by A. R. Kahler
They were nearly to the edge of the encampment—hard to discern, as even the countryside had been set ablaze—when his good luck turned south. A man stumbled through the edge of the circle, blinking and clearly in shock from the runes and the sudden appearance of fleeing prisoners. His shock didn’t last long. A moment later, his eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath.
Tenn nearly dropped to his knees, nearly lost hold of the stream of Earth that was keeping them all hidden and alive. It felt like a punch to the gut, a sudden unexpected exhalation. He gasped. Of course they would be discovered by a breathless one.
He made to lash out, but Rhiannon was faster.
For a brief, blinding moment, Fire flashed in her chest. The Howl went up in flames, blazed bright as the sun. Then the light vanished. The man was gone in a puff of ash.
She caught Tenn’s admiring gaze and raised an eyebrow. He said nothing. Of all the Spheres he’d expected her to be attuned to, Fire was probably the last. He didn’t waste any more time. He ran. The clan followed at his heels.
They dodged the fires that spun out of control, or perhaps the fires dodged them. In any case, they ran up the hill, the shouts and screams of the encampment fading behind them. Tenn kept the twins’ tracking runes firmly in mind, let them guide him forward like a beacon. He kept waiting for Matthias to jump from the shadows and attack him, for a group of kravens to lunge and rip out their throats. But there was no one. Devon kept them all occupied.
When they broke through the line of runes and found the twins, he nearly sighed with relief. He dropped the connection to Earth and their camouflage winked out. The moment he stopped running, the clan crowded around, hugging him and the twins, showering them with kisses and gratitude. Rhiannon gripped him tight while her daughter hugged his leg. Not one of them asked about Tori or blamed him for what had become of them, but the guilt still punched his chest like a wound.
“Thank you,” Rhiannon said as she stepped back. Her gaze took in all three of them.
For the first time, the twins didn’t look subdued, didn’t look like they were waiting for the ax to fall. Dreya’s back was straight, and even Devon seemed to soften under the hugs of the children that flocked around him. Tenn wondered if they felt they’d finally atoned for their sins.
But there was no time for congratulations; he looked to the twins and nodded.
“Be careful,” Dreya whispered.
Rhiannon’s gaze darkened. She looked to Tenn.
“What—”
“This isn’t over. Not yet,” Tenn said. He opened to Earth as Dreya brought the whirling stones in a closer orbit, circling only a foot from his body. Runes flashed, ensconcing him in misdirection. He didn’t offer any explanation, didn’t turn and wish Rhiannon well or apologize again for costing them so much.
He just ran, hunting down the man who had cost him everything, the man who would hunt him no more.
32
He thought Matthias would be difficult to find. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Seeking out the necromancer was as simple as finding a beacon in the night. He stood at the edge of the encampment, staring out at the blazing fields, his eyes alight with anger. All three of his Spheres were churning within him, their combined light nearly as bright as the inferno. Tenn knew he was seeking him out. Tenn knew Matthias was on to their games. And he knew without doubt that Matthias would never find them. Not now. Not anymore.
He slowed the moment he neared the man. Tenn’s pulse was calm, his breathing slow. Earth was a steady hum in his pelvis, Water impatiently waiting to be unleashed. Just the sight of Matthias was enough to make the Sphere growl with hatred. Water churned, bubbling with memories of Jarrett’s eyes, flashing traces of his touch. Over and over, with every blink, Tenn watched Jarrett leap to his death. All at the hands of the man in front of him, the man in his pinstripe suit and black cane.
Tenn clenched his jaw. Studied his foe. He was so close he could see the fields reflected in Matthias’s eyes, could watch every single bead of sweat drip down the man’s forehead. Matthias was straining. And yes, there was a hint in his eyes of more than concentration. Matthias looked unnerved. Surprised. And that sensation clearly frightened him.
Tenn opened to Water.
