The Soldiers of Halla (27 page)

At the end of the corridor were stairs leading up. I took two at a time, winding around, climbing higher to the next floor. The stairs brought me to a wide-open area that I recognized. I suppose the tile work down below should have given it away, but I hadn't made the connection. I wasn't going to have to go far to get to the Taj Mahal. I was already in it. We had been in Saint Dane's basement all along. I glanced around, wondering where I should begin my search, when I registered an odd sound. I thought I'd heard it earlier, but it was so faint that it hadn't registered. Now that I had climbed out of the dungeon, it was louder. I guess you could call it a “tone.” Three tones actually. Like notes. They played over and over again. The same three notes. I couldn't tell where they were coming from, but it definitely wasn't from inside the Taj Mahal. It was like nothing I'd heard during the time I'd spent inside the conclave, so I figured it was worth investigating.

I worked my way through the tall pillars, looking for a way out of the building. The closer I got to the doorway, the louder the tones became. There was definitely something happening outside. I found a set of double wooden doors and pushed my way out into the bright sun. Instantly the three tones grew loud. Really loud. They weren't annoying, but you couldn't miss them. They didn't sound urgent, like a fire warning or anything. It reminded me of the tones they used to play at Stony Brook Junior High to announce that it was time for classes to pass. There was no question these tones had a purpose, and I wanted to know what it was.

I made my way across the wide, marble expanse that
led to the edge of the giant pedestal-like base that the Taj Mahal sat on. Now that I was outside, I saw that other people were around. If I didn't want to draw attention, I was going to have to act like a dado. I'd seen thousands of them, but never really studied how they behaved…other than when they were trying to beat my head in, that is. They didn't walk like robots or anything, but their movements were precise. And they had good posture. Why not? They were robots. You don't program a slouch into a robot. So I stood up tall, lifted my chin, and tried to walk perfectly. It was actually easier than I thought. Just being self-conscious about walking makes you a little stiff. My biggest challenge was to not forget that I had to be walking that way.

I gripped the long weapon. There was a small red button in the handle that I figured was the on-off switch. I took a chance, hit it, and felt the wand hum. I hit the button again and it stopped. I decided to leave it off. I didn't want to accidentally brush it against my leg and vaporize myself like an idiot. I thought back to when I had seen the dados walking around and remembered that they held the weapons down at their sides. That's what I did. In all, I thought I was going to pull it off. So long as nobody noticed my hair or beard, I'd be cool.

The tones continued. As I marched closer to the edge of the foundation, I sensed something else. Another unique sound. I reached the perimeter and looked down onto the gardens that surrounded the Taj Mahal to see that the sound was coming from a large crowd of people who were slowly moving toward the front of the building. There had to be hundreds of them. They weren't in a hurry, but I sensed excitement. Little kids sprinted through the crowd, as if they couldn't wait to get where they were going. These weren't
dados. They were the Ravinians who lived in this conclave. I saw all types. All ages. All races. These were the chosen of Third Earth. The tones now made sense. It was a signal. Or a notice of some kind. When the tones sounded, people came. I wondered if this was a normal thing, or something special.

I made my way forward in the direction the crowd was moving. As I walked, I joined more people who were on the same level with me, all moving in the same direction as those below. There were dados mixed into the crowd who looked to be scanning for trouble. I didn't want to be spotted, so I did the same, though I guarantee we were looking for different kinds of trouble. I did my best to stay away from them. I didn't want to be recognized. Or
not
recognized. Invisible was good. As I walked closer to the front of the Taj Mahal, it became easier to blend in because the crowd grew dense.

When I reached the front of the building, I realized that this was everyone's destination. Thousands of people crowded around the long reflecting pool that stretched out in front of the Taj Mahal. It was a staggering sight. Behind me loomed the massive onion-shaped dome. In front of me were thousands of people looking toward the building. I no longer felt in danger of being discovered. I was one in thousands. I meant nothing. This was a spectacle. Nobody was going to notice one dado who needed a shave.

