The Fifth City (20 page)

Thirty

Ven grabbed Flint by the arm.  “Dahlia and Tems,” was all he said, and understanding fled through Flint’s eyes.
They had been gone too long.

“I’ll go get the others,” Flint insisted, then turned and ran, leaving Ven alone to panic.

Had they run into trouble at the barracks and gotten caught?  Ven jogged back to where Dahlia and Tems had disappeared into the shadows, and he peered down the lane.  From their maps, Ven knew the barracks should be down this lane and one block over, at the city square.

Then, he heard a sound that made his insides freeze.

A girl’s scream.

Ven was halfway down the alley when he next heard Tems’ shout up ahead in the distance.

“Leave her alone!” Tems cried.

Footsteps pounded behind Ven and he turned to see that Flint had followed.  The rest of the group stood at the mouth of the alley, eyes wide.

“What do we do?” Flint implored in a whisper.

“I don’t know—”

“Shh—someone’s coming!”

They drew back at the sound of footsteps and huddled into the shadow of a short staircase.  Ven saw the Defenders at the end of the alley pull away to hide.

“What are you up to, eh?” a crass voice demanded, and then he heard Dahlia yelp in pain.

“Let go of me!” she shouted.

Another man spoke, this one’s voice low and gravelly.  “They’ve got our orbs out on the street corner, what does it look like they’re doing?”

“Who you working for, then?” the first man insisted.

“N-No one,” Dahlia stuttered through what sounded like tears of pain.

They heard a scuffle, then the sound of a fist meeting flesh.

“Oh, boy, you need to be a little quicker than that,” the uncouth man spat, and again they heard Tems take a hit.

Ven’s knuckles had turned white from gripping the knife he had unsheathed.  These two Scouts needed to be taken care of, or their whole plan was ruined.

But then the second man spoke again.

“You thought you’d steal some of these for your own, eh, girl?”

Dahlia gasped.

Ven dared to peek out from the stairs, and his eyes met a horrid scene.  Tems was struggling to break free of a muscular Scout’s vice-like grip, while a more stout man held Dahlia by her bicep; the Rider was down on her knees, her hair over her face.

The stout man held an orb in his hand.

Ven quit breathing.  They needed to do something.  Now.

He did the first thing that came to mind.  He stood from the shadows and shouted at the men, “Hey!”

At that same moment, Tems made a bid for freedom, and rocked the muscular Scout off his balance.  The short Scout turned at Ven’s voice, but the flailing Scout knocked the shining orb from the man’s hand.

It flew upwards, and Ven didn’t have time to wonder where it would land as he seized Flint and ran full tilt for the end of the alley.

“Go,” he roared as they ran, and the explosion ripped through the stone villas behind them.

He and Flint fell to the ground, but they scrambled up immediately and burst out of the alley before a second, earth shattering explosion went off.  The stockpile from the barracks.

The group had already started running—but which way was safe?

“This way,” Ven bellowed, pointing to the front gate.  No crates lay in that direction.

The others followed as they sprinted for safety, all the while explosions erupted in a violent chain-reaction behind them.

Each one shook the streets and nearly threw them to the ground, and the air was suddenly scorching.  Everything was happening so quickly.  Ven’s heart felt like it might just explode any second as they raced for the wall.

He chanced a look behind him as they reached the wall and they struggled to find a way out.

A wide swath of roaring fires had spread through the center of the city; the explosions finally done with.  But this wasn’t ordinary fire, it was the fire made from special compounds mixed just for this purpose—destroying cities.

What had they done?

Thirty One

Before opening her eyes, a smile curved up Sylvia’s lips as she savored the warmth and solidity of her bed.  The soft sheets and fluffy pillow caressed her skin and she inhaled the warmth of the fire-lit room.

But even the smallest movement brought forth incredible stiffness, and the memories of the Trial on the cliff flooded her brain.  Her shoulders, arms, and legs ached all at once when she tried to sit up, and her fingers were so stiff with pain that she couldn’t even move them.  Many of her fingernails were jagged and torn to the quick from scrabbling for holds, and the skin was cracked and sore.

Her only positive thought was that at least the next Trial wasn’t for another week, and it couldn’t possibly be as bad.  Or, at least, she didn’t imagine she would have to climb another cliff.

She limped her way to the washroom, but it took a good several minutes to start a bath; her stiff fingers were nearly useless trying to turn the taps.

A small container sat on the counter, with a note underneath.  She opened it awkwardly with her stiff fingers, and a soothing scent assailed her nose.  Lavender.  She dumped the entire jar into the bath, then picked up the piece of paper.

