Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EARTH DAUGHTER

H eat pricked my eyes as I ran towards my tent, which, praise the gods, had not yet been taken down. Leiya was still in the small space when I stumbled in. “What’s the matter with ye?” she asked.

I shocked myself by half-yelling at her. “What does Bellatori mean?”

She looked genuinely confused, so I continued, choking on my words. “You make all these comments about Ezren and me or my smell, but half the time, he won’t look at me, and the other half, he is calling me Bellatori , whatever the hell that means. I can’t help, well my body can’t help reacting whenever he’s around, and I have tried to ignore it, and him for that matter, believe me?—”

Leiya took me by the shoulders.

“Ye need te take a breath. Now sit.”

I did, and she dropped her hands.

She cleared her throat, looking embarrassed, and sat on her own cot. “ Bellatori comes from the old Fae word, Bellator . Et means somethin’ like ‘fierce little warrior.’ As fer the matter a’ ye an’ Ezren… sometimes, I say things that I shouldna say, things that come te me mind and I canna keep en. I didna think these things would push ye te act, I was just jokin’ really.”

“Can you elaborate?” I asked through gritted teeth.

She examined her nails with unnecessary attention. “En me opinion, ye should drop the Ezren thing. Et’ll do ye no good to pursue et. Fer so many reasons, Terra. Ezren es… well, he es dangerous, fer one. And he lost someone, very close te hem. He never recovered. He’s unstable, like ye en a way, he can barely control hes power, despite livin’ weth et fer a century and a half. Fer so many reasons I dinna think he can care fer ye, not really, nay en the way ye deserve.”

I could feel the heat lingering in my face. Though I knew Leiya was trying to be kind, her words left me more humiliated and lonely than comforted. How could I be so na?ve to think a century-old warrior would care for me? And even worse, how could I let myself get so distracted pining over him, when I should focus on seeking justice for my family?

I let out a clearing sigh and stood to leave. She grabbed my wrist, halting my exit. “Ye know, yer body es reactin’ te him so because, ye never, well… ye know.”

“What?” I asked in exasperation.

She released me, the devious Leiya-like smile returning to her face. “Ye never touch yerself, en the female way. Ye should, ye know. Et won’t do te rely on a male fer pleasure. They rare know how te give et anyway.” She laughed at her own joke and perhaps at my aghast face. “Make small circles around the tender place, at the top of where yer womanhood parts, usin’ the ferst two fingers. Ye’ll see,” she said, miming the last part in the air. With that, she winked at me and left the tent, singing, “good luck,” as she went.

Any temptation I had to explore her suggestion paled compared to the idea that one of Jana’s minions could discover me pleasuring myself.

I rolled my eyes and set out to find the leader. She was in the meeting tent, addressing letters. “You sent for me?” I asked.

“Ah, Terra, yes. The Witches need until dusk to ready the ship. It takes enormous skill to build something of that nature safely. I have prepared a little day trip for us.” She dipped a seal into a pot of wax and closed her final letter. If Leuffen had relayed the compromising position he found me in, she showed no sign of it.

She walked over to me and took my arm in hers. And then we were gone, the room disappearing from my view while everything in front of me turned black.

It could have been a moment or an hour. Time didn’t seem to exist in the in-between, which is what they called it. My first portal was uncomfortable, unexplainable, and unnerving. But life is relative. It paled in comparison to what I’d experienced the last weeks.

We appeared in a meadow, Jana’s arm still linked to mine. Nothing but the voices of nature reached us, and I relaxed, my nausea subsiding. Light trickled through the canopy above and an explosion of flower varietals dotted the greenery below. The place felt alive, and somehow, I knew it was no accident.

“Where are we?” I whispered, as much to Jana as to the place we were in.

“Somewhere far enough away to be safe, but close enough to portal,” she answered, her words smothered by another voice flooding my ears.

Terragnata , it sang, a sweet lullaby, the musical calling of a siren. Daughter, you are here. Here you are, as you shall always be. The words rang in my ears.

