The Madness Project (The Madness Method)

by Bralick, J. Leigh

  I nodded. “I’ll see you at the smelter,” I said.

  My fingers prickled, itching to fly. I gave Derrin a salute and Shifted.

  I wait atop the monstrous fountain in the palace square, watching for Shade and the others to come out, praying that they will not be arrested. I know that what Shade is undertaking is treason. My heart burns for him. Giving up an entire life is never easy, even when that life was shadowed by deceit.

  The sun shifts behind a bank of building clouds. It will not rain, though. The air is too dry. But the wind picks up, and suddenly I know why. Shade is coming, and he is furious. A footman opens the door to the palace and Shade—Tarik—strides out with the three men on his heels. The guard in the guard post has his ear pressed to a leather headset, a frown on his face. Danger sparks in the air, and I dive toward Shade, screaming.

  “Hurry!” I say, landing on his shoulder. “Guard!”

  He glances back at the guard post and sees what I have seen. They all take off running, running for the carriage house where the motorcar waits. Any moment we will have the royal guards bearing down on us. I leave Tarik’s shoulder and fly just ahead of them, then swoop around to check the drive behind them. So far, they are safe.

  I’ve done all I can do. Now it is Hayli’s turn.

  I landed in a running step close behind Tarik and the men, just as they sprinted into the carriage house. Zagger leapt into the cab and Tarik didn’t even wait for anyone to open his door, but pulled it open himself and shepherded me inside. I sat crammed between him and Rivano, like being in the middle of an electrical circuit.

  Zagger tried to turn the car’s engine, but it sputtered and coughed and that was all.

  “Damn!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the wheel. “They’ve disabled the car. We’ll have to make a run for it.”

  It might have been funny, piling back out of the car like jesters after we’d just climbed in, except for the terror of being gunned down by the guards at any minute. Tarik grabbed my hand, and we all took off running for the west gate of the palace. I’d scouted it out once, before Jig and I had tried to get inside the Oval Wall, but it had been too far from the aerodrome for our purposes. But it was smaller than the South Gate, less heavily guarded. Not to mention it was closer to the palace itself.

  We’d just turned onto the broad avenue leading to the gate when the ground shook and a noise like hellfire hammered toward us. Tarik threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me down, shielding me and covering his head. Rivano crouched beside us, but Kor and Zagger stood tall, guns drawn, staring at the sky.

  I craned my neck to see what they saw, and swallowed the scream in my throat. An aeroplane streaked toward us, steam trailing its engine like a flag, coming lower and lower and closer and closer. The dust was still falling from where its huge gun had blasted the road behind us. Then, suddenly, its nose lifted and it sailed over our heads, only to land lightly on the road and sputter to a stop just ahead of us.

  Tarik stood up, giving me a hand to help me to my feet. I glanced at his face and grinned, because I knew we both remembered the last time this had happened, and how I’d shoved his hand away. This time I took it, and held onto it once I’d got to my feet. Then we turned and watched as the aviator climbed from his cockpit and pulled off his goggles.

  Tarik’s hand tightened on mine. His other hand, I noticed, held a revolver.

  “Tarik!” the aviator called, and I caught my breath. That was Griff Farro. My Griff. He strode toward us, flinging his arms at his sides, horror and confusion written all over his face. “They told me Rivano was on the palace grounds, escaping.” His gaze shifted over to Rivano, then back to Tarik. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I’m sorry, Farro,” Tarik said. “I think we have to be enemies now.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? Mr. Zagger? What’s going on?”

  Tarik took a few steps toward him, never letting go of my hand. I kept staring at Griff’s face, remembering the wide-eyed and curly-headed boy who’d chased me through the trees. He glanced at me once, and his brow creased, but maybe he was just wondering why a slumdog was holding the Crown Prince’s hand.

  Tarik sighed and said, “I wish I could explain. But I’ve got no time. Please. We’re leaving now. Don’t make me take you down to do it.”

