“I think I found it!” she shouted. “I know trees are usually gnomish things, but—”
“Gnomes aren’t the only ones who rely on the sturdiness of the forest,” Tarina said right behind her, startling Sophie so badly she nearly fell over.
Fitz caught her shoulders. “Sorry. We followed you when you disappeared, and I thought you might have heard us splashing. But sound is kind of weird here.”
It was.
The air seemed to swallow their voices, which must’ve been another part of the illusion keeping the hive hidden.
“We should hurry,” Tarina told them, heading for the path. “We usually keep the transport pods toward the back of the hive, so we still have some walking ahead of us.”
Of course they did.
Because nothing could ever be quick or easy—even when lives were on the line.
“Anything we should know before we go down there?” Fitz asked.
“Yes,” Tarina told him. “Don’t touch anything.”
That turned out to be an easy rule to follow.
The hive was made of a gloopy, sticky mud coated in stinky bioluminescent fungus that filled the massive cavern with a subtle blue-green glow. And the walls were long rows of stacked compartments—kind of like a honeycomb. Each cubby was sealed off with a thick, slimy membrane. And inside?
It truly was like something out of science fiction.
The unhatched troll babies floated in some sort of green jelly that reminded Sophie of the aloe vera gel her human parents used to smear on her sunburns, only filled with tiny bubbles that had a soft white glow. And even with their bodies half curled, the baby trolls towered over Tarina, their muscles bulging and lined with dark veins.
Some of them moved, stretching against their barriers and making the membranes drip milky fluid onto the stone floor. Others had their eyes open, staring at nothing—or maybe staring at everything. Sophie didn’t want to know which. All she knew was that it felt like the beasts could burst free any second, and she was very glad Silveny’s babies would be kept somewhere else.
“Is it me, or is it super stuffy down here?” Fitz asked, tugging on the neckline of his tunic and fanning his face.
“Our babies thrive in heat,” Tarina explained. “The solution they’re developing in is kept at one hundred and fifty degrees—much too hot for your fragile elvin bodies.”
“Will that be too hot for the alicorns?” Sophie wondered.
“We’ll likely have to adjust. It generally matches the mother’s body temperature, so we’ll need to take a reading of Silveny’s. And here we are.” She pointed to a wall of shelves filled with what looked like glass clamshells the size of beach balls.
“Will those be big enough?” Sophie worried, trying to imagine what size Silveny’s babies would be.
“The material they’re made from can expand. But we may have to get creative with how we position them. I suspect this whole process is going to be an exercise in problem solving—but we’ll make it work.” Tarina handed Sophie and Fitz each a transport pod to carry as she filled a satchel with metal flasks from a different shelf.
“You okay?” Fitz asked as Sophie struggled to adjust her grip on the pod. “Is that too much for your arm?”
“No, it’s actually lighter than I expected,” Sophie told him, wondering what the pod was made of. “What about you—how’s your leg?”
“I’m fine.”
Sophie hoped that was true, because they still had more walking ahead. They were closer to the troll exit than Luzia’s house at that point, but it still took them several endless minutes before they emerged back into daylight and caught a glimpse of the trollish world.
All Sophie really had time to see were two bluffs connected by a web of intricate bridges. Then Fitz was launching them into the sky, and Sophie plunged them into the void.
“IT’S ABOUT TIME!” Stina screamed as they tumbled across the grassy dunes, and she dragged them to their feet before they’d even stopped rolling. “I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’re planning, but you’d better explain it fast. The first baby is already crowning.”
FORTY
SOPHIE LEARNED MORE ABOUT BIRTH that day than she’d ever really wanted to know. For instance, she learned that “crowning” meant one of the babies’ heads was starting to emerge—which was something she definitely wished she could unsee.
She also learned it was much better to stay near Silveny’s face, where she could stroke her mane and rub her velvety nose and not have to think about what was happening around her tail region. And she could do her best to keep Silveny calm as Vika made a lot of very gag-worthy splashing sounds that had Fitz turning incredibly green.
