The Rivers of Zadaa tpa-6

by D. J. MacHale

  After three turns I wished I had done a Hansel-and-Gretel move by dropping breadcrumbs to mark our route. There was no way I could find my way back. If I got ditched, I’d be lost. We had been walking for about ten minutes when the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern that had several other tunnels leading off it.

  “This is called ‘the crossroads,’” Loor announced.

  The name fit. What stood out most though, was a set of heavy, wooden doors that had to be twenty feet tall.

  “What’s in there?” I asked.

  Bokka looked at us, as if debating whether or not to answer.

  “You do not have to tell us, Bokka,” Loor said.

  Bokka let out a tired breath and said, “No, we’re friends. We should be honest with one another. It is a central water-transfer station. This station controls many of the smaller stations, like the one near the waterfall. My team has been assigned to stand guard here.” He nodded to Teek and his other pals. They immediately stood in front of the closed doors with their arms folded, looking all sorts of menacing.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “We don’t want to go in.”

  Bokka said, “We’re afraid this would be one of the first targets if the Batu attack.”

  “No offense,” I said. “But if a whole bunch of Ghee warriors come charging down here, those guys won’t be able to stop them.”

  “Then they will die trying,” Bokka said, staring me right in the eye.

  D. J. MacHale

  The Rivers of Zadaa

  He was totally serious. These guys were willing to die to defend their tribe. It was a weird situation. Bokka and Loor were friends, but technically they were also enemies. If a war did erupt, this would get interesting…and not in a good way.

  Bokka looked to his pals and announced, “I will return shortly. Teek, you are in command.”

  Teek gave a quick wave to acknowledge. The others didn’t react, no big surprise. We continued on, following Bokka into one of the tunnels off the intersection. We had only gone a few yards when he stopped at another wooden door. I don’t know why he chose this one, they all pretty much looked the same to me.

  “This is where I leave you,” Bokka said to Loor. “You know how to handle this, right?”

  “I believe I was the one who taught you,” Loor countered.

  “Yes, you were.” Bokka chuckled. “Among other things.” I didn’t want to know what any of those “other” things were.

  “You are a good friend, Bokka,” Loor said. “I do not know what the future holds for either of us, but please know that you will forever be in my heart.”

  The two hugged. It was kind of an awkward moment for the rest of us. At least for me, anyway. I looked at Alder and said casually, “So? You getting any trouble from that lousy cannibal Red Sox tribe?”

  Alder gave me a blank look. Of course.

  “Good-bye, Pendragon,” Bokka said. “And good luck.” He awkwardly held out his hand to shake, knowing that it was a sign of friendship where I come from. Like I said, I wanted to hate the guy…but I didn’t. I shook his hand. This time he didn’t squeeze so tightly.

  “Thanks, Bokka,” I said. “Take care of yourself.”

  Bokka nodded to Alder and Saangi, saying, “Good-bye, friends. When we meet again, I hope it will be under better circumstances.” He gave one last look to Loor, then turned and jogged back toward the crossroads.

  “So, what’s this all about?” I asked Loor.

  “We need a secure place for you to train,” she answered. “Bokka has provided a way for us to get there without being seen.” She opened the wooden door to reveal a room that was like most of the other caverns we had been in, except for one little difference. Sitting in the center of the room was a miniature train. It looked pretty much like a train you’d see at an amusement park. There were four cars in all. The two in the center were open. Each held around ten seats. On either end was an “engine” with two seats. I couldn’t tell what powered the thing, but each engine had an enclosed front that I assumed held some sort of motor. The engines actually reminded me of snowmobiles, except they weren’t as modern-looking and were covered with a thin layer of sand. The vehicle sat on two rails that were about three feet apart.

  “It is like a mine car,” Alder said.

  “Exactly,” Loor answered. “This is how the Rokador travel long distances and remove rock when they are tunneling.” That reminded me of something.

