Meadowcity Page 7

  She set down her shoulder pack and said, “It’s alright. Let’s set up over there,” pointing to a scattering of several large boulders, which would make an excellent wall to camp against.

  Sylvia, Ven and Flint made their way over. As always, Sylvia’s head swiveled around keeping a sharp eye on the surrounding area. The sandy colored soil here would camouflage a mountain lion’s tan colored coat quite well.

  The good part of traveling with others was that there was strength in numbers against the predators of the forest. Sylvia was actually much safer traveling with Ven and Flint, even if Flint wasn’t the most knowledgeable traveling companion. Though if it came down to a fight, Flint would be a huge liability. Sylvia knew Ven could handle himself.

  Sylvia reached the boulder grouping and set her pack down against one of the large rocks. She began searching for kindling to start a fire, more for protection and comfort than anything. Their food provisions were small, heavy grained foods that filled you up—but didn’t take up a lot of space in your pack—so they didn’t need the fire to cook on. Ven had also said he wouldn’t mind taking down some fresh game, if they came across any.

  She moved around the campsite in a wide circle, studying the area for any signs of lions living in this area. As she walked, she gathered some dry grasses to use for kindling. There was a lot of brush and low bushes in this area, and she had a good look around before returning to their campsite. She didn’t want any surprises in the night.

  Ven and Flint had begun to gather wood in her absence, and already had a good pile started. Sylvia chose the small sticks and branches first as she built up a decent sized fire. From her pack she removed a hard, sleek glass case which held one of her most valuable possessions, her firestarter. A thick wire held together two glass rods, each about the size of a finger. When struck together, they emitted heavy red sparks that would start a fire quite easily. One rod was very dark, almost black, and the other, entirely clear. She had purchased them with her first year’s earnings after becoming a Rider, and it was well worth its exorbitant cost. It worked every time—and she never had to suffer another cold night on the trail because she couldn’t get a fire started.

  Carefully she removed the firestarter from the padding in the case, being sure not to touch the rods together accidentally. Positioning them directly above the tinder, she struck them together once. Big red sparks flew down and immediately the clump of dry grass caught fire. Very carefully, she set aside the firestarter and picked up the lit tinder, cradling it and bringing it slowly to the spot she had created for it in the fire pit, gently blowing on it to keep it alive. After settling it in the heart of the fire pit, she selected some small sticks from the wood pile and stuck them on top of the tiny flames.

  Concentrating on building her fire, she didn’t see Flint pick up her firestarter.

  “Wow, very nice,” he said.

  Sylvia nearly toppled the fire as she was placing a log onto it.

  Ven, apprehension in his voice, said, “Careful now, or you’ll have another burn to match the one on your face.”

  “Hey, fire is something I do know about, okay?” Flint said, sounding proud.

  Sylvia looked up from the fire; Flint held the firestarter carefully as he examined it, clearly making sure not to touch the rods together.

  “This is very good work. Lightcity?”

  Sylvia nodded as she accepted it back from Flint, and returned it to its padded case.

  “There’s nothing like glasstech from Lightcity,” she said.

  The few glass shops in Meadowcity were respectable, but nowhere near as good as Lightcity.

  The sun was slipping fast into the hills as they sat by the fire, relieved to have a rest from the day’s walking. At this pace, they would make it to Riftcity in four more days. Sylvia wondered what it would look like now, after the attack.

  Ven’s thoughts were clearly on the same topic when he said, “So what’s Riftcity like?”

  He sat with his back to one of the boulders, picking apart a small, dark loaf of bread.

  Sylvia stood from the fire, the thicker pieces of wood now cracking and popping with heat. She went to sit by one of the boulders, and took out her own dinner. Her mother had made her provisions for her, as usual, and she smiled as she bit into the dense bread. It was loaded with nuts and seeds, heavy with protein and grains. She got out her water canister and took a sip to wash it down.