The Sphere sang with bloodlust. There were a thousand ways to die, and Water wanted to inflict every single one—impale him on a tree and let him bleed, drain his magic and make him a Howl, slit his wrists and spike him to the ground… It showed Tenn other things, too—things besides Jarrett leaping into the night. It showed him his house, empty, blood smeared on the walls; it showed him his parents, a bloody mound in the back shed; it showed him endless days of nothingness, of waiting to die.
It showed him every single thing that was wrong with his life.
And all he had to do to rectify it was kill Matthias.
He stepped forward, let Matthias get caught within the stones’ orbit. Matthias’s eyes widened at the sight of Tenn.
Matthias opened his mouth.
This is for Jarrett.
Tenn struck.
Earth was a lance in his hands, and with it, he snapped the cords of Matthias’s ankles, brought the man to his knees. Matthias gasped, his Spheres flickering, but he was a man used to battle.
Fire blossomed at his fingertips. Tenn was faster.
He pulled through Water, dragged every droplet of moisture into a shield of ice just inches in front of his skin. Power screamed within him. He tasted blood, but whether his own or his imagination, he couldn’t tell. Fire billowed across the shield, white-hot and angry, but Tenn’s power was stronger. Your pain is your greatest strength, Tomás had said. And Tenn had more than enough of that to spare.
Matthias’s fire died out, and Water took its opportunity. The shield shattered, crystallized into a million tiny pieces that Tenn sent slashing across Matthias’s skin.
This is for me.
The man had the decency to scream.
Water had taken control now, a torrent of rage and memory that wanted to destroy as much as it wanted to prolong the blissful agony. It felt the pulse in Matthias’s veins, the beat of his heart, the blood trickling from his wounds. It delighted in the beauty of red, in the symmetry of every slash, each cut a testament to Tori, to Jarrett, to everyone this man had killed. A twitch, and Tenn froze the blood in Matthias’s legs. The man brought his hands up, wisps of flame swirling in his palms, but Tenn froze those fingers, too. Matthias’s skin turned blue, his hands dropping heavily to his sides. He fell backward on the ashen grass, staring up at Tenn with narrowed eyes and a shocked expression on his face.
Tenn stepped over him and raised his staff. The tip twisted and stretched, ending in a point as fine as a needle.
He brought it down, speared the necromancer’s stomach to the ground.
Matthias arched his back, blood spraying from his lips. Tenn could feel Matthias’s life flickering, fading, but he kept the bastard alive, kept blood flowing and pumping through his veins. He wasn’t done just yet. Not by a long shot.
When Matthias sank back to the ground, he looked Tenn straight in the eyes and laughed.
The sound made Tenn’s skin turn cold.
Blood trickled down Matthias’s face in rivulets, each heartbeat another spurt, each laugh another spray of crimson. Tenn twisted the staff. Matthias gasped, but he kept laughing.
“How does it feel?” Matthias asked. His voice came out in a rasp, but it was still strong, still had the power to chill Tenn to the bone.
“What?” Tenn asked through gritted teeth.
“Revenge,” he said. “Is it everything you hoped for? Do you…do you feel avenged?”
“I just want you dead,” Tenn said. Another twist of his staff. Matthias didn’t avert his eyes.
“And what good will that do?” Matthias asked. “I am one man. As are you. Who can you hope to save? I’ve already killed your parents. Everyone you love, I’ve broken.”
The statement was a punch to his gut. Water nearly re
surfaced, nearly brought back the day he’d wandered the halls of his house, the day he found his parents dead and mangled in the shed. The emptiness of their bedroom, the cleanliness, and that one smear of blood on the picture frame. If you’d gotten there faster, if you’d have tried harder… He shoved it away. He forced it into the whirlpool that was his pain. It was one more reason that Matthias needed to pay.
“I can at least keep you from killing again,” Tenn said.
Matthias chuckled again, the noise only broken by a wheeze.
