by A. R. Kahler
“Great,” Tenn whispered. He looked to Devon. “Any sign of your friends?”
Devon lowered his eyes and said nothing.
“It is not his fault,” Dreya replied. “There is no other way to communicate with the clans, not when they are in hiding.”
“Tell that to my corpse,” Tenn said. Then he gritted his teeth and stared into the horizon. He didn’t want to die here. It wasn’t self-preservation; it was the need for revenge. He wasn’t prepared to take on Matthias. He wasn’t able to avenge Jarrett’s death, no matter how much he may have wanted to.
It wasn’t night that crept across the field and turned it black. No, the stain on the far edge of the field was darker and faster than shadow, and as it neared, Tenn could feel the army as the earth trembled beneath its feet. In any other situation, he would have forced them all to let go of the Spheres, to wait and hope the army might pass them by. But they had already lost the element of surprise. The best they could do now was try to fend them off from a distance.
He opened his mouth to give the orders when a branch snapped behind him. He turned around, ready to kill the creature lurking in the shadows.
A little girl stepped out from the depths of the trees. She was in jeans and a wool sweater, her dark blonde hair pulled to the sides in long pigtails. She couldn’t have been older than ten.
“Are you the ones who sent up the signal?” she asked. Her eyes surveyed them, then took in the approaching horde without even the mildest hint of concern.
Devon nodded.
“Follow me,” she said. Then she headed back into the trees.
“But the army—” Tenn began, only to be cut off by her response.
“Won’t be an issue if you do what I say. Stay close.”
Tenn looked at the twins, but if there was any uncertainty between the two of them, they didn’t show it. Without even glancing to the army behind them, they followed the girl into the woods.
Tenn spared the field a glance, just briefly. The horde was still a mile or so away, but it would arrive within minutes. They didn’t have a chance against them no matter what, but in the forest, their probability of survival dropped dramatically. In here, the trees would hide friend and foe alike. He glanced back to the retreating forms of the twins, the white of their coats blending into the woods like ghosts.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Then he bounded after them.
24
“Where the hell are we going?” he whispered to Dreya. The strange girl was only a few feet ahead of them, and she walked through the woods with a quick, assured step. He could barely see her in the coming twilight. No one responded to his question, not even the girl.
Even with Earth pulsing in his gut, he couldn’t feel anyone else stirring in the woods. Just the four of them, moving deeper and deeper into the wilderness while the approaching army roared toward them.
“The first line is coming up,” the girl said. She paused and held out a hand. “I suggest you hold on from here on out. It can be difficult to follow the path if you’re not accustomed to the way.”
Devon didn’t hesitate. He took the girl’s hand and Dreya took his. She held her hand out and raised an eyebrow at Tenn. If that wasn’t an admonishing glance, he didn’t know what was. He took it. His pulse was a panicked throb in his ears. Here they were, holding hands in the woods while their imminent death was minutes away. And yet the girl was about as unconcerned as was humanly possible, and the twins weren’t much better.
He thought it was his imagination, but a few steps later, the girl disappeared. Devon appeared to be holding his arm out to thin air. Another step and Devon vanished into the night. Another step and Dreya was gone, though he still felt her hand in his. Something washed over him, a tingle that swept through his gut like vertigo and nausea and that sick feeling from spinning around too fast. It passed in an instant, leaving him feeling as though he’d just stepped off a ship to dry land. The girl and the twins were visible once more, the chain unbroken.
He glanced around as they moved forward. Something unsettled him, something in the very pit of his gut that just felt wrong. He looked behind him. Had they gotten turned around? He started to release Dreya’s hand. Surely he’d left something behind…
“Don’t be fooled by your instincts,” the girl said. “We’re approaching the second line. Just follow me.”
Dreya gripped his hand even tighter.
This time, although he was prepared for it, he nearly yelped when the girl disappeared from sight. His grip on Dreya’s hand was tighter than death as every fightor-flight nerve in his body began to fire. He was going the wrong way. If he kept walking, he was going to die. The little girl wasn’t one of the Witches—she had been sent to capture them. To kill them. Devon disappeared. He knew if he stepped through that invisible wall, he’d be torn apart. Fear welled up in his throat, fluttered in his chest as Dreya disappeared, as that blankness came for him. Another step.
And another wave of nausea roiled over him, stronger this time. The forest churned around him, sloshing from side to side as he stumbled. Even the twins were unsteady on their feet, staggering as the girl led them onward.
“Only one more,” said the girl. She walked calmly, smoothly. “This is always the worst.”
There was no mistaking it now. He needed to turn and run. He couldn’t go another step, and yet the girl dragged them forward. On the other side of that invisible veil was Matthias, waiting to burn them alive. He could practically hear Jarrett’s voice in his head, yelling at him to stop, to turn around, to flee. Dreya’s nails dug into his skin.
The girl slipped from sight.
Then Devon.
No.
No.
No.
Dreya vanished.
He closed his eyes and bit his tongue to keep the screaming in, to keep his heart from exploding in its frantic beat.
Electricity rolled across his skin in a tingling wave. Pleasant, almost. And when it cleared, the panic was gone. He opened his eyes and gasped.
