by Liz Delton
She closed her eyes and thought about the silver earlink tucked into her ear, and the presence of the datawoven fabric on her forearm. Everything else about her world was black: only the silver earlink and the sleeve existed.
In her mind she pictured the sleeve emerging from the darkness as the silver threads began to glow faintly, contrasting against the cross-wise black threads. The glow grew stronger and stronger, and she imagined them both swelling with light, part of the same light, the same connection.
Her eyes snapped open as she felt the world change.
A strange sensation had rippled through her mind, and her eyes immediately went to the sleeve.
It glowed for a second, and then went black.
She did it!
Her heart raced, and she got up from the floor, wanting to scream, to jump up and run around the room, but she managed to keep calm. This was only the first step. Could she do it again?
With a grin spread across her face, she took several deep breaths as she studied the half-sleeve. Her mind began to race with all of the things she could do with it once she could master the connection. If the Four Cities had this technology, there would be no need for Riders—cities could communicate with each other with a thought.
Then she scoffed at her imaginings. Certainly Lady Blackwater wasn’t going to give them that much help. That much she could tell. But she still needed to master it, or at least learn enough to use it in the Trial.
Still, she wondered why the Lady had even let Sylvia participate in the Trials—when the reason she was here, the war, was because of Greyling’s rejection in the first place.
She sat back down before the hearth, and readied to try again. She could think about the Lady’s motives later. The one thing Sylvia was sure about was that mastering this technology would eventually get help for the Four Cities. Even if it wasn’t instant communication, it would be something.
With her eyes clamped shut, she thought of the blackness again, and the two silver beams glowing as one. They grew and grew, and she waited for the feeling again, letting the connection build.
In an instant, she jumped at the sound of her door opening and closing, and she leapt to her feet, all concentration lost. She yelped as she caught sight of Atlan, standing in her room, grinning mischievously at her.
“What are you doing?” she nearly shouted.
“I thought I heard someone coming down the hallway,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
She scowled at him.
“Practicing?” he nodded at the sleeve on her forearm.
“Yes! And I got it!” she exclaimed, eyes wide, entirely forgetting about his rude entrance.
“Really.”
She blushed, still wondering if she would even be able to pull it off again. “You don’t believe me?”
He crossed his arms, waiting, a sly smile on his face. It reminded her a bit like Lady Naomi’s cat-like grin.
He followed her to the table and they sat. Sylvia raised her eyebrows at him in challenge before closing her eyes. She could do this. She took a deep breath and…
…Everything was black, but she pictured the earlink glowing silver, a beacon that reached out to the datawoven strands. The strands began to acknowledge the beacon, and respond with a light of their own, a soft, silver glow. Two beacons lit from the same light, growing brighter and brighter until—
A low whistle came from Atlan, as she felt something in her head shift, as if everything moved sideways for a moment. This was it.
She held onto the glow, focusing on the shift in her head, keeping it there. It held. She dared open her eyes by a sliver, reminding herself to focus on the shift; knowing deep down it was the connection.
But the glow was fading. She was losing it!
The connection broke, and she knew it instantly as her mind seemingly snapped back into place.
“Ahh, you had it there,” Atlan said.
Sylvia grimaced. But she was getting better. “It stopped glowing and then it broke,” she whined.
“It only glows for a moment to let you know the connection is made. You just have to focus on keeping it going. Once you get used to it, the connection is the easy part, you won’t even think about it, and it’ll be on all the time. Then you can input commands whenever you like.”
“You try,” Sylvia suggested, eager to watch a native demonstrate the technique. She wondered if he was wearing any datawoven fabric, and then her eyes caught on his belt.
He met her eyes briefly and then he turned his thoughts inward, not even needing to close his eyes. He looked very serious for a moment, with his eyes out of focus, and then the belt flashed silver.
Sylvia gasped quietly, staring at it. It went back to normal after the brief flash, and she looked up and saw him staring at her.
She whispered, “Are you still holding it?”
He nodded.
“You try,” he suggested, and his eyes narrowed as he focused on holding the connection.
“Now?”
He nodded again.
Okay, she said to herself, and closed her eyes.
Blackness, but for the glowing silver earlink, giving life to the datawoven threads around her forearm. The threads respond with light of their own, matching that of the earlink. It was the same light.
She had known what it would feel like, but was still unprepared when everything in her mind seemed to snap sideways. She had it.
The connection vibrated through her mind, like the way the floor of the train hummed through her body, like the electric current that had woven through her veins on the ancient stage. This time, she would keep it up until she let go.
She latched onto the connection, solidifying the glowing visions once more before opening her eyes.
Atlan was grinning at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Let’s try something,” he whispered.
A shiver ran up her spine, but she willed the connection to stay. It would stay.
Staring into his bright grey eyes, she waited for what it was he wanted to try; at the same time she wove her mind through the feeling of connection, memorizing its pathways and patterns.
But then she felt something else, something foreign pressing in on the connection; like a finger poking into a bubble.
Sylvi—
“Ahh!”
