A Dark So Deep: The Madness Method, #2

By J. Leigh Bralick

Some things are made to be broken...

 

Beloved prince, rebel, traitor...Tarik grapples with the consequences of pushing his country to the brink of war. Now, haunted by shadows and his own demons, he must navigate a treacherous path to bring peace before losing his own sanity.

 

With Hayli imprisoned by the Science Ministry and his allies in the shadows, Tarik must contend with both external and internal foes. Some see him as the key to defusing hostilities; others believe he alone can save the mages from annihilation. But the pressing question remains — at what cost?

 

As Tarik fights to protect his people, Hayli struggles to escape her captors, but is true freedom ever within reach? And as the lines between loyalty and betrayal blur, only one question remains.

 

If the price for peace is too high…is war the only option?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vorona Books
• Release date: Nov 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781941108130

J. Leigh Bralick

J. Leigh writes primarily fantasy and YA fantasy novels. She has made one foray into science fiction, and enjoyed it so much she may eventually publish that experiment, if she survives the effort. Her favorite thing about writing fantasy is the excitement of exploring new worlds and experiencing exciting adventures — all on a very low-cost budget! All you really need is coffee.When she isn’t writing, J. Leigh loves her other job as an ER nurse (most of the time). (Except at 3AM.) She spends the rest of her non-existent spare time wrangling her three big dogs, acting as glorified tree branch for her little parrot Pippin, attempting to not murder garden plants, and taking care of her husband.

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A Dark So Deep

Book II in The Madness Method

by

J. Leigh Bralick

2023 Vorona Books Edition

Copyright 2015 © J. Leigh Bralick

All Rights Reserved

Originally published in the United States by SisterMuses in 2015.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

For Whitney, Julia, and Maria

In loving memory of Mary Bralick

"Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue?

Where is the madness which you should be cleansed?

Behold...he is that lightning, he is that madness!…

Behold I am a prophet of the lightning and a heavy drop out of the cloud."

Friederich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Part I: Captive

Chapter 1 — Tarik

We buried Bugs just inland from the river, in a copse of trees that seemed too green and vibrant for the dead month of the year. It was fitting, I thought, because Bugs always seemed too alive for the bleak streets, too.

A voice in the back of my mind whispered that it was me they should be burying, but I drove the thought back, deep down into the pit in my heart where the blackness lingered—where I had shackled it, locking it up tight to keep it from driving me mad.

The half-veiled sun had already settled low on the horizon when we’d set out from the aluminium smelter where we’d taken refuge after Esobor; now nothing remained but a faint halo framing the hilltops and the last gleams of gold on the broken water of the river. As the shadows deepened in the copse, we stood in a silent ring around the makeshift grave.

There was an ancientness to the whole procedure. Here there were no fire and cold marble and faceless officials like in the Mausoleum of State, where death was catalogued, stamped, and notarized. Instead we, his family, all took turns with a stolen shovel to dig his bed in the rich, damp earth. The earth was good—life and death interwoven in roots and fallen leaves. That seemed right to me. I imagined Bugs would be pleased, if anyone could be pleased about the place he would sleep forever.

Only one thing seemed wrong.

That hole we dug, that deep bed under the trees…it was too small. The body I held in my arms, waiting to deliver him to the earth, was much too small. Too small, too young. If I could have died to save him, to stop him from saving me, I would have.

At least, I wanted to believe that I would have.

Maybe I was too much of a coward.

My throat burned and I held my breath clenched in my teeth to keep from weeping. At least the veil of funereal blue had hidden him from me. I never could have held him, never could have deposited him in that nest of dirt if I’d been able to see the mask of death on his face, the blood-stained wound in his heart from the bullet that had been meant for me. I knelt on the edge of the grave and lowered him into the shallow hole, and when the first shovelful of earth scattered over his body I winced and caught in a sharp breath that tasted like grief.

When dusk stole the last of our light no one moved; no one wanted to. The older girls Kite and Gem held hands with little Pika and Kitty, but the boys stood stoic enough, facing the shadows with stern faces. Only Hayli was missing from our group, and my heart ached as I thought of her. That, too, was wrong. I knew Hayli would never forgive herself for not being there to say goodbye.

Finally Derrin settled his hat on his head and took a step back.

Well, he said. That’s that.

He swung away and the others filed after him one by one without complaint, even Pika and Kitty with tears on their cheeks. I didn’t. I stood with my arms tight across my chest, waiting until the sound of snapping sticks and rustling leaves finally faded under the weight of somber twilight.

You can’t bring him back, Shade. Not even you.

I jerked around, only to find Jig crouched in the shadows behind me. He wasn’t watching me; he had his gaze fixed on the broken earth of Bugs’s grave. I imagined he would still have a hard time looking at me, as I stood there with Shade’s spirit and Prince Tarik’s face—a face and a name he’d despised for so long.

Why are you still here? I asked.

Why are you?

Here? I asked, feigning obtuseness.

You know what I mean, he said. You dan’ belong here. With us. Why dan’ you just gan away already?

I sighed. What do you want from me, Jig? What do you want me to say?

He rose to his feet, flighty in the darkness, like he meant to vanish. His face seemed paler than usual, drawn with a sick kind of look.

You turned away from him, he said. I frowned, not following. You turned away from him. And I shot him, and then you turned away from me.

Kantian, I realized, my mind flashing back to that image of the Hole boss sprawled at Jig’s feet the moment after I’d vowed to let him live—live and witness the failure of all his anarchist plans.

I drew a thin breath through my teeth. I didn’t know if Jig wanted an apology from me, or forgiveness, or if he wanted me to explain away what he’d done. Not that it mattered. The apology felt false; there was nothing to forgive; I couldn’t explain anything. I couldn’t rewrite time. Couldn’t put the bullet back in the gun any more than Jig could. I couldn’t even make him feel remorse if he didn’t feel it already.

Part of me wanted to pity him, but somehow I thought he’d hate my pity even more than he hated my turning away. The one thing he wanted from me I couldn’t give. I couldn’t leave.

