Everblaze by Shannon Messenger
“You okay?” Dex asked as she rubbed her temples.
“It’s like I can think again.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She smiled sadly. “I have to go.”
“Wait!” he said, pulling a wide black cuff off his wrist. “I know you probably don’t want any more of my gadgets, but did you see how far Brant flew when I punched him?” He flipped the cuff over to show her three silver rimmed slits. “These release an extra burst of air to thrust your arm forward a lot faster. I think you should wear it. Just in case.”
She didn’t know what to say as he gently clasped it around her right wrist, just above her nexus. So she threw her arms around him, holding on with all the strength she had. “Thank you, Dex. Take Grady to Everglen, and make sure Edaline’s safe too. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She gave herself one quick breath before she let him go. Then she ran to the end of the cliff, turning back to wave goodbye.
She caught a quick glimpse of Dex tossing her circlet into the glowing flames of the Everblaze.
Then she closed her eyes and jumped off the edge.
SIXTY-FIVE
A SHEARING WIND NEARLY KNOCKED Sophie over as she landed in a snowdrift on the narrow ledge of a vertical incline. She had about a second to celebrate that her teleporting had worked and she’d made it to Everest. Then reality kicked in.
She hadn’t considered the toll it would take on her body to drop into such an extreme environment with no oxygen, or coat, or boots, or anything she needed to survive. Within seconds, her blood started to freeze in her veins, making her brain throb and her whole body shake as she lost feeling in her fingers and toes. She could vaguely see the rigid shape of a corpse in green boots amid the blinding white surrounding her, but her head was spinning and her chest was heaving and she was fairly certain she was dying—if she wasn’t dead already.
She stumbled forward, and the motion made her want to vomit. Her limbs felt like they were dragging anchors, and all her instincts begged her to curl up in a ball and never move again. Only sheer desperation propelled her into the cave, which mercifully gave her a slight break from the relentless wind.
But it was empty.
It was just her and Green Boots—a fact she was trying very hard to not think about.
She trudged to the rock face, searching for any sign of the door that was supposed to be there. But all she found was solid ice.
Panic took over and she pounded on the walls, screaming for Fitz or Keefe or Biana or Dex or Alden or Grady—she couldn’t remember who was supposed to be there anymore. She could barely remember her name. And she knew she was there for something important, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
At least she wasn’t shivering anymore.
In fact, she felt . . . hot.
Scorching.
Her tunic was suddenly smothering her, and she thrashed and flailed, trying to make her numb fingers rip off the suffocating fabric. Before she managed it, strong arms dragged her into a dim cavern, which sealed closed behind her.
She fought and squirmed as something metal was shoved over her nose, but the muscled arms held her in place as a gruff voice said, “Breathe, Sophie.”
Sophie.
Her name was Sophie.
Her shoulders relaxed and she inhaled a deep breath of warm, sweet air.
Then another.
And another.
Her head felt like it was filled with gray, sloshy soup, but she could feel tingles in her toes and fingers as her frozen body started to thaw.
“Better?” the voice asked, pulling the cold metal away from her nose.
When she opened her eyes, she found Mr. Forkle leaning over her in a small, low-ceilinged cave. A bubble of warmth, and—strangely—normal air, deep in the mountain.
“Atmosphere stabilizer,” Mr. Forkle said, holding up a triangular gadget, like he knew what she’d been thinking. “Only works in small spaces. Think you’re capable of swallowing something?”
Sophie nodded, even though her tongue had frozen to the roof of her mouth.
He tipped her head back and poured a small vial of yellow-orange liquid through her lips. The salty serum thawed her tongue enough to let her swallow, and the medicine turned warm as it rushed through her veins, defrosting her from the inside out.
“Better?” Mr. Forkle asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Now. What were you thinking?” he shouted. “Five more minutes and I might not have been able to save you!”
“Uh, this is Foster we’re talking about. Are we really surprised?” Keefe smirked when she sat up enough to find him in the tiny cave. “What—had it been too long since your last brush with death?”
“Judging by the state of her clothes, I’d say her last brush with death was only moments ago,” Mr. Forkle said quietly.
“Her circlet’s gone too,” Fitz said behind her.
Sophie reached up to feel her forehead, stunned to realize he was right. She traced her fingers where the metal had rubbed her skin raw, and felt her memories rush back.
“They know we’re here!” she shouted, jumping to her feet—and then immediately collapsing from a head rush.
“Yeah, that’s the point, remember?” Keefe told her, pointing to the Sencen Crest pinned to his long white cloak. “Everyone’s in position.”
“No—I mean they know it’s a trap. They have a whole army of dwarves waiting for us.”
“Are you sure?” Mr. Forkle asked as Sandor rushed to a hairline crack in the wall and pressed his nose against it.
“I detect nothing,” he announced after several deep breaths.
“But your senses can be tricked, right?” Sophie reminded him. “Brant told me they’re here.”
Sandor froze. “Brant? As in . . . ?”
Sophie nodded. “He’s part of the Neverseen. He’s the Pyrokinetic who burned me—and killed Jolie. Grady went to confront him and it turned into this huge fight and Brant called down Everblaze and—”
“Everblaze?” Mr. Forkle interrupted, rubbing his temples when Sophie nodded.
