Keeper Of The Lost Cities Exile Download UPDATED
Keeper Of The Lost Cities Exile Download
For Debra Driza
Because I never would've finished this book without your steady support, brilliant brainstorming sessions, and tiny chocolate flake cookies
(And FYI, readers: The cliff-hanger was Deb'south idea!)
PREFACE
WE Tin'T Proceed DOING THIS.
The words pulsed through Sophie'south mind.
Gaining volume—gaining momentum—every bit the arguments raged around her.
All the strategizing and analyzing and disturbing.
Information technology never worked.
No matter how clever or careful their plans were.
Their enemies were always smarter.
Stronger.
Set up with some cruel, unexpected twist.
Leaving them stumbling and scrambling.
"We can't go on doing this."
This time the words had a vocalization, and it took Sophie a second to realize they'd come from her.
And she didn't regret them.
It was time to endeavour something new.
Time to have a stand up.
Even if it risked everything.
And maybe if they worked together—and were really, really lucky…
This would be their new legacy.
Saving Keefe from his.
ONE
Yous LOOK CONFUSED," MR. FORKLE said, and the lilt of his tone made Sophie wonder if his lips were twitching with a grin—but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the round, gilded door he'd brought her to, tucked into the side of a rolling, grassy hill.
The identify reminded her of a hobbit hole. Merely Sophie had been living in the Lost Cities long plenty to know better than to vox that observation. All it would earn her was laughter. Or maybe some impossible-to-believe story most how Mr. Forkle had once brought J. R. R. Tolkien at that place and provided him with the inspiration.
"I thought yous were taking me to your office," she told him, shifting her gaze toward the windblown meadow and searching the swaying wildflowers for clues as to where they were.
"I did."
Sophie opened her mouth to argue—then realized what he meant.
He'd brought her to his office. Not Magnate Leto'due south office at Foxfire, like she'd been expecting. Which was an easy mistake to make, because the fact that Mr. Forkle and Magnate Leto were actually the same person—and "Mr. Forkle" was his much more enigmatic side.
"So, this is your underground office," she clarified, feeling goose bumps prickle her skin at the thought.
"Ane of them," Mr. Forkle confirmed, winking as he shuffled his ruckleberry-bloated torso closer to the door. He leaned in and licked a spot on the left side of the door, which must've been a inconspicuous DNA sensor because a rectangular panel slid open in the heart, revealing 5 spinning, fist-size cogs lined upwardly in a neat row: one silver, i copper, ane iron, 1 statuary, and one steel.
"Did Tinker design this place?" Sophie asked, remembering the affluence of gleaming gears she'd seen decorating the walls of Widgetmoor, also as the Technopath'due south articulate fondness for the number five. But that wasn't the question she should've been focusing on, so she chop-chop added, "And why are we here?"
Mr. Forkle twisted the cogs one by one, entering some sort of complicated combination. "Y'all said we needed to talk. Isn't that why you lot requested this meeting?"
"Information technology is, but…" Sophie's words trailed off as the final cog clicked into place, making the ground rumble and the golden door sink into a slit that appeared in the damp earth. Common cold air blasted her face from the dark room beyond, blowing strands of her blond hair into her eyes as she took an eager step forwards and—
"End!" a familiar squeaky voice shouted backside her.
Sophie froze.
She'd learned that it was much easier to let the seven-foot-tall, heavily armed gray goblin lead the way—along with a hulking ogre warrior and a tiny light-green-toothed gnome. Sandor, Bo, and Flori were three of her v multispeciesial bodyguards, and they took their jobs very seriously.
So did her other bodyguards, of grade. Simply Nubiti kept watch from a position deep underground, since dwarves' eyes were highly sensitive to light. And Tarina still hadn't been allowed to render to duty after what everyone was calling the "Scandal at Everglen"—though "scandal" really wasn't a strong enough word. It didn't capture the daze that came with discovering an illegal troll hive hidden at the estate of one of their globe's most prominent families. And it definitely didn't evoke the horror of the genetically altered, bloodthirsty trolls who went on a murderous binge once the door to the hive was opened.
