Keefe laughed—laughed—and, after a slight hesitation, disappeared and returned with his own blanket and pillow.
The floor felt hard and cold. The problems ahead of them unimaginable.
But they weren’t alone.
And that made all the difference.
EIGHTEEN
SOPHIE WOKE WITH the sunrise and found Keefe still asleep by his window, his cheek smashed against the glass.
She smiled at how peaceful he looked—no signs of any nightmares.
She smiled even wider when she noticed the tiny trail of drool near his lip.
“You slept on the floor?” Calla asked from the doorway.
Sophie clutched her chest to calm her startled heart. “It was for a good cause.”
She took one last look at sleeping Keefe before pulling her drapes closed. “How come you’re up so early?”
“I’m always awake at this hour. I take my ten minutes at midday, under the warmth of the high-noon sun.”
Sophie couldn’t imagine living on so little sleep, but she was more worried about the way Calla was nervously twiddling her green thumbs.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Calla’s wide gray eyes met hers. “I . . . need help from the moonlark. There’s something I need you to check for me—a whisper in the forest I do not understand.”
The words felt colder than the floor as Sophie fumbled to change into pants and a tunic. She was still struggling into her boots as she followed Calla to the waterfall common room.
“We should leave a note for the others so they do not wonder where you are,” Calla whispered, plucking a dry leaf from the carpet and carving a message with her thumbnail.
“Wait—are we leaving Alluveterre?” Sophie had assumed the forest Calla meant was the trees right outside.
Calla handed her the message she’d cut out in frilly lettering:
With Calla in Brackendale. Be home soon.
~Sophie & Biana
“Biana?” Sophie asked.
Calla pointed to the corner. “I assume you’re planning to join us?”
“I am,” Biana agreed, appearing in the shadows. “But how did you know I was there?”
“Gnomish eyes are not fooled by tricks of light,” Calla told her.
“Seriously?” Biana asked. “How did I not know that?”
“It’s not something we think to mention,” Calla said. “Elves have no reason to hide from us. Are we ready? The journey ahead is long.”
“Just let me grab my shoes,” Biana said, and Sophie was relieved to see her return from her bedroom in a pair of sturdy walking boots.
Calla placed the leaf note on a table and led them down the winding stairs. Biana used the walk to play “how many invisible fingers am I holding up?” and Calla passed every test with flying colors.
“Wow, I can’t believe you can see me,” Biana said, blinking in and out of sight. “Can you teach me how you do it, so I can try to find a way around it?”
“I suppose we can give it a try.” They’d reached the ground by then, and Calla dropped to her knees, pressing her palms against an exposed tree root.
She closed her eyes, singing a deep, slow song. The language sounded earthier than gnomish, and Calla seemed to sink straight into the soil. The roots started twisting and twirling and sweeping aside the soil, creating a narrow tunnel that stretched underground.
Biana looked at Sophie, her eyes pleading you first as Calla motioned for them to follow her into the earth.
Sophie had to duck her head as she plodded into the dark tunnel, her eyes barely registering Calla’s silhouette up ahead. Biana stayed close, keeping one hand on Sophie’s shoulder. After several minutes of stumbling in the dark, Calla told them to hold still.
“You need to be secured,” Calla said, coiling roots around their feet and waists. “The trees will carry us to Brackendale. All you must do is trust—and try not to scream.”
The not screaming part definitely wasn’t reassuring. Neither was the way Calla hummed to make the roots squeeze even tighter.
Sweat trickled down Sophie’s spine and she reached for Biana’s hand, glad Biana’s palm felt as clammy as hers.
“Where is Brackendale?” Biana whispered.
“The one place I should not take you. But I must. It’s in the Neutral Territories.”
Sophie couldn’t decide which was scarier: knowing she was heading somewhere Councillor Oralie had specifically warned her to stay away from, or riding Nature’s Most Terrifying Tree Root Roller Coaster.
Calla sang as they traveled, and the lyrics seemed to spur the roots faster until they were tearing through the earth so fast Sophie could feel her cheeks ballooning out like a cartoon character. She did not want to know what things were getting stuck in her teeth. She also had no idea where they were going. The tunnel was pitch black, and every few minutes they would stop and Calla would tangle new roots around them to change direction.
“Can you travel anywhere like this?” Sophie asked.
“Within limits. Deeper parts of the earth can only be reached by ancient root systems. And the ogres uprooted all the pathways into Ravagog—unless you believe the legends.”
Sophie wanted to ask what legends Calla meant, but she could feel the roots pulling them toward the surface.
“What are we supposed to do when we get to Brackendale?” she asked.
“You will be serving as my eyes and ears. A friend of mine used to live here, but I received word that she had fled. She said the forest felt too anxious, and I need you to find out what that means.”
“How can a forest be anxious?” Sophie asked—but Biana had a much better question.
“Does that mean you’re not coming with us?”
“I do not think it would be wise. The whispers in the roots feel like a warning. They sing of weakness, and darkness, and some sort of unnatural tampering.”
The lump in Sophie’s throat made it hard to whisper, “The plague.”
