D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“What do you have against outsiders?” I asked. Again, no answer.

“What happens if the tribunal thinks I’m guilty of being an outsider? What’s the worst that can happen?” “You’ll be executed,” the guy said flatly.

Oh. This definitely wasn’t a vacation resort. It was time to start worrying.

We didn’t say another word for the rest of our walk (drag) through the village. The farther away we got from shore, the more dense the jungle became. The trees were thicker, creating a protective overhead canopy. We passed open areas of cleared jungle where kids played, large huts that seemed to be community gathering places, and even a section of shops that sold clothing, tools, and food. One large hut looked like a school, with a group of kids sitting in rows, attentively listening to a lesson being given by an older woman. We passed a large, open-air canopy structure where a performance was taking place. About a hundred people sat on the sand listening to a group of musicians play instruments made out of natural materials like bamboo and wood. They sounded pretty good, too. There was a lot of percussion, with a driving rhythm that had many people up and dancing. I wouldn’t have minded stopping to listen for a while. It would have been more fun than being dragged off to a possible execution.

The terrain grew steeper, and we soon had to climb up rocky steps. A few minutes later we came upon a sheer rock wall that looked like a dead end. As we walked closer, high above us on the sheer face of the mountain I saw a large opening cut into the rock. That told me we hadn’t hit a dead end after all. We were going inside the mountain. Sure enough, the path led to a cave opening that looked big enough to drive a car through. It wasn’t scary or anything, unless you considered there were people inside who would decide on whether or not I should be executed. It was a busy place, with people strolling in and out. As we got closer, I saw that it was well lit inside, with tubes of bright light running along the walls. The big guy led me inside and along a long corridor of rock that looked the same as the black rock cave where the flume was. There were open doorways on either side that led into large rooms where people were busily doing things like sewing clothes, preparing food, and doing repair work on small machines. The mountain was honeycombed with rooms and tunnels. There was no way these tunnels could be natural; it was way too complicated. That meant the people of this village cut through rock. Even more impressive was the fact that there was fresh air, even deep inside the mountain. They had ventilation. This living mountain once again pointed to the fact that this was an advanced society. It was a modern, primitive village. Ibara was an enigma.

After walking deep into the mountain, the big guy pushed me toward an opening where rock stairs led upward. I stopped. I was still dizzy from the medication, squirmy from the bee stings, and weak from having slept for five days. The last thing I wanted to do was climb stairs. Too bad for me. The guy gave me a shove. I willed my feet to keep moving, and the two of us climbed for what felt like forever. When we finally got to the top, we were faced with two guards who blocked our way. When they saw the big guy who’d arrested me, they backed off to let us pass.

We had arrived on another level built into the mountain, and a huge cavern. On the far side was the opening I had seen from the ground. Light from outside filled the immense room, making it nearly bright as day. The space was big, but empty. The only sign of life was on the far side, in front of the opening. Three people were there, talking.

The big guy removed the cord from around my wrists and handed it to me. “Don’t do anything foolish,” he warned. “There are guards everywhere.”

I nodded and rubbed my wrists, grateful that the tight cord was no longer scraping my healing bug wounds. “Is that the tribunal?” I asked.

His answer was to shove me toward them. The guy was starting to annoy me. In the next few moments my future on Ibara was going to be decided. What was I going to say to this tribunal? If my only crime was being an outsider, I was guilty Was that enough to have me executed? My mind raced, trying to come up with some kind of plausible story as to why I wasn’t an outsider, but I didn’t know anything about Ibara. Or this village called Rayne. I looked beyond the group and out past the cave opening. I first saw nothing but sky, then the beach, and finally the huts of the village below. It was an awesome sight. It reminded me of being on that lofty platform for the Tato match on Quillan. That was an incredible view too. I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I hadn’t been up there to fight for my life. I hoped I wouldn’t have the same problem here on Ibara.

An idea hit me. Remembering the Tato match did it. I wasn’t exactly sure how to use it, but it could very well have been my only hope.

There was a long, low desk with three large chairs behind it. The desk was full of papers and one of those small telephones. This is where the tribunal worked. I wondered why they were set up in such a huge place. I’m guessing it had something to do with security. Nobody could get close to them without being seen from far off. If they were paranoid about outsiders, what better place to protect their leaders than in the middle of a space where nobody could get close to them without being seen?

There were two women and a man. The man had gray in his hair, and the two women looked like your basic moms. One had very dark skin, the other was white and freckled, but with almond-shaped eyes. Weird. The guy was white, but really tan. He had a scratchy saltand-pepper beard that made him look like a grizzled sea captain. They each wore light green clothes, but with long sleeves and long pants. I’m guessing this was their idea of being formal. The three of them were locked in debate, until the dark woman spotted us. She nodded to the others. They straightened up and sat in their chairs. The guy sat in the middle, a woman on either side of him. I was led to a red line in the floor and roughly pulled to a stop.

“Don’t cross the line,” the big guy commanded.

“Don’t worry,” I replied.

The tribunal looked me over with no expression. I tried to look innocent, though I wasn’t really sure how to do that. I mainly wanted to be respectful and nonthreatening. We stood that way for several seconds. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to psyche me out or if I was supposed to say something. I chose to keep quiet. I kept going over in my head what I was going to say when the questions began. I had come up with a plan. It was something I hadn’t tried before on any of the territories. This seemed like as good a time as any to give it a shot.

“My name is Genj,” the man in the middle finally announced. “I am the chief minister of the Rayne tribunal.” He spoke calmly, with authority. He gestured to the women and said, “This is Moman and Drea.”

The dark woman was Moman, the freckled woman was Drea.

“And who are you?” he finally asked. This was it. Do or die. Literally. “I was hoping you could tell me,” I answered. I saw the surprise on their faces.

“I don’t understand,” Genj said. “I asked you who you are.”

“And I’m saying I don’t know. I remember my name, but that’s pretty much it.”

“What is your name?” Drea asked.

“Pendragon. At least I think it is. My mind is kind of… blank. I remember being swarmed by bees, but it’s a blur. The next thing I knew I woke up in your village. I have no idea how I got here or who I am.”

The three tribunal members looked to one another, not sure how to respond. It was a totally bold move on my part to fake amnesia, but I figured there was no way I was going to convince them I wasn’t an outsider. And if being an outsider meant death, I had to hope that putting a little doubt in their minds would spare me.