Raven Rise

by D. J. MacHale

  “Earth is actually behind the curve,” Naymeer said lightly. “Things have progressed further on Denduron, but life is far less complicated there. Change will be brought about with much less fuss.”

  “Denduron?” Courtney exclaimed. “What’s happening there?”

  “Every territory will have its own spiritual leader,” Naymeer explained. “As each Traveler is cast aside, they will be replaced by a Ravinian, who will guide the world toward its new and greater destiny. I believe the name of the fellow on Denduron is Rellin.”

  Courtney felt dizzy. Things were coming at her too fast.

  “And everyone will answer to Saint Dane,” Mark declared, stunned.

  “Of course,” Naymeer said with a shrug, as if that went without saying. “After all, this is his vision. He is the architect. We are merely devout followers who believe in his plan.”

  “Why are you telling us all this?” Mark asked. He had to work to control his voice from turning into a cry. “You know we’ve been helping Bobby to stop Saint Dane.”

  “I was hoping to appeal to your common sense,” Naymeer answered. “You have played as large a part in this revolution as anyone. You are acolytes. You could be instrumental in shaping the future of Earth.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Courtney said, incredulous.

  “Let me show you one more thing,” Naymeer said, heading down the scaffold stairs.

  Courtney and Mark stayed on the scaffold, staring at the expanse that would become Horizon One.

  “This is it,” Courtney said softly to Mark. “This is Saint Dane’s vision for Halla. He wants to create an elite society at the expense of the common man.”

  “It’s more than that,” Mark said. “Saint Dane is taking away people’s ability to control their own lives.”

  “Coming?” Naymeer called as he strode toward his limo.

  Mark and Courtney had no choice but to follow. They climbed down, got in the car, and rode the rest of the way in silence. Their destination wasn’t a surprise. When the car finally stopped, they found themselves in front of the Sherwood house in Stony Brook. Naymeer’s home. The location of the second flume.

  Naymeer’s black Lab ran up to meet his master. The dog was all wags and smiles as Naymeer petted him lovingly.

  “I thought people who liked dogs were the good guys,” Courtney said caustically.

  “Having the strength and vision to make difficult decisions doesn’t make me a bad person, Courtney.”

  “Depends on the decisions you make,” Mark countered.

  Naymeer shrugged and looked to one of his red-shirt guardians. “Bring them to my study.”

  Naymeer hurried off toward the front door, his dog running alongside obediently.

  Courtney looked at Mark and frowned. “Where’s a quig when you need one?”

  They were escorted into the house and brought to a warm, wood-paneled room near the front door. Mark and Courtney had been there before. When it was empty. Before things changed. Naymeer sat down behind a large mahogany desk. Wooden bookcases were lined with leather-bound books. A welcoming fire crackled in the fireplace. Naymeer’s dog was already curled up in front of it.

  “In spite of what you might think, I am not a monster,” Naymeer said, taking on the friendly grandfather role once again. “I truly believe in the vision of Ravinia. Every world of Halla is flawed. You cannot deny that. Our vision is to mold Halla into a utopia where there will be no wars. No strife. No prejudice. It is not a bad thing to encourage greatness.”

  Mark said, “Sure, so long as it’s not at the expense of everyone else.”

  Naymeer stood and rounded his desk toward them. “You of all people should understand, Mark. You are brilliant. You are the father of the dados.”

  Mark winced as if Naymeer had hit him.

  “We are on the verge of something wonderful here,” Naymeer continued. “When the United Nations General Assembly convenes, they will vote to make Ravinia the world’s spiritual leader. Many, many people agree with our way of thinking. Once we are validated by the UN, there will be no stopping the change. We offer something that everyone so desperately wants. Clarity.”

  Naymeer held up the ring in front of Mark.

  “This is what allowed it to happen,” he explained. “This is proof that life is greater than our own singular world. This is what people believe in. They will not be disappointed.”

  “I’ll ask again,” Mark said, seething. “Why are you telling us this?”

