“It’s gone further than we thought,” Mark concluded. “If the Ravinians know about the flume, they know everything.”
They heard a voice from the top of the stairs call to them. “Indeed. There are no secrets.”
All three spun and looked back up to see a man standing on top. He no longer wore his deep red robe. Instead he had on a gray business suit with a red tie. Embroidered into the tie was the star symbol.
“Welcome, my friends,” he said warmly. “My name is Alexander Naymeer. This is my conclave.”
To either side of him was a red-shirt guard. Unlike the guards at the Garden, these men were armed with pistols in hip holsters.
“I’m so glad you’ve come to visit,” he said kindly as he strolled casually down the stairs. “We have so much to talk about, and plan.”
“I don’t think so,” Courtney shouted. She looked to Mark and said, “We are so gone.” With that, she turned and ran for the flume.
“Stop!” a guard yelled. Both red shirts pulled their pistols and started to run down the stairs.
Mark ran after Courtney.
“Let’s go!” Mark shouted back to Patrick.
Patrick hesitated a moment more, then ran to catch up.
“Where to?” he asked breathlessly.
“Doesn’t matter,” Courtney shouted back. “Zadaa, Denduron, Quillan. Anywhere but here.” Bang! A shot was fired.
“Down!” Mark yelled, and pushed Courtney to the side, between two rows of seats. They were still over thirty yards from the mouth of the flume. Thirty long yards.
Patrick jumped the other way. They were on opposite sides of the aisle, both far from the flume.
“We can’t let them trap us here!” Courtney hissed.
“We can’t let them kill us!” Mark countered.
“They won’t! He wants us to be acolytes.” Courtney jumped up and started for the flume. Another shot was fired, kicking up a splinter from the chair in front of her. Courtney screamed and dropped back to the ground.
“You can’t travel without me,” Patrick called to them. “Follow me!”
“Patrick don’t!” Mark yelled.
Patrick didn’t listen. He jumped up, ran into the center aisle, and sprinted for the flume.
“C’mon!” he yelled back to the others.
He got only a few steps when another shot was fired.
Courtney screamed in horror.
Patrick stiffened instantly and spun back around in surprise. The look on his face said it all. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Patrick had been shot.
“Get down! Lie down!” Courtney yelled on the edge of hysteria.
Patrick staggered backward, stumbling toward the flume. He twisted his arm up to try and touch his back, as if to swat away an annoying bee. Mark and Courtney peeked over the tops of the chairs to see the Traveler from Third Earth twist and stumble as though he were drunk. A red patch of blood spread on the back of his shirt. His eyes rolled in his head.
“It hurts,” he cried, more in surprise than pain.
Courtney jumped up to go to him. Another shot was fired, hitting the seat in front of her. Mark grabbed Courtney and pulled her back down for protection.
“Stay down. They’ll shoot us all!” Mark cried.
Courtney was in tears. “Patrick! Sit down! Don’t move.”
Behind them, the red shirts hit the bottom of the stairs. Both had their guns drawn.
Patrick’s heels caught on the edge of the flume. He stumbled and fell down flat on his back, hard. Mark and Courtney clutched each other. Mark was ready to scream with anger and frustration…
When the flume came to life.
“What?” Mark gasped with dismay.
“He activated it,” Courtney whispered.
“Where is he going?” Mark asked.
“Who cares?”
“Get him out of there!” one of the guards yelled. The two took off running, sprinting up the aisle toward the flume.
Light began to shoot from the tunnel and fill the immense room. Patrick’s crumpled body became a silhouette on the floor of the flume.
“He won’t make it,” Courtney sobbed.
“Yeah, he will,” Mark said, and leaped from behind the seats, into the aisle, throwing himself at the first guard as he was about to pass them. Mark’s feet were off the ground as he nailed the guy in the ribs, knocking him into the opposite row. The musical notes grew louder. The second guard stopped. He knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Instead he raised his gun and took aim at Patrick. The wounded Traveler was in his sights for one second. The second after that, Courtney was in his sights. She stepped right in front of him, the barrel of the pistol pointed at her nose.
“Too late,” she said with a smug smile.
Brilliant light and music filled the massive room. The guard blinked. He didn’t know what to do.
