Martyr (34 page)

That was the image that played over everything, the need that tugged at his feet and rinsed his veins with acid. It was the reason he didn't give in to the exhaustion that plagued him, the bone-deep tiredness that wanted to drag him down into the soil and make him rest for eternity. He yawned in spite of himself and funneled a bit of Earth into his temples, trying to knead out the ache that was settling behind his eyes. It didn't work. But he wouldn't rest until Jarrett was safe in his arms and Leanna was dead for her actions.

When Rhiannon and the twins finally returned, he forced himself to standing and tried to keep from grimacing. He'd used so, so much magic in the last few days. He felt as hollow as the creatures he was trained to kill. He hoped they didn't notice the way he was leaning on his staff. Now wasn't the time to inspire doubt. Not with what they were up against.

“Are you sure you must leave tonight?” Rhiannon asked. Her eyes practically glinted with concern. Tenn wanted to give in.

Soon. This would all be over soon.

One way or another.

He nodded grimly and grabbed one of the sweaters the twins handed him, putting it on beneath his coat. There was no telling how cold Colorado would be.

“And you're sure you can find her?” Rhiannon continued.

Again, a grim nod.

“I don't need to know the exact location,” he said. Like everything else concerning the runes, he didn't know
how
he knew it. He just did. “If I know who I'm looking for, I can set us in a couple mile radius. Besides, I've seen her compound on the map. It's hard to miss.”

He wanted to say he could use the rune to find Jarrett, rather than Leanna, but there was still the nagging doubt in the back of his mind that threatened to crush his hope. Jarrett could be dead in a field somewhere. He couldn't trust Matthias fully. If Jarrett was still alive, he'd do everything to get him back. But he'd make sure to take Leanna down no matter what.

Rhiannon nodded, looking entirely like she wanted to continue pressing the subject, but she didn't. Instead, she took the necklace from around her neck and stepped up to him, clasping it around his. She pressed the silver amulet—the seven-pointed star resting in the curve of the moon—to his heart, looking him the eyes.

“This is the symbol of our faith. Wear it and know that wherever you are, we stand with you. The clans will forever be at your side.”

He was speechless. After a moment, he whispered, “Thank you.”

When she released it, he slid the pendant under the folds of his shirts. It felt warm and electric against his skin.

“Go with honor,” she said. She kissed him on the forehead, then stepped back and hugged the twins, whispering into their ears before drawing away. He didn't know what it was she said, but it must have struck a chord with them. Their eyes glistened. When Dreya spoke, her voice was choked.

“How does this work?” she asked.

Tenn bit his lip, then knelt and grabbed a handful of the cooler ashes at the edge of the bonfire. When he stood, there was a resolution in his heart. It was time to face the Devil.

“When I tell you,” he said, “I need you to channel Air into the rune. Each of you. It will only carry someone using the magic that fuels it. That's it.”

They nodded.

He turned to Rhiannon.

“Thank you again…for everything.”

The woman smiled and bowed her head. “No, Hunter. Thank you. Thank you for being the light that will change the world.”

With that, he let the ash fall through his fingers and opened to Earth.

Magic swirled through him, blossomed from his fingertips and twined around the ash. It shaped into the rune, strands billowing and fluttering like a T, a butterfly, a fold in the fabric of the world.

“Now,” he said. The twins opened to Air.

The rune exploded in light and ash. It swirled around the three of them, wrapped them in a cocoon of fire and wind and brilliance. He felt the world shift around them. The caravans vanished to light and the sound of hoof beats.

When the dust cleared, they were no longer in the Midwest.

Mountains rose on all sides, the peaks silhouetted in dark blue and starlight. The moon was hidden, but the stars were bright enough to see by, glittering off the snow that blanketed every rise and sweep. Light bloomed in the valley below them. Violent. Orange. Electric.

Leanna's compound glowed and smoked in the night. The sight of it made Tenn's head whirl. It looked so…out of place. The streetlamps, the swept streets, the houses with their plumes of smoke. Exactly like before the Resurrection, save for the wall that surrounded the city and the warren of ramshackle houses splayed about just within the perimeter. Factories spewed gaseous clouds into the air.

