The Pilgrims of Rayne

IBARA

There were two flume gates on Denduron. I had no way of knowing which one we’d be dumped at. One was on top of the snowy mountain that loomed above the Milago village. The other was buried deep below the ground, under tons of rock. Access to that flume had been destroyed when the vein of tak exploded, decimating the glaze mines. Either way, we were prepared. The dygo would either get us down from the mountain or dig us out of the crushed mine tunnels. Getting out of the gate was the least of my worries.

Flying through a flume inside a vehicle was a new experience. If we weren’t on such a dire mission, I’d almost say it was fun. I had no control over the flight, so I let go of the joysticks. The power of the flume sent us along. The only view we had was through the narrow window in front of the dygo. Just as well. I didn’t want to look out onto the sea of time and space beyond the crystal walls and see any changes that might have happened after what we did on Zadaa.

Since we were sealed inside the dygo, I couldn’t hear the musical notes of the flume. They usually gave me the warning that we were nearing the end of a journey. I had to keep my eyes ahead to look for signs of our arrival. I was afraid we’d hit the gate that was buried, and smash against a wall of rock.

I didn’t mention that to Siry. He had enough to deal with.

After traveling for several minutes, I decided not to take any chances and fired up the drill bit of the dygo. I figured the drill would chew us through anything. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry. No sooner did the drill start spinning than we were dumped at the mouth of the flume. Bright light flashed in through the narrow window of our digging sphere. Wherever we were, it wasn’t under tons of rock.

“Let’s get out,” I said, and popped the hatch.

It was a familiar sight. We were in the cave on top of the mountain, where I had first set foot on a territory other than my own. Denduron. I immediately thought of Uncle Press. I wondered what he would think about what I was doing. It wasn’t a happy thought, so I stopped thinking it.

“Now where are we?” Siry asked. He sounded tired. I didn’t think anything would surprise him anymore.

“Denduron is the first territory where the Travelers beat Saint Dane,” I explained. “Here, put these on.”

There was a pile of leather and fur clothing near the flume. I didn’t care about blending into the territory. It wasn’t going to matter what we were wearing, if somebody saw us rolling along in a silver dygo. There would be no blending in on Denduron. I was more concerned about the weather. We were wearing lightweight tropical clothing from Ibara. We’d freeze on Denduron. I dumped my Ibara clothes into the dygo and once again strapped on the leathers of Denduron. I noticed a difference right away. The clothes were much better made than when I had been there before. It was the first sign that the Milago had improved their lives after Saint Dane was defeated. There would be more.

“This area has two tribes/’ I explained. “The Milago and the Bedoowan. The Milago are farmers. The Bedoowan are more evolved and intellectual. They lived in a slick castle-city where they commanded an army that treated the Milago like slaves. The farmers were forced to mine a precious mineral called glaze, which was the basis for the wealth of the Bedoowan. The mines were treacherous, and the Milago were dying off. They revolted and the Bedoowan were defeated. The Traveler here is named Alder. He’s a Bedoowan. He’s told me that the two tribes now live in peace. The Bedoowan provide modern expertise, the Milago more practical skills. Bottom line is that Saint Dane was stopped for the first time here.

We finished getting dressed by strapping on leather-soled shoes. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the clothes were almost comfortable. The leather was soft and well crafted. I’m not so sure I would have needed my boxers even if I had them. Which I didn’t. We climbed back aboard the dygo. I fired it up and gently nudged the vehicle forward. We rolled through the cave and out into the bright light of Denduron. Our first sight was the vast field of snow where the quig beasts had attacked Uncle Press and me. I’m happy to say there were no quig spines sticking out from the snow. Like on Zadaa, the quigs wouldn’t bother us here. The turning point had passed.

The dygo rolled easily across the snow, making deep tracks. Siry was mostly silent, taking in the awesome view of the majestic, snow-capped mountains that surrounded us. It really was a beautiful territory. Rugged, but beautiful. He only made one comment during our descent to the Milago village.

“Am I crazy?” he asked as he looked up at the sky.

“No,” I chuckled. “There are three suns.”

Siry blinked and sat back in his seat. The guy was dazed. When he set out with the Jakills to learn the truth, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

As we got lower, the snow gave way to grass. I stopped the dygo, and we got out to survey the scene. We stood high above the valley, looking down on the new Milago village. My last view of this place had shown nothing but devastation. The explosion of the mines destroyed the Bedoowan castle and tore apart the countryside. Much of the Milago village had been destroyed as well. Now there was no sign of destruction. Just the opposite. The Milago huts were rebuilt better than before. They looked larger and sturdier. The dirt paths that wound between them now looked more organized and solid. It looked like they were paved. Beyond the village I saw the vast farmland that fed the population. It looked rich with crops. It looked perfect.

There was something else that made me smile. It was late in the day. The three suns were sinking low on the horizon. Down in the village, street lights winked to life. When I had been there before, the Milago didn’t have lights. They didn’t have power of any sort. It wasn’t until I entered the Bedoowan castle that I realized the territory was more advanced than I originally thought. The Bedoowan had been keeping the Milago in the dark ages. Literally. I was thrilled to see that the Bedoowan were now sharing their knowledge. The Milago village was alive.

“Let’s get down before it’s too dark,” I said.

We climbed back into the dygo and continued our journey. My thoughts went ahead to the next step. It would be the most difficult of all. I didn’t want to see Alder, for the same reasons I hadn’t wanted to run into Loor. I didn’t want him coming back to Ibara. Unfortunately, on Denduron we were going to need his help.

I found a dense stand of pine-looking trees and pulled the dygo beneath them. “We’ll walk the rest of the way. Don’t want to panic anybody.”

We got out of the sphere and covered it up quickly with branches and leaves. It wasn’t a very good job of camouflage, but it was the best we could do.

“We need to find the Traveler,” I said, and led him down toward the village.

I didn’t think anyone would recognize me. It had been a couple of years, and I wasn’t the same scared little kid who left there after the destruction of the Bedoowan castle. I was still fairly scared, but I wasn’t so little anymore. Siry and I walked through the streets of the busy village without getting any second looks. The community was thriving now. It was no longer the kind of place where everybody knew everybody else. The huts had become houses. The streets were no longer muddy, and lights made the place warm and inviting. It was nothing like the village I had left in ruins. Except for one thing. Along one street was an open square that, at first, looked like a park. A low, black fence surrounded a grassy clearing, where I could easily imagine people stopping for a picnic. But it wasn’t a park. It was a memorial. In the center of the square was a wide ring of stones that I recognized as the entrance to one of the old glaze mines. It was on this stone platform where Saint Dane conducted his sadistic Transfer ceremony, where a miner was chosen and weighed against the day’s haul of glaze. If the glaze didn’t weigh as much as the miner, the miner was tossed to his death inside the mine shaft. It seemed this stone structure was left there as a memorial, and a reminder.

We asked a villager where we might find the camp of the Bedoowan knights. I figured that was as good a place as any to look for Alder. The villager directed us to the bluffs overlooking the ocean, where the Bedoowan castle once stood. I knew the way. We made it through the village and across a grassy field, then we saw the glow of lights up ahead. I explained to Siry that before the battle, the grassy bluff went straight out to the ocean. From on top you’d never know that a massive castle was built into the cliff below. When the mines were destroyed the immense castle fell into the sea, taking much of the land above with it.

