The Pilgrims of Rayne tpa-8

by D. J. MacHale

  There was also a pile of shirts. At least I thought they were shirts. They looked more like vests-no sleeves. I couldn’t tell which was the front and which was the back. I figured it didn’t matter. I picked out a green one that sort of matched the

  94 105 green color of the shorts and slipped it over my head. It fit loosely, which was good, because it was hot on Ibara. Tropical hot. If I learned anything from the clothing, it was that the people were pretty casual and lived in a warm tropical climate. Oh, and they weren’t fish.

  The last touch were shoes, or what looked like shoes. There were a couple pairs of sandals that looked woven out of some natural material. I picked a pair that fit perfectly. They slipped between my toes like flip-flops, but there were also little bands that fit over my heels and kept them from truly being flip-flops. They were comfortable, and more practical than flip-flops. If I had to, I could run in them. I was ready. It was time to get out of there.

  I wanted to see Ibara.

  Scanning the rocky walls, I saw several wide cracks that ran vertically from the sandy floor. Some looked wide enough to squeeze through. I poked my head into a few, only to find a rocky dead end. I continued to search the perimeter of the cavern, feeling sure that one of these rough openings would be the way out. As I explored, I became more aware of sounds. I heard the same white noise as I had when I was still in the flume. Whatever it was, it came from beyond the walls of this cave. There was also another sound. It was a faint, far-off hum. I could barely hear it, but it was there. Constant. Steady. Mysterious.

  I had nearly made my way completely around the perimeter when I found it-the way out. It was an opening that was larger than the others, which was the first giveaway. The second was the sandy floor that stretched inside. This was definitely the route away from the flume. I left the cave and found myself in a twisting, dark tunnel. It was so narrow

  I had to turn sideways a few times to fit my so often the route opened into another small cave before narrowing down again. I passed a few intersections and had to guess which route to take. The winding passageways started feeling like a maze. I made one turn, walked several feet, and hit a dead end. It was a very complicated series of tunnels. That was good because it would prevent people from accidentally discovering the flume. On the other hand it made it tough to get the heck out.

  As I walked along, I heard the humming grow louder. I passed through one rock opening and heard the sound more distinctly. A few times I made a turn and the sound dimmed. My curiosity about Ibara continued to grow. The twisting caverns were dark. Every so often a crack of light appeared to help me on my way, but mostly I had to walk slowly, with my hands out in front for fear of introducing nose to rock.

  Finally I made a turn and sensed movement. It was fast. So fast I thought I imagined it. It was a quick streak of light that was there for an instant, then gone. I stopped and looked up, but saw nothing. A few steps later I sensed another movement of light. By the time my eyes went to it, it was over. It was like trying to see a shooting star. Unless you were staring right at it the instant it flashed by, you’d miss it.

  The white noise grew louder too. It seemed like I was getting closer to the outside.

  I made a turn and found myself at the mouth of a cavern that was slightly smaller than the cavern with the flume. I instantly noticed the change in sound. The humming was much louder. So loud, in fact, that it drowned out the white noise. Whatever was doing all the humming, I was close to it.

  This cavern wasn’t as dark as the rest of the labyrinth. It had a warm, inviting glow. The light that bled through the cracks from outside was white, like daylight. But the light that filled this cavern was golden. I figured it had to be some kind of phosphorous. I took a step through the opening and scanned the cavern, looking for the next opening to continue my journey. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the warm glow, I saw it. The vertical crack was directly opposite me on the far side of the cavern. That was the exit.

  I can’t say why, but as soon as I recognized the way out, I was hit with a feeling of dread. Nothing had happened. Nothing changed. It was just an uneasy feeling. Some sixth sense told me this cavern was a bad place. I wanted to get out, fast, and started for the far side. When I got halfway across, the humming suddenly stopped. Just like that. Silence. All I heard was the white noise. What had stopped it? Better question, what the heck was making it in the first place? I felt as if my sudden movement through the cavern had made the sound end. But how? Was it something mechanical? Had I crossed a trigger that turned the machine off?

