The Lost City of Faar tpa-2

by D. J. MacHale

  I hadn’t seen Spader since we got back to Faar. Maybe that was a good thing. It gave us both a chance to chill out and get our heads together. But I was beginning to worry. He should be here for this ceremony. He was the Traveler from Cloral now. I really hoped that he hadn’t bailed.

  I stood alone on the edge of the platform, outside of the Council Circle. The marble ceiling had been repaired and hoisted back onto the pillars right away. The round symbol of Faar was rejoined and placed back in its prominent spot. The rest of Faar was still pretty much a mess, but I think restoring the Council Circle was important because it represented the heart of Faar. From here, decisions about the future of Cloral would be made.

  The sun was setting on the ocean. Sunsets are always beautiful and this one was no different. There were a few long clouds on the horizon. The warm sun lit them up like blazing arrows shooting across the water. The amber light washed over the marble buildings of Faar, making the city look like a painting. As I looked down on Faar’s mountain I saw that there were hundreds of people standing on the paths, watching the beautiful sunset. For them it must have been extraordinary. Faar had not seen sunsets in hundreds of years.

  Kalaloo had explained to me how the transpire had been planned for generations. The scientists of Faar had devised an ingenious mechanism that when triggered would pump air into vast chambers below the city. The pressure built up in the chambers and lifted the city high enough to allow the sea to rush in and force the city even higher. The chain reaction continued until the surrounding seabed collapsed into the chambers, creating a base. It was like a controlled earthquake, where all the force was funneled upward.

  It may have been physics that brought Faar to the surface, but to me it was pure magic. Seeing the people of Faar enjoying this sunset made it seem even more so. In spite of how horrible I felt right now, something good had come out of this adventure.

  “Pendragon?”

  I turned to see Spader standing there. He was dressed in his full aquaneer uniform, the same as on the day he thought he was going to meet his father. What a relief. Though it was going to be tricky working through what happened, at least I knew he understood that his place was here.

  “I’ve thought a lot about what to say to you,” he said quietly. “But there’s nothing I can think of to tell you how sorry I am for what happened.”

  I said, “How about ‘I’m sorry for what happened’?”

  He dropped his head.

  “I wish I could change what I did.”

  I just nodded and said, “If I told you it was cool and to not worry about it, I’d be lying. But the thing is, now I know how you felt when your father died. Saint Dane killed Uncle Press, just like he killed your father. I want him stopped now more than ever. But there’s something you gotta understand. Getting revenge on him isn’t the answer. If you understand that, we’re cool. If not, then I’m going to have to go forward alone.”

  “He understands, Pendragon,” said a familiar voice.

  Walking up to us was Loor. I was stunned. Seeing her here, on Faar, was totally out of context. She was wearing a light green Cloral suit that really showed off her athletic body. She looked more beautiful than ever. I wanted to throw my arms around her and give her a hug, but that wasn’t Loor’s style. She stepped up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. That’s about as warm as Loor got.

  “Spader came for me. He was confused, and afraid to speak with you,” she said.

  I could understand that. If he needed help, the last person he could go to was someone who blamed him for getting his uncle killed.

  Loor continued, “We have all lost the ones we loved most. Press always said how this is the way it was meant to be. I believe him. Spader was no more responsible for Press’s death than you were for the death of my mother. When she died, I hated you, Pendragon. But I came to see how this is the course we were destined to follow. It will often be a tragic one, but there is a greater purpose. I understand that. I believe Spader does too.”

  I looked at Spader, who finally looked back to me, waiting for a reaction. I could see how genuinely pained he was.

  “I can’t tell you that I don’t want revenge on Saint Dane,” he said. “But I believe the only way to do that is to complete our mission. I’m with you, Pendragon.”

  We shared eye contact for a moment. I could tell that he was aching for me to say something to make him feel better.

