D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

Courtney smiled and sat down next to him, clutching Bobby’s journal. She leaned into Dodger and said, “Thanks.”

Dodger shrugged. “Hey, don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me now.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Courtney replied.

She didn’t read the journal right away. Courtney knew they first had to find a place that was safe, assuming there was such a place on board a busy ship for a couple of stowaways. They waited for half an hour. Plenty of time for the excitement to die down. They might have stayed longer, if the door to the cold storage closet hadn’t opened up. A chef stepped in with a large silver bowl, ready to grab some vegetables. When he saw Courtney and Dodger, he froze.

Courtney exclaimed, “Thank goodness! We thought we’d be stuck in here the whole voyage!” She walked past him and gave the surprised chef a peck on the cheek. “Thanks!” she said, and walked out.

The chef was dumbstruck. “Thanks, brother,” Dodger said as he walked by. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna kiss ya!” They left the chef standing in the refrigerator, too confused to move.

There was no longer any rush. It was more important to blend in. Courtney and Dodger slowly made their way through the kitchen, the pantry, and the dining room. Once they got back to the passenger area, they noticed that the number of people had thinned considerably. Everyone who had been on board to visit had left. The only people remaining were passengers and crew. People who belonged on the ship.

And them.

They walked casually through Regent Street with its busy shops, headed for the Promenade Deck where they’d first boarded the ship. The sun hit them as soon as they stepped out onto the deck. The first thing Courtney saw was the pier. It was the pier that Saint Dane had driven the cab off of, with them inside. The pier where they first saw the Queen Mary. The pier that was now several hundred yards away.

The ship had left New York. Two tugboats were nudging it away from land, into New York Harbor and the Atlantic Ocean. They were on their way to England. They stood at the railing and watched as New York grew smaller.

“What are you thinking?” Dodger asked.

“I’m thinking I want to read a journal.”

You must find Mark.

Courtney, I think I made a huge mistake by coming to Ibara. After seeing what’s happening on this territory, the reality of what Saint Dane has accomplished is now clear. Scary clear. Our fears were correct. It isn’t about single territories anymore. Saint Dane is tearing down the boundaries of Halla. I don’t think I’ve made things worse by coming here, but I haven’t helped much either. The truth is that I should be on First Earth, with you, looking for Mark. You were right. Saint Dane lured me to Ibara and I followed him like a hungry rat sniffing cheese.

Cheese in a trap.

Right now I’m so confused, it’s hard to think straight. When we were together on First Earth I told you I thought it was too late to undo what Mark had done. I hope I was wrong. The future of Halla depends on it. That’s not an overstatement. Stopping Mark may be the key to stopping Saint Dane.

How could I have been so dumb as to not know that? I guess that’s a lame question. I know why. It’s my own ego. I keep saying that in order to control Halla, Saint Dane needs to defeat me. I still think that’s true, but after matching wits with him for so long, I’m as obsessed with beating him as he is with me. He’s gotten into my head, Courtney. It’s become a contest between the two of us. That’s wrong. What matters is the big picture. I’ve wanted to bring him down so badly, I’ve ignored that. That’s why I’m on Ibara when I should have stayed on First Earth. While I’m chasing after one single guy, he’s busy manipulating all that exists.

Our first instincts were correct. Mark must be stopped. It might be the only way to save Halla. The thing is, it may be too late already. I don’t know when First Earth exists, relative to other territories. Yes, it’s in the past of Second and Third Earths, but do the rest of the territories exist in the future of First Earth? Or before it? Or do some exist before and some after? I have no idea. Wondering makes my head hurt.

When I left First Earth, I said the most important thing was to save Mark from whatever fate dealt him. Of course I still want my friend, our friend, saved. But given what I’ve seen on Ibara, I also want him stopped. The only chance we have of defeating Saint Dane, once and for all, is to prevent Mark from introducing Forge technology to First Earth. To understand why, you’ll have to read this journal.

Read it fast.

I’m sorry, Courtney. I’m sorry for leaving you alone and being too stupid to realize I should have listened to you. I’m also sorry for laying it out to you like this and throwing such a huge responsibility onto your shoulders. I know you’re doing everything you can to find Mark, but I can’t tell you strongly enough that it isn’t just about saving him. It’s about stopping him.

I’ve already finished this journal. I started it a while ago before I understood what was actually happening here and came back to the beginning to tell you this. Not that you need convincing, but once you read this journal I think you’ll understand as well as I do that you, Courtney, you are the last best hope to save Halla.

I hope it isn’t too late already.

Siry and I left the rocky ledge that overlooked the colorful fleet of sailing ships and made our way back to the village of Rayne. I needed rest badly. Food, too. When we reached the edge of the village, Siry stopped and stood in front of me.

“Are you with us?” he asked.

“When do we go?” was my answer.

“When everyone is able,” he answered. “The wounded Jakills have to recover.”

I nodded. He glared at me and cautioned, “If you tell the tribunal of our plans…” He let the threat dangle.

“Still don’t trust me?” I asked.

He shrugged and walked away.

“One thing,” I called after him. “Jakill. What does that mean?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t telling. “You’re right,” he replied. “I don’t trust you. Not yet.”

Fine. Be that way. The one thing on my mind was sleep. I was so beat, I had trouble lifting my feet and dragging them through the sand. Since my hut had been turned into a makeshift hospital for the Jakills, I wasn’t sure if I should go there, but I didn’t know where else to go. When I returned, I saw that I didn’t have to worry. The injured Jakills were gone. Only Telleo was waiting for me.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“I did what I could for them and helped them to their homes. They will recover. Are you hungry?”

“I should be polite and say you don’t have to go through any trouble, but I’m starving.”

“I thought so,” Telleo said warmly. “I’ve prepared some roasted vegetables and broth.”

The two of us sat at the wooden table and ate an incredible dinner. Actually it probably wasn’t all that great, but I was so hungry I could have eaten the table and thought it was a gourmet treat. By the time my belly was full, I was ready to drift off to sleep for about a month. But that would have been rude.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said to Telleo. “You work for the tribunal but you risk your job by helping the Jakills. Isn’t that playing the game from both sides?”

“I don’t look at it that way,” Telleo said. “I love this village and my people. That’s all. Siry and his friends are part of the village. I don’t discriminate.”

“I heard that about you.”

Telleo blushed and continued, “I don’t understand why Siry is so angry. Does it seem to you like there is something wrong with the way we live?”