by Liz Delton
You’re a monster.
Monster.
He slammed his head down on his cot, trying to rid the words from his brain.
He stared up at the ceiling, one large panel of dim white light, and imagined he could see through it. Could see through to the castle he knew to be above him, where people could talk to each other through their thoughts. Where images of real life could be viewed through panes of glass. Where magic sparkled in silver thread.
He stared up at the ceiling, and imagined it was his.
Fifty-Eight
Four Years Later
Sylvia waited patiently while Atlan jogged down the path toward the train station. She drew a quick circle on the datastrands at her wrist. They were going to be late.
“Hurry up!” she called. She adjusted the scarf at her neck, pulling it down to cover what the glinting silver jacket did not.
Finally, he reached the platform, and bounded up the steps two at a time.
“Sorry,” he panted. “Your dad was showing me some maps he created.”
She grinned, and they turned toward the waiting train. The trees outside of Meadowcity were on fire with the colors of autumn. Nestled between two small hills, the smooth black train hummed with electricity in the soft morning light.
“Let’s go, then. I don’t want to miss the ceremony.”
With a quick code on the door panel, they were soon inside. Sylvia strode to the front of the train and flipped open an access panel, revealing a swath of datastrands. Her fingers went to them like a magnet.
“We’re not going to miss the ceremony,” Atlan assured her. “You know we’ll be hours early. Your family’s coming on a train later.”
“I know, but she wants me there early.”
“I don’t know why they had to get married all the way up in New Lightcity, anyway,” Atlan griped for what felt like the tenth time.
“Because Harry’s there. And it’s not like it’s that far,” Sylvia remarked, smirking to herself as she traced the silver strands in concentration, entering in their destination.
No longer a four-day trek through dangerous wilds, it now took mere hours to reach any of the Four Cities by the trains that connected them all. Some days, Sylvia still didn’t believe it.
“You know,” Atlan said, his lips curving up in a wicked grin as the train began to move. “I don’t recall you telling me why we have our own personal train for today.”
“Hmm?” Sylvia murmured, coming over to sit next to him as they began to gather speed.
“Ambassador Thorne, did you steal this train?” he asked in mock disapproval.
She smacked him on the shoulder. “Of course not,” she retorted, then cleared her throat. “I am merely fulfilling my duties as Ambassador to the Four Cities...” she groped for words as Atlan began to chuckle. “...By visiting certain cities, possibly coinciding with personal events,” she concluded.
Finally, she gave in, and the two of them burst into fits of laughter, filling the empty train.
“Besides,” Sylvia gasped between laughs. “Weren’t you the one who stole a train, and a hydrojet?”
He waved it away with the flap of his hand, choking back a laugh.
They sped over the tracks, Sylvia too excited to check her messages or vids on her earlink. Instead, she watched the countryside go by in flashes of gold and red and orange.
The countryside.
Not the wilds, she reflected.
It had taken some getting used to, when the wilds had slowly transformed after the war to make way for the train system. With the help of Seascape’s drones, and the enthusiasm of countless Hunters, the countryside was no longer a breeding ground for the wolves and mountain lions that had reigned there for centuries. Any citizen could pass between cities as they liked now. Her calling as a Rider was over.
And the trains didn’t just stop at the Four Cities.
While New Lightcity was being built, many of the refugees in Seascape had begun to look for new homes, gracious though they were for the support of the fifth city, they were unused to its ways and customs. Many of them told Sylvia it was too fast, or too crowded. The thought of new cities had infused them with the urge to create and discover new places in Arcera.
It had been one of Sylvia’s first projects as Ambassador to the Four Cities—though, they were going to have to change her title soon, she thought.
Already familiar with the politics of the Four Cities, and well used to traveling between them, Lady Naomi had thought Sylvia would be the perfect candidate for an ambassador from Seascape.
Sylvia had worked with the refugees to locate suitable spots for new settlements, and set up trade agreements between them and the Four Cities, until the settlements became self-sufficient. With the completion of the train system, trade between the cities roared, and also spread some of Seascape’s other gifts.
Arranging use of the train for the day hadn’t been that hard, especially with Oliver’s help. She had already planned to visit Hopecity on her way back from New Lightcity for some actual work.
She dozed after a while, leaning on Atlan’s shoulder as the train gently rocked while it sped down the tracks. At one point, she must have fallen asleep, for Atlan was now shaking her awake. She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
The train had stopped. They were here.
Suddenly nervous, she smoothed her tight dress down over her datawoven leggings. Not yet sure which color would look best for the ceremony, she had turned the dress dark blue, and left her leggings and jacket silvery-black, for now.
Ember was there to greet them as they got off the train. She leapt with a squeal to hug Sylvia as they stepped onto the platform.
“Where’s Ven?” Sylvia asked as she pulled away.
Ember grinned mischievously. “He and Flint snuck off early this morning, saying something about last minute preparations—something for the ceremony, I expect.”
Sylvia beamed, and Ember pulled Atlan into a similarly enthusiastic hug before they all headed into New Lightcity.
Though smaller than its original, it retained much of the city’s charm, thanks in no small part to Neve’s uncle Harry. Ven had invited all surviving Lightcitizens to take part in the planning of the new city, and as Sylvia passed through the modest gate, she grinned.
The wall was her favorite part. Ven had commissioned every glassworker, stoneworker and woodcarver in all the Four Cities to contribute a brick for the wall. Ven had given them the dimensions they were to work in, but each brick was unique, forged by hands all across Arcera. Seascape had donated a thousand bricks of black solar glass, which soaked up the sun to give power to the lights which glowed atop the wall at night.
