by Seth Fishman
But then a strange thing happens. Randt raises his arm and barks a command. The faces of the Keepers on Lisa’s trail go red and their bodies halt, paralyzed. Randt lowers his hand to the ground and they both fall to their knees. He’s controlling them, Jo realizes. He can do that? Is that what the source can do, she wonders, unable to look away. Randt hasn’t stopped running. He catches Lisa, puts her gently on the ground, and then moves to the terrified Keepers.
Rob pulls Jo along until they’re kneeling at Lisa’s side. She’s breathing, but in quick short breaths. Rob freaking out, trying to stop Lisa’s blood from flowing, but Jo’s not worried; there’s water nearby. Healing is only a drop away.
Randt puts a hand on each of the Keepers’ chests. They’re straining against some invisible forces, the tendons of their necks raised and their bodies shivering. Randt whispers a few words, and the one with the neck wound begins to gush blood; it spills out of him and onto the ground. The other’s eyes roll back into his head, becoming two enormous egg whites, then they’re gone; just like that.
“What did he do?” Jo asks through clenched teeth, not really expecting an answer. Her wound reopened and she’s starting to feel light-headed.
Randt leans over his daughter, and with no hesitation, he yanks out the knife. Rob moves to cradle Lisa’s head as she screams. Randt stares at him for a beat, then continues with calm precision, putting his hand on her wound and whispering, his eyes closed. His men stand in a circle around them, pressing in, and Jo realizes she isn’t hearing any fighting. Randt’s men are keeping the fighting out. Randt continues whispering, his hand covered in blood, and Jo’s getting confused. Where’s the water? Why isn’t he just putting water on her?
Lisa stops screaming, jerks her head up and realizes where she is. Her blue hair is matted with blood, but otherwise she seems fine. She scrambles away from her father, huddling with Rob and Jo.
Randt holds his hands up, both red with her blood. “Daughter of mine. I thought you were taken from me.”
“What did you do, Father?” she asks, her voice mournful. She flicks her chin toward the fighting down the street.
Randt’s expression is cool. He stands up, wiping blood from his hands onto his clothing. “I suppose, then, that Arcos let you go. Good. It matters very little, because Arcos is trying to join Feileen’s clan to create the same balance as before, even while they attack him. Stuck in his past, the idiot. We must end this; you must join me.”
“Not me, Father. It should be a Keeper of Feileen’s.”
His eyes shift to Rob, then to Jo. “Your friends here, they have seen something. A map. But they do not understand what it is for. They think it is about them. That it is about here.” He shakes his head. “No, it is about something we lost long ago. Our time is now, the map beckons, and we must go Topside before the cycle ends. The Seven want us to follow. Feileen’s clan, with Arcos’s support, would never let me leave Capian. They would have all Keepers remain here, locked away. So I cannot allow a member of her clan to follow in her footsteps. I need you, daughter, I need you to be one of the Three. We would be safe then; Arcos is too kind, too cautious, he will never move against you the way I had to against Feileen.”
“Wait,” Rob interrupts her. “You killed Feileen?”
Randt’s lips purse, annoyed. He ignores Rob. “I will take you, daughter of mine, and you will drink of the source. And Arcos will stop fighting because he would never support dethroning a member of the Three—it is too dangerous for himself. And then when I go Topside, you will rule here in my stead.”
“You really did kill Feileen, did you not? This was your plan, to kill her and have me drink and then you would control most of the city? But first you wanted the map, and then I disappeared and Feileen’s people fought back and you did not have enough time. And so our clans fight and die for nothing.” Lisa says, disgust plain in her voice.
Randt takes a deep breath, the closest to regret Jo has yet seen him. “If we had moved quickly, there would have been no bloodshed.” He pauses, looks at Jo and Rob. “I was waiting for the gates to open, and when they did, I was not expecting Topsiders to come with the knowledge of the map. It changed priorities.”
“And the fighting will stop if I am of the Three?” she asks.
