“She did,” Uncle Press replied. He was totally focused on me. He wasn’t skeptical. He didn’t argue. He wanted to hear what I was thinking.
“This isn’t done yet,” I declared. “Third Earth is still in play, and Saint Dane has an army that’s ready and waiting to finish off the exiles on Eelong.”
Aja jumped in again. “Is he really capable of creating a flume to send that army to Black Water?”
All eyes went right to Uncle Press. He didn’t look happy.
“He could” was his simple, direct answer.
“He may not even need to!” I added.
It was my turn to get everybody’s attention.
“The gars sent the klees off with their tails between their legs. Yay, big victory. But I guarantee you, the klees aren’t done. Not as long as Ravinia controls them. They’ll regroup and try again. And again. Protecting Black Water and the exiles will get more difficult, even if Saint Dane doesn’t unleash his army of dados. If we think all we have to do to save Halla is circle the wagons around Black Water and hope that the exiles grow into a new civilization, we’re kidding ourselves. Even if we’re able to protect Black Water, that’s only one territory. What about all the others that are controlled by Ravinia? Maybe keeping the exiles alive will help Solara sputter along for a while, but the numbers aren’t on our side. How long can we hold out? Years? Decades? A century? We’re talking about the future of all civilization. All mankind. Forever. A century is a blip of time when we’re talking about eternity. If we’re going to stop Saint Dane for good, we’re going to have to do more than pat ourselves on the back over a single victory.”
I looked around to see that everyone’s expression of hope and optimism was long gone. I hated being the buzz killer, but I was speaking the truth, and they knew it.
“I think there’s only one way to end this, and that’s to take the battle to him,” I declared. “If we don’t, the only question will be how long we can hold out, because eventually he’ll wear us down and win it all.”
Nobody argued.
The first one to speak was Uncle Press. “You say this like you have a plan,” he said with caution.
I smiled. “I always have a plan,” I said with confidence. “Well, usually I do.”
I could feel the anticipation grow within the group of friends. I had just laid out a pretty nasty scenario. After getting hit with a cold splash of reality, I think they were desperate to hear that there was still hope. I didn’t jump into it quickly. I knew it would take some convincing. Heck, I wasn’t entirely sure it was the right thing to do myself. I took a few moments to look around at Solara. The meadows. The colorful vapors in the sky. The stars. The feeling of life and spirit that was all around us.
“Look what happened here when the gars and the exiles defeated the klees,” I began. “What was the word you used, Uncle Press? ‘Rejuvenation.’ The positive spirit and energy of those people on Eelong proved that Uncle Press is right. They are the future. Their spirit was so strong, it brought new life to Solara.”
Aja scoffed, “Didn’t you just say that it’s only temporary?”
“It is,” I agreed. “If all we do now is focus on keeping the exiles alive for a while, it will only prolong the inevitable.”
“You’re contradicting yourself, Pendragon,” Aja said firmly.
“But I’m not,” I argued. “I saw what those exiles are capable of. They were willing to sacrifice it all to protect Black Water. Question is, would they be willing to do it again to save Halla?”
I saw plenty of confused looks being thrown around. The only person who stayed focused on me was Uncle Press. I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Keep going,” he said thoughtfully.
“Just before she died, Nevva told me that Saint Dane split Solara in two. I think where we are, here, is the Solara that has always been. But Saint Dane has somehow splintered it, or made a wall or something, to create a Solara that is being fed by the negative spirit that he’s created throughout Halla. It’s like he’s draining the positive spirit and weakening us, while building the dark spirit of his own Solara. That’s the source of his power, and it’s growing all the time. It’s why he threw Halla into chaos, to feed the spirit of his own Solara.”
“I’ve sensed that,” Uncle Press agreed. “Spirits are not only diminishing, they are fleeing. The spirit of Solara has been about all mankind, the good and the bad. The positive and the negative.”
Loor offered, “Does that mean Saint Dane has been collecting the negative, aggressive spirits to create his own base of power?”
Uncle Press thought, and nodded. “It makes sense.”
Gunny whistled in awe. “So if the spirit of the exiles is the only thing keeping the proper Solara alive, the rest of Halla is pretty much feeding Saint Dane’s side.”
“Exactly!” I declared. “But Nevva said he won’t have full control until the light from the proper Solara is snuffed. Forget the little blip that just happened because of the Black Water victory. Solara is dangerously close to extinction.”
Alder said, “Perhaps there is some way to diminish the power of this dark Solara.”
“Now we’re talking!” I shouted. “It’s what Nevva said. To defeat him we have to weaken him. I think there’s only one way of doing that. We have to force him into using his own power to defend himself. Let’s snuff his light before he snuffs ours.”
Siry said, “Uh, how?”
“By attacking him in the Conclave of Ravinia,” I said flat out.
I don’t know if I actually heard gasps, or imagined it because I was expecting them. I definitely got a lot of shocked, openmouthed looks.
“How?” was the simple, stunned question that came from Aja.
“With an army that is seventy thousand strong” was my answer.
There was another moment of stunned silence.