“Looks like we have a baby girl,” Vika announced a few seconds later. “And she’s alive. For now.”
Silveny locked eyes with Sophie, and her desperate voice poured into Sophie’s head, along with a mix of joy and sadness that twisted Sophie’s heart into knots.
SOPHIE PROMISE! BABY OKAY! BABY OKAY!
Sophie wished she could give Silveny the assurance she knew the terrified mama alicorn needed. But she told her, I promise, we’re doing everything we can.
And they were.
Tarina had already prepared the transport pods, filling them with a mix of water and fluids from the flasks she’d brought with her. And she attached a series of suction-cup-style tubes to baby alicorn number one and lowered her into the warm goo, where her tiny limbs did seem to relax.
“Here you go, Mama,” Tarina said, bringing the pod over to Silveny’s face and giving her a chance for one quick nuzzle. “That’s your baby’s scent, so you’ll recognize her if she gets stronger and we can bring her back to you.”
Silveny let out a snuffly whinny—somewhere between elation and devastation—and rubbed her nose against her daughter’s tiny head with a look of absolute devotion. The baby didn’t open her eyes or make a sound, but she nudged her nose against her mama. Sophie felt tears trickle down her cheeks as Silveny begged again, SOPHIE PROMISE! BABY OKAY! BABY OKAY!
More tears poured down as Tarina carried the pod over to Greyfell, letting the papa alicorn endure the same emotional roller coaster as he nuzzled his tiny daughter for the first time. The floating newborn looked so small and helpless, all knobby knees and fuzzy fur and tucked-in wings. And her head didn’t have a full horn yet—more of a pointy nubbin peeking out of the strands of her short mane. She also wasn’t as silvery as her mama—more of a mix of white, yellow, and pearl—and Sophie decided she looked like she’d been dipped in moonlight.
And something stirred inside Sophie as she watched Tarina seal the pod tight—a kind of absolute determination that had her promising Silveny and Greyfell that they would see that tiny baby again. If Luzia couldn’t get a new hive built in time, then Sophie would stand guard inside the troll hive and fight off all the newborns. She didn’t care what it took—that little moon-dipped alicorn was going to live.
And so was her brother, who arrived a minute later and let out the world’s tiniest nicker. He had blue tips on his wings just like his daddy.
Tarina tucked him safely in his pod and gave Silveny and Greyfell each another heartbreaking nuzzle with their son. Then she sealed him in tight and set him next to his sister.
Everyone gathered around the pods to watch the sweet babies float in their temporary wombs—except Vika and Edaline, who were busy doing some final slurpy-sounding things to finish up the whole birth process. And Sophie stayed with Silveny, stroking her nose and transmitting that her babies were okay over and over until Vika draped a fresh towel over Silveny’s face and said it was time for the tired mama to sleep.
“She’ll be okay?” Sophie had to ask as Silveny’s body stilled.
Vika nodded. “There were zero complications. So far, at least.” Her eyes shifted to the baby pods. “So . . . what now?”
“Now I have a call to make,” Sophie said, pulling out her Imparter and sneaking off to a secluded section of th
e beach to hail Luzia Vacker.
“Did both babies survive the delivery?” Luzia asked the second her face filled the screen.
“They did.” Sophie’s voice choked as she said it—who knew watching life come into the world was this overwhelming? “And Silveny seems to be doing pretty good too. How’s the hive coming?”
“Faster than expected. I found an existing structure that served our needs, so we didn’t have to start from scratch. The trolls are treating the walls now and preparing the membranes. Shouldn’t be much longer, barring some sort of disaster.”
Fresh tears welled in Sophie’s eyes. “That’s . . . really good news.”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up yet,” Luzia warned. “The babies still have to survive the implanting. Some trolls don’t even make it through that, and it’s their natural way of developing. You’re dealing with dozens of guesses and estimates and—”
“I know,” Sophie interrupted. “I know the odds are still against us, but . . . we’re going to beat them. We have to. When you see these little babies—”
“I’m sure they’re very cute,” Luzia cut in. “Just remember: Nature has no problem being cruel.”
