Meadowcity (14 page)

“I’m going to go scout the area then.  This close to Riftcity, we need to be careful.” 

She headed back to the moss by the stream and walked up it for a minute or two.  The stream babbled happily on her right until she turned to begin a circle around the campsite. 

As she paced out the wide perimeter, she studied the forest around them, looking for signs of the lions, or other people in the area.  She completed her circle without seeing any tracks or signs on the surrounding trees.  Lions like to sharpen their claws by raking them down tree trunks.  She hoped they would have a quiet night. They all needed it.

She returned to the campsite and Flint caught her eye and asked, “All clear?”

“No, I’ve got two lions tracking me down, I thought I’d bring them back to camp,” she joked, sitting down at the base of her tree and stretching her legs out.

Ven laughed and Flint shrugged, chuckling sheepishly.

Sylvia took her knife and thrust it down into the ground next to her as she sat.  She reached into her pack for something to eat, coming up with another breadloaf.  She bit into it, tilting her head back to rest on the tree, chewing.

The woods were bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, and the air crisp and clean.  Arcera was beautiful when you stopped to look at it, but lately it was turning dark and threatening.  Sylvia hoped they would all live to celebrate Summer’s End.

At that happy thought, her head perked up as she suddenly remembered she had an apple in her pack.  She had been saving it, and now seemed like the perfect time.  It was the calm before the storm, and she didn’t know if she would get to eat it any other time.

She stuck her hand in her pack to dig for the prized apple.  Retrieving it with a grin, she bit into it loudly. 

Both Flint and Ven looked up at the sound. 

“What?” she said, mouth full.

Ven grinned, “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’ve been saving it,” she said defensively after she swallowed.

“Hey, if you don’t want to share...” Ven held up his hands.

Sylvia sighed.  Yanking her knife out of the dirt and wiping it off on her leg, she then sliced off a piece for Ven and tossed it to him.  She raised her eyebrows at Flint indicating the apple in her hands.  He smiled at her and nodded, eyes wide.  Reluctantly she sliced off another piece.

Stabbing the knife back in the ground with a little more force than necessary, Sylvia bit back into her apple, much smaller than when she had started.

“We don’t grow apples in Riftcity,” Flint said, taking a small, precise bite out of his apple.  “I had one once when a Rider came back with some to trade though.”

Sylvia remembered vaguely that they grew lots of vegetables in Riftcity, but not a lot of fruit.  Something about the soil they had there. Not to mention it was probably hard to grow trees on the cliff face.

Meadowcity’s farming quarter housed the bulk of food and grains for the city.  Each villa also grew a portion of their own food, and very often traded with their neighbors.  Sylvia’s family traded for apples from their neighbors, the Charwoods.

Sylvia had never gotten a close look at how Riftcity produced their food; Ven was obviously wondering the same thing when he asked Flint, “So how do you...grow—anything?”

Flint chuckled.

“Same as you, I suppose.”

Ven just looked puzzled.

“In the ground, I mean.”

“Above Riftcity?”

“No way, we never go up there.  The lions are vicious out there; they actually come right up to the edge of the cliff sometimes.  The farming level is down below everything else.  It was designed way after the city was first built—they didn’t have to grow as much food as we do now.”

“It’s the lowest part of the city, so we have these reflective glass panels angled down—” Flint illustrated with his hands, “—to give the plants light.  Below the Staircase the farming level keeps going down, but with these really big ‘steps’.  I don’t really know how they do it, but I know the farmers are always experimenting with the soil—it’s too rocky.  But we manage."

Sylvia and Ven thought about it for several minutes as they finished their pieces of apple.

“So.  Tomorrow we’ll make it to Riftcity,” Sylvia said.  “I think before we go looking up and down for the opening to the tunnel, I want to get as close as we can to the city and get a good look at what’s going on.”

Flint and Ven both nodded.

“Can we stay at the edge and get a look at the gate and the city, do you think?” she asked.

