D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“I guess they store their fuel there too,” I added.

We both laughed. It was an incredible stroke of luck. I hoped the explosions carried through to the dado side of the factory.

I heard several smaller explosions coming from the ground. Besides the rifles that the rebels provided, there were also a few weapons that packed a little more punch. I saw people dropping to their knees and bracing another type of rifle against the ground. When they fired, a burst of flame erupted from each muzzle. It must have packed a heck of a kick. Seconds later explosions erupted near the destroyed door of the fortress.

“They’re like grenade launchers,” I said to Boon, not that he knew what a grenade launcher was. “They’re getting closer.”

Dados gathered inside the destroyed doorway to defend the obvious point of attack. There were dozens of them, all with the silver weapons. They fired wildly into the crowd that was growing ever closer. Every one up front held a shield. The constant metallic pings told me that they were warding off the charges fired by the Ravinians.

More grenades were launched, blowing dados away, throwing them back into the fortress. Several people formed a wall of shields to protect the gars that were moving forward with their radio cannons. When they got to within forty yards of the door, the sharp-shooting gars planted and fired. Dados fell like paper dolls in the wind.

The first wave of the attack was nearly at the fortress.

Looking back, I saw that the second wave had begun their charge. I hoped that the first wave would get into the conclave soon and neutralize the dados, because none of the people in the second wave had shields.

The dados along the top of the wall had grown sparse. Either they had been blown away by the gars, or had gone to the ground to make the final stand at the door.

“They’re going to make it,” Boon declared.

Sure enough, the first of the attacking force had reached the door and fought their way inside. I couldn’t tell if any Travelers were among them.

“Now!” I shouted. “Get us over the top.”

Boon throttled up and flew the gig over the giant wall. We were in, and got our first view of the action behind enemy lines. Below, our people poured in through the destroyed door, past the wreck of the golden engine. There were still a lot of Ravinian guards on the ground, fighting back, but far more were laid out on the ground. Finished. As the exiles and gars pushed inside, anyone who didn’t have a weapon to begin with picked up a silver wand from a fallen dado. We were gaining firepower.

That proved to be the last straw for the defense of the conclave. The dados didn’t retreat. They weren’t programmed to retreat. They didn’t know fear. They fought till the end, but the end came quickly. In minutes the grassy park below was filled with the remains of hundreds of dados.

I looked farther into the conclave, fearing that there might be a counterattack, either from more dados or from human Ravinians. As I wrote before, that is what I truly feared. If the human Ravinians engaged this army, they would lose and they would die. That wasn’t why we were there. This wasn’t meant to be a slaughter. From our vantage point flying high over the compound, I saw no counterattack. In fact, I saw very few Ravinians at all. I caught glimpses of a few who were deeper in the compound, but they were fleeing. They wanted no part of this fight. They expected the dados to protect them.

The dados failed.

“Put us down,” I said to Boon.

We dropped quickly and landed softly on the grass. We had done it. We were in. More and more exiles and gars flooded in through the destroyed door. Many grabbed weapons and began climbing up to the top of the wall. They all knew the score. This was only the first half of the battle. The attackers would soon become defenders, and it would be our turn to hold off a huge army bent on taking over the conclave.

I ran toward the destroyed door, looking for Uncle Press and the Travelers. There was a moment of panic. Had any of them been hit? People ran past me, running deeper into the conclave. They knew their mission. Seek out and destroy every last dado. They would move in patrols of twenty, searching everywhere. The destruction of the dados had to be complete. Another group would be headed for the factory to root out any last dados there, but I was pretty sure all they’d find was burning wreckage. The assault had been a complete success.

But where were the Travelers?

I stepped over a fallen dado… and the robot grabbed my leg. He was down, but he wasn’t dead. I was so surprised that I didn’t defend myself. The dado tossed me down. I hit the grass and spun back, expecting an attack. The dado still had his silver weapon. He raised it to fire at me… and got clocked in the head by a wooden stave. The dado fell to its knee and got clocked again. It may have been a robot, but it couldn’t stand up to the vicious onslaught. It dropped the weapon, reached for it, grabbed the wrong end… and instantly went dead.

“I prefer doing things the old way,” Loor said, spinning her stave triumphantly.

“You didn’t kill it, it was the weapon,” I shot back, kidding.

“It was as good as dead already,” she argued. “Yeah, whatever. Thank you.”

Loor gave me a small smile, which for her was huge. “Will I ever have to stop protecting you, Pendragon?” “Man, I hope so.” “Bobby!” Uncle Press called.

He ran up, out of breath. Behind him were Alder, Spader, Kasha, and Siry. Boon joined us as well. We all stood there looking at one another. Spader began to laugh. Alder followed. Then Siry and Uncle Press and even Kasha and Loor. It was a moment of pure exhilaration. We had done it. We had gotten a toehold in the Conclave of Ravinia. There was nothing funny going on; it was more a laugh of pure joy.

“Where’s Aron?” I asked.

Uncle Press stopped laughing. The others did as well. The mood instantly turned dark.

“He almost made it,” Uncle Press answered. “He was near the door. But he took a hit from a dado that we thought was finished.”

It was a shocking, hollow feeling. Aron was the leader of the gars, and had been since my first visit to Black Water. He was the visionary who helped civilize the gars and earn them respect. It was hard to believe that he was gone. His spirit had surely became part of Solara, and Solara was all the better for it.

“Hey!” came a familiar voice.

Mark and Courtney came running up to join us.

“Can you believe this?” I said. “We did it.”

“Not yet, we didn’t,” Mark said, dead serious.

His tone didn’t fit the moment of victory. I looked over his shoulder to see hundreds upon hundreds of our people streaming into the conclave. I didn’t get it. From what I could see, we had most definitely done it.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Mark held up his walkie-talkie. “They found it.”

We all knew what he meant.

“When?” I asked.

Courtney answered, “The flume downtown came to life five minutes ago. Dados are pouring out in droves. They’re headed this way.”

We stood there in stunned silence. Our celebration was a short one. Though it was something we expected, knowing it was actually happening was still. a shock.

Mark said, “I’d say we have two hours at best before we get swarmed.”

Uncle Press looked around and said, “We know what to do. Bring all the radio cannons inside. Call back the choppers. Find every weapon and get it into the hands of a gar or a Yank.”

The Travelers scattered to carry out the commands. I was left with Mark and Courtney and Uncle Press.

“Two hours,” Uncle Press said, looking at me.

“We can do it,” Mark said. “We will do it.”