The Soldiers of Halla

Chapter 36

Gunny met me on the outskirts of the village of Black Water.

He had been waiting for me. That was the plan. In the time Gunny had spent with the gars on Eelong, they had come to trust him. Spader too. But I didn’t think it would be smart to bring Spader along on this diplomatic mission. This wasn’t the time for enthusiasm and “Hobey! Let’s go get ‘em!” We needed a steady, guiding hand if we were to convince the exiles to come on board. Gunny was that guy. He sat on a rock, overlooking the village, waiting.

“How’d it go, shorty?” Gunny said as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

“Mark and his people are with us. Patrick will let us know if things start happening on Third Earth.”

Gunny shook his head. He looked tired. “Such a thing,” he said wistfully, as he gazed down at the village of Black Water. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “This all just keeps getting more complicated.”

Gunny was the oldest Traveler. He’d seen so much more in his life than the rest of us. His real life, that is. As tough as it was to accept the fact that we all originally came from Solara, it must have been the hardest on Gunny. He had lived pretty close to a full life on Earth before learning he was a Traveler. He had a different perspective than most of the rest of us.

“You okay, Gunny?” I asked. “I mean, we’ve been hit with a lot of things lately.”

“You know, shorty, I’m near sixty-five years old. At least, I think I am. I’ve kind of lost track of the years. I seen a lot of things, even before I learned about the Travelers. It’s not easy for an old duffer like me to accept new things, and I’m not so sure I would have believed this business about us being spirits from some other dimension, ‘cept for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Gunny held his hands up. Both of them. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed before, but Gunny had two hands again. I blinked. How could that have happened? His left hand had been chewed off by a tang on Eelong years before. Now it was back, as good as new. He flexed it and made a fist to show me how real it was.

“How?” was all I could get out.

“Don’t really know” was his answer. “When Spader and I got swept out of here, wouldn’t you know it, but my old hand came right along with me. Like nothin’ ever happened. I guess I should be happy about it, and I am. But what it tells me, more than anything, is that we really aren’t natural to Earth. We’re made-up beings, and that’s why those spirit folks were able to make me up a new hand. Heck of a thing.”

“But a good thing, right?”

“Sure, ‘cept it makes me a might sad. I liked the life I was living.”

“I hear you.”

“Makes me realize something else, too. I was poor most of my life. Had to teach myself to read and write. Never wore a single piece of clothing that didn’t first belong to somebody else, till I joined the army. But I made something of myself. I was the bell captain of the Manhattan Tower Hotel and proud of it. I might not have been setting the world on fire, but I was good at what I did. People appreciated it, and I was happy.”

“Can’t ask for much more than that.”

“My point exactly. Thing is, a guy like me wouldn’t make it in this new setup. There’s no room for regular folks in this world of Ravinia. There’s the few people who have it all, and everybody else. There’s always been those who have more than others, but now, the regular folks don’t even have the chance to build a life they can be proud of. With all the philosophizing and theorizing and threats and highfalutin goals, it all comes down to one thing: Saint Dane is killing the chance for people to be happy.”

Gunny had pretty much summed up what this was all about. Saint Dane was taking away the chance for people to be happy. It sounds so simple, but being happy is probably the number one goal for everyone, no matter what world they come from. Talk about basic rights. What was that phrase from the Declaration of Independence? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Except for a chosen few, Saint Dane was taking away those rights. It took a sixty-five-year-old guy who had lived most of his life not knowing anything about Travelers or Halla or guiding spirits to put it into such clear perspective.

“And that’s why I’m glad you’re here right now,” I said to my friend. “You and I have to convince those people down there that this is their chance to take back those rights and have another shot at being happy.”

Gunny took a deep breath and stood up. His energy was renewed. “Then let’s get it done,” he declared.

It wasn’t long before Gunny and I were sitting in the chambers of the gar leaders in the dead center of the ring of buildings that made up the village of Black Water. It wasn’t hard to get an audience. Aron was still one of the village elders. Most of the others remembered Gunny and were grateful for all he had done to help educate the gars while he was trapped there with Spader. Some of them remembered me, too. We were friends. We were trusted.