He pauses, thoughtful. “Feileen’s people cannot overcome both Arcos and our clan. They must see this. It is the only way.”
“What if they try to kill her?” Jo asks.
Randt almost snarls, he’s so angry. “Do you think I cannot protect my own daughter? Do you think that any Keeper can stand to the Three acting in unison?”
Jo keeps her mouth shut.
Lisa looks at Rob, which startles Jo a little. They’ve gotten close very quickly.
“Do it, Lisa,” Rob says. “They’d be lucky to have you as a leader.”
Randt’s bemused. “You are so very helpful, little one.”
Rob pulls his OtterBox out of his pocket and powers it on, an act which drains even more of the battery. A jolt runs through Jo at seeing it.
“You think I’m helpful now—what do you think about me giving you a copy of the map you want so badly?”
“Rob, no,” Jo moans. “We have no leverage without it.”
Rob gives her a smirk, his puffy, tired eyes filled with a self-confidence Jo hasn’t really seen since back at Westbrook.
“Randt, check it.” He holds the phone up, on the home screen. There’s almost no battery left. “On this thing is your map. If you let all of us go, I’ll help you work it.”
Randt’s intrigued, and so are the other Keepers in the circle. The Topside technology is a hint of the world they only hear rumors about. Jo watches the awe in their eyes and realizes that this is only strengthening the case for them to go Topside. What they see, they want.
“I am not simple, Rob,” Randt says, finally, with a dismissive shrug. “I will just take that from you and figure it out on my own.”
“True,” Rob says, giving the phone over to Randt. It looks so tiny in his massive hand. “But it’s almost out of power. And while you might figure out how to make it work, it would be much easier if you had someone showing you the lay of the land. Like, think about it—would you even know how to make this thing work?
“Let us go—Mia and Brayden and Mr. Kish too—and I’ll help you out up top.”
Randt’s eyes light up. “That is all? You would like to be my guide in exchange for your life? In this case, I accept, young Rob.” He grabs Lisa by the elbow; she’s too small to fight back against her dad. “Now, for everyone’s safety, we must go to the source.”
“But Mia’s in the city,” Jo pipes up. “We have to find her.”
“First the source, then your friends,” Randt says firmly, drawing a long, curved blade and resting it easily on his shoulder. He motions for Lisa to move, for them all to move. “As soon as my daughter drinks of the source, then we shall have another set of Three and the fighting will have to end. Now, come.” His Keepers hold a protective ring around them as they move to the tunnel. “And please do ask my daughter how quickly I can take your arms from your body if you do otherwise than what I say.” Drawn up to his full height now, all seven imposing feet, he stares hard at them and cries something in his native tongue. His whole army shouts a reply in return. They’re ready to protect the source, and they’ll need to. Beyond Randt’s Keepers are Feileen’s and Arcos’s, joined now, coming fast. Jo’s arms tingle despite herself. They enter the darkness of the tunnel, counting on the protection of the crazy man who keeps threatening to kill them.
• • •
Randt jogs and they follow. The mini-aqueduct vanishes into the ceiling of the tunnel and after twenty minutes or so they step into a wide room with a beautiful waterfall and swirling rock walls. Jo sees Brayden first, lying at the foot of the stairs curled in a ball, his arms tucked tight into his chest. Brayden�
��s hair is thin and gray, his body small. She has trouble recognizing him, but for his Topside face.
“Where’s Mia?” Jo asks, squatting next to him, taking him by the arms.
His eyes daze at her, his face a mess of wrinkles. Jo shivers. She’s seen this before. She’ll never forget it. He looks like her father did just before he died.
“Yes,” Randt asks, his voice sharp. “Where is she? Where is the missing child?”
“What happened to him?” Lisa asks.
“You don’t know?” Jo says, a bite to her voice. “You haven’t seen this?”
Lisa just shakes her head, too stunned to speak.
“It’s the virus,” Rob says.
Randt looks at him. “The illness that afflicts your Topside finds its source here, yes.”
Jo looks around at the waterfall and the pool rippling near her feet. “But . . . but where is she?”