“It’s possible,” Calla agreed. “That’s why I need you. The plague only harms plant life, and plant-related things. You and Biana will be able to search the forest safely.”
Assuming there were no ogres running around infecting the trees. . . .
Biana must’ve shared Sophie’s worry because she leaned closer and whispered, “I’m guessing you aren’t carrying a melder?”
“I wish. But I have my Sucker Punch. And Dex’s panic switch. And I can inflict. And you can turn invisible.”
“I also brought you these.” Calla pressed a cool, smooth crystal into each of their palms. “They’ll leap you to a forest in the Forbidden Cities, should you need to make a quick getaway. I will find you there and return you to Alluveterre.”
Sophie squeezed the crystal, trying to convince herself it would be enough. All they’d need is a few seconds and a beam of light and they’d be far away from any danger—they could do this!
The pep talk didn’t ease her nerves nearly as much as she wanted. Especially when the roots screeched to a stop.
Calla hummed a new song and the soil parted above them, letting light stream into the tunnel, burning their eyes like laser beams.
“The roots say to follow the sun,” Calla whispered.
“And you don’t have any idea what we’re looking for?” Biana asked.
Calla shook her head. “But I suspect you’ll know it when you see it. I’ll leave the tunnel open so it’s easier to find when you return.”
Sophie nodded, tucking her crystal into her easiest to reach pocket. Biana did the same and latched onto Sophie’s hand with a death grip as they climbed the slippery soil wall and emerged into the forest.
The scene looked normal enough—mossy trees, overgrown paths, an abundance of green and brown. But something felt wrong.
Sophie tried to tell herself it was only her paranoia, but she still scooted closer to Biana as they shoved through the ferns and bushes.
“Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t go
tten up to spy on me, huh?” Sophie whispered.
“Actually, I was already awake.” Biana twisted her hair into a fancy knot to keep it from blowing in the damp wind. “It’s hard sleeping in a strange bed.”
An earth-shaking ROAR! drowned out Sophie’s reply.
“What was that?” Sophie glanced over her shoulder, sure she’d spot some sort of hungry beast come to devour them.
Biana pointed to a high branch, where a black parrot-size bird watched over them with glittering dark eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s just a boobrie.”
“That’s seriously its name?”
“Yup. You should hear the jokes Fitz and Keefe make.”
The bird’s head was crowned with a yellow feather Mohawk, but its most distinct feature was its long, curled eyelashes. It looked like it should be doing a mascara commercial as it batted its eyes and let out another ROAR!
That was when Sophie realized what was wrong with the forest.
It didn’t rustle.
Or crackle.
Or make any of the sounds trees normally made.
Other than the roaring boobrie, the whole place seemed to be holding its breath.
“Come on,” Sophie said, checking the sky to make sure they were heading in the right direction. “We shouldn’t spend too much time here.”
They doubled their pace, chasing the sun as it curved across the horizon. Sophie tried to make a mental note of each place they rerouted around rocks or streams or overgrown patches, but she wished she had something to mark their trail.
“How much farther do you think we should walk?” Biana whispered when they stopped to catch their breath.
“How about we count to one thousand, and if we still haven’t found anything, we double back on a different path?”
They counted every footfall, and at step seven hundred and ten, they curved around another rocky outcropping and froze.
“What is that?” Sophie breathed, pointing ahead to a small thicket, where one of the trees was shrouded under a dome of pure white light.
“It looks like some sort of force field,” Biana whispered.
Sophie grabbed a small stone and flung it at the tree. As soon as it touched the force field, white lightning flashed, and the stone ricocheted toward her head at ten times the speed. She barely managed to duck before it streaked past, embedding in a nearby trunk.
“I don’t get it,” Biana whispered, pulling Sophie behind the rocks to hide. “Why would anyone shield a tree?”
Sophie had a theory—and it wasn’t good news. “I need to get a closer look.”
Biana grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“If someone’s around, don’t you think they would’ve checked after all that lightning?”
“True.” Biana reluctantly followed Sophie to the tree, glancing over her shoulder the whole way. “I don’t like this,” she mumbled. “Something feels wrong.”
Indeed it did—but not for the reason Biana probably meant.
Sophie had expected the shielded tree to show some sign of the plague. But it looked perfectly healthy. In fact, its leaves were a brighter green than the other trees around it, and the bark almost had a sheen.
She squatted and grabbed a handful of fallen sticks, holding them up to see if the dried leaves matched.
“What are you doing?” Biana asked.
“Trying to see if any of these are from the same tree—though it might be better to dig up a root. That way we can bring a sample back to Alluveterre and test if this tree is infected.”
“But if the tree is infected, you’d be exposing Calla and Sior and Amisi to the plague.”
Sophie dropped the stick—but she’d already touched it.
Were her hands contaminated?
“Maybe I should leap away and you can tell Calla to send someone else to get me—someone with a lot of disinfectant.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to split up,” Biana said.
“Isn’t that better than putting Calla at risk?”
“Of course,” Biana said—though she didn’t look happy about it. “But . . . we could still walk back at least part of the way together.”
“I shouldn’t go more than halfway, though, just to be safe.”