  “You’ve turned on him?” Griff asked. “You turned on your father to join sides with this…this…Jixy?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Because that’s what I am too, Farro. That’s what I’ve always been. Now stand down and let me pass.”

  Griff stared at him. Tarik’s hand felt so cold in mine, his muscles tense, every line in his face betraying his grief.

  “Griff Farro,” I said suddenly, dragging his gaze to me. “The flying man. I always knew you’d be swell.”

  His face went white. “Oh, stars,” he gasped, and he pressed his knuckles to his lips.

  A minute and he just goggled me like that, then he swore something fierce and threw his arms around me, picking me clear off the ground. I caught Tarik’s gaze and he smiled, some strange blend of sorrow and joy in his eyes.

  “Hayli,” Griff said. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Hayli Lorin is dead,” I murmured.

  “I’m so sorry. You—” He glanced from me to Tarik. “You two…?”

  Tarik put a hand on his shoulder, saying, “We’ve got to go. The palace guards will be here any minute.”

  Griff straightened up, biting his lip, his gaze flicking from me to Tarik to Rivano.

  “Oh, damn it all, Tarik!” he cried. “You’d make me a traitor too?”

  “I could just knock you out and we could say you got overpowered.”

  “I was supposed to shoot the whole lot of you down from my aeroplane,” he said. “Getting knocked out on the ground would just look bad. No. No, I can’t. I can’t do it.”

  He turned and strode back toward his plane, while Tarik shouted after him, “Can’t do what? Farro! Devil take you, what can’t you do?”

  But Griff didn’t turn around and he didn’t answer, until he’d gotten into the cockpit and turned the engine. The plane shuddered and drifted down the road a bit toward us. When it got close enough, Griff leaned out of the cockpit and said,

  “Better run.”

  Tarik swore, and we all set off running again. The plane took to the skies ahead of us, and we kept staring at it, waiting for it to loop around and start firing that massive gun at us again. I knew Tarik was hoping it wouldn’t happen, so when the plane twisted and circled around behind us, he swore again and picked up the pace. There were only fields stretching on either side of the road. Not even a ditch to give us any cover. So we just ran flat out, the gate in our sights, the two guards at post lining up to face us down.

  The plane swooped over our heads and gunshots thundered in our ears, kicking up chalky dust from the road all the way to the gate. The guards threw themselves away from the gunshots, landing in a heap behind the guard post. In another moment we were through the gate, and Kor and Zagger split off to deal with the cowering guards.

  The plane swooped once over our heads. Tarik covered his mouth, staring up at that beautiful mad plane and its mad pilot, then he touched his fingers to his temple in a salute. The plane dipped a wing, and then circled away to the east.

  “Once they find out he let us go, they’ll court-martial him,” Tarik said. “That grobbing idiot. He’s got to escape now. Doesn’t he know that?”

  “Maybe he’s just…taking the plane back?”

  Tarik turned and grinned at me. “If he wanted to join us, we could certainly use an aeroplane,” he said.

  “Listen,” I said, turning to Rivano to include him. “The mages are gathering at the old aluminium smelter outside the city walls. Should be safe enough. Nobody ever gans out there anymore.”

  “Let’s get going then,” Zagger said, holstering his revolver. “Sooner we can get off the street, the better we’ll be.”

&nb
sp; “I’ll meet you there,” I said. “I’m ganna gan round up some more mages for Derrin.”

  I hesitated. More than anything I wished Tarik would kiss me again, but Zagger, Kor and Rivano all stood staring at the two of us, and my cheeks turned red just thinking about it. But Tarik shot them a dangerous kind of look and turned to face me, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I’m a traitor now, Hayli,” he said softly. “I’m not a prince.”

  “No, he’s the bloody Godar of Istia,” Zagger commented from behind us.

  “Zagger!” Tarik shouted, glaring at him over his shoulder.

  Zagger just grinned and took a step back.

  “Is that true?” I asked. “Are you really?”

