The Merchant of Death

Journal #4

Denduron

Ican’t believe I’m still alive. At least I think I’m still alive. Every muscle, every bone, every hair follicle I’ve got is sore as hell, which pretty much tells me I’m still among the living. As I write this final journal to you guys, I’ve still got one major task ahead of me before I can come home. But right now I don’t even feel like moving. Even the effort of pushing this pen across the paper is painful. I’m going to try and rest up, write this journal, and then get myself psyched for the final push.

As hurting as my body is, it’s just as painful to remember the events of the past few days. But I’ve got to do it and write it all down because once it’s on the page, I’m going to do my level best to forget it all.

I should warn you that some of the things I’m going to write about I didn’t see for myself. It has been an incredible few days and there was no way I could be everywhere at once to see it all. But I’ll do my best to re-create those events in my journal as accurately as possible based on what others have told me. I don’t have a problem doing this because I’m sure everything they described is true. So sit down, take a breath, and hold on. It’s going to be a wild ride.

I finished my last journal right after we rescued Uncle Press, then got recaptured by the people whom we thought were our friends-the Milago. Their leader, Rellin, showed us the huge bomb of tak they planned on using to vaporize the Bedoowan. There is something you should understand here. The Milago are not our enemies, but they were afraid we would try to stop them from using that nasty weapon. And they were right. If they exploded that bad boy, the destruction would be horrible. If we could stop them, we would. So we were in the weird position of being friendly enemies.

They brought us back to the hospital hut I’d been to a few times and locked us up with guards at the door. They said that as soon as the battle was over, they’d let us go. Great. If they detonated that bomb, there wouldn’t be any placeleft for us to go. So the four of us-me, Uncle Press, Loor, and Alder-were prisoners again.

As soon as we entered the hut, Uncle Press looked around quickly. “Osa isn’t here,” he said. “She must be in hiding.”

Uh-oh. We hadn’t gotten the chance to tell Uncle Press what had happened to her. I also realized that Osa’s body wasn’t there any longer.

“What happened?” he asked quickly.

Loor pointed to me and said, “She was killed while protecting him from the Bedoowan knights.”

Perfect. As if I didn’t have enough guilt going on at the moment, she had to remind me about my part in Osa’s death. I guess I couldn’t be angry with her. Osa was her mother. She deserved to be angry. But I wished she didn’t have to lay all of the blame on me. Mallos and the Bedoowan knights had a little something to do with it too.

We all looked to Uncle Press for his reaction. It was a strange one. Rather than show any sign of grief, he simply nodded as if the news of Osa’s death were nothing more than a simple fact to file away. I think he realized that the three of us were taking it harder than that, because he put his hand on Loor’s shoulder and said, “Don’t be sad. This is the way it was meant to be.”

That was exactly what Osa said just before she died. Was that some sort of Traveler motto? If so, it was a lousy one. It didn’t make me feel any better, and I doubted if it helped Loor at all.

“Everyone get some rest,” Uncle Press ordered. “Tomorrow’s going to be a tough day.”

He was right; we all needed rest. So we took places apart from one another in different corners of the hut. This is when I wrote the last journal that I sent you. Loor wrote too, as did Alder. We were all documenting our experiences as Travelers, though I’m pretty sure we all had different opinions about how things were going. The only one who didn’t write was Uncle Press. He laid down on one of the benches and closed his eyes. I wondered how much sleep he had gotten while a prisoner in the Bedoowan palace. Not much, probably.

As I wrote I sensed that there was tension in the room. Maybe it was just my own paranoia, but I had the feeling that the others were blaming me for the tough position we were in. Whenever I looked up, both Alder and Loor would quickly look away. The truth was, I didn’t blame them. As I played out the events of the past few days in my mind, the sickening realization came to me that the situation on Denduron was much worse because of me. If Uncle Press hadn’t brought me here, then he probably wouldn’t have been captured by the Bedoowan. And if he hadn’t been captured then he wouldn’t have needed to be rescued, and I wouldn’t have written to you guys to send me the stuff from home. And if I hadn’t gotten that stuff from home, then the Milago wouldn’t have the ability to explode that huge bomb. And if I weren’t here, Osa would still be alive because…if, if, if. Whenever you look back and say, “If,” you know you’re in trouble. There’s no such thing as “if.” The only thing that counts is what really happened, and the truth was that every chance I got, I screwed up. Even when I thought I had done something good, it always turned out bad.

