“Good thinking,” Zandria says. We start our search, roving up and down the beach, hunting for any hiding spots. If they used a cloaking spell on the boat, it should’ve worn off long ago. We regroup after scouring the beach and nearby woods for an hour, all of us empty-handed and frustrated.
Zandria puts her hands on her hips. “This doesn’t make any sense. They must’ve come ashore somewhere around here.”
A sudden, sickening thought occurs to me. “They might have destroyed the boat to prevent the Technocrats from discovering Owen.”
My stomach sinks. Another family the Technos destroyed with their festering hatred. I glance at Aro. He doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as I would’ve thought. Instead, he looks rather sad. His people are not quite as good and righteous as he was raised to believe. That has to be disheartening. I know it was when I realized not all Magi are good too.
Zandria groans, and so does Remy. “That would explain it,” she says.
“We can always make a new one, can’t we?” Aro asks.
“We’ll have to,” Remy says. Together, Remy, Zandria, and I cast a series of spells to cut down a thick tree from the woods and hollow out the insides. Then we smear tree sap on the outside to make it watertight and seaworthy. Aro marvels while we work, his analytical brain taking in every move we make and how it impacts the tree until it becomes a boat. He spent his whole life hating the Magi, but in truth he’s fascinated by the unknown, even magic, despite his conditioning.
He’s more at war with himself than he lets on. But the truth, I’ve begun to realize, is we don’t have to choose between loyalty to our faction or each other—because we’re really the same people. The trouble is that those factions don’t know this yet.
“I’m sorry my people—my parents—have been cruel to yours,” Aro says, surprising us all. “Your magic is a magnificent thing to behold. I want to set this right.”
Remy and Zandria are taken aback, but still only a little swayed by his words. “Thanks,” Remy says. Zandria shrugs.
We set the boat in the water, testing its seaworthiness, then board. “Wait, we don’t have any oars,” Aro says.
I smile. “We don’t need them.”
Zandria casts a spell to make the wind blow and push the boat along. Remy’s handspell calms the waters in spite of the increased wind. Soon, we glide across the unnaturally placid water, speeding toward the little island that finally comes into view.
As we approach, I marvel at the Heldreths’ craftsmanship. The island has a perfect white, sandy beach, abutted by a thick forest wild with green. Many of the trees are of the fruit-bearing variety, and fruit of various shapes and colors hang from the branches invitingly.
We slow the boat’s speed and release the wind and water-calming spells. No sooner have we dragged the boat ashore than a face appears between the trees.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 17
THE BOY APPEARS TO BE ABOUT OUR AGE, maybe a little older. Just as when we saw him in the scrying pool, his skin is light brown and so is his chin-length hair, though now his mouth gapes at the four of us standing on the shoreline. His lips begin to move in an incantation, but Zandria is faster. In seconds, she’s cast a handspell to freeze Owen’s limbs in place.
Not exactly the best way to introduce ourselves, but certainly the safest.
“We mean you no harm.” I step forward with my hands out in what I hope is a calming gesture.
“Then why did you freeze me?” Owen says, his eyes bright with suspicion. Clearly, his parents taught him well.
“Because it looked like you were about to attack us with your magic,” I say. “We only came here to talk.”
He frowns. “How did you even find me? No one is supposed to know about this place.”
“They don’t,” Zandria says, appearing at my side. “We wouldn’t either if not for the assistance of a powerful Magi elder.”
His eyes widen. “So you’re Magi too?”
“Yes, as only the Magi have magic.” I decide, for the moment, to hold off on explaining Aro until we get on firmer ground with this person.
“Do you think you can behave more hospitably toward us?” Zandria asks.
He laughs. “Yes, I’ve seen proof enough to know you’re my kind.” Zandria releases the spell, and Owen stretches his hands and fingers. “Thanks. Now, why are you here?”