“Put it down,” Naymeer’s calm voice said from the bottom of the stairs.
Reluctantly the guard lowered his pistol.
Courtney kept her eyes locked on the guard’s. Her back was to the flume. A moment later the light disappeared. The music ended. Patrick was gone.
“I do so abhor violence,” Naymeer said wistfully. “It is a tool of the ignorant.”
The guard stepped away from Courtney, revealing the elderly man as he strolled up the aisle. The first guard got to his feet, grabbed Mark, picked him up by the collar, and shoved him toward Courtney. The two stood together, facing Naymeer.
“We should be introduced formally,” the man said. “I am the Traveler from Second Earth.”
“No, you’re not,” Mark said quickly.
Naymeer raised a surprised eyebrow.
“Of course,” he said with a knowing smile. “I respect your loyalty. Won’t you please accept my humble offer and join me for dinner?”
“No, thank you,” Courtney answered.
Naymeer took a tired breath. “Really? I would think you two would be interested to hear about all the wonderful work I’ve been doing here.”
“She said ‘No, thank you,’” Mark said adamantly.
Naymeer shrugged. “It would be so much easier if we did this on my terms.”
Mark and Courtney didn’t budge.
“Easier for who?” Courtney asked in defiance.
“Please!” Naymeer said jovially. “Let’s not be contentious. I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing what I’ve done to my house in Stony Brook.” He leaned into them with a sly wink and added, “After all,
I didn’t get the chance to give you a tour the other night.”
He smiled, turned on his heel, and strode back down the aisle toward the stairs.
“The car is waiting outside,” he called back.
Mark and Courtney didn’t move. The two guards had to grab them by the arms and shove them toward the stairs.
“Where do you think Patrick tried to go?” Courtney whispered to Mark as they were pushed along.
Mark shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter… if he’s dead.”
JOURNAL#35
DENDURON
Theysaythetruth hurts.
They’re right. I’ve been getting hit with a lot of truths lately, and it hurts. I didn’t realize just how badly I had messed things up until the moment I hit Denduron. Yeah, things got worse. What can I say? I was an idiot. I was kidding myself. I gave up. I was tired. Guilty guilty guilty. On all counts. I’m not trying to defend myself or justify what I did, but for the record, I truly thought I was doing the right thing by burying the flume on Ibara and trying to trap Saint Dane. It wasn’t about being selfish. Okay, maybe it was a little bit, but I really thought it was the right thing to do.
I was wrong.
As I write this journal, I can only say that I now know how wrong I was. Saint Dane will not be defeated by a single clever move. It’s gone way beyond that. The only way I will be able to stop him now is to destroy him. Mark, Courtney, I don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance to read this, but I want you
to know that I’ve finally come to the realization that he’s been manipulating me from the very beginning. I don’t know if things have gone exactly as he planned, but that l doesn’t really matter. What counts now is that the battle is nearing its completion, and unless I can do something more than I’ve done, he will win. The Convergence has begun. The territories are tumbling toward chaos. The one glimmer of hope I have is that as far as I know, things haven’t hit bottom. Yet. That’s a scary thought, because things have gotten pretty bad. We’re on a path that’s leading toward the complete breakdown of Halla, so that Saint Dane can remold it the way he chooses. As grim as that sounds, at least we haven’t reached the end of that path yet. I’ve got to try and stop him before we do.
For that, I will have to crush him.
When the flume dropped me at the gate on Denduron, it first looked as if I wouldn’t be doing much of anything anymore. Normally the end of a flume ride is marked by a gentle deposit. I didn’t expect this arrival to be any different.
Wrong. Again. My feet touched the ground, gravity took over, and all hell broke loose. I was ramrodded square in the chest and knocked back into the flume. It happened so quickly I didn’t know what hit me. That’s not just a figure of speech. I really didn’t know what hit me. I was slammed down onto the hard rock floor of the flume, wishing that the receding light would have been thoughtful enough to take me back along with it. It didn’t. I was stuck with whatever it was that wasn’t happy about my arrival. Before I had the chance to see what had slammed me, I heard it. It was a growl. A familiar growl. It took all of two seconds for me to put it together.
The quigs were back on Denduron.
