The Lost City of Faar Page 2

  “C’mon, you’re no fun anymore,” he teased as he pushed me into the flume. “Cloral!” he shouted, and stepped out as the tunnel sprang back to life. I didn’t even look into the depths because I knew what was coming.

  “Fun?” I shouted. “If you think this is fun, you’re crazy!”

  “Oh, one thing, Bobby,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Remember the Cannonball.”

  “What ‘cannonball’?” I asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The light grew brighter and the musical notes grew louder. I was seconds away from launch.

  “Just before you drop into Cloral, hold your breath.”

  “What!”

  The last thing I saw was Uncle Press laughing. Then the light grabbed me and sucked me into the tunnel. I was on my way.

  SECOND EARTH

  “What are you two doing in here?” shouted Mr. Dorrico, the chief janitor of Stony Brook Junior High. “This ain’t a library. You can’t sit here reading your—hey, you’re a girl! Girls aren’t allowed in the boys’ washroom!”

  Mr. Dorrico had been a janitor at Stony Brook for most of his illustrious fifty-year janitorial career. There wasn’t much you could put past him and this time was no different. There was indeed a girl in the boys’ lavatory. Mr. Dorrico may have been ancient and terminally cranky, but he could still tell girls from boys. Most of the time.

  Courtney Chetwynde and Mark Dimond had been sitting on the floor, reading Bobby’s first journal from Cloral. The washroom on the third floor was near the art department. It was rarely used by anyone, boy or girl. It had become Mark’s fortress of solitude. When the world got too busy, Mark would come here to escape and think and eat carrots and be alone. If he received one of Bobby’s journals at school, this is the place he would come to read it. And since Courtney was now part of the picture, she would join him. The fact that she was a girl never seemed to matter, considering how important the journals were. But now they were faced with an angry chief janitor who looked as if he were going to have a heart attack at the very thought of a girl being in the boys’ washroom.

  Mark jumped to his feet and quickly grabbed up the pages of Bobby’s journal. “It’s c-cool. W-We were just leaving,” he stammered nervously.

  Whenever he got stressed, Mark stuttered. Courtney, on the other hand, was at her best under pressure. She stood slowly, walked up to Mr. Dorrico, and stared him right in the eye.

  “The only reason I came in here,” she said confidently, “was because there were so many boys in the girls’ washroom. It was getting way too crowded in there . . . and they never lift the toilet seats.”

  “What!” shouted Mr. Dorrico, his face turning three shades of red.

  To him this was clearly an offense that threatened to crack the very foundation of etiquette that our society was founded on. He grabbed the mop that he was going to use to swab up the boys’ bathroom and charged back out, ready to do battle with the rogue delinquents who mocked the sanctity of the girls’ lavatory.

  Mark stepped up to Courtney and said, “You are bad.”

  “Time to go,” she replied with a mischievous smile.

  They ran from the bathroom and down the hall, careful to avoid the girls’ room.

  Mark knew that he and Courtney Chetwynde made an odd pair. Mark was an introvert. He lived in a world of books and graphic novels. He didn’t have many friends. His hair was always a little too long and a little too unwashed. Sports were a four-letter word to him and his mother still picked out his clothes, which meant he wore a lot of non-name-brand geek outfits that were always about two years out of date. But the thing was, he didn’t care. Mark never wanted to be cool. In fact, being comfortable with his noncoolness made Mark feel pretty good about himself. Where everyone else was busy trying to impress their friends with the way they looked or who they hung out with or what parties they went to, Mark couldn’t be bothered. So Mark considered himself cooler than cool—in a nerdy kind of way.

  Courtney, on the other hand, had it all going on. She was tall and beautiful, with long brown hair that fell to her waist and piercing gray eyes. She got decent grades. Not world-class, but good enough. She also had a ton of friends. But the thing that defined Courtney was sports. Volleyball in particular. Courtney was so tall and strong that it was unfair for her to play against most girls, so she played on the guys’ teams at Stony Brook. As it turned out, it was unfair for her to play against most boys, too. She absolutely crushed them. Guys feared her because they didn’t want to be embarrassed by a girl, but more because they were afraid when they faced Courtney, they’d lose teeth. At fourteen she was already a legend.