  Flint began to speak as he took his own food out of his pack. Sylvia briefly wondered who had given him provisions—Ell maybe.

  “Well, we live in villas carved out of the rock face—there’s two sides facing each other,” he held his hands out facing each other in a V; directing all of this to Ven, since Sylvia had obviously been there before.

  “There’s stairways and paths carved out to get from place to place, and bridges connecting the two faces. I expect the bridges will be damaged the most from the explosions—there might not be a way to get from East to West. The entrance to the city is the Great Staircase—you’ve heard the story—carved out by Kilis himself when he founded the City all those years ago. It’s amazing—the first step at the top is about as wide as one person, but they get wider as you go down. The bottom step is almost as wide as that tree is tall,” he said, pointing to a good sized pine tree outside their camp.

  Sylvia could hear the pride in his voice, almost as if Flint had carved the staircase himself.

  “Then once you’re at the bottom, it splits into two paths—one for East and one for West. The bottom of the steps is where the rift really starts—they had to stop carving steps, right? So that’s where the rock’s been split, and the two faces meet up.”

  Flint took a big bite out of his bread loaf.

  “And you escaped through a back entrance?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, still chewing.

  He swallowed. “I don’t know anyone else who has a tunnel exit, but my family’s been living in that villa for as long as anyone can remember. It went on and on until it came out in some woods east of the city.”

  Ven seemed to be struggling with a thought, and he finally said, “Has anyone ever fallen off the path?”

  Sylvia smiled and Flint laughed good-naturedly.

  “No, you don’t have to worry about falling—there’s low walls that run along the side of the paths.”

  Ven grinned.

  “Good.”

  He brushed crumbs from his hands, “I don’t want to go falling to my death in some far off city.”

  They chuckled, but Sylvia couldn’t help but think about the other things they had to fear—the people from Skycity, and their firebombs. With a pang, Sylvia remembered the fate of Flint’s father, and stopped laughing.

  A thought flashed across Flint’s face, and he started digging in his shoulder pack. Finally, he drew out a small wooden canister, which turned out to hold some cream for his burn. He began to put it on the burn and his features relaxed, looking like a whole different person as it immediately soothed his wound.

  “Forgot that Healer gave me this,” he said as he twisted the wooden lid back on, leaning his head against the rock and looking much more relaxed than before.

  “She your girlfriend, Ven?”

  “Who?” Ven said, his eyes darting to Sylvia and away.

  “The Healer. What’s her name—Caylee.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “She certainly talked about you a lot,” Flint said, grinning. “That, and she wanted to know what you three were up to last night, meeting with me in secrecy.”

  Sylvia grinned as well, she thought Caylee was sweet on Ven, but he didn’t seem to want anything to do with her.

  “Well of course she was curious. The whole city wanted to know why you showed up at our gate all burned and wounded. Your city’s not like that? Meadowcity lives on gossip.”

  Flint shrugged.

  “I guess if a stranger showed up like I did, they’d be pretty curious.”

  He yawne
d hugely.

  “In Riftcity people like to tell stories—they’ll make up stories or read from books, if they have them. Sometimes we’ll gather folks in the Citizen’s Hall and tell stories all night. I guess that keeps us pretty entertained. Ember and I would go together…” he looked off into the darkening woods, trailing off.

  Sylvia couldn’t help but feel terrible for Flint, not even knowing if his older sister was still alive or not. The whole prospect of Riftcity being attacked was so absurd. Why was Skycity even doing this?

  “That back tunnel,” Sylvia said suddenly. “Would you be able to find where it comes out—can we get back in that way?”

  Flint ran his fingers across his severely short hair, his dark eyes deep in thought.

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I was pretty panicked when I came out, and that’s the only time I’ve been through it.”

  “I think that’s our best chance of getting in,” Sylvia said, and Ven nodded in agreement.