  “I heard Bokka talk about Kidik City,” I said to Loor. “Does that mean there’s an entire city underground?”

  “Yes, it is the seat of Rokador power,” Loor answered. “I have not seen it for myself. Few Batu have. Please, take a seat.”

  I put aside my curiosity about how a city could be underground, and boarded the little train with the others. I flashed on going to the Quassy Amusement Park at home when I was a kid. They had this cool miniature train that traveled all around the property, through the woods and over bridges. I suddenly wished I was there instead of somewhere underground on a territory light-years from home that was on the verge of a civil war. Oh well.

  “You know how to drive this thing?” I asked.

  Loor sat in one of the seats in the engine car and said, “I have been on this tram many times as a child. Bokka and I used to ride it at night, while others slept.”

  Now I knew what Bokka meant when he asked Loor if she knew how to handle this. I could picture her as a mischievous little girl, sneaking around and hijacking this train for a joyride. Unfortunately I could also picture Bokka doing it with her. I gotta get over this.

  With a sudden lurch and screech of wheels on metal track, the little train chugged forward. Seconds later we were out of the cavern room and rolling through a narrow tunnel that wasn’t big enough to stand up in. Alder had to bend over or he would have scraped his head along the ceiling. The engine made no sound, which was weird. “How is it powered?” I asked.

  “The Rokador are ingenious,” Loor said. “They have created many mechanical wonders.”

  “But how does it work?” I asked again.

  Loor hesitated, then admitted, “I do not know.”

  That said a lot. Not about Loor, but about the Batu versus the Rokador. From what I’d seen so far, the Rokador were more advanced technologically than the Batu. After all, they had devices that could control the flow of rivers; they worked with metal to create weapons and tiny trains; they somehow brought light to tunnels that were far beneath the surface; and for that matter, they dug tunnels using machinery. The Batu, on the other hand, were a much more primitive tribe. They built these great pyramids and knew how to farm and were pretty good at the warrior business, but the two races seemed as if they were centuries apart on the technology scale. I guess the only real question I had was if the Rokador were such geniuses, why the heck did they live underground like moles?

  We rolled along on these tracks for several minutes. Every so often we’d pass through a cavern room, kind of like going by subway stops. I didn’t even bother to ask Loor where we were going. I figured I’d find out soon enough. I’d guess that we traveled along for about another ten minutes when the train rolled into another cavern, and stopped.

  “We are here,” Loor announced.

  We all got out, and I asked, “Where is here?”

  “This is Mooraj, the camp where Bokka and I trained as children,” Loor answered. “All Rokador and Batu youths spent time here as a test to see if they should be groomed as Ghee warriors or Tiggen guards.”

  Saangi added, “I spent time here as well.”

  Loor continued, “When tension between the tribes mounted, the Rokador were banned. When the drought came, Mooraj was abandoned.”

  “The Rokador were banned?” I asked. “How can that be? I thought they controlled the underground?”

  “Mooraj is not underground,” Loor answered.

  She led us to a doorway across the cavern and up a winding set of stone stairs. As we climbed I could feel the air getting warme
r. We were leaving the cool underground and heading back up to the baking heat on the surface. We finally emerged to find ourselves in a stone hut that was barely big enough for all four of us to stand in. I guess you could say it was a primitive subway station. Very primitive. There was one doorway, beyond which the light was so bright I had to squint. It now made sense to me why Bokka and his boys wore goggles on the surface. After spending so much time underground, coming out into the sun was pretty rude.

  “Your eyes will adjust in a moment,” Loor said, as if reading my mind-or seeing that I was squinting like a mole under a spotlight.

  After about a minute I said, “Okay, I’m good to go.”

  “I am as well,” Alder added.

  “Then welcome to Mooraj,” Loor said.

  She stepped out into the light. Saangi was right behind her. I was about to follow, when Alder put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you certain, Pendragon?” he asked. “About what?”

