Runebinder

by Alex R. Kahler

  In the blink of an eye, the figure stood before them, barely a dozen feet away. The movement reminded Tenn of Tomás, and the thought made his stomach churn. But this man was definitely not the incubus. This man was tall and sharp, wearing an immaculate black pinstripe suit. His gray hair was combed back, and his goatee was the color of ash. Every inch of him was sleek and strong, a sharp contradiction to the destruction around him.

  He reached out his free hand and tentatively stroked the surface of Dreya’s shield. It crackled under his touch, flurries of sparkling energy trailing to the ground with a hiss.

  “So charming,” he mused as he watched the sparks fall. “And so naive to think a magic so simple could protect him from me.”

  With the press of his finger, he brought the whole shield down in a cascade of sparks. Dreya gasped, hands going to her throat as Air winked out. The man smiled directly at Tenn. That look poured ice down Tenn’s veins, and he knew that none of them would leave here alive.

  “Who are you?” Jarrett asked. He took a step forward, his sword held at the ready. Air burned in his throat, but he didn’t make any move to attack. Tenn couldn’t help but notice the slight shake in his hand.

  “My name is Matthias,” the man answered. He gave a curt nod. “And I have come for the boy.” He pointed to Tenn. Tenn took a half step back.

  “You can’t have him,” Jarrett said. Despite everything, Tenn’s stomach flipped at the resolve in Jarrett’s voice.

  Matthias grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re much mistaken. My mistress desires him, and I shall bring him to her with or without your cooperation.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Leanna.” Matthias’s words dripped poison. The hole in Tenn’s stomach grew wider.

  “Never,” Jarrett said. He didn’t take his eyes off the man, but Tenn knew the body language well. Jarrett was preparing himself for one last stand.

  Tenn wouldn’t let him fight alone, not when it wasn’t even his fight. He tightened his grip on his staff. Dreya’s hand clamped down on his arm before he could move forward. She gave a slight shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Matthias.

  “Let’s let him decide that, shall we?” Matthias asked. He winked at Tenn. “After all, who better to decide the worth of his own life? Is it worth, say, one other?”

  He waved his hand, like he was batting away a fly. Fire flared brighter in his chest.

  Derrick didn’t even have time to scream.

  Fire burst from his chest and lips, curling around him and hollowing him out so that—in less than a heartbeat—he was nothing more than a shell of ash. His sword clattered to the ground, dropping from his paper fingers. The rest of him collapsed in a cascade of soot.

  Tenn cried out. Dreya’s hand tightened, kept him from running forward. Derrick had been an ass, but he had been alive. He’d been worth keeping alive.

  “You bastard!” Jarrett yelled. He launched forward; Matthias held up a hand, and Jarrett stopped in his tracks, seemingly held in place.

  “Now, now,” he said. “Let’s not be too hasty. After all, I highly doubt Tenn would like any more deaths to weigh on his soul.” He looked at Tenn, his smile deepening. “Personally, I would have thought Mommy and Daddy were enough.”

  The words were a punch to Tenn’s gut. He stumbled back and felt another set of hands holding him up. He barely had time to register the twins flanking him before Water stirred in his stomach, dragged at him with cold fingers. Mom, Dad, where are you? It took everything he had to force the bloody memory down.

  “You aren’t taking him,” Jarrett said. His voice was deadly low.

  “Your choice, Tenn,” Matthias said, as though he hadn’t heard Jarrett’s warning. He gestured to the rest of the troop. “You have seven more chances to come willingly.”

  There was no way in hell Tenn was going to let anyone die for him. He wasn’t worth it.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

  But before he could shake off the twins to join Matthias, Jarrett lunged into action.

  Tenn yelled, but Matthias just brushed Jarrett aside with a wave of his hand. Jarrett skittered to the ground at Tenn’s feet. The rest of the troop rallied immediately, running toward Matthias with weapons raised and magic blazing.

