The Pilgrims of Rayne

IBARA

I had two goals for our visit to Zadaa. The first was to avoid Loor. I had no doubt that if she learned of my plan to face off in a battle against Saint Dane, she’d want to come back with us. No, she’d insist on coming back. No, she wouldn’t even discuss it. She’d come back with us.

As much as I would have wanted her to be there for the battle, I didn’t think any one person would make a huge difference, no matter how fierce a warrior she was. I was more worried about what was going to happen after the battle. Win, lose, or draw, if anything happened to me, Loor would be the logical choice to take my place as lead Traveler. There were many times I thought she should have been the lead Traveler to begin with, but that wasn’t the way it was meant to be, no matter how I felt about it. I wanted to make sure that Loor would be around to fight another day.

The flume deposited us in the large, light brown sandstone cavern that I had been through so many times before. I didn’t like most of those memories. Both Loor and Saint Dane were killed there… and came back to life. That’s when I first began to believe the Travelers weren’t normal. Saint Dane said we were illusions. I don’t know what that means. I sure don’t feel like anything other than a normal guy who was born on Second Earth. But I couldn’t deny there was something weird about us. I’ve actually thought that maybe Loor’s dying was the illusion. Maybe we only thought it happened. I know, that makes no sense, but it’s just as wacky as saying that we’re all just figments, right? Whatever the truth is, no way I was taking any chances. Loor had to be kept safe.

The second goal of the trip, the main reason we were there, was to retrieve another tool to help us in the battle.

“Tell me about this territory,” Siry said as I led him quickly across the cavern floor.

I gave him a thumbnail account of the war between the Batu and the Rokador, fought over the underground rivers. The poor guy must have been in information overload. He was seeing more of Halla, faster, than any of the Travelers.

We climbed up and out of the flume cavern using the footholds that were dug into the sandstone walls. I briefly thought that a quig-snake might be lurking in the deep shadows, but didn’t sweat over it. Saint Dane was done with this territory, which meant the quigs were too. We climbed up through the narrow break in the rock roof, which led to a wooden trapdoor and the entryway to the tunnels that snaked beneath Xhaxhu. Most of the tunnels were destroyed when the underground sea burst. The tunnels leading to the flume weren’t touched, I’m happy to say. They looked pretty much the same as they had before the sea gave way.

That was about to change.

I didn’t bother closing the wooden trapdoor. I hadn’t changed into the Rokador clothes that were stacked near the flume either. I didn’t care if we were seen. There was only one thing that mattered-preparing for the battle.

With Siry following close behind, I walked quickly through the maze of twisting, narrow tunnels that I knew would lead to the underground river flowing beneath Xhaxhu. It wasn’t long before we made the last turn and stepped into the long cavern where several years before, I had gotten my first look at the rivers of Zadaa.

This river still flowed, fed by the tall waterfall. I wanted to climb out of the underground and see the changes to Xhaxhu brought by the creation of the desert sea. I could imagine Xhaxhu now as a lush, green habitat rather than a dry desert city. It was a huge victory for the Travelers over Saint Dane.

It was history.

When we entered the river cavern, Siry stopped short. I could say he was surprised by the sight of an underground river. Or of a tall, roaring waterfall. He may have been overwhelmed by seeing how such an incredibly beautiful and powerful natural wonder could exist. I could say all those things, but I didn’t think they were true. I knew what he was looking at. It was something unlike he’d ever seen before, and probably never would see again. It was the reason we had come to Zadaa. Sitting near the edge of the river was a round, silver, two-seater vehicle.

“What is it?” he asked in awe.

I answered as we inspected the vehicle. “It’s called a dygo. The Rokador used them to drill through the earth and create miles of tunnels.”

This dygo was one of the smaller models. It was about the size of a golf cart. If you remember, the main cabin was a silver sphere that sat on tractor treads. A circular window wrapped halfway around, so its operators could see outside.

The drilling device was a six-foot-wide hollow funnel that sat in a yoke, and could be positioned at any angle around the sphere. The wide end of the funnel was closest to the operators’ cabin, narrowing down to a hollow tip about a foot across. The drill itself was made up of many rings of sharp cutting devices that spun when activated. I’d seen dygos cut through solid rock as if it were cotton candy.

