The Soldiers of Halla (7 page)

W
e were all back together.

We were a little wiser and maybe somewhat overwhelmed by all that had been revealed to us. But at least we were together. It was good to know I wasn't the only one who had to deal with getting knocked over the head with a big fat reality stick.

Uncle Press addressed us all. “In spite of all you've heard, Solara is not dead. At least, the Solara that has always been is not dead. You all sense the presence of the spirit here, don't you?”

I looked around to see my friends nodding.

“Solara is at its lowest point. The toll of this battle has been huge. The spirit is dying. You've met your loved ones here—the spirits who became Travelers to help guide your way on your home territories. Giving them a physical presence so they could speak with you was an added drain. The only reason we brought them forward now was to help ease your transition. They're still here, but we can't continue to maintain their physical selves.”

I thought back to how my family flickered and disappeared.
It seemed like a lightbulb running out of power. Turned out it was exactly that. The same sort of thing must have happened after I left Second Earth the first time. Every piece of evidence that my family existed had vanished. It must have all been created by the spirit of Solara, and then removed when it was no longer necessary.

How weird is that?

Uncle Press continued, “The worlds of Halla have fallen. Each territory is in chaos. The darker nature of mankind has triumphed, just as Saint Dane wanted.”

Gunny stepped forward and asked, “So then, why is Solara still hanging on?”

Patrick asked, “Because there's still hope for Third Earth?”

“There
is
still hope for Third Earth, but I don't believe that's the reason. Third Earth has become a war zone. That's where we all gathered before coming here.”

That made sense. The zoo, the shattered buildings, the tilted Empire State Building. Third Earth was a mess, worse than when Patrick was last there.

Elli asked, “Do you believe that saving Third Earth will stop Saint Dane?”

“I don't know. I'd be lying if I told you otherwise. Truth is, it's all we've got left. But I'll tell you something I
do
believe. I don't think that saving Third Earth is as important as
how
we save it,” Uncle Press answered.

We all exchanged confused glances. We had no idea what he was talking about, which was pretty much par for the course even at this late date.

“Make no mistake, we are on our last legs,” Uncle Press continued. “The spirits of Solara no longer have the ability to move through the physical worlds. They are all here now. Or at least, what's left of them. There is no way of knowing
what is happening throughout Halla, except through your eyes.”

“Us?” Siry said in surprise. “How can we know what is happening out there? We're trapped here too. And the flumes are destroyed.”

“You've all heard how the creation of the Travelers was our only hope to stop Saint Dane. That is still true now. More than ever. The spirits of Solara have gathered back here in order to channel their remaining energy to you. To us. I'll be with you until the end.”

“Well, there's one spot of good news!” Spader declared, trying to be positive.

“That's how we will be able to maintain a physical presence and make our final stand. The remaining positive spiritual energy that exists in Solara is being channeled to us. The Travelers.”

Aja looked glum. “Nothing like a little pressure.”

Alder said, “But if there are no flumes, we will be unable to travel.”

“You don't need the flumes anymore,” Uncle Press declared.

That made everybody start talking at once. I was right there with them. What the heck did that mean?

“Whoa, whoa!” Uncle Press called out, trying to get everybody to settle.

I said, “I think you better explain that.”

“Saint Dane created the flumes to connect the territories. He wanted technology and physical items, and ultimately people, to travel freely and blend all the worlds. To converge. He was able to travel between territories whenever he wanted and from wherever he happened to be. He stepped from one world into the sea of time and space, and right into
the next world, instantly, effortlessly. You all experienced it yourselves when you arrived here from Third Earth.”

That was exactly what happened. My family and I took two steps—the first on Third Earth, the second here in mysterious lavaland. But the idea that we could have been doing that all along made me a little, oh, what's the word? Angry. Yeah. Angry is a good word. None of the other Travelers looked too happy either.

Loor was the only one who had the discipline to ask the question calmly. “Was there a reason that we were not told of this ability?” she asked.

Uncle Press answered with equal calm. “Because you didn't have it before.”

“Why not?” was my obvious follow-up. “It would have made things a little simpler, don't you think?”

“For one, we wanted to maintain the illusion that you were natural to your own territory. By hitchhiking through Saint Dane's flumes, you didn't need to know of your true origins.”

“Not a good enough answer,” I said, testy.