Also in the meeting were ten leaders of the Yanks. Years before, they had divided the group up into ten distinct units, to help manage and organize their lives. Each group elected a leader that reported to the gar elders. The liaison between the gars and the Yank leaders was none other than Courtney. She was in the meeting too. Courtney had a foot in both camps. She knew Black Water, and she was from Second Earth. She could speak intelligently to both groups. It seemed to be a pretty smart way to quickly organize a village that had suddenly tripled in size. The proof was not only in the fact that the village ran smoothly, but also that they were able to work together and organize a solid defense against the klees. Everybody was feeling pretty good about themselves.

I hated to have to burst their bubble.

I won’t detail all the arguments we put before the group. I’ve already written most of them earlier in this journal. Bottom line was that Gunny and I tried to impress upon them that they may have defeated the klees once, but they’d be back again. And again. More important than that, we warned them that an attack was coming that was far more threatening than anything the klees could throw at them. We warned them that an army like they had never seen was preparing to march on Black Water with the single goal of wiping out the Yanks. The gars weren’t necessarily the target, but with the kind of attack that was being planned, it would be wrong to believe the gars would be spared.

“The question isn’t if the attack will come,” I said. “It’s when. I believe it’s going to be soon.”

Both the gar leaders and the exile leaders exchanged uneasy looks. It was a lot to accept.

“What is your proposal, Pendragon?” Aron asked.

I outlined the bare bones of our plan. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy sell. It not only involved getting multiple thousands of people to jump into a flume-again-but when they reached the other side, they would be faced with a seemingly unbeatable foe. How unbeatable depended on a number of things, none of which we had control over. As I said the words out loud, and listened to myself speak, the whole idea sounded impossible. Maybe even insane. What was I thinking? The more I spoke, the more I realized that these people wouldn’t go for it in a million years. Heck, if I were in their position, I wouldn’t go for it either. It was suicide. I finished on a whimper, ready to get tossed out of there.

Before anyone had a chance to respond, Gunny stood up. “I can only imagine what you’re thinking,” he began. “Believe me, we feel the same way. The odds we face are long indeed. There is no guarantee of victory. People will die. Perhaps by the thousands. To that, I have two things to say. You are faced with a dire situation. Black Water will come under attack again. Soon. By a force much larger and more deadly than you have just defeated. Your weapons may stop some of theirs, but the numbers are not on your side. Their army is immense. They will keep coming, and attacking, until every last one of the people who came here from Second Earth is killed. That is a simple, sad fact. After they are finished, it’s anybody’s guess as to what shape you will be in when the klees decide to come calling again. Make no mistake. Whether you choose to follow our plan, or decide to stay and defend yourselves, you will have to fight this army. The choice you have is to fight them here, or take the battle to them. We wish there was a third choice. There isn’t.”

Everyone shifted in their seats uneasily.

“There’s something else,” Gunny continued. “To those who came from Earth, you must understand that this attack is going to be launched by the very same people who tore you from your home. The truth is, they wanted you dead back then. If not for the work of one woman, you would be. The Ravinians eliminated you because you posed a threat to their plans. You still pose a threat, and that is why they are coming after you. To the gars of Black Water, you are in much the same situation. You’ve seen how Ravinia changed Eelong. There was peace with the klees. I know. I helped forge it. But Ravinia has thrown out every bit of progress we made and declared you to be fair game. To be hunted as food. This is the kind of world that Ravinia has created all over Halla. In one way or another, they are eating their enemies. You gars haven’t seen these other worlds, but you Yanks have. You know about the flumes. You’ve already traveled through one. You know there are other societies out there. Other worlds. Other lives. Ravinia is controlling it all, and it began when they exiled you from your home. This is your chance to take back your lives. To stop the people who have wronged so many. This is the last chance to try and make things right.”

Gunny sat down, winded, but his eyes were clear and focused. He had made an impassioned plea that was hard to argue with. At least, I hoped it was hard to argue with.

One of the Yank leaders stood and said, “Perhaps there is a third choice. What if we Yanks picked up and left Black Water? If the Ravinians are targeting us, we shouldn’t stay and endanger the gars.”

Aron said, “That’s a noble gesture, but without the Yanks, I do not believe we will have the strength to fend off the klees again. I think I am speaking for all the gars here, who say that whatever we decide to do, we must do it together. Gars and Yanks.”

One of the gar leaders asked, “If this army you speak of is made up of creatures like the ones that attacked Black Water, we have weapons that will stop them.”