  “That’s what the Ambassador thought. God knows if he survived that meeting with Trabin, though. I’m sure Trabin is busy calculating the advantage of having Eskir and his envoy meet with a terrible accident here in Cavnal, so no one in Istia will ever hear about me.”

  “You’re the Godar. Of Istia.”

  He tipped his head back, smiling faintly. “It’s not important right now. Right now, we just need to keep moving.”

  He shot another glare at the three men behind him. When they just stood there, Kor and Zagger grinning like mad things, he gave them an obscene gesture and bent and kissed me, a fleeting thing, sweeter than sunshine.

  “Be safe,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear.

  “You too,” I said, my heart racing like mad, fire in my veins.

  Then, before I could change my mind about leaving him, I turned and threw myself into the wind.

  I fly through the city, hunting for Billiman Square. Somehow I feel like I know the place. I know exactly how to get there. Maybe it’s the energy of the mages there that I’d never noticed before, but now felt like a thread, pulling me in. It takes me little time to find the brick building, with the men standing watch outside the door, just as Derrin told me. I don’t even need to shift back.

  I land on the ground at the nearest man’s feet and say, “Gantry!”

  The man looks at me, surprised, but he just exchanges a glance with another sentry and they open the door for me. I fly in, weaving through the halls, following the pulse of magic that draws me in.

  In an inner room I find four mages gathered together, so I land on the ground and Shift.

  I got to my feet, shaking my head. An odd kind of dizziness clung to my mind, stronger than I usually felt after Shifting. One of the mages reached out and gripped my arm, helping to steady me.

  “Are you all right, girl?” he asked. “That was a fantastic bit of magic.”

  “I’m jake,” I said, pressing the bridge of my nose. “Just a bit topsy. Give me a tick and I’ll be a’right. Are any of you hurt?”

  “No,” the mage said. “We’re all fine here.”

  I leaned on the table, searching each mage’s face, wondering how Derrin had gotten on their bad side before. They all looked pleasant enough.

  “Strange place to hide in,” I said, scanning the room. I blinked, squeezing my eyes shut a moment, because I couldn’t seem to fix on any details. “And it smells terrible.”

  “I know,” one of the other mages said. “Stars know what they used to do in here.”

  “You have news for us, little mage?” the first one asked.

  “We’re gathering in the old aluminium smelter southwest of the city. Spread the word, if you got a ken of any other mages still hiding.”

  “We will.”

  I frowned, because something didn’t feel quite right. I just didn’t know what. It was that cold smell. It was this room I couldn’t quite see. And…

  I lifted my gaze to the mage standing beside me, the one who had steadied me, my heart a weight of lead in my chest.

  “I div’n feel aught when you touched me,” I said, alarm prickling through me. “I should have felt something!”

  He exchanged a glance with one of the other men.

  “You’re not a mage!” I gasped, trying to back away. “You’re…”

  That smell. That white, sterile smell.

  “You’re Kippler’s men.”

  Chapter 18 — Tarik

  It was near nightfall when we finally reached the colossal aluminium smelter, its towering smokestacks slicing the twilit sky. The main building of the smelter was a sprawling brick affair, surrounded by a number of smaller stone structures—likely housing the old company offices and storage facilities. A few mages stood on guard outside in the smelter yard, including Scorch, the mage who had tried to crash Griff’s aeroplane. I’d seen him from a distance once, and I’d sworn I would confront him the next time I saw him, but I made myself swallow my anger when I spotted him. Now was not the time for revenge.

  But they all snapped to alert as we approached, until we got close enough that they could recognize Rivano—and me, because I’d Masked into Shade again to forestall the inevitable uproar when I revealed who I really was. The mages let Rivano pass, and would have let me go too, but I stayed where I was when they moved to block Zagger and Kor.

  Scorch stepped forward, scanning Zagger head to toe. “I know you, don’t I?” he asked, with a nasty smile. “You’re the Prince’s bodyguard, right? What the devil are you doing here?”

