Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
FIFTY-NINE
THE OGRES HAD almost won.
Somehow they’d seemed to know that Sandor wouldn’t be there. They’d also positioned themselves throughout the pastures to make sure no one had anywhere to run. And they’d known to wait for the afternoon feeding, when everyone would be carrying buckets instead of weapons. They’d even prepared for Grady’s ability, blocking his mesmerizing with special ogre-size versions of the thinking caps they used at Foxfire during exams. And when Edaline tried to conjure up weapons from their stockpile, the ogres had been ready to disarm her, as if they’d known exactly what she would do during the battle.
Brielle and Cadoc had fought bravely and ferociously. But there had been ten ogres.
Within minutes Brielle was dead, Cadoc and Lady Cadence seriously injured, and Grady and Edaline were preparing themselves to be taken.
“Verdi’s the one who saved us,” Grady said, his lips twitching with a dark smile. “She charged though her pasture’s fence, grabbed one of the ogres with her teeth, and trampled another. The remaining ogres rushed to help and . . . I’ll spare you those details, but let’s say Verdi got herself a nice taste of ogre meat. And she didn’t enjoy it.”
“And she’s okay?” Sophie asked. “They didn’t . . .”
“She took some hard blows,” Grady admitted. “She’ll probably limp from now on. She also lost a few teeth. But several gnomes stayed at Havenfield to care for her, and I was able to get pressure on her wounds as soon as the final ogre fled.”
“Coward,” Sandor spit, squeezing the handle of his sword so hard, the skin on his fingers looked ready to rip.
“I know,” Grady said. “And it was the ogre who murdered Brielle. He’ll have a scar across his chest from her final attack. If I ever see him again . . .”
“You won’t,” Sandor promised. “We have hunters who will find him and shred him.”
Sophie tried not to picture it—but her imagination ran wild.
Elwin saved her from the nightmares when he crawled out of the earth carrying two overfilled satchels. His tousled hair and crazy glasses gave him a bit of a mad-scientist air, but within minutes, his remedies had color flooding back into Lady Cadence’s cheeks and Cadoc’s eyes fluttering awake.
“I’ll need to move them to the Healing Center at Foxfire to clean them up and set a few broken bones,” he told Lur and Mitya. “Can you guys rig something to help us transport them through the earth? I’m afraid they might be too weak for a light leap.”
The gnomes got to work, weaving fallen branches into nestlike cots. While they built, Elwin turned his attention to Grady and Edaline. They each needed a dozen elixirs—and Grady had two cracked ribs—but Elwin promised Sophie they’d make a full recovery.
“I’m fine,” she told him as he snapped his fingers and flashed a blue orb around her face. “I wasn’t here.”
“I’m checking for signs of shock. You’re borderline, so I want you to take these.” He handed her two vials filled with a thick lime green syrup. “Not sedatives, I promise.”
“And not that weird happy elixir you gave me after Alden’s mind broke?” she checked.
“Nope. Think of these as a security blanket for your nerves. They’ll take away some of that chill”—he traced a finger down the goose bumps on her arms—“and slow your heart to its normal rate. That’s it.”
Sophie chugged them, barely registering the honeylike taste as warmth rippled through her.
“Want me to check on Verdi?” Elwin offered.
“If it won’t affect Cadoc and Lady Cadence’s treatment,” Edaline told him.
“And only if you can handle being around a few dead bodies,” Grady added.
Elwin cringed. “How many are there?”
“Nine ogres,” Edaline whispered. “And Brielle.”
Everyone bowed their heads at the name, and Sandor punched the tree again.
“Here,” Elwin said, reaching for Sandor’s bleeding knuckles.
“Do you have an Imparter with you?” Grady asked him. “I need to hail the Council and let them know what happened.”
“I can’t believe they had thinking caps,” Elwin mumbled. “And that the caps blocked mesmerizing.”
“The Neverseen must have designed them,” Edaline whispered.
Elwin nodded. “No one knows how to take down an elf better than another elf.”