  I didn’t say anything at first. That’s because there was something I had to do. I had thought long and hard about it, and after all that had happened, I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it. But now, with Loor’s help, I realized that it was the absolute right thing to do. So I reached into my pocket and pulled something out that I had been holding on to for weeks.

  “You’re a Traveler now,” I said to Spader. “This was your father’s. Now it belongs to you.”

  It was the ring that Uncle Press had taken from Spader’s father. The Traveler ring. Uncle Press told me I would know the right time to give it to Spader. This was it. I reached out and dropped it into Spader’s outstretched hand.

  Spader looked at the large ring and I could tell he was holding back tears.

  I then smiled and said, “You realize it’s going to be a tum-tigger.”

  Spader smiled. “Hobey-ho,” he said.

  The two of us hugged. Our friendship was going to survive this, as it should. I looked at Loor, who winked at me. I always thought that I’d have to call on her for help with some kind of nasty battle. When you needed a warrior to bail your butt out of the fire, call Loor. As it turned out, the first time she came to my rescue, it was to help me work through an emotional crisis. Funny thing, this Traveler business.

  Kalaloo then walked up to us and said softly, “We’re ready to begin.”

  I saw that now standing on the edge of the platform were two small groups of people. One group was made up of six Faarians, the other six aquaneers. Each group carried a long, yellow container on their shoulders. These were the bodies of Abador, and my Uncle Press. At home you’d call them coffins, but they didn’t look like anything I’d seen on Second Earth. They were more like oval-shaped tubes made out of yellow plastic. The coffin held up by the Faarians had the words”Ti Abador”written in black letters on one end. The coffin carried by the aquaneers had my uncle’s name”Press Tilton.”(Did I ever tell you that Uncle Press’s last name was Tilton?)

  The two groups of pallbearers stood with the coffins up on their shoulders. They each walked slowly toward the Council Circle. Abador’s coffin was first, followed by Kalaloo. Then came Uncle Press’s, followed by Spader, Loor, and me. As we walked slowly into the circle everyone stood up. Soft music was playing too. It wasn’t all sad like the church music you hear at funerals. No, this was nicer than that. It kind of reminded me of the mellow New Age music I wrote about before, but somehow it felt right to me now.

  The pallbearers placed the two coffins next to each other on pedestals that were in the center of the circle. Kalaloo stood by them while the three of us walked to seats in the marble bleachers. When we had gotten to our places, Kalaloo raised his hands. The music stopped and everyone sat.

  “Today is a sad and glorious day,” Kalaloo began, addressing the group. “Here, amid the splendor of a Faar that has been reborn, we must also face the realities of death.”

  He went on to give a very nice speech about Abador. He spoke about how he had dedicated his life to serving Faar and its people. He was often the voice of reason when others had trouble finding the truth. And finally, it was his vision and bravery that saved Faar from destruction. He finished by saying that not only was Faar reborn, but for generations to come, people would remember Abador as the father of the new Cloral.

  When he was finished, he turned and raised his hand for me to join him. This was going to be tough. I had to say a few words about Uncle Press. I had never done anything like this before. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say. Far from it. The problem was, I was
afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get through it without crying. Uncle Press deserved better than that.

  I walked up next to Uncle Press’s coffin as Kalaloo stepped back. I stood there and looked around at the group. Only a few of them even knew Uncle Press. Most had simply heard about how he helped save Faar and Cloral. To them he was a faceless hero. But he was more than that and I wanted them to understand.

  “People have called my uncle brave,” I began. “And he was. But that can be said of many people. Many of you here today have shown incredible bravery. But that’s not what made Press Tilton special. The thing is, Uncle Press cared. Where most people can’t see past their own personal problems, Uncle Press always looked beyond. He helped many people in times of trouble in ways you will never know. Even I don’t know most, and that’s the way he wanted it. He didn’t do it for glory or for riches or to be honored at a wonderful ceremony like this. He did it because he cared. It’s what helped save Cloral, and Faar, and why he’s not with us today. But you know, that’s not really true. Heiswith us today. I know he’s with me. And I know that as long as I keep his vision alive, he will never truly be gone. As I say good-bye to him, there’s one thing I hope for above all else. I hope that when the time comes that I see him again, he’ll be half as proud of me as I am of him today.”