“Do you?” I asked. “How many of those radio cannons do you have? How much power do they have? Is it limitless? We’re talking about multiple thousands of dados. You could wipe out half of them and still be overrun by thousands more. Are your weapons that powerful?”

Their dark looks told me that they weren’t.

Courtney stood and said, “If I can add one thing. I haven’t seen this Ravinian army on Third Earth, but I’ve seen what their leader is capable of. We here, all of us, gars and Yanks, represent the last hurdle in his plan to conquer Halla. I believe that. And I believe that Ravinia’s leader, Saint Dane, will do everything in his power to wipe us out of his way. He is close now. He won’t back down. We’re in danger one way or the other. I say we should agree to Pendragon’s plan. If I have to die, I want it to be while I’m fighting for what is right.”

She sat back down and gave me a quick, sheepish smile.

The leaders looked at one another, not sure who should speak. It was Aron who took command.

“Do you have any idea when this attack might come?” he asked.

“The last I heard was that their army was being mobilized. I don’t know if that means an attack is imminent, or will take several days. Either way, I think we’ve got to move quickly.”

Aron nodded thoughtfully. “If you do not mind, we need to discuss this among ourselves.”

Gunny, Courtney, and I stood up to leave.

“Courtney, you should remain,” Aron said quickly. “You are one of us now.”

“Thank you,” she said, and sat back down while giving me a reassuring smile.

It was odd to think of Courtney as one of them, but if her sticking around meant a strong voice who would try to convince them to follow our plan, I was all for it.

“Whatever your decision is, we will respect it,” I said. Then added, “But please, don’t take long.”

Gunny and I were given a hut to rest and relax in. Rest and relax. Yeah, right. They brought us some food, which I was grateful for. I hadn’t eaten in centuries.

“What do you think?” I asked Gunny.

“About what? Our plan, or if they’re going to join us?”

“Both.”

“I don’t know if they’ll join us,” he answered. “I wouldn’t be surprised either way. As for our plan, well…” He finished the thought with a shrug. He didn’t want to say the words, but it was clear that his confidence wasn’t high.

I didn’t blame him for thinking that way. My confidence wasn’t exactly soaring either. We had cobbled together a plan that not only involved timing, but moving multiple thousands of people across time and space. Oh yeah, and it all hinged on our ability to create a giant flume. It was beginning to seem like fantasy. But it was the only fantasy we had. There was no Plan B.

Hours went by with no answer. I tried to sleep, but that was impossible. It was like having an alarm clock close by that you know will go off any second. You can’t sleep with that hanging over your head. There was no way to know how long it would take for them to make a decision. Worse, we didn’t know how long we had before the dados began to move from Third Earth. With each passing second, my anxiety grew.

Gunny wasn’t doing much better. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, but he didn’t fool me. He wasn’t sleeping. His steadily tapping shoe gave him away. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the door opened, and Courtney hurried in. Gunny and I were both on our feet before she was halfway into the room.

“It’s looking bad,” she said. “Most of the Yanks want to join, but the one thing they decided was that it had to be unanimous. It isn’t.”

“What about Aron?” Gunny asked.

Courtney looked to the floor. “He’s against the idea.”

I punched the wall in frustration. “They’re going to be in there arguing while the dados come knocking on their door.”

Courtney added, “They’ve brought in several people from the community to get their opinions. Both Yanks and gars.”

“Swell,” I said sarcastically. “Add more opinions. That’ll help.”

“They’re doing the right thing, Bobby,” Gunny said calmly. “We’ve asked a lot of them.”

“I know, I’m just venting. Can we get outta here and get some air?”

The three of us left the building. Night had fallen. That was one consolation. I didn’t think that Saint Dane’s army would attack at night.

“Eight hours till dawn,” Courtney said, reading my mind. “Do you think they’ll come then?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“I do,” came an unfamiliar voice.

The three of us turned to see the last person in Halla that I wanted to see just then. Okay, maybe there were a few others, but the fact that Patrick had arrived on Eelong was not a good sign.

“They’re moving, Pendragon,” he said, his voice quivering. “Every last dado has been marched onto the expanse between the Ravinian compound and the river.”

“Perfect spot for a big flume,” I said.

“I believe we’re out of time,” Gunny said with a sigh.

We had to do something. But what? Going back into that meeting and screaming about the army on the way wouldn’t help. It’s not like they’d suddenly say, “Oh? Really? In that case, we’re with you!” No way.