  Naymeer walked to the far corner of his study. “I am a wealthy man,” he continued. “Donations to Ravinia are staggering, as you might imagine. It isn’t enough. Not if we are to expand throughout the globe.”

  “What do you want?” Courtney chided. “A donation?”

  “Something like that” was Naymeer’s strange answer. He stopped at a closed door that might have been a closet. “I want you to join me. Given time, I believe you will understand that my way of thinking, our way of thinking, is the only way to ensure a peaceful Halla for all eternity. To expedite matters, I suppose you could say I do indeed need a donation.”

  Mark looked to Courtney. The two burst out laughing.

  “Sure!” Mark laughed. “I’ve got a couple of bucks.”

  Naymeer smiled. “You have much more than that.”

  He opened the closet door. Mark gasped. Courtney held on to him for strength. What they saw inside the closet…was Mark.

  “I had some very good financial advice many years ago,” Naymeer continued, enjoying the reaction his revelation caused. “I invested in a company that showed great promise. You may have heard of it. Keaton Electrical Marvels.”

  “KEM,” Mark croaked. “You own part of KEM?”

  “Half of it, to be exact,” Naymeer corrected. “It was my idea to make the first prototype of a human dado in your image, Mark. I thought it was a fitting tribute since you were the inventor of Forge…and your parents owned a quarter of the company.”

  “What?” Mark shouted.

  “Oh, yes. They did quite well after you left them on First Earth. KEM flourished due to your technology. Their stake in the company grew. Actually it was your stake, but since you gave them control of the company they did what they saw fit. Your father was a shrewd man. I’m sorry to say that they both passed away tragically in the early 1970s. I believe it was an automobile accident.”

  Mark staggered to sit in a chair. “My parents are dead?”

  “My condolences, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. If they had lived, they’d be over a hundred years old today.”

  Mark was reeling. “I—I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  Courtney touched Mark’s shoulder to console him.

  “Life goes on,” Naymeer added casually. He touched the cheek of the Mark dado that stood in the closet. “This is only a prototype. It doesn’t function. It will be used as a design guide for the dados of the future.”

  “It’s all coming together,” Mark whispered to Courtney.

  Naymeer closed the closet door and continued, “It wouldn’t be right of me to use funds from Ravinia to help KEM. No, it would be illegal, and that kind of activity will not be tolerated. What I need, Mark, is your piece of KEM.”

  “My piece?” Mark shouted. “I don’t have a piece of KEM.”

  “But you do,” Naymeer countered. “When your parents died, they didn’t make provisions to dispose of your shares. They have been lying dormant, gathering value since their death. Most of the technology you see around you today sprang from that initial, small invention you brought to England in 1937. KEM’s reach is global. I’d estimate that your piece of the company is worth somewhere in the range of a few billion dollars. Give or take.”

  It was Courtney’s turn to sit down. “Give or take…” She couldn’t continue. The words caught in her throat.

  Naymeer stalked toward the two.

  “I need control of those shares, Mark,” he said. “Your place in history is secure. Your place
in the future can be just as dramatic. If you do not agree with all my teachings, fine. We can debate. I can bend. But do not throw away this chance. Sign your shares over to me, and you will stand beside me at the United Nations. Together we can create a new world. A new Halla. It can be paradise, Mark. You can end war. You can end hunger. All you need do is have the strength to make the difficult choices, as I have.”

  Mark put his head in his hands. Courtney kept her arm around his shoulders. Naymeer stood over them, waiting.

  Mark didn’t lift his head to look at the man. “What if I say no?”

  “I will take control of the shares anyway.”

  “How can you do that?” Courtney asked.

  Naymeer scoffed and said, “No one will ever know you were here. The mystery of what happened to Mark Dimond will continue and the remaining shares will become mine.”

  “Not while I’m alive,” Mark said.

  Naymeer’s eyes sparkled. He smiled and said, “Exactly. You too can be marginalized.”

