The Fifth City

by Liz Delton

  He grinned and came closer.

  “What are you up to?” he asked, also glancing down the halls.

  “Just….stretching my legs,” she said, absently rolling her aching shoulders.

  “Stiff?”

  She nodded. For some reason she felt like they shouldn’t be here, and she was getting that same impression from Atlan.

  “Same,” he replied. Then he said in a rush, “You want to get out of here?”

  Sylvia met his bright grey eyes and nodded without hesitation. What she wouldn’t give for some fresh air—when she wasn’t hanging by her fingertips on a cliff.

  He glanced around again and grabbed her arm, turning them back in the direction Sylvia had come from, leading them at a quick pace. Perhaps they really weren’t supposed to be out and about.

  “How do you know where you’re going?” Sylvia murmured as they turned down another identical corridor, her skin tingling strangely where his hand was wrapped casually around her arm.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said, and she believed him.

  Atlan turned them down another corridor and headed toward a narrow stone staircase, leading them down even further, and Sylvia faltered. “Aren’t we going outside?”

  He let go of her arm and gestured for her to go before him. “Yeah, but we’re not going out the front,” was all he said.

  She obeyed and trotted down the stairs, pausing at the bottom for him to lead again. She almost hoped he would grab her arm again, but he didn’t.

  As they continued, the corridors became less and less like the ones Sylvia had seen so far during her stay—they didn’t shine as brightly white, and the thresholds and doorways looked much older, less pleasing to the eye. A mildewy scent made her wrinkle her nose, and it almost reminded her of the tunnels in Riftcity.

  The glowing ceiling panels were replaced with lamps that hung from the walls, more like the kind they had in Meadowcity.

  This must be an older part of the castle, she speculated. Where could he be leading her? She knew her rooms were underground, but how much further down could the castle go?

  Atlan finally stopped at a metal door at the end of a long, dusty hallway and he pushed on a horizontal bar that clunked the door open.

  A crack of beautiful sunlight penetrated the hall and Sylvia inhaled the sweet scent of fresh air, closing her eyes momentarily in bliss.

  Atlan had already slipped through the door, and Sylvia followed, eager to get out into the sun. A grimy stairwell greeted her, but the sun shone down from above, and she quickly followed Atlan up.

  They emerged onto a barren hill, and Sylvia could tell they weren’t far from the sea.

  She smiled and soaked up the warm afternoon sun on her face. She looked over at Atlan, hands in his pockets again, and said, “Thank you.”

  He shrugged and gave her a quick smile.

  “Hey, I’m serious!” She laughed. “I don’t know how anyone can stand living underground, inside all the time.”

  He shrugged again. “You up for a hike?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

  “Sure,” she said, appraising the hillside. She didn’t know if her legs were up to it, but she was certainly interested in exploring Seascape, and there was Atlan, of course.

  He led them up and around the grassy hill, and Sylvia could now see the sea in the distance, off the edge of what looked like a steep drop off. Sylvia was all too familiar with Seascape’s high cliffs over the sea. Atlan headed inland toward a large copse of trees.

  Sylvia was still amazed by the presence of the sea. It wasn’t something you merely saw—no, it was the salty wind constantly blowing; it was the sound of waves beating out their rhythm like breath in and out. Never in her life had she experienced something so wonderful. She had always been surrounded by trees, of course— living in Meadowcity with its treewall, and constantly traveling the woods between cities—but trees lived and breathed silently, they swayed with the wind, their leaves came and went: they simply were. The sea was different. The sea was alive.

  She almost ran into Atlan, who had stopped walking and was looking at her funny.

  “Did you say something?” she said, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks.

  Atlan chuckled.

  “I asked how you were liking Seascape,” he said, giving her a sly grin that was becoming quite familiar to Sylvia. She knew exactly who he got it from.

  They began walking again, still aiming for the trees.

  “Well, aside from the torture and deadly cliff scaling, it’s been great!”

