D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“Saangi told me of the rise of Ravinia here, and the destruction of the Batu,” Loor explained. “But there is more. Something you should hear.”

Saangi pulled away from me and sniffed back a tear.

“There is talk of a group being held captive,” she explained. “They are prisoners of the Rokador. Of Ravinia. We do not know all there is to know-that news only comes from overhearing the Rokador speaking when they do not think we are listening.”

I gave Spader a quick, hopeful look.

“How many are there?” he asked.

“I do not know,” she answered. “Many. Perhaps enough to fill a city.”

I had to stop from shouting with excitement.

“Is it possible?” Loor asked. “Could these be the exiles we seek?”

“‘Exiles,’” Saangi repeated. “I have heard that word.” “Hobey, this could be it,” Spader cried with obvious excitement.

“Only one way to find out,” I said, then looked to Saangi. “Do you know where they are being held prisoner?” “Yes, I do, as do you.” “Uh, what?” I asked dumbly.

Saangi smiled. She actually smiled. That didn’t happen much.

“It is a place you may not have fond memories of,” she said slyly. “For you it was a training ground. It has become a prison.”

“Mooraj,” I declared. I knew that place all too well. It was the abandoned Ghee warrior training camp in the desert, where Loor and Alder battered me into becoming a warrior. When the Rokador tunnels collapsed and the tribes joined together, Mooraj had become a playground for both Batu and Rokador children. From the sound of it, there was no more playing going on.

“It is heavily guarded by the new warriors,” Saangi added. “If you seek those being held inside, it will be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Saangi,” I said. “I can’t promise anything, but if these people turn out to be who I think they are, things might begin to change around here. For the better.”

“There is something you can do for me,” Saangi said.

“What’s that?”

“Take me with you.”

I wasn’t sure about that. Saangi was a warrior in training at one time, but things had changed. She was older, and the time spent laboring in the sun had taken its toll. Saangi looked frail.

I frowned and shook my head. “I wish we could, but if things get tough, I don’t think you’ll be able to-” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. Saangi spun, kicked my right leg out and grabbed Loor’s stave that I had been holding. With one swift move she knocked me on the side of my head. I fell to my knees, looking up at the girl who suddenly looked every bit as formidable as Loor ever had.

Spader laughed. “Can Saangi be on my team?” he asked.

I rubbed my sore cheek and looked to Loor.

She shrugged and smiled proudly. “A Batu warrior does not forget.”

I looked back to Saangi. Her tears were gone. I slowly got to my feet and took the stave from her.

“Let’s stop picking potatoes and see what’s happening at Mooraj,” I said to her.

Saangi smiled in relief. Like Spader, I wanted her on our team.

We needed a way to get to Mooraj.

It was too far to walk and there were no such thing as cars or trains on Zadaa. The solution came from Saangi.

With a satisfied grin she said, “I have been looking for an opportunity to use my skills once again.”

I didn’t ask what she meant by that. Spader and I were instructed to wait on the outskirts of the farm, while Loor and Saangi returned to Xhaxhu to carry out her plan. Whatever it was. All Spader and I could do was wait.

“Suppose we get there and find the place is loaded with exiles?” Spader asked. “Then what?”

“We go to Solara and bring Uncle Press back in,” I answered.

“And what will he do?”

I shrugged. “Let’s just find them first.”

The truth was, I was forming a plan of my own. But I didn’t want to talk about it, or even seriously consider it, until we found the exiles. Too much was up in the air for me to start getting everybody all worked up about something that might never happen. We had to stay with the mission, find the exiles, and make sure they were safe. Once that happened, if that happened, I’d reveal my thoughts.

We only had to wait a few minutes before two robed Rokador trotted up to us on horseback, each leading another horse. All four horses had wooden staves strapped to their saddles. The riders heads were covered by white hoods, but I knew who they were.

“How did you pull this off?” I called out.

Loor and Saangi took down their hoods. They both beamed. They were back in the saddle, so to speak.

“It seems,” Loor explained coyly, “the new warriors are not as invincible as we thought.” She threw down two white Rokador outfits. Spader and I now had white pants and white tunics with hoods. We would be as good as invisible. Spader and I quickly put on the new, lightweight clothing over our own.

Saangi said, “I do not believe those warriors are flesh and blood.”

“They aren’t,” I replied as Spader and I mounted up. “And they aren’t from Zadaa. But they’re still going to come looking for their horses.”

“By then we will be at Mooraj,” Loor announced, and kicked her horse into gear. “I look forward to meeting more of those warriors.”

“As do I,” Saangi said, and followed after her.

Spader looked to me with wide eyes. “Those two scare me.”

“Good thing they’re on our side,” I said with a chuckle.

The four of us rode across the wide-open countryside of Zadaa. The rivers that once flowed beneath the ground now provided enough irrigation to turn arid desert into rolling, grassy hills that stretched all around us for as far as I could see. There were no roads. We followed narrow trails that had been tramped by other horses. I’d like to say it was a huge improvement over what used to be, but it was hard to say that, knowing how Ravinia controlled it all. It was a steep price to pay for grass and wildflowers. I kept scanning the horizon, expecting to run into some Rokador. Or worse, a patrol of Ravinian guards. Being confronted wouldn’t have been the end of the world. They had no long-distance communication on Zadaa. No radios. No cell phones or walkie-talkies. If we came upon a patrol, we would have to take them out. Simple as that. We couldn’t risk them going to Mooraj, or back to Xhaxhu for reinforcements. No, if we happened upon random travelers, they would regret it.

It was hard to judge distance on rolling hills. It’s not like there were signposts saying: mooraj-this way or only five miles to mooraj. I had to trust that Loor and Saangi knew the way.

Finally, after getting a little saddle sore, I saw the beginnings of the wall that surrounded the training camp.

“We must use caution to hide our approach,” Loor advised. “We will keep to the troughs.”

Loor led us on a winding route around the higher hills, using them to block any view of us. It was a good move, except that my butt was in agony. Riding was something you had to get in shape for, and I wasn’t. At least, my butt wasn’t. I looked to Spader, wondering if he was having the same trouble. As usual, Spader looked as fresh as if he had only been riding for a few minutes. He must have recognized the pain on my face, because he said, “I’ve been riding zenzens on Eelong, remember?”

I shrugged and grimaced. I didn’t want to let on how sore I was.

Finally, mercifully, Loor motioned for us to stop. She got off her horse and handed the reins to Saangi, then lay down on her belly and crawled to the top of a rise. She peered cautiously over the crest and motioned for Spader and me to follow. I got off the horse and had to stop myself from letting out a huge, relieved “Ahhhh.” No way I was getting back up on that beast.