I had nowhere left to go.

I racked my thoughts for something to say that would give some—any—comfort, and finally remembered the words Kor had told me once in one of the darkest moments I’d ever known.

Jig, listen, I said. Sometimes we do things, in this life. Things we would never do otherwise. But they’re done, and you have to let them go.

It didn’t come out sounding quite as comforting as when Kor had said it, I thought. Then again, I recalled how angry I’d been at my uncle at the time. So it rather didn’t surprise me when Jig gave a cold laugh and retreated a half step back into the darkness.

This life? he asked. "What th’ hell do you know about this life, Shade? You knock about a few nights in the cold, you break a few laws, start a few fights, and you think you got a ken what this life is? You dan’ na nothing. Leave us be, Your Highness. Go play at belonging in someone else’s world."

I let my breath hiss out as he stalked away, angry more than anything because I knew he was right.

The wind picked up, skittering through the tree branches and rustling the fallen leaves like footsteps. I waited, heart in my throat, but it was only the wind. Somehow I’d been hoping—foolishly—that Hayli had escaped, that the wind had carried her back to me, but I knew better.

When Derrin disappeared after confessing to me that he’d sent Hayli to the Science Ministry, I’d half-expected King Trabin’s army to come bearing down on the smelter that very afternoon. Part of me wanted to believe he’d gone to call them down on us himself. But the afternoon had passed and night had come, and still we waited in that awful expectation. We’d all gone about half-mad with it when Derrin came back and told us to take care of Bugs.

Now that we had, I could feel the madness looming up again. Fear, rage, regret. I couldn’t bear the thought of Hayli spending a single night at the Science Ministry, but I couldn’t think of a single way to get her out.

Finally I sighed and turned away from Bugs’s grave, threading my way through the treacherous darkness until I could see the sprawling outline of the aluminium smelter beyond the line of trees. The Court had cut the gas and electrical lines from the city of Brinmark to the smelter when it had closed down, so the only light I had to go by was the occasional flicker of a sentry’s torch sweeping over the grounds.

As I reached the chain fence that caged the facility, I recognized Zagger’s familiar trenchcoat-and-hat silhouette pacing the length of the smelter rooftop, torch in one hand, revolver in the other. The nervous paralysis of the afternoon had driven him stir-crazy, so it rather didn’t surprise me that he had volunteered for sentry duty. Not to mention it gave him a reason to stay out of the way—if the kids were skeptical of me, having learned my real identity, at least they’d gotten to know me in some way first. Zagger was an enigma to them, known only as a fixture of the monarchy that symbolized all their problems and everything they hated. By all appearances he’d taken his change in fortunes in stride, but I knew him well enough to see how lost he really felt. Like moons out of our orbit, both of us.

I climbed the ladder to join him, grimacing as the cold, rusted metal of the rails burned my hands. At least the roof slates were dry and stable, so I managed to pick my way to the edge without my stomach turning traitor on me.

Any sign of…anyone? I asked Zagger, stopping beside him.

No, he said. Nothing at all.

I chewed on a ragged fingernail and stared at Brinmark’s lights flickering to the north. Has anyone figured out how to get news from the city yet? I want to know if the Istian envoy got away safely.

If they didn’t, do you think that information would be public knowledge? Zagger asked. You’d have to be on the inside to get that kind of news, I’d wager. He paused, shooting me a dangerous kind of look. Don’t get any ideas, Your Highness.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. How many times, Zagger, I muttered. I’m not the Prince any more.

How many times, yourself, he retorted. You’re the bloody Godar of Istia, aren’t you?

"I don’t think the Istians call their Godar Your Highness," I said, sour.

Well, I don’t know about that. So this is my best guess.

I grinned and turned back toward the ladder. Fine, as you like. Let me know if you see anything.

Don’t be ridiculous, he said, without even turning around. We both know I won’t find you if I do.

I bit my tongue on asking if he meant to stop me. No reason to press my luck. I picked my way down the ladder and headed into the main wing of the smelter where everyone had taken to congregating. Because maybe I was reckless enough to want to go back to the palace, but I wasn’t stupid enough to go alone.

In the eerie half-light of the chamber, the massive potlines cut ribbons through the shadows, looming up like half-buried buildings nearly twice my height. They hadn’t been abandoned long enough to start to rust, but they were well used and had nothing shiny or new about them. The curious corners of my mind wanted to know how they worked, how they turned stone to liquid metal like some kind of strange magic.

I didn’t like to admit it, but the place rather terrified me. I’d toured factories before, of course, but I’d never seen the inside of an aluminium smelter. I’d never seen anything like its size or scope. Compared to this place, the old Troyce & Fallon factory where we’d lived before seemed like a miniature, and under the sprawling roof I felt uncomfortably small. In some way I was claustrophobic in all that space; I wanted nothing more than to escape.

At least there was room enough for everyone, from the Hole rats who’d scattered about and claimed more space than they needed, to Rivano and his Clan and the mages we’d gathered in from the city, who withdrew to the dark corners and abandoned offices and kept wary eyes on the rest of us. And me—I didn’t know where I fit in, in the whole mad mess of it.

I found Coins perched up on the hopper of one of the smelter pots, a battered hat slanted low over his eyes and the unlit stub of a cigo in one hand that he was regarding with morose disappointment.

Oy, Shade! he called. Just thought about looking for you. Lend me a light?

I pulled the ferrosteel lighter from my pocket and tossed it up to him. He caught it deftly, giving a soft whistle as he examined it.

A bit dafty up here, but how’s it work? he asked.

I mimed grating the rod and he gave it a few goes, almost falling off his high perch when he got a flicker of flame. For a few moments he just lit the thing again and again, watching the flame dance up and die away. When I wondered if he’d ever make up his mind to actually use it, he leapt down from the pot and dropped it into my hand, flicking the cigo away into the dusty shadows.

Between the two of us, he whispered, conspiratorial, I can’t stand the bloody things. You won’t say aught about it to the lads though, right?