  Atlan snorted at her sarcasm.

  “But really, it’s fascinating. I mean, the technology, it’s not even close to what the Four Cities have. I can sort of see why Greyling wanted in so badly,” she looked sideways at him. She still somewhat blamed Seascape for Greyling’s violent reaction.

  The son of Lady Blackwater looked sad, but remained quiet.

  They kept walking in silence, the new grass springy under their feet, and Sylvia began to feel bad for putting him on the spot like that.

  They began talking at the same time.

  “You probably didn’t have anything to do with it—”

  “I didn’t find out until after he’d gone—”

  They both stopped and grinned at each other sheepishly.

  She gestured for him to keep talking. They had entered the trees and the sunlight now came and went in brief spotlights.

  “Lady Naomi—she did show a live vid of the meeting with him, and citizens were allowed to have their input, but I didn’t have an earlink at the time, and until you pass the Trials, you don’t really get a say.

  “I think most people thought it wouldn’t cause such a mess—well, most people still don’t care much, since nothing’s happened to Seascape, and isn’t likely to,” he trailed off.

  “But what about the Four Cities?” Sylvia interjected. “We’re fighting for our lives and no one here cares?”

  She had stopped walking without meaning to. She huffed and went on, picking her way around the woods, which was strikingly green now that winter was over. Moss covered most of the trees and even the dirt smelled good.

  “Not—not everyone feels that way,” Atlan said, and she could tell he was getting frustrated.

  She felt bad for taking her anger out on him. If he hadn’t even known about Greyling’s meeting, what could he have done?

  She changed the subject.

  “So how can you tell where you’re going in the castle? Everything looks exactly the same to me.”

  Atlan actually grinned, probably knowing she was changing the subject on purpose, but the skin around his bright eyes crinkled in delight.

  “I’ve only just gotten a map of the layout, actually,” he said, and thumped the vest he wore, which Sylvia only now realized was datawoven fabric. She hadn’t noticed, since the smooth fabric shone a silver grey, instead of the usual shimmering black. He must have figured out how to change the colors already.

  She cocked her head, intrigued. “A map of the layout?”

  “Yes, I’ll share,” he said with a grin, clearly knowing she was about to ask for it.

  Her heart leapt—she could move around the castle! No wonder Oliver always knew where he was going. The castle residents probably couldn’t actually tell those identical hallways apart either.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Now that’s top secret.”

  “Was it Oliver?” she guessed.

  He just smirked and kept walking.

  “So, you’re sharing it, right?”

  “Calm down, there. I’ve never transferred data before, so I can’t do it on the spot right now.”

  “So where’re we going, anyway?”

  “You’re cheerful today aren’t you?”

  Sylvia laughed and the birds in the trees joined in, chirping from the branches. “I guess it’s the sunlight and fresh air.”

  They had reached a small stream and Atlan hopped over it. Sylvia followe
d at his heels, leaping to a damp rock in the middle, and then across.

  “So what made you come to Seascape in the first place?”

  Sylvia almost rolled her eyes. “You sound like your mother,” she joked. He remained silent, and Sylvia cringed.

  “Sorry. Lady Naomi.”

  “You know, she’s probably watching us,” he grumbled.

  “Really? How does that work, anyway?” She thought of the looking-glass in her room, and the way the Lady knew about things she shouldn’t….

  Atlan looked around at the sun-dappled woods, empty but for the two of them.

  “They’re called drones,” he said, still scanning the branches for something Sylvia couldn’t see.

  “There,” he pointed, and Sylvia saw the small black bird as it quickly took flight.

  “Birds?”

  “They look like birds. They patrol the island, and the rest of Arcera sometimes.”

  Sylvia’s eyebrows shot up. So this was how she did it. It was brilliant. No wonder the Arcerans hadn’t known they were being watched.

