Trees surrounded the quaint forest town of Niffe, which boasted few residents—fifty, on a busy day. Thirty on an average day. Ten different buildings lay inside the circle of trees. A bakery, an apothecary, and several homes. Such a quiet, calm place for demigods to attack, just like the schoolroom on the edge of the forest.
Trunk to trunk, the forest formed a nearly-impenetrable wall. Vines, branches, roots, all manner of forest items, conspired to pack the arbors as close as possible, creating a barrier that I crossed only because trees shuffled to the side when I touched their bark.
A rustle in the branches overhead caught my attention as I stepped back out of the circle. A lone, male forest lion lounged not far away. He panted in the thick air, long tail wrapped around the trunk where it rested. His bushy mane lay limp, streaked with darkest brown to lightest yellow. He ignored me, gaze fixed on the town.
I crept by, eyeing him warily.
Inside the safe bubble, witches peered out of their homes. A few brave souls ventured out. Smoke ringed the ground outside the wall of trees where demigods had attempted to burn the homes. Wet earth, and the air, heavy with humidity, had stopped and suffocated their attempts.
Other violent means lay scattered in disarray. Axes broken in half. Shattered saws. A shoe had been left behind, and so had a shirt. Not Alkarran, by any appearance, but the rough home-spun of Alaysia.
Chatterer journalists milled around, speaking to any witch they could find. A few kids scampered from house to house, stumbling over exposed roots that hadn’t been there before. Grooves formed in the ground where trees had once been but had moved to form their protective stance.
Amidst all the proof, I could only think of Aldred.
Turquoise light rimmed my fingers when I trailed my hand along a trunk. With Arborra in mind, I silently asked, What happened?
Dozens of stories bubbled to the surface, all of them bright images. Given from the trees that surrounded me, I realized.
The ill-fated came.
We protect yours.
They will not return.
We have power.
Demigods I hadn’t seen before appeared in the mental retelling. One square amulet—larger than I expected—amongst a group of nine. The amulet was stark purple, through and through, with no hints of other colors.
Vinartaramet, for sure, with its signature, deep color and lack of movement.
Based on the flashing recollections, the attack on Niffe had been an awkward, uncoordinated affair. Another desperate gasp of attention.
An attempt to do . . . something.
You protected them, I said with warmth, allowing the forest to hear my delight. Thank you, my friends.
Thrilled voices joined. Branches shivered, the leaves twirling. I smiled, unable to help myself, and straightened up. A quieter voice broke through the rest.
For you.
Light raced through the earth, zipping in a line from my feet, through the forest floor and to a tree not far away. I padded closer to find a chattering gnome at the base of a tree. A larger-than-normal oak, with knotted branches twisting into the sky like gnarled fingers.
I hesitated a few steps away. The gnome squeaked. It held a javelin in one hand, a blunt stick with the other. Dingy leaves tied with old roots draped its body. Dirt smudged its fat face, the eyes nearly lost in deep cheeks. It muttered under its breath, a steady, current of unintelligible gibberish that stopped the moment I approached.
I paused.
The gnome tilted its head, issued a screech, then leapt in the air. The leaves around its waist suspended high, fluttering, then the gnome disappeared with a pop. A glimmer caught my gaze right where the gnome had been standing, cradled in the juncture of several roots. I sucked in a breath.
“An amulet?”
On top of the bark, nestled in bits of wood and leaves, lay a butter yellow amulet with a slate-colored center. Light glinted off the outside surface. A Ventis amulet named Dappledonamikota, if I recalled correctly.
We protect you.
You protect us.
We have power.
“How?” I whispered, hoarse. “How did you do it?”
Letum ivy sprouted from the ground, crawled around my ankle, and wrapped halfway up my leg. With the touch, I felt a zip of power, then understanding. The tree, in combination with vines, managed to trip a demigod, steal the amulet, while one of its branches pinned the demigod to the ground.
The burrowing gnome had taken the amulet underground until now. I reached out, touched the amulet. The smooth facets felt like silk under my fingertips. Within the complicated slants and cut of the gem, clouds moved. The roiling lemon color faded to dark gray, then silver. I regarded it with surprise.