I managed to hide my smile as I pocketed the lighter. Right. Listen, Coins, I’ve got to get back into the city before things blow apart around here.

Hayli? he asked, even quieter than before. He tugged my elbow and jerked his head toward the door. C’mon, Shade. Need a word.

I followed him out, feeling the gazes of some of the other Hole rats tracking us as we left. Vim and Red, I noticed from the corner of my eye, and a few of their lackeys. I gritted my teeth. Those were the ones I’d need to watch. We’d never moved beyond a wary level of trust, and the revelation of my identity couldn’t have helped my case. But I couldn’t bother about them now. Not when so much else was on the line.

Coins took me all the way out to the fence, even though we hadn’t seen anyone around since we’d left the potline. But Coins was a sneak himself; he’d know how to avoid prying eyes and ears.

I leaned back against the chain-weave fence, the metal squealing in protest. For a few minutes Coins stood beside me without talking, wrapping his fingers through the links and peering out into the darkness beyond. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, so, I knew something had him bothered.

Well, I said, are you planning on stopping me?

He flashed me a quick look. Not a bit. I’d offer to go with you.

But…?

Here’s the thing, he said, but then he just clashed the fence a few times against its post, watching the panel ripple from the impact. Look, it’s not me who’s saying it, right?

What? I grabbed the fence weave and jerked it once, hard, to make him stop. What’re you talking about?

Some of the kids are spooked. Scared of what’s coming, right? And…some of them started blaming her. Blaming Hayli, Shade. Saying it’s on account of her we’re on the run.

I snorted. That’s a daft thing to say, I muttered, but that didn’t keep a little worm of anxiety from creeping into my mind.

I know, right? he cried. But look, some of these same lads…they’re not too keen on you, either. Not just yet. I mean, they’ve lived their whole lives thinking about you one way. Now all on a sudden they discover that the bloke they’ve started to trust and respect is actually the bloke they’ve knocked all along. Right? So now…now they’re all fuzzed. Fuzzed, yeah? You like—

Coins, I said, cutting him off. Maybe you’re right. But maybe I don’t really give a damn what they think about me right now. I’m worried about Hayli. I’m more worried about what Kippler will do to her than what the lads will do to me. Got it?

Yeah, he said, but his complacency didn’t convince me. He sighed and kicked the fence. Well? What’s your plan?

I held up my hand to silence him. Something felt…wrong. I couldn’t say if it was something I’d heard, or some strange taste on the wind that made my skin crawl, but…there was something…

For one moment, everything was still.

Then the world exploded.

Chapter 2 — Tarik

The blast threw me off my feet. Vaguely I felt my face slamming into the metal fence pole a half-second before my hands hit the gravel. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear. My ears rang and I felt my voice tearing from my throat; I think I was shouting for Coins. The world convulsed and I threw an arm up, scrabbling desperately at the chain links for support.

Everything swam in shadow…shadow, and rust red flame.

"Shade! Shade!"

Finally the voice registered, and I felt Coins’s hand clawing at my shoulder. He was leaning over me, his face bloody, terror in his eyes.

Coins! What the hell was that? I shouted. I probably didn’t need to shout, but it was the only way I could hear my own voice.

I used the fence to haul myself to my feet, but that was as far as I got. Behind us, the smelter roof was a raging inferno. Flaming mounds of debris littered the factory yard, the closest just a few feet from where we stood. And I stared, and kept staring, because I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing.

The smelter. The skitters. The mages.

The smelter roof.

Zagger.

That was my voice, screaming his name. I couldn’t feel anything at all. I didn’t even feel it when I started sprinting toward the factory and Coins tackled me to the ground. But I coughed, my lungs empty from the fall, head spinning.

Don’t even think it! Coins was shouting in my ear. "Go! Get out of here! Run!"

Get off me!

I fought free of his grip, but as soon as I’d gained my feet he grabbed my arm. I didn’t even think; my other fist flew on its own. Coins staggered and fell to his knees, his hand cupping his chin.

You want me to run? My hands knotted in fists, ready to strike again. "Am I supposed to run away? Zagger…I’ve got to do something."

Don’t be a vutting idiot, Shade! he cried, and spat blood. If you end up dead? Think!

I just stared at him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh, or scream, or smile and nod. Somehow all of them felt right. Coins dragged himself back to his feet, drawing his sleeve over his mouth.

Don’t try to stop me, I said.

I didn’t wait to see if he would relent. I turned and broke into a run, fighting back all the fear and rage that threatened to drown me. But halfway across the factory yard the air split with a shrill whine, and chaos fell all over again. This time the blast hit one of the smaller factory buildings some distance away, but the ground quaked beneath me and I stumbled. A moment later I realized Coins was by my side, but at least this time he wasn’t trying to restrain me.

"What the hell was that? I asked, pointing. Was that a mortar?"

Coins just shook his head, staring at the flames lashing the sky. I don’t know…I don’t know. Isn’t the nearest fort north of the city?

Trabin…you would order mortars fired at the factory, knowing I might be here? I thought, then, Did I expect anything else?

Where else could it have come from?

Coins didn’t answer. He was staring at the sky, eyes squinted up, like he meant to read something in the stars.

Coins?

Anuk always said the King meant to arm his aeroplanes, right? And I’m no expert, but…doesn’t that look a bit like an aeroplane?

I jerked my gaze up, scanning the sky. At first I saw nothing but a scattering of stars behind a ragged fringe of cloud. Then I glimpsed what he had—a plume of ghost-white steam, the silhouette of a massive metal bird.

I remembered Griff Farro’s aeroplane with its mounted gun, and the destruction it had caused at the palace gate when we were all trying to escape. And this? This was so much worse.

God, I said. "I thought it was a fool’s fancy. But they really did it. They put vutting mortars on them."

I frowned one moment more at the silent predator, then took off running again. Coins cursed under his breath and chased after me.

Is it your aviator friend?

No. I’ve watched that idiot fly enough, I’d know his techniques anywhere. That’s not him.

