Runebinder

by Alex R. Kahler

  “Give me until dawn,” he said. “I should be able to get in and back before then. If I need your help, I’ll start an earthquake or something. If you don’t hear from me, or if my tracking rune stops moving... Well, dawn at the latest.”

  “And if you haven’t found him? If you are killed?”

  “Then there are still hundreds of innocent lives down there for you to save. I’ll create a protection circle around you, just like last time. You’ll be safe to do your magic.”

  She gave him a look that said she wanted to argue. But there wasn’t time.

  He gritted his teeth, then got to work.

  He walked a circle around the twins, melting the snow with a thin stream of Water and scratching the runes into the earth with his staff. Just like with the Witches. It had worked with them; it would work again here. He tried to ignore the fact that, barely a mile away, there was a town filled with necromancers and Howls and worse, all bent on finding him and killing anyone associated with him. This was the nexus from which all of his pain stemmed.

  On the one hand, it meant the end of this fight.

  On the other hand...it could mean a lot of other ends, as well.

  “Why are you doing this?” Dreya’s voice was quiet. It barely carried on the otherwise-silent night air, the town too far away to be heard.

  “I’m setting up defenses—” Tenn began, but she cut him off.

  “Not the runes,” she said. “This.” She gestured to the town, to the surrounding countryside. “This is suicide. Madness. Do you truly think Jarrett would want you to run headfirst into Leanna’s hands? Alone?”

  I’m not alone, he thought.

  What he actually said was more biting.

  “Are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same?” he asked again. He pointed to Devon. “If he was in there? Would you?”

  She dropped her gaze.

  “Precisely,” he said. He went back to scribing the runes into the earth.

  “But you could die.” The way she said it made her sound so small. “What about us?”

  Tenn stopped, felt his whole world come to a grinding halt. “What do you mean?”

  She looked back up to him. “I mean, what happens to us if you die in there?” She sighed, as though the words she was about to say were painful. “We can’t do this without you.”

  “Of course you can,” he said. He shrugged and looked back to his work.

  “No.” It was Devon, not Dreya, who continued the argument. He had pulled his scarf down, so his voice rang out in the night, low and deep like a mourning bell. “Rhiannon told us the spirits had chosen you. You are the one they will work through. You are the one who will change the world. If you die, that change dies, too. You are no longer responsible for just your own life. You never were.”

  Tenn wanted to punch him. He wanted to shut Devon up for saying all the things he’d been trying to ignore since the very beginning. The idea that he was different. Important. The sheer, crippling weight that he had the world riding on his shoulders. He knew without a doubt that, if he’d been a Fire mage, he would have exploded. Instead, Water filled him with doubt. What if you fail?

  Tenn looked toward the compound and tried not to sink to his knees.

  “Do you have a better idea?” he asked.

  Silence.

  “I’m doing this,” Tenn continued. “With or without your help. I’m saving Jarrett. And then I’ll save anyone else in there. Why else were we sent on this mission if not to wipe out the Howls? Well, here’s our chance to start. Leanna runs the Howls in America. We take her down, we’re one step closer to freedom.”

  Dreya sighed. She looked at Devon, who looked both angry and bewildered.

  “Dawn, then,” she finally said. “If we do not hear from you, we will attack at dawn.” She fingered her wrist, the spot where he had marked her with the tracking rune. “We will watch out for you. But come back to us before then.”

  Tenn nodded. “I will.”

  He scratched the last of the runes into the ground and watched his only friends wink out of sight.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TENN TOOK A few steps from the circle, the snow immediately enveloping his shins, nearly reaching his knees the farther down he stumbled. A few steps away, he used the one surprise he had left up his sleeve.

  He opened to Earth, and just like he had with the tracking runes, he traced the runes of hiding into his skin.

  The whispers that had accompanied the runes were louder this time, billowing through his senses like a whirlwind of smoke. He nearly toppled with vertigo. He propped himself up with his staff, watching the snow spin at his feet. Skin burned. But he kept going, kept tracing the runes over every inch of flesh even though it felt like dragging a knife across his skin. The completed marks tingled. Glowed.

  After all, flesh was Earth. It should be enough to power the runes.

  He hoped.

  When the last rune was finished, he stood and waited for the sensory overload to pass. It seemed to take ages. Even the stars above danced. He could still see his shaking hands and his clothes and his weapon. He just prayed no one else could. He prayed even that small amount of Earth hadn’t weakened him too much.

  I should have asked the twins. But he knew that was a terrible idea. If it hadn’t worked, if they had known that this was his supposed ace, they never would have let him leave.

  Finally, he felt well enough to continue on, even though his stomach rumbled with Earth’s hunger. He did his best to run down the hill, shoving through snowdrifts and trying not to tumble. Every few yards he swept the snow behind him with Water. If he failed, he didn’t want anyone tracing him back to the twins. Besides, with Water filling him, he could ignore the biting cold. It meant he had to force down the images playing on repeat in his head, but that had become habitual, images of his friends dying and burning, Jarrett’s final kiss before leaping to his death, and worse—illusions of the life he thought he could have, him and Jarrett in a house together, cooking or laughing and completely numb to the horrors of the last few years. The ache of that loss filled him with need.

