Raven Rise

by D. J. MacHale

  Long wooden benches stood haphazardly in front of shelf after shelf of books. Old-fashioned books. Patrick had never seen so many books. He had barely seen any books. On his Third Earth the accumulated knowledge of the ages was stored on computers. Books were more likely to be found in a museum than in a library. He had the brief thought that if he weren’t out of his mind, he might actually have enjoyed this trip into the past. The only problem was, it wasn’t the past. It was the present. Things weren’t right.

  Another reality struck the Traveler. The library was empty. Had people given up reading? Patrick was both fascinated and horrified. He didn’t know where to begin. How would he learn of what had happened to Earth?

  “Can I help you?” came a thin voice from deep in the shadows.

  Patrick turned quickly to see an elderly man shuffle into the room from the corridor he had just left. As he moved, he kicked up pools of dust that swirled through the filtered light. He was bent at the waist, as if the weight of his years had proved to be too much for him. The man was stick thin, with gray hair and even grayer skin. He wore thick glasses that made his eyes look twice their size.

  “I said, ‘Can I help you?’” the man said earnestly.

  Patrick had to keep his wits about him. He needed answers, and it wouldn’t help if he started blathering about how horrified he was that Earth had changed.

  “Where is everyone?” Patrick asked.

  “Who?” the man asked back.

  “Readers. You know. People using the library. Nobody’s here.”

  The old man chuckled. “You are my first visitor today. Why does that surprise you?”

  Patrick wasn’t sure of how to answer. “I don’t know. This is a big library in a big city. You’d think a couple of people would drop by.”

  The old man shrugged the kind of resigned shrug that could only come from an old guy who had seen it all. “Life is short,” he said with a sigh. “Nobody wants to read about why.”

  “My name’s Patrick. I’m a teacher.” Patrick held out his hand to shake. The old man took it. Patrick felt as if he were holding the limb of a fragile bird.

  “My name is Richard. I’m a dinosaur.”

  Patrick laughed. The old guy had a sense of humor.

  “I guess you’re a librarian.”

  “I am the librarian,” was Richard’s quick answer. “For the entire city. Possibly the whole state. As libraries close, the books are sent here. This is the last stop. Once this place turns to dust…” He shrugged, and didn’t finish the sad sentence.

  “Can you help me do some research?” Patrick asked. “I’m not familiar with how the library works.”

  Richard’s eyes lit up, as if this were the first time somebody needed his expertise in a long, long time. Patrick sensed that the man stood up a little straighter.

  “Are you preparing a lesson?” Richard asked with professional authority. “Or is this for your own interest?”

  “A lesson,” Patrick answered quickly, jumping on the idea. “I need to fill in some details about a period in history, and I want to be accurate.”

  Richard shuffled off, heading deeper into the room full of books and waving for Patrick to follow. “What period would that be?”

  Patrick wasn’t sure of how to answer. He wanted to find out when things had gone wrong. What was it that had changed Earth’s destiny? Where had it begun? When had it begun? He wished he had given a little more thought to that before talking to the old man. What should he say? Once he turned his mind to it, the answer was obvious.

  “Early twenty-first century,” he declared. He then took the chance and added, “I want to know what went wrong.”

  The old man stopped and glared at Patrick. “What do you mean?”

  Patrick wanted to say that he felt sure that whatever had happened, it was on Second Earth. Third Earth had fallen into decay, and that decline hadn’t happened overnight. It had to have been a gradual process. From what Patrick knew about Saint Dane’s quest to control Halla, it might very well have begun on Second Earth. All the territories had a turning point. Patrick realized that there was a good chance that Second Earth had reached its turning point and things had gone horribly wrong. It was as good a guess as any. Of course, he couldn’t say any of that.

  Instead he shrugged and answered, “Just a hunch.”

  Richard glared at Patrick. Patrick sensed a change in the old man. A wall had gone up. Had he said the wrong thing?

  “Is there a problem?” Patrick finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” Richard answered coldly. “You tell me. Am I being observed?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Patrick answered, puzzled.

  Richard snapped, “You’re testing me again, aren’t you? I’m tired of you people suspecting me of mischief just because I’m a librarian. I’m too old to put up with it anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?” Patrick asked, genuinely confused.

  “Show me your arm,” Richard barked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Show me your arm!”

  Patrick had no idea what the old man was fired up about. Before he could ask again, Richard reached out and grabbed Patrick’s right wrist. The fragile old man wasn’t so fragile anymore. He held Patrick’s arm with one hand and shoved his shirtsleeve up to the elbow with the other, revealing his forearm. Richard yanked Patrick’s arm closer, scrutinizing the skin. Patrick didn’t resist. He was too confused to do anything but stare at the old man who was staring at his arm.

  “What are you looking for?” was all he could manage to mumble.

  “Don’t insult me,” Richard snarled. “You know as well as I do.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” Patrick shot back.

  “Scars,” Richard barked. “I can tell when it’s been removed. You can’t fool me.”

  Patrick pulled his arm away. He had had enough of being manhandled.

