Runemaker, page 17
Heat reflecting off white sand, sunlight touching everything, everything, a land of brilliance, a land of flame.
Save for the water washing around them. An island. He flinched back from the waves, focused instead on the sparkle in their curl. His sun. His light. His power. Light reflecting off waves. Off sand. Off leaves.
Off them.
Tenn, walking through the sand, light flickering off the wetness coating his skin. A different sort of light. A different sort of power.
Power.
Beside him walked a girl. So young. Yet the power around her blinded even him, made his eyes avert on their own.
Aidan was the sun. She burned like a galaxy.
He couldn’t hear their words. Could only see the brilliance, the light. But he knew them. He could find their light anywhere, beacons burning in even the deepest darkness.
He could find them.
Then she looked at him. The girl.
Their eyes met. Hers, a violent violet.
Purple flooded him.
This need not be your way, she said, her voice reverberating through him.
The vision broke and he was back. Back in the dusty library, one hand still in the cinders of the fireplace, the other pressed to a dark burn stain in the carpet. Sigils smoked around him, their power spent.
But it had been enough.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the flames. Sat back.
Felt, even with Fire burning in his chest, exhausted.
“I found him,” he whispered. Smoke curled from his lips.
Perhaps he had hoped for praise. An exclamation of shock. He had created new runes. He had found what the Dark Lady could not.
Instead, when he looked to her, he found she wasn’t even watching him. She stared out the window at the gathering darkness.
“Good,” she replied, and sipped her wine.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
DREYA
“Where the hell is he?” Jarrett roared.
They’d gathered in Cassandra’s study, a large, lavish room of thick wooden furniture and oak bookshelves, plush curtains covering any spare bit of wall and light filtering in from crystalline chandeliers. Dreya had always found Earth users lavish in their tastes, but Cassandra had both the thirst for comfort and the wealth and power to see it through in spades. Frankly, Dreya found it mildly grotesque.
Cassandra herself sat behind a table littered with maps and paperwork, gems and crystals acting as paperweights. Kianna toyed with one, a chunk of emerald the size of a fist. Cassandra watched her suspiciously.
“Yes,” Cassandra mused. “That question exactly. Where is Tenn, and where is this friend of yours? I had left the former in your care, when it seems I should have sent you after the latter instead.”
“No clue,” Kianna said. She picked up the emerald and tossed it, catching it lightly. Unlike the others in the room, she wasn’t open to magic. Devon stood in the corner with flames flickering around him, Jarrett and Dreya both held Air in their throats, and Cassandra and her two commanding officers were open to their own powers. It didn’t seem to bother Kianna in the slightest. Neither did their glares at her nonchalance. “Left him over in—where was it?—Russia I think. Somewhere cold. Snowy. Doubt he’s still there. Prick hates the cold almost as much as he hates Tenn. So maybe if you find Tenn, you’ll find Aidan with a knife to his throat.”
She inspected the emerald, then looked to her silent spectators.
“What? Too far?”
She tossed the emerald up once more. Cassandra snatched it from the air before Kianna could reach for it.
“Nice one,” Kianna said.
“Do that again, and you’ll lose your hand,” Cassandra said, not breaking eye contact.
Kianna just snorted, picked up another paperweight—a cloudy crystal ball—and walked over to an unoccupied corner.
Cassandra set the stone on the table, then turned her attention to Dreya. Dreya filled herself with Air’s clarity. She would not be cowed by a mere Earth mage, even if she did control Outer Chicago. Dreya bent to no one.
“You say you brought him back here,” Cassandra said. “And then conveniently lost him to a fox.”
Dreya nodded.
“The Violet Sage summoned him. It was not my place to intervene.”
“Or a necromancer parading as the Violet Sage,” Jarrett growled. “How could you be so stupid?”
Dreya bristled. As he knew she would. She wanted to lash out, but she kept her emotions in check, smoothed them down with Air.
“Do you know many who can control foxes?” she asked simply. She turned her attention back to Cassandra. “All we can assume is that he is safe. The Violet Sage has been kept hidden since before the Resurrection.”
“That is an assumption none of us can afford to make.” She sighed and sank back into her chair. “All right, then. Two of the most powerful mages are missing. One on our side, one against, both a threat to our existence just from their existence. And the dangerous one has managed to not only find but bring back the Dark Lady. Do I have that correct?”
Dreya nodded.
Cassandra closed her eyes, rubbed her temples. Dreya wondered idly if it was all an act. Cassandra was nothing if not ever in control.
“What do you think they will do? Aidan and the Dark Lady.”
“They’ll raise an army,” Jarrett said. “All she has to do is proclaim her presence, and the necromancers will rally like never before. They’ll topple us.”
“So you would have us rally our own army?”
He nodded.
“Send envoys to every Guild and Outpost in the country. We don’t stand a chance if we spread out. But if we gather together, we might have a chance.”
