My eyes adjusted enough to see gray shadows. That was good. It meant there was at least a little ambient light. I walked farther and sensed that I was in a wide corridor. I was about to take another step when something made me stop. Call it instinct, but before putting my foot down, I looked at the floor to see…nothing. The floor ended. I was about to step off a jagged edge into a dark abyss. Talk about a shot of adrenaline! I took a step back and dropped to one knee. That was way too close to disaster.
Once I calmed down, I peered over the edge to find there was a twisted ladder leaning against the edge. This had to be the entrance to the “mine” that Loque described. I gingerly climbed down the rickety ladder, descending even farther into darkness. It wasn’t easy since I also had to juggle the wooden pole I’d found. I wasn’t about to give that thing up. No way. I climbed down forty, fifty feet. It was hard to tell. Oddly, the farther down I got, the brighter it became. I wondered if there might actually be another tunnel opening down there that was letting in the last bit of daylight. Whatever it was, it was okay by me.
I finally hit bottom to see there was no other tunnel opening, but there was light. Artificial light. Kind of like the lights from Ibara. I saw a crudely strung set of what looked like white Christmas lights stretched along a narrow, low tunnel. They had lights down here after all! I thought back to when Siry and I stepped into the core of the Lifelight pyramid and it powered back to life. Somehow there was still power in Rubic City. It looked as if the Flighters had figured out a way to use that power to light their way into the tunnel. It wasn’t bright by any means. I’d say one small light hung every ten feet or so. That was okay. It was enough to keep me from walking into walls.
Before taking another step, I stood there and listened. I wanted to know whether I was alone, or if the Flighters were up ahead, digging. I didn’t hear anything, other than the occasional crack or groan of the tunnel. I hoped that was because the Flighters had finished for the day, and it was “Heigh-ho” home from work. The alternative wasn’t a good one. If nobody was digging, it might mean that they had already found the flume. I didn’t even want to consider that possibility.
The tunnel was treacherous at best. Every few feet I saw something that was used to hastily shore it up. There were flimsy wooden beams and thick cement tubes. It was all pretty haphazard. I even saw a twisted chair straining to hold up an overhang of rock. It wasn’t exactly a professional job, but why should it be? Flighters didn’t know how to dig tunnels. Even if they did, they didn’t have adequate material to help them make it safe. The creaking and groaning made me think that this whole thing could collapse if I so much as farted.
It was eerie, because the walls weren’t all rock and dirt. All around me were layers of compressed, man-made objects that had been crushed by other structures that fell on top. I saw street signs, furniture, window frames, and street lights. There were plates and pots and utensils. I passed by tools and doorknobs and even the front bumper of a car. It was like a Rubic City sandwich. Everything was fused into the rock and sand, making it an archaeological trip through the city’s history. No need for those future archaeologists to do much digging. It was all right there and exposed.
I walked slowly, with the wooden pole out in front of me in case I didn’t see something in my way. The tunnel was low and narrow. It seemed like they didn’t want to dig out any more than they had to. Can’t say I blame them, since they only had their hands to dig with. For that reason I was surprised to see that, after walking a few hundred yards, the tunnel grew wide and high. Above me, running along the ceiling, were the jagged remains of two steel beams that ran parallel to each other. I didn’t understand what they could be, until I walked a few more feet and had to stop short. What I saw above me was impossible, yet it was there. It was the undercarriage of a subway car that was dangling down from the rock ceiling above. I counted twelve steel wheels in all. The parallel steel beams were train tracks. It looked as if they had tunneled beneath this train without realizing it was there. It must have been a mistake, because there were several rickety-looking vertical beams holding the car up. They looked like the wooden cross-ties from the tracks. I could hear the massive train squeak and groan, as if it wanted to break loose from the ceiling and come crashing down. I’m guessing that once they discovered the train, it would have been too much work to stop and dig around it, so they just kept on going. It was a dangerous decision. I hoped it was a bad one.
Beyond that point, the tunnel narrowed again. There were no lights in this section, so it was slow going. I got the feeling that I was nearing the end of the digging, because there was less shoring-up going on. I walked slowly, so as not to slam my face into anything.
That’s when I heard the sound. I can best describe it as “hollow.” It was a sound that felt familiar, though I couldn’t place it. Up until that point it had been deathly quiet, other than the creaks and cracks of settling rock. This sound was different. Was it the quig-bees massing for another attack? No. This was different. It was more like white noise. It was an odd sound to hear down there in that narrow labyrinth. I took a few more steps and saw a sharp turn to the right about thirty yards ahead. Light glowed from around the corner. Something was up there. I stopped and listened. Could the Flighters be around that corner, digging? No. There were no human sounds. No movement. Only that haunting, hollow sound…
That I now recognized. My gut twisted. I started to run. It didn’t matter that I could barely see where I was going. I had to know that I was wrong. I told myself it could be anything. It could have been another wide cavern. Or a subway station. Or anything other than the one thing I absolutely knew it would be. I reached the turn and stopped. If I was right, I had lost. I knew I was right. Turning the corner was only a formality. I stepped forward, turned, and saw exactly what I feared. The reason there were no Flighters digging was because their work was done. I was too late. Rising up before me was the tunnel to infinity.