I didn’t try to figure out what that might mean. There would be time for that later, assuming I could get out of there and create a “later” for myself. I didn’t jump to my feet. I didn’t want to be a threat. At least not yet. I lay on my back and twisted my head to try and see my nemesis. My eyes hadn’t adjusted yet to the dark, so all I saw at the mouth of the flume were two eyes. Yellow eyes. They seemed to be floating in the air. I knew they weren’t. They were inside the head of a quig-bear. Locked on me. I heard its heavy breathing. This thing was going to attack again, and there was no place for me to go. I couldn’t even activate the flume and travel somewhere else. By the time the light came for me, I would be hamburger. I couldn’t just lie there either. It would be the easiest meal that quig ever had. There weren’t a lot of options. Actually, there was only one option. Attack.
I rolled forward and leaped for the mouth of the flume. It was a totally insane move, but the only thing I had going for me was surprise. I hoped that jumping at the monster would be the last thing it expected.
“Ahhhh!” I screamed, trying to sound more threatening than I was. Between my sudden move and the lame scream, I bought myself a second to act. That’s about how long the quig hesitated. I lunged at the eyes, but I wasn’t about to grab it. That would have been suicide. I remembered the multiple rows of sharp teeth set into the strong jaw of those prehistoric bears. It would have bitten my head off before my hands could reach its throat. The quig didn’t know that. For that one second it must have felt threatened, because it didn’t move. Or maybe it just couldn’t believe I was being such an idiot. Didn’t matter to me. I had bought another second to do something. That was the good news. I cut hard to my left, trying to get past the beast. I almost made it too. Almost. That was the bad news.
Two seconds isn’t a very long time. I had drawn parallel with the quig, thinking I might get past it. That hope didn’t last long. The beast realized I wasn’t a threat and made its own move. It lashed out with one oversized paw and slashed my left shoulder. It clubbed me so hard that the impact spun me around. I found myself reeling backward again. I desperately tried to keep my balance, but couldn’t stop from slamming the back of my head on the rock wall on the far side of the gate cavern. I forced myself to stay focused, because I knew if I didn’t, the next thing I’d hear was the sound of the quig chewing on me. Followed by my own screams. I looked up to see the beast on all fours near the mouth of the flume. It was exactly as I remembered the quigs from Denduron. It was a brute of a mutant bear with long bonelike spikes rising from its back. Though it was one of the smaller quigs, it had to be six hundred pounds. Its jaws were impossibly huge for its head. So were its teeth. So were its eyes, and they were looking right at me. I don’t know why it didn’t pounce right away. Maybe it was still surprised that I had the guts to try to escape. Or maybe it knew there was no rush. I was helpless. And hurt.
I forgot to mention that. It hadn’t just clubbed me with its paw. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I didn’t realize it at first, but it had sliced right through the thin material of my shirt from Ibara with its sharp claws. It had also sliced right through my shoulder. When I tried to push up on my left arm, I felt the pain. A quick look down showed me the grim reality. I was bleeding. Badly. The tattered shirt was already soaked with my brown blood and the wet patch was growing fast. I remembered back to when Uncle Press had speared the quig that had been chasing us down the snowy mountain as we escaped on a sled. The other quigs smelled the blood and attacked. They went after the wounded quig with a horrifying, cannibalistic bloodlust. I’ll never forget the pained screams of the injured quig as it was eaten alive by its buddies.
The quig in front of me had the same idea. I saw its big nose working, sucking in the blood smell that was filling the cavern. In a few seconds its own blood would start to boil. A few seconds after that the rest of my blood would start to spill. I only had a few seconds to save myself. Looking around quickly, I saw something that made absolutely no sense, but I didn’t stop to try to figure out the explanation. Lying in the dirt, not five feet from me, were four dado-killing rods from Quillan. Instinct took over. I rolled for the long, metal spears.
The quig let out a screeching bellow that made me shudder. I didn’t let it stop me though. It was coming for me. I would have only one shot. I grabbed for one of the rods. I needed two hands to control it, but didn’t have two hands. My shoulder burned with pain. It was useless. Too bad for me. The quig charged. It was making the first move. If there was anything I learned from Loor and Alder at the warrior training camp of Mooraj, it was to never make the first move. Lucky for me the quig hadn’t trained there as well. Since my back was to the beast, I had to sense its movement. My hope was, in its mindless bloodlust, it would attack without thinking. I swept up the long rod, clutched it with one fist, and spun around.