“Should I go back in there?” Courtney asked.

I made a decision. It was a desperate move, but it was the only one I could think of.

“Yeah. Tell them to stop talking and get ready to defend themselves, because the dados are on the way.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Courtney wanted to challenge me, but knew better. She took off, sprinting through the village.

“What do we do, shorty?” Gunny asked. “We go back to Solara,” I said.

Gunny, Patrick, and I were greeted by the rest of the Travelers, including Uncle Press. They came to us quickly, eager to hear the news.

“It’s not good,” I said. “Mark and his people are with us on Third Earth. But the exiles and the gars are still debating about what to do.”

Patrick added, “And the dados on Third Earth are gathering. They’re ready to move.”

Gunny said, “It’s looking like they’ll make their flume and attack Black Water at first light. We’re out of time.”

Nobody knew what to say. It was beginning to seem as if the battle were over before it could begin.

Elli asked, “Is there any chance that they can defend Black Water?”

I shook my head. “For a while maybe. They can use their radio cannons, but those weapons are limited. With so many dados thrown at them, they’ll be overwhelmed.”

“So that’s it?” Siry shouted. “We just sit here and wait for Solara to fall apart?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I say we make the flume anyway.”

Most of the Travelers erupted with “What?” “No!” “What’s the point?”

Uncle Press quieted everyone down and said, “Explain, Bobby.”

“The dados are going to attack, we know that. The gars and the exiles won’t be able to defend themselves for long. When the radio cannons are spent, Black Water’s done. We know that, too. Their only hope for survival is with a new flume. Two things can happen. Either we rally the exiles and convince them to fight on Third Earth, or worst case scenario is it becomes an escape route when Black Water falls.”

Uncle Press thought quickly, calculating the possibilities.

Aja asked, “If we make this flume, what will happen to Solara?”

“The same thing that’ll happen if we don’t make it,” I argued. “Either we use whatever spirit is left to keep this going, or wait until the dados snuff out the exiles. Then Solara is done anyway. At least this way we go down fighting.”

Uncle Press looked unsure… as did everyone else.

“If anybody’s got a better idea,” I added, “now’s the time to bring it.”

I looked into the eyes of each Traveler, one at a time, waiting for an answer. Elli, Gunny, Siry, Alder. Nobody blinked. Kasha, Patrick, Aja, and then Loor all stared back, silent.

Finally I looked to Spader. “What do you say, mate?” I asked him.

“I say we build the bloody tunnel,” he declared with conviction. “What have we got to lose?”

I looked to Uncle Press and said, “Good question. What have we got to lose?”

Night had fallen on Black Water. The only light came from the stars overhead.

We all stood in a circle. All eleven of us. We were on the edge of the farmland that was beyond the village. It was on the exact opposite side of the valley from the tunnel that led to the waterfalls. It seemed as good a place as any to build a flume. We stood shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle, close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats. Let me tell you, they were all beating fast.

“I can’t say for sure if this will work,” Uncle Press warned. “Certainly it will deplete whatever positive spirit is left of Solara.”

“Does that mean Solara ends?” Elli asked.

“I don’t know,” Uncle Press answered honestly.

“Isn’t that exactly what Saint Dane wants?” Aja asked.

“It is, but the exiles will still exist. Hopefully, their spirit will keep Solara from being destroyed entirely.”

“So it’s more important than ever to keep them safe,” Gunny said.

There was a general murmur of understanding. We all got it.

“There’s one other thing,” Press said. “The spirit of Solara is what has given us the ability to function as Travelers. Once that power is depleted, I don’t know what that will mean for us.”

“You mean we might not be able to travel anymore?” Patrick asked.

“That might be the least of it” was Uncle Press’s somber answer. “There’s a chance we may not exist anymore.”

Nobody commented. What could we say?

“What we’re doing here has never been done before,” Uncle Press continued. “By anyone other than Saint Dane, that is. We’re in uncharted waters. Once we start, there’s no turning back.”

We all nodded. We understood.

Uncle Press looked around at us. “Second thoughts?” We shared looks. Nobody was backing out. “What do we do?” Spader asked.

Uncle Press said, “The power of Solara flows through us all. We have to focus it here, in much the same way that enables our moving between territories. I don’t think any one of us would be able to channel enough of the spirit on our own, so it’s critical that we all do this together.”

