The Soldiers of Halla (42 page)

“It's looking bad,” she said. “Most of the Yanks want to join, but the one thing they decided was that it had to be unanimous. It isn't.”

“What about Aron?” Gunny asked.

Courtney looked to the floor. “He's against the idea.”

I punched the wall in frustration. “They're going to be in there arguing while the dados come knocking on their door.”

Courtney added, “They've brought in several people from the community to get their opinions. Both Yanks and gars.”

“Swell,” I said sarcastically. “Add more opinions. That'll help.”

“They're doing the right thing, Bobby,” Gunny said calmly. “We've asked a lot of them.”

“I know, I'm just venting. Can we get outta here and get some air?”

The three of us left the building. Night had fallen. That was one consolation. I didn't think that Saint Dane's army would attack at night.

“Eight hours till dawn,” Courtney said, reading my mind. “Do you think they'll come then?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“I do,” came an unfamiliar voice.

The three of us turned to see the last person in Halla that I wanted to see just then. Okay, maybe there were a few others, but the fact that Patrick had arrived on Eelong was not a good sign.

“They're moving, Pendragon,” he said, his voice quivering. “Every last dado has been marched onto the expanse between the Ravinian compound and the river.”

“Perfect spot for a big flume,” I said.

“I believe we're out of time,” Gunny said with a sigh.

We had to do something. But what? Going back into that meeting and screaming about the army on the way wouldn't help. It's not like they'd suddenly say, “Oh? Really? In that case, we're with you!” No way.

“Should I go back in there?” Courtney asked.

I made a decision. It was a desperate move, but it was the only one I could think of.

“Yeah. Tell them to stop talking and get ready to defend themselves, because the dados are on the way.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

Courtney wanted to challenge me, but knew better. She took off, sprinting through the village.

“What do we do, shorty?” Gunny asked.

“We go back to Solara,” I said.

 

Gunny, Patrick, and I were greeted by the rest of the Travelers, including Uncle Press. They came to us quickly, eager to hear the news.

“It's not good,” I said. “Mark and his people are with us on Third Earth. But the exiles and the gars are still debating about what to do.”

Patrick added, “And the dados on Third Earth are gathering. They're ready to move.”

Gunny said, “It's looking like they'll make their flume and attack Black Water at first light. We're out of time.”

Nobody knew what to say. It was beginning to seem as if the battle were over before it could begin.

Elli asked, “Is there any chance that they can defend Black Water?”

I shook my head. “For a while maybe. They can use their radio cannons, but those weapons are limited. With so many dados thrown at them, they'll be overwhelmed.”

“So that's it?” Siry shouted. “We just sit here and wait for Solara to fall apart?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I say we make the flume anyway.”

Most of the Travelers erupted with “What?” “No!” “What's the point?”

Uncle Press quieted everyone down and said, “Explain, Bobby.”

“The dados are going to attack, we know that. The gars
and the exiles won't be able to defend themselves for long. When the radio cannons are spent, Black Water's done. We know that, too. Their only hope for survival is with a new flume. Two things can happen. Either we rally the exiles and convince them to fight on Third Earth, or worst case scenario is it becomes an escape route when Black Water falls.”

Uncle Press thought quickly, calculating the possibilities.

Aja asked, “If we make this flume, what will happen to Solara?”

“The same thing that'll happen if we
don't
make it,” I argued. “Either we use whatever spirit is left to keep this going, or wait until the dados snuff out the exiles. Then Solara is done anyway. At least this way we go down fighting.”

Uncle Press looked unsure…as did everyone else.

“If anybody's got a better idea,” I added, “now's the time to bring it.”

I looked into the eyes of each Traveler, one at a time, waiting for an answer. Elli, Gunny, Siry, Alder. Nobody blinked. Kasha, Patrick, Aja, and then Loor all stared back, silent.

Finally I looked to Spader. “What do you say, mate?” I asked him.

“I say we build the bloody tunnel,” he declared with conviction. “What have we got to lose?”

I looked to Uncle Press and said, “Good question. What have we got to lose?”

 

Night had fallen on Black Water. The only light came from the stars overhead.

We all stood in a circle. All eleven of us. We were on the
edge of the farmland that was beyond the village. It was on the exact opposite side of the valley from the tunnel that led to the waterfalls. It seemed as good a place as any to build a flume. We stood shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle, close enough to feel each other's heartbeats. Let me tell you, they were all beating fast.

“I can't say for sure if this will work,” Uncle Press warned. “Certainly it will deplete whatever positive spirit is left of Solara.”

“Does that mean Solara ends?” Elli asked.

“I don't know,” Uncle Press answered honestly.

“Isn't that exactly what Saint Dane wants?” Aja asked.

“It is, but the exiles will still exist. Hopefully, their spirit will keep Solara from being destroyed entirely.”

“So it's more important than ever to keep them safe,” Gunny said.

There was a general murmur of understanding. We all got it.

“There's one other thing,” Press said. “The spirit of Solara is what has given us the ability to function as Travelers. Once that power is depleted, I don't know what that will mean for us.”

“You mean we might not be able to travel anymore?” Patrick asked.

“That might be the least of it” was Uncle Press's somber answer. “There's a chance we may not exist anymore.”

Nobody commented. What could we say?

“What we're doing here has never been done before,” Uncle Press continued. “By anyone other than Saint Dane, that is. We're in uncharted waters. Once we start, there's no turning back.”

We all nodded. We understood.

Uncle Press looked around at us. “Second thoughts?”

We shared looks. Nobody was backing out.

“What do we do?” Spader asked.

Uncle Press said, “The power of Solara flows through us all. We have to focus it here, in much the same way that enables our moving between territories. I don't think any one of us would be able to channel enough of the spirit on our own, so it's critical that we all do this together.”

