Meadowcity Read online

  Sorin sat in the sturdy wooden chair in front of Onen’s desk and leaned forward. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out the book. He could practically feel the blood humming through his veins as he held it. Giving it a last soft squeeze, he handed it to Onen.

  The older man carefully took the book, clearly noting Sorin’s caution with it.

  “What is it?” he asked plainly, his soft brown eyes meeting Sorin’s as he gently thumbed through the pages.

  Sorin took a breath, “You’ll never guess.”

  *

  After entrusting the book to Onen, Sorin returned home to get cleaned up. After spending those few hours dozing in his office chair, he would need to be much more presentable before he returned to the Hall for the feast later.

  An hour later he found himself climbing the massive stone staircase to the Citizen’s Hall, the sun shining down on him and warming his stiff shoulders. He pulled open the door, eyes landing on the glasswork seal of Skycity decorating the panel by the handle. The beautifully carved seal glinted cheerfully at him in the morning light.

  Once he stepped inside, the brightness of the sun was intensified as it shone through the wide sky windows. Sorin’s eyes roved around the round room, now decorated even more elaborately for the holiday.

  No one was in sight, but upon his entrance he heard a sharp tapping come from the tiny office tucked into the left wall. His Secretary of the City Glaslyn appeared, her sturdy black heels click-clacking on the smooth glass floor.

  “Sorin,” she said warmly, genuine surprise in her voice. Cocking her head to the side she said, “What brings you in this early?”

  It was indeed rare for him to come to the Hall early on Summer’s End, and everyone knew it. He grinned, hoping he didn’t look too sheepish. Normally, he would avoid the place until the feast began when he would have to make appearances.

  Glaslyn stood with a clipboard in one hand, her long wavy brown hair down for once, half of it streaked through with grey. She wore a deep red dress that flowed to the floor, intricately woven with golden thread at the hem, clearly meant for the festival.

  Sorin took a few steps towards the center of the foyer, glad he had cleaned up and changed for the festival, a sleek deep grey top over his smoothest black leather leggings.

  “You know, I thought I’d stop in and see how preparations were going.”

  The older woman raised one eyebrow very slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a smile.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve come for more than speeches,” he carried on, eyeing the decorations in the circular room. “I was in the middle of a project, but I’ve reached a stopping point,” he shrugged.

  He preferred not to talk to Glaslyn about his books— he knew she didn’t approve of anything that could distract him from his role as Governor.

  Glaslyn had been the Secretary of the City since before Sorin even became Governor five years ago. She was a steely woman, who seemed to gain most of her joy in life from planning or organizing. Sorin had known her long before taking office, from his visits to the Hall when his father had been Head Councilman.

  A smile spread across her face, forming thin creases around her eyes, if still perhaps a little suspicious.

  “Lovely. Yes, well, they’ve just finished setting up the Great Room; all that’s left is setting out the food.”

  She headed towards the Great Room and Sorin followed her, silent in his flat soled boots.

  He looked up as they passed under the ribbon he had helped hang this morning. His gaze continued to the Great Room’s ceiling as they entered, immediately narrowing his eyes again at the bright light after passing through the darker doorway.

  The ceiling was an elaborate dome, made up of hundreds of glass panels, each worked with different designs creating an amazing display of light, duplicating it and sending it across the room in all angles.

  “Not long now,” Glaslyn said, “and we’ll have citizens pounding down the door.”

  The attendants were bringing in baskets of apples and bread loaves, great plates piled with roast corn and squash, and heaping platters of cooked meat. The long tables that held the feast ran around the perimeter of the room, each practically groaning under the weight of the abundant meal. Barrels of apple cider were being stacked at the far end by the enormous glass window wall that would showcase the sunset. Sorin’s stomach growled at the smell of it all, not having had dinner last night, or even breakfast yet today.

  A little after noon, Skycitizens would come for the feast, lingering for the conversation. As the sun started to set, speeches would be made by the city’s leaders until the citizens filtered out, beginning the less formal celebrations in the street.

  Glaslyn’s eyes roved over the room, no doubt cataloguing the progress of the setup. The woman kept a tight rein on the affairs of the Hall, and she was incredibly valuable to Sorin, who detested organizing things like feasts and meetings.

  Sorin, too, let his eyes roam around the room, lingering for a moment on a girl in a flowing blue shirt, but when she turned for the hall to the kitchen, he saw that it was another of Glaslyn’s assistants, Marie.

  Glaslyn looked down at her clipboard.

  “Well, sir, would you like a plate made up and sent to your office before the crowd gets here?”

  Sorin nodded and she made a note on her clipboard as she scuffed her heels a little, staring down the attendant placing an immense tray of pastries crookedly on the feast table. She sighed when the attendant noticed and put the tray right. He thought she was uneasy with him here, not knowing what to do with him.

  “I’ll be heading there now actually, I just wanted to check in and see how everything was coming along. Would you send over a plate now? Somehow I managed to skip breakfast.”

  He really hoped she didn’t know he slept in his office last night, but she probably did. The woman knew everything that went on in the Hall.