Both the elvin and trollish worlds were yet reeling from the disaster, since the Neverseen had managed to broadcast the nightmarish battle to everyone gathered for the Angelic Festival. And no one could agree on how to punish those who'd been involved. A Tribunal had already been held for Luzia Vacker, but her sentence had yet to be finalized. And numerous boosted investigations seemed to be incessantly "ongoing." Foxfire, the elves' about prestigious university, had even been put on an extended hiatus because parents were worried the school might exist targeted. Plus, treaty renegotiations nevertheless needed to exist bundled between the elvin Council and the trolls' supreme leader, merely everyone was wary of some other Peace Summit later on what happened at the last i.
"This office is perfectly prophylactic," Mr. Forkle bodacious Sophie's bodyguards. "Watchward Heath is protected past five different kinds of security. And only half dozen people in the world know how to find it. Well, vii now, given Miss Foster's knack for teleporting."
"And so the office should accept no problem passing my inspection," Sandor called over his shoulder as he drew his massive curved sword and marched through the doorway, followed by Bo and Flori. He'd always been overprotective, but his paranoia had reached new levels of exhausting after the Neverseen'southward recent roughshod attack—and Sophie couldn't blame him, since she and Fitz had ended up bedridden in the Healing Center for weeks. Her correct hand nevertheless ached whenever she pushed herself besides hard, and Fitz occasionally walked with a slight limp. Merely Elwin kept assuring them that they'd make a total recovery. Certain wounds were merely trickier than others—and theirs had been some of the worst, thanks to the creepy echoes caused by their exposure to shadowflux.
The rare sixth element was darkness in its purest form. Only the strongest Shades could control it. And shadowflux changed everything information technology touched.
Shadowflux was also somehow so vital to whatever the Neverseen were planning that when their Shade was killed at Everglen, Lady Gisela threatened Tam until he agreed to serve equally Umber'due south replacement. Sophie and Keefe had begged Tam non to go, but he swore he could handle himself. And Lady Gisela had warned them that whatsoever attempt at rescue would only put Tam and his twin sister, Linh, in greater danger. So Tam was on his own with the Neverseen—and it killed Sophie every time she thought about it.
Each passing week fabricated her heart heavier. Her nightmares more vivid. Her brain more convinced that she'd never run into her friend again.
Or worse: that Tam would join the enemy for real.
If you hear us out, I guarantee you lot'll realize that we are the simply ones with an bodily solution to the problems in this world, and that you've been wasting your talent serving the wrong side, Lady Gisela had told him. And she'd proven time and once more that she was a master of mind games and manipulation.
"All clear!" Sandor chosen, and Sophie squared her shoulders and took a long, steadying breath.
She could go back to worrying almost Tam later. Right now, she needed to focus on the conversation alee—a conversation she'd been rehearsing for the last nine days. E'er since she'd gone to Atlantis and…
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Well.
Things had not gone according to plan.
She could still encounter the pitying looks on the matchmakers' faces as they'd shown her the ugly red words on the screen.
Words that would define her—destroy her—if people found out about them.
That was why she'd begged for this meeting. If she could convince Mr. Forkle to requite her one tiny piece of information—something she deserved to know anyway—everything would get back on track.
She'd been gearing up for a fight, since getting information from the Blackness Swan was a lot like prying open the jaws of a thrashing verminion. But if he trusted her enough to bring her to his hugger-mugger function…
"Shall nosotros?" Mr. Forkle asked, gesturing to the archway.
Sophie nodded and crossed the threshold, shivering as a blast of common cold, metallic-tinged air seeped through the thin fabric of her lavender tunic. The room was too nighttime to see, simply information technology felt like stepping into a refrigerator, and she pulled her dove gray greatcoat tighter effectually her shoulders, wishing she'd worn thicker gloves, instead of the silk ones she'd chosen.
The light flared to life when Mr. Forkle followed, as if the sensor only responded to him. "You don't look impressed," he noted as Sophie blinked in the sudden effulgence.