So intricate and complicated. Deathly beautiful, in all the most frightening ways. If it didn’t belong to, and represent, a most vindictive god, I would almost long to own it myself.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
More voices surged with delight. Excitement lay in the air, palpable.
“You did well.”
We protect you.
You protect us.
We have power.
“Were any trees hurt?”
The question dampened enthusiasm, but only slightly. More darting blue light led my gaze to the side. A tree cut halfway down, hacked by the demigods. White chips of bark spewed on the ground around it, near a destroyed ax head. I pressed my fingers to the fresh spot. A dying cry issued from the tree. More keen than word, until it slowly wound down, snuffled out.
My heart ached with it.
Despite the fading tree, the rest exulted in their victory.
“Bring me to you, Arborra,” I commanded.
The forest obeyed.
Moments later, I stood in Arborra’s peaceful heart center, amulet hanging at my side. The darkness was a welcome, cool place. The light brightened more than ever, giving life to the excited hum below the surface of the forest. The tonal voices, so deep they were nearly indistinguishable, joined a steady song.
We have done well, our Lady-Witch.
“You have.”
You are pleased?
“Yes. I will take the amulet to Gelas. You have made a significant, positive impact.”
Delight ran through the trees in bright choruses. Their voices modulated on their own. The forest and I had become so in tune that rarely did I feel overwhelmed by the power anymore.
“I went to the East and made a promise on your behalf. That’s what I asked you about from afar.”
Press your hand to the wall. Tell us about the witches.
Hesitantly, I obeyed. Familiar strands of light slipped from my fingertips and into the trunk. Memories. Like miniature will-o-wisps, cavorting from my mind to Arborra’s ancient heart. Arborra made a low, keening sound.
We see what you have done, Lady-witch. The promise given to the witch in the distant land of the sea. The promise you made for us to provide safety.
“Will you still take the witches?”
Gladly.
“I’m happy to hear that.”
We desire more tasks, more ability. To house witches is little. The forest is ready to fight. With you as our leader, we can save Alkarra and our goddess.
With a hand pressed to the bark, I whispered, “I know you want to fight. I sense your eagerness, but we don’t create the battles. This time, we have to let them come to us, and they will continue to come. Watch for demigods?”
This, we can do.
“We need more amulets.”
We will be ready.
“You are the seat of Deasylva’s power. Your strength and presence provides hope of witches surviving the war of the gods. You serve us best by remembering that.”
As thus, Arborra murmured, we must wield our power and under the right authority.
I straightened. “Authority?”
Your authority.
“Deasylva is your authority, Arborra. Not me. We’re in this together.”
This is who you are.
“I disagree.”
Often.
My lips rolled to suppress a smile. A tree with a sense of humor?
Yet another delight.
All levity faded away. “I’m grateful for your work, for the amulet. The witches you saved are also grateful. I’m . . . sorry for those we lost.”
We have accepted this path. We know that all will not survive. When will you accept it also?
Nightmares resurrected in my mind. Screaming saplings. Raging infernos of fire, ripping through tree tops. The billowing clouds that left only devastation and char in their wake. It formed a pit deep in my stomach. I pressed a hand to it, lost in the helpless sensation.
“That is not an outcome I will ever fully accept. The fight is here, Arborra. Continue to do what you have done. Protect witches, find amulets, defeat demigods. Until the gods make a final push, it is all we can do.”
We shall.
Arborra’s voice retreated. Light faded. I remained in the pulse of the center of Letum Wood, lost in a tree.
And in myself.
* * *
Bianca,
Your message was received, and with glad tidings. Gelas and Ignis will hold the amulet until Nicomedianthekus is found, at which point they will destroy.
Any obtained amulet is a win. Gelas will meet with you in two days, at Zamok Castle, so you can deliver it.
As you’re probably aware from Merrick, no updates on Nicomedianthekus. We continue to scour Alkarra, to little avail.
I can’t help but think we’re not on the right track.
Baxter
* * *
An army of rapscallion weeds infiltrated my garden, and I declared war with a pickax and a shovel.
