Keeper of the Lost Cities

by Shannon Messenger

  “It appears we’ve reached our final battle,” Sir Caton announced. “I think it’s safe to say that this is the most unusual match we’ve had in Foxfire history. Are the competitors ready?”

  Fitz stepped toward Sophie with a smug smile. “I am.”

  “Uh, me too.” Her voice shook, betraying her nerves.

  “Go, Fitz!” Biana shouted. Her voice hid an edge that made Sophie wonder if Biana wanted her to lose more than she wanted her brother to win. She wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Kick his butt, Sophie!” Keefe cheered. “It’s about time someone took Fitz down.”

  “Some best friend you are,” Fitz shouted. But he said it with a smile.

  “Any preference on splotcher color?” Sir Caton asked.

  “Pink! Pink! Pink! Make Fitz look pretty in pink!” Everyone joined Keefe’s chant.

  Sophie glanced at Fitz, trying to read his expression.

  He grinned. “Ladies’ choice.”

  “Pink,” she decided, to make Keefe happy. And it would be kind of funny to splat him with pink—not that she expected to win. Dex said Fitz always won.

  “Pink it is.” Sir Caton tossed the splotcher, and Sophie and Fitz made it float in the space between them.

  “On your marks!”

  Sophie’s hands clenched into fists. If she was going to beat Fitz, she was going to have to give it everything she had—and then some.

  Adrenaline surged through her veins. The murmur of the audience faded, and she became aware of another buzzing in the back of her mind, like a back-up pool of energy she’d never noticed before. It felt stronger than the other energy. Could she draw from there instead?

  “Get set. . . . Splotch!”

  Sophie threw her hands out, pushing toward the splotcher with her mind. Her brain seemed to stretch, like someone snapping a rubber band, and her ears rang, but she didn’t break her concentration.

  The splotches exploded as her force met Fitz’s and Sophie felt the energy rebound. The next thing she knew, she was flying backward across the room. She caught the surprised look in Fitz’s eyes as the same phenomenon happened to him.

  For a long second she was weightless, then her back collided with the wall and the wind was knocked out of her. An almost simultaneous crash told her Fitz had met the same fate.

  Pain shot through her whole body and she collapsed. The last thing she saw was Fitz crumpled on the floor. Then everything went black.

  TWENTY-THREE

  WELCOME BACK,” ELWIN SAID, PLACING A COOL compress across her forehead. “You know, for a girl who hates doctors, you sure can’t seem to stay away from the Healing Center.”

  She pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing as pain whipped through every muscle.

  “Easy there. You’ve been out nearly ten minutes.” Elwin flashed an orb of yellow light around her and put on his glasses.

  “Ten minutes? What happened?”

  “No idea. I’ve never heard of anyone getting seriously injured while splotching. Leave it to you.” He chuckled.

  Her memories flooded back. Splotching. Flying backward through the room. Fitz’s crumpled body. “Where’s Fitz? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Elwin pointed to her left, where Fitz lay in a bed with his eyes closed.

  “He’s unconscious!”

  “He’ll come around any minute.” Elwin placed a cold compress across Fitz’s forehead and his vivid eyes sprang open.

  “WhermIwhahapped?” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

  Elwin chuckled. “Must’ve been some splotching match.”

  “Will he be okay?”

  “Of course. If he weren’t, Bullhorn would be freaking out right now—or worse: laying next to him.” He pointed to the slinky gray creature curled up in the corner. “Banshees can sense when someone’s in mortal danger. Fitz hit his head a little harder than you, so he needs another minute for the medicine to set in.”

  “This is all my fault,” Sophie groaned. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but it seemed like the most likely option.

  “What did you do during the match?” Elwin asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Fitz stirred, and he looked more lucid when he opened his eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” Elwin asked him.

  “I’ve been better, but I’ll live.” Fitz winced as he sat up. “Are you okay?” he asked Sophie, rubbing the back of his head.

  She nodded, feeling shy. She hadn’t really talked to him since the first day of school.

  Elwin handed them each a blue vial. “This will ease the pain. You’ll still be stiff tomorrow, but I can’t help that.”

  The glands behind her tongue zinged as Sophie swallowed the sour medicine, but the ache in her back vanished.

  “Do either of you remember what happened?” Elwin asked as he collected the empty bottles.

  “Not really,” Fitz admitted. “I remember pushing toward the splotcher, but then it was like it rebounded or something.”

  “Rebounded?”

  “Yeah. I felt my force hit hers and bounce back at me.”

  “That’s what I felt too,” Sophie agreed.

  Elwin’s eyes widened. Then he shook his head. “Nah. Couldn’t be.”

  “Couldn’t be what?” Sophie asked, with a horrible feeling he was going to tell her it really was her fault.

  “That sounds like what happens when someone does a brain push—using mental energy for telekinesis instead of core energy. But a brain push is a highly specialized skill only the Ancients can pull off.”

  Sophie’s heart hammered in her ears. She had pulled energy from her mind in the match—was that a brain push? “Doesn’t telekinesis always use mental energy?”

