The Rivers of Zadaa

by D. J. MacHale

  I can’t say that I flashed back on all the lessons that I had been through over the past few weeks. I didn’t. Except for one. Loor taught me to think like a warrior, and act without thinking. She had trained me well. Every move I made from that point on, I did by instinct. If I had taken the time to think, I’d be dead.

  I quickly realized that my opponent wasn’t all that skilled. He was clumsy, and swung his baton wildly, like a guy with a tennis racket trying to swat a bee. I guess that’s why he had the crossbow. He was a better marksman than a fighter. He’d swing at me, I’d knock his shot away, and the following shot, then counter with a blow to the chest, or the head. I kept getting the third shot in. I was winning. It was easy. Fighting Loor and Alder was a lot more difficult than dueling this loser. Of course, I didn’t think about that at the time. I just let it fly.

  There was only one problem. This was the first real fight I had been in. I was used to sparring against friends with a lightweight bamboo pole. Osa’s stave was heavy! I could handle it okay, but I was slower. And I didn’t know how much force to put behind it. I think the whole time I was fighting in the training camp, I subconsciously held back, knowing that I was fighting friends. It was more about technique than intent. Here I needed to clobber this guy. But as often as I’d hit him, and it was pretty often, he didn’t seem to be affected by it. Now that I think back on this fight, I realize that there is a big difference between sparring, and full-speed fighting. I still didn’t quite know how to do it, and it nearly cost me my life.

  Loor had already knocked one guy out, and was battling the second. Saangi was holding her own. I figured she only had to last long enough for Loor to dispatch her second opponent before Loor would help her out. One thing was pretty clear: the Ghee were better fighters than the Tiggen guards. It was good to be a Ghee. I also saw that Bokka was wrestling with the last guard and seemed to be in control. It looked as if this fight would be over quickly, and we’d get some answers as to what was going on.

  It turned out not to be that easy. Up until that moment, I had easily knocked away every attack my opponent made. It was so effortless, I got cocky. I knew I could beat this guy, so I turned my thoughts to what was going to happen after the fight. It was a near fatal mental lapse. I should have finished him. I didn’t. In that quick moment the guy thrust his baton at me. There wasn’t much force behind it, but that didn’t matter. In that one second I learned what the steel baton weapons were all about. The steel grazed my shoulder, and my arm went numb. I was hit with a jolt of electricity! These steel weapons were stun guns! Suddenly I couldn’t use my arm. Osa’s stave fell out of my limp hand. I had to quickly react and shift the balance with my other hand, or the Tiggen would have knocked it out of my grasp entirely and I’d have been defenseless.

  I could barely control the stave with my one good hand, and there was no way I could counter with an attack. I had all I could do just to keep this guy from jabbing me with that cattle prod again. The guy lunged at me. I backed off, but rather than attack, the guy dove to the ground, away from me. This was a new tactic. What was he doing? He hit the ground, rolled, and scooped up his crossbow. Uh-oh. He rolled into a kneeling position, ready to fire. I was the target. I was dead.

  “Pendragon!” came a shout.

  It was enough to make my killer hesitate. A silver blur flashed toward him that nailed him square in the head, knocking him down. It was a Rokador baton. A quick look back showed me where it had come from.

  Alder had thrown it. He had come out of the safety of the barracks to save my life. But he was hurting. The arrow was still in his shoulder. Blood was spreading. The Tiggen guard that Saangi had been fighting knocked her down, and went after the more dangerous adversary, Alder. He lunged at Alder, smashing his baton across Alder’s face. It was a brutal shot, made more so by the fact that Alder took the brunt of the electrical charge. I saw his body stiffen as he fell back.

  I flashed back to the moment when the flume was collapsing on Eelong, and the rock fell from above, hitting the head of Kasha, the Traveler. It killed her. I couldn’t bear to see this happen to another Traveler. Another friend.

  I screamed and sprinted across the sandy yard and tackled Alder’s attacker. The guy never saw me coming. I smashed his hand into the ground, making him drop his baton.

