Neverseen (22 page)

“There are.” Della appeared next to him.

He scrambled back, tripping over the black bags piled at his feet. “Ms. Vacker. How ironic to see you among our ranks, considering the task we are about to perform.”

“And what task would that be?” Della asked, not bothering to correct her name.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He tossed them each one of the black bundles. “Get dressed. It’s time to see if you’re talented enough to break into Exile.”

“This isn’t the
desert,” Sophie said as they reappeared in a forest high in the mountains.

“How astute of you,” Coiffe told her, leading them up a narrow path. A thin layer of snow had turned the mountain gray and crunchy, and Sophie snuggled deeper into her dark cloak, glad the heavy fabric was extra warm.

“Question,” Keefe said after they’d climbed for several minutes. “Why do all the trees look like they want to eat us?”

He wasn’t wrong. The gnarled, bulbous trunks reached for them with clawed, branchy hands, and the knots in the wood looked like eyes.

Sophie checked each one, squinting as far into the distance as she could, wondering if she’d find any with a force field.

“You okay?” Dex asked as Sophie tripped over the edge of her heavy cloak.

“Yeah. I just wish this thing fit better.”

“Tell me about it.” His sleeves completely covered his hands.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” she asked Coiffe as the forest thinned around them. “Last time we entered Exile through a sand pit.”

“And last time you had permission to be there,” Coiffe reminded her. “Do you really think you can walk in the main entrance?”

“No. But it’s hard to know what’s going on when no one’s told us the plan,” she snapped.

“That was not my decision.”

They passed several more trees before Coiffe doubled back. “Finally,” he said, tracing his furry fingers down a sun-bleached trunk. “It takes a keen eye to find the trail.”

“Yeah, well, did those keen eyes of yours also see you just stepped in a big pile of sasquatch poop?” Keefe asked.

Coiffe muttered something about the Black Swan testing his patience as he attempted to scrape his furry foot clean. Then he led them west, counting eight trees before turning north and counting four more. They repeated the process through several more twists and turns, until they reached a tree on the edge of a slope.

It wasn’t the biggest tree they’d seen, but Sophie could tell it
was ancient. Its curled branches stretched toward the clouds, daring a storm to take it down.

Coiffe knocked on the lumpy trunk, making five quick thumps, two soft pats, and seven slaps in a strange rhythm.

“And now,” he said, “I’m free of further responsibility.”

“You’re leaving?” Fitz asked as Coiffe pulled a crystal pendant from his tangled fur.

Coiffe laughed. “Surely the Champions of the Everest Ambush have no reason to fear an empty forest—though it doesn’t
feel
empty, does it? Better hope whatever’s nearby isn’t hungry.”

“He’s kidding, right?” Biana asked as Coiffe glittered away.

“I’m sure he is,” Della said. But she scanned the forest carefully.

“The Black Swan needs a better screening process for their helpers,” Dex decided.

Sophie tucked her hands into her cloak pockets to keep them warm, and her fingers grazed the edge of Kenric’s cache. She’d figured that breaking into the world’s most secure prison was the kind of place where it might be smart to have a powerful bargaining chip.

“Anyone have any theories on where we are?” Fitz asked. “I’m guessing somewhere human, since I don’t see any Pures.”

The Pures were palmlike trees with fan-shaped leaves that filtered any pollutants out of the air. Every elvin city and manor had at least one.

Sophie hoped they were in a Neutral Territory and continued scanning the forest for any trace of the Psionipath. But something about the tree Coiffe had chosen felt familiar, and after a moment she remembered where she’d seen it.

“I think we’re in California,” she said, “and one of these trees—maybe even this one—is the Methuselah. Humans think it’s the oldest living thing on the planet. But clearly they’ve never met Bronte.”

“Ha! Good one, Foster,” Keefe told her. “How old is the Miss-use-a-what-a tree?”

“Methuselah,” Sophie corrected. “And something like forty-seven hundred years.”

Fitz whistled. “That
might
be older than Bronte. But not older than Fallon Vacker, our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. He’s one of the three founding members of the Council, and served for about a thousand years, before he fell in love with my great-great-great-great—”

“Yeah yeah, your really old grandma,” Dex interrupted. “We get it. You guys have lots of super-old, super-important relatives. Whoop-de-do.”

