Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(30)
He wanted to ask them something, anything, to get them talking about who they were, and where they trained. If they were as powerful as they seemed, they had to know more about magic than him. He’d seen them both use Water, so maybe they knew how to control it. Maybe they knew how to control the visions, the flashes of power. At the very least, he hoped they knew how to keep it from controlling them. But the urgency with which they walked told him that now wasn’t the time.
It would probably never be the time.
The meeting took place in an old basketball court. By the time Tenn and the twins got there, it was already well under way. He knew it was all in his head, but he felt like everyone looked at him when he entered the room. Like they could tell he was new.
Like they could tell he was the cause of all this... Whatever “all this” was.
The twins edged past the open double doors and stood in the shadow of the bleachers, and Tenn followed close at their sides.
He assumed it was Cassandra pacing in the center—the command she radiated was more than enough to convince him she was the leader. She was in her late twenties, with dark ebony skin and long black braids that nearly reached her waist. The Sphere of Earth pulsed slow and green in her hips, the faintest trace of a glow. Most Earth mages Tenn knew were stocky, grounded, but not Cassandra. She was tall and stunning, with a perfect hourglass figure. She wore all black, from her knee-high leather boots and tight black leather pants, to her skintight top barely concealed by a sheer coat. It wasn’t an outfit meant for battle. That confidence alone spoke volumes of her power.
“Our forces are dwindling,” she was saying.
Her voice was powerful, and it carried throughout the gym. Dreya had made it sound like the whole of the guild was there, but the bleachers were barely half-full. He’d heard stories of Outer Chicago, and how great its fighting forces were. If this was all they had left...
“Our hold on civilization is slipping. Leanna is pushing her forces east. Already we’ve received reports of her armies as close as Des Moines.” She paused under one of the brilliant balls of fire floating high above. “We can barely hold on to the little land we do control, let alone try and topple Leanna’s compound. No previous attempts have proved successful. America is dying. Every day, another guild or outpost falls and another Farm takes its place. If we don’t do something fast, our great nation will be left to the Howls.”
A murmur rumbled through the bleachers, and Tenn didn’t need to be among the troop to know the gist. None of this was new information, but it wasn’t something anyone wanted to hear. Even he had heard the horror stories of attempted conquests—the Hunters who made it back from raids on Leanna’s compound and could barely speak through their shock; whole armies, wasted in a heartbeat from magic or hordes of higher-Sphere Howls. Even attempting to liberate the Farms had proven useless—the necromancers learned to protect their prized stock, and too many Hunters had fallen for the few innocents that had been saved.
He hadn’t heard of an attempted attack on Leanna or any other Kin in over a year. His stomach dropped at the idea of how this could relate to him.
“Which is why,” she continued, walking out of sight. Tenn stepped closer, so he could see her over the stands. “I have asked you all here.” She gestured to the shadows at the side of the space. “Jarrett, if you please.”
Jarrett walked out next to her, his boots echoing in the otherwise-silent room. He wasn’t in his field attire, and he looked like the Resurrection had never happened—ripped blue jeans, black combat boots and a gray T-shirt with a logo that had faded beyond recognition. Even from here, Tenn could see the intricate lines of Jarrett’s Hunter’s mark on his right forearm.
The sight of him made Tenn’s pulse race. He tried to find a trace of the boy he used to know. He tried, but every time he thought back to Silveron, Water surged with dangerous abandon.
It wasn’t Jarrett’s appearance that brought everyone to a deeper silence. It was the object he gingerly placed in Cassandra’s hands. Tenn’s dread doubled at the sight of it.
A small glass jar, with a curl of flame hovering within.
Cassandra raised it high above her head like Lady Liberty with her torch. Even from here, he could feel the wrongness, hear the whispers he could only describe as evil. Even from here, it made his Hunter’s mark tingle with goose bumps.
“This,” she said, “is the weapon used against us. This is the Dark Lady’s greatest secret, the one her minions have died to preserve and protect from us. Until now.” She smiled at Jarrett. Her grin reminded Tenn of a feral cat. “Now we have insight into their dark magic, and with that knowledge we can finally turn the tide of this war.”
Tenn wasn’t watching Cassandra as intently as the rest of the troop. He was watching Jarrett. And Jarrett looked terribly uncomfortable. He must have known what would come next. Tenn did, too. His chest constricted from the memory of it.
“But first, a demonstration. Sam and Maria, if you please.”
Two Hunters from the front row came forward. The girl had a strong, lean figure and dark hair that curled past her shoulders. Sam was about the same height, with spiked brown hair and a goatee.
“Maria,” Cassandra said, holding out the jar, “if you would take this for a moment.”
Maria took it without hesitating. She held the jar in one hand, staring at the flame with a small smile. Cassandra told them to face off. That was when fear began to show on Sam’s face. Especially because Maria was still staring at the jar, the flame reflecting in her eyes.