The Soldiers of Halla tpa-10 Page 8

  “Any guesses?” I asked, numb. I was officially as stunned as Patrick.

  “It looks like a fortress,” he said. “No telling how big it is, but I’m thinking it covers the spot where the Conclave of Ravinia is. Or was.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “We could stand here forever wondering. There’s only one way to find out what that big boy’s all about.”

  Patrick finally broke his gaze from the wall and looked at me. “How are we supposed to get over that bridge? It’s a wreck.”

  Turned out he was nervous about the bridge after all.

  I started walking toward the structure. “I don’t know. But we won’t figure it out standing here staring at it.”

  I led Patrick toward the decrepit bridge. We soon found that we were walking on the remains of railroad tracks that hadn’t seen a train in a very long time. Most of the ties were missing, and every few yards there were rusted gaps in the rails. When we reached the twisted structure of bridge itself, my heart sank. Up close it looked even flimsier than from a distance. And believe me, it looked pretty bad from back there.

  “If this crashes, it’s over,” Patrick pointed out.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Good thing we can’t die.”

  “Our bodies can die, Pendragon. Trust me. I’ve been there. It isn’t pleasant.”

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. I’d forgotten that he had been killed on the old Third Earth. Could life get any stranger?

  He added, “Maybe we should try to turn into birds and fly across.”

  “Last resort,” I said quickly. “Uncle Press told us to use our abilities sparingly.”

  “But if we can’t get across-”

  “We’ll get across,” I said, and started walking.

  The second I looked down through the rails to the river below, I changed my mind. I was no longer sure that we would make it. The ties were rotted, but didn’t necessarily look it. Some seemed porous, but were actually strong. Others looked solid, but crumbled under my weight. The only way to tell was to step on a tie and hope that it didn’t crack. Much of the bridge bed below the tracks had fallen away, leaving gaping holes. We had to move like a couple of tightrope walkers on the rails that spanned these gaps. It was terrifying.

  Each step brought with it a new, ugly sound. Metal groaned. Pipes snapped. Chunks of cement fell away and crashed into the churning water far below. I wasn’t just worried about where we stepped, but about the bridge as a whole. How stable was it? If things started to sway, it would go down for sure, and we’d be crushed in tons of twisted steel. That would hurt. It came down to a test of our own inner strength, and balance. It must have taken an hour to cross the hundred yards of bridge. It felt like a hundred miles. But we made it. The gaps below the rails became smaller with each step. My confidence grew. I hopped the last few yards until my feet were once again on solid ground. I turned quickly to see Patrick not far behind. He was looking down, concentrating, with his arms out wide for balance.

  “You got it,” I said.

  He too hopped the last few yards, joining me on the far side of the river.

  “Let’s not go back that way,” he declared, panting. We turned together to look ahead. “Whoa” was all Patrick could get out. Yeah. Whoa.

  The massive wall was a few hundred yards from where we stood. Still, it towered over us. It really did look like a dam. The surface was light gray and smooth, with an etched pattern of rectangles that revealed it was constructed with a series of blocks. It must have taken years to build. Like the great pyramids. Looking left and right, I couldn’t see where it ended. Was it a straight wall? Or did it turn on an angle to enclose whatever was on the other side? That would have been even more incredible. If this wall continued around, it would have to be the largest structure ever built by man.

  “Eighth Wonder of the World,” I said. “I have no idea what the other seven are, so don’t ask.”

  Rising up from the base of the structure every fifty yards or so were huge, red vertical rectangles that could have been massive doors. Or decorations. I couldn’t tell. They each looked about twenty yards high and half as wide.

  “We aren’t alone,” Patrick pointed out.

  I’m not sure why I didn’t see them at first. It must have been because I was too busy gaping up at the monstrous wall. But at the base of this structure, were people. Even from as far away as we were, I could see that they were Ravinian soldiers. They had on the same red jumpsuits and golden helmets that those guys wore who beat up the man in the zoo. They walked in a line, maybe thirty yards apart, along the base of the wall. Other than the helicopters, it was the first sign of life we’d seen since the zoo.