“Uh, the Vacker legacy is one of a kind,” Fitz snapped back.

“Why is that?” Sophie asked, making Dex grin. “I mean, I know the Vackers are legendary—but what I don’t get
is . . . if all elves have an indefinite lifespan, doesn’t everyone have a bunch of super-old, super-important, pointy-eared relatives?”

“Ancient, yes,” Della agreed. “But as Fitz said, the original Council was only three members. And they added Emissaries much later. So for a long time only a handful of elves were classified as nobility. Hence the Vacker legacy. It can be quite intimidating, actually. That’s why I initially rejected your father’s advances. I wasn’t sure I wanted that kind of scrutiny.”

“Ugh, can we please not talk about you and dad and
advances
?” Fitz asked.

“Seriously,” Biana agreed.

“You mean you don’t want me to tell you about the first time your father kissed me?” Della teased, laughing as she pulled her children into a squirmy hug.

Keefe looked away.

“So,” Sophie said, changing the subject for him, “do you think the tree is supposed to
do
something? We’ve been standing here for a pretty long time and nothing’s happened.”

“That’s because you haven’t been paying attention,” Calla said, leaping from the top branches and landing gracefully on her toes.

“Looks like those old bones still have some spring in them,” another gnome said, emerging from among the tree’s roots. It took Sophie a second to recognize her as Amisi, the other gnome who lived at Alluveterre.

“Sorry we couldn’t bring you here ourselves,” Calla told them. “It took longer than expected to gather the others.”

“Others?” Sophie asked.

Four gnomes Sophie didn’t recognize appeared among the branches.

“What are we all doing here?” Della asked as the newest gnomes leaped to the ground.

“Waiting for us.”

They spun around to find Mr. Forkle and Squall marching up behind them. Wraith appeared soon after, followed by Blur.

Granite arrived a few moments after. “Sorry I’m late. King Enki was still perfecting the carvings.” He held up six sleek black pendants cut with jagged facets.

Magsidian.

Only dwarves could mine the rare mineral, and the dwarven guards in Exile could sense its presence—or lack thereof—and determine if someone had permission to be there. The stone also changed its power depending on how it had been cut. Sophie had seen it draw water from the air, affect the pull of a compass, and create special beams of light. But she’d never seen Magsidian cut so sharply.

Granite passed the pendants to Sophie, Fitz, Dex, Keefe, Biana, and Della.

“You guys don’t need them?” Sophie asked, noting that the Collective members also weren’t wearing heavy cloaks.

“We have other protections,” Mr. Forkle said. “Has everyone been introduced?”

“Sorry, I got distracted,” Calla said. “This is Brier, Kloris, Nesrin, and Vered.”

“I thought we needed nine,” Granite said.

Calla twiddled her thumbs. “This was the best I could gather. After what happened in the Strixian Plains—”

“What happened in the Strixian Plains?” Sophie interrupted.

“That’s another Neutral Territory, isn’t it?” Della added.

“Yes,” Mr. Forkle said, through a sigh that made his shoulders slump. “It’s where a family of gnomes recently contacted the plague.”

“We thought it would be best to inform you after today’s mission,” Granite said when they all shouted “WHAT?”

“We needed to make sure your minds were focused,” Wraith added.

“So you’ve been lying to us?” Dex asked.

“Not
lying
. Withholding,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “And you’re overestimating the gravity of this news. Only one more family of gnomes has been added to the quarantine in Lumenaria.”

“Yeah, but it means the plague is spreading,” Sophie argued. “That’s how it turns into a full-fledged outbreak.”

“That’s what many of the gnomes I spoke to today feared as well,” Calla whispered.

Mr. Forkle rubbed his temples. “I do not have to check your thoughts to know you’re angry with me, Miss Foster. And I understand everyone’s worries. But chasing clues about this plague is like chasing the wind. The only way to gain control is to get ahead of it—which is something we
are
working on. In the meantime, we can’t ignore other important matters, like what we’re here to achieve. We know Prentice is hiding something. Perhaps it relates to some of these problems. But even if it doesn’t, we are freeing him
today
. All our surveillance indicates that this is our best chance. A group of additional dwarven guards arrives tomorrow. So please set your emotions aside and prepare yourselves for the mission.” He turned to Calla. “The six of you can hold the tunnel?”

