D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“Welcome back, Pendragon,” he called with a sinister sneer, his voice echoing through the pyramid.

“Where is Twig?” Siry bellowed as he took a threatening step toward him. I quickly held him back.

“Whoa,” I cautioned. “That won’t help.”

“What exactly is a twig?” Saint Dane asked innocently.

“She better not be hurt,” Siry shouted, straining against me. I gripped his arm to keep him under control.

Saint Dane shook his head in disappointment. “Haven’t you explained to him that there is much more at stake than the life of one of his playmates?”

“Who are you!” Siry screamed in anger.

I gripped him tighter, holding him back.

“Don’t you know?” Saint Dane said with glee. “I’m the boogeyman.”

“Calm down,” I whispered to Siry. “Yelling at him won’t help.”

Siry backed off. He didn’t relax, but he backed off.

“What do you want to show us?” I barked.

Saint Dane strolled casually, glancing up at the balconies. “It’s been about Veelox from the beginning, you know,” he began. “This is where I’ve been preparing to stage my conquest of Halla. I guess you could say it’s been three hundred years in the making. Once Ibara has been snuffed, the Convergence will begin.”

“You haven’t told me what the Convergence is,” I said casually.

Saint Dane stopped, looked at me, and smiled. “I haven’t, have I?”

He didn’t then, either. So much for trying to trick him into answering me.

He continued, “To be quite honest, Ibara isn’t important. I consider it more of a training exercise.”

“Training who?” I asked. “For what?”

“Why, Pendragon!” he exclaimed with mock surprise. “I thought you had so brilliantly put it together.”

As if on cue, I sensed movement. Siry tensed. Creeping out of the shadows like rats came the Flighters. Dozens of them. No, more like hundreds. Behind us, several more appeared, forcing us to step closer to Saint Dane. They formed a giant ring around us. Their tattered, rotten clothing now made sense. They were living examples of what had happened to the city itself. Their clothes were falling apart because no new clothing had been manufactured in centuries. They were like rodents, living in squalor. It was no big surprise that Saint Dane was able to organize them into assaulting Ibara. Whatever he promised them would be better than what they had.

“This is beneath you,” I said to Saint Dane. “These people are desperate. They’ll do whatever you ask. Where’s the challenge?”

“It’s true,” Saint Dane replied. “It wasn’t difficult.”

“Then what’s the point? ” I asked. “You always have some grand philosophical reason for targeting a territory and proving how greedy people can be. Or arrogant. Or power hungry. What’s the big lesson here? What are you trying to prove? That you can organize a bunch of desperate losers into attacking Ibara? This whole thing seems kind of… pathetic.”

I was hoping to tick him off. I didn’t. He laughed. Again. I’ve mentioned how much I hate that, right? Only about a hundred times.

“Pendragon, my boy, I had hoped you would one day realize how misguided your efforts have been. I tried, time and again, to demonstrate how the people of the territories are their own worst enemies, but my lessons were never learned.

I will reluctantly admit defeat on that front. You are beyond help. You could have been by my side while the new Halla was created, but I’m afraid that offer is no longer available. All that is left now is to complete what I started/’

The ring of Flighters got smaller. They stared at us with dead eyes. Their soulless gazes didn’t bother me as much as Saint Dane’s words. Something about him had changed. He was as self-assured as ever, but this felt different. It was like he didn’t care about me anymore. I’ve always felt as if he needed to defeat me in order to conquer Halla. His new attitude made me feel as if that didn’t matter anymore. Or worse. It felt as if I had already been defeated. I needed to claw myself back into the game.

“You’re kidding, right?” I said, scoffing. “This is the future of Halla? You really think this grunge can conquer anything? Sure, they can beat up on a bunch of kids, but you don’t seriously think they’re going to threaten Ibara? And then what do you plan to do? Take these smelly creeps and march on Second Earth? On Third Earth? Is that your big Convergence?” I laughed. “Go for it! But do me a favor. Make sure I’m around to watch the fun.”

Saint Dane continued to smile. I tried to hold mine. It wasn’t easy. I knew there had to be more.

“To be sure,” he said with a sinister smile. “I most definitely want you there to watch the fun.”

The pyramid was suddenly filled with sound. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but it sounded like high-pitched squeaking. It came from everywhere, reverberating off the pyramid walls and bouncing around the cavernous space.

“What is that?” Siry whispered nervously.

My eye caught movement up above. All around us, on every level, the doors leading to the jump tubes opened up.

Every last one of them. I had the fleeting thought that the ghosts of the dead were rising up from their graves. That wasn’t the case, unfortunately. I would have liked that a lot better than the truth. People were slowly stepping out of the jump rooms. If every jump room held only one person, there could easily be ten thousand people about to make an appearance.

“Flighters,” Siry gasped.

I watched as the people walked slowly and stiffly out the doors, toward the balcony railing that looked down over the center of the pyramid.

Siry was near panic. “We can never fight off that many,” he said.

I stared up at the thousands of faces as they walked to the railing and looked down on us. My throat clutched. I knew what I was seeing, but my brain didn’t want to accept it. In that one instant Saint Dane’s plan became horrifyingly clear. I had underestimated him, again. From what I was seeing, he was absolutely capable of overrunning Ibara. No, worse. I understood why he considered Ibara a training exercise. The tiny island wouldn’t stand a chance against this army. My mind was reeling. The possibilities were too horrible to comprehend. This might only be the beginning.

Saint Dane chuckled. “Still want to be around to watch, Pendragon?”

His plan for Ibara was becoming clear. His plan for Veelox was becoming clear. His plan to make Veelox his stepping-off point for the destruction of Halla was becoming clear. The truth was all around us, staring down from above.

“Pendragon,” Siry said, his voice cracking. “Those aren’t Flighters.”

They wore the same rotten rags as Flighters, but that’s

331 339 where the similarity ended. They were much bigger than the Flighters. I could say they looked well fed, but I knew the real reason. I knew these guys. I had fought these guys. On First Earth. At the gate. I had grabbed a handful of clothing and it had disintegrated. Now I realized why. It was all coming together in one, terrifying bundle. On First Earth there were only a few. Here, there were thousands, with no way to know how many more might be right behind.

“They aren’t Flighters,” I said to Siry. “They’re called dados, and Ibara doesn’t stand a chance.”

(CONTINUED)

The ring of Flighters slowly grew tighter around us, while thousands of dados watched from above. As the reality of what we now faced became clear, I was hit with a wave of emotion I’m not sure how to describe, other than to say I felt beaten. Not just on Veelox. Everywhere.

“You’re right about the Flighters, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said. “They aren’t capable of mounting anywhere near the kind of force I need. Though they have been quite helpful. We’ve been testing the defenses of Ibara for a while now. Their hard work will insure the minimum amount of loss when the fun begins.”