The Pilgrims of Rayne

by D. J. MacHale

  Boom! Another explosion. Nobody moved but me. I covered my head. I heard another sharp whistle as something flew by.

  “Get down!” I screamed again.

  Siry truly didn’t know what was happening. I saw nothing but confusion on the faces of the Jakills. Not fear. Confusion. I realized that they had never heard of weapons that fired missiles, or cannonballs, or whatever it was that was being aimed at us. There was no reason for them to be afraid. That is, until we were hit.

  “What is happening?” Loque yelled.

  “I don’t know!” I screamed back. “But if we get hit, this ship is going down.”

  “I don’t understand,” Siry cried.

  “They’re trying to sink us!” I yelled. “Get away from shore! We’ve got to get out of range of their weapons.”

  “No!” Siry yelled. “There are no weapons in Rayne that can do that!”

  Boom!

  “Then what was that?” I yelled, before covering my head again.

  The missile landed close to the ship, kicking up a geyser of water that buffeted us.

  Rat boy squealed, “How can they do that?”

  “Look,” Twig said calmly.

  She was pointing out to sea. I got up and joined the others as they ran to the railing to see.

  There was another ship. It was a few hundred yards off our port bow and on a collision course.

  “What ship is that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Siry answered. “It didn’t come from Rayne.”

  Boom! Another explosion. This time we saw the source. A plume of smoke erupted from the mystery ship. Whatever it was, it had cannons and it was firing at us. Another missile landed a few yards off our bow with a huge splash.

  “What is that?” Loque asked in awe.

  Siry answered, “I think it’s our first look at the world beyond our own.”

  In all of Siry’s planning, he hadn’t figured on being attacked by a mystery ship with weapons like none they had ever seen.

  And the day was only beginning.

  JOURNAL #30

  IBARA

  We were under attack. The first few volleys of cannon fire from the mystery ship had come dangerously close to hitting our small pirate ship. I didn’t know how well our ship was made, but I didn’t think it would hold up very long if we started getting nailed by cannon fire. I’m no expert on naval warfare, but as cool as this little ship was, it wasn’t an armor-clad battlewagon.

  I ran to the bow to try and get a better look at the approaching ship. It was hard to make out because the rising sun was in my face, making the ship more or less a silhouette—like a ghost ship. It was much smaller than the ship we were on, with a low profile and a sharper bow. There were no sails or masts, which meant it was also more modern than our sailing ship.

  Boom! Smoke erupted from the attacker’s deck. I dropped down and covered up, holding my head tight until I knew if the shot would hit or miss. It missed. Another huge splash of water kicked up. Strangely, it missed even wider than the earlier shots. Either the people firing the weapons had gotten lucky before, or they weren’t trying to hit us.

  I peeked over the railing as Siry came up next to me. He had an old-fashioned brass telescope that he used to peer at the attacking ship.

  “You sure that ship didn’t come from Rayne?” I asked.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He sounded more curious than frightened. His confidence was back. “It’s shooting some kind of projectiles.”

  Some kind of projectiles. Oh man. I still didn’t understand how Ibara worked. On the one hand they had power and lights and running water; on the other hand they had no clue about modern weapons. At least the people of Rayne didn’t have a clue. Obviously there was somebody else on Ibara who knew all about them, because they were shooting at us.

  Another shot erupted from the cannon. I ducked, but didn’t need to. It splashed down even farther in front of us.

  “I don’t think they’re trying to hit us,” I concluded.

  “Then what are they doing?” a confused Siry asked.

  I looked at the shore off to our right. We were moving parallel to the beach, approaching the break that led into the large bay, and Rayne. I think I wrote before, the entrance to the bay was a couple hundred yards wide. The shoreline was rocky beach, then came the opening, then farther on, the rocky beach continued. Between those two rocky spits of land was the gateway to the perfect green bay and the village of Rayne.

  Siry frowned.

  “What?” I asked.

  He raised the telescope and looked to the ship again.