As we walked closer, we saw that the lights were coming from the destroyed foundation of the castle-city. It had become the compound of the Bedoowan knights. A set of ancient stone steps led down to a large, open area that I recognized as the ruins of the arena where we battled the quig beasts. The memory gave me a chill. I never thought I’d see this place again.

Siry and I stood on the edge of the ruins, looking down on what looked like some kind of game. Several knights were gathered around a circle, watching two other knights wrestle. It wasn’t an angry competition. The knights cheered and cajoled the two combatants. It looked like a bunch of guys having fun. It was an odd feeling. When I was there before, they were the bad guys. Not anymore.

“Care to place a wager?” came a voice from behind us.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Only if you were the one fighting,” I said. “I only bet on a sure thing.”

I was suddenly swept up in a bear hug. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was trying to crush me. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Hello, Pendragon,” Alder said warmly.

“Man, I am glad to see you,” I replied.

Alder let go and backed off. I’d he was. Though I’d grown a few inches, he still towered over me. His brown hair had grown longer and nearly touched his shoulders. He wore light leathers, similar to ours, rather than the heavy, black leather armor of a Bedoowan knight. He must have been off duty. As I’ve written before. Alder was a trained knight, but his aggressive side only came out in battle. He was actually a gentle guy who always had a smile.

But not just then. Alder’s expression was dark. “I wish I could say the same. I saw the machine, Pendragon. Many of us did. I do not know how to explain that to my people. Why would you bring such a thing from another territory?”

“To save Halla” was my answer.

He was upset. I understood. I had to explain myself. After introducing Siry, the three of us sat on the rim of the old arena, and I brought Alder up to speed. I didn’t hold anything back. He listened to everything I had to say. It was for Siry’s benefit too. My plan for battling Saint Dane on Ibara went against everything we knew to be right, but it was the only way. When I finally told Alder why we had come to Denduron, I felt as if I’d hit him in the gut. He didn’t say anything for a long while. He sat looking down at his comrades, who were laughing and having a great time. I felt bad. If we hadn’t been there. Alder probably would have been down there with them. That wasn’t the way it was meant to be. He was a Traveler.

He finally took a tired breath and said, “By doing what you ask, we could harm the future of Denduron as well. Have you thought of that?”

“I have. But this isn’t just about Veelox, Alder. It’s about Halla. If Saint Dane overruns Ibara, you may soon be facing an army of dados right here.”

“What you are asking is dangerous,” Alder said gravely. “We cannot do it alone.”

“Can you get help?” I asked.

“People remember you, Pendragon. They remember how you helped save the Milago from the tyranny of the Bedoowan. The only person they revere more is Press. But he is not here, is he?”

Again I got the feeling that Uncle Press would not have approved of what we were doing. But as Alder said, he wasn’t there. It was my show now.

“I can get people to help you,” he said. “There is only one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You must take me to Ibara.”

“No way,” I shouted, and jumped up. “I won’t risk your life. Not again. Twice was twice too many.”

“Pendragon,” Alder said calmly. “This is not a negotiation. My place is with you, battling Saint Dane. Why would you refuse that, unless you question what it is you are doing?”

“Of course I question what I’m doing,” I shouted back. “I’m trying to figure it out as I go along. If something happens to me, to us, what will happen to the Travelers? It’s why I didn’t contact Loor. If three of us don’t make it through this battle, and with Gunny and Spader trapped on Eelong, that would only leave Patrick, Loor, Aja, and Elli from Quillan. They would need you, Alder. We can’t risk it.”

“If this battle is as important as you say,” Alder said calmly, “it would not matter how many Travelers were left. The war would be over.”

“Agreed, but I don’t want you to be part of this.”

“Why?” Alder asked. “What is the real reason? Is it because you fear I will be hurt? Or because you have doubts about what you are doing?”

“I don’t have doubts,” I said adamantly.

“Then my position is not negotiable,” Alder said with finality.

I was stuck. I tried desperately to think of another reason for him to stay home, but came up blank.

“I kind of like the idea of him coming along,” Siry added.

“Fine,” I finally blurted out. “You’re in. I’m against it, but you’re in.”

Alder said, “Or maybe you could say that you are happy I will be there to help.” “Yeah, that too.”

I realized I was sounding pretty ungrateful. Alder was putting himself on the line for me again. He was a good friend and Traveler. I shouldn’t have been so angry.

“I’m sorry. Alder,” I said, softening. “I’m glad you’re going to help us. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Alder stood and put a hand on my shoulder, saying, “From what you tell me, the best way to make sure nothing happens to any of us is to beat Saint Dane on Ibara.”

It was getting late. We needed rest. Alder found us comfortable beds in the knights’ quarters in the castle ruins. It kind of creeped me out to be back in that castle, considering I was the one who blew it up in the first place. Sleeping was tough. The task ahead was going to be difficult and dangerous. I’m not talking about the battle with Saint Dane. I’m talking about the task on Denduron.

Alder got up early the next morning to make preparations. By the time Siry and I woke up and got something to eat. Alder had already gathered a group of twenty volunteers from the Milago village. We met them in the clearing between the village and the castle ruins. I recognized some of the men. The biggest difference from when I was there before was that they looked healthy now. Back then, all the men had the same gray look of death, from working in the mines and breathing the poisonous fumes that were emitted when glaze was torn from the rock. Now they looked strong and well fed. I felt bad for what I was about to ask them to do.

Leading these volunteers was a man I remembered well. It was Rellin, the chief miner and leader of the revolution against the Bedoowan. He was now the leader of the Milago. He was as powerful and confident a leader as I remembered. The one thing missing was the anger he once held. He was now at peace with his world. I hoped I wasn’t going to disrupt that too much.

“You’ve grown up, Pendragon,” he said while giving me a warm hug.

“I can’t believe what I see here/’ I said to the man. “It’s a whole new village.”

“It is, in great part thanks to you and Press. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

I nodded in appreciation.

“In his memory, and because of the part you played in creating a new world for us, we are willing to do what you ask,” Rellin said. “There will be danger. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I do,” I said. “I wouldn’t be asking for help if it weren’t so incredibly important.”

“And what makes it so?” he asked.

I knew I’d have to answer that question at some point. I couldn’t tell Rellin the whole truth, of course. But he deserved to know some form of it.

“There is a village a long way from here that needs my help. Like the Milago, they are in danger of being destroyed by a powerful, evil force. I am trying my best to help them.”

“You are quite the adventurer, Pendragon,” Rellin said. “It is a noble but dangerous calling to become involved in such conflicts.”

He pretty much nailed that one square on the freakin’ head.

“Yes, but it’s the right thing to do,” I said. “Then for you and your noble calling, I will send my men back down into the mines in search of tak.” “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

These were brave guys. I wished I could tell them how they would be mining the tak to protect their own future as well.

Rellin said, “You understand the veins of tak were buried deep below the ground. It will take much effort to uncover them.”

“Not as much as you think,” I declared. I led Rellin and the miners to the dygo. Siry walked alongside me.

“What’s so special about tak?” he whispered. “It’s a natural substance they discovered while mining for glaze. It’s a soft, red dirt you can roll into balls, like clay.” “What is it, poison?”

