Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
“One condition,” Sandor said, fixing a stern gaze on Sophie. “Swear you will go nowhere beyond Alluveterre and home.”
“Are we even sure Havenfield is safe?” Sophie asked. “The Neverseen may still be planning something.”
“We’ve left most of yesterday’s precautions intact,” Brielle assured her. “And Cadoc and I will not leave their side. You can trust us to protect your family the same way you trust Sandor with your life.”
That seemed to settle things, and Sophie and her friends rushed to get dressed in fresh clothes, none of them saying a word as they hugged their parents and locked hands for the leap.
“Brace yourselves,” Mr. Forkle said as he created a path to Alluveterre. “Nothing I say can properly prepare you for what you’re about to see.”
THIRTY-TWO
SOPHIE HADN’T SET foot in Alluveterre’s subterranean forest since the day she and her friends left for their mission to Ravagog. And the scenery was as lush and beautiful as ever. But her memories blanketed everything in shadow.
Everywhere she looked, she could see signs of Calla’s former presence. Earth Calla had walked. Trees she’d touched. Roots she’d called to transport everyone underground for their various adventures. Even the air seemed to carry the faintest whispers of Calla’s songs—though Sophie knew she was probably imagining it.
“This way,” Mr. Forkle said, leading them up a winding stairway that wrapped around and around a massive tree, bringing them to one of the mansion-size tree houses. Each step felt like swallowing lemon juice mixed with something spicy, and it coated Sophie’s insides with a sour kind of burn.
Mr. Forkle had chosen the western tree house, where the boys lived during their months there, and the inside looked exactly the same as they’d left it. Same hammocks swinging from the ceiling. Same flickering fire pit in the center. But this time the boy reading on one of the boulder-shaped beanbag chairs had silver-tipped bangs.
“Hey,” Tam said as he glanced up from his book. “They moved Wylie to the other house. I guess one of the bedrooms has some special plant growing in it that might keep him calm?”
“The reveriebells,” Sophie whispered.
Calla had hybridized the flowering vine especially for her, training it to grow across the canopy of her former bed. The blossom’s sweet scent had given her some of her most peaceful nights of sleep ever.
“Has he gotten worse?” Mr. Forkle asked.
“Not worse,” Tam told him. “But I don’t think he’s getting better as quickly as Physic wants. And Granite—or Tiergan—or whatever I’m supposed to call him, is worried that Wylie’s mind is getting darker. He asked me to try lifting a veil—but Wylie’s shadowvapor is fine. He had less than I would’ve expected, given all the awful things he’s been through.”
Mr. Forkle closed his eyes. “Sounds like you were right to insist on coming, Miss Foster. I suppose we should head over.”
“You might want to stay here,” Tam warned Dex and Biana. “Physic’s being super strict about who she’s letting in the room. And at least over here you don’t have to stay quiet.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Biana said. “Plus, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Tam’s lips twisted into a shy smile. “I hear we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”
Sophie had forgotten all about the Exillium training. She wondered if Wylie’s attack would delay things.
“Aren’t you coming?” Mr. Forkle asked from the doorway.
Sophie and Fitz hurried to follow, but Dex stayed put. She figured that meant he wanted to stay with Biana and Tam, but as they reached the arched bridge connecting the two tree houses, Dex came racing up.
“I know I’m not a Telepath,” he mumbled, “but I’ve been through what Wylie’s been through. Maybe I can help.”
Sophie reached for his hand, holding on to Fitz with her other as they made their way across the creaky bridge connecting the two houses. Sophie swore she could smell Calla’s starkflower stew when they passed through the gazebo in the center. The dish had been Calla’s specialty, and even though she’d taught Sophie the recipe, it never tasted the same without Calla.
“Wow,” Dex and Fitz breathed as they entered what used to be the girls’ tree house.
“Linh’s been busy,” Sophie mumbled.
