Martyr

by A. R. Kahler

  As if to accentuate the point, the kravens below them began to part. Someone else was moving out there, a darker shadow in the slivered landscaped.

  “And so we meet again,” called a voice. It echoed through the air, amplified by magic. Tenn could see the Spheres burning in the man’s body, glowing brighter the closer he got. Other flickers of power manifested around them. The Spheres of the encroaching necromancers burned like gaslights in the shadows.

  “As you can see,” Matthias said, “we have you completely surrounded. There will be no easy escape like last time.”

  His feet crunched up the snowy drive, until he was only a few yards away from the SUV.

  “Stop right there,” Jarrett said. He pushed a bit of power into the ether, and a gust of snow kicked up around Matthias, sending him back a few steps. Matthias chuckled. The laugh was colder than ice.

  “You have guts,” the man said. Tenn could see him clearly now. Still in his pinstripe suit, still with his cane. “I admire that. Though it will only make it more sweet when my minions dine on your entrails.”

  “What do you want?” Jarrett asked, clearly trying to buy time and figure out an escape.

  “I think you know what I want,” Matthias said. He stood there regally, both hands on the cane stuck in the snow before him. “Hand the boy over and I’ll make sure they kill you quickly. You’ve already defied me once when I was prepared to let the rest of you live. I do not like being defied. This is my final mercy.”

  “I don’t care about your mercy,” Jarrett hissed. “You aren’t getting him.”

  Tenn put a hand on Jarrett’s shoulder. His stomach was twisting double-time. “Jarrett, don’t. I’m going. This ends tonight.”

  Jarrett turned his fury on him and pushed off his hand.

  “Like hell you will. I’m not letting you go. Not without a fight.”

  There was a light in Jarrett’s eyes, a power that verged on madness. Air was a vicious swirl in his throat. Tenn took a step back.

  “If you two are done with your lovers’ quarrel,” Matthias said. “I believe Tenn and I have some unfinished business.”

  Tenn opened his mouth. Resolve settled itself into his bones. If he went down there, peacefully, maybe the others could escape. Maybe he could distract Matthias long enough to leave that window open. He looked at Jarrett and felt tears burn in the back of his eyes. He wouldn’t let Jarrett die for him. Not today.

  Jarrett took his hand.

  “We fight together,” he whispered. He wasn’t looking at Tenn. He was looking at the twins.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that—” Matthias began, but the scream of a storm cut him short.

  The world erupted in white.

  Power swirled from the twins, snow raging in an instantaneous blizzard, the moon blacked out in a breath.

  “We have to get out of here,” Jarrett yelled through the roar of snow. The house stood in the eye of the storm, the sky above them clear of clouds. It was only a matter of seconds before the necromancers would launch a counterattack, before Matthias regained his bearings and brought Hell raining down on them.

  “There’s no way,” Tenn said. “He’ll follow us. He’ll always follow us. I have to give myself up.”

  “This is all very touching,” came Matthias’s voice. Light flared in the heart of the blizzard, a strobe that floated up into the air. Matthias was silhouetted inside it, the storm raging around him. “But if that is the best you can do, I’m afraid you are wasting your time.”

  Snow turned to flame.

  Dreya and Devon gasped as the magic was wrenched from their grasp, converted and bastardized as the necromancers around them took control. The world was red, red and hot and screaming, burning like the Devil’s beating heart.

  “I have to end this,” Tenn said.

  “No,” Jarrett said. He glanced to the twins. “I do.”

  He leaned in close and kissed Tenn on the lips.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Then he pushed Tenn away in a gust of power and rose into the air. Devon grabbed Tenn’s hands as he screamed, but Jarrett wasn’t listening. He shot forward, his Sphere blazing bright, wreathing him in power that burned like a comet. Straight toward Matthias.

  “No!” Tenn screamed. He struggled against Devon, reached deep into Earth and made the whole world shudder. Water howled inside of him. He saw the two figures meet in the haze of fire, Jarrett glowing brighter than the sun, Matthias burning with equal fervor. They met in the space of a heartbeat. When they collided, the world flashed white.