Then, just to rub salt in everyone’s wounds, my watch alarm started to beep. I had totally forgotten about my Casio. Alder and Loor shot a look at me. They had no idea what it was. Uncle Press just cracked an eye open and gave me a deadly look. Without saying a word I jumped up and ran to a corner of the hut where I pulled the watch off and threw it into the latrine. I think it was a safe bet that nobody would go down there after it. I even pulled my Swiss Army knife out of my pocket and dumped it in the ooze. I looked back at the others to see they were all staring at me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” I yelled. “So I messed up! Yeah, I got that stuff from home, but it was the only way I could think of to get Uncle Press out. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Nobody said a word. They just stared back at me. It was making me crazy.

“It’s not like you tried to stop me, Loor…Alder,” I added. “You used the stuff too!”

“But we did not know it was wrong,” said Loor quietly. “You did.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but I was still in an arguing mood so I yelled, “I didn’t ask to come here, you know! It’s not like I had a choice. I’m not a warrior like Loor or Osa. I’m not a knight like Alder. And I’m not a…not a…I don’t knowwhat you are anymore, Uncle Press, but I’m sure as hell not like you! You never should have brought me here.” I was ready for a fight. I wanted them to say what a loser I was because I had a great comeback. I’d agree with them. I never claimed to be anything more than a junior-high kid from the suburbs. That’s it. I wasn’t a revolutionary, or a fighter, or anything else they wanted me to be. It wasn’t fair to blame me for not living up to their expectations. I was doing the best I could. If that wasn’t good enough, well, too bad.

But that’s not what happened. Instead Uncle Press sat up on the bench and softly said, “Come here, all of you. Sit down.”

We all kind of awkwardly exchanged glances and walked over to him. I had no idea where this was going. Uncle Press then spoke to us in such a calm manner that it took all of the tension out of the room. It kind of reminded me of the way Osa always seemed to have the ability to chill everybody out.

“I understand how tough this is for all of you,” he began. “You haven’t known about being Travelers for very long, and it’s gotta be confusing.”

“I do not understand why this has happened to me,” said Alder. “Why must we be Travelers?”

“I was not given a choice,” added Loor. “It does not seem fair.”

I then realized that I wasn’t the only one who was freaking out. Loor and Alder hadn’t known about being Travelers for very long either. The only difference was they were better equipped to handle the assignment than I was. The closest I ever came to that kind of training was in Saturday morning karate class when I was ten. I usually ended up getting a bloody nose and running home crying. That’s not exactly elite warrior training. I was definitely out of my league here.

Uncle Press smiled warmly and said, “If you want to know why you are Travelers, all you have to do is look back on what you’ve already done. The way the three of you rescued me from that palace was an amazing thing. You proved yourselves to be smart and brave and resourceful. But more important was the fact that you willingly put your lives at risk because it was the right thing to do. Ordinary people wouldn’t do that. You want to know why you’re Travelers? Look first to yourselves.”

“But what are these powers?” asked Loor. “We understand words that we should not.”

“There’s a lot for you to learn,” said Uncle Press. “But the best way for that to happen is for you to experience it. As time goes on everything will come clear, but you need to learn it on your own.”

“Come on,” I said impatiently. “You gotta give us more than that. Are there others? I mean, are there more Travelers?”

“Yes,” said Uncle Press. “Every territory has a Traveler. When you arrive in a new territory, always find the Traveler. They know best about the customs and history of their home territory and can help you along.”

“Like Alder,” said Loor.

“Yes, like Alder,” confirmed Uncle Press.

“And what about Mallos…Saint Dane?” I asked. “He’s a Traveler too, right?”

Uncle Press’s expression grew hard. “Yes,” he said coldly. “This is something you should know about now,” he said. “Every territory is in conflict. There are always wars and disputes and battles. That’s the nature of things. Always was, always will be. But no matter what the conflict of a territory is, the true enemy is Saint Dane. Here on Denduron it’s not the Bedoowan, or Queen Kagan, or even the quigs. The real threat is Saint Dane. He’s the one who must be stopped.”