They’d found the flume.
Veelox was back in play.
I took a few numb steps toward the tunnel. I wanted it to be a mistake. I wanted it to be some random, natural tunnel that just happened to exist beneath Rubic City. Yeah, right.
“You made it sooner than I expected, Pendragon,” came a voice from behind me.
I turned quickly to see someone step up behind me. It was Telleo. No, it was Nevva Winter in Telleo’s form. I guess it was a strange thing to think at that moment, but as we l stood there facing each other, I found myself wishing I had met the real Telleo. I bet we would have been friends. But that would never be. Telleo was dead. Nevva Winter wasn’t. She had followed me down into that tunnel to say the two words I least wanted to hear. Two simple words that made me want to scream. “He’s gone.”
JOURNAL #34
(CONTINUED)
IBARA
Iclutched the wooden pole and ran at Nevva. I was ready to kill her. I swear I was. Call it frustration. Call it rage. Call it the horror that comes from realizing I was less than worthless. Call it whatever you want, but in that moment I wanted to kill her. Nevva didn’t move. She stood there calmly, just as she did when dealing with the leaders of Blok on Quillan. Nothing bothered her, not even an enraged Traveler who had just been told that he was an imbecile. I wound up, ready to crush her.
I don’t know why I stopped. It was like an unseen hand was holding back the pole, preventing me from lashing out. There wasn’t any unseen hand, of course. I may have been out of control, but I’m not a killer. Still, I needed to vent my fury. I turned and flung the pole into the flume. It disappeared into the dark tunnel. I heard it clatter harmlessly on the rock floor.
“I’m sorry, Pendragon,” Nevva said. “You deserve better than this.”
“What the heck does that mean?” I snarled. “You mean well. You’re just…naive. I’m sorry for using your innocence against you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You wanted what’s best for Ibara, and for all the territories. I know
that. Saint Dane knows that. You just have no idea how wrong your way of thinking is.”
“Let me understand,” I said through gritted teeth. “You and your monster boss think I’m wrong for wanting the people of the territories to decide how they live their lives, and you prove it by twisting their worlds into nightmares and then saying it was their own fault for being weak? Is that how it works?”
“I prefer to say that we have proven beyond any doubt that when given the choice, the people of the territories will always take the easy, selfish road. They can be so much more, Pendragon. The heights they can reach are limitless, so long as they aren’t held back by the weak and foolish.”
“So what’s Saint Dane doing? Weeding out the weak, so the worthy can shine?”
Nevva smiled. “Something like that. Which are you, Pendragon? Weak or worthy?”
I was tired of the riddles. “You make this sound like it’s all been a contest between Saint Dane and me to prove who’s right.”
“That’s exactly what it was.” I shot Nevva a look. What did that mean? “And now it’s over,” she continued. “You ended it.”
“Did I? Looks to me like the flume is back open for business.”
Nevva strolled past me toward the flume. “That’s not what I meant. You didn’t end this by burying the flume. You ended it when you quit.”
“What?”
Nevva spun to me with fire in her eyes. “It was the last test, Pendragon. You failed. You gave up the fight. I know what’s in your heart. You buried the flume because you were done. You wanted to live a peaceful life on an island paradise, building huts and staring at the stars with Telleo. You…gave…up.”
My anger was building. Not because she was wrong. Because she was right.
“It was only a convenience that Saint Dane was here,” she continued. “It pushed away the guilt. You could justify your actions by telling yourself that Saint Dane was trapped along with you. Did you really believe that? Did you honestly think Saint Dane would roll over and die?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to admit the truth.
“Of course not, but you pretended, didn’t you? This was the ultimate test for you. The lead Traveler. All you did was prove how weak you are. I’ll answer my own question. You aren’t worthy, Pendragon. When the Convergence is complete, you will get what you deserve. Nothing.”
I was trembling with anger. With guilt. “What is the Convergence?” I asked lamely.
Nevva’s answer was to toss something at me. I caught it without thinking. I didn’t have to look to know what it was.
It was my Traveler ring.
“Yes, I took it,” she admitted. “Back when I thought you were still a threat.”
I clutched the ring, wishing that getting it back might actually mean something. Nevva dashed that hope.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she said with arrogance. “Go on. Talk to your friends. They’ll tell you the truth. The Convergence began the instant you gave up. The first domino has fallen, Pendragon. Exactly the way Saint Dane said it would. You’re right about one thing though. The battle is over. You’re just a bit confused as to who the victor is. Keep the ring as a memento of your failed mission.”
Behind Nevva the flume came to life. As I watched the light grow from the depths of the tunnel, I was grabbed from behind by several strong hands. Flighters. We weren’t alone. They must have been creeping up the tunnel from behind me. I struggled to pull free, but there were too many of them. My Traveler ring fell to the ground and rolled away. Gone again. The Flighters wrestled me to the dirt and held me tight. I had to strain and twist my neck to see what was happening.