  “Maybe I got bored,” Zagger said.

  “Royal agent,” Scorch said, holding up his hand.

  The mages didn’t carry guns. But their hands flashed up, two with knives, two with flickers of flame dancing over their finger tips. Zagger glanced at me, but Kor’s hands flashed at his sides and he drew a pair of revolvers.

  For a few moments they stared each other down, locked in a stalemate. Finally I sighed and stepped forward.

  “Scorch, let them in. They’re with me.”

  “Why would you have a royal bodyguard with you?” Scorch asked.

  “Because,” I said, “he’s my bodyguard.” I let out my breath in a sigh, and unMasked my face. “Now, are we through with the questions?”

  Scorch stared at me, stunned speechless. The other mages lowered their hands, and Kor holstered his guns.

  “Does Rivano know about this?” Scorch asked, after his tongue made a few false starts. “You’re…you’re Prince Tarik. But how…”

  “Yes,” I said. “He knows I’m Tarik, and yes, he knows I’m a mage. Now come on. Let us pass.”

  He spun sharply and his hand shot up, beckoning us to follow him. I met Zagger’s gaze and, with some weary resignation, decided not to Mask again. It would have to come out eventually anyway.

  Scorch led us into the smelter, into the wide main factory still cluttered with broken machines and generators. I didn’t know what half the devices did, but I could imagine how loud the place must have been when it was operational. Now it was just stark and quiet, even with the low hum of conversation from the groups of mages. Water dripped from some stained corner of the ceiling, and the wind whistled through a cracked window, but even so, the air felt oppressed by the eerie hush.

  And it was all broken and abandoned, and time washed away the meaning, all the meaning, until there was just a shell that meant to forget…that needed the forgetting…

  I shook my head, scrabbling at the wall for support.

  “Tarik?” Kor murmured, his arm around my shoulders. “Everything all right?”

  “Just…lost my balance,” I said. I meant to wave him away, but I couldn’t let go of the wall and I couldn’t let go of my head, or it would all fall apart. “Where are we going?”

  I blinked to focus as he pointed across the room. “There, I presume,” he said. “Does that look like your crew?”

  After a moment my vision steadied and I saw the Hole rats all huddled together in one corner of the room. The rest of Rivano’s mages had gathered near them, sitting or standing in a knot by the wall. My heart caught in my throat when I saw them, because there in the midst of them I saw a small body lying on the ground, wrapped in an embroidered blanket of dark blue linen. Bugs.


  Everyone stared at me as we walked in. Some of the mages shuffled back to let me pass, while others stood stone-still, muttering amongst themselves. I’m sure they thought I was there to turn in the whole lot of them to the King. But I paid them no mind. Just headed straight for the Hole skitters, straight for Jig and Anuk who had scrambled to their feet, ready for a fight.

  “What’s he doing here?” Jig asked Anuk through his teeth, and they both turned to Rivano who stood nearby. “Clan Master? What’s the Prince doing here?”

  “Perhaps you should ask him yourself,” Rivano said, smiling patiently at them.

  Anuk rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, but Jig prowled toward me like a lean black cat, eyes narrow, suspicious.

  “Looking for a rematch?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Believe me, I’ve fought you too many times to volunteer for that.”

  He straightened up, scowling. “We only fought once. And that dan’ even count.”

  I gave him a reproachful look and pushed past him. The Clan mages shifted and parted as I approached them, leaving me a clear path to Bugs. Jig stormed after me all in a fury.

  “What’re you about? You stay away from him!” he shouted.

  I ignored him. My throat tightened as I knelt beside the child’s body. Deep inside I wanted to break down and weep for him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Jig and Anuk and the other skitters didn’t know me. Kor and Zagger didn’t know Bugs. And Rivano? He didn’t know how Bugs had saved me, not just by catching the bullet that should have been mine, but by giving me a reason to stand and fight another day. I couldn’t grieve, because I was all alone, and none of them would understand.