besides, I promised you I would look after Harshen. I mean to keep that promise.”

  “Lilette—”

  She whirled on him so fast her head ached. “Don’t. They are my people too.” Her words surprised even her. Harshen and its people had not always been good to her. But then she thought of Fa, Salfe, and Pan. Ko and Lang, and of course Han, and she could not find hatred in her heart.

  His jaw tightened and he gave a quick nod.

  “What’s the plan?” Lilette asked.

  “We plead Harshen’s case. Talk to whomever we have to.”

  “Figure it out as we go. I like it.” Sounded just like her kind of plan.

  Han chuckled. “We can’t exactly plan a battle without knowing the battlefield.”

  “Right. I agree.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. “What about . . . what about . . .” She paused. “I know you have feelings for me.”

  He looked away and braced himself against the gunwales. “Lilette . . . it seems like whenever we’re together, others get hurt.”

  Something dark formed inside her. “Don’t.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “No. I won’t let you say goodbye.” She glared at Han, daring him to look at her. When he finally did, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. He blinked at her, clearly stunned.

  A thrill raced through her. “Think about that, Han. See if you don’t change your mind.”

  She turned and walked across the deck, feeling more than one pair of eyes following her as she climbed into the hold. After sitting in her hammock, she drew her knees up to her chest.

  Jolin came to stand before her. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

  Lilette huffed. “Yes, you are.”

  “Scoot over.”

  Lilette wiggled to one side. “It’s hard in these things.

  Jolin climbed in. “Where have you been?”

  “Just plotting to save the world.”

  “With whom?”

  Lilette refused to meet her gaze. “No one.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen no one before. Does no one wear a sword and a scowl?”

  Lilette shrugged. “I might have kissed him.”

  Jolin gaped at her. “Isn’t he your brother-in-law?”

  A wicked grin crept onto Lilette’s face. “Well, if they can have more than one wife, why can’t I have more than one husband?”

  “Lilette!” Jolin sounded appalled.

  “Technically, I’m already on my second husband.”

  “Your second?”

  Lilette giggled. “What’s another one?”

  Jolin’s eyes were the size of sand dollars. “So . . . Han?”

  Lilette clamped her hand over her mouth to keep her mad laughter inside. “Yes.”

  “Well, I can’t see it. But then I love sardines. Who am I to judge?”

  Lilette’s nose wrinkled. “Sardines are disgusting.”

  “I know! But they’re deliciously disgusting.”

  Lilette dissolved into another fit of giggling.

  Jolin’s gaze went faraway and dreamy. “I’ve only ever kissed one man—he was the one who introduced me to sardines. I think that’s why I liked him.”

  Lilette burst out laughing. “Because he tasted like sardines?”

  Jolin smacked her, but she was smiling. “No. Because he made me try something new. He’s the reason I went on this trip. He said that in order to get conclusive results, I needed a larger sampling.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to his advice ever again.” Lilette laughed so hard she snorted. Jolin finally gave in, and soon both were laughing so hard Lilette’s side felt like it might split open. But she needed this. Because if she didn’t laugh, she really might go mad with grief.

  For the next three days, she didn’t have time to dwell on her sadness about Sash. Jolin and Nassa stuffed her head full of songs, singing lessons, and plant lessons. Lilette practiced singing until her throat hurt and her voice sounded scratchy and rough.

  Every once in a while, something seemed to tighten within her, catching the song and pooling it inside. At those times, her voice grew sweeter, stronger. She caught other witches watching her, their faces filled with awe or jealousy or both.

  On their sixth day at sea, Lilette was singing in the hold with Nassa. She didn’t know her voice could reach so high, that she could hold a note for so long.

  Nassa nodded encouragingly, a hungry look in her eyes. “Yes, very good. But you still need to work on pulling from deep in your belly—that’s where your power comes from. That’s how you project your voice.” Nassa settled herself deeper in her hammock. “Now try again.”

  Lilette filled her lungs and sat up straight, her shoulders thrown back and her mind sharp. She started singing. The sounds she made were nonsense—they weren’t important. It was the interplay of the notes, the rise and fall of the cadence, the power she gave up or withheld. The world perked up around her, the elements slowed like a marketful of people stopping a million different tasks at the same time to turn toward her.

  “Good.” Nassa fanned her own sunburned skin. “You can feel the elements, can’t you? You can feel them waiting for your commands.”

  Lilette didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was too enraptured by the power dancing from her mouth. All she had to do was change the nonsense into the Creators’ language and the elements would respond—they were eager for it. As eager as she was.

  Sweat ran down her back, soaking into the already-damp material at her waist. Though the day was trip
ping toward evening, the midday heat had baked into the hold, filling her nostrils with the smell of resin and sour sweat.

  An idea formed in Lilette’s mind. Her mouth formed the words, releasing them like dancers leaping from her tongue. Nassa’s expression changed to worry, but Lilette ignored her. The wind teased down through the hatch, wrapping around her body and wicking away her sweat. The other people in the hold sighed in relief. Lilette smiled and concentrated on the joy of connecting with the elements.

  “You did it again.”

  Lilette shook herself out of her reverie to find Nassa bolt upright, watching her. “You controlled the elements with a single song, and with such precision.”

  The rapture fled Lilette. “I’m sorry.”

  Nassa stared at her. “I think, Lilette, that you may be the most powerful witch ever born.”

  Lilette didn’t try to protest. How could she when she could still feel the buzz of power inside her? Thankfully, a flurry of activity above decks distracted Nassa.

  Han poked his head down below the hold, his eyes finding Lilette’s. “They’ve spotted the bay.”

  She untangled herself from her hammock and tried to straighten the wrinkles out of her cotton tunic and trousers. She’d been wearing them constantly for six days and finally decided they were beyond helping. She debated slipping the armor back on, but it was so hot, and it wasn’t as if she was going into a battle.

  Foot tapping, Lilette waited her turn to climb the ladder. Luckily, she was taller than most of the women, so she could see the mountains—more like very large hills—that dotted the land. One of these mountains was surrounded by circular, gray stone ramparts, with towers evenly spaced along it.

  Instead of a city inside, there were trees—huge trees. Her mind kept trying to compensate for their size by insisting the ship was closer to shore than it was, which threw off her sense of distance and made her head hurt.

  They turned into the bay. Hundreds of boats were docked in the wharves, but they were so tiny. Then Lilette saw the first person on shore and suddenly everything clicked into place. The trees were mountains unto themselves.