The Soldiers of Halla tpa-10

by D. J. MacHale

  I held my breath. At least, I think I did. Did I have breath to hold? I moved forward and passed underneath, seeing the width of the door passing over my head as if I were traveling under a bridge. I have to say, it was the coolest experience ever. If the whole thing wasn’t so alien, I probably would have enjoyed it. As it was, I was more worried about how to get back to normal than in taking the time to appreciate the fact that I had turned myself into some other kind of matter.

  When I came out from under the door, I imagined myself returning to normal. I floated up. My eyes (or whatever it was I was seeing through) were on the door. I followed the lines of the deep, brown grain of the wood as I moved higher. The ascent took only a few seconds. I stopped. Was it over? Was I back to normal? I was still staring at the door when I sensed movement. I turned quickly to see a Ravinian dado coming for me, his silver wand high, ready to strike.

  I was back to normal.

  I dove to the ground to avoid the attack. If it hit me, I would be smoke again, and not the good kind. I side-kicked the knee of the dado. It was off balance from its attack and crumpled quickly. But it wasn’t in pain. Dados didn’t feel pain. As it fell, it was already swinging the weapon back at me. I thrust my hands out and grabbed its wrist. The thing was strong, but I had adrenaline on my side. There was no way I wanted that wand to hit me. I’d already wasted enough power to get out of that room. The other advantage I had was leverage. The dado was off balance, so it couldn’t use its legs. After I kicked out its knee, I was already getting my feet under me. It was using its arms to push the wand at me. I was using my arms… and my legs.

  I won. I twisted the hands of the dado around, breaking its grip. The wand clattered to the floor. I swept it up instantly and hit the dado square in the chest as it was turning to reach around. I felt a sharp jolt through my hands as the power of the weapon unloaded. Instantly the dado went stiff. It was creepy. Like switching off a light. Its eyes went blank. Its body went rigid. With a quick little shove I knocked it backward, and it fell to the floor. Dead. Fried. Whatever.

  It had been an interesting thirty seconds. “Pendragon?” came Elli’s voice from the other side of the door.

  “I’m okay,” I said, breathless. “There was a dado. Now there isn’t.”

  “You turned to smoke,” she said, her voice sounding a little shaky.

  Oh. Right. That. “Really?”

  “Yes. It was like you melted and floated under the door. Are you all right?”

  “I guess” was all I could say. I was too numb for anything more insightful than that.

  “Can you open the door?” she asked.

  I went for the door, but there was no way to unlock it. I quickly checked the dado to find out he didn’t have keys.

  “No,” I announced.

  Elli asked, “Should I try to get out the way you did?”

  I had to think about that for a second. Finding Mark was going to be tough enough. Having Elli with me would have made it that much harder.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m sorry, Elli. Stay here for now. I’ll be able to get around faster on my own.”

  She didn’t respond. I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled.

  “Elli? You all right?”

  She answered with conviction. She was trying to be strong. “Yes. I understand.”

  “If I’m not back in a few hours, go back to Solara. Tell Uncle Press what we’ve seen.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “I’m going to find Mark.”

  “And then what?”

  I laughed. “Then I’ll figure something else out.” “I know you will.”

  “I’m sorry, Elli, but I think it’s better that I do this on my own.” “I do too.”

  It was an awkward moment, especially because we couldn’t see each other.

  “Bobby?” she said. “If you get the chance, tell Nevva that I hope we can speak again someday. I want her to understand why I did the things I did.”

  “I will,” I assured her. “Good-bye, Elli.”

  I had to pull myself away from the door. It killed me to leave her behind, even though I knew she’d be okay. She could always return to Solara. My heart ached for her. I put her through torture by bringing her to see Nevva. All it did was cause her pain. There are a lot of things I would have done differently if I’d had another chance. Add that one to the list.