It was a short note:

              Looking forward to your creativity at the next Trial.

                            -N

N? 
Was this from Lady Naomi?  She tottered her aching body over to the high walls of the tub and slid herself into the heavenly warm water.  She slipped her hands in last and hissed through her teeth at the sting, as her scraped and swollen hands adjusted to the water.  She swirled the water around and the soothing bath soak dispersed.

As her muscles soaked in the calming water, Sylvia wondered if Lady Naomi had given all of the initiates something for their aches.   But for some reason, she didn’t think the Lady would do that.

The Lady seemed to have a strange liking for Sylvia, which the Rider no longer resented.  If it got her through these Trials, and got her help for Meadowcity, she didn’t mind it one bit.

But last night, she had sensed she might have gone a little too far questioning the Lady in front of the crowd.  How was she supposed to know that Faye was safe?  And then she remembered Lena’s confidence that Seascape wouldn’t let anything bad happen to the initiates.  Sylvia sighed and sunk lower into the water.

It felt like she soaked for hours.  She even refilled the tub with hot water a few more times, telling herself that her muscles needed it.  She wiggled her fingers and toes every so often, trying not to let them stiffen up again.

What her muscles really needed, though, was movement; unless she wanted the stiffness to last even longer.  She drained the tub and decided she would take a walk through the halls of the castle.  Even if Oliver found her and escorted her back to her room, the stretch would be worth it.

She glimpsed the sunlit ocean in her looking-glass as she came out of the washroom.  A shiver ran up her spine as she remembered her close-up view of that same cliff last night.

For the first time, she wondered how the image of the shore really came to be in the looking-glass.  She strayed toward the looking-glass to study it.  How was the image being taken?

Sylvia was almost sure Lady Naomi had a way to spy on parts of Arcera, as far away as Lightcity, so there must be some mechanism that recorded these images and…. what?  Sent them back to datastrands?  The same way they could send communications over the link?

She blinked a few times, her mind swirling, trying to wrap itself around ideas that she had never even thought to consider.

Shaking her head, she broke her daze, and remembered the walk she had promised herself.  But first….

She strode over to her wardrobe and retrieved her earlink that she had carefully stored last night in the drawer.  Slipping her fingers between folds of fabric, she also located the datawoven half-sleeve that Atlan had given her.  She pulled it on underneath the knit sweater she wore, and grabbed a muffin from the breakfast tray someone had left.  She slipped out the door and into the hallway, earlink tucked inside her right ear.

Since marking her way had failed entirely the first time she had tried exploring, Sylvia decided to wander aimlessly, knowing that either Oliver would eventually locate her, or she would somehow find her way back.  The place couldn’t be that big.  She bit into her muffin and turned left.

Slippers soft on the stone floor, Sylvia walked down corridor after corridor, taking a few staircases up here and there, and actually feeling like she might be rising from the bowels of the castle for once.

That was, until she heard footsteps behind her and someone call her name.

“Sylvia?”

She sighed, turning, but it wasn’t the blonde hair and smiling face of Oliver that met her gaze, but Atlan, hands in his pockets, grinning mischievously at her.  Her stomach did a flip.

“Oh, Atlan.”  She looked up and down the hallway, but it was just them.

He grinned and came closer.

“What are you up to?” he asked, also glancing down the halls.

“Just….stretching my legs,” she said, absently rolling her aching shoulders.

“Stiff?”

She nodded.  For some reason she felt like they shouldn’t be here, and she was getting that same impression from Atlan.

“Same,” he replied.  Then he said in a rush, “You want to get out of here?”

Sylvia met his bright grey eyes and nodded without hesitation.  What she wouldn’t give for some fresh air—when she wasn’t hanging by her fingertips on a cliff.

He glanced around again and grabbed her arm, turning them back in the direction Sylvia had come from, leading them at a quick pace.  Perhaps they really
weren’t
supposed to be out and about.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Sylvia murmured as they turned down another identical corridor, her skin tingling strangely where his hand was wrapped casually around her arm.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, and she believed him.

Atlan turned them down another corridor and headed toward a narrow stone staircase, leading them down even further, and Sylvia faltered. “Aren’t we going outside?”

He let go of her arm and gestured for her to go before him.  “Yeah, but we’re not going out the front,” was all he said.

She obeyed and trotted down the stairs, pausing at the bottom for him to lead again.  She almost hoped he would grab her arm again, but he didn’t.

As they continued, the corridors became less and less like the ones Sylvia had seen so far during her stay—they didn’t shine as brightly white, and the thresholds and doorways looked much older, less pleasing to the eye.  A mildewy scent made her wrinkle her nose, and it almost reminded her of the tunnels in Riftcity.