  “Pendragon!” I heard Saangi yell. I looked up in time to see something that made me freeze like a deer in the headlights. The Tiggen leader that Alder had beaned with his weapon wasn’t knocked out. He had recovered his crossbow. It was up on his shoulder. His eye was along the barrel to take aim…at me. Loor was still fighting. Bokka was still wrestling. Saangi wasn’t close to him. There was nothing to stop this guy from firing, and I was dead square in his sights. There was nothing I could do, no place to hide. All this guy had to do was pull the trigger and I’d be done. I figured I’d dive away as soon as he fired, but if those lethal little spears were as fast as I’d seen before, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I braced myself, ready to dive in either direction. That’s when the Tiggen assassin did something I didn’t expect. He kept his eye to the barrel of the weapon, but turned away from me. What was he doing? Had he changed his mind?

  The answer came a second later. He was no longer interested in me. He had another target in mind. No sooner did he turn the weapon away, than he fired. Once, twice, three times. Rapid fire. As each arrow was released I heard a small snapping sound, and a whoosh as the missiles shot across the training ground toward their target.

  Bokka.

  Bokka had just thrown the Tiggen he had been wrestling to the ground and was getting to his feet. He never made it. The volley of arrows hit him square in the chest. In his heart. One after the other. The force stood him straight up. He stood there for a second with wide, unbelieving eyes, then fell flat onto his back.

  “Bokka!” Loor screamed. With one shot she nailed the Tiggen she had been fighting, and ran for her friend. I didn’t know what she planned on doing. He was beyond help before he even hit the ground. My fear was that the assassin would start shooting at Loor. I grabbed the Tiggen baton off the ground and started after the assassin, but he quickly turned and aimed his crossbow at me.

  “Do not move,” he said with no emotion.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. This guy wasn’t afraid to shoot. I froze. He motioned with the weapon for me to move toward Loor. I did what I was told. He glanced at Saangi, who also got the message. Both of us warily circled to join Loor. As we walked, the other Tiggen guards slowly got to their feet. They had been beaten up pretty badly, but the guy with the crossbow held all the cards. The other Tiggens limped toward the assassin. I glanced back to Alder, who was lying on his back, not moving. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. His blood was seeping onto the sand, which was actually good news. It meant his heart was still beating. But for how long?

  Loor knelt on the sand with Bokka’s head in her lap. I remembered the horrible moment when she had done the same with her mother, Osa. It was a cruel twist of fate that Loor now had to see another loved one die the same way. As sad as that was, we had more pressing problems to deal with. Saangi and I joined Loor. I looked back to see the Tiggen guards gather around the assassin, whose weapon was aimed at us. Two words came to mind: firing squad. If the Tiggen guard wanted to kill us, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it.

  “Why?” I asked. “We’ve done nothing to you.”

  “Bokka was a traitor,” the assassin said. “He deserved to die. We came for him, not you.”

  The assassin took a step backward, while keeping the weapon on us. The others followed, but kept their eyes on us.

  “Do not follow us,” he said. “Or you will die along with him.”

  The other Tiggens turned and jogged off. We didn’t move. It wasn’t worth it. A moment later they were gone. They probably crawled back into the sand and slithered off like the snakes they were. I was numb. None of this made sense.

  “Kidik,” Bokka whispered.

&
nbsp; He was alive! The poor guy was fighting to stay focused.

  “Quiet,” Loor said, cradling his head. “We will care for you.”

  “I know the truth,” Bokka wheezed. “I came to tell you. They followed me, to stop me.”

  This was horrible. Bokka was dying. With his last few breaths he was trying to tell us something that was important enough to be murdered for. With one weak hand, he motioned to his boot.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Look,” he said.

  The Tiggen guards didn’t wear open sandals like the rest of the Rokador. They wore soft, sand-colored leather boots that reached nearly to their knees. I saw that tucked into his right boot, barely poking out the top, was a folded piece of parchment paper. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a map.