It all happened so fast it’s hard to describe exactly what happened. I remember seeing its eyes flash yellow. I also remember seeing its jaws opened wide, ready to chomp. In that brief flash of a moment, I remember thinking that it must have had a few hundred teeth in its mouth. Every last one looked sharp. For me, it was a target. I whipped the rod around and jammed it into the beast’s throat. I could feel the solid rod pierce flesh. The beast howled and gasped but didn’t stop its charge. It was the worst thing it could have done. The back end of the rod was planted against the rock wall of the cave, so the only place the other end could go was through the beast’s neck. I jumped out of the way and quickly grabbed another rod off the ground. The quig whipped its head back and forth, as if trying to shake the dado rod loose.
I quickly realized that the quig was just as dangerous that way as when it thought it was in control. The monster was in pain. It was angry. At me. The fight wasn’t over. I grabbed the second rod and did something that, as I write this now, seems too hideous to even consider, let alone pull off. But you do strange things when you’re fighting for survival. I lifted the weapon high like a javelin, but didn’t throw it. The chance of missing was too great. I had to make sure this weapon found its mark. I ran forward, timing my move so that I attacked at the exact moment the quig shook its head away from me. When it whipped its head back my way, I jammed the dado rod straight into its eye. The beast screamed. I didn’t back off. I forced the weapon farther in, no doubt piercing its brai
n. Gross? Well, yeah, but so what? It was him or me. Thinking back now, it kind of makes my stomach turn, but at the time all I could think of was killing that bad boy. It’s hard to describe the feeling. My heart was racing, obviously. I was desperate, but if I were to be honest, I’d have to say that I was also a little out of my mind.
It was a quig. A freakin’ quig! We had won Denduron. Its turning point had passed. Why was a quig guarding the flume? The monster stumbled. It may have been done, but I wasn’t. I had to make sure. I let go of the dado rod I had drilled through its brain and grabbed another. The beast fell onto its side. I didn’t hesitate. With my one good arm, I raised the third rod high and stabbed it down through its chest, where I imagined its black heart was beating. Now that I look back, I’m sort of ashamed to admit this, but writing these journals is about telling the truth for the ages, right? I stabbed the beast once, pulled out the rod, and stabbed it again, and again. I don’t know how many times I pierced the monster. More than I had to. At that point it was more about anger than self-preservation.
With each thrust I gritted my teeth and snarled, “I…am…not…done…yet!”
I stood over the dying beast, covered with blood, not sure how much was mine and how much was the monster’s. I had beaten it. I had survived. I wanted to stumble back into the flume and get out of there, but that wasn’t an option. Saint Dane had said that the first domino of Halla to fall would be Denduron. I thought we had prevented that many years before. As I stood looking down at the dying quig, I knew I was wrong. Denduron was back in play. I was in the right place. I also realized that Alder was on Denduron. The dado weapons were proof of that. They were the weapons he was supposed to return to Quillan. Why he hadn’t done that, I had no idea, but I was glad he hadn’t. They saved my life.
Once I calmed down, I realized I wasn’t out of danger. Far from it. If there was one quig, there would be more. If they smelled blood, they’d come running, looking for a frenzy feed. Since I was bleeding, I’d be on the menu. I had to be gone. I started to go for the leather and fur Denduron clothes that were lying around the flume cave, but soon realized I had a bigger problem. I was seriously hurting. If I wanted to make it out of that cave and down to the Milago village, I had to stop the blood flow. I pulled off my Ibara shirt, which wasn’t easy, because my left arm was useless. The pain from the slash felt like fire. Loque’s shirt was a rotted mess. That helped. I was able to half-pull and half-tear it off. Once I wrestled off the shirt, I saw two deep gouges that ran across my shoulder and my left pec. They were deep, too. Muscle was cut. I was in a bad way. How the heck was I supposed to bandage that up? Since my arm was useless anyway, I used the old shirt like a bandage and wrapped it around the top of my arm. That only covered half the wound. I looked around the cavern and saw some wide leather straps that could have been belts. I tied those under my armpits and around my chest. Would that stop the blood flow? I didn’t know. It was better than nothing.
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