My tender shoots of green-and-purple lettuce fought for life and sun. The obnoxiously pink rapscallion weeds littered the ground, crawling like ivy, but with leaves as big as my arm. Thick vines wound around anything they traversed, then twisted in a crushing grip. They blocked sunlight for the seedlings and sucked up all the nutrients. My winter stores of dried greens would suffer prodigiously, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
Though I wouldn’t say no to all the dinners Miss Celia might spell my way should I not have enough to eat . . .
Thunder grumbled as I yanked another rapscallion. Broiling clouds lingered. Thin, but dingy. No rain so far, but promises lingered on the horizon. Meanwhile, panicking witches bought out food in the stores and retreated to country estates in preparation for Tontes’ arrival. Ventis swept the clouds farther over the Network with every passing hour.
“Nasty buggers,” I muttered as a rapscallion wilted in my hand, turned gray. The color leached into the ground in pearls of a thin, pink liquid. They sizzled before disappearing into the soil. Another rapscallion sprang up immediately in the exact spot the other had occupied.
Fantastic.
My fingers dug into the rich earth to search for its root source while not disturbing my greens. A few paces away, Goat wandered her rickety pen. Other Goat chased her. She bleated to avoid his untoward advances. I chuckled again.
Springtime next year, I hoped for a new baby goat and more milk. Leda had sent me a spell from a grimoire on food preservation that would keep goat cheese mold-free through the winter.
With an incantation, a burst of flame eliminated the new rapscallion start.
“Ha! Got you,” I muttered.
Dirt stained my fingertips, and scorch marks decorated my skirt by the time I finished eliminating the rapscallions. I sat on the porch, barefoot, my skirt pulled up to my knees with my favorite spell, though I normally used it while running. Honeysuckle thickened the air. With the clouds came a cooler day, and I relished the lack of intensity.
“Bianca?”
My eyes flew open. Michelle stood a few paces away, holding onto little Sanna’s grubby three-year-old hand. Sanna squealed, then threw herself across the yard and into my waiting arms. I clasped her little body close.
“Sanna!”
She jabbered incessantly. Thanks to practice, I understood every third word, which helped me gain enough context to figure out she’d found a new flower that her baby sister, Isadora, had attempted to eat.
Michelle shuffled forward a few steps. Baby Isadora was strapped to her chest, facing out. Isadora giggled, drooling down a bright smile.
“Merry meet,” I called as Sanna made herself comfortable in my lap, barely stopping for breath before another story flew out. Michelle gave an uncertain half smile.
“Sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?”
“No. Have a seat.”
She eyed my filthy dress, the streaks of char on my arms, the dirt along my fingernails, then the towering pile of brittle stalks at my back. Growing amusement lifted the edge of her lips.
“Rapscallions?”
“You deal with them too?”
“All the time.” She settled next to me. “They tend to find my lettuce. Most of the spells in grimoires don’t work.”
“Nothing was as effective as my righteous indignation and rage.”
“Fire too, I presume?”
I laughed. “Figured that out after too long.”
“I’m still not sure who won, just looking at you.”
“Today, I am victorious.”
“Wait until tomorrow,” she said with a tired smile.
My joy deflated.
Michelle chuckled as she positioned herself on the stairs. Sanna wriggled her way off my lap and into the dirt in front of my porch. Several flat rocks scattered the area off to the side. She propped them into a pile, chattering about worms as she stacked all four on top of each other. Isadora gurgled, amused by the sound of her own lips.
I brought my legs up to my chest, resting my arms on top of my knees. “How are you? I’m glad you came by. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”
The first hint of nervousness appeared on her face. “Nicholas doesn’t know I came. If . . . if possible, I’d like to keep it that way.”
Concern had me on guard immediately. I straightened.
“Everything all right?”
She hedged a smile, a hand held up. “Fine. He’s fine, I’m fine, the girls are fine. Nicholas would never harm me. It’s nothing like that.”
I relaxed back.
Michelle frowned into the forest. “I wanted to talk to you about the dragons.”
Shock rendered me momentarily speechless.
“Me?”
