Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 3) (26 page)

A thunderous clang shattered the silence, and the gates whipped open, revealing a dark courtyard filled with leafless trees. A chill seemed to hang in the air as they entered, and after a few steps even Tiergan started to shiver. Sophie pulled her cape tighter as the gates latched behind them with a groan.

“Where is everyone?” Sophie asked, searching the shadows for signs of life.

“Waiting for us inside.”

He offered her his hand and Sophie gratefully took it, happy to feel some tiny hint of warmth.

“At least there’s no angry mob protesting the healing,” she said, trying to stay positive.

“Yes, it appears at least
some
secrets can be kept.”

“So do you think that means the leaked information isn’t coming from the Council?” she asked, remembering her theories about Bronte.

“I hope so. Though . . . I’d almost prefer that to the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?”

He glanced around like he was afraid someone might be listening. “I shouldn’t be distracting you with unnecessary worries.”

“Yes, you should.”

She locked her knees when he tried to pull her forward, earning herself a sigh as he leaned closer and whispered, “All right, fine. I can think of a race of creatures that are far better at eavesdropping—can’t you?”

It took Sophie a minute to piece out what he meant. “The missing dwarves?”

“What do you mean, ‘missing’?”

Now it was Sophie’s turn to glance over her shoulder. “I guess thirty dwarves have disappeared. Grady’s been looking for them, but so far he hasn’t found any clue to where they might be.”

“You’re certain?”

Sophie nodded—not liking the way his grip was tightening on her hand. “But the dwarves are on our side, right?”

“As a whole, yes. But as you well know, that does not mean there can’t be deviants among the group.”

And dwarves might be small and squinty and rather molelike, but Sophie had seen them crack the earth with a single well-placed step.

“So what do we do?” she whispered, half expecting thirty dwarves to burst out of the ground and attack.

“Nothing right now—except to shove this far,
far
from your mind and rally your full concentration. Let us not forget that we’re here for something much more crucial.”

“Right,” Sophie agreed, squaring her shoulders as she followed Tiergan through a narrow silver door into the tower.

Once inside, Sophie could see fissures marring each brick—glistening purple veins that made the jewels look ready to shatter. Two glowing chains hung from the ceiling to the floor, providing the only light. Otherwise the room was round and bare and cold.

Beyond cold.

Their breath practically crystallized in the air, and Sophie pulled her hood over her head, grateful the fabric was so thick.

“I th-th-thought you said the o-o-others were here,” she said between chattering teeth, searching for a door or a flight of stairs.

“They’re above us,” Tiergan explained as he grabbed the nearest chain and pulled it toward her. “This will take us to them.”

The words would’ve sounded much better if there weren’t a sharp hook dangling from the end that was bigger than Sophie’s head. She tried to hold still as Tiergan looped the chain twice around her ankles. But when he latched the hook through a link in the chain, she fidgeted enough to lose her balance.

“Easy,” Tiergan said, catching her before she could collapse. “This won’t hurt, I promise. The chain will absorb all the force.”

Actually, Sophie was much more concerned about the low—and very solid—jeweled ceiling. She’d jumped into whirlpools and launched out of the ocean in a giant bubble and sunk into the middle of the earth through a choking patch of quicksand. Still, she couldn’t help worrying this would be the one thing that was simply too impossible to survive.

“Pull the chain three times,” Tiergan told her, stepping out of the way.

Part of her was tempted to stand there forever.

But the brave part of her—or perhaps the part that was troublingly insane—wrapped her fingers around the chain and tugged.

The world flipped and her stomach launched into her throat as she passed through something that felt like frozen mashed potatoes. She hadn’t even had a chance to scream before she was dangling like a piñata in the center of a bright room with purple walls and a purple floor and lots of staring faces in identical fireproof clothes.

“The girl of the hour arrives,” Alden said, grabbing Sophie’s shoulders to stop her from swaying. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine—though next time I’d prefer a tower with stairs.”

