The Fifth City

by Liz Delton

  She plucked the one out of her ear, shattering the connection she had held all morning. After tucking it into her shirt pocket, she picked up the new earlink and popped it in her ear just like she usually did.

  In a matter of seconds she made the familiar snap-to-the-side feeling in her brain. It felt slightly different than usual, like it was snapping in the other direction, which put her on the alert. Nothing was ever simple in Seascape.

  A thought of the Four Cities chose that moment to surface, reminding Sylvia that if she didn’t pass this Trial, she would get no help from Lady Naomi. She shook her head to clear it. There’s no use in dwelling on that right now, she scolded herself. Just solve the puzzle and get it over with.

  She waited, connected to the foreign earlink, waiting for the puzzle to present itself, like Viktoria had said it would.

  A distant boom of thunder sounded from above. It must be close, she was surprised she could hear it so far underground. There had been clouds on the horizon, but perhaps the wild sea winds had flown the storm in from afar. She turned her thoughts inward again, and waited.

  Suddenly, something swam up to her mind through the earlink. The puzzle. She turned her attention to the data, blocking out the sounds of the coming storm.

  But before she could figure out what the puzzle was, the distinct smell of smoke drifted under the door, and Sylvia’s eyes snapped open.

  Her chair slid back with an awful screech as she stood. What was going on?

  Thunder boomed again, this time sounding even closer.

  Sylvia went to the door, but paused with her hand on the knob. Viktoria had said not to leave the room until the Trial was done. If she didn’t complete the Trial, she couldn’t get help for Meadowcity. She was almost drawn back to the table.

  But she could smell fire, she was sure of it.

  A third boom made Sylvia turn the door handle. Smoke was now rolling under the door. She had no choice. Something was wrong.

  She bolted out of her examination room, and Oliver nearly collided with her. His eyes were wide with panic, making Sylvia’s stomach turn to stone.

  “They’re here,” he cried, as he grabbed Sylvia’s arm and pulled her in the direction of the stairs.

  Before she could ask who, she heard the sound that had echoed through her nightmares for months; the sound of stone grinding as it was blasted apart, the sound of the earth shattering and erupting into flames.

  The sound of Skycity’s bombs.

  Forty Two

  This way,” Oliver shouted as they reached the stairs.

  He yanked her up the first step as she gawped around, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “But—why didn’t the drones see them coming? What about the defenses?” she sputtered.

  Sylvia was baffled. How could Seascape have let Greyling’s army get so close? Lady Naomi had been plain cocky about being able to fend off the Scouts.

  Her head swiveled back down the steps as they rose, searching for the fire. Smoke clouded the dark halls, and the doors to the other rooms had also been flung open. Her thighs cried out as she and Oliver raced up the steps. He was practically pulling her up.

  The battle had finally come to Seascape.

  Halfway up, another blast sounded, making the stairs themselves shake. Sylvia’s veins were filling with adrenaline, the Trial forgotten entirely.

  She couldn’t believe Greyling had come here at last. Maybe now Seascape would take a more aggressive stance instead of just letting it happen, she thought callously as they reached the top of the stairs.

  All around was chaos. Initiates and their families were screaming or crying or shouting obscenities; some were pointing over the cliff, to the water they couldn’t see. Greyling must have finally gotten his boats.

  She scanned through the crowd, looking for Atlan. Where was he? Surely he had heard the bombs. Maybe he’s already on the train?

  Oliver was pulling on her arm again, away from the building. The train wasn’t far off, and it was humming and looked ready to go. People were piling into it; stumbling over each other to get on.

  “We have to get back to Castle Tenny,” Oliver ordered.

  Sylvia wavered.

  “Wait,” she cried. “We need to find Atlan!”

  “There’s no time!” Oliver bellowed as another round of explosions went off, throwing them to the ground.