The question then became, what the heck were they doing here? This was Saint Dane's house, so whatever it was, it couldn't be good. They had been summoned and I didn't think it was for a barbeque. Looking up at the Taj Mahal, I saw that a platform had been erected. Had that been there
before? I didn't remember it. It didn't look to have come from ancient India, either. It looked high-tech modern. It was a wide silver tube that rose about thirty feet into the air. Etched into the surface was a huge Ravinian star. Erected on top were two, thick uprights and a cross bar. They were also made of metal and looked heavy, but with style. Like a modern sculpture. It was this frame, on top of the circular, silver tube, that had everyone's attention.

The tones continued as the people gathered. It was getting crowded. I now noticed that several dados had arrived on ground level. They marched in carrying red Ravinian star flags. The procession moved around the fountain until there was a line of flags stretching along either side of its considerable length. The flags sickened me. They represented everything that Saint Dane stood for. They symbolized the movement that had brought Halla to its knees. The sight reminded me of those old movies I'd seen of Nazi rallies before World War II. I guess people didn't learn from the mistakes of the past.

The tones stopped. I sensed the anticipation of the crowd. Everyone focused their attention on the strange sculpture on top of the silver tube. The show was about to begin.

A loud gong rang out. The huge crowd instantly became silent. It was eerie. A lone figure appeared on the platform on top of the tube. I wasn't sure how he'd gotten up there. Maybe there were stairs that I couldn't see. But he was there, and it didn't surprise me at all.

It was Saint Dane. He held his arms out as if to embrace the masses. No sooner did his arms go up, than the crowd applauded. Like crazy. They loved the guy. Or maybe they were afraid that if they didn't give him a big hand, they'd
be in trouble. The dados holding the flags waved them furiously. It was impressive, in a sickening sort of way.

Saint Dane lifted his hands. It was a subtle gesture, but the crowd understood. They fell silent again. Creepy. They were like puppets. I was standing in a crowd of people more than twenty yards away from the platform, but even from that distance I could see that Saint Dane was loving this. He had grown to enjoy his power. He was living the dream.

“Ravinians!” he bellowed, his amplified voice booming from unseen speakers. “Thank you for joining me here today.”

I snickered. Like they had a choice. My guess was that if anybody didn't come running whenever the horn sounded, they'd regret it.

“I am asking you to play a role in what I believe is a critical moment in the continuing evolution of Ravinia. You are not here as mere bystanders. You are participants. The decision you make today will help shape the future of our grand experiment. As the chosen, the course of Ravinia has been and always will be in your hands. I am asking you today to once again help me chart the course that will make the vision a reality.”

The crowd went nuts. Cheering and applauding. I don't think they had any idea what they were cheering about, but Saint Dane was being all dramatic and firing them up, and they were going right along with it. Did they really think that they were making their own decisions? I guess people believe what they want to believe. When they quieted down, Saint Dane continued.

“Throughout Halla the elite have risen. The pariahs have been marginalized. Look around you. This is the glory of Ravinia. Conclaves such as this exist throughout
all worlds. We have been rewarded, and this is only the beginning.”

Again, big applause. Watching this crowd brought back memories of other similar scenes on other territories. I thought of the crowds on Quillan, who would do anything, even risk their children, to get ahead. And the quig battles in the Bedoowan castle on Denduron. And the crowds of Ravinians on Second Earth. All those people bought into Saint Dane's vision. As I watched the people here on Third Earth, it struck me again how this was exactly what Saint Dane had been working for. If Solara was created and powered by the spirit of all people, Saint Dane drew strength from the people who only thought the way he did. He weeded out those who didn't fit his plan and would soon be left with only those who bought into his ideal.

It also struck me that Saint Dane hadn't assumed a new identity here on Third Earth. There was no more pretense. No more weaseling into a society and influencing events to go his way. The gloves were off. What I said to Nevva was true. Saint Dane loved the power. He no longer had to work through anybody else. It was all about him now. He had assumed the role of ruler. Or king. Or god. Or whatever it was he envisioned himself to be.

