Tears pricked his eyes as he soaked up the power of a purer, richer, more magnificent fire than had ever graced the earth before. But the blaze refused to stay contained and the fireball erupted, raining bits of scattered flame.
Fintan shielded his face with his cape, but the falling sparks attached to the fireproof fabric and ignited. He tossed the garment to the hungry flames and jumped through the fire line, tumbling across a patch of cool grass that hadn’t yet succumbed to the blaze.
Coughs racked his chest, and his skin was red and raw and throbbed with a pain he didn’t understand, like being stabbed by hundreds of scalding needles.
His first burns.
But he was alive.
And he was alone.
Flashes of orange thrashed among the yellow flames, and Fintan stumbled to his feet, realizing they were the figures of his friends. He shouted at the heat to subside, but the blaze swelled higher, crackling like it was laughing at him. All he could do was watch their agonized faces as the fire attacked. Then he dropped to his knees and vomited.
Sophie felt like doing the same.
She tried to shove the horror out of her mind, but it was like the memory was seared behind her eyes. She could only watch helplessly as Fintan fumbled for his pathfinder, hating himself for ignoring the bone-chilling cries of his friends as he held it up to the light.
Before he glittered away, the memory shattered.
Sophie yanked her consciousness back as the scene splintered to a million glinting shards that were swallowed by the darkness of Fintan’s mind.
Alden groaned.
Are you okay? she asked, squeezing his wrist.
He’s destroying the things he doesn’t want me to see. I have to work faster. Brace yourself.
The shower of images turned into an icy downpour. Then to a raging flood. But the memories kept warping and twisting, and when Alden tried to focus them they vaporized to a thick fog that clouded everything.
His Ancient mind is too strong, Alden told her. If I’m going to salvage any memories, I need you to boost me with your concentration.
How do I do that?
Send some of your energy into his mind. It’s like transmitting, but with force instead of words. Can you do that?
I’ll try.
Sophie shoved any other thoughts out of her head and pulled all of the energy stored in her inner core into her mind. It tingled and hummed as she wrapped her consciousness around it, and when she had a firm hold, she shoved it into Fintan’s head, filling it with warmth.
The thick fog thinned, but didn’t melt away.
I’ll have to find another way, Alden told her—but his mental voice sounded weary.
Wait—let me try something.
Mental energy seemed to be more powerful than core energy—maybe a brain push was what they needed.
She focused on the energy buzzing at the edge of her consciousness, letting it surge and swell until her head felt ready to explode from the pressure.
Ready? she transmitted, not wanting to catch Alden off guard.
On three, he replied.
One.
Two.
Three!
She pushed the mental energy out of her head in a rush of heat.
It wasn’t until the force collided against the other energy that she remembered her disastrous splotching match against Fitz—the first time she’d performed a brain push. Mental energy and core energy couldn’t mix, and with the two trapped inside one mind they twisted and swirled around each other, forming a cyclone of heat that made Fintan scream.
Sophie panicked, trying to draw the energy back—but Alden ordered her to wait. She held her breath as the vortex of energy wound tighter and tighter. Finally, the pressure was too much and it collapsed and imploded, melting away the mental fog and revealing a memory hidden underneath.
An elf in long red robes. The features of his face were a murky blur of shadow and color, but Sophie watched through Fintan’s eyes as he helped the elf stretch out his arm and curl his fingers into some sort of very specific fist and point it at the sky. Then Fintan jumped back as the elf flicked his wrist and a small ball of neon yellow flame sprang to life, hovering above his palm.
Everblaze.
Alden tried to force the memory into focus, but before he could, Fintan shouted and a wave of heat shot up Alden’s arm, burning Sophie’s hand.
The scene shattered.
The entire stream of memories cracked and splintered, crumbling into tiny, unrecognizable shards. Sophie pulled her concentration back before she was sucked into the chaos, but she felt Alden’s consciousness slip away, leaving her suddenly cold.
She ripped her eyes open as his wrist slipped from her grasp and his body hit the floor with a thump. Her head throbbed and her hand ached, but she ignored the pain as the room came into focus.
Fintan sat slumped in his chair, muttering incoherently.
Alden lay unconscious, a large gash on his forehead streaking his face with red.
Her stomach heaved at the sight, and she tried not to look at the blood as she dropped to her knees and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“What happened?” Krikor asked, rushing into the room as Sophie shouted Alden’s name and tried to shake him awake.
“I don’t know—he must’ve hit his head when he fell.”
She shook Alden again but it made no difference. Neither did Krikor’s slapping Alden’s cheeks.
Krikor wiped the blood away with the fur of his arm and examined the wound. Then he pried Alden’s eyelids open, frowning at the blank whites. “I do not think the problem is physical.”
Sophie glanced at Fintan, who was rocking back and forth. His cracked lips were turned up at the ends in a twisted smile.
Could he have dragged Alden down with him?
Tears turned everything to a blur, but Sophie blinked them back. Now was not the time for crying. Now was the time to be a guide.