The glowing ceiling panels were replaced with lamps that hung from the walls, more like the kind they had in Meadowcity.

This must be an older part of the castle,
she speculated.  Where could he be leading her?  She knew her rooms were underground, but how much further down could the castle go?

Atlan finally stopped at a metal door at the end of a long, dusty hallway and he pushed on a horizontal bar that clunked the door open.

A crack of beautiful sunlight penetrated the hall and Sylvia inhaled the sweet scent of
fresh
air, closing her eyes momentarily in bliss.

Atlan had already slipped through the door, and Sylvia followed, eager to get out into the sun.  A grimy stairwell greeted her, but the sun shone down from above, and she quickly followed Atlan up.

They emerged onto a barren hill, and Sylvia could tell they weren’t far from the sea.

She smiled and soaked up the warm afternoon sun on her face.  She looked over at Atlan, hands in his pockets again, and said, “Thank you.”

He shrugged and gave her a quick smile.

“Hey, I’m serious!” She laughed.  “I don’t know how anyone can stand living underground, inside all the time.”

He shrugged again.  “You up for a hike?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Sure,” she said, appraising the hillside.  She didn’t know if her legs were up to it, but she was certainly interested in exploring Seascape, and there was Atlan, of course.

He led them up and around the grassy hill, and Sylvia could now see the sea in the distance, off the edge of what looked like a steep drop off.  Sylvia was all too familiar with Seascape’s high cliffs over the sea.  Atlan headed inland toward a large copse of trees.

Sylvia was still amazed by the presence of the sea.  It wasn’t something you merely
saw
—no, it was the salty wind constantly blowing; it was the sound of waves beating out their rhythm like breath in and out.  Never in her life had she experienced something so wonderful.  She had always been surrounded by trees, of course— living in Meadowcity with its treewall, and constantly traveling the woods between cities—but trees lived and breathed silently, they swayed with the wind, their leaves came and went: they simply
were
.  The sea was different.  The sea was alive.

She almost ran into Atlan, who had stopped walking and was looking at her funny.

“Did you say something?” she said, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks.

Atlan chuckled.

“I asked how you were liking Seascape,” he said, giving her a sly grin that was becoming quite familiar to Sylvia.  She knew exactly who he got it from.

They began walking again, still aiming for the trees.

“Well, aside from the torture and deadly cliff scaling, it’s been great!”

Atlan snorted at her sarcasm.

“But really, it’s fascinating.  I mean, the technology, it’s not even close to what the Four Cities have.  I can sort of see why Greyling wanted in so badly,” she looked sideways at him.  She still somewhat blamed Seascape for Greyling’s violent reaction.

The son of Lady Blackwater looked sad, but remained quiet.

They kept walking in silence, the new grass springy under their feet, and Sylvia began to feel bad for putting him on the spot like that.

They began talking at the same time.

“You probably didn’t have anything to do with it—”

“I didn’t find out until after he’d gone—”

They both stopped and grinned at each other sheepishly.

She gestured for him to keep talking.  They had entered the trees and the sunlight now came and went in brief spotlights.

“Lady Naomi—she did show a live vid of the meeting with him, and citizens were allowed to have their input, but I didn’t have an earlink at the time, and until you pass the Trials, you don’t really get a say.

“I think most people thought it wouldn’t cause such a mess—well, most people still don’t care much, since nothing’s happened to Seascape, and isn’t likely to,” he trailed off.

“But what about the Four Cities?” Sylvia interjected.  “We’re fighting for our lives and no one here cares?”

She had stopped walking without meaning to.  She huffed and went on, picking her way around the woods, which was strikingly green now that winter was over.  Moss covered most of the trees and even the dirt smelled good.

“Not—not everyone feels that way,” Atlan said, and she could tell he was getting frustrated.

She felt bad for taking her anger out on him.  If he hadn’t even known about Greyling’s meeting, what could he have done?

She changed the subject.

“So how can you tell where you’re going in the castle?  Everything looks exactly the same to me.”

Atlan actually grinned, probably knowing she was changing the subject on purpose, but the skin around his bright eyes crinkled in delight.

“I’ve only just gotten a map of the layout, actually,” he said, and thumped the vest he wore, which Sylvia only now realized was datawoven fabric.  She hadn’t noticed, since the smooth fabric shone a silver grey, instead of the usual shimmering black.  He must have figured out how to change the colors already.

She cocked her head, intrigued.  “A map of the layout?”

“Yes, I’ll share,” he said with a grin, clearly knowing she was about to ask for it.