"It'due south just… non what I was expecting."
She'd been imagining his underground office for years—and she'd always pictured a cross between a spaceship and Hogwarts, with fancy architecture and all kinds of loftier-tech gadgets and mysterious contraptions. Plus clues to who Mr. Forkle truly was, and plenty of hints almost Projection Moonlark. Instead, she'd found herself in a curved white room that made her feel like she was standing inside a behemothic surreptitious egg. Soft low-cal poured from a single bulb, which dangled off the terminate of a thin chain above a round, silverish table. The walls were smooth and bare—as was the floor—and several small grates in the ceiling flooded the room with icy drafts.
That was it.
No windows. No doors—except the 1 they'd come through, which had sealed silently backside them. Nowhere to sit. No decor of any kind. Not fifty-fifty any books or scrolls, despite Mr. Forkle's dearest of inquiry.
"And here I thought you'd learned that things in the Lost Cities are rarely what they seem," Mr. Forkle said, pressing his palm against the wall. The calorie-free bulb flickered twice before it flared much brighter and projected a filigree of images across every surface of the room, every bit if the role was tapping into thousands of camera feeds displaying elves, goblins, ogres, trolls, dwarves, gnomes, and humans going about their daily lives. Every few seconds the images shifted, making Sophie wonder whether she'd take hold of a glimpse of the entire planet if she stood at that place long plenty.
"Still nothing?" Mr. Forkle asked.
She shrugged. "It's non that dissimilar from Quinlin'south role in Atlantis. And I'm pretty sure a lot of homo leaders have rooms like this too—not showing all the other species, but… you know what I mean."
"Do I?" Mr. Forkle tapped the wall to make the images disappear earlier he placed his palm apartment against the silver table. "What about this, then?"
The metallic surface rippled at his bear on, stretching and splitting into a million sparse wires that made it look similar a giant version of one of those pin art toys Sophie used to play with as a child. He tapped his fingers in a quick rhythm, and the pins shifted and sank, forming highs and lows and polish, apartment stretches. Sophie couldn't figure out what she was seeing until he tapped a few additional beats and tiny pricks of light flared at the ends of each wire, bathing the scene in vibrant colors and marking everything with glowing labels.
"It'due south a map," she murmured, making a tiresome circle effectually the table.
And not just any map.
A 3-D map of the Lost Cities.
She'd never seen her earth like that before, with everything spread out across the planet in relation to everything else. Eternalia, the elvin capital that had likely inspired the human myths of Shangri-la, was much closer to the Sanctuary than she'd realized, nestled into one of the valleys of the Himalayas—while the special animal preserve was subconscious inside the hollowed-out mountains. Atlantis was deep under the Mediterranean Bounding main, just like the human legends described, and it looked similar Mysterium was somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. The Gateway to Exile was in the centre of the Sahara desert—though the prison itself was buried in the middle of the earth. And Lumenaria…
"Look. Is Lumenaria one of the Channel Islands?" she asked, trying to compare what she was seeing against the maps she'd memorized in her human geography classes.
"Aye and no. It's technically function of the same archipelago. Simply we've kept that particular isle hidden, and so humans have no idea it exists—well, across the convoluted stories we've occasionally leaked to crusade confusion."
"Huh." Lumenaria had reminded her of Camelot when she'd been at that place, so that must be where some of those legends came from. The elves liked to play with the lore of their earth, weaving in alien fantastical details, to go far that much harder for humans to believe in it.
She leaned closer, wondering how accurate the map's details were. She hadn't been to Lumenaria since the collapse, and it looked like the glowing castle was now fully rebuilt—with much higher walls. A new tree also stood next to the Four Seasons Tree, peradventure as a memorial for those who'd died in the attack. "And humans really haven't found the island? It's right by France and the U.k.—and boats go through the channel all the time."
"You've seen how powerful our illusions are," Mr. Forkle reminded her.
Sophie's stomach soured.
