The Pilgrims of Rayne

by D. J. MacHale

  Out on the open ocean, beyond the break in the beach that led into the bay, were thousands of skimmers. I’ll repeat that. Thousands. They moved slowly, in tight formation, headed directly for us. The first line had about fifty craft. Followed by another. And another and another. Too many to count. It looked as if each skimmer held three passengers. The rising sun made them look like ghostly silhouettes. They were angels of death. The waiting and wondering was over.

  We were about to be invaded.

  “They have weapons,” Alder announced.

  From as far away as we were, we could see that one dado on each craft held a golden rifle. They looked like weapons from Quillan. The gunner stood next to me, staring in wide-eyed wonder.

  “You say you’re the best,” I said to him. “Prove it.”

  The gunner stiffened with resolve and jumped for his chair. The controls were simple. In front of him was a panel with a series of toggle switches. The chair was high enough for him to look down onto his weapons in the sea below. A series of mirrors were embedded in the stone beneath this window, each giving him the view of a particular gun.

  “What kind of ammunition does it fire?” I asked.

  “Small projectiles, propelled by water pressure.”

  Oh. That didn’t exactly sound like a devastating weapon of mass destruction, but it was a little late to be picky.

  “How many shots do you have?”

  His answer was a frown that meant “not enough.”

  The lines of skimmers tightened up as they drew closer to the opening of the bay. That was good. It made for a smaller target.

  “Raise the guns!” Genj ordered, his anxiety growing. “Fire!”

  “They aren’t in range,” the gunner replied, concentrating. “Don’t worry. When they get closer, I’ll give them a special welcome.”

  I saw a black flash swoop through the sky, flying past the mountain, headed out to sea. It looked like an oversize black bird. I’d never seen anything like it on Ibara, but I’d seen it before.

  “Saint Dane,” I whispered to Alder.

  Alder added, “It appears he will be viewing his war from above.”

  “Yeah, let’s give him a good show.”

  My palms were sweating. Out of habit I picked up the black dado-killing wand. It served absolutely no purpose other than to give me something to hold on to. I kept squeezing it while watching the dados approach. More and more lines kept appearing. It looked as if there were an endless number.

  “Little closer,” the gunner coaxed. His hand gripped the joystick. “Little closer.”

  The dados tightened further. The first line was fifty yards from entering the bay. They were in range. All was silent. That wouldn’t last.

  “Welcome to Ibara,” the gunner said, and reached for the control panel, quickly flipping a line of switches.

  One by one the guns of Ibara rose up out of the water. Before this I’d only seen one set of guns. Now ten silver dual cannons came out of the depths and locked into position, forming a protective half circle in front of the bay. The dado armada was sailing right into their sights. The battle for Ibara was about to begin. The gunner’s right hand was on the joystick to aim and fire. His left hand was on the control panel to alternate between guns.

  “Now, now!” Genj ordered.

  The gunner let loose. With his chair swiveling quickly to line himself up with the series of gun sights, he unleashed a torrent of missiles. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Instantly dados exploded before our eyes. It would have been a gruesome sight if they had been people. But they were machines. It was like shooting a dishwasher. A deadly dishwasher, but still, a dishwasher. I dug every second of it.

  The gunner spun back and forth quickly, lining up his sights, using his left hand to alternate between the ten dual guns, blasting the dados into eternity. It was a beautiful thing. He was good. Then again, there were so many dados, he could have fired with his eyes closed and nailed one every time. Since the drivers of each skimmer stood to the front of their crafts, they were always the first hit. Once they were either knocked off their feet or blasted to bits, the skimmer would lie dead in the water while the other dados scrambled to take control. It caused a massive jam up. The skimmers piled into one another. The chain reaction kept growing until it was chaos on the water. Sweet.

  “This war will be over before it starts,” the gunner shouted confidently as he kept firing.

  The term “shooting fish in a barrel” sprang to mind. The gunner never missed. One shot meant one dead dado. Sometimes more. Soon the water was filled with floating dado parts.

  Drea was overjoyed and clapped her hands, exclaiming, “We won’t even need the arrows!”

  Alder wasn’t as confident. He watched the carnage with a scowl. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. The gunner was doing better than we could have hoped. He was destroying hundreds upon hundreds of dados. Unfortunately, there were thousands upon thousands of dados. We were only in the first quarter.

  I grabbed one of the runners and shouted, “Get down to the first line of archers. Tell them to hold their fire until the dados step onto the beach.”

  He nodded and ran off.

  “What do you mean?” Drea asked in dismay. “It doesn’t look like they’ll get beyond the opening to the bay, let alone the beach.”

  “They’ll turn back,” Genj said with confidence. “Now that they see how well we’re defended, they’ll cut their losses.”

  “They won’t,” I said flatly.

  “How can you know that?” Moman asked.

  “They already knew about the guns,” I answered. “Why do you think they sent so many? They’re machines. They don’t care how many are destroyed. They’ll just keep coming until our ammunition runs out.”