Sandor knelt beside Sophie to check her more closely. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Grady passed out after I inflicted on him, but Dex is taking him to Elwin. I didn’t mean to do it, but he’d already made Brant burn his hand off—”
“Whooooooooaaaaaaa,” Keefe whispered. “Grady’s hardcore.”
Fitz elbowed him.
But Sophie nodded. “He really lost it. He was going to make Brant jump off a cliff, until I stopped him—but then the Everblaze went everywhere, and Brant almost caught me, so I called for Dex, and we almost had him trapped—but then Brant said he’d tell me what he knew about the ambush if I let him go, and I had to make sure you guys were okay—”
“You let Brant go?” Sandor asked, clearly not thrilled with her decision.
She wasn’t a fan of it either. But . . .
“He knew what the Neverseen were planning, and he wouldn’t tell me unless I gave him his green pathfinder.”
“Green?” Mr. Forkle sighed when Sophie nodded. “Green crystals go to the ogre cities.”
Sandor swore under his breath, and Sophie was tempted to do the same. Now she knew why Brant said she wouldn’t be able to follow him. And clearly the Neverseen really were working with the ogres.
“Uh . . . is anyone else as confused as I am?” Biana asked, reappearing in the shadows.
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “But it will be easier if I see it,” he explained as he reached for Sophie’s temples.
Sophie forced herself to relax as Mr. Forkle pressed two fingers on each side of her head and closed his eyes. Two hundred and twenty-nine seconds passed before he released her, his swollen face paler than she’d ever seen.
“I want you to know that you made the right decision letting Brant go,” he said quietly. “You may have saved us all—though we have a hard fight ahead of us.”
He stood and stomped his heavy l
One by one, dwarves popped out of the hard soil, shaking bits of frozen earth out of their shaggy fur and gathering around him.
“We are far more outnumbered than we realized,” he told them when all ten had crowded into the cramped space. “Also . . . it appears you’ll be forced to fight your own kind—if anyone is uncomfortable with that, you’re free to leave now with no judgment on our part.”
None moved.
“Thank you, my friends. Your support will not be forgotten.”
He called Sandor to his side and the dwarves huddled around him, talking strategy. Sophie tried to listen from the fringes—and tried to understand the strange diagram Sandor scratched in the ground with his blade—but most of it made zero sense.
“Where should I be?” she asked, when Mr. Forkle opened it up to questions.
“Home,” Sandor answered immediately.
“He’s right,” Mr. Forkle told her. “Though, I fear they might have something planned for you at Havenfield, knowing you’re separated from your bodyguard. Perhaps Fitz and Biana could take you and Keefe to Everglen—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sophie interrupted.
“Me either,” Keefe agreed.
“Neither are we,” Fitz and Biana added.
Mr. Forkle shook his head. “Sophie, you aren’t even properly dressed. You’d be crippled by frostbite and altitude sickness in a matter of minutes.”
“Maybe,” Sophie reluctantly agreed. “But I can inflict from here. I’d only need the door left open enough to see where everyone is.”
“And I can cover her,” Fitz offered. “And share part of my cloak.”
“Me too,” Biana added.
“I’m still going after my dad,” Keefe said quietly.
“I know,” Sophie told him, knowing why he needed to, but wondering how he was really going to be able to face down his dad.
“You kids are forgetting that none of you were meant to fight,” Mr. Forkle interrupted them.
“But I have my abilities back now,” Sophie argued.
“And I took this from my dad’s office,” Fitz said, holding up a silver melder.
“And I’m the secret weapon,” Biana added, turning invisible.
“I . . . don’t have anything fancy,” Keefe mumbled, patting his arm, which seemed to be missing his throwing stars. “But there’s no way you’re taking on my dad without me.”
“If I have to tie you in this cave, I will,” Sandor warned them.
“So the dwarves can find us totally defenseless if they get past you?” Sophie asked.
Sandor grabbed three throwing stars from a pocket near his ankle and whipped them at her, each one thwacking the wall in a perfectly straight line, just above Sophie’s head. “They won’t get past me.”
“The simple truth,” Mr. Forkle added, before anyone could argue, “is that you are far more valuable than any of us—and I don’t just mean Sophie. She’s incredibly important. But she has always needed the strength and support of her friends. I was willing to keep you here when I thought this was a simple ambush. Now that I know it’s not, you will head to safety. And if you try to resist, you will discover that I have many ways to ensure my demands are obeyed.”
“But—”
“That is the end of the matter!”
He glared at them, daring them to argue.
“Good,” Mr. Forkle said when they didn’t. “But before you go, there’s something I must teach Fitz, in case another opportunity does not present itself.”
He waved Fitz over to where Sophie was standing.
“Place your hands on Sophie’s temples. I’m going to show you how to slip past her blocking.”
“WHAT?!” Fitz, Sophie, Keefe, and Biana all asked at the same time—though Keefe was the loudest.
“Are you okay with that?” Fitz asked.
Sophie didn’t hesitate before she nodded. It would be weird, but . . . “I trust you.”