“It’s an incredibly powerful explosive. A tiny dot could blow one of those huts off the face of Denduron. The miners were going to use it against the Bedoowan, but it would have changed the evolution of the society. With tak, the Milago would have become warriors. After defeating the Bedoowan, Rellin was going to try and conquer other areas of Denduron. This peaceful village would have become a city of warriors. They never got the chance. After the explosion the tak mines were buried too deep for them to get to.”

“Except with a dygo,” Siry said.

“Exactly. I want to blow Saint Dane back to wherever it was he came from. With a weapon like tak, we’ve got a chance against his army. Without it…” I didn’t finish the sentence.

Siry said, “But once we dig a tunnel, won’t the Milago be able to keep mining it?”

“No, this is a different place,” I said quickly. “They aren’t at war anymore.”

Siry looked troubled. “I just hope we don’t blow the people of Denduron back to where they came from too.”

“We won’t,” I snapped.

Siry didn’t say another word.

Rellin and the twenty miners were in absolute awe of the dygo. No big surprise. I gave them a story about how it came from a city on the far side of the mountains. I knew they had plenty of questions, but I didn’t give them the chance to ask. Siry and I boarded the sphere and rolled toward the castle. There was no way of knowing where a vein of tak might be located. I stopped the machine at a remote spot that wouldn’t interfere with the normal routine of the village. As the miners watched in awe, I engaged the drill and dipped it toward the ground. With a push on the foot pedals, the drill bit into the ground. We were under way.

Digging the mine was simple. Finding tak wasn’t. My plan was to dig several shallow tunnels and have the miners inspect them for tak. If we came up empty, we’d dig a new tunnel. And another and another until we found what we came for. It was a laborious process. We spent several days on Denduron with no luck. We found small deposits of glaze, but the miners didn’t dare dig it out. They had seen enough of the blue gem to last a few hundred lifetimes.

While we dug, other miners constructed crates for us to transport the explosive. The crates were critical. Tak dissolved when mixed with water. Since our entry to Ibara was through a pool of water, the crates needed to be watertight. The miners also built a large, flat sled we could use to drag the tak up and over the mountain. Of course, they didn’t know we were only going halfway.

I was really touched by how hard everyone worked. More and more volunteers joined when they heard who they were working for. Some even volunteered to come with us and help in the fight, but there was no way I could accept that. Eventually there were enough miners to split into shifts, so there was always someone working during the daylight hours. I felt sure that if there was tak to be found, we would find it.

It was great being with Alder. He gave Siry pointers on fighting. He demonstrated the art of using the long, wooden stave that he and Loor were such experts with. Siry was an eager student, but there was no way to turn him into a fighter in such a short time. It was more for fun, which was almost as important. It had been a long time since we had done anything that was even close to fun.

Watching those two spar with the long staves gave me an idea. After digging a new mine shaft with the dygo, I drove the vehicle back up the mountain to the flume. I didn’t tell the others I was going, because I wasn’t planning on being gone long. I parked outside the cave, entered, and stepped into the flume.

“Quillan,” I announced, and was quickly pulled toward a territory that held nothing but dark memories for me.

I arrived at the gate and quickly changed into the gray, nondescript clothing near the flume. I didn’t run into any of the mechanical spider-quigs. No surprise there. This territory was done. I left the vast warehouse that held the gate to the flume, and climbed up to the incredible gaming arcade that had been my first taste of Quillan. I’m sorry to say that the arcade was rocking. The Quillan games were back, and busier than ever. It hurt to watch.

On the street nothing had changed. I didn’t know how much time had passed by Quillan standards, but the territory looked the same as when I had first seen it. The city streets were jammed with people moving like lifeless zombies. The huge screens on the buildings above showed the same geometric patterns, broken up by the occasional announcement given by a nameless reporter. It killed me. Blok had won. Saint Dane had won. I had failed miserably on Quillan.

My destination was the abandoned underground mall where I spent time with the members of the small resistance that called themselves “revivers.” I knew the route well. I found the building that was built over the forgotten mall, descended through ancient stairways, walked through a twisting series of corridors, and finally came to the break in the cement wall that was the entrance the revivers had created.

I never saw a reviver. Or Elli, the Traveler. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t there to learn about Quillan. I came for weapons. I found them in a long-forgotten store deep within the mall. It hurts me to say that no revivers were there to guard them. It was another sign that the revival had failed. They no longer needed their weapons.

But I did. I found a stack of the six-foot-long, black metal rods. Dado killers. I didn’t know what they were made out of, or why they worked. All I knew was that when you impaled a dado with one of those rods, it neutralized its power source. The result? Dead dado.

I stood looking at the pile of weapons, wondering why I had bothered to come. We were about to fight a war against thousands of dados. If it came down to using those rods, the war would be lost. Still, using weapons like those was all I knew. Seeing Alder instructing Siry made me realize that. I guess you could say that having them was a confidence builder. I needed all the confidence I could get. I grabbed a dozen of the lightweight weapons and headed back for the flume.

I knew getting them back to the flume would be risky. If a security dado spotted me, I’d be done. I camouflaged the rods as best I could with a rotten old blanket that had been tossed aside by a reviver. With luck, people would think I was carrying lengths of wood. Or brooms. Or skis. (Yeah, right.) Or anything besides dado-killing weapons. When I got to the surface, I kept close to the buildings, trying to be invisible. At one point I saw two security dados marching toward me. My stomach fell. It suddenly felt like a very stupid idea to have gone to Quillan. I had risked the entire battle just to give myself an ounce of comfort. I held my breath.

The dados walked right past me.

My trip back to Denduron was uneventful. I changed back into my leather clothing at the gate and jumped into the flume. In the cave on Denduron I placed the pile of weapons at the side of the flume, got right back into the dygo, and made my way down the mountain. In all, I was gone for only a few hours. Nobody knew I had left. Not even Alder and Siry. I had taken a big risk going to Quillan, but I was glad I did it.

I didn’t know how to measure time exactly on Denduron. If I were to guess, I’d say we were on that territory for about three weeks. I was beginning to think it was going to be for nothing. If the tak was deeper than the shallow tunnels we had been digging, it meant we had to create a much more complex mining operation to get the miners down deep. It would also mean spending lots of time down there, and I didn’t want to risk poisoning these hard-working guys. After weeks of coming up empty, I started to face the possibility that we would have to battle the dados without tak…

When we saw the first telltale streak of red. The miners gathered to inspect the possible find. Rellin dug out a piece of the red dirt with his fingers and rolled it into a small ball. He walked back to the mouth of the tunnel, and with everyone watching, he flung it at a rock ledge. Boom! The rock disintegrated, creating a small avalanche of stones. It was so loud, my ears rang. When the air cleared, Rellin turned to me and smiled. I in turn looked to Siry.

“That,” I said, “is tak.”

Siry looked stunned. “Maybe we really do have a chance.”

The process of mining the mineral was even more dangerous. If hit the wrong way, it could explode. The miners took their time, which was fine with me. They only had the crude tools they hadn’t used since the days of mining glaze. The vein turned out to be the mother lode. They dug cautiously, filling rough bags with the mineral and hauling it out of the tunnel. It took several days, but every wooden crate was eventually filled. We could have filled more, but I wasn’t sure how much the dygo would be able to pull. The crates were then sealed with wax to make them watertight.

Finally the job was complete. The dygo was fitted with heavy ropes that were attached to the sled and the crates were loaded aboard.