  So the differences between Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde were so huge that a friendship wasn’t something you’d expect. That is, except for one thing.

  Bobby Pendragon.

  Both Mark and Courtney had known Bobby since they were little. Mark and Bobby were best buds beginning in kindergarten. Bobby spent so much time at Mark’s house that Mrs. Dimond referred to him as her second son. As they grew older their interests changed. Bobby was into sports and was incredibly outgoing. Mark . . . wasn’t. But where most people who were so different would drift apart, Mark and Bobby had a friendship that didn’t fade. Bobby often said that as different as they seemed, they both laughed at the same things, and that meant they really weren’t so different after all.

  As for Courtney, Bobby met her in the fourth grade and fell in love. From the very first second he saw her stunning gray eyes, Bobby got slammed with a crush that had yet to fade. Growing up, they were rivals in sports. Bobby was one of the few guys who weren’t intimidated by Courtney. Just the opposite. Even though she was a girl, he never cut her any slack. Why should he? She was too good. When they played dodge ball, he’d go after her as hard as she went after him. When they ran the four hundred in gym, he’d make sure the two of them went head-to-head. Sometimes he won; other times Courtney took him. In Little League they were on opposing teams and both were pitchers. When the other came up to bat, they’d each dig down a little deeper to throw heat. Naturally there was the occasional brush-back pitch that sent the other into the dirt. No one ever got hit, though. They may have been rivals, but they were still friends.

  The thing was, as strong as Bobby’s crush on Courtney was, Courtney felt just as strongly about Bobby. But neither let the other one know until that fateful night when Courtney came to Bobby’s house before a basketball game. That’s when Courtney admitted to Bobby how great she thought he was. It was also the night the two kissed for the first time. For Bobby, it was one of those incredible moments that actually transcended expectations. It was downright magical.

  Unfortunately it was also the night when Bobby’s Uncle Press took him away from home to begin their adventure on the troubled territory of Denduron. Bobby’s old life ended with that one sweet Courtney kiss.

  It was out of concern for Bobby Pendragon that Mark and Courtney got together. Both were terrified that something horrible would happen to him as he flumed through the territories. It was Mark who first started receiving Bobby’s journals through the magical ring that was given to him one strange night. It was presented by a kind, strong woman who Mark thought was part of a dream. But in the morning the dream was over, and the ring was still there. This woman turned out to be Osa, Loor’s mother, who was doomed to die while protecting Bobby. This ring was the conduit through which Bobby could send the journals of his incredible adventures back to his friends.

  Reading about Bobby’s adventures was both exciting and frightening for Mark. The perils were more enthralling than any action flick he’d ever seen. But Bobby’s stories weren’t meant to be entertaining. They were real, and that’s why they were so frightening. The idea that there was a group of people called Travelers who voyaged through the universe doing battle against evil was a concept that challenged everything Mark knew about how things worked. Stranger still, knowing that his best friend was one of these
Travelers made it all the more tough to deal with.

  The fact was he couldn’t deal with it. Not alone, anyway. That’s why he brought Courtney into his confidence. Together, the two would read Bobby’s journals and try to help each other understand what was happening to their friend.

  Their meeting place of choice was the basement of Courtney’s house. Her dad had a workshop down there, but he never used it. Courtney always laughed at her father, saying how he got all these tools because they looked cool, but then had no idea of what to do with them. So the basement workshop was pretty much a dusty tool-museum, which was perfect for Mark and Courtney. There was a big worn-out couch down there where they would settle in to devour Bobby’s journals.