“But the main reason is that the flumes were there. They worked. Changing your physical selves to step in and out of the sea of time and space would have been too great of a drain on Solara. The same would have happened if you changed your physical beings the way Saint Dane did. Each time he became a different person, he took more of the spirit of Solara along with him. If you all did the same thing, we wouldn't be talking to each other right now. That's how draining it is for us to manipulate matter.”

Spader jumped forward. “You mean we have the same spiff powers as Saint Dane?”

“No,” I countered. “No way. I tried to change myself,
more than once. Unless there was some secret switch or something, it didn't work.”

“Because we didn't allow it,” Uncle Press replied. “We wanted you to behave as normal beings, not spirits.”

“But Nevva Winter could change,” I said.

“Because Saint Dane allowed it. As I said, he is slowly controlling the power of Solara. We didn't allow you to use that ability or to travel without the flumes because it would have caused untold damage to Solara.”

“And now?” Gunny asked.

“Now there are no flumes,” Uncle Press said. “And you all have the same abilities as Saint Dane. The spirits of Solara will see to that. But we must be cautious with how we use them. Our resources are very near the end. It's risky, but hey, things have gotten a little desperate.”

I could guess what everyone was thinking. It was an amazing feeling to know we could travel between territories without having to worry about finding a gate to the flumes. But it was also pretty scary. How badly would we be hurting Solara each time we used that ability? However things played out, we wouldn't be able to rely on flashing between worlds at will. Or turning into ravens. Whatever the final battle would be, it would be like all the others. In real time. With our physical selves. Win or lose.

I was the first to speak again. “You said that Saint Dane made a mistake.”

Uncle Press looked up at the sky. I followed his gaze. Was I imagining things, or were there already fewer color-charged clouds floating by?

“Halla has fallen,” Uncle Press said bitterly. “The nature of mankind has turned. Even with Third Earth still in doubt, Solara should be dark. But it isn't.”

Aja said, “Of course not. Ravinia may dominate the territories, but there are still people out there who haven't given up. Their spirit must be feeding Solara.”

“That's not it,” Uncle Press countered. “Halla is in chaos. For those few who lived through the Ravinian revolution, life outside of the conclaves is brutal. Like I said, survival is their only goal. They forage for food. Disease and despair are rampant. They live in constant fear of being attacked and killed for what little they have. There is no joy. No working toward a better future. That's the kind of spirit that now feeds Solara. Think of the Flighters on Veelox. Their existence has become the norm. There is little positive spirit coming from Halla anymore, which is exactly what Saint Dane wanted.”

Siry asked, “So then, what is keeping Solara alive?”

Uncle Press answered, “There is a strong, focused source of light. Of hope. It's like the last trickle of water in a dried-up oasis. It isn't much, but it's out there somewhere. It's real and it's keeping Solara from crumbling.”

“What is it?” Aja asked.

“It's Saint Dane's mistake,” Uncle Press answered. “On Second Earth, as the Ravinians were about to take power, they made a single dramatic purge of thousands of their enemies. A massive group of those who opposed Ravinia were sent into a flume.”

“The Bronx Massacre,” Alder said.

“Seventy thousand people went into that flume,” I said.

Patrick added, “History said it was a mass execution.”

“That's what most people believed. Seventy-some-odd thousand people became victims of Ravinia in order to intimidate those who dared oppose them. It was diabolical, but it worked. Ravinia soon controlled Second Earth.”

“So what was the mistake?” Patrick asked.

“Saint Dane used those people to help him gain power on Earth, but if he truly wanted to be rid of them, he should have killed them.”

“So…he didn't?” Patrick asked hopefully.

“No. I believe they are still out there living in exile. These were the only people in Halla who, as a group, were brave enough to stand up to Naymeer and try to put an end to Ravinia. I believe they are still alive. Somewhere. They are the last significant source of positive, spiritual energy that is keeping Solara alive.”

“Where are these people?” Siry asked.

“I don't know,” Uncle Press answered. “We have no way of knowing. Are they on one territory? Or scattered over several? How many are left of the seventy thousand? What kind of shape are they in? Wherever they are, I believe they represent the last living beings of the old order who have not been corrupted by the Convergence. Their strength of spirit is proof of that. Without them, Solara would cease to exist, and the darkness would rise.”

“And what about Third Earth?” Patrick asked.