I opened the hatch of the silver sphere and motioned for Siry to enter. The cockpit of a two-seater dygo looked kind of like a small car. It was cramped but comfortable. I sat in the left-hand seat and buckled the seat belt.

“What is that for?” he asked.

“We’re going to be moving at different angles. You don’t want to tumble out of your seat.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding sick. He quickly buckled up.

I looked over the familiar controls. In front of me were two joysticks that would control the direction of the sphere. I toggled the starter switch and heard the engine hum to life. I gave a quick reassuring glance to Siry. He smiled nervously.

“Watch this,” I said, and started manipulating the joysticks. The round sphere twisted right, then left, then tipped down. I pulled both joysticks, and we rolled back until we were looking skyward.

“Like I said, we’re going to be moving at different angles.”

“I believe you,” Siry said, sounding weak.

I righted the sphere until we were looking at the raging river. This was it. This was the time. We were about to take a step that meant we had truly thrown out the rules. I was operating on Saint Dane’s level.

It felt good.

Siry sensed my tension. “I’m just trying to keep up with everything,” he said cautiously. “I don’t have the right to question anything to do with Travelers, but I have to ask… are you sure this is right?”

I didn’t want to answer quickly. It was a good question. A huge one. I’d asked it myself a thousand times over.

“The Jakills stole one of the pilgrim ships. Was that right?”

Siry thought for a moment and answered, “No. I think it was wrong.”

That shocked me. I thought for sure he would have said that in spite of what happened, they had made the right choice.

He added, “I was going on emotion and anger. We all were. We fired each other up, convincing ourselves that we were doing the right thing. Now they’re dead and I’m sitting in a strange machine on the other side of somewhere, about to do it again. You tell me. Was it right to steal that ship?”

“It was,” I said with confidence. “If the Jakills hadn’t made that trip, we wouldn’t be preparing Ibara for the attack.”

Siry nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that’s true. I just hope we’re not doing anything that will make things even worse.”

That ticked me off. I was trying to save his home. His people. How could he question me?

“Are you with me or not?” I asked angrily.

“I’m with you, Pendragon,” he said. “To the end, whatever that will be.”

Discussion over. I twisted the sphere away from the river to face the opposite wall of the cavern-the wall that contained the tunnel that led to the flume. I twisted the handle of one joystick. The drill settled down in front of us. Squeezing the trigger got the drill rings spinning. With a low whine, the sharp cutting device came to life. It was the moment of no return. Once we started digging, there would be no turning back.

I pushed forward. The drill dug into the wall. Siry leaned back in his seat as if to get away, expecting dirt and rock to hit us. Of course, that didn’t happen. The drill cut through easily and we were on our way, forging a new tunnel beneath the sands of Zadaa. We churned through solid rock, occasionally passing through one of the existing tunnels. I kept pushing the machine forward, guessing at the distance we had to travel. After a minute of digging, I angled the dygo downward, and we descended. The only guide I had to know we were headed the right way was my sense of direction, and my Traveler ring. It wasn’t long before the gray stone began to twinkle. We were getting closer to the flume. It didn’t take long before we blasted through the last wall of rock and drove into the familiar cavern. I stopped to catch my breath. I was sweating. Not from exertion, from nerves.

Siry looked worse than I felt.

“That was interesting,” he said with a weak smile.

I spun the sphere around to see the tunnel we had just dug. It wasn’t subtle. All across Halla the flumes were hidden in areas that were next to impossible for people to accidentally find. That wasn’t the case on Zadaa anymore. People were bound to discover the new tunnel. They were going to see the flume. By breaking through that rock, I had broken down another barrier between the territories. I was definitely playing Saint Dane’s game now.

“This machine is a wonder,” Siry gasped. “How will it help us beat the dados?”

“It won’t. Not directly.”

I spun the dygo 180 degrees until we faced the mouth of the flume. I nudged it forward. The treads rolled slowly, until the tunnel to infinity filled our window.

Siry looked at me with confusion. “Then why are we taking it to Ibara?”

“We’re not. At least not yet. We’ve got another stop.” “Where?” Siry asked with wide eyes. I took a deep breath and called out, “Denduron!” The flume sparkled to life. We drove into the tunnel, and the beginnings of a new Halla.

(CONTINUED)