  But I couldn’t look back. Not just then, anyway. By using the spirit of Solara to get out of that cell, I’d given myself the chance to do something positive. I didn’t want to waste it. It was time to get moving. It was time to find Mark. I started to run and nearly tripped over the dead dado. Seeing the inanimate thing gave me an idea. I dragged the broken device down the corridor until I found another empty room that was much like the one where Elli and I had been kept prisoner. I pulled the dado inside, and took off its clothes.

  I was going to become a dado. Or at least try to look like one. Since I had no idea where I would have to go to find Mark, I figured that blending in would be a good thing. I had been wearing my Second Earth clothes for a while now.

  Not only were they pretty gamey, I was afraid that I looked more like one of the roughed-up rebels who lived outside the conclave than a clean and tidy Ravinian. Hopefully, I thought, by wearing the red uniform of a Ravinian guard, I might not draw curious looks. It was risky, but I hoped it might give me a slight advantage.

  The dado was more or less my size, though a little smaller around the chest and shoulders, which made his uniform fit pretty snug. I felt like I could easily bust out of it, Incredible Hulk-style. I’d have to be careful. I kept my own boxers on. Socks too. The one’s I’d been wearing belonged to Courtney’s dad. There were some things I wasn’t willing to part with. Best of all, the boots fit almost perfectly. From the neck down I figured I looked the part. The problem was from the neck up. My hair was well over my ears and my beard stubble was dark-definitely undado like. All I could do was push my hair behind my ears and pull the red Ravinian guard cap down low. It would have to do. I didn’t bother putting my own clothes on the dead dado. It wasn’t like he was going to get a chill. I pulled the machine behind the open door and tossed my clothes on top of it. If anybody glanced in from the corridor, they wouldn’t see it. If they stepped inside, well, alarms would go off. Nothing I could do about that. The last thing I did was pick up the long silver weapon.

  I was ready. I stepped out into the corridor, not knowing which way to go. It stretched out to both sides, with many doors along the way. If I’d had a coin, I’d have tossed it. I chose to go right and jogged down the long, tile-covered hallway. I had absolutely no plan. How could I? I didn’t know where I was or where they might have taken Mark. The best I could do was walk around, pretending to be on guard patrol. Or whatever it was the dados did. I decided that the best place to begin my search would be the Taj Mahal. That’s where Saint Dane and Nevva hung out. Chances were good that was where they would take Mark.

  At the end of the corridor were stairs leading up. I took two at a time, winding around, climbing higher to the next floor. The stairs brought me to a wide-open area that I recognized. I suppose the tile work down below should have given it away, but I hadn’t made the connection. I wasn’t going to have to go far to get to the Taj Mahal. I was already in it. We had been in Saint Dane’s basement all along. I glanced around, wondering where I should begin my search, when I registered an odd sound. I thought I’d heard it earlier, but it was so faint that it hadn’t registered. Now that I had climbed out of the dungeon, it was louder. I guess you could call it a “tone.” Three tones actually. Like notes. They played over and over again. The same three notes. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but it definitely wasn’t from inside the Taj Mahal. It was like nothing I’d heard during the time I’d spent inside the conclave, so I figured it was worth investigating.

  I worked my way through the tall pillars, looking for a way out of the building. The closer I got to the doorway, the louder the t
ones became. There was definitely something happening outside. I found a set of double wooden doors and pushed my way out into the bright sun. Instantly the three tones grew loud. Really loud. They weren’t annoying, but you couldn’t miss them. They didn’t sound urgent, like a fire warning or anything. It reminded me of the tones they used to play at Stony Brook Junior High to announce that it was time for classes to pass. There was no question these tones had a purpose, and I wanted to know what it was.

  I made my way across the wide, marble expanse that led to the edge of the giant pedestal-like base that the Taj Mahal sat on. Now that I was outside, I saw that other people were around. If I didn’t want to draw attention, I was going to have to act like a dado. I’d seen thousands of them, but never really studied how they behaved… other than when they were trying to beat my head in, that is. They didn’t walk like robots or anything, but their movements were precise. And they had good posture. Why not? They were robots. You don’t program a slouch into a robot. So I stood up tall, lifted my chin, and tried to walk perfectly. It was actually easier than I thought. Just being self-conscious about walking makes you a little stiff. My biggest challenge was to not forget that I had to be walking that way.

