The Soldiers of Halla tpa-10 Page 5

  “Okay, odd, but if you knew what was happening, why didn’t you try to stop him?”

  Uncle Press smiled. That was an odd reaction, considering that we were on the verge of Armageddon.

  “You’re right, that was a dumb question,” he said.

  ”Why?”

  ”Because we did do something to stop him. In an act of total desperation that in many ways went against the nature of Solara, we created the one thing we hoped would stop his mad plan.”

  “What was it?”

  “We created you, Bobby.”

  Chapter 6

  From the first moment I left home to go with Uncle Press so long ago, there were very few times when I actually felt I was up to the challenges put in front of me.

  Sure, there were times when I had plenty of confidence. I had become a decent fighter. I think I did pretty well figuring out Saint Dane’s schemes. At least some of them, anyway. I had faith in my fellow Travelers. We made a good team. But whenever I turned my thoughts to the larger, more cosmic issues, I always felt I was behind. I didn’t know why I had been chosen to be the lead Traveler. I was just a kid. I always felt as if they should have picked somebody better equipped to match up with Saint Dane. Hearing all the incredible things that Uncle Press had to say about Solara did nothing to change my mind. The battle against Saint Dane was no longer about a tribe or a city or a country or a world. It wasn’t even about Halla. It was about trying to stop a guy who had taken on the power of a god and was about to create his own universe. How the heck was I supposed to compete with that?

  As we stood together on that mysterious world at the edge of reality, I really hoped that Uncle Press had a good answer.

  “I don’t mean to criticize,” I said to my uncle. “After all, you have the combined knowledge and wisdom from all time, and I’m just a basketball jock. But, how do I say this? What the hell were you thinking? You’re trying to stop a demon who has the power to control the power of all that ever was, and you chose me to stop him? Doesn’t seem like the brightest move, if you ask me.”

  “It was the only move,” Uncle Press answered.

  “Then Saint Dane won before the game even began” was my conclusion.

  “Not true. I’ve watched you, Bobby. I’ve seen your every move. We made the exact right move.”

  “You saw it all? Everything? You know exactly what happened?”

  “Everything. Solara is everywhere, remember?” “Everywhere. Right. You even saw me when I was, like, going to the bathroom?”

  He gave me another sour look.

  “Sorry, habit. If I don’t make fun of what’s going on sometimes, I’ll explode.” “I know that, too.”

  “So if you saw everything, you know I was outmatched every step of the way. Even when I thought we’d won, he turned it back on us. It’s been totally futile.”

  “But it hasn’t been. Saint Dane knew that you and the Travelers were the only threat to his plan. Stopping you was as important to him as swaying the destiny of the territories. He could have ignored you, but he didn’t.”

  “He kept asking me to join him.”

  “Of course he did. I think you can see why now.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I know you’ve wondered how the battle was supposed to play out. What Saint Dane told you is true. He was trying to prove the rightness of his way of thinking. That was the battle. His philosophy of control and elitism, versus your thinking that people should be free to choose their own destiny.”

  “Yeah? Then who the heck were we trying to convince? Is there some kind of grand judge on Solara? A panel? An executive council? The bosses of the ages, who are going to pass judgment on who won and who lost?”

  “In a way you were trying to prove yourselves to the most important judges of all. The only judges that counted.”

  “Who?”

  “The people of Halla.” “Uh… huh?”

  “Saint Dane’s plan was to turn the territories upside down. Mankind is inherently good. Saint Dane wanted to change that. He wanted to create an atmosphere of mistrust. Of constant competition and pervasive desperation and fear. On each territory he appealed to the lowest instincts of man. Greed, arrogance, self-absorption, paranoia. But for his ultimate goal to succeed, it had to happen on a universal scale. On all the worlds of Halla. That’s why he found those turning points in the histories of those worlds. He needed to find the moment in time of each territory that would have the maximum negative impact on that world. By turning a territory away from its natural destiny, which was to follow the positive instincts of man, he forced the territories into chaos. That, of course, brought out their worst. Since Solara is a reflection of mankind, the spirit of Solara changed right along with those worlds. The high thinking and positive energy that created us changed. It’s why you can barely feel the spirits of Solara. They are growing weaker and dying off. The desolate world you see now is a direct result of Saint Dane’s meddling with the nature of man.”

