Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (18 page)

“I’ll take care of him. Go put on your best walking shoes. We have a long journey ahead.”

WHEREVER THEY WERE GOING, THEY
used a black crystal to leap there.

Clear crystals leaped to the elvin world. Blue crystals leaped to the Forbidden Cities—and were restricted to only certain members of the nobility.

Sophie had never seen a black crystal.

The shiny black stone was long and thin and had only one facet. It was set on a thick silver chain Alden wore around his neck, and when he’d held it to the sun, the beam it cast looked more like a shadow. The light felt cold as they stepped into it, like billions of snowflakes were fluttering under Sophie’s skin, until an icy wind blasted them away, sending her scattering in a million directions. She had just started to panic when the chilly blast vanished and the scenery blurred back into focus.

A scorching, empty desert.

Arid dunes stretched in every direction. No plants, no rocks, no signs that anyone had ever set foot where they stood. Waves of heat radiated off the blinding sand, making Sophie squint.

“Where are we?” She had to shout over the dry desert wind.

“According to my instructions, this is the Gateway to Exile.”

Sophie shivered despite the searing sun. Exile was the one place she’d promised herself she’d
never
go.

Though maybe this was the chance she’d been waiting for.

Prentice was in Exile.

Alden shaded his eyes as he took her hand and led her through the dunes. “I think this is the right way. Their directions were rather vague.”

“You haven’t been here?”

“Generally only the Councillors are allowed to come. But they made an exception for us.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. First we must get somewhere more private.”

Sophie looked around at the empty, barren land surrounding them. Where was more private than this?

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being vague. But this assignment is at the absolute highest level of confidentiality. I can’t reveal anything further until I’m certain we’re somewhere no one can overhear.” He glanced over his shoulder, like he expected someone to burst out of the mounds of scorching sand. But the desert stayed as empty as ever.

Alden counted his paces as they walked, mumbling something about “following the rivers of sand.” Sophie tried to shield her face from the sun, wishing she’d worn a hooded cape. For once it would’ve been useful.

“This has to be it,” Alden said, pausing at a circle of sand surrounded by low dunes. “I’ve been told the next part of our journey is going to be rather unpleasant. All I know is that we need to ignore our instincts and trust the trap.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just don’t fight against the pull—and make sure you hold your breath and keep your eyes closed. You ready?”

“Not really.”

He smiled. “I know what you mean.”

He sucked in a huge breath and she copied him, filling her lungs with as much air as they would hold.

Her legs shook as he led her into the circle. The ground sank with each step, and within seconds she was up to her knees.

Quicksand.

She tried to break free but that only made her sink faster, the hot sand now up to her waist.

Alden’s instructions echoed through her thoughts as his grip tightened on her hand and his eyes met hers. He nodded, like he was telling her it was okay as they sank up to their shoulders.

Her last thought was,
Trust the trap.

Then the sand swallowed them whole.

S
OPHIE’S LUNGS SCREAMED FOR AIR
and her brain screamed for help and it took everything in her not to actually scream as the scratchy darkness pulled them downward.

Trust the trap. Trustthetrap. TRUSTTHETRAP!

She clung to Alden’s hand, her only connection to any sort of reality, as they sank deeper into the darkness.

Sooner or later she would need to breathe.

They sank farther still, and panic overwhelmed her. But as she thrashed and kicked, the darkness turned thinner and her body turned lighter and the air turned smoother.

Air?

She gasped for breath, wanting to cry when the burning in
her lungs faded. She opened her eyes and found they were free-falling through darkness, dropping so fast she didn’t have time to scream before they collided with the ground.

A sand dune cushioned their fall. She knew she should be grateful for the soft landing, but at the moment she never wanted to feel sand again.

She coughed, feeling grains and grit between her teeth. Alden pounded on her back as he wheezed and hacked as well.

“
Most
unpleasant,” he rasped.

A pale blue light cut through the darkness. When Sophie’s eyes adjusted, she realized they were in a small round cavern. The walls were smooth and the ceiling was sand, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to be trapped in an hourglass. Any second she expected the grains to fall and bury them alive.

The light flickered as Alden dusted sand off his clothes, and she noticed the glow was coming from a small blue crystal strung around his neck. She stood and tried to shake the sand out of her hair, but she had a feeling she’d be finding it in unpleasant places for weeks.

“Some water?” a deep, gravelly voice asked from the shadows.

Sophie ducked behind Alden as he pointed the light toward the far wall. A brown, hairy creature with a pointed snout, bulbous nose, and squinty eyes pulled itself the rest of the way out of the ground and held up a flask that looked to be made from the same black crystal as the stone that had leaped them there.

Alden bowed. “Thank you.” He took the flask and handed it
to Sophie as the creature nose-dived back into the ground, its hairy hands tunneling effortlessly into the soft sand.

“What was
that
?” she asked as she took a tentative sip from the flask. The water was ice-cold and even sweeter than the bottles of Youth they drank every day. She had to stop herself from guzzling the whole thing.

“A dwarf.”

“As in
Snow White and the Seven
 . . . ?”

Alden smiled as she handed the flask back to him, and he took a long drink before he answered. “Most likely, no. Dwarves are one of the five intelligent creatures we’ve made treaties with. They’re rarely seen above ground—the light is far too bright for them. But their tunneling skills are unmatchable. We’ve relied on their help many times throughout the centuries, when we needed to build something secret—or hard to reach. Like this place.”

Hard to reach
was a bit of an understatement.

“And this is . . . Exile?” Somehow she’d expected it to be bigger. With dungeons and chains and screaming prisoners or something.

“No, this is the Entrance to Exile.”

“I thought that’s where we were when we were above ground?”

