The Rivers of Zadaa

by D. J. MacHale

  “I know there is tension between our people. That cannot be denied. But seeing the depths to which we have sunk, sickens me. Rest assured that we will hunt down the rogue Ghee who did this to you. He will be punished.”

  I was a hair away from telling him not to bother. He hadn’t seen a Batu beating up on a Rokador, but two Travelers from distant territories going at it. He wasn’t going to have a whole lot of luck tracking down Saint Dane. I decided not to set him straight.

  “Once you are well, and return to your people, please tell the Rokador elite that I plan on doing everything in my power to resolve our differences, and bring back the balance and mutual trust that the Rokador and Batu have enjoyed for generations. Nothing else has more importance to me. That is a promise.”

  I didn’t want to say anything that would tip him off to the fact that I wasn’t a Rokador and didn’t know anybody down below, elite or not.

  “Thank you your, uh, Your Majesty,” I said with bowed head. I glanced to Loor, who gave me a slight nod. “Your Majesty” was the right title.

  “I will gladly do as you request,” I said, totally winging it. “I believe your sincerity not only because you saved my life, but because you have been so gracious in making sure I have been cared for during my recovery. I am forever in your debt. Thank you.”

  I figured that was about as generic a reply as I could give. Besides, it was the truth. He did save my life.

  “These are difficult times,” Pelle said. “Our only hope of survival is by restoring the atmosphere of cooperation, and trust. Our two great tribes will either survive together, or perish separately.”

  I nodded. Wise words. I hoped there were enough Batu who thought the same way he did.

  “Now, I will leave you to rest,” Pelle said. “And extend an invitation. The Festival of Azhra is upcoming. I would like to invite you, Pendragon, to be my guest for the celebration.”

  “I’d be honored, Your Majesty,” I answered.

  “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Now all you must do is mend. Are they treating you well here?”

  “No complaints,” I said.

  “Then best of luck with your recovery.” He looked to the doctor and added, “Take care of him.”

  The doctor bowed and said, “Like he was my own son, Majesty.”

  Pelle gave me a quick smile and a nod, then turned and hurried off. The Ghee guards, along with Loor and the doctor, did a quick kneel again. Once the royal entourage was gone, everybody stood up. I could feel the dark looks being shot at me by the Ghee warriors.

  “I guess I’m going to a festival,” I said to Loor.

  “You should be honored,” she said. “The Festival of Azhra is the most joyous of all days for the Batu. It celebrates the ancient king, Azhra, who fought his way through the desert and tamed this oasis to create a home for the Batu…the city of Xhaxhu.”

  “Sounds like a party,” I said. “Now all I have to do is walk.”

  From that point on my recovery went pretty quickly. Once I started moving, each day I felt a little better. Pain is a weird thing: When you’ve got it, you know it—but you don’t really know the moment it stops. It’s kind of like, afterward you realize: “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore. Or walk. Or blink.” Little by little I was getting back to normal.

  Every day Loor or Saangi were by my side. They were my guardian angels. They even slept next to my bed. The doctor was kind enough to bring in a grass mattress for them to sleep on. I kept telling them to go home, but neither listened. To be honest, I’m glad they didn’t. Not only did they help with the therapy and exercises, they ran interference for me whenever I ran into another Batu in the hallways. Which was often. The Batu would first act all surprised that a Rokador would dare be in their hospital, like I was bringing in disease or something. Then some would start yelling at me to get out. Loor always stood up to them, saying how I was a guest of Prince Pelle a Zinj. That would instantly make the Batu back off. It also didn’t hurt that Loor looked like she was ready to rip their faces off if they messed with me.

  That’s not to say that every Batu hated my guts. Some were actually nice. I got into a lot of conversations about how they wished things could go back to the old ways, when the Rokador and the Batu lived in harmony. I guess what I was experiencing was the divide between the Batu. Half hated the Rokador and wanted to march down to the underground and annihilate them; the other half wanted peace and a diplomatic resolution.