  The room shook. Naymeer’s dog barked. It was like an earthquake was rocking the mansion. The crystal chandelier swayed and clinked. A lamp fell onto the floor. The event lasted only ten seconds before all became still once again.

  “What was that?” Courtney asked, stunned.

  Naymeer shrugged. “I believe we have visitors.”

  JOURNAL #36

  SECOND EARTH

  Reality.

  I have no idea what that word means anymore. Everything I believed in since I was a kid has been thrown to the wind. Scattered. Shattered. Lost. The irony is that, with so many truths being revealed, I think I finally have a handle on the conflict I’ve been in the middle of for so long. Out of confusion comes clarity. Sort of. I don’t have all the answers yet. I may never. But I now believe that with what I’ve learned, I can end it all.

  I know, I’ve said that before, only to discover that Saint Dane had yet another curve to throw at me. That could happen again. Easily. As I make my final play, I would not be surprised if it turns out to be a false end. A shadow. A dream. It’s happened before, right? As frustrating as that is, I can’t let it dictate my actions.

  I know how to end this war. I have to make my move.

  It isn’t without risks. That speaks to the larger reality that I’m still pretty much in the dark about. Alder told me that the only way to defeat your enemy is to understand what he wants. I now believe I know what Saint Dane wants. Just as important, I know how he plans to get it. That’s huge. It gives me hope that we can actually defeat him. I get it. I understand.

  I think.

  What still remains a mystery is the engine. How can this all be happening? I may understand the rules enough to play this game now, but the grander reality of how it all came to be is still floating out there somewhere. I wish I knew how to reel it in. I have to believe that it all comes down to the truth about who I am. The truth about all the Travelers. A big part of me still feels like the kid who lived for fourteen years in Stony Brook, blissfully unaware of the worlds that swirled around him. I miss that life. I miss my family more with each day. Not that I didn’t miss them before, but now that I’m questioning the truth of my own existence, it’s as if I’ve lost not only my family, but my core. If, as Saint Dane said, the Travelers are illusions, does that mean my family was an illusion too? As impossible as that sounds, the fact that they disappeared along with any sign that they ever existed doesn’t seem so far fetched. What about the time my dad finally got me to balance on my two-wheeler? Or the time my mother jumped off the dock into Chautauqua Lake to save me from drowning? Or all the times I read books to Shannon? Or picked up Marley’s poop? Or Thanksgiving dinners or school plays or trips to Disney World or getting my freakin’ booboos kissed! Did any of that actually happen?

  That’s one truth I’d just as soon not know, because I’m afraid of the answer. One of the driving forces behind every action I’ve taken is the hope that I would one day see my family again. What if there is no family to see? It would mean that all my memories, my emotions, my security, everything that makes me me, isn’t real. It’s not a good feeling. The only way I can deal with it, is to not deal with it. I have to stay focused on the here and now. The challenge at hand.

  Saint Dane.

  The rest will come when it comes, though I’m not sure I want it to.

  As I write this journal, I am preparing to make our final play. Or what I hope will be our final play. I ended my previous journal where Alder, Patrick, and I were at the flume on Denduron, preparing to return to Second Earth. I wanted to end the journal there because I felt I was closing a chapter. Everything that had happened up to that point was prelude. I wanted it to remain separate, so I finished that journal and kept it safe.

  This next journal marks my return to Second Earth for what I believe will be the final time. The story has come full circle.

  The battle for Earth is the battle for Halla.

  It is about to begin.

  “His name is Alexander Naymeer,” Patrick began. “He lives on top of the flume.”

  I was all set to jump right into the flume and head home. Patrick convinced me to wait. Why not? Time never seemed to be an issue. The flumes would put us where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. We could afford to take a little time and get up to speed. It wasn’t easy. With every word he spoke, with each new revelation, each new twist, it made me want to leap into the flume all the more. I didn’t. I was patient. We stayed in that chilly cave and listened to it all.

  Patrick told Alder and me about Alexander Naymeer and his Ravinian cult. He explained how Second Earth had changed, and how Naymeer used your ring, Mark, to introduce the reality of Halla to the people of Second Earth. Talk about mixing territories! I wanted to scream.