  Their run-in with Mr. Dorrico came toward the end of the school day, so the two didn’t go back to class. Instead, they headed right to Courtney’s house. Courtney even skipped volleyball practice. She never missed practice unless there was an emergency. The arrival of a journal from Bobby definitely qualified.

  Courtney ran down the basement steps ahead of Mark and leaped into the old couch sending up a cloud of dust. “C’mon!” she shouted impatiently at Mark. “I’m dying! I want to know what happened on Cloral!”

  Mark had Bobby’s journal in his backpack. But rather than dig it out and sit next to Courtney so they could continue reading, he stood over her, looking nervous.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, trying to sound as impatient as she felt.

  “C-Courtney, I-I’m scared,” he said softly.

  Normally Courtney would bulldoze over guys like Mark if she wasn’t getting what she wanted. But this was different. They were a team. They shared a secret. If one of them was having a problem, the other one had to respect that. So as eager as she was to rip the pack off of Mark’s back and grab Bobby’s journal, she took a breath and tried to relax.

  “I am too,” she said softly. “But I want to know if he’s okay.”

  “I’m not talking about Bobby,” Mark whined. “I’m scared for us.”

  Courtney sat back in surprise. Mark now had her full attention.

  “Why?”

  Mark paced. “Ever since he left a few months ago, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Me too,” Courtney said. But obviously Mark’s thoughts were more troubling than Courtney’s because he was the only one worried just then.

  “Think about what’s at stake here,” Mark continued. “Saint Dane is trying to rule Halla. That’s everything. Every time and every place there ever was. Don’t you think that’s a little scary?”

  “Well, yeah,” she answered. “Until a few months ago the biggest thing I had to worry about was passing algebra. Going from that to sweating over the future of all space and time is kind of a leap for me.”

  Mark nodded. A problem this huge was kind of hard to get your mind around.

  “Okay,” he said while continuing to pace. “It’s hard for me to understand too, but there’s more. Uncle Press told Bobby that all the territories were about to reach a turning point. It was the job of the Travelers to help them get through the crises so they could continue to exist in peace. If they failed, the territory would fall into chaos, and that’s when Saint Dane would step in.”

  “Okay, so?” Courtney said impatiently. She wanted to know where this was going.

  “So think about it,” Mark said, getting worked up. “Bobby and Press went to Denduron because that territory was on the verge of a civil war. We just read that Press told Loor she had to go back to her home territory of Zadaa because they would need her there soon.”

  Courtney listened carefully. Mark was leading to a point and she wanted to make sure she fully understood what it was.

  “Saint Dane went to Cloral,” he continued. “Bobby and Press followed him there. Cloral must be reaching its critical time too.”

  “I get all this. But why are you so scared?” Courtney asked.

  “Think,” he said quickly. “We’re reading these journals like they’re stories happening far away from our safe little town. Sure, Bobby is right in the middle of things, but nothing is touching us. Not here. Not in the safe suburbs.”

  Courtney was starting to catch on. “You’re saying something big might happen here, too?” asked Courtney soberly.

  “Exactly!” shouted Mark. “We’re a territory too. Second Earth. We’re not immune. We’re part of Halla or whatever it’s called.”

  Courtney turned away from Mark to let this sink in. If all the territories were about to reach a turning point, that had to include their own territory as well. This was definitely bad news.

  “I’ll tell you something else,” Mark said. “We’ve been trying to figure out why Bobby is a Traveler. I have no idea why, but I’ll bet I know when.”

  “Huh?” said Courtney. “When what?”

  “It seems like Travelers only go where they are needed, when they’re needed,” reasoned Mark. “I’ll bet the time has come for Second Earth to need a Traveler, and that’s why we now have one. Bobby.”

  Courtney didn’t ask another question. She didn’t need to. What Mark said made all sorts of sense. Up until now, everything that Bobby had written was true. He wrote that Uncle Press warned him that all the territories were nearing a critical time. All the territories. That included this one. Second Earth. Home.

  “You want to hear more?”

