The Hope of Elantris Read Online Free

movements, and Idotris had put out his
light. The only thing for the soldiers to focus on was her
lantern.
    Matisse led them away, into the dark night, carrying her lantern
in terrified fingers. She could hear them pursuing behind her as
she entered Elantris proper. Sludge and darkness replaced the
cleanly cobbles of New Elantris, and Matisse had to stop moving as
quickly, lest she slide and stumble.
    She hurried anyway, rounding corners, trying to stay ahead of
her pursuers. She felt
so
weak. Running was hard as an
Elantrian. She didn't have the strength to go very quickly.
Already, she was beginning to feel a powerful fatigue inside of
her. She couldn't hear any more pursuit. Perhaps. . . .
    She turned a corner and ran afoul of a pair of soldiers standing
in the night. She paused in shock, looking up at the men,
recognizing them from before.
    They're trained soldiers,
she thought.
Of course
they know how to surround an enemy and cut them off!
She spun
to run, but one of the men grabbed her arm, laughing and saying
something in Fjordell.
    Matisse cried out, dropping the lantern. The soldier stumbled,
but held her firm.
    Think!
Matisse told herself.
You only have a
moment.
Her feet slipped in the sludge. She paused, then let
herself fall, kicking at her captor's leg.
    She was counting on one thing: She'd lived in Elantris. She knew
how to move in the slime and sludge. These soldiers, however,
didn't. Her kick proved true, and the soldier immediately slipped,
stumbling into his companion and crashing back to the slimy cobbles
as he released Matisse.
    She scrambled to her feet, her beautiful bright clothing now
stained with Elantris sludge. Her leg flared with a new pain-she'd
twisted her ankle. She'd been so careful in the past to keep free
of major pains, but this one was stronger than anything she'd
gotten before, far stronger than her cheek cut. Her leg burned with
a pain she could barely believe, and it didn't abate-it remained
strong. An Elantrian's wounds would never heal.
    Still, she forced herself to limp away. She moved without
thinking, only wishing to get away from the soldiers. She heard
them cursing, stumbling to their feet. Still, she kept going,
hopping slightly. She didn't realize that she herself had made a
circle until she saw the glow of New Elantris burning in front of
her. She was back where she had begun.
    She paused. There he was, Dashe, laying on the cobbles. She
rushed to him, not caring any more about pursuit. Her father lay
with the sword still impaling him, and she could hear him
whispering.
    "Run, Matisse. Run to safety. . . ." The mantra of a Hoed.
    Matisse stumbled to her knees. She'd gotten the children to
safety. That was enough. There was a noise behind her, and she
turned to see a soldier approaching. His companion must have gone a
different direction. Yet, this man was stained with slime, and she
recognized him. He was the one she had kicked.
    My leg hurts so much!
She thought. She turned over,
holding to Dashe's immobile body, too tired-and too pained-to move
any further.
    The soldier grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away from
her father's corpse. He spun her around, the action bringing other
pains to her arms.
    "You tell me," he said in a thickly accented voice. "You tell me
where other children went."
    Matisse struggled in vain. "I don't know!" she said. But, she
did. Ashe had told her.
Why did I ask him where the library
was?
She thought, berating herself.
If I didn't know, I
couldn't give them away!
    "You tell," the man said, holding her with one hand, reaching
for his belt knife with the other. "You tell, or I hurt you.
Bad."
    Matisse struggled uselessly. If her Elantrian eyes could have
formed tears, she would have been crying. As if to prove his point,
the soldier held up his knife before her. Matisse had never felt
such terror in her life.
    And that was when the ground began to shake.
    The horizon had begun to glow with the coming of dawn, but that
light was overshadowed by