Acropolis

Medora

The bell tolled noon and by the timing of the new season, it would be about six hours before sunset. Andelko decided it best to blend in using their evening wear from the lost city. Acacia wore a gown the color of a sleeping dream-catcher, purple with pisanica patterns of Easter and a tunic-style torso. Her mask was an elaborate fixture of flames that engulfed her whole head. The swirls on her underskirt reminded her of the suns on Ara's robe.

Andelko dressed as a musketeer with suns silk-printed on his cloak. His mask was of an earth spirit morphed into a black oak tree and his beard was twisted and braided to finish the mask.

They spent the day searching for Chiron and Circinus and with hours behind, still had they not succeeded. From crevice to crevice, Andelko and Acacia asked apothecaries, fellow sailors and guides, even messengers for knowledge of the unknown entrances, careful not to hint at their connection to the lost city. Hours in vain were naught as they discovered a wide promenade, and in the center, the foretold fountain. Circinus persisted as their one true guide.

Fountains and strings of lights softened the noisy atmosphere of the party in the pavilion. The night shone its own lights on the tall fountain with clarity and force, but Acacia could not let go of her spear. Andelko stood watch underneath the pavilion but kept his distance. He carefully tuned out the musical party behind him.

Every time a city-dweller exited the pavilion, Acacia jumped, but a sigh of relief came when thoughts of Chiron or Circinus protruded. Their feet spoke lighter than the masqueraders. However, the wait made her heart pound as heavy as the dancing of Medora.

Andelko saw a figure hunched behind Acacia.

Maybe it's a spirit or costume, if not a unicorn.

The figure glowed white while stars and moons reflected in its eyes. Acacia sensed an unknown aura and turned around. A brute snort let her know it was Chiron.

"Circinus is on his way. He had some trouble with foreigners."

"Foreigners, Chiron—in the land of Acropolis?"

Chiron's effortful breaths signaled his truth.

What am I to do? Is he truly on his way? Acacia's mind mustered questions, mostly anxious plans. "I will wait here in case it's an ally. In another case, I will keep the stranger from advancing into Medora."

"You will as I look out for him," Chiron instructed. "Andelko do the same but remain hidden. Another high sailor lost is not what we need."

All around there was wind, earth, water—the things keeping Acropolis alive, and the things given from the dead. Acacia remembered paraphrase from the book she read in her spare time on workings of the land, Stigmas and Honors of Our Nature, bought in the lost city. The forest has always been able to speak to the people and so the wind and earth spirits in the trees, but communication with human wind and earth spirits was not advised in the manuscript.

Can this be that Conrad still speaks to me...and I know I need his guidance?

It would be hard trusting an ancient, weather-worn book if it wasn't for the signatures of every high priest, from every town, of the old provinces. She turned to a page in the Stigmas and Honors in the back chapter to find that the land had been mapped, but only mapped for the old provinces.

I don't remember coming here. The sudden quandary took her mind off Conrad, yet there was too much on her mind to focus on the issue attentively.

From every alleyway, every glittering monastery and crevice of the valley, Acacia navigated the land, paying keen attention to each source of movement, every light. Medora spread out endlessly and neatly into a grid with no sign of tunnels or catacombs.