The Soldiers of Halla (11 page)

Nevva took a step back. I wasn't sure if she was bothered by this or she didn't want to get in the way if Saint Dane started swinging.

“You have a choice,” Saint Dane said, once again calm.
“You always have a choice. You can tell us what you know. A simple answer. One word. That's all I need, and your suffering will end.”

“I don't know what you're asking me,” the guy seethed. He was holding back anger. I knew the feeling.

“Of course you do,” Saint Dane said jovially. “When you entered the flume, you did not come here. That much I know for certain.”

I grabbed Patrick's arm. What was Saint Dane talking about? Who were these guys?

“I'm not sure how you ended up here,” Saint Dane continued. “Obviously it was before the flumes were destroyed. That is of no interest to me. What I want to know is where you were sent when you first entered the flume. Is that so much to ask?”

My heart raced. These guys weren't Travelers. But who were they? My heart leaped. Was it possible? Could these guys be the very people we were looking for? Were they some of the enemies of Ravinia who were sent into exile? I was excited and terrified at the same time. Excited that we may have found them. Terrified because Saint Dane had found them too.

“So tell me, my friend,” Saint Dane said to the man on his knees. “All I need is a word. The name of a territory. Where is it that you ended up when you entered the flume? Tell me and your suffering will end.”

“All right,” the guy wheezed. “I'll tell you.”

I saw the other victims tense up. The Ravinian guards held them tight.

“Wonderful,” Saint Dane exclaimed.

“Come closer,” the guy said with a raspy voice.

Saint Dane walked up to the guy and towered over him.
The guy whispered something so softly that I couldn't hear. Neither did Saint Dane, for he bent over to get closer. When Saint Dane was down on the same level as his prisoner, the guy spit in his face. Even from where we were, I could see that there was more blood than saliva. Saint Dane didn't flinch. The Ravinians started to pull the guy back, but Saint Dane held up his hand.

“Leave him be,” he said calmly.

The demon got right back in the guy's face. He didn't even wipe off the blood and spit that dribbled off his chin. He locked eyes with the poor guy. I knew what that felt like. The guy was in serious trouble.

“I will kill your three friends first,” Saint Dane said icily. “It will be slow. It will be painful. I will break their bones with my own hands, starting with their feet and working my way up their spines. They will bleed. The best they can hope for is that the pain will cause them to pass out, for drowning in your own blood is a horrible way to die. Is that the fate you wish to condemn them to? The choice is yours, my bold friend.”

The guy didn't look away from Saint Dane, though I felt his fear. He wasn't being bold; he was desperately trying to hold on to his sanity. He started to whimper. His body shook as he was overcome by emotion. Still, he didn't break eye contact with Saint Dane.

“Tell me,” Saint Dane said with mock kindness. “Tell me. The truth will be your salvation.”

Finally, in a haunted voice that seemed to come from a tortured place, the guy muttered the single word that Saint Dane was looking for.

“Cloral.”

“Cloral?” Saint Dane repeated.

The guy nodded and dropped his head in defeat.

The other three prisoners seemed to deflate.

Saint Dane allowed himself a small smile. He backed away. Then, with one quick movement he grabbed the long silver weapon from one of the Ravinian guards and pointed it at his victim.

“No!” Nevva shouted.

The prisoner let out an anguished cry.

Saint Dane didn't react to either of them.

Paf!

The sound of an electric charge cut through the room as the weapon fired a deadly charge. The two Ravinian guards backed off quickly, so as not to be burned. The prisoner tried to dive away, but it was too late. A moment later he was a cinder. As with the guy we saw under the Eiffel Tower, the victim's body became a thin tower of ash that dangled in the air for an impossible second, then fell to the ground in a heap of black soot.

Patrick let out a small, pained gasp.

My head spun. Saint Dane had killed the man with no more thought or remorse than if he had swatted a fly.

“Kill them all,” he commanded while casually tossing the weapon aside. It clattered onto the tiled floor, its deadly work complete. Saint Dane strode for the stairs that led up to the throne, his mission accomplished.

“You can't,” Nevva called after him.

Saint Dane slowly turned back to her.

“Why is that? I am keeping my promise. I told him that their suffering would be over. His most certainly is, and theirs will be as well.”

“I'm just saying that there may be another way,” she said, regaining her icy composure. For a second I thought I
actually sensed compassion from Nevva. It didn't last long.

“There is no other way, Nevva dear,” Saint Dane said patiently. “They must die. They must all die. As distasteful as that may be to you, it is the only way that we will—”

He stopped himself in midsentence. His eyes flashed. He was suddenly on alert. He looked up, his eyes scanning everywhere and nowhere, as if trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

“What is the matter?” Nevva asked.

