D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“This is all that’s left,” Richard explained. “At least, it’s all that I know about. I suppose there are other bits here and there, but this is all that I’m aware of.” The old man walked toward Patrick, carrying the mysterious parcel. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re looking for answers. Maybe it’s time more people tried.” Patrick pulled the red covering away to reveal what looked like the cover of a book. Just the cover. One edge was shredded, as if torn from the binding.

“They’ve destroyed all the evidence,” Richard continued. “They’ve destroyed history. It’s been so long that people now question if it ever happened at all. There are a few who try to keep the memory alive, if only to stop the insanity from happening again. But it’s too late for that. It’s still happening. It never stopped. That’s why I’m afraid. That’s why I checked your arm. I needed to see if you had the mark that made you one of them.”

“Who are they?” Patrick asked, numb.

Richard’s answer was to show him the book cover. “Take this,” Richard ordered. “It’s not doing any good hidden away here.”

It was definitely the cover from some ancient volume. How old, Patrick couldn’t begin to guess. It was made of cracked brown leather and had two faded gold imprints. Running vertically down one side was a single word in ornate one-inch-high letters. “Ravinia,” Patrick whispered, reading.

The word meant nothing to him, but it wasn’t the word that held his attention. It was the symbol next to it. The symbol was familiar. The symbol made his head spin.

“Beware of people who are marked with that symbol, Teacher,” Richard warned. “After all these years, they aren’t finished. They haven’t given up. I don’t know what their goal is, but it isn’t good. If they knew this book cover existed, they’d destroy it. And then they’d destroy you.”

The large symbol was five inches across. At one time it must have been embossed with shiny bright gold. All that was left of the color were small flecks. Patrick ran his hand over the imprint, hoping to gather insight. He didn’t. He was more confused than ever.

The symbol was a five-pointed star. It was the symbol that marked the gates to the flumes.

Shortly after, Patrick sat alone in the overgrown park behind the library. At one time it was called “Bryant Park,” but would now more aptly be called “Junky Messed-Up Park.” Benches were broken, garbage was strewn, weeds choked everything they could grab on to. Patrick held the book cover inside his shirt, against his chest. He looked up at the gloomy gray sky. He wanted to cry. What had happened to his home? What had gone so terribly wrong? He was alone. He needed help. He needed to get a grip. He needed to be a Traveler.

He pulled off his ring and laid it on the ground. He didn’t worry about being seen. Not a soul was around. His plan was to send the book cover to Bobby Pendragon. Pendragon would know what to do.

“Ibara,” he called out.

The ring didn’t move. Patrick stomped on it, as if trying to wake it up.

“Ibara!” he called again.

The ring didn’t respond. Patrick was reeling. In desperation he said, “First Earth.”

The ring didn’t respond. Patrick’s world was closing in on him and it wasn’t even his world. Not anymore. He had never felt more alone.

“What have you done, Pendragon?” he whispered, choking back emotion. “Where are you?”

The voyage back to New Yorkon the Queen Mary took six days. To Mark it felt like six weeks. He rarely left the cabin he shared with Dodger. The personable acolyte continually tried to cajole him into getting some air. Or exercise. Or anything. Mark wasn’t interested. He spent most of the day in bed or staring out at the never-ending Atlantic.

Dodger had better luck with Courtney and the Dimonds, convincing them to make the best of their situation. They played tennis and swam in the pool and enjoyed some fine meals. It was mostly because they didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t much joy involved. They were passing time. It was better than going crazy.

Looming over everyone’s head was the concern over what their next move would be. Courtney promised Mark she wouldn’t let on to his parents about what had happened with Nevva Winter and his Traveler ring. It would be up to Mark to tell them when he felt ready. The few times she asked Mark what was going through his head, she was answered with a shrug and a grunt. Courtney feared that Mark was sinking into a depression and she didn’t know how to shake him out of it. Courtney wasn’t a stranger to depression. She knew that no amount of cajoling or discussion would help. He would have to work things through on his own. All she could do was be there for him when he needed support. A few times she had to stop Dodger from barging into the stateroom to try to sweep Mark up and out. Up and out was the last thing Mark needed. What he needed was time. And answers.

It wasn’t until the last evening of the voyage that Mark came out of seclusion and knocked on the door to his parents’ stateroom.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said, hanging his head when he saw his mom and dad. “For everything.”

Mrs. Dimond hugged her son, squeezing him as if she never wanted to let him go.

Mr. Dimond said, “Mark, there isn’t a whole lot I understand about what’s been happening, but the one thing I know for certain is that you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“We’re proud of you,” Mrs. Dimond said, sniffling back tears. “To think of what you’ve had to deal with. It’s unfathomable. My little boy. When did you grow up?”

Mark wasn’t so sure when that happened. He kind of wished it hadn’t. He liked his old life just fine. At first the idea of Bobby fluming around to other worlds to battle evil sounded romantic and exciting. If he were being totally honest, he’d have to admit that back in the early days, he longed to be part of the adventure. As much as he feared the possibility of Saint Dane setting his sights on Second Earth, some part of him couldn’t wait for it to happen. He wanted to be part of the action. But those days were long gone. Saint Dane was evil. There was nothing romantic or adventurous about evil. It destroyed his life and nearly killed Courtney and his parents… not to mention the fact that his invention helped Saint Dane create the mechanism for mayhem on multiple territories. Almost four years had passed since he received Bobby’s first journal. He had become a different person. He missed the old person.

Mark hugged his mom back then pulled away. He wasn’t there only to apologize. He had business. It was time for a family conference.

“We’re worried about you,” Mrs. Dimond began.

“I’m worried about everything,” Mark countered.

“That’s why we’re worried,” Mr. Dimond added. “You can’t solve the problems of Halla yourself, nor can you be blamed for them.”

This made Mark look up at his dad. He wasn’t so sure he agreed.

“I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just say it flat out,” Mark said, changing the subject. “You guys can’t go home.”

The Dimonds exchanged confused looks.

Mark added, “To Second Earth I mean. I’m afraid if you do, you’ll die.”

“You mean because we have to use the flume with a Traveler?” Mr. Dimond asked.

“That,” Mark answered. “And becauseNevvathreatened your life.”

The Dimonds stared at their son for a long moment. A small “Oh” was all that Mrs. Dimond could get out. They watched Mark with wide eyes as he explained the deal he’d made with Nevva. His ring for their life. When they heard that, both the Dimonds winced.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” Mark added quickly. “But that would be wrong. I made a decision, and we’re going to have to live with it.”