Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (21 page)

She gagged.

Alden wiped his cheek, frowning when he saw the red on his hand. “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 around 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.

A
T 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.

“No reason to worry,” the face whispered as laughter erupted around her. The sound was young and childish at first. Then deep and dark as the face shattered to a million tiny flecks that surrounded her, stinging like needles. Some part of her mind knew she wasn’t actually being touched—but that didn’t make the pain any less real. She wanted to scream or cry or call for help—but she had no mouth. No voice. She was just a blip of consciousness.

A bodiless mind.

The needles of light turned electric, zapping with tiny shocks over and over and over until the only reality she knew was their pricks and pain. She was trapped. Stuck in this nightmare world where shadows tricked and light attacked and she was nothing. No one.

No.

She was someone.

But who was she?

It was a question she used to know, but the answer felt like it had been erased by the panic and pain, shoved out of her reach—beyond the burning lights.

She had to find it. Even if it was hard. Even if it hurt.

She pushed through the shards of light, letting them scrape and singe and strip more of her consciousness away. And then she was falling again. Down down down, with no end in sight. Dropping so far she knew she’d never pull herself up.

But without the tormenting stings, she found the answer to her question.

I am Sophie Foster.

She transmitted the words to make them more real and a thin strand of white light cut through the black. She wrapped her mind around it, clinging to the lifeline and hovering in the dark with no idea where to go or what to do. The cord of light flickered. Then a whisper of warmth trickled around her, building to a hum as the shadows bent and twisted into a shape. A dark bird.

A black swan.

It spread its wings and dove. Sophie watched it fall, wondering if she could trust it.

Let the past be your guide.

She released her hold on the strand of light, falling falling falling so fast, so hard, she caught up with the swan. She grabbed its wings and held on tight as it swooped and swept and swerved, finally crashing into a world of sunlight and blue sky and green grassy hills. But the world was too bright, too shimmering. Almost blinding.

The swan—now a real bird—tumbled with Sophie across soft ground until they collided with the legs of a woman, knocking her down. Her musical laugh rang through the air as she fell into their tangled heap. Then she pulled herself free, cradling the flapping swan in her arms and whispering for it to be calm.

She looked about twenty, with long blond hair that hung in soft waves and a violet gown. Sophie had never seen her
before, but something felt familiar about her, especially when she smiled. The smile made her turquoise blue eyes sparkle the exact way Edaline’s eyes did in the rare moments when she broke free from her grief.

Jolie.

Can you see me?
Sophie transmitted, knowing it was crazy.

Jolie didn’t respond. Instead she looked back to the swan waddling at her feet and reached to stroke its black feathers.

I don’t understand,
Sophie transmitted, wishing she could scream when silence was the only response.
What does this mean?

Jolie laughed. “It’ll be okay.”

Her voice was so similar to Edaline’s, Sophie felt chills. Jolie turned toward her then, and the clarity in her stare felt different than the other visions—like it wasn’t a dream or a memory this time.

“We have to trust,” she told Sophie, her smile fading.

Trust what? Trust who?

Jolie didn’t say. She just glanced at the sky and said, “You have to go.”

How? And what are you doing here? What does this mean?