  The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I wasn’t sure if I should keep moving or stand still. I decided to wait for something to happen. It wasn’t a long wait. The golden glow that painted the room began to grow brighter. The humming returned. It was low at first, but as the light grew, so did the humming. The steady drone became louder as the light grew around me. The warm light.

  The yellow light.

  Something flashed in front of me. A yellow streak of light that was gone as quickly as it arrived. The same kind of streak I’d sensed farther back in the tunnels. This time I saw it. Another streak streaked by. It shot in front of me, stopped, and flashed back the other way. Fast. Whatever it was, it was under control. Another shot past, close to my face.

  I heard a sharp buzz. It wasn’t phosphorous. It was some kind of bug, like a firefly. Another flew past, then another. The yellow light grew brighter. The humming sound grew louder. I realized it wasn’t a humming sound. It was a buzzing sound. The light grew brighter, as if a large overhead lamp were ramping up to illuminate the cavern. Slowly I looked directly overhead to see a wondrous sight.

  The entire ceiling of the cavern was sparkling. It was like the rock was decked with thousands of yellow Christmas lights. It was dazzling. The ceiling was coming alive. Was this some strange, natural power source? Was it chemical? Electrical? Was it-

  “Ouch!” Something stung my leg. I quickly brushed it off and saw it was one of the fireflies. The little creeps stung like bees!

  “Ow!” Another one hit me on the left shoulder, and it hurt! Another buzzed by my face. Two more buzzed my head. A sick reality hit me. The light on the ceiling wasn’t chemical or electrical. It wasn’t there as a friendly, warm canopy to guide my way. No, the ceiling was covered with thousands of little banshees. They were firing up. They were buzzing louder. They gave off a yellow glow. It all added up to one, horrifying conclusion.

  Quigs.

  The quigs on Ibara were bees. As if on cue, the ceiling came to life. The quig-bees dove down like a swarm of angry, burning fireflies. They were headed for me! I took off running for the cleft on the far side. The swirling storm of quigs chased me like an angry, glowing cloud. There was no way I could outrun them. My only hope was to make it to the mouth of this cavern, and outside, before they caught me. I hoped daylight would stop them. I hit the cleft, bashing my shoulder into the rock, but I didn’t stop. I barely felt it. Fear will do that. Any thought of caution was gone as I desperately danced through the twisting cavern. I could hear the bees grow louder, like a buzz saw at my heels.

  Ahead I saw the tunnel was growing brighter. I had to be nearing the end.

  A quig stung my back. Then another. Why they didn’t all attack at once, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. It only made me run faster.

  The tunnel grew brighter. The entrance was near. I had to get there. I had to get out. I had to get to the light. I had to hope the killer bugs wouldn’t follow. It was the only chance I had. Three more stings came quickly. It was like being stabbed with needles. I didn’t swat at them. That would have slowed me down.

  I rounded a bend and saw it, the bright opening to the cave. The entrance to Ibara. My only hope for safety. I had made it. I was going to get out of the cave and into the light before the quigs did any serious damage.

  Good news was, I made it out.

  Bad news was, it didn’t matter.

  I broke out into the open to find myself on a be
ach. Ahead was a calm, green ocean that looked like a postcard for the Caribbean. I sensed tall palm trees swaying in the breeze, the sweet smell of tropical flowers, and gentle, rolling surf. That was the white noise-the surf. The rocky cave that held the flume was near this ocean. When I ran into the light I was no more than thirty yards from the water’s edge. I sprinted through the sand, headed for the shore. My plan was to dive into the surf and get underwater to protect myself from the quig-bees.

  I didn’t make it. The quigs attacked. All of them. Being in the sunlight didn’t stop them. If anything, it made them bolder.

  Now that we were outside, they no longer seemed like yellow, glowing fireflies. They now looked like nasty black bees. Swarming bees. Angry bees. I was hit from behind by what felt like a small wave. The stinging pain soon followed. Like hundreds of burning little needles, the quigs jabbed their stingers into me. They swarmed my legs. For a second it actually tickled the hair. A very short second. The pain followed. It was like they all stung at once. It’s hard to describe the pain because it was like nothing I had ever experienced. They swarmed my head. There were so many of them that the bright beach seemed to grow dark. It was like being enveloped in a dark cocoon. I tried to bat them away. It was futile. There were too many. Instead I covered up. I didn’t want them getting at my eyes.