  The one thing they all had in common was the need for water. Food was getting scarce in Xhaxhu. What little they could still grow on the farms had to be spread among many mouths. No one was allowed to bathe, and the latrines that usually had running water, didn’t. That meant the waste just sat there. I don’t have to tell you that everybody pretty much avoided the latrines, and made their visits short and not very sweet. From what I could tell, the water crises on Zadaa was reaching critical mass, which meant that whatever Saint Dane had in store for the territory was bound to come into play very soon.

  The one thing I had plenty of during my stay in the hospital was time. There was a whole lot of lying around going on, especially in the beginning, and I guess I don’t have to point out that they didn’t have TV on Zadaa. Or radio or an MP3 player or anything else you might use to kill time while doing nothing. I took that time to take stock. I tried to replay everything in my head, from the time I had left home to the moment Saint Dane crushed me in the Ghee compound. After all that thinking, I came to two conclusions. One is the decision I told you about at the beginning of this journal. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. The other is tough for me to write about, but I have to.

  Everything I’ve written in my journals has been the absolute truth as I’ve seen it. Many things were difficult to write about, either because they were so disturbing, or there were things I had to admit about myself that I wasn’t too proud of, but they were always the truth. That’s the whole point of the journal, right? That’s why I have to write what I’m about to write, as tough as it may be. I’ll just write it straight out.

  I have feelings for Loor.

  There, I said it. I can’t say I’m in love with her, I’m not even sure what that means. But as time goes on, I have found myself growing closer to her. It goes way beyond a physical attraction. Loor and I have been through so much together, I feel as though she is one of the only people in all of Halla who can truly understand where my head is. And since the fight, she has cared for me and shown me a side that I didn’t imagine existed. For all of her outward toughness, she is an amazingly caring person. She is beginning to remind me of her mother, Osa. I think I understand now more than ever why she is a Traveler. It’s not just for her strength, it’s for her compassion, which may be the same thing.

  I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, Courtney. Or to diminish the great things you’ve done. I don’t even know if I’ll ever tell Loor how I really feel. But writing these journals has been the one thing that’s kept me sane throughout this ordeal. Writing helps me to keep my thoughts in order and to analyze what has happened. It would be wrong if I stopped writing the whole truth now, and the truth is that my feelings for Loor are growing stronger every day. I’m sorry I had to tell you in a journal this way, but I think it would be worse if I didn’t. This doesn’t change how I feel about you, Courtney. Or maybe it does. I don’t know. This is such a confusing thing. One thing I know for sure, you are one of my very best friends in the world. After reading what I just wrote, I hope you still want to be.

  That being said, I had come to another conclusion. This one I had to share with Loor.

  The day finally came when I was cleared to leave the hospital. The doctor gave me a final once-over and said he could do no more for me. I was still weak, but that may have been because I was lying around for so long. It was time to move on. I thanked the doctor for all he had done. The guy never spoke much, unless it was about my treatment. I had no idea what side of the Rokador debate he fell on. That’s wh
y I was so surprised by what he said when I left that hospital room for the last time.

  “I do not know who you are,” he said. “I do not believe you are a Rokador. But I believe you have the power to help us. That is why I am proud to have treated you.”

  What could I say? All I did was nod and say, “Thank you.”

  Waiting for me in the hallway were Loor and Saangi. Loor had the dark cloak that I had forgotten out on the farm, the one that had started this whole fiasco in the first place.

  “Once you leave here,” Loor said. “You will no longer have the protection of Pelle a Zinj.”

  I put the cloak on gladly, in spite of the heat. I told you how hot it is here, right? The three of us left the hospital and walked through the streets of Xhaxhu, back to Loor’s home in the Ghee pyramid. Nobody gave us a second look, I’m happy to say. When we were safely inside, I said to Saangi, “Thank you for everything.”

