D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“Then what are you still doing here?” Uncle Press said with a smile.

“Hobey-ho!” I said, and gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder.

“Don’t start the do without me, mates!” he said, then turned and bounded off the platform.

I could only hope that he got to Yenza fast, and that her help wouldn’t be too little, too late.

“Now,” said the elderly man. “There is the matter of the underwater farms. Kalaloo, are we prepared?”

“I believe so,” he answered. “The crafts are being loaded.”

“Then off you go,” the man commanded.

Kalaloo said to us, “Come. You’ll want to see this.”

We definitely wanted to see how the Faarians were going to save the underwater farms. It seemed pretty impossible to me, but as I’ve learned, nothing is impossible.

After a respectful bow to the council members, we started off the platform.

“Pendragon!” called the elderly man.

I stopped and turned back to him.

“This fellow who wants to harm us… should we truly fear him?”

Nowtherewas a question. What he was really asking me was if Saint Dane were capable of destroying Faar. I had to answer this question as truthfully as possible. I didn’t want the council to second-guess their decision. I held the old man’s gaze so he knew how serious I was.

“I could just say yes,” I began. “But the absolute truth is that he is evil beyond your imagination. You can’t back down from him. The biggest mistake you could make would be to not fear him enough.”

The old man nodded in understanding. He looked tired. He raised his hand to me in thanks and to tell me to get going.

Kalaloo hurried us off the council platform, along a different path down the mountain and into a tunnel that brought us into Faar’s mountain. We walked along a narrow hallway that brought us deep inside the city. I was amazed to see wonderful works of art hanging on the walls. Most were posed portraits of stern-looking men and women. I figured they were past council members, but didn’t bother to ask. We had more important things to do than study art history.

“We must go to the base of the mountain,” explained Kalaloo. “That is the staging area.”

“It’s a long way down,” said Uncle Press.

“Not the way we’re going,” answered Kalaloo.

We arrived at a big tube. It came down through the ceiling and disappeared into the floor. There was a door in the tube right in front of us, and I imagined there were more doors if you walked around. Kalaloo led us through the door into a small room that was no bigger than an elevator. As it turned out, that’s exactly what it was. The big tube held four elevators.

Kalaloo grabbed a lever on the side of the room and pushed it forward. I heard awhooshof air, and a moment later we were on our way down. We were hauling, too. There wasn’t any door on this thing and seeing the floors fly by made it seem even faster. I held on to the side of the car nervously. Kalaloo laughed.

“Do not worry, Pendragon. You are floating on a cushion of air. That is how we power so much of Faar, with air that is compressed through channels built into the mountain.”

That was cool. But until we were on firm ground again, I had to hope this aerovator wouldn’t spring a leak. We descended so fast my ears popped. Kalaloo then eased up on the throttle and we began to slow. A moment later we gently touched down.

“Like floating on a cloud,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked.

Uncle Press laughed. He knew I was freaked out.

Kalaloo led us out through another long corridor that soon brought us back into daylight. As soon as we stepped outside I looked up to see that we were at the base of Faar’s mountain. It was a pretty majestic sight, this mountain city with the glittering dome covering it.

We hurried along a pathway that led to the large buildings I described to you before. We passed many other Faarians along the way. I couldn’t help but notice that the people down here were moving a little more quickly. Where everyone else was kind of strolling around, enjoying the weird music, these guys down here had jobs to do.

“The mutated crops may be deadly,” Kalaloo explained, “but the cellular change that occurred was a fairly simple one. We have prepared a chemical compound that when spread over the living plants will quickly reverse the process.”

That sounded good, but we weren’t talking about sprinkling plant food on a rose bush. We were talking about thousands upon thousands of acres of farmland. I didn’t care how advanced these guys were, that was a big job.

“How can you possibly spread the chemical over such a vast area?” Uncle Press asked. Great minds think alike. He didn’t believe it was possible either.

“That is the easy part,” answered Kalaloo with a proud smile.

We were now at the door to the large building. Unlike the ancient, marble structures farther up on Faar’s mountain, this building seemed a bit more modern. It reminded me of a big airplane hangar.

When we stepped inside, I saw that my first impression wasn’t far off. It wasn’t an airplane hangar, but it could have been. The space inside was vast. The ceiling was high and there were no walls or partitions to divide up the space. It was just one big garagelike room. But the building itself wasn’t the impressive part. What my eye first went to was every science fiction geek’s fantasy. Since I thought it was pretty cool, maybe that means I’m a science fiction geek too.

Lined up in front of us side by side was a fleet of small submarines. I counted twenty in all. My first thought was that they looked like those helicopters where the pilots sit in big, clear bubbles. They were about the same size and the fronts had similar-looking bubbles. Inside one bubble, I saw seats for two pilots, surrounded by the vehicle’s controls. Attached in front was a long mechanical arm that I guessed must be used for grabbing things, kind of like what they have on the space shuttle. Behind the bubble the body of the submarine was light green, which I figured made it tough to see underwater.

Each sub floated in its own individual pen. I looked below the waterline and saw two large cylinders attached to the bottom of the sub that could only be the engines. Each sub pen had its own big door that I was sure would open when it came time to launch.

The place was pretty busy. Faarians were swarming over the submarines, preparing them for their mission. It looked like they were being fueled up because many of the vehicles had thick hoses attached to the back. These hoses came down from giant bins that were up near the ceiling. But I knew they didn’t need fueling, since they used water for power. I wondered what these snaky tubes were for, but waited for Kalaloo to explain. In all, it was a pretty impressive operation.

“We call them haulers,” Kalaloo said proudly. “They may not look like it, but at full speed they move so quickly they are nearly impossible to see.”

If that were true, then “haulers” was the perfect name because it sounded like they could really haul.

Kalaloo motioned for me to get inside one of the subs. I thought that was cool. The bubble had a door on top that was open, so I slipped down into the pilot’s seat. I felt like I was at the controls of a jet fighter, especially since the main control was a stick near my right hand, just like a jet.

“One pilot drives the hauler,” he continued. “The other navigates, controls the arm, and delivers the cargo.”

“Cargo?” asked Uncle Press.

Kalaloo pointed to the tube that ran from the bins in the ceiling down to the haulers.

“That is the main purpose of the haulers. We have used them to secretly tend Cloral’s underwater farms for generations. The back is a cargo area where we carry seed, or fertilizer, or minerals, or anything else that is needed. Right now we are loading the chemical that will save the mutated crops.”