  The slope eventually flattened out into a valley crossed by a highway. Farther on and past an exit ramp, the colony glowed orange and unawares.

  The wall surrounding the city was easily three stories tall, made of earth and steel and concrete, a strange amalgamation of magic and rusting technology. Spikes jutted from the top, twisted iron spires preventing anyone from scaling the wall either within or without. Coal smoke filled his nostrils, combined with a nasty undercurrent of human refuse. The factories in which the remaining humans were forced to work were mysteries at best; no one had been inside and escaped. But Tenn had no doubt that the conditions were worse than the sweatshops from before the Resurrection. If someone passed out or died from poor work conditions, they just became the next meal for the bloodlings and kravens waiting outside. Nothing lost.

  He paused an arm’s length away from the wall, staring up at the structure. The rusted steel was the color of blood, and the scent of inhumanity was stronger the closer he got. He pressed his fingertips to a patch of wall that looked like it was hewn from soil and stone. His Spheres stirred.

  Earth and Water opened in his gut, and through them he felt it all.

  He felt the blood that had seeped its way to the bedrock of the place, the tears that had salted the soil and made it barren.

  He felt the warren of crumbling houses and makeshift lean-tos that spread along the length of the wall. He felt the humans struggling to keep warm within.

  Worse, he felt the kravens that patrolled the empty streets or prowled within cages of steel and razor wire. He felt a few kravens feeding.

  And in the other houses, the ones closer to the center of the city, he felt other human figures, sleeping in warm beds wi
th embers glowing in the fireplace. The necromancers and higher-level Howls.

  Deeper, and he felt what must surely have been Leanna’s house. It was a mansion, raised on a pedestal of magically churned earth, and it overlooked everything. He could barely sense the figures resting or patrolling the expansive corridors of that place. A part of him had hoped that he would know the form that must be Jarrett, that he would somehow lock on to the man’s spark and know precisely where to go. But he just felt shapes, the blur of bodies. Jarrett could have been any of them.

  Or none.

  He half expected for a sentinel to call out, for lights to flash and his location to be discovered as he stood at the wall. Apparently, the runes were working; the guards patrolling the wall said nothing. Maybe it was the runes, or maybe he was just too tired to care, but he was remarkably calm for being this close to Leanna. Locked in the far corner of his mind was the knowledge that the only thing separating him from one of the most powerful Howls in existence, as well as the hub of the Dark Lady’s forces in North America, was a few feet of earth and steel. He should have been quaking.

  Instead, he felt at peace. He had been through and seen so much. This time, he wasn’t just fighting for survival or to find some unknown weapon. He was fighting for Jarrett. He was fighting for home. There was no room for fear. His duty was more important.

  A large door was set into the wall a few feet to his left, twenty feet tall and made of thick, riveted steel the color of old blood. Maybe it was old blood. How the hell was he going to get in there? Not for the first time, he wished he was attuned to Air, if only so he could fly. It would have made this so much easier.

  He looked behind him, to the blank snow that swept against cars and coated everything a perfect, unbroken white. The fact that he was well-concealed was actually a hindrance. Well, that was easily changed.

  He opened to Earth.

  It began as a tremor, then a crack that struck through the air like a gunshot, like ice breaking in the Arctic. With one great tug, he pulled at the steel rods and concrete of the road. It reared from the ground like a serpent, the cracks and metallic screeches of its movements making Tenn’s teeth clench. The concrete viper twisted. He pulled it higher, made it arc overhead, its mass raining mists of snow and gravel hail. Its silhouette blotted out the stars above him. He moved it like a marionette, his fingers twisting as he worked his magic. And then, with a roar that sounded like the heavens falling, he crashed the great weight into the wall.

  The structure gave immediately.

  Large chunks of earth and steel collapsed as he let his hold on Earth vanish. The road collapsed on the wall, sent the whole chunk crumbling in a plume of ash and snow. Earth rumbled hungrily in his stomach and his body shook hard enough to bring him to his knees. When he forced himself to standing, his skin cracked and his scalp tingled; he didn’t rub his hair, for fear what would fall out. It had been too much magic, but it was too late for that worry now.

  In a few hours, the twins would begin their attack, and he wanted this place to be in as much of a disheveled panic as possible before then. If that hadn’t gotten the town’s attention, nothing would. It would also make for an easy escape for the civilians.

  Sure enough, only moments passed before he heard the first inhuman cries. Monsters swarmed over the felled wall, swelling into the otherwise-quiet night like a plague. Tenn pressed himself closer to the wall, didn’t dare to breathe. Thousands of kravens flooded into the landscape. They ran toward the remaining highway, spread out toward the mountains. Tenn prayed the twins had stayed inside the circle. A huddle of kravens ran past him, so close he could have reached out and touched the decaying gray flesh. Their jaws drooled saliva and congealed blood, their teeth broken, their bloodshot eyes and sagging nostrils seeking out whoever had done this. Here he was, inches away from the monsters that had once made his hair stand on end. And they didn’t even see him. He shot a pulse of Earth at the ground beneath a creature’s feet, made it stagger. It fell, and he watched as the other kravens piled on top of it. The sound of ripping flesh filled the air, along with a putrid scent he didn’t want to place.

