The Fifth City (29 page)

Forty Nine

Sylvia felt like the ground had opened up beneath her feet, swallowing up all of her senses; falling downward, spiraling into nothing.  She was looking at Atlan through a tunnel miles below.

Over two hundred years old?

It was impossible.  She closed her eyes and leaned into Atlan, no longer trusting her balance.

He put his arms around her again, sending tingles down her back as he stroked her hair.

“H—How?” she managed to say into his shoulder.  But then something more important came to mind. 
“How old are you?”
  she hissed, and pulled away to look at him.

“Eighteen,” he assured her.  She sunk to the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest.  Atlan sat beside her, staring at the grass as he spoke.

“It’s part of the reason Seascape was abandoned by the other cities,” he told her, glancing at her to see how she was coping.  He went on.  “When Karalyn found the island, they discovered a lot of underground labs and technology that had been forgotten during the world wars.  Things people on the island had been developing before the last war.”

Sylvia stared at him as he spoke, eyes wide.

“Lady Naomi is
over two hundred years old
?” she repeated.

“It’s a serum,” he admitted with a heavy sigh.  “Extends life, but it comes with a price.”

“What?” she asked, when he didn’t go on.

“Don’t you think it strange that an island with thousands of people, living longer lives, only has fourteen children of age?”

A wave of understanding rolled over Sylvia.  She hadn’t even thought about that.

Atlan nodded as he watched the comprehension on her face.

“The serum’s irreversible.  And once you pass the Trials, you’re allowed to take it.  Slows down your aging, but makes it harder to reproduce,” he mumbled.

Sylvia rocked onto her back and stared up at the sky.  After the simulation, she thought she had experienced the last of Seascape’s bizarre surprises.  If Atlan told her they could fly, too, she felt like it wouldn’t be too surprising.

Her eyes became lost in the low hanging clouds as her mind fought to come to terms with what he was telling her.

Now the theatrics of the Trials and great speeches about heritage and earning rights all made sense.  They weren’t just proving their worth for an abstract ritual.  They were proving that they would be useful citizens, would be courageous, creative, and have the endurance for longer life.

“So how long do people live?” she asked tentatively.

He hesitated before telling her, “The Keeper of the Trials is five hundred and fourteen.”

It was several more minutes before Sylvia could speak again.  She had only just come to shaky terms with two hundred.

“Why did she even let me do the Trials?” she wondered.  Long life hadn’t been one of Lady Naomi’s gifts, even if Sylvia had proven herself.  But the Lady
had
said she was tempted to make Sylvia a citizen…

“I don’t know,” he admitted.  “But she seems to really like you.”

He said it without inflection, but Sylvia could sense something buried in the words.

“Why does she treat you the way she does?” she asked quietly.

Atlan closed his eyes briefly, and then his words tumbled out in a rush.

“It all comes back to the same problem, doesn’t it?  Seascape has always been ruled by the female line—Karalyn, then her daughter Korryn, and now Naomi.”

“She never wanted a boy,” he continued with quick words.  “But with the serum, she probably won’t have another.  I think that’s why she likes you.  She sees you as the daughter she’s always wanted.  You’re driven, courageous, and smart—like her.”

He glanced at her, perhaps guiltily.  It sounded like a theory he had been pondering over on for a while.

She took him in her arms and leaned in close, but she didn’t know what to say.  It was not the goodbye she had been expecting.

“I’m sorry I have to leave,” she whispered by his neck.

His head settled onto her shoulder with a comforting weight.  “I understand,” he said.  “I just wish I could go with you.”

“Are you going to do it then?” Sylvia asked in a tiny voice.

He sighed, with the weight of a thousand year tradition on his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

Fifty

Water lapped against the sides of her little boat as they glided through the water.  The ocean breeze tickled her nose, salty and crisp.  One of Lady Naomi’s guards sat at the oars, propelling them forward, away from Seascape.

Sylvia’s eyes were swollen, but dry now.  She had said goodbye to Atlan in the clearing, leaving him to contemplate his decision before the ceremony tonight.

It was a heavy decision, but it was all Atlan’s to make.  Nearly a thousand years of his family’s legacy came before him.  It was still something she was struggling to comprehend; not to mention the complete shock of Seascape’s biggest secret, or so she hoped—she couldn’t stand to find out anything more strange or sinister about the isle.

The Lady’s strange interest in her seemed to make sense now, but the blow of learning Naomi’s family history had struck her soundly.  And just before she was to return home.