  “Flighters,” he growled. “It’s not about us. They’re headed for Rayne.”

  He handed me the telescope. Our position had changed enough that the attacking ship was no longer in complete shadow. The thing looked military. It was about eighty feet long, with a low flat cabin. At one time it had been gray, but the paint was peeling, and big patches of rust were everywhere. I even saw the faint outline of military-style markings on the bow. I couldn’t make it out though, because it was mostly worn off. It looked like one of those old PT boats you’d see in World War II movies. Whatever it was, it was long past its prime. The craft was so full of holes and rust I didn’t know how it stayed afloat. There was only one thing about it that didn’t look old and rusted: the cannon mounted on its bow. That thing worked just fine.

  Five people were on deck. All looked like men, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Two were at the cannon, the others were in the stern driving the boat. They all had long hair and raggy-looking clothes. Flighters. When I say the ship we were on was like a pirate ship, I’m talking about the kind of pirate you’d see in the movies. Idealized pirates. Fictional pirates. Disney pirates. The Flighters on this other ship weren’t about to sing “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.” No way. They were the real deal. They were a desperate-looking bunch of outlaws on a ship that wasn’t the least bit romantic.

  “They’re trying to scare us off,” Siry said, his eyes focused. “They’re making a run for the bay.”

  Several of the other Jakills joined us at the bow.

  “What are they doing?” Twig asked nervously.

  “They’re headed for Rayne,” Siry declared.

  Loque added, “They could hurt a lot of people with that weapon.”

  Everyone stood dumbfounded, staring at the ship, which was about a hundred yards away. It was going to pass in front of us. Siry was right. The shots were a warning to keep us back. They were going to attack Rayne.

  Siry faced his group of young rebels. He scanned their eyes as he had earlier, before beginning their mission.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. I was the only one. The other Jakills knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “Our families are in Rayne,” Twig said in a small, shaky voice.

  “We don’t have a choice,” rat boy added.

  Siry asked, “Does anyone disagree?”

  Nobody reacted. I didn’t know what the heck he was talking about, so I couldn’t agree or disagree. I probably didn’t get a vote anyway.

  Loque said, “If we do this, the quest will end before it begins. We may never get another chance to live beyond our shores.”

  “If we don’t do this,” Siry countered, “we won’t be able to live with ourselves.”

  Loque nodded. “You’re right.”

  I felt another excited buzz go through the group. What were they talking about?

  Siry actually smiled. “We wanted an adventure. We got one.” Everyone cheered. Siry ran back to the ship’s wheel, barking commands. “Engineers, down below. Raise the sails. We’ve got a race!”

  They all ran off to some predetermined post. I was left alone, feeling stupid. Did I mention how confused I was about everything on Ibara? I had no idea what to do, so I followed Siry and watched as he took his place behind the wheel.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “W
e’re going to stop the Flighters.”

  “How? You don’t have any weapons. No, you don’t even know what weapons are!”

  I heard a loud flapping sound as the large main sail was raised. With a crack it filled with air, and our small ship lurched forward.

  “I told you, Pendragon,” Siry said with pride. “We’ve been piloting boats around these waters our whole lives.”

  “But you don’t have any weapons!” I repeated.

  Siry smiled slyly and said, “What about the one you’re standing on?”

  Huh? It took a few seconds for me to get what he meant. When it finally clicked, I wished it hadn’t.

  “You’re going to ram them?” I gasped.

  “Our engines aren’t powerful,” he answered. “But the wind is with us. We can catch that little gray monster and slice her in half.”

  “What if it shoots back, and this time they try to hit us?”

  “Either way we’ll sink,” he answered. “We can’t let the Flighters into that bay.”

  I wanted to argue. I really did. But he was right. The people of Rayne were sitting ducks. We were the only ones who could stop them. Of course, I wished I wasn’t along for the ride on that kamikaze torpedo. All I could do was keep my head down and hope for the best.