He took off his Traveler ring and threw it into the center of the circle. “The dark matter,” he said. “It will act as a prism to focus the spirit.”

One by one, we each took off our Traveler rings and tossed them into the circle. It was a strange feeling. It smacked of finality. One way or another, it would all soon be over, and we wouldn’t need them anymore. Still, it was a hollow feeling to have given up my ring. By the sober looks on the faces of the other Travelers, I knew they felt the same way.

“Now,” Uncle Press continued, “concentrate. Visualize. Like stepping from one territory to the next, imagine the tunnel we’ve all traveled through so many times.”

I stared down at the pile of eleven rings lying in the dirt. I didn’t allow myself to think of how silly this felt. Ordinarily, I’d be the guy making fun of a bunch of people out in a field trying to channel cosmic energy. Not this night. I had to believe it was possible. I sensed the presence of all my Traveler friends. It was as if I were part of them. We weren’t holding hands or anything goofy like that, yet it felt as if we had formed a continuous, unbroken circle. My heart beat with theirs. We took the same breaths. Uncle Press was still talking, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. It was the closest thing to an “out of body” experience I ever had. Though it wasn’t truly out of body. It was the creation of one body. It seemed as if I weren’t in my physical self anymore. I rose up and looked down at the ring of people who were forever bound by destiny.

I felt a warm tingle. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it felt… electric. I wondered if anyone else was feeling the same thing, but didn’t dare look around. I stayed focused on the rings. The Traveler rings. Eleven in all. Together.

One by one, the stones in the rings began to glow. They were activating. Something was really happening. This wasn’t just a bunch of new-age hocus-pocus. The rings glowed bright. Far brighter than when they were getting ready to deliver a journal. The light from each spread and enveloped the rings around it. It soon became a single mass of light. The light spread across the ground, radiating out from the center. I sensed, more than felt, that we all had stepped backward, making the circle larger. Though we weren’t physically touching each other, I felt as if we were still connected. We were one. We moved back, farther and farther, until the circle was probably twenty yards across.

The light from the center followed us, like water bubbling up from a spring. It lit up the ground, growing brighter as it got larger. I heard a sound. What was it? Yes! It was the music I had heard so many times while flying through the flumes. There was no tune. No melody. Just a mixed-up series of sweet notes that made me smile. It was familiar. It was exhilarating. We were doing it. We were channeling the spirit of Solara.

The circle of light grew until it nearly reached the ring of Travelers. The music grew louder. The light became so bright it obliterated everything else. It was then that I heard Uncle Press’s voice cut through. He said two simple words-two words that made absolute sense. “Third Earth.”

The circle of light responded instantly. It began to drop below ground level. It wasn’t as dramatic as the spinning Ravinian star that had cut the giant flume into the turf of Yankee Stadium, but the result was the same. The intense, glowing light sank deeper and deeper into the earth. The power that surged through me felt stronger than ever. I felt as if I were shaking, but I knew that wasn’t the case. It was such an intense feeling that as I looked around at the other Travelers, I half expected them to be glowing. In fact, just the opposite was happening. For brief moments some of the other Travelers seemed to fade out, becoming momentarily transparent. A second later their images would return, but then other Travelers would fade. And return. I fought panic. Was this the end? Had we gone too far in trying to create this impossible phenomenon? Had we sucked all the life out of Solara, and now all that was left was for us to wink out along with it?

Below the far edge of the circle, I caught sight of the first line of gray rocks that I knew would be continuing down until it became a tunnel to infinity. The light grew dim as it sank deeper. I looked up at the other Travelers, fearing that they would fade out along with it. Everyone was there. Rock solid.

A moment later the music ended. The light below went dark. I looked up to make sure that all the Travelers were there. I counted ten. Plus me. All eleven of us stood in the circle, dazed. I looked to the ground to see a large, round hole, maybe twenty yards across. We had done it.

We had made a new flume.

And we were all still there to see it. “Well,” I said casually, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

Spader laughed first, followed by Uncle Press, then Patrick. Soon everyone was laughing. Not because of my casual understatement, but out of relief. We had done it and we were all there. Uncle Press came over and put his arm around my shoulders.

“To be honest, I didn’t think it would work,” he said.

“Oh great, now you tell me.”

The moment of triumph passed. Creating the flume was only the beginning. We stood staring at one another, not sure what to do next.

