The first wave of the attack was nearly at the fortress.
Looking back, I saw that the second wave had begun their charge. I hoped that the first wave would get into the conclave soon and neutralize the dados, because none of the people in the second wave had shields.
The dados along the top of the wall had grown sparse. Either they had been blown away by the gars, or had gone to the ground to make the final stand at the door.
“They’re going to make it,” Boon declared.
Sure enough, the first of the attacking force had reached the door and fought their way inside. I couldn’t tell if any Travelers were among them.
“Now!” I shouted. “Get us over the top.”
Boon throttled up and flew the gig over the giant wall. We were in, and got our first view of the action behind enemy lines. Below, our people poured in through the destroyed door, past the wreck of the golden engine. There were still a lot of Ravinian guards on the ground, fighting back, but far more were laid out on the ground. Finished. As the exiles and gars pushed inside, anyone who didn’t have a weapon to begin with picked up a silver wand from a fallen dado. We were gaining firepower.
That proved to be the last straw for the defense of the conclave. The dados didn’t retreat. They weren’t programmed to retreat. They didn’t know fear. They fought till the end, but the end came quickly. In minutes the grassy park below was filled with the remains of hundreds of dados.
I looked farther into the conclave, fearing that there might be a counterattack, either from more dados or from human Ravinians. As I wrote before, that is what I truly feared. If the human Ravinians engaged this army, they would lose and they would die. That wasn’t why we were there. This wasn’t meant to be a slaughter. From our vantage point flying high over the compound, I saw no counterattack. In fact, I saw very few Ravinians at all. I caught glimpses of a few who were deeper in the compound, but they were fleeing. They wanted no part of this fight. They expected the dados to protect them.
The dados failed.
“Put us down,” I said to Boon.
We dropped quickly and landed softly on the grass. We had done it. We were in. More and more exiles and gars flooded in through the destroyed door. Many grabbed weapons and began climbing up to the top of the wall. They all knew the score. This was only the first half of the battle. The attackers would soon become defenders, and it would be our turn to hold off a huge army bent on taking over the conclave.
I ran toward the destroyed door, looking for Uncle Press and the Travelers. There was a moment of panic. Had any of them been hit? People ran past me, running deeper into the conclave. They knew their mission. Seek out and destroy every last dado. They would move in patrols of twenty, searching everywhere. The destruction of the dados had to be complete. Another group would be headed for the factory to root out any last dados there, but I was pretty sure all they’d find was burning wreckage. The assault had been a complete success.
But where were the Travelers?
I stepped over a fallen dado…and the robot grabbed my leg. He was down, but he wasn’t dead. I was so surprised that I didn’t defend myself. The dado tossed me down. I hit the grass and spun back, expecting an attack. The dado still had his silver weapon. He raised it to fire at me…and got clocked in the head by a wooden stave. The dado fell to its knee and got clocked again. It may have been a robot, but it couldn’t stand up to the vicious onslaught. It dropped the weapon, reached for it, grabbed the wrong end…and instantly went dead.
“I prefer doing things the old way,” Loor said, spinning her stave triumphantly.
“You didn’t kill it, it was the weapon,” I shot back, kidding.
“It was as good as dead already,” she argued.
“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.”
Loor gave me a small smile, which for her was huge. “Will I ever have to stop protecting you, Pendragon?”
“Man, I hope so.”
“Bobby!” Uncle Press called.
He ran up, out of breath. Behind him were Alder, Spader, Kasha, and Siry. Boon joined us as well. We all stood there looking at one another. Spader began to laugh. Alder followed. Then Siry and Uncle Press and even Kasha and Loor. It was a moment of pure exhilaration. We had done it. We had gotten a toehold in the Conclave of Ravinia. There was nothing funny going on; it was more a laugh of pure joy.
“Where’s Aron?” I asked.
Uncle Press stopped laughing. The others did as well. The mood instantly turned dark.
“He almost made it,” Uncle Press answered. “He was near the door. But he took a hit from a dado that we thought was finished.”
It was a shocking, hollow feeling. Aron was the leader of the gars, and had been since my first visit to Black Water. He was the visionary who helped civilize the gars and earn them respect. It was hard to believe that he was gone. His spirit had surely became part of Solara, and Solara was all the better for it.
“Hey!” came a familiar voice.
Mark and Courtney came running up to join us.
“Can you believe this?” I said. “We did it.”
“Not yet, we didn’t,” Mark said, dead serious.
His tone didn’t fit the moment of victory. I looked over his shoulder to see hundreds upon hundreds of our people streaming into the conclave. I didn’t get it. From what I could see, we had most definitely done it.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Mark held up his walkie-talkie. “They found it.”
We all knew what he meant.
“When?” I asked.
Courtney answered, “The flume downtown came to life five minutes ago. Dados are pouring out in droves. They’re headed this way.”
We stood there in stunned silence. Our celebration was a short one. Though it was something we expected, knowing it was actually happening was still a shock.
Mark said, “I’d say we have two hours at best before we get swarmed.”
Uncle Press looked around and said, “We know what to do. Bring all the radio cannons inside. Call back the choppers. Find every weapon and get it into the hands of a gar or a Yank.”