There had been no question as to whether they would build a wall. Sylvia sometimes wondered if there would ever come a day when people would feel safe enough without one.
Even she had to keep reminding herself that it was over, that they were safe. To think one person could ever incite such violence and destruction was beyond her imagining, but not beyond her reasoning.
She had taken it upon herself to be ambassador, to ensure that Arcera was peaceful and happy. To be sure there would never be a rift between cities again.
And they were happy. The cities prospered again with faster travel and the introduction of some of Seascape’s technology. Though reluctant at first, the cities had begun to accept the looking-glasses and datastrands, and earlinks. Some never even tried them, and as she traveled as ambassador, Sylvia had assured the cities that that was quite all right—it was a personal choice.
Just like taking the serum was now a choice in Seascape. Sparked by Atlan’s refusal, the initiates in the next year’s Trials had begun to opt out of taking the serum, passing up long life for a fuller one, or so some said. Though all of their fellow initiates had already taken theirs, Atlan and Sylvia’s friends had been allies in fighting to give the future initiates the right to choose.
Some of the refugees from Meadowcity and Riftcity had remain
ed on the island, even after things had been rebuilt. It had taken some getting used to, but they began to integrate themselves with the people who would eventually outlive them.
The new citizens and the natives began to learn from one another. The long-lived imparted crucial wisdom they had gained over the centuries, and the new citizens showed the natives ways of thinking that could only be experienced by those with a comparably shorter life span.
It was a far different place than when Sylvia had first set foot there, when the city’s idea of help had been hard earned, and frugally given. Ironically, it seemed Greyling had united Arcera after all.
* * *
Sylvia and Ember took their leave of Atlan when they reached the Stoughton’s house, where Neve was getting ready. Atlan wandered off to go find Ven and Flint, presumably tracking them down via link.
Neve was radiant. Though Sylvia had just seen her just a few weeks ago in Seascape, she looked an entirely different person today. Her eyes were bright, and the smile never left her face for a second.
Having moved to Seascape once the construction of New Lightcity was underway, Neve often visited her uncle, who decided to stay in the rebuilt city, and start his glasswork business again. Falcon had inevitably followed her wherever she went, and the two lived just minutes from Castle Tenny, where Neve now worked as a chemist.
The rest of the morning went by in a blur of flowers and ribbons, of new gossip and the regaling of old stories.
Anna and Cari returned to the Stoughton villa around midday, having finished up with their decorations they would tell no one about.
More than once, Sylvia’s friends intoned that it would be no time at all before her day came, which made her blush, but brought a wide grin to her face nonetheless.
Finally, it was time. Neve was ready, and Sylvia, Ember, Anna and Cari escorted her to the ceremony, walking joyously through the streets of New Lightcity amid the well-wishes of any onlookers they encountered. The sky was a brilliant orange with the early sunset, and Sylvia wondered just how another summer had slipped away from her.
Cari threw flower petals in Neve’s path, grinning. People hung out of shop windows when they heard the calls of people on the street, and showered them with congratulations and wishes for luck. Then they spotted the pergola in the center of the city, and Neve’s steps faltered a bit.
Anna poked her in the back, and Neve turned, blushing. She resumed her stately walk, now beelining for Falcon, who stood underneath the twined leaves of the pergola.
Atlan was drawn to Sylvia the moment she arrived, and he took her hand, squeezing it once. She spotted her parents and Sonia, who came over to join them with unbridled grins upon their faces.
As the ceremony started, Sylvia watched Neve’s uncle Harry try to covertly wipe a tear from his eye, and she felt her own surge of emotion.
Though it had suffered, Arcera was thriving, and Sylvia felt personally responsible for its fate—she had vowed to keep it peaceful for as long as she lived.
Neve was finally marrying Falcon, finally listening to her heart, and to herself. Ven was here with Ember, who had tears of joy streaming down her face. Her family was safe. And Sylvia felt as if the person holding her hand was connected to her by so much more.
She couldn’t help but feel her heart reaching out to all the people around her, as if linked to them by strands of light.
As the fireworks went off all around them, Sylvia gazed into Atlan’s eyes, grinning.
She knew it wasn’t forever, but that was what made it worth it.
Acknowledgements
When I first started writing Meadowcity, I had no idea what kind of journey this would lead me on.
I must first thank my husband, Jeff Delton: my first reader, my logic-checker, my support, and the constant replenisher of my confidence. There is no title for it, but he deserves one for constantly fielding book ideas that I bring up out of nowhere in the middle of a conversation; or for debating the science behind my Arceran technology; or for putting up with the many oddities of being married to an author. You will always make me smile.
To Greg Panjian and Mary Hurst, for always encouraging their daughter to be creative, even when she wanted to dye her hair black and red and spike it into a mohawk. Thank you for letting me.
To all of my friends and family who have been there for me along the way—your support means more than you may know.
To Christopher, for penning the seals for the Four Cities and the original Meadowcity cover, making Arcera feel so real on the page.
To Jo, for always giving your insight. I will also never forget an infamous spelling error you found—I wonder if you remember?
To my Mohawk family, and to Mohawk: I never would have been so inspired to write courageous Sylvia without the strong girls and women I grew up with and eventually worked with. There is nothing so special as a place where girls can just be themselves.
And to all my readers: Thank you. You are the reason I put words on paper (besides my own obsession with creating things).
About the Author
Raised in the Northeast, LIZ DELTON has spent a lot of time in both woods and cities. While living for five years in Philadelphia, she got a taste for the city, but didn't find it green enough, and currently resides in what some would call “the middle of woods”.
Visit her website at LizDelton.com