“Killing me will do nothing. It won’t bring back your parents. It won’t save you from falling into Leanna’s clutches. My goddess is the Dark Lady. For me, death is a reward.” Matthias’s smile was a red slash across his face, one that dripped to the ground.
No, no, he has to see that he’s losing.
“I’ve already won,” Matthias continued. “Leanna was right. Take the man you love, and you would fall into our hands.”
“I’m not playing anymore. I have the Witches, and once I have the proper runes, I’ll destroy all of you. Every. Single. One. Starting with you.”
“No,” Matthias said. He lifted his head off the ground and smiled. “You won’t. Because you have overlooked one key thing.”
Tenn didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to fall prey to this, not anymore.
Matthias laughed.
“You’ll seek out Leanna. You’re still the mouse in our little game.”
Tenn twisted the staff again. Water screamed, wanted the man to choke on his own blood.
Fire opened in Matthias’s chest. Snakes of flame raced across Matthias’s skin, twisted through his clothes. Tenn yanked out his staff as the fire swept higher, as Matthias burned himself alive.
Tenn wanted to scream, to cry out, but all he could do was watch Matthias immolate.
“She has him,” Matthias yelled through the blaze. “Jarrett’s still alive.”
PART
THREE
BLOOD SINGS
“We have no way of fathomingthe evil
these creatures possess, the malice
in their hearts. Our only hope
is the dying chance
that they retain a semblance of humanity.”
- President’s Final Address
Post-Resurrection, Week Two
33
Tenn screamed. Water roared.
Matthias’s body was a funeral pyre blazing in the night, and Tenn was blazing, too. Water raged in his chest, churned with such ferocity he had no doubt the power would tear him apart. Matthias was burning, burning, and Tenn howled.
There was no thought. There was no moment of questioning.
Water raged.
Water wanted everything to hurt as much as him.
He plunged his senses into the earth, reached deep to the aquifers running silently below. He dragged the water up, pushed it through rock and soil. The earth rumbled and split, a beast coming to life, and then it broke. Water burst from the cracks, lashed high into the night sky, flickering red and orange against the firelight. He held his arms out to the sides, power spiraling around him in blue waves. He felt his feet leave the ground, but the sensation was distant, his body barely an impression in the wake of the power flooding through him. Fire hissed and steamed as he forced more water up, up, up into the night sky, twisting it like serpents. The tendrils hovered there, stared down into the midst of the army horde. The screams of the army cut short as even the kravens stared up in awe.
Then he brought the water down, brought it crashing against the Howl camp, the flood devouring the beasts within. He had no mercy. He gave no quarter. He felt bones shatter, felt lungs fill as water crashed down like fists, pummeling into the earth, churning snow and blood and earth to mud. The torrent swirled in front of him, a wall of waves twenty feet high surrounding the entire camp. The sky went dark as flames hissed out. He could feel the bodies. He could feel them float and kick and scream as they fought to find air in the swirl of madness.
Then he twisted the power.
Water froze.
He dropped to his knees and stared up at the cathedral of ice. Hundreds of Howls and necromancers were encased within their glass prison, screams frozen on silent faces. But he could hear them, all of them. He heard the tremor of their hearts and the howls of their stilled lungs. Each second the cacophony rose, until everything was pain and heartbeat, agonized ice. Until, as one, the voices cut out and the monsters perished.
The power faded, dropped him to the ground. He fell on hands and knees, felt Matthias’s warm ashes beneath his fingertips.
Everything fell to darkness.
“Well done, my prince.”
Tomás’s voice echoed through the darkness. Tenn felt a cool, soft bed beneath him, felt Tomás’s hand on his back. But he couldn’t open his eyes. Everything in him hurt like hell, as though he’d acquired every injury from everyone on the battlefield. Everything hurt except Tomás’s touch.
“Your part of the bargain is nearly complete.”
Tenn moved his head, winced. Pain filled him, and then he felt Tomás’s lips on his neck, the chilled burn of his touch.