  “I’m not trying to fool you. What do you think’s been removed?”

  Richard squinted through his thick glasses at Patrick, sizing him up. “You know that all records from that period were destroyed. Did you think you could trip me up by asking for them? How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Look, Richard,” Patrick began patiently, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not spying on you or trying to trip you up. All I wanted was to see some records that had to do with that time in history. That’s all. There’s nothing sinister about it.”

  Richard seemed to soften. “Let me see your arm again.” He added, “Please.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes and shoved his arm out. The old man took another close look while rubbing his thumb over the skin, feeling for scars.

  “I believe you, son,” Richard finally said. “There’s nothing here. Never was.”

  Patrick took his arm back and rolled his sleeve down. “What did you expect to find?”

  Richard gave Patrick another curious look. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick said. “Maybe I should, but I don’t.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to,” Richard added.

  Patrick agreed completely. Maybe he didn’t want to know. But he had to. “Is it true?” Patrick asked. “Have all the records from the early twenty-first century been destroyed?”

  Richard took a tired breath. “You’ll forgive me for being cautious, but to hold any pertinent records from that time is a crime punishable by death. They have spies everywhere, rooting out anything that remains. They’ve been here before, asking the same questions. But they had the mark. It’s part of them. They usually don’t try to hide it, unless they’re looking for trouble.”

  “What kind of mark?”

  Richard rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He looked tired. “Come on,” he said, and walked off.

  Patrick noticed that the old man was once again stooped over. The momentary hope that he could use his skills to assist someone with a legitimate research project was gone. Richard l
ed him along the rows of musty books, stopping at a wooden door that he used an ancient key to unlock. Patrick decided not to ask him any more questions until they reached their destination. He was too busy trying to get his mind around the fact that all records from Second Earth had been destroyed. Why? By whom? Who were the mysterious people whose arms were marked and who spied on people to make sure they weren’t harboring secrets? Or the truth.

  The door moved with a creak that told Patrick it hadn’t been opened in a long time. Inside the dimly lit room were tables loaded with ancient papers. It was all pretty haphazard. The walls were lined with books. With all that he’d seen that strange morning, the sight of so many books was still jarring.

  “Close the door,” Richard commanded as he shuffled to a bookcase and ran his hands along the volumes. “I shouldn’t worry so much anymore. I’m tired. Nobody cares. Why should I?” The old man found what he was looking for. He pulled a heavy leather volume out from between the others and placed it on the table. Patrick expected him to open it. He didn’t. Instead he reached into the empty space the book had occupied. Patrick watched with fascination as the old man opened a hidden panel in the wall behind the bookcase and took out a flat object wrapped in red cloth.

  “This is all that’s left,” Richard explained. “At least, it’s all that I know about. I suppose there are other bits here and there, but this is all that I’m aware of.” The old man walked toward Patrick, carrying the mysterious parcel. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re looking for answers. Maybe it’s time more people tried.” Patrick pulled the red covering away to reveal what looked like the cover of a book. Just the cover. One edge was shredded, as if torn from the binding.

  “They’ve destroyed all the evidence,” Richard continued. “They’ve destroyed history. It’s been so long that people now question if it ever happened at all. There are a few who try to keep the memory alive, if only to stop the insanity from happening again. But it’s too late for that. It’s still happening. It never stopped. That’s why I’m afraid. That’s why I checked your arm. I needed to see if you had the mark that made you one of them.”

  “Who are they?” Patrick asked, numb.

  Richard’s answer was to show him the book cover. “Take this,” Richard ordered. “It’s not doing any good hidden away here.”

  It was definitely the cover from some ancient volume. How old, Patrick couldn’t begin to guess. It was made of cracked brown leather and had two faded gold imprints. Running vertically down one side was a single word in ornate one-inch-high letters.

  “Ravinia,” Patrick whispered, reading.

  The word meant nothing to him, but it wasn’t the word that held his attention. It was the symbol next to it. The symbol was familiar. The symbol made his head spin.

  “Beware of people who are marked with that symbol, Teacher,” Richard warned. “After all these years, they aren’t finished. They haven’t given up. I don’t know what their goal is, but it isn’t good. If they knew this book cover existed, they’d destroy it. And then they’d destroy you.”

  The large symbol was five inches across. At one time it must have been embossed with shiny bright gold. All that was left of the color were small flecks. Patrick ran his hand over the imprint, hoping to gather insight. He didn’t. He was more confused than ever.

  The symbol was a five-pointed star. It was the symbol that marked the gates to the flumes.

  Shortly after, Patrick sat alone in the overgrown park behind the library. At one time it was called “Bryant Park,” but would now more aptly be called “Junky Messed-Up Park.” Benches were broken, garbage was strewn, weeds choked everything they could grab on to. Patrick held the book cover inside his shirt, against his chest. He looked up at the gloomy gray sky. He wanted to cry. What had happened to his home? What had gone so terribly wrong? He was alone. He needed help. He needed to get a grip.

  He needed to be a Traveler.