  “Go to Kidik,” Bokka rasped. He was fading fast. “The truth lies beyond the city, out in the center. It is…it is…a nightmare.”

  “What is the truth?” Loor asked. I could see that her eyes were tearing up. Her best friend was about to die.

  “Find the man,” Bokka wheezed. “The stranger.” He coughed, gasping for breath.

  “What man, Bokka?” I asked. “What is the truth?”

  Bokka tried to focus on me, but he was slipping fast. “He says he is from your tribe, Pendragon.”

  “What?” I shouted in surprise.

  “Beyond the city. There is a vehicle waiting to take you there. Find him.”

  “Who is he, Bokka?”

  Bokka coughed. It was painful to watch. I found myself taking a deep breath, as if it would help him breathe. It didn’t. He winced, but forced himself to focus. He looked me right in the eye and said, “His name is…Saint Dane.”

  They were the last two words he would ever speak.

  JOURNAL #21

  (CONTINUED)

  ZADAA

  The next few hours passed in a blur. We first brought Bokka’s body into the barracks and covered him. Loor was amazingly stoic. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head. Her best friend from birth had been killed by his own people. The only way I could relate would be to imagine if something happened to either of you two guys, Mark and Courtney. It was beyond horrible. Bokka died trying to help Loor. To help us. I regretted ever being jealous of the guy. He was a hero. Still, Loor couldn’t allow herself time to mourn. We needed to take care of the living, and Alder needed help. Fast. We knew where to get it.

  We awkwardly carried the injured Bedoowan knight to the entrance to the underground, and the small train that would take us back to the crossroads. It wasn’t easy. Alder was big and heavy. None of us complained. As we traveled along in that miniature train, I hoped that we wouldn’t run into the Tiggen assassins. If they thought we were following them, well, let’s just say I’m really glad we didn’t see them.

  We made it through the crossroads without problems, and continued the journey back to Xhaxhu. Luckily we found a cart that we were able to load Alder into so we could push him along. Without that cart it would have taken us twice as long to get back, and every second counted. We had to be careful, though. We didn’t want to take the arrow out. Loor said it would only make him bleed more.

  Throughout the trip, none of us said anything about Bokka’s last words. There would be time for that later. Now it was all about Alder. As we moved quickly through the tunnels, all I could do was stare at him and hope that we wouldn’t be losing another Traveler. The thought was too painful to even imagine. Loor had her hand over Alder’s heart, as if trying to transmit some kind of cosmic energy into his body to keep him alive. It was sweet, and gut-wrenching at the same time.

  Our goal was to get back to the hospital where I had been treated, and hope that the doctor who cared for me would be willing to help. By the time we arrived in Xhaxhu it was night, so we were able to use the darkness for cover as we made our way through the streets to the hospital pyramid. We found our way in and brought Alder to a quiet room, away from suspicious eyes, while Saangi went to find the doctor who had treated me. It didn’t take her long. She found him and immediately brought him to the secluded room. When he saw us, his shoulders fell. He did not want the responsibility of caring for another Rokador.

  “What is your name?” I asked the doctor.

  “Nazsha,” the man answered.

  I spoke slowly and sincerely, in the hope that whatever abilities of persuasion I had as a Traveler would kick in. If we ever needed them, it was now.

  “When you treated me, Nazsha,” I said, “you said you thought I could help the Batu. You were right. That’s what I’m trying to do. And so is this injured man.”

  Alder was still unconscious. His white Rokador tunic was drenched in his own blood. He was alive, but I didn’t know for how much longer.

  The doctor gave him a quick look and said, “That is the arrow of a Rokador.”

  “It is,” I said.

  “And you now wear the armor of a Ghee,” he said, confused.

  “You were right before,” I said. “We aren’t Rokador. Without your help, he’ll die.”

