Page 19 of The Crow Games

“What do we do now?” the green witch asked. She was Lisbeth’s age, copper-gold hair tucked under a tall conical hat. The witch beside her with worn paper flowers sewn into her bodice had to be her younger sister, they were so similar, same pointed chin and dimples in both cheeks. The third was the blue witch I’d met that morning, the woman with the lovely silver-streaked hair who’d refused to trade names.

Blue shook her head, knocking together the baubles and amulets hanging around her neck. She carried a torch above her. It cast a long shadow across the floor. In her other hand, she held a forked branch water covens used as wands. “There’s only one thing we can do now . . .”

“Oi,” Nola called. “Why’s the barrier shut?”

The witches spun to face us. Blue lowered into a fighting crouch and brandished her wand like it was a sword. The older green sister grabbed a vial from her satchel and palmed it. The youngest readied a wooden baton.

“It was just a question,” Ruchel soothed. “We aren’t here to fight. Tell us what’s going on.”

“Not your allies, I take it,” I said.

“Actually, they are,” Ruchel whispered.

Well damn. With allies like these, who needed enemies?

“Path is blocked,” Blue retorted, wand still raised. “No one gets in or out unless Nott allows it.”

“Is the god demanding a gift?” Nola guessed.

I reached inside my satchel and touched the tin with my salt inside. Salt had a lot of value. It was such a versatile substance, especially for earth magic. If the Lord of Night and Mischief didn’t take that in exchange for lowering the barrier and giving us a blessing, I’d offer up the pocket pistol from my boot, though parting with it pained me. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The sisters shared a dark look. The youngest lowered her head, rubbing sheepishly at her arm.

“It’s not a gift they want,” Blue explained, lips pursed. “Nott brought his twin Mara, and they have a—”

A roar echoed up from the depths of the tunnel, the sound so violent it shook the walls. Torch flames flickered, the scent of sulfur tinged the air, and my heart leapt into my throat.

Chapter 5

“Reapers once served as messengers between the gods. Made of shade, they are the only beings capable of moving with ease between the shadows inherent in every realm.”– Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist

The great Hel beast roared again, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and reverberating through my bones.

“It’s entertainment Nott is after,” Blue explained. “He’s drawn a combat circle in the chamber over yonder.”

“Fucking gods,” Nola hissed.

“And every coven must provide a combatant or stay and risk the night in Wulfram while the train circles back,” Blue said somberly.

“We wouldn’t make it overnight in Wulfram,” Ruchel sighed. “But there’s no sense in sending two witches to their deaths either. Why not combine forces, at least through this trial?”

I perked at the idea of growing a proper coven. What good were allies if they were always ready to turn on each other? The green witches shared a glance, speaking to one another with only their eyes in the way of sisters.

“It’s the sensible thing for the time being,” Blue said. “A group of six shouldn’t attract unwanted notice from the established covens if we travel together.”

“But how do we decide who faces the beast?” Nola demanded.

“You’re a soldier,” Blue noted. “You’ve more combat experience than—”

“Not a chance in coldest Hel,” Nola ground out. “I’m not dying for you.”

The older of the sisters fished inside her leather satchel. Glass jars clinked together. “I’ve a sigil. A powerful one. It took me weeks to make the blasted thing. It’ll give the wielder the strength of a grizzly bear, but it won’t last more than an hour or two. A soldier could make good use of that.”

Nola scoffed. “What did I just say? Unless you’ve got another blasted sigil in that pack of yours with the strength oftwentybears, you can fuck right off with that idea.”

“We’ll roll for it,” Ruchel said somberly. “It’s the only fair way. We roll for it and the winner . . . loses.”

The sisters whispered to each other. I overheard the youngest called Liesel and the oldest, Emma. Blue tried to calm them, her words hushed, but Liesel fell into a panic. I was new to these trials, but I was not new to the way of people. These desperate survivors made and broke alliances much too easily, eager to do what was needed to last just one more day, no vision for the future, no thoughts toward freedom. They’d forgotten what it was that made a witch truly powerful. Their coven.

---