Meadowcity (23 page)

Both wolves out of the fight now
.  Not wasting a second, Sylvia ran for the wolf’s master, knowing she was watching.

But she was already there, not a blink of an eye later and the wiry woman was on her, yanking Sylvia’s short hair back and throwing a punch right in her face.  The impact pulled what felt like a chunk of Sylvia’s hair out and she shrieked, unsuspecting of that particular pain as her vision swam from the blow.

Free from the short woman’s grip, her scalp burning, she ducked down and grabbed the woman around the knees, knocking her over onto the pavers.  Sylvia scrambled past the woman for her knife, only a few feet away.  Fingers inches from the leather handle, a heavy boot landed in her ribs, knocking her to the side.

Ember screamed from somewhere behind her, but then Sylvia heard something heavy collapse onto the stone, and Ven’s voice.

The woman was standing over her now, but Sylvia lunged for her knife even as her ribs cried out.  She scraped her knuckles on the pavers as she caught the knife in her grip.  Anchoring herself up on one knee, she wound her knife back and smacked the woman hard in the knees with the flat of the metal.

She went down, arms flailing as she fell forward onto her stomach and Sylvia stood.  Quickly she crouched over the woman, pinning her hands behind her back and bringing her knife to the woman’s throat.

Short breaths escaped the woman, her face pressed to the grey stone as the sun beat down on them.  Sylvia’s knife made an impression on her throat. 

“Are you going to be still?” she panted.

The woman nodded.

Sylvia tightened her grip on the woman’s wrists, and looked up to see Flint, Ember and Ven standing facing her, incredulous looks on their faces.  Three men were downed and the two wolves still lay against the pavers.

“What?” Sylvia said, furrowing her eyebrows together.

It was Ember who raised her pale hand, pointing.  Sylvia turned to look at the plain behind her.

Marching straight for the gate were dozens of men, preceded by several wolves and lions; and as they neared, Sylvia could see the thick black hair and distinctive silver cape of Governor Sorin Greyling.

Chapter Twenty Nine
 

Sorin was nearly shaking in anger by the time he descended the Great Staircase of Riftcity.  Obligated to complete his original mission, the two days that had passed since Seascape had done nothing to ease the disappointment, the bitterness.  His hands still ached from the oars of that boat they had thrown him into.

Each stair widened as he sunk lower into the city. 
Maybe the Arcere were right to exclude Seascape,
he thought,
they were a ruthless city, thinking only of themselves.

A thought struck him as he stared out at the city on the cliffs.  Seascape was dangerous.  They could overpower the Four Cities in a heartbeat.

Obviously they weren’t against violence, striking Falx down so quickly and easily.  And they were heavily guarded, locking doors behind locking doors, guards everywhere.

Lady Blackwater unmistakably loathed the Four Cities.  What if she decided to rid Arcera of them, giving Seascape free reign to spread out for the first time in a thousand years?

As Falx and Airic joined him on either side, their beasts now roaming the forest nearby, another thought came to him.

They
could
benefit from Seascape’s technology, and avoid an attack;
we just have to strike first.

Chapter Thirty

Sylvia tried to breathe, but it wouldn’t come.  She looked down at the woman under her, and with a quick thought, yanked her up, still holding the knife to her throat.

Sylvia backed towards the others, a steady hand holding the woman’s wrists together behind her back.  She kept her eyes on Greyling.

The men were still approaching when Sylvia bumped into Ven.  He steadied her by her shoulders and the four of them stood side by side, hiding behind one tiny Scout, facing an army.  Bodies of incapacitated Scouts and wolves littered the stone around them.

Above them the arch by the gatehouse blocked out a thin stretch of sun.  Sylvia’s eyes darted to the forest to their right.

She could see a breeze sifting through the tall grasses as the men in their thick leather marched through.  They came to a stop, clearly noticing something wrong at the gatehouse.  The Scouts with bows had nocked arrows, and were pointing them towards the arch.  Governor Greyling muttered something to the man on his right.

“Stop!”