It was Aja who stepped up. “I think Patrick should go to Third Earth to see where the attack stands.”

“I can’t,” Patrick declared.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I just tried. Nothing happened.”

“You tried to travel to Third Earth?” I asked quickly. “Just now? And you’re still here?”

“I think Press was right,” Patrick said, glum. “Whatever powers we had as Travelers are gone.”

“But we are still here,” Alder said. “We still exist.”

“What happened, Uncle Press?” I asked.

Uncle Press sighed. “I guess I can be positive and say that you are now the people you always thought you were. Your physical selves are all that is left.”

Gunny said, “So no more healing? No more traveling? What happens to our spirits if we die?”

Uncle Press shrugged and said, “Don’t.”

“So then, what do we do now?” Siry asked.

“This doesn’t change a thing,” I called out. “The dados are still headed this way. I’m going to find Courtney and take one last shot with the exiles. You all should go to Third Earth. Find Mark and be ready.”

“Did you forget, Pendragon?” Siry said. “We can’t travel.”

I looked at the young Jakill from Ibara. He was a brave, dedicated kid. But he didn’t always think things through. I walked to the edge of the new flume and gestured to it with open arms.

“Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “Right.”

“Third Earth!” I called.

The tunnel came to life. The music was back. The lights were back. We were in business.

“I’ll be right behind you,” I said, and jogged toward the village.

My goal was to get back to the council meeting and give them one last warning about the army that was about to arrive on their doorstep. I hoped that maybe by showing them the flume, I’d have a little more credibility. Worst case, if they insisted on staying to defend Black Water, knowing about the flume might help set up an evacuation, if things started going badly. No, that would be when things started going badly. I ran over all the arguments and options in my mind. I had to be positive. I had to convince them.

It wasn’t until I reached the village and almost to the center building that I realized something was wrong. There was no sound. No activity. No gars walking around. No signs of life anywhere. It was eerie. Where had everybody gone? I hoped that it was actually very late at night, and everyone was in bed asleep. I expected to have to track these people down in their homes and wake them up…

When the warning horn sounded. The steady whoop whoop filled the oddly quiet village with ear-numbing sound. The wrong kind of sound. I didn’t think for a second that it was a drill. I ran to the far side of the village, toward the mountains and the tunnel into the valley of waterfalls. I expected to see gars and Yanks running to their posts to man their positions.

I didn’t. I was alone. Where was everybody? Maybe, I thought, they were already at their posts. It was the only explanation. But when I reached the outer ring of the village, I saw that the defensive huts were empty. There were no gars manning the radio cannons, or peering out of windows with arrows at the ready. The huts were dark and quiet.

What was going on?

My eye finally caught movement, but it only added to my confusion. I saw what looked like a pin spot of light glowing on the side of the mountain. It was maybe twenty yards up from the walk able slope, where the rock face turned sheer. It was like nothing I had seen before. Was it some new technology that was brought by the exiles? Was it a visual alarm to go with the horn? Was it an emergency beacon? I stood still, watching. Fascinated. The pin light grew. A beam shot out from the glowing spot and flashed across the sky, casting a line of light over the empty huts of Black Water. All I could do was stare in wonder. The pin spot continued to grow, spilling light onto the face of the mountain. The light became a growing circle. That’s when I realized the truth. I didn’t need to hear the musical notes that soon followed.

I was witnessing the birth of another flume.

Light blasted out of the circle, eating away at the rock, creating the new opening. The music arrived next, quickly growing loud and jangly. I looked back to the village to see if any gars had come out from wherever they were to see what was going on. The village was empty. I was alone. Within a minute the hole of light had grown to thirty yards across. That’s when it stopped. The enormous tunnel was complete. Even from as far away as I was, I recognized the walls of gray stone.

The highway was open.

I knew what was going to happen next.

Saint Dane wasn’t going to wait until morning.

Enough light glowed from the flume so that I could see what was coming in. This tunnel stretched to another world. From deep inside, marching in step, came the first line of invaders, carrying red Ravinian flags. They marched to the mouth of the new tunnel and continued down the slope toward the village. There were more. Many more. Looking beyond them into the flume, I saw no end to them. Like a swarm of red locusts, the Ravinian army poured from the depths of infinity, bent on their deadly mission.

Saint Dane had sent his entire force to march on Black Water.

The final battle for Halla had begun.