  Damn cannibals.

  When the tide of kravens began to lessen, he edged along the opening and slipped into the town.

  Guards huddled in a tight circle near the entrance, a few pointing at the wall and yelling. Tenn stayed far away, but he didn’t need to be close to hear the anger in their voices. What do you mean you couldn’t sense any magic? he could imagine them screaming.

  Don’t worry, he thought as he began racing through the streets. Leanna will be dead before you can be held responsible.

  The place must have been a skiing village before Leanna turned it into her own personal prison and sweatshop. The buildings that lined the street had high A-framed roofs and Swiss latticework hanging from the eaves. Dead strings of lights still twined over the roofs and empty windows. In spite of the smoke rising over the city, no fires burned within these dwellings. Tenn could sense the people crowded inside, twenty or more to a house, all huddled together to stay warm. A few faces peeked timidly through the windows, drawn by the commotion outside, but not one of those gaunt figures stepped out. Tenn couldn’t blame them. Kravens and necromancers roved the streets. He had no doubt that the citizens were only safe within their hovels, and even that wasn’t guaranteed.

  He ran straight up the main street.

  The pedestal of earth towered above the center of the town, the château atop it glowing white with electricity. The closer he got, the nicer the houses looked. Smoke came from a few of these chimneys, smoke that didn’t smell like coal or burning flesh. Wood smoke. If he closed his eyes and ignored the monsters running past him, he could have pretended he was camping in the woods, snow piling around his ankles... His eyes snapped open. The snow. He looked behind him, his heart hammering stupid stupid stupid, but the snow here was churned to hell and stained with dirt and...other things. Although his feet were making imprints, they were impossible to see in the churned-up muck. He sighed in relief. He might be invisible, but even a dumb kraven would notice footprints without a foot.

  In minutes, he stood at the base of the earthen pedestal. It rose a good ten stories into the air, the sides sheer and glinting like granite. He considered what it would be like having to scale the thing—not impossible, not with the strength of Earth, but not something he wanted to try—when he heard the clomp of boots to his right. He followed the noise and found a ramp cut into the side of the mound. Guards ran down in tight formation. They wore armor and, of all things, carried assault rifles. The sight made him hesitate. Not out of fear—it was more the shock of seeing someone actually using a gun. Unless the guards had imbued each bullet with their own magic or blood, any mage could turn the projectiles against them.

  When the guards passed by, heading the direction he had come, he made his way up the spiral ramp, keeping close to the wall lest another guard run past. He didn’t meet any. Wind howled past him, eddying with scents of char and industry, bringing and hiding the cries of the Howls that scoured the city for whoever had dared breach their defenses. He smiled grimly. Oh, how pissed they would be when they learned he’d snuck in.

  He reached the top of the rise and took a moment to stare in wonder at the house. It was grand—three stories tall with all-white siding and Roman columns, the great picture windows glowing with soft electric lights. The lawn was covered in snow, miniature topiaries dusted and glowing with inner lights. The sight made Tenn’s stomach roil. Just a hundred feet away, the rest of the town was dark and freezing. And here was Leanna, warm and comfortable, using more electricity in an hour than most of the States had seen in a year. He pushed through with Earth and felt for the figures inside, ignoring the ache the Sphere spread through his bones. Figures crowded the labyrinthine corridors, but he still had no clue who was who. He walked up to the front door. It was wood, with diamond glas
s windows that glinted invitingly. All this place needed was a tree glimmering in the foyer and it would look like a fucking Christmas card.

  But now what? Could he sneak inside like before? He fed his senses through the door. Locked. Easy to fix with a flick of Earth, but would they notice? There was a small group of people in the front hall. Guards, no doubt. He bit the inside of his lip and wondered if maybe there was another entrance, one less guarded.

  Then one of the guards opened the door.

  It was a woman. She wore a thick black dressing gown. Her hair was black and spiraled behind her in loose ringlets. She left one crimson-manicured hand on the doorknob and scanned the exterior. Light-blue eyes, nearly gray. Tenn stiffened the moment that gaze swept over him. She looked awfully unarmed to be a guard. A necromancer, then?

  “What is it?” someone inside called.

  The corner of the woman’s lips curled into a tight grin.

  “I do believe our guest has arrived,” she said. Her nostrils flared. His grip on his staff tightened.

  She stepped out onto the stoop and closed the door behind her. It latched, the sound like a gunshot in the night air. Then, before he could think to act, she took a deep breath.

  It hit him like a punch to the chest.

  He fell to the ground, staff skidding into a snowdrift. Stars flashed across his vision. Breath left his lungs. He tried to gasp, hands clenched to his burning chest. Then the stars spun, and he spiraled into darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  COLD WATER FORCED him awake.

  Tenn’s eyes snapped open, and he tried to turn away from the freezing current. He was facedown on the concrete, the world a harsh mix of fluorescent light and cold. He blinked, spluttered, rolled over to his side. His lungs burned and every breath was a ragged gasp. He tried to push himself up to standing, but that made his head swim.

  That’s when he saw his captors.