Meadowcity (10 page)

Chapter Eleven
 

Sylvia thought they were making great time.  She hadn’t even had to put up with too many stupid ideas or complaints from Flint.  They had hiked on all day yesterday until making camp near a cliff, overlooking a massive valley of trees.  The view looked just like the valley Meadowcity was nestled in.

But once they reached the river splitting the valley in half, all of their good progress became worthless.  Sylvia had been planning on crossing over an old fallen pine tree, where she had crossed last time.  They stepped out of the tree line by the river but the tree was nowhere in sight.  Sylvia looked up and down the river side, recognizing this is as the right spot.

“Must have gotten swept away by the current,” Ven nearly shouted, looking at the rushing river. 

Sylvia nodded.  The current did indeed look strong enough to have swept the enormous tree away.  Something must have changed upriver since she had been here last—Sylvia couldn’t remember the current being so powerful.  They couldn’t cross here.

“Why don’t we split up and look for another—” Flint said, but stopped once he saw the look in both Sylvia and Ven’s eyes.  “Or not,” he muttered under his breath.

“We’ll try downriver first,” Sylvia said, choosing to ignore Flint. 

Sylvia could tell he was eager to help, but his suggestions were getting to be bothersome.  Splitting up wasn’t even a question. 

“Maybe the pine got stuck on something farther down, and we can still cross it.”

They headed downriver and spent the better part of the morning trekking down the muddy bank.  After a few hours the sun reached its highpoint in the sky, and beat down on them mercilessly as they made their way through the tall grass on the riverbank.  Sylvia desperately hoped that they would find another place to cross soon, and not have to retrace their steps and search north, wasting even more time.

As soon as she had that thought though, the unmistakable shape of the large pine she had been searching for materialized.  Stuck, on the opposite bank of course.  Its green boughs mingled nicely with the saplings growing on shore.

She sighed, then checked herself and cut it short.  She didn’t even want to point it out to the rest of the group.  She couldn’t believe how quickly and easily their journey could be delayed, by the simple act of a tree being washed downriver.

Picking up her pace, Sylvia put more force in her step than she meant to.  Her right foot immediately encountered an unexpectedly deep patch of mud, and she nearly toppled over.  Ven was right behind her and grabbed her elbow to keep her from tripping right into the water.

“Woah, careful there!”  He braced her as she yanked her foot out.

“Thanks,” she said, keenly aware of Ven’s warm hand on her arm. She tried to balance herself again.  Ven let go of her arm, his rough hand brushing her tricep.

“Hey, is that—?” Flint said from behind them, pointing to the other side of the river.

Sylvia just knew he was pointing at the pine tree.  It sat there silently provoking Sylvia with its uselessness.

“Yeah, it is,” she said, not even looking.  “Let’s go.”

They returned to picking their way downriver, this time Sylvia’s eyes were intent on her footing as well as the forest.  Ven switched with Flint to take over watching their backs.  Mid-day wasn’t the most dangerous time of day for them to be moving, but trekking along the largest source of water for miles wasn’t exactly safe, either.

Very gradually Sylvia noticed that the current seemed to be slowing down at least, making their chances of crossing safely much higher.  They continued on for quite a while as the once raging waters slowed in pace.  As they wove their way through the grass on the eastern side of the river, Sylvia spotted an odd accumulation of stones on their bank, just up in the distance.

“Huh,” she said, as they got closer to the grouping.  Sylvia could see an identical grouping of stones on the opposite bank as well.  Ven and Flint spotted them and all three of them stood in the grass with their boots in the mud appraising the unusual stones.  Sylvia approached the haphazard grouping and found her way up them to reach the top of the pile.  They weren’t your average river stones, but they still looked very weathered, and very worn.  The piles were bigger than a villa in Meadowcity.  The one Sylvia stood on extended about a third of the way into the river.  The grouping on the opposite bank reached out about the same.

“I think this is the best place to cross,” Sylvia said, testing her balance on one of the stones.  It shifted a little as she put her full weight on it, so she steadied herself on another stone.

“Are you sure?” Flint said.  He eyed the stones nervously, poking one with his toe.  He dropped down to a crouch to examine it closer.

“Yep,” Sylvia said, her tone flat.  “We shouldn’t waste any more time searching.  This could be our only option.”

She keenly felt the time wasted this morning eating into their journey.

Ven mounted the stone pile and joined Sylvia at the top, clearly showing his solidarity.  Flint stood at the bottom for a second more, then began to make his way up. 

“These don’t look like any kind of stones I know,” he said, nervously placing foot after foot until he reached the top.

“Who cares what kind of stone they are, they’re our best chance to cross,” Sylvia snapped.