  They stung my arms. Hundreds and hundreds of times. It was like getting hit with drops of burning acid. They stung my cheeks and my nose. I felt sharp stings on my ears and under my arms. I wanted to open my mouth to scream, but feared they would fly inside.

  The buzzing was deafening. They had me. I was theirs. The pain was so intense, I stopped feeling it. My brain must have shut down. I went into pain overload. I grew dizzy. Whatever poison their stings were unloading into me was doing its job. I staggered, trying to keep moving toward the water, in hope that I could dive in and shake them. No go. I was too far away. The beach started to spin. The buzzing was everything. I dropped down to one knee, fighting to stay conscious, though I’m not sure why. Conscious meant torture. I had to give in to the poison. It was a relief.

  My last thought was that there was no way I could be an illusion. An illusion could never hurt so bad.

  And everything went black.

  (CONTINUED)

  IBARA

  I was swimming again.

  At least that’s what it felt like. I drifted, weightless, not sure of up or down or in between. I could breathe, too. For a second I thought maybe I’d grown those gills after all. In that dreamlike state, nothing seemed strange. I was hanging out somewhere south of nowhere, and not minding it one single bit.

  It didn’t last. My first clue that I was returning to reality was the weight. My body felt heavy. Impossibly heavy. It was like I was living in somebody else’s skin. I didn’t like it much. I felt paralyzed. And hot. Very hot. It was like I was wrapped tight in an itchy wool blanket but couldn’t lift my arms to scratch. Not that I would have known what to scratch anyway. I was one, massive burning itch. I eventually became aware enough to realize I was lying down and my eyes were closed. It was too much of an effort to crack them open, so I decided not to try. I was afraid of what I might see. My head felt like some guy had his hands on either side and was squeezing. I thought about telling whoever it was to back off, but my lips wouldn’t open. They were stuck shut. I swallowed. Ouch. Sandpaper throat.

  Reality slowly slipped in. I kind of wish it hadn’t. The more aware I became, the more I realized how hurting I was. I finally cracked one eye open. The light was painful. I forced myself to look around. I’m not sure why I bothered-there wasn’t much to see. I was on my back staring up at a sea of grass. Yes, grass. I tried to focus, but I was too uncomfortable to think about anything except how uncomfortable I was. Besides the head squeeze, I felt as if I had an Olympic case of poison ivy. No, poison oak. That’s worse. If there’s anything worse than poison oak, that’s what it felt like. But it wasn’t poison oak. It was the bees. The quig-bees. I was aware enough to remember those buggers. I looked down at my arm to see it was covered in red, hideous welts. Stings. Ouch. I had been stung more times than I could count. Note to self: Avoid mirrors. That would be ugly. I figured I’d look like that “It’s clobberin’ time!” guy from the Fantastic Four. I’d just as soon pass on that image, thank you very much. As bad as I felt, I realized there was something good in all this. I was alive. I would heal. I was good at that. What I didn’t know was where I had landed, and how I got there.

  “You’re awake,” came a soft, feminine voice.

  That was nice. Soft and feminine was nice. She didn’t sound like a fish, either. I cracked my eye open again and she came into view, looming over me, upside down. She looked into my eyes. Or eye. I first noticed her hair. It was long and dark red. She had it pulled back and tied with a yellow ribbon. Very practical. Her eyes were green. I’d never seen such deep green eyes. They could have been colored contact lenses, that’s how stunning they were. She was pretty, I guessed. It was hard to tell, looking at someone upside down and with one eye.

  As she looked at me, I saw the worry in those green eyes. Worry was good. I was pretty worried myself. At least we were on the same page.

  “How long?” I croaked.