“Terra, are you alright?” Jana asked.

My head snapped back to her, breaking my internal dialogue with the element. “What is Terragnata?”

“Where did you hear that?” she asked softly. I shook my head, unsure how to explain.

“It is what you were given, dear. Terragnata is your name.”

My brows furrowed. I had no recollection of ever being called that.

Jana just grinned. “I believe it means Earth Daughter.”

Figures . A question scratched at the back of my mind. How did my parents know to name me so, if my powers didn’t present until well into my young years—just months before Fayzien had kidnapped me?

Jana led us to the center of the field, and we descended into the lush. The grass tickled my exposed forearms resting in my lap. “Why didn’t we just portal to Viribrum?”

“We considered it, of course. But you would have had to travel with a single companion, given a Witch can only portal with one passenger at a time. And unless you are exceptionally powerful, the allowable distances are short, requiring rest in between. Those periods would have brought enormous vulnerability, just you and a Witch guardian. We deemed the strength of a large cohort necessary for this journey, which is why we plan to reunite with the ship crew before entering Valfalla. But no matter, we did not come here to discuss strategy.”

I leveled my gaze. “Why are we here, Jana?”

Jana returned her own look of challenge. “Alright, Terra. I am going to link my magic with yours, to attempt some handle on it, should you need assistance in control.” I chewed my cheek as she took my hands in hers. “There are many ways in which magic can be shared—through joinings, couplings, and other specific tactics. We will do a simple link. Witches can easily share magic upon physical contact. You must open your door to me, and I to you. Then, we can strengthen each other, or limit, should the need be.”

I kept my eyes on the Witch, fighting to maintain a neutral composure. “I’m ready.”

Jana took my hand in hers, and a familiar sensation of heat crawled over me. I yanked it back as if stung, and she blinked at me.

“S-sorry, let’s try again.” My breath turned shallow.

She lifted my fingers gently. The warmth began again, even more tepid and tender. I bit down on my lip, swallowing the rising panic as that sensation traveled elsewhere, ignoring the sudden feeling that I was no longer clothed and standing in front of a strange male.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t ? —

I yanked my hand back again, a strangled sound escaping my open mouth.

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, heat stinging my cheeks, a solitary, traitorous drop of water springing from my eye. “I don’t know why it feels… so… unbearable.”

“Because last time, this was not of your choice.” Jana’s words were not a question.

I swallowed, nodding.

“Let’s take it at your pace.” Jana gestured for my hand once more, and I gave it. “Just feel my touch for as long as you need. We are in no rush.”

So we sat like that—for minutes, or longer—until my breath returned to its usual rhythm. “Let’s try again.” I forced a smile.

The Witch’s brows raised. “Are you sure? We can take it slow.”

“I want to learn control.” This was my power. I would not let Fayzien or the memory of him take any part of it.

Jana smiled back. “Alright, now, try to send a hint of your power into me first, and once I feel it, I will return a slip of my own.”

I did as she instructed, the act more intuitive than I expected. It was as if she waited for me—waited to embrace my magic in a friendly hug that returned her own. And when she did, discomfort still nagged, especially for the heartbeat it traveled through me. But after a few moments, our link completed, and the sensation faded.

“Doing okay?” Jana probed.

“Yes, I can feel it—our connection. It’s not so bad now… just slightly foreign.”

“Good. Now, let’s try to activate your magic. This time, I don’t want you to simply grab that tendril of power you saw before. I want you to perform a specific action of control using it . Imagine the soil between us. Life flows within it. Feel that life force. Make it yours. Accelerate the growth within it.”

I am okay. I am safe. I will not lose control, not again.

I held her fingers in mine and looked down. A patch of dirt revealed itself. I closed my eyes once again, sensing the vibration of the Earth.

“Easy now, Terra. I’ve got you. Try to start with a single bloom—nothing more. And relax. Think of something that makes you feel calm to start.”