“The exiles?” Kasha said with confusion. “That isn’t possible. They are on Eelong.”
“They are,” I admitted. “I might be totally wrong about this, and if I am, I’ll back off, but if we have the power of Solara at our disposal, why can’t we use it the same way Saint Dane does?”
The Travelers exchanged confused looks. Nobody had any idea what I was talking about.
Except for Loor.
“Is it possible?” she asked tentatively. “Could we do it too?”
“Do what?” Aja snapped at her.
Uncle Press was next to join the party. “I can’t think of a riskier move, on many levels.” “But is it possible?” I asked him.
Uncle Press thought for a moment, then nodded. “It may be, especially in light of what happened here after the victory on Eelong.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” I added.
Aja was getting frustrated. She didn’t like being behind the curve on ideas. “Would someone please explain this to me?”
“Solara has been rejuvenated,” I said. “Positive spirit has flooded back in. We could use that power to continue being Travelers and jumping around Halla and trying to protect the exiles, or we could make one grand move and try to end this once and for all.”
Elli gasped when she realized what I was proposing. “You want to create a flume to move the exiles.”
“Exactly,” I answered.
I sensed everybody stiffen. What I was proposing was nothing short of desperation. No argument there. I looked to Aja. She stared back at me. I was waiting for her to say how crazy I was. How dumb a move it would be. How it would drain every last bit of spirit from Solara, and that if we failed, it would mean Saint Dane would be free to create his own universe. She would have been right on every count.
“It’s brilliant,” she declared. Gotta love Aja Killian.
“Can we really do this, Press?” Gunny asked with concern. “It’s quite the tall order.”
“Not long ago my answer would have been no,” Uncle
Press said. “But we’ve been handed an opportunity. The victory on Eelong gave it to u
s. The exiles gave it to us.” He looked to Elli and added, “Nevva gave it to us.” Elli beamed.
Uncle Press continued, “What we’re talking about here would deplete the spirit of Solara, but if what happened on Eelong is any indication, defeating Saint Dane where he lives, controlling the heart of Ravinia, and taking back Third Earth might just turn things around.”
“Then let’s do it!” Siry shouted enthusiastically. Siry never needed much convincing when it came to taking action.
Uncle Press cut him off. “Hang on. If this is going to work, two things have to happen.”
He walked up to me and spoke with dead seriousness. “This is still about the exiles. Do you think they can be convinced to go on the offense like this?”
“I don’t know” was my honest answer. “All I can do is ask. They could turn me down cold, but I don’t think so. I’ve seen them in action, and they have a score to settle.”
“What is the second thing?” Alder asked.
Uncle Press looked around at the group and said, “Defeating Saint Dane on Third Earth cannot be our entire goal.”
“What else is there?” Kasha asked.
“This is not about a battle. Or a territory. This is about taking the positive spirit that exists inside each and every one of those exiles and using it to take back Halla. It’s not about a place. Or destroying an army. Or even revenge. It’s about free will triumphing over oppression. For that victory to be complete, the exiles must triumph… and Saint Dane’s spirit must end.”
“Hobey,” Spader gasped. “You think that in order to win this battle, we have to destroy Saint Dane?”
“I do,” Uncle Press said sadly. “Bobby’s right. He controls the worlds of Halla. If he were to continue, I have no doubt that he would simply regroup somewhere else. This battle must not only rebuild the spirit of Solara, it must end the dark spirit that Saint Dane has been nurturing-the spirit that he embodies.”
Uncle Press looked at me and added, “If you think that’s possible, then you have my blessing, and the blessing of each and every spirit of Solara.”
Yikes. Putting it that way, I kind of had second thoughts. Could we really do it? Could we not only beat Saint Dane, but end him as well?
Uncle Press added, “I can’t see the future. I have no idea how this might come out. I only know the way things were meant to be. It’s clear to me now, more so than ever before. I believe the conflict has been leading to this moment from the beginning. This is why you’re here. This is why you’re all here. To do anything less than take all that Solara has left and use it to defeat Saint Dane would be denying our destiny. You’re right, Bobby, this is our moment. Let’s seize it, and end this once and for all.”
Chapter 35
I knew it was the end.
I felt it in the core of my being. There have been many times over the past few years that I felt we might be nearing the end, only to have another wrinkle appear. Another surprise. Another door opening that we didn’t even know existed. Each time, the struggle continued. This time would be different. There would be no second chances. No do-overs. No hope of salvaging victory from defeat. We were gambling it all, which meant there could be only one of two outcomes: We would either vanquish Saint Dane and begin to rebuild Halla, or Solara would be destroyed along with the Travelers. There would be no in between.
Uncle Press was right. It had all been leading to this moment. Every battle, every territory in jeopardy, every twist had been nothing more than prelude. As I looked back on it all, it seemed impossible that it could have been any other way. Saint Dane had brought out the darker nature of mankind, promising Utopia in exchange for freedom. In the end it proved too tempting for too many people.
I wondered if the Ravinians, those who benefited from his evil quest, felt that it had been worthwhile. Would they have made the same choices if they could have seen the future? We’d never know.