“You sure this won’t blow up on the way up the mountain?” Siry asked.

“No” was my honest answer. “I don’t know what’ll happen when we go through the flume, either.”

“I didn’t need to hear that,” Siry said soberly.

After many thank-yous and good-byes, we were ready to go. I told Rellin that he and his men had done an important thing that would hopefully ensure peace to Siry’s home for a long time to come.

“I do not doubt you, Pendragon,” Rellin said. “Tak helped bring peace to the Milago. I trust it will be as useful again.”

Alder, Siry, and I climbed into the dygo. It wasn’t built for three people, and we had to avoid one another’s elbows and knees. Siry was the smallest of the three, so he sat in the middle, wedged between the two seats. We were all happy that it wasn’t a very long trip… for a lot of reasons.

“Slowly,” Alder cautioned. “Avoid the bumps.”

Yeah, no kidding. I engaged the dygo. With only a slight strain from the weight of the tak, we moved forward. The trip was nerve-racking. We were hauling enough explosives to level the entire mountain. One rough jostle and we’d be vapor. I wondered how protected we were inside the steel sphere of the dygo. That thing was built to withstand some pretty intense pressure. I guess I don’t have to say that I hoped we wouldn’t find out.

I picked a path that seemed to be the one with the fewest bumps. Every time the dygo bounced, I slowed down even more, so the tak wouldn’t be knocked around. We were all sweating so much, it got pretty steamy and rank inside. We had to stop a couple of times to open the hatch and air the sphere out.

We all felt a little better when we reached the snow. Rolling across packed snow was much smoother than grass and rocks. Finally the terrain leveled out, and I saw the mouth of the gate. It had been a grueling journey, but we’d made it.

“How do we do this?” Alder asked. “Do we drive right into the flume and out the other side in Ibara?”

“No,” I answered. “We’ll have to make several trips. I’ll go with the dygo first and clear out the gate area. You guys stack the crates near the flume and wait for me.”

We unhooked the sled, and I drove the sphere into the cave. I rolled right into the flume and called out, “Ibaral”

Moments later I was swept up and away. I had to trust that the flume would continue to send me where I needed to be, when I needed to be there. If it started messing with me now, well, I didn’t want to think about that. There was nothing I could do about it, so I focused on the task ahead. It was a moving job, nothing more. Okay, a dangerous moving job, but still a moving job.

When the dygo reached Ibara, I engaged the drill. The moment the sphere bobbed to the water’s surface I started digging. I blasted up and out of the stone pool that was the mouth of the flume, destroying a section of the circle and spewing water all over the floor of the cavern. I didn’t stop to worry about it and kept moving across the wet sand. The next step was to bore a new tunnel through the rocky wall of the cavern. We needed to get thirty heavy containers of tak out of there. Dragging them through the winding labyrinth of tunnels would take weeks. We didn’t have weeks. The time for being secretive was over. I drilled straight through the rock, and didn’t stop until I saw sunlight on the beach of Ibara.

Spinning the dygo around, I saw that I had created a tunnel that led straight back to the flume. It was a hundred yards long. No twists, no turns, no subtlety. If anybody wandered by, they’d find the flume. I didn’t care. After the battle, there was no telling what this area was going to look like anyway. All bets were off. I rolled back through the tunnel to the shattered pool, got out of the dygo, and stepped up to the edge of the flume.

“Denduron!” I shouted, and dove in headfirst. As I traveled along, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see the images of Halla staring back at me. In no time I was back in Denduron, where Alder and Siry were waiting. I shouldn’t have worried. The flume did its job. The crates were stacked high, ready for transport.

Alder held one of the metal weapons I’d brought from Quillan. “What is this?”

I took it from him, spun it expertly, and jabbed at Siry. “Dado killers. From Quillan.”

“How did they get here?” Siry asked.

“I went there a few days ago. Is that a problem?”

Alder said, “Not if mixing the territories is no longer a concern.”

I dropped the weapon on the pile with the others. “It isn’t. Not anymore. We’re playing by Saint Dane’s rules now, remember? It wasn’t my choice.”

Alder gave me a grave look. He touched one of the crates of tak. “I remember. But you should remember that we always have a choice.”

“And we made it,” I snapped at him. “We’ll take one crate each and travel to Ibara. Taking more would be too awkward, and we don’t want to go dropping these things. After we’ve moved them all, I’ll come back for the weapons.”

Alder nodded. Siry shrugged. I went first. I grabbed a heavy crate and backed into the flume. “Ibara!” I called, and was on my way.

The tricky part came on the other side. The crate floated, but it was difficult pushing it up and out of the break in the stone circle I’d made with the dygo. The crate was heavy, and it was hard getting enough leverage to lift it out while treading water. But I did it, and placed it a safe distance from the flume.

The others arrived shortly after. I helped them take their crates out of the water and placed them near the first. After that the three of us dove into the water with a shout of “Denduron!” and started back the other way.

It was a tiring, grueling, boring process. None of us let down our guard though. There was always the possibility of a slip and a drop and a boom. It took us a couple of hours, but all went well. When we were done, thirty crates of tak were stacked up on the territory of Ibara.

Alder, Siry, and I sat on the edge of the flume to get a much-needed rest. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.

“We’re back on the clock,” I announced.

“What does that mean?” Siry asked.

“It means we’re on Ibara time again. There’s an invasion coming, remember?”

I’ll end this journal here, Courtney. I’m getting too antsy to write any more. I’ll tell you about our preparations in my next journal. Assuming there is a next journal. Alder is here with us, and I’m glad. He’s already proved to be an incredible help, and knowing he’ll be by my side during the battle gives me confidence that we actually have a chance. How good a chance? I don’t know. At least I can say that we’ve done all that we can.

I’m scared and I’m excited. Now that we can look back on all that’s happened, it’s pretty clear that Saint Dane’s plan has been leading to this all along. He thinks Ibara is going to be the first domino to fall in the toppling of Halla. I say he’s got a very big surprise coming. I wish I could see his face when we blow his army to oblivion. Even if we lose, I’m going to make sure we take as many of those dados with us as possible. I’m playing by his rules now. He’s

455 461 mixed the territories to try and crush Halla. I’ve mixed the territories to try and stop him.

Only one of us will prove to be right.

And so we go.

END OF JOURNAL # 31

Courtney crumpled the pages of Bobby’s journal and tossed them against the wall. She was frightened and angry. Angry at herself. She had let Bobby down. Because of her failure, the final boundaries between territories were about to come crashing down… on Bobby’s head.

Making it all the more dire was the fact that the more she learned about the situation with Mark, the less she understood. How could his parents be alive? She left Second Earth after history was altered. She knew how the changes that Mark made on First Earth would affect Second Earth. They did not include his parents being saved from dying in that plane crash.

Yet, they were alive and well.

Courtney thought that maybe one of the Dimonds might have been Saint Dane in disguise. Then who was the other person? Saint Dane could do a lot of things. He couldn’t split himself in two. Since Nevva Winter was with Mark’s parents, Courtney figured that unless another Traveler with shape-shifting abilities had suddenly entered the story, those people really were Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. She hated herself for being upset that Mark’s parents were alive, but it made no sense to her.

Worse.

