The Fifth City (13 page)

She smiled her cat’s smile, and Sylvia couldn’t help but give her a pain-filled smile back.

Nineteen

Even though they had left Meadowcity an hour ago, the breeze from the south still carried the scent of lavender to Ven’s nose.  Winter’s End was upon them, and the city had lit the first herb-laden fires of the spring in fine tradition, in hopes for a new beginning.

Ven had taken a small contingent of Defenders through the underground route out of the city; the same one Sylvia had taken over a month ago now.  Gero had finally agreed to let Ven and Flint leave to go find her.

The Governor’s approval might not entirely have been out of concern for the young Rider, though, since Gero had instructed them that they must also carry out her original mission.  They were to determine Skycity’s next plan of attack, and see if they could convince Lightcity to switch sides.  If the snows hadn’t already lifted on the far northern mountain of Skycity, they would soon.  Greyling must be planning to strike again—to rid himself of the bothersome city that turned down his offer, or set his sights on
the island to the south.

Bow held firm in his grip, Ven led the group up a steep slope that would take them out of the set of valleys that Meadowcity was nestled in.  The slope was covered in trees, barren from winter, and their exposed roots provided footholds up the incline.

After they had marched down the cold underground tunnel that led out of the city, a set of stairs had led the group up into the woods.  Ven
was strongly reminded of the tunnel that he, Sylvia and Flint had taken into Riftcity: it was hidden by a natural-looking formation of old, moss-covered stones.  When the Defenders emerged, Ven half expected to see a glass marker on top of the tunnel opening, like the other one had, but didn’t see anything of note.

They had spotted two Skycity Scouts creeping about in the woods in front of the city.  The Defenders skirted around the gate at a far distance, keeping an eye on the intruders, who had a tethered wolf pacing at their feet.

An odd group of people had agreed to take the journey to Lightcity.  There was Ash and Arden, two brothers that were both Hunters, like Ven.  Several Riders had also volunteered—Dahlia and Thom, and then there was Jet, a Riftcity Rider who had helped in the fight to defend Meadowcity.  Even Rolfe, the woodcarver, had wanted to come.  And of course, Flint.  They were eight in all.

They finally crested the rise out of the valley, and all of them were sweating now from the long uphill climb.  Ven wiped his brow and looked out at the valley before moving on.  He gestured at Dahlia and Thom to lead again, since they knew the way.  He remembered with a smirk how irritable Sylvia had become when Flint had tried to question her skills on the trail; but then he frowned. 
What could have happened to her?

He had lost his perfect chance to tell her how much she meant to him.  They had danced around it since Summer’s End, all through winter.  They had never quite admitted anything, never quite shied away or come any closer.  He wished with all his being that he had acted.

Why hadn’t he kissed her?

A nagging seed of doubt had sprung in his mind, making him question his motives for heading to Lightcity.  But Gero had agreed, and wanted them to continue Sylvia’s work,  and she
had
been gone quite a while.

The doubts spread each time he thought about her.  She was so focused on the war, and saving Arcera, saving Meadowcity.  What if she didn’t think about him like he thought of her?  He almost wanted to ask Flint’s opinion, but he didn’t want to open that crate of lions.  Flint would never stop bugging him about it if Ven opened up to him like that.

He tried to shoo away the thoughts as he focused on the trail, marching on behind Thom as they wound through the forest.

Ven was actually quite relieved to be out of the city.  Everyone there rushed about all curt and tense, with only the thought of war hovering over them like a stale stench in the air.  There was no cheer, and any laughter was cut short quickly.  He wondered how solemnly Winter’s End was being celebrated, and was somewhat glad he was missing it.  He didn’t want to witness the holiday tainted by such melancholy.

It felt great to be out
doing
something, even if the prospect of what they might find out in Lightcity scared him.

They trekked on through the day, one foot and then the next, through the empty wilds; hoping to find answers in the city of light.

Twenty

The constant throb of pain was finally beginning to dull as Sylvia eagerly watched the sun grow ever closer to the western horizon.  She wiped a tear from her cheek and propped herself up on her other knee.

Lady Blackwater had disappeared shortly after sunrise, as had most of the crowd.  Some had stayed the whole day—Sylvia figured they must be family members or close friends of the other initiates.  They were all a hazy blur to her from where she crouched on the stone slab, waiting for the agony to end.

Her jaw was clamped shut, feeding into her headache; she was unable to even open it after clenching from the pain that wove through her body so absolutely.  But it would be over soon.  She felt almost lucky that she had endured worse at Seascape’s hands, and let out a near-crazed chuckle.

The girl next to her, Mela, gave her a dirty look through the tear tracks that wove down her face.  Sylvia turned away to watch the sea.  It couldn’t be much longer now.

