Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(76)

The song was just a melody, but it was deep and sorrowful and sent chills down his spine. The quiet woods seemed to go even more silent, as if every particle of creation had paused to listen in. And that, he knew, was the cue he was waiting for. He opened to Earth and reached deep.

The ground in front of them rumbled. Like quicksand, the snow and dirt became fluid. The body—no, Tori—sank into the soil. Tenn could feel her tiny, birdlike body drawn down into the depths of the earth from which she’d come. He wanted it to be beautiful, that final embrace. He wanted to block out the sensation of her bones snapping under the weight of stone, the fluid that spilled from her flesh. But he couldn’t. Magic was a curse. Magic would always be a curse.

Finally, when she was at least six feet under, he cut himself from the power and the awareness of her twisted body. His limbs shook from emotion and Earth’s drain, and he slumped against his staff. The twins finished their song. They gave him a solemn look, then bowed before the freshly turned dirt and walked off. Tenn hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the snow.

He wasn’t certain who he was apologizing to.

They gathered their things and began the long, slow walk back to the clan in silence. Tenn couldn’t wash the feeling from his bones, the uncleanliness of the magic he had done. Even that small amount of magic made his legs shake and stomach rumble. At least, sometime during the night, one of the twins had pulled the blood from his clothes. Not that it made him feel any cleaner.

It was midday when they stopped for lunch. And it was midday when they realized something was wrong.

Devon stiffened, his chunk of bread forgotten.

“What is it?” Dreya asked.

He didn’t respond at first. But then Devon’s lips parted, and he whispered one, weighted word.

“Impossible.”

“What?” Tenn asked. His heart began to race, and he opened to Earth, scanning the countryside for anything moving, any sign of Howls or Inquisitors or worse. He felt nothing.

“The rune,” Devon said. He looked at Dreya, his eyes wide. A second passed, and then she hissed in a breath.

“It is moving,” she whispered.

Tenn didn’t ask more. He closed his eyes and visualized the tracking rune. He could feel its location. It was right in front of them, pulling them on. And that’s when he felt the slight shift, the tug.

Devon was right. The rune was moving. Fast.

“What the hell?” he said.

They all shared a glance. Then, as one, they grabbed their things. When they started back down the highway, they were running.

*

Despite their haste, they didn’t reach the woods until just before dusk. Tenn pushed his senses through the trees. For a moment, nothing seemed amiss. The woods were empty. Still. Except...

“I can feel the trailers,” he said. He looked at Dreya.

“The runes,” she said. “They must have been compromised.”

They ran into the trees at full speed. They didn’t hesitate to examine the marks on the trees that they passed, the lashings that seemed less than random. They all knew the marks of kravens when they saw them. And Tenn knew without a doubt that these slashes were cut across the runes themselves, rendering them useless. No one should have even known about them.

That’s when it clicked. Matthias could follow his dreams, read his thoughts. And if that were true, Matthias had seen everything Luke had shown him. The runes on the trees. And the tracking rune that would have led him straight to the Witches.

“It’s my fault,” Tenn gasped. He nearly collapsed in disbelief. Matthias hadn’t taken Tori to try and kill him. Matthias had taken her to lure him out and take the Witches. Matthias didn’t want him learning more about the runes.

Either that, or Matthias just wanted to prove that no one was safe around Tenn. Not even those Tenn turned to for guidance.

Neither of the twins said anything. He knew they wouldn’t lie. He knew they were drawing the same conclusions he was.

“There might be survivors,” Dreya said instead. He could tell from the waver in her voice that she didn’t quite believe it.

But when they reached the camp, the trailers were silent. Empty. Earth and Air told them as much.

The fire in the center had burned out, and more than one trailer door stood open, swaying gently in the wind. They stepped into the midst of the encampment, feeling for all the world like they were entering a ghost town.

“Search them,” Tenn said. Even his words seemed too heavy in the emptiness of this place. “Maybe they fled. Or left a clue.”

They split up and did precisely what he commanded, though he knew it was from protocol and not actual hope. He ducked inside Rhiannon’s trailer. The curtains were drawn and bowls of cold porridge sat untouched on the table. The scene reminded him of the dining room, where he’d first encountered emotional transference, but no shades of the dead ran through him. He glanced to the cabinet holding the singing bowl. It was open, the door dangling from a single hinge. Empty. Whatever happened, Rhiannon had had the foresight to grab the bowl with the rune. She wanted to be followed.

Someone yelled. He bolted outside.

It was Devon.

Devon stumbled backward from a trailer, his hands over his face. He tripped, fell into the snow. Dreya was at his side in an instant. Tenn was right behind.

Dreya smoothed his hair, whispering soothing sounds into his ears. His eyes were wide and he gripped the arm she wrapped around him.