  Saangi shrugged and said, “It is my job.” She then lightened up for a second and said, “You are very brave, Pendragon. I am glad you have recovered.”

  I nodded a thanks, then said, “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to speak with Loor in private.”

  Saangi shot a hurt look to Loor. Loor stared back at her, not giving her any sympathy.

  “I will be outside,” Saangi said. “Call when you need me.”

  “Thanks, Saangi,” I said.

  The girl nodded and left.

  “You do not need to thank me, Pendragon,” Loor said before I could speak.

  “I wasn’t going to,” I said, sounding flip. “It’s your job too.”

  She gave me a confused look. I smiled. “I’m kidding. You know I can’t thank you enough.”

  “What is it you want to say to me?” she asked.

  I had practiced these words for weeks. Once I had made my decision, I wanted to make sure that I told Loor in such a way that she knew I was dead serious.

  “Sit down, okay?” I said.

  Loor sat cross-legged on a floor mat. I paced, getting my thoughts together. This was tough.

  “You’ve known me since I first became a Traveler,” I began. “From day one I’ve survived because the other Travelers were always there to bail me out. You most of all.”

  “We have all played our part,” she said modestly. “You do not give yourself enough credit. You are our heart, Pendragon. Surely you know that.”

  “Yeah, well, this heart just got pretty banged up,” I shot back. “Things have changed, Loor. Saint Dane wanted to kill me.”

  “I believe he has tried to kill you many times.”

  “Not like that.”

  “Dead is dead.”

  “This was different! Whenever he’s thrown something at me, at us, it always turned out to be part of his bigger plan. That’s how he’s been manipulating us. There was always some other purpose. I think that purpose may have changed. Yeah, we’ve been in danger before, but I don’t think he ever wanted us to die…until now.”

  “You do not think this was also part of some plan?” Loor asked.

  “Maybe at first it was,” I replied. “But I’m telling you, Loor. He really wanted to beat my brains out. He didn’t expect me to walk away from that fight. I told you before, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we’re starting to make him sweat. But whatever the reason, I think being a Traveler just got more dangerous. It’s not just about the territories or Halla anymore. I’m beginning to think it’s about us, too.”

  Loor let that ominous thought sink in.

  “I do not disagree,” she finally said.

  “And that’s why I need your help more than ever.”

  “You know I will always be there for you, Pendragon,” she said.

  “But what about the times when you aren’t there? Or you can’t help me. You were in the Ghee compound, and I still got hammered.”

  This hurt Loor. I saw her flinch.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t be two places at once.”

  “What are we to do?”

  This was it. This was the decision I had been wrestling with for weeks. It was something I had been avoiding since the beginning of my adventure, but I no longer had that option. It scared me to death, but not making this move scared me even more.

  “Loor,” I said. “Teach me how to fight.”

  Loor gave me a blank stare. I don’t think she expected that.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Don’t you think I have the guts for it?”

  Loor stood up. This was making her uncomfortable.

  “It is not that,” she said. “I believe you are the most courageous person I have ever met.”

  She did?

  “Then what’s the problem?” I asked. “I’m strong. I’m athletic. I may not be physically back up to speed yet, but it won’t be long before—”

  “If you die, what will we do?” Loor barked. “I do not doubt that you would make a fine warrior,” she continued. “But without you, I do not believe we have any hope of defeating Saint Dane.”

  This is a weird thing to say, but Loor was scared. I had never, ever seen her frightened before. The idea of going it alone against Saint Dane, without me, terrified her. I actually saw tears forming in her eyes.

  “I hear you,” I said. “But I’m not asking this because I want to start running around picking fights. You know me better than that. I need you to give me the skills to defend myself. This war is going to decide the future of all territories, all time, all everything. How stupid would it be to lose that war because I didn’t know how to stand up for myself in a simple fight?”

  Loor stood staring at the ground.

  “Give me the tools to protect myself, Loor. That’s all I’m asking.”

