Meadowcity (7 page)

Chapter Seven
 

Before daybreak the next morning, Sylvia found herself softly knocking on the door to Ven’s family villa.  She hoped not to wake the baby, as his little brother was only a few months old, and she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate being woken this early. 

The sky was grey-blue, and a chill breeze caressed her face.  She flipped her leather collar up to warm her neck.  The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour.

She heard quick, quiet footsteps, and suddenly the door creaked open.  Ven stepped out and shut the door behind him. 

On his back was a full rucksack, laden down with a few sheathed knives hanging from straps.  In his hand he held his bow.  It was very finely carved; Sylvia knew he had bought it with his hunter’s wages when he first began to make a living.  He reached above his head and slung it onto his back to rest across his pack.

Without a word, he began to lead her away from his villa.  Softly, he said, “I don’t want to wake anyone.” 
They mounted the stone path leading towards the treewall.  The barrier of trees was still green, but any day now would begin to turn, with Summer’s End approaching.

What Sylvia thought he meant was, “I don’t want them to know I’m leaving.”  She sighed.  She had said goodbye to her family this morning.  Her mother was silent as Sylvia told them she was going to Riftcity.  To her favor, her mother didn’t even ask why Sylvia was leaving, when the city was closed to travel. 

Sylvia’s family, however, was used to her leaving for weeks at a time, risking her life in the woods and hills and mountains.  She couldn’t imagine how Ven’s family would feel.

Her hand crept up to her neck where the glass bead her mother and sister had given to her rested.  Taking a deep breath, she focused her thoughts on picking her way over the stone path.  She and Ven were headed for the Citizen’s Hall, where they were to meet Gero and Flint, and then go on their way.

“Did you leave a note?” she guessed quietly, looking down at the path.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Sylvia couldn’t imagine what his mother’s reaction would be when she came down to get breakfast ready for the family, only to find out that her oldest was walking off into danger.

Sylvia had had to wake Sonia and tell her that she was leaving. But the little girl was only half awake and told her, “That’s okay Sylvia, I know you’ll be back soon.”

Her heart wrenched in her chest again at the memory.

With silent thoughts and silent footsteps, the two walked swiftly towards Meadowcity’s only gate, in front of which stood the Citizen’s Hall.  The building’s massive door was open just enough for them to slip through.  Sylvia steeled herself and entered, Ven close behind.  The Hall was dimly lit, reminding her of the night she came here bringing Gero the note that had started this all. 

In the foyer, Ell stood at his usual post by a tall wooden counter.  As the Secretary of the City, he was Gero’s right-hand man, handling all the city’s affairs. 

Ell nodded to Sylvia and Ven but said nothing.  His eyes trailed to his left where Gero and Flint stood by a newly lit fire in the Common Room.  Flint stood tall, not a hint of exhaustion in his demeanor.  He looked rested and ready to get back home, but Sylvia saw him briefly raise a hand to his chest after chuckling at something Gero said.

“Sylvia, Ven, good morning,” Gero started as they entered the room.  “Is there anything you still need for the journey?” 

Sylvia glanced around the wide room, but found it entirely empty.  It was far too early for anyone else to be here.  Ell would be the only one who knew they were here, and he wouldn’t tell a soul.

“No, thank you Gero, I’m all set,” Sylvia said, already eager to get on the trail.  She glanced at Ven and Flint, wondering how well they were prepared.

“Is that tea I smell?”  Ven said, looking around the wide room.

“Sure is, let me get you some and we can talk,” Gero said, moving to a sideboard and pouring two steaming cups.  Flint moved to sit back down on a bench, his cup of tea already at the side table, not a hint of steam rising from it.  Had they been here long, talking about the attack?

Sylvia sat down opposite Flint, who had claimed her favorite bench.  Gero handed her the polished wooden cup, its warmth reaching her hands.  She took a sip of the warm liquid, which immediately soothed her nerves.   And then she realized that she had nerves to soothe—an uncommon feeling for her.  Journeys were usually exciting, sometimes even boring, but she hadn’t been nervous for one in a long time.

Gero gestured to a plate of sandwiches on the table, and Sylvia took one, the tea in her stomach suddenly making her ravenous.  As she and Ven began to eat, Gero started talking.

The plan was to get into Riftcity to find out whether they were still under duress (a word that Sylvia had to stop Gero and ask what it meant), find out the status of the Riftcity government, and to get out safely.  If Riftcity was still occupied by Skycity, they had to be very careful getting in and out undetected.  It was very important that Skycity not know what they were up to. 

