Meadowcity (11 page)

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 shortly, 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, clearly 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.

“See?  I told you I was going to do some hunting,” Ven raised the creature up.  “At least we’ll have a nice breakfast.”

Sylvia stifled a laugh.  Her nerves were almost shot.  She sheathed her knife back in her boot to wipe her clammy hands on her blouse.  She reached down for the knife again with a better grip now, and said, “Let’s get moving.  Our breakfast might have just given us away.”

Her stomach was in turmoil—certainly not about the breakfast—what if the hunters had heard?

Ven took the lead again, fastening the rabbit to the outside of his pack as he walked. 

The rest of their night walk was surprisingly calm but eerie.  They traversed the old pine forest for hours in the dark, lit only by the quarter moon.  Sylvia’s limbs became heavy as her body fought fatigue.  She forced her eyes to remain open and alert though, something she had first learned to do when she trained to become a Rider.

When traveling alone, as she almost always did, she only had herself to rely on, and had to remain alert always.  It was a tiring process, which was part of the reason so few people took up the task.  Her body was capable of waiting out the night—but in all honesty; she was really looking forward to that bed of pine needles.  Every step brought her closer.

The first ray of sun to peer above the horizon was like a balm to Sylvia.  They quickly agreed to make camp, and Ven volunteered to take watch.  Flint didn’t argue for a second, clearly happy to get some more rest.

Sylvia handed her knife to Ven, but unfastened her spear from her pack to keep next to her as she slept.  She wasn’t about to sleep weaponless, and the spear only had one sharp end she had to worry about accidently cutting herself on while sleeping.

Her fingers curled around its smooth oak handle, caressing the familiar weapon.  Her eyes closed once, and sleep overcame her.