  I said all I wanted to say. The next move was hers. Whatever decision she made, I was prepared to accept it. After a long moment she reached up and wiped a tear from her eye and looked straight at me. Her fear was gone. Her indecision was gone. The Loor I knew was back.

  “I will teach you, Pendragon. But I will need help.”

  I’m writing this journal the night that Loor and I came to that agreement. Tomorrow, my recovery and my life will enter a new phase. I am going to learn the skills I’ll need to survive. The skills of a warrior. I have no big illusions. I don’t expect to come out of this like some kind of fighting machine. I’m still me. But at the very least, I want to be able to push some of the fear away, and have the confidence that when backed into a corner, I’ll stand as good a chance of escaping alive as my opponent.

  If that opponent happens to be Saint Dane, so be it.

  Try not to worry about me, guys. I’ve dropped a lot on you in this journal. Please know that my thoughts are always with you. I want to come home. I want to see you both again. But that can’t happen until the final play is made in this drama. To make sure I’m around to see that happen, I’ve got to step it up.

  I’ve got to fight.

  Wish me luck.

  END JOURNAL #20

  SECOND EARTH

  Wish me luck.

  Mark Dimond dropped the light brown, crusty pages of Bobby’s journal from Zadaa onto the floor of his bedroom. He looked around the room. He was alone. Courtney Chetwynde was not there to read with him. It was the first time that this had happened since Bobby’s very first journal had arrived. A profound sense of loneliness closed in on him. He had no one to share this latest news with. No one to help him analyze what was happening. No one to keep him from spiraling into a full-on panic attack. He was going to have to suck it up and deal with it on his own.

  He really wished that Courtney were there.

  In spite of all he had just read about Bobby, his mind went back to Bobby’s previous journal. Journal #19. The last one he read with Courtney. It was the journal that explained how badly he and Courtney had messed things up by using the flume to go to Cloral, and Eelong. As acolytes, their job was to protect Bobby’s journals and to stay on their h
ome territory and help the Travelers if they visited Second Earth. Their job wasn’t to jump into the flume and join in the fight against Saint Dane.

  But they had.

  They knew it was wrong, but at the time it seemed as if they had no choice. They were the only ones who knew of Saint Dane’s plan to use a killer poison from Cloral on the territory of Eelong. If they hadn’t gone to Cloral to get the antidote and bring it to Eelong, Saint Dane might have destroyed the territory. Bobby might have died. But by doing it, they weakened the flumes. Acolytes weren’t supposed to use the flumes. When they left Eelong for the final time, the flume there collapsed. Not only did it trap Spader and Gunny on Eelong, but it killed the Traveler Kasha. It was all because he and Courtney chose to travel. Things would never be the same.

  All these thoughts came rushing back at Mark as he sat in his bedroom, alone, remembering the moment when he and Courtney read the devastating news about Kasha and Spader and Gunny. They had returned from Eelong only an hour before, flush with excitement. They had helped save Eelong. They were heroes who finally got the chance to help Bobby, instead of simply reading his journals. And as a final bonus, they had returned home to find that no time had passed since they had left, so they didn’t even have to explain to anyone why they had been gone for over a month. Everything was perfect.

  And then Journal #19 had arrived. The journal that would change everything for them. They had taken the journal to the basement of Courtney’s house, which is where they read most of Bobby’s journals. When they finished reading Journal #19, Mark and Courtney stood staring at nothing for a long time.

  Courtney started to cry. Mark had never seen Courtney cry before. It was almost as shocking as the news Bobby had sent. Almost. Mark wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t feel all that hot himself.

  “I’m sorry,” Courtney finally said. “This was all my fault. I talked you into it.”

  “It w-wasn’t,” Mark said instantly. “Sure, I didn’t want to go at first, but everything you said I agreed with. W-We knew about the poison. We knew Seegen was dead. If we didn’t do something, the klees would have destroyed Black Water and Saint Dane would have won Eelong—”