  That was it. I couldn’t say anymore. I touched Uncle Press’s coffin and walked back to my place. As I walked everyone stood up. It was time to pay their last respects. I stood between Loor and Spader, trying to be brave. Loor actually reached over and held my hand.

  The music began playing again. It was soft and soothing, but began to feel very sad. The two groups of pallbearers gathered around the coffins and lifted them up as the pedestal lowered away. Each group walked their coffins over to a different section of the platform and gently placed them down on the tile. The groups then stepped away, leaving the coffins on the floor of the platform. A moment later the coffins began to sink below. There were panels beneath them in the platform that acted like elevators to gently lower them down.

  Kalaloo had come to me the day before and asked if I would honor them by allowing Uncle Press to be buried in the Grand Mausoleum of Faar. This was a place where only the most revered people in Faar’s history were laid to rest. It was right under the ornate, mosaic platform we had been standing on. Of course Abador would be buried there. Having Uncle Press there as well was proof of the Faarians’ gratitude for all he had done for them.

  As much as I knew this was a great honor, my first thought was that he should be brought back home, to Second Earth. But if he were on Second Earth, he would be alone. My family was gone. There would be no one to visit his grave or even remember who he was. But on Faar, he was a hero. I remembered his first words to me after he made that perfect swan dive into the pool of water below the flume. He told me that this was his favorite territory. What better place to stay forever?

  I humbly accepted Kalaloo’s offer. Uncle Press would stay here on Faar. He’d be remembered as a hero, though the people here wouldn’t even come close to knowing how great a guy he really was.

  Shortly after the ceremony we returned to Grallion. Loor came with us and we showed her around the amazing farm habitat. We even raised a glass of sniggers to Uncle Press at Grolo’s.

  I was happy that Cloral was out of danger. We had done our job. But I still felt kind of numb. Of course, most of that was because of Uncle Press. Not having him around was… strange. That’s the best word I can use. Of course I missed him and the sadness was like a heavy weight on my chest, but there was more. The sadness was about looking back. Losing him was also losing the final link to my family and my life on Second Earth.

  The strange part came when I thought about the future. Uncle Press had been my guide. Though I wasn’t freaking out twenty-four-seven anymore, I still didn’t know much more about being a Traveler than when I started. Up until now, if I was confused about something, I could turn to Uncle Press. He wouldn’t always give me the answer, but I always felt as if he was pointing us in the right direction.

  Now I was on my own. The biggest question now was, what next? I seriously thought about getting back to Second Earth and hiding under your bed, Mark. You could feed me leftover mac and cheese, nobody would know where I was, and I’d never have to think about anyone named Saint or Dane again.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. The real question was, should I chase Saint Dane to Veelox? That’s the last territory he flumed to. I wasn’t sure if it was the right step or not, but if it was, I didn’t want to go alone. Loor was gone. After spending a few days on GralUon, she returned to Zadaa. Tensions there were growing worse, and she feared that something nasty could happen anytime. She wanted to be there and I didn’t blame her.

  That left Spader. He would be a great partner. We had become friends before things went south and now that things were calm again, we rekindled our friendship. I knew he would go with me, but I was still nervous about how he would handle Saint Dane. I didn’t want him getting all out-of-control crazy again. I figured the best way to deal with my worries was to put them on the table. So one evening after dinner, Spader and I took a walk through the farm.

  “I have to leave,” I said. “Cloral is past the turning point. There’s no reason to stay here.”

  “Even for the great fishing?” asked Spader with a laugh. He was kidding. I knew it. He then said, “Where will you go?”

  “Veelox, I guess,” was my answer. “That’s where Saint Dane went.” Of course, I’d rather go someplace where Saint Danewasn’t, but that’s not how it works.

