Keeper of the Lost Cities

TWENTY-THREE

WELCOME BACK,” ELWIN SAID, PLACING A COOL compress across her forehead. “You know, for a girl who hates doctors, you sure can’t seem to stay away from the Healing Center.”

She pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing as pain whipped through every muscle.

“Easy there. You’ve been out nearly ten minutes.” Elwin flashed an orb of yellow light around her and put on his glasses.

“Ten minutes? What happened?”

“No idea. I’ve never heard of anyone getting seriously injured while splotching. Leave it to you.” He chuckled.

Her memories flooded back. Splotching. Flying backward through the room. Fitz’s crumpled body. “Where’s Fitz? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Elwin pointed to her left, where Fitz lay in a bed with his eyes closed.

“He’s unconscious!”

“He’ll come around any minute.” Elwin placed a cold compress across Fitz’s forehead and his vivid eyes sprang open.

“WhermIwhahapped?” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Elwin chuckled. “Must’ve been some splotching match.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Of course. If he weren’t, Bullhorn would be freaking out right now—or worse: laying next to him.” He pointed to the slinky gray creature curled up in the corner. “Banshees can sense when someone’s in mortal danger. Fitz hit his head a little harder than you, so he needs another minute for the medicine to set in.”

“This is all my fault,” Sophie groaned. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but it seemed like the most likely option.

“What did you do during the match?” Elwin asked.

“I don’t know.”

Fitz stirred, and he looked more lucid when he opened his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Elwin asked him.

“I’ve been better, but I’ll live.” Fitz winced as he sat up. “Are you okay?” he asked Sophie, rubbing the back of his head.

She nodded, feeling shy. She hadn’t really talked to him since the first day of school.

Elwin handed them each a blue vial. “This will ease the pain. You’ll still be stiff tomorrow, but I can’t help that.”

The glands behind her tongue zinged as Sophie swallowed the sour medicine, but the ache in her back vanished.

“Do either of you remember what happened?” Elwin asked as he collected the empty bottles.

“Not really,” Fitz admitted. “I remember pushing toward the splotcher, but then it was like it rebounded or something.”

“Rebounded?”

“Yeah. I felt my force hit hers and bounce back at me.”

“That’s what I felt too,” Sophie agreed.

Elwin’s eyes widened. Then he shook his head. “Nah. Couldn’t be.”

“Couldn’t be what?” Sophie asked, with a horrible feeling he was going to tell her it really was her fault.

“That sounds like what happens when someone does a brain push—using mental energy for telekinesis instead of core energy. But a brain push is a highly specialized skill only the Ancients can pull off.”

Sophie’s heart hammered in her ears. She had pulled energy from her mind in the match—was that a brain push? “Doesn’t telekinesis always use mental energy?”

“It uses mental control,” Elwin explained. “Your concentration controls how you use the energy—where you send it, how much you send. But the actual energy and strength comes from your core. Don’t you feel the pull in your gut when you draw on it?”

She did. “But why would a brain push send us flying across the room?”

“Mental energy doesn’t mix with core energy, so they’d rebound.”

That matched what she’d felt. But how could that be? “Is it something you could do by accident?”

“No way. It’s a less draining way to move things, but it takes years and years to train your mind to store energy like that. Then it takes a lifetime of practice to use that mental power. It must just be that you and Fitz were evenly matched. Which is still weird—don’t get me wrong. You’re awfully young to have that kind of strength. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Sophie. Fitz, on the other hand, might want to worry about being beat by a Level Two.”

Elwin laughed and Sophie’s face caught fire. She was too afraid to look at Fitz to see if the teasing bothered him. Plus, she couldn’t help wondering if Elwin was wrong, if she’d done a brain push. But . . . what she’d done had been almost effortless. If it was a brain push, wouldn’t she have had to try a lot harder?

“You two are cleared to return to session,” Elwin announced, interrupting her thoughts. “But I want you sitting on the sidelines. And take it easy for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks, Elwin.” Fitz stood on shaky legs, leaning on the bed for a second.

Sophie jumped up, wobbling as the blood rushed to her head.

“Take it easy,” Elwin repeated as they made their way to the door. “Oh, and, Sophie?” He grinned when she met his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

FITZ STAYED QUIET AS THEY walked back to the auditorium.

Sophie bit her lip. Was he mad at her? She’d just worked up the courage to ask him when they reached the amphitheater, and a round of applause drowned out the question.