  The explosion loosened her from Oliver’s grip. She dug her palms into the ground and got up, running away, stumbling through the crowd until she got her bearings. She passed Nerissa and Sirena running to the train, clutching each other, faces tear-stained and sooty from the smoke. She saw Emrick, Bryant and Colin emerge from the stairs and start jogging inland to meet their families. But she couldn’t find Atlan anywhere.

  Oliver caught up with her.

  “The train is leaving, Sylvia—we have to go!” he demanded. His face was red, and his normally tidy hair all askew.

  “I can’t!” Sylvia cried, then her eyes darted to the stairs.

  She ran for it.

  “Sylvia, come back!”

  Down the steps she dashed. Only a few more people were headed back up, not a one of them Atlan.

  Another boom shook the building. She closed her eyes as she waited for it to pass, clutching the railing to keep her upright. She waited a second after the blast was over before she started running again.

  Terror fled through her as she remembered her escape of Riftcity—the way the bombs had obliterated the earth and rock, and the potent fires they created.

  She turned left at the bottom of the stairs and sped down the smoky corridor. She flung open the first door she encountered, but it was empty.

  Thick smoke was filling the corridor, billowing towards her from further down the hall. She didn’t have much time.

  The next room was empty too. And the next. She ripped open each door; each second her vision became more and more clouded with smoke, and her lungs found it harder and harder to breathe. But she had to find him. It was Atlan.

  The smoke was coming from further down the corridor; and the crackle of flames told her where the fire was hidden before she came upon it. And then she heard it.

  Atlan.

  Yelling. Screaming for help.

  Her heart wrenched. Through the flames and down the hall; that’s where he was.

  She could see a door cracked open by a fallen beam, aflame amid the rest of the burning hallway. Sylvia choked on the smoke, and doubled over as her eyes began to water fiercely.

  Atlan was down there.

  She brought her shirt to her nose so she could breathe. She wiped the tears from her eyes and squinted, just enough to see through. The flames had risen up the walls on either side, and were devouring the beam that had falling diagonally across the hall.

  She would have to run between the flames, and jump the beam to get to Atlan. He must be trapped.

  There was no time. She did the only thing she could think of. She ran.

  She sprinted down the hall, and the flames reached out to snatch her, their fiery fingers burning her skin. The acrid scent of burnt hair reached her nose. Her hands flew to her head in a moment of panic. Her hair was singed on one side, but no longer aflame. So she leapt on, down the hall, and through the flaming gauntlet.

  Another blast shook the hall, throwing her to the side, and making her smack her shoulder into a fiery wall. She shrieked in pain as she pulled away.

  The heat made the air swim before her eyes as she sought the door. The ceiling beams inside the room had fallen too, perhaps trapping Atlan underneath them. She just needed to get over the one that had fallen in the doorway to get into the room. But those flames had risen much higher.

  She couldn’t turn back now.

  With a smoke filled breath, and with a burst of energy, she jumped over the beam, launching herself through the doorway. The flames scorched her feet, sending searing pain up through her legs.

  She landed with a crash, and opened her eyes. />
  She was sitting in her examination room.

  No fire. No smoke. No Atlan.

  Viktoria sat across from her, a grin spread from ear to ear.

  Forty Three

  Sylvia’s heart was thudding against her ribs, and she gripped the edge of the table, hard. She nearly choked. “Wh-what’s—” she stammered.

  Viktoria reached out a hand in assurance.

  “Everything’s okay, Sylvia. You can relax,” she said slowly. “You’re okay now.”

  Sylvia’s eyes darted around the room as her breathing quickened. She couldn’t smell any smoke. She lifted a hand to her hair—it was intact. Her shoulder wasn’t burned.

  “What just happened,” she demanded in a cold whisper. This was too much. What had they done to her? Had she been hallucinating? Was Atlan okay?

  Viktoria’s fingers skated across her long sleeve as she spoke. “Everything’s fine,” she repeated. “You just passed your final Trial,” she said, and gave Sylvia a grin.