Now the last hope rested with those who did not accept that vision of Utopia. Would the spirit of mankind, the spirit of free will and compassion, be strong enough to triumph over the dark power of repression and persecution? That’s what this battle would be about, and it would start with the exiles. If they backed down, the battle would be lost right then and there, for it would mean they no longer were willing to fight for what they believed in. Their spirit was keeping Solara alive. I feared that if they did not accept the challenge, it would be a sign that that spirit had already diminished. If they accepted it, I believed that act alone would help to reinvigorate Solara. I felt certain that if the exiles accepted the challenge, Solara would be able to provide us with the means to fight one last battle.
As to who would win, I had no idea.
Being there, at that moment, felt right. For me, that is. In the beginning I had been frustrated that I didn’t know every truth. Uncle Press told me that I needed to learn through experience, and he was right. I had to go through it all to become the person I was. If not for all that I had learned, all that I had seen and suffered and lost, I would not have had the strength or conviction to fight the battle before us. I had truly become the lead Traveler. The others looked to me for strength and guidance. I didn’t have all the answers, but I had grown confident enough to make choices. And I chose to fight. I believed that this was the way it was meant to be.
I was ready.
My first stop was not Eelong. For this battle to work, we needed to lay the groundwork. Instead of going right to Eelong, Patrick and I went to Third Earth. I needed to see Mark.
“Something’s happening,” Mark told me.
He was on edge. Much more so than when I had seen him the last time. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he began stuttering again. The three of us were together in the Manhattan warehouse where his band of rebels made their base. We sat in front of one of the stolen Ravinian helicopters while many of his friends watched us from a distance, trying to hear our conversation. I didn’t want them to be part of this. We needed Mark’s sole attention.
“The dados are being moved out of the factory,” he continued.
“To where?” Patrick asked, surprised.
“They’re gathering outside the walls of the conclave. They’re activating them long enough to bring them out, then shutting them down again. Bobby, I think they’re making room so they can build more.”
That was a sobering thought, but I didn’t think it was correct. There were already thousands of those robots.
Mark continued, “If they march on Manhattan, they’ll wipe us out.”
“They’re not going to march on Manhattan,” I said with confidence. “That’s why we’re here.” I had Mark’s full attention.
“I need you to be my eyes, Mark,” I said. “We need to know exactly what’s happening with those dados. Patrick will stay with you. If something happens, he can blast out of here and let us know instantly. Can you do that?”
Mark shrugged. “Sure. I can have eyes in every one of those tunnels around the conclave. We’re organized, Bobby. If somebody so much as farts, we’ll know it.”
“You can keep that to yourself,” I said with a chuckle. “Anything else, let Patrick know immediately.”
“And I’ll let the Travelers know,” Patrick added.
“What’s going on?” Mark asked. “If they’re not going to march on Third Earth, what’s the point?”
I told him flat out. “The exiles are on Eelong. In Black Water. Saint Dane is going to create a flume and send the dado army to attack them there.”
Mark squinted, thinking, working to get his head around the idea.
“Okay. Not good,” he concluded.
“No, and we’ve come up with a plan to stop them.”
Mark sat silently, anxiously waiting for my next words. It was time to drop the bomb on him.
“We’re going to attack the Ravinian conclave.”
He stared at me with a blank look, as if he didn’t understand what I’d said. He didn’t move for a solid ten seconds.
“
Mark? You there?”
He shook his head and said, “Yeah. Wow. For a second I thought you said you wanted to attack the Ravinian conclave.”
“I did.”
He blinked once. And again. “L–Listen, Bobby,” he stuttered, and instantly reacted to it. “Damn! I hate that.” “It’s okay. You should be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m stunned. And you’re crazy. We’ve got rebels hiding all over the area. We’ve built up a pretty decent armory of stolen weapons, too. But to defend ourselves. We don’t have the manpower to attack that fort. I admire your guts, Bobby, but it’s suicide.”
“I’m not asking you or your rebels to join in the attack,” I said.
Mark frowned. “Then who the heck is going to do it? You? The Travelers? It might be different if we could enlist those seventy thousand exiles, but short of that, no way.”
My answer was to smile at him. It took about five seconds until I saw the look of realization change his expression.
“Are you serious?” he asked with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
“Deadly.”
“They agreed to attack the conclave?”
Patrick and I shared looks.
“Not yet,” I admitted. “That’s my next stop.”
Mark winced. My boast of leading an overwhelming attack force suddenly appeared not only crazy, but hollow. I figured it was time to let him know exactly where we stood. With everything.
I had briefly explained it before, but this time I laid it all out in detail. For the next hour Patrick and I told him about Solara and the force of spirit that helped guide mankind. We explained how Saint Dane corrupted that spirit into giving him the power to create a new universe. I even explained our plan to create a flume that would bring the exiles to Third Earth. We told him everything. Mark didn’t question a word. I think that as incredible a story as it was, we were filling in the blanks that had been confounding him since he was fourteen years old. He had been just as involved with this war as I had. He understood. He accepted. Mark Dimond was up to speed.
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