My pulse hummed and I released one hand into the soil, the image of Leiya, Sanah, and I splashing in the pond painted faintly to the back of my eyes. The Earth was an extension, calling out, a soul yearning for mine in a way that was undeniable. I flowed a slip of my power to it, beckoning it to rise and give life. It bent to my will, or I bent to it, and a single sprout grew. I gaped at the sudden bloom, at the thrill of it—and adrenaline flooded my veins.

The sprout exploded, growing in thickness and height in almost an instant. It traveled up, up, upwards, reaching toward the sky.

And then the growth stopped, and my power was yanked back as if held by a leash.

“ Tranquilla , Terra. I know you are excited—the release of power can feel… overwhelming. Thrilling. But you must relax and remain calm if you want your commands to be obeyed. If you don’t want to lose control.”

Jana breathed a cantrip, and the giant stock dissipated, a green mist blowing gently away from us. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Again.”

I nodded, exhaling to calm my stammering heart. But the image of flying debris and Dane’s unconscious body stuck in my head.

Jana handed me a palm full of dirt. “Visualize what you want—a single bloom from only here.”

I blew out a slow breath, concentrating on the Earth in my palm. I fed another tendril of power into the dirt, focusing on controlling it. But instead of the Earth blooming into a small growth, it flew off my hand with speed, exploding into a visual cacophony of flower buds, blinding us for a moment.

I uttered an obscenity. “I can’t do this.”

Jana squeezed my hand, and I met her gaze. “Is this what you are telling yourself?”

I shrugged.

“Terra, you were born to do this. You can—and you will. But you need to relax and calm yourself. Consider it a dance between letting instinct take over and remaining active in the process. Feel your power and believe you can control it. If you doubt yourself, you will lose every time.”

I closed my eyes, blowing out an intentional breath. “I can do this,” I whispered. “I know what to do.”

I cleared the fauna from the ground and again sank my fingertips into the dirt. When I let my power flow into the Earth, this time, it was with an exhale. I did not control, but firmly guided it.

A single sprout grew about six inches off the ground. I felt the desire for it to continue blooming, but my magic remained there, hovering all around it, calm but not quite retreating.

“Hold,” Jana commanded.

And I did, the little green sprout bending in the wind.

“One more,” Jana instructed again.

One more sprout grew in its place.

“Hold.” It held.

“Again.”

I repeated the process under her instruction—at least fifty more times—until a small patch of soft-sprouted grass rustled there.

“Excellent. Now, I want you to do the same again but with more power. Bloom the entire field, but only the field.”

I grinned, ready to do what I could feel I was born to do.

Wild flowers sprang up around us; daisies, prairie smoke, and columbine, budding in the between and spiraling around our bodies, formed intricate structures that spread like fire across the clearing. The rest of the Earth responded to them, shifting, allowing the growth to shape them too. The forest moved in harmony, a synchronized dance. I felt the sway and the breath of it as my creation took hold of that meadow—and only the meadow. Despite the slight sensation of unpleasantness from Jana’s magic, the unfolding beauty mesmerized me with a symphony of red and yellow and fuchsia hues, and the music it played seemed to sing only to me.

Eventually, the flowers became so enlightened they flew from their stems, forming a circular ring that landed on the top of my head. Crown, crown for a queen , I heard whispered amongst them. At some point, Jana asserted her hold and pulled my power back. But when she did, the meadow remained as it had been a moment before. In all my wonder, I did not see the tears that had crept down her face.

She beamed, her eyes shining. “It has been said that what we create may save us. What you create, Earth Daughter, will deliver us.”

Jana bid me to show her a few more single callings, at first still linked, and then without her power ahold of me. In the end, she was satisfied with my progress. We portaled back to camp, and she sent me to the woods to continue exploring. Now that I had a sense of control, it came more naturally. The rest of the afternoon, I let the others prepare for the journey and wandered through the forest to continue my familiarization.