Courtney knew that Bobby and the Travelers often had to make horrible choices for the greater good. She couldn’t think of a single time when any of them had to make a choice as difficult as the one Mark had faced. He had to decide whether or not the people he loved the most should live or die. He chose to save them, and Nevva Winter delivered on her promise. By going to First Earth, Mark saved his parents. Courtney didn’t think there was any way to convince Mark that he had been tricked. He would introduce Forge to First Earth, starting a chain reaction that would lead to the creation of the dados, the fall of Ibara… and his own murder.

Courtney decided she didn’t like ocean voyages.

There was a knock on the door, followed quickly by the screech of the lock opening. Sixth Officer Hantin poked his head in.

“Time for a little supper, miss,” he said warmly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Now, now,” the ship’s officer cajoled. “Don’t want you to become a patient in this hospital ward, do we?”

He was followed quickly by a steward wearing a white coat, pushing a rolling table that was draped with a white tablecloth. Silver domes covered plates of food that Courtney had no intention of eating. She rolled over in her bunk.

The steward cleared his throat and said, “Come now, miss. Me thinks you’re gonna be liking this, I do!”

Courtney had heard that strange accent before. She looked up in time to see the steward stand straight up, wink at her, then spin and swing a punch at Sixth Officer Hantin. He landed a haymaker that was so unexpected, it sent Hantin sprawling back against the bulkhead. Hantin tried to push off, but the steward nailed him with another punch that straightened him up. He hung there for a second, then crashed down onto the rolling table, unconscious, sending food and plates flying everywhere.

“Now I know I’m going to be sacked from the hotel,” Dodger said as he shook his aching hand.

Courtney stared at the little guy with her mouth open in shock.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, insulted. “I was a Golden Gloves champ three years running.”

Courtney jumped off the bunk and threw her arms around him. “I can’t believe you found me!”

“I told you, this is nothing more than a floating hotel.” He pushed away from Courtney and went to work. First he cleaned up the overturned cart. “Word of a stowaway travels fast. I know how to listen. Alls I did was pinch this outfit from the linens, grab a tray like I owned the place, and brought it right here. Easy-peasy.”

“Yeah, right. You are awesome.”

“Agreed. Now, we’ve got to be crafty. Once they figure out you’re gone they’ll be looking for a scruffy tomboy, not a beautiful young society lady.”

“Know any?”

Dodger reached under the cart and pulled out a sparkling white evening gown and matching shoes. “I do now,” he said with a smile.

Courtney’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the dress. “Where did you get this?”

“Went shopping on Regent Street,” Dodger answered casually. “You stole it.”

“Nah.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “This was charged to a Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Galvao, suite twelve-twelve, cabin class. They won’t see their bill until we dock. That should be interesting.”

Courtney laughed, jumped behind the bunks, and started pulling off her clothes. As she changed, Dodger went through Hantin’s pockets. He pulled out keys, a pair of handcuffs, and finally his pistol. He dragged Hantin to one of the bunks and hoisted him in. He handcuffed him to the rail, and pulled the blanket up to cover his face.

“Anybody peeks in, this is you, sleeping like a baby.”

“What happens when he wakes up?”

“He could scream his head off and nobody’ll hear. We’re fine until somebody comes to relieve him.”

Courtney stepped from behind the bunk. The dress fit perfectly. It was slim and silky, with short sleeves that showed off her muscular arms. Dodger whistled.

“Wowee. I knew there was a girl hiding in there somewhere.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Courtney said with a scowl, though she liked the compliment. “What about you? I don’t think the stewards hang out with the passengers.”

“Right you are,” Dodger exclaimed.

He unbuttoned his white steward jacket and pulled it off to reveal he was wearing a tuxedo. It was perfect, right down to the shiny black shoes and slick tie. Dodger brushed his hair back and held his hands out for Courtney to appreciate him. “Not too shabby, huh?”

“Courtesy of the Galvaos?”

“They’re a very generous pair,” Dodger replied. “Let’s get out of here. I found out what suite Mark is in and-” “He was here, Dodger.” Dodger froze. “Uh… what?”

“He came here, to this cell. With Newa Winter. I know her, Dodger. She’s a Traveler. And she’s a traitor. She helped Saint Dane win Quillan. It was Newa Winter that got to Mark on Second Earth and told him that if he changed history he could save his parents from dying in that plane crash.”

Dodger blinked and scowled, taking a second to let the wave of information sink in.

“Wow,” he gasped. “It was simple as that? She flat-out lied and he bought it?”

“Not so simple. Mark’s parents were here too. They’re alive.” “But-“

“Yeah, I know,” Courtney interrupted. “I don’t get it either. Nevva delivered. It’s hard to blame Mark for doing what he did.”

“Even if it meant giving Saint Dane an army to conquer Halla?”

“I don’t think she mentioned that part,” Courtney answered sarcastically. “Mark didn’t know Andy Mitchell is Saint Dane. I told him but he didn’t believe me.”

Dodger scratched his head and whistled in wonder. “So Mark is still a good guy.”

“Yes, but we’re going to have a hard time convincing him to destroy Forge.”

Dodger frowned. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

“I can do it,” Courtney said with certainty. “Mark is my friend. My best friend. If we can get him alone, away from the others, I’ll convince him.”

She went for the door. Dodger followed right behind. He took one last look to make sure everything seemed in order, then closed the heavy door and used Hantin’s key to lock it. “Snug as a bug,” he declared.

The two walked quickly forward down a long passageway. Courtney did her best to tie her hair up, trying to make it look like it was actually an intentional hairdo.

“Where’s his cabin?” Courtney asked.

“Not cabin, suite. Those people from England spent a pretty penny to bring him over. They must know how valuable his gizmo is.”

“Okay, where’s his suite?” Courtney asked, getting impatient.

“Main Deck forward. But he’s not there.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because there was a dinner reservation for five, the Dimond party, in the cabin-class dining room,” Dodger said proudly.

“You’re amazing.” “Yes, yes I am.”

The two moved quickly through the ship, up from the depths to the Promenade Deck and the same elegant restaurant that Courtney had sprinted through earlier. They forced themselves to calm down and walk slowly, pretending to belong. They got a few second glances, but Courtney was sure it was as much because her hair was a mess as anything. The two strolled casually, arm in arm, through the wide-open doors of the dining room.

Music from the big band filled the elegant room, which was now busy with diners. Inside the double doors was a sitting area with a huge fireplace and comfy chairs for passengers to sit in while waiting for their tables. To the right was a velvet rope leading up to a podium where a stiff-looking host with a slim mustache greeted passengers and showed them to their seats. Courtney and Dodger made a point to avoid that guy. They strolled past him into the sitting area. From there they had a view into the large dining room. Peering through a potted palm plant, Courtney and Dodger scanned for their quarry.

“There,” Courtney said, pointing.

Halfway across the room, toward the stage, was a table for five with Mark, Andy, Nevva, and the Dimonds. Nevva and Andy were laughing and having a good old time. Mark and the Dimonds seemed more reserved. Mark twiddled his spoon, not interested in the food in front of him.

“May I help you two?” came a stern voice from behind.

Courtney and Dodger turned slowly to face the sour-looking host who loomed over them.

“No, thank you,” Dodger said. “Just looking for some friends.”

“Do you have reservations?” the host asked as if he already knew they didn’t.

“No, we won’t be dining here tonight,” Courtney answered.