“Yeah,” Kianna snorted from the shadows. “A chance to be slaughtered.”
Cassandra looked to her.
“Do you have an opinion you’d like to share?”
“Always. Though I guarantee you’ll never like it.” She took a step forward, rhythmically tossing the globe up like a baseball. “I’m saying that if my mate comes here—and that’s a big if, because I don’t think he’s that stupid—you’re just going to make it easier for him and the Dark Lady to wipe everyone out. I mean, think about it, you don’t just toss all the leaders of the free world into one room during a nuclear war, do you? That’s mass suicide.”
“So you say we scatter?”
“I say you fortify where you can. Spread your defenses. Lay traps. Let him slip up and then take him when his defense is down. But again, he ain’t going to do that.”
“Why?” Jarrett asked sarcastically. “Is he going to have a sudden change of heart?”
“No. Aidan doesn’t ever do what you expect him to. Trust me on that one. He wants to rule. He’d happily burn the whole world to the ground. But he could have done that himself. He didn’t bring the Dark Lady back to take over. He brought her back because he wanted something.”
“What he wants doesn’t matter,” Cassandra said. “What matters is that he brought her back. And we know what she wants. She wants what she’s wanted all along—to divide and devour us.” She looked to Jarrett. “Send the envoys. Bring in the forces within a hundred-mile radius, and fortify all major hubs. I want America to be empty save for the major Guilds by the end of the week.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Kianna said.
“Then I’m sure you’ll be around to laugh over our graves when it’s all over.”
Kianna smiled at her, tossed her the paperweight. Cassandra caught it.
“That’s probably the only thing you’re right about,” Kianna said. Then she turned and left.
Dreya hesitated. Jarrett and Cassandra had already begun discussing their plans, and a part of her wanted to stick around and learn the details, absorb as much as she could.
The rest of her knew it wouldn’t do any good, and she could sense Kianna getting farther down the hall. If she waited much longer, she would look desperate.
Wait here, she thought to her brother.
Without waiting to see if he agreed, she slipped from the room.
She caught up with Kianna halfway down the hall, walking swiftly.
Kianna didn’t even look over her shoulder.
“You know it’s a mistake.”
“I do,” Dreya said. “And I also know they will not listen. We have done what we intended to do. We have warned them.”
Kianna paused. Looked at her.
Dreya felt her heart skip. Slightly.
“Then what do you propose we do now?” Kianna asked.
“They will not listen or help us. So we seek out those who will.”
“And who are these miraculous beings?”
Dreya dropped her gaze.
“Those we have betrayed,” she said. Even after saving Rhiannon’s Clan, it was not enough to undo what she and her brother had done. “And those we will spend our lives trying to avenge.”
Kianna placed a hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly gentle, even if her words were not.
“Betrayal and vengeance? This plan sounds better already.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
TENN
They wandered up the beach, past the beautiful houses that were more cabanas than anything, their sheer white curtains billowing in the sea breeze. Everywhere he looked were young men and women dressed in white robes. Some carried bowls or books between buildings, others meditated in the sand. Most were silent, though a few sat together and talked in languages he couldn’t place. None seemed to be past their early twenties.
Every one of them paused to watch him pass by.
One young boy dropped the book he was reading to the sand.
Tenn wanted to pretend it was because he was an outsider, the only one here covered in black and rainwater from another continent. But he knew it was because they recognized him.
“Are they the Prophets?” he asked.
“No,” the Violet Sage replied without looking.
She led him to a large building, the biggest on the beach, with long open windows and a high-peaked roof.
“Do you have a name?” Tenn asked. “Or am I just supposed to keep referring to you by your title?”
A small part of him marveled at his boldness, or maybe it was rudeness. The rest was just so, so tired of being led around blindly.
She paused then, and looked up at him. Considered.
“Kara,” she said, and continued on.
He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped into the house. All of this was entirely out of left field; after the last four years of rain and cold and bloodshed, being here felt like stepping out of his life and into some sort of fairy tale. One where good things actually happened and evil could be vanquished. It wasn’t his reality. And the space they entered wasn’t some grand room of learning or power.
There wasn’t a chamber of wizened monks balancing on precarious stones or anything even remotely magical. It was just a large room overlooking the sea, with two brocade pillows in the center and a small porcelain tea set on a tray beside them.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a pillow.
Tenn did so, fidgeting with his clothes. He opened to Water and pulled the rain from them, but the moment he did, the humidity snuck back in and stuck to his skin.
Kara sat on the opposite pillow, a small smile on her lips. Then she opened to her Spheres. All four of them.
Instantly, the windows closed and the air in the room dropped to a comfortable temperature. The humidity vanished. Small lanterns burst into flame around them, casting a warm, soothing glow over the scene. Sticks of incense in ceramic holders began to smolder, trailing tails of smoke up into the rafters.