“We are nearing the end of a journey that began thousands of years ago here on Earth with the birth of Alexander Naymeer and the rise of Ravinia. Throughout Halla, the elite have triumphed. Like you, they are the chosen. The entitled. Look around. See the wonderful existence we share. We are spreading this utopian ideal throughout Halla. When we no longer need protection from the evils of the dissenters, the walls that surround us will no longer be needed, and they…will…come…down!”

The crowd went nuts. Again. I guess that was the deal. The Ravinians lived in their own special little paradise, but they were like prisoners. It seemed like Saint Dane promised that the whole world would become as perfect as this conclave, just as soon as all those annoying people on the outside could be eliminated.

When the crowd stopped chanting, Saint Dane continued. “There is still work to be done. There are pockets of resistance. There are people who are no better than hungry, predatory rats, and they are determined to bring down our way of life. They want to live as we do, yet they aren't willing to make sacrifices to achieve it. My question to you is, are you ready to eliminate the threat once and for all? Should we allow these people to continue to eat away at the fabric of our perfect society? That is the choice we are now faced with. Do we tolerate? Or purge? Tolerate? Or purge?”

The chant started slowly, as if they weren't exactly sure of the answer. But once it began, it quickly grew.

“Purge! Purge! Purge!”

It was chilling. These people were worked up, enthusiastically showing their support for a final massacre—all so they could continue to live in a nice parklike home. Even the kids were chanting with intensity. It was bloodlust. Saint Dane held out his hands, smiling, letting the chant wash over him. I was watching his power grow, literally. He was feeding on their spirit. I was certain that whatever darker Solara he had created was feeding on it too. He held up his hands again and the chanting stopped. Looking out over the crowd, and to the people around me, I saw fire in their eyes. People were breathing heavily. Saint Dane had them in his spell.

“Of course that is the way!” Saint Dane proclaimed. “You and your ancestors have always been willing to make the difficult choices for the greater good. The same has been happening all over Halla. The strong have chosen to survive. The weak have been ground under our boots.”

Another huge cheer. Yikes. They were ruthless.

“Now we are faced with a decision. As much as I have become your spiritual advisor, every decision I make comes from you.”

Yeah, right.

“I have summoned you here to make another such decision. You will determine how we proceed. You all are aware of the growing number of rebels who live outside these walls. It is the same with every conclave that has been built on Earth. There are many who manage to hang on, threatening our lives and forcing us to live behind these walls. Once they are eliminated, these walls will come down. I am here today to tell you that we have captured a leader of these miscreants. He defiled the sanctity of this conclave, crept in like a cockroach searching for crumbs, with the intent of causing malicious harm to anyone who stood in his way.”

Okay, not true, but…whatever.

He continued, “My question to you is, do we show him mercy? Or do we send a message to all those who oppose us? A message that states beyond any shadow of a doubt that their cause is futile and their true destiny…is to perish!”

As the crowd erupted with another cheer, three more people stepped up onto the platform. There were two Ravinian guards and a guy they held tight. He was a prisoner, with a black cloth bag over his head.

Saint Dane reached out and pulled the bag off.

My stomach clenched when I saw his face.

Yeah. It was Mark.

At the same time, from the crossbeam over Mark's head, a noose was lowered. It was all happening much quicker than I imagined.

This crowd had been gathered to witness the execution of Mark Dimond.

A
fourth person stepped onto the platform. Nevva Winter. Saint Dane wanted her to carry out the execution, and there she was. Ready to go.

“People of Ravinia,” Saint Dane's voice boomed. “Give me your decision. Do we show mercy? Or begin the process that will crush our enemies once and for all?”

I wasn't expecting any other response than the one they gave. The chant began quickly, the sound echoing off the Taj Mahal.

“Crush! Crush! Crush! Crush!”