But we could use his help now. If only I knew what had happened to him…

We reached the smelter and I stared up the fire escape ladder, where mere minutes before I’d climbed up to talk to Zagger. A sick pang twisted my stomach. If he’d been up there when those mortars hit… I would never forgive myself.

I laid one hand on a metal rung and drew a thin breath.

You can’t climb up there! Stars, are you out of your mind?

Zagger was up there.

Coins’s face paled. Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Shade, if he was…if he was up there…

I grabbed his shoulder and shook him, roughly. Get inside and see what the damage is. Maybe they just strafed the roof. See if the skitters are all right. And the mages! Got it? Find Kor. He’ll know what to do.

I’d hate you if I could, he said, backing up a step. Don’t do anything stupid.

I can’t help myself, I said. But follow your own advice. Get out of there alive, all right?

He fixed me with one long look, bitter fear etched with sadness, then he took off for the smelter door. I stared up at the billowing flames slipping over the edge of the roof, and just for a moment it all seemed so pointless. There was no way Zagger could have survived that. There was no way I could get to him, even if he had. And it was all my fault.

Need a hand? someone asked, close behind me.

I jolted, the reaction turning instinctively to a shudder. I recognized that voice—it was someone I’d only spoken to once, but I would never forget a voice that could sound so smooth and so gratingly harsh at the same time. I glanced over my shoulder and found Scorch lingering in the shadows behind me, staring up at the flames with something like hunger.

I’d never forgiven him for what he’d done to Griff, but if he could help me save Zagger…I still might not forgive him, but I might be willing to not kill him for it.

I need to get up there, I said.

His gaze dropped to mine, measuring me. There was a coldness like hatred in his eyes, but a strange kind of respect, too. I wasn’t sure which bothered me more.

The corner of his mouth twitched, tightening the white scar that etched his face, and he said, Follow me.

Without even hesitating he turned and slipped up the ladder. After a moment I followed. The heat saturated me as we climbed, prickling over my skin until I was sure I’d catch fire. But Scorch didn’t slow down. He didn’t seem to be doing anything about the inferno above, but as we neared the top of the ladder I realized that the flames were shrinking away from us, giving us room to move unharmed.

Mind the rungs, Scorch said. They’re still a bit warm.

Warm was an understatement, but I just bit my lip and kept going. My palms would blister; I rather didn’t care. As soon as I scrambled up onto the roof Scorch put out an arm and caught me.

Watch it, he said, and pointed.

I squinted through the shadows. The mortar had shredded the roof, leaving a skeleton of beams and braces exposed below the lacerated tiles, and flames still ate away at whatever wood it could find. The damage had destroyed my path to Zagger’s watchpost, and through the billowing smoke I couldn’t see anything at all.

I tested the roof directly in front of me, my stomach churning as a tile broke free and crashed away into the building.

It isn’t safe, Scorch said.

I gave him a dangerous glare. Which of us really cares about safe?

To my surprise, he actually grinned. True, he said, and his smile turned savage. I think both of us prefer to keep our skins intact, however.

My gaze snagged on the taut pallid scar on his cheek before I could pull it away. I masked my uncertainty by scanning the skies for the aeroplane. With the darkness and clouds it was nearly impossible to see anything, and I knew enough of the steam engine to know it ran almost silently. I gritted my teeth and turned back to Scorch.

You really don’t know me at all, do you?

He arched a brow. Ah, he said. "I see. You think what you’re doing is brave, think it’s admirable? It’s not. It’s stupidity. We know the difference, on the streets. This won’t earn you any marks with anyone here. He slipped back toward the ladder. Do as you please. But I’m sorry. I think he’s dead."

With that he was gone. I didn’t watch him go; my gaze was riveted on the place where I’d last seen Zagger, marching back and forth with his torch and revolver, where now there was nothing.

No. I swallowed back the burn in my throat. I’m a Blood. If he’s alive…if he’s even the least bit alive…I will save him.

I cursed the darkness under my breath. Was that a body I could see there, or was it part of the roof? I couldn’t make out any more than the vague shape, large enough to be a man lying prone.

I have to try.

I eased a step forward, my blood turning cold as the roof flexed under my weight. Without Scorch’s magic the flames began creeping back toward me, sending out tendrils of smoke to burn my eyes and throat. Just a few more steps…just a few more…

Sweat trickled down my temples and I swiped at it distractedly, only to pull away a hand sticky with blood. Was that why my head pounded so fiercely? Was that why I kept imagining Zagger’s voice calling to me, warning me away?

My foot slipped on a loose tile and I hit the roof, burning my hand on smoldering embers. I think I cried out in pain; I couldn’t quite tell.

"Tarik. Tarik."

I froze. I hadn’t imagined that. That was Zagger’s voice, faint through the crackle of flames.

Zagger! I shouted. Where are you?

"Get the hell out of here, Your Highness! What…what are you doing up here?"

He could have cursed me to the Seven Circles and I wouldn’t have cared. All my breath shattered out of me in some strange rush of relief, fear, and rage.

I’m coming to get you, you idiot.

He shouted at me again but his voice was lost in a sudden roar of flames. I risked a glance over my shoulder and tried to corral a surge of panic. There was nothing behind me but fire. To my right, nothing but fire. And to my left? A sick plunge to the ground below.

You could get away, whispered the voice at the back of my thoughts. That way. If you use the wind…

But I couldn’t. Not if it meant the last thing Zagger would know was that I’d turned my back on him after promising to save him.

I leaned over the edge of the roof to see if there were any handholds I could use. Nothing. There were no windows, no decorative bricks, nothing but smooth wall and fire dancing all along the lip of the roof, taunting me.

Behind me I heard a low rumbling, then a crash far below as another bit of roof caved in. My stomach churned and I stood frozen, with the scorching wind battering me and the blood hammering in my ears. Sweat trickled down my neck and glazed my face, mixing with the blood and dust from the factory yard. I wanted nothing more than to pull off Zagger’s heavy leather coat, but I knew the material was probably keeping me alive. I buttoned it closed instead.