He smiled. “One somersault will have you back on your feet. Just make sure you flip forward, not backward.”

Gymnastics of any kind had never been Sophie’s strong suit. So she was grateful she could blame her red cheeks on the head rush as she twisted and squirmed and eventually flipped in a lopsided-tumble to freedom.

Seconds later Tiergan launched through the floor in a shower of amethyst glitter. Sophie watched him somersault effortlessly to his feet, wondering how the ground could feel so solid. But she wasn’t about to ask. Not in front of the entire Council. And Fitz. And Alden. And—

“Where’s Fintan?” Sophie asked, trying not to sound too relieved that she didn’t have to face him yet.

Councillor Emery pointed to the ceiling, which once again looked incredibly solid. The dark-skinned Councillor generally radiated calm and confidence. But his deep voice hid the slightest hint of a tremble as he told her, “He is being kept in absolute-zero conditions until you are prepared to face him.”

“The cold won’t kill him?” Fitz asked, taking the question right out of Sophie’s mouth.

Bronte snorted. “That would be pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“What Bronte means”—Councillor Kenric jumped in—“is that Pyrokinetics generate a much higher amount of body heat. And Councillor Terik has been checking on Fintan regularly to make sure he’s still conscious—or as conscious as he’s capable of being, given his current mental state.”

Several of the other Councillors fidgeted at his words. Sophie didn’t understand their discomfort, until she remembered that Fintan had been a member of the Council before pyrokinesis became a forbidden ability.

“Perhaps we should get started,” Councillor Terik suggested. “We’ll all feel much better once this is over, right?”

“Yes,” Councillor Emery agreed, turning to Sophie and Fitz. “Only Alden, Tiergan, and Councillors Kenric, Terik, and Oralie will go up with you. The rest will stay here with me—and I’ll transmit updates to them from Kenric.”

“I still don’t understand why Terik is going instead of me,” Bronte grumbled. “Need I remind you that this process involves
inflicting
?”

“And need I remind
you
that you have shown your weakness?” Kenric asked him, glancing at Sophie in a way that made her wonder if he was referring to what happened during their session. “Besides, Sophie needs to feel safe and comfortable—two sentiments you certainly don’t let her experience when you’re around.”

“I’ve done nothing to—” Bronte started, but Councillor Emery held up his hand.

“There will be no further debate on this matter.” He waited until Bronte stepped back before he added, “As I was saying, the seven of you will go up to the top floor and begin the healing immediately. Sophie, you and Fitz will stand on either side of Fintan, and Oralie will stand behind you to keep track of your emotions. Alden, Kenric, and Tiergan will monitor the situation telepathically. And Terik will be descrying Fintan, searching his potential for warning signs. We feel this arrangement will be the strongest way to ensure your safety. But if you have any concerns, now is the time to address them.”

Sophie had
many
concerns—but nothing was going to fix that. So she went with the only other thought on her mind. “Councillor Kenric’s a Telepath?”

“Did I never mention?” Kenric asked with a grin. “That’s why I was part of your original committee of three. They wanted an Empath to get a reading on who you were as a person, a Telepath to judge your capabilities, and Councillor Grumpypants because, well, he insisted.”

The mood was too tense for anyone to actually laugh. But Sophie did notice a plethora of smiles.

Bronte threw up his hands. “Don’t we have a healing to perform?”

“Yes, I suppose Bronte’s right,” Councillor Emery murmured. “Sophie, do you need a minute to prepare yourself?”

“I do!” Fitz jumped in before she could answer. His face flamed as all eyes turned to him. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

Sophie opened her mind to his and found his thoughts on auto-repeat of the code words they’d created:

Alden means there’s no reason to worry. Mallowmelt means she found something. Dame Alina means trouble. The verminion means run away. Everblaze means brain push.

Was there something you needed to talk about?
she asked.

I don’t know. I’m just starting to get why you’re always saying this stuff is so scary. I mean—look at this place. I remember reading about it in Elvin History. The whole tower is a trap, designed to make people go insane.

