D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“I thought you’d never make it,” came a voice from inside. “But I guess you had to bask in the glory of your adoring public.”

I knew that voice. But it made no sense. It couldn’t be…

But it was. Stepping from the shadows of the darkened trustee room was a ghost. I knew it was a ghost because I saw him die. Yet there he stood… Challenger Green. I blinked. He didn’t go away. I blinked again. He smiled. He wasn’t a ghost. He had somehow survived the fall. He didn’t even look injured.

“I thought for sure you would have put it together when I wasn’t bothered by my injury,” he said, stomping his left foot hard on the ground. “But then again, you never were a very good detective.”

My ears rang. My palms started to sweat. I started to shake. I actually started to shake.

“No,” I said softly. “No way.”

“Oh, yes,” Green said. “Once again you have failed to grasp the obvious. You are right about one thing though.

Things are indeed going exactly as planned. It’s just that the plans are a little different than you thought.”

Challenger Green started to melt and morph. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t have to. I knew what was happening.

“Open your eyes, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said. “It’s time for you to see the new Quillan… the territory you helped create.”

(CONTINUED)

When I opened my eyes, I saw Saint Dane standing there in his normal form. You know it. He was well over six feet tall and wore a dark suit that buttoned right to his neck. He was completely bald, with his pale skin marked by red scars across his head that looked like jagged lightning bolts. What always stood out the most, though, were his eyes. His blue-white intense eyes that glowed with a hint of insanity.

I ducked back into the elevator, but with no controls, I didn’t know what to do.

Saint Dane chuckled. “Where are you going? Do you want to run and announce to Quillan that Challenger Green wasn’t who they thought he was? Maybe you could tell that to your reviver friends.” He grabbed his left biceps in a mock salute. “I liked that touch when you did this to the crowd, by the way,” he said. “Very theatrical. Very effective.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded.

“Oh, I will,” Saint Dane said. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“But… you wanted me to compete and lose!” I shouted. “And I beat you!”

“You didn’t beat me, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said. “I wanted you to win. I let you win! The only reason I let the competition get that close was to build the drama. People love drama.”

I leaned against the back of the elevator for support.

“Actually,” he continued, “the Grand X was the icing on the cake, as they say on Second Earth. You lost the territory long before that.”

I was having trouble breathing. My heart raced. Nothing he was saying made sense.

“You see, Pendragon,” he said, taking a step toward me, “everything you’ve heard is correct. The people of Quillan are ready to take back their territory. The stage was set by the revivers. All they needed was the last piece. The inspiration. And you gave it to them. It worked! You’ve seen the result. People are massing by the thousands and marching on the city. It’s happening all over the territory. You’ve given them hope| and they are running with it. Anarchy rules!”

“But you let me win!” I shouted. “That means you wanted it to happen this way.”

Saint Dane chuckled. I hated it when he chuckled.

“Hope is a fragile emotion, my friend. It isn’t real.” He tapped his bald head. “It exists only in the imagination. If you believe there is hope, there is hope. If you don’t believe there is hope, there isn’t.”

“Just tell me,” I demanded.

“Defeat is always devastating,” he said. “But it is never more crushing than when it comes after you believe you have won.”

He turned and walked into the trustee courtroom. I didn’t want to follow. Nothing he was going to tell me in there would be good. If there were buttons on the elevator, I would have pushed them. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. As bad as I knew this was going to be, I had to know. I followed him.

Inside the courtroom, the two big screens where they had shown the replay of my Hook competition were in place. Saint Dane held the remote control.

“I didn’t lie to you, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said. “At least not entirely. I had nothing to do with the creation of Blok. Or of the games.”

“But you brought Veego and LaBerge from Veelox,” I said.

“Ahh, you discovered that,” he said. “Those two are such annoying little cretins. Don’t you agree?”

“You know you’re not supposed to mix the territories,” I said.

“No, Pendragon, you are not supposed to mix the territories! I’m the bad guy, remember? At least from your perspective. You have this illusion that the territories must remain separate and evolve along their own paths. I don’t share that philosophy. I believe we won’t reach our full potential until the walls are broken down and Halla becomes one.”

“But that would be chaos,” I said.

“Oh? What do you think is happening out in the streets of Quillan right now? A tea party? You knew that once the revival was under way it would create havoc.”

“Yes, but it’s the only way they can topple Blok,” I argued. “They’re willing to suffer to create a better life.”

“Exactly!” Saint Dane exclaimed. “Before my vision for Halla is complete, I have to break down the old ways and, yes, create chaos. From that, a new Halla will emerge. Is that so different from what you knew would happen on Quillan?”

“It all depends on what your final vision is,” I said.

Saint Dane didn’t respond to that right away. Instead he gave me a slight smile. “Well said,” he countered.

“You said that if I competed, you would reveal to me the nature of the Travelers,” I said. “Was that another lie?”

Saint Dane looked at me, then put down the remote.

“I don’t think you truly want to know, Pendragon,” he said, “You would rather believe what you want to believe. Your version of reality is so much more… comfortable.”

“Don’t tell me what I think. I want to know,” I said.

“Very well, then,” Saint Dane said.

My heart hammered in my chest. Was this it? Was the truth finally going to be revealed? Saint Dane looked at me. This may sound strange, but for a moment I actually thought I saw his eyes soften. The evil madness had been replaced by… what? Kindness? Sympathy? Compassion?

“You aren’t real, Pendragon,” he said softly. “You’re an illusion. As am I. As are all the Travelers. It’s how we’re able to travel through time and space with little concern for the physical rules that restrict the inhabitants of the territories.”

I wasn’t buying that.

“Maybe you’re not real, but I sure am,” I said. “I can’t turn myself into other beings. I feel pain just like everybody else. I was born, I’m getting older, I’m a normal physical person like everybody else on Second Earth.”

“To an extent,” he said. “It’s true, you don’t have my abilities, and you may never evolve that far, but make no mistake-the Travelers defy the physical laws of their territories. You feel pain, but think of how quickly you heal. I killed Loor but you brought her back from the dead. Does that seem ‘normal’ to you?”

“What about Uncle Press? And Osa? And all the others who died?” I said quickly.

“It was their choice,” Saint Dane said. “You didn’t want Loor to die, so she didn’t. That was your choice.”

My mind was going in a million different directions. He was telling me everything, and nothing. “So if it’s true, where did we come from? How did we come to exist? Where do you come from?”