D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“Yeah, I know all that.”

“The only way to stop him was to create our own actual presence in Halla. We took ten souls and gave them physical life. One on each territory.”

Uncle Press stopped talking. He must have seen the look on my face.

“What do you mean ‘took ten souls’?” I asked cautiously. “You’re from Solara, Bobby. All the Travelers are from Solara.”

I knew he was going to say that. It’s exactly what my parents had told me. But hearing it put so plainly was still a shocker. Maybe in the back of my mind I was hoping for another explanation, but that was just wishful thinking.

“So I’m really not Bobby Pendragon” was my sober response.

“Oh no, you are very much Bobby Pendragon. That was the whole point. We chose a strong, wise, caring spirit and gave it life on Second Earth. We created a family to raise and nurture that spirit, teaching him the ways of that world. The same happened with each of the territories. Each Traveler was given a mentor from Solara to prepare them for the conflict with Saint Dane. It’s why I became a physical being. I bounced between territories, ensuring that the Travelers were being properly prepared and ultimately telling them of their true destiny.”

“That’s why Press Tilton was born,” I said.

“Not exactly born. More like created. The only hope we had of countering Saint Dane’s influence was to do so with actual, living beings. But instead of just one, we chose ten. Saint Dane had grown too powerful; there was no way we could match what he had become with only one Traveler. Our intent was for the Travelers to bond and work against him, which is exactly what happened.”

My mind flashed to a million different questions.

“But wasn’t that just as bad as what Saint Dane was doing? I mean, the spirits of Solara aren’t supposed to monkey with reality, right?”

“You’re right. By creating the Travelers, we were also sapping the strength of Solara. In some ways what Solara has become was also our doing. The tools we gave the Travelers came at a cost. We showed you all how to use Saint Dane’s flumes. We marked them with stars and created rings to help locate them. We advised you to write journals and send them to your acolytes. Whenever you stepped into a flume, we ensured that you arrived where you needed to be, when you needed to be there, in order to continue the struggle with Saint Dane.”

“And we could heal one another,” I added.

“Yes, as much as you were human, you had that ability as well. But each time it was used, another piece of Solara slipped away. It was a price that had to be paid. The alternative was far worse, which was to hand Solara over to Saint Dane without a fight.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us all this from the get-go? Maybe we would have had a better chance.”

“No, in spite of our manipulation of physical reality, your mission retained the spirit of Solara. You were behaving exactly as natural inhabitants of the territories would act because that’s what you were. Everything you did, every decision you made, came from your experience as a living being, with all the flaws and fears and strengths that every being has. We counted on your strength and character to triumph. And it did. You had many victories, Bobby. Each time, Solara was given a new, positive shot of life. It was restored not only because you kept a territory on its natural course, but your own personal spirit returned strength to us. You personified the triumph of the spirit of mankind.”

We walked a bit in silence. Uncle Press was letting me process the information. It was all beginning to make sense. It was incredible, but it was making sense. My questions were being answered. I can’t say I liked any of the answers, but at least I was getting them.

“You gotta know how impossible this all seems to me,” I finally said. “You tell me I’m an ancient spirit from an alternate universe on the edge of reality, but I still just feel like Bobby Pendragon. I mean, I have no memory of being anything other than Bobby Pendragon. I’m half expecting you to burst out laughing and tell me it was all a goof, and you can’t believe I fell for it. Psyche!”

“You feel like Bobby Pendragon because you are Bobby Pendragon.”

“Lead Traveler,” I added.

“Yes, lead Traveler. You above all were created to be the heart of the Travelers. It was based on the strength of your spirit long before you set foot on Second Earth.”

“And I blew it all by killing Alexander Naymeer,” I said soberly.

Uncle Press frowned. “What you did is exactly what Saint Dane wanted you to do. You gave in to the darker nature of man. First by brazenly mixing the destinies of the territories-”

“What was I supposed to do?” I shot back. “Let the dados destroy Rayne?” “Yes.” Oh.

“I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I understand, but it cost. That was the beginning of the final slide. With that battle, Solara grew dark. Not only because of the tak you brought to Ibara, but because you reintroduced that weapon to the Milago and Bedoowan tribes of Denduron, who then used it to invade and enslave the Lowsee tribe. The fall of Solara mirrored your own. As it grew weaker, we relied more on your own personal spirit to hold on. The final blow came when you killed Alexander Naymeer. You had hit bottom, and so has Solara. Out of desperation, we destroyed the flumes.”

“You destroyed the flumes?” I asked, shocked.

“It was all we could do. With Halla crumbling, we felt that preventing the Ravinians from traveling between territories might slow the fall. I’m afraid it was too little too late. Saint Dane didn’t need them anymore to achieve his goals. His Convergence was a success. Each territory was already on its own downward spiral.”

Great. I was more or less responsible for letting Saint Dane destroy all that was good about Halla, and allowing the ultimate evil to take control.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. What else could I say? It felt pretty inadequate, but it was all I had. I sensed movement nearby. I expected to look up and again catch the fleeting image of a spirit. Instead I saw Spader. He stood on a rock outcropping, staring at me. He looked shaken, which wasn’t like him.

“Quite the natty tale, isn’t it, mate?” he said. “Not at all what I expected, no sir.”

Loor walked up behind him. She had a totally blank look on her face. I’m guessing that she was just as stunned as I was. She was quickly joined by the other Travelers. Gunny, Patrick, Kasha, Elli, Siry, Aja, and Alder. None of them looked very good. When we were last together, they’d each had a spark of defiance in their eyes that said they were still ready to fight. Now they looked as if they had all seen a ghost. Which they had. Except that they had been looking at themselves. Once I saw that everyone had arrived, I turned to Uncle Press.

“So I guess that’s it,” I said. “I blew it.”

“We blew it, shorty,” Gunny called out.

“Whatever,” I snapped back. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. All that’s left is for Saint Dane to return to Solara and take control of the wreckage.”

“That’s his plan,” Uncle Press said. “Once Halla has totally turned, the negative forces that have overcome mankind will create a rebirth of Solara. A much different Solara. It will still be filled with the spirit of mankind, but it will be a dark, negative spirit. After that, Saint Dane can use it as he will to manipulate matter and create an entirely new Halla. That’s the road we’re on.”

Siry called out, “And what happens to us?”

“That’s your choice,” Uncle Press answered. “You can accept what’s happened as inevitable and become part of this new Solara, or you can make one last stand.”