  Before Tenn could join the fight, before he could keep these idiots from dying for him—him, worthless, meaningless him—someone pulled him back toward the waves. Fog descended over the boulevard, broken only by muffled shouts and flares of fire. Then he was plunged beneath the waves, and everything went cold and black.

  * * *

  They raced beneath the waves of the lake. Magic wrapped around them, pushing them through the water at breakneck speed. Tenn’s lungs burned as they rocketed away from the shore, heading deeper and deeper into the depths of the lake, far out of Matthias’s sight. He couldn’t see anything through the darkness, couldn’t tell how deep they were diving. But he could feel the cold pressure of the water, the endless expanse of the lake, as his own magic-fueled senses stretched out. Dreya’s hands were still tight on his arm; he tried to fight her off. He had to get back to them. Had to save them. Had to keep them from killing themselves over him. But Dreya’s hands were a vise, the magic and water pressing him tight to her. Try as he might, he couldn’t break free. His lungs and limbs burned with the effort.

  When he couldn’t take any more, he took a frantic breath. Air filled his lungs. He didn’t even bother to be surprised.

  He gave up the struggle.

  Deep in the darkest pits of his heart, he knew it was already too late. His comrades were dead or Howls now. Matthias wouldn’t have delayed the slaughter. If anything, Tenn’s leaving probably hurried it.

  The only consolation was the tingle of magic nearby. The slight halo of energy that ringed the others who fled beside him. The hazy halo of blue emanating from Devon: Water and Air, just like Dreya. And just like Dreya, he carried another. He could sense the shape of the figure with Water’s power. Jarrett.

  It shouldn’t have made his heart warm, but it did.

  He expected the dark water to erupt into flame, expected Matthias to drop down into the depths and kill them. Matthias had to be close behind. He had to be following them, enraged, and Tenn could only imagine what would happen to them when they were caught. The ash of Derrick’s body still seemed to cling to Tenn’s lungs, making him want to gag. Derrick’s image stuttered like a broken movie reel, shadowed by the flares in the fog, the silhouettes of his comrades as they fought against Matthias. As they died for him.

  Because of him.

  Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes ebbed to hours. Tenn lost track of how long they fled, and the depths gave no hint of the time. There was nothing to distract him from the memories, from the smell of his comrades’ burning flesh. Nothing to distract him as Water regurgitated the battle scenes, meshed them with all the horrors of the past few years. Every once in a while, his attention would flick back to the water surging around them. Back to the hands holding him tight.

  Back to the awareness that Jarrett was nearby. Safe.

  Why did that make him feel better?

  Why did it keep reminding him of a past he’d tried so hard to forget?

  After what felt like days, the water around them lightened. The sun must have been rising; they were still so deep he couldn’t see more than a tinge to the black. A tinge that illuminated great shapes below them. The Sphere of Water filled in the rest. Massive blocks stretched through the darkness like shipwrecks, forms of concrete and steel. Some glinted slightly in the sun. Others were dark, pitted and cavernous.

  He jolted as they abruptly changed course. Dreya dragged him up, away from the structures below, and in seconds, they plunged into the air. Only a few moments of weightlessness, the shock of light after so much dark, and then they landed on top of a c
rumbling concrete slab. For a while, he just lay there, gasping, as the water pooled and cold air soaked to his bones. He couldn’t focus on what was happening. Couldn’t force his mind to kick-start and work again. All he could do was focus on the cold and his breath and the pain. Every muscle in Tenn’s body ached, but he didn’t open to Earth. He wanted to feel the hurt. After everything that had just been sacrificed for him, it was the least he could do.

  He closed his eyes, let his focus drift in and out. Shreds of conversation drifted through his clouded mind. Finally, he forced himself to sitting and looked around, wincing from the effort. The morning was cold and clear, the sun streaking across the horizon. Beautiful, if not for the nightmare still plaguing him. No land in sight. Just sparkling waves and broken plinths rising from the surf. Things clicked with a disgusting snap. He knew precisely where they were. This was all that was left of Chicago. And the water had once been Lake Michigan.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” he asked.

