D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“KEM,” Mark croaked. “You own part of KEM?”

“Half of it, to be exact,” Naymeer corrected. “It was my idea to make the first prototype of a human dado in your image, Mark. I thought it was a fitting tribute since you were the inventor of Forge…and your parents owned a quarter of the company.”

“What?” Mark shouted.

“Oh, yes. They did quite well after you left them on First Earth. KEM flourished due to your technology. Their stake in the company grew. Actually it was your stake, but since you gave them control of the company they did what they saw fit. Your father was a shrewd man. I’m sorry to say that they both passed away tragically in the early 1970s. I believe it was an automobile accident.”

Mark staggered to sit in a chair. “My parents are dead?”

“My condolences, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. If they had lived, they’d be over a hundred years old today.”

Mark was reeling. “I–I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Courtney touched Mark’s shoulder to console him.

“Life goes on,” Naymeer added casually. He touched the cheek of the Mark dado that stood in the closet. “This is only a prototype. It doesn’t function. It will be used as a design guide for the dados of the future.”

“It’s all coming together,” Mark whispered to Courtney.

Naymeer closed the closet door and continued, “It wouldn’t be right of me to use funds from Ravinia to help KEM. No, it would be illegal, and that kind of activity will not be tolerated. What I need, Mark, is your piece of KEM.”

“My piece?” Mark shouted. “I don’t have a piece of KEM.”

“But you do,” Naymeer countered. “When your parents died, they didn’t make provisions to dispose of your shares. They have been lying dormant, gathering value since their death. Most of the technology you see around you today sprang from that initial, small invention you brought to England in 1937. KEM’s reach is global. I’d estimate that your piece of the company is worth somewhere in the range of a few billion dollars. Give or take.”

It was Courtney’s turn to sit down. “Give or take… “She couldn’t continue. The words caught in her throat.

Naymeer stalked toward the two.

“I need control of those shares, Mark,” he said. “Your place in history is secure. Your place in the future can be just as dramatic. If you do not agree with all my teachings, fine. We can debate. I can bend. But do not throw away this chance. Sign your shares over to me, and you will stand beside me at the United Nations. Together we can create a new world. A new Halla. It can be paradise, Mark. You can end war. You can end hunger. All you need do is have the strength to make the difficult choices, as I have.”

Mark put his head in his hands. Courtney kept her arm around his shoulders. Naymeer stood over them, waiting.

Mark didn’t lift his head to look at the man. “What if I say no?”

“I will take control of the shares anyway.”

“How can you do that?” Courtney asked.

Naymeer scoffed and said, “No one will ever know you were here. The mystery of what happened to Mark Dimond will continue and the remaining shares will become mine.”

“Not while I’m alive,” Mark said.

Naymeer’s eyes sparkled. He smiled and said, “Exactly. You too can be marginalized.”

The room shook. Naymeer’s dog barked. It was like an earthquake was rocking the mansion. The crystal chandelier swayed and clinked. A lamp fell onto the floor. The event lasted only ten seconds before all became still once again.

“What was that?” Courtney asked, stunned.

Naymeer shrugged. “I believe we have visitors.”

I have no idea what that word means anymore. Everything I believed in since I was a kid has been thrown to the wind. Scattered. Shattered. Lost. The irony is that, with so many truths being revealed, I think I finally have a handle on the conflict I’ve been in the middle of for so long. Out of confusion comes clarity. Sort of. I don’t have all the answers yet. I may never. But I now believe that with what I’ve learned, I can end it all.

I know, I’ve said that before, only to discover that Saint Dane had yet another curve to throw at me. That could happen again. Easily. As I make my final play, I would not be surprised if it turns out to be a false end. A shadow. A dream. It’s happened before, right? As frustrating as that is, I can’t let it dictate my actions.

I know how to end this war. I have to make my move.

It isn’t without risks. That speaks to the larger reality that I’m still pretty much in the dark about. Alder told me that the only way to defeat your enemy is to understand what he wants. I now believe I know what Saint Dane wants. Just as important, I know how he plans to get it. That’s huge. It gives me hope that we can actually defeat him. I get it. I understand. I think.

What still remains a mystery is the engine. How can this all be happening? I may understand the rules enough to play this game now, but the grander reality of how it all came to be is still floating out there somewhere. I wish I knew how to reel it in. I have to believe that it all comes down to the truth about who I am. The truth about all the Travelers. A big part of me still feels like the kid who lived for fourteen years in Stony Brook, blissfully unaware of the worlds that swirled around him. I miss that life. I miss my family more with each day. Not that I didn’t miss them before, but now that I’m questioning the truth of my own existence, it’s as if I’ve lost not only my family, but my core. If, as Saint Dane said, the Travelers are illusions, does that mean my family was an illusion too? As impossible as that sounds, the fact that they disappeared along with any sign that they ever existed doesn’t seem so far fetched. What about the time my dad finally got me to balance on my two-wheeler? Or the time my mother jumped off the dock into Chautauqua Lake to save me from drowning? Or all the times I read books to Shannon? Or picked up Marley’s poop? Or Thanksgiving dinners or school plays or trips to Disney World or getting my freakin’ boo-boos kissed! Did any of that actually happen?

That’s one truth I’d just as soon not know, because I’m afraid of the answer. One of the driving forces behind every action I’ve taken is the hope that I would one day see my family again. What if there is no family to see? It would mean that all my memories, my emotions, my security, everything that makes me me, isn’t real. It’s not a good feeling. The only way I can deal with it, is to not deal with it. I have to stay focused on the here and now. The challenge at hand. Saint Dane.

The rest will come when it comes, though I’m not sure I want it to.

As I write this journal, I am preparing to make our final play. Or what I hope will be our final play. I ended my previous journal where Alder, Patrick, and I were at the flume on Denduron, preparing to return to Second Earth. I wanted to end the journal there because I felt I was closing a chapter. Everything that had happened up to that point was prelude. I wanted it to remain separate, so I finished that journal and kept it safe.

This next journal marks my return to Second Earth for what I believe will be the final time. The story has come full circle.

The battle for Earth is the battle for Halla. It is about to begin.

“His name is Alexander Naymeer,” Patrick began. “He lives on top of the flume.”

I was all set to jump right into the flume and head home. Patrick convinced me to wait. Why not? Time never seemed to be an issue. The flumes would put us where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. We could afford to take a little time and get up to speed. It wasn’t easy. With every word he spoke, with each new revelation, each new twist, it made me want to leap into the flume all the more. I didn’t. I was patient. We stayed in that chilly cave and listened to it all.