The host gave them a skeptical look. Dodger went on the offensive. He stood up straight and snapped, “Is there some problem we can help you with?”

The host backed off.

“Forgive me,” he said apologetically with a deep bow. “If there is anything I might do for you, please do not hesitate.” “We won’t,” Dodger said coldly. The host slinked off, chastised. “That was great,” Courtney giggled.

“Hey, we’re paying customers. He can’t treat us like we don’t belong.”

“Except we didn’t pay and we don’t belong.” “Details.”

“So now what do we do?”

“No problem, I got this covered.”

Courtney gave him a doubtful look.

“What?” Dodger said, offended. “Have I ever let you down?” “I barely know you.”

“But what you know, you like. Admit it,” he cajoled. “Dodger! This isn’t a game.”

“Sure it is, and I know how to play,” he said confidently. “Keep an eye on them. When you get the chance, pull Mark outta there.” “What? How?”

Dodger smiled. “Trust me. Bring him to the stern. I’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you going?” Courtney asked.

Dodger put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, trade secrets. Just be ready.”

He took Courtney’s hand and gave it an elegant kiss. He then winked and backed away, headed toward the host. Courtney watched as he whispered a moment in the guy’s ear and cagily slipped him something that could have been money for a tip. He cuffed the host on the arm as if they were old friends, and left the restaurant. What was going on? The host left his post and walked casually through the dining room, headed for the band. There was a dance floor between the dining tables and the stage, where several people moved to slow music. The host approached the bandleader and whispered something to him. The bandleader nodded and the host left. What had Dodger done?

It was time for Courtney to start doing her part. She had to get close to Mark’s table without being seen. She slipped through the potted palms, nearly falling over a table where an elderly couple sat.

“Oops, sorry,” she said as she caught a bottle of wine that nearly fell to the floor.

“You!” the elderly woman exclaimed in anger. It was the same woman she and Dodger ran into, literally, when they first boarded the ship. The woman looked around for someone she could call to deal with Courtney.

“Sorry, ma’am, my fault,” Courtney said as she carefully placed the bottle of wine back on the table. “This wine is on me. Charge it to my room. Twelve-twelve. Galvao.”

“Why, uh, thank you,” the elderly man exclaimed.

The woman just looked sour. She gave Courtney an annoyed look and went back to eating her soup. Courtney got away from her and moved closer to Mark’s table, always trying to stay shielded by other diners. She got as close as one of the wide, wooden columns that was only a few yards from Mark. She stood with her back to it, waiting for… what?

The answer came quickly. A young steward hurried through the dining room holding a silver tray with a note on top. He went right to Mark’s table, where Courtney heard him say, “This came in on the wireless for Mister Mitchell. From London. Apparently there is some urgency.”

“Thanks,” Courtney heard Andy say. Her skin crawled, knowing it was Saint Dane.

Andy read the note and scowled. “Shoot,” he exclaimed angrily.

“What’s the trouble?” Nevva asked.

“It’s from KEM,” Andy shot back. “I gotta wire them back. Now. C’mon, Nevva.”

Courtney heard him push his chair back.

“Excuse us, please,” Nevva said politely.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Dimond asked.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Andy growled.

Andy and Nevva left the table and walked by the column where Courtney was hiding. They passed right by her on either side, inches away. Courtney held her breath. If they turned around, they’d see her. Courtney wanted to kick herself for getting so close. She watched as the two hurried away through the crowd without looking back. Courtney started breathing again. Now what? Was this her chance? Should she confront all three Dimonds? She liked Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. Maybe they’d listen to her. Or maybe they’d call the authorities, and she’d land back in the brig. She figured she had to take the chance. She was about to round the pillar when the band stopped playing and the bandleader stepped up to the microphone.

“We have a special request,” he announced. “A spotlight dance for a happy couple who we understand are celebrating a very special occasion. Let’s bring up Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. Where are you folks?”

The audience applauded and looked around, searching for the mystery couple. Courtney smiled. She knew that Mr. Dimond would be mortified. He wasn’t a very good dancer. She also knew that Mrs. Dimond would drag him onto the floor anyway. She loved to dance. Courtney also knew that Dodger was a very crafty guy.

The room went dark. A spotlight kicked on and scanned the diners until settling on the Dimonds. The crowd continued to applaud as Mrs. Dimond dragged Mr. Dimond up to the dance floor. All eyes were on the Dimonds. Courtney slowly peered around the pillar to see Mark sitting alone, his chin in his hand, drumming his spoon absently on the table.

“Ten minutes,” she said as she walked toward him. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Mark jumped as if there were an electric charge in his seat.

“C–Courtney? How d-did you-“

“You’re stuttering. That means my Mark is still in there. Please come with me.”

“I c-can’t,” Mark said, looking sheepish.

“Yes, you can, Mark,” Courtney implored. “You have to.”

“Please, Courtney,” Mark begged. “You can’t ask me to do anything that might hurt them.”

They both looked up at his parents, who danced alone in the spotlight. Courtney thought they looked radiant and happy.

“Hurting them is the last thing I want to do. But you have to know what’s going on. There’s a lot at stake here. You of all people should know that. Or did you forget everything that’s happened over the past three years?”

Mark’s glance darted nervously from his parents to Courtney.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Courtney said. “Bobby is about to go to war, and you’re the only one who can stop it.”

Mark’s eyes focused. Courtney knew that look. She’d seen it many times as they read Bobby’s journals together and puzzled over the realities of time and space. She’d seen it as they were about to step into the flume, when they saw Black Water for the first time, and when the flume was created before their eyes in the basement of the Sherwood house. She knew she hadn’t lost him.

“You gotta get back in the game, Mark.”

Mark glanced at his parents. A sad smile crossed his face. He took a breath, tossed his spoon on the table, and stood up to face her.

“Hobey-ho,” he said.

(CONTINUED)

They moved quickly through the ship, avoiding crowds, taking routes that kept them away from curious eyes. Courtney knew they didn’t have much time. She figured that when everyone returned to the table to discover Mark was gone, they’d probably give him a few minutes, assuming he went to the bathroom or something. That would be it. Saint Dane and Nevva would know something was wrong. Soon they’d have the whole ship looking for Mark. They’d discover Courtney had escaped. It was all going to fall apart very quickly. Courtney figured she had a small window to save Halla, and Mark.

They broke outside on A Deck and ran to the stern of the ship. The deck was empty. Nobody would bother them. At least not for a while. They hit the rail and stopped. Courtney looked down to the frothing ocean that was being churned up in the wake of the massive ship. It was a long way down. She turned to Mark, and for that one moment, she saw the little boy she had known for so long.

“I miss you, Courtney,” Mark said.

The two hugged. Courtney squeezed her friend tight, allowing herself to think for that one moment that everything was going to be okay.

“You’re freezing,” Mark said, and took off his tuxedo jacket. He wrapped it around Courtney’s shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“A lot’s happened,” Mark said sadly.

“You have no idea,” Courtney replied. “I’ve got to make sure you do. Mark, I understand what you told me. I understand why you did what you did.”

“You say that like it’s already done,” Mark said. “We haven’t gotten to England yet.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Courtney said. “That’s why the flume sent me back to before you brought Forge to that KEM company.”

“You know about it?” Mark asked, surprised.