  Siry and the Jakills kept surprising me. They were a bunch of rebellious kids with no respect for authority and had no problem stealing a ship. But they weren’t a bunch of thrill seekers out for a joyride. They really wanted to learn the truth about their world. They felt so strongly about it that they were willing to become exiled outlaws. Now they were throwing their dreams away to protect their village. At best, they’d stop the Flighters but lose the ship and return to Rayne to be arrested. At worst, well, I didn’t want to think about that. Either way, their dreams of exploring the rest of Ibara were about to end. There wasn’t even a debate. Everybody was in.

  As I watched these young sailors expertly guide their ship toward suicide, I realized something important. Whatever happened with this sea battle, whatever became of the Jakills, it was this kind of spirit and curiosity that would guide Ibara through its turning point and into the future. I can’t find the words to describe the respect and admiration I had for this small band of curious kids. It wasn’t until that moment that I knew for certain I had made the right decision. I was glad to be with the Jakills.

  The sails added speed. The distance between our yellow ship and the war ship closed quickly. It helped that the Flighters didn’t pick up any speed. As we got closer to their ship, I heard the loud chugging of its engines. From the throaty, belching, misfiring sound of things, the engine of that warship was just as decrepit as its hull. If they were able to pour on the speed and get away from us, they would have. I tried to guesstimate when our paths would cross, and figured we’d collide just before it reached the opening to the bay. The only way they could stop us would be to shoot us out of the water.

  Which is exactly what they tried to do.

  Boom!

  A shot screamed toward us, and sailed so close I felt a breeze as it whistled by. They weren’t trying to scare us anymore. We were now a target.

  “Speed, my friends,” Siry ordered. “Trim!”

  Several Jakills sprang to work, pulling on lines, trimming the sails. These guys really knew how to sail. I was nothing more than an interested passenger.

  Boom! Another shot. This one nicked one of the horizontal cross bars off the forward mast, splintering the end. They were getting close. It was good that they only had one cannon. It took time to reload. I figured they’d get off two more shots before we hit them. Of course once we got that close, the second of those two shots would be point blank. Our only hope was that we’d stay afloat long enough to batter them before sinking.

  Boom! Another shot tore toward us. This one hit. Square in the bow. The boat shuddered. Were we going down? I ran forward to peer over the bow and survey the damage. The missile had hit us directly on the strong front beam, causing a nasty-looking indent. It was total luck. A foot to either side and it would have torn through the wooden hull. We weren’t going to sink. Yet.

  We pounded through the waves, getting closer to the ship. We were near enough that I could see the expressions on the faces of the Flighters. They didn’t even seem anxious. It didn’t matter that a ship twice their size was bearing down, ready to ram them. They went about their business, expressionless. For two of them, that business was to reload the cannon and line up for another shot that would put us at the bottom of the ocean. They worked quickly, carrying what looked like a heavy, silver rocket toward the steel cannon. This wasn’t an old-fashioned, front-loading cannon shooting heavy black cannonballs. No, this was a modern weapon.

  Siry spun the wheel, putting us onto a final collision course with the marauding ship. It was a race. Would we hit their ship first, or would they fire and sink us? The answer would come in the next several seconds. I ran back and positioned myself near the rear mast. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because it felt solid. Or maybe I wanted something to hide behind if I saw a silver rocket shooting toward my head. We were seconds away from impact. The Flighters scurried around their cannon, desperately preparing to fire the killing shot. It was going to be close. I put my arm around the mast and hugged it. The Flighters finished loading and swung the weapon toward us. We were going to lose the race. The only question left was if our momentum would keep us moving fast enough to damage their ship, or would we be stopped in the water?

  “Hang on to something!” Siry warned.

  His voice was drowned out by an odd sound. A mechanical sound. It was nothing like I had heard from either of these ships. It was totally alien. Siry was just as confused as I was. The loud sound carried across the water, like some infernal engine was powering to life. The mysterious sound saved us from being shot to bits because the Flighters were surprised as well. They stopped their work to look around in wonder. What was it?