My walk through the woods was slow and indulgent. I let every touch of my fingers on a branch or a mossy covering leave a trace of me. At first, I was a botanist—reveling in the ability to incite bloom, to see small leaves sprout before my eyes. I studied each movement, eager for the reaction to one small brush of my finger. Dane had told me if he called for an apple, then a tree would grow one less fruit in its season. But for me, it felt the opposite. Somehow, I knew if I called for an apple, the tree would grow one more. I gave life to the Earth, and it gave it to me, as two conduits. Which came first, I could not tell.

I had also been told the more magic Witches used, the more it drained them. According to Dane, that was why some would conserve it before battle. His logic made sense and explained why it poured out of me with no control upon my first calling. But each time I flexed my power, I felt more awake, more energized. Like an atrophied muscle gaining strength within me. Maybe it was because Earth magic, in its essence, is pure life, the blood that pumps through everything around us.

I came upon a small clearing surrounded by sequoias that were fifty times my height. The sunlight had dimmed to an afternoon hue, revealing the lateness of the day. They were ancient trees. I knew this not just by their height or the thickness of their trunks, but because their roots extended throughout the clearing in an intricate, entangled way, woven together over centuries of growth.

I approached one of them, its vast size casting a long shadow over me. I ran my fingers down its bark, resting my forehead on the trunk and letting my nostrils fill with the sappy fragrance. And then I heard—or maybe felt—the vibration of a language old and strange, yet new and familiar.

Terragnata, it rumbled.

We see you, Queen of Earth, Daughter of the Mother. You honor us, creating, creating, creating. Life trails in your wake. Let us honor you.

I started at the words, spoken aloud and yet not, but I stayed still for fear the slightest movement would send the voice away. And as I remained there, an image floated into my mind.

A gift from the Earth.

I shook my head, heat pricking my eyes, not wanting to accept what the trees offered. How could they sacrifice themselves for me? Why?

We have lived a great many years in this life, and the previous, and the previous to that. We do not die, but our form rebirths. Do not cry for our sake, child. Receiving honors the giver.

I nodded. Indeed.

Taking a deep breath, I knelt in the soil of a small clearing. I lowered my fingers to the dirt, the cool Earth engulfing them. I slid my power down, feeling for every root that ran under the ground nearby. I sensed a pulse of life and thanked them silently for their strength over many centuries.

I took hold of those ancient roots, pulling them up as gently as I could. The ground began to rumble and disrupt all around me. My magic flowed up and through their massive trunks, touching the trees’ every nerve ending. The half a dozen sequoias around me swayed, destabilized. I raised my hands, holding their energy between my fingers. I thanked them once more, then flicked my wrists, wincing at what came next. A bellowing crack indicated the breaking of one of these foundations. They snapped in half one by one, pushing the next down like a falling circle of dominos. But when they fell, their roots rose to catch them, placing them on the earthen floor with a gentleness befitting their sacrifice.

I shuttered my gaze, letting the wood unfold around me, picturing the enormous battleship of a history book I had poured through as a girl, a ship used by the seafaring warriors of Salamiere on their expeditions. I imagined the trunks of the sequoias splitting into long planks. Held together by flowing tree sap, the planks formed a massive hull, thick and impenetrable, save for oar holes that lined the port and starboard sides.

A disturbance vibrated all around me, the ground shifting in a dizzying way. The soil beneath my knees gave way to hard wood, dirt sifting out. I knew I was being raised up in my creation, but I did not break focus. In my mind’s eye, I saw the roots crawling up the sides of the ship to form a large, twisted mast at the center of its body. The smaller roots danced around and into the hull, and I allowed them to take any shape they pleased, for function or form. There was the till and rudder; roots braided together to create the steering capability of the ship. And last came the sails. Harder and more intricate, I imagined each fiber of discarded bark splitting into millions, floating in the air. After they stilled, I coaxed them together, weaving them in a cross-stitch pattern I’d learned from my mother. And between each fiber, I left a slip of my power. For strength, for guidance, and for bravery, I whispered to them. The sails settled on the mast, my work finished.