Keefe grumbled something about Telepaths as Fitz reached for Sophie’s temples and Mr. Forkle pressed his hands against Fitz’s.
“Do you feel the trail of warmth I’m leaving?” Mr. Forkle asked him.
“Yeah—wow, that’s crazy. How are you doing that?” Fitz asked.
“Focus, Fitz. I need you to memorize the path so that you can find it on your own.”
“Right,” Fitz mumbled, his brow furrowing with concentration.
Sophie tried to feel what they were feeling, but she couldn’t detect even a trace of their presence.
“There,” Mr. Forkle announced, making Sophie jump. “Did you see that?”
“I think so. But I don’t understand what you did.”
“It’s a point of trust. Transmit the right thing and her guard will lower.”
“What do I transmit?”
“It varies person to person. What makes her trust me will not work for you.”
“Just so you guys know, this is super weird to watch,” Keefe told them, earning himself a shout of “Silence!” from Mr. Forkle.
But Sophie had to agree. She’d never expected to have an audience while the elf who created her taught someone how to slip past her mental defenses. Especially when Fitz leaned closer and whispered, “What do I say?”
“How do I know? I don’t even know what he says!” she told him.
“She’s right. It’s her subconscious you’re reaching,” Mr. Forkle explained. “Her conscious mind cannot help.”
Fitz sighed, his eyes wandering over Sophie’s face like he expected the answer to be scrawled across her lips. Maybe it was, because a few seconds later he pumped his fist and shouted, “I’m in! And whoa—it’s . . . overwhelming.”
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Photographic memories can be. We’re running out of time, so I’m afraid you can’t explore. But are you following the warmth?”
Fitz nodded. Then his eyes widened.
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle told him, before Fitz could speak. “Remember this place. You may need it. Possibly soon.”
“What?” Sophie asked.
“Don’t tell her,” Mr. Forkle ordered Fitz. “She is not yet ready to know.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sophie shouted. “It’s my brain.”
“Yes, and I’m doing everything I can to protect it. Come on, Fitz, that’s enough for today.”
He pulled Fitz back and Fitz shook his head, rubbing his temples.
“You okay?” Keefe asked, and Sophie wasn’t sure if he was asking her or Fitz.
Their answers were both the same. “I think so.”
Though Fitz sounded far less sure.
“And now it’s time to go,” Mr. Forkle said, fishing out a glowing purple vial and handing it to Biana. “You still have the charm?”
Rumbling above them drowned out her answer, and everyone ducked and covered their heads as rock and ice rained down.
“Is it an avalanche?” Sophie shouted, realizing that if it was, screaming probably wasn’t the best idea.
But it wasn’t an avalanche—or not a natural one, at least.
It was two gorilla-size arms punching through the rocky ceiling.
They grabbed Sophie by the shoulders and pulled her back through the roof before she had a chance to scream.
SIXTY-SIX
SOPHIE’S BODY STARTED TO SHAKE—but not from the arctic air.
She barely felt the wind or the snow or the sharp jostling of what she assumed was an ogre carrying her. The world grew dim as the blackness clouded her mind, and red rimmed the edges of her vision as the fear and fury boiled into a frenzy.
She let the rage stew as long as she could bear it. Then she shoved the bitterness out of her head, spreading the pain and wrath as far as it could travel.
Her captor grunted and dropped her. But when she sank into the ice, the cold bored into her bones, breaking her concentration and leaving her numb and useless. She lay there shivering, knowing she should run, but
Thick hands hoisted her up and she tried to thrash, but her muscles were too weak. She barely managed a raspy scream before cold metal was shoved over her nose and . . .
She could breathe.
She gulped the sweet, soft air as a heavy white cloak wrapped around her shoulders, shielding her from the icy wind.
“I’ve got you,” a high, squeaky voice promised, and it took her a second to realize it was Sandor. He hefted her over his shoulder and she tightened her grip as Sandor started to slide down the steep embankment.
They’d only gone a few feet when something yanked Sandor backward.
Sophie slipped from his arms, tumbling through the snow, trailed by howls and snarls and growls and whimpers. She couldn’t tell which massive body was Sandor’s in the glimpses she caught through the blasting snow. But she could tell he was battling an ogre. And when an agonizing screech splattered red among the pristine white, she scrambled toward the collapsed body, promising she would never give Sandor a hard time again if it would just not be him.
A blur of gray muscle yanked her away and it took her a second to recognize the familiar flat-nosed face.
“You’re not dead!” she cried, feeling her tears freeze before they could fall.
“Neither is he.” Sandor grunted as he shifted her weight onto his other shoulder.
That’s when she felt the warm wetness seeping from his chest. “You’re bleeding!”
“These conditions have slowed my reflexes. Especially without the Purifier.”
Sophie reached for the oxygen mask he’d given her, but he grabbed her hand, smearing her palm with blood.
“Sorry,” he murmured, wiping her hand on a clean part of his chest. “You need that far more than me. I can breathe relatively naturally up here. It just makes everything foggy. That’s what cost me my sword.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Sophie asked, trying to see through the whiteout around them.