by Liz Delton
Over the noise, Talia leaned into Sylvia and shouted, “Why did they help her?”
Sylvia shrugged. She couldn’t say much, having helped Alice all the way up. Talia must not have seen Sylvia’s climb on the looking-glasses.
But during the commotion, the looking-glasses had turned off. Sylvia saw only a black panel, and her heart fluttered—what about Faye? She nearly stood, but her fatigued muscles kept her pinned to the earth.
It was at that moment that Lady Naomi mounted the podium and addressed the audience. Outrage flew through Sylvia.
“Well done, well done!” the Lady raved.
Sylvia couldn’t stand it. “What about Faye?” she called, loud enough for Lady Blackwater and some of the crowd to hear.
Lena tried to hush her, but Sylvia stared up at the Lady, waiting for an answer.
“Not to worry,” the Lady soothed, “Our final initiate has been taken care of, and removed from the cliff,” her face curved up into a grin. “But due to certain circumstances,” the Lady glanced Sylvia’s way, “We could not leave the looking-glasses on for the rescue.”
Sylvia slumped back down, but didn’t drop her gaze. How was she supposed to know that? She had no idea how these Trials worked, whether the initiates were safe or not, or why there was “no way they would let any of them die.”
People died in Arcera all the time. It was dangerous traveling through the wilds, where your life depended on a person’s skills, and the courage it took to use them. Since the war had begun, it had been a little more like luck that had kept Sylvia and her friends alive. What was so special about the initiates? When they were testing them with such dangerous tasks, how was she supposed to know they were safe?
The Lady continued as if the interruption hadn’t occurred.
“Tonight, we saw just how connected our initiates could prove themselves to be.”
She paused, for effect perhaps, and the only sound that could be heard were the waves crashing far below, at the bottom of the cliff.
“Few understood the real challenge,” Lady Blackwater continued, with all of Seascape rapt in attention. The initiates stared up at her hungrily.
“Connectivity. The link that ties us together, as humans, as citizens of Seascape, as neighbors and friends. Our lives are connected to one another by millions of threads. We are not alone in the journey of our lives. Our initiates must learn to connect with each other, to trust each other, to help each other.”
Sylvia’s breath caught in her throat. Had she done it right?
“In one week’s time, our initiates will gather on the northern shore for their next task,” the Lady concluded.
As the crowd came back to life, Sylvia sunk heavily into the grass, beyond ready to head back home to Castle Tenny, and her warm bed. Though the Lady hadn’t said what the next Trial would be, Sylvia had a whole week to worry about it.
The crowd began to disperse, and Sylvia was met by Oliver. When she glanced back at the podium, she could swear she saw the glint of a steely look in Lady Naomi’s gaze; but then the Lady grinned, and bowed her head at the Rider before disappearing into the crowd.
Twenty Nine
The night air carried a whiff of adrenaline as Ven and Flint headed back to grab another crate of orbs.
Surprisingly, the crates were rather light; heavily padded, they assumed, to keep any accidents from happening during transport.
Ven and Flint jogged back down the street at the pace they had kept for over an hour now, back to the storehouse, only a few blocks away.
Taking the storehouse had been simple, with only one Scout stationed there to protect it. Once night had fallen, and the streets became dark, they had launched their plan into action.
They had paired up and each taken a section in the line, each running crates only a fraction of the way, leading to the back gate, where they would take them out of the city, and out of the Scouts’ hands. Ven had lost track of how many crates he and Flint had dropped at their mark for Ash and Arden to continue down the line.
Dahlia and the glassworker, Harry, were stationed at the storehouse with one of the Lightcity Riders, Tems. They took turns pulling out the crates and putting them on the next corner, where Ven and Flint picked them up to run them down the line.
After Ash and Arden was Jet, paired with Vivi, another Lightcity Rider. Rolfe and Thom were next, then two more Lightcity Riders, Andred and Morgain.
They had only managed to grab a few of their contacts in the city to carry out the plan at such short notice. Earlier, when Ash and Arden were spying on the back gate, they had overheard the gatekeepers complaining about the Scouts that had just returned to the city.
The Scouts had been boasting as usual about the important work they were doing for the Four Cities, and had been complaining about their contingent having to cart the hoard of orbs to Riftcity tomorrow. So the Defenders had vaulted their plan into action.
Sunrise was only hours away, and the storehouse was nearly empty now, thanks to them. Ven couldn’t stop smiling when he thought about what this would do to Greyling.
And he was beyond thankful that the crates had been packed so lightly. Flint had cracked one open to make sure the orbs really were in the boxes; and underneath wads of wood shavings, the explosives lay neatly nestled.
The crates were large, and there were a lot of them, but at least they could carry them between two people. Rolfe had been scheming up rail systems with rolling logs, if the crates had been heavy. Ven was glad they had avoided that system—it would have been far too loud.
Ven had worked up a comfortable sweat from running the boxes down the line. He and Flint exchanged no words; they had the whole thing down to a system now. Drop the box at the corner of the tall building with the sign painted with flowers, sprint back to the storehouse, pick up a crate—Ven on the right and Flint on the left—lift, and walk as fast as they could back to the drop spot.
