D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

It was hard to tell how far we had traveled. It was too dark and there was nothing to see but nothing. The cave walls had no detail, and it was all blurry anyway. I kept glancing forward to see Spader, but he was a better swimmer than I was, and he was soon out of sight. That’s when I started to panic. My lungs were screaming. I kept pulling forward, but I couldn’t tell how fast I was going. I glanced up, hoping to see light, but there was nothing but black. I wondered what it was going to feel like to die.

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. Spader was back.

He grabbed the arm that I had been stroking with and started pulling. It felt as if we were tied to an engine, that’s how strong a swimmer Spader was. I relaxed, letting him do the work. With my other arm I held tight to Saangi. We were going to make it. I could only hope that Saangi was still alive.

Seconds later I heard splashing. Spader had broken the surface. He let me go and grabbed Saangi, pulling her forward. I rolled over onto my back to see that we had barely emerged from the tunnel. The sandstone ceiling soared overhead. I rolled back onto my belly and saw that the water spread out to either side of us. Up ahead, rising from the water, was the train track, which meant the water grew shallow. Beyond that was a large, underground cavern that was filled with several other small trains like the one we’d just ridden in on.

Or maybe I should say, like the one that had died underwater.

My feet hit bottom. I walked the rest of the way, gasping for air. Spader pulled Saangi up onto the sandy floor, where Loor was on her knees, waiting, breathing hard. She was okay. Was Saangi? Spader sat her up, holding her chin with his hand. Saangi sat slumped.

“Breathe,” he ordered. It didn’t sound at all like something that would come from Vo Spader. There was no fun in it. No joke. No sly wink. He was dead serious.

Saangi didn’t breathe.

Spader quickly laid her down on her back, pulled her chin up to clear her airway, and clamped his mouth over hers to try and resuscitate her. He gave two deep breaths, forcing her lungs to open up. After the second breath he turned Saangi’s face to the side. She still didn’t breathe. Spader repeated the process.

I had the fleeting thought that as a Traveler I might be able to save her. Didn’t Saint Dane save Courtney from death? It was an agonizing decision. Should I try to save her? But what would that do to the little remaining spirit of Solara? I truly didn’t know what to do.

Spader stopped breathing into Saangi’s mouth and turned her head again. I knew that if she didn’t respond soon, I would have to make a life or death decision. After an agonizing two seconds… Saangi coughed. Water spurted from her mouth, but she coughed. She was alive. I slumped down onto the sandy floor, spent, and about as relieved as I think I’d ever been in my life. Saangi rolled onto her side, taking deep breaths. As I write this now, knowing what happened, I still can’t say what I would have done if she hadn’t come around. I’m just happy that I didn’t have to find out.

Spader looked to Loor and softly said, “I’m sorry.” Loor shrugged. “Why?”

“I thought the train would make it back. The water must have killed the engine.”

Loor gave him a puzzled look. “You did exactly what you said you would do. You got us here. Perhaps you made it seem as if it would be simpler than it turned out to be, but if you did not do that, I am not so sure that Saangi or I would have gone under the water.”

“I definitely would not have gone!” Saangi said, and coughed again.

“Do not be sorry, Spader. Pendragon told us to trust you, we did, and now we are here. You are to be congratulated.”

Spader looked at me, not sure how to react.

I shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”

Spader turned back to the Batu warriors and said, “I am really, really happy that we’re on the same side.”

“I can say the same for you,” Loor replied. That was as close to a compliment as Loor was capable of giving.

I took a few more breaths to get my head straight, then said, “Okay, that was fun. Now how do we get out?”

Loor stood and scanned the large train room that was half underwater. “There,” she pointed. “Those stairs lead to a hut just inside the outer wall of Mooraj.”

“How are you, Saangi?” I asked.

Loor’s acolyte coughed one more time to clear her airway and stood up.

“Ready,” she declared.

Amazing girls. Both of them.

Loor led us around the rows of parked trains, headed for the archway. I didn’t think there would be any guards around. If they weren’t guarding the hut outside, there would be no reason to guard this side of the tunnel. Still, we moved with caution. We followed Loor up the sandy stairs, moving quietly. With each step the stairwell grew lighter. The tunnel we had come through must have been angled upward, because we weren’t as deep underground as when we had descended the stairs outside of Mooraj.

I had already forgotten about our harrowing swim. All that mattered was what lay ahead. The exiles. How many would there be? Was Mooraj full of them? Was this some kind of holding camp for the strangers from another territory?

When we reached the surface, we found ourselves in another small hut made of sandstone. At one time this was probably the work hut for the Rokador who ran the underground railroad. Not anymore. It was abandoned and empty. The four of us crept cautiously up from below and made our way to a window to get our first view of Mooraj. Or maybe I should say, what Mooraj had become.

There were a lot of ways to describe what we saw. Not all of them were good. Not all of them were bad. There was a feeling of total jubilation… and crushing disappointment. Relief mixed with sadness. There was reason for hope, but that was tempered by anger. I guess you could say that what we saw was a mixed bag of truths. I got all of that with one single look.

First off, we weren’t looking at a camp filled with exiles. Our search would continue. Still, there was consolation. This camp was filled with other people, which was reason to rejoice. Mooraj had become the home of the Batu tribe. The Ravinians had not committed genocide. They had simply relocated thousands of Batu tribespeople to Mooraj.

Saangi was in tears. Tears of joy. Loor leaned on her arm against the window. I could feel her relief. Their people were alive. That’s not to say they were in great shape. I believe this was the Zadaa equivalent of the Horizon Compounds on Earth. Mooraj had become an overcrowded, filthy slum. These once-proud people were sentenced to live in squalor. Even from where we were, it was obvious that this place was a nightmare. Kids ran around wearing nothing but rags. Most of the adults sat staring vacantly at nothing. We saw a fight break out between two men. Over what, I didn’t know. It was vicious. The two beat each other bloody, and nobody made a move to stop them. They all sat quietly watching the mayhem with bored detachment. They were like zombies. No Ravinian guards came to stop the fight. That told me there was no order inside Mooraj. The guards kept them inside, but they were on their own when it came to keeping the peace. With that many people living on top of one another, I had to believe that it wasn’t easy. The bigger of the two fighters finally delivered a knockout blow. The little guy fell to the sand, unconscious. The big guy hauled off and kicked him once, then strolled away, leaving the guy to bleed. Nobody helped the poor guy. Nobody cared.

When they lived in Xhaxhu, the Batu tribe may have been primitive, but they were industrious. They were proud. They had order. Not anymore. Ravinia had stolen their souls. I guess that’s better than being wiped out, but not by much. This was living proof of what Saint Dane had accomplished. On the one hand he had created his superprivileged class of Ravinians. Their arrogance and selfishness fed the dark side of Solara. The same could be said for what was happening in Mooraj. The vicious, dangerous environment also fed the dark side of Solara. His control of Halla was complete. It was painful to see what had become of the Batu, but at least they were alive. Where there’s life, there’s hope. But what of the exiles?