The Travelers scattered to carry out the commands. I was left with Mark and Courtney and Uncle Press.
“Two hours,” Uncle Press said, looking at me.
“We can do it,” Mark said. “We will do it.”
Uncle Press didn’t respond to Mark. He was focused on me.
“Two hours,” he repeated.
His grave look said it all. I nodded in understanding.
He stood straight, looked me square in the eye, and said, “Go get him.”
JOURNAL #37
41
He was there.
I knew it. I felt it. I knew where to find him. For the first time I understood how he always seemed to know where I was and what I was doing. I could sense him. I don’t know how else to say it.
Our success in taking over the Conclave of Ravinia had far greater meaning than the conquering of a fortress. We were gaining strength. The spirit of Solara was returning. It came from the selfless efforts of a group of people who, in storming the walls of Ravinia, had seized control of their own destiny. It’s hard to describe this feeling, but it came from the core of my being. I felt stronger. I felt hope. I didn’t think for a second that the battle was over, but as I ran through the conclave, for the first time in a very long while, I thought that there was a chance we might actually turn the tide. We were no longer fighting a losing battle.
As I sprinted through the parklike grounds of the conclave, I saw very few Ravinians. Those who made an appearance looked terrified. Their perfect world was threatened, so they ran and hid inside their opulent homes and peered out of their windows in fear. I realized that my concern that they might step up to defend themselves was unfounded. They didn’t have it in them. It made my confidence grow. This was the true legacy of Ravinia. They were cowards who hid behind the power of their mentor.
Saint Dane.
This wou
ldn’t be over until Saint Dane’s influence ended. For that, his spirit had to end. I was racing toward a showdown. I had suspected it would come to this for a long time. I feared it. I tried to ignore it. I hoped there would be some other way.
I was kidding myself.
This day had to come. It was inevitable. From the very beginning, this conflict was about a battle between two forces. Two ways of thinking. Two spirits. Saint Dane…and me.
It was time to end it.
I ran to the center of the conclave and to the spot where I knew he would be. The Taj Mahal. When I got my first view of the majestic building, I noticed a change. There were no Ravinian guards. They must all have been sent to the front wall to defend the conclave. Which meant they were history. I sprinted along the fountains, through the manicured grounds and up the steps, near where I had seen Mark executed. Or his dado double executed. Either way, it wasn’t a happy memory, and it only got me more fired up for what was to come. I strode boldly inside. There was nothing secretive about my visit. I wanted him to know I was there. I went straight to the center of the building, where I knew the red-carpeted stairs would lead up to the platform that held his golden throne. The throne of a king who was losing his kingdom.
There he sat. Alone. As much as I knew I would find him there, I was surprised when I actually saw him. He had changed. Gone was the long, dark hair and youthful appearance. Saint Dane now looked as he did the very first day I met him. His long hair had gone gray. His face had aged. He still wore the rich, red clothing of a Ravinian king, but he looked small inside the elaborate robe. He sat slumped in the chair, looking like an old man. Looking beaten. Not that I needed more proof, but it confirmed that the spirit of Solara was rising. And Saint Dane’s was waning.
“You shouldn’t be hanging around inside on such a nice day,” I called to him. “You’re missing a hell of a show.”
He didn’t react. I wasn’t sure if he even heard me. His eyes stared straight ahead, vacant. It didn’t matter. He could have looked as if he were dead, and I still wouldn’t have let my guard down. If Saint Dane was anything, he was unpredictable. Like they say about wild animals, they’re the most dangerous when they feel trapped and threatened.
“We know the dado army is coming back,” I said, taunting. “We’re ready for them. That must have taken a heck of a lot of spirit out of you to be moving so many of them around Halla like that. Is that why you look like hell? Is your dark power almost gone? Hmmm?”
His eyes moved a fraction to focus on me. In spite of the fact that he looked old and tired, his blue-white eyes still burned. He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
“Is that what Nevva told you?” he said with a low growl. “The way to defeat me was to deplete the spirit we worked so hard to build?”
“More or less,” I answered casually. “Pretty good advice, don’t you think?”
“She betrayed me,” he said with a barely perceptible whisper.
“You betrayed yourself,” I shot back.
His eyes flared. He didn’t budge, but his eyes sparkled with rage.
“It took me a while to realize this, but you know what? You never had a chance.”
“I control Halla,” he hissed.
“Controlled. Past tense. Big difference.”
“There are millions throughout Halla who would dispute that,” he muttered.
“For now. It won’t last. It can’t last.”
I definitely had his attention. The fact was, I wasn’t bluffing. I believed what I was saying. It took me a very long time to come to the truth, but now that I had it, I was confident. As I spoke, I stayed at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t want to get any closer to him than I had to. Just in case.
“From the beginning this has been a battle about destiny. Free will versus control. Domination versus tolerance. How many times have you told me that all you’ve done is give the people of Halla what they want? You said they were selfish and shortsighted and couldn’t be trusted to guide their own future. So you stepped in to show them the way. You elevated the elite and crushed the weak—all in the name of creating Utopia. Or, your idea of Utopia.”