  The twins stood farther off, conferring with Jarrett. All of them were dry. Tenn very much was not.

  Jarrett looked over and the twins went silent.

  He knew the three of them could kill him in an instant, knew it was them who should be questioning him. But the pain in his heart was too much. Water raged. He let it. It was easier than thinking about what he’d done. Easier than thinking about the deaths. Or Tomás. “What the hell is going on?”

  Tenn stood as he spoke, realizing he’d lost his staff somewhere along the way, and tried not to sway too much when he did so. Everything was quiet and pastoral, save for the lulling wash of waves. He wanted to scream. Scream because it was too picturesque, too quiet, and his comrades were either dead or dying and here he was, alive and well, for absolutely no reason. He wanted to get back to them. He had to. He had to give himself up.

  Jarrett stepped forward and reached out.

  “Tenn, let me explain.”

  “No. No, don’t touch me. Tell me why you were sent.”

  “You know why we’re here,” Jarrett said slowly. As though Tenn had lost his mind in the battle. “We were sent to protect your troop.”

  “Bullshit!” Tenn yelled. Water pulsed in his gut, and waves crashed higher against the building. Shakily, he pushed the power away. He couldn’t trust himself with it. “If you were just sent to protect us, why didn’t you stay with them? Why did you...?” He could barely force down the tears. Why did you save me? Why didn’t you save everyone else? Why am I here, when the rest of them are dead?

  Jarrett looked back to the twins. Dreya shrugged. Devon studiously looked away. When he turned back to Tenn, Jarrett wore an expression Tenn couldn’t place.

  “You have to understand, Tenn. We’re just trying to protect you.”

  Tenn shook his head. “Why? Why me? Why didn’t you save everyone else? You could have saved everyone else.”

  “We could not,” Dreya said. She stepped forward. Devon moved at her side. A shadow. “We would not have had the strength to carry so many. To do so would have risked us all. We would have been followed.”

  “But why me?” I’m no one. I’m worth nothing.

  “Because we were sent to find you,” Jarrett said.

  Hearing him say it was a kick in the stomach.

  “Why?”

  Jarrett opened his mouth, but Dreya put a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

  “You are being targeted by the Kin,” she said.

  Tenn’s heart lurched to his throat. Did she know about Tomás?

  “Dreya, don’t—” Jarrett began, but she waved her hand and continued, anyway.

  “It is not a statement you wish to hear. Any sane man would feel the same. But it is the truth. The Kin desire you, and they will stop at nothing to take you. That is why we were sent.”

  He went silent. Having the Kin after him wasn’t a shock after all that had happened. The shock was that others knew about it. The shock was that these three had let the rest of his troop die for it. For him.

  “You should have let Matthias take me,” Tenn whispered. “I’m not worth their lives.”

  “Do you really think Matthias would have let us go?” Jarrett asked. Suddenly, there was a hand under Tenn’s chin; Jarrett tilted Tenn’s head up to meet his gaze. “Matthias is a necromancer, Tenn. He would have taken you and killed the rest of us, anyway. At least this way... At least now you’re safe.”

  Tenn wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Jarrett’s gaze held him, as surely as Jarrett’s touch sent flames racing through his chest.

  “Why? What makes me special? Why do they want me?”

  Jarrett grinned.

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out by keeping you alive. The Prophets told us to protect you. Personally, I’d guess it’s tied to your Spheres acting up. I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

  Tenn couldn’t take his eyes off Jarrett’s. They were so warm. So familiar. He was acutely aware of Jarrett’s fingers under his chin, of their closeness, of the warmth Jarrett gave. A warmth, and a confidence. He could have stayed there forever. Instead, he pushed the warmth away and stepped back, letting Water slosh through his veins in a cold curse.

  He hated himself. For being alive when the rest of his troop was dead. For being the reason his troop was dead. But mostly, he hated himself because, right then, he didn’t hate himself. There was something about being in Jarrett’s gravity that made him feel alive. That made the last few years of bloodshed and regret fade away.