The trees gave way to a clearing roughly the size of a city block. A stream split it down the middle, and caravans and trailers radiated out from a central bonfire like spokes on a wagon wheel. The crackle of fire and scent of woodsmoke filled his head, along with the sounds of violins and conversation. He paused. How the hell is this possible? He hadn’t sensed any of this from the outside.
The girl didn’t give them any time to ponder. She released Devon’s hand and turned to them.
“My mother will see you now. She is the clan mother, and she has been waiting a long time for your arrival.”
Then she turned and walked toward the trailers.
The three of them paused. Dreya looked to Devon and took a deep breath. He nodded and squared his shoulders, looking for all the world like he was about to go into battle. They began to follow, but Tenn reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Dreya’s coat. Although the panic from before was gone, there was still the gut-deep fear that came from knowing that, at any moment, the forest was going to be overrun by Howls and necromancers bent on their destruction.
“Are you sure we’re safe here?” he asked. He glanced back to the trees. He fully expected to see shadows darting through them, for people to start screaming as the nightmares leaped forth. But the woods were silent.
“We can trust their magic,” Dreya said. She gestured to the trailers. “They have clearly been living here for some time.”
And she was right. The spokes of the trailer wheels were covered in dead vines and weeds. Some trailers were propped up on cinderblocks or nestled in the earth.
“I guess,” Tenn said, though he didn’t really buy it. He kept a light touch on Earth, just in case, constantly scanning the woods for any sign of movement. He could feel the Howls and the rest of the army swarming against the edge of the trees. But they didn’t come any further. After the Academy, the illusion of safety set him on edge.
The girl led them over to a tan trailer that looked just like
any other—a few curtained windows, an awning slumped with snow that stretched over an aluminum door. The only thing that set it apart was the amulet hung over the door: a seven-pointed star resting in the curve of a horned moon. She opened it without knocking and stepped inside, leaving Tenn and the twins to follow awkwardly behind.
Inside, the trailer was warm and cozy. The girl was already sitting at a table set against the wall, a mug of steaming tea in her hands. To the left of the door was a small kitchenette. A woman stood by the stove, stirring a pot of soup with a long wooden spoon. A starry velvet curtain hung just past the seating area, hiding the rest of the trailer from sight.
“Welcome, friends,” the woman said. “You must be the three who sent the signal.”
She rested the spoon on top of the pot and wiped her hands on her apron. She was tall and slim, with long dark brown hair flecked with grey. Fine lines traced the corners of her eyes. She stepped toward them, the fabric of her pale yellow dress swishing around her ankles, and embraced each of them in turn, Tenn last. He stiffened under her touch, though there was a warmth there, a familial sort of tenderness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Maybe that was part of the reason he flinched. When she pulled back from the hug, she left her hands on his shoulders and looked him over.
“And you must be Tenn.”
He opened his mouth, then paused.
“How do you know my name?”
The woman winked and smiled. She couldn’t have been older than forty, but something about the glow in her eyes gave her an agelessness he couldn’t place.
“I know much about you, young Hunter. The spirits have spoken highly of you and your travels.” She squeezed his shoulders. “But forgive me, I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Rhiannon. I’m the Mother of our clan. It is a great pleasure to meet you, all of you. We have been waiting a long time.”
She stepped back and regarded the twins as well.
“What do you mean you’ve been waiting for us?” Tenn asked. That was impossible. He hadn’t even known where they were going this morning.
Rhiannon just smiled again and went back over to the pot. She grabbed a ladle from the counter and began doling out soup into bowls.
“You ask many questions, Tenn, but I’m afraid they aren’t the right ones. At least, not for the moment.” She handed a bowl to him with a smile.
“Then what is the right question?” he asked. He couldn’t keep the bite out of his words. Dreya noticed. She shot him a glare.
“If we can help you in your quest, of course.” She leaned back against the sink and nodded to the bowls in their hands. “Eat up before it gets cold. I suspect it’s been a while since you’ve had a home-cooked meal.”
The girl at the table slid to the side, allowing them space to sit and eat. Tenn couldn’t help but notice that both of the twins were unusually silent. Well, Devon wasn’t a surprise, but Dreya looked like she was waiting to get thrown out into the night. Both of them had that frightened air to them, as though they anticipated the worst. How they expected anything like that from Rhiannon was beyond him; she seemed like the pacifistic hippie sort. Then he remembered the conversation back at the guild, when the twins swore they could never return to the Witches.
What had they done to incur the wrath of someone so kind? Or was Rhiannon hiding a darker secret?
“Now,” she said. “We know you are here to learn about the runes. The spirits have told us of your quest, and we know what rides on your shoulders. We will aid as we can.”
Even though she was saying precisely what he’d hoped to hear, Tenn’s appetite faded with every word. How many people knew about him? And, worse, did any know of his secrets?
“So you’ll teach us—” he began, but she waved him off.
“You are too hasty,” she said. “What do you know of the runes?”
Tenn glanced at the twins, since they were the ones who seemed to know more than anyone, but Dreya kept silent. She hid behind her hair, spinning her spoon idly in her soup.