“Well . . . today we’re going to make it play nice,” Sophie decided. “I don’t care what it takes. So when do I bring the transport pods to you?”
“Not yet. I still need to figure out what to do for security. And I’m not sure how you’ll find where we are.”
“You’re not at Dawnheath?”
“No.” The word had a bitter laugh attached to it. “That would be disastrous. You’ll have to inform the Council about everything that’s happened, and I can’t have them asking why I’m involved, or wanting access to my property to visit their precious alicorns. This can’t connect to me in any way—do you understand?”
Sophie nodded, even if she didn’t totally get why Luzia’s alliance with the trolls needed to be secret. All she’d done was set up a safe place for them to have their babies—wasn’t that a good thing?
Unless she’d done other stuff that Sophie didn’t know about . . .
“So where are you?” she asked, deciding she’d worry about Luzia Vacker’s secrets later, once Silveny’s babies were safe.
“It doesn’t have a name—and it won’t be on any pathfinders or Leapmasters. That’s why I’m not sure how you’ll get to me. It’s an old abandoned tower I thought of when I realized it’d be better to keep the babies closer to the sky, so they’re in their natural environment when they hatch.”
“Then hold your Imparter up to the tower and show me what it looks like,” Sophie told her. “That’s all I’ll need to teleport there.”
“Really?” Luzia asked, her eyebrows lifting as she pulled her Imparter back and swung it to face a weathered, vine-wrapped tower surrounded by mountains. “Is that enough?”
“It should be.” Sophie closed her eyes, testing to make sure her memory had recorded the image perfectly. “I’ll be right there.”
“Wait!” Luzia’s face appeared across the screen again. “It’s not safe yet. I still need to figure out how to keep the hive hidden. The cloaking cannot look like my handiwork, so we’re going to need someone talented enough to follow a set of instructions I leave for them for some very different kinds of illusions—and they can’t be anyone I know.”
“I’m sure I can find someone,” Sophie assured her.
“Yes, that’s right. You don’t work alone.”
“I don’t,” Sophie agreed, ignoring the judgment in Luzia’s tone.
“Is that why you felt the need to drag my nephew—well, my great-great-great-great-you-get-the-point-nephew—into your hastily thought-out alliance?”
“I didn’t drag him in. And he didn’t actually make them any promises. But I did warn Tarina that I wasn’t going to keep secrets from my friends.”
“You sound very proud of yourself for that.”
“I am,” Sophie agreed. “I had to learn the hard way that trying to do everything by myself doesn’t go well.”
“Neither does involving the people you care about in agreements you cannot possibly understand.”
“All I’ve agreed to is to be someone the trolls can come to if they need help,” Sophie argued. “And since you agreed to the same thing, I don’t really get why you’re giving me a lecture.”
“Hindsight, Sophie. It comes with lots of regret.”
Sophie’s chest tightened. “You’re saying you regret your alliance with the trolls.”
Luzia sighed and looked away. “I’m saying I regret parts of it—though I suspect we all regret parts of every major decision we make. We choose the best we can, based on whatever information we’re given. And then . . . we have to live with it.”
“Well,” Sophie said, swallowing back the sourness on her tongue, “I can live with it if it saves these alicorn babies. And Tarina—”
“Tarina won’t be your problem. It’s the empress who’ll bring you the real challenge. And it won’t happen right away. That’s how it sneaks up on you.”
“What does?”
“Who knows? But something always comes up. Just remember that sharing this planet with other intelligent species means that everything is far more complicated than it seems. And while I’m counting on you to keep your word and not let anyone know of my involvement . . . if you find yourself in a bind, you know where to find me.”
“Okay,” Sophie said slowly.
She wasn’t sure what they were talking about anymore. But it was giving her a stomachache.