“What’s his deal?” I asked. “Why is he so dangerous?”

I could tell we were getting into hairy territory, because Uncle Press had his game face back on. “He’s dangerous because you never see him coming,” was Uncle Press’s answer. “He changes himself. On Denduron he has become Mallos, advisor to the queen. Bobby, you saw him back on Second Earth. He took on the form of a policeman. I’m not sure if he physically changes, or if he uses some kind of mind control to make you think he looks different, but the bottom line is you don’t always see him coming. And make no mistake about it, the guy is evil.”

Uncle Press paced faster. We all listened closely because it was clear we needed to hear what he was now telling us. “But his evil isn’t obvious,” he continued. “He doesn’t murder, or cause floods or fires. His methods are much more devious. He will go to a territory and move himself into a position where he caninfluence events. He’s smart and convincing. He’ll appear to be your friend while the whole time he’s pushing you toward disaster.”

“Like with the Bedoowan?” I asked.

“Exactly,” shot back Uncle Press. “The Milago and the Bedoowan have been in conflict for centuries, but Saint Dane has pushed it to the edge. Before he got here things were rough for the Milago, but nowhere near as bad as they are now. He worked his way into the trust of Queen Kagan-”

“Who isn’t exactly a rocket scientist,” I added.

“No, she isn’t,” he agreed. “For a while it was looking as if the Bedoowan might cut the Milago some slack, but it was Saint Dane’s influence that convinced the Bedoowan to push harder. He’s the one who started the unreasonable demands for glaze and the Transfer ceremony and the horrible quig slaughters in the stadium. It looks to the Milago as if the Bedoowan wanted all this, but it was really Saint Dane, or Mallos as he calls himself here. He whispers suggestions to Kagan, and she makes them law.”

“But…why does he do this?” asked Alder.

“To push the territory toward chaos,” was Uncle Press’s firm answer. “Saint Dane doesn’t care about the Bedoowan or the Milago. He’s using the Bedoowan to push the Milago into getting so desperate that they will fight back. He wants a war. But not just any war, he wants the Milago to use tak. I see that now.”

“He wants them to blow everybody up?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” he continued. “Yes, using that bomb will cause terrible damage, but the long-term effects are what Saint Dane is after. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I didn’t know about tak.”

“Could Saint Dane have brought it from another territory?” I asked.

“I doubt it. My guess is that it’s natural to Denduron and somehow Figgis stumbled across it…and Saint Dane is taking advantage. Tak now represents power to the Milago. They’ve been held down for so long that they’ll grab at anything to pull themselves up. But once they start using tak on the Bedoowan, where will it stop? They could create weapons that would make them the most powerful tribe on Denduron. There are thousands of tribes here. None of them have a weapon like this. Putting the power of tak into the hands of one tribe is like tipping the balance. The Milago may be a peaceful bunch now, but they’ve got years of pent-up anger. Put that kind of power in their hands and they could overrun Denduron. That’s the kind of chaos Saint Dane is looking for.”

There it was. Loor had told me about the mission of the Travelers, but Uncle Press had now spelled it out pretty clearly. If this war began and the Milago used tak, it would be disaster. It really was a bigger deal than just a battle between two warring tribes. But there was something else that was bugging me.

“What is Halla?” I asked Uncle Press.

Uncle Press shot me a surprised look. “Where did you hear that name?”

“From Saint Dane,” I said. “Before he took us to the stadium he told me that Halla would fall and we would fall with it. What is Halla?”

“Halla is everything,” he answered. “Every territory, every person, every living thing, everytime there ever was. Halla is what separates order from chaos. If Halla crumbles, there will be nothing left but darkness. Everywhere. For everyone.”

Whoa. Now there was a concept to try and get my mind around. None of us spoke for a long while. We had just shifted into a new gear here. Was it possible? Could it be that the battle between the Milago and the Bedoowan was not only about the future of Denduron, but about the future ofall territories? If things turned sour here, could that somehow affect things back home? This was the most devastating thing I had heard so far. The stakes had become so huge that it was hard to comprehend. Before any of us had the chance to ask another question, the wooden door to the hut flew open and a Milago miner stormed in.

“Rellin wishes to see you,” he announced.