Zagger? I called. You still with me?

When he didn’t answer, I pressed forward a little further.

Shade! someone—Coins—hollered behind me. Come on! I got the skitters out, and the mages too. Most of them. A few…a few didn’t make it. Please, c’mon, get down from there.

I turned then, sick, dizzy with fear. Flames darted between us, showering the sky with sparks. I can’t. Open your eyes, Coins.

Damn it, Shade! he shouted. What’ve you done?

Go find Scorch if you want to know. He’s the one who left me up here.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t move. I rather think he planned to stay there, hanging on to the scalding rung of the ladder, until he saw me go down in the blaze once and for all. Nothing I could say would make him leave. I sighed and turned away, turning up my coat collar to protect my neck.

What’re you doing? Coins shouted.

I’m going through.

I heard him screaming at me, but I couldn’t give myself time to think. If I waited, Coins would get it in his mind to come after me. If I waited, I would lose the insanity that made me believe I could survive. If I waited, I would die.

I took one deep breath, locked my hands over my head, and threw myself forward.

The flames lashed my cheeks, cutting as knives. Smoke filled my mouth until I thought I would drown with it. But all I really knew was the feel of shifting tiles under my feet, the smooth motion of my muscles that never let me slow down long enough to fall, the steady thud of blood in my ears. The strain of my lungs, desperate to breathe.

A rush of cold wind washed over my face as I broke clear of the fire and threw myself onto the roof. For a moment I lay still, pressing the burned palms of my hands against the tiles and listening to the sound of my breath, rapid at first but deepening slowly. Smoke clung to my parched throat, bitter and choking, and I coughed and coughed again to clear my lungs.

Vaguely I felt a pressure on my arm, fingers straining to grip the cloth of my coat. I twisted around and met Zagger’s gaze. It was stern and hard as ever, dark with the anger that fear brings, and with all the blood and ash, it was the only part of his face I could see.

You all right? he asked, hitching himself a little closer to me. I stared at him, my thoughts churning like mad, and couldn’t speak. "Tarik? Tarik! Are you all right?"

Yes, I said. I wondered if it was a lie. I couldn’t feel anything at all.

He swore and tried to sit up, pushing himself upright on one arm. The other was a bloody mess, clutched protectively against his chest.

What the hell did you do that for? You should have left me.

You’re an idiot.

So are you.

I smiled faintly and forced myself onto my knees. Come on. Let’s get out of here.

He gave me a look. That aeroplane will be back any minute. The roof is collapsing. There’s a wall of fire cutting us off from the escape. He coughed, grimacing as the motion aggravated his arm. And I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I can’t walk.

I winced and tried to peer through the darkness at his legs, but couldn’t see anything. Don’t be so dramatic, I said. It’ll be fantastic. I staggered to my feet and picked my way to the edge of the roof. Just stay put, all right?

He grunted and said nothing, but I could feel him watching my every move, as hawklike as the day I climbed the quay wall at Ridgemark so long ago. For a few moments I prowled back and forth, my stomach in knots. And I realized with a terrible sinking feeling that I had nothing. No plan. No ideas. No confidence in my ability to get us out alive.

Rivano had told me that I had the power of a Wind, a sort of background noise to the rest of my magic, but I had no notion how to use it. Every time I’d moved the winds before, it had been by accident. Nothing more than the outward sign of my internal emotions.

Your Highness…

God, Zagger, stop calling me that! I shouted without turning.

"Tarik!"

I winced and glanced back, only to find Zagger shuffling on elbow and hip toward me.

What’re you doing? I told you—

The roof’s caving. I can feel it.

I swore and raced back to him as fast as my numb and aching legs could manage, then grabbed him under the arms and dragged him forward. Behind him part of the roof groaned and shrieked, and showered sparks into the sky, then collapsed with a resounding boom! Flames billowed up, sending a hot wind of swirling embers rushing over us in a gust.

And then hell arrived on silver wings.

It didn’t come at us with the mortars this time, but the pilot must have seen us on the roof because the auto-firing gun started spitting shells at us. I sprawled across Zagger and laced my hands over my neck. Stabbing pain seared across the back of my thigh and I screamed through my teeth, stars pricking my vision.

But what scared me more than anything was that Zagger didn’t rebuke me for protecting him.

Zagger, I hissed, shaking him.

Nothing.

I glanced over my shoulder and caught a flash of silver as the plane circled back for another pass at us. Damn. Zagger could be dying but if I let that plane fire on us again, we would both die. I needed Scorch. I needed Griff with his aeroplane. I needed…

I needed the fire.

I picked myself up, putting all my weight on my right leg, feeling the hot rush of blood down the back of my left. Turning slowly, I faced the wall of flame and stretched my hands toward it.

Tarik, Zagger whispered, his voice fraying. Don’t you dare.

But the moon sang, and the wind wept blood, and the fire was in me and part of me and the breath of my nightmares.

I’m sorry, I murmured. Really.

And I pulled my arms back, drawing fire like a blanket toward me, into me, breathing it in, feeling it in my veins, flames like life. The plane streaked toward us, like a silver ghost through the blackness that remained when I devoured the fire. I counted seconds, listening to the voice of the night, calculating.

Now.

Now.

Now.

I threw my arms wide to the chaos and pushed out with all my strength. For one endless moment nothing happened, then suddenly the plane’s engine burst into flames. Streaming smoke like a banner, the metal bird went catapulting toward the earth. I called the wind and sent it gusting under the plane, praying it would be enough. And all I could see was the memory of Griff’s plane falling from the sky, and the sight of him falling from the cockpit.

When the explosion never came, I bent and dragged Zagger up off the roof, pulling him backwards…backwards… Then, never giving myself the chance to think it through, I wrapped my arms around his chest and threw myself over the edge.

Chapter 3 — Tarik

Shade, wake up.