On and on it went. The moon had done them a favor and remained hidden behind some clouds ever since midnight, and they were far enough off the main streets that not many lamps were lit. So far their mission had gone unnoticed.
Once they got to the quarry, however, and set off all of the explosives, they would have to clear out right away. They planned to load up all the crates in the center of the quarry and throw one orb at the lot from high above. Then, they would run as quick as they could south to get away from the Scouts, who were sure to pursue.
The Defenders had packed all of their gear and left it inside the door of their home base, ready to grab once they reached the back gate. Ven was anxious to get back to Meadowcity, so they could tell Gero where Sylvia had gone. He was considering suggesting the Defenders take a trip to the fifth city next.
At last, Ven and Flint slowed to a jog on their way back to the storehouse when they saw Dahlia, Harry, and Tems headed their way. Tems and Harry carried a box between them. Dahlia was smiling, and Ven’s heart lifted. The storehouse must be empty.
“That the last of ‘em?” Flint whispered.
“‘Aye,” Harry replied, and the older man’s face lit up in a smile. It was the first time Ven had seen that much emotion on the surly man. It was contagious; Ven cracked a grin, and they turned foot.
Ven, Flint and Dahlia ran on ahead down the line, with Harry and Tems following with the last crate. They passed Ash and Arden and instructed them to move to the end of the line once they were done; and gave the same message to the rest as they passed.
After running by Andred and Morgain, they found the end of the line. The two Lightcity Riders had been depositing their crates in the dark shadows of an old wood shop. It was time to extend the line.
But before they grabbed the first crate, Dahlia spoke. “What about the stash at the barracks?” she asked.
Ven wiped his forehead with his arm and looked to Flint.
“I say we do it now,” Flint murmured. “Not wait til we’re done moving these, like we said before.”
Dahlia nodded. “
I’ll go. Bring ‘em back to the line, and we move them along with the rest.”
“Alright,” Ven agreed, though he felt uneasy about separating the group too much. “But wait for Tems,” he added.
He and Flint reached down to grab the first crate.
Though he was beginning to tire, his heart continued to feed him energy. The rush of what they were doing kept him going. With every crate they placed, he thought, one less crate of explosives for the Scouts.
Eventually, Ash and Arden, then Jet and Vivi passed them, continuing the line even further through the city. It was slow going, but Ven knew they were making progress. Soon their line would extend to the back gate, and they would be out of the city, getting rid of Skycity’s advantage once and for all.
It was when Andred and Morgain brought them the last crate that a cold finger of fear iced through Ven’s chest.
Dahlia and Tems hadn’t returned.
Thirty
Ven grabbed Flint by the arm. “Dahlia and Tems,” was all he said, and understanding fled through Flint’s eyes.
They had been gone too long.
“I’ll go get the others,” Flint insisted, then turned and ran, leaving Ven alone to panic.
Had they run into trouble at the barracks and gotten caught? Ven jogged back to where Dahlia and Tems had disappeared into the shadows, and he peered down the lane. From their maps, Ven knew the barracks should be down this lane and one block over, at the city square.
Then, he heard a sound that made his insides freeze.
A girl’s scream.
Ven was halfway down the alley when he next heard Tems’ shout up ahead in the distance.
“Leave her alone!” Tems cried.
Footsteps pounded behind Ven and he turned to see that Flint had followed. The rest of the group stood at the mouth of the alley, eyes wide.
“What do we do?” Flint implored in a whisper.
“I don’t know—”
“Shh—someone’s coming!”
They drew back at the sound of footsteps and huddled into the shadow of a short staircase. Ven saw the Defenders at the end of the alley pull away to hide.
“What are you up to, eh?” a crass voice demanded, and then he heard Dahlia yelp in pain.
“Let go of me!” she shouted.
Another man spoke, this one’s voice low and gravelly. “They’ve got our orbs out on the street corner, what does it look like they’re doing?”
“Who you working for, then?” the first man insisted.
“N-No one,” Dahlia stuttered through what sounded like tears of pain.
They heard a scuffle, then the sound of a fist meeting flesh.
“Oh, boy, you need to be a little quicker than that,” the uncouth man spat, and again they heard Tems take a hit.
Ven’s knuckles had turned white from gripping the knife he had unsheathed. These two Scouts needed to be taken care of, or their whole plan was ruined.
But then the second man spoke again.
“You thought you’d steal some of these for your own, eh, girl?”
Dahlia gasped.
Ven dared to peek out from the stairs, and his eyes met a horrid scene. Tems was struggling to break free of a muscular Scout’s vice-like grip, while a more stout man held Dahlia by her bicep; the Rider was down on her knees, her hair over her face.
The stout man held an orb in his hand.
Ven quit breathing. They needed to do something. Now.
He did the first thing that came to mind. He stood from the shadows and shouted at the men, “Hey!”
At that same moment, Tems made a bid for freedom, and rocked the muscular Scout off his balance. The short Scout turned at Ven’s voice, but the flailing Scout knocked the shining orb from the man’s hand.
It flew upwards, and Ven didn’t have time to wonder where it would land as he seized Flint and ran full tilt for the end of the alley.