The waterfall in the center—which used to be only a misty trickle—now thundered with torrents of cascading water. The falls splashed hard into the shallow basin, but instead of spilling over and soaking the floor, the water ricocheted up and split into individual streams that arced toward the glass ceiling and fanned out before crashing back down into pots of flowers.
“Wait here,” Mr. Forkle told them, pointing to the shrubbery-shaped chairs, which were speckled with glittering dew. “I’m going to let Physic know I’ve brought you.”
The room felt way too quiet after he left.
“Where’s Linh?” Dex whispered.
Sophie ducked under a stream of water as she looked down the empty hallway. “She must be in with Wylie.”
“How bad do you think he’s going to look?” Fitz asked. “Like . . . worse than I looked after Exile?”
The black barb jutting from Fitz’s chest—and the swirls of black venom under his skin—had definitely been one of the most gruesome sights Sophie had ever seen. But she had a horrible feeling it had nothing on the pain and suffering Brant and Fintan would be willing to cause in order to get what they wanted.
“I think we need to prepare ourselves for something pretty awful,” she said.
She’d flicked three loose lashes away before a familiar woman strode into the room, followed by an ashen Mr. Forkle. Physic’s Mardi-Gras-style mask was red this time, with a rim of gold glitter that had showered bits of sparkle across her dark skin.
“You’re still wearing your disguise?” Sophie asked.
“I didn’t want the focus to be on me.” Physic twisted one of her skinny braids around her finger, making the red beads woven through shimmer. “I’m glad you guys are here. Wylie’s vitals are improving, but Tiergan’s afraid his mind is deteriorating. I don’t see any physical proof of that, but I want you two to make a very thorough check. And when we go in there, try to keep in mind that healing starts on a cellular level. Right now, most of the change is something only I can see—and only with special light and special lenses. But he’s honestly recovering faster than I could’ve hoped for, in large part thanks to Linh. She has him wrapped in a cold-water cocoon to draw out any latent heat while I brew a fresh batch of my burn ointment.”
“Do you need help?” Dex asked. “Or need me to get any supplies?”
“I’m low on a few things,” Physic admitted, “but they’re not the kind of ingredients you’d be able to get from your dad’s store.”
“Try me,” Dex said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, how about jaculus venom?”
“Clear or cloudy? We keep both in my dad’s ‘extreme collection.’ ”
“Interesting,” Physic said. “Nice hair, by the way.”
Dex’s cheeks turned the same color as Physic’s mask.
“Aren’t jaculuses those flying, blood-sucking snake things?” Sophie asked, remembering the first day she’d met Grady, when she’d watched him pull one out of Verdi’s feathers.
“They are,” Physic agreed. “And their venom has a powerful anticoagulant, which turns into an even more powerful tissue regenerator when I mix it with a few drops of Phoenix sweat.”
“We have that, too,” Dex said. “And Bennu tears. I’m guessing you also need Pooka pus? If so, we have solid and liquid.”
“Okay, now I’m legitimately impressed,” Physic said.
“Meanwhile I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up,” Fitz told them.
Physic shrugged. “It’s either this or yeti pee—and trust me, yeti pee is way harder to wash off.”
Sadly, Sophie knew that firsthand.
“All right,” Physic told Dex, ?
Sophie had almost forgotten that Mr. Forkle was there. He hadn’t said a word, and his skin had a sweaty sheen.
“If you think he looks bad,” Physic said, “wait till you see Tiergan. I can’t get him to let go of Wylie’s hand. Even when Linh started with the water stuff, he stood there and got soaked. It might be the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. But somehow the sweetest, too. You guys ready?”
Sophie didn’t trust her voice not to crack. So she nodded, letting Fitz take her hand as they followed Physic down the hall to her old room.
“Remember, he’s on some crazy pain medicine and a sedative,” Physic warned. “So if you can’t make sense of his thoughts, don’t be afraid that it means anything’s permanently wrong. He’s just drugged up.”
