But I would watch the whole world burn before I gave away even one ounce of my magic.
“Come on, y’all. You can make it,” I called over my shoulder.
“Easy for you to say,” Firenza muttered darkly, slapping a branch out of her way. “You are too short for the trees to grab. And you have that broom.”
We’d left the horses behind in Cottleden two days ago, as Torwich Wood grew too thick for horses and there were no roads where we were going. Here, finally, Bob proved its worth. I drifted along, balancing side saddle, boots clean of the occasional wintery muck that clung to the others. Ezo trotted, sometimes at my side, sometimes behind me. Aside from Ivy, who was in her element, it wasn’t an easy trek for the bigfolk.
I patted Bob’s bristly twigs, happy to be traveling on my own terms again. At least there was one thing I could be happy about right now, because everything else was garbage.
“Let’s rest here,” Ivy said when we came to a clearing. “Adi, how far are we, do you think?”
I glanced around. Ivy and Ezo’s use of a nickname over the last few days was not lost on me. I wasn’t sure how to take it, since I would have liked it if I weren’t trying so hard to divorce my emotions from them. Also because Ivy had to remember the nasty things I’d said to her right before she’d literally died defending me, but so far she’d been too nice to bring all that up, so I was not about to ask her to stop.
Torwich Wood blanketed the far northern end of the valley we’d been traveling for days. This deep in, the land began to rise again as the Throne and Lessor Mountains came back together to form the towering Horizon range. Once, Torwich had been a great kingdom with several walled cities and villages. But that was hundreds of years ago. Now, all those places had fallen into ruin or disrepair, their walls dismantled to make pasture fences or to pave the Northern Road.
I might’ve had no idea where we were, except that we’d passed an overgrown statue of some long-dead warrior about an hour back. I remembered that statue from my first visit to the hags, as it had offered me a bit of precious shelter from the freezing rain. “I’d say we’re about an hour from the base of the hill. From there, it won’t take more than a few minutes to climb to the old walls of the village.”
“Describe the layout again,” Ezo said.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, fighting a stupid urge to tell them to turn back, to refuse to move forward, to cry. All we’d done since entering the wood was plan and plan some more, and I was so tired of talking. But since this could very well be considered Ezo’s last request, I repeated it once more.
“The coven makes their lair in an ancient walled village on a hill, mostly overgrown by woods. At the bottom of the hill, the woods are normal. Green. Healthy and vital. The higher we go, the darker it will get, even if it’s midday. The trees will start to look twisted, overburdened by moss and choked with vines, so there will be plenty of places to hide. At the top of the hill, the walls will be well guarded by ogres and trolls, but they aren’t very bright. Once we get inside—which shouldn’t be too difficult, as we can just go through the way I did last time—we’ll have to navigate the village. Again, not too difficult. Even before the hags it housed only a handful of families. Everything is in ruin except one large house near the center. That’s where they live. They store the treasures they’ve gathered in the two houses on either side.”
“And where will your sister be?”
I gnawed at my bottom lip. The fiction of a sister felt thinner every time it was mentioned; soon it would be nothing but holes. “The old jail is right next to the house they’ve taken for themselves. Any living prisoners they’ve got will be in there.”
“And you’re sure the hags will be occupied?” Talsar asked.
“I’m sure. They keep busy with that . . . uh . . . domestic work I mentioned.”
Everyone was quiet at that. I’d spared no detail of the hags’ grotesque hobbies. The group might be going into this to die, but I could at least prepare them for what they were getting themselves into as far as circumstances would allow.
I rubbed my wrists, which were still sore from two nights before. I’d pulled Ezo aside, deciding to take a risk, just so he’d know that these weren’t normal hags. I wasn’t too stupid to recognize an option C, after alclass="underline" if my adventurers killed the hags, I would be free. But they weren’t infallible warriors—Ivy had nearly died just days ago. If I threw my lot in with them, we might be able to do it. We’d have to play to our strengths, be extra smart. There were no three-hundred-year-old plain Agneses or Maggies in the Torwich Wood coven. No, this was a coven comprised of a granny and two aunties, and even a dragon or an undead archmage would think hard before trying to take them down.
But as soon as I’d said, “Ezo, I’ve been wanting to warn you—” my chains cinched tight. So tight I let out a little yelp and then had to make up some lie about a centipede crawling over my boot. When he got back to what I wanted to warn him about, I’d lied again and told him that the hags had a special dislike for goblins and asked him to be careful. The shy smile and reassurance he’d given me hurt right down to my heart.
I brought my thoughts back to the description of the hags’ lair just as the pause went on long enough to be awkward. “Uh, sorry. Lost in my thoughts. The road in front of the house is grotesque, but the house will look pleasant from the outside. You might even smell something nice, like turkey roasting. But it’s an illusion. They live in filth, so once we’re inside it’s going to stink. I think y’all will be fine”—I couldn’t meet any of their eyes, as none of them would be fine—“but just try not to let it get to you.”
I fought the convulsive urge to swallow. I couldn’t let my lies fail me, not now.
Ivy put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve been so brave, Adeline. Don’t worry; it will all be over soon.”
I nodded numbly. “Come on, y’all. Keep following this path. We’re nearly there.”
We reached the bottom of the hill around sunset. I took the gold-flecked chalk, candles, and silver bowl out of my pack. It was difficult to draw symbols in dirt, but I managed, and placed the silver bowl in the center where it could collect the magic the arcane geometry funneled to it.
Mind braced for the semidream state, I dipped my fingers into the water and accessed the spell’s power.
The base of the hill was devoid of anything except the normal plant and animal life, but when I tried to see farther up, toward the hags’ lair, all I got was fog. Fog, and the threefold voice of the coven in my mind.
Welcome back, Adeline.
I thought I’d been ready to hear them, but I wasn’t. I jumped to my feet and kicked the bowl over, spilled water darkening the soil. Everyone stared. I tried to laugh it off, but the sound was forced and awkward. “Sorry, y’all. Just fog.”
Talsar removed his black leather pack and set it on the ground. “I’ll go. Wait here.”
I wanted to protest. Talsar, putting his life at risk for me—for my fake sister—when he’d be more than content to murder me if I hadn’t altered his memories. Watching him walk away gave me an itch between my shoulder blades. But the chains tightened ominously, and I said nothing.
My brain turned over and over as we waited, searching for another way. I couldn’t live without magic, but could I live with the knowledge that I’d led four people to their deaths so I could keep it? Was I ready to step onto a path that would, in the end, make me no better than the hags? Was I so hungry for power, so afraid of being at someone else’s mercy, I would kill?