  Something clanked beneath Jarrett’s coat as Tenn stepped away.

  “What’s that?” Tenn asked, pulled from his thoughts.

  “Something I picked up,” he said.

  Jarrett pulled the object from inside his pocket. Tenn gasped and stepped back. It was the jar the necromancer had held, the one with the flickering flame.

  “Why—”

  “I thought it might come in handy,” Jarrett said.

  The twins stepped forward, peering over Jarrett’s shoulder silently. But Tenn wasn’t watching them. He couldn’t take his eyes off the jar.

  At first, he thought it was badly scratched, but the more he stared at it, the more the markings that flickered in the sun and from the inner fire became, well, if not legible, at least uniform. Definitely symbols. Harsh and angular. They seemed to whisper in his head, like reading a foreign language he could almost place. The weight of a void, the dark center of a star, the raging heat of space, consuming, consuming...

  “What?” Jarrett asked.

  Tenn looked up. He didn’t realize he’d been moving his lips.

  “Can you read them?” Dreya asked.

  Tenn stepped back and looked away. “No. I just... No.”

  He caught the twins looking at Jarrett. He caught Jarrett’s furrowed brow. He caught the slightly stronger glow coming from within the jar. Or maybe it was just the sun.

  “It sounded like you were reading it,” Jarrett ventured.

  “No. I was just making it up.”

  Jarrett’s next words were slow. Confused. “Are you—”

  “We should be moving,” Dreya interrupted.

  Jarrett seemed to snap back to reality. He looked to Dreya, shoving the jar back inside his pocket.

  The moment it was hidden, the whispers in Tenn’s mind quieted. He hadn’t even realized they were still there.

  “Are you recharged?” Jarrett asked.

  “Not fully,” she said. “But we do not have time to waste. Especially if you are carrying that.”

  “Where are we going?” Tenn asked. Jarrett was still looking at him curiously, like he wanted to ask him a thousand questions. Questions, he knew, that had nothing to do with the symbol-covered jar.

  “Outer Chicago,” Jarrett replied. His words were stil
l guarded.

  Tenn looked to Dreya. He could feel the warmth of Jarrett’s gaze. It lingered in his chest, thawing the cold places. And sending a dozen more questions racing through his brain.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Dreya sighed. She kept looking to the horizon, to the way they’d come from. “Outer Chicago is safe. Mostly.”

  Did she mean that he would be safe there? Or that keeping him there would make it safe for others? Either way, Tenn knew he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t turn them down even if he wanted to. But the truth was, he didn’t want to fight them, and not just because of Jarrett. Tenn had planned to spend the rest of his short life wandering between outposts, fighting the undead until he died for a cause. But now, knowing that he was a danger to those around him...

  Or were they just bringing him back so they could experiment on him? He looked from Jarrett to Dreya to her silent brother, Devon. Tenn wanted to believe they were on his side. He couldn’t afford that luxury.

  The truth was, though, it didn’t matter what their motives were: he had one of his own. He didn’t have anyone left to fight for, but what he did have was an ax to grind. If what was happening to him—the strangeness of Water, the attraction of the Kin—could be used against the Howls, he would embrace it. If only so he could use it against those who had destroyed his life.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said. He opened to Water. Memories flooded to the surface—Derrick, curling into flame; his bedroom, dripping blood—but he was ready for them. He grappled them down with a well-practiced hand. “But I’m not letting you drag me there.”

  “He has spark,” Jarrett mused.

  “And you have no tact,” Dreya replied.

  She opened to Water. Devon opened at the same time. He felt the twins wrap their power around Jarrett, the barest flicker of blue in the sun.

  Jarrett just chuckled and leaped over the building, swan-diving into the lake. Dreya followed close behind.

  Devon, however, stood there for a moment, hands crossed at his chest and his eyebrows furrowed.

  “You still hear them, don’t you?” His voice was gruffer than Tenn expected.