  “You wish to train as a warrior. Is that wise?”

  “Only if I want to stay alive,” I said. Alder thought about that a moment, then nodded. We followed the others.

  Mooraj wasn’t your typical kid camp. I had been to camp. I remember bunk houses and a lake full of canoes and an archery range and tennis courts and horse stables and lots of trees and a swimming pool and a snack bar where you could buy candy and…you know. Camp.

  Mooraj looked more like a fort in the middle of the desert.

  The hut we had come out of was about thirty yards away from the main camp. From where we were, it looked like a six-foot wall surrounded the camp itself. As we walked across the hot sand, Alder pointed off to our left where I saw the tops of the pyramids in the distance.

  “The city of Xhaxhu,” I said to him. “Where the flume is.”

  I guessed we were about two miles away. Two miles across a blistering hot desert. Loor was right. We wouldn’t be disturbed here. The Batu and Rokador had more important things to worry about.

  We entered the camp, and to be honest, it didn’t look much different than the abandoned farm we had visited. There were several low buildings against the walls. I guessed they were the barracks where people slept. The center of the compound was wide open. There was some strange apparatus around that looked sort of like playground equipment. You know, jungle gyms and monkey bars and what not. But it didn’t look all that inviting. I couldn’t imagine little kids playing on this stuff and laughing and having fun. This place looked…serious. And there was sand everywhere, building up in the corners and blowing across the center of the compound.

  “I’m guessing there’s no snack bar” was all I could think of saying.

  “We will need provisions,” Loor said. “Saangi, you must return to Xhaxhu and bring us food and water.”

  “That is not fair!” Saangi complained. “You said I was to be part of the training.”

  “Thatispart of the training,” Loor said sharply.

  Saangi looked as if she wanted to argue, but a stern look from Loor froze her. She backed off and said, “Very well.”

  “Go now,” Loor said. “Be careful. Make sure you are not followed.”

  “I know!” Saangi pouted and turned to go back for the subway hut.

  “And try to return before the sun goes down,” Loor added.

  “Iwill,” Saangi assured her. “Thank you, Saangi,” I said.

  This made Saangi stop. The young Batu looked at me and said, “I hope you are ready for this, Pendragon.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said with a chuckle, trying to be light.

  She didn’t laugh. Oh well, so much for getting her to loosen up. Saangi turned and ran out of the compound.

  “Is she okay?” I asked Loor.

  “She is restless, and scared,” Loor answered.

  “Join the club,” I replied.

  “I would like to know what has been happening here on Zadaa,” Alder said. “What is this war the guard spoke of?”

  “We must find a place to settle in,” Loor said. “Then we can explain everything to you.”

  Alder nodded. That was fine by him.

  Loor asked me, “How do you feel?”

  “Nervous,” I answered. “But confidant. And a little tired. I haven’t been running around so much lately.”

  “Now you will rest to restore your energy,” Loor said. “Tomorrow you will need it.”

  Gulp.

  JOURNAL #21

  (CONTINUED)

  ZADAA

  Fearcanbea good thing.

  It’s the one emotion that always helps you make the right decision. Other emotions can lead you down the wrong path. Anger, jealousy, sadness, bliss-you name it. Good or bad, they take you out of the moment and cloud your thinking so you could easily make a dumb choice. Not so with fear. When you’re scared, you pretty much know what you have to do. Usually, it’s to get the heck away from whatever it is you’re scared of. But that isn’t always an option. Fear heightens your senses and makes your thinking so clear, you stand a better chance of beating whatever it is you’re afraid of. Whether it’s a quig, or a science test, or asking somebody out for a movie. When you’re afraid, you’re on. I guess you can be so messed up by fear that you freeze up, but short of that, fear can be your friend.