Ven smirked. “They cover more than half the river, and we’ll be able to swim the middle.  The current’s slowed down a lot in this part.”

“Swim?” Flint questioned, scrunching up his face.

“You know how?” Ven asked.

Flint shrugged.  “It’s been a while I guess.”

Sylvia had learned to swim in Hart Lake when she was younger, during hot summers in Meadowcity.  Ven, she knew, had done the same.  She briefly wondered where Riftcitizens could swim.

Sylvia, Ven and Flint made their way down the odd stones towards the center of the river.  When they reached the edge of the water, Sylvia took off her pack and made sure everything inside was secure enough to throw it over.  Her hand searched for her firestarter to make sure the waterproof case was sealed properly.  Tightening the closures, she whipped her pack across the water, landing it safely among the dry rocks.  Ven and Flint followed suit, Flint a little too enthusiastically.  His pack landed about half way up the mound, and then it started rolling down.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “No, no,” his hands reached out as if he could stop it.  It rolled just a little further until it finally caught on a rock jutting out of the pile. 

Flint barked out a laugh and Sylvia and Ven chuckled along with him.

Sylvia eyed the river, noting that the distance to cross wasn’t too far, but the river looked very deep in the middle.  The current was slow for the most part, but since this part was so narrow, it would try and drag them downriver nonetheless.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Sylvia shrugged and took three quick steps into the water.  She plunged into the water and struck out for the opposite rocks, her arms reaching out far in front of her one after the other.  The water was pleasantly cool, but it weighed her clothes down.  She could feel the current pulling on her, but it was nothing compared to what its strength would have been upriver.  Even so, she had to continually readjust her trajectory so that she would reach the stones.

I wonder who put these rocks here
; she wondered idly as she swam, kicking her legs out fiercely.  They were clearly not a natural structure. 
They probably held up a bridge
.

As she neared the grouping on the west side of the river, she began to sense the stones underneath and quickly put her feet down to anchor herself.  Stepping out of the water, absolutely dripping wet, she could hear Ven and Flint splashing behind her as they approached the shore.  She quickly moved out of the way so they could both get out of the water. 

All three of them stood on the west bank entirely soaked, making dark splotches of water on the light stones.  Sylvia spotted her pack a few feet away and headed over to retrieve it.  She tried to wring out the sleeves of her blouse, and flick the water off her shoulders before putting the pack back on.

The three travelers headed for the tree line, and the shade that the trees offered.  After their swim in the river and the new shade on this bank, they all felt quite content with the day’s heat.

They were heading out of the hills and into a flat, less dense forest.  They now had to travel more north to account for their detour downriver, and here the trees were growing thin.

Only when they were debating over when they should stop for their mid-day meal did they see something that drove all thoughts of their journey, and anything else, out of Sylvia’s head.

Ven was in the lead as Flint and Sylvia followed behind, easily winding their way through the large, widely spaced trees. 

Ven suddenly crouched into a defensive position and raised his hand to signal a warning.

Sylvia silently dropped into a crouch, trying to gain a visual on the situation, but could see nothing from the back.  They were very exposed in this forest.  She crept up behind Flint, putting her hand on his shoulder to alert him of her presence. 

In front, Ven had his eyes and arrow trained about fifty yards in front of them.  Sylvia narrowed her eyes to focus on an enormous mountain lion spread on the forest floor, its eyes closed and its breathing slow.  Its paws as big as a man’s hand, the sharp claws jutting out only slightly.  Its hard muscles wrapped in tan fur taking up a sizeable area on a swath of pine needles. Its tail twitched idly, but it appeared to be sleeping.

It wasn’t strange for these predators to sleep during the day, but what was
very strange
were the two humans doing the same thing, right next to him.

Chapter Twelve
 

Outside of the Hall on top of the stone stairs, Sorin took a grounding breath of mountain air.  He couldn’t keep the smile from turning up the corners of his mouth—the thin book in his bag buoyed him up to the clouds, and his encounter with Savannah had only doubled his elation.

As he descended the steps, his thoughts flitted to her dark hair, considering briefly what it would be like to run his fingers through it.  He reached the bottom of the stairs and for a moment, forgot which way to turn.  After a second’s hesitation, he turned left and hurried through the main street, already busy since everyone had the day off for the holiday.

A curious feeling ran through his veins, and his steps were full of energy despite having barely slept all night.  The reason for his lack of sleep swung at his hip, but the cause for his excitement was still back in the Hall, setting up decorations.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, furrowing his brow, trying to focus on the wide stone street in front of him.  People nodded to him as he passed, called greetings, and wished him a happy Summer’s End.  A chill morning breeze came off the mountain, but the rising sun promised warmth for the holiday, and his fur lined cloak took the bite off the breeze.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t encountered Savannah before.  Surely he had seen her in the Hall, working under his Secretary of the City, Glaslyn.  Perhaps he had spoken to her once or twice in passing, but today was different
...