  “The Staircase would be pointless—they’d see us coming as soon as we stepped foot on it, plus there’s the gatehouse,” Flint said. “Scaling down the cliff face wouldn’t be great either—we’d be pretty visible that way too, unless we did it at night.”

  Sylvia and Ven both shuddered. Sylvia did not like the idea of scaling down a cliff face at all. She would really rather keep her feet on the ground.

  Sylvia reached to the pack at her feet and untied the deerskin blanket from the front of it. Unrolling it with a practiced movement, she tried to settle her back against the curve of the boulder. It was relatively comfortable compared to some of the places she had spent nights in the woods. Ven and Flint mimicked her and both took out their blankets. Ven scooted a little closer to her and he placed his sheath of arrows at his feet, with his bow in his lap. Flint ignored the boulders and just lay on the ground, propping his head on his shoulder pack, staring at the stars for a long time until finally his eyes closed.

  “What if the tunnel’s blocked?” Ven murmured, his head coming close to her shoulder.

  “Then we’ll just have to find another way in” Sylvia said, almost a whisper.

  As their fire slowly died down to smoldering red embers, Sylvia tried to think about their mission to Riftcity. They mustn’t be seen by anyone from Skycity—if they were seen, Skycity could retaliate against Meadowcity faster than they were already planning. We might not have time to defend ourselves.

  Defense of Meadowcity was going to be tricky as it was. It was hard to pretend that they didn’t live in a city made of wood—Skycity’s firebombs would tear right through it, and destroy it in an instant. Gero had to know that. She figured he would have met with the Council today and told them of the parcel he had received from Greyling. She wondered what their reactions were to the news.

  Shock, of course, but would any of them come up with any ideas to actually defend the city?

  She reluctantly let herself give in to her tiredness, and felt herself drifting towards sleep. She was not looking forward to more nightmares about falling through glass floors.

  Eventually though, Sylvia fell into a half-sleep, which was restful nonetheless. With her eyes closed, she could hear the sounds of the forest around her. Crickets chirped loudly and the slight wind could be heard in the trees as it wound through the leaves. For several hours Sylvia lay against the boulder, relaxed, almost asleep. Too nervous to let go of consciousness.

  Suddenly, she heard a loud crash—was she dreaming?—no, she was awake, and the sound close enough to start her heart hammering against her chest. She could hear the brush moving, and then an aggressive yowl. Then her brain registered exactly what was going on.

  She lifted her head from where it had been resting on Ven’s shoulder, but she didn’t quite remember how it got there. He too, was awake. His eyes met hers as she slowly sat up from the boulder, keeping her movements precise, and to a minimum. The fire was down to barely glowing embers, lighting their clearing in dim red. Sylvia was reaching for her long knife, still sheathed in her boot, when they heard the sound again, but different this time.

  She read Ven’s lips as he mouthed two of them. Then they heard another crash in the brush, closer. They both froze.

  At that moment, Flint’s eyes snapped open. He started to sit up but his eyes met Sylvia’s and he too froze.

  They’re fighting, Sylvia mouthed to Ven, her ears straining for every sound, trying to determine how close they were. Sylvia could feel her heart pounding, the adrenaline surging through her body. For a long time, they listened to the lions fighting; crashing through bushes, and making the most terrible sounds. Eventually the noises drew further off, and began to move away from their campsite. She relaxed her grip on the knife infinitesimally.

  After a long time, the sounds grew even further and the danger seemed to wane. Sylvia’s fingers on her knife were stiff from holding it so tightly, so she flexed them and readjusted her grip. All three of them remained frozen around their near-dark campsite as their ears sought each sound the predators made in the distance, searching for any sign of them returning this way. They could still hear the yowling in the distance, sounding more and more fierce, though further away each time.

  If they turned back this way, Sylvia was sure it would end badly. She did not often encounter lions fighting each other. She hadn’t seen any signs of lions in this area. Were they fighting over territory? She knew that they did not like to share their territory, which is what made the woods so dangerous for people: the whole forest was their territory.