  For a moment Sylvia considered whether Lady Naomi might be mad at Atlan for divulging Seascape’s secrets, but she didn’t care. Atlan didn’t seem to be bothered.

  “What about your father?” Sylvia suddenly blurted. The question had burrowed itself in her brain and chose this moment to pop back up.

  “My father?” he echoed.

  Sylvia held her breath. She knew he hated to admit that Lady Naomi was his mother. But the curiosity burned just the same—what about his other family?

  “He stays at the castle in Brightstone—he and Lady Naomi don’t get along much anymore,” he mumbled.

  Sylvia didn’t press any further, but he continued.

  “He’s a little older than her—name’s Ingram. I only see him if I go to visit.”

  His tone implied that it wasn’t often, but she wouldn’t pry. She knew she was lucky to have the family she did.

  A surge of emotion washed over her as she thought of her own family, and how much she missed them. She quickly tried to wipe away the wetness that had gathered in her eyes without Atlan seeing.

  But he trudged on ahead, flecks of light dappling his shoulders.

  “You hungry?” he asked, and picked up the pace.

  * * *

  He led her to a nearby cluster of dark-roofed houses; another town, he’d told her, just outside the woods. He bought them each something called a pasty, which turned out to be the most delicious thing Sylvia had ever eaten.

  They walked back through the woods, nibbling on the warm vegetable-and-meat-filled dough in a comfortable silence. Today was turning out to be the best day Sylvia had had in a long time.

  They came to a small clearing in the woods, and without a word, both sat down against some low-lying stones that sat in the middle of the grassy patch.

  Sylvia licked the remains of her pasty off her fingers, and wondered if she could get Oliver to bring her something like it the next time he brought her a meal in her rooms.

  Then she cringed—she was going to have to go back to the castle, back to the underground maze-like halls, except…

  “What about the map?”

  Atlan jerked out of a daze; his eyes had been closed, his head propped against one of the rocks.

  He gave her a lazy smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll try. Do you have something datawoven?”

  She answered by rolling back her left sleeve, revealing the distinctive black fabric that encased her wrist.

  He sat up straighter and closed his eyes, all business now. Sylvia waited in silence for a moment, knowing that he was connecting to his datastrands, probably searching for the map.

  Barely opening up his lips, he breathed, “You need to connect, too.”

  Sylvia’s cheeks flushed red, and she was glad he had his eyes closed. Obediently she closed her eyes and focused on her earlink. It only took a few moments until she felt the strange feeling of connection that snapped her mind sideways, as she always thought of it. She was getting much quicker now.

  “Try looking for it, I think I sent it….” Atlan murmured from beside her.

  Sylvia reached inside her mind and focused on the datastrands that she pictured glowing at her forearm. She had accessed the map of the cliffs by imagining turning a page in a book, so again she pictured a layer of light peeling up, like turning a page, to reveal the information. Her right hand moved absently through the air, mimicking a page-turning motion.

  And something was in the datastrands.

  As if recalling a memory, she saw a flickering glimpse of a hallway, not the sharply detailed map like she thought it would be.

  But the cry of a crow rang loudly through the clearing, and her concentration dropped. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Was that one of the….drones?” she asked, watching the bird flee through the trees.

  Atlan shook his head. “Too big.”

  Sylvia shrugged. “I think I got something, but it wasn’t a map, more like a….picture?”

  Atlan nodded. “You got it then. It’s a little different than the map of the cliffs they gave us. Once we’re back inside the castle, you’ll see.”

  Sylvia raised an eyebrow at him, but he just chuckled and leaned back on his rock.

  “You never said why you came here,” he murmured, eyes closed again as he basked in the afternoon sun.

  Sylvia sighed. “Greyling’s attacking our cities, I thought it was obvious.” It was hard not to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She leaned back on the rocks with a flump.

  “No, I meant, why are you involved? You’re pretty young to be out doing this.”

