Heartless Heirs Page 3

  “Instead, they’re casting you out,” Masia says.

  I frown. “What do you mean, casting us out?”

  “I mean you must leave the Chambers and never come back. You’re no longer Magi spies, and we will not protect you or share intelligence with you. I will show you out.”

  In spite of her stern demeanor, there’s something surprisingly sympathetic in Masia’s expression and body language.

  Remy doesn’t seem to notice this, possibly because he’s too distracted by his father disowning him. “All of us?” he says.

  “I’m afraid so. Come with me, please.”

  Her tone makes it clear the time to argue is long past. We follow her in shocked silence. She takes us through a cavern tunnel I haven’t been down before. My curiosity—and fear—grows. “Where are you taking us?”

  She puts a finger to her lips and tilts her head to indicate we should enter a cave to our left. We do, though not without some hesitation.

  She closes the door behind us and immediately casts a sound-dampening spell. The stern expression fades and is replaced by concern.

  “We must make this quick. I’d hoped to have more time with you before you left, but Isaiah is furious. I’m lucky I was even able to escort you out.” She puts a hand on my and Zandria’s shoulders. “Tell me, did your parents explain what the Alchemist Alliance is before they passed away?”

  “You mean before Darian murdered them?” I say.

  Masia’s face pales. “It was him, was it?” She sighs. “He has long been ambitious, but I never imagined he’d take such a dramatic turn.”

  “You believe us?” Remy says. “But the council just voted to kick us out.”

  “Not all of the council, just a majority. I voted in favor of taking your advice and preparing for a fight.”

  “And my father did not,” Remy says.

  She nods her assent. “But back to the matter at hand. Did they tell you about the Alliance?”

  “Yes, sort of,” I say. “They left us a letter hidden in the floor and directed me to it as they were dying. They never trusted Darian. The letter outlined the basics of what the Alchemist Alliance was and its purpose.”

  “Yes.” Masia’s eyes are lit with a strange fire. “Now that purpose falls to you.”

  “You’re part of the Alliance?” Zandria asks.

  “I am,” Masia says. “I knew your parents well. They were good people, excellent Magi, and dedicated Alchemists. They would want you to continue their work.”

  “But how?” Zandria asks. “We found what was left of the Magi library. It wasn’t much.”

  “Just a small room with a map and journal.” I intentionally omit the spell book that hides in Zandria’s pack. The last thing I wish to do is turn it over, especially if we can’t ever return.

  “May I see them?” I hand Masia the map and journal and she examines them eagerly.

  “We’re still trying to figure out what they mean,” I say.

  “I can help you with that,” she says.

  “You’re really part of the Alchemist Alliance?” I can hardly believe our good luck that such a renowned Magi is one of us.

  She smiles. “I am.” She points to the map. “This is directing you to go west.” She chews her lip as she considers the last rune on the map. “‘To find a sanctuary,’ it says.”

  “That must be where all the spell books that should have been in the library are,” I say.

  “Very possibly. I cannot leave my post here, especially if the Technocrats are on their way to attack us. But you three must leave, and I strongly suggest you follow that map to the sanctuary.”

  “What does the inscription mean, do you think?” I ask, pointing out the words on the little note that had been folded into the map: Follow the past to find the future.

  “It’s the motto of the Alchemist Alliance. They believed that by studying and embracing our past, we could regain our lost glory. And especially that we could find the keys to our lost powers in the past as well. No one knows for certain why the schism happened, separating us into two peoples: one with magic and one without. Nor why those with magic could no longer affect inanimate objects. But the Alchemists were convinced if they could figure that out, they could reverse it. We’ve been trying with the alchemicals every new generation. Maybe someday it will work, and some of us will be born with full powers.”

  A jolt runs through Zandria and me. Part of me wants to tell this woman that it has happened, but it’s been too well drummed into me not to tell a soul, especially someone well-placed in the Armory. I can tell my sister feels the same.