“The Travelers are the last hope for Third Earth. The exiles are the last hope for the Travelers. If we want to stand up to Ravinia on Third Earth, we are going to have to rely on the positive spirit of the exiles to continue energizing Solara, which in turn gives us the ability to maintain our physical selves and to travel. If something happens to the exiles, game over.”

“Then they must be protected,” Alder said.

“Yes,” Uncle Press said quickly. “But first we have to find them and ensure their safety before turning our sights to Third Earth.”

I guess it came as no surprise to any of us that it was going to come down to Third Earth. The final territory. What was Saint Dane up to there? We had no idea. But unless we found the exiles and kept them safe, it wouldn't matter what he was doing, because the Travelers wouldn't have the ability to stop him. Finding the exiles and protecting them seemed like the right thing to do. The
only
thing. But there was one other reason that I believed in the plan. I didn't share it with the others because, in the long run, it didn't matter to anyone but me. I kept my feelings to myself. They energized me. They gave me confidence. Of course I wanted to find the exiles and have one last shot at Saint Dane. But there was another reason. A personal one.

Finding them might also mean finding Mark and Courtney.

F
ind them,” Uncle Press announced, all business.

Siry looked shaken. “But, how?”

“I can't answer that. I don't know. You each have more knowledge about your home territory than anyone else. Use it. Return to your homes and track down the exiles. But I have to warn you, things have changed. Everywhere. Saint Dane's Convergence has seen to that. It will be dangerous.”

Siry said, “But that shouldn't matter. Not if we have the power of Solara to protect us.”

“You do,” Uncle Press replied. “But if you do not use it wisely, you will do more harm to Solara than good. Resist the temptation to use your powers as a tool, except in the most dire of circumstances. Solara can't stand to be depleted much more.”

Elli asked, “If we locate the exiles, what should we do?”

“Do all you can to ensure their safety, then come back here. All of you. We will reconvene as a group and determine our next step based on what you've found. Hopefully by then, we will have determined what Saint Dane is doing on Third Earth. Maybe our only course of action will be to
keep the exiles safe. If that's the case, so be it. The one thing I do know is that their spirit can be the nucleus of a revived Halla. It has to be. They are all we have left. No, that's not right. We have them…and you. This is the final mission of the Travelers. One way or another it will soon be over.”

Aja said, “And what happens to us when this ends?”

Uncle Press sighed. “The better question is, what will be left of Halla and Solara when this ends? That answer depends on all of you.”

Alder spoke up. “Then we should get to work.”

We shared looks. All of us knew what we had to do, sort of, but it didn't look as if anybody knew how to begin.

Spader was the first to admit it. “Uh, not to be a bother, but how is it exactly that we're supposed to travel? I'm a wee bit unclear on that.”

Uncle Press smiled and answered, “It's easier than you can imagine. No, that's not right. It's exactly what you can imagine. Focus on where you want to be and take a step. The spirits of Solara will guide you to where you need to be.”

Spader scoffed uneasily. He didn't believe it was possible, and I think if we took a poll, he wouldn't be alone. It couldn't be as easy as that.

Could it?

“Not that I don't trust you, mate,” Spader said. “But that sounds a bit wonky.”

“Try it,” Uncle Press answered with confidence.

Spader looked around, chuckled nervously, closed his eyes, took a step forward…

And disappeared.

Elli gasped. I think we all took a step backward in surprise. Before anybody could comment, a rumbling was heard in the sky. Above us, another cloud went black. The
rumbling continued, and Spader reappeared, taking a step out of nowhere.

“Hobey!” he shouted, his eyes wide. “I was on Grallion! I was truly there!”

The rumbling grew louder and another cloud went dark.

“You see?” Uncle Press pointed out. “But those two trips cost Solara. That's how important it is to use this power sparingly.”

“There was something else,” Spader said. He looked shaken. “Grallion was in flames. People were scattering every which way. I think there was a crash. It may be sinking.”

“Like I said,” Uncle Press intoned soberly. “Things have changed.”

There was a silent moment. It was all sinking in. The truth. Our history. Our future. Our mission. It was a lot to understand, let alone accept. I'm sure there were doubts all around. I know I still had them. My mind searched for other possibilities. Other explanations. Other ways that we might be able to end this war and save Halla.

I came up empty.

The way to go was clear. It was time to get started.