I kneeled on the elevated bow, facing the stern of the ship. It was imposing, beautiful, and mine . I beamed at the creation, my heart feeling fuller than it had before. A loud, slow clap broke my moment of silent pride. Leuffen peeked out from behind one of the still-standing trees. More invisible clapping ensued, delivered by the rest of the observers I hadn’t known were there, until a crowd applauded.

I swung my feet over the side of the ship and pushed off, my waist landing in the ready hands of Leuffen, my palms resting on his shoulders. He spun me around, his arms extending me into the air above his head. I threw my head back and let a laugh escape. He put me down and wrapped me into his chest. “Well done, lass,” he said softly.

He released me, and more of the crowd approached. Few I had spoken to before, but everyone came to admire the ship, to “ooh” and “ahh,” and pepper me with questions about my construction technique. Apparently, most of them had been there for the weaving of the sails. I was told it was quite the sight, millions of bark fibers floating in the air one moment and then converging into sails the next. I even heard a few snickers followed by a “Well, that beats Dane’s handiwork” or “What a waste of a day that was.”

But despite the comments, Dane came over to me after the commotion had settled down. He grilled me on the choice of wood, strength of the sails, and position of the till. It was the most he’d spoken to me since I nearly killed him. He seemed genuinely excited to talk now, a true lover of learning.

Eventually, Jana emerged from the group. “I suppose I should have shown you control earlier,” she said lightly. “Late this evening, we will launch both ships. Under the cover of night, we will inspect them and deem them seaworthy or not. Before dawn, the chosen ship will be well on its way toward the northern port city of Panderen, and we will make our way through the mountains.”

By the time Leiya, Leuffen, and I began walking to camp, nearly every member of our group had congratulated, thanked, or complimented me, save for one unmistakable pair of green eyes.

“Ye never said ye were a shipbuilder,” Leiya exclaimed. “How’d ye even know what te put where?”

I shrugged. “I studied them as a girl. I studied many things, actually. I read whatever I could get my hands on. But I always loved ships. I used to dream that I’d sail one far away from Argention. Before, I only wanted adventure, to see more of the world, to be more than the wife of a miner.” I shook my head. “Now, I’d do anything to go back to the way things were—to have my family again. I almost feel ashamed I ever thought to leave them.”

“Aye,” Leuffen said quietly. “Et isna ‘till the things we love are gone, that we appreciate them so.”

“Well, Terra, she’s a beauty. What’re ye gonna name her? She’s gotta have a name, ef she’s te carry us all the way to Panderen.” Leiya winked at me and then bit into her daily apple. I paused, thinking, walking just a few steps ahead of my friends. And then out of nowhere, like a restrained synapse finally fired, it came to me.

“Casmerre,” I said, the familiar name warming my chest.

At that, Leiya choked and bent over, heaving and spewing half-chewed chunks of fruit. Leuffen just stopped in his tracks, frozen. I spun around to face them.

“What? Is something wrong with Casmerre?”

Leuffen, who had gone to thump his sister on the back, turned to me, his face pale and unreadable. “Why that name, Terra?”

I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with their reaction. “It was the name of my late Shepard in Argention. Maybe it’s stupid, naming a ship after a dog, but he was fearless in water. Even when the snow melt made the rivers violent, he could always keep up in a current and had a steady direction. Why?”

They stared back at me like I’d grown a second head. But a moment later, they recollected, straightening. “We ‘ad a parrot when we were young, ye see, beloved by our family, but he died when a dog named Casmerre ate hem,” Leiya said. “The similarity a’ name jest caught me off guard, that’s all.”

I caught Leuffen shooting her a quick glare. “Is that it?” I asked, cocking my head.

Leiya only cleared her throat. “Ets me turn te scout. I’ll see the two of ye later.”

I snagged her by the back of her arm before she shifted. “Leiya,” I searched her eyes for whatever she was hiding. “Be safe.”