  “Not really,” answered Courtney nervously.

  “I think we’re part of it, you and I,” he said. “Bobby is sending us his journals. Besides him, we’re the only ones here who know what’s going on.”

  “You think we’re being prepared for a battle on Second Earth?” Courtney asked softly, as if she could hardly get the words out.

  “I think that’s exactly what’s happening,” answered Mark.

  Suddenly Courtney was just as scared as Mark. He had finally made his point, but she wished he hadn’t.

  “So what do we do?”

  Mark took off his pack and sat down next to her.

  “That part I haven’t figured out,” he answered. He dug inside the pack and pulled out Bobby’s journal. Unlike the first journal that was written on crude, yellowed parchment paper, these pages were light green and supple. Each page was roughly the size of standard printer paper, but the edges weren’t square. These pages were oddly shaped, as if they had been handmade. The green pages were like a light, thin rubber. The writing looked pretty much the same as the other journals though. The words were written in black ink, and the handwriting was definitely Bobby’s.

  “Until we get more of an idea of what to expect,” continued Mark. “All we can do is read Bobby’s journals and learn as much as we can so when the time comes . . . we’re ready.”

  Courtney stared into Mark’s eyes. His last comment sounded ominous. This wasn’t a game happening to someone else. This was real. Common sense told them that sometime, somehow they were going to get sucked into this nightmare. Courtney was beginning to hate common sense. The question was, when would it happen? Those questions could only be answered by the words in Bobby’s journal, so without any more conversation, Mark and Courtney looked down at the strange green pages and continued to read.

  JOURNAL #5

  (CONTINUED)

  CLORAL

  The flume.

  It was my fifth time flying through this magical tunnel into the unknown, but I still wasn’t used to it. Heck, I could travel like this a thousand times and I wouldn’t get used to it. As I told you guys before, it’s kind of like sailing down a huge water slide. But it’s not as violent as a water-park ride. It’s really more like floating on a cushion of warm air. The tunnel walls that were surrounding me looked like transparent crystal. But I knew this only happened when the flume was activated. Why does it do this? Haven’t got a clue.

  Beyond the walls I saw stars. Billions of them. I was in the middle of the universe traveling through space and time. At least that’s how it was explained to me. I w
ondered if the flumes were actually solid. Was it possible to damage a flume? Could an orbiting satellite accidentally smash into one? What about a meteor? Or an asteroid? I figured I had enough to worry about without thinking about that kind of potential disaster, so I tried to think of something else.

  Up ahead I could see the twists and turns of the tunnel. The first time I had done this I was afraid to bounce off the walls, so I tried to lean into the turns like one of those maniacs on a luge run, but as it turns out I didn’t have to bother. Whatever force was speeding me along also prevented me from slamming into the walls. All I had to do was kick back and enjoy the ride.

  Until now, I had only taken the flume between Second Earth and Denduron. This was the first time I was headed to somewhere else. I wondered if I was going to hit some kind of intersection and get shot in the new direction. The answer came pretty quick. There were no turns. There were no junctures. I was on the express line to Cloral.

  How did I know that? I heard a sound. I was used to hearing the jumble of sweet musical notes as I shot along, so this new sound jumped out at me. It kept getting louder, which meant I was getting closer to it. It wasn’t until I was almost to the end when I realized what it was.

  It was water.

  Suddenly the warning Uncle Press had given me before I got sucked into the flume made sense. He told me to remember the Cannonball and to hold my breath. In that instant I remembered the Cannonball. Do you remember, Mark? It was a ride at the water park in New Jersey that Uncle Press took us to a few years ago. It was a short, fast water slide that went underground, then shot you out for a fifteen-foot drop into an icy cold pool of snowmelt mountain water. I think the word you used to describe it was “rude.” Well, if I was right, then Uncle Press’s warning meant that I was about to be shot out of the flume into a pool of water. I quickly folded my arms in front of my chest, crossed my legs, and waited for the end.