The rock walls of the flume dissolved into crystal. The bright light turned Nevva into a silhouette. The Flighters didn’t let me go, but they hid their eyes. They must have been petrified by what they were seeing, not that I cared. I expected to see Saint Dane step out of the light. I wanted Saint Dane to step out of the light. This wasn’t about Nevva. She was only the messenger. She stayed on Ibara to keep me occupied, while he was free to roam Halla. That was now painfully clear. How long had the flume been open? How long had he been gone? It probably didn’t matter. It could have been open for months or minutes. Saint Dane could go wherever and whenever he wanted to. For the first time in my life, I desperately wanted him to appear.
He didn’t. The shadow that was deposited at the mouth of the flume looked nothing like him. The image was slighter, and much shorter. Whoever it was stood ramrod straight as they walked out of the tunnel. When the light receded, I saw something that made my head nearly spin. It made no sense, but there was no mistake.
It was Veego, the game master from Quillan. The woman looked exactly as I remembered her. She had short dark hair that was slicked straight back from her sharp features. She wore a single-piece dark pants suit that was immaculate. In her hands was the pole I had thrown into the flume.
“Hello, Nevva,” she said formally. “Did you misplace this?”
Nevva took the pole and threw it aside.
“Welcome back,” Nevva said. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
This was Veego’s original home. Or should I say it was her home three hundred years in the future of her own time. She and her nutbag brother, LaBerge, were brought to Quillan by Saint Dane to run the sadistic Quillan games. What the heck would she be doing back, three hundred years later than when she had lived on Veelox?
Nevva pointed to me and said, “Of course you remember Pendragon.”
Veego looked down her nose at me. With a disapproving sneer she said, “I see you’re still playing games, Challenger Red.”
“She’s not a Traveler,” I hissed at Nevva. “How can she travel?”
“I told you, the Convergence has begun,” Nevva said matter-of-factly, as if she were telling me the time. “Halla is changing. When it is complete, the territories will become one.”
Veego ignored me and looked straight at Nevva, saying, “Is everything ready?”
“For quite some time.”
“Ready for what?” I screamed, struggling against the Flighters’ grasps.
Veego looked at me with a cold stare. “Blok has finally seen its way clear to reward me appropriately for my successful game services. I have to say, it’s long overdue.”
Nevva added, “Veego and LaBerge have done such a phenomenal job with the Quillan games that the Blok corporation has decided to present them with their very own island.” She looked to Veego and added, “It’s a beautiful location. I trust it will be up to your standards.”
My heart sank. “What island?” I screamed. I didn’t want to know the answer.
Nevva gave me a fake smile and answered, “Why, Ibara of course.”
I was so angry I nearly broke loose from the Flighters. They forced me back down, pushing my face into the dirt, and sat on me.
“It’s not just an island,” I shouted. “It’s a civilization. You know as well as I do, Nevva, the tribunal won’t allow this.”
Nevva and Veego exchanged knowing looks. I didn’t like that. Knowing looks were never good.
“They won’t have a choice,” Nevva said.
The flume came back to life. Veego and Nevva stepped out and faced it. I felt as if I were inside of a dream. Who could be coming in now? LaBerge? How could he affect anything? He was an idiot. Saint Dane? I hoped so. Beyond that, I had no other guesses. I figured I would be wrong anyway.
I was. When light from the flume filled the cavern, I saw two men walking out of the flume, shoulder to shoulder. Followed by two more men, followed by two more. And on and on. I stopped fighting. There was no use. I was watching the future of Ibara, and nothing I could do would change it. The men wore the crisp, green uniforms and gold helmets of the Blok security force from Quillan. They were dados. Veego spun on her heel and led the line of robots past me.
“Good-bye, Challenger Red,” she spat at me with false warmth. “Pay a visit sometime. You’re always welcome.”
She strolled out of the cavern, her posture perfect, as if she were leading a military parade. She turned the corner that led to the tunnel out, and was gone. The dados kept marching out of the flume. Twenty, thirty, forty, I gave up counting. They marched in a straight line, two by two, like, well, like robots. They were identical. No expressions. No emotions. No morals other than to carry out their orders. I couldn’t stop them. No way. What I needed to do was warn Genj. There was another war coming. Ibara would soon be under attack. In those few frantic seconds I made my plans. These Flighters couldn’t hold me forever. Once I got loose I’d make my way out of there and back to the harbor. There were a few skimmers left under the dock. I’d take one to Ibara. It was night. I’d follow the stars. I had no idea how the dados would get there, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t let them reach Ibara before me. I had to warn the people of my new home that they were in danger. On the voyage I’d have time to figure out a way to defend the island again. Yes, that was my plan.
As the last dados rounded the corner into the tunnel, Nevva walked over and looked down at me.
“This is only one small example, Pendragon. Throughout Halla the strong will thrive and be rewarded. The weak will perish. That’s the way it was meant to be.”
That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked out, sending one Flighter reeling back across the cavern. With my legs free, I jackknifed up and grabbed another Flighter around the neck and twisted. He squealed in pain and let go. The third Flighter didn’t want any part of that action and let me go too. All three of them took off running after the dados.
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