The Fifth City by Liz Delton Page B

to a crawl.  A long stone platform slowly came into view and they stopped altogether.
    Her feet felt strange after the constant vibration from the train’s movement, and she felt almost dizzy now, standing still after moving so fast.  She watched as the door panel disappeared into the wall as it slid out of the way, and released them onto the platform.
    She let others get off before her, and Oliver lightly gripped her elbow as the crowd moved forward.  Her feet were still humming.  She felt like she was moving too slow now as they walked down the long stone platform, buffeted against a metal railing.
    The train had stopped in a wide green field, but Sylvia could tell the crowd was moving forward toward something else.  The sunrise must be minutes away , she thought, keeping her eyes on the horizon.
    She and Oliver descended from the platform to walk down a narrow dirt path that led toward the sea.  People all around were talking excitedly, and a feeling of anticipation wound through the crowd; but in Sylvia it was something like dread.  The train had been one thing—now came the real Trial.
    The land ended just ahead of them and dissolved into the sea, its salty wind blowing inland, tossing her hair about as they walked toward it.  The crowd had gathered where the field dissipated into white sand.
    Two massive and ancient stones stood by the ocean, as if the great forces of the water had deposited them there long ago.  One rose up high, weathered and worn; and the other lay flat, wide as a stage.
    Lady Blackwater stood alone behind the stage, staring off into the ocean, watching the waves go in and out.  It struck Sylvia as strange to see the Lady outside of her castle.  She wondered how the Lady had gotten here.  She couldn’t picture the Lady in that shimmering golden gown with her elaborately curled hair clutching a handrail on the train.
    And then she saw the others.  A dozen or so boys and girls a little older than she had gathered to the right of the stage.  Some whispered to one another, others stared off into the distance, looking anxious, or in one girl’s case, looking ill.
    Oliver walked with her until she reached the group, then he sidled into the front of the massive crowd of onlookers.  Sylvia averted her eyes from the crowd, not yet wanting to look out and take in the amount of spectators that would be watching her performance.  She could feel thousands of eyes looking at them, and hear hundreds of voices chattering.  All of Seascape waited for the Trial to begin.
    Lady Blackwater seemed to be waiting for something, and Sylvia could feel the adrenaline pouring through her body in anticipation, waiting for what was coming next.
    This was the beginning.  The next four weeks would determine the direction of the war—she was sure of it.
    Movement caught her eye and she saw Lady Blackwater disappear behind the vertical stone, only to emerge on top of it a second later.  It must have stairs carved into the back, Sylvia thought.
    Lady Naomi towered over the crowd.  Her golden gown fluttered in the sea breeze, and silence wove through those gathered.  Sylvia held her breath.
    “Tradition,” the Lady began, her voice crisp and clear in the sea air.  “It is the thread that weaves its way through Seascape’s past, present and future.  It is our birthright; it is our heritage.”  She paused, and the wind whipped over the waves behind them.
    “Upon the rising of the sun this Winter’s End, the Trials will begin again; ensuring that our young are worthy, that they are fit to become the keepers of our traditions.”
    Lady Naomi brought her gaze down.  “Initiates, please ascend the stage.”
    They moved as one to the ancient stone slab, and found their footing on the few steps that led up to the platform.
    Fifteen initiates fanned out to form a straight line, backs to the sea.  Sylvia managed to stay as far away from Lady Naomi as possible, and stood at the end of the line.  She studied