“And they followed me like lambs because that’s what they are,” he spat at me. “Stupid lambs. Everything they did, they did to themselves.”
“But they didn’t!” I shot back. “And you knew they wouldn’t. You didn’t hold true to your own vision.”
He cocked his head like a curious dog.
“Whether you can admit it or not, even to yourself, you didn’t believe that the people of Halla were truly weak. You didn’t trust in your own philosophy. Sure, it sounded good to say they were only getting what they wanted, but when it came down to it, you didn’t think that would be enough for you to deplete their spirit, did you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarled.
“Sure you do. If you truly believed in your vision—if you thought that all you needed to do was influence a little here, push a little there, play to people’s worst instincts and all of Halla would crumble at your feet—why did you need to create the dados?”
“I didn’t,” he snickered. “They were the creation of your friend. Of a being from Halla.”
“Give me a break!” I shouted. “Getting Mark to create the dados was your plan from the start. Why else would you have done that if you didn’t need help? I think you knew that, in spite of all you did to influence and tempt the people of Halla to make wrong choices, eventually they would bounce back, because that’s what they’ve always done. People make mistakes all the time, big and small, but they’re resilient. They survive. They cope. They correct their mistakes. But you didn’t want them to bounce back this time, and for that you needed insurance. So you created an army to intimidate those who didn’t follow you.”
“You’re grasping,” he chuckled.
“Really? I’ve seen it all over Halla. Blok used the dados on Quillan to enforce their rule. Ibara was nearly destroyed by dados once, and now Veego has brought them back. The Ravinians rose to power on Second Earth and Eelong by using dados as intimidation. Dados are now on Cloral and Denduron. They are your power. You can’t make clear choices when you’re being threatened with violence. Who are you trying to kid? I’ve seen it all. Do you think for a second if you took the dados out of the equation that Ravinia would have risen to power so easily?”
“The dados are a tool, nothing more,” he said, his eyes flickering away from me nervously.
“A tool for what?” I cried. “You know what I think? All this talk about guiding the people of Halla may have been how this began. Maybe you actually had noble intentions at one time, but they gave way to your own ego. Saying you wanted to guide destiny and save the people from themselves was just an excuse. You were a spirit from Solara, and what has your noble quest led to? A palace! A throne! You’ve surrounded yourself with the greatest artwork and architecture from this world. I’ll bet you’ve got palaces like this on every territory, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“You’re no longer satisfied with pulling strings from behind the scenes. No more disguises. No more role-playing. Look at you! You’ve put yourself out there front and center, wearing king’s clothes and playing to the masses. I think the truth is that you envy the people of Halla. You want to be their king. You want to be their god. But you know what? Even with the dados, it wasn’t meant to be. The positive spirit of Solara is returning. It was inevitable. If it wasn’t the exiles and the gars, it would have been someone else. The Batu from Zadaa or the poverty-stricken from Quillan. People somewhere would rise up and fight back, just as they have here. What you don’t understand is that the true power of Halla rests with its people. The spirit of the people created Solara. Guess what? They’re about to uncreate you.”
Saint Dane leaped without warning. He sprang from the throne and launched himself at me. I didn’t have time to react, that’s how sudden the move was. He hit me dead-on, knockin
g me backward. I braced myself for what was sure to be a violent fall. When I hit the floor, I looked up to realize that I was no longer in the Taj Mahal. The sky had gone dark. Wind howled. Saint Dane had literally knocked me out of Third Earth to a place I had never seen before.
“You think you know me?” he shouted angrily. “I have eons on you!”
He hauled off and kicked me square in the ribs. I was right. He wasn’t done. I rolled away and tried to get to my feet, but he tackled me from behind. I went crashing down onto what looked like a rocky surface. Whatever it was, it was hard and it hurt. I barely had the chance to see where we were. It was so dark, though the sky was alive with lightning. I sensed huge, dark shapes all around us that could have been buildings or rocks. I couldn’t tell. I had my hands full.
I whipped my elbow back and felt a satisfying crunch as I nailed Saint Dane in the nose. I landed a solid shot. That meant he wasn’t using his power to transform himself. Was he able to do that anymore? Or was he choosing to fight me like a human? I pulled away from him. He sprang to his feet, blood spurting from what looked like a broken nose. I had no sympathy. I ran at him and tackled him dead-on. He grunted and fell back. When we hit the ground…
We were back in the Taj Mahal. Saint Dane jumped to his feet and grabbed a silver weapon that was lying at the foot of his stairs. He waved it at me, swiping the air back and forth, laughing. Taunting.
“You’re just pathetic,” I snarled. “You still need help to fight your fights.”
He screamed in anger, dropped the wand, and lunged at me. I danced out of the way, but he reared back and lifted a kick right to my chest. He drilled me good. I fell back….
Into the dark, ominous territory. Lightning flashed, illuminating some of the shapes around us. I thought I saw a Lifelight pyramid and a templelike structure that could have come from Faar. In that one moment I realized where we were. This was Solara. Saint Dane’s Solara. This was where he was gathering his dark spirit. From the looks of things, the place was in turmoil.
The Soldiers of Halla Page 47