I groaned and tried to gather my scattering thoughts. The first thing that registered after the voice was the pain, saturating every muscle, every bone in my body. My head was thick with it. Blinding me, muffling the voice to an underwater murmur, searing like a knife point. A moment later I felt hands on my shoulders—long fingers, almost bone thin but hard as iron. I blinked a few times and tried to lift my head, but my stomach churned woozily and I had to lay still.

Awake? someone else asked. Coins.

Almost.

I recognized that voice. It was Rivano’s Blood mage, Doc, who always seemed to be living half on the other side of the dirt.

Zagger, I whispered. I couldn’t tell if I made any noise at all, but I tried. Where’s Zagger?

Focus, Doc said.

I felt his fingers on my temples, firm, driving sanity into my shattering mind. One deep breath and the darkness receded to the corners of my thoughts. I was staring straight up at the cloud-streaked night, at Doc’s pale face as he hovered concerned beside me. Flames licked the sky behind his head like an infernal crown.

There you are, he murmured. He glanced over his shoulder and then backed away to give room for Coins.

Your face is bloody, I said, thick, my numb lips stumbling over the words.

Coins gave me a faint kind of smile and swiped distractedly at his mouth. No thanks to you.

My hand found the shredded fabric on the back of my blood-soaked pant leg; the fabric was damp, but under my fingers the skin was whole. Hot as fire, but whole.

Where’s Zagger? I asked.

I waited, heart choking, while Coins exchanged a glance with Doc.

Doc saw to him. He should be all right.

He’s alive?

Yeah, Shade. He’s alive.

There was something behind those words, something in the fall of his voice that unnerved me, but I couldn’t understand what. My thoughts churned, muddy, and all I wanted was to close my eyes and sleep. No time for that now.

I rolled onto my side and almost retched. The pain had mostly faded to the dull ache of a bad memory, but somehow I thought the nausea had less to do with my injuries, and more to do with my magic, and whatever madness had possessed me to try to harness the fire.

That pilot, I said, swallowing bile. Is he dead?

Coins took my elbow and hauled me to my feet, so fast that I didn’t have time to protest. I swayed like a drunk and hung onto his arm until the earth stopped tumbling at my feet.

Nah, he said. He was a bit out of it when we got to him, but don’t worry, he won’t die on us.

Good, I said, biting through the word. Chain him up somewhere he can see the bodies of the skitters he killed.

Coins’s brows shot up in surprise, but he just nodded and took a step back. We’ll do it.

Coins, I called as he turned away. How many? How many did we lose?

He hesitated, kicking at the loose gravel, head bowed and hands tucked in his pockets. Ten, he said then. Six skitters. Four mages.

Who?

I didn’t know any of the mages, Coins said. We lost Mops and Kitty. Duck, Scooch, and Noddy. And…Link. He went back to help Mops. He didn’t make it.

I let him go then, maybe so he wouldn’t see me fight for calm. My fingers dug against my forehead and I thought for a moment my lungs had forgotten how to work. Of all of them I’d known Link best. After he’d almost strangled me we’d gotten along all right, and I knew Hayli had liked him. But somehow it was Pika’s friend Kitty whose name burned like guilt in my heart. Little Kitty who hadn’t reached a decade yet, Kitty who had wept so hard for Bugs. Some people might have said that at least she could be with him again. I didn’t know if I could. I could see nothing but the cruelty of it all.

I don’t think you knew any of the mages either, Doc said quietly.

What’s wrong with Zagger? I asked, dragging my thoughts away from the dead. I didn’t like how Coins was talking about him.

Doc laughed, but it was a strained, hollow thing, forced out over his grief. Oh, Kalen is fine. Or, will be. Apart from the, you know, missing hand.

"The what?"

He just stared at me with those disconcerting glass-green eyes, his face emotionless. I’m sorry. I thought you knew.

Damn, I said, then shouted the word again with my hands tearing through my hair. Where is he?

Over there. I’ve got him in a bit of a stasis.

A stasis? What is that?

It isn’t important. It just means he can’t hear or move, but he’s alive. I’m trying to keep him that way so that perhaps Destri can do something for his hand before the nerve endings die.

What could Dr. Alokin possibly do about that? I asked over my shoulder, already heading over to where Zagger lay in the shadow of the wall.

I could sense more than hear Doc following me; he could move like a specter, gliding over the broken ground like he never quite touched it. When I knelt down beside Zagger he stood across from me, head tipped and regarding Zagger’s missing hand thoughtfully, like it was a puzzle needing to be solved.

Zagger’s face was a bloody mess, with a deep and jagged cut running from chin to temple, and some of his pale hair had been singed completely away. But at least whatever Doc had done seemed to be keeping the pain at bay, because Zagger looked for all the world like he was caught in some kind of pleasant dream. I gripped his shoulder, even though he couldn’t feel it, and in my mind I murmured the apology that I couldn’t force past my lips.

They’ve been doing some rather interesting research in the Science Ministry, Doc said. Particularly in ways to meld flesh and metal, to correct defects and amputations and the like.

I shuddered; I couldn’t help it. You want Dr. Alokin to give him a metal hand? That’s…disgusting.

Maybe you should let Kalen decide that.

I gestured to Zagger’s sleeping figure, suspended in whatever weird half-life Doc had placed him in. And are you?

Doc smiled, cat-like, and took a step back. "I’m keeping his options open. Would it be so bad, really? Or would you rather leave him crippled and frustrated, just to satisfy your abhorrence of metal?"

Enough, I snapped. I glanced up at him, and something in his face softened the shard of my anger. Thank you. For taking care of me and…for this. For saving him.

He flourished a pale hand and said nothing, but I thought he was secretly pleased.

I’ve got to go see about that pilot, I said.

I strode away, Masking my face to Shade’s as I went. Following the all-too obvious signs of the aeroplane crash, I found Anuk and Coins standing on either side of a sooty, singed pilot, who sat chained and facing a row of bodies draped in mangy blankets just as I’d requested.