She leapt from her chair, and the connection snapped. She staggered a few steps back. Had he just—?
“What was that!” she demanded.
He smiled, infuriating her even more.
“D-Did you just—” she stammered as she gripped the back of her chair, not wanting to sit back down just yet.
“Yes, and it’s normal here,” he said slowly. “It’s called linking. I’m sorry—it’s just, I hadn’t tried it yet.”
“So people can just—talk—to each other, inside their—” She felt like she was starting to shake.
Atlan scooted his chair back, and came over to her. He took her shoulders and guided her back into her seat. His hands felt as if they sparked electricity from her skin. She numbly sat back down, and tried to take deep breaths. Her shoulders felt warm where he had held them.
“Most of the time, people put controls on so you can’t just link automatically.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Most of the time, you have to ask first,” he explained.
She nodded. “So people do this all the time?”
“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip, looking guilty. “Do you want me to go?”
She blinked out of her stupor. “No—no wait. Let’s try it again.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. But let’s do it anyway.”
Twenty Five
The light from Ember’s orb bounced off the tunnel walls as she followed Luna up the stairs.
She had had enough.
Ven and Flint had left her in Meadowcity—wouldn’t even let her help find Sylvia!—and gone without her. They had bleated that since she wasn’t a Rider or Hun
ter, she wouldn’t be an asset on the trail. But what about Flint?, she argued again to herself. He’s not a Rider, either. He’s a stone cutter! And that Rolfe guy—he’s a woodcarver! She huffed noisily. Ven had picked and chosen his favorites.
It was impossible for Ember to sit still while the others did all the work. They shunted her aside because she was from Riftcity, or because they thought she wasn’t good enough, or because they didn’t trust her.
She had been trapped in Meadowcity for months, stuck under mounds of snow and Gero’s command that no one leave the city through winter. Outside of guard duty on the wall, the only thing she had to occupy herself with was helping to train Luna; and when Sylvia had announced her mission to Lightcity, Ember had become Luna’s sole trainer. The Rider had rarely been seen outside of Citizen’s Hall, where she had been rooted in debates and war planning, weeks before her journey. But now Ven and Gero thought something had gone awry with Sylvia’s mission.
Ember rolled her eyes at the thought of it all again, then shook her head, telling herself to stop focusing on the negatives. It was only getting better from here: she was taking matters into her own hands now.
Luna reached the top of the stairs first and whined, but she sat and waited obediently for Ember.
Before Sylvia’s mission was born, she and Ember had spent hours training the wild wolf, first teaching Luna obedience, and then honing the wolf’s natural skills.
It had been hard in the beginning to teach the wolf manners; Ember and Sylvia both suffered many bites and scratches from the cub’s teeth and nails, but once they had progressed—and Luna seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of her two trainers—it had become like a game.
Sylvia had wanted to copy one of the Scout’s tricks, and they tried to teach Luna to recognize weapons, and learn a command to disarm an opponent. Both girls had been wary to let the growing wolf practice on them, so they used an effigy, stuffed with straw, for their aggressor. Ember had cunningly fashioned a leather vest to mimic those the Scouts wore, but Sylvia hadn’t let her use it. The Rider had said she didn’t want Luna to learn to attack a person just because of the clothes they wore. Ember had grumbled about it, but agreed—even though she didn’t think the Scouts would become friends of the Four Cities any time soon.
Ember suspected the wolf had grown just as antsy as she over the winter—stuck inside the city with nothing to do—so she decided to take the wolf with her on her journey. She knew Sylvia had wanted to bring Luna along on her trip, but it hadn’t seemed practical. Besides, Ember needed company on the trail, and perhaps a little backup.
She recalled how to get to Riftcity, but she didn’t quite feel comfortable crossing the wilds alone.
Ember finally reached the last stair, her thigh muscles tired from the climb. She peered around Luna to look out the tunnel opening. Damp, twilit woods met her eyes, and the smell of rain permeated the air.
She wasn’t surprised it had rained while she was underground, it just felt strange that she had missed it entirely. Earlier, when she had ducked into the Citizen’s Hall, the clouds had grown dark and a breeze was barreling through the city, making the budding branches of the treewall sway.
It had taken her a while to get through the Citizen’s Hall before finding the secret tunnel. Having Luna with her had slowed her down. The Secretary of the City, Ell, had been at his desk in the front foyer, and he had already forbidden Sylvia and Ember from bringing the wolf inside the building. So she had waited until he was distracted by a Healer coming to request an escort outside the wall, and she darted by the desk with Luna at her heels. Ember could hear Ell arguing with the Healer as she rounded the corner and turned down another hallway. No one was allowed outside the city, but the Healer needed supplies that grew in the wilds.
Ember and Luna ventured further down the hallway until the Healer’s argument faded into nothing.
Then it became a game of avoiding people who she didn’t know—those who might tell Ell about Luna—and getting to the place where she knew the tunnel was hidden. A lot of her time had been wasted waiting for a pair of city workers to vacate a hallway she had needed to go down. They had been deeply entrenched in a conversation about the war.