We all exchange a look. “We’re part of the Alchemist Alliance, like you and your parents before you,” I say. “My sister and I were spies in the Technocrat city of Palinor and fled to warn the rest of the Magi when one of our own betrayed us. But catastrophe befell them, and now our numbers have been decimated. Between us, the survivors, and any Magi the Technocrats hold prisoner, there’s maybe one hundred left, at best. We came here to find you because the two of us”—I gesture to me and my sister—“and you are all that’s left of the Alchemist Alliance bloodlines, aside from the traitor. We need your help to stop his plan.”
Owen’s expressions go through a range of emotions. He sits atop a piece of driftwood on the beach. “You’re telling me there are a hundred other Magi out there?” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, but there was closer to a thousand before the Chambers—”
“What is the Chambers?”
Did his parents not educate him? Or had they been so cut off from society that they weren’t sure about the other Magi anymore? Either way, this boy may not be as helpful as we hoped. But regardless, we could use more warm bodies on our side.
Zandria sits next to him on the driftwood log. “First, why don’t you tell us what you know about the Magi and the country of Palinor, and we can fill in the gaps.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “We know you’ve been here for a long time.”
“My whole life, actually,” Owen says, running a hand through his hair. “My parents taught me about the great wars with the Technocrats, and about the Alchemist Alliance and how they sought to mend the divisions between us to no avail. And they told me about the Alliance’s long-term mission to restore full magic powers to our people. But they told me that there were no other Magi left. That the mainland was overrun by the Technocrats and we were all who’d survived. That’s why they created this island and we moved here. To raise me, train me in safety and seclusion.”
Zandria speaks my thoughts before I can. “Seclusion is certainly right,” she says.
Aro, who has been hovering behind us with Remy, breaks into the conversation. “Do you know what happened to your parents?”
Owen’s eyes get a faraway sheen to them. “They went to the mainland occasionally for things we needed but couldn’t produce on our own. Clothes and the like. One day, they never came back. I had no choice but to assume they were caught by the Technos. They always said it was too dangerous for me to go with them, that I was the last hope of the Alliance and had to remain here.” He jams his walking stick into the sand. “It always chafed, but even more now that I know there are other Magi.”
“I’m sure they meant well,” Zandria says. “They obviously wanted to protect you.”
“Instead they prevented me from learning the truth,” Owen says. “I miss them terribly, but I’m angry at them too. If I’d been with them, maybe three would’ve been enough to fight back and escape together.”
“They taught you magic, yes?” Remy says.
“They did. We have a primer spell book from the Great Academy, plus my parents passed along a few other spells they knew. But they hadn’t finished teaching me everything . . .” His eyes get that faraway look again, and it makes my stomach twist.
“We lost our parents too,” I say. “But not to the Technocrats. To Darian Azul, the traitor to the Magi and the Alchemist Alliance. He killed them.”
Zandria stands and brushes off her trousers. “Yes, he did. Because he wanted to get to us.”
“Zandy . . .” I say, with a warning tone.
She shrugs. “He’s part of the Alliance. He deserves
to know.”
I grab her by the elbow to pull her aside, but she resists. “Maybe we should wait until—”
“No. If you can tell your Techno boyfriend, I can tell a member of the Alliance!”
“Techno?” Owen says warily as he rises to his feet.
I let go of my sister and automatically position myself in front of Aro. “It’s a long story. But suffice to say, Aro is on our side. He believes in the Alliance’s mission as well. Darian wants to kill him, and he’s here under my protection.”
“Truly,” Aro says. “I want to help. I want to fix things just like the Alchemist Alliance did.”
Owen regards him for a moment, looking back and forth and between him and me several times before relaxing. “All right, but Technocrats killed my parents. If he goes astray, I can’t be held responsible.”
“You will control yourself; if Zandria and Remy can, so can you,” I say.
“Perhaps this will help,” Aro says. “Have you heard of the Heartless, Owen?”
