The Soldiers of Halla

Chapter 7

We were all back together.

We were a little wiser and maybe somewhat overwhelmed by all that had been revealed to us. But at least we were together. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who had to deal with getting knocked over the head with a big fat reality stick.

Uncle Press addressed us all. “In spite of all you’ve heard, Solara is not dead. At least, the Solara that has always been is not dead. You all sense the presence of the spirit here, don’t you?”

I looked around to see my friends nodding.

“Solara is at its lowest point. The toll of this battle has been huge. The spirit is dying. You’ve met your loved ones here-the spirits who became Travelers to help guide your way on your home territories. Giving them a physical presence so they could speak with you was an added drain. The only reason we brought them forward now was to help ease your transition. They’re still here, but we can’t continue to maintain their physical selves.”

I thought back to how my family flickered and disappeared.

It seemed like a light bulb running out of power. Turned out it was exactly that. The same sort of thing must have happened after I left Second Earth the first time. Every piece of evidence that my family existed had vanished. It must have all been created by the spirit of Solara, and then removed when it was no longer necessary. How weird is that?

Uncle Press continued, “The worlds of Halla have fallen. Each territory is in chaos. The darker nature of mankind has triumphed, just as Saint Dane wanted.”

Gunny stepped forward and asked, “So then, why is Solara still hanging on?”

Patrick asked, “Because there’s still hope for Third Earth?”

“There is still hope for Third Earth, but I don’t believe that’s the reason. Third Earth has become a war zone. That’s where we all gathered before coming here.”

That made sense. The zoo, the shattered buildings, the tilted Empire State Building. Third Earth was a mess, worse than when Patrick was last there.

Elli asked, “Do you believe that saving Third Earth will stop Saint Dane?”

“I don’t know. I’d be lying if I told you otherwise. Truth is, it’s all we’ve got left. But I’ll tell you something I do believe. I don’t think that saving Third Earth is as important as how we save it,” Uncle Press answered.

We all exchanged confused glances. We had no idea what he was talking about, which was pretty much par for the course even at this late date.

“Make no mistake, we are on our last legs,” Uncle Press continued. “The spirits of Solara no longer have the ability to move through the physical worlds. They are all here now. Or at least, what’s left of them. There is no way of knowing what is happening throughout Halla, except through your eyes.”

“Us?” Siry said in surprise. “How can we know what is happening out there? We’re trapped here too. And the flumes are destroyed.”

“You’ve all heard how the creation of the Travelers was our only hope to stop Saint Dane. That is still true now. More than ever. The spirits of Solara have gathered back here in order to channel their remaining energy to you. To us. I’ll be with you until the end.”

“Well, there’s one spot of good news!” Spader declared, trying to be positive.

“That’s how we will be able to maintain a physical presence and make our final stand. The remaining positive spiritual energy that exists in Solara is being channeled to us. The Travelers.”

Aja looked glum. “Nothing like a little pressure.”

Alder said, “But if there are no flumes, we will be unable to travel.”

“You don’t need the flumes anymore,” Uncle Press declared.

That made everybody start talking at once. I was right there with them. What the heck did that mean?

“Whoa, whoa!” Uncle Press called out, trying to get everybody to settle.

I said, “I think you better explain that.”

“Saint Dane created the flumes to connect the territories. He wanted technology and physical items, and ultimately people, to travel freely and blend all the worlds. To converge. He was able to travel between territories whenever he wanted and from wherever he happened to be. He stepped from one world into the sea of time and space, and right into the next world, instantly, effortlessly. You all experienced it yourselves when you arrived here from Third Earth.”

That was exactly what happened. My family and I took two steps-the first on Third Earth, the second here in mysterious lavaland. But the idea that we could have been doing that all along made me a little, oh, what’s the word? Angry. Yeah. Angry is a good word. None of the other Travelers looked too happy either.

Loor was the only one who had the discipline to ask the question calmly. “Was there a reason that we were not told of this ability?” she asked.

Uncle Press answered with equal calm. “Because you didn’t have it before.”

“Why not?” was my obvious follow-up. “It would have made things a little simpler, don’t you think?”

“For one, we wanted to maintain the illusion that you were natural to your own territory. By hitchhiking through Saint Dane’s flumes, you didn’t need to know of your true origins.”

“Not a good enough answer,” I said, testy.

“But the main reason is that the flumes were there. They worked. Changing your physical selves to step in and out of the sea of time and space would have been too great of a drain on Solara. The same would have happened if you changed your physical beings the way Saint Dane did. Each time he became a different person, he took more of the spirit of Solara along with him. If you all did the same thing, we wouldn’t be talking to each other right now. That’s how draining it is for us to manipulate matter.”

Spader jumped forward. “You mean we have the same spiff powers as Saint Dane?”

“No,” I countered. “No way. I tried to change myself, more than once. Unless there was some secret switch or something, it didn’t work.”

