Free Meadowcity by Liz Delton

his family.  But if it would put them at risk, she would have to do something about it.
    She stood, stretching her arms up way above her head and standing on her tip-toes.  She reached down to her cup of tea, and drained the rest in one big gulp. 
    “Thanks Gero, and—good luck here,” she said, meeting his eyes.
    “You too.”
He reached his arm out to her and she grasped his hand in farewell.
    The two of them wound through the maze of chairs and tables and rejoined Ven and Flint. Ell grasped their hands and wished them all safe journey.  He returned to his post by the desk, adapting a studied look of boredom.
    Before there could be any more deliberation or conversation, Sylvia ordered, “Let’s be off then, we’ve got a long way to go.” 
    The two boys nodded and said goodbye to Gero.  Sylvia shared a look with Gero as she said goodbye, and they all slipped out the heavy wooden door and into the dawn.
    The path in front of them led directly out the city’s gate, which was made from the two largest trees Sylvia had ever seen in her life.  The rest of the treewall was made of fairly good sized trees, their branches gently tangling with each other as they fought for space.  But the gate trees were different.  They were a rusty color, immensely huge.  Their trunks led way up into the sky, and their branches entwined at the top, uniting them.
    Sylvia looked down from the tree gate and to the actual doors in front of her.  Gero said he had instructed the Gatekeeper to open the doors in secret so that they could leave before anyone could see them.  The city might not know why they were on lockdown yet, but they needed to get out before anyone noticed.
    Behind her, Sylvia could hear Ven and Flint’s footsteps as they reached the wooden perimeter path and headed towards the gate.  The doors were just about as thick as any tree, and they arched up in the middle to mimic the trees above them.  A head poked out of the Gatekeeper’s house, and Sylvia was relieved to see that it belonged to Corin.  If it had been Bolt, or almost anyone else, she would have been worried their journey would have stayed a secret for about two minutes.  But Gero knew his Gatekeepers, and he knew he could trust Corin to keep it quiet.
    “Mornin’,” Corin said, as if it were any other day.  He stepped out of the gatehouse and headed toward the doors.  Planting his shoulder under the enormous bar that was bolted across the two doors, Corin heaved it up out of its hold and slid it to the ground.  With both hands, the huge man slowly pushed one side of the heavy door open far enough for them to pass through.
    Sylvia looked back at Ven, with a question in her eyes. 
He gestured, and said, “Riders first,” with a grin.
    They approached the wilds as the door boomed shut behind them.

 
     
    Chapter Eight

 
    Five y ears ago, on the eve of Summer’s End , Governor Sorin Greyling was brought a book by one of his scouting parties.  The city was alive with bustle, and all of the citizens were making the most of their afternoon by putting all of their efforts into preparations for the festival.  The streets were filled with people laughing, joking, and setting decorations for the next day.
    Sorin didn’t particularly like Summer’s End—to him it only meant that winter was coming, and that the days would only become darker sooner. It was a feast to celebrate the turning of the seasons, but also the community, so during the day a feast would be set out in the Citizen’s Hall for all to partake in.
    From his office, Sorin couldn’t hear much of the commotion inevitably occurring down the hall.  Most of his aides were tasked with set up for the banquet, but it was common practice for off-duty Gatekeepers, Riders or other citizens to join in, making it a festivity in itself.
    Sorin looked up from the papers he was studying as a peeling laugh suddenly echoed through his now open door.  Falx slipped into the room, and closed