She placed her shaky fingers against Alden’s temples, transmitting his name over and over as she pushed her consciousness into his mind. His head felt cold and dark and was hauntingly quiet. No whisper of thoughts. No trace of memories. It was like Alden was gone and she was wading through an empty shell.
You promised nothing would go wrong, her mind screamed as she fanned out her thoughts, trying to feel in every direction at once. The cold pounded against her brain, and a tiny trickle felt like it was seeping in. But as she waded through the darkness she found something warmer. Clearer, somehow. She followed the feeling until she reached what felt like a small space. A warm nook.
But it was empty too.
Come back, she ordered him. We need you.
She filled the space with memories of Fitz and Della and Biana, the people who loved Alden and needed him and would never be the same if he left them.
You have to come back for them.
A tiny speck of light flashed through the darkness. Sophie wrapped her consciousness around it, like cupping her hands around a fledgling flame, shielding it so the shadows couldn’t snuff it out. She fed it more images of Alden’s family and friends and pulled it into the nook. A safe place to let it grow.
Brightness and warmth seeped around her, flooding the space with memories—happy scenes of family and friends. She stared at her own face, surprised to find herself in the mix.
Then Alden’s mind whispered, I’m here.
TWENTY-SIX
SOPHIE WASN’T SURE IF SHE wanted to collapse or cry as she threw her arms around Alden and squeezed as hard as she could. His heartbeat rang in her ears and his chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, promising that he was alive.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice weak and shaky.
She leaned back to take a better look at him. His beautiful teal eyes looked dull and tired, and his hair was matted against his forehead from the blood still streaming down his face.
She gagged.
Alden wiped his cheek, frowning when he saw the red on his h
and. “It’s just a cut,” he told her as he pressed his palm against the wound. “No reason to worry.”
“Here,” Krikor said, handing him a magsidian flask shaped like a star. Inside was a thick gray sludge and Alden smeared some onto his forehead. It hardened like cement, stopping the bleeding.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said as he gave the flask back.
Krikor nodded.
“Are you really okay?” Sophie asked.
“I’m perfect. Well, other than this burn.”
He showed her his blistered hand.
Sophie’s palm looked about the same, and Krikor offered no remedy. She pressed the tender skin against the metal floor, letting the chill soothe the burn as she asked, “What happened?”
“Fintan drew the warmth from my body and used it to burn me—us,” he corrected, pointing to her hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Yes, I suppose you have.” He turned to where Fintan sat slumped against his chair, babbling and staring at nothing. “You fool! Was this really worth it?”
Fintan didn’t answer.
“Did you learn anything from him?” Sophie asked quietly.
“Unfortunately, no. He did a very good job burying anything he didn’t want us to see. The extra energy you sent was able to sweep away his defenses, but the burn broke my concentration before I could focus the images, and when I fought my way back in, his mind shattered and dragged me under. Now he’s too far gone for us to risk any further searching.”
Alden punched the ground with his good hand, uttering a word Sophie had never heard before. She assumed it wasn’t a good one.
“Do you think we should try probing his mind again?” she asked quietly. “Maybe there’s something—”
“It’s far too dangerous, Sophie. A broken mind is like quicksand. It pulls your consciousness down, trapping you inside.” His eyes dropped to his hands as he gently bent his singed fingers. “If you hadn’t pulled me back, I would’ve been lost there forever. How did you find me?”
“I have no idea. I just tried everything I could think of. I wasn’t going to lose you.”
Alden pulled her in for another hug and Sophie sank into it, letting his steady heartbeat reassure her that he was okay.
He asked her for specifics, and she told him about wading through the icy darkness and following the trail of warmth to the small nook in his mind.
“A nook?”
“Yeah. It felt like it was a safe spot, somehow. It was easier to concentrate in there, so I tried calling you to me. You didn’t respond at first, but then I filled the nook with images of your family, and after a few minutes, you found me.”
“I remember that. Sort of.” He let her go and wiped his eyes.
“What else do you remember?” she whispered, hoping it was okay to ask.
“Not much. I had no idea who I was anymore—but I did feel like there was something missing. Something I needed to know that was just out of my reach. I kept fighting my way toward it, but I wasn’t getting anywhere until I felt a trickle of warmth and followed it. There were suddenly images all around me, people who felt familiar even though I couldn’t remember who they were. Not until I saw your face in the mix and heard your voice—then everything snapped into place, and I realized I had to fight for the people I care about. That gave me the strength to pull myself free.”
Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. Sophie had to wipe away a few of her own.
“I am so incredibly sorry for what you’ve had to endure today, Sophie. But I’ll confess . . . I’m glad you were here. I never would’ve made it through this if you hadn’t been my guide.”
“But I lost you—”
“No—I lost myself. And trust me, no one could’ve saved me like you did. In all my years, I’ve never heard of anything like this ‘nook’ you found. I suspect the uniqueness of your mind makes you the only one who can reach it.”
She straightened. “Do you think that means I could save Fint—”
“Fintan is broken, Sophie, not lost. Those are two very different things.” He turned to Fintan, who now had a thin string of drool running down his chin. “There’s nothing more that can be done here. We should get home.”