The man’s face was startlingly blank. At first I thought he might be in shock, but maybe he had just schooled his expression to indifference. He wasn’t anyone I recognized, but then, I didn’t know many of the aviators at the aerodrome besides Griff and Major Ves. This one looked young, maybe in his twenties, with a smart brown mustache and pale eyes that reflected the flames scattered over the factory yard. He held one leg stretched out in front of him; I could see the darkish gleam of blood pooling around a tear in his breeks.

I crouched down in front of him, striking a blow on his wounded thigh when he ignored me, and hating the satisfaction that curled through me when he winced. Finally he looked at me, eyes blazing.

Where’d your orders come from? I asked. When he didn’t answer immediately I fisted my hand and repeated the question.

Where do you think? he spat. I take orders from the Major. Where’d he get the orders from? Hell if I know. The General? The Crown? Your guess is as good as mine.

I frowned; it was an odd question for him to be so cagey about.

And of course you didn’t ask, I said. You were just happy to come out and obey orders, knowing that you’d be gunning down unarmed children?

The pilot’s mouth twitched under his mustache, and for a moment his gaze faltered, drifting down to the row of bodies. Mages…dangerous mages. That’s all I knew. I swear.

Yes, I said, savoring the word. My hand flashed up between us, crowned with fire. You should have aimed better and killed me. I’m the one you all should have worried about, but instead you killed the people I care about. Too bad for you.

The fire danced up, bright as suns, and the pilot shrank back, trying to turn his head since he couldn’t shield his eyes with his hands tied. I didn’t turn away; I stared. The feel of flames dancing over my fingertips baffled me—it was painfully, but euphorically, hot, and I kept expecting to see my skin char to ash. It didn’t. I breathed in and focused my thoughts, and the little curls of flame sharpened to knifepoints.

Please, he said. Is there something you want? What is it you people are after? Money? Pardon? Titles?

Freedom, I hissed, and let my hand drop, pulling the fire back inside. But for now I’ll settle for information.

The man’s gaze darted up to Coins and Anuk, as if to make sure I really meant it. They just stared back at him, stern and silent, and after a moment he swallowed and lowered his eyes to mine.

What kind of information?

I nodded at the smoking carcass of his aeroplane. Did you really think you could defeat us with mortars?

They’re not mortars—

I slammed my fist against his thigh and he gave a cry of pain, sweat streaking his forehead. I stood and turned a little aside, hands tight at my sides.

Worked, didn’t it?

Who’s the one on the ground? I growled, flashing out a hand to keep Anuk from kicking him. You’re only alive because it suited me.

Answer his question, Coins said, sounding angrier than I’d ever heard him.

The incendiaries are temporary. Don’t worry, we won’t make the same mistake twice. But we had to move before our intelligence failed.

I smirked, exchanging a look with Coins. I think that happened when you started this fight.

The pilot spat at my feet, and this time I couldn’t stop Anuk from kicking him hard in the side. The man sprawled, groaning, and Coins dragged him back upright.

Are there more attacks coming? I asked.

No.

Don’t lie to me.

He threw a wary glance at Anuk’s boot and sniffed. Why should I tell you? That’s secret information.

I’m a secret sort of person.

I’d die first.

That can be arranged. Anuk?

Anuk didn’t miss a beat. He drew a long-barreled revolver from his coat pocket and cocked the hammer, leveling the muzzle at the man’s head. And I just prayed that the pilot would have the sense to spill what he knew, because I didn’t want to be the one to turn Anuk into a murderer.

You know what, I said, as if I’d changed my mind, that would be a waste of a fine bargaining chip. I’m sure the Ministry would pay good money to get one of their aviators back. They’ve only got, what, ten of you?

Nine, the man said, too readily.

I narrowed my eyes. I heard ten.

We lost one.

How do you lose a pilot?

He shifted, uncomfortable.

You don’t need your feet to fly, do you? I asked.

He stared at me in bewilderment. No, I—what, why?

I jerked my head at Anuk, who replaced the revolver in his pocket and pulled out a cruel-looking knife instead. As he knelt down the pilot blanched and hiked his feet in as close to his body as he could.

Wait, wait! he gasped. He stared at me, wide-eyed. You’re a madman!

So I’ve been told.

I cast a pointed look at Anuk, still waiting with his knife bared, and the man shuddered.

One of the pilots went missing. He went rogue.

I crossed my arms, regarding him in mock surprise. Really. Flew off with one of your aeroplanes, did he?

He turned traitor, the pilot spat. Turned on all of us. His family. And what for? To save some impostor mage who wants to bring down the Crown he swore to serve?

Maybe you should stick to subjects you know something about, I said.

He bristled. And you know better, I suppose?

I didn’t bother answering. As I walked away, I beckoned to Coins and, as soon as we were out of earshot, I said, Lock him up in one of the offices. Maybe we can use him when we go to get Hayli.

Prisoner exchange? he asked, skeptical. Do you really think anyone at the palace would go for that?

I’m not sure. But wasn’t that strange, what he said about the impostor mage? That’s what the guards were saying when I left the palace, too. Can you find out what it means?

He nodded and turned to go, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Coins. Where the hell is Kor? I haven’t seen him since… My gaze sifted over the factory yard. I haven’t seen him.

Coins shook his head. Don’t know. He wasn’t in the factory when I went to get the skitters.

I muttered a curse and let him go, adding it to the list of things I didn’t have time to worry about. Coins studied me a moment, hesitating, but when I said nothing else he turned and jogged back toward Anuk. I didn’t wait to see them secure the pilot like I’d asked; they’d get it done. I only wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t, not yet. Fighting back the rage of emotions battering against my eyes, I made my way to one of the back warehouses where Coins and Anuk had taken the people from the smelter.

It was almost completely dark inside, all but the red, smoky light of a few fires some of the mages had made out of the factory debris. The Hole skitters huddled together around the two central fires. Derrin, Jig, Vim and Red stood like stone guardians on every side of the group, Vim with his face set like stone, honing his grief into fury. Kite and Gem sat in the center with some of the younger kids. Pika was weeping into her hands, while Zip tried in vain to comfort her. I lurched when I saw him, and my heart pulled a funny little flip, because for just a moment, in the uncertain light and thick shadows, I didn’t see Zip at all. I saw Bugs. The memory of his face made me burn with fresh grief, and I had to turn away before it broke me down.