  “Ever been there?” he asked.

  “Nope. Don’t have a clue about the place. Uncle Press was always my tour guide but now, well…” I didn’t have to finish my sentence. We walked along in silence for a while. I wasn’t sure how to ask him if he wanted to go with me. More important, I didn’t know how to ask him if he was going to be a loose cannon and get us both killed.

  “I want to go with you,” Spader said. That took care of that problem. “I’m a Traveler, right? That’s what Travelers do. If Cloral is safe now, there’s no reason for me to be here either.”

  “Spader, I — “

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Pendragon,” he said sincerely. “I’m with the program. I meant what I said before. It’s not about getting revenge on Saint Dane. It’s about stopping him from hurting the territories. Look, mate, it was a rough time. I was out of my head. But I’m back now, and I want to go with you.”

  That pretty much covered all the points I didn’t know how to bring up with him. That was easy. The question was, did I believe him?

  “You need me, Pendragon,” Spader added.

  That brings me to where I am right now, sitting in my quarters on Grallion, writing this journal. Tomorrow, Spader and I are going to leave. Our destination: Veelox. Whateverthatis.

  Writing this all down was hard, but believe it or not, it’s made me feel a little better. Looking back on the events that led to the salvation of Cloral made me realize how important our mission is. Uncle Press always told me this, but it took seeing it for myself, again, to understand. I have no idea what we’ll find on Veelox, or how we should begin hunting for Saint Dane. I guarantee he won’t be walking around with a sign saying: hi, bobby, hereiam! I’m sure he’ll take on some disguise and be working his evil magic just as he did with Denduron and Cloral. The biggest difference will be that I won’t have As I finish writing this journal, I have to say how Uncle Press’s last words are really helping keep my head together. He said, no, he promisedthat we would be together again. I’m not sure how that’s possible, besides meeting up in heaven or something. But I don’t think that’s what he meant. The more I think about it, the more I realize he was talking about actually being together again. For real. In this lifetime.

  Of course, that raises the biggest question of all. Where exactly is here? For that matter, when is now? That all depends on what territory you happen to be on.
For the first time I’m beginning to see some amazing possibilities. I wonder how many territories there are? Are they all like the ones we’ve been on so far, or is it possible to flume into a whole ‘nother plane of existence? The potential is incredibly exciting, and makes my head hurt.

  This is where I will end it, guys. I’ll send this off to you and then get some sleep. Please know that I miss you both. I hope I can get back there soon. Thank you again for reading my journals and keeping them safe. You are the light of reality in my otherwise dark and confused new life.

  Hobey-ho.

  Bobby.

  END OF JOURNAL #8

  Mark and Courtney rodein the back of a black-and-white police cruiser on their way to the Stony Brook Police Station. They had been picked up at Mark’s house by a nice cop named Officer Wilson. When he showed up at the door, Mark half expected him to say: “You’re under arrest, slimeball!” and slap the cuffs on him. But that didn’t happen. He was all friendly and as they rode along he even offered to put the siren on for them. Mark had to fight back the urge to say: “Yeah, go for it!” The kid in him thought it would be cool, but this was serious business, not time for fun. It also didn’t help that Courtney gave him a sharp look that said: “If you say yes to the siren, I’ll clock you.” They rode in silence.

  Both were a little bit stunned. They had finished reading Bobby’s last journal and had just learned that Press was dead. They had met Press a few times and gotten to know him better through Bobby’s journals. Hearing about his tragic death was a shock. Of course it helped that Bobby and company had kicked some serious butt on Cloral. It took some of the sting away. They were already anticipating what they would hear from the territory of Veelox. But riding above these thoughts was the reality they faced in their own world, here and now.

  Mark had a pretty good idea why Captain Hirsch had called them. It was about the journals Andy Mitchell had stolen. He was sure that Mitchell had turned them in to the police to get the reward. Why else would Captain Hirsch want them to come in?