  During the time I spent in that blast furnace of a training camp, fear was definitely my friend. It’s not that I was afraid of the training, or of getting hurt again, or of anything Loor or Alder would do to me. What I feared was Saint Dane. I knew that if I wasn’t able to defend myself, I could be in for another beating like I had gotten at the Ghee compound. If Pelle a Zinj hadn’t shown up, I would have died. I’m certain of that. The next time, I might not be so lucky. It was the fear of taking another beating that helped me to keep going. And I needed that help, because what Loor put me through was beyond anything I had expected. I wanted her to teach me a couple of moves, show me how to use one of those wooden weapons to ward off an attack and get in a couple of shots of my own.

  What I got instead was a crash course in Warrior Hell, 101.

  Loor, Alder, and I made ourselves at home in one of the sandstone bunkhouses that once had been used for young kids who came to Mooraj to be tested. Once inside the hut, it actually reminded me of my bunkhouse at the camp I went to as a kid. There were beds lined up along the walls to make use of every bit of space. But rather than being made from wood, with musty-smelling mattresses, these bunks were low, stone tables with grass mats. The place looked as if it had been abandoned quickly. There were still cups on tables and pieces of clothing scattered around. It was cooler inside too… by about a degree and a half. Still, it was a relief to get out of the sun.

  We each picked a bed, and I lay down, happy to be horizontal. As I wrote before, I was pretty much healed, but I was totally out of shape from lying around for so long. I was going to have to get my strength back fast to go through Loor’s training, and whatever else lay ahead. We took the time to rest and bring Alder up to speed on all that was happening on Zadaa. The drought, the two tribes, the growing tension between the tribes, and the power struggle within the Ghee to either attack the Rokador or stay loyal to the family of Zinj and negotiate peace. Of course, we also told Alder about how Saint Dane went wild and beat me like a pinata, which was pretty much why we were at the camp to train.

  Alder listened to everything, nodding in understanding, taking it all in. The only time he reacted with emotion was when I told him that Uncle Press was dead. The news made him wince. Uncle Press had played a huge role in saving Denduron.

  “I am sorry” was all he could say.

  I nodded. So was I. “So here we sit,” I finally said. “You and Loor have the impossible job of teaching me how to defend myself. But more important is figuring out what part Saint Dane is playing here on Zadaa.”

  “If he has taken the form of a Ghee warrior,” Alder said, “he must be trying to convince the Batu to attack the Rokador. Starting wars is what ^ie does best.”

&n
bsp; “Maybe,” I said. “But there’s got to be more to it than that. There always is.”

  “Besides,” Loor added. “The rebel Ghee are powerful, but I do not believe they are strong enough to convince the people of Xhaxhu to go against the wishes of the royal family. Pelle a Zinj does not want war. The rebel Ghee may complain and threaten, but they will not go against generations of tradition. They know it would tear the Batu apart.”

  Alder and I looked at Loor. She didn’t realize what she had just said.

  “Isn’t that exactly the kind of thing Saint Dane would go for?” I asked. “Tearing a powerful tribe apart?”

  “Yes,” Loor answered coldly. “But our traditions are strong. He may try, but he will fail.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Neither was Alder. “Hunger and thirst are powerful weapons,” he said quietly.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “That’s why I think Saint Dane is playing a bigger part in all this. I mean, what’s causing all the problems in the first place?”

  “The drought?” Loor asked. “Saint Dane has no power over the weather.”

  “No,” I said. “But the bottom line here is lack of water. No drought, no tension, no war.”

  “Saint Dane must have seen the drought coming. That is why he is here,” Loor suggested.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But Saint Dane doesn’t leave things to chance. I think there’s something else going on. I have no idea what it might be, but I’ll bet I know where to find out.”

  “Where is that?” Alder asked.

  “The underground,” I answered. “So far we’ve only seen the Batu side of this mess. We’ve got to find out what’s happening with the Rokador. They control the rivers of Zadaa. My guess is, if we want to find Saint Dane, we’ve got to go below and maybe go to that city where the Rokador leaders are. What’s it called?”