Of course today’s different
, he thought wildly. 
I’ve just discovered the most important book in Arcera.

He took another deep breath.  Certainly he had noticed her beauty from afar, but today it hit him like a stone falling from the top of a mountain.  He tried to concentrate on weaving through what seemed like half the population of Skycity, all bustling about on the main street, raucous with holiday spirits.

Celebrations for Summer’s End didn’t start until mid-day, but most people seemed to want to mill about this morning, until the Hall would open up for the feast.  Since almost none of the shops were open, people had nothing to do except gather, but some must still be home preparing for the evening celebrations.

Once it became dark, the citizens would take to the streets to continue the festivities.  Fireworks displays above the city center would go on through the night and well into the morning, as citizens tested out the creations they spent all year tinkering with.  The past month or two had seen high traffic from Lightcity Riders, as their more advanced fireworks always brought considerably more enjoyment—with high flying sparks and intricate light patterns.

The Library wasn’t far from the Citizen’s Hall, as it was located in the city center on the main street, so his walk in the crisp mountain air was brief.  As he spotted the Library, his stomach tightened when he realized he would have to hand the book over.

It was almost too much to bear to give the book up only hours after acquiring it, but he needed to know if it was real.

Only a few short stairs led up to the Library, the second most impressive building in Skycity, its doors heavy with elegantly carved wood and inlaid glasswork.  Sorin reached out to pull the door, and entered the Library, heart pounding in his throat.

The heavy door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the long building.  In front of him lay Skycity’s greatest treasures: rows upon rows of books, stacked in high wooden shelves.  Light from the wide sky windows streamed down upon the spacious room, highlighting square columns of dust floating about.

To his right lay a few rows of small tables, several of them already occupied by citizens, each with their nose buried in a book, or in some cases, two.  The Library was the rare place to stay open all year regardless of any holidays.  The woman closest to him looked up at his entrance and smiled briefly before returning her eyes to her book—an enormous tome that was spread out on the table before her.

He looked to the left where a long wooden counter ran a good length of the building, usually occupied by a Book Keeper.  Today Onen himself stood behind the counter, the old man was concentrating on sorting a stack of books on the counter.  He appeared to be cataloguing them—taking one from the stack and writing it down in his ledger and moving it to another stack.

Onen looked up from his ledger and grinned so that deep creases formed at his eyes.

“Sorin,” he said warmly, sliding his books to the side, carefully marking his place in the ledger.  He pulled up a stool from behind him and sat, folding his hands on the counter. 

“What brings you here on Summer’s End?  Getting away from all the commotion at the Hall?"

Sorin grinned at the old man, his mood quite expansive today. 

“Not exactly,” he drummed his fingers on the counter.  “I have something for you to look at,” he said quickly, his excitement showing his youth a little more than usual. 

Clearly intrigued, Onen tilted his head, looking at Sorin expectantly.  He closed his ledger with finality, but Sorin made no move to show him the book.

Sorin rocked onto his toes.  “Can we go in your office?”

With a lopsided grin Onen moved his stacks of books to the shelf behind him, clearly catching on to Sorin’s odd behavior.

“I’m the only one in today—I gave them all the holiday off—but we can keep an eye out from the window.”

They headed to the back of the Library, each on opposite sides of the counter.  It ran about a quarter of the way through the enormous room, and, reaching the end, Onen gestured to the open door of his office.

They stepped into the small room and Onen sat behind his desk, clearly eager for whatever Sorin was so intent about.  Sorin closed the narrow wooden door behind him, since Onen could still look out the large window into the Library.

Sorin sat in the sturdy wooden chair in front of Onen’s desk and leaned forward.  Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out the book.  He could practically feel the blood humming through his veins as he held it.  Giving it a last soft squeeze, he handed it to Onen.

The older man carefully took the book, clearly noting Sorin’s caution with it. 

“What is it?” he asked plainly, his soft brown eyes meeting Sorin’s as he gently thumbed through the pages.

Sorin took a breath, “You’ll never guess.”

* * *

After entrusting the book to Onen, Sorin returned home to get cleaned up.  After spending those few hours dozing in his office chair, he would need to be much more presentable before he returned to the Hall for the feast later.

An hour later he found himself climbing the massive stone staircase to the Citizen’s Hall, the sun shining down on him and warming his stiff shoulders.  He pulled open the door, eyes landing on the glasswork seal of Skycity decorating the panel by the handle.  The beautifully carved seal glinted cheerfully at him in the morning light.