Michelle chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Yes. The dragons have been . . . well, unusually agitated lately. Nicholas said that they’re wanting to fight the gods. He’s told them what’s happening with the storms in the East and the flooding in the West. Reebis demands updates every morning.”
“Reebis?”
“The red one.”
“Oh. Really?”
She nodded uneasily.
“All right,” I drawled, “but what does all that have to do with me?”
“Reebis wants to meet with you.”
My mouth opened, but I didn’t know what to say. She held up a staying hand and kept going, as if the words would get locked inside should she stop.
“Nicholas has told her no so far. Mostly for safety, I think.”
“He doesn’t trust Reebis?”
Michelle shifted. Her gaze dropped. In the face of her discomfort, understanding flooded me.
“Oh. He doesn’t trust me.”
“It’s just that the god magic and . . . and then there’s Alaysia and . . .”
She paused. A manulele bird darted behind us, buzzing through the air with fast, near-silent wings. Sanna shrieked when her giant tower collapsed into a pile, then destroyed the rest by jumping on it with her bare feet and cackling.
Oh, she fit her namesake, all right.
Michelle sighed. “Honestly, he’s been so busy attempting to stockpile food and weapons that I haven’t had a chance to dive into it with him. Whatever the dragons are, or aren’t, they have never been fond of you. But it’s more than that. He’s avoiding the problem, which means he’s afraid of something.”
“Being the leader, perhaps?”
“Failing, I think.”
“Failing who? The dragons?”
“Anyone. Me. The dragons. The Network.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t think a witch should lead dragons.”
“Who says we need to lead them?”
She shrugged. “Dragon history?”
“If there’s anything that I’ve learned in the last several years, it’s that we don’t have to do things the same way as other generations. We’re new. Times change. The whole point is working together. Dragons, witches, the forest. Alkarra,” I tacked on, thinking of Magnolia Castle. “Dragons can lead dragons, but work with witches.”
“I agree.”
“I’ve been . . . well . . . I’ve meant to speak with you and Nicholas about the dragons, too. I just haven’t made it happen yet. Maybe I’ve been nervous,” I tacked on. “I told the Council we should ask the dragons for help, but they weren’t excited about the idea.”
Michelle sighed, as if none of that surprised her.
“Reebis came to me this morning and asked me to speak with you. She’s never done that before. I’m . . . not supposed to tell Nicholas. Not until after I speak with you, anyway.”
I reared back. “You can speak with the dragons?”
“It’s new.”
The disquiet with which she said it spoke to greater uncertainties.
“Wow.”
A bare, tired nod echoed my sentiment.
We sat in the calm for a moment, each lost in thought, until I said, “I’ll meet with her.”
“Thank you.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. Listen, I think you’ll be fine since Reebis requested it, but I can’t say it will be safe. Nor that Reebis will be . . . welcoming. They aren’t exactly happy to need you.”
“Understood.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she thought, brows furrowed into deepening grooves. Absently, she ran the tip of her finger over baby Isadora’s toes. Isadora kept herself busy chewing on a fist.
“The gods are coming, aren’t they?” she whispered, head tilted back to the hidden sky.
I nodded.
Her lips turned down. She pulled in a breath through her nose, then let it out. “It’s scary,” she murmured. “How do I protect my girls? How do I protect my family?”
I reached over, put a hand on her arm. “There’s a lot to lose when you have a family.”
“I don’t want to lose my husband to a war.”
“You won’t.”
“I’m not strong like you.”
“You absolutely are.”
Michelle’s small eyes sparkled. She blinked the moisture away and gazed into the forest. “How are we going to get through this, Bianca? It all feels so big, so impossible.”
“Grandfather says the answer is in trusting each other to do the right thing. It’s worked for me so far.”
Her jaw tightened, then released. “Give Nicholas time? He’ll come around. I know he’s capable of doing something great, even though he tells himself that he isn’t. There’s a bigger world out there for him, for me, for our daughters. I want all of us to experience it. I’ll talk to him, you talk to Reebis. When the gods come, you save a spot for my husband. He, too, will do the right thing.”