  The gunner continued his onslaught. The water was a debris field of destruction. Skimmers flew along with no drivers, smashing into other skimmers. The dados in the water couldn’t swim. If a missile didn’t kill them, the water did. Hundreds thrashed wildly before sinking. Many were hit by speeding skimmers, or from the next line of dados. It was a slaughter.

  “I’m nearly done,” the gunner called out.

  “Keep firing!” Genj ordered.

  The gunner didn’t miss a beat. He kept swiveling and spinning, changing his guns, destroying dados. I realized that he was using fewer and fewer of the guns. Soon, he shifted his firing between only four. Then three and two and finally one. With a last destructive burst, the guns fell silent.

  “That’s it,” the gunner said, exhausted. He was covered with sweat and breathing hard.

  Down below there was a logjam at the entrance to the bay. The dados from the rear couldn’t push past.

  “This obstruction will not last long,” Alder observed.

  He was right. Several skimmers left the rear ranks and zoomed around to either side of the bottleneck of dead skimmers and dados. Methodically they pushed the debris out of the way.

  “They know what they’re doing,” Siry said. “They expected this.”

  I didn’t know how many dados the gunner had gotten. Three hundred? Five hundred? Maybe a thousand? Who cared when there were thousands more out there with only a hundred yards of wreckage between them and the bay.

  The tribunal realized that their brief moment of triumph was already a memory.

  “It’s up to the archers,” Siry said.

  There was nothing we could do but wait, and worry. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. It was a false calm. The storm would start again soon enough. Down below I saw the first line of archers tensing up. They knew what was coming. It was going to come down to numbers. If the tak-charged arrows could knock out enough dados, it might end the invasion. Looking out at the multiple lines of dados in skimmers, waiting for their pathway to clear, I didn’t like our chances.

  “I’m no use up here,” the gunner said. “I’m going down to join my line.”

  “You were incredible,” I told him.

  “I’m prou
d of you,” Genj added. “We all are.”

  The gunner nodded in thanks, and was gone.

  The dados waited patiently on their skimmers for the path to be cleared. Those not clearing the debris had re-formed into tight groups that looked exactly wide enough to pass through the opening into the bay. They knew what they were doing all right. Still, there was no way they could know what waited for them in Rayne. They knew about the guns. They didn’t know about tak.

  “This is it,” I declared.

  The entrance to the bay was clear. The skimmers fired up and moved forward. The eye of the hurricane was on its way out.

  “Wait,” I whispered. I wanted the first line of archers to do just that. My fear was that they’d start shooting too soon and the dados would scatter. We needed to draw as many as we could into the trap and maximize the destructive power of the tak arrows.

  The dados were in no hurry. They moved slowly and in perfect formation into the bay. They looked more like conquering heroes, who had arrived to capture their spoils, than an invading army ready for battle.

  “They think the battle is over,” Siry said hopefully. “They have no idea they’re about to hit a firestorm.”

  The armada grew closer to the beach. I hoped the runner had gotten to the line with my message to wait. It had to be terrifying to be down there, watching the enemy get closer. But they had to be patient. The longer their nerves held out, the more dados would go down.

  “They are doing it,” Alder declared. “They are waiting. We may have a chance.”

  The first line of dados hit the beach. They didn’t jump off their skimmers and dive into the sand to protect themselves. Just the opposite. They all looked to one another as if making sure they had arrived safely, then casually got off their skimmers and began to walk toward the village. There was no tension. No fear. No battle readiness whatsoever. The dados with guns didn’t even take aim. They held them casually, pointing at the sky.

  It was perfect.

  “Now,” I growled, hoping somebody would be bold and fire the first arrow.

  Nobody did. More dados landed on the beach and followed the others toward Rayne.

  “Why aren’t they shooting?” Genj cried. “Something is wrong.”

  “Either that,” I said, “or those guys have more guts than we gave them credit for.”

  The dados kept coming. More and more landed and amassed on the beach. Soon there would be multiple hundreds, and it would be too late for the arrows to have any effect. Just as I was beginning to think our plan had failed…

  The first dado exploded. I mean, exploded. It happened so suddenly, we all jumped in surprise. The arrow was totally silent. The first sign that anything had happened was that a dado in the middle of the first line found himself in pieces all over the beach. The others stopped and looked around in confusion. Or at least in as much confusion as a robot can show. They had no idea what happened. Seconds later a dozen more dados exploded in white hot flashes, raining parts onto the sand.

  Alder said, “They do not understand what is happening.” I heard excitement in his voice. I felt it myself. Was it possible? Did we stand a chance?

  The archers fired steadily. The explosions were deafening. One after the other, dados were blasted to bits. Smoke filled the beach. I worried that it would hurt the aim of the archers, but it didn’t matter. There were so many dados, even if an arrow missed one, and then another, it would eventually hit something.

  Finally the dados took cover. They dove to the ground and crawled forward in the sand. It didn’t matter. That didn’t stop the archers. They continued to fire, blasting them into shrapnel. Flying bits of burning dado did as much damage to the other dados as the arrows themselves. More dados arrived on the beach, stepping into the metal grinder. They fell by the dozens. Dados from the rear had to step over their fallen buddies to move forward, only to be blasted into oblivion themselves. The whole scene took on a surreal quality, like time was slowing down. I’d never seen anything like it before and hoped I never would again.

