by Liz Delton
“She’s in Seascape. Lady Blackwater—”
“Seascape?” Ember actually loosened her grip. “What are you talking about?”
“The fifth city! The island Governor Greyling’s been after! We found it.”
Ember reluctantly let go of the girl, but didn’t lower her blade. It had the ring of truth. Or insanity.
“Go on,” Ember insisted.
“Okay. Okay. Well she—Sylvia I mean, entered into these Trials,” the words tumbled out of the girl’s mouth.
“Wait, wait, wait. Start over. How did you even get there? Sylvia was going up to Lightcity.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and she said, “Look, I’ll tell you everything. But first take us inside. Take us to Gero.”
Twenty Six
As soon as Harry left the storehouse, the Defenders began talking excitedly about how they could get rid of the orbs. They all agreed it wouldn’t be enough just to steal them, they had to dispose of them, too, so that they couldn’t ever be used against another city again.
They talked long into the night, in low whispers that sounded like a constant wind blowing through a forest. The dim orb lamp eventually burned out, but they kept talking. The moonlight that filtered in through the second story windows threw the group into shadowy outline.
The fire to get back at Governor Greyling burned fiercely in each of them, fanned by yet even more reminders of his treachery to the Four Cities; with his exploitation of Harry and his niece, and deception of the citizens of Lightcity.
Quite suddenly in the conversation, Ven realized he was actually excited about something, for the first time in a while. The constant sourness of the knot in his stomach, twisting tighter each moment until now, had finally dissipated. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he listened to a theory Dahlia had about the Scouts’ movements.
At last Ven cleared his throat and told them all to get to bed. Flint went to relieve Jet from his watch, and the rest of the Defenders curled up on the floor in the spots they had claimed, and slept.
Ven woke very early the next morning, despite having stayed up so late plotting. Dim dawn light filtered in through the windows at the top of the storehouse.
He spotted Dahlia pacing around the catwalk above, outfitted in her Rider gear: dark brown leather from toe to top, with her long hair pulled back with a tie, the curve of a bow at her side, and a full quiver of arrows on her back.
Without a sound, Ven flung back his blanket and meticulously packed it away. He truly felt like a fire had been lit inside his chest. It had burned out all of his anguish and replaced it with a frenzied excitement: he finally felt like he had a purpose again.
He went to go keep Dahlia company on the early morning watch, and grabbed two apples from the bag in the corner before climbing up to the catwalk.
They chatted quietly between bites of their apples as they waited for the others to wake, circling the catwalk and keeping watch over their makeshift fortress. Dahlia was as wide-eyed as he, excited at their plans to begin to payback Greyling.
The older Rider had plenty to say about the Governor’s visit to Meadowcity last summer, when the Scouts had taken over the city.
She told Ven about the Scout who beat her bloody for trying to run and grab her son from his room during the invasion. They had already dragged their neighbors from the surrounding villas, and Dahlia’s wife had been over at the Healer’s Hall when it happened.
With a grim smile she told Ven how she somehow managed to find the same Scout during the battle afterward, and was able to exact a fitting punishment on him for the beating she received. She was more than happy to help get rid of their advantage here in Lightcity.
One by one the others awoke, and they quickly got down to business as the sunlight grew stronger. They hunkered down over the stack of stones where Flint laid out a hand-drawn map of the city, and debated their theories for destabilizing the Scouts once more.
They agreed that they needed to move quickly—if Sylvia had followed a contingent of Scouts to the fifth city a month ago, they figured something important must be going on. Ven had been right in thinking that Greyling would act once the winter lifted.
Not long after they had begun the discussion, Dahlia, Thom, and Jet left to search out their fellow Riders, and together sweep the city. Unanimously the Defenders agreed that first they needed to know exactly where the orbs were being stored, and how many there were. That was something they could do right away, so the three Riders had left the storehouse with their weapons hidden and their resolve hardened.
Arden and Ash left soon after to go study the area surrounding the back gate, which pointed east towards the quarry.
Ven, Flint and Rolfe remained and debated the logistics of how they would move the stockpile out of the city. Last night Rolfe had offered a simple solution for disposing the orbs. They were going to set them off in the quarry.
It was far enough out of the city that it wouldn’t hurt anyone or damage the city; and of course, the orbs would be rendered useless—Greyling would lose his biggest advantage. Ven grinned at the prospect of it.
Just after mid-day, Jet returned with Dahlia and one of the Lightcity Riders. They had found it, and it hadn’t been hard at all. It turned out the glassworkers continuously frequented the storage location, when they delivered their quota of orbs to fulfill the contract Governor Estella signed.
Jet had counted only one lone Scout hanging about the entrance, making it fairly easy to access. Dahlia theorized that they probably didn’t want it to look like they were guarding it too heavily, so as not to tip off the Lightcitizens as to the truth of their ruthlessness. She had gotten a quick glance inside and saw the orbs neatly packed in crates, ready for transport. There was only one problem.
The cache of orbs was by the main gate, on the opposite side of the city.