The sentence had been handed down. Saint Dane had done it again. He had already decided to execute Mark, but he first drew these people into the process, making them part of the decision. Putting blood on their hands. He could still claim that the people made their own choice, though in reality he was stoking the evil spirit that gave him the power to re-create Halla.

I looked at the faces of those around me. They seemed like ordinary people. Nobody had three eyes or sharp fangs or looked any different from the rebels who lived outside
the conclave. In fact, they weren't any different. They all wanted the same thing, which was to live their lives in peace. Trouble was, the people of Ravinia felt they deserved more and weren't above crushing those who got in their way.

Not all monsters had fangs.

And not all of the Ravinians were chanting. I actually saw a few people who weren't caught up in the furor. It might have been wishful thinking, but to me it seemed as if they were looking around in dismay, the same as I was. Was it possible? Were there some Ravinians who actually had a conscience? It gave me a brief bit of hope, but no more than that. There were plenty of others who wanted Mark's blood.

I pushed my way through the crowd, desperate to get to the silver tower that had become a gallows. I didn't know what I could do, but I wasn't going to let Mark die without a fight. I kept the electric wand to my side, turned off. As badly as I needed to get through the crowd, I wasn't about to kill anybody to do it. That would have made me no better than the bloodthirsty Ravinians who were calling for Mark's head. I kept my eyes on the stage. Mark stood bravely, looking out at the crowd. They had cleaned him up a little for the show. His beard stubble was gone and his long hair was cut short. He stood staring out at the thousands of judges who wanted him dead, showing no fear. He didn't fight. I'm sure he didn't want to give anybody the satisfaction of knowing that he was anything less than a proud, formidable guy.

Saint Dane stalked along the front of the platform, soaking up the energy. He was loving this. After letting the emotion roll over him for a few seconds, he turned toward the Taj Mahal and waved. A quick look showed me who it was meant for.

Elli Winter had arrived. She was being held by two Ravinian guards, who dragged her out the front door of the ancient building. They forced her forward and stopped at the top of a wide set of stairs that led down to the bottom of the silver tube. The level I was on. Being up high like that meant she was roughly on the same level as the top of the platform where her daughter was about to murder my friend. Saint Dane gestured for Nevva to look back. Nevva didn't. I think she knew who was there. It was a cruel move. Saint Dane wanted Nevva to know her mother was watching. Was it a further test of her resolve? Or was it punishment for having questioned him earlier? Either way, Saint Dane proved yet again how vicious he could be.

Having Elli there also meant that the Ravinians knew I was on the loose. It didn't worry me at all. In a few seconds they were going to know exactly where I was.

The intensity of the chanting grew. It became a steady, incessant, “
Crush them! Crush them! Crush them!”

I pushed my way forward, knocking over anyone and everyone in my path. I saw that beyond the tube were stairs that led up to the platform. That was my goal. I had to get to those stairs.

Up on the platform Nevva moved without expression. I wondered what was going through her mind. She knew Mark. She liked Mark. It didn't seem to matter. Not when it came to showing her blind dedication to Saint Dane. She reached for the dangling noose and slipped it around Mark's neck. Mark didn't make eye contact with her. Seeing the noose around his neck made the chanting grow louder. They knew the end was near. It was a vicious, bloodthirsty lynch mob.

I had only a few seconds to act. I hoped that Saint Dane
would give Mark some last words. Or make a final, grand statement to the crowd before sending him plunging to his death. For once I
wanted
Saint Dane to be his usual, arrogant self. I needed the time. As I drew closer to the platform, I saw that the number of dados had grown. It would only be a matter of time before they realized that somebody was making trouble and try to stop me. I couldn't afford to be cautious anymore.

It was time to get dangerous.

I raised the silver weapon and hit the button. I felt the power surge as it kicked on. I started flashing the powerful wand at the dados in my way. Most never knew what hit them. They were too busy scanning the crowd to realize that one of their own was on a rampage. I flashed the weapon left and right, nailing dados with each swing, knocking their lights out. I guess you could say I was charged with bloodlust as well, or whatever it is that runs through dado veins. I wanted to mow down as many as I could, as fast as I could.