I scanned the rest of the floor, noting how the mages had set up a perimeter inside the warehouse at the edge of the firelight, all wary and alert as they stood guard. Rivano stood toward the back of the warehouse with a mage I’d never met before, facing the darkness. The other mage looked only a little older than me, with black hair that hung below his shoulders and marks inked on his hands that I could see from the door. I made my way toward them, and, disconcertingly, the mage turned to face me when I was still some fifteen paces away. Rivano turned a moment later and relief flooded his face.

You survived, he said. I was worried when the thief came to get us to safety. He wouldn’t tell me if you were all right.

He didn’t know, I said. We talked to the pilot. Seems like Farro never reported back to the palace after he let us go.

You’re not going to look for him, are you?

I’ve got to find him and Hayli both.

His eyes narrowed, but the mage beside him looked intrigued. I turned to him expectantly, but I didn’t extend a hand or offer any introduction. Rivano took the hint.

Tarik, this is Shiver, one of my best mages.

Shiver gave me a savage kind of grin and held out his hand. I hesitated briefly before extending mine. The light in the mage’s eyes sharpened, but instead of taking my hand, he passed his own straight through it with a cold tingle of energy. I stared; my mind couldn’t quite process the sight of his hand moving through mine. But my magic reacted on instinct, latching onto his trace of electricity and yanking back, hard. Shiver’s hand froze where it was and his face blanched white—white with pain or fear, I wasn’t sure.

What’re you doing? he gasped, pulling back, trying to get free.

I held on another long moment, then released him. He reeled away from me, massaging his palm as if I’d burned him.

Don’t do that again, I said.

Shiver darted an anxious glance at Rivano, who was watching me with a strange sort of smile twisting his lips.

Then, serious again, Rivano said, I don’t approve of you going after Hayli.

I shrugged. I don’t need your approval.

Wake strengthen me, Rivano muttered, pressing his fingers against his forehead. I forget how stubborn you are. Well, I suppose I can’t stop you—do what you will. But, come with me a moment. We need to talk.

He shot a warning look at Shiver and took hold of my elbow, guiding me a few steps further into the shadows. I tugged my arm free when he stopped.

Some part of my mind had yet to reconcile itself to what I’d learned about Rivano’s role in my past—how he had interfered time and again in my life to try to guide me toward some inevitable cosmic destiny he imagined I’d want to embrace. So what if he had known my father, had been devoted to my father. I’d never had that luxury—for most of my life I hadn’t even known that I wasn’t King Trabin’s son.

Maybe I was Istia’s Godarson. Maybe I was even the acting Godar, like Ambassador Eskir believed, but that title was still meaningless to me. And unless Rivano could actually help me do what he claimed he wanted me to do, what I wanted to do—stop the war between Cavnal and Istia—I wasn’t sure how far I wanted to trust him. I knew Hayli held the man in almost godlike awe, but I’d never been like that.

I’m not going to ask what you did to Shiver, Rivano said, his gaze steady on my face. I’m more concerned about your priorities.

I folded my arms and waited.

Hayli is marked.

So is Derrin.

He closed his eyes, weariness in his sigh. I know. Derrin is a problem.

I’m the one he tried to kill, I said.

Why do you want to protect them? What could you possibly gain?

I gave him a bitter smile. You’re asking the wrong question. What could I gain? No. The question is, what would I risk losing if I abandon them? I’m sorry, but I believe that people are more than the control others exercise over them. I don’t think any amount of science can break the human will. I paused, then added more quietly, I believe in their ability to break the chains that hold them.

You deceive yourself. Some chains can’t be broken. And sometimes the will has no power to defend itself.

I grimaced, letting my breath hiss out. We’ll see. I’m willing to take the risk.

I turned to walk away but his hand flashed out, gripping my arm with bruising strength. Your first priority should be finding a way to end this damned madness with Istia. If war breaks out, do you have any idea what kind of genocide could follow? Do you think the carnage that archmage Arnthor faced in the Scourge won’t pale in comparison to what will happen today, with our war machines and our lust for destruction?

If you want me to stop a war, I said, don’t rob me of my best weapons.

I left the warehouse and leaned a moment against the wall, letting the cold wind drive the turmoil from my thoughts. A frail rain started to fall, hissing in the pocks of fire still scattered around the factory yard. No matter how hard I tried, my gaze kept drifting back toward the flames. Everything inside me felt unsteady, raveling around the edges, but what terrified me most was the feeling that I had a furnace raging like hunger in the pit of my stomach.

I lifted my hand and exhaled slowly, feeling the slow burn seep down my arm and tighten into knife-sharp flames at the tips of my fingers. My focus softened, and the flames slipped to cover my whole hand, coiling and curling into the wind like a miniature bonfire. The sight set my heart racing, not with terror but exhilaration, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the brilliance.

Ah, someone said at my elbow. You feel it now, don’t you? Nothing will ever be the same for you.

I glanced over my shoulder and found Scorch leaning against the wall beside me, his gaze fixed on the flame wreathing my palm. He reached out and thrust his fingers into the fire, a ghostly smile curling his lips, creasing the scar on his cheek.

Oh, the things you will see, he murmured. The things you will do. His gaze drifted up to hold mine, the flames reflecting weirdly in the fire-gold of his eyes. And you? Is it true, then, the things they say?

I ignored his question but turned to face him, focusing the flames again to a single blade. You left me on that rooftop, I said.

I don’t have a death wish.

I gave him a feral sort of smile. You brought down my best friend’s aeroplane.

For the first time, something like alarm fractured the cold arrogance on his face. He survived, didn’t he?

I grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him hard against the wall, ghosting away the fire and flicking a knife out of my sleeve instead, a knife he wouldn’t be able to just breathe into his