Once he stepped inside, the brightness of the sun was intensified as it shone through the wide sky windows.  Sorin’s eyes roved around the round room, now decorated even more elaborately for the holiday.

No one was in sight, but upon his entrance he heard a sharp tapping come from the tiny office tucked into the left wall.  His Secretary of the City Glaslyn appeared, her sturdy black heels click-clacking on the smooth glass floor.

“Sorin,” she said warmly, genuine surprise in her voice.  Cocking her head to the side she said, “What brings you in this early?”

It was indeed rare for him to come to the Hall early on Summer’s End, and everyone knew it.  He grinned, hoping he didn’t look too sheepish.  Normally, he would avoid the place until the feast began when he would have to make appearances.

Glaslyn stood with a clipboard in one hand, her long wavy brown hair down for once, half of it streaked through with grey.  She wore a deep red dress that flowed to the floor, intricately woven with golden thread at the hem, clearly meant for the festival.

Sorin took a few steps towards the center of the foyer, glad he had cleaned up and changed for the festival, a sleek deep grey top over his smoothest black leather leggings.

“You know, I thought I’d stop in and see how preparations were going.”

The older woman raised one eyebrow very slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a smile.

“It’s been a while since I’ve come for more than speeches,” he carried on, eyeing the decorations in the circular room.  “I was in the middle of a project, but I’ve reached a stopping point,” he shrugged. 

He preferred not to talk to Glaslyn about his books— he knew she didn’t approve of anything that could distract him from his role as Governor.

Glaslyn had been the Secretary of the City since before Sorin even became Governor five years ago.  She was a steely woman, who seemed to gain most of her joy in life from planning or organizing.  Sorin had known her long before taking office, from his visits to the Hall when his father had been Head Councilman.

A smile spread across her face, forming thin creases around her eyes, if still perhaps a little suspicious. 

“Lovely. Yes, well, they’ve just finished setting up the Great Room; all that’s left is setting out the food.”

She headed towards the Great Room and Sorin followed her, silent in his flat soled boots.

He looked up as they passed under the ribbon he had helped hang this morning.  His gaze continued to the Great Room’s ceiling as they entered, immediately narrowing his eyes again at the bright light after passing through the darker doorway.

The ceiling was an elaborate dome, made up of hundreds of glass panels, each worked with different designs creating an amazing display of light, duplicating it and sending it across the room in all angles.

“Not long now,” Glaslyn said, “and we’ll have citizens pounding down the door.”

The attendants were bringing in baskets of apples and bread loaves, great plates piled with roast corn and squash, and heaping platters of cooked meat.  The long tables that held the feast ran around the perimeter of the room, each practically groaning under the weight of the abundant meal.  Barrels of apple cider were being stacked at the far end by the enormous glass window wall that would showcase the sunset.  Sorin’s stomach growled at the smell of it all, not having had dinner last night, or even breakfast yet today.

A little after noon, Skycitizens would come for the feast, lingering for the conversation.  As the sun started to set, speeches would be made by the city’s leaders until the citizens filtered out, beginning the less formal celebrations in the street.

Glaslyn’s eyes roved over the room, no doubt cataloguing the progress of the setup.  The woman kept a tight rein on the affairs of the Hall, and she was incredibly valuable to Sorin, who detested organizing things like feasts and meetings.

Sorin, too, let his eyes roam around the room, lingering for a moment on a girl in a flowing blue shirt, but when she turned for the hall to the kitchen, he saw that it was another of Glaslyn’s assistants, Marie.

Glaslyn looked down at her clipboard. 

“Well, sir, would you like a plate made up and sent to your office before the crowd gets here?”

Sorin nodded and she made a note on her clipboard as she scuffed her heels a little, staring down the attendant placing an immense tray of pastries crookedly on the feast table.  She sighed when the attendant noticed and put the tray right.  He thought she was uneasy with him here, not knowing what to do with him.

“I’ll be heading there now actually, I just wanted to check in and see how everything was coming along.  Would you send over a plate now?  Somehow I managed to skip breakfast.”

He really hoped she didn’t know he slept in his office last night, but she probably did.  The woman knew everything that went on in the Hall.

He ducked his head and said, “I’ll leave you to it,” giving the room one last sweeping glance, but not seeing Savannah anywhere.  He felt out of place in his own domain—though, he supposed feast planning was firmly Glaslyn’s domain.

As he strode back through the foyer and down the hall to his office, he cursed himself for coming back to the Hall so early hoping to find her. 

He spent the whole rest of the morning and early afternoon burying himself in meaningless work as he tried not to think about her.  He ate the dish that was sent over, but barely noticed what was passing his lips as he stared at a letter from the Governor of Lightcity, trying to figure out what the man wanted.