Brayden seems to hear this because he points right at the waterfall.
Lisa steps toward the water, but Randt grabs her and pulls her back. “No, no, this is not the source. Do not touch it.”
He bends close to Brayden, his face an inch away, close enough that Brayden flinches. Jo’s right there too. She can see the veins beneath his skin.
“She is not dust? She went through the fall?”
Brayden doesn’t answer.
Randt closes his eyes and Jo sees them move beneath his lids, searching left and right in the dark. Suddenly, he goes stiff and angry. “She did!”
And without another word Randt jumps into the water and splashes toward the waterfall. Lisa moves to follow, but he seems to sense this and he turns pointing a stiff finger at her. The water’s not aging his body; the source must be protecting him.
“If for once, girl, you listen to your father, then let it be now. Do not touch this water. Not without me.”
And then he’s gone, into the waterfall, his outline fading quickly in the white foam.
“What now?” Rob says.
“We need to get some water to Brayden,” Jo says, rubbing her thumb lightly across the thin skin of his forehead. His eyes flutter, and he moans.
“My father is responsible for all of this,” Lisa says quietly. “I have seen his paintings of the Topside. He has taught me always to think of it as our future. But now he has hurt his clan. He has ended Feileen. He has caused this war. He is my father, and they will remember him as the great betrayer.”
“Not if he gets his way,” Rob says, muttering.
Lisa stands with clenched fists, heaving. But then her fingers unwind and begin to shake. She runs them through her blue hair in worry and whispers, “Oh, Father.” She slumps to the floor, keeping her eyes on the waterfall, waiting for him to return.
Jo stares at Lisa. Randt’s not the dad she thought he was. He’ll never be. Jo aches for her. She knows what it’s like to lose a dad.
23
THE SOURCE SPINS ITS LAZY PRETTY CIRCLES AROUND me, like a charmed snake. I breathe in humidified air and close my eyes. I want to go back to the well. I want to be pulled to safety and see my mom. But something strange happens when I close my eyes. I can feel a pulse. Or maybe I can hear it. Whatever I’m sensing, something close by is beating, rhythmic and slow, and reminds me of my own beating heart.
I try to keep my thoughts on my mom, like a fleeting dream you can return to, but she’s fading. The warm air saps my energy, making it difficult to stand. My shirt clings to me, tight and wet. I shake my head clear, but the sound won’t go away. It’s insistent. After swim practice, we had to measure our pulse. Maybe the source is amplifying mine. I put my finger to my neck, but can’t feel a thing. I must be rusty, because I’m definitely not dead like . . .
Dad.
It hits me. What am I doing? How long have I been here? Dad, Brayden. Am I stuck here, inside the source? I think of Jo, the spear through her gut. I need water, and I need it now.
I step toward the edge. The cyclone is spinning so fast I can’t think. But before I can even raise my hand, the wall parts, leaving a small hole just big enough for me to walk through. The field is the same, the flowers swaying and flashing like fans at a concert, their cellphones in the air. I can hear the noise, the beating, even louder now. My hackles raise.
“Hello?” I shout, stepping into the field. Suddenly, the beating grows faster and closer and then a huge Keeper comes bursting from the tunnel. His eyes are wide and enraged, his mouth open, and he yells, spittle flying from his lips. I realize it’s Randt about the same time he lands on me, driving me deep into the greenery, so that the only thing I can see is his red face.
“What have you done?” he roars.
I scream, trying to get away but his huge hands grab my throat and flex, cutting off my air and my vision quickly begins to fade to black. I want to cry for help. I want to cry in pain. But I can’t do anything. He’s enormous, he’s impossible.
“Answer me!”
Finally he lets me go. My throat burns and aches and I gasp for air. But even as I lie there, curled, the bruises on my arms begin to disappear and the pain in my neck subsides.
“You went into the source. I can feel it. How could you?”