Uncle Press stood, but the miner held his hand up to stop him.

“Not you,” he said. “Pendragon.”

“Rellin wants to seeme? What for?”

“Go with him, Bobby,” said Uncle Press. “Listen to what he has to say. You know how important it is.”

Yeah, this was important all right. It was so important that I wished somebodyelse were going. But I got up to follow the miner out of the hut. Before I left, I looked at Uncle Press. “I messed up,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Uncle Press smiled and said, “It’s okay, Bobby. Mistakes will be made.”

That actually made me feel better. We were still in deep trouble and it was still my fault, but at least I didn’t feel like a total nimrod for what I had done. One thing I could say for sure though: I wouldn’t do it again. I guess that’s what Uncle Press meant by telling us we would have to learn about being Travelers by experiencing it ourselves. You don’t truly learn something until it’s real, and the bomb that was about to blow us all into dust was very real. It’s a tough way to learn a lesson.

I followed the miner out of the hut. Night had fallen, though I had no idea what time it was. My watch was floating in the latrine, remember? The village was empty. I could see lights coming from the huts, but nobody was walking about. It felt like the calm before the storm. The miner walked quickly until we came to one of the larger huts. He motioned for me to enter. It wasn’t like I had a whole lot of choices, so I went in.

Rellin was waiting for me. He sat near the fire and offered me a cup of some kind of liquid. I wasn’t sure if I should take it or not. Maybe it was poison. Or maybe it was a peace offering and by not taking it I’d be insulting him. I decided to take the cup and only pretend to drink. Of course if it was poison and I didn’t clutch my throat in agony he’d pretty much know I faked taking a drink. Maybe I was overthinking this.

Once I had taken the cup and faked the drink (with no reaction from Rellin) he stood up and walked to a wooden table. Lying there was the battery from my flashlight. But something was attached to it. I looked closer and my stomach twisted when I saw that it was a small piece of tak. The wires and the switch had been pulled out of the flashlight and were used to connect the tak to the battery. These guys learned fast. They had made a little bomb. If they flipped the switch from the battery, it would complete the circuit and send a jolt of electricity through the tak. It may be a small jolt, but probably enough to detonate the unstable explosive. Rellin picked it up and examined it. I wanted to shout for him to be careful, but I could see that he appreciated the power and was handling it with caution.

“We have been trying to find a way to control tak,” he said. “But until now we have been unsuccessful.”

My mind flashed back to the moment down in the mines when there was an explosion and Rellin had to be rescued. He was probably experimenting with tak and something had gone wrong. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

“This is how we will ignite the tak,” he continued. “Tomorrow this small device will explode and that will set off the larger load. When my army hears the explosion it will be their signal to attack. They will then overrun what is left of the Bedoowan. It will all be so very simple, because of you.”

Gee, thanks. I’m thrilled that I could help us all move closer to Armageddon. Rellin put the small bomb down and sat back by the fire. He motioned for me to sit across from him.

“You have seen our lives,” he said sadly. “We are dying. The Bedoowan will never allow us to be free. Tak is our salvation. With tak the Milago can pull themselves up from the dirt and become the proud people we were destined to be.”

He was absolutely right. The Milago had it bad. They lived like tortured animals. Nobody deserved that. They had every right to fight back, but they didn’t understand that they were going about it the wrong way.

“You and your people want to help us,” he continued. “For that we are grateful. But there is one thing we need from you that will be more helpful than you can imagine.”

“What’s that?” I asked warily.

Rellin stood up and walked quickly back to his little homemade bomb. He picked it up and held it out as if it were the Holy Grail.

“Bring us more of these devices,” he said with passion. “If we had more we could become the most powerful army on Denduron. Once the Bedoowan are defeated, the Milago would never have to live in fear again. We could turn our miserable lives around to become the leaders of Denduron!”

Oh, man. Uncle Press was absolutely right. Now that the Milago had a little taste of power, they weren’t going to be satisfied with just beating up on the Bedoowan. They hadn’t even won yet and they already had visions of taking over the rest of Denduron. The good guys were going to become the bad guys, and the result would be chaos.

“Will you help us, Pendragon?” asked Rellin sincerely.