“Go,” he roared as they ran, and the explosion ripped through the stone villas behind them.
He and Flint fell to the ground, but they scrambled up immediately and burst out of the alley before a second, earth shattering explosion went off. The stockpile from the barracks.
The group had already started running—but which way was safe?
“This way,” Ven bellowed, pointing to the front gate. No crates lay in that direction.
The others followed as they sprinted for safety, all the while explosions erupted in a violent chain-reaction behind them.
Each one shook the streets and nearly threw them to the ground, and the air was suddenly scorching. Everything was happening so quickly. Ven’s heart felt like it might just explode any second as they raced for the wall.
He chanced a look behind him as they reached the wall and they struggled to find a way out.
A wide swath of roaring fires had spread through the center of the city; the explosions finally done with. But this wasn’t ordinary fire, it was the fire made from special compounds mixed just for this purpose—destroying cities.
What had they done?
Thirty One
Before opening her eyes, a smile curved up Sylvia’s lips as she savored the warmth and solidity of her bed. The soft sheets and fluffy pillow caressed her skin and she inhaled the warmth of the fire-lit room.
But even the smallest movement brought forth incredible stiffness, and the memories of the Trial on the cliff flooded her brain. Her shoulders, arms, and legs ached all at once when she tried to sit up, and her fingers were so stiff with pain that she couldn’t even move them. Many of her fingernails were jagged and torn to the quick from scrabbling for holds, and the skin was cracked and sore.
Her only positive thought was that at least the next Trial wasn’t for another week, and it couldn’t possibly be as bad. Or, at least, she didn’t imagine she would have to climb another cliff.
She limped her way to the washroom, but it took a good several minutes to start a bath; her stiff fingers were nearly useless trying to turn the taps.
A small container sat on the counter, with a note underneath. She opened it awkwardly with her stiff fingers, and a soothing scent assailed her nose. Lavender. She dumped the entire jar into the bath, then picked up the piece of paper.
It was a short note:
Looking forward to your creativity at the next Trial.
-N
N? Was this from Lady Naomi? She tottered her aching body over to the high walls of the tub and slid herself into the heavenly warm water. She slipped her hands in last and hissed through her teeth at the sting, as her scraped and swollen hands adjusted to the water. She swirled the water around and the soothing bath soak dispersed.
As her muscles soaked in the calming water, Sylvia wondered if Lady Naomi had given all of the initiates something for their aches. But for some reason, she didn’t think the Lady would do that.
The Lady seemed to have a strange liking for Sylvia, which the Rider no longer resented. If it got her through these Trials, and got her help for Meadowcity, she didn’t mind it one bit.
But last night, she had sensed she might have gone a little too far questioning the Lady in front of the crowd. How was she supposed to know that Faye was safe? And then she remembered Lena’s confidence that Seascape wouldn’t let anything bad happen to the initiates. Sylvia sighed and sunk lower into the water.
It felt like she soaked for hours. She even refilled the tub with hot water a few more times, telling herself that her muscles needed it. She wiggled her fingers and toes every so often, trying not to let them stiffen up again.
What her muscles really needed, though, was movement; unless she wanted the stiffness to last even longer. She drained the tub and decided she would take a walk through the halls of the castle. Even if Oliver found her and escorted her back to her room, the stretch would be worth it.
She glimpsed the sunlit ocean in her looking-glass as she came out of the washroom. A shiver ran up her spine as she remembered her close-up view of that same cliff last nigh
t.
For the first time, she wondered how the image of the shore really came to be in the looking-glass. She strayed toward the looking-glass to study it. How was the image being taken?
Sylvia was almost sure Lady Naomi had a way to spy on parts of Arcera, as far away as Lightcity, so there must be some mechanism that recorded these images and…. what? Sent them back to datastrands? The same way they could send communications over the link?
She blinked a few times, her mind swirling, trying to wrap itself around ideas that she had never even thought to consider.
Shaking her head, she broke her daze, and remembered the walk she had promised herself. But first….
She strode over to her wardrobe and retrieved her earlink that she had carefully stored last night in the drawer. Slipping her fingers between folds of fabric, she also located the datawoven half-sleeve that Atlan had given her. She pulled it on underneath the knit sweater she wore, and grabbed a muffin from the breakfast tray someone had left. She slipped out the door and into the hallway, earlink tucked inside her right ear.
Since marking her way had failed entirely the first time she had tried exploring, Sylvia decided to wander aimlessly, knowing that either Oliver would eventually locate her, or she would somehow find her way back. The place couldn’t be that big. She bit into her muffin and turned left.
Slippers soft on the stone floor, Sylvia walked down corridor after corridor, taking a few staircases up here and there, and actually feeling like she might be rising from the bowels of the castle for once.
That was, until she heard footsteps behind her and someone call her name.
“Sylvia?”
She sighed, turning, but it wasn’t the blonde hair and smiling face of Oliver that met her gaze, but Atlan, hands in his pockets, grinning mischievously at her. Her stomach did a flip.
“Oh, Atlan.” She looked up and down the hallway, but it was just them.