It’s pretty creepy,
Sophie agreed.

When he went back to repeating the code words again, she added,
Fitz, if you don’t want to do this, I’m sure Tiergan can step in.

No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m scared I’m going to mess something up.

It’s going to be okay,
Sophie promised, ordering herself to believe it.
Remember, I have a perfect track record with healings.

Fitz glanced at his father, who looked strong and healthy and very much healed.
Yeah, you’re right. Let’s do this.

“I think we’re ready,” Sophie said, half hoping no one would hear her.

But Alden, Tiergan, Kenric, Oralie, and Terik moved to her side, and the Councillors who were staying behind pulled glowing chains out of the ceiling and started wrapping them around everyone’s ankles.

“From this moment on, I want you both to be in
constant
communication with each other,” Tiergan told Sophie and Fitz. “Hold nothing back. Check in regularly. And above all else,
trust
.”

“We will,” Fitz promised, taking Sophie’s hand.

They tangled their fingers together, and Sophie took one deep breath for courage. Then the chains dragged them up—too fast and too sharply and way too painfully—into a room so cold, it felt like her blood was freezing.

Everyone toppled out of their chains, collapsing to the icy ground with a chorus of groans. Sophie pulled her hood over her head as she turned to face a hunched figure in the center of the floor.

If she hadn’t known who he was, she wouldn’t have recognized him.

Pale, papery skin covered his withered, shadowed face, which was crusted with grime and ice. Frozen tears clung to his hair and eyelashes, and his lips were cracked and blue. The only sounds filling the room were his ragged, raspy gasps for air, each one more a death rattle than a breath.

Sophie had spent days questioning the rightness of this healing. But in that moment she
needed
to help him.

You with me?
she transmitted as Fitz backed away from Fintan’s crumpled figure.

Yeah. Sorry,
he thought, forcing himself to move to her side.
What do you need?

Just stay close—and don’t try to open your mind to his until I tell you it’s safe.

Oralie took her place between them and placed a soft, fragile hand on each of their shoulders.

“If I feel too much stress or fear I will pull you away,” Oralie explained, her voice too sweet and warm for such a cold, miserable place.

But Sophie doubted she would need it.

Her mind was ready.

Her instincts were ready.

All that was left to do was press her fingers against Fintan’s swollen temples, and push her mind into his consciousness.

THIRTY-THREE

T
HE THICK, PIERCING DARKNESS FELT
shockingly warm as it stabbed and scraped and smashed. Sophie held her breath, wondering if any madness would break through—but her mental defenses held strong, deflecting each attack like an invisible shield.

Now if only she had any idea what to do.

She’d been planning to search for a trail of warmth and follow it to the nook in Fintan’s mind. But there was warmth
everywhere
. A stifling, suffocating fog that slowed her thoughts and blurred all the pathways.

Fintan,
she transmitted over and over, but the echoes shredded as they bounced around his jagged mind.

She shoved her way through a cloud of shattered memories, searching each one for a clue to steer her through the chaos. She could see glints of color and shadow, slivers and slices of faces and places—but nothing she could recognize.

Nothing except fire.

Sparks of red and orange and blue and white—each more blinding than the last—swarmed around her, burning hotter, brighter, wilder with each second, until they erupted into neon yellow flames.

Everblaze.

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness Sophie knew she should run away. But the Everblaze traced a glinting path through the endless darkness. She had to follow the trail.

The flames led her deeper, into a pit of pure black heat. The space was empty of memories but thick with the breath of so many emotions, Sophie didn’t know which one to feel:

Fear.

Pride.

Regret.

Envy.

Triumph.

Sadness.

Hopelessness.

And rage.

So much rage.

It burned hotter than the other emotions—hotter than the Everblaze.

Boiling and bubbling and consuming everything.

Every thought.

Every memory.

Every glint of light and hope and reason.

Leaving her empty.

Except for the rage.

The rage was her power. Her force. Her fire to unleash on the world, to stop the—