“It worked,” Dreya said. Her voice was breathless, thin in the mountain air. Tenn glanced at her. She stared with wide eyes at the city below them. It looked like the way life once was, a city of life and energy and sound. And to think, every human in there served the Dark Lady, willingly or not.

“Yeah,” Tenn whispered. “It worked.” He had no other words. He still felt the magic swirling within him, the rune an after-trace in his vision.

“What…what do we do now?” It wasn't Dreya who asked, but Devon. He stared down at the compound with narrowed eyes. His voice was tight, and even though he wasn't using Fire, Tenn could practically feel the impatience in him, the need to avenge. Tenn felt it, too.

Jarrett was down there.

Maybe.

“It could be a trap,” Tenn said. “Matthias might have been lying, just trying to get me to come here. I don't want you two to be in danger if that's the case.”

“But we are already here—” Dreya began.

Tenn shook his head and cut her off. “And I'm grateful for it. Leanna wants me. That's always been apparent. Chances are that means that, even if I'm caught, I'll make it to her alive. She'd kill you both in a heartbeat.”

The twins shared a long, silent look. Fire flickered in Devon's eyes, just the slightest flare, and Tenn fully expected him to speak out.

“Do you propose we just sit and watch you then?” Dreya asked when she looked back to him.

“Of course not,” Tenn said. “There are hundreds of innocents down there. Once I get Jarrett, you're in charge of getting us out. I'll need a distraction.”

“Just like with the Witches,” Devon said. There was a level of hurt in his eyes. Tenn didn't blame him.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I can't risk you two getting hurt. You're more valuable alive and out here. Besides, I don't know anyone else whose magic can reach as far as you.”

He caught Dreya rolling her eyes, but she didn't fend off his lame attempt at pacifying them. There was logic in his words, even if their desire for revenge was stronger.

“What happens then?” Dreya asked. “When the prisoners are freed? No one has successfully overthrown a compound before. Ever. What chance do we three have?”

“No one has had the runes,” Tenn said. He hoped it was the truth, that the advantage was enough.

“How will we know you have succeeded?” Dreya asked.

Tenn shrugged. He couldn't give any signals—they were too far away for Earth to reach.

“Give me until dawn,” he said. “Then start the attack. I'll have Jarrett by then. I know it.”

“And if you haven't found him?”

“I will,” Tenn said. He looked to the compound.
If I don't find him, there's no point in coming back. Just save who you can
. But he couldn't tell them that. He knew if he said anything like it, they would never let him go in there on his own. He knew he couldn't tell them to press on on their own. 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 burning runes into the ground with Earth. 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 more ends than just that.

“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. 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. “When you were unconscious…we spoke with Rhiannon. She told us everything. About you. About what the spirits say.”

“You don't believe that shit,” Tenn said, then stopped.

“Of course we do,” Devon responded. His voice was tight, but it didn't sound angry. He sounded hurt. “It is the faith that raised us. And it is the faith that gave you the power you now wield.” He stepped over to Tenn until he was barely a foot away. Devon seemed to radiate heat, even without being open to Fire. “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 everyone in there. Why else were we sent on this mission if not to wipe out the Howls? Well, here's our chance. Our first chance. Leanna won't be the last.”

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

“Dawn, then,” she finally said. “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.”

With that, he scratched the last of the runes into the ground and watched his friends wink out of sight.

37

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 prayed to whatever gods were listening that it worked.

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 first drawings 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. They tingled. He almost felt them glow.

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 took a deep, steadying breath. He could still see his hands and his clothes and his weapon. He just prayed no one else could.

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 trump card, they never would have let him leave.

Finally, he felt well enough to continue on. He did his best to run down the hill, shoving through snow drifts 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—Jarrett in chains, Jarrett and him in a house with a fireplace, sitting on the sofa and reading under blankets—a life he'd thought he lost. The bitterness filled him with need.