Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (45 page)

“Give me the vial.”

A sad smile creased Mr. Forkle’s bloated lips. “Your courage never ceases to amaze me.”

He stood, motioning for her to lie back down on the cot, and she didn’t bother arguing. He handed her the vial when she was settled.

“I’ll do everything I can to guide you through this. But you’re going to have to fight hard.”

“I always do.”

She stared at the crystal vial, watching the liquid slosh in her shaking hands. It wasn’t too late to change her mind.

Or maybe it was.

She pulled back the crystal stopper and poured the salty, metallic liquid down her throat.

T
HE SECOND THE LIMBIUM HIT
her tongue it started to swell, and Sophie barely managed to choke the liquid down before she started to gag. Breathing became impossible, and the more seconds ticked by, the more her lungs screamed for air.

The room dimmed and the sounds dropped to a hum—but her consciousness didn’t fade away. She felt every second as the liquid burned through her like she’d swallowed something hotter than fire. Like she’d swallowed the sun. Her stomach heaved and her limbs flailed and she tried to think through the pain, count the moments passing, search for some sign that relief was on the way. But the agony was too all-consuming.

She wasn’t afraid of the needle anymore. She wanted it—needed it. Where was it? She couldn’t hold on much longer. Still the fire burned, rushing into her head and searing so hot she was sure her brain would melt in the inferno. Maybe it did. White light burst behind her eyelids, and for a second she felt the pressure ease.

Was that it? Was she fixed?

She couldn’t tell—the relief was too fleeting. And the darkness that rushed in to replace it was so much worse. Cold and thick and empty, and she could feel herself sinking into it, following it somewhere much deeper and blacker than unconsciousness, and she knew with every fiber of her being that she’d never come back. She was shutting down. Slipping away.

Then something stabbed her hand and the new pain dragged her free. Her body thrashed and her insides wanted to explode from the pressure as a soft gray mist swelled inside her mind. She latched on to it, using it to float above the shadows as her insides heaved again, and the pressure in her chest grew so unbearable she wanted to scream. But as she opened her mouth, a rush of air filled her body.

Her first breath.

Followed by another.

And another.

She wanted to count them—cling to them—celebrate each one. But the fog in her head was growing thicker, and she
couldn’t fight the clouds any longer. She set her hopes and trust upon them and felt them carry her away.

“I LET YOU OUT OF
my sight for a few minutes and you go and almost die again,” Keefe said, his words like a hammer pounding on her brain.

Sophie forced her eyes open—and immediately closed them as the light burned too bright. She tried to speak, but all she could do was cough and hack, which made her realize her body ached in about a million places.

“Hey, easy. I’m not joking about the almost dying thing. Some wrinkly dude brought you here and said he’d almost lost you—twice—but he thinks you’re okay now. Well, other than a truckload of pain, which he said he can’t help you with because your mind needs to stay ‘unaffected’ by any medicines for at least twenty-four hours. Any of that sound familiar?”

“Bits and pieces,” she managed to rasp between coughs.

“Good. Then maybe you can translate for me, because he kind of lost me at
she almost died.
Pretty sure Grady’s going to kill me when I bring you home like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh . . . you can’t see what I see. You’ve got this whole sweaty, slightly green thing going on—not to mention this wicked bluish-purplish splotch on your hand.”

Sophie ripped her eyes open again, and when they’d focused, she stared at the huge bruise from the needle.
Add it to her list of reasons why she never wanted to see a syringe again.

“I’m fine. They had to give me limbium to fix me, and then a shot of some human medicine to stop the allergy.”

“Sounds . . . fun.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome to be me.”

She tried not to think about the other things Mr. Forkle had told her about her genetics, but it was hard to do with Silveny transmitting,
Friend! Sophie! Friend!

“You’re really fixed, though? Like, you think you’ll be able to help . . . ?”

He didn’t say the name, and Sophie didn’t want him to. Not until she knew for sure. “I don’t think I’ll know until I try and see what happens. Did Mr. Forkle give you any other instructions when he brought me here?”