  “What?” Sylvia said incredulously.

  “The earlink I gave you—”

  Sylvia ripped the thing out of her ear.

  “—connects with your mind in a different way than the traditional earlink. This one lets you experience sights, sounds, smells, and it runs a program that we’ve coded to present you with a plausible scenario to test you on your courage. Your final Trial was a simulation.”

  Sylvia’s mouth hung open as she listened to the girl. The words Viktoria said echoed around in her head several times before she thought she understood them.

  “And I…passed?” was all she could think to ask.

  Viktoria nodded.

  “The judges watched by looking-glass. The earlink allowed them to see what you saw. And I have to say,” she dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think they were really impressed.”

  Sylvia cocked her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. She had nearly died—or thought she was about to die—and the judges watched from another room, evaluating her courage?

  A shaky sigh emitted from her chest as she tried to get her heartbeat back down, now that she knew what was going on.

  “Do you want a minute?” Viktoria asked.

  “No,” Sylvia blurted. She didn’t really want to be alone in this room again, somehow afraid of what might happen if that door closed again.

  Viktoria gave her a small smile and stood, then led the way out of the testing room.

  The hallway still smelled like old wood and stone, with not a hint of smoke, assuring Sylvia that indeed the vision was still false.

  She had beaten the Trials. She had gained Seascape’s acceptance.

  But now she didn’t want to leave.

  Forty Four

  Ven sat in Gero’s office with the others, begrudgingly helping Flint explain what had happened. After Neve left, Ember jumped down their throats trying to figure out how they could have done such a thing. Only a brief explanation of who Neve was, and where Sylvia ended up was given by Ember before she went back to questioning them.

  Gero just sat there listening, and Ven noted the new shadows under the man’s eyes, making him look exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in months.

  When they finally finished, Gero remained quiet. Ven and Flint shared a pained look.

  Ember bobbed in her chair, “Gero—”

  “Wait,” the Governor said, holding up a hand. He took a deep breath.

  “First, we must mourn the loss of our brother City. We will gather all of Meadowcity with the refugees and light a fire of remembrance in the Great Hall. It’s the least we can do.”

  The three solemnly nodded their heads in agreement. Ven’s stomach squirmed at the thought of it, but he would force himself to go, to honor their memories.

  “I can’t pretend this isn’t a dreadful tragedy. At great cost, Greyling’s been deprived of several weapons now: his closest ally, his main store of weapons, the creators of those weapons, and a large force of his Scouts.

  “But the best thing we can do to honor those who died in Lightcity is to exonerate the Four Cities from his rule. And that means Riftcity.” He looked to Ember, who was on the edge of her seat.

  “Riftcity needs our help,” she said. “I’m ready to go.”

  “I know you are,” he growled. “You would have disappeared if it hadn’t been for Neve and that Scout.”

  Ember shrugged.

  “I’d like to go, too,” Ven volunteered. There was nothing he wanted less than to stay in Meadowcity. He couldn’t take the looks from the Lightcity survivors, their empty thank-yous for rescuing them; or worse, the look on Sylvia’s face when she returned and found out what he did. He wanted no part of that.

  “And me, obviously,” Flint added.

  Gero nodded and closed his eyes briefly. After rubbing his temples, he began, “This won’t be like last time,” he looked between Flint and Ven. “And it won’t be like Lightcity,” he intoned.

  “We will take caution, but the days of spying and inaction are over. We might not be as cruel as Greyling and the Scouts, and we may not have his weapons. But we will fight, with the resources we do have: the Defenders, our courage, and our heart. The Four Cities have suffered terribly because of one man.”

  “We need to stop him. You need to stop him.”

  Terrified though Ven was to go to Riftcity again; and to start another rebellion, he couldn’t stand idly by while others fought to help Arcera.

  But he would not be the one to lead. Not anymore.

