D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

A second later I got my answer. Walking boldly down the corridor toward us was an impressive sight. It was a group of men led by Pelle a Zinj, the crown prince of Xhaxhu. He was wearing the same ornate clothing he had worn on the day he saved me, along with a purple cape that trailed behind. He was followed by a couple of other royal-looking types, along with two Ghee warriors. It was a royal entourage, and I was standing in their way.

“On your knees,” one of the Ghee guards growled in a whisper.

I wanted to kneel down, but my body wouldn’t let me. So I stood there kind of hunched over and bowed my head. It was the best he was going to get.

Pelle spotted me and broke into a big smile. “You are walking!” he said with a friendly bellow. “I am so happy to see that.”

I then realized he was coming to see me! “Forgive me, I can’t kneel,” I said while keeping my eyes on the ground.

“There is no need, my friend,” Pelle said. “Everyone, please rise.” Everybody else got back to their feet, but kept their heads down in deference to their prince.

“What is your name?” the prince asked me.

“Pendragon,” I answered.

“Pendragon,” Pelle repeated, as if trying it on for size. “A unique Rokador name.”

I shrugged. What was I going to say?

Pelle continued, “Pendragon, I have come here today on behalf of all Batu to apologize for the horrible crime that was committed against you.”

I saw the two Ghee guards shoot him a quick look, as if they couldn’t believe he was apologizing to a Rokador.

“I know there is tension between our people. That cannot be denied. But seeing the depths to which we have sunk, sickens me. Rest assured that we will hunt down the rogue Ghee who did this to you. He will be punished.”

I was a hair away from telling him not to bother. He hadn’t seen a Batu beating up on a Rokador, but two Travelers from distant territories going at it. He wasn’t going to have a whole lot of luck tracking down Saint Dane. I decided not to set him straight.

“Once you are well, and return to your people, please tell the Rokador elite that I plan on doing everything in my power to resolve our differences, and bring back the balance and mutual trust that the Rokador and Batu have enjoyed for generations. Nothing else has more importance to me. That is a promise.”

I didn’t want to say anything that would tip him off to the fact that I wasn’t a Rokador and didn’t know anybody down below, elite or not.

“Thank you your, uh, Your Majesty,” I said with bowed head. I glanced to Loor, who gave me a slight nod. “Your Majesty” was the right title.

“I will gladly do as you request,” I said, totally winging it. “I believe your sincerity not only because you saved my life, but because you have been so gracious in making sure I have been cared for during my recovery. I am forever in your debt. Thank you.”

I figured that was about as generic a reply as I could give. Besides, it was the truth. He did save my life.

“These are difficult times,” Pelle said. “Our only hope of survival is by restoring the atmosphere of cooperation, and trust. Our two great tribes will either survive together, or perish separately.”

I nodded. Wise words. I hoped there were enough Batu who thought the same way he did.

“Now, I will leave you to rest,” Pelle said. “And extend an invitation. The Festival of Azhra is upcoming. I would like to invite you, Pendragon, to be my guest for the celebration.”

“I’d be honored, Your Majesty,” I answered.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Now all you must do is mend. Are they treating you well here?”

“No complaints,” I said.

“Then best of luck with your recovery.” He looked to the doctor and added, “Take care of him.”

The doctor bowed and said, “Like he was my own son, Majesty.”

Pelle gave me a quick smile and a nod, then turned and hurried off. The Ghee guards, along with Loor and the doctor, did a quick kneel again. Once the royal entourage was gone, everybody stood up. I could feel the dark looks being shot at me by the Ghee warriors.

“I guess I’m going to a festival,” I said to Loor.

“You should be honored,” she said. “The Festival of Azhra is the most joyous of all days for the Batu. It celebrates the ancient king, Azhra, who fought his way through the desert and tamed this oasis to create a home for the Batu…the city of Xhaxhu.”

“Sounds like a party,” I said. “Now all I have to do is walk.”

From that point on my recovery went pretty quickly. Once I started moving, each day I felt a little better. Pain is a weird thing: When you’ve got it, you know it-but you don’t really know the moment it stops. It’s kind of like, afterward you realize: “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore. Or walk. Or blink.” Little by little I was getting back to normal.

Every day Loor or Saangi were by my side. They were my guardian angels. They even slept next to my bed. The doctor was kind enough to bring in a grass mattress for them to sleep on. I kept telling them to go home, but neither listened. To be honest, I’m glad they didn’t. Not only did they help with the therapy and exercises, they ran interference for me whenever I ran into another Batu in the hallways. Which was often. The Batu would first act all surprised that a Rokador would dare be in their hospital, like I was bringing in disease or something. Then some would start yelling at me to get out. Loor always stood up to them, saying how I was a guest of Prince Pelle a Zinj. That would instantly make the Batu back off. It also didn’t hurt that Loor looked like she was ready to rip their faces off if they messed with me.

That’s not to say that every Batu hated my guts. Some were actually nice. I got into a lot of conversations about how they wished things could go back to the old ways, when the Rokador and the Batu lived in harmony. I guess what I was experiencing was the divide between the Batu. Half hated the Rokador and wanted to march down to the underground and annihilate them; the other half wanted peace and a diplomatic resolution.

The one thing they all had in common was the need for water. Food was getting scarce in Xhaxhu. What little they could still grow on the farms had to be spread among many mouths. No one was allowed to bathe, and the latrines that usually had running water, didn’t. That meant the waste just sat there. I don’t have to tell you that everybody pretty much avoided the latrines, and made their visits short and not very sweet. From what I could tell, the water crises on Zadaa was reaching critical mass, which meant that whatever Saint Dane had in store for the territory was bound to come into play very soon.

The one thing I had plenty of during my stay in the hospital was time. There was a whole lot of lying around going on, especially in the beginning, and I guess I don’t have to point out that they didn’t have TV on Zadaa. Or radio or an MP3 player or anything else you might use to kill time while doing nothing. I took that time to take stock. I tried to replay everything in my head, from the time I had left home to the moment Saint Dane crushed me in the Ghee compound. After all that thinking, I came to two conclusions. One is the decision I told you about at the beginning of this journal. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. The other is tough for me to write about, but I have to.

Everything I’ve written in my journals has been the absolute truth as I’ve seen it. Many things were difficult to write about, either because they were so disturbing, or there were things I had to admit about myself that I wasn’t too proud of, but they were always the truth. That’s the whole point of the journal, right? That’s why I have to write what I’m about to write, as tough as it may be. I’ll just write it straight out.