They had also learned of another, smaller stash of orbs at the Scouts’ barracks, which had been erected closer to the city center, over a grassy park. But the bulk of the explosives were by the gate. They were going to have to cart them straight across the city.
Thom returned just as Ven came to that ugly conclusion, and the Rider confirmed the same location of the storehouse. Ven thought the Scouts must want to keep them ready to transport when the time came to advance on the fifth city.
They all sat down to discuss this latest development and scarf down a hasty mid-day meal. It was going to take a lot of effort to move that many crates across the city, especially without drawing notice. Ven volunteered to take watch while everyone else ate, so he climbed the stairs up to the catwalk while gnawing on some jerky.
Below, the voices of Flint, Rolfe, and the Riders filtered up as he made a slow revolution around the storehouse, slowly chewing on the meat. Flint and Rolfe were telling the others their idea for moving the orbs. They would need to gather supplies for it to work, but luckily the storehouses around them were full of what they needed, since heavy stones were constantly being moved in and out of these buildings.
Ven hadn’t ventured out into Lightcity much, not wanting to draw attention as a foreigner, but he couldn’t stop imagining the distance they were going to have to cart the orbs.
Out of nowhere, Ven heard heavy footfalls outside—someone running fast, towards their building.
He darted to the nearest window and looked out in time to see two figures running into the storehouse.
His bow already nocked with an arrow, he spun around to aim, until he realized it was just Ash and Arden, now catching their breath amidst the surprised group.
Ven’s heart fluttered in his chest with adrenaline as he waited for one of them to say something.
Ash spoke first. “They’re taking them,” he panted.
“Taking the orbs to Riftcity.”
Twenty Seven
Neve stumbled again as she blindly felt her way up the stairs. The red-headed girl, Ember, had roughly tied their hands, and then blindfolded them as they stood in the pouring rain outside the
city.
Instead of walking through the gate, the girl had led them down a long set of stairs and into a dank and dark tunnel. Even with the hastily cut strip of cloth over her eyes, she could tell that it was incredibly dark, wherever they were.
She could also tell that the wolf was in front of her; she could hear it panting, and the nails on its paws clicking against the stone as it walked. Falcon’s shuffling footsteps were behind her, and Neve could tell Ember watched them all from behind, by the minuscule amount of light that seeped through her blindfold, coming from the back.
The tunnel had surprised Neve, since she figured Ember would simply lead them through the gate. As she climbed the stairs—hopefully rising into Meadowcity—she wondered what Ember had been doing outside the city. Both Sylvia and Falcon had told her Meadowcity had been closed up since Summer’s End.
She already knew all about Ember from the stories Sylvia had told her on the trail, but she had kept her mouth shut. Now was not the time to unnerve the girl, not when Neve was getting what she wanted—a way inside the city. And Ember seemed on edge as it was.
Neve had promised to get to Meadowcity with Sylvia’s message as quickly as she could, but even with Falcon’s trail skills, they had gotten bogged down for days in muddy and waterlogged fields and woods.
Falcon had insisted they circle to the east, rather than straight north from Seascape. He had wanted to circumvent any possible run-ins with the Scouts. But the spring rains had bloated the land, miring them in boggy fields and muddy woods for weeks. Neve was selfishly looking forward to a warm bath, and getting into some dry clothes and shoes. But first she had a message to deliver.
“Stop,” Ember finally called.
Neve wobbled on her step as Ember squeezed past her. She still couldn’t see anything through her blindfold, but then she heard a door open.
“Up,” Ember instructed, and Neve nearly groaned. More stairs? She kicked her foot out to find the bottom step of yet another staircase, but this one turned out to be much shorter than the first.
Neve hesitated when she reached the top, when her foot found no more stairs to climb. Ember brushed past her again, and took hold of her arm.
Dim light began to seep through Neve’s blindfold, and she could see her own feet through the bottom now, walking along old stone pavers.
Ember led them through what was clearly a large building; Neve could only hope that it was the Citizen’s Hall. There were plenty of turns and twists as Ember led them through the Hall, and another set of stairs. Eventually they reached wood-paneled floors that shone up at Neve through the bottom of her blindfold.
The building smelled strongly of wood, with a hint of hearthfire. The very hallways of the building seemed to exude warmth, which snapped the chill that had settled into Neve’s bones from weeks in the wet countryside.
Finally their captor stopped, and Neve peered through the bottom of her blindfold hopefully.
A door opened. “Wait in here,” Ember commanded, and with a hand on her bicep, Neve was led inside, bumping alongside Falcon.
A second later, the door closed with a slam, and she heard a lock click. They were shut in darkness once more.
“Where are we?” Falcon hissed.
Neve awkwardly raised her arms, and blindly felt around with her hands, still tied at the wrist. She could hear Falcon doing the same.
“A closet?” she guessed.
“Where’s she gone then, do you think?”
“How should I know?” Neve retorted into the darkness.
“Neve—can you just be civil with me for once?”
She could feel the hurt in his voice. They used to be so close.
She didn’t answer. It had been hard enough trekking through the wilds with him; her feelings of betrayal had become tainted by pity for his wounded condition. But she didn’t want to forgive him. She couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Her stomach writhed in guilt and she shut her eyes, though the blackness was the same as the dark closet.