Saint Dane held his hand up to quiet her. He looked around, as if confused.

“Impossible,” he said aloud, but it seemed more like he was talking to himself.

Something was wrong. Something he hadn't expected. There were very few times that I had seen Saint Dane thrown. He always had every angle figured. Every move was calculated, planned for, and anticipated. Not this time. Whatever was bothering him, it had come as a complete surprise. This might be going too far, but in that moment Saint Dane seemed nervous.

I was pretty sure I knew why.

“Get back to Solara,” I whispered to Patrick. “Tell Uncle Press everything you saw.”

Patrick's eyes were wild. “What are you going to do?” he whispered back.

“I'm going to shake things up a little.”

I knew what Saint Dane was sensing. I knew why he was confused. He thought I was done. He thought
we
were done. He was wrong, and that's what he was sensing. He felt our presence. I figured I might as well confirm things for him.

“Pendragon, don't—,” Patrick warned.

I stepped out from behind the pillar into the light.

“Man, that suit is just
wicked
cool!” I called out.

Saint Dane spun toward me. I was right. I was the last person he expected to see wandering into his palace.

“Hi, Nevva,” I said casually. “You guys get your hair done at the same place? Cute. Love the outfit, too. You've got a kinda retro, sixties
Star Trek
thing going on.”

Nevva opened her mouth but couldn't speak. They both looked as if they'd seen a ghost. Maybe they had. Since the moment I'd let Alexander Naymeer fall from the helicopter, I had seen the impossible. I had learned more truths about Halla, Saint Dane, and myself than I could have imagined. I can't say that I was at peace with any of it. At least, not yet. Most of the news that Uncle Press had given us about the struggle against Saint Dane was bad. Our backs were to the wall. We were running out of time and opportunity. We all knew that this was our last stand. Up until that moment I had been moving forward semi-numb, going through the paces. It all seemed so futile.

Until that moment.

I saw fear in Saint Dane's eyes.

That told me we may have been down to our last chance, but it was a good chance. He feared us. He feared me. My confidence soared.

This really wasn't over.

E
very eye in the place was on me. I'm sure that the Ravinian guards and their prisoners had no idea who this wiseass intruder was. You'd think they would have jumped me, but they were waiting for orders from their boss.

The order didn't come. Saint Dane stood there with his mouth hanging open. It was awesome. This might be a weird thing to say, but I was enjoying myself. I felt for the first time in, well, the first time
ever
, that I was one step ahead of him. I had to make sure that I stayed there. I strolled around the circle, acting all nonchalant, looking at the opulent surroundings.

“I like what you did with the place,” I said, all friendly. “Nothing like a little artwork to freshen up a tomb.”

Saint Dane and Nevva kept their eyes on me. Nevva looked dumbfounded. Saint Dane just looked confused. I liked that.

“And look at you!” I said to Saint Dane. “All young and regal looking. What are you now? King? Emperor? Grand Pooh-bah? I had you all wrong. Here I thought all this time you had some master plan for the good of Halla because only
you knew what was right for mankind, and all you really wanted was to live in a palace and wear fancy king clothes. Gotta tell you, I'm disappointed.”

“Be careful, Pendragon,” Patrick warned as he stepped out from behind the pillar.

Nevva and Saint Dane both shot him a surprised look. I was almost as surprised to see him. I thought he had left for Solara. I didn't want him there. I had a plan and knew that Patrick would only get in the way. Oh well. I had to stay in control, so I needed to act like this was part of the plan.

“Yeah,” I announced casually. “Patrick's back. We're all back, in case you were wondering. Did you miss us?”

Saint Dane still hadn't recovered. I knew that wouldn't last long.

“Patrick,” I said calmly. “You should go now.”

“I—I can't leave you here. Not like this!”

“Why not? What could happen?” I asked innocently. “These goons could zap me, there'd be a big ouch, and I'd just end up back in Solara.”

Nevva and Saint Dane both snapped a look to me. Yes, another shocker. We knew all about Solara. This was fun.

“It's true,” I said to Saint Dane. “We're all back and pretty much up to speed, thanks to Uncle Press. Hard to believe that you and Uncle Press were friends once. I don't get that one.”

Saint Dane winced with each new revelation, like I was shooting tiny little arrows at him.

Patrick took a step toward me. “Pendragon, I—”

“Patrick,” I said firmly. “Go. I'm serious. Now.”

I may have sounded casual, but my look told him that I was dead serious. He took a quick, apprehensive look around and nodded. He stepped backward…and disappeared.

I heard Saint Dane gasp. He actually gasped. It was awesome.

“Oh, right,” I teased, pretending to have just remembered something important. “We've all got the same tools now, demon boy.”

Saint Dane gathered himself up, stood tall, and fixed his cold blue eyes on me. “Then by all means,” he said, “use them.”