  I gripped the long weapon. There was a small red button in the handle that I figured was the on-off switch. I took a chance, hit it, and felt the wand hum. I hit the button again and it stopped. I decided to leave it off. I didn’t want to accidentally brush it against my leg and vaporize myself like an idiot. I thought back to when I had seen the dados walking around and remembered that they held the weapons down at their sides. That’s what I did. In all, I thought I was going to pull it off. So long as nobody noticed my hair or beard, I’d be cool.

  The tones continued. As I marched closer to the edge of the foundation, I sensed something else. Another unique sound. I reached the perimeter and looked down onto the gardens that surrounded the Taj Mahal to see that the sound was coming from a large crowd of people who were slowly moving toward the front of the building. There had to be hundreds of them. They weren’t in a hurry, but I sensed excitement. Little kids sprinted through the crowd, as if they couldn’t wait to get where they were going. These weren’t dados. They were the Ravinians who lived in this conclave. I saw all types. All ages. All races. These were the chosen of Third Earth. The tones now made sense. It was a signal. Or a notice of some kind. When the tones sounded, people came. I wondered if this was a normal thing, or something special.

  I made my way forward in the direction the crowd was moving. As I walked, I joined more people who were on the same level with me, all moving in the same direction as those below. There were dados mixed into the crowd who looked to be scanning for trouble. I didn’t want to be spotted, so I did the same, though I guarantee we were looking for different kinds of trouble. I did my best to stay away from them. I didn’t want to be recognized. Or not recognized. Invisible was good. As I walked closer to the front of the Taj Mahal, it became easier to blend in because the crowd grew dense.

  When I reached the front of the building, I realized that this was everyone’s destination. Thousands of people crowded around the long reflecting pool that stretched out in front of the Taj Mahal. It was a staggering sight. Behind me loomed the massive onion-shaped dome. In front of me were thousands of people looking toward the building. I no longer felt in danger of being discovered. I was one in thousands. I meant nothing. This was a spectacle. Nobody was going to notice one dado who needed a shave.

  The question then became, what the heck were they doing here? This was Saint Dane’s house, so whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. They had been summoned and I didn’t think it was for a barbeque. Looking up at the Taj Mahal, I saw that a platform had been erected. Had that been there before? I didn’t remember it. It didn’t look to have come from ancient India, either. It looked high-tech modern. It was a wide silver tube that rose about thirty feet into the air. Etched into the surface was a huge Ravinian star. Erected on top were two, thick uprights and a cross bar. They were also made of metal and looked heavy, but with style. Like a modern sculpture. It was this frame, on top of the circular, silver tube, that had everyone’s attention.

  The tones continued as the people gathered. It was getting crowded. I now noticed that several dados had arrived on ground level. They marched in carrying red Ravinian star flags. The procession moved around the fountain until there was a line of flags stretching along either side of its considerable length. The flags sickened me. They represented everything that Saint Dane stood for. They symbolized the movement that had brought Halla to its knees. The sight reminded me of those old movies I’d seen of Nazi rallies before World War II. I guess people didn’t learn from the mistakes of the past.

  The tones stopped. I sensed the anticipation of the crowd. Everyone focused their attention on the strange sculpture on top of the silver tube. The show was about to begin.

  A loud gong rang out. The huge crowd instantly became silent. It was eerie. A lone figure appeared on the platform on top of the tube. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten up there. Maybe there were stairs that I couldn’t see. But he was there, and it didn’t surprise me at all.

  It was Saint Dane. He held his arms out as if to embrace the masses. No sooner did his arms go up, than the crowd applauded. Like crazy. They loved the guy. Or maybe they were afraid that if they didn’t give him a big hand, they’d be in trouble. The dados holding the flags waved them furiously. It was impressive, in a sickening sort of way.

