Hope in Ruins Book III: The Fountain and the City of Salt

Chapter 12: The Too-Many Man

ANDA

Eli pulled Anda from the Human Elements, the flames, and the ruined graveyard she didn't understand. He pulled her from Ben and Mica and a home she didn't remember. Soldiers and flashing light pursued them through smoke and shadow as Anda, Eli, Seth, and Stephen fled through the forest.

They barreled through the underbrush and branches and piles of leaves, and Anda heard nothing but fear and her red mouth shrieking. They kept ahead of the soldiers, running and panting, wide and wild-eyed as deer, skittering and jumping at every snap and sound. As Watchers flickered through their eyes, violet intruders, Stephen would raise his staff and jolt the one invaded by a bright-eyed Watcher. As Stephen shocked them, they would fall and wail and shudder in pain. When their eyes had ceased to glow, the others would haul them, shocked and dazed, to their feet and keep running.

Stephen shocked Anda twice. She soon lost count of how many times he shocked Seth and Eli. Thanks to his training as a Seer, Stephen managed to evade the Watchers himself, stepping out of the way with a warning cry at the last second before the unseen presence would slam into someone else and peep through their eyes. This run through the woods ached and howled and shivered with pain. For Anda, there was nothing but burning lungs and legs, spasming muscles, and jolting, frying nerves. And with each shock, Anda had a vision. She saw fountains and kilns and heard the voice, that slick and oily voice.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And the sight of Ben hanging in the air, arms outstretched and shaking, stayed in the back of her mind, sharp and hot and bright as a brand. And Mica's glowing eyes seemed ever behind her. And with every shock, she saw the end of the world.

As badly as she wanted to stop and weep and wail for Ben and Mica, she kept running. And cowardice pushed her forward. Cowardice and the threat of soldiers and Watchers and kilns kept her running after Stephen and Seth and Eli. They always seemed to be out of reach, running too fast for her, too far ahead, too wild and scared. But someone would always slow and grab her arm and pull her forward. And the inescapable feeling that she was running from one danger directly into the arms of another filled Anda with dread.

*

The sun broke over wide fields, and they ran through dried grass and swaying weeds and winter flowers into the pinky-warm sunrise. At the other end of the field, they slipped once more into a dim forest and darted beneath the shadows and the trees.

"Rest. Rest here," Seth said. He stopped and leaned his back against a tree. Anda collapsed to her knees beneath a pine tree. The brown and bony needles pricked her palms.

"Eli. Stephen, Anda, here is water. Drink, drink," Seth said as he stumbled towards a stream that carved its way through the forest. "Stephen, your arm, here, here, let me help you," he said and beckoned Stephen, gently taking his staff and guiding him down the bank. Stephen allowed himself to be led, and they disappeared in the brush by the water.

But Anda couldn't move. Not yet. She turned and sat in the dirt and looked at Eli. He sat staring down at the book in his hands, the book he'd been desperate to save, rocking and muttering and giggling. Tears rolled down his face, and she wondered which person inside him was crying.

"What... what is that?" she asked.

He returned it to his jacket, hiding it away. "It's not ready yet. Not yet."

"Are... are you really my father?" she asked.

Eli looked up at her with distant and glazed eyes, his mouth tight drawn. "Am I your father?" he asked. "I don't remember you... are you... are you his daughter?"