D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

I picked a path that seemed to be the one with the fewest bumps. Every time the dygo bounced, I slowed down even more, so the tak wouldn’t be knocked around. We were all sweating so much, it got pretty steamy and rank inside. We had to stop a couple of times to open the hatch and air the sphere out.

We all felt a little better when we reached the snow. Rolling across packed snow was much smoother than grass and rocks. Finally the terrain leveled out, and I saw the mouth of the gate. It had been a grueling journey, but we’d made it.

“How do we do this?” Alder asked. “Do we drive right into the flume and out the other side in Ibara?”

“No,” I answered. “We’ll have to make several trips. I’ll go with the dygo first and clear out the gate area. You guys stack the crates near the flume and wait for me.”

We unhooked the sled, and I drove the sphere into the cave. I rolled right into the flume and called out, “Ibaral”

Moments later I was swept up and away. I had to trust that the flume would continue to send me where I needed to be, when I needed to be there. If it started messing with me now, well, I didn’t want to think about that. There was nothing I could do about it, so I focused on the task ahead. It was a moving job, nothing more. Okay, a dangerous moving job, but still a moving job.

When the dygo reached Ibara, I engaged the drill. The moment the sphere bobbed to the water’s surface I started digging. I blasted up and out of the stone pool that was the mouth of the flume, destroying a section of the circle and spewing water all over the floor of the cavern. I didn’t stop to worry about it and kept moving across the wet sand. The next step was to bore a new tunnel through the rocky wall of the cavern. We needed to get thirty heavy containers of tak out of there. Dragging them through the winding labyrinth of tunnels would take weeks. We didn’t have weeks. The time for being secretive was over. I drilled straight through the rock, and didn’t stop until I saw sunlight on the beach of Ibara.

Spinning the dygo around, I saw that I had created a tunnel that led straight back to the flume. It was a hundred yards long. No twists, no turns, no subtlety. If anybody wandered by, they’d find the flume. I didn’t care. After the battle, there was no telling what this area was going to look like anyway. All bets were off. I rolled back through the tunnel to the shattered pool, got out of the dygo, and stepped up to the edge of the flume.

“Denduron!” I shouted, and dove in headfirst. As I traveled along, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see the images of Halla staring back at me. In no time I was back in Denduron, where Alder and Siry were waiting. I shouldn’t have worried. The flume did its job. The crates were stacked high, ready for transport.

Alder held one of the metal weapons I’d brought from Quillan. “What is this?”

I took it from him, spun it expertly, and jabbed at Siry. “Dado killers. From Quillan.”

“How did they get here?” Siry asked.

“I went there a few days ago. Is that a problem?”

Alder said, “Not if mixing the territories is no longer a concern.”

I dropped the weapon on the pile with the others. “It isn’t. Not anymore. We’re playing by Saint Dane’s rules now, remember? It wasn’t my choice.”

Alder gave me a grave look. He touched one of the crates of tak. “I remember. But you should remember that we always have a choice.”

“And we made it,” I snapped at him. “We’ll take one crate each and travel to Ibara. Taking more would be too awkward, and we don’t want to go dropping these things. After we’ve moved them all, I’ll come back for the weapons.”

Alder nodded. Siry shrugged. I went first. I grabbed a heavy crate and backed into the flume. “Ibara!” I called, and was on my way.

The tricky part came on the other side. The crate floated, but it was difficult pushing it up and out of the break in the stone circle I’d made with the dygo. The crate was heavy, and it was hard getting enough leverage to lift it out while treading water. But I did it, and placed it a safe distance from the flume.

The others arrived shortly after. I helped them take their crates out of the water and placed them near the first. After that the three of us dove into the water with a shout of “Denduron!” and started back the other way.

It was a tiring, grueling, boring process. None of us let down our guard though. There was always the possibility of a slip and a drop and a boom. It took us a couple of hours, but all went well. When we were done, thirty crates of tak were stacked up on the territory of Ibara.

Alder, Siry, and I sat on the edge of the flume to get a much-needed rest. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.

“We’re back on the clock,” I announced.

“What does that mean?” Siry asked.

“It means we’re on Ibara time again. There’s an invasion coming, remember?”

I’ll end this journal here, Courtney. I’m getting too antsy to write any more. I’ll tell you about our preparations in my next journal. Assuming there is a next journal. Alder is here with us, and I’m glad. He’s already proved to be an incredible help, and knowing he’ll be by my side during the battle gives me confidence that we actually have a chance. How good a chance? I don’t know. At least I can say that we’ve done all that we can.

I’m scared and I’m excited. Now that we can look back on all that’s happened, it’s pretty clear that Saint Dane’s plan has been leading to this all along. He thinks Ibara is going to be the first domino to fall in the toppling of Halla. I say he’s got a very big surprise coming. I wish I could see his face when we blow his army to oblivion. Even if we lose, I’m going to make sure we take as many of those dados with us as possible. I’m playing by his rules now. He’s

455 461 mixed the territories to try and crush Halla. I’ve mixed the territories to try and stop him.

Only one of us will prove to be right.

And so we go.

END OF JOURNAL # 31

Courtney crumpled the pages of Bobby’s journal and tossed them against the wall. She was frightened and angry. Angry at herself. She had let Bobby down. Because of her failure, the final boundaries between territories were about to come crashing down… on Bobby’s head.

Making it all the more dire was the fact that the more she learned about the situation with Mark, the less she understood. How could his parents be alive? She left Second Earth after history was altered. She knew how the changes that Mark made on First Earth would affect Second Earth. They did not include his parents being saved from dying in that plane crash.

Yet, they were alive and well.

Courtney thought that maybe one of the Dimonds might have been Saint Dane in disguise. Then who was the other person? Saint Dane could do a lot of things. He couldn’t split himself in two. Since Nevva Winter was with Mark’s parents, Courtney figured that unless another Traveler with shape-shifting abilities had suddenly entered the story, those people really were Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. She hated herself for being upset that Mark’s parents were alive, but it made no sense to her.

Worse.

Courtney knew that Bobby and the Travelers often had to make horrible choices for the greater good. She couldn’t think of a single time when any of them had to make a choice as difficult as the one Mark had faced. He had to decide whether or not the people he loved the most should live or die. He chose to save them, and Nevva Winter delivered on her promise. By going to First Earth, Mark saved his parents. Courtney didn’t think there was any way to convince Mark that he had been tricked. He would introduce Forge to First Earth, starting a chain reaction that would lead to the creation of the dados, the fall of Ibara… and his own murder.