“Our voices are strong,” she agreed.

The gnomes spread out, forming a circle around the old tree as they sang a slow song. The tree swayed as the roots twisted and tightened. Dirt, rocks, and debris were swept aside until a burrowlike opening appeared.

“Vered will keep the exit open,” Calla told them as all but one gnome scurried into the dark tunnel.

The Collective followed the gnomes.

Sophie glanced at her friends, wondering how they felt about risking their lives when the Collective had just admitted to lying to them.

“Come on,” Fitz said. “Let’s go get Prentice.”

A
NYONE ELSE THINK
it would be easier to just carry Foster?” Keefe asked as Fitz caught Sophie from falling for what had to be the two-billionth time.

In her defense, it was dark, and the roots under their feet kept shifting—but still. Couldn’t the Black Swan have given her a
little
more coordination when they tweaked her genes?

“Any reason we’re not letting the roots drag us along this time?” Sophie asked.

“Roots this ancient do not hold the same strength,” Calla explained. “We’re saving their energy for our escape.”

The tunnel narrowed as they sank further into the earth, forcing them to walk single file.

“Couldn’t we at least have more than one balefire pendant lighting up this place?” Dex called from the back.

“This tree has been generous enough to lend us its strength,” Mr. Forkle told them. “The least we can do is try not to bother it.”

“You also don’t want to see what’s crawling around us,” Blur said.

Something rustled near Sophie and she decided to take his word for it.

She counted her steps, and each time she reached about ten thousand, one of the gnomes stayed behind to ensure the song kept the tunnel open.

“It won’t be long now,” Mr. Forkle said when Calla was the only gnome left journeying with them. “And once we’re inside, a small team of us will go after Prentice. The rest of you will be in charge of causing as much chaos as you can generate. Squall, Blur, and Mr. Sencen will head to the most unruly residents. Between your various abilities, you should be able to get them sufficiently riled up. Just be sure to stay on the move so the dwarves don’t catch you.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll take Della and Biana,” Wraith said, “and we’ll head for the main entrance. We want to look like we’re fleeing, so they divert other patrols to prevent our escape.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t vanish as we run?” Biana asked.

“Only intermittently,” Wraith said. “We need to ensure they
follow us—but also not give away that it’s our intention. And once we reach the Room Where Chances Are Lost, we’ll vanish completely and hold for Mr. Forkle’s signal.”

“For the record,” Keefe told Biana, “my job sounds way better.”

“But they are both equally important,” Mr. Forkle said. “Our hope is that all of your efforts will create enough of a distraction for Sophie to lead the rest of us to Prentice. Mr. Dizznee will then be in charge of opening his cell, and Granite and I will tend to Prentice and signal when we’re ready to leave.”

“What about me?” Fitz asked. “It doesn’t sound like I’m doing anything.”

Dex laughed at that, but fell silent when Granite said, “You’re here for Sophie. She will need someone to lean on, to keep her calm and boost her strength while she tackles our most difficult task.”

“And what is that?” Sophie asked.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “Prentice has been moved to one of the adjuncts, and we’ve been unable to determine precisely which one. Imagine the main prison as a spiral, with smaller spirals branching off the outermost edge. The adjuncts have been added over the centuries to house the special cases.”

“He means the most dangerous cases,” Granite clarified. “Another reason we will not want to choose the wrong one.”

“How many adjuncts are there?” Fitz asked.

“We have no idea,” Squall admitted. “There are no blueprints for Exile.”

“So how do I . . . ,” Sophie started to ask. But then she knew.

“Whoa, let’s not add projectile vomiting to the list of Awesome Things We Get To Do Today,” Keefe said, clutching his stomach.

“Sorry,” she whispered, but she couldn’t fight back the nausea.

“What are you guys forcing her to do?” Dex asked.

“We’re not
forcing
her to do anything,” Mr. Forkle said. “But we are
asking
her to track Prentice’s thoughts.”