I walked up to Spader and said, “This is finally it. You're back in the game.”

Spader stood up straight. The fear was gone. In its place was that look of confidence I knew so well.

“Like I've been telling you, mate, I'm ready.” He glanced around at the other Travelers and called out, “Doesn't hurt, by the by. It's quite spiff actually. No worries. Speed and luck to us all!”

He looked directly to me. “Been a long time since I've said this to you, mate.”

“Said what?”

He smiled, winked, and exclaimed, “Hobey-ho, let's go.”

I'd missed Spader. “Hobey-ho.”

He looked to the others and added, “No time for second guesses. No room for hesitation. Nothing left to lose. If you're asking me, there's only one thing we can do.”

“And what's that?” Gunny asked.

“Mates,” Spader replied, “let's get dangerous.”

He took a step backward, and was gone. Above us, thunder rumbled. I didn't look up. I didn't want to see another light go out.

“Guess I should be on my way too,” Gunny said. “Haven't been home in a while. Anything I should watch out for?”

“I wish I had an answer for you, Gunny,” Uncle Press said.

Gunny shrugged and looked at me. “Then I'll just have to take a look for myself. Take care of yourself, shorty.”

“See you soon,” I answered.

Gunny closed his eyes, took a step, and was gone.

Thunder rumbled.

One by one the Travelers took off. Elli, Aja, Siry, and then Kasha. They all gave a quick farewell and left Solara to begin their final mission. Each time they left, the rumbling returned. It became so intense that the ground shook. That wasn't good.

Alder called to me. “I do not want to leave you, Pendragon.”

“Nor do I,” Loor said. “Perhaps we should travel to our territories together.”

“We make a superior team,” Alder added.

“And you'll be a team again,” Uncle Press said. “For now you'll have to be with each other in spirit. You know that to be true now. None of you are ever alone.”

Alder nodded. He understood. “Then I will say good-bye and be careful.” He took a step forward and disappeared.

Loor folded her arms and walked right up to Uncle Press. “Where will you be?” she demanded to know.

“Third Earth. Patrick and I will return there to try and learn what Saint Dane is planning for—”

“No,” I interrupted.

Uncle Press gave me a surprised look. “Excuse me?”

“You should stay here for when the Travelers return with news of the exiles.”

“Bobby,” Uncle Press said patiently, “you heard what I said. Third Earth is still in play. This is it. It may all come down to this last territory. I have to go.”

“No, you don't,” I said forcefully. “
I
have to go.
You
have to stay here.”

The two of us stared each other down. I don't think Uncle Press knew how to react to my demand. He had everything figured out, except for me.

Patrick stepped between us. “Uh, I kind of like the idea that Press comes to Third Earth,” he offered meekly.

Uncle Press added, “Bobby, go to Second Earth. That's your territory.”

“The exiles aren't there,” I argued. “Why would they be? That's where Naymeer started sending them into the flume.”

This gave Uncle Press pause.

“He's right,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “The Ravinians shot those people through the flume in the early twenty-first century. Unless they somehow boomeranged back, they aren't on Second Earth. If our mission is to locate the exiles, going to Second Earth would be a waste of time.”

“It's not just about the exiles,” Uncle Press argued. “We have to track down Saint Dane on Third Earth.”

“Exactly,” I shot back. “And who better to do that? I've been chasing that creep around Halla for years. You may know his history, but I know how he thinks.”

Uncle Press looked to Loor. Loor nodded. She was on my side.

“Uncle Press, do you remember how you got me to go with you that night back in Stony Brook?”

He gave me a small smile, remembering. “Sure. I told you that some people needed our help.”

“And I went because I wanted to help them. I still do. Maybe now more than ever. As impossible as everything is that you told me, I believe it. All of it. It's hard to get my head around the fact that I'm anything other than Bobby Pendragon from Second Earth, but maybe that's okay, because Bobby Pendragon has unfinished business. I'm the lead Traveler, remember? Saint Dane told me more times than I can count that this battle is between him and me. Heck, you told me the same thing. I get it now. I understand. I went with you that night because I trusted you, Uncle Press. Now I'm asking you to do the same. Trust me. This battle is mine. Let me finish it. I think that's the way it was meant to be.”

We all looked up to the sky, drawn by an encouraging sight. Several clouds that had been dark, sparked to life. Brilliant color blazed from the heavens.