  “So no one has yet?” I ask. If she knew, would she tell us? Or hide the truth like we do?

  She shakes her head. “Regrettably, no. But the recipe to create the alchemicals has been passed down to every generation.”

  Zandria and I exchange a look. “We don’t have a recipe. Our parents must have died before giving it to us.”

  Masia frowns. “That can’t be right. You said they wrote you a letter telling you about the Alchemist Alliance, yes?”

  “They did,” I say.

  “It must be included in invisible ink. You can reveal it with a simple spell or try lemon juice.”

  A thrill rolls through me and Zandy. Our parents may have left us more than we realized.

  “Thank you,” I say. “We’ll try that.”

  Masia glances down the hall behind her. “Now you must leave, and quickly too. Before Isaiah decides to dole out a more extreme punishment.”

  I shiver. I have no doubt Isaiah wanted to do more and was only thwarted by the compassion of the other councilors like Masia.

  “What will you do? We’re deadly serious about the Technocrat threat from Darian,” Zandria says, her face taking on a wild look. “You can’t let him back into the Chambers. Not ever.”

  Masia’s expression hardens. “I’ll be doing everything I can to block him and change the rest of the council’s mind.”

  Remy’s hands ball into fists. “We should stay and fight. I can’t believe my father is doing this to us.”

  Masia pats his arm. “He’s angry right now. But he loves you. He’ll come around eventually.”

  I have my doubts. Isaiah isn’t the forgiving sort. But perhaps he’ll make an exception for Remy.

  She ushers us through a hidden route in the Chambers, one that bypasses the gawking crowds that are probably assembling in the main thoroughfare we took to get here. For that, I’m grateful. I ran that gauntlet the last time Isaiah and the council dismissed me, and I’m not eager to do it again.

  Soon, we reach the exit tunnels, and Masia bids us goodbye. We ascend via the staircase, Zandria and I crafting the spell to form it while Remy casts a shield spell just to be safe. Then we reach the deserted top of the ravine. Everything is still and seems so normal. A far cry from what Remy and I encountered the last time. The sun shines over our heads, and birds sing in the trees. The hum of insects floats on the late summer breeze. For a moment, I wonder if perhaps we’re overreacting. If Darian’s threat was an empty one.

  But then I remember who we’re talking about. The man who put my sister in irons, who killed my parents, and who has been playing both sides for years.

  No, the threat isn’t empty. The Technocrats will come for the Chambers. The only question is when.

  CHAPTER 4

  AFTER THE CHILLY RECEPTION OUR NEWS received from the Armory councilors, all of us are on edge. The fact the Technocrat encampment seems to have vanished into thin air only makes our discomfort worse.

  I don’t trust this for a second. Every muscle in my body is taut and ready for a fight.

  Remy barely notices. He fumes behind me and Zandria as we head into the forest, taking the path laid out by the map we found in the secret room beneath Palinor.

  “I can’t believe my own father won’t listen to me. Just because . . . because . . .” he sputters but doesn’t finish his sentence.

  “Just because you’ve aligned
yourself with me—the Magi who saved a Technocrat,” I say for him.

  Zandria snaps. “Can you blame him, Aissa? You abandoned your mission for the very person you were supposed to assassinate. If any other Magi had done that, you’d condemn them too.”

  She isn’t wrong. Until a couple weeks ago, I would’ve done precisely that. But Aro upended my life. Turned my own heart against itself. However foolhardy it may be, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Love made fools of us all,” I retort—and instantly wish I hadn’t.

  My sister’s sharp, wounded look makes me regret alluding to the feelings she once had for Darian.

  Worse, he led her on because, more than his desire to raise an army of loyal Heartless warriors, Darian wants to use us. Our unique magic allows us to control the machines but also marks us as the end result of the Alchemist Alliance’s final experiment. The alliance of Technos and Magi believed we could surmount our differences if everyone were restored to their original, magical state, and I’m doubtless Darian wishes to use that power to unite his own twisted kingdom.