He took off his Traveler ring and threw it into the center of the circle. “The dark matter,” he said. “It will act as a prism to focus the spirit.”

One by one, we each took off our Traveler rings and tossed them into the circle. It was a strange feeling. It smacked of finality. One way or another, it would all soon be over, and we wouldn't need them anymore. Still, it was a hollow feeling to have given up my ring. By the sober looks on the faces of the other Travelers, I knew they felt the same way.

“Now,” Uncle Press continued, “concentrate. Visualize. Like stepping from one territory to the next, imagine the tunnel we've all traveled through so many times.”

I stared down at the pile of eleven rings lying in the dirt. I didn't allow myself to think of how silly this felt. Ordinarily, I'd be the guy making fun of a bunch of people out in a field trying to channel cosmic energy. Not this night. I had to believe it was possible. I sensed the presence of all my Traveler friends. It was as if I were part of them. We weren't holding hands or anything goofy like that, yet it felt as if we had formed a continuous, unbroken circle. My heart beat with theirs. We took the same breaths. Uncle Press was still talking, but I couldn't hear him anymore. It was the closest thing to an “out of body” experience I ever
had. Though it wasn't truly out of body. It was the creation of one body. It seemed as if I weren't in my physical self anymore. I rose up and looked down at the ring of people who were forever bound by destiny.

I felt a warm tingle. It wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it felt…electric. I wondered if anyone else was feeling the same thing, but didn't dare look around. I stayed focused on the rings. The Traveler rings. Eleven in all. Together.

One by one, the stones in the rings began to glow. They were activating. Something was really happening. This wasn't just a bunch of new-age hocus-pocus. The rings glowed bright. Far brighter than when they were getting ready to deliver a journal. The light from each spread and enveloped the rings around it. It soon became a single mass of light. The light spread across the ground, radiating out from the center. I sensed, more than felt, that we all had stepped backward, making the circle larger. Though we weren't physically touching each other, I felt as if we were still connected. We were one. We moved back, farther and farther, until the circle was probably twenty yards across.

The light from the center followed us, like water bubbling up from a spring. It lit up the ground, growing brighter as it got larger. I heard a sound. What was it? Yes! It was the music I had heard so many times while flying through the flumes. There was no tune. No melody. Just a mixed-up series of sweet notes that made me smile. It was familiar. It was exhilarating. We were doing it. We were channeling the spirit of Solara.

The circle of light grew until it nearly reached the ring of Travelers. The music grew louder. The light became so bright it obliterated everything else. It was then that I
heard Uncle Press's voice cut through. He said two simple words—two words that made absolute sense.

“Third Earth.”

The circle of light responded instantly. It began to drop below ground level. It wasn't as dramatic as the spinning Ravinian star that had cut the giant flume into the turf of Yankee Stadium, but the result was the same. The intense, glowing light sank deeper and deeper into the earth. The power that surged through me felt stronger than ever. I felt as if I were shaking, but I knew that wasn't the case. It was such an intense feeling that as I looked around at the other Travelers, I half expected them to be glowing. In fact, just the opposite was happening. For brief moments some of the other Travelers seemed to fade out, becoming momentarily transparent. A second later their images would return, but then other Travelers would fade. And return. I fought panic. Was this the end? Had we gone too far in trying to create this impossible phenomenon? Had we sucked all the life out of Solara, and now all that was left was for us to wink out along with it?

Below the far edge of the circle, I caught sight of the first line of gray rocks that I knew would be continuing down until it became a tunnel to infinity. The light grew dim as it sank deeper. I looked up at the other Travelers, fearing that they would fade out along with it. Everyone was there. Rock solid.

A moment later the music ended. The light below went dark. I looked up to make sure that all the Travelers were there. I counted ten. Plus me. All eleven of us stood in the circle, dazed. I looked to the ground to see a large, round hole, maybe twenty yards across. We had done it.

We had made a new flume.

And we were all still there to see it.

“Well,” I said casually, “that's something you don't see every day.”

Spader laughed first, followed by Uncle Press, then Patrick. Soon everyone was laughing. Not because of my casual understatement, but out of relief. We had done it and we were all there. Uncle Press came over and put his arm around my shoulders.

“To be honest, I didn't think it would work,” he said.

“Oh great, now you tell me.”

The moment of triumph passed. Creating the flume was only the beginning. We stood staring at one another, not sure what to do next.

It was Aja who stepped up. “I think Patrick should go to Third Earth to see where the attack stands.”

“I can't,” Patrick declared.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I just tried. Nothing happened.”

“You tried to travel to Third Earth?” I asked quickly. “Just now? And you're still here?”

“I think Press was right,” Patrick said, glum. “Whatever powers we had as Travelers are gone.”

“But we are still here,” Alder said. “We still exist.”

“What happened, Uncle Press?” I asked.

Uncle Press sighed. “I guess I can be positive and say that you are now the people you always thought you were. Your physical selves are all that is left.”

Gunny said, “So no more healing? No more traveling? What happens to our spirits if we die?”

Uncle Press shrugged and said, “Don't.”

“So then, what do we do now?” Siry asked.

“This doesn't change a thing,” I called out. “The dados
are still headed this way. I'm going to find Courtney and take one last shot with the exiles. You all should go to Third Earth. Find Mark and be ready.”

“Did you forget, Pendragon?” Siry said. “We can't travel.”

I looked at the young Jakill from Ibara. He was a brave, dedicated kid. But he didn't always think things through. I walked to the edge of the new flume and gestured to it with open arms.

“Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “Right.”

“Third Earth!”
I called.

The tunnel came to life. The music was back. The lights were back. We were in business.

“I'll be right behind you,” I said, and jogged toward the village.