I kept glancing up at the platform, hoping for more time. The stairs were within reach. Two dados were stationed at the bottom. They barely had time to raise and activate their own weapons before I sliced them both, knocking them to the ground. I was on the stairs, flying up three at a time.

The crowd continued chanting. Mark was still alive. I knew what I had to do. Nevva was my quarry. If she was the executioner, she would have her finger on the switch. If I was to save Mark, I would have to stop Nevva.

I couldn't hear anything but the fevered screaming of the crowd. My wand was up and ready. When my head cleared the platform, I saw exactly what I'd hoped to find. Saint Dane was out in front, facing the crowd. Mark stood
with a dado on either side of him, keeping him still. Nevva was to the far right of the platform, near one of the uprights of the gallows. There was a small plate on the back side of that upright. On it was a series of switches.

Nevva's hand was on them.

Saint Dane turned to Nevva and nodded.

It was Mark's death sentence.

Nevva put her finger on the center switch.

I wasn't going to make it in time.

“Nevva!” I screamed, hoping to throw her off long enough for me to reach her and knock her into eternity.

Nevva turned toward me. I saw the surprise on her face. It wasn't enough to stop her. Nevva threw the switch. The door beneath Mark's feet swung away. He started to fall. I dropped the weapon and dove for him, hoping to catch him before he disappeared beneath the floor. I hit the deck on my belly and slid toward the opening with my arms outstretched.

Time seemed to slow down. I felt the fabric of Mark's shirt fall past the tips of my fingers. I tried to grab on to something, but got only air. The next second felt as if it took an eternity to pass. My eyes were on the slack rope…that suddenly went taught. The gallows shuddered briefly. Not a sound came from below. Though he had fallen into the enclosed tube and could not be seen by the crowd, they knew what had happened. Their reaction told the story. A huge, triumphant cheer erupted. I barely heard it. The only sound that cut through to me was the slow, steady
creak
that came from a rope that had been pulled tight, straining to hold the weight of my best friend.

Mark was dead. Nevva had killed him. Ravinia had killed him. Saint Dane had killed him. I focused past the
swinging rope at the thousands of people who shouted and cheered at the death of a hero.

And I snapped.

I rolled and swept up the electric wand. Somebody was going to suffer for what had happened. The two best candidates were up there with me on that platform. The dados ran for me. One got there first and paid the price for his efficiency. I skewered him with the wand and pushed him off the edge of the platform.

The other dado held back. It was the first time I had seen a dado actually make a smart move. It saved his life, at least for a little while. Fine by me. It wasn't the dado I cared about. I wanted Nevva. She stood frozen near the controls she had just used to kill Mark. It didn't seem like she was going to put up a fight. I didn't care. She could defend herself or not. She was going to die.

I reached my arm back, ready to lance her with the wand, when I was tackled from behind. The second dado had regrouped and made its move. I had been so blinded by anger, I didn't expect the attack. I hit the deck, hard. The weight of the dado knocked the wind out of me. Nevva finally made her move. She went for my outstretched arm and grabbed the wand. It all played out so quickly and violently that I couldn't believe what had happened. I struggled to get away from the dado. To get at Nevva. Too late. More dados had arrived on the platform and grabbed me.

“I'll kill you!” I screamed at Nevva, totally out of my mind. “I swear, I'll kill you!”

I was blinded by rage. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Mark was hanging on the end of a rope. All he ever did was try to help me and others who needed it. This was his final reward. I wanted to be dead myself. I wanted to explode.
I wanted to feel my hands around Nevva Winter's throat. I'm not proud of these insane, violent feelings, but I have to write down exactly what happened. In those few seconds up on that platform, I believe I had lost my mind. The dados kept me down, my cheek jammed onto the platform floor. Through the tears, I saw Saint Dane lean down to me.