  Forty Five

  When Sylvia met up with Oliver, she tried not to act strangely, but it was hard to fight the instinct to run. The last time she had “seen” him had been in the simulation, when he was trying to force her to abandon Atlan to the flames.

  She shook off the memory as she wearily stepped into the train. She was too exhausted to care—and part of her brain knew that the simulation hadn’t been real, so she focused on that as they flew over the tracks through the countryside. It hadn’t been real.

  Oliver had been grinning when he came to collect her at the top of the stairs. Sylvia had demanded to see Atlan before they left, but Viktoria had said he was still in his simulation; and the girl reminded Sylvia that initiates couldn’t leave their testing rooms until it was complete. The girl had assured her that he was okay, but Sylvia couldn’t help the irrational fear that rose up, knowing that she had been tricked before.

  So she let Oliver taker her back to Castle Tenny. Oliver had received word from Lady Naomi—she wanted to meet with Sylvia right away. No doubt the Lady had heard about her Trial results already.

  After they got off the train, they walked slowly through the streets, and an overwhelming sense of sadness washed over Sylvia. She was going to be leaving this strange and wonderful place, and soon.

  There was no doubt that she would miss it. That had probably been her last train ride.

  They passed a food stand and she convinced Oliver to buy her a pasty, like the ones she and Atlan had gotten that sunny afternoon only the other week. She savored every bite as they walked through the streets. Oliver got one too, and Sylvia reluctantly told him about her simulation, and he cringed, knowing she might have hard feelings toward him. He jokingly told her there was no way he would leave either Atlan or her behind. She smiled.

  Her brain was a cloud of nostalgia at leaving Seascape, relief at the Trials being over, and a constantly thickening dread of returning to the war that waged between the Four Cities. And then there was Atlan. Her heart constricted at the thought of him.

  She had never felt so enamored—nor such a deep connection shared. Even with Ven, she had always questioned each action—she had never been sure of herself, or sure of how he felt. They had grown up with each other, but now they had grown apart. She couldn’t see herself ever growing apart from Atlan.

  Oliver led her through the castle, and Sylvia pulled up the map to watch their progress through the halls, out of curiosity.

  She had reconnected to
her earlink on the train, and was glad it was her own and not the other, sinister earlink that could control your thoughts. She shuddered as she thought of it again.

  Every day, every minute, she discovered something even more strange, even more wonderful about Seascape.

  They passed her suite, still marked on the map as hers. Sylvia had a brief moment of panic at going to meet Lady Naomi in these plain clothes; but the Lady had requested she come right away, so she must not expect Sylvia to be dressed formally.

  She left Oliver at the end of the corridor and strode across the stone steps that led to the patio. The looking-glass walls showed a bright sunny afternoon, giving an uncannily perfect light to the outdoor scene.

  Lady Naomi sat at the empty table, grinning as Sylvia approached. The Lady was dressed in her usual finery, a black gown covered in a spidery lace pattern. For once, Sylvia felt comfortable sitting at the table, her own clothes giving her a feeling of holding her own ground.

  The Lady bowed her long neck to her in greeting. “Well done,” she purred. Her smile reached her eyes, bright grey and sparkling with mischief.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have time for tea today, and I do apologize for meeting with you at such short notice.” The Lady idly traced a command on her black and white sleeve.

  “Today is quite a busy day for Seascape, with the end of the Trials, and our final ceremony for the native initiates tonight, among other things.”

  Sylvia waited, hands clasped in her lap. A small twinge of jealousy zinged through her—she was clearly not invited to the ceremony.

  But Sylvia was to get a different reward. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain; now the Lady was to fulfill hers. She hoped.

  “I’m tempted to petition the city to award you citizenship,” the Lady beamed. “Your performance today was astonishing. Completing the simulation the quickest, and with the most courageous act—well, my offer still stands. If you wish to remain in Seascape, I can arrange for you to learn to manipulate the datastrands. Our technologies are always growing and changing as we make new discoveries. I think you would find it quite a rewarding adventure.”