“Which is why you’re no longer safe in the Lost Cities,” Sandor announced, clenching his newly bandaged hand. “Dimitar won’t accept failure—especially for this. This had to be his test to secure his new alliance.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Lady Cadence rasped from her newly made stretcher. “None of these were members of his personal guard—and none of them wore Markchains.”
“So he distanced himself from the attack,” Sandor snarled. “That’s not proof of innocence, only foresight. His next attack will come swiftly. Ogres are expert trackers. We need to move you somewhere even Dimitar would never dare go.”
“Where are you suggesting?” Edaline asked.
Sandor’s voice seemed to deepen as he said, “The best option is Gildingham. The ogres know that entering our capital city would be a declaration of war.”
“Would Hylda approve our visit?” Grady asked as he rejoined them. “I thought she preferred to keep outsiders to a minimum.”
“She would never turn away an elvin family in need—especially one as important as yours. I’ll contact her now and make the arrangements.” Sandor pulled a triangular gadget from his pocket and moved to the edge of the clearing to speak with his queen.
Sophie, meanwhile, was wondering why no one seemed to be addressing the much scarier question.
Now that the ogres had sent ten soldiers to directly attack an elvin family within the boundaries of the Lost Cities—did that mean the ogres and the elves were at war?
SIXTY
LEAVE THE DIPLOMACY to the Council,” Mr. Forkle ordered when Sophie hailed him on her Imparter and explained the afternoon’s tragedies.
“I think we’re well beyond diplomacy,” she mumbled.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Given what Lady Cadence noted about her attackers, I have no doubt King Dimitar will claim that anyone involved acted without his permission—which may even be true.”
“You’re serious?”
“Are the Neverseen acting with the Council’s permission?” he countered. “I know you’re angry and afraid—and justifiably so. But we cannot let ourselves be controlled by fear or fury, or rush into any actions that will only cause further death and destruction. Not without gathering evidence. So let the Councillors investigate. And try not to be surprised if they opt to proceed with the Peace Summit.”
Sophie’s grip on her Imparter tightened. “You really think a treaty is going to stop the ogres from killing innocent people? Or coming after my family again?”
“It depends on who’s giving the orders. It’s also important to keep in mind that if Dimitar was behind this incident, in some ways that’s an advantage. We’ve been working to prevent the ogres and Neverseen from aligning, and this guarantees it. Fintan will be livid that the ogres failed. And King Dimitar will be furious over losing so many warriors.”
The words would’ve been much more comforting if Sophie weren’t picturing Brielle’s bloody, broken body.
“Right now, the most important thing is to get you and your family to safety,” Mr. Forkle added gently. “I agree with Sandor that Gildingham is the wisest option. Do you need me to bring you a crystal to leap there?”
“Queen Hylda has already sent her chariot,” Sandor said over Sophie’s shoulder. She’d forgotten he was eavesdropping. “The drivers will be here as soon as they retrieve Brielle.”
His voice faltered on the name.
“My deepest sympathies,” Mr. Forkle told him. “Brielle was an incredible warrior.”
“One of the best,” Sandor agreed, looking desperate to punch something again.
“Wh
“Aurification will begin as soon as she’s brought to Gildingham. The presentation should be tomorrow.”
“I’ll let the Council know to release their goblin regiments for the ceremony,” Mr. Forkle promised.
“Actually, Queen Hylda will be ordering them to remain with their assignments,” Sandor told him. “She believes it would be unwise to leave the Lost Cities vulnerable. Dimitar could take advantage.”
Mr. Forkle blinked. “That’s incredibly generous of her.”
“It is,” Sandor said. “But now more than ever, we must work as allies.”
Sophie wasn’t familiar with some of the terms they’d been using, but she assumed they’d been talking about the goblin’s version of a funeral.
“Can I go to the presentation?” she asked. “Or is it a goblins-only thing?”