  Sylvia’s ears strained for what felt like hours listening to every sound the two lions made. She began to picture them fighting in her head: viciously slashing at each other with their strong paws, lunging at each other’s throats with their jaws wide, trying to make that fatal bite.

  After what felt like the whole night, Sylvia finally relaxed her grip on the knife and flexed her white fingers. She didn’t put it back in her boot, but rested it across her lap, her fingers curled around the leather grip. Ven, too, held his loaded bow across his lap as he sat back into the boulder. They could no longer hear any sounds of the lions fighting. They softly agreed to stay put. It would be more dangerous to go wandering when they knew two lions were about, fighting.

  When Sylvia next opened her eyes, she couldn’t even remember closing them. But the sun was staring her right in the face as it hung above the tree line. The night had passed, and they were safe.

  “Time to get up boys,” she said, hoping to keep the mood light today after such a rough night.

  Tensions could run high with too little sleep and too much fear, something she knew too well from experience. It was far too early in the journey for them to become exhausted.

  Sylvia began to roll up her deerskin blanket as she thought over last night. If Flint wasn’t scared of the woods before, he sure would be now.

  She thought over the route the trail would take them today. She wasn’t as familiar with it as some others, but she felt safest on this deserted path. The fact that their night had been interrupted by two fighting lions was not as worrisome as the prospect of running into anyone from Skycity. Sylvia at least knew how to fight lions.

  Sylvia removed her breakfast from her pack, took a sip of water from her canister, and stood, turning towards the west. As she took her first bite out of the heavy brown bread, this one with apples baked into it, she saw Flint was still sitting against his boulder, applying his cream to the burn on his face. Ven stood nearby, scanning the area with a keen eye, his bow in hand. Sylvia kicked her boot up against the boulder in front of her and readjusted her laces, then checked that her knife was in good position.

  Flint finished with his burn cream and stood, quickly shutting his pack. The three of them left the campsite, all very eager to leave this place.

  Chapter Ten

  Sorin awoke on Summer’s End uncomfortably curled up in his office chair, having fallen asleep with the book all but cradled in his hands. Not seein
g the sun yet through his window, he decided to read through the book once more until it was a reasonable hour to visit Onen in the Library.

  Once the sun peeked through his wide panel window, he straightened and stretched, going to the hook by the window to retrieve his black leather satchel. He took a heavy folder off his desk and emptied its contents, slipped the prized novel in, and then placed it in his satchel. He spared a quick glance at the surrounding mountains, still mostly shaded this side of the sun, and walked out of his office and down the hall.

  His footsteps echoed through the corridor on the thick glass floor as he strode down the hallway. The shaded mountainside beneath his feet blended with the grey stone walls around him. The early sunlight followed him through the small square windows to his right. The glass panels were set in a checkered pattern with the stone, and they were so thick that only the light passed through.

  As the long corridor opened up to the bright foyer, he barely noticed the elaborate red and gold decorations that now adorned the open room. A great deal of noise was coming from the Great Room just to his left off the foyer, where his aides would be preparing for the feast this afternoon, but he ignored it.

  He aimed for the front door, the elaborate glasswork glinting in every direction from the rising sun.

  “Governor Greyling, you’re here early!”

  The feminine voice came from just outside the Great Room, where one of his assistants, Savannah stood precariously balanced on a wooden stool, hanging a wide red and gold ribbon above the entryway. She wore slim fawn colored leggings and a flowing peach silk shirt, elegant enough for the festival; but Sorin knew that she had quite polished taste, and would more likely have an elegant gown to wear for Summer’s End.

  He glanced back at the door, and then to Savannah, who was teetering on her stool as she tried to push a small pin into the wooden frame, her silky black hair swinging as she moved. He made his way over to her.

  “Just some last minute prepa—” he shot his arms out to steady her hips just as the stool tipped to the right.