  “You’ve been asleep for three days. We’ve given you medicine to make you sleep. You have to heal. You were very lucky.” “Really?” I groaned, trying to sound sarcastic. She smiled. She got it.

  “The venom from the bee stings isn’t fatal, unless you’re allergic. I’m guessing you’re not, or you’d be dead.” Good guess.

  “You’ve got to keep still until the poison passes through your system.”

  Fine. Whatever. The last thing I wanted to do was get up. Or walk. Or talk. Or anything else that involved movement or thought. That pretty much ruled out everything but sleep.

  “I’ve never seen so many stings,” she said with concern. “Did you do something to aggravate the bees?”

  I wondered how she would have reacted if I’d told her that they were mutant bees sent by a demon from another territory to attack me because I was there to stop him from destroying her world. I decided to keep that to myself.

  “No,” I croaked.

  “Drink this,” she said, and held a small cup to my lips. I had to lift my aching head. Ouch. I took a few swallows, though more dribbled down my chin than my throat.

  “You’re healing remarkably fast. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I had.

  “A little more sleep and you’ll be up on your feet so we can begin.”

  “Begin what?” I asked.

  She leaned down and said, “We’ve got to learn who you are, and why you’re on Ibara.” Oh. That.

  Whatever she gave me was already making me drowsy. I was swimming again. I liked it. Before I got back into the pool, I forced my eye open one more time and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Telleo.”

  Telleo. Nice name. Nice hair. Nice to know somebody was taking care of me, whoever she was. “Thank you, Telleo.”

  She gave me a warm smile. “And what is your name?”

  That was an easy one. The tougher questions would come later. I was going to have to come up with some answers. But not just then. I had to go swimming. “It’s Pendragon. Good night.”

  When I woke up, I felt much better. Not good. Better. The nasty, burning itch had settled into a seminasty, burning itch. The hundreds of bee stings had scabbed over. Sometimes it’s good to be a Traveler. I wondered how long it would take a non-Traveler to recover from that kind of an attack. Don’t get me wrong, I was still a mess. But I could function.

  “Can you sit up?” came a familiar voice. Telleo appeared at the foot of my bed.

  “I think,” I croaked. “How long did I sleep this time?”

  “Two days. I stopped giving you the medication this morning. It’s time for you to rejoin us.”

  I was so stiff I could barely move. I wasn’t sure if that was because of the bee sti
ngs, or because I had been lying there for five days. Probably both.

  “Oil can,” I murmured through clenched teeth.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing.” I had to stop making Second Earth jokes.

  When Telleo helped me sit up, my head went light. “Whoa, not good,” I babbled.

  She eased me back down. “Let’s try that again later.”

  I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. It was made of woven, green grass. I hadn’t imagined it before. I really was seeing grass. It was a simple cottage with wooden walls. I was lying on a bed that was about a foot off the wooden floor. The mattress was comfortable, but thin. The door was crudely fashioned out of lengths of something that looked like bamboo. The furniture was simple, straight and wooden. There were a few chairs and a table made out of the same bamboo-looking stuff as the door. The table was loaded with earthen jugs of various sizes. I figured these contained the medicine Telleo had been giving me. From what I could see, there weren’t any other rooms. This was it. On first glance the place looked like a primitive hut.

  On second glance I saw things that didn’t fit the rustic profile. There was a tube of light that ran the length of each wall near the ceiling, like a neon bulb. These people didn’t rely on fire for light. They had power. Though we were inside, there was a soft breeze. I looked across the room to see a series of fan blades, built into a frame, turning slowly. Again, they were powered. The final weirdness came when Telleo walked to the table of earthen jugs, reached to the far side, and picked up a small, cream-colored device that looked like a bar of soap.

  She touched it a few times and spoke into it. “He is awake,” she said.

  It was a telephone. I watched as she mixed together a concoction in the earthen jugs. She was a small girl, not much taller than five feet. She was light skinned, but tan. She wore a short, yellow dress that seemed to be made from the same material as my clothes. It was kind of the same style, too, with a loose, sleeveless top. She also wore the same kind of sandals. I guessed she was older than I was, but not by much.