“He gave me a tiny, sealed scroll—said it was for Grady or Elwin. Who was that guy, by the way?”

“The guy who posed as my old next-door neighbor to keep tabs on me around humans. And apparently he’s the guy who made me.”

“Made you? So, like . . . he’s your father?”

“I—I don’t think so.” She’d never considered that.

Could he be?

He
was
a Telepath. An
impenetrable
Telepath.

And he created her.

And he
cared.

She shivered so hard her teeth rattled.

She refused to believe it. A father would never play with his daughter’s genes the way Mr. Forkle had. And a father would never be able to leave her half-drugged and alone on the streets of Paris—even if he did believe she’d be okay. Nor would he drop her off on the hard ground of a cold cave with nothing more than her friend, a flying horse, and a scroll, after she’d almost died—again.

Unless he was the worst father in the world.

Then again, Grady and Edaline had let her risk everything to find the Black Swan. . . .

“Hey, you okay?” Keefe asked as she curled into a ball.

She didn’t want to know any more horrible things about her past or who she was. It just kept getting worse and worse.

One sob slipped through her lips, and once the floodgates were open, there was no stopping it. She waited for Keefe to tease her, but he just scooted closer, lifting her head so it rested on his knee instead of the rocky ground.

“Sorry,” she mumbled when the crying fit finally passed.

“For what?”

“I should be braver than this.”

“Um, I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re the bravest person I know—by
far
. Freak out all you want. If anyone deserves to, it’s you.”

“Thanks.” She concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to calm down, but each one only made her more aware of how
sore she was. She could definitely feel that they’d almost killed her this time. Every part of her ached. A deep kind of pain, like a sharp pin in every cell.

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

“I know. But do you really think you’re up for that? I mean, it’s a long flight. And the old dude said we shouldn’t light leap. He doesn’t think your concentration can handle it.”

“I’m hoping Silveny can teleport us back to Havenfield. We know where we’re going this time, so we can take a shortcut.”

“Ohhhhhhh, teleporting sounds fun. But do you need to rest a little longer?”

She shook her head and slowly sat up. The pain of the simple movement knocked her breath away and she clutched her chest.

“Whoa—that is intense,” Keefe said, his voice strained.

“You can feel my
pain
? I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“It’s fine.” He stopped her from scooting away. “I only feel a tiny glimmer. Nothing on what you’re feeling, which must be unbearable. Seriously, how are you dealing with that?”

“I don’t have a choice.” He helped her to her feet, and she was relieved when her legs held steady, even if it felt like her muscles were tearing. He pulled her arm behind his shoulders and they hobbled to Silveny, who knelt as they drew close.

Keefe lifted her onto Silveny’s back, and she grabbed the alicorn’s gleaming neck, really
really
hoping she’d be able to order Silveny to teleport. Otherwise she had no idea how she’d
survive the flight back. Her weary legs might actually drop off her body.

“Sorry, am I holding too tight?” Keefe asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

“No—it’s fine. I’m just sore. How do we get out of here?” She looked around, realizing the opening to the cave had vanished.

“You ask us to remove the cloaking,” a dwarf said as he popped out of the ground.

“Dude—it’s evil the way they just pop out of nowhere like that.”

The dwarf glared at Keefe as he flicked a switch and the cloaking vanished, revealing the opening to the cave and the dark starry sky beyond.

Sophie urged Silveny to step out onto the ledge, and the fresh air felt good on her weary muscles.
Ready to go home, girl?

Silveny’s fur bristled and Sophie nearly choked on the horse’s unease.

Relax
, Sophie told her.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.

The thought had barely left her mind when a series of loud clangs shattered the silent night and some sort of strange, black net dropped from the cliff above and covered them.

Silveny reared back, but gleaming metal orbs on the edges of the net weighed it down, pinning them to the ground as five black-cloaked figures repelled from above, surrounding them.

N
OT AGAIN.

It was Sophie’s only thought as the black-cloaked figures grabbed the net, pulling it tighter around them. Keefe shouted something she didn’t hear as she closed her eyes, waiting to feel the fear and rage swell inside her head. But all she could muster was a shudder.