  “It uses mental control,” Elwin explained. “Your concentration controls how you use the energy—where you send it, how much you send. But the actual energy and strength comes from your core. Don’t you feel the pull in your gut when you draw on it?”

  She did. “But why would a brain push send us flying across the room?”

  “Mental energy doesn’t mix with core energy, so they’d rebound.”

  That matched what she’d felt. But how could that be? “Is it something you could do by accident?”

  “No way. It’s a less draining way to move things, but it takes years and years to train your mind to store energy like that. Then it takes a lifetime of practice to use that mental power. It must just be that you and Fitz were evenly matched. Which is still weird—don’t get me wrong. You’re awfully young to have that kind of strength. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Sophie. Fitz, on the other hand, might want to worry about being beat by a Level Two.”

  Elwin laughed and Sophie’s face caught fire. She was too afraid to look at Fitz to see if the teasing bothered him. Plus, she couldn’t help wondering if Elwin was wrong, if she’d done a brain push. But . . . what she’d done had been almost effortless. If it was a brain push, wouldn’t she have had to try a lot harder?

  “You two are cleared to return to session,” Elwin announced, interrupting her thoughts. “But I want you sitting on the sidelines. And take it easy for the rest of the day.”

  “Thanks, Elwin.” Fitz stood on shaky legs, leaning on the bed for a second.

  Sophie jumped up, wobbling as the blood rushed to her head.

  “Take it easy,” Elwin repeated as they made their way to the door. “Oh, and, Sophie?” He grinned when she met his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

  FITZ STAYED QUIET AS THEY walked back to the auditorium.

  Sophie bit her lip. Was he mad at her? She’d just worked up the courage to ask him when they reached the amphitheater, and a round of applause drowned out the question.

  “Yes, yes, welcome back, Fitz and Sophie. Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Sir Ca
ton said, looking a teensy bit annoyed by the interruption. He tried to call everyone back to order, but Dex, Marella, Biana, and Keefe broke rank and rushed over to them.

  Biana got there first and threw her arms around Fitz, hugging him so tight he winced. It would have been a touching moment if Keefe hadn’t copied her and grabbed Fitz, pretending to cry. Fitz shoved them both away, blushing.

  “Beat by a Level Two,” Keefe said, elbowing Fitz in the ribs.

  “It was a tie,” Sophie protested.

  Keefe snorted. “Please. You totally kicked his butt.”

  “Totally,” Dex agreed. “He hit the wall way harder than you did. That was the greatest present you could have ever given me, by the way,” he whispered.

  Sophie shook her head. He was hopeless.

  “Even the Mentors declared you the winner,” Keefe added, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t think you’ll need your pardon, I’ll be happy to take it off your hands—”

  “Keefe! Dex! Marella! Biana! Need I remind you that you are not excused from this lesson?” Sir Caton yelled.

  “Think about it,” Keefe said, then ran to rejoin the class.

  Fitz sat next to Sophie on the sidelines, watching everyone practice telekinesis with the remaining splotchers. She tried not to worry, but she couldn’t help glancing at him from the corner of her eye, wondering why he still hadn’t said anything to her.

  “Why aren’t you and Biana friends?” he asked after a minute. “It seems like you guys would get along. You have a lot in common.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to have things in common with someone who acted like such a brat. “I don’t think she has time for another friend. She’s always busy with Maruca.”

  He frowned.

  Before she could think of anything else to say, Lady Alexine delivered her prize, a small golden square with an intricate P etched on the top.

  “Any Level Two who holds her own against Fitz is the clear winner,” she explained. “Congratulations, Sophie.”

  “Thank you.” She peeked at Fitz to see if he looked bothered.

  He grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.” But his smile faded after Lady Alexine left. “You really don’t know what happened during the match?”

  “I . . . don’t know. I do remember pushing some energy from my mind,” she whispered, afraid to look at him. “But that couldn’t have been a brain push, could it?”

  Fitz had no idea how much she needed him to tell her that it couldn’t. Instead he said, “I’ll have to ask my dad.”

  She tried to smile, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d somehow done something wrong. The worry in Fitz’s eyes seemed to confirm her fears.

  So later that afternoon she worked up the courage to ask Grady about brain pushes while she helped him give Verdi a bath.

  “Why?” he wanted to know.

  Sophie focused on lathering Verdi’s feathers as she told him what had happened in PE. Grady and Edaline knew about her telepathy and her silent mind, but she hated reminding them how different she really was. Who’d want to adopt a freak as their daughter?

  She’d tugged out three loose eyelashes before he finally spoke.

  “That does sound like a brain push.” His voice was a whisper. “When you were around humans, did someone train you how to use your abilities?”

  “No one knew about my abilities—not even my parents. Why?”

  Verdi stirred, getting annoyed with her distracted bathers. Grady waited until the soggy dinosaur had settled before he answered. “The way you use your mind, Sophie—someone had to teach you. It’s not possible that you just instinctively know these skills.”

  “But . . . no one taught me anything. I’d remember that.”

  “Would you?”

  How could she not? “Besides, how would a human even know how to teach me to use my abilities? It’s not like they can do what we can.”

