D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“I see the water/’ he announced.”These are defensive positions. We will position our third line down here. The dados will not know where the attack is coming from.”

When Alder jumped down he actually had a smile on his face. “We may have a chance after all, Pendragon.”

I looked up and down the dark tunnel. An idea was forming.

“What are you thinking?” Alder asked.

“This tunnel is our secret weapon. The trick is to figure out how best to use it.”

It was getting late in the day. The sun dipped down over the mountain, casting long shadows over Rayne. Alder thought the chances of the dados attacking at night were pretty slim. It took a little pressure off. Very little. When the sun came up the next day, it would be over the water. That meant it would be in our eyes.

Alder said, “If they are smart, they will attack at dawn when the sun is at its lowest point.”

“You mean when we’d be blind,” I said.

Alder nodded. Great. We had to prepare as if dawn would bring the dados. Dawn of the Dados. Sounds like a bad horror movie. Maybe it was.

Telleo returned after dark to report that the children and the older folks were safe on the far side of the island. Safe? Did I say “safe”? For how long? It wasn’t something I wanted to think about.

The last event of the night was to bring our makeshift army back to the gathering place to pass along final orders. This wasn’t a real army. There were no officers or sergeants or any true organization. Besides Alder, none of us had any experience with waging a war. We were making it up as we went along.

I left it to Siry to organize his people. He divided them into groups. Those who felt confident with the bows and arrows were moved to one side. My quick count said there were around a hundred potential archers. Another group was chosen for their speed. They would be the messengers who would relay orders from the mountain command post to the lines of archers. The final group would be the utility players. They would go where they were needed, whether it be to move ammunition around, help the wounded, or in the worst case, take the bows and tak arrows from those who fell, to be used elsewhere.

It was going to be a war and it was going to be ugly.

Alder explained his strategy to the group, showing them on the map where each line should be when the invasion began. He told them they should stay in their positions as long as possible and wait for the order to move back before retreating. The final move would be into the mountain, where they would continue their defense for as long as possible.

As long as possible. Who knew how long that would be? What had Saint Dane told the dados to do? How would this end? Would there be a chance for surrender? Or was their mission to wipe out the entire population? I didn’t want to go there, but it was a very real possibility.

While Alder spoke, I sat behind him, looking into the faces of the people of Ibara. There were about two hundred who stayed to fight. Nobody said a word. They listened intently. Every last one of them looked scared. They were listening for anything that might give them a little assurance that they actually had a chance. They had seen what happened to the pilgrims. They may not have understood their enemy, but they knew what they were capable of. Out of the nine hundred pilgrims who left on ships that morning, only half had survived the attack.

Up until that moment, the only thing on my mind was beating Saint Dane. Like I’ve said, the battle for Ibara was likely to be the first battle for all of Halla. But staring into those frightened faces made me realize that it was also their battle. These weren’t pawns to be used for some grander conflict. They were innocent people who had lived peaceful, productive lives. This was their home. They’d done nothing to bring on the horror that was about to descend on them. The future of all existence now rested on their shoulders. It wasn’t fair. Saint Dane has said how the people of the territories always brought on their own misfortune. What had these people done wrong? Their sole mission was to survive and try to revive a dying culture. What had they done to deserve this? The answer was nothing, and it made me hate Saint Dane all the more. I wanted to win this battle for all the reasons I’ve said, but after spending time with these people and feeling their fear, I wanted to win for them, too.

When Alder was finished, he asked if I wanted to say something to the people. It was a tough thing. What could I say that would make them understand how important the fight was going to be? Or to give them hope that there was a chance they wouldn’t be slaughtered? I stood on the stage, alone, looking out on their frightened faces. The tribunal sat to the side of the stage, trying to look confident. I knew they were just as scared as everyone else, including me. Telleo sat next to her father. She gave me a smile and a nod of support. I wanted to say something to make them feel better, but what? Most of them didn’t know about the world beyond their shore. How could I begin to explain Halla? They had no idea that they were about to play a pivotal role in the future of all that ever existed, or would exist. What could I possibly tell these people that would give them confidence? They all stared at me, looking for answers. Or inspiration. Or something.

“This battle isn’t our entire future,” I finally said. “This isn’t the end. It’s only a moment in time. No matter what happens, there will always be a future. It’s up to us to make it a better one. I believe we can do that. Never, ever give up hope, because that’s exactly what they want. No matter how this battle turns out, if we continue to believe there is hope for a better future, we will have won.”

That’s all I said. I left the stage feeling as if I had failed. The first person I saw when I stepped down was Siry. He had tears in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Of all the things you’ve told me, those are the words I will remember.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Telleo.

“Destiny brought you here for us, Pendragon,” she said. “You are our future.”

She leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek, and hugged me close. I hugged back. For that one moment, I let myself believe that everything was going to be okay.

Alder and I returned to the community hut that I had made my home. That’s where I finished my last journal and sent it to you. There was no way I could sleep. What would the morning bring? How would this play out? Was this going to be the beginning of the end? Or the greatest victory of all time? No, of all times.

For so many years we’ve lived by Uncle Press’s mandate that the territories should never be mixed. Each territory is supposed to live out its own destiny without interference. That’s the way it was meant to be. But Saint Dane changed that and forced me to make a difficult choice. Is there a price that is too high to pay for victory? Should we have let the klee of Eelong kill off the gars? Should I have left Quillan without entering the Grand X? Saying things should happen the way they were meant to be doesn’t mean that things will always turn out for the best. We shouldn’t interfere with the natural order of the territories, but neither should Saint Dane. Because of his devious influence things have not played out the way they were supposed to. Anywhere. Will two wrongs make a right? I don’t know. The only thing I can say for sure is that it’s too late to turn back now.

As I finished that last journal, I still held out hope that you had gotten to Mark, Courtney. I imagined the sun rising with no dados on the horizon. I imagined waiting for a battle that was not to happen, because the dados had ceased to exist. It actually made me more anxious. I couldn’t let myself think that way. I had to prepare as if the battle were inevitable. I had to put my game face on. Lying at my feet was one of the black dado weapons from Quillan. I wanted to use it. I wanted the sun to rise.