Fitz tightened his grip on Sophie’s hand as Physic pulled open the door and the three of them made their way into the bedroom. Sophie inhaled the calming scent of Calla’s reveriebells as she studied her surroundings, avoiding the figure on the bed as long as she could.
Tiergan stood with his back to them—though parts of him were still Granitized, like he’d been standing so long at Wylie’s side that his indurite powder was slowly wearing off. His left shoulder was jagged and rocky, and his neck was white-gray instead of its usual olive tone. Even his pale blond hair had bits of dust and gravel tangled in it.
On the other side of the bed, Linh leaned against the edge with her eyes closed, lips parted as she whispered softly to herself. Her hands were raised over the bed, and Sophie forced herself to look down, and . . .
. . . gagged.
Fitz choked too, and they clung to each other.
Sophie had thought she was prepared—thought the water Linh had swirling around him would muffle the gore. But the giant welts and blisters marring Wylie’s arms and legs were too huge and red and violent to be ignored.
And they were shaped like hands.
I’m so sorry they did this to you, Sophie transmitted, digging her fist under her ribs to keep control of her emotions. I wish I knew how to stop them. I wish I knew what they want.
Let’s find out, Fitz transmitted back, and their thumb rings snapped together as the mental energy rushed between them.
They moved closer to the bed and Sophie put her hand on Tiergan’s rocky shoulder. “You can take a break. We’re here to help now.”
Tiergan didn’t seem to hear her.
“You need to let go,” she whispered. “Let me try for a minute.”
Eight endless seconds passed. Then Tiergan blinked and turned her way.
“He won’t talk to me,” he whispered. “His mind only gives me cold darkness.”
“Should we wait, then?” Sophie asked. “I don’t want to force Wylie if he’s not ready.”
“I . . .” Tiergan spun back to the bed and pressed the fingers of his free hand against Wylie’s temples.
“Is everything okay?” Fitz asked.
“I don’t know.” Tiergan’s expression was the strangest mix of relief, disappointment, and fear as he turned to Sophie and told her, “He’s asking to talk to you.”
THIRTY-THREE
I’M ON MY WAY, Sophie transmitted to Wylie as she pressed two fingers against his right temple. Fitz did the same on his left, and Linh’s water shell splashed their hands as they pressed their consciousness into Wylie’s mind.
The blackness felt almost solid—like it had hardened into a wall. But when Sophie transmitted It’s me, the barrier liquefied, letting them drop down deep into the shadows.
Wylie’s mind grew colder as they fell, his thoughts an icy blur, until they landed in a pool of warm light hovering in the nothing. A form emerged from the shadows, growing arms and legs and features and slowly morphing into a boy.
“Hello,” he said, offering a shy wave.
His twitching hands fiddled with the pin clasped through his light blue cape—a jeweled sun with rays in yellow and orange and red. His face was rounder than Wylie’s, his dark hair longer, crowning his head in a neat Afro. But she could recognize him through the features.
How old are you right now? Sophie transmitted.
Wylie scratched his chin. “Six.”
Why is he talking to us as his six-year-old self? Fitz transmitted to Sophie.
I think it’s a defense mechanism. I’m pretty sure he was seven or eight when his dad’s mind broke, so I bet he’s reverting to a safer, happier time.
“I knew you’d understand,” six-year-old Wylie told her. “You know how it feels to have a before. And an after.”
He shuddered with the words, and the tremors triggered a growth spurt, stretching his body taller and broadening his shoulders as his chin squared and his hair shrank to a short crop.
He looked like a surly teenager—but his eyes looked far older. This was the Wylie who’d lost his father and his mother.
I doubt I’ll ever understand everything you’ve been through, Sophie told him. But I’m here to help.
“Can you help?” he asked.
I’ll try. Will you tell me what happened?
Wylie’s hands shook so hard, his pin ripped off his cape, vanishing into the darkness.