She took another deep breath, and her hand reached up to hold the bead at her throat again.  She closed her eyes and thought of home.  She pushed away the pain that seemed to vibrate through each limb, each vein, and up through her skull; instead she wondered if Sonia and her mother had painted any stones for the family hearth, and if their villa now smelled like lavender.  She clutched the bead tighter and focused on her breath as she watched the sun edge closer to the horizon.  Any minute and she would be free.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a wink of sparkling gold, then spied Lady Naomi climbing the stone pulpit again. 
Had the Lady gone back to Castle Tenny by train?
she wondered.  Or had she watched as the initiates writhed with pain on the ancient stage?

The sun met the horizon, and the flood of energy finally began to subside.  She could feel the pain lessening, though her headache was only growing. 
That
  would stick with her for days, she could already tell.  Minutes stretched on as the globe of light dipped into the earth, and Sylvia was finally free.

Groans of delight issued from the other initiates as some stood, and others collapsed onto their backs.  One girl headed right for the edge of the stage, ready to get down, but she waited for the instruction, eyes on the Lady.  Sylvia didn’t blame her.  She was quite ready to be back on the earth, away from the pain-inducing traps that Seascape liked so much.

She braced herself and stood, wobbling a little and clutching her temples, suddenly dizzy.  She felt as if she would have this headache for all of time.

When she tried to stretch her clenched jaw open, the sides popped painfully by her ears.  She massaged her jaw and temples as she watched Lady Naomi prepare to speak.  She had done it.  The first Trial was over.

“Well done,” the Lady purred.  “You have all faired the first Trial well, and earned your first right: inclusion.  This evening you will be presented with your reward and be given your next task.”

The remaining crowd had condensed to the front of the stone stage, and they now cheered for their initiates.  The applause nearly drowned out the roar of the ocean waves behind them.  Lady Naomi disappeared back down the steps of her platform, her brief speech clearly over.

Sylvia couldn’t believe it.  She had passed her first Trial!  And tonight she would be told what the next task would be,
and be given some sort of reward?

Three of Blackwater’s men were now climbing up to the stage and approaching the initiates individually.  Sylvia watched as one of the black-clad men raised up a small silver disc to a girl’s ear, held it still for a few seconds, and then thanked the girl.  He then used his datawoven sleeve to execute some unknown command.

One by one, the men made their way through each of the initiates, and finally one reached Sylvia at the far end of the stage.

“Turn, please,” the man instructed, and Sylvia recognized him at once as one of the men who had followed her here.

“What’s this for?” she demanded weakly, her skull throbbing.

“You’ll find out,” he said, not unkindly.  “Hold still for a second.”

She waited as he held the disc up to her right ear, and then he walked away, grinning at her with a hint of mischief as he traced a pattern on his sleeve.

The other initiates were beginning to leave the platform.  Sylvia immediately picked out Oliver’s pale hair and bright blue eyes in the small crowd that had gathered by the stage, so she started for the edge.  She found her way down some ancient steps and headed towards him, never so happy to see the cheerful man, and to be back on solid ground.  She wriggled her feet in the white sand as she walked.

Oliver was beaming at her and took her in a quick hug, surprising her.  He quickly glanced back at the stone pulpit and then motioned for her to follow him.  He practically bounced as he walked.

The sand faded into grass as they headed for the train, which was humming with life at the platform, waiting for its passengers.  Sylvia focused on putting one foot in front of the other while her headache threatened to overwhelm her.  A stabbing pain had blossomed behind her eyes.

“What’s tonight?” she asked as they mounted the stairs to the platform.  All Sylvia wanted to do was go back to her rooms, close her eyes and sleep.

“A celebration and presentation ceremony.  We’ll need to get back to Tenny right away so Medina can get you ready.”

They entered the open train with the remains of the crowd, and Sylvia covertly watched the other initiates, many visibly gritting their teeth, or rubbing their temples.

The train ride through the darkening countryside was more beautiful than before.  Sylvia leaned her aching head against the cool glass and stared out the windows until stone buildings began to flash by.  She dizzily stepped onto the platform when they arrived in the city.

As she and Oliver approached the castle, Sylvia took one last breath of fresh air, and went inside.

*   *   *

As if spending the entire day flooded with pain wasn’t enough of a trial, Sylvia now entered a great ballroom inside Castle Tenny, hidden deep underground like the rest of the castle.  The ballroom was filled wall to wall with revelers, even more people than she had seen at the Trial.

The ceiling was a sea of twinkling light.  Globes of all different sizes appeared to drip from the ceiling.  They were strung from nearly invisible wires, all at different heights, filling the top of the room with light.  Sylvia craned her neck to gaze up at the glowing ceiling while Oliver led her through the crowd.

She had wolfed down as much food in her rooms as she could while Medina readied her for the celebration.  But after the Trial, all she wanted to do was curl up on her huge bed and go to sleep.  Medina was forced to coerce her into leaving her room.  The woman had promised Sylvia the celebration would be worth it.  Sylvia just hoped she wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion.

