“Something’s out there,” Zandria whispers.
“A machine,” I say.
“I hope it’s not another seeker,” Remy grumbles. Zandria shivers.
We stay low in the fog, and soon our patience is rewarded. From the swamp edging this area, a mechanical beast prowls out of the tall grasses and trees. This one is a tiger mechanimal, long and catlike. They have strong jaws that can take off a leg or arm or head with ease, and run with all the grace and speed of the animals they were modeled after.
In other words, this is one machine you don’t want to mess with.
It’s too far away for Zandria and me to touch at the moment, but the ringing of its metal body carries over the hills. These sorts of machines don’t usually come alone. Not like the scouts. They have handlers, which means soldiers won’t be too far behind.
Our best bet is to sit still, hidden by the fog, and wait them out.
Our bodies are tense, magic flowing freely and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. The mechtiger approaches the foggy hills slowly, its ears—no doubt outfitted with listening devices—perk. No soldiers materialize yet, but someone on the other end of those ears is eavesdropping. And they’ll come running in full force if they hear anything amiss.
“We should rip it apart as soon as it comes close,” Zandria says.
“No,” I say. “The second that mech stops transmitting what it hears, this place will be swarming with soldiers. We’d have an even more difficult time getting away. We need to wait this out and only destroy it if necessary.”
Remy says something that steals my breath. “No wonder Darian wants a power source that won’t fade. He could power mechs like these and worse for ages with it—similar to that dragon at the Sanctuary.”
I shudder. I hadn’t even thought of that, but that’s likely part of his plans too. Anything Darian can do to claim more power, he’ll most certainly try.
The mechtiger pauses at the edge of the rolling fog and tilts its ears to better capture the strange whistling noise the wind makes as it goes through the petrified trees. Then it presses on, stepping into the fog. We hold our breaths, waiting for it to find us. Here and there, we catch a glimpse of steel undulating through the fog. Zandria stiffens next to me like she’s ready to bolt. I grab her hand and squeeze. For the first time in weeks, she lets me. She breathes out and closes her eyes for a moment to center herself again. When the mechtiger ranges near our hill, we press ourselves flat against the ground as best we can.
And then it keeps going.
It didn’t hear us breathing over the whistling wind. It didn’t rip us limb from limb, and we didn’t have to expose ourselves. But it’s still prowling through the hills and fog. A little of the tension eases, but we don’t take our eyes off the mechtiger until it has completed its circuit of the area and returns to the swamp to report back to its masters. By the time we can stand normally again, our legs are cramped and sore.
“That was closer than I’d like,” Zandria mutters as she rubs her legs and stretches before we head out again.
“What I don’t like is that we have to go in the same direction that mech went in order to return to Palinor,” Remy says. “We should stay here where it’s safe.”
I give him a dark look. “Safe for you. Nowhere is safe for me as long as Aro’s in danger. Or have you already forgotten?”
Remy scowls but doesn’t say more. We hurry out of the fog, then cast our cloaking and silencing spells for the journey through the swamp. I hate swamps. And I’m not looking forward to retracing our steps through it, especially with mechtigers on the prowl.
Once we clear the swamp, we search for a place to set up camp for the night. We’ve reached the forest proper now, one relatively untouched. We grow weary as night draws near. We’ll have to stop soon.
We’re tired enough that we almost stumble into a camp of Technocrat soldiers. Luckily our shield and silencing spells prevent them from seeing us, and we’re able to tiptoe a safe distance away.
“At least a dozen of them, all the way out here,” Remy muses. “Darian must be desperate to find us.”
“And we’re about to walk right back into Palinor,” Zandria says. “He’ll love that.”
“At least their mechtigers are powered down for the evening,” I say.
“We should ambush them while they sleep,” Zandria says. “Then we won’t have to worry about them anymore.”
I shake my head. My sister has become preoccupied with revenge. While I don’t blame her, three of us against a dozen isn’t a risk we should take, even with our magic.