If you’re not ready, we can—
“No,” he interrupted. “It’s never going to be easier.”
He buried his face in his hands, and Sophie noticed red blotches forming.
What are you thinking about? Fitz asked him.
“All the things I shouldn’t.” Wylie scratched at his arms until they streamed with red.
I think we’re going too fast, Sophie said as he morphed into the present-day Wylie she’d seen lying unconscious on her old bed—bloody and blistered and thrashing with the agony of his wounds. Is there a way to bring back the six-year-old-you?
Wylie took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, humming a song that sounded like a lullaby as his wounds closed, his body shrank, and his face rounded out.
“Is this better?” six-year-old Wylie asked.
You tell me, Sophie said. Does it hurt right now?
“It feels funny. But not, like, ‘ha-ha’ funny. More like an itchy tingle. I think I can live with that.”
I know this is hard to believe, Sophie told him as he stared at his arms. But the pain only exists in your memories. When you wake up, everything will be healed, and you’ll look exactly the same as before.
“I won’t be the same, though. Will I?”
She couldn’t lie. Part of the pain will never go away. But you’re a survivor, right?
“Not by choice.”
It never is, Fitz told him. But that only proves how strong you are.
“I should’ve been stronger,” Wylie whispered. “I shouldn’t have let them take me.”
You couldn’t have stopped them, Sophie promised. I tried my hardest, and I couldn’t.
Wylie nodded slowly. “I didn’t give them what they wanted, either.”
What did they want? Fitz asked.
“If I talk about it . . . the other me’s will take over.”
We can handle them, Sophie promised.
And we can help you hold on, Fitz added as their pocket of space grew brighter and warmer. I just gave you some extra energy to boost your strength. See how strong you are now?
Wylie flexed his skinny six-year-old arms, patting the small curve of biceps that shifted. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’ll do great,” Sophie told him. “Think of it like you’re telling us a story. Start at the beginning. How did they find you?”
“I don’t know. I was reading in bed when the door burst open and my room swelled with a tornado.”
So one of them was a Guster? Fitz asked.
“Must’ve been. The wind pinned me to the floor. And then I heard peo
Did you see them? Sophie asked. Or recognize their voices?
“I couldn’t hear much over the wind. And the one who jumped on me must’ve been a Vanisher, because I couldn’t see him as he ripped off my registry pendant.”
Fitz’s whole body shook as he transmitted. That was my brother.
Sophie tightened her hold on his hand, wishing she had time to properly comfort him. But they had to focus. What else do you remember? she asked Wylie.
“I remember kicking and punching and clawing and scratching. But then this white light wrapped around me, and I couldn’t move anymore.”
That means Ruy was there, Fitz transmitted. He’s a Psionipath. He must’ve wrapped you in a force field.
“It shocked me if I touched it,” Wylie said. “And it trapped me with the drugs. When I breathed, everything went blurry.”
So it was just the three of them? Sophie asked. No one else?
“Actually, I think there were four. They said someone was keeping the path open.”
Could they have meant the Guster? she asked.
“I don’t think so. They made it sound like the path was somewhere else. But everything was far away at that point. I remember someone grabbing my feet and dragging me. I don’t know how long or how far. Then warmth pulled me away. After that I couldn’t see. My ears were ringing. Everything smelled too sweet. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t tell if I was actually awake. Is that how it was for you?”
Sort of, Sophie thought quietly. I was gone for a lot longer than you.
“How long was I missing?”
We’re not totally sure, Fitz said. But it was less than a day. Do you know what time they grabbed you?
“No. But I hadn’t had breakfast yet.” He clutched his middle as his stomach growled.
Do you want Physic to wake you up so you can eat? Fitz asked.
Wylie shook his head. Awake sounds . . . hard.
It will be at first, Sophie told him. But it’ll get easier every day. Take the time you need to recover. You’ll wake up when you’re ready.
Is there anything else you remember that might help us? Fitz asked.