He can feel me, I realize. And I can feel him. That beating I’ve been hearing . . . It’s his heart. He watches me, his chest heaving, as I figure it out. Now that I know what to look for, I can feel other sounds, other beatings, glimpses of shapes and movement at the edge of my vision.
“What’s happening to me?” I ask, holding up my hand and half expecting to see it waver in and out of existence. We’re neck deep in the fields, and I can’t see much farther than his shadow.
“Do not pretend, Topsider,” Randt says, his voice under control now and angry as spit. “Your father came here for this, you came here for this. But there can only be ten, and yet you have drunk. The final place was for Lisenthe! You stole it from her.”
“But I thought Feileen—”
“The source was meant for my daughter. For one of my clan. For the Keepers.”
“I need to save Brayden. I need to save Dad. And Fenton. And—”
“The source will not help you or your city,” he says, his voice rising again. “I have seen the rise and fall of Topsiders every cycle and it will not help. It is futile.” He comes at me in two great steps. I can’t move quick enough to get out of his reach. He grabs my hair and tosses me into the air, ripping a huge chunk out, searing my head. I can feel the blood already pooling before I hit the ground, right next to the source. It feels menacing now, an actual tornado spinning right behind me, blowing a gust of moisture into my face. Even in the pain, my scalp tingles and begins to heal.
“We are the watchers of life and we control the source,” Randt says, shaking the handful of my hair into the air where it dissipates into the field. The glowflowers shine, lighting up his enormous figure from below, making him seem even bigger. “You have broken that now. If there can be only Ten, then you must be removed.”
I struggle to my feet. The fact that Randt’s here means that he’s been through the waterfall. Is Brayden dead, now? Are all of my friends gone? Am I stuck here all alone? I stand up, my throat, my scalp raw.
“You can’t kill me. I had the source.”
Randt keeps coming, so I start walking backward. “Feileen was difficult. I had to cut her legs so she could not move, gag her mouth she could not speak, cut out her heart so she could not feel. But you, you know nothing. You are nothing. I can kill you with nothing.”
I try to shake the terror from my limbs. He killed Feileen. He mutilated her. No wonder her clan is up in arms.
“But wait, what about Arcos? He’s gotta know. Killing me isn’t going to change that.”
“Either Arcos chooses to ignore what he knows or he does not. He is an old friend and a new enemy. You are neither.”
And then he
strikes, blindingly fast, charging into me and knocking me down. He punches me so hard I can feel my face cave in. He punches me again, but I’m already numb. I hear the beating, loud and insistent, his heart right there above me, pushing heavy against his chest. I can’t see out of one eye. The source is right next to us, shedding enough mist to feel like a rainstorm. I feel Randt’s hand go into my face, feel the contours of his thumb hook into my bad eye and raise up my head. The pain slams through me, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. But even still, I feel my body trying to knit itself back together, except this time, I’m losing the battle of speed and time. He’s hurting me faster than my body can repair itself. I’m helpless. He smashes me back down. I stop struggling and lie there, tired of it all, and let his fist rise and fall and rise and fall. In a detached way I know I’m going to die. I feel his hand push into me as he punches. Up and down and up and down. But the rhythm is jarring. It doesn’t match the beating of his heart. I can’t help it. I just want it to stop.
Without thinking I raise my hand to adjust the heartbeat, just a tiny bit. I just want the sound to align. And the hitting stops.
Through my one good eye, through the smear of blood all over my face, I see Randt sit up and grab his chest. The beating slows now. I feel my face re-forming, my eye shifting back into place, like a marble in my head. The vision in my eye returns, blurry then clear. Pain sifts into focus, a dull throb as my bones reknit. Randt grimaces and reaches for me. At first it seems like he’s going to hit me again and I flinch, but instead he’s just looking at me, his fingers crooked. I can feel him trying to reach out to me, like I just accidentally did to him.
But nothing happens. The beating of his heart, once so loud, barely thuds. I sit up, watching him warily. He grunts, spits blood. It’s a stark contrast to his white skin. “You should not know to do this. How can you know?”
“I don’t understand.”