She stared out at the shore ahead, her face like stone as her original mission returned weightily to her shoulders.  She was going to return to Meadowcity, carrying her gifts from Lady Naomi, which she would use to protect her home, and defeat Greyling.

The drone was tucked carefully in her pack, but she wore her earlink and half-sleeve.  She tried to recall the frame of mind she had sloughed off while tucked safely away inside Seascape.  She was about to enter the wilds once again; the forsaken land between the Four Cities, full of predators—beast and man alike.  Her defenses had to be ready, but she worried that she had grown complacent.

She had lived within the safety of Castle Tenny for months, spoiled with a comfy bed and luxurious bath, and walls and guards to protect her.  She grit her teeth knowing she’d be sleeping on the ground tonight, something she used to enjoy, or at least tolerate.

How she wished the boat would turn around; dissolving her of the responsibility of the Four Cities she felt was hers, returning her to Atlan, to the weird wonders of Seascape.

But she missed her family, and Ember, and Ven—even Flint.  And to let Greyling carry out his vicious plans was something she couldn’t endure.

She would fight for the Four Cities, with all of her might.  But the reasoning behind it had grown and changed.  Not only would she fight to protect her sister, her parents, and everyone who lived peacefully in Arcera; but she would fight to end the war so she could begin a new life.  So she could return to Seascape and learn how to manipulate the strands, to submerse herself in Seascape’s constantly evolving technology; and so she could be with Atlan, whether he chose a long life or not.

Her stomach jolted as she remembered something.  She had never asked Atlan whether linking would work over a distance.  Oliver had whisked her to the docks as soon as she called him.  She had given the man a fierce hug goodbye—after asking Atlan how old Naomi’s assistant was; and realizing happily that he was only fifty, though he looked half that.

Panicked, she reached out, knowing she was growing further from the island with every stroke of the oars.  Already connected to her earlink, she sought the only person she needed.

Atlan?  Atlan?

Nothing came back through the link.

Every time she called his name the boat was closer and closer to shore.  It wasn’t reaching.

Tears returned as she stepped off the boat and back onto land.  She had truly lost touch with him.

She called his name one more time.

In nothing but silence, she struck away from the shore and entered the wilds, her heart icing over until the day she would return to the beautiful island.

Until then, she had a war to fight.

Fifty One

Sorin couldn’t believe it.  Airic stood before him uttering words that no longer made sense to Sorin’s ears.
“Stop,” he burst, cutting off the Scout with a sharp gesture.

He spoke slowly, with each word painfully ripping through his chest as he said it: “What do you mean destroyed.”

The Scout began again, regaling the horrid tale once more.  He had been returning to Lightcity to take over for the commander that was to go with the shipment, when he came onto the plain Lightcity stood upon.

But it no longer stood.

It had been blasted into the ground with the orbs that were supposed to be in Riftcity by now.  A savage headache blossomed between Sorin’s temples quite suddenly.  He clenched his eyes shut.

“Get out,” Sorin muttered.

Airic took one look at Sorin and obeyed, skittering out of the office in only a few seconds.

The book Sorin had been reading before Airic interrupted soared across the room at the closing door and slid down to the floor in a pile.  He slammed his fist on the desk.

He couldn’t imagine a worse setback.  The assault on Seascape would be delayed even further now—they hadn’t nearly enough firepower stored elsewhere in Arcera to mount his attack.

Now that he finally had the vessels assembled in Riftcity, shoddy though they might be, now he had nothing to strike with.

After that fiend in the fifth city had disabled his Scouts, he had craved to retaliate; but the past few weeks had been slow going.  And now this.

His dreams
would
take hold.  The Four Cities
would
have Seascape’s technologies: a train that united the cities, limitless light and power, and whatever else they were hoarding.  They
deserved it
.  And all would be united under Skycity, under him.  He would just have to adjust his plans.

For some reason he couldn’t help but think of Savannah, stolen away to the city that defied him, huddling under Gero’s wing, that imbecile who took her from him.

His failure in the fifth city was somehow linked to his failure with Savannah.

And he was sure Meadowcity had something to do with the loss of Lightcity, the loss of his advantage, though he didn’t know how.  They had been meddling since the beginning.

As he unrolled his map of Arcera onto the desk, and weighed the corners down with books, he vowed he would retrieve Savannah from Meadowcity before the war was out.

Before he ground their headstrong city into the dust.