“Aro, you don’t have to do that,” I say.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“I think my parents mentioned it in passing, but I don’t know much,” Owen says.
“The Heartless are Technocrats who are born without working hearts. They’re given clockwork hearts instead, which must be replaced every year. As the hearts wear out, they release a poison from the fuel cell inside them. Because of the poisoning and yearly surgeries, most Heartless don’t live past twenty years, if that.”
“That’s terrible, but what does that have to do with us?”
“All my life I’ve hated the Magi because the Technocrats believe the condition is the result of lingering curse magic wrought in a last-gasp attempt by Magi elders as we crushed their final stronghold with our machines.”
Owen’s hands ball into fists, and I’d bet anything magic is brewing in his veins right now. I’m ready to defend Aro if necessary, my own magic rising to the surface in response.
“But that was a lie. It was an accident, caused by the Alchemist Alliance. They thought that releasing certain alchemicals into the water supply would lead to Techno children with restored magical powers, but that attempt burned up the unborns’ hearts instead.” He pulls the collar of his shirt aside to show the dark spot on his chest that thumps with a clockwork beat. Owen gasps.
“You’re one of the Heartless?” he says. “And the Alliance caused it?” He frowns. “My parents didn’t tell me that.”
“They may not have known,” I say. “We didn’t, and I doubt our parents did either. We only learned of it recently.”
“And yet you’re not angry with the Alliance?” Owen asks Aro.
Aro shakes his head. “I should be, I suppose. But the intent wasn’t malicious like I’d always imagined. They were trying to heal, not harm. It went horribly awry, but if their desire was to heal our peoples and stop the war . . .” He smiles at me. “After meeting Aissa, how could I not want that too? We’re not that different after all.”
Owen looks at all of us, confused. “So then why does this Darian want to kill all of you?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. He wants to use Aissa and me,” Zandria says. “For our magic.”
I grimace. My sister is getting far too lax about who she shares this information with, and it’s beginning to worry me.
“Your magic? But can’t he use any Magi?”
“No,” Zandria says. “Our magic is special. You see, the Alchemist Alliance’s experiments . . . they finally worked for our parents. Their children were born evolved.”
“You mean you two can control anything with your magic? Not just organic matter?” His jaw is slack with surprise.
“It’s true,” Zandria says. “We had no idea until recently why we were special, and our parents were murdered before we could grill them about it. It’s made us excellent spies, though we’ve had to hide the nature of our magic from Magi and Technocrat alike, hence my sister’s hesitation in telling you.”
“That’s extraordinary!” he says. “The Alliance’s experiments have been realized after all. My parents would’ve loved to see that. Can you . . . can you show me?”
“Gladly,” Zandy says. She twists her fingers in the motions of a spell and my knife rises out of the sheath on my belt, startling even me.
“Incredible . . .” Owen breathes, and Aro laughs too. “If you can do that, what do you need me for?” he asks.
“We need allies,” I say. “Isaiah, the leader of the remaining Magi, doesn’t see eye to eye with us. He wants revenge, and while I don’t blame him for that, he’s more likely to lead the rest of our people to their deaths than anything else. He also still foolishly trusts Darian because Darian is the Magi spymaster. Isaiah can’t believe he might betray his own kind. We’re hoping you can help us stop Darian so we can reach some sort of peace between the Magi and the Technocrats.”
“Which seems pretty impossible given who the king and queen are,” Zandria says.
“They’re not very open to negotiation, it’s true,” Aro says, and Zandria glances away.
“Then I suppose my choice is clear.” Owen surprises us all when he gets to one knee and bows to me and Zandria. “I pledge myself to the Alliance and the heirs of Alchemy. I will do what I can to aid you, even if it means giving my life.”
CHAPTER 18
OWEN, WE QUICKLY DISCOVER, IS A HIGHLY inquisitive traveling companion. Having lived on an island his entire life, everything is new to him. From huge swathes of forest to mountains to lakes—all of it meets with amazement through his eyes. Plants and bushes and animals that seem normal to us are a revelation to Owen.