When Ven and Flint had left, she had followed them to spy on their departure, wondering how they had planned on getting out of the city without being noticed by the patrolling Scouts. Truly, they should have let her come to Lightcity—she would make an excellent spy. But that wasn’t where she really wanted to go.
Lightcity didn’t need their help. They were in league with Greyling, and were supplying the Scouts with weapons. Whereas Riftcity had been torn apart and forced into labor to fuel the war. The war that had taken her father, taken her home. Vivid memories of the attack on Riftcity would live with her forever, along with the last sight of her father, thrown into the rift by an explosion. She could almost smell the acrid scent the explosives left behind, as the awful memory drudged itself up again.
She still couldn’t believe Flint thought going to Lightcity was more important than his home. Sure, Meadowcity had taken in the Riftcity refugees who had come to their rescue, and she could tell he was having a hard time fitting in, so he wanted to impress people. But Riftcity was still in trouble. Why hadn’t the expedition gone there? Had they given up on them?
Sylvia had gone north over a month ago and not come back. But Ember knew Sylvia. She had spent an unreasonable amount of time with the Rider over the past few months—living in the girl’s house, training Luna with her—not to mention that first eye-opening experience in the wilds with the girl. The Rider was like her sister now. Sylvia was strong, independent—and smart. She was probably doing something really important that she couldn’t come back and tell them about.
Ember was sure that Riftcity needed their help more. But her attempts to convince Gero had gone unheard.
Thunder rumbled in the distant woods, and Ember peeked out of the tunnel opening once more. A premature darkness had descended, with storm clouds weighing heavily upon the sky, thick with rain, ready to open up again any minute. She had picked a fine day to go traveling, she thought to herself. But she couldn’t spend another minute staring at the insides of the treewall, wondering what was going on in Riftcity.
Crack. An arc of lighting rent the air above, with an accompanying burst of thunder—followed by a yelp.
Ember looked down at Luna, who cocked her head at her. Had it been some animal in the woods?
She shrugged and took her bearings. Without the sun, she would have to base her direction off of Meadowcity. But she didn’t know which side of the walled city the tunnel had brought her out on. She would have to locate the gate to figure out which direction to take.
She headed for the treewall, crouching low to avoid the notice of the guards up on the parapet. Once she got in the lee of the wall, there would be no chance they could see her from above.
It wasn’t that she thought they would try and stop her, exactly; but she really didn’t want to have to explain herself. Riftcity needed their help, and it seemed like she was the only one who wanted to give it. She huffed in annoyance.
Another flick of lighting lit up the darkening woods in eerie detail. Ember froze. Up ahead, by the treewall, she spotted two figures creeping along, a man and a woman.
Scouts, she swore under her breath.
She signaled Luna to fall in directly behind her. The two intruders seemed to be doing the same thing she was doing—sneaking down the wall, trying to avoid discovery by the Defenders on the parapet. But they were completely oblivious to the girl creeping up behind them.
Their whispers carried back to her, and she readied her long knife, a Mid-Winter gift from Sylvia.
“Don’t you think we should figure out what to say first?” said the girl.
“I think getting in is more important right now—we could run into Scouts out here,” the man replied.
“You don’t want to see any of your friends?” the girl’s voice dripped
in sarcasm. Ember furrowed her eyebrows. Who were these people?
“Look, Neve, I’m sorry, how many times do I have to say it?”
Ember was glad for the rain that began to fall, drip-dropping onto the leaves; it made creeping up on them quite easy. The damp leaves on the ground made no sound as she slowly gained on them. Luna followed several paces back, waiting for Ember’s command.
As she neared, she realized that the man was injured; his cloak was stained in blood, and he walked unevenly, clutching his ribs. The girl walked a few feet behind him, both nearly hugging the trunks of the treewall for cover.
Ember was close. She made a quick decision and charged at the girl. She flung her arm around the girl’s neck and raised her knife in one fluid motion.
“Falcon—” the girl cried; but Ember was already backing away with her captive. She gave a whistled command and Luna came bounding up by her side, baring her teeth at the man.
He held up his hands, surprisingly weaponless. He opened his mouth, but Ember spoke first.
“Who are you?” she barked.
“Let her go,” he pleaded, and his eyes widened in panic.
“What are you doing here?” Ember demanded. She had to hide her grin. She was actually having fun with this.
The girl squirmed, then said, “I’m here for Sylvia—”
“Sylvia?” Ember echoed in surprise. “Sylvia’s gone,” she spat.
“No—I know. I’m here to tell you what happened.”
The sky lit up in frightening clarity as several bolts of lightening leapt through the air above. Ember cringed, waiting for the boom of thunder to follow.
“Well, what happened?” she said over the rumbling.
“Can’t you let me go first?”
“No.”
“Please?”
Ember watched Falcon’s eyes flick between Luna and the girl, perhaps waiting for an opportunity to jump her. He would be stupid to try. Luna would be on him before he moved.