“They’ll just send more when these soldiers don’t check in with their commander,” I say. “Let’s find somewhere else to set up our camp.”
Zandria growls. “Stupid Technos. My feet hurt.”
I almost laugh. She sounds like her old self. I miss that Zandria so much. A hollow spot aches in my chest. “Sorry, Zandy, you’ll have to make do for now.”
She rolls her eyes at me and we backtread until we’re far enough away to feel safe. No good spots present themselves, and I can’t deny my feet hurt too. Suddenly, Remy stops us.
“Look at these trees,” he says.
I frown. “What about them?” They seem like normal, natural trees to me.
“They’re quite large, aren’t they?”
“Yes, so what?” Zandria says.
“We can each make a nest inside one of these trees with a spell,” Remy says. “Even a Technocrat walking by would have no idea we were there. And we can get a good night’s rest too.”
“Not bad, Remy,” Zandria says approvingly.
I hum the words to a spell to make the nearest tree obey my commands. The bark peels away in the middle, and the insides shift to form a hollow big enough for me to curl up in. I crawl inside while Zandria and Remy do the same with their own trees. I close the bark just enough that passersby won’t notice any difference, but I can still breathe. Then, exhausted, I finally settle down to sleep.
When we wake in the morning, we cautiously leave our tree camps and eat a hasty, cold breakfast on the road. We may have been a safe distance from the Technocrats last night, but they’re surely moving again this morning, and we need to get farther ahead for safety’s sake.
It’s always been a risk, being around Technocrats. But it’s a whole different world now that they’re actively hunting us.
We’ve only walked for one hour before Zandria stops us. “Something’s strange about that bit of forest up ahead.”
I stare where she points but don’t see anything out of place. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, see the bird in that tree?” She indicates a little bird with a red chest and black-and-silver wings. I’ve seen them before in the woods near the Chambers. They sing a sweet little song.
“Yes, I see it. What about it?”
“It’s singing. But I can’t hear anything.”
She’s right. A sudden flutter of hope rises in my chest.
“Someone’s cast a silencing spell over that whole area,” Remy says.
“Which means some of the Magi must’ve survived,” Zandria says.
“Let’s find out who it is,” I say.
We’ve barely set foot in the grove before we’re surrounded by a small band of Magi.
The tall man leading them is none other than Isaiah.
CHAPTER 13
SHOCK ROOTS US TO THE SPOT. THEN JOY takes over.
“Father!” Remy cries, leaping forward to embrace Isaiah in an awkward but surprisingly warm hug.
“Remy,” Isaiah says. “I was certain they’d captured you. You left just before the Technocrats destroyed our home.”
Remy straightens up, releasing his father. “We were already deep in the forest. We felt the ground shake and . . . and by the time we reached the ravine . . . it was too late.”
Zandria steps forward. “How did you survive? We didn’t think anyone had.” More faces appear in the trees behind Isaiah as sh
ield spells are dropped now that they know we’re Magi.
“There was an escape route behind the Council Room. We got as many as possible out, but only about a hundred of us are left now. We’ve been evading the machines ever since.” He frowns, and I can tell the gears in his head are already turning. A dangerous thing. “Where have you been hiding?”
“We found a . . . sanctuary . . . of sorts,” I say. “To the west.”
“But it became unsafe, so we’re on the road again,” Zandria quickly adds. I can’t tell what Remy thinks of this, but neither Zandria nor I trust Isaiah with the secrets the Sanctuary holds. Not yet, at least.
“We’re headed back to Palinor,” I say. “We’re going to get the rest of the Magi out of the dungeons.” While that isn’t the real impetus for our return, it is a thing we’d like to do, so it feels like less of a lie.
Remy folds his arms across his chest, suddenly standoffish. “Do you believe us now, Father? About Darian?”
Isaiah scoffs. “Darian had nothing to do with this, I assure you.”
My hands ball into fists. “Please, tell me he doesn’t know where you are. If you’ve contacted him, you’ve put the last remaining Magi in jeopardy.”