  Saint Dane lifted his hands. It was a subtle gesture, but the crowd understood. They fell silent again. Creepy. They were like puppets. I was standing in a crowd of people more than twenty yards away from the platform, but even from that distance I could see that Saint Dane was loving this. He had grown to enjoy his power. He was living the dream.

  “Ravinians!” he bellowed, his amplified voice booming from unseen speakers. “Thank you for joining me here today.”

  I snickered. Like they had a choice. My guess was that if anybody didn’t come running whenever the horn sounded, they’d regret it.

  “I am asking you to play a role in what I believe is a critical moment in the continuing evolution of Ravinia. You are not here as mere bystanders. You are participants. The decision you make today will help shape the future of our grand experiment. As the chosen, the course of Ravinia has been and always will be in your hands. I am asking you today to once again help me chart the course that will make the vision a reality.”

  The crowd went nuts. Cheering and applauding. I don’t think they had any idea what they were cheering about, but Saint Dane was being all dramatic and firing them up, and they were going right along with it. Did they really think that they were making their own decisions? I guess people believe what they want to believe. When they quieted down, Saint Dane continued.

  “Throughout Halla the elite have risen. The pariahs have been marginalized. Look around you. This is the glory of Ravinia. Conclaves such as this exist throughout all worlds. We have been rewarded, and this is only the beginning.”

  Again, big applause. Watching this crowd brought back memories of other similar scenes on other territories. I thought of the crowds on Quillan, who would do anything, even risk their children, to get ahead. And the quig battles in the Bedoowan castle on Denduron. And the crowds of Ravinians on Second Earth. All those people bought into Saint Dane’s vision. As I watched the people here on Third Earth, it struck me again how this was exactly what Saint Dane had been working for. If Solara was created and powered by the spirit of all people, Saint Dane drew strength from the people who only thought the way he did. He weeded out those who didn’t fit his plan and would soon be left with only those who bought into his ideal.

  It also struck me that Saint Dane hadn’t assumed a new identity here on Third Earth. There was no more pretense. No more weaseling into a society and influencing events to go his way. The gloves were off. What I said to Nevva was true. Saint Dane loved the power. He no longer had
to work through anybody else. It was all about him now. He had assumed the role of ruler. Or king. Or god. Or whatever it was he envisioned himself to be.

  “We are nearing the end of a journey that began thousands of years ago here on Earth with the birth of Alexander Naymeer and the rise of Ravinia. Throughout Halla, the elite have triumphed. Like you, they are the chosen. The entitled. Look around. See the wonderful existence we share. We are spreading this Utopian ideal throughout Halla. When we no longer need protection from the evils of the dissenters, the walls that surround us will no longer be needed, and they… will… come… down!”

  The crowd went nuts. Again. I guess that was the deal. The Ravinians lived in their own special little paradise, but they were like prisoners. It seemed like Saint Dane promised that the whole world would become as perfect as this conclave, just as soon as all those annoying people on the outside could be eliminated.

  When the crowd stopped chanting, Saint Dane continued. “There is still work to be done. There are pockets of resistance. There are people who are no better than hungry, predatory rats, and they are determined to bring down our way of life. They want to live as we do, yet they aren’t willing to make sacrifices to achieve it. My question to you is, are you ready to eliminate the threat once and for all? Should we allow these people to continue to eat away at the fabric of our perfect society? That is the choice we are now faced with. Do we tolerate? Or purge? Tolerate? Or purge?”

  The chant started slowly, as if they weren’t exactly sure of the answer. But once it began, it quickly grew. “Purge! Purge! Purge!”

  It was chilling. These people were worked up, enthusiastically showing their support for a final massacre-all so they could continue to live in a nice park like home. Even the kids were chanting with intensity. It was bloodlust. Saint Dane held out his hands, smiling, letting the chant wash over him. I was watching his power grow, literally. He was feeding on their spirit. I was certain that whatever darker Solara he had created was feeding on it too. He held up his hands again and the chanting stopped. Looking out over the crowd, and to the people around me, I saw fire in their eyes. People were breathing heavily. Saint Dane had them in his spell.