  “So how was I supposed to stop that?”

  “Not just you. You and the other Travelers. Saint Dane became a physical presence in Halla. For him it was no longer about visiting dreams and whispering guidance. Once he determined the turning points, he became part of their societies, seemingly helping them make decisions, but actually leading them toward disaster.”

  “Yeah, I know all that.”

  “The only way to stop him was to create our own actual presence in Halla. We took ten souls and gave them physical life. One on each territory.”

  Uncle Press stopped talking. He must have seen the look on my face.

  “What do you mean ‘took ten souls’?” I asked cautiously. “You’re from Solara, Bobby. All the Travelers are from Solara.”

  I knew he was going to say that. It’s exactly what my parents had told me. But hearing it put so plainly was still a shocker. Maybe in the back of my mind I was hoping for another explanation, but that was just wishful thinking.

  “So I’m really not Bobby Pendragon” was my sober response.

  “Oh no, you are very much Bobby Pendragon. That was the whole point. We chose a strong, wise, caring spirit and gave it life on Second Earth. We created a family to raise and nurture that spirit, teaching him the ways of that world. The same happened with each of the territories. Each Traveler was given a mentor from Solara to prepare them for the conflict with Saint Dane. It’s why I became a physical being. I bounced between territories, ensuring that the Travelers were being properly prepared and ultimately telling them of their true destiny.”

  “That’s why Press Tilton was born,” I said.

  “Not exactly born. More like created. The only hope we had of countering Saint Dane’s influence was to do so with actual, living beings. But instead of just one, we chose ten. Saint Dane had grown too powerful; there was no way we could match what he had become with only one Traveler. Our intent was for the Travelers to bond and work against him, which is exactly what happened.”

  My mind flashed to a million different questions.

  “But wasn’t that just as bad as what Saint Dane was doing? I mean, the spirits of Solara aren’t supposed to monkey with reality, right?”

  “You’re right. By creating the Travelers, we were also sapping the strength of Solara. In some ways what Solara has become was also our doing. The tools we gave the Travelers came at a cost. We showed you all how to use Saint Dane’s flumes. We marked them with stars and created rings to help locate them. We advised you to write journals and send them to your acolytes. Whenever you stepped into a flume, we ensured that you arrived where you needed to be, when you needed to be there, in order to continue the struggle with Saint Dane.”

  “And we could heal one another,” I added.

  “Yes, as much as you were human, you had that ability as well. But each time it was used, another piece of Solara slipped away. It was a price that had to be paid. The alternative was far worse, which was to hand Solara over to Saint Dane without a fight.” />
  “Why didn’t you just tell us all this from the get-go? Maybe we would have had a better chance.”

  “No, in spite of our manipulation of physical reality, your mission retained the spirit of Solara. You were behaving exactly as natural inhabitants of the territories would act because that’s what you were. Everything you did, every decision you made, came from your experience as a living being, with all the flaws and fears and strengths that every being has. We counted on your strength and character to triumph. And it did. You had many victories, Bobby. Each time, Solara was given a new, positive shot of life. It was restored not only because you kept a territory on its natural course, but your own personal spirit returned strength to us. You personified the triumph of the spirit of mankind.”

  We walked a bit in silence. Uncle Press was letting me process the information. It was all beginning to make sense. It was incredible, but it was making sense. My questions were being answered. I can’t say I liked any of the answers, but at least I was getting them.