Courtney wanted to laugh. Did she know about it? She knew more than she ever wanted to know.

“There is so much to tell you,” she said quickly. “But we don’t have time. They’re probably hunting for us right now. I’ve wrestled over a million different ways of how to get you to understand what really happened. Or what’s about to happen. What I finally realized is that none of it matters, except for one single fact. It’s the most important thing I can get you to believe, because everything else follows from it.”

“What is it?” Mark asked.

“What I told you before is the truth. Andy Mitchell is Saint Dane. From the day we met him in kindergarten. This story didn’t begin when Bobby left home. Saint Dane has been setting us up our whole lives. Setting you up. He got you to fear him. Then he seduced you by suddenly revealing he was a genius. Then he got you to trust him when he helped you rescue me after the accident in the mountains. It was all planned, Mark. You know what he’s done on other territories. You know how he works his way into people’s confidence to get them to make mistakes. That’s what he’s been doing on Second Earth. He’s been working us. You have to believe me, Mark.”

Mark didn’t take his eyes off Courtney. She tried to read his mind. She hoped he was moving in fast forward through everything that got them to this point, looking at it from a new perspective. Mark was brilliant. He may feel used, he may feel betrayed, he may even feel like an idiot, but she felt sure he would understand and accept what happened. There was no other explanation.

“You’re wrong,” Mark finally said.

“But-“

“There’s only one fact that matters to me. If events played out the way they were supposed to, my parents would be dead.”

“But they are!” Courtney shouted. “I mean, I don’t know what I mean, but I saw Second Earth after the past was changed. After you changed it. Your parents still went down with that plane.”

“Then why are they here, right now, dancing in a spotlight?”

Courtney faltered. She didn’t have an answer.

“Courtney!” Dodger called as he jogged up to them.

Mark stiffened.

“It’s okay,” she said. “This is Dodger. He’s Gunny’s acolyte.” Dodger stuck out his hand and shook Mark’s. “Pleased to meet you, chum,” Dodger said amiably. “You’re a tough one to get hold of. But now everything’s fine. Right?” Mark and Courtney both looked down to the deck. Dodger frowned. “You told him about Saint Dane, right?” “He still doesn’t believe me.” “What proof do you have, Courtney?” Mark asked. “You can read Bobby’s journals,” Courtney said weakly. “That’s not enough,” Mark barked. “I have my parents. Here.

Alive. You’re asking me to destroy Forge, right? That’s like saying you want me to kill my parents.” “I know, it’s hard,” Courtney said.

“Hard?” Mark shouted. “That doesn’t come close to describing it.”

“Mark, something isn’t right!” Courtney countered. “By introducing Forge to First Earth, you’re going to set off a chain of events that leads to the creation of a technology Saint Dane is using to topple Halla. That’s a fact. You don’t know. You haven’t read the journals.”

“Maybe the journals are wrong,” Mark countered. “You’re saying how Saint Dane was able to fool us our entire lives, and fool me into starting Armageddon, maybe he was smart enough to monkey with those journals. Did you think of that?”

“No,” Courtney said, shaking her head furiously. “You know that can’t be right.”

“But your version isn’t true!” Mark barked. “My parents are proof. All you have are words on a page. I have living proof.”

“But I was there!” Courtney cried, tears of frustration welling up. “I saw how Second Earth was changed.”

“I’m sorry, Courtney,” Mark said. “I think Saint Dane must have a hand in this somewhere, but it looks like you are the one he’s been working. Like he did at that Stansfield Academy. I’m going to deliver Forge to that company in England. They are going to do with it whatever they will and begin a series of events that will save the lives of my parents. I don’t know what Saint Dane did to you, but your version of events is not the way it was meant to be. We’ll figure this all out once we get to London.”

Mark touched Courtney on the shoulder warmly and began to walk away.

“Stay right there, Mark,” Dodger said.

Mark looked up in surprise to see Dodger standing in his way, holding the pistol he had taken from Sixth Officer Hantin.

“Dodger? What are you doing?” Courtney exclaimed, stunned.

“This is our last chance, Courtney,” Dodger said. “Once he leaves, we’re both going to get pinched by the crew and spend the rest of this trip in the brig. It’s now or never.”

“Put that away!” Courtney ordered.

Dodger didn’t waver. Mark backed toward the rail nervously.

“He doesn’t believe you!” Dodger complained. “You know what’s going to happen if he leaves. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Courtney exclaimed. She turned to Mark with tears. “Please. Mark. I’m telling you the truth. I can’t explain why your parents are alive, but if you don’t destroy Forge, you could be destroying Halla.”

“I believe you believe that, Courtney,” Mark said. “I don’t.”

“Please don’t make me do this,” Dodger begged. His voice was nearly as shaky as Courtney’s. His gun hand wasn’t too steady either.

“I’m going to deliver Forge,” Mark said, his voice growing more confident. “And I am going to save my parents.”

He took a bold step toward Dodger. Dodger wavered. Courtney grabbed the gun out of Dodger’s hand and held it on Mark.

“Stop!” Courtney commanded, crying. Her hand was shaking, but the gun stayed on Mark.

“C–Courtney?” Mark stammered as if his brain wouldn’t accept what his eyes were seeing.

“There’s more I haven’t told you,” Courtney said through the tears. “Bobby and I went to Third Earth. We looked back through history. Everything I said was true, Mark. Even this. Your body washed up on shore with a bullet in it. The computers didn’t know who the killer was, but I think that mystery has been solved. It looks like it was… me.”

“N-No,” Mark stuttered. “I don’t believe you’ll shoot me.”

“I love you, Mark,” Courtney said, sobbing. “But I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you change history.”

Mark stood frozen. Courtney cocked the pistol. Mark backed into the rail. There was nowhere to go.

“I love you too, Courtney,” Mark said softly. “I guess this is the way it was really meant to be.”

Courtney raised the pistol, squinting through her tears. Mark tensed up. He closed his eyes. Courtney took aim. She tightened her finger on the trigger. Nobody moved. The moment stayed frozen for an eternity. Courtney blinked, took a step to her right, and tossed the pistol overboard. It fell into the dark ocean, lost in the swirl of the ship’s wake. Mark let out a breath he had been holding for a long time. Courtney ran to him and hugged him. Both let out the rush of emotions through their tears.

“Courtney!” Dodger shouted. “What are you doing?”

“I think I’m changing history,” she answered. “Mark was killed on this ship. Now he’s safe. Maybe I just bought us some more time to make things right.” She looked at Mark and added, “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” he said. “But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“About what?” came a woman’s voice.

Mr. and Mrs. Dimond approached the group, arm in arm.

“Is everything okay?” Mr. Dimond asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Mark said, though it didn’t sound to anybody as if he meant it.

Mr. Dimond said, “We’re still trying to understand all this, Courtney. We want to help you, and help Bobby. What can we do?”

Courtney looked at Mark. Mark looked away. She looked at Dodger, who gave her a helpless shrug. “It’s your show.”

The Dimonds huddled close to each other, waiting for Courtney to speak. Courtney had gotten to know the Dimonds once she and Mark had become acolytes. She thought they were terrific. The idea that she would want them to die, no matter how right history said that would be, was painful to Courtney. She wanted everything to be better and for the Dimonds to live their lives the way they were meant to. As she stood on the back of that ship, feeling hopelessly lost, a thought came to her.