“Anyway,” Luzia said, breaking the silence, “none of that matters at the moment. Right now, I need you to bring me two elves who can implement the illusions we’re going to need to prevent the new hive from being discovered. It’s going to require two very specific abilities.”
“Which abilities?” Sophie asked.
“A Flasher and a Shade.”
FORTY-ONE
JUST SO I’M CLEAR,” TAM said, tugging his bangs over his eyes. “You need me to teleport with you to the middle of nowhere and use my ability to follow a list of instructions written by some mystery person in order to camouflage a tower, so you can implant the newborn alicorns into some sort of troll-baby hive?”
“Well, first we have to find Wylie, because I guess we need him for this too,” Sophie corrected. “But otherwise . . . yeah. And we don’t have a lot of time. The babies are safe for now, but we don’t know how long they’ll last in the pods—”
“Or how long it’s going to take to implant them,” Tarina added.
Or if the implanting will work, Sophie thought—but she didn’t say that.
Fitz must’ve guessed that she was thinking it, though, because he scooted closer. And Sophie let herself lean against him.
She wasn’t totally sure how to act around him anymore—especially now that they were with some of their friends. But she was tired. And emotionally wrung out. And really glad that Fitz had insisted on going with her when she’d borrowed Grady’s pathfinder to leap to Tiergan’s house.
Someday, she wanted to take a longer look around the home of her telepathy Mentor and see if she could learn a bit more about him. But at the moment, her brain could barely process the fact that he seemed to live on his own private island.
Tam whistled. “And to think, when I left Exillium, I thought my life was maybe going to be a little more normal.”
“Is that a yes?” Sophie pressed.
Tam nodded.
“I can take you to Wylie’s new place,” Linh offered, pulling a pendant out from under her tunic.
“Actually, it’d probably be better if we just borrow that crystal,” Sophie admitted. “I don’t know if it’ll be bad to show up at the hive with extra people.”
Linh pouted. “But . . . I want to see the baby alicorns.”
“They’re not there yet,” Sophie reminded her. “And I promise I’ll bring you to them as soon as I can, okay?”
Linh sighed but agreed, ordering Tam
to be careful as she handed him her necklace.
“Yay, we’re light leaping again!” Tarina said when they stepped into the path.
But a few minutes later—after Wylie agreed to join them—they were back to teleporting. And Wylie seemed to hate the process even more than Tarina did.
To be fair, it’d been one of Sophie’s rougher landings—though that wasn’t totally her fault. The image Luzia had shown her of the tower had left out the rather key detail that it rested on the edge of a lush forest, and their momentum as they exited the void sent them toppling into the trees.
She’d have to make sure things went much smoother when it was time to bring the baby alicorns there.
On the outside the tower looked like a picture-perfect ruin, complete with crumbling walls and mossy stones and overgrown vines. But inside it was all sticky mud and bioluminescence and slimy membranes. The trolls were in the process of making the goopy green mixture the babies would be floating in, and that was apparently the last step before the hive would be ready for implantation. Which meant Tam and Wylie needed to get to work following the instructions Luzia had left for them on a rolled scroll tucked into the handle of the tower’s door.
“You’re really not going to tell us who wrote these?” Wylie asked as he scanned the surprisingly long list of steps.
“I can’t,” Sophie told him. “And if anyone asks, you have to make it seem like you and Tam came up with the illusions yourself.”
“I doubt Lady Zillah will believe that,” Tam warned. “Half this stuff I don’t even understand.”
“But you can do it?” Fitz asked.
Tam skimmed the list again. “Yeah, it’s just a lot of ‘send shadows here and here and here.’ I don’t get how that’s going to create some powerful illusion, but . . . I guess we’ll find out.”
The first several steps seemed to center on shooting alternating beams of shadows and light at a series of small mirrors that Luzia must’ve placed before she left. Some dotted the perimeter of the tower, but most were scattered throughout the forest, dangling from trees, leaning against mossy rocks, and tucked among the thick ferns.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 47