Medina had dressed Sylvia in a gown of deep blue, with an open back and wide golden laces that crisscrossed from the base of her spine up to her shoulders.  The feel of the silver datathreads woven into the fabric was now becoming familiar to her.  Medina had let her wear her hair down, but had ironed it pin straight, and it grazed her shoulder-blades as she walked through the ballroom on golden silk slippers.

She was thoroughly glad of Oliver’s company as he expertly navigated through the packed hall.  Sylvia’s deep blue dress preceded her—Medina had selected another gown overflowing with far too much fabric.

Her head pounded as she meandered through the crowd, following Oliver, without really paying much attention to the celebration.  Sylvia realized they were approaching Lady Naomi when she spotted the tall woman perched on a throne at the end of the long ballroom.

The Lady wore a striking black gown, the depth of the shade like the night sky; and it was littered with bits of gold, which glowed like stars.  A golden necklace lay high upon the Lady’s throat, and she turned her long neck as Sylvia approached.

A slow grin rose to the Lady’s lips.  “Well done, my dear,” she said, and Sylvia bowed her head slightly.  A hint of heat crept up Sylvia’s cheeks as she noticed people around them turning to watch.

“Thank you, Lady Blackwater,” she replied, her eyes focused on the Lady’s entrancing gown.

“Though, I knew you would excel at that
particular
  Trial,” the Lady said with a grin; making Sylvia writhe in anger.

Quite suddenly, the globes at the ceiling dimmed, all except for a circle directly above the throne.

“Oh, excuse me Sylvia,” Lady Naomi whispered as she stood.  “We’re about to begin.”

Oliver took hold of Sylvia’s elbow and they backed away from the throne.  The Lady prepared to speak to the crowd that was now turning in their direction.

Thousands of faces were looking their way, and Sylvia was glad their attention was on the Lady, who, even with her height, was also wearing spiky black high-heeled shoes, and could not be missed.

Sylvia recognized some of the other initiates who had gathered at the edge of the crowd.  Two girls whose names she couldn’t recall were pressed together, whispering excitedly.  Mela stood by herself, looking as uncomfortable as Sylvia felt, in a fine plum gown.  Atlan lounged in the corner by the throne, dressed in a fine black vest and grey shirt, his black hair still looking wind-blown from the day on the shore.  He alone among the initiates looked unimpressed with the fanfare.  Leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, he looked almost bored.

His bright grey eyes flickered to meet Sylvia’s—as if he had felt her watching—and she looked away, back toward Lady Naomi, trying to suppress the blush that warmed her cheeks.  She could still feel Atlan’s curious gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the Lady, waiting for her to speak.  The crowd quieted.

“Good evening,” the Lady began.  “Tonight our initiates are given their first right—inclusion—by receiving their first earlink.”

The crowd erupted in applause and Sylvia’s heart began to thump in her ears over the noise. 
They were going to give her an earlink?  All the things she could do with it….

A man appeared behind Lady Naomi and offered her a tray, stacked with tiny silver boxes.  She selected the one on top and read the name written on it.

“Atlan,” her voice boomed through the ballroom, and she turned to face the grey-eyed boy now approaching the throne.  He grinned at the applause from the crowd, but his smile faded as he met eyes with Lady Naomi.

She held the box out to him, and murmured a few words, grinning slyly.  He didn’t answer, but took the box and held it up high in his fist, and the crowd cheered raucously.

Initiate after initiate received their boxes, though the crowd didn’t cheer nearly as much for anyone else than they had for Atlan—he seemed to be rather popular.  Sylvia’s curiosity was getting the better of her, and she wanted to find out who he was.  It had been gnawing at her since he had stumbled into her tea.

Finally Lady Naomi called Sylvia’s name, and the crowd became still.  Sylvia stepped forward and took the box from Lady Naomi’s outstretched hand, returning the Lady’s grin with one of her own.  She had already beaten one task.  She would beat the rest.

The crowd erupted as she took the box, though she didn’t know why.

She couldn’t help but grin as people she didn’t know slapped her on the back or offered their congratulations.

One last name was called, and then the tray was empty.  The initiates had all received their earlinks.  Sylvia didn’t dare open her box just yet.  She wanted to wait until she returned to her rooms to examine it thoroughly.

The celebration renewed as an opulent feast was brought out into the ballroom, and the globes at the ceiling sprung to life once more.  Men and women dressed in red navigated though the crowd, offering trays of food and sweets.  Music sprung up from out of nowhere, and Sylvia wondered if her head might actually split in two at all the noise.

Now she was clutching Oliver’s arm so as not to get lost in the increasingly rowdy celebration.  Oliver steered them through the crowd and flagged down an attendant.  Sylvia was about to wave away whatever they were offering, but Oliver handed her a simple glass of water.  It was far too noisy to hear anything, so she mouthed
thank you
to the kind man.