D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

I stood with my back to the square, not wanting to imagine how gruesome the scene was on the ground. As I stood there, I glanced up to the next level to see how the strange observer with the purple robe was reacting. Whose side was he on? Would he be cheering, or jeering?

I never found out, because he was gone.

“Donot move,” Saangi ordered. “This will only take longer if you do.”

It was the first time I heard anyone give Loor an order. Or maybe I should say, it was the first time I saw Loor obey an order. Saangi may have been her younger aide, but she acted more like a stern, caring mother. Loor sat still, impatiently, while Saangi sewed together the wound in her arm. I’m serious. Needle. Thread. Skin. Gross. It wasn’t a deep wound that the zhou beast had cut, but it was serious enough that it needed stitching. To these warrior types, it was no big deal. Loor didn’t even wince. But I had to look away, or I would have ralphed right there on the floor of Loor’s home. That wouldn’t have been cool.

“Does this bother you, Pendragon?” Saangi asked. She knew it did.

“Nah,” I lied. “I’ve seen worse.”

Loor and Saangi exchanged glances. They knew I was just trying to be casual. I needed to change the subject or risk being revealed as a full-tilt wussy.

“What happened out there wasn’t fair,” I said. “You should have won.”

“You are correct,” Loor said. “It was not fair. Saangi should not have interfered.”

I didn’t expect that. I looked to Saangi. Saangi didn’t react.

“Once she entered the contest, it was over,” Loor continued. “Outside interference is not permitted. No matter what happened after that, my team would have lost.”

“But she saved your life!” I exclaimed.

“I would have found a way,” Loor said calmly.

I didn’t argue. Truth was, she probably would have.

“I gotta tell you,” I said. “That whole zhou-fight thing seemed a little extreme. How much water did they find in that well?”

“It was dry,” Loor said soberly. “Once the well was drained, there was no source below to feed it.”

“So six Ghee warriors risked their lives to slaughter a two-headed monster over…nothing?”

“The water was an excuse,” Loor said. “Tension has been growing within the Ghee. Today the battle was over water. Soon it will be for control of Xhaxhu’s future, and Zadaa.”

“And maybe Halla,” Saangi added, while keeping her eyes locked on her stitching.

“Do you have any idea how Saint Dane fits into this?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Loor answered. She looked me right in the eye and added, “That is why you are here.”

Right. That’s why I was there. Sitting in a hot, dusty apartment in a stone pyramid that housed rival tribal warriors on a desert territory light-years from home, watching my friend being sewn up so we could figure out how to stop a demon from destroying everything that ever was and would be. Yeah, that pretty much summed up the situation. Suddenly the idea of watching skin being stitched didn’t seem so bad.

“The Travelers have done well, Pendragon,” Loor said. “You have done well. But now the battle has come to my home territory. I do not mean to say that Zadaa has more value than the other territories, but I would be lying if I said it did not hold more importance for me. We will not fail here. Saint Dane will be stopped.”

She was right. At least about the Traveler part, anyway. We had done pretty well so far in our mission to stop Saint Dane and his quest to control Halla. Denduron, Cloral, First Earth, and Eelong were all victories. He had tried to turn each of these territories toward chaos, and each time we were able to stop him. Our only failure had been on Veelox. That territory was doomed to crumble because the people chose to live in a virtual fantasy world instead of reality. The Traveler there, Aja Killian, was still doing her best to keep the Lifelight supercomputer running and the people alive. Our only hope for that territory was to defeat Saint Dane. For good. Maybe then we could go back to Veelox and help Aja put the pieces back together.

We were four-and-one, but it wasn’t as simple as that. We may have turned Saint Dane back on those other territories, but victory often came at a steep price. I can’t help but have the sick feeling that in order to win the battles, Saint Dane has gradually chipped away at our strength. What’s that old saying about winning the battle but losing the war? As important as every territory is, this wasn’t about any one battle. There’s no question that we aren’t as strong as we used to be, and the war is still very much on. My uncle Press is dead. So is Vo Spader’s father. Osa and Seegen were killed too. Writing it all down like this makes me realize just how many people have made the ultimate sacrifice to stop Saint Dane. I don’t know if the feeling I have is sadness, or anger. Probably a little of both. Throw in a little fear for good measure. Never forget the fear.

But that’s not all. Spader and Gunny were trapped on Eelong when the flume collapsed. (I don’t mean to bring up a sore subject, but if I’m going to do a recap here, I’ve got to include it all. Sorry.) On Eelong we learned our lesson the hard way that the territories cannot be mixed, and only the Travelers can use the flumes. Not only are two Travelers stuck there, but the collapsing flume killed Kasha, Eelong’s Traveler. She was the first Traveler of our generation to die. I hope she was the last. As I’m writing this, I’m looking at the small silver urn that holds Kasha’s ashes. One day, I swear, I will return her to Eelong. I’m holding out hope that somehow the flume can be repaired, or another one will be discovered. Not just so I can return the ashes, but to spring Gunny and Spader. I need them. Bad. But we have no control over the flumes. The best I can do is hope.

Each of the Travelers I have met so far have been incredible people. We were each chosen from our home territory to stop Saint Dane and his mad quest. Uncle Press told me that Saint Dane is a Traveler too. If that’s so, I wonder what territory he is from? Is it a territory consumed by evil? Is being a violent, murdering, sadist normal for Saint Dane’s home? Who knows? Maybe compared to the other people of his territory, he’s a good guy. How’s that for a gruesome thought?

I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing this to you guys. You already know it all. I guess as I’m sitting here, getting ready to begin a new chapter of my life, it helps to look back and take stock. Sometimes I think I’ve done pretty well. For somebody who still has no idea why he was chosen to be a Traveler, let alone the lead Traveler, I can be proud of the way I’ve helped mess up Saint Dane’s evil plans. But there are other times, usually late at night when I can’t sleep, that I feel like I’m in way over my head. I’ve had to make some tough decisions, and they haven’t always been the right ones. I’ve been lucky enough that the other Travelers have picked up the slack when I’ve messed up. Still, I can’t help but fear that one day I’ll make a move so wrong, it will blow up in our faces, and we will lose it all to Saint Dane.

It makes for a lot of sleepless nights.

There’s so much at stake, it’s hard to even imagine. Saint Dane is trying to control the destiny of everything that ever existed, or will exist. Everything. I can’t even get my mind around the concept of Halla, let alone the idea that someone as evil as Saint Dane wants to bring it all down. Before Uncle Press took me away from home on Second Earth, the biggest responsibility I had was to get my homework done and take out the garbage. Half the time I didn’t even get to the garbage. Now I’ve found myself leading a group of people who are the only force standing in the way of the destruction of all living things. And I’m only sixteen! I think. I’ve lost all track of time. I guess it goes without saying that I’d rather be home, taking out the garbage.