“We’re coming up from the south?” Flint asked.

Sylvia nodded.

“Yeah, that should work.  There’s a clearing between the edge and the woods though, so we’ll have to make sure we come out far from the gatehouse and creep up.  We’ll be able to see the city from the edge—but everything’s about two hundred feet down.”

Ven shuddered.

“It’s weird planning how to break into your own city,” Flint said suddenly.

Sylvia met his eyes and looked away.  Ven shifted uncomfortably, while Flint stared at his boots.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ven said.  “None of us have any clue what’s going on—we’ll just have to find out is all.”

Flint clapped his hands together and said, “Well, I better get to sleep if I’ve got a watch to do later.” 

He gave a lopsided grin to Ven and Sylvia and settled himself onto the ground, wedging himself right up to the log.

Sylvia looked at Ven and half shrugged. Sylvia stood and handed him her knife in what was now routine.  She untied her spear from her pack and all but cuddled up with it at the base of her tree. 

With her eyes half closed, Sylvia looked up at the sky through the latticework of branches.  The sun had mostly set but was still throwing light, the deep blue directly above her faded down to a soft white by the horizon.

“Make sure Flint wakes me up,” she said softly.

“I doubt he’ll have trouble remembering,” Ven said, and she could hear the smile in his hushed voice.

As she closed her eyes, she thought she saw the first star of the night wink into existence.

Chapter Sixteen
 

Sorin blinked hard as his eyes began to water in the late afternoon light of his office.  Looking back down at the map, he squinted as he sectioned off another area of Arcera with his pen, carefully rolling the ink over a ridge in the land.

Since the search had begun, his map of Arcera had grown in definition, but they seemed no closer to finding the fifth city, or any evidence that it might have ever even existed.  Every few weeks a lone Scout would report back to him, each time his hope igniting, but when the Scout opened his or her mouth he knew they were still no closer to finding it.

He shrugged his fur cape closer about his shoulders as a chill crept through the wide stone room.  Now that Midwinter had passed, the days were on their way to getting longer and warmer, but they were still in the thick of the cold season.  His boots slid silently across the fur carpet under his desk as he stretched back in his chair, finally pulling his eyes away from the map for what felt like the first time in hours.

Across the room, the fire crackled in its place along the stone wall, and the promise of warmth drove him from his desk.  Boots scuffing against the thick glass floor, he reached the mantle and rubbed his eyes once more, remembering standing here with Savannah not long ago.

A smile crept up on his face as he recalled her visit this morning.  She had stopped by on her way to the bookseller’s store, where she now worked.

Since Summer’s End, they hadn’t gone too many days without seeing each other, even if only to say hello.  It was an unspoken pairing, and Sorin liked it that way.  Unspoken nonetheless, Savannah decided to take a job outside of the Hall, to avoid even the possibility of rumors.

Glaslyn of course found out, or at least didn’t seem surprised when Sorin asked her to find Savannah a position outside of the Hall.  The woman found Savannah a job opening at Skycity’s most prestigious bookseller—right next to the Library.  It turned out Savannah had beautiful handwriting, and was doing quite well reproducing books.  He missed seeing her working in the Hall, but he needed to maintain his professionalism more than ever now.

The search for the fifth city had to be getting closer, he just knew it.  Once found, he would be the one to reveal it to all of Arcera.  His thoughts drifted to the book locked in his bottom desk drawer.  The shabby leather binding encasing those stiff, water-logged pages drew his attention daily.

He wasn’t being greedy, he told himself again.  He was just trying to fit all of the facts together, and make sure they were true before revealing anything to the public.  It was only a matter of time before they found the evidence.

The book, which he had titled
The Founding,
didn’t give any clue as to where the city would be.  When Sorin had finally questioned Falx about the book, Falx had only said he found it among stones by the river, on his way back from Lightcity.  They had pulled out a map of Arcera, and begun to section off areas as they were searched.