Last night, Zandria and Remy caught wild rabbits for dinner. Owen was both horrified and fascinated by it. Apparently, he has only eaten fish and the vegetables that grow on the island.
He couldn’t bring himself to eat his portion. Zandria ate it for him.
“What?” she said to me when I raised my eyebrows as she took the meat. “I had nothing to eat but broth for weeks. No way am I letting perfectly good food go to waste.”
This led to an uncomfortable conversation about why Zandria only had broth for weeks. Which ended abruptly when my sister stalked off into the nearby woods after Owen asked what had happened in the dungeons. The rest of us were left to explain that she suffered considerably. Owen has been trying to make it up to her ever since, much to Zandria’s irritation.
We’re not far from the Sanctuary when Aro suddenly hisses, “Stop!”
“What is it?” I ask. His face is drawn and serious enough to make even Zandria bite her tongue.
He takes a few steps forward and picks up a stick. Then he pokes at the ground and leaps backward.
The ground where he was standing moments ago shifts and swoops up into the air. Decaying leaves and a few ferns now hang from a nearby tree in a net made of thin metal wire. I shudder.
It was meant for us.
“That,” Aro says, “is not something we want to get caught in. The larger seekers can weave these and leave them behind to capture enemies. They work especially well in places with good cover, like these woods.”
Zandria approaches Aro with arms folded across her chest. “How did you know it was there? What gave it away?”
Aro points to the netting. “Two things. First, I saw the glimmer of the wires running down that tree. Second, there’s a mechanical fern by the base that contains the trip mechanism. Technocrats don’t normally replace the ferns this far from the main city. There are plenty of trees and plants here already. It was out of place.”
For a moment Zandria looks as if she might be ill, but she composes herself quickly. “We’ll keep an eye out for that moving forward.”
“We should probably slow our pace,” I say. “We’ll reach the Sanctuary this evening one way or another.”
The others nod their agreement, and we set off again. Aro in particular is on guard for more traps. It isn’t long, however, before a new p
roblem presents itself: the sound of skittering metal legs.
A chill runs down my spine and I grip Aro’s arm. “Those traps . . . do the seekers that make them usually stay close by?”
“Sometimes yes, they can be programmed to do that.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?” Zandria says from the front of our party.
Before Aro can reply, the seeker crashes through the trees, knocking Zandria off her feet. It towers over her, all six of its metal legs surrounding her body. Wires protrude from its mouth, hurtling toward my frozen sister.
“Teneree!” I send my spell at the mech looming over Zandria. Fear has her in its grasp. But now the mech is in mine. The wires halt, held still by my spell. But the seeker struggles. I can’t hold it for too long. Owen leaps forward to grab Zandria’s arms and drag her out from under the mech. Moments later, a shield spell conceals them as he helps her hide behind a nearby tree.
Behind me Remy and Aro watch the forest for any other mechs that might be lying in wait. With my spell, I slam the mech against the nearest tree, but it barely makes a dent in the hard metal shell on its back. My incantation rises higher and I flip the metal beast upside down. Its legs writhe as it tries to turn over to no avail. Then my next spell rips off the metal underbelly, which makes a terrible screech. When the wires and internal clockwork are finally exposed, I remove the havani capsule and make short work of disassembling the rest.
Exhausted, I hurry to my sister. She’s sitting up now, chatting excitedly with Owen.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m fine now. But Aissa, you have to see this.” She nods at Owen. “Do it again.”
He shrugs, strangely amused. Then he whispers a spell to make a nearby flower blossom. For a moment I seriously wonder if Zandria hit her head harder than I thought.
That’s when I realize the same thing she did: Owen’s shield is still up. Yet he’s casting an incantation too.
That’s supposed to be impossible.
Then again, so are we.
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