So much for keeping him off balance. His act was back together, and he was calculating his next move. He knew we couldn't use the spirit of Solara more than necessary because we would only weaken it.

“So what's the deal?” I asked. “Did you get the Ravinians to steal this cool stuff from all over Earth? I mean, Big Ben? The Eiffel Tower? Is that what this has all come down to? Gathering a bunch of famous stuff and creating a little Ravinian theme park? It's good to be king, isn't it?”

“It's much more than that, Pendragon,” Nevva said, her voice cracking. Unlike her boss, she was still off balance.

“Don't bother, Nevva,” I snapped at her. “I know all about it.”

“And you are correct,” Saint Dane said, almost jovially. “I have enjoyed taking human form. And why not? If I am going to be the salvation of mankind, why shouldn't I enjoy a little reward? Is that asking too much?”

“Nah!” I replied sarcastically. “You're worth it! And man, you look good for somebody who's got to be, what, a couple hundred thousand years old? Talk about a makeover. Yikes. The long hair is especially slick. A little glam-rock, but still. Nice.”

As I spoke, I kept scanning the group, looking for my chance.

“I
am
surprised to see you,” Saint Dane growled. “With the collapse of the flumes I felt certain that the last light of Solara would have been dimmed, along with you and your kind. Apparently I was mistaken.”

I held my arms out and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“If you know as much as you say,” he continued slyly, “you also know that your existence is hanging by the thinnest of threads.”

I wanted to ask him where he was getting his own spiritual power from, if it wasn't Solara, but I didn't want to admit how much I still didn't know. I walked toward the three prisoners who were being held by the Ravinian guards. They were the reason I was still there. I had to try and rescue them. If they were exiles, they might know more about the others. It's why Saint Dane had them there. It's why he tortured them for information. One thing that Saint Dane said was absolutely correct. If his final conquest of Halla was going to succeed, he had to kill the exiles. Or as many of the seventy thousand as he could find. As long as they lived, Solara lived. Saint Dane was hunting for them just as the Travelers were.

“That thread isn't so thin,” I lied. “Solara isn't in as bad a shape as you think.” Another lie, but what the heck. “I'm actually feeling pretty good about things. You know why?”

“Please,” Saint Dane said sarcastically. “Share with me.”

I stopped at the first prisoner and looked into his eyes. I needed to know what kind of shape they were in. If they couldn't move, or were badly injured, there was no way I'd get them out of there. The guy raised his chin and looked at me. There was fire in his eyes. I gave him a small nod. I hoped he knew what that meant. I moved on to the next
guy and saw the same thing. They were just waiting for their chance. I intended to give it to them.

I looked at the guard that was holding the second prisoner. My suspicions were correct. It was a dado. The eyes were a dead giveaway. Or should I say the dead eyes were a giveaway. Saint Dane was being protected by an army of dados.

“We're in a different place now,” I said cockily. “What is it you like to say? Oh yeah. The rules have changed. Since the day I found out about the whole Traveler thing, I was scared for my life. I was afraid I'd never see my family again. I was afraid of what might happen to each territory and eventually what would happen to Halla. But now? Well, now the stakes are very different.”

“And why is that?” Saint Dane asked. He actually sounded curious.

I looked to him, gave him a cocky smile, and answered, “Because now I have nothing to lose.”

A second later I ate those words. I stopped at the third prisoner. It was the brave guy who helped rescue those people from the building at the zoo. His long dark hair fell in his eyes. I felt pretty sure he'd be as ready to go as the others. What I saw was something else entirely. He was ready all right. But after looking into his eyes, I wasn't so sure that I was anymore. He lifted his chin and locked eyes with me. My throat clutched. I froze. Yet again, I was hit with the impossible.

The guy gave me a small smile and whispered, “About time you showed up.”

My head spun. I had to fight to keep my balance. I blinked, but what I saw didn't change. I was staring into the eyes of my best friend. It was Mark Dimond. But it wasn't
the same guy I had grown up with. He had changed since the last time I saw him. On Second Earth he and Courtney and a group of protestors were thrown into the flume in the Conclave of Ravinia. Whatever happened to them after that, I'd yet to find out. But the change it had made in Mark was dramatic. Gone was the book-loving, carrot-eating genius who shied away from anything physical. He was still shorter than me, but his shoulders were broad and strong. He looked older, too. Was it possible that he was now older than I was? I think the biggest change was in his face. This was a guy who had been through a lot, and gained strength from it. I knew that from what I'd seen at the zoo, when he stayed until the very last second to help rescue those people from the helicopter gunship. This was a different Mark.

Trouble was, I now had something to lose. I still wanted to rescue the three prisoners, but the stakes had suddenly become much higher.