“You did that, Pendragon,” Loor said in awe.

Uncle Press laughed and shook his head. “I guess we've come full circle. I had to drag you into the fight, and now I can't drag you out.”

“We haven't come full circle yet,” I cautioned. “Not until I stop Saint Dane.”

The sky crackled with energy.

Uncle Press smiled. “I was right about one thing. The spirit of Halla isn't dead. It lives in those exiles, and it flows from you Travelers. From you, Bobby. You represent all that Halla is about. You aren't perfect. Far from it. But you understand that to find the greater good, you have to look inside each individual. That's why you are the lead Traveler. This
is
the way it was meant to be. I should have known that.”

“You did know. You just want to stop him as badly as I do. As we all do.”

“It's true. You're right. Go to Third Earth.”

I felt a strange shift. Not a physical one, but more to do with my own attitude. Uncle Press had been my mentor. He'd helped create the Travelers to battle Saint Dane. He'd chosen me to be the leader. But I never felt much like a leader, until that moment. I always felt Uncle Press was the light we should follow, even if he wasn't physically around. He set the standard. He knew what the game was all about. Now we all knew. The spirits of Solara had called upon me to lead the Travelers in the battle against Saint Dane, and for the first time there was no question in my mind: I wanted the job. Uncle Press had given us what I hoped would prove to be the most important power of all. He'd given us knowledge. It was up to us to use it wisely. It was up to
me
to use it wisely.

Gulp.

Loor said, “There is a battle coming, Pendragon. I feel it. If the exiles are on Zadaa, I will find them and return here. I want to be by your side in the end. Not like on Ibara.”

“You weren't on Ibara because I wanted you safe, in case
you had to lead the Travelers into the future. The future is here. We'll face it together.”

Loor and I hugged. It felt good, and a little strange, because for the first time I was her physical equal. I had grown. I was strong. I was a warrior. Together we were going to do some damage.

“Find him,” Loor ordered, pulling away from me. “When you do, we will take him down together.”

She nodded to Uncle Press and to Patrick. With one hand she reached back and grabbed her wooden stave. She held it out across her body, ready for whatever she would find on Zadaa.

“Be careful,” I said.

“Always,” she replied, took a step forward, and was gone.

I ignored the rumbling in the sky.

Uncle Press, Patrick, and I were the only three left.

“Are you sure Press shouldn't come with us?” Patrick asked nervously. “I mean, I agree that you should come, Pendragon, but the three of us could—”

“No, Bobby's right,” Uncle Press said. “When the other Travelers return, I should be waiting for them.”

“Do you know anything about what's happening on Third Earth?” I asked.

Uncle Press shook his head. “Only what we saw when those gunships attacked.”

“Third Earth wasn't like that the last time I was there,” Patrick offered. “When I was still…”

He didn't finish the sentence. The memory was tough for him. He had been killed on Third Earth. Saint Dane told me.

Saint Dane.

I was going to get one last shot at him. If he thought the war was over when I killed Alexander Naymeer, he was in
for a very big surprise. The Travelers weren't finished. We were going to follow Spader's advice. We were going to get dangerous.

“This is it, Bobby,” Uncle Press said. “Our last chance.”

I stood next to Patrick. He looked squeamish. Patrick wasn't built for conflict. He was a teacher. A librarian. But he was brave. He had proved that many times over. With his brown hair falling in his eyes, he looked much younger than a guy in his twenties. Twenties? Did I actually write that? Who knew how old Patrick really was? Or any of us, for that matter. We were spirits. We were from a world other than the one we had grown up in. We were Travelers.

And we had one more shot at finishing the job we were born to do.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“I am,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I really am.”

“Then let's go get him,” I said. I took Patrick's arm and looked at Uncle Press. “And so we go.”

We both stepped forward on Solara….

And were instantly barraged by the sound of rolling thunder as we stepped into the swirling sand of the zoo in Central Park on Third Earth. As much as I knew that it was exactly what was supposed to happen, it was still a strange experience. I was disoriented. It didn't help that the thunder didn't stop rolling. At first I was afraid that by all of us traveling back to our home territories, we had done serious damage to Solara. That wasn't it. Maybe that would have been better, because the truth wasn't so good. It wasn't thunder we were hearing.

The gunships were back.