The expanse of Arcera was a comfortable mystery to most people.  The Four Cities were so consumed with their inner affairs that most citizens never thought outside of them.  That, and the dangers the wilds held kept curious travelers at home.  Riders had no reason to travel anywhere besides between the Cities, and only knew the paths between—because no one paid them to go wandering around the abandoned wilds.  Since their search had begun, Sorin and his Scouts were discovering more of Arcera, but still had no evidence of another civilization.

Growing up, Sorin had watched a few of his schoolmates as they were groomed by their parents to become Riders, and he had envied them.  They would always come back in the city with marvelous stories of the wilds, or the other Cities and their wonders.  At home in Skycity, Sorin learned from his father how to become a leader, and how the city’s government was held, as was expected of him as first born child.  He craved the stories he would hear whispered at the back of the school house and then boasted about during free time.  Stories of Meadowcity’s enormous tree gate, towering over the forest; Riftcity, and its villas carved right out of the cliff face.  He was enraptured by tales of the mountain lions, and close calls with wolves. 

Only a few weeks after Sorin had gained the seat of Governor, though, one of his former schoolmates, Devon, went missing on a journey to Riftcity.  His father, who had trained him, had searched for months, but the fledgling Rider was never found. From the safety of their walls and high mountain, his family and friends mourned. 

On his first trip outside of Skycity, during his first year as Governor, Sorin travelled to Lightcity accompanied by several accomplished Riders—it wouldn’t do to have incompetent protection for the city’s leader.  Every other year, each Governor made a trip to one of the other three Cities, as a sign of positive connectivity. 

Sorin remembered vividly his first few hours on the trail as they descended the mountain.  His Rider companions were gathered loosely about him, each sporting his or her own capable looking weapon, for which he was grateful.  His thoughts had briefly flitted to Devon, whose father never found him out in the wilds, likely torn apart by wolves.  But then he gathered his thoughts, not wanting the Riders to think their young Governor was afraid.

The Riders were a smart bunch and conquered the trail easily.  They had a few professional arguments about which routes to take along the way, since they didn’t often travel in packs, but finally after four days on the trail they reached Lightcity.  The wide mountains dissipated into a flat plain, and the city glowed like a false sunset in the distance.

He tried not to gape at the foreign city, since the Riders were used to these sights and more. 

Being the youngest Governor to ever hold Skycity, his naivety and inexperience was something he tried to keep in check always.  The other Governors had all held their Cities for quite a while, each continuing to garner their City’s annual vote of acceptance with enthusiasm.  Sorin had cast his lot in for Governor when old Mountbreeze had retired—the man had held Skycity for more than twenty years.

Sorin had finally gotten to see all of the sights that he had only heard descriptions of as a child.  After a few years, he had finally seen all of the Cities, met each of the Governors, and had traveled the roads of Arcera, something he never dreamed he would do as a mere councilman or city planner.

Forearm resting on the mantle; he gazed at the fire, now barely flickering over the hot coals.  How he wished he could be out searching now.  But he couldn’t just leave.  There wasn’t even an ambassadorial trip planned for another few months.

The questions that had been nagging him since the discovery of the book bubbled up once again:
Was the fifth city even real?  Why hadn’t anyone heard of it before?

There were countless books in the libraries and booksellers that told of the founding story.  Every child was taught the history in lessons.  But
The Founding
was different than all of the other tales.  The unnamed author tells of a fifth character—Karalyn, the eldest of the five.

The author writes that Karalyn was the one to suggest the idea to unite the land by bringing people together in cities—close enough for travel and trade, but far enough apart so that they could be separate entities.  The war torn land should be united, but not too closely.

Sorin thought there must have been some sort of scandal or conflict that ousted her from history.  Why would her and her city be left out, forgotten?

The respite from staring at the map seemed to help his eyes, which he now focused on the windows, showing what remained of the sunset.  The silhouette of the surrounding hills contrasted with a deep orange sky.