  “You gotta know how impossible this all seems to me,” I finally said. “You tell me I’m an ancient spirit from an alternate universe on the edge of reality, but I still just feel like Bobby Pendragon. I mean, I have no memory of being anything other than Bobby Pendragon. I’m half expecting you to burst out laughing and tell me it was all a goof, and you can’t believe I fell for it. Psyche!”

  “You feel like Bobby Pendragon because you are Bobby Pendragon.”

  “Lead Traveler,” I added.

  “Yes, lead Traveler. You above all were created to be the heart of the Travelers. It was based on the strength of your spirit long before you set foot on Second Earth.”

  “And I blew it all by killing Alexander Naymeer,” I said soberly.

  Uncle Press frowned. “What you did is exactly what Saint Dane wanted you to do. You gave in to the darker nature of man. First by brazenly mixing the destinies of the territories-”

  “What was I supposed to do?” I shot back. “Let the dados destroy Rayne?” “Yes.” Oh.

  “I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “I understand, but it cost. That was the beginning of the final slide. With that battle, Solara grew dark. Not only because of the tak you brought to Ibara, but because you reintroduced that weapon to the Milago and Bedoowan tribes of Denduron, who then used it to invade and enslave the Lowsee tribe. The fall of Solara mirrored your own. As it grew weaker, we relied more on your own personal spirit to hold on. The final blow came when you killed Alexander Naymeer. You had hit bottom, and so has Solara. Out of desperation, we destroyed the flumes.”

  “You destroyed the flumes?” I asked, shocked.

  “It was all we could do. With Halla crumbling, we felt that preventing the Ravinians from traveling between territories might slow the fall. I’m afraid it was too little too late. Saint Dane didn’t need them anymore to achieve his goals. His Convergence was a success. Each territory was already on its own downward spiral.”

  Great. I was more or less responsible for letting Saint Dane destroy all that was good about Halla, and allowing the ultimate evil to take control.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. What else could I say? It felt pretty inadequate, but it was all I had. I sensed movement nearby. I expected to look up and again catch the fleeting image of a spirit. Instead I saw Spader. He stood on a rock outcropping, staring at me. He looked shaken, which wasn’t like him.

  “Quite the natty tale, isn’t it, mate?” he said. “Not at all what I expected, no sir.”

  Loor walked up behind him. She had a totally blank look on her face. I’m guessing that she was just as stunned as I was. She was quickly joined by the other Travelers. Gunny, Patrick, Kasha, Elli, Siry, Aja, and Alder. None of them looked very good. When we were last together, they’d each had a spark of defiance in their eyes that said they were still ready to fight. Now they looked as if they had all seen a ghost. Which they had. Except that they had been looking at themselves. Once I saw that everyone had arrived, I turned to Uncle Press.

  “So I guess that’s it,” I said. “I blew it.”

  “We blew it, shorty,” Gunny called out.

  “Whatever,” I snapped back. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. All that’s left is for Saint Dane to return to Solara and take control of the wreckage.”

  “That’s his plan,” Uncle Press said. “Once Halla has totally turned, the negative forces that have overcome mankind will create a rebirth of Solara. A much different Solara. It will still be filled with the spirit of mankind, but it will be a dark, negative spirit. After that, Saint Dane can use it as he will to manipulate matter and create an entirely new Halla. That’s the road we’re on.”

  Siry called out, “And what happens to us?”

  “That’s your choice,” Uncle Press answered. “You can accept what’s happened as inevitable and become part of this new Solara, or you can make one last stand.”

  Aja huffed and said, “There isn’t much left to stand on.”

  Uncle Press gave us one of those sly smiles that I knew so well. He knew something. He hadn’t shared it all.

  “Saint Dane isn’t infallible,” he said. “You’ve all seen that. In spite of the high opinion he has of himself, he isn’t a god. He’s made plenty of his own mistakes.”

  “And yet he’s still won,” Elli pointed out.

  “Not yet,” Uncle Press replied quickly. “There is one territory left. It may be hanging by a thread, but it hasn’t been lost.”

  “Third Earth,” Patrick said with reverence.