“Presentations are generally only attended by our people,” Sandor told her. “But Brielle is the first in the elvin regiments to be lost in a battle, so it might be good to show the public that the elves do not take her sacrifice for granted. I’ll raise the matter with the queen.”
“We’d like to go as well,” Grady called from across the clearing, where he sat with Edaline, both of them so weary they could barely move.
“I’ll ask Della to include something gold for each of you to wear when she packs up the satchels we’ll be sending,” Mr. Forkle told them. “Would you like us to send your imp to keep you company, Miss Foster?”
“No, I think it’d be easier for Iggy to stay with Biana.”
Sophie doubted the goblins wanted a tiny purple poof causing havoc in their city.
“Please let me know once you’re settled in Gildingham,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And I’ll keep you updated on any developments. And Miss Foster?” He touched the screen of his Imparter, like he was trying to reach across the distance between them. “I’m so relieved that you and your parents are well. Please keep it that way.”
His image flashed away, and Sophie stared at the blank screen, trying to figure out what to feel—what to do.
She was on her way to sit with Grady and Edaline when the ground started to rumble.
“Don’t be nervous,” Sandor said as she jumped back, preparing for another ogre attack. “It’s just Twinkle.”
With a name like Twinkle, Sophie definitely wasn’t prepared for a fifty-foot snake to burst out of the ground—especially a fifty-foot snake strapped to some sort of golden harness lined with hundreds of golden wheels. The contraption ended in a carriage that looked like a giant golden egg, covered in intricate patterns and symbols.
The snake’s scales shimmered with flecks of gold, silver, and pink as it slithered into a tight coil, coming to rest with the egg carriage right in front of them.
“Twinkle is a titanoboa,” Sandor explained. “And she’s been trained to guide the royal chariot through the Imperial Pathways. Queen Hylda wanted to ensure that Brielle returns to Gildingham with proper honor.”
In her head, Sophie’s brain was screaming, YOU CHOSE TO TAKE ME IN THE GIANT SNAKE CARRIAGE OF DOOM WHEN WE COULD’VE LIGHT LEAPED?!
But she’d caught what he said about Brielle arriving with proper honor. If a monster-size snake offered any sort of tribute for Brielle’s sacrifice, she would ride in the carriage all day, every day, without complaint.
A small whimper did slip through her lips, though, when Sandor led them past Twinkle’s enormous head. The massive snake could’ve swallowed her whole without needing to unhinge her jaw, and her forked tongue kept flicking around Sophie, like she was trying to take a taste.
A seamless door in the carriage slid open, and two goblins greeted Sandor with a solemn nod as Sophie and her parents climbed in. There were no seats inside. Just a massive golden coffin and narrow spaces to stand on either side.
“Hold on to this,” Sandor said, grabbing one of the golden ropes tied to the top of the carriage and handing it to Sophie. Grady and Edaline copied him, coiling the rope around one of their wrists and clinging to Sophie with their other hands as the two new goblins shouted a command to get Twinkle moving.
The carriage had no windows—the only light came from a glowing golden orb set into the ceiling—and the ride was so smooth and steady, it almost felt like they were floating. A low rumble reverberated through the silence, and Sophie counted the passing seconds, surprised when they came to a stop after only five hundred and thirty-nine.
“I didn’t realize we were so close to Gildingham,” Sophie said.
“We weren’t. A team of Technopaths helped engineer Twinkle’s chariot to allow her to move at supersonic speeds. We’ll disembark after they carry out Brielle.”
One of the goblins they’d traveled with slid open the door, flooding the carriage with buttery sunlight as he and the other goblin lifted the coffin.
Sophie focused on the view—her first glimpse of the goblin city, where intricate gilded buildings had been built across the rolling green foothills. The architecture had an almost fragile feel, with so many arches and pillars and windows and balconies that they looked ready to float away on a breeze. A golden lake shimmered in the distance, flowing into a river that shone like the sun. And at the top of the highest peak, a golden step pyramid loomed against the horizon.