The book was the catalyst, but it held no answers anymore, it only posed questions.  Where was the fifth city?  Why was Karalyn left out of history?  Sorin let out a frustrated breath and shook his head.  He was thinking in circles.

There was nothing he could conceivably do from the safety of his office.  He paced by the fireside, and ran a hand through his thick hair, bringing up the memory of Savannah’s hands running through it this morning.

They had spent many evenings together this past month particularly, sharing dinner, sometimes taking walks through the Hall’s garden when no one was around.

He felt he could be himself around her, not just some young politician trying to prove himself, trying to prove he was capable.  They shared stories of their different upbringings: he told her of all his days spent following his father around the Citizen’s Hall, and their debates at home as his father tested him on speaking skills.

The only thing he hadn’t shared with her was the book.  He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about it just yet—he had to wait until he was sure.  What if it was wrong?  What if he had put all of this effort into finding the fifth city, when it never even existed?

Pursing his lips, he remembered his conversation with Onen, after the man had validated the age of the book.  Onen was the only other one who knew about it besides the small company of Scouts, led by Falx.

Sorin immediately snapped out of his reverie.  Glancing at his windows, he remembered he was supposed to meet Falx this evening.  The man had asked him to meet after dusk, by the city’s main gate.  It was a mysterious request, but the large man wasn’t much for words, he had only said he had something to show him.  If it had been the discovery of the elusive city, he would have told him straight out.

He strode over to his desk and began rolling up his map, pulling a key from his vest pocket and unlocking his bottom desk drawer.  Tucking his map away with the book, he re-locked the drawer with a satisfying snick of metal.

He left his office, the heavy wooden door thudding shut as he made his way down the dim corridor.  From beneath his feet, odd shadow and light patterns reflected through the thick glass floor as the sunset faded further into night.

Reaching the Hall’s circular foyer, he peeked his head into Glaslyn’s office to say goodnight.  Her steely curls bounced as she waved, eyes already returning to a ledger set across her desk. 

As hard as it was to keep
The Founding
from Savannah, it was doubly hard to keep it from Glaslyn.  The woman watched over the entire goings on in the Hall like a hawk.  Though he supposed it kept him on task as Governor—it was impossible to fall behind on his work with Glaslyn checking in with notes on council meetings, or to drop off an inter-city treatise to sign.

Stepping into the cold night, Sorin breathed in the freezing mountain air before descending the Hall steps, slipping his hands deep into his pockets.  The streets had been cleared of the recent snows, but the chill deepened as the sun drew even further from the horizon.  Instead of taking the roundabout processional way towards the gate, he headed for the more direct route, down the side streets.

The cold bit at his face, the only part of him not covered, and he turned his head down to give it respite from the almost constant mountain breeze.  He strode down one last lane and turned onto the processional street, straight for the gate. 

He could see several figures standing outside of the gatehouse, one unmistakably had to be Falx.  The man towered above the other two, his scraggly beard visible even from where Sorin approached.

Sorin slowed, unsure as to who else was at the gate, and what Falx even wanted to show him.  The sound of his footsteps echoed off the city’s wall as he approached, and the men’s voices rumbled to a halt.

The other two men withdrew as Falx stepped forward to meet Sorin, reaching out to shake his hand.  Sorin quickly returned his own hand back to his warm fur pocket as Falx nodded to the gate.

“We’ve got to go outside the gate, and I’ll show you,” came from somewhere behind that beard.

Sorin glanced around the wide street, empty here at the edge of the city. 

“Outside?” 

What could he
possibly
have to show him out there? 
But Sorin’s hope rose.  It must have
something
to do with the fifth city.

The two men at the gate took a silent cue from Falx, and Sorin noticed that the gate wasn’t fully secure; the bolt only crossed one door.  The men pushed the door open enough for Falx and Sorin to walk through. 

As the last of the natural light faded, they stepped outside the stone wall where the only light came through the windows of the gatehouse, throwing their long shadows down the dim mountainside.