“Because we didn’t allow it,” Uncle Press replied. “We wanted you to behave as normal beings, not spirits.”

“But Nevva Winter could change,” I said.

“Because Saint Dane allowed it. As I said, he is slowly controlling the power of Solara. We didn’t allow you to use that ability or to travel without the flumes because it would have caused untold damage to Solara.”

“And now?” Gunny asked.

“Now there are no flumes,” Uncle Press said. “And you all have the same abilities as Saint Dane. The spirits of Solara will see to that. But we must be cautious with how we use them. Our resources are very near the end. It’s risky, but hey, things have gotten a little desperate.”

I could guess what everyone was thinking. It was an amazing feeling to know we could travel between territories without having to worry about finding a gate to the flumes. But it was also pretty scary. How badly would we be hurting Solara each time we used that ability? However things played out, we wouldn’t be able to rely on flashing between worlds at will. Or turning into ravens. Whatever the final battle would be, it would be like all the others. In real time. With our physical selves. Win or lose.

I was the first to speak again. “You said that Saint Dane made a mistake.”

Uncle Press looked up at the sky. I followed his gaze. Was I imagining things, or were there already fewer color-charged clouds floating by?

“Halla has fallen,” Uncle Press said bitterly. “The nature of mankind has turned. Even with Third Earth still in doubt, Solara should be dark. But it isn’t.”

Aja said, “Of course not. Ravinia may dominate the territories, but there are still people out there who haven’t given up. Their spirit must be feeding Solara.”

“That’s not it,” Uncle Press countered. “Halla is in chaos. For those few who lived through the Ravinian revolution, life outside of the conclaves is brutal. Like I said, survival is their only goal. They forage for food. Disease and despair are rampant. They live in constant fear of being attacked and killed for what little they have. There is no joy. No working toward a better future. That’s the kind of spirit that now feeds Solara. Think of the Flighters on Veelox. Their existence has become the norm. There is little positive spirit coming from Halla anymore, which is exactly what Saint Dane wanted.”

Siry asked, “So then, what is keeping Solara alive?”

Uncle Press answered, “There is a strong, focused source of light. Of hope. It’s like the last trickle of water in a dried-up oasis. It isn’t much, but it’s out there somewhere. It’s real and it’s keeping Solara from crumbling.”

“What is it?” Aja asked.

“It’s Saint Dane’s mistake,” Uncle Press answered. “On Second Earth, as the Ravinians were about to take power, they made a single dramatic purge of thousands of their enemies. A massive group of those who opposed Ravinia were sent into a flume.”

“The Bronx Massacre,” Alder said.

“Seventy thousand people went into that flume,” I said.

Patrick added, “History said it was a mass execution.”

“That’s what most people believed. Seventy-some-odd thousand people became victims of Ravinia in order to intimidate those who dared oppose them. It was diabolical, but it worked. Ravinia soon controlled Second Earth.”

“So what was the mistake?” Patrick asked.

“Saint Dane used those people to help him gain power on Earth, but if he truly wanted to be rid of them, he should have killed them.”

“So… he didn’t?” Patrick asked hopefully.

“No. I believe they are still out there living in exile. These were the only people in Halla who, as a group, were brave enough to stand up to Naymeer and try to put an end to Ravinia. I believe they are still alive. Somewhere. They are the last significant source of positive, spiritual energy that is keeping Solara alive.”

“Where are these people?” Siry asked.

“I don’t know,” Uncle Press answered. “We have no way of knowing. Are they on one territory? Or scattered over several? How many are left of the seventy thousand? What kind of shape are they in? Wherever they are, I believe they represent the last living beings of the old order who have not been corrupted by the Convergence. Their strength of spirit is proof of that. Without them, Solara would cease to exist, and the darkness would rise.”

“And what about Third Earth?” Patrick asked.

“The Travelers are the last hope for Third Earth. The exiles are the last hope for the Travelers. If we want to stand up to Ravinia on Third Earth, we are going to have to rely on the positive spirit of the exiles to continue energizing Solara, which in turn gives us the ability to maintain our physical selves and to travel. If something happens to the exiles, game over.”

“Then they must be protected,” Alder said.

“Yes,” Uncle Press said quickly. “But first we have to find them and ensure their safety before turning our sights to Third Earth.”

I guess it came as no surprise to any of us that it was going to come down to Third Earth. The final territory. What was Saint Dane up to there? We had no idea. But unless we found the exiles and kept them safe, it wouldn’t matter what he was doing, because the Travelers wouldn’t have the ability to stop him. Finding the exiles and protecting them seemed like the right thing to do. The only thing. But there was one other reason that I believed in the plan. I didn’t share it with the others because, in the long run, it didn’t matter to anyone but me. I kept my feelings to myself. They energized me. They gave me confidence. Of course I wanted to find the exiles and have one last shot at Saint Dane. But there was another reason. A personal one.

Finding them might also mean finding Mark and Courtney.