D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“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.”

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.