  He ducked his head and said, “I’ll leave you to it,” giving the room one last sweeping glance, but not seeing Savannah anywhere. He felt out of place in his own domain—though, he supposed feast planning was firmly Glaslyn’s domain.

  As he strode back through the foyer and down the hall to his office, he cursed himself for coming back to the Hall so early hoping to find her.

  He spent the whole rest of the morning and early afternoon burying himself in meaningless work as he tried not to think about her. He ate the dish that was sent over, but barely noticed what was passing his lips as he stared at a letter from the Governor of Lightcity, trying to figure out what the man wanted.

  His thoughts kept drifting back to Savannah, and how she had shaken his hand with not a hint of fear or reluctance. Her eyes looking straight into his…

  He thumped the letter down on his desk, the words written on it not even beginning to register in his mind. Glancing at the sun’s position through his large window, he stood. Surely now would be a good time to go out to the feast.

  No. Not yet. He sat again. Drumming his fingers on the solid wood in quick repetition, he slammed his palm down and stood again.

  “I’m going,” he said quietly to himself.

  He clumsily tidied his desk, then gave up and swept everything into the topmost drawer to sort out later. He edged around his desk and aimed for the massive wooden door, just as he heard a soft knock upon it.

  A huge sigh issued from him. It must be Glaslyn telling him it was getting close to speech time. But he opened the door and there stood Onen, surprised perhaps, at the door being answered so quickly.

  Every thought emptied from Sorin’s head. There was only one reason Onen would be here. Sorin waved the older man inside, and the door shut firmly and loudly behind them. Sorin went back to his desk and Onen sat before him, pulling the book from a large pocket in his bulky coat and unwrapping a fat strip of protective cloth from around it.

  “Well?” Sorin asked, unable to contain himself.

  “It’s real,” the older man stated sh
ortly, eyebrows high and a grin forming on his already creased face. “What a marvelous discovery,” he said as he slid the book across the desk towards Sorin.

  “Will you announce it tonight?” Onen’s eyes were full of delight.

  Sorin hesitated, his fingers pressed together in front of him. He reached out for the book, running his hands along the leather lightly. He knew the news of this discovery would spread like wildfire across the Cities.

  “Onen,” he began seriously. “I asked you to examine this book because you are one of my most trusted friends.”

  Onen nodded once, bringing his fingers together in his lap.

  “I would like the existence of this book to remain a secret—for now, you understand.”

  “Of course,” Onen’s brow creasing just slightly.

  “The other Cities, I just don’t think they would understand—not yet anyway,” Sorin continued, his excitement rising. “You see, I think it’s important that we find the fifth city before we let the book go public.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  We need to get out of here! Sylvia thought, her mind reeling, eyes glued to the two humans peacefully resting next to the enormous lion. She gripped Flint’s shoulder to get his attention, and signaled retreat. He nodded twice, never taking his eyes off the lion.

  Sylvia, Ven and Flint’s eyes were fixed on the three sleeping figures as they silently backed away, crouched low to the ground. Once they were a good distance away, Sylvia and the others stood, and began running, trying to keep their footfalls as quiet as possible. Sylvia kept Flint in front of her to be sure he could keep up, and to defend them in case they were pursued.

  Sylvia’s heart was pounding furiously in her chest. She pushed her legs to their limit, keeping her breathing in check as she settled into the run. Fear ran through her, fueled by adrenaline. They didn’t stop until about ten minutes later when Sylvia felt they were a relatively safe distance away, and Flint began coughing. She slowed her pace and they all fell into a jog, and then a walk, catching their breath.

  Flint stopped walking and bent over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily, choking out a few more ragged coughs. Sylvia and Ven stopped too, watching him warily.

  “Well that was interesting,” he said, still bent towards the ground.

  Sylvia and Ven chuckled nervously, still rather high strung from the encounter. Flint dropped his pack to the ground and reached for his water canister.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it,” Ven chimed in grimly.

  “It’s trouble, that’s what it is,” Sylvia said, hands shaking slightly. “Where do you even start? A tame lion? How did they train it? And more importantly, what are they hunting?”

  Flint froze, his water canister halfway to his mouth.

  “What makes you think they’re hunting something?”

  “Why else would you train a mountain lion?” Sylvia said. “Those things will rip you in half without even asking. Why else would you want one around?”

  Flint’s eyes concentrated on the rim of his water canister, a distinct look of unease on his face. Sylvia didn’t blame him; she was downright panicking on the inside. She was trying to wrap her mind around someone training a mountain lion, but was having somewhat of a hard time of it.

  They packed up as quickly as possible once Flint’s breathing returned to somewhat normal, none of them eager to linger any longer than necessary. Sylvia had to spend a few moments mentally readjusting their route again, as their run from the hunters had driven them off course again.

  “We won’t be following a path anymore,” she said.

  No one disagreed.

  They wound their way through the forest at a very steady pace. Sylvia, Ven and even Flint’s eyes were glued to the forest; and their ears sharp for any sound other than their own. The afternoon took them into a denser part of the forest, for which Sylvia was greatly relieved. She felt safer having the trees to protect them from sight.

  Just before dusk Sylvia told them to stop. They were passing through a part of the forest that was populated by huge old pine trees, their thick green branches reaching out and brushing them with their fragrant needles as they walked by.