“Well that’s it, really,” Gero said, with some finality to it.  He stood, clearly eager for them to start their journey.  “Ven, Flint, why don’t you go talk to Ell about any last minute prep?  Make sure you two are fully stocked for the journey.”

The two looked at each other and then meandered back to the foyer, through the many chairs and tables throughout the room.  Ven looked back and raised an eyebrow at Sylvia, clearly knowing Gero was getting rid of them.

Sylvia sat, her legs crossed at the ankle in front of her.  She picked up another sandwich from the table as Gero began, “Sylvia, you need to be careful.”
She almost rolled her eyes, knowing full well how dangerous the woods were, but she knew Gero meant well.  She merely raised her eyebrows at him, waiting.

“I’m talking about Flint,” he said, to her surprise.  “He thinks he’s going on a rescue mission.  This trip is to find out information only—seriously, his family, his whole life is there, he might do something rash.  You need to keep an eye on him.”

“He could put you all in danger,” Gero continued, looking her right in the eye.

A soft chuckle came from where Ven, Flint and Ell were standing, talking about who knows what.  Sylvia nodded at Gero but said nothing.

So, not only would she be shepherding two citizens through the wild, one of them was a stranger, whom she couldn’t trust to not get them killed in some rescue attempt
.  She wasn’t heartless—of course he would want to help his family.  But if it would put them at risk, she would have to do something about it.

She stood, stretching her arms up way above her head and standing on her tip-toes.  She reached down to her cup of tea, and drained the rest in one big gulp. 

“Thanks Gero, and—good luck here,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“You too.”
He reached his arm out to her and she grasped his hand in farewell.

The two of them wound through the maze of chairs and tables and rejoined Ven and Flint. Ell grasped their hands and wished them all safe journey.  He returned to his post by the desk, adapting a studied look of boredom.

Before there could be any more deliberation or conversation, Sylvia ordered, “Let’s be off then, we’ve got a long way to go.” 

The two boys nodded and said goodbye to Gero.  Sylvia shared a look with Gero as she said goodbye, and they all slipped out the heavy wooden door and into the dawn.

The path in front of them led directly out the city’s gate, which was made from the two largest trees Sylvia had ever seen in her life.  The rest of the treewall was made of fairly good sized trees, their branches gently tangling with each other as they fought for space.  But the gate trees were different.  They were a rusty color, immensely huge.  Their trunks led way up into the sky, and their branches entwined at the top, uniting them.

Sylvia looked down from the tree gate and to the actual doors in front of her.  Gero said he had instructed the Gatekeeper to open the doors in secret so that they could leave before anyone could see them.  The city might not know why they were on lockdown yet, but they needed to get out before anyone noticed.

Behind her, Sylvia could hear Ven and Flint’s footsteps as they reached the wooden perimeter path and headed towards the gate.  The doors were just about as thick as any tree, and they arched up in the middle to mimic the trees above them.  A head poked out of the Gatekeeper’s house, and Sylvia was relieved to see that it belonged to Corin.  If it had been Bolt, or almost anyone else, she would have been worried their journey would have stayed a secret for about two minutes.  But Gero knew his Gatekeepers, and he knew he could trust Corin to keep it quiet.

“Mornin’,” Corin said, as if it were any other day.  He stepped out of the gatehouse and headed toward the doors.  Planting his shoulder under the enormous bar that was bolted across the two doors, Corin heaved it up out of its hold and slid it to the ground.  With both hands, the huge man slowly pushed one side of the heavy door open far enough for them to pass through.

Sylvia looked back at Ven, with a question in her eyes. 
He gestured, and said, “Riders first,” with a grin.

They approached the wilds as the door boomed shut behind them.

Chapter Eight
 

Five
y
ears ago, on the eve of Summer’s End
, Governor Sorin Greyling was brought a book by one of his scouting parties.  The city was alive with bustle, and all of the citizens were making the most of their afternoon by putting all of their efforts into preparations for the festival.  The streets were filled with people laughing, joking, and setting decorations for the next day.

Sorin didn’t particularly like Summer’s End—to him it only meant that winter was coming, and that the days would only become darker sooner. It was a feast to celebrate the turning of the seasons, but also the community, so during the day a feast would be set out in the Citizen’s Hall for all to partake in.