  Things were going very well…until the dados began fighting back.

  The dados with weapons stopped advancing. They took cover behind the wreckage of the first to fall, and started firing. I heard the familiar fum, fum, fum of their guns. These were definitely weapons from Quillan. On Quillan these weapons fired a burst of energy that incapacitated whoever got shot. Here on Ibara it looked like the weapons packed more punch. Trees exploded. Sand blew into the air.

  Archers died.

  I saw three different archers fall. I only knew they were dead because the runners who went to examine them would take their bows and arrows. That was their mission. Take the weapons from those who could no longer use them. The battle had become all too real.

  The explosions slowed, because the archers were being more cautious. Being shot at will do that. Still, the archers kept taking out dados. The beach was chaos, but their line was holding. The dados who were still on the water were having trouble getting to shore. There were too many skimmers in their way. And dado parts. It looked like a macabre junkyard. But they kept coming. And coming. The bay was filled with skimmers. Many more waited out in the ocean for their turn to enter. The dados weren’t done. Not even close. They crawled, inch by inch up the beach, moving closer to the first line of archers.

  My biggest fear was that we would run out of arrows.

  “We’re going to have to pull back the first line,” Alder declared.

  “Do it now,” I said. “They’ve got to be running low on arrows. Get them back.”

  We sent off another runner to deliver that message. The second line hadn’t fired a single arrow. Moving the first line back would mean an infusion of fresh ammo, and archers. It took several minutes for the runner to reach the forward line. He gave the message to the archer directly in the center, who signaled those to his side. Word passed quickly and the archers started moving back.

  It was a bad move. As soon as they started to move, so did the dados. It was as if they knew they had a window, and they took it. They unleashed a barrage of fire at the archers, hitting several. A few archers made it back to the second line, but the dados kept coming. They fired mercilessly. Huts were blasted and set on fire. Trees toppled. The second line of archers could barely get off any arrows. By the time they were able to start firing, dozens of archers lay dead or wounded, and the leading edge of the village was on fire.

  The tone of the battle had changed. The archers were now playing defense.

  “It is a nightmare,” Genj muttered.

  Alder grabbed the last runner and screamed, “Get them behind the third line.”

  The runner took off instantly.

  “We need the protection of the tunnel,” Alder declared. “The battle will be won or lost by the third line.”

  Smoke rose over the village. Fires burned. Bodies were everywhere. I felt as if I were looking at the future of Halla. Was this what Saint Dane had in store for the other territories? Was he going to march on the Milago village? On the barge city of Magorran? We fought dados in the subway on First Earth. Was Saint Dane already smuggling them to Earth?

  The runner made it to the second line safely and passed the word to retreat. This time the archers moved back more cautiously, shooting arrows as they retreated. I was getting used to the sound of the explosions. Or maybe I was just numb. At least the explosions meant more dados were done. It was the fum from the Quillan weapons that made my skin crawl. That meant archers were in their sights.

  The retreat went well. As soon as the first and second lines got behind the line of underground archers, a storm of arrows flew. There were so many explosions together that I thought my eardrums had popped. The village lit up again and again. I saw pieces of dado flying everywhere. It was the most intense barrage since the water guns had opened fire out on the ocean. The underground archers were protected and didn’t let up. The dados didn’t know where to shoot. The archers unloaded on them.

  You know w
hat the grand finale is like at a fireworks display? That’s the best way I can describe what was happening in the village. The explosions came on top of one another. Over and over, relentlessly pounding the dados. There was so much smoke I couldn’t see the water anymore. Still the explosions kept coming.

  I glanced at the tribunal. They watched the display, stone faced, with tears in their eyes.

  Genj shook his head sadly. “How could life have gone so wrong?”

  I knew why. The answer was flying somewhere over the smoke, looking down on the carnage. I began to imagine that each of the explosions was like a shot fired directly at Saint Dane. I hoped it hurt.

  As quickly as it began, the barrage stopped. I hoped they weren’t out of arrows. At that moment there was nothing to see but smoke. The archers may have decided to let the smoke clear to survey what they’d done. Of course, the dados would be doing the same thing.

  “That is the most we can throw at them,” Alder said. “When the smoke clears, we will know if it was enough.”

  I stepped away from the window. I needed a break. I could only imagine how the brave archers down below felt. I walked to the map on the wall. I realized that even if the dados were turned back, Rayne would be changed. A good third of the village would be in ruins. I looked at the drawing of the tunnel that ran beneath the village. If we won, it would be because of that tunnel.

  “The smoke is clearing,” Drea announced.

  I hurried back to the window to see that the slight, onshore tropical breeze was blowing the smoke off the battlefield.

  “The invaders can’t have survived that,” Genj said. “Can they?”

  “We’ll know soon enough,” I replied.

  The smoke cleared. What we saw was both horrifying…and beautiful. From the tunnel to the shore, nothing moved. Nothing. That area of the village was destroyed, but it was a small price to pay, because the dados that had landed were done. It was a vast junkyard of mechanical body parts. I could barely make out any sand beneath the jumble of wreckage.