For a moment, Isaiah almost seems uncertain, but it passes quickly. “He hasn’t responded to my messages yet.”
Zandria throws up her hands. “He captured us, tried to kill us. He attempted to persuade Aissa to join his side. To help him use Magi as a power source for the machines.”
“Which is impossible,” Isaiah says. Despite his words, several of the gathered Magi behind him exchange concerned looks. The Armory Council may have heard our case, but the rest of the Magi wouldn’t have learned the details.
“Aissa and I both saw it with our own eyes,” Remy pleads. “You must listen to reason. How do you think the Technocrats knew exactly where to send their bombs and war machines?”
“For all I know, you three led them right to our doorstep,” Isaiah says. His gray eyes flare but then quickly calm. Even seeming a bit . . . smug. “But that doesn’t matter,” he continues. “We’re going to take down the Technocrats. Our plan is still in action, just a little different now.”
I frown. I don’t like his tone one bit. “What are you talking about?”
“Come, I’ll show you.” He gestures for us to follow, and we do. My trepidation grows with every step. Isaiah finally stops in a clearing. With a wave of his hand, a shield spell vanishes, revealing a group of prisoners pinned to the ground by the living roots of a nearby tree. The roots, branches, and vines wrap around each prisoner—all Technocrats, I assume—from their feet to their chests to their necks. “We’ve been capturing their scouts. None of them will be able to report back.”
“What do you intend to do with them?” Zandria asks, her face stony. I may find this troubling, but my sister definitely does not.
“We’re bound for Palinor as well. Once we get there, we will surround their city with the bodies of their own.”
I shiver, even though I know the Magi had little choice but to take these prisoners or kill them outright. These Technos are scouts; their job is to find our people with the aid of their machines and report on any hiding places they uncover. What else could the Magi do?
My eyes rove over the prisoners—about a dozen. Then my heart nearly stops. I know that blond hair. I know those pale blue eyes like half-moons.
Aro.
My thoughts scatter as heat radiates through my limbs. Aro is here. But how did he escape? How did he run afoul of Isaiah and the Magi?
Our eyes meet, and Aro’s light up. His face, like mine, is still a bit bruised. Hopefully Isaiah doesn’t catch on to that little detail.
“Not all of these people are scouts.” I point toward Aro. I can’t say exactly who he is, or Isaiah would be even more determined to kill him. In this case, a little white lie won’t hurt. “That one. His name is Aro. I met him in Palinor while working for the Master Mechanic. If he left the city, he must’ve been fleeing retribution from the king and queen.”
Isaiah’s expression betrays no emotion. “He’s a Technocrat,” he says flatly.
“But one who’s willing to help us. Who has proved his worth.”
“It makes no difference. He knows our location and our faces. The only reason he’s alive is so we can use him to prove a point later.”
Anger rises within me, but I shove it down. An outburst won’t aid my cause here. I glance over my shoulder at my sister and Remy. They’re biting their tongues for now. Aro is nothing more than another Technocrat to them, even if he did help us.
But he’s everything to me.
Isaiah turns away, but I grab his arm. “Why don’t you release him to our custody, and we’ll be on our way. You won’t have to trouble with him or worry about feeding him. It’s just one lowly Technocrat.”
Isaiah’s expression turns grim as he shakes me off.
“You’ve spent too long in Palinor among the enemy. Do not forget yourself. Sympathy for the enemy is treason.”
My breath hitches in my chest. His threat hits home.
“Don’t worry,” Zandria says. “We’ll set her straight.” She offers Isaiah her best smile. “She’s still reeling from all we’ve been through the last few weeks, with our parents and all.”
Isaiah’s face softens slightly. “Of course. Just see that weakness doesn’t show itself again.”
“It won’t,” Zandria says. I clamp my mouth shut but send a long, desperate look to Aro. Something shines in his eyes. Love or tears, I can hardly tell. But being this close to him and not being able to touch him, talk to him, is pure torture.