  “Darian must’ve gotten to him before us somehow,” Remy mutters. “That lying traitor. My father trusts him more than me.”

  “Isaiah is thoroughly committed to the idea that installing Darian on the Techno throne is the only way to victory,” I say.

  Zandria tsks. “More like the idea he could be wrong is utterly unthinkable to him.”

  “I just don’t—” Remy’s voice cuts off as the ground beneath our feet trembles.

  We halt, magic at the ready, and examine the woods around us. The trees quiver. The trembling increases, then stops as suddenly as it began. At first, all we hear is silence—not even the sound of small trundling animals or birds—then a whistle whines in the distance, slowly growing louder.

  My chest tightens. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m certain it’s nothing good.

  The earth rattles again, hard enough to knock us off our feet. A horrible noise booms behind us—in the direction of the Chambers.

  Horror claws at my throat.

  Technocrats.

  Remy’s face turns an ashen shade. He leaps to his feet and sprints back the way we came.

  “Wait!” Zandria cries. “It’s too late!”

  My shock at my sister attempting to be the voice of reason and not run after danger is enough to make me pause, lagging behind them both by a few seconds. So much has changed.

  We race after Remy, hoping to catch up to him before he gives us away to whatever caused that noise. We reach him just inside the tree line. My brain freezes, unable to process the enormity of what lies before us.

  Nothing is left of the Chambers save a huge, smoking crater filled with rubble.

  Zandria makes a choking noise beside me. Remy falls to his knees. My heart sinks through the earth, joining the broken bodies of my fellow Magi buried in the wreckage of the only place that ever felt like home.

  Another whistle breaks the silence, along with the all-too-familiar sound of skittering metal legs.

  A blast pummels the remains of the ravine, and moments later hundreds of seekers swarm through the rubble and dust, blanketing the ground. Behind them is a sight that makes my blood spike with magic and fear.

  War machines.

  My breath rasps. It’s suddenly harder to breathe. I never imagined I’d see machines like these. I’ve only read about them in the Technocrat history books. The illustrations didn’t do them justice. They’re gigantic, even larger than the mechanimals that prance through Palinor in the annual Victory Parade.

  These don’t pretend at life like those do. They’re built purely for the purpose of destruction. Some are boxy with arms that pound the earth, both to destroy everything in their path and propel themselves forward. Others have huge circular openings from which bombs spew toward my former home. Still others have drills that dig into the ground. Like they know the last of the Magi hid under the earth.

  A hot flush of pure hatred rushes over me. All I want to do is rip apart every machine here. And every Technocrat too. Beside me, Zandy’s hands ball into fists and her nostrils flare. I know she feels the same.

  But that won’t bring our friends, our people, back to life. It will only expose us and leave us to suffer the same—or an even worse—fate.

  Zandria’s face twists into an expression I’ve never seen her wear before. “I’ll kill him,” she whispers hoarsely.

  Magi or not, Darian must be stopped. Permanently. And we’ll do it together.

  But not today.

  I yank Remy to his feet and shake him. “We need to leave. Now.”

  Together, Zandria and I drag Remy away until his shock fades enough for him to keep pace with us while we run. The whistles of heavy artillery resound behind us, churning my stomach.

  We must put as much distance as possible between us and those terrible machines.

  The Chambers, the last refuge of the Magi, is now a tomb.

  I choke back the sob that begs to be released and push forward. The Technocrats haven’t seen us yet, but they will if we don’t move quickly. We’re fortunate this area still has an actual forest to hide in.

  I shudder to think what would’ve happened had we been out in the open when those machines arrived.

  Behind us, a new sound groans and cracks. We stop for just a moment to glance behind—only to see trees crashing to the ground.

  “They’re destroying the forest,” Zandria says, her mouth slack with disbelief.

  My stomach clenches. “In case any Magi stragglers try to flee,” I say.

  “Yeah, like us,” Remy says. “Rapide.”