  “Okay, I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it,” she said as they halted.

  Ven just chuckled silently.

  Flint nodded absently. “Get on with it,” he said. “You’re the Rider here.”

  Sylvia continued, “We stop here for three hours, you two sleep and I take watch. Then, once dusk has passed, we get going again, only stopping for three more hours of sleep at dawn.”

  Flint looked unhappy, but eager to rest. He set his pack down and heaved a sigh, which turned into a short coughing fit.

  Ven said, “But can you stay up until dawn Sylvia? Or are we going to have to carry you?” His smile almost reached his eyes.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, leaning against an enormous pine. “Lend me your bow, and get to sleep.”

  *

  Sylvia pushed herself off the big pine tree, just as its trunk was starting to become far too comfortable. She circled the area for yet another look around. Her feet made no sound on the thick layer of pine needles covering the forest floor.

  The sun hit her straight in the eye from the west and she adjusted her gaze to scan through the trees. Squinting, she crouched down again where the light wouldn’t blind her.

  She retrieved her deerskin blanket from her pack and set it down on the pine needles. Kneeling, she settled in as much as she could. She couldn’t get too comfortable. Those hunters could even be headed their way—the lion could have picked up their scent.

  Sylvia shuddered at the thought of being tracked. Smoothing the leather of her leggings, she reached for Ven’s bow again. Arrow already knocked to the string, she kept it in her left hand, and she jammed her long knife into the ground, where she could easily grab it. She sat kneeling on her blanket, muscles ready to move, spine straight.

  Ven and Flint slept beside her on soft forest floor. Sylvia thought it looked rather comfortable. At least she would get to rest when they stopped for dawn.

  She kept her eyes and ears on the forest around them as the sunlight slowly waned. The great light began to dip below the horizon, marking the end of another day.

  Flint and Ven slept on through the twilight. Sylvia tried to focus her mind on their journey to Riftcity, meanwhile watching the forest around them. Thoughts of the mountain lion kept popping into her head, giving her the chills even though the lingering light gave off a pleasant warmth.

  When the sun had finally disappeared and left no trace of its light in the sky, she woke the two of them to begin their night’s journey. Ven grumbled as Sylvia nudged his shoulder, and he refused to get up, mumbling incoherently. Eventually he gave in when she nudged him a little harder, this time with a boot in his ribs. Flint woke quite easily, and paused only a moment to apply the Healer’s cream to his burn, then was ready to go.

  As Ven and Flint shouldered their packs, Sylvia handed Ven his bow back. He kept the arrow nocked to the string, ready to shoot. The quarter moon had risen, giving them just enough light to see by. Its half-light bathed the woods enough so they could see, and Sylvia pointed Ven in the right direction.

  Ven took the lead and Sylvia fell in behind Flint. Sylvia liked having Ven as point—he had sharp eyes from spending his days hunting; and she preferred to stay at the group’s back now, ready to defend.

  They carried on through the semi-darkness for several long minutes, until Ven broke the eerie silence.

  “How do you think you train a mountain lion?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

  Flint snorted from in front of her, and she could see his shadowy figure shrug.

  “You thinking of taking it up as a hobby?” he whispered.

  “If it helped us beat Skycity, why not?” Sylvia joined in.

  “But you couldn’t really train it, could you?” Flint cleared his throat as quietly as he could manage, c
learly still having problems after the run. “They’re vicious. I don’t know about Meadowcity, but we’ve had plenty of Riders come back seriously injured—or not even come back at all.”

  Sylvia shrugged.

  “True, we’ve had the same, though the disappearances are fairly rare these days. They’re dangerous, but if you know how to fight them, you can win,” she hefted her long knife she held, adjusting her grip.

  “Maybe knowing how to fight them would help you train one,” she mused.

  From the front, Ven said, “You really are thinking of training one yourself, aren’t you?”

  “It’d be useful, is all I’m saying,” she said. “Right now they’ve got one too many advantages over us.”

  She ticked off on her fingers, even though no one could see her: “The surprise, the firebombs, and now this—another weapon we’re already terrified of. Not to mention we still have no idea what they’re really up to.”

  “Well let me know how that training goes after we find my sister,” Flint said, his voice barely carrying back to Sylvia. She wondered whether he had meant anyone to hear it.

  So he is on a rescue mission. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. They had to rely on Flint to get them into the city.

  The softest sound of an abrupt movement to their left brought their feet to an immediate halt. Ven was quicker than the rest and sent an arrow flying into the darkness. Sylvia’s knife was raised, arm across her chest, ready to slash.

  The thump of the arrow making its mark sounded, immediately followed by a sharp squeal.

  “Rabbit,” Ven said, exhaling deeply, lowering his bow. Already he had another arrow at the string.

  Sylvia’s heart was pounding and she tried to slow her breathing down as she followed Ven to the downed animal. The cry of the rabbit still echoed through her head, far too loud in these quiet woods.

  By the half light of the moon Sylvia could see the grey tufts of the animal’s fur as Ven plucked the arrow out. He wiped the arrow with a ragged cloth from his pack, and returned it to his quiver.