Runebinder. Alex R. Kahler

In this new light, her damp hair glinted rose. “The army is near.”

      Tenn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d spent the last week waiting for the executioner’s ax to fall, and here it was, at last.

      Dreya walked back to her brother, who stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. The red on the horizon seeped closer, the whole town illuminated in its ghostly light. Tenn could sense the magic even from here. Somewhere out there, the necromancers were pulling out their big guns and spurring their undead army with fire and fear. Tenn counted the seconds in his head, like counting the space between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds until death arrived.

      Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Sphere of Water simmered. It knew battle was coming, and it was excited.

      Flames leaped higher, burning through the fields and stretching to the clouds above. The wall of flame burned white-hot, speeding toward the city in a ravenous wave. Years ago, magic had turned the tides of war. It was no longer the most powerful who walked away from battle, but the quickest. He prayed his comrades in the field had shielded themselves. He prayed that he would get out of here alive, that Water wouldn’t destroy him.

      The fire splashed closer, only a mile away. Its roar chilled his bones, and its heat threatened to melt him.

      And then, behind him, the twins began to sing.

      The sound sent chills up his spine, and he turned and glanced at them, the fire momentarily forgotten. The twins stood there, heads tilted back and hands outstretched. Three Spheres blazed in them like ghostly lights—the slow blue of Water in their stomachs, the fierce red of Fire in their chests and the swirling vortex of pale blue and yellow Air in their throats. Everyone had all five Spheres, but you had to be attuned to them individually to use them, and each consecutive attuning was more difficult. Most mages could only handle one Sphere. Two at most. To split your concentration to three Spheres was nearly impossible. To be so powerfully trained in them...it made what Tenn’s Sphere did that afternoon feel small in comparison.

      It also explained their appearance. Overuse of Air would account for Dreya’s paleness. But Devon...he must have primarily been a Fire mage.

      Air flared in the twins’ throats and lightning crackled across the sky, a pulse of blue light that shattered in a dome above them, spiderwebbing down to the earth. Tenn looked to the field just in time to see the necromancer’s fire billow closer, only seconds away. He winced.

      Fire hit the invisible shield, burned across it with all the power of hell before flaring out into nothing. He blinked hard, tried to get the sear of fire from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the army.

      They swarmed across the land, a black tide that screamed and howled like demons. More fires roared around them, but none broke past the twins’ shield. Yet.

      Jarrett had commanded him to stay back; he hadn’t commanded him to stay out of the fight.

      Since he couldn’t trust Water, Tenn opened to Earth.

      Power surged in his pelvis, pulling down through the concrete of the high rise, rooting him to the soil. He could sense the flesh of every creature for a mile, could taste their decaying feet on the earth as they ran. The Howls were hungry. Their empty, ulcerated stomachs burned with his; their need for flesh brought bile to his throat. It sickened him, but the power of Earth kept him rooted.

      It would always keep him rooted.

      Then, against his bidding, Water flared to life, and his head swam as the traitorous Sphere pulled him under.

      “We’re so proud of you,” Mom says, hugging him one last time. They stand outside the dormitory, Dad idling the car in the street. Dad never likes goodbyes; one quick hug had been enough for him. “You’re going to be great.”

      Tenn takes a deep breath. Tears burn behind his eyes, and he wants so badly to tell her to take him back home, to lie and say he doesn’t want to learn about the Spheres and magic, even though a week ago it was all he could think about. The buildings are too big, the other kids too loud. Home is too far away, and no magic, no power, could be worth this much hurt.

      “I love you,” she says. One more hug. He inhales the scent of her, the perfume that lingers against his clothes. She is shaking. She’s trying not to cry. That makes it harder to keep his own emotions in check. It’s always been hard to keep his emotions in check. “I’ll see you soon. Over winter break.”

      He tries to stem his tears while she turns and walks back to the car. The dorm-mother shuffles up behind him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, son,” she says. “You’ll see her again before you know it.”

      He knows it’s a lie.

      He knows it’s a lie.

      And there’s nothing he can say to bring her back.

      “Shut up!” he screamed.

      His words ripped through the memory and slammed him—throbbing and raw—back to the battle, back to the roof of the hotel and the screams of the monsters now crashing against the shield. He knelt on the ground, hands pressed to his head. The memory pulsed in his ears like a migraine and tears ran down his face like the rain. What the hell was happening? The visions were becoming stronger. Water was gaining control. Sobs welled up in the back of his throat, but a scream from outside the barrier cut them short.

      He pushed down the sadness, buried it deep under Earth, forced Water away with a wrench of willpower.

      He was in charge. Not the Spheres.

      He grabbed his staff from where it had clattered to the ground and pushed himself to standing. Then he reached his senses deep into Earth and pushed the power out.

      The ground rippled. Just outside the shield and beyond his comrades, a wave of soil burst up and spilled out, sending Howls and their human slave drivers stumbling. It was a small act of magic, but Earth sapped him fast. Too fast. He leaned heavily against his staff as hunger gnawed at his stomach and his knees shook. If he used much more, he’d drain himself completely.

      Lightning flashed down outside the shield like the spears of angry gods, piercing Howls and necromancers and filling his ears with thunder. More fires raged, these spurred by the powers of his friends, flames hungry for undead flesh. The sky swirled faster as great funnel clouds sank from the heavens and roared across the plains. He could feel the power of his comrades, could feel the magic racing through the air as they struggled to hold their ground. It was enough magic to level cities.

      The army still came.

      He wondered if their power was enough.

      Electric-blue cracks spiked along the shield where Howls threw themselves upon it. He gripped his staff tighter. He wanted to be out there. Water wanted to fight. Even now, tired from Earth, he wanted to be close to the blood. More cracks lanced over the shield. He gritted his teeth. If they could just kill off enough before...

      Devon gasped.

      The shield above them shattered with the sound of breaking glass, blue sparks raining down like snowflakes. Screams pierced the night as the shield collapsed and the hordes of Howls broke through.

      “What happened?” Tenn yelled. He ran over to Dreya’s side, to where she cradled her unconscious brother. The town around him erupted in flames, the earth shaking with magical tremors. This magic, he knew, wasn’t fighting for his side.

      Dreya’s eyes were wide.

      “Someone drained him,” she whispered. “He’s been tapped.”

      Tenn’s thoughts spun with the impossibility. Someone tried to drain his Spheres. Someone tried to turn him into a Howl. That shouldn’t be possible, not from so far away.

      Dreya glanced up. Her eyes covered over in shadow. She didn’t flinch when someone screamed below them. The Howls weren’t just coming...they were here.

      Power surged and the hotel shuddered.

      “Shit,”