“That’s Queen Hylda’s palace,” Sandor said, following Sophie’s gaze. “And once we’re out of the carriage you’ll see the Hall of Heroes, where we’ll be going for Brielle’s presentation tomorrow. The queen invited you to have dinner with her tonight, but I asked her to give you the night to settle in before facing any formalities.”
“She wasn’t offended, was she?” Grady asked.
“If anything, she was relieved. Generally the night a soldier is lost is a night of reflection for our queen. She only offered because she didn’t want to seem an unfriendly hostess.”
Edaline smiled sadly. “Then thanks for declining. We’re going to have to rely on you for proper goblin diplomacy.”
“I’ll do my best. For instance, as we step out of this carriage and you see the crowd gathered below, it would be considered proper to offer a solemn wave.”
“Crowd?” Sophie asked as Sandor slowly exited. Sure enough, when she followed, she could see that Twinkle had brought them to a level of the city halfway up one of the rolling hills, and the golden streets below were lined with goblin warriors who’d gathered to see them. Some were shirtless with black pants and weapons, like Sandor always wore, but most were adorned in gleaming golden armor.
“This way,” Sandor said after Sophie gave the crowd what she hoped counted as a “solemn wave.” He pressed his palm against a flat panel in the center of golden door set into the mountain. “Don’t worry, my house is much bigger on the inside.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Not only was the house at least ten bedrooms—but everything was designed for someone seven feet tall. All the doorknobs were closer to Sophie’s shoulder height, and she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to climb onto any of the chairs. And it was so fancy. Shimmering rugs. Tasseled curtains. Intricately carved furniture, all in the same warm yellow tone.
“I’m assuming there’s a reason everything’s gold,” Sophie said.
Sandor nodded. “Gold is a weak metal. But we are strong. We don’t build houses or walls for protection. We build them to have a place that inspires awe—a place worth defending.”
“Well, it’s incredible,” Edaline told him. “I’d heard stories of the golden city, but I’d never pictured it quite this spectacular.”
Sandor wandered to one of the windows. “I wish you could be here under better circumstances. But I suppose it’s nice to be home. Della should be here with your clothes and things soon. In the meantime, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Grady and Edaline were given their own suite at the end of the longest hall, and Sophie grabbed one more hug before following Sandor to where she’d be staying, in a room with a gil
I don’t care if this is a bad time, she transmitted. We need to talk. NOW.
She repeated the call at least a dozen times before Keefe’s voice rushed into her head.
Are Grady and Edaline okay?
Fury churned as fast as the queasiness in her stomach. I take it that means you knew?
Not until a couple of hours ago, when Fintan got a hail from King Dimitar.
So the king is behind this? She rubbed the spot under her ribs, where her tangled emotions used to be. She’d released them when she inflicted, leaving her chest cold and empty.
I don’t know, Keefe said. All Fintan told us is that Dimitar will not be our ally. I’ve been trying to find a way to reach you ever since. I’m so sor—
Don’t! Sophie interrupted. Brielle’s dead. Sorry isn’t going to change that.
Okay, I don’t know who Brielle is, but—
She was Grady’s bodyguard. THAT’S how close the ogres came to catching him. And you were supposed to warn us!
I did warn you. I just didn’t know the specifics.
I know. But that’s the thing neither of us have wanted to admit. If you can’t give the specifics, everything you’re doing is worthless.
The words hit him harder than she’d expected. But she wasn’t taking them back.
I’m doing the best I can, he told her.
Maybe. But it’s not enough. Half the time you can’t even talk during our check-ins. This isn’t working.
I know it feels like that—but I’m seriously SO CLOSE.
Even if that’s true—you know what? We’re getting close too. We’ve already figured out what the symbol means, and Gethen gave us a big clue on how to use it.
What are you saying?
I’m saying, we’re coming after the Neverseen with everything we have.
Bad idea, Foster. Seriously, so bad.
I don’t care. They tried to take my family from me, and I’m not going to sit back anymore. So you better find a way to get out now, Keefe. Before you get caught in the cross fire.