“You up for this?” I whispered.

Mark winked. “Say when.”

My confidence rose.

“When.”

I instantly fell on my back, rolled into a backward somersault, grabbed the silver weapon that Saint Dane had tossed onto the floor, and continued rolling until I was almost on my feet. While still moving, I flung the weapon at the nearest Ravinian guard. I had no idea how to fire one of those things, but I knew that the weapon itself was charged. If the silver end hit the dado, I hoped it would have the same effect as it had on those poor victims. The silver wand sailed toward the guard, who didn't react in time. The business end nailed him in the gut, and with a short, sharp electric sound, the guy was fried. He fell to the ground along with
his own weapon. Unlike the other victims I had seen killed, the dado didn't vaporize. I guess robots didn't burn.

I dove for both weapons, hoping to get one before the others had the chance to react.

Mark and the other prisoners came to life. I was right. They weren't nearly as hurting as I'd first thought. They each turned on the guards who were holding them, fighting to get their electric weapons before they were vaporized.

I slid across the tile floor and scooped up one and then the other wand that had fallen to the ground. By this time the second guard, who had been holding the guy who was killed, came after me. I jumped up, holding the two wands out for protection. He came at me with his own weapon, swinging it wildly. I knew that one touch from that thing, and I'd be back on Solara with Patrick and Uncle Press. I held each of the weapons with one hand, knocking away his blows. I tried to counter with an attack of my own, but the dado was quick. I was trained, but he knew how to use these weapons. He flashed the electric wand, easily repelling each of my attacks.

I heard an electric charge sound coming from behind me and stole a quick glance to see that Mark had nailed one of the dados with his own weapon.

Mark. Unbelievable. In some ways hearing the truth about my own history and the revelation of Solara was easier to accept than Mark being a badass. Yet he was. He punched out the second dado that had been holding him, sending the guard careening backward. The dado slammed into one of the marble pillars. Hard. If it hadn't been a dado, I'd guess that it would have hurt. But dados didn't hurt. It stood up and went right for Mark.

I had my own problems. The dado I had been fighting
was coming after me, aggressively. What drove me was knowing how important it was to get those guys out of there. To get Mark out of there. No matter what, I had to stick around, which meant not being killed. The dado lunged at me. I knocked his attack away, forcing him off balance as he followed through. It gave me a short window. It was all I needed. I hit the guy on the back of his head with the other wand. A short zap later, he was done.

“Bobby!” I heard Mark shout.

I turned in time to see that I was being attacked. Not by a dado. By Saint Dane. Nevva had run to the top of the platform next to the throne, safely out of harm's way. Saint Dane, on the other hand, was coming after me with his own electric prod. I turned and threw my two weapons up to repel his attack. I didn't have to bother. Oddly, he stopped. The others continued to battle the dados, but Saint Dane stopped. He stood there with a confused expression, as if trying to process new information—which is exactly what was happening.

“‘Bobby'?” he repeated, as if the word were alien to him. Then a look of recognition.

Uh-oh.

“Mark Dimond!” he said aloud as the truth hit home. “Well, Pendragon, it looks as if you have something to lose after all.”

Rest time was over. He came at me, swinging his weapon furiously. He was even faster than the dado. I had no chance to think about how to attack. It was all I could do to keep the wand away from my body.

With each swing Saint Dane growled out a word. “You…will…go…back…to…Solara…and…watch…it…die.”

I was getting tired. Saint Dane wasn't. He knocked one of the wands out of my hand, and followed up with a backhand. His prod was about to hit me in the stomach. I reacted quickly. It had to have been out of some ingrained instinct, because I certainly wasn't taught to do what I did. Saint Dane's swipe came parallel to the ground. In a second it would slice right through me, sending me back to the edges of Halla. I couldn't let that happen. I had to get Mark and the others out of there. What I did was out of desperation—not to save myself, but to save my friend.

Saint Dane's electric weapon swept right through me. I had willed myself to become smoke, and I did. I didn't feel any different. In fact, the moment his attack swept through me, I was back and ready to fight. Maybe I had only changed my midsection. Whatever. It had worked. I had used the power of Solara, the same way that Saint Dane had used it for so long. I'd like to say that I was invincible, but that was wrong. I couldn't keep on using that power. Solara couldn't handle that.

The effect it had on Saint Dane was instant. He was stupefied. He stood frozen, his weapon still at the end of its arc.

“So you
do
know the truth,” he said in awe.

I answered by nailing him with both of my wands. I brought them together like cymbals, hitting both his shoulders at the same time. The reaction was instant. Saint Dane turned to ashes. Not smoke. Ashes. His remains fell to the ground just as the others had done. He had been so surprised by the demonstration of my newfound ability that he didn't use his own power to save himself.