They’d only taken a few steps when a flash of light drew their attention. A black-cloaked figure appeared a few feet away, his sleeve bearing the unmistakable white eye symbol of the Neverseen.
NINETEEN
THE MEMBER OF the Neverseen seemed as surprised as they were, but Sophie recovered quicker. Her instincts took over, red fury rimming her vision as she pooled her anger, preparing to inflict.
“That’s enough of that,” the Neverseen member said, raising his hands and triggering a flash of blinding light.
Sophie charged forward, hoping to grab him before he could leap away, but Biana blocked her, shouting, “He’s a Psionipath!”
The warning rang in Sophie’s ears as the light solidified, encasing the cloaked figure under a glowing dome.
“He makes force fields?” Sophie asked.
“You sound impressed.” He smoothed the sleeves of his black cloak and gave a bow.
Sophie knew it wouldn’t work, but she grabbed a rock anyway, launching it at his head with all the strength she had.
Biana yanked them out of the way as the rock ricocheted, knocking a football-size crater in the tree they’d been standing in front of.
“You have to stop doing that,” Biana said.
“I agree,” the Neverseen member told them. “Those energy blasts are such a waste. And I believe this is what we call a stalemate. You can’t get to me—and if I leave this shield, you’ll unleash your Inflictor rage. So I’m going to stay right here, where it’s nice and cozy.”
Sophie turned to Biana, keeping one eye on the Psionipath. “How long before the force field wears off?”
“Long enough for someone to come to check on me,” he told her.
“And there’s no way to break through the force field?” Sophie whispered.
Biana shook her head. “Psionipaths created the shields that keep Atlantis livable underwater.”
“Like I said”—he traced his fingers along the glowing field of white energy—“we have a stalemate. So what are you going to do?”
“More of them could show up any second,” Biana whispered.
“But one of the Neverseen is right there—how can we just leave?” Sophie asked.
They hadn’t learned what he was doing to the tree—and what if he knew what happened to Keefe’s mom?
“Your Telepath tricks won’t work,” he said, somehow guessing what Sophie was planning.
Sophie ignored him, hoping her tweaked abilities would come through as she gathered her mental strength and reached for his mind. As soon as her consciousness hit the force field, it split into a thousand directions, like shoving her thoughts in a blender without the lid on.
The Psionipath laughed as she clutched her temples, struggling to fight through the headache. “Clearly the Black Swan forgot to give you any common sense.”
Fury and frustration clouded Sophie’s vision, and she fought them back, knowing she had nowhere useful to inflict them.
“Don’t think I haven’t realized you’re not here alone,” he added. “You couldn’t have leaped here—our sensors would’ve detected it. So that leaves dwarves and gnomes, and I’m betting on a gnome. Where’s your little friend hiding? Probably not close, otherwise they would’ve tried to help you.”
“You seem to know a lot about us,” Sophie said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.
Maybe if she egged him on, he’d slip and tell her something useful.
“How could I not?” he asked. “I’ve been hearing about Project Moonlark for years. How does it feel to know the sum total of your existence is to be someone else’s puppet?”
“She’s not a puppet,” Biana spit through gritted teeth.
“No, perhaps you’re right,”
he agreed. “I’ve always suspected her role would be far more sinister.”
“You want to talk about sinister?” Sophie asked. “I know what you’re doing here. This has to do with the plague, right?”
He snorted so loud, snot probably crusted the inside of his hood. “Is that my cue to outline our entire plan for you? Would you like names and dates, too, or just the general gist? I could also use hand puppets if you’d like, to make it more entertaining.”
Okay, so maybe egging him on wasn’t going to work.
But Sophie had realized something much more troubling.
He could’ve leaped away when they first startled him. But he chose to stay.
Why would he do that—unless he had a plan? And why did she have a feeling they were playing right into it?
Her feet itched to run, but if they turned their back on him, he could drop his force field and attack. And if they leaped away he could go after Calla.
“Ah, you’re turning pale,” he said. “I’m guessing that means you’ve finally realized the gravity of your situation. So what’s it going to be? Run and hide? Don’t think I won’t find you. I know this place better than anyone. I came here all the time when I was a kid.”
“Why would you be in the Neutral Territories?” Biana asked. “The only people who . . . ohhhhhhhhhh.”
“What?” Sophie asked as Biana shielded her eyes to squint through the force field.
“He went to Exillium,” Biana whispered.
Sophie covered her mouth.
That would mean . . .
“Whatever you think you’ve figured out—you’re wrong,” he insisted.
But Sophie could tell by his rigid shoulders that he was lying.
“Okay, I’m done with this game,” he said. “Surrender now, and save yourselves the pain I’ll put you through otherwise.”
“Or, we could do this,” Biana said, ripping off her Black Swan pendant and flinging it toward the force field.
Sophie braced for the ricochet to blast them with a swan-shaped meteor. But when the glass of the monocle hit the force field, it refracted the light a hundred different directions, unraveling the energy shield in a burst of white flames.
The Psionipath screamed as fire licked up his cloak, and he leaped away before Sophie could charge him.