“Maybe you can help,” she said. “Maybe you’re the only ones who can help.”

“Anything,” Mrs. Dimond said.

“You said Mark told you everything? About Halla and Saint Dane and the Travelers, right?”

“We’re still in shock,” Mrs. Dimond said.

“How much did you tell him? I mean about what happened with the flight to Florida?”

The Dimonds looked at each other with confusion.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Mr. Dimond said. “We didn’t get on the plane. If we had, we wouldn’t be here, right?”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you get on the plane?” Courtney asked, her mind racing. “Mark thinks that by coming to First Earth he set in motion a series of events that saved your lives. I want to know what that was. What stopped you from getting on that plane?”

Mr. Dimond shrugged. “It was Nevva Winter. She caught us just as we were about to board. I thought Mark knew.” Courtney shot a look to Mark.

Mark slowly shook his head and said softly, “I didn’t know that.”

Courtney closed her eyes and smiled. It was such a feeling of relief that she wanted to fall to her knees and cry.

“Is it that important?” Mr. Dimond asked.”It’s everything,” Courtney said. “Mark, that’s your proof. Nevva knew what was going to happen and stopped your parents from boarding. She’s from another territory. Nothing you’re going to do here will have any effect on her. Or on that plane. It’s still going to crash. Your parents are alive because Saint Dane saved them, in order to convince you to do exactly what you’re doing.”

Mark leaned back against the railing, staring at the deck but seeing nothing. Courtney desperately hoped that things would finally start to click into place.

“Mark,” Courtney said boldly. “You can put things right, and your parents don’t have to die. Please. Help Bobby.”

Mark shot a pained look to Courtney and asked a simple, poignant question. “What have I done?”

“Nothing,” Courtney said quickly. “Not yet, anyway.”

Mark left the rail and pushed past the others, heading forward.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Dimond asked. Without stopping, Mark said, “To destroy Forge.”

(CONTINUED)

“There they are!” shouted Andy Mitchell from above.

He was at the railing of the Promenade Deck, looking down on the Main Deck, where Mark had just left the others. With him were Nevva and two ship’s officers.

“Go!” Courtney shouted.

Mark started running. Courtney and Dodger took off after him.

“Slow them down,” Courtney ordered the Dimonds.

Mark disappeared inside the ship’s structure, followed right behind by Courtney and Dodger. Andy led the officers down the outside stairs in pursuit, only to run into the Dimonds, who blocked his way at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, Andy,” Mr. Dimond said jovially.

“Get out of the way!” Andy ordered.

The Dimonds held their ground. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do,” Mrs. Dimond scolded.

Andy gave her a cold look that nearly knocked her off her feet. For a brief moment his eyes flashed blue with anger.

Mrs. Dimond gasped. Andy reared back as if to hit someone, but the ship’s officer arrived behind him.

“Here now,” the officer commanded. “No need for that. They’re on a ship. They can’t hide for long.”

Andy spun to the officer, ready to lash at him. He saw Nevva standing on top of the stairs behind the officers and motioned for her to go back the other way. Andy pushed past the officer, headed back up the stairs.

Mrs. Dimond looked to her husband and said, “Can life get any stranger?”

Mark sprinted down the passageway of the Main Deck. He didn’t double back or take a route that was hard to follow. It was all about speed. Courtney and Dodger were right behind him. They no longer cared about being seen. Spending the rest of the voyage locked up no longer mattered. It had come down to this. A race. They had to get back to Mark’s suite before anyone else. Before Andy or Nevva. It was the final leg of their mission.

They had to destroy Forge.

Up ahead of them, a group of elegantly dressed passengers strolled out of the dining room, laughing and singing.

“Get out of the way!” Mark screamed.

He didn’t wait for them to obey. He ran straight at them. Men dove away, women scattered. Courtney would have laughed if she weren’t about to hit them herself. Just as the passengers gathered their wits, Courtney arrived at full speed.

“Get out of the way!” she yelled as the surprised passengers flung themselves to the walls. Courtney and Dodger flew past with no apologies.

Mark sprinted down a long passageway that was lined with elegant, white doors. He slowed down enough to focus on the door numbers, which allowed Courtney and Dodger to catch up.

“Is this it?” Courtney yelled. “Is this where your suite is?”

“Yeah,” Mark answered, gulping air while digging in his pocket for keys.

“Fast is our friend,” Courtney cautioned. “Going as fast as I can,” Mark snapped back. He stopped at a door and worked to get the key in the lock. “Mark, stop!” came a screaming voice from behind them. Andy Mitchell appeared at the far end of the passageway. “Gotta hurry, chum,” Dodger implored. Mark fumbled with the key.

“I’m too f-freaking nervous!” Mark shouted. “There!”

He twisted the key and threw the door open. All three jumped inside. Dodger closed the door behind them and locked it. Mark dove for the small wooden dresser and yanked the top drawer open, digging through socks.

Dodger turned around and whistled. “Wow, nice digs.” He plopped himself down on a couch and put his arms behind his head. “Might as well enjoy it, seeing as we’ll be spending the rest of the trip in irons.”

Courtney stood behind Mark, watching nervously. “Tell me it’s still there,” she begged.

“Got it!” Mark announced.

He held up the innocuous little device that was about to change history. Courtney remembered it all too well. To her it looked like a small ball of Silly Putty. Inside was a complex skeleton that was controlled by an advanced computer of Mark’s design that changed shape in response to voice commands. The plastic skin Saint Dane had stolen from Third Earth. The computer technology was all Mark’s. He called it “Forge.” It was the brainchild of the Dimond Alpha Digital Organization. It was a little ball of clay. It was the grandfather of the dados.

“Kill it,” Courtney commanded.

Mark held his invention up and stared at it like a loving parent.

Dodger jumped up and put his ear to the door.

“They’re coming,” he said calmly. “Now would be good.”

“I’m sorry, Courtney,” Mark said softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“We’ll have all the time in Halla to talk about it later. Do it!”

The anguish on Mark’s face was obvious. He dropped the high-tech ball onto the deck, closed his eyes, and stamped his foot down. Courtney heard the satisfying crack and crumble, as Forge was crushed into history. At the exact instant Mark’s foot destroyed Forge…

Courtney’s ring came to life. She held it up for the others to see.

“Does this mean things have changed back?” Mark asked.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Courtney answered.

She took the ring off and placed it on the deck.

Dodger kept his ear to the door. “I don’t hear them coming anymore. Do you think they know?”

“I guarantee they know,” Courtney replied.

Mark twisted his foot into the carpet, making sure every last bit was pulverized. He scooped up the remains and tossed them out the porthole. Forge was no more.

The ring grew as light flashed through the room. Dodger joined the other two and watched the show. Moments later the ring returned to normal. Next to it was a rolled parchment.

“That didn’t take long,” Courtney said nervously.

“Time flies when you’re flying through time,” Dodger said.

Courtney picked up the pages and clutched them to her chest. “I guess we’ll read this in the brig. I’m proud of you, Mark.”

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Mark stared at the floor.

“You did the right thing, chum,” Dodger said. “Sorry for, you know, nearly shooting you before. I didn’t want to.”

D. J. MacHale

The Pilgrims of Rayne

Mark didn’t react. He kept staring at the floor. “Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “I won’t know until I find out if my parents are still alive.”