  The doctor looked at me. I saw the questions in his eyes. If he didn’t believe we were there to help the Batu, at least I hoped he was like the doctors on Second Earth who were supposed to help the sick and injured, no matter what.

  “This could bring me trouble,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But isn’t all of Xhaxhu already in serious trouble?”

  The doctor looked back to Alder. I could tell he was debating with himself about what to do.

  “Bring him,” Nazsha finally ordered.

  I’d like to take the credit for convincing the guy to help, but I think it was more because he was the kind of guy who always helped those in need. Loor and I each took one of Alder’s arms and carried the big knight through the sandstone corridors to a forgotten area deep within the bowels of the hospital. There, safely away from curious eyes, the doctor went to work. He cut off Alder’s blood-soaked clothing and pulled out the arrow, which I couldn’t watch. The squishy, sucking sound was bad enough. Alder looked pale, and not just Rokador-pale. It was from the blood loss. Doctor Nazsha cleaned him up and packed the wound with something that looked like leaves dipped in honey. He then went to work with needle and thread to close it up. I guess I don’t have to point out that I didn’t watch that, either. After he finished sewing, he dressed the wound with some salve and forced Alder to drink a variety of potions, which wasn’t easy since Alder was pretty out of it.

  “I will continue to administer the medication,” the doctor said. “I do not believe the arrow damaged anything vital, but the blood loss may have been too much. The rest is up to your friend. If he lives through the night, he may survive.”

  “Can we stay here?” I asked.

  “If you wish,” the doctor asked. “But I cannot protect you if a Ghee discovers you. I am not a brave man. I will help care for your friend, but I am not a warrior.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “You’re a very brave man. Thank you.”

  The doctor left, with the promise to return frequently.

  “I must return to Mooraj,” Loor said. “Bokka must be taken care of.”

  I wanted to argue. It was dangerous to go back through the underground. But if Loor wanted to go, I wasn’t about to stop her. She left without saying another word. Saangi stayed with me. I think Loor wanted her there in case there was trouble. Or maybe she wanted to take care of Bokka’s body alone. Either way, Saangi and I stayed with Alder. Doctor Nazsha was true to his word. Every few hours he returned to change Alder’s dressing and give him more liquid. The guy probably didn’t sleep all night. He was a good doctor.

  After spending a few hours there watching over Alder, Saangi went out to get some food and water. That was fine, but I didn’t have the energy to eat. All I wanted was to be unconscious. I was dog-tired. But as beat as I was, I couldn’t knock off. Random thoughts kept bouncing around my head like a foosball game with twelve balls.

  Th
ere have been many times since I left home that I questioned whether it was a mistake that I had become a Traveler. Did I say “many times”? How about a few hundred times a day? I wrote to you before about Gunny’s theory. He thinks that somebody actually chose the Travelers, though he has no idea who that could be. If it’s true, when I meet him the first thing I’m going to ask that guy is: “Why me?” I guess I’d done okay so far, but if I were asked to describe the perfect Traveler, it sure wouldn’t be me. As I sat there, trying not to stress over these cosmic questions that had no answers, I heard a familiar voice.

  “How is he?”

  I looked up to see Loor standing in the doorway.

  “The same,” I said. “But I think that’s a good thing.”

  Loor walked over to Alder and put a hand on his forehead. I watched her, thinking that when I met that mysterious guy who chose the Travelers, the one question I wouldn’t have to ask is: “Why Loor?” I knew why Loor. She was strong. She was brave. She was simple, but I mean that in a good way. She didn’t overanalyze everything the way I did. Right and wrong were as easy for her to pick out as left and right. All the Travelers are special in some way, but I have to say that Loor is our backbone. If we lost her, we’d be done. I know I would. I actually thought ahead to a time in the future when this battle with Saint Dane would be over. Would I ever see Loor again? Would I continue to ride the flumes? Would she come to Second Earth? I couldn’t imagine life without her being part of it. How that might work was a whole nother problem for another day. I already had too many balls bouncing around the foosball table in my brain to worry about that.