This was my chance. Maybe myonly chance to try and talk Rellin out of his plan. I couldn’t argue against centuries of hatred, so the best thing I could do was try and make him see the downside to his plan. I had to choose my words carefully.

“I’m not an expert on these things,” I said. “But if you blow up that big load of tak, there may not be much left of the Bedoowan to conquer. Heck, there may not be much left of the Milago, either. Where I come from, there are many weapons like this. But the biggest fear we have is that they will be used. You don’t understand what you’re doing, Rellin. Your lives may be horrible now, but you may be worse off after the explosion. There must be a better way.”

“No!” he shouted angrily.

I hadn’t chosen my words carefully enough.

“You do not understand!” he yelled at me. “You have not lived your life in fear, in pain, in hunger. This is the only way. This is how the Milago will defeat the Bedoowan. Now, will you help us?”

Key moment.

“I’ll help you,” I answered as firmly as I could. “We’ll all help you. But not if it means using tak.”

Rellin stiffened and said, “Then go back to your friends. You will not be harmed. When the battle is over you will be free to leave.”

My mind was racing. I wanted to come up with something to change his mind, but I was drawing a blank. The truth was I didn’t know how the Milago could possibly defeat the Bedoowan without the help of something like tak. I couldn’t offer a better solution. I had one chance and I blew it. But then a thought hit me.

“How will you explode the bomb?” I asked. “If someone pushes that switch, then they’ll go up with it.”

Rellin straightened up proudly. “It will be an honor to die in the name of freedom for the Milago.”

Oh, man. Rellin was going on a suicide mission. This wasn’t about personal glory or power. This was a good man who cared about the future of his people more than he cared about his own life. There was nothing more for me to say, so I left the hut feeling sorry for him, but also feeling incredible respect…and fear. If someone was ready to die for his cause, a dweeb like me had no chance of talking him out of it. That bomb was going to explode tomorrow and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

The miner led me back to the hospital hut where I quickly told the others about my meeting.

“So then it is true,” said Loor. “The Milago will become a powerful, warring tribe and destroy all of Denduron.”

“That’s if they don’t blow themselves up with that humongous bomb first,” I added.

There was still a big question to be answered. Where were the Milago going to explode the bomb? They couldn’t very well do it around here or their own village would be vaporized. They may have been primitive but I’m sure they figured that little detail out. No, they must be planning on exploding it near the Bedoowan palace. But how could they pull that off? It’s not like they could drop it off on the palace doorstep, ring the doorbell and run away. As soon as they got within a hundred yards of the place the Bedoowan knights would stop them. They must have a plan, but what?

The answer turned out to be so simple I probably should have figured it out myself.

The next morning we were all awakened by the same thing. It was a deep, constant booming sound. I was still asleep and at first it had worked itself into my dreams. I dreamed that I was in a battle. Explosions were going off all around me. No matter which way I turned, another explosion would go off in my face. It was like I was trapped in a minefield. As I began to wake up I realized that I wasn’t in a minefield, I was in the hospital hut of the Milago village. But the deep booming sound continued. What was it? I lay there for a few seconds, trying to remember where I’d heard it before. Then suddenly, it hit me. I knew exactly where I had heard it before and the realization shocked me wide awake. I sat up quickly to see that the others were already awake and looking out of the small windows of the hut. I didn’t have to ask what they were looking at. I already knew.

The sound I heard was the sound of the drum calling the Milago to a Transfer ceremony. I could picture the single drummer standing on the wooden platform in the clearing of the Milago village, slowly but steadily hitting that drum. The memory wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, because it ended in the horrible death of a Milago miner. I truly hoped that this Transfer wouldn’t end the same way.

I jumped up and joined Uncle Press at one of the windows. Loor and Alder peered out of the other one. The hut wasn’t far from the central clearing of the Milago village. We were going to see all that we needed to see.

The scene in the clearing was painfully familiar. The Milago villagers slowly gathered around the central platform; the seesaw device was in place, ready to weigh the next poor victim; the lone drummer stood on the platform, beating out the summons; and a handful of Bedoowan knights stood next to the platform with spears in hand. The drummer suddenly stopped pounding his kettle and an ominous silence fell over the village. Then, as if on cue, I heard the sound of a galloping horse. Mallos was on his way. The crowd parted and Mallos charged up to the platform and dismounted before his horse had come to a stop.

