Chapter 14- Sophie

(A/N: Good news! The next chapter is going to be the LAST chapter of this book! Ack! I've already started on the next book. I'll give you a sneak peak. It's called: The Darkness Within. Pretty cool, right? Anyways, as the book is almost completed, the next chapter will most likely have something MAJOR to do with Keilar, and it will be written in Sophie's POV. This is a Quadruple update [Does that exist? It does now]. I skipped the Brant vs Sophie + Grady as it has NOTHING to do with Keilar. So let's continue!)

"SANDOR!" Sophie screamed, her chest heaving with sobs as she searched for a way to climb down the embankment. She glanced over the edge, wondering if she could see enough details to teleport down to him, when a deep voice spoke behind her.

"Surrender, Sophie, and no one else has to die."

She spun around, feeling her whole body shake with rage as three blackcloaked figures stepped through the blinding white swells. Glints of silver flashed in their hands, and Sophie realized they each carried a melder. She pooled her fear and fury, spinning it into an angry swarm in her mind. But before she could inflict any of it, a sharp blast of pain flared in her chest, dropping her like a stone.

"She was trying to inflict," a familiar voice shouted as the other two figures accused him of violating their orders. "Besides, all he said was to bring her in alive. He didn't say anything about untouched."

Sophie tried to move—tried to scream—but the melder had paralyzed her from head to toe, forcing her to lie still and watch as the figures drew closer. The one who'd shot her leaned over the edge and laughed. "Looks like we don't have to worry about her bodyguard." Sophie raged inside her mind as the others shared in his laughter. She tried to channel the energy into a force she could blast them with. But the melder must've done something to her heart. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't find the force she needed to launch any emotions.

"Let's go," one of the other figures said as he crouched in front of Sophie and "Let's go," one of the other figures said as he crouched in front of Sophie and waved a hand in front of her face. "Think she's stunned enough?"

"Might as well be safe," the one who'd shot her told him, blasting Sophie again. Lightning seared through Sophie's veins and the iron taste of blood coated her tongue. She stared at the dark spaces where the figures faces hid behind their cloaks, vowing to make them pay the next time she got the chance. But for the moment, all she could do was endure the agony and try not to wonder how much worse the pain had been for Dex when they'd blasted him three times on the streets of Paris.

"That should do it," the third figure—who'd yet to speak—decided. "Grab her and let's get out of here."

"What about the boy and the girl?" the one in front of Sophie asked. "Which boy? The Vacker one? He'd only be an asset to the girl. As for the girl, we'll take her either way."

"No—the boy who led us here. He can't be allowed to go home."

"Why?" Keefe shouted, stepping through the wall of wind and snow, looking like a ghost in his white hooded cloak and boots. Fitz flanked him, pointing his melder at the figure closest to Sophie, as Keefe asked, "Afraid I'll tell Mom?" Keilar couldn't be seen in the scene—either she was hiding or she was hidden, waiting for the right time to pounce.

The figure stood, his laugh so cold Sophie shivered inside. "Trust me," he told Keefe. "Your mother is not my concern." His voice was clearer now, and Sophie recognized it as Lord Cassius. Keefe must've noticed it too, because he looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Is this really what you do?" Keefe asked, choking slightly when he pointed to Sophie's paralyzed form. "Is that the Sencen legacy?"

"No, it's a necessary sacrifice for a larger plan."

"I hate you!" Keefe screamed, grabbing a chunk of ice and flinging it at his father's head.

Lord Cassius stepped to the side and the ice breezed past him, plummeting over the edge and falling so far, Sophie couldn't hear it crash. Sandor had fallen the same way. . . . She shook the heartbreaking thought away, forcing herself to focus.

Lord Cassius was stomping the snow of his boots as he told Keefe, "You hate, only because you do not understand. I am building you a better world. Someday you'll thank me."

"I will never thank you," Keefe told him, backing a step away. "I will never speak to you again." "Well, then it's going to be a very quiet day. Gethen—grab the girl," Lord Cassius ordered, pointing to the figure who'd shot Sophie. "We'll take all three of them."