Especially knowing Isaiah could kill him whenever he feels the time is right.
And then one of two things will happen: he’ll kill me too, or if by some luck and the right magic I manage to keep myself and Aro alive through our connection, Isaiah will discover what I’ve done. That I performed the Binding rite—on its own a treasonable offense—with a Technocrat.
He’ll murder us both for it. Isaiah is not the forgiving sort.
He leads us to where the remaining Magi have made camp nearby in a cave carved from the bedrock. It’s surrounded by thick trees, and the terrain is rough and rocky. Perfect for dissuading machines and people from traversing it. Not the most comfortable to sleep on, either, but our magic can fix that by using the earth to form beds and pillows and anything else we need.
And of course, all of it is hidden beneath a shield spell.
We duck inside the cave and find ourselves bathed in light. Almost like the Chambers. I swallow hard. While it’s been years since I’ve lived in the Chambers, it was always Home, with a capital H. It’s hard to believe it’s really gone. But this is the survivors’ attempt to bring home with them. Though they’ve only been here a short while, green ferns and an array of colorful flowers line the cavern and offshoot corridors, and moss coats the floor. Fewer than one hundred Magi hide in this cave. That plus who knows how many captured Magi languishing in the Technocrats’ dungeon are all that remain of our people.
So few. I don’t know how we’re going to defeat Darian and the Technocrat royals. But we have to find a way. Maybe Catoria is right. Maybe trying to heal the rift by restoring magic to all is the only route to success.
But by the same token, how could we ever trust the Technocrats with magic? Wouldn’t they just abuse it for their own ends? While I’m firmly on the side of the Alchemist Alliance and finding a path toward peace, I haven’t decided how I feel about that yet.
But right now as we greet our fellow Magi survivors and find a place to settle in, I need to focus on one thing: freeing Aro.
“Absolutely not,” Zandria hisses at me from across the small alcove cave we’ve claimed for the time being.
“I just need to talk to him. That’s all.”
“You’re going to try to free him,” she says, folding her arms across her chest and giving me an accusatory look.
I sigh. “Yes
, I want to free him. But I’m not done pleading my case to Isaiah yet.”
Zandria snorts. “So you say.”
“I’m your twin. Look at me. Am I lying?”
She frowns, but gazes directly in my eyes. Finally she lets out a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll help you talk to him, but that’s it. I’m not risking my neck for a Technocrat. And I don’t understand why you are.”
I’ve confessed everything to my sister. She knows the whole story, everything that happened after she was captured until Aro helped me free her and Remy from their metal suits. She knows how I feel, and she knows what he risked for me, for us.
She knows we owe him.
But her hatred of the Technocrats is more violent than ever. And I’m worried she’s beginning to hate me by association. I don’t know how to fix this. But I have to keep trying.
“Thank you,” I say, getting to my feet. “Let’s go before Remy comes back.” He went to see who else survived and chat more with his father.
“Ah, yes, one more thing to hide from our allies.” She shakes her head.
“Don’t forget,” I whisper to her. “You and I are the only ones we can truly trust with everything.” I glance out into the cave, searching for any sign of Remy. “I still worry Remy might spill our secret to Isaiah.”
“He won’t,” she says quickly. We leave our alcove campsite and I weave a shield spell while she handles the silencing one.
“What makes you so sure?” I ask her.
“Trust me.”
I do trust her, but not her assessment of Remy. He was sent to spy on us in Palinor and report back to his father. And he did until he finally tired of it. But could his loyalty shift again now that he knows his father survived the massacre at the Chambers? The first thing he did after we were showed where to make camp was run right back to his father, after all.
A small hint of a smile runs across Zandy’s face so quickly I almost think I imagined it. She was always quick to smile and laugh. Now, she’s still headstrong and wild, but in a different way. She’s lost her joy. I wish I could help her get it back.
Heartless Heirs Page 9