“Yes, yes, welcome back, Fitz and Sophie. Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Sir Caton said, looking a teensy bit annoyed by the interruption. He tried to call everyone back to order, but Dex, Marella, Biana, and Keefe broke rank and rushed over to them.

Biana got there first and threw her arms around Fitz, hugging him so tight he winced. It would have been a touching moment if Keefe hadn’t copied her and grabbed Fitz, pretending to cry. Fitz shoved them both away, blushing.

“Beat by a Level Two,” Keefe said, elbowing Fitz in the ribs.

“It was a tie,” Sophie protested.

Keefe snorted. “Please. You totally kicked his butt.”

“Totally,” Dex agreed. “He hit the wall way harder than you did. That was the greatest present you could have ever given me, by the way,” he whispered.

Sophie shook her head. He was hopeless.

“Even the Mentors declared you the winner,” Keefe added, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t think you’ll need your pardon, I’ll be happy to take it off your hands—”

“Keefe! Dex! Marella! Biana! Need I remind you that you are not excused from this lesson?” Sir Caton yelled.

“Think about it,” Keefe said, then ran to rejoin the class.

Fitz sat next to Sophie on the sidelines, watching everyone practice telekinesis with the remaining splotchers. She tried not to worry, but she couldn’t help glancing at him from the corner of her eye, wondering why he still hadn’t said anything to her.

“Why aren’t you and Biana friends?” he asked after a minute. “It seems like you guys would get along. You have a lot in common.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to have things in common with someone who acted like such a brat. “I don’t think she has time for another friend. She’s always busy with Maruca.”

He frowned.

Before she could think of anything else to say, Lady Alexine delivered her prize, a small golden square with an intricate P etched on the top.

“Any Level Two who holds her own against Fitz is the clear winner,” she explained. “Congratulations, Sophie.”

“Thank you.” She peeked at Fitz to see if he looked bothered.

He grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.” But his smile faded after Lady Alexine left. “You really don’t know what happened during the match?”

“I . . . don’t know. I do remember pushing some energy from my mind,” she whispered, afraid to look at him. “But that couldn’t have been a brain push, could it?”

Fitz had no idea how much she needed him to tell her that it couldn’t. Instead he said, “I’ll have to ask my dad.”

She tried to smile, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d somehow done something wrong. The worry in Fitz’s eyes seemed to confirm her fears.

So later that afternoon she worked up the courage to ask Grady about brain pushes while she helped him give Verdi a bath.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

Sophie focused on lathering Verdi’s feathers as she told him what had happened in PE. Grady and Edaline knew about her telepathy and her silent mind, but she hated reminding them how different she really was. Who’d want to adopt a freak as their daughter?

She’d tugged out three loose eyelashes before he finally spoke.

“That does sound like a brain push.” His voice was a whisper. “When you were around humans, did someone train you how to use your abilities?”

“No one knew about my abilities—not even my parents. Why?”

Verdi stirred, getting annoyed with her distracted bathers. Grady waited until the soggy dinosaur had settled before he answered. “The way you use your mind, Sophie—someone had to teach you. It’s not possible that you just instinctively know these skills.”

“But . . . no one taught me anything. I’d remember that.”

“Would you?”

How could she not? “Besides, how would a human even know how to teach me to use my abilities? It’s not like they can do what we can.”

Grady stared in the distance. “No, you’re right. Only an elf could teach you.”

“And the first elf I met was Fitz,” she added, reminding him as much as herself. She didn’t like the worry lines that creased his forehead.

She couldn’t have met an elf without knowing it, could she?

No. She’d never met anyone else with a silent mind. Except for that jogger that day. But she’d barely talked to him for five minutes. He couldn’t have done something to her, could he?

Wouldn’t she have felt something?

And why would he do that?

Plus, Fitz said they’d been looking for her for twelve years. Even the Council didn’t know where she was. There was no way she could’ve met any other elves.

But if humans didn’t teach her, and elves didn’t teach her . . . who did?

She searched her memories for the rest of the night, but when she went to bed she was no closer to the solution. So many things about her past raised more questions than they did answers—it was enough to drive her crazy.

She had to let this go. She had enough to worry about with her adoption and Bronte and gaining the Council’s permission to stay at Foxfire. Once she had her future settled, she could search her past. Until then, she’d try to put it out of her mind.