She must be too weak to inflict.

A flash of light shot past her, hitting one of the figures and making him collapse in a trembling heap.

“They have a melder!” another figure shouted as Silveny reared in the loosened net.

“Where did you get that?” Sophie yelled as Keefe raised the silver weapon and fired another shot.

“Grady insisted I take it, but he didn’t want me to tell you in case it freaked you out.” He fired again, but his aim was wrecked by Silveny’s thrashing.

The four remaining figures closed off their circle and one of them reached for a melder of his own.

“Don’t hit the alicorn!” one of the others shouted at him.

“Isn’t this the point where you develop some new, impossible ability and get us out of here?” Keefe yelled as they ducked a melder blast aimed at them.

“I wish.” Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to rally her concentration. “Nothing’s working right now.”

Even her arms and legs were too weak and slow. All she could do was cling to Silveny’s neck with what little strength she had and hope Keefe could either take out the attackers or that the Black Swan would send help.

Keefe aimed at the figure who was armed, but before he fired, one of the other figures nailed Keefe in the head with a rock. The melder slipped from his hand.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Keefe shouted, whipping one of Sandor’s weird throwing stars at him. The silver blades clipped the figure’s shoulder, tearing his cloak and making him drop his end of the net.

“Don’t let the alicorn get away!” the attacker shouted, flailing to regrab the ropes.

Keefe flung another pointed star, but he missed. “These things are hard to aim!”

“How many weapons do you have?” Sophie asked him.

“Hopefully enough.” Keefe tossed a third throwing star, missing again.

“Try cutting the ropes!” Sophie shouted.

Before Keefe could try, Silveny bucked again, rearing back so hard she pulled partially free of the net—enough to spread her wings.

A powerful flap had them airborne, but they’d only moved a few feet off the ground before a black lasso swung around Silveny’s neck and jerked her down so hard her legs collapsed.

Silveny’s right wing bent backward as she toppled to her side. The majestic horse screeched in pain, and Sophie and Keefe tumbled off her back, rolling across the rocky ground until they crashed into the side of the cave.

“What have you done?” one of the figures shouted as the remaining four of them rushed for Silveny.

Sophie struggled to pull free from the tangle of rope, surprised that none of them seemed concerned with capturing her. Before she could decide what that meant, there was a blinding flash of light and the ground shook, cracking around their attackers and sending them sprawling. Through the thick dust Sophie caught a glimpse of Mr. Forkle and a cluster of dwarves running toward them.

“Get out of here,” Mr. Forkle screamed as the hooded figures advanced on him and the dwarves. “Leap Sophie home, Keefe!”

But Sophie wasn’t leaving Silveny. Keefe must’ve been thinking the same thing because he pulled himself up and jumped over the fissure to where Silveny lay thrashing on her side.

“Come on, Foster!” he shouted, holding out his arms to catch her. Sophie pulled herself upright, summoning as much strength as she could as she ran for the opening, jumping at the last possible second. Only one foot caught the ground on the other side, but Keefe grabbed her arms and dragged her over. He wiped her cheek, and when he pulled his hand away it was smeared with red.

Sophie wasn’t surprised. He had a huge gash over his eyebrow. She was sure she was just as scraped.

Get up, Silveny,
she transmitted, and the injured alicorn struggled to her feet.

Keefe lifted Sophie onto Silveny’s back and crawled on behind her. As soon as his hands locked around her waist, Sophie transmitted,
Fly!

Silveny ran toward the edge of the cliff and leaped off. She flapped her shimmering wings, but the right one was crooked and bleeding and when the wind hit the feathers, it bent backward, sending them dropping like a stone toward the ocean below.

Fly!
Sophie’s mind screamed, but no matter how hard Silveny flapped and flailed, her wing wouldn’t work.

“Now what?” Keefe shouted.

Teleport!

Sophie repeated the command over and over, but Silveny’s mind was too clouded by fear and pain to respond.