  “We have to—” Dreya began, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by a great shift of power beside them.

  The world seemed to ripple, the air carving itself in a twist.

  And then they weren’t alone on the balcony. A figure in black robes stood beside them. A girl.

  Tenn didn’t have time to react to her appearance. She grabbed onto his arm, and the world churned around him, faded to black.

  The battle melted from sight.

  One moment, they were surrounded by fire.

  The next, a dark room, cold and candlelit.

  Four of them.

  Devon. Dreya. Himself.

  The girl.

  “Where is he?” Tenn asked. His head was swimming, and he struggled, tried to pull himself away. But where? Where?

  “Who?” the stranger asked.

  “Jarrett!” he screamed. His voice echoed but didn’t make a dent on the screams in his head. He saw him, saw him flying toward Matthias, saw that last look in Jarrett’s eyes.

  “I only brought back you three,” said the robed girl. “I thought you were all that was left.”

  “Take me back,” Tenn growled. Things weren’t clicking. Things were clicking. “Take me back now.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  Things clicked.

  Tenn dropped to his knees. Fell to the floor. Jarrett was gone.

  Jarrett was gone.

  PART

  TWO

  THE DEVIL’S MINIONS

  “We have turned our backs on the gods

  and the gods

  as one

  have turned their backs on us.”

  – Rhiannon’s Diary

  1 P.R.

  16

  Tenn woke to flames flickering in the darkness.

  For a moment, he lay there, wondering if Jarrett had lit more candles along the mantel, thinking it had to be closer to dawn. Every part of him ached with nightmare. He rolled over and reached out. The room was warm, almost uncomfortably so, but the urge to be closer to Jarrett was reflexive now.

  His hand found nothing but empty sheets.

  He opened his eyes fully and stared into the corners of the room, panic seeping through the morning calm. Was he still dreaming?

  Then he caught sight of Dreya and Devon, sitting on a plush velvet settee along the wall. They leaned against each other, Dreya’s head resting in the nook of Devon’s neck, both sound asleep.

  His eyes focused more—on the smooth black walls, on the fire flickering from wrought-iron candelabras, on the porcelain jars of long-stemmed roses and twining orchids. And on the girl, standing in the shadows, her hands clasped before her and the hood of her long black robe pulled back.

  Reality snapped in two.

  Jarrett leaping to his death at Matthias’s hands. The girl appearing, pulling them away, taking them… somewhere. Taking them here.

  He shot up in bed with a cry.

  “Where is he?” he yelled. He jumped from bed and ran over to her. He didn’t make it two steps before a pair of hands pulled him back. The twins flanked him, hands clutching his arms, but his focus was on the brown-haired girl who looked at him with impassive eyes. Red tinged everything.

  “I am sorry, Tenn,” the girl said. “I truly am.”

  He struggled; the twins didn’t budge. He was so close to the girl he could see every curve of her smooth face, every faint freckle in her brown eyes. She look
ed to the twins. Those freckled eyes flicked purple.

  That’s when he realized what she was. She was a Priest of Maya. Well, Priestess.

  “What did you do?” he seethed, his teeth clamped together.

  The girl nodded to the twins, who released Tenn on cue. Every part of him wanted to reach out and punch her, to open to the Spheres and force every agony he could into her tiny body. But that would be suicide. If the rumors were true, the Priests of Maya had access to the fifth Sphere, the one that remained elusive to everyone else in existence. They called Maya the God Sphere, and with it, they could change the very fabric of the world. Angry as he was, he knew she could kill him in a heartbeat if she so wished it.

  The girl didn’t lower her head when she spoke. She looked him right in the eye. If anything, that diffused his anger even more than the terrible power she could wield.

  “I saved you,” she said. “The Prophets began screaming your name, saying you were in danger. I was sent to bring you back here and keep you from harm’s way.”

