D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Spader said.

Make that three of us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ve been giving it some thought. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as absolute good or pure evil.”

“Not so sure about that, mate,” Spader interrupted. “I haven’t seen a whole lot of good coming from Saint Dane.”

“Not now, but according to Uncle Press, he started out with good intentions. He may have been arrogant and egotistical and ruthless, but his original goal was to help the people of Halla.”

“But he was wrong,” Loor complained. “His vision was wrong.”

“I agree, but we’re talking about his original intent, not his methods. His thinking was to save the people of Halla from themselves. His ideas may have been misguided, but in his mind he was doing something positive.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending the bugger,” Spader said.

“I’m not! What he’s done is monstrous. I’m just saying that in the beginning, in his mind, he was doing something positive.”

Spader shrugged. “Then it didn’t last long. Look at all the damage he’s done.”

“I think the real damage he did was to draw a hard line between good and evil. He’s not allowing for the good in people to exist by only rewarding the darker side of human behavior. Look at Ravinia. What do they encourage? Pride. Aggression. Strength. Power. Those aren’t necessarily bad things, unless you eliminate the other side. You can’t have pride without humility. Aggression without tolerance. Strength without compassion. Power without restraint. That’s what Solara has been about, balancing it all. Saint Dane has thrown that balance off.”

“You may be correct, but that does not explain where he is getting his power from,” Loor argued.

I stopped a moment before speaking. A theory had been tickling the back of my brain for a while. Listening to Loor’s concerns brought it forward.

“I think he’s created his own version of Solara,” I said. “Uncle Press already told us that Solara wasn’t about everyone being all peaceful and loving. That’s not reality. There were always darker forces in Solara. It’s the reflection of mankind, and mankind has two sides. There is no good without evil. Positive without negative. I think that by destroying the more peaceful, less aggressive spirit throughout Halla, it allowed another Solara to rise.”

“You mean, like splitting it in two?” Spader suggested.

“Something like that. I guess. I don’t know. I’m winging this. But I’m thinking that by doing what he’s done, he’s forced the spirits of Solara to take sides. Those who favor free will and tolerance are about to die off, and those who favor strength and aggression are building momentum. The exiles are feeding the positive side, and Saint Dane’s Ravinian followers are feeding the aggressive side. Even the survivors of Ravinia must be feeding the negative side. Their lives are about fear and survival. Sounds like that could just as easily feed a dark Solara as a positive one. The balance that allowed Halla to thrive has been totally thrown off.”

“And you think this other, dark Solara is where Saint Dane is drawing his power from?” Loor asked.

“What other explanation is there? If he were drawing his power from the Solara we visited, it would have died long ago, Saint Dane would be out of business. I think he won’t be in total control until he’s completely destroyed that place. The positive side of Solara. And that’s where we come in.”

Spader gave me a sideways look. “If you say so, mate. It all has me head spinning.”

“The territories have turned,” I added. “Everything we’ve seen tells us that Saint Dane’s evil has taken over Halla. The balance has been tipped one way. The question is, how can we tip it back?”

“According to Press, it’s all about the exiles,” Spader said hopefully.

“And we have no idea where they are,” I replied. “At least seventy thousand people were pulled into the flume on Second Earth. And we’ve only found… what? Twenty? I don’t believe that number of people can be keeping Solara alive. There have to be more. Maybe they’re here.”

Loor dropped her head. She looked pained.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked her. “Why are you so upset?”

“Everything that you have said makes sense, Pendragon,” she answered softly. “I have seen it here, on my own territory.”

Spader and I exchanged looks. We both knew that bad news was on the way.

“How did Zadaa change?” I asked.

“My people are gone,” Loor said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

“Gone?” Spader asked. “You mean like… gone?”

“The Rokador have risen to power. They now control this area of the territory. I believe they have murdered the Batu tribe.”

“Murdered?” I repeated. “You’re saying the Rokador wiped out an entire tribe of Batu?”

“Not entirely,” Loor answered. “Those who survived are now slaves. But they are a small portion of what once was. I understand your words, Pendragon, but it is hard for me to believe that pure evil does not exist. Perhaps it did not begin that way, but that is the way it has become.” She pointed over our shoulders and added, “Look.”

Spader and I turned to view a breathtaking sight. Spader had never seen the city of Xhaxhu, so I didn’t think it would affect him one way or the other. But I was stunned. The whole time we had been there, I didn’t think to turn around and look at the city that was Loor’s home. It had changed. There was still a giant sandstone wall that surrounded the city, but that’s where the familiarity ended. The tall, ornate pyramids that gave Xhaxhu its character were still there, but they were now covered with a silver metal skin. What had once been an ancient city of stone pyramids now had a strangely modern feel.

“The Rokador were always more advanced than the

Batu.” Loor sighed. “The Batu were warriors who protected them in their underground homes. The Rokador provided technology in return. There were problems, but it was a good balance.”

“There’s that balance thing again,” Spader said, trying to be helpful.

“So what is Xhaxhu like now?” I asked.

Loor stood. At her feet was a white Rokador robe. “I will show you, but I must wear this. Batu are no longer free to walk the streets.”

That was an ominous statement. Loor took the wooden stave that was strapped to her back and tossed it to me. She then dropped the long robe over her head, and pulled up the hood so that she wouldn’t be recognized.

“What about us?” Spader asked.

“You look like Rokador,” Loor explained. “You will have no problem.”

The Rokador were light skinned, mostly from living for generations beneath the surface of Zadaa. I definitely fit the profile. Spader was on the fence. It would have been iffy if he had spent the last several years under the hot, tropical sun of Cloral, but since he had been living in the jungles of Eelong, his skin had sufficiently paled up. We could easily pass for Rokador.

Loor led us across the grassy field that led to the city of Xhaxhu. The last time I’d been there, there was nothing but sand. Lots of it. It had now become a much more hospitable place. Unless, of course, you were a Batu. It took us a few minutes to walk the roughly half mile to the city gates. Standing guard were two Rokador soldiers. They stood like sentries at either side of the entrance. It had always been the job of the Batu to provide security.

Not anymore. For a second I thought they might stop us, but they didn’t give us a second look as we strode into the city-

And into a world I barely recognized. My memory of Xhaxhu was a city with wide, unpaved streets; soaring, ornate pyramids; elaborate statues of Batu warriors; and troughs of fresh, clean water that were fed by the underground rivers and ran along every street. It was a place full of bright flowers and towering palm trees. Xhaxhu was an oasis in the center of a vast desert.