  Grady stared in the distance. “No, you’re right. Only an elf could teach you.”

  “And the first elf I met was Fitz,” she added, reminding him as much as herself. She didn’t like the worry lines that creased his forehead.

  She couldn’t have met an elf without knowing it, could she?

  No. She’d never met anyone else with a silent mind. Except for that jogger that day. But she’d barely talked to him for five minutes. He couldn’t have done something to her, could he?

  Wouldn’t she have felt something?

  And why would he do that?

  Plus, Fitz said they’d been looking for her for twelve years. Even the Council didn’t know where she was. There was no way she could’ve met any other elves.

  But if humans didn’t teach her, and elves didn’t teach her . . . who did?

  She searched her memories for the rest of the night, but when she went to bed she was no closer to the solution. So many things about her past raised more questions than they did answers—it was enough to drive her crazy.

  She had to let this go. She had enough to worry about with her adoption and Bronte and gaining the Council’s permission to stay at Foxfire. Once she had her future settled, she could search her past. Until then, she’d try to put it out of her mind.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  GOOD MORNING, PRODIGIES,” DAME ALINA cooed during orientation the next morning. “Everyone ready for another exciting day?”

  “Hey, check it out,” Dex whispered to Sophie. He pointed to the meter on his plain blue nexus. “I finally passed the halfway point.”

  “Really?” She tried to be excited for him, but she hadn’t even reached the one-third point.

  “Yep. Not much further till I can have my own Pathfinder. Maybe I’ll even get my nexus off younger than Fitz—man, that’d be awesome! I’d love to see Wonderboy’s face if a Dizznee broke his precious record.”

  She was about to defend Fitz when Dame Alina caught her attention.

  “We are now four weeks away from midterms. For those of you worried you won’t be able to score the required seventy-five percent to pass, I recommend seeing Lady Nissa in the Tutoring Center.”

  “Maybe you should sign up for alchemy tutoring,” Marella whispered. “Not sure you’ll pass without it.”

  Marella’s tone was teasing, but her words hit a nerve. Sophie was barely scraping by in alchemy, and that was with Lady Galvin shouting instructions across the room. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be on her own. And she had Bronte to consider. He was probably waiting for her to fail her midterms.

  Everything in her shrank at the idea of needing a tutor. She wasn’t used to struggling with her grades. It felt so humiliating.

  Not as humiliating as getting expelled. . . .

  “That’s it for today. Everyone work hard,” Dame Alina finished, tossing her hair before her projection disappeared.

  “UGH, WHAT IS THAT?” SOPHIE gagged and glared at the silver strip on her locker.

  Dex looked a little green. “I think it’s reekrod. Elwin must’ve picked the flavor today.”

  “Remind me to yell at him the next time I see him.”

  “Planning another visit to the Healing Center?” Marella asked. “Going to make it a daily habit?”

  “Very funny.”

  Marella gave her locker the tiniest lick and shrugged. “He’s done worse.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m taking all my books with me now,” Sophie said.

  “Oooh—smart thinking,” Dex agreed, reaching for the rest of his books. He grabbed a small silver box and tore it open. “Here. Take a Prattle to get rid of the taste.”

  For once Dex had good taste in candy. It was sweet and chewy—like caramel mixed with peanut butter and filled with cream.

  “Which pin did you get?” Marella asked as he pulled out a small velvet pouch, like a Cracker Jack prize.

  Dex removed a
tiny silver horse with a glittering black mane.

  Marella gasped. “A Prattles’ unicorn? Please tell me you want to trade.”

  “Maybe.” His eyes darted to Sophie. “Unless you want it?”

  “I don’t have any to trade.”

  Marella’s eyes stretched as wide as they would go. “You don’t have any Prattles’ pins?”

  Sophie stared at her feet, hating how out of touch she still was.

  “I think Sophie should have it.” Dex placed the pin in her hand before she could argue.

  Marella snorted. “Of course you do.”

  “What? She needs to start her collection.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Dex blushed and Sophie pretended not to notice. She examined the little horse, amazed by the detail. The back had a tiny digital screen that read: #122 of 185. “What’s the number mean?”

  “There’s one pin for every creature alive on the planet—that we know of. Right now there are only one hundred and eighty-five unicorns—so that pin is super-rare.” Obvious bitterness leaked into Marella’s voice.

  “Hey, Sophie?” a vaguely familiar voice asked behind her. “Can I talk to you?”

  Sophie spun around and froze when she saw Biana. “Uh, sure,” she said as her brain struggled to compute this unexpected development.

  Biana glanced at Dex and Marella. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

  Sophie hesitated half a second, then shrugged to her friends and followed Biana toward a deserted corner of the atrium. “Um, what’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to come over after school today.”

  Sophie waited for the punch line, but Biana seemed serious. “Why?”

  Biana looked at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “I don’t know. I thought it might be nice if we could . . . try to be friends.” The last words came out barely louder than a whisper.

  “Friends?” The word sounded like a foreign language coming from Biana. Her eyes narrowed. “Did Fitz put you up to this?”

  “No! Why would Fitz care if—” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t put me up to this.”