“Not much,” Tenn said. Seriously, what was going on with those two?
“As I thought,” Rhiannon said. “The runes are a language. They were discovered years ago in cultures all across the world. The Celts had their Ogham, the Norse their Futhark. Back then, it was known by all that words had power. But these words, they weren’t just the words of the people. These were the words of the gods they served. In time, the languages were fragmented or diluted to common speech. The truth behind the runes—the power—was lost. But that doesn’t mean the gods stopped talking. We just stopped knowing how to listen.”
Tenn held up a hand. He’d heard and seen more than enough crazy shit in his lifetime to accept a great many things as possibility. But this?
“So, wait,” he said, “you’re telling me that the runes are—what? The language of the gods?”
Rhiannon nodded.
An image of Dmitri shot across his vision, the sear of pain as Helena scribed runes into his skin.
“But the necromancers…”
“Serve a darker god,” Rhiannon said, her voice lowering. “They have tainted the sacred language, turned it against the very fabric of creation.”
“The Dark Lady,” he said.
“Yes,” Rhiannon said. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked over to them, sidling onto the bench next to Devon. He seemed to shrink away from her. And Dreya had glared at him for being rude. But if Rhiannon noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it. “The Dark Lady was human once. But She wrapped Herself up in the words of gods that were best left forgotten. That knowledge changed Her into something more.”
“But She’s dead,” Tenn said. “She died after creating the Kin. The Church killed Her—She’s just a myth.”
“You can’t kill a god, Tenn,” Rhiannon said. She shook her head. “Listen to me. Such dark talk on a night that should be merry! You’ve come a long way to find us, the least we can do is speak of lighter things.”
“I don’t have time for lighter things,” Tenn said. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but the words left his lips before he could stop them.
Rhiannon’s smile slipped.
“I know,” she said. She looked him straight in the eye. Her hazel irises bored into his. “You have lost so much in this journey. I wish I could take that pain away.”
He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to fall back into despair. He had to fight. If he let go, let Water take over even for an instant…
“What can you tell us about the runes?” he asked. The sooner he got what they were looking for, the sooner he could track down and kill the bastard that did this to him. He didn’t have time for pity. Water was more than enough reminder of what he had lost. The trouble was, he wasn’t entirely certain what they were looking for, only that the Witches were the ones with the answers. He hoped.
Rhiannon sighed.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “It is far too late to begin your studies. Besides, our translator is out in the woods right now, checking our defenses. You three have brought quite an army our way. We must ensure our lines hold up.”
“Sorry,” Tenn said.
She reached out and patted his hand.
“Never apologize for being hunted,” she said. “We have been on the lookout ever since we settled here last summer. The sept nearby has been very active of late. Inquisitors roaming the woods, children missing… These are dark days.”
“Inquisitors? Why would you put yourselves in danger by moving here?” he asked, but she shook her head. She glanced over to the girl. The look was obvious. Not in front of her.
“Because the spirits told us this is where we would find you. Among other things.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure you are tired, but I’m afraid we have no room in our trailers for guests. We have constructed a tent outside beside the fire. It should offer adequate shelter.”
“It’s more than enough,” Tenn said. He looked at the twins, who were still staring at the
ir bowls of soup. Neither had tasted a drop. “Thank you for the hospitality.”
“Of course, Tenn,” she said. “In the morning, you’ll find the answers you seek. Gabriela, if you could please show them to their tent?”
“Gladly, mother,” the girl said. She slid from the booth. “If you please?”
Tenn nodded and stood, the twins only a beat behind.
“Thank you again,” he said as Gabriela led them from the trailer.
“It is we who should be thanking you, Tenn,” Rhiannon said. She watched them leave from the doorway.
He wanted to ask her what she meant.
But the majority of him didn’t want to know.
The tent was small and pockmarked with tiny holes, but with the bonfire only a few feet away, it made for a relatively comfortable setup. Dreya pulled the extra blankets from her pack and settled them on the ground, hunching under the tent’s roof. It would be tight sleeping together, but at least it would be warm.
“No watch tonight,” Tenn said. “Everyone sleeps.”
“I thought you didn’t trust their defenses,” Dreya said.
“I don’t,” he said. “But it’s been a long day. I don’t think any of us can afford to lose sleep.”
Admit it. You just don’t want to be alone in case Tomás comes back.
You’re assuming he’s left.
He tried to push the thought away, but suddenly it was all-consuming. Every time he blinked, he saw Tomás, standing in the dark, glowing like a demon. It made Tenn’s pulse race. And when he tried to counter the image with Jarrett’s, he found it was harder than it should have been. For some reason, it was much, much easier to remember what Tomás looked like, how it felt when he had been inches away. Jarrett was only a memory, and he was fading fast. The thought scared Tenn more than Howls ever had.
Half an hour passed, the three of them sharing the same blankets, trying to share heat. There was no doubt in Tenn’s mind that it was going to be impossible to sleep. Not when he knew Matthias’s army was circling them barely a mile away, not when he knew for a fact that Tomás was still trailing him. Devon chuckled to himself, and for a moment, Tenn thought maybe he was laughing in his sleep. Then he spoke.