Ember’s voice rang out behind Sylvia.  The slight woman glided forward, her red hair tangled and streaming down her back.  She had a cut on the back of her arm, but otherwise looked unharmed.

She struck her fist into the air, and in it, a shining glass globe.

Sylvia stared.  It was one of Skycity’s globes. 
Where had she gotten it?

The subdued Scout Sylvia held stiffened at the sight of it.

Greyling and his companion stopped, knowing full well what Ember held, ready to unleash upon them.  Sylvia didn’t know if Flint’s sister would actually use it; but neither did Greyling.  They all waited.

“Let us pass,” Ember called.

“And where might you be going?” Greyling raised his oily voice over the distance.

The woman in Sylvia’s arms shifted her weight, and Sylvia clamped down on her wrists, pressing the knife harder to her neck.

“Out of here!” Ember held the globe high, and Sylvia could see the tiny black ball rolling around inside.  Her stomach clenched tightly. 

“You can’t hold Riftcity!”  The sun glinted off the tiny, dangerous globe.

“Actually, I can.”

The men behind Greyling chuckled. 

Thinking quick, Sylvia turned to the others and whispered, “Follow me, we need to move. Fast.”

Ven and Flint nodded, eyes glued to the army.

“Move,” she told the woman, elbowing her in the ribs, and they started to walk.  Sylvia wouldn’t feel remorse for her.  She had seen what the Scouts had done to Riftcity, and what they were probably planning on doing to Meadowcity very soon.  But she wasn’t going to let that happen.

They edged out from under the arch, not yet aiming for the trees.  A pleasant breeze passed through the gap between the fighters. 

Sylvia turned to Ember and muttered, “Keep a hold on that thing, will you?”

Ember nodded her head, still holding it high.

“Stay where you are,” Sylvia called to the men, her throat hoarse from the smoke. 

“We’re leaving,” she said firmly, and Greyling merely chuckled and murmured to his companion.

But then he cocked his head, eyebrows coming together, “Aren’t you—?”

Sylvia’s gut clenched.  He had recognized her. 
How could she be so stupid!

She threw the Scout from her with a burst of energy and left her to stumble forward.  Ven, Ember and Flint stood staring.

“Go!” she pointed to the trees and they all bolted.  Ember clutched the globe to her chest with both hands, and the four of them ran full tilt for the woods. 

But as they neared the tree line, Sylvia saw a flash of white fur, and out of a bush toppled a tiny white wolf cub.  He got to his feet, and looked vaguely around at the open plain before him.  They slowed, because another white wolf was striding out of the forest, this one full grown.  She towered over her cub, hackles raised.

Sylvia whipped her head back to the Skycitizens.  She looked just in time to see Greyling’s man pull his own globe out of a satchel, and she shouted, “
Down!”
just as she turned back to see the mother wolf charging at them. 

“No!” she exclaimed in a puff of breath as she hit the ground. 

For the second time in one day, Sylvia felt the unreal explosion rip through the air, erasing any fear she had for the wolves.

*  *  *

A cool breeze brushed through Sylvia’s short hair and cooled the sweat on her forehead; but her leg was on fire with pain.  The more she thought about it, the worse the pain became, so she took a deep breath, but choked as her lungs fought to recover from the smoke.  Her eyes snapped open.

She tried to sit up, but her ribs screamed in protest. 
Oh yeah,
recalling the Scout woman kicking her.

Her fingers went gingerly to her ribs, lifting her head to look around but only seeing trees—somehow she had gotten into the woods.  She brought her hands up by her face to see that they were whole and unburned, although covered in black smut. The pain in her leg, however, was becoming increasingly unbearable.

“Sylvia?” a feminine voice came from nearby.

“Ember?” she choked out. 

A coughing fit ensued, making her clutch her ribs as her lungs tried to adjust to the no longer smoky air.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Ember said gruffly, coming into Sylvia’s line of vision. 

Her face was streaked with black soot and chunks of her red hair were burnt off.  The acrid scent of burned hair overpowered Sylvia’s nostrils as Ember leaned closer, looking down at Sylvia’s leg curiously.