Vespera had designed well-nigh of the optical illusions that shielded the Lost Cities from detection. And out of all the Neverseen'due south leaders, she was the well-nigh ruthless. She saw violence as a solution—and was ever claiming that Sophie and Keefe would never be "ready." For what, they didn't know. But information technology seemed safe to presume it had something to exercise with Keefe's "legacy."
"It helps to see our world this fashion, doesn't it?" Mr. Forkle asked, moving to Sophie'due south side. "I've been coming hither a lot lately to strategize."
"Does that mean you lot have a plan?" she asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
"It's a work in progress." He sighed when her hands curled into fists. "I sympathise your impatience, Miss Foster. But some things cannot be rushed."
Her laugh sounded every bit bitter as she felt.
They'd been trying to have down the Neverseen the unabridged fourth dimension she'd been living in the Lost Cities. And hither they were, years afterward, notwithstanding with no inkling what the Neverseen were upwards to or where they were hiding.
She and her friends had been trying to effigy out how to make their adjacent move ever since Tam was taken, but all they had to go on were the aforementioned worthless leads they'd wasted also much fourth dimension on already.
Fake caches.
A missing starstone.
Way besides many disruptive symbols.
The key to Lady Gisela'south Archetype, simply not the book that the key opened.
Tiny fragments of shattered memories that didn't make any sense.
And no affair what truths they pieced together or what risks they took, the Neverseen were ever v million steps alee of them.
Put only: They were losing.
And Sophie was sick of information technology.
"The Neverseen take proven to be more formidable than nosotros expected," Mr. Forkle admitted. "And their changes in leadership accept fabricated anticipating their tactics particularly complicated."
"We have besides many enemies," Sophie muttered.
"Nosotros do indeed. And their individual visions practice not ever perfectly align, which has acquired additional confusion. But we nevertheless know far more than than y'all're letting yourself acknowledge."
"Like what?" She turned to confront him, crossing her artillery. "I'thousand serious. Tell me i useful thing we've learned."
"I can proper name many, Miss Foster. And and then can you lot. You lot're simply overlooking
them because you're upset that you haven't gotten the answers you desire—and I understand that inclination. Simply you lot're far too smart for such ill-reasoned logic. Which is why I brought y'all here, to make certain yous're seeing the bigger film."
He tapped another rhythm against the table, and the pins shifted, making new landmarks emerge among all the others: Gildingham, the goblins' golden capital, which seemed to exist tucked among the Andes Mountains—and probably inspired the man myths of El Dorado. Ravagog, the ogre stronghold on the Eventide River, which was plain hidden in the lushest office of central Asia. Loamnore, a city Sophie causeless was the dwarven capital, since the enormous metropolis was under the Gobi desert rather than in a higher place information technology. And Marintrylla, an island near New Zealand that was probably the trollish majuscule and seemed to be an intricate network of caves and bridges.
"What do yous see?" Mr. Forkle asked.
Sophie's eyes narrowed. "I'm bold y'all're looking for a improve answer than 'a bunch of cities.' "
Flori giggled.
Sandor and Bo snorted.
Mr. Forkle grumbled something nether his jiff that started with "Yous kids."
"Why don't you but tell me what you desire me to say?" Sophie suggested.
"Because I'm trying to teach you, Miss Foster. Your friends await to yous for guidance, and lately all I've seen you brandish is despair and frustration. If you're going to lead them, you need to practice better."
"Lead them." The phrase felt heavy on Sophie'south tongue. "Is that your large plan, then? Dump all the responsibility on me, because I'm the moonlark?"
"Need I remind you that you lot're the one who chose to involve your friends? I'thou not criticizing you for that—your friends have proven invaluable to our efforts. Merely you tin can't ignore the responsibility that you lot took on when you recruited them."
Sophie'south insides twisted.
She'd never intended to "recruit" her friends. They just kept request questions about what she was doing and offer to help. And eventually, she'd realized she needed them.
Merely now everything that happened wasn't just her responsibility—it was her error. Like when Lady Gisela knocked Tam out cold and dragged him abroad, even though he'd already agreed to cooperate.
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