  He told us how Naymeer created a cult that is all about molding a superior society while eliminating those who don’t contribute. He explained how the United Nations was about to vote on whether his Ravinian cult should be considered the spiritual leader of the world. Maybe most shocking of all, he told us of the changes that happened on Third Earth. That was the ultimate proof that Naymeer’s cult would drive Earth toward disaster.

  The only good news he had was that you two were back home together, Mark and Courtney. And Mark, you’re okay. I wished that were the only news he had to give me.

  “So it’s true,” I said once Patrick finished.

  “What is?” Alder asked.

  “It’s about Earth. Saint Dane has influenced this Naymeer guy and his followers into putting Earth on a path that will divide everyone into two groups. The haves and the have-nots. It’ll be great if you’re a ‘have.’ If not…yikes.”

  Alder asked, “What of the other territories?”

  “The same thing,” I exclaimed. “Why not? Look at Quillan. There’s Blok and then there’s everybody else. Right here, the Milago and the Bedoowan have formed a supertribe that’s going to march on Denduron. The same could happen on Zadaa. The Rokador are a more advanced tribe than the Batu. Now that they’re aboveground, who knows how their influence will spread? And on Eelong—the gar may have won a victory, but the klee are still way ahead of them intellectually. With the right influence, the klee could turn on the gar in a heartbeat. It’s a reverse revolution. Instead of the oppressed people rising up to tear down the elite, the elite of each territory are gathering their resources to wipe out the lower classes. Earth will be the model for others to follow.”

  Patrick added, “And with each territory, Saint Dane is influencing the elite. They will have total power over their world, and Saint Dane will have total power over them. He will rule Halla.”

  “Can a society exist like that?” Alder asked. “Not everyone can be a leader.”

  “Of course it can’t,” I shouted. “You heard what Patrick said about Third Earth. Earth evolved into a world that was in perfect harmony with the people and the environment. Now it’s a mess. That’s what Saint Dane’s influence led to. That’s what�
�ll happen on every territory.”

  I paced the cave nervously. “Saint Dane always said that in order to build Halla up, he would first have to tear it down. I always thought he planned some kind of superbattle with armies and bombs and whatever. It’s much more devious than that. He’s been inciting social revolution all over Halla. It never mattered that we won a battle or saved a culture, it was all about creating the environment where these revolutions could begin.”

  Patrick said, “That’s exactly it. This Naymeer fellow is a revolutionary in the guise of a prophet.”

  Alder asked, “He said he was the Traveler from Second Earth?”

  “That’s what Saint Dane said,” Patrick answered.

  “So then, what am I?”

  Patrick looked to the ground nervously. “You quit.”

  I wanted to shout in anger. I might have, but I thought it would attract a few nosy quigs. “Now Saint Dane’s using Travelers to influence the people of the territories,” I said angrily. “First Nevva, now this Naymeer character.”

  Patrick added, “I believe the turning point of Second Earth is the vote at the United Nations. Perhaps if that vote goes against Naymeer, his cult will not be handed enough influence to do any more damage.”

  I looked between Alder and Patrick. My blood was boiling. “Okay, so I’m not the Traveler from Second Earth anymore? Too bad. I’m still the lead Traveler.” I walked to the quig carcass, grabbed a dado-killing rod and yanked it out of the ick. It made a sucking sound. Patrick cringed. I was beyond that.

  “Here,” I said, tossing it to Alder. I grabbed the second rod, that had gone through the quig’s eye. No, that I had jammed through the quig’s eye. It came out easily, though I think that turned Patrick’s stomach again. Like I said, I was beyond that.

  “Patrick, go home,” I commanded.

  “What? No! I want to be where—”

  “You should be on your own territory. Third Earth hasn’t hit its turning point yet. That’s where Alder and I were headed before we found you. Learn what you can about the history of Ravinia and Naymeer. A perspective from the future might help.”