There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t say any of them.
You betrayed me, was on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t make herself sound that vulnerable—not to him, not anymore. Not after what he did.
Deliverance came in the form of the door swinging open. Through her blindfold she could only see a film of light in the shape of a doorway.
“You tied them up?” came a man’s surprised voice.
“I didn’t want them taking their blindfolds off.”
“Yes, you’re right,” the man grunted.
“This one’s the Scout,” Ember said, no doubt pointing at Falcon.
Without warning, Neve was pulled from the closet and suddenly her blindfold was lifted.
Blinking from the sudden reappearance of light, Neve was strongly reminded of her short time in Seascape, when she was pulled from the dark chamber by one of Blackwater’s thugs.
Ember stood before her, blindfold in hand, with two men beside her. A sword hung from one man’s hip, and his thick-fingered hand rested on the hilt in warning as he eyed the two captives.
The other man was shorter, with lines etched around his eyes and grey hair at his temples. This man spoke. “I’m Governor Gero. You say you know where Sylvia is?”
* * *
Governor Gero led them into a small room that held a long wooden table surrounded by chairs. Ember followed them in and claimed a seat across the table from Neve. Falcon awkwardly lowered himself into one of the chairs. They hadn’t untied him. The man with the sword positioned himself behind Gero, right in front of the door.
Neve felt like she was inside a tree or something—every surface in the room was wood. The table gleamed marvelously in the lamplight, an impressive piece of woodwork, all in one piece. The chairs were carved with floral designs on the armrests and back; and the walls and ceiling were carved with a few simple lines.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” Gero said, forcing Neve to bring her eyes to the Governor and stop surveying the room. She took in the dark skin under his eyes, the hollow cheeks, and the grimace he wore, all of which made the man look exhausted, and much older than he probably was. With a guilty twinge of her stomach, she realized the Governor reminded her of her uncle Harry—who was probably sick with worry over her disappearance.
She started by telling Gero what she had overheard the Scouts say in the Broken Bellows that night, when she first learned of the war and their attack on Meadowcity, and their plans to travel to the fifth city. She quickly described her run-in with Sylvia and their departure the next day, then took a deep breath before starting on what happened in the fifth city.
Neve could tell by the look on Ember’s face that the girl had wanted to interrupt several times, perhaps to question Neve, but the look on Gero’s face must have deterred her. Neve soldiered on.
With aching clarity, she recounted her and Sylvia’s painful experience getting into Seascape. She could picture the stone shore, the Scouts a little ways off, all frozen in pain as the electric shock ripped through their nerves until they lost consciousness.
At that point, Neve glanced up from the spot in the table she had been talking at and saw the Meadowcitizens with their mouths open, eyes wide at Seascape’s defense. Even the man with the sword stood rapt with attention.
Then she spoke of the formidable Lady Blackwater, and her deal with Sylvia. The Trials that Sylvia would partake in, and the help the Lady would give if she passed.
When she finally stopped talking, the wooden room was silent. It was certainly not what anyone had been expecting. Neve wouldn’t have believed it herself had she not witnessed it firsthand.
Finally Gero cleared his throat and spoke up. “The Lady wouldn’t say what kind of help she would give?”
Neve shook her head. “Sylvia thought anything they could offer would be worth it.”
The Governor nodded idly.
Ember saw
her chance for questions, and jumped in. “And the trials were a month long?”
Neve nodded. “Four in all—one per week I think. No training was allowed, no help from anyone.”
“How long ago did you leave the island?” asked Gero.
Neve glanced at Falcon. “About two weeks? I’m not sure,” she shook her head. “We got mired in the fields east of here, hoping to avoid Scouts.”
“So what’s your story?” Ember asked Falcon belligerently.
Falcon had sunken into his chair, perhaps hoping no one would notice him after Neve’s weighty news. His eyes darted to Gero, then the man at the door. He took a deep breath, but Neve spoke up first.
“Falcon’s a Scout,” she proclaimed needlessly. “He was with the group that went south.”
He stared wide-eyed at Neve, clearly thinking she was selling him out somehow.
“He questioned their methods,” she continued, “so they killed his lion, then beat him almost to death. I found him when they made me leave Seascape.”
“I wouldn’t have made it to Meadowcity without him,” she concluded. She was guessing the Meadowcitizens wouldn’t believe anything out of Falcon’s mouth; to them, all Scouts were the enemy. But it was the truth.
“That true?” Ember asked him.
He nodded, catching on to Neve’s tactic and keeping his mouth shut.
Gero clapped his hands on his thighs. “Well. At least we know where Sylvia is.”
Ember nodded, but looked sideways at the Governor.
“But we already sent a contingent of Defenders up to Lightcity,” Gero said. “We can’t spare anyone else to escort you back—you’ll have to stay here, at least until they come back. And who knows that else will have changed by the time they do.”
Twenty Eight
The wind from the dark southern shore whipped at Sylvia’s back as she clung to the cliff face, her fingers white from the strain already.