  While Remy’s speed spell pushes us faster, Zandria casts a silencing spell, and I cover us with the shield. We take no chances today.

  By nightfall, we’ve pushed our bodies to the breaking point. It’s dangerous to use the speed spell for too long, and we’ve exceeded the recommended time by two hours. Every inch of my body aches, a thousand pricks of pain. The sound of the machines is far in the distance now. They destroyed a vast section of the forest, and we mourn for the trees. Someday, when this is over, we’ll return and help the forest regrow, like Magi have done for centuries.

  We stop to rest by a small lake that interrupts the forest. I settle onto a log by the bank and split some food with Zandria and Remy. We eat silently. The weight of what we witnessed rests uncomfortably on our shoulders.

  All hope of the Magi reclaiming their place has vanished. I don’t know how many Magi languish in the Technocrats’ dungeons or retain their cover in Palinor, but the number can’t be large. Certainly not enough to replace the nearly thousand lives we just lost.

  We’re it. The three of us, and likely a handful of stragglers. If we don’t survive, the Magi are truly extinct.

  All we can hope to do now is thwart Darian’s plans, and even that’s ambitious. Overthrowing the Technocrat regime without our spy network feels like a lost cause.

  Everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve known and counted on our whole lives, is gone.

  Except each other.

  Zandria’s hands clench and unclench as she sits next to me on the log, staring out at the placid lake. The world feels strangely calm after the upheaval that took place a few hours ago.

  “Do you think . . . do you think any of them survived?” Zandria says quietly.

  “No,” Remy answers immediately, sitting on her other side. “Our magic can do many things, but my father failed to warn anyone. They’d have been crushed before they even had the chance to ready a spell.” There’s a pain in his voice I’ve never heard before.

  I put my head in my hands. “Remy’s probably right. Though maybe a few survivors managed to get out one of the back tunnels.”

  Remy scoffs. “Then they’d have been picked off by the Technocrats and their machines.” He shakes his head. “No, we shouldn’t waste an ounce of hope on any of them surviving. It’s a miracle we escaped when we did.”

 
Zandria’s chin trembles, but she manages to steel her jaw. She’s been through so much these last few weeks that I want nothing more than to wrap her in a hug. But she’s been standoffish since her rescue and has made clear that she’s angry with me about Aro. She doesn’t understand why I did what I did.

  Sometimes, even I don’t understand. It wasn’t rational to fall in love with a Technocrat. It wasn’t rational to save him. But I did both anyway.

  Ripples. That’s what I always used to remind myself of whenever I considered a move. If I do this, what will the fallout be? How will it impact everything else?

  My heart didn’t—and still doesn’t—care about those ripples. Even if love will only lead us both to death and destruction.

  Remy finishes eating and stands. “We need to keep moving. We’re clear enough of the Technocrats that we could head back to Palinor now.” A fierceness lights his face. “Then we can kill Darian. That’s all I want to do.”

  “Not yet,” I say. “Trying now would be a fool’s errand. He’s been hoarding spell books. He’s more knowledgeable than we are about magic. We need our lost spells. Those will give us the edge to take him by surprise. If Masia was right, we may find the answers we need to defeat him at the end of that map, as well as learn more about Zandria’s and my powers.”

  Zandria nods her agreement, but Remy paces. “You want to go chasing a myth? Right now? After what we just witnessed?” The edge in his voice sharpens with every word.

  I rise, putting my hands on his shoulders to stop his pacing. “It is not a myth. It’s our only real chance.”

  He shrugs me off. “What if it doesn’t even exist? What if the Technos caught whoever was transporting the books before they reached this supposed sanctuary and burned them all? Why should we put our faith in something we have no way of knowing is real?” He throws up his hands. “Everyone believed the library was still somewhere in the city, but that didn’t pan out. What makes you think this map will?”

  I swallow hard. His points are sharp and cutting, and I can’t deny he might be right. “Because we have to. We have to believe in something. Otherwise, we have nothing.”