  “Then you can take me back,” Tenn hissed. The rage boiled up anew at the thought that they’d just been sitting here while Jarrett was out there fighting to stay alive—if he was alive… A new sensation washed over Tenn, one that quenched the rage: defeat. The world seemed to sink. “You could have saved him.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” the girl said. “I don’t expect you to understand. Not yet.” She paused. “I had the Prophets check the area. After we left.”

  He didn’t want to hear what she was about to say.

  “There’s nothing left, Tenn. The entire town is in flames.”

  “You’re lying,” Tenn said. “Jarrett’s still out there. He has to be.”

  “There was a body.” The girl’s admission sliced through his heart. “On the ground. Just outside the house where you and the necromancer fought. It was burned beyond recognition, but it had a sword. We believe it was Jarrett’s.”

  Tenn buckled. He fell to his knees as the room swam around his head. His fingers clenched the warm stone floor, tried to find something, anything to hold on to. The dregs of last night’s meal rose in his throat.

  Dreya knelt by his side. She put her hand on his shoulder.

  “We are sorry, Tenn,” she said. “We truly are. We know what it means to lose—”

  “Shut up,” he said. “Get the hell out. All of you.”

  “I understand if you—”

  “I said leave!” he shouted. He turned to her, turned all of his pain and hate into those light-blue eyes. He wasn’t so enraged he’d use magic against her, but she still flinched back. She nodded and stood.

  “We will leave you,” the Priestess said, her voice hinting that it was by choice and not command. “But I will be waiting outside should you need anything. Soon, when the threat of danger has passed, we will bring you back. But before that happens, the Prophets wish to speak with you.”

  He didn’t look up from the obsidian floor as they left. He heard a door open and close, and the room fell into a deeper silence. Silent, save for Jarrett’s face in his mind, Jarrett calling out his name.

  “What brought you here from Davenport?” Jarrett asked. They stood in Cassandra’s office, waiting for her to return with some paperwork so Tenn could be sorted into a room and begin training. It was well past midnight and most of the guild was asleep. Jarrett stood beside him in sweatpants and a ragged sweater, his blond hair mussed like he’d just woken up. Tenn tried not to stare. The last thing he needed the first day at the guild was to be singled out for crushing on the second-in-command.

  Tenn shrugged.

  “I was out on assignment. Scavenging mission. I was gone for a couple days. By the time I got back, the entire guild had gone up in smoke.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jarrett said. It wasn’t the well-practiced apology they’d all had to perfect in the last year—after the Resurrection, there seemed to be a lot of condolences to pass around. Jarrett actually seemed to care. It made Tenn’s heart flutter.

  “It’s fine,” Tenn said. “I’d only been there a month. I haven’t stayed in the same place for too long.”

  “Looking for something?”

  Tenn looked down. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

  “Family?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Jarrett said again.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No. It’s not.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you find something worth sticking around for. Wandering is lonely business.”

  Tenn chanced a glance. Jarrett was looking straight at him. Could it be?

  “That’d be nice,” he said.

  Then Cassandra came in, carrying a stack of papers, leaving a dozen unanswered questions hanging in the air.

  Tenn gasped, like a drowned man finding air, as Water let go. He was sobbing, curled in a ball on the smooth, warm floor. One breath, that was all he got, and then the tide dragged him under.

  “I don’t think this is right,” Tenn said. He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, unable to watch Jarrett pacing back and forth. Jarrett had been away on a week-long mission. Tenn had stayed behind. Plenty of time to think. Too much time.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “This,” Tenn said. “Us.”

  “Us?” Jarrett stopped pacing. The arrow hit its mark. Deep in Tenn’s stomach, Water curled and uncurled like a cobra in its basket.

  “Us,” Tenn repeated. “It’s not…it’s not healthy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Tenn let his voice drop, fell into the words he’d been forcing himself to repeat over and over again while Jarrett was away, no matter how much they hurt.

  “There’s no room for love anymore. Not in this world. Love is weakness.”