She just blinked, and then twisted into flight.

They chose my ship in the end. It was lighter, faster, yet seemingly more impenetrable, according to Leuffen. “And after all, Wetches do like beautiful things,” Leuffen had said with a wink.

I prepared my saddle bags and fastened my bedroll to Blackjack’s hind with a pat of his rump. We were downsizing now, no more carts to carry large canvas tents and cots. Jana wanted the ability for a quick escape, should we need one. The evening fell heavy when I finished, and the Casmerre was nearly ready to depart. I mounted Blackjack, and we made our way down to the water. We were still about an hour’s ride from camp, but the ship crew’s many trips throughout the last few hours had forged the path well.

Sanah stood at the helm, already aboard, and I waved to her, hoping she could see me on shore by the light of the moon’s reflection. I didn’t see a wave back, but I could have sworn she touched her hand to her chest—and perhaps her forehead. Leiya soared across the water in falcon form, returning periodically to give updates by coded cries. Everyone seemed to be loaded, save for twelve riders on the beach, waiting to send our compatriots to what we all hoped was not their impending doom. I noticed Leuffen to the side of the shore, in deep conversation with Jana. It looked near contention; though inaudibly, he was raising his voice more than was usually in his nature.

It ended with an abrupt turn, and he made his way to the last remaining rowboat, shaking his head, seemingly in frustration. I dismounted and ran to him. The splashing of my boots in the shallow water gave me away. He turned to me as I sprang up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Leuffen seemed ready for it and enveloped me in a hug. We lingered there, two friends, not ready to say goodbye.

He lowered me and pulled me into him once more, my head now resting on his chest. “Lass,” he whispered into my hair. “Dinna worry, we’ll be alright.” I gazed up at him, unsure if I could trust his words, knowing he held back. But a sincerity shimmered in his eyes, and the way he’d watched out for me the past few weeks made me feel comforted. Safe, even.

“I know there’s something you’re both hiding from me, I can feel it,” I said, and he grimaced in reaction. “But it’s okay, truly. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. And I just… well, I can’t lose anyone else.”

He looked in pain then, unsure of what to say in response.

I stepped back from him, letting his arms drop. “Can you call Leiya to come here, just for a minute?”

He inclined his head. “Aye.” And a few moments later, she soared toward us, changing right before her boots hit the sand.

“Eh, Terra, what’s thes about? Ye know et takes me strength te shift!” Leiya said.

I took each of their hands in mine and closed my eyes. If they objected to my power’s touch, they did not say. I sent a small bit of it into each of them with an intention. And though the language of Witch magic and spells had long been lost to me, somehow I knew to say, “protegere eos.”

When I opened my eyes, a soft glow rippled off them, scarce more than for a moment or two. And before I could explain, Leiya placed a hand on her heart and bowed. “Thank you, Terragnata, for yer protection and blessing. Et es a great honor, one I dinna deserve. But know that I will always serve ye with the same intention, te protect and defend.” At that, she flew off again, her falcon form spreading its wings and gliding up into the moonlit sky.

Leuffen still stared at me a moment, conflict wearing on his face. But before I could probe, he knelt on one knee, maintaining his grip on my hand. “Aye, Terragnata, there isna one I’d rather serve. Ye have me promise te protect ye, en every way I can.” And then he kissed my hand gently and rose, before turning towards the Casmerre.

He hesitated a step, glancing back, turning air over in his mouth as he weighed his words. “Et may nay be my place, Terra, so please forgive me. But ets me strong sense ye should stay away from Ezren. The bloke’s an asset en a fight, but he’s got no control over hes power… en many ways. Ye best keep yer distance, so ye dinna get hurt.” And then he was off, rowing towards the Casmerre. I sent one final slip of power to my ship, blessing it in my way and leaving a small carving of its name on the stern.

I jogged back to the horses, wondering the entire way what he’d meant by serve , if he’d truly said all he’d wanted to say—and how he knew my full name.