“Deliver me Leanna, and I will make you king.” Tomás bit his neck, and the darkness exploded in burning stars.
34
Waking was like surfacing from the abyss, pulling himself up from a void that wanted nothing more than to suck him back down and devour him whole. He almost let it. But Jarrett’s face kept him struggling toward the surface. The thin light streaming through cracks in the window shades was enough to set his temples on fire, though the cool cloth on his forehead kept the pain from raging. Mostly. Everything smelled of musk and earth, of woodland herbs and cool streams. Comforting smells, but not enough to take the edge off the ache in his bones that stung like nettles. He’d pulled far too much from the Spheres; this was their way of paying him back. He knew in the dark corners of his mind that he should be dead—that much magic would kill another man. Even the twins. But the inner voice was stifled by the ache. He shifted, felt a hand press him back down. It didn’t take much. He could barely move.
“Hush,” whispered a voice, though Tenn didn’t think he’d said anything. “You have much mending to do.”
It was Rhiannon. He forced his eyes open again, tried to make them adjust to the light. She stood above him, her hair loose around her shoulders and the trailer ceiling towering above her. Her silver starand-moon necklace glinted in the light like a small beacon. For the briefest moment, he felt like he was eight again, stuck in bed with the flu while his mother tended his every need. The ache from that thought was nearly worse than the pain in his bones.
“Where…” he managed to get out, but even that was too much. Nausea flooded up through his throat. He gagged.
“Shh,” she said again. She put her other hand on the cloth over his forehead. She opened to Earth, and Tenn felt the cool trickle of that healing energy filter through him, washing down his limbs and easing the pain. “You are safe. We’re back at the camp.” She smiled. “You saved us, Tenn.”
Tears welled up in Tenn’s eyes because, as the pain went away, a new pain surfaced. A new memory. A new need.
He hadn’t saved everyone. Jarrett was still out there, somewhere.
And he was waiting for Tenn to bring him back.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force the tears away. It didn’t work.
“Sleep,” she said. Tenn felt the energy shift, a tingle that swept through him like mist. “Sleep and get well. You have earned it.”
Before he could resist, sleep swept over him in a calm wave, an ocean as blue as Jarrett’s waiting eyes.
Tenn’s sleep was deep and dreamless. When he finally woke, his pain was less, the ache of his body reduced to a dull throb. He rolled over and tried to blink open his eyes. Moonlight streamed through the trailer, turned everything the shade of dust and memory. Dreya sat in a chair across from him, her chin drooping toward her chest. She was asleep,
her eyes closed and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Innocent. Tenn shifted, making the mattress creak. Dreya’s eyes shot open.
“You are awake,” was all she said.
He tried to sit up. The process was slow, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. Whatever Rhiannon had done to heal him had worked. Dreya didn’t speak again until Tenn was upright, the sheets gathered around his waist. It was then that he realized he’d been changed into a white linen shirt and trousers.
“You’ve been asleep for two days,” she said. “We thought…we thought you might not make it. You’d drawn too much.”
“He’s alive,” Tenn said, his voice barely a whisper. Even voicing the words sent a fresh wave of memory through him, a surge of Water that hurt with regret. With hope.
“If not for Rhiannon’s healing, you would be dead.” She paused. “Who’s alive? The necromancer?”
“No,” Tenn said. He forced aside the image of Matthias burning himself alive. “No, Matthias is dead. But…he told me before he died. He said that Jarrett’s alive. Leanna has him.”
“Lying,” Dreya said. Her blue eyes seemed to flash in the candlelight. “He was lying to you. You heard Erin—they found a body.”
Even as she said it, he knew it was probably true. Matthias just wanted him to fall into Leanna’s clutches. He would do anything to deliver Tenn to his mistress. But the nagging doubt was too much to overlook.
“What if the body was just a ruse?” he asked. “I don’t think Matthias was lying.”
“He was.”
“How do you know? What would you do? If they had Devon?”