  “Saint Dane made a mistake,” Uncle Press said, enjoying himself. “A huge one. It’s up to us to make sure that it was a fatal one.”

  “So we’re not done yet?” I asked.

  Uncle Press gave me a wink and said, “Do you really think I’d have brought you all together like this if I thought we were done?”

  Chapter 7

  We were all back together.

  We were a little wiser and maybe somewhat overwhelmed by all that had been revealed to us. But at least we were together. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who had to deal with getting knocked over the head with a big fat reality stick.

  Uncle Press addressed us all. “In spite of all you’ve heard, Solara is not dead. At least, the Solara that has always been is not dead. You all sense the presence of the spirit here, don’t you?”

  I looked around to see my friends nodding.

  “Solara is at its lowest point. The toll of this battle has been huge. The spirit is dying. You’ve met your loved ones here-the spirits who became Travelers to help guide your way on your home territories. Giving them a physical presence so they could speak with you was an added drain. The only reason we brought them forward now was to help ease your transition. They’re still here, but we can’t continue to maintain their physical selves.”

  I thought back to how my family flickered and disappeared.

  It seemed like a light bulb running out of power. Turned out it was exactly that. The same sort of thing must have happened after I left Second Earth the first time. Every piece of evidence that my family existed had vanished. It must have all been created by the spirit of Solara, and then removed when it was no longer necessary. How weird is that?

  Uncle Press continued, “The worlds of Halla have fallen. Each territory is in chaos. The darker nature of mankind has triumphed, just as Saint Dane wanted.”

  Gunny stepped forward and asked, “So then, why is Solara still hanging on?”

  Patrick asked, “Because there’s still hope for Third Earth?”

  “There is still hope for Third Earth, but I don’t believe that’s the reason. Third Earth has become a war zone. That’s where we all gathered before coming here.”

  That made sense. The zoo, the shattered buildings, the tilted Empire State Building. Third Earth was a mess, worse than when Patrick was last there.

  Elli asked, “Do you believe that saving Third Earth will stop Saint Dane?”

&nb
sp; “I don’t know. I’d be lying if I told you otherwise. Truth is, it’s all we’ve got left. But I’ll tell you something I do believe. I don’t think that saving Third Earth is as important as how we save it,” Uncle Press answered.

  We all exchanged confused glances. We had no idea what he was talking about, which was pretty much par for the course even at this late date.

  “Make no mistake, we are on our last legs,” Uncle Press continued. “The spirits of Solara no longer have the ability to move through the physical worlds. They are all here now. Or at least, what’s left of them. There is no way of knowing what is happening throughout Halla, except through your eyes.”

  “Us?” Siry said in surprise. “How can we know what is happening out there? We’re trapped here too. And the flumes are destroyed.”

  “You’ve all heard how the creation of the Travelers was our only hope to stop Saint Dane. That is still true now. More than ever. The spirits of Solara have gathered back here in order to channel their remaining energy to you. To us. I’ll be with you until the end.”

  “Well, there’s one spot of good news!” Spader declared, trying to be positive.

  “That’s how we will be able to maintain a physical presence and make our final stand. The remaining positive spiritual energy that exists in Solara is being channeled to us. The Travelers.”

  Aja looked glum. “Nothing like a little pressure.”

  Alder said, “But if there are no flumes, we will be unable to travel.”

  “You don’t need the flumes anymore,” Uncle Press declared.

  That made everybody start talking at once. I was right there with them. What the heck did that mean?

  “Whoa, whoa!” Uncle Press called out, trying to get everybody to settle.

  I said, “I think you better explain that.”

  “Saint Dane created the flumes to connect the territories. He wanted technology and physical items, and ultimately people, to travel freely and blend all the worlds. To converge. He was able to travel between territories whenever he wanted and from wherever he happened to be. He stepped from one world into the sea of time and space, and right into the next world, instantly, effortlessly. You all experienced it yourselves when you arrived here from Third Earth.”