  Twig was the first to spot it.

  “There!” she shouted, pointing off the starboard bow toward the opening that led into the bay. The water between the two points of land was boiling. White water churned a swirling vortex directly between the two fingers of land. A moment later, something rose up from below. I swear, my first thought was that it was a two-headed sea serpent. I know, that might not be the first thing to jump to most people’s minds, but after all I’d been through since I left home, nothing seemed impossible. The creature slowly rose out of the water. Its silver, wet skin reflected the morning light. Everyone stood mesmerized, both Flighters and Jakills. And me.

  It was indeed a two-headed beast, but not of the sea-serpent variety. What I saw was impossible, but real. In that moment I realized we were in a very bad place.

  “Turn away!” I shouted at Siry. “Now!”

  “What?” he shouted back, confused.

  “Get us out of here!” I screamed.

  He didn’t move. We bore down on the Flighter ship, seconds from collision. The Flighters didn’t have time to fire their cannon. They were no longer our biggest threat. I jumped next to Siry and screamed in his face, “Get away from their ship now!”

  Siry was flustered. He didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t time to explain. I shoved him away, grabbed the wheel and spun it hard to the left. The nose of our ship turned, painfully slowly, to port and away from a collision with the Flighter ship.

  “What are you doing?” Siry yelled, and jumped back, fighting me for control of the wheel. I had no choice. I nailed him in the gut with my fist. Siry doubled over, gasping for air. I kept the ship’s wheel turned hard to port. We missed the Flighter’s ship by only a few feet. As we glided past, it felt like we were close enough to smell them. The grungy Flighters didn’t know which way to turn. They were torn between avoiding a collision with us and gaping at the strange, two-headed silver beast that loomed up, blocking their way into the channel that led to Rayne.

  Loque ran up to me, frantic. “What are you doing
?” he shouted. “We had them!”

  Siry’s eyes bore into me. “What have you done?”

  There was no way they could understand. I was the only one who knew we had to get out of harm’s way, so I went for it. Was I right? The answer would come soon enough.

  We cleared the Flighters’ ship and cruised away as the military boat continued on toward the channel. There was a loud metallic click as the two-headed silver monster finished its ascent. The “heads” of the silver beast were long tubes, wider to the rear and tapered to a narrow, hollow point. Both “heads” turned together. With the metallic sound of turning gears, the hollow tubes lined themselves up on the Flighter’s ship.

  I was right.

  “What kind of beasts are those?” rat boy asked in wonder.

  “They aren’t beasts,” I declared.

  As if on cue, both of the long silver tubes unloaded. They were guns. I didn’t know what kind of ammunition it fired. The sound wasn’t sharp, but more like dull thuds. Wump, wump, wump, wump. They fired, point blank, at the Flighters ship. Each time one fired, it recoiled then locked back into position for another shot.

  The Flighters didn’t stand a chance. The missiles tore into their ship. Or should I say, the missiles tore their ship apart. There were no explosions when they hit. It was more like small laser bombs had ripped through their vessel. Our ship was close enough to be rocked by the impact. Siry jumped for the wheel. This time I let him take over. He knew the truth now. We needed to get out of there. He gripped the large wheel and focused on guiding us out of harm’s way.

  The Flighters were desperate to escape the attack and dove over the sides of their doomed ship. In seconds the hull was shredded. I had no idea if any were killed, but if there were any of them below deck, there was no way they survived. The guns kept firing with a vengeance. Thump, thump, thump. The sounds of tearing, hot metal sounded like fingernails scraping across a blackboard. The silver guns seemed like they were controlled by an unseen hand. As big as they were, they operated simply and smoothly, like a toy. In twenty seconds the Flighters’ ship was a memory. All that was left were the bubbles that rose in the water to mark its grave, and a handful of floundering Flighters. I had no doubt they’d make it to shore and be picked up by the security force.