  “I’m a Rider,” she said. “And I’m only a bit younger than you.” She swatted his arm with the back of her hand.

  “What’s a Rider?” he asked.

  It felt odd that she had to describe something that everybody in the Four Cities knew. But then she realized that Atlan had been doing that with her—and so had Oliver and Lady Naomi—describing things that were perfectly normal in Seascape, but wild and outlandish to her.

  “I travel between the cities for a living. Carrying messages, setting up trade, escorting people. The cities are several day’s travel from each other, and we don’t have a train or anything like you. And you have to be trained to protect yourself in the wilds.”

  She took a deep breath in thought. “I was carrying a message from Governor Greyling back home, and it turned out to be a declaration of war. After that, I was sent to Riftcity—they were attacked first—to figure out what was going on.”

  Atlan interrupted. “When did this happen?”

  “Uh….Right before Summer’s End. My friend Ven, and a boy from Riftcity came with me. We got out with Flint’s sister, but couldn’t do anything about the city. And then Greyling spotted us leaving.”

  He turned to look at her, and she stared into the woods, feeling his gaze on her face.

  “They have these explosives, and apparently don’t have any rules against throwing them right at teenagers,” she spat.

  Now her blood was starting to boil at the thought of it all again. She had been concentrating so hard on passing the Trials that she had buried the reality of the war. But this was why she was here, right? And for some reason she didn’t feel as awkward telling Atlan about it. It wasn’t like when Lady Naomi had questioned her during all of those teas.

  “Anyway, my leg got burned, and by the time we got back to Meadowcity, the Scouts had taken it.” She pulled up her legging to show him the burn, the mottled skin that marred the entire side of her calf.

  Atlan’s face contorted with shock.

  “Gero let them in the city. He’s smart. Wooden walls don’t last long against fire.”

  “But Ven and Flint got captured in Riftcity. They showed up with some bombs they had stolen, and distracted Greyling’s Scouts long enough for us to make a stand. Turned out they didn’t want a taste of their own fire power.”

  “How’d you get h
ere then?” Atlan asked again.

  “Once the snows melted, Gero sent me to Lightcity. Their governor apparently bought Greyling’s threat, and duped the city into working for him. I ran into this girl, Neve, and we came here right away. She said a group of Scouts was leaving to come here, so we followed them.”

  Atlan cleared his throat. “And Lady Naomi said she’d help you if you did the Trials.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “It was linked to everyone in Seascape when you came,” he explained. “Oliver told me about it.”

  “That’s it,” she sighed and leaned back on the rock. She closed her eyes, eager to soak up as much sunlight as she could before they descended back into the castle. The longer she could forget about the war, about the Trials, the better.

  They sat for a long while in silence in the warm sun, but eventually one of Sylvia’s many questions about Seascape bubbled up.

  “How come you don’t get an earlink until the Trials?” she asked.

  “You have to prove yourself worthy of….Seascape’s heritage.” His voice had turned strange—hesitant maybe? “They’ve been doing it for a long time,” he muttered.

  “How long?”

  “Since the beginning.”

  “They’ve had this kind of technology since then?” The Four Cities were formed over a thousand years ago!

  “Not….all of it,” he hedged. “But the Trials have been around since just after the island was settled.”

  There was definitely something strange about his tone of voice now.

  Then Atlan said in a completely different tone, enough to make Sylvia open her eyes and look at him—“You know you can’t trust her, right? She’ll stick to her word, but she has this way of doing things….”

  Sylvia knew exactly who he meant.

  “Whatever help she can give me, it’s more than we’ve got right now,” she replied, perhaps more for herself than for Atlan.

  If she didn’t keep telling herself that, she would never be able to finish the Trials.

  He nodded. His bright grey eyes looked sad, and he finally said, “We should get back.”

  In silence they picked their way through the now dusky wood. When they emerged onto the hill with the hidden door, the sky was shot through with pink; and the sun sunk slowly into the ocean as they approached.