“That was the Gateway to Exile. It’s confusing, I know—which is intentional. Exile was designed so that you have to know exactly where to go and what to look for—and be willing
to endure some discomfort—if you want to reach it. We’re now one of about twenty people who know where it is—besides those exiled of course. Has it triggered any memories?”

“No, none of this feels familiar.”

Alden frowned.

“Did you think this was where the Black Swan was telling us to go with the charm?”

“I still believe it is.” Alden handed her back the flask and Sophie was surprised to see it was full again.

“It collects moisture in the air,” he explained.

“Crystal can do that?”

“Not crystal. Magsidian. An exceedingly rare mineral the dwarves mine from the deepest recesses of the earth. It has an inherent field that draws things to it, and you can change what it draws by how you carve it.” He pointed to the irregular shape of the flask’s mouthpiece. “These careful cuts make this flask draw water from the air. Whereas
this
”—he dug under his tunic and pulled out the black crystal pendant, holding it up so she could get a better look at it—“was cut to draw certain types of light, which will be important when it’s time to leave.”

Up close the stone was a much more specific shape than Sophie had realized, with seven sides of seven different lengths, all etched around the edges.

“It’s another security measure,” Alden explained. “Regular light isn’t strong enough to push someone up and out from this deep underground. Which may be why the Black Swan
was unable to plant any memories of this place in your mind. Perhaps they’ve never been. If anyone came here uninvited, they’d be trapped.”

The walls felt like they were closing in and Sophie sucked in a breath, reminding herself that
they
weren’t trapped. At least, she hoped they weren’t.

“Magsidian is also how the dwarves know we’re here,” Alden added, “and why they knew we weren’t a threat when we arrived. They can sense its presence. We only have twelve magsidian stones in our possession, one for each member of the Council. They were gifts from the dwarves when we signed the treaty. If someone were to set foot here without carrying any, the dwarves would assume they’re here without the Council’s permission and restrain them. For us, they could feel the magsidian from Councillor Terik’s pendant, so they sent someone to refresh us for the next leg of our journey. Which we should probably get started on. Are you ready?”

She wasn’t. Not even a little bit. But she’d come this far.

Alden approached the wall, tracing his fingers across the smooth surface until he found a narrow slit hidden by shadows. He slipped the magsidian pendant into it and twisted like it was a key. Air hissed and stone scraped and the ground rumbled as the heavy wall spun clockwise, scattering clouds of dust as it slowly revealed a narrow doorway leading into darkness beyond.

Alden handed her a clear crystal on a slender gold chain. “Breathe on it,” he told her as she slipped it around her neck. “The warmth reignites the balefire.”

She did, and tiny blue sparks flickered to life inside the crystal. “Did Fintan make these?”

His name felt wrong on her tongue.

Fintan
. The elf she’d accused of sparking the Everblaze.

The elf who
claimed
he was innocent—though he was clearly hiding something.

Balefire had been his trademark, before pyrokinesis had been forbidden. It was a special flame that required no fuel and could be contained in crystal.

Alden took a closer look at his pendant. “These were probably made by one of his apprentices. But it’s still rather ironic, I suppose, that we’re using them to light our way, given that we’re coming to see him.”

“So . . . he’s been exiled?” Last she’d heard, the Councillors were giving him a chance to confess before they took such a drastic measure.

“They moved him here earlier in the week. I’ll admit, I was surprised. Normally, they wait until after . . .”

“After what?”

He shook his head and gestured toward the doorway, signaling for her to go first. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Her legs felt heavy as she moved forward, especially when she spotted the narrow, winding staircase that descended into
the darkness. Even with the blue light of the balefire pendant she couldn’t see where it ended.

Words couldn’t explain how much she didn’t want to go down the scary-stairway-of-doom—but as she hovered in the doorway, she reminded herself that this was the chance she’d been waiting for.

Somewhere at the bottom, behind however many locked doors, was Prentice.

Her
past
.

Maybe the answer to the Black Swan’s clue.

Every step forward brought her closer to the truth.

D
OWN
.

Down.

Down, they climbed.

One step at a time.

One foot in front of the other.

No light, except from the balefire crystals around their necks. No sound except their feet slapping against stone.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

For a while Sophie tried to count the stairs, but she gave up once they’d passed a thousand. Her legs burned and her feet ached and the air grew hotter and stuffier the farther
they went, until her hair was plastered to her head with sweat.

“Where is this place?” she asked. “The center of the earth?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re serious?”

“I’m guessing humans taught you the earth’s core was either a big pool of magma or a solid ball as hot as the sun.”

That
was
what she’d been taught—but she wasn’t about to admit it. “But . . . how is this possible?”

“The dwarves can tunnel anywhere, and we can make anything habitable. Combine that with the fact that Exile needed to be impossible to reach, and this was really the only logical option.”

“Only elves would call tunneling to the center of the earth ‘logical.’ ”

“And only a girl raised by humans would think otherwise.”

She couldn’t decide if he meant that as a good or a bad thing.

“So, can you tell me what we’re doing here yet? Or are you still worried about eavesdroppers.”

“No, I think this is sufficiently secluded.”

She’d taken at least ten more steps before he added, “The Council has ordered me to perform the memory break on Fintan.”

“Oh.”

She tried to say more but the words lodged in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“He still refuses to reveal what he’s hiding, and we’re positive
he knows something important about the Everblaze.” Alden’s voice was hushed, but it echoed through the suffocating silence of the dark stairway. “I’ve been ordered to give him one last opportunity to confess. If he remains silent, I’m to probe his memories—by any means necessary.”

“Have you ever done a memory break before?” Sophie whispered. She didn’t know much about them—only that they shattered the person’s sanity.

“Not personally. They’re quite rare. Quinlin performed the last one, since he’s a stronger probe than me—”

“You mean the one on Prentice?” Sophie interrupted.