  “This isn’t you,” Jarrett said. “I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

  “I am.”

  Jarrett stepped over and fell on his knees in front of him. He took Tenn’s hands and held them in his.

  “Look at me,” Jarrett said. It was almost a plea.

  Tenn did.

  “I’m sorry I was gone,” Jarrett said. His eyes punched a hole in Tenn’s heart. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. Jarrett wasn’t supposed to feel guilty. He was supposed to see the logic, the inevitability—one of them would die on one of these missions. It would be so much easier to end the pain now before it began.

  “It’s not that,” Tenn said. Words were twisting in his mouth. It didn’t help that he didn’t want to say any of them. “I just…” He sighed and looked back down. Water throbbed like a bruise. His eyes began to tear.

  “I know,” Jarrett said. “I thought about you. Every single day I was gone. How much it would hurt if I was in your shoes, waiting. It would drive me insane. That’s why I spoke to Cassandra. No more missions apart. Ever. Just…please, don’t do this.”

  “But what happens if…when…”

  Jarrett squeezed his hands even harder.

  “I’m not going to lose you,” he said. “I’m not going to stop fighting for you. That’s a promise.” Jarrett kissed his hands, and Tenn fell forward, sobbing as Jarrett reached around and pulled him close. “I love you, Tenn,” he said. “No matter what, I will always fight for you.”

  Water faded in a haze of tears and sweat, shaking him like he was caught in the rapids.

  He could barely breathe. He choked at oxygen, clawed at the floor. Water was a torrent within him, a rage of anguish he couldn’t contend with. It pummeled him, tore him, thrashed him against the rocks of his own misery.

  He’d abandoned Jarrett. Jarrett, who would never have given up on him. Jarrett, who would never have left the fight. Never. And Tenn had let himself get taken away. He’d watched as Jarrett leaped from the building. All to save him. All to defend him. All for nothing.

  Jarrett was dead because of him.

  The list of the dead staining his soul was longer than he could imagin
e, but that didn’t keep his mind from unearthing the names. He clawed his fingers to his face, sobs stabbing from his chest. He wanted to tear it all away. He didn’t even want to die. He just wanted to hurt.

  “Now, now, Tenn, crying won’t help,” came a voice. “Your pain is your greatest strength.”

  At first, he thought it was a memory, another washed-up vision of the past. There was no way that voice could have been here, deep in the heart of the Priests’ temple—wherever that was—surrounded by the strongest, most perceptive mages in history. Impossible. He curled in tighter, wishing the hallucination away. But the voice grew closer.

  “If you want revenge,” it whispered into his ear, “you’ll have to take it.”

  Tomás.

  17

  Tenn was too far gone to care. He stayed curled on the floor even as Tomás put one burning-cold hand on his shoulder.

  “I can help you,” Tomás said.

  “Go away.”

  “You’re hurt. I understand that. But let’s be honest—we both knew Jarrett was nothing but dead weight. Oops, my apologies. A bad choice of words.”

  Tenn burst to his feet. Tears still streamed in his eyes, but agony turned to rage. Yes, he wanted to hurt. He wanted to hurt like hell. But he wanted everyone else to hurt as well.

  He shoved Tomás to the side.

  “Don’t you dare,” Tenn hissed.

  His hands were clenched. He knew he couldn’t use magic, not without alerting everyone around that something was wrong, but he was perfectly fine beating the bastard to a pulp without it. Tomás took a few steps back, a surprised grin on his face. He was in faded grey jeans and a loose white button-down. Leather bracelets wrapped up each of his wrists, and his pointed boots made clacking noises against the floor. He held his hands out to the sides, a sign of submission. Tenn wanted to rip him apart.

  “Did I hit a nerve?” Tomás asked, a grin still splashed across his face.

  “I’ll kill you,” Tenn said. Red filled his vision—red overlaid with Jarrett’s face moments before he leaped. “You did this to me. You’re the reason he’s dead!”