How could anyone be this evil? What was it that drove him to spread terror and chaos wherever he went? Was it because he enjoyed it? Did it give him some kind of thrill? Does evil exist just for evil’s sake? There had to be answers to these questions, but they would have to wait for another time because the curtain was about to go up.

“Where is the glaze?” Mallos bellowed. “Why was I summoned before the glaze was ready to be transferred?”

He scanned the crowd waiting for an answer, but none was coming. Nobody could even look him in the eye. I was afraid he would blow a cork and send the knights on a rampage, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Rellin stepped forward. The chief miner looked calm and in control.

“Mallos,” he said. “I truly hope you will be happy with the news we bring you.”

Mallos shot a suspicious look at Rellin, then stepped up to him and stuck his nose in the chief miner’s face.

“Where are they, Rellin?” he seethed. “I know they are here. If you hide them from me, you cannot begin to imagine the punishment that will come down upon you.”

Mallos was talking about us. He seemed incredibly ticked that we had gotten away and was accusing the Milago of hiding us. The four of us exchanged looks, but none of us were about to give ourselves up. Rellin was cool. He didn’t back down.

“That is the news I bring you,” he said. “We are sorry for all the trouble the outsiders have caused you. We thought they were our friends, but they are not. And knowing that they have caused distress to Queen Kagan, well, that now makes them our enemies as well.”

Was he for real? Was he going to turn us over to Mallos and the knights after telling me he’d let us go? I didn’t think Rellin was a liar, but this sounded bad. I could tell that Mallos wasn’t sure where Rellin was going with this either. He looked at the miner suspiciously and asked through clenched teeth, “Where are they?”

“I do not know,” answered Rellin. “But when we find them we will bring them to you immediately.”

Okay, maybe he was a liar after all, but at least he hadn’t lied to me. He wasn’t going to turn us in. What was he up to?

“In the meantime,” continued Rellin. “As an apology for the trouble we have caused you and Queen Kagan and all the Bedoowan, we would like to present you with a gift.” He made a motion and the crowd parted. Three miners stepped forward carrying their load of glaze. But this was no ordinary load. They carried an entire ore car full of glaze! It was spectacular. The cart was piled high with the biggest, most brilliant glaze stones I had seen yet.

“Yesterday we struck a promising new vein of glaze,” said Rellin proudly. “That is our good news. There is more glaze in this new vein than we could hope to bring up in a lifetime. It took us a full day and night to load this one car and I predict that there are hundreds of more cars to come that will be just as full.”

Mallos seemed impressed. He should have been. It was a lot of glaze.

“This is our gift to you,” said Rellin. “I ask only one thing in return.”

“What is that?” barked Mallos.

“I wish to be able to present this to Queen Kagan myself,” said Rellin. “I realize that a lowly Milago miner would never be allowed into the palace, but perhaps I could bring this carful of glaze to the Bedoowan stadium? I would be honored to present this to Queen Kagan along with the promise of much more to come.”

Rellin was brilliant. He was playing Mallos like a fish and the fish was about to bite the hook. Of course we all knew the truth. That ore car wasn’t full of glaze at all. My guess is that if you dug about a quarter of the way down, the glaze would stop and the load of tak would begin. Yes, Rellin had figured out a way to smuggle his monstrous bomb right into the heart of the Bedoowan palace. It was like the story of the Trojan Horse where the Greeks were at war with the Trojans and gave them a gift of a giant wooden horse. Only the horse was loaded with Greek soldiers. As soon as the big horse was wheeled inside the city of Troy, the soldiers jumped out and gave a big helping of whup-butt to the surprised Trojans.

But this Trojan Horse wasn’t full of soldiers. This was loaded with a deadly explosive that would level the Bedoowan palace and probably most of the Milago village. The plan was insane, and brilliant. The question was, would Mallos fall for it?

Mallos looked at the carful of glaze. He walked to it and dug his hand down into the precious stones. I could sense Rellin tensing, but he didn’t make a move. Mallos pulled his hand out and clutched a load of brilliant blue stones. He then looked to Rellin and said, “Why make your promise to only Queen Kagan? I believe all of the Bedoowan people should be in the stadium to receive this gift and to hear your promise.”