“If only you had accepted the inevitable,” he said. “But I suppose that was not the way it was meant to be. For the last time, Pendragon, good-bye.”

I screamed. It wasn't a word or a sentence or anything that was understandable. It was an outpouring of raw emotion, frustration, and grief.

Saint Dane left the platform. Nevva gave me a quick glance. She didn't say a word. At least she had the decency not to make this nightmare any worse than it was. I was left alone on the platform with the dados, and the swinging rope that was a reminder that my best friend was hanging below. Dead.

Once Saint Dane left, the crowd had had enough. The chanting died. Whatever need they had to experience a murder had been filled. They were already dispersing. Many followed the line of dados as they marched out with their red flags snapping in the breeze. There was nothing more for them to see. They didn't have a view of the hanging body of my friend. He was inside the circular base of the gallows. Maybe Saint Dane was afraid that if his followers actually saw the result of their decision, they'd start having second thoughts. As it was, all they knew was that the prisoner had been executed. They didn't have to witness anything gruesome.

My heart continued to race. I was breathing hard. It was surreal. None of what had happened seemed possible.
I must have gone into shock. Fighting against the dados seemed useless. If I wanted to, I could have gone to any territory I chose. But I didn't. My mind was too far gone for that. Thinking straight wasn't a possibility. The dados must have sensed that I was no longer resisting, because they lifted me to my feet. Two held my hands twisted behind my back. Another held a silver weapon in front of my face as a warning. In other words, “Don't try anything or
zap
!” I didn't react. I didn't plan on trying anything. The dado with the weapon turned and started down the stairs. I was led after him. The final dado followed behind. We hit the bottom of the stairs just as a door in the silver tube swung open. It was a section of the steel skin at the bottom of the stairs. Two Ravinian guards stepped out from inside and marched off. They left the door open wide.

I looked inside…and wished I hadn't.

It was as hideous a sight as I imagined. My friend hung by the neck at the end of the rope. His head was cocked at an impossible angle. His body swayed slightly. All I could hope for was that his death had been quick. I began to shake uncontrollably. I don't know what it was. Maybe some kind of outpouring of emotion. I guess it was my version of crying. I felt as if I were walking through a dream. A violent, impossible dream.

The Ravinian guards pulled me away from the door and brought me back toward the stairs that led up and into the Taj Mahal. We climbed. I didn't resist. What was the point? When we reached the top of the stairs, Elli was there, being held by two dados. She was in tears. She didn't say anything, and that was good. I wouldn't have known how to respond. Nothing she could have said would make this better. I'd lost my best friend, and the person who pulled
the switch was her daughter. We each had to deal with our own private agony.

The dado escorts moved us both toward the Taj Mahal. Elli didn't put up a fight either. The next thing I registered was a small patrol of Ravinian guards walking toward us. Six in all. They marched in tight formation, two by two, holding silver weapons to their sides. As dazed as I was, something felt off to me. This team of dados was headed directly at us. Quickly. I sensed the hesitation on the part of the dados who were holding me. It seemed some odd game of chicken was about to be played out. I expected the oncoming dados to walk around us—after all, we were the ones who were being towed, so to speak. They didn't. They came right for us.

The single dado who was leading us stopped. He didn't know what was happening either. We all stopped, expecting the oncoming dados to skirt by. The lead dado raised his hand and motioned for the oncoming group to go around.

It was the last move he made.

The oncoming dados came within a few feet, and attacked. The first two nailed the dado out in front with their weapons. He fell instantly. I was pulled to the side by one of the two dados that were holding me. He didn't join in the fight. He was all about keeping me under control. He threw me to the ground and sat on my back to keep me from moving. I had to struggle just to see what was happening. The two dados that had been holding Elli let her go and went for their weapons. Too late. All six of the attacking dados had their weapons drawn and mowed them down. They were fast and efficient. The attack took only a few seconds. Five dados went down. When it was done, the team of six regrouped and marched toward me.
I figured this was the end. It was an execution squad sent to take us out.