Martyr (32 page)

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?”

Her face darkened. She hesitated before answering.

“If there was a chance,
any
chance, I would try to save him.”

Tenn nodded. Stupid move. It made his head spin.

“Now is not the time,” she said. She stood and walked over to a small wooden table nestled against the wall. A bowl and mug were there. She opened to Fire, briefly, and steam began waving from the dishes. She pushed the table over to the bed.

“Eat,” she said. “You have much recovering to do. We will speak of this in the morning.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Tenn said. “I'm going to save him.”

“Eat,” she said again. “I must go let Rhiannon know you're awake.”

With that, she laid a cool hand on his forehead, nodded to herself, and then left. There was a look in her eyes that told him more than her words ever would. She was conflicted. Like Tenn, she knew there was a chance this was all a trap. But the chance that it wasn't weighed heavier on her mind.

He stared down at the food, forced aside the nausea, and tried to convince himself he had an appetite. It wasn't hard. When the first drop of broth touched his tongue, Earth and Water growled with hunger. They wanted to devour it all.

He ate. And while he did, he couldn't help but feed the tiny flame of hope that fluttered inside of him. Jarrett might still be alive. Jarrett might be waiting for him.

And Tenn was going to do anything he could to get him back.

Tenn woke to sunlight the next morning. Sleep had come quickly, slipping across his eyes the moment he finished eating. Now he wanted nothing more than to lie here for eternity, to sleep until the world came crumbling around him. He could hear hushed conversation in the room, but if he just kept his eyes closed, maybe they wouldn't notice he was awake.

Then he imagined Jarrett, locked up in some dark corner of Leanna's compound, and his eyes snapped open.

“How are you feeling?” Rhiannon asked before he even moved.

“Better,” he said, which was true. He'd be even better if not for his suddenly racing pulse. How could he lie there when Jarrett needed him?

How do you know he's still alive?
the voice hissed.
Matthias would say anything to deliver you to Leanna
.

But it didn't matter. None of those arguments mattered.

If there was even the smallest chance that Jarrett was alive, he would take it.

And if Jarrett wasn't alive when he found Leanna, at least killing her would offer some small relief.

“Dreya told me what you heard,” Rhiannon said. She moved over to his side, placed a comforting hand on his forehead. She opened to Earth again, and he felt the familiar tingle of magic slide through him, checking for hurts, mending the bruises that ran deeper than flesh.

“Did she?” Tenn asked.

He looked over at Dreya. She at least had the decency to blush and look away.

“Do you think it's a trap as well?”

“Perhaps,” Rhiannon mused. “Though there are ways to know for sure.”

Tenn raised an eyebrow. She removed her hand and stepped back. She was in her usual flowing dress and shawl, her hair tied back with a silk scarf. There was a tightness around her eyes he didn't remember seeing, but she didn't look like she'd just been kidnapped by an undead army and forced to witness the death of her clansmen. But then, Tenn reminded himself, that had been a few days ago. He had a feeling she was used to picking up and moving forward.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“In time,” she responded. She sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. “You seem to have recovered. You suffered few physical wounds from the attack, but your Spheres needed a great amount of rest to restore themselves. You are lucky you weren't turned.”

“Impossible,” Tenn said. “No one can use that much magic.”

And it was true. The body naturally prevented the Spheres from draining too much, from imploding and feeding on the host. That was why the necromancers needed the runes—to push the Spheres past capacity.

“
You
did,” Rhiannon said and walked back over to the twins. She sat on the bench and looked over at him. “I have never seen someone channel so much power. The spirits said you had great strength. But they did not say your ferocity was so overpowering.”