Rellin did his best not to smile and only said, “Yes, you are a wise man.”

Unbelievable. Not only was Mallos going to let Rellin bring the bomb in, he was going to gather all of the Bedoowan around it.

Mallos then climbed back on his horse and bellowed, “Bring the glaze now. I will prepare the stadium!” With that he kicked his horse and charged toward the palace.

Rellin looked to the miners who had brought in the tak bomb. Without showing a hint of satisfaction, he walked to the ore car. No words were spoken. The men knew what they had to do. They all reached down, lifted the heavy car and began the long walk to the Bedoowan palace. Their death mission was under way.

Uncle Press backed away from the window and said, “Mallos knows.”

“No way!” I said. “Why would he let them bring a bomb into the Bedoowan stadium?”

“Because he wants the Milago to use it,” was his answer. “He doesn’t care who wins, or who dies. He wants the Milago to use the tak. If that bomb goes off, he’ll have succeeded.”

Maybe Uncle Press was right. If Mallos wanted to start a war that would throw Denduron into chaos, what better way to kick it off than by letting the Milago have their big bang right in the Bedoowan backyard? For Mallos it was perfect. We all knew exactly where this was leading but there was nothing we could do to stop it because we were trapped in this stupid hut.

But not for long. Without stopping to tell us, Loor ran for the window and in one quick, acrobatic move pulled herself up and out. In seconds she was climbing up onto the roof. It happened so fast that none of us could react. We just sort of stared at each other, wondering what she was doing. We heard her quietly scamper across the roof until she was above the door to the hut. What followed was the sound of a brief scuffle outside, followed by a few quick grunts. Loor then poked her head back inside the door.

“We may leave now,” she said with matter-of-fact calm.

None of us were exactly sure of what had happened, but we all ran for the door and followed Loor out. Outside we saw all three guards had been knocked unconscious and were leaning against the hut. Loor had struck before they knew what hit them and had managed to free us all in less than twenty seconds.

That was pretty cool, but there wasn’t time for praise. We had to get out of the Milago village without being caught. As it turned out, it wasn’t hard. Rellin’s plan was being carried out, which meant the rest of the miners were preparing for their attack. As soon as they heard the explosion they would charge the Bedoowan palace. Those miners had more important things to worry about than guarding us. So getting out of the village and disappearing into the woods was easy.

The four of us ran until we felt we were a safe distance away. Uncle Press then raised his hand and we all stopped to catch our breath. Uncle Press looked at Loor and said what was on all of our minds.

“You are unbelievable!” he said with a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to do that? We could have helped.”

Loor gave a very Loor-esque response. “I did not need your help. The best weapon in battle is surprise. The miners were watching Mallos and Rellin. They were not thinking about us. If I had waited, they may have turned their attention back to guarding us. I did not want to give them that chance.”

“I’m proud of you, Loor,” said Uncle Press. “Your mother would be too.”

“She taught me well,” said Loor.

My mother never taught me anything like that. She spent a lot of time drilling good table manners into me, but we never got to the lesson on how to disarm and crack heads with three guys twice my size. My education was definitely lacking in that area.

“What about the bomb?” said Alder. “We must do something!”

Uncle Press spun back to us and said, “Okay, first thing we have to do is get to the palace. We aren’t doing any good here.”

I wasn’t so sure that going to the palace was on the top of my To Do list. The palace was the target and unless we had a real chance of stopping Rellin from setting off that bomb, the only thing getting closer would do is guarantee that we’d be killed the instant it went off. But I wasn’t about to say that. The truth was if there was any hope of stopping Rellin, we had to get there.

“Alder, I want you to go back to the village,” said Uncle Press.

“No!” he exclaimed. “I want to stay with you.”

“Look,” said Uncle Press firmly. “I have no idea if we’re going to stop this thing. So get back to the village, talk to anyone who’ll listen. Warn them that this bomb is going to be bigger than they could ever imagine. Try to get them to go down into the mines. Maybe if they get underground they’ll be safe.”

“But I-”

“No buts, Alder,” said Uncle Press. “I know you want to be with us, but if we fail, you still might be able to save some of the Milago.”