"Don't come any nearer," Fitz warned him, pointing his melder at Gethen's head. Gethen laughed and aimed his melder at Sophie. "Shoot me and I'll shoot her again—and she's already taken several blasts. How many more do you think that freaky little mind of hers can handle?"

"Sophie can handle anything!" Keefe shouted, hurling another chunk of ice and smashing Gethen's arm so hard it knocked the melder out of his hand. Sophie's heart did a weird fluttery thing when Keefe said that. Since when did he become so soft for her?

Gethen scrambled to retrieve it but Fitz blasted him in the chest, dropping him to the snow like a lump of coal before Fitz dove for the melder and tossed it to Keefe. Fitz spun to check on Sophie as she watched Keefe stalk closer to his father. "I knew all that bramble practice would come in handy," Keefe told him. "And you said it was a foolish game."

Lord Cassius laughed. "Put it down, son."

"I'm not your son!"

"Yes you are—and you always will be. And regardless of what you may think, I don't want to hurt you."

"Funny—I will have no problem blasting the snot out of you."

"Then let's take stock of your situation, shall we? We have your dwarves outnumbered three to one. Your bodyguard is dead—"

"Sandor?" Fitz and Keefe both asked. "Yes. Poor oaf took a dive of that cliff —and last I checked goblins can't force-shift like ogres. So . . ." He raised his hand, miming a diving motion that ended in a splatter. Sophie was glad she couldn't move, because she would have tossed him over the edge.

"And last we saw, your puffy leader was pinned down by at least a dozen of our dwarves," Lord Cassius added. "I'm sure they'll be delivering him to us any minute now. So it's over. Set down your weapons and we'll bring you in with no further injuries."

"No, I don't think we will," Keefe said, taking a slow step toward Sophie. "Because I think you forgot to take stock of your situation."

"Three scrawny kids—one of whom is currently paralyzed," Lord Cassius started—but Keefe shook his head. "Not three. Five."

"NOW!" Fitz shouted as Biana appeared and tackled Keefe's father. Fitz dropped the other figure with a melder blast and Keefe took over the fight with his dad. Keilar came out and ran to Sophie's side and pulled her away from the ledge, twisting her into a sitting position so she could place her fingers at the base of Sophie's skull.

"This is going to hurt, but it'll pull you out of the daze. Elwin taught me, just in case." Sophie couldn't nod, but she held her breath, bracing for the worst as Keilar dug her slim fingers into the tender skin, right where Sophie's neck met her skull. Pain surged immediately—like Keilar had awoken some sort of beast and let it tear around inside her—and when she loosened her grip, Sophie fell to her side, coughing and thrashing and wondering if she was going to be sick.

Keilar and Biana helped her to her feet, wrapping Sophie's shaky arm across their shoulders and pulling her back toward Fitz. "No . . . we . . . Sandor," Sophie said, between gasping breaths. "He might be . . . need to check."

"We will," Biana promised as they came up alongside Fitz. "As soon as Keefe's ready. How's he doing?" Keilar asked Fitz. Fitz could only shake his head and point. A sheet of white blocked most of the view, but she could vaguely discern two cloaked figures scaling another incline, one in black, the other nearly invisible in white.

Sophie, Fitz, Keilar and Biana climbed after them. Chunks of snow slipped under Sophie's feet and she wished she had the heavy boots Fitz, Keilar and Biana were wearing. Their progress was painfully slow until Keilar found icy ropes they could hold on to. She stayed behind her to catch her if she slipped, and they pulled themselves up, stopping at a new ledge that stretched to a relatively flat area. The whiteout barely let them see five feet in any direction, but they shoved blindly forward until Biana grabbed their arms and pointed to a smear of black among the white. A few more steps and they could see Keefe and his father, standing in the winds.

They weren't fighting. They were just . . . staring. And when Sophie moved closer, she understood why. The wind—or maybe Keefe—must've thrown back his father's hood.

But it wasn't his father facing him.

It was Lady Gisela.

Keefe's mom.

Am I extremely mean if I don't continue?

I think so.

Black --> out.