  He pulled off his ring and laid it on the ground. He didn’t worry about being seen. Not a soul was around. His plan was to send the book cover to Bobby Pendragon. Pendragon would know what to do.

  “Ibara,” he called out.

  The ring didn’t move. Patrick stomped on it, as if trying to wake it up.

  “Ibara!” he called again.

  The ring didn’t respond. Patrick was reeling. In desperation he said, “First Earth.”

  The ring didn’t respond. Patrick’s world was closing in on him and it wasn’t even his world. Not anymore. He had never felt more alone.

  “What have you done, Pendragon?” he whispered, choking back emotion. “Where are you?”

  FIRST EARTH

  The voyage back to New York on the Queen Mary took six days. To Mark it felt like six weeks. He rarely left the cabin he shared with Dodger. The personable acolyte continually tried to cajole him into getting some air. Or exercise. Or anything. Mark wasn’t interested. He spent most of the day in bed or staring out at the never-ending Atlantic.

  Dodger had better luck with Courtney and the Dimonds, convincing them to make the best of their situation. They played tennis and swam in the pool and enjoyed some fine meals. It was mostly because they didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t much joy involved. They were passing time. It was better than going crazy.

  Looming over everyone’s head was the concern over what their next move would be. Courtney promised Mark she wouldn’t let on to his parents about what had happened with Nevva Winter and his Traveler ring. It would be up to Mark to tell them when he felt ready. The few times she asked Mark what was going through his head, she was answered with a shrug and a grunt. Courtney feared that Mark was sinking into a depression and she didn’t know how to shake him out of it. Courtney wasn’t a stranger to depression. She knew that no amount of cajoling or discussion would help. He would have to work things through on his own. All she could do was be there for him when he needed support. A few times she had to stop Dodger from barging into the stateroom to try to sweep Mark up and out. Up and out was the last thing Mark needed. What he needed was time. And answers.

  It wasn’t until the last evening of the voyage that Mark came out of seclusion and knocked on the door to his parents’ stateroom.

  “I’m sorry,” Mark said, hanging his head when he saw his mom and dad. “For everything.”

  Mrs. Dimond hugged her son, squeezing him as if she never wanted to let him go.

  Mr. Dimond said, “Mark, there isn’t a whole lot I understand about what’s been happening, but the one thing I know for certain is that you have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “We’re proud of you,” Mrs. Dimond said, sniffling back tears. “To think of what you’ve had to deal with. It’s unfathomable. My little boy. When did you grow up?”

  Mark wasn’t so sure when that happened. He kind of wished it hadn’t. He liked his old life just fine. At first the idea of Bobby fluming around to other worlds to battle evil sounded romantic and exciting. If he were being totally honest, he’d have to admit that back in the early days, he longed to be part of the adventure. As much as he feared the possibility of Saint Dane setting his sights on Second Earth, some part of him couldn’t wait for it to happen. He wanted to be part of the action. But those days were long gone. Saint Dane was evil. There was nothing romantic or adventurous about evil. It destroyed his life and nearly killed Courtney and his parents…not to mention the fact that his invention helped Saint Dane create the mechanism for mayhem on multiple territories. Almost four years had passed since he received Bobby’s first journal. He had become a different person. He missed the old person.

  Mark hugged his mom back then pulled away. He wasn’t there only to apologize. He had business. It was time for a family conference.

  “We’re worried about you,” Mrs. Dimond began.

  “I’m worried about everything,” Mark countered.

  “That’s why we’re worried,” Mr. Dimond added. “You can’t solve the problems of Halla yourself, nor can you be blame
d for them.”

  This made Mark look up at his dad. He wasn’t so sure he agreed.

  “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just say it flat out,” Mark said, changing the subject. “You guys can’t go home.”

  The Dimonds exchanged confused looks.

  Mark added, “To Second Earth I mean. I’m afraid if you do, you’ll die.”

  “You mean because we have to use the flume with a Traveler?” Mr. Dimond asked.

  “That,” Mark answered. “And because Nevva threatened your life.”

  The Dimonds stared at their son for a long moment. A small “Oh” was all that Mrs. Dimond could get out. They watched Mark with wide eyes as he explained the deal he’d made with Nevva. His ring for their life. When they heard that, both the Dimonds winced.

  “I didn’t want to tell you,” Mark added quickly. “But that would be wrong. I made a decision, and we’re going to have to live with it.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Mr. Dimond said flatly.

  “What else could I do?” Mark cried. “I thought Nevva made a mistake. She said she wanted to cut off Bobby, but since Dodger had a ring, I thought it wouldn’t matter. I was wrong.”

  “Then why else would she want it?” Mrs. Dimond asked.

  “I don’t know and it’s killing me,” Mark shot back. “I’ve already messed up once with Forge; I think I just did it again.”

  “She’s barbaric,” Mrs. Dimond hissed.

  “Yeah, that’s one word to use,” Mark said with resignation. “I can think of a bunch of others.”

  Mr. Dimond stood and paced. “We have to go back,” he announced with authority. “We can’t let her use us against you. Against Halla.”