Uncle Press was right. If Alder could save even one person from being killed by the explosion, then his mission would be successful. He had to go back.

Alder nodded to Uncle Press, which told me he understood how important his job was. There wasn’t time for long good-byes. I hadn’t known Alder for very long, but I had grown fond of him. He was kind of a goof, but I didn’t doubt for a second that he would have put his life on the line for any one of us. I’d like to say that I would do the same for him.

“Good luck, Travelers,” he said, and smiled at each of us.

“You too, Alder,” said Uncle Press. “Hurry.”

Alder then spun around and ran back toward the Milago village. Now it was just the three of us. The warrior, the boss, and the kid who was so scared he had to pee. Guess which one I was?

“Come on,” commanded Uncle Press and ran deeper into the forest. Our immediate goal was to get back to the Bedoowan palace. Beyond that, there was no plan. We would have to wing it once we got there, assuming we even got there. Since we were bushwhacking, it took us a long time. I could tell that Loor was getting impatient, but it was better to take a little longer to get there than to risk being captured again. We took a wide route and circled around toward the sea, then crawled along the bluffs until we were within eyesight of the outcropping that held the Bedoowan palace. Though we couldn’t see it, we knew where it was because there was a long line of knights marching toward it. Behind them were the four miners carrying the ore car full of glaze and tak. They were almost at the palace. In a few minutes they would descend into the stadium.

We continued to move quickly along the bluffs, moving closer to the stadium. It was a smart thing to do because none of the knights expected anyone to be coming from the sea. They were ever vigilant, but always with their eyes toward the forest. We were able to quietly slip in from behind them and crawl the last several yards on our bellies until we reached the lip of the stadium. We had made it. Now the question was, what were we going to do?

The three of us peered down into the stadium to see that the line of knights was marching down the steep stairs toward the grass field below. Behind them came Rellin and the miners struggling with the heavy ore car. I glanced around the rest of the stadium and saw that two of the spectator sections were beginning to fill up. The Bedoowan people and the Novans were once again taking their seats in anticipation of a show. It was a horrible feeling. None of these people had any idea that the main event was going to be their own deaths. I looked to the section where the Milago were before to see that it was empty. Big surprise. These guys knew what was coming and didn’t want to be any part of it. I then looked to Loor and to Uncle Press. Nobody said anything. That could mean only one thing. Nobody knew what to do. The thought ran through my head that we could run down the stairs screaming at everyone to run for their lives. But all Rellin would have to do is stop, press the button on his homemade bomb and it would be all over. That wouldn’t work at all. But if we were going to come up with a better plan, we needed to do it fast, because Rellin and the miners had reached the grass field and were about to place the ore car dead center in the ring.

“If I had an arrow I could kill Rellin from here,” said Loor.

“Then one of the others would press the button,” said Uncle Press.

I then heard the three chimes that signaled the arrival of Queen Kagan. Sure enough, when I looked at the royal box a few knights marched in, followed by the chubby queen. True to form, she was munching on something that looked like a roast beef. What a piece of work.

“Mallos isn’t there,” said Uncle Press. “My guess is he’s on a horse riding as fast as he can to get as far away from here as possible.”

Indeed, Mallos was nowhere to be seen. That was further proof that everything was happening according to his plan.

And that’s when it hit me.

“I…I’ve got an idea,” I said without even thinking. Even as I said it I was still working it through my head, calculating the possibilities and the chances of it working.

Uncle Press and Loor looked at me, but I didn’t respond to them at first. I still had to work things out.

“Don’t take your time, Bobby,” said Uncle Press. “We don’t have much.”

“Okay, okay,” I said nervously. “There might be a way, but if it doesn’t work, we’re all dead.”

“We are all dead anyway,” said Loor.

Good point. I looked down to the stadium and realized that I was about to volunteer to do something crazy. If I did it, I’d probably die. If I didn’t do it, we’ddefinitely die. Probably was better than definitely.

“I think I know how to stop this party,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster, which wasn’t much. Before I said another word, two more chimes sounded and the crowd fell silent. Rellin and the miners stood next to their wicked gift. Queen Kagan dropped her roast and leaned over the railing to look down on them.

“Tell me what it is you’ve brought me!” she shouted greedily.

If we were going to do something, now was the time.