From his office, Sorin couldn’t hear much of the commotion inevitably occurring down the hall.  Most of his aides were tasked with set up for the banquet, but it was common practice for off-duty Gatekeepers, Riders or other citizens to join in, making it a festivity in itself.

Sorin looked up from the papers he was studying as a peeling laugh suddenly echoed through his now open door.  Falx slipped into the room, and closed the heavy wooden door behind him.  Despite its quiet opening, it shut with a loud boom of wood against stone.

“Afternoon, Falx.”

“Afternoon,” he muttered, digging in the satchel at his hip.  Falx wasn’t one of Sorin’s more sociable Scouts.  The man was covered head to toe in leather, his boots looking like they had tracked all across Arcera and back—which they had.  He was scraggly looking after too many days on the road, dark hair and beard in desperate need of a trim. 

The tall man took only three long steps to approach the large oak desk, and as he did he pulled out a thin leather-bound book from his satchel.  Sorin leaned forward, brushing aside the documents on his desk, which had been occupying him for a good portion of his afternoon. 

Carefully he took the slim leather tome from Falx’s extended hand; one could hardly call it a book it was so tiny.  Sorin placed it on his desk where he had cleared a spot.

“Good work,” he said, as Falx had already turned to go.  Before the man reached the door, he turned to Sorin and nodded once, his brown eyes meeting Sorin’s for a brief instant.  He yanked the door open and slipped out just as quietly as he came in, except for the booming door.

Sorin chuckled to himself a little.  The Scouts were an odd bunch.  They spent their days roaming the land looking for anything—everything—that they could find from the people that had come before them.

It was common knowledge that great civilizations had ruled the land long before the Four Cities came to be.  Their incredible knowledge and technologies had not helped them get along with each other, however, and all had been destroyed.  For hundreds of years people tried to put themselves back together, until the day the four brothers founded the Four Cities of Arcera.

More than once strange books or trinkets were brought to Sorin by the Skycity Riders.  Once it became evident that these artifacts were strewn across the land, and recoverable, Sorin began to investigate, recruiting then-Riders into forming his Scouts. 

If these objects were out there, then he wanted to know what they were, and he wanted them to belong to Skycity.

Sorin knew the old stereotype that Skycity was greedy for knowledge.  Well why not be?  There was so much out there to learn!  So much to be uncovered that had been lost or forgotten.

He had once read a phrase that stuck with him through the years: “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it”.  He thought it was brilliant.

He picked up the book Falx had brought and examined the cover, turning it slowly in his light grip.  The few pages were stiff with water damage from long ago.  There was nothing more enticing to him in the world than a new book in his hands: just waiting to be opened, heavy with secrets to be divulged.

Slowly he let the spine fall open, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation.  As gently as possible he leafed through the stiff pages to the first page and his eyes locked on to the words printed there, feeling lucky that the black ink hadn’t faded away much.

He read and he read.  He read until it became dim in his office and one of his assistants quietly entered the room to light his lamps; and then he read some more.

By the time he closed the book’s pages; the glass floor of his office was entirely opaque, darkened by the night.  As if the book were a living thing, he placed it ever so gently on the polished surface of his desk.  Eyes wide, he leaned back in his chair.  He noticed how damp his palms had become, and wiped them quickly on his knees.  His heart was racing.

It was the answer to a lot of things, but it also posed some questions he had never even considered.  How could such a tiny book give him so much?

What he had just read was an astonishing real life account of a citizen during the founding of the Cities of Arcera.  He picked it up off his desk again just to feel its presence once more, running his fingers wonderingly across its cover.

Entirely alert despite the late hour, Sorin spent the rest of his night in his lamp lit office examining the book.  If there were still pre-holiday celebrations going on down the hall, he didn’t notice them.

A soft rug lay under his desk, giving him some protection from the chill creeping up from below.  The glass at his feet was heavily insulated, but the cold night wind coming up the mountain would inevitably seep through.  He sat at his desk all night, re-reading and contemplating.

He knew that in the morning he would take the book to Onen, a trusted acquaintance of his who ran the city’s Library.  There was no library like it in all the other Cities, and Sorin often consulted with Onen when he came across a book such as this.  But certainly he had never come across a book
quite
like this one. 

Several times he debated starting a fire in the expansive fireplace across from his desk, but he found himself too engrossed in the book to put it down.  Eventually, he donned his cloak with the silver fur collar and kept on reading.