Even though they were small acts of magic, and even though he had known she could channel all four Spheres, it still filled Tenn with a sense of awe.
“Tea?” She raised the pot and filled both cups before he could answer. The scent of peppermint and something more pungent drifted around them.
“So how does this work?” he asked as she handed him the tea. “Is there some sort of secret ritual or something?”
He couldn’t help the sarcasm laced through his words. He knew he was being childish and insolent, but Water churned and bruised within him, an ache and injustice that just wouldn’t go away—why did these people get to live in peace, while everyone else suffered? Why was he even trying to help them?
You aren’t helping them, he told himself. You’re helping everyone else.
If she noticed the tone of his voice, she didn’t let it bother her.
“How else? Through the runes.”
She took a sip of tea, and he did the same. It tasted...gross. Like someone had mixed mint in with a lump of dirt and roots and called it good. But it seemed to clear his head a bit, and even though a part of him resented all of this, he didn’t want to seem rude.
He took another sip.
“There are runes to attune to Maya?” he asked. “I thought it was the one Sphere no one could attune to?”
She nodded.
“That is correct, in a fashion. One cannot attune to it. It is not simply like an electrical socket one can plug into. No, the runes are to bring you to Maya’s doorstep. To open you to its mystery. Then, it is up to the Sphere to decide.”
“Okay, then.” He set the tea down. “What are they?”
She hesitated. And had he not been watching her carefully, he would have missed the uncertainty that flashed over her features.
“There is one thing you must know,” she said.
Of course there is.
“You mean beyond the fact that this most likely won’t work and might kill me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. There is a cost to failure. In order to open to Maya, one must give oneself to the Sphere. Fully. And should the Sphere refuse you...”
“You die.”
“No,” she said. “Not fully. Not quite.”
“How many have successfully attuned?”
“None.”
“Then how do you know the runes work? How do you know you can actually attune?”
“The same reason you believe you can fight the Dark Lady. Your heart tells you it is so. We have faith. We have simply not been worthy enough for Maya’s grace.”
Tenn swallowed. It wasn’t exactly heartening, but what choice did he have? If he left here without attuning to Maya, he’d either be killed by Aidan or the Dark Lady or one of her spawn, or else Jarrett would throw him back into prison until everything was over—which it would never be, because they didn’t stand a chance. He was as good as dead either way. The only real chance he had was attuning to Maya. And after everything he’d been through, a small part of him believed that this would work.
That he was special.
He was the one the Spheres bent toward. The one the spirits spoke through. And even though it was somewhat egotistical, he felt like that should be more than enough to prove his worth to a Sphere.
The moment he thought that, however, doubt flooded through him.
If he had been so special, so powerful, why had he failed so many? Why hadn’t he been special enough to save his parents? Why had he failed when he’d needed to succeed the most?
“Why me?” he asked. “What makes me so special? And don’t tell me it’s because I’m willing to die to save people. A lot of people are.” He swallowed. Thought of the dozens of Hunters he’d watched fall in battle. “I should know. I’ve fought beside many of them.”
She considered for a while, her cup poised beneath her lips, untouched. That stare made him want to take his question back.
“Why should it not be you, Jeremy?” It still unnerved him that she called him by his old name. “It has nothing to do with being ‘chosen,’ and everything to do with being willing to answer the call. You answered. You followed the trail. And you believed. Which has brought you here, and once more you have the choice—believe not in yourself, but in the call, or turn away from both?”
In a way, the answer was disappointing.
He wasn’t special.
He wasn’t some chosen one.
But then he thought about it. Did it not make him stronger, to think he had been equal? That he hadn’t been chosen, but had chosen to take this on? It made him feel less battered by the Fates and more in control. He had a duty. There were people to save. And in the end, that would always be his highest calling, chosen or no.
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Show me.”
She set down the cup.
“I cannot write them down. Not for fear they will be discovered by the wrong sorts. Just as you must promise never to share these.”
“I promise.”
Kara gestured at her side, Air glowing brighter in her throat. A stick of burning incense floated over, smoke trailing behind it.
“Let your mind relax and the symbols flow through you,” she said. “These runes require only thought to activate, much like the tracking rune you know. As they settle in your mind, they will begin to work their magic. And then...well, then it is up to Maya. The process can take seconds or minutes, or even days. For some, the process never truly ends.”
She looked at him. “Are you ready?”
Despite himself, his heart thudded in his chest.
He knew there was no turning back from this. He succeeded, or he failed. Whatever that failure looked like, he knew it spelled death. For him, and for many, many others. He wanted to say of course he was ready, he didn’t have a choice. But he did have a choice. And he chose this.
He had to hope that was enough.
“I’m ready,” he said.
With a curt nod, she closed her eyes and twined her fingers through the incense smoke. It curled over her skin, serpentine, but rather than dispersing or dissipating, it moved. It twisted before her, a thread of gray, and began to form shapes. Runes.
