D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“But he was myfather, Pendragon!” he said with emotion. “How can I look past that?”

I didn’t sit up. I didn’t raise my voice. I answered Spader as calmly as possible.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt here. Both my parents and my sister are gone. Loor’s mother was killed. We both watched as Saint Dane’s men shot her full of arrows. It hadn’t been easy but we’ve been able to look past it. You’d better have the guts to do it too.”

Spader didn’t respond. I think I nailed him right between the eyes. Yes, we had all lost loved ones. Spader didn’t have a monopoly on that particular horror. I could only hope that he now understood that the only hope we had of defeating Saint Dane was by fighting the larger battle, together.

I was too exhausted to think anymore. It had been an incredibly long day. I needed to sleep, so that’s what I did.

We all got up before the sun. Loor started a fire and cooked us more of that incredible bread, along with a half dozen eggs. At least I thought they were eggs. They were green and looked more like something you would see in a Dr. Seuss book than on a menu at Denny’s. Still, they were good and I was starving. We needed to eat every chance we had because we couldn’t be sure where our next meal would come from.

It was now time to get going. Spader stood before Loor and said, “Thank you for helping me understand, and for holding my father’s note. I guess we’ll see each other again.”

“We will,” she said. Then added, “Trust Pendragon. He is the light we all need to follow.”

That caught me by surprise. What did she mean by that? It sounded like a compliment, but it also sounded like she was expecting way too much from me. Spader looked to me and I’ll bet he was wondering the same thing. He then nodded and left us alone.

“What was that about the light and the following?” I asked her.

She scoffed, saying, “I wanted to make sure Spader listened to you. That is all.”

Oh. Okay. That was cool. I guess.

“When you need me,” she added, “I will be there.”

“Thanks for helping with Spader,” I said. “I was lost there for a while.”

“Your instincts are good, Pendragon,” she said. “Someday you will realize that.”

I nodded and backed out of the room. This was the second time I had to say good-bye to Loor, and it wasn’t any easier. Still, I knew where to find her if need be.

Spader and I walked back toward the gate without saying much. I had to concentrate in order to retrace our steps through the city. It helped that my ring was doing a hot-cold thing to help guide us. With only a few wrong turns, we finally found the building with the ramp that led down to the underground river.

I really wanted to avoid running into that guy who worked the knob-and-lever gizmo. I didn’t want to have to answer any more questions. But as luck would have it, the guy was there again, still checking his plans, still spinning his controls. What a boring job. We tried to sneak by without being noticed but -

“Are you lost again?” he said without looking at us.

“No,” I said with authority. “Just passing through.”

“Do you believe me now?” he asked.

“Uh… about what?”

“About the Batu. They are liars and barbarians. I hope you found that so-called friend of yours and told them I said so.”

Loor was right. There was definitely bad blood between the Rokador and the Batu. I hoped she had luck in diffusing it.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Thanks for the advice.”

The man didn’t say another word. I motioned to Spader and we continued on through the tunnel that led to the waterfall. Once we had gotten away from the roar of the water, Spader said, “I understood.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy back there. When he first started talking it sounded like: ‘Shshaa shashaaa shashaaa’ or something. But then all of a sudden he started making sense. I understood what he said about the Rokador and the Batu. What happened?”

I had to smile. “What happened is that you’re becoming a Traveler.”

Next stop, Cloral.

The telephone rang, making both Mark and Courtney jump. When they were reading Bobby’s journals they both became so immersed in the adventure that there own world seemed to slip away. But a jangling telephone is a surefire way to bring anyone back to the here and now.

Unfortunately for Courtney, they were reading the journal in Mark’s bedroom. Though Mark did his best to excavate all of his crusty sweat socks and half-eaten cheddar cheese (extra sharp) sandwiches, the room was still in need of professional fumigation. The good news was that Courtney’s gag reflex stopped when she got used to the putrid smell. The bad news was that she was afraid there were noxious gases eating away at her brain. Her goal was to read quick and get out fast.

They had been displaced from Courtney’s basement because Courtney’s father was actually going to attempt to make something in his workshop. That was always cause for worry in the Chetwynde house. Nothing good ever happened when Mr. Chetwynde decided to swing a hammer. Things usually got broken. When the telephone rang, Courtney’s first thought was: “Dad hurt himself! He’s headed for the emergency room.” She had absolutely no faith in her father’s handyman abilities.

Mark had to answer the phone because nobody else was home.

“Hello?”

“What’s the deal, Dimond?” snarled a familiar voice.

The call wasn’t about Courtney’s father, it was Andy Mitchell. He was actually calling Mark’s house. Mark wondered how Mitchell got his telephone number. Not that it was tough to get, but he couldn’t picture Mitchell figuring out how to do something as complex as using a telephone book.

“Hey!” answered Mark with false friendliness. “How’s it going?”

Mark was trapped. He didn’t want to say anything that would make Courtney suspicious about what was going on with Mitchell. He knew she wouldn’t continue reading the journal without Mark, so she had nothing to do but listen to his conversation. Mark fought his rising panic and pressed the phone closer to his ear so Courtney couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.

“You tell me,” answered Mitchell. Mark could hear him snort and spit. “We have a deal, remember?”

“Uhhh, of course I do,” answered Mark, trying to sound all innocent.

“So what’s the problem?” asked Mitchell.

“No problem, everything’s cool.” He looked to Courtney and held up a finger as if to say: “I’ll be off in a second.”

Courtney shrugged. No biggie.

“So when am I gonna see the other journals?”

“Uhhh, let’s see. How about… tomorrow?”

“How about in an hour?”

Mark’s stomach twisted. “Okay, that’s good too. Tell you what, I’m kinda doing my homework now. But I should be done in an hour. Why don’t you call me back then?”

Mitchell hung up abruptly. Mark didn’t know what to do. If he just put the phone down, Courtney would wonder what happened. So he pretended to still be on the call.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds good. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.”

Mark hung up the phone and hoped that Courtney only cared about getting back to reading the journal.

She didn’t.

“Who was that?” she asked. Of course she did.

Mark hated lying. He wasn’t good at it. He now had to get very good, very fast.

“Friend of mine,” he answered, trying to sound casual. “He needs some help with homework. A-Algebra.”

The instant Mark said that, he wished he hadn’t. Up to that point he’d been cool, but when he made the full-on lie, when he said “algebra,” he stuttered. Courtney caught it, too. He saw it in her eyes. Was she going to bust him on it? Courtney stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.