Sylvia tried to sit up again, clutching at her ribs, and this time Ember crouched down to put a hand on Sylvia’s back and help her forward.

“The Scouts...?” Sylvia asked, wheezing slightly.

Ember looked through the trees back to where the gate stood.  She shook her head. 

“Gone.”

Sylvia wrinkled her brow and tried to get up, looking around for Ven; and wondering why Flint hadn’t had anything obnoxious to say yet. 

“Where’s—?”

“They’re gone too.”

The thick scent of burnt earth assailed her senses at her sharp intake of breath, and her stomach rolled. 
Gone?

“He took them.” 

Ember’s eyes focused on the ground, unshed tears making her eyes swim. 

“After the blast I crawled over and found you, but you wouldn’t wake up, and the fires were still burning.  I couldn’t reach Flint or Ven with the fires, but I was able to drag you out before Greyling’s man came looking.”

Through the trees Sylvia could make out the smoking crater Skycity’s bomb had carved out of the earth.  They had been aiming to kill; but what for?

Suddenly Sylvia remembered how Ven hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to his family before he left Meadowcity, and the bile in her stomach rose.

She tried to get to her knees but the pain in her leg brought tears to her eyes.  She drew in a sharp breath as she forced herself up off the ground.  Letting go of the breath, she steadied herself against a tree for a moment, leaning entirely upon her right leg, her fingers gripping the rough tree bark.

Sylvia stumbled forward, wanting to see the crater up close, forcing her body to cooperate.  Catching her balance on passing trees, she reached the tree line, with Ember wordlessly following her, perhaps feeling just as guilty as she.

Between the tree line and the deserted gatehouse, the earth was ripped apart, burnt.  Great chunks of earth and stone scattered the area.  The entire crater was blackened by the fire, and the choking scent of ash brought Sylvia’s shirt to her nose as she tottered forward.

“What about the Scouts guarding the gate?” she asked, peering in that direction.

Between several chunks of upturned rock and earth, she saw a spot of white among the burnt destruction.  She edged closer; sucking in another breath as her leg almost gave out from a little more weight. 

She hadn’t had the courage to look at it yet.

“They went down the Staircase,” Ember began in monotone, reluctantly following Sylvia to the crater, a few paces behind. 

“Greyling and his crew stuck around for about an hour up at the gate waiting while they cleared the stairs enough to let anyone by.  Some of his men were wandering the crater, so I pulled us further back in the trees.  By the time I checked again, they had all gone.”

Only a few more tottering steps, and Sylvia found the tiny wolf cub, mewling and nuzzling up next to its mother, who lay dead under a pile of earthen wreckage.

Ember came up behind her, a few paces back from the cub, “Ohh, the poor thing.”

Sylvia turned to her.

“Poor thing?” Sylvia echoed.  “It’s going to be just as vicious as its mother.”

But then Sylvia remembered her and Ven’s conversation that one night as they walked through the dark, moonlit woods.

“Well, maybe not,” she inched closer, dragging her bad leg, still not wanting to look at it.

“Sylvia, I think you need to sit down so we can take a look at your leg.” 

Ember looked around the grassy plain with her quick grey eyes, so similar to Flint’s.

Sylvia crouched down, putting her weight on her good leg, and teetered back to sit.  She scooted closer to the cub even as her left leg demanded attention.

The cub nuzzled up to its mother’s stomach, accidentally smearing blood onto its soot-covered face.  It mewled again, but its mother wouldn’t answer.  Sylvia reached out for it, and the tiny thing turned to snap at her, but tripped as its hind leg got stuck in a crevice.  She scooped it up and cradled it to her, evading its snapping teeth.

“Sylvia,
what
are you doing?”

“I’m taking him with me.”

“What!  Look, just put that down, and let me look at your leg,” Ember urged, clearly eager to get Sylvia away from the wolf.

“Are you a Healer?” Sylvia absently patted the little wolf’s head, trying to brush off the thick soot.  She earned a snap at her wrist for her efforts.

“No, why?”

“Never mind.  I have an idea.”