Alden stood, wobbling so much Krikor had to steady him. “I’m fine,” he promised when he noticed Sophie’s frown. “Just weak from the headache.” He pointed to his wound, which had swelled to a giant red mound around the crusty cement.
“Will Elwin be able to fix it?” she asked as she followed him out of the cell.
“I have yet to encounter an ailment that Elwin can’t heal—though you’ve seemed determined to stump him these last few months.”
Sophie forced a smile. She could’ve done without the reminder about her latest medical problem. She was still hoping it would go away on its own.
Krikor closed the door, muffling Fintan’s moans. He handed them their balefire pendants and pointed to the left. “I trust you can find your way to the exit? I need to tend to the prisoner.”
“Of course.” Alden gave him back the magsidian water flask and bowed his head, wincing slightly. “We cannot thank you enough for your assistance.”
Krikor nodded, shoved the flask somewhere in his shaggy fur, and returned to Fintan’s room. Fintan’s faint, broken laughter filled the hall before the door closed, and Sophie had a horrible feeling the sound would haunt her nightmares for months to come.
She kept her head down as she turned to follow Alden through the curved hallway, but a nagging thought kept repeating with every step.
They were leaving with nothing.
They’d gone all that way. Risked Alden’s sanity. Broken Fintan’s mind.
For what?
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
The tiny pieces they’d learned couldn’t have been what the Black Swan wanted. Their clues always led somewhere, gave her something new to go on.
Alden had to have been wrong. The clue had to mean—
Sophie’s head snapped up, her eyes searching the glowing red letters over the doors, hoping she hadn’t already passed the most important one. She read name after name—most so long and foreign she couldn’t begin to pronounce them—and just when she was starting to give up, she spotted the one she needed.
Prentice Endal.
She knew Prentice’s mind was supposed to be useless—but Prentice had been a Keeper. He knew how to tuck secrets away in unreachable places. Maybe the Black Swan had even trained him to do that, and that’s why they sent her the clue.
“What’s wrong?” Alden asked as she stopped walking. “Are you . . .”
His voice trailed off as his eyes found the name over the door.
Sophie braced for another lecture. But Alden just stared at the glowing letters, turning paler by the second.
They stepped toward the porthole without a word, almost like it was drawing them to it. Sophie had to work up the courage to peer through.
The room was small and dim, with padded walls. A hunched figure in some sort of tangled-looking straitjacket sat on a narrow bed, swaying lightly from side to side. His dark skin was slicked with sweat and his glazed eyes twitched as he muttered to himself.
“He didn’t deserve this,” Alden whispered after a minute. “I shouldn’t have let . . .”
His voice cracked.
Sophie thought he was going to cry, but instead he shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I would’ve understood!”
Prentice didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. Just kept swaying and muttering and twitching, like he really was as useless as Alden claimed.
But he had to be the answer.
Had. To. Be.
Nothing else fit the clue—and when would she have another chance to probe the mind of someone from the Black Swan?
Her brain was so tired from everything she’d put it through, but Sophie rallied any extra energy she could, pressed her palms against the glass, and imagined that she was touching the skin ar
ound Prentice’s temples.
“What are you doing?” Alden asked as she closed her eyes.
Sophie didn’t answer.
The last thing she heard was Alden shouting, “Don’t!” Then the rest of the world faded away and she pushed her thoughts into Prentice’s mind.
TWENTY-SEVEN
AT FIRST ALL SOPHIE FELT was thick, scratchy black, poking and prodding and pressing against her mental barriers. She tried to fight back, but the shadows were relentless, and the coldest ones found a way to seep through.
Images followed—as sharp and clear as normal memories. But they were wrong. Every color felt off. Every sound felt distorted. It felt like reality had been stripped and smashed and reassembled into something else. Something terrifying.
Trees rained from gray-green clouds, their dark branches reaching for her like clawed hands as they fell. Beasts sprang from a ground lit with stars, bared their fangs, and chased her across the sky-covered hills. Glowing eyes peeked through bushes covered in blue ears, and butterflies with bright red lips whispered sounds like mush. Sophie searched for some clue, some key to translate what she was seeing, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for anything.
Just the twisted thoughts of a twisted mind.
The images tangled, coiling around her, pulling her deeper. She whipped through more darkness and fell into the streets of a ruined city. The clouded and cracked crystal buildings were a hodgepodge of structures Sophie had seen throughout the Lost Cities: the swirling castles from Eternalia sandwiched among the silver-tipped spires from Atlantis mixed with gleaming mansions that wrapped around the pyramid of Foxfire. There was a fountain in the center of it all, two golden figures standing in a round pool, holding hands as colored streams of water showered them from every direction. A shadow of a girl appeared between them and took off through the buildings, shattering everything she touched before she dove into a sea of shards.
Sophie plunged after her.
Down down down she sank, feeling Prentice’s mind turn colder—thicker—as she landed in a blank space, void of any sound or color. A bubble of nothing. She pressed against the sides, but a force slammed her back. Then a face appeared in front of her, pale and featureless except for two teal jewels for eyes. The more she stared into them, the more her head spun until she couldn’t tell which way was up or down or where she’d come from or how to get back.
Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) Page 16
