Page 77 of Pirate Witch
The captain just looks confused. “Gone where?”
Nilsa finally puts him out of his misery. “They’re delivering messages to every home in Coveton, warning people to stay indoors tonight.”
“Tonight? So soon?” Philippa is the only one who seems shocked by the news.
Nilsa nods. “Yes. We’re out of time.”
ChapterTwenty-Six
RYSEN
Watching the Lunars prepare for the ritual is oddly soothing. There’s none of the nervous anticipation that I’ve come to expect from an army before battle. They chant as they lay a spiderweb of herbs in an intricate pattern across the massive courtyard of the Lunar Temple. It’s a soft chant, with an even cadence that rises and falls across the open space. It’s soothing, which is ridiculous when you consider they’re preparing a spell to wreak destruction on a massive scale. Whatever magic they’re working with their measured steps will be powerful enough to destroy Fort Sole.
None of them are wearing much, not that that’s unusual where Lunars are concerned. What clothes they are wearing are just enough to cover the necessities, and none of them are wearing shoes. In place of plate metal or chain mail, they’re wearing belts hung with charms of carved bone and silver.
Some of their number—Nilsa among them—are carrying athames strapped to their thighs. I objected when she asked me to fetch it, but both my mate and Danika reassured me she’s ‘attuned’ to the dagger now. Apparently, using as much magic as she did to destroy the Claw will have somehow bound the two together, despite it once belonging to another witch. According to them, the spell will be more dangerous for Nilsawithoutthat blade.
Perhaps they knew telling me that was the only way to get me to relent. It worked, but my fangs still ache with nerves every time the moonstones in the handle catch the light.
Reva has joined them at last. I’m not sure where she’s been hiding, but the moment she joins the group, I understand why she did. Her silver hair shines like a beacon, and the other witches are constantly bowing to her. Acting as if she’s a high priestess already.
Maybe she is. Is that how it works? For her part, Reva isn’t claiming the title. She’s still wearing black robes instead of silver as she and Nilsa chant and light candles in the centre of the web. Making a statement by refusing to join the quiet discussion happening between Danika and the high priestess from the Meliad temple.
She’s not the only one drawing strange looks, either. There’s a familiar witch wearing a long dress of black and white, also chanting as she lays down lines of herbs. I’ve met Alletta before, but in spite of our long trading relationship, I don’t make a move to greet her. I still haven’t entirely forgiven the way she treated my mate when Nilsa went to her for help. As always, she carries herself with the air of someone not quite all there. Her hair is still cut at two different lengths, and braided with charms while her skin is so decorated with sigils that I have trouble distinguishing some of them from one another. Every now and again, she laughs for no reason at all, drawing disquieted looks from the witches close to her.
I never thought Alletta would leave Port Evert, but it seems even she was drawn by the promise of safety in numbers.
Around the edge of the space, the Lunars’ harems watch on protectively, forming an unbroken wall to defend them from curious eyes.
Until the Solars arrive.
Whispers grow louder, turning into murmurs as the gathered humans catch sight of the unbroken wall of white robes heading for us in a single, disciplined line. At their head are the four remaining Solar high priestesses. The foremost one must be Rachel, the new high priestess of Coveton. She has ash-pale hair which looks almost white when compared with her glowing gold robe. Behind her is a dark-skinned woman, also in gold, who could be Mother Solar Elodie from Ilyani. I know of her by reputation, but I’ve never met her, so I cannot be sure. Beside her is Mother Solar Sophie and just behind them, looking extremely uncomfortable in her gold dress, is Elsie.
It seems the Solars believe the two witches who broke our vow are high priestesses, despite their youth.
Danika notices the Solar procession and heads across the web with the Meliad high priestess towards where they’ve stopped. Nilsa elbows Reva and they follow behind, backing up the only remaining Lunar high priestesses as they face down their Solar counterparts.
When the Lunar holds her hand open in the space between them, the muttering stops, and everyone holds their breath.
“Mother Solars, welcome to the Lunar Temple.”
The woman at the front with the pale hair grasps Danika’s forearm in a tight grip and nods. “It is our privilege to defend our Lunar sisters as they work to make our town safe.”
Either they realise how tight time is, or they have no wish to mark the occasion with long, drawn-out speeches, because Danika makes short work of greeting the four Solar high priestesses. She briefly clasps arms with the other two and finally Elsie, before gesturing for them to make themselves at home.
As if they’ve been waiting for the signal, the Solars surround our circle, starting their own ritual of chanting and laying down herbs until the smell of the two combined starts to make my nose twitch. From the twins’ near-silent groans, it seems they too are affected by how pungent the scents are becoming. When a couple of the Solars break out the incense burners, I’m forced to start breathing through my mouth.
Soon the air becomes heavy with smoke and vapours. The Solars take long iron spears and drive them into the ground around the circle, holding them in place over the cobbles. As one, they bash the metal against the cobbles in a pattern that repeats over and over.
With each repetition, a golden bubble begins to form in the air. Materialising from the smoke to cover the whole courtyard in a kind of protective film that radiates a sticky dry heat. The chanting coming from the Lunars stops as they watch the protective magical shield close over them, and a relieved look passes across my mate’s face.
Danika and another witch begin handing out torches to all the members of the coven who don’t have athames, while the witches who do draw their blades. If Nilsa feels even a flicker of uncertainty about using that knife to channel her magic, she doesn’t show it as she holds the tip up into the sky and takes her place near the centre of the web.
I’m not sure where the drummers are, but a booming beat begins to echo through the dome. As one, all the Lunars begin to move. Their feet skip lithely over the top of the lines of chalk and herbs, never once disturbing the neat interwoven pattern they’ve created. Torches and knives glimmer in the air as they begin to whirl, their translucent black clothes fluttering in the wind their movements are generating.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my fangs drop as I feel the Moon pulse above us. The white orb in the sky is just beginning to wane—which the Lunars all seem to agree is good for destruction spells—and the more the witches dance, the brighter their Goddess seems to become. The drumbeat grows faster and faster, and the dancers speed up to match it. Whirling and dropping so fast that sweat begins to bead on their skin.
I can feel their power rising. The Moon pulses in time with the beat, filling the space with a serene chill I’ve always associated with a calm night at sea.