  “They look like guards,” Patrick pointed out.

  “Yeah, but are they trying to keep people out or in?”

  “It could be a Horizon Compound,” Patrick offered. “Naymeer built walled cities to keep the lower classes separate. I heard they were horrible places.”

  “I guess,” I said, thinking. “But would the Ravinians really need to build something that extreme just to separate people? I mean, that thing would hold back King Kong.”

  Patrick and I exchanged nervous looks, both thinking the same thing. Could that wall have been built to hold back something monstrous?

  “No way,” I finally said. “That’s just… fantasy.”

  “You mean like everything else we’ve been hearing isn’t?”

  I was about to argue why I didn’t think we had to worry about a giant ape when the ground began to rumble. I have to admit, for a brief second I thought that it might have been from the thundering footsteps of a monster monkey.

  We were near the river. The area between us and the wall was a wide stretch of concrete. It reminded me of an empty parking lot at a stadium. That’s how big it was. Weeds grew up through the spider web of cracks that spread out everywhere.

  “Earthquake?” Patrick asked through chattering teeth.

  As if in answer, we heard a grinding, machine sound. To our left the cement surface began to shift. One of the cracks wasn’t a crack. It was a seam. It split apart, creating a gap that stretched from the bank of the river in front of the destroyed bridge, all the way to the wall. The two sides lowered and retracted beneath the ground to either side, creating a gap that was maybe five yards wide. At the bottom of this gap, running the length of the newly formed channel, was a single metal track.

  “Get down!” I yelled, and pulled Patrick toward the river’s edge. Not knowing what we were dealing with, I figured it would be better if we weren’t seen. We jumped down beneath a cement ledge and peered back at the wall to see what the Ravinians might be up to. We were looking the wrong way. The sound of rushing water pulled our attention back to the river. It looked to me like a whirlpool was forming, creating the sucking sound. A moment later something rose up out of the water in front of the bridge.

  “Did King Kong swim?” Patrick asked, transfixed.

  A wide tube pushed up from out of the center of the whirlpool. Its steady movement showed that it wasn’t alive. It was mechanical. I heard a faint whirring sound beneath the sounds of swirling water. The tube rose up from beneath the surface at a steep angle, until it reached the edge of the long trough that held the rail.

  Another mechanical sound followed. Gears were turning. It was coming from the direction of the wall. One of the huge red rectangles began lifting up like a garage door. The rail led right up to it.

  “This is our chance,” I announced. “We gotta get in there.”

  “What?” Patrick shouted in horror. “What if it’s a prison? What if it’s one of the Horizon Compounds?”

  “We have to know,” I answered while looking between the tube that had come up from the water and the rising door.

  “But we can’t just run over there and walk through!” Patrick whined. “There’s no protection. Nowhere to hide. How are we supposed to get there without being seen?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Hey!” he
announced. “We have the power. Why don’t we turn into birds and fly in?”

  I gave him a sharp look. “For one, I don’t know how that works, and I don’t want to try. And two, we’re not supposed to be using that power, remember?”

  “Then come up with a better idea!”

  A shrill whistle sounded. It was coming from the water tube. I felt another slight rumble. The whistle sounded again. It was coming closer.

  “It’s a train,” I declared. “That track must run along the same route as the old ones. The bridge is history, so they went underwater.”

  A moment later a sleek, golden train glided up out of the tube. It looked to me like a cross between a fancy, old-fashioned steam engine and a monorail from Disneyland. It had to be electric, because it moved silently on the single track. The nose came to a point, with a cockpit just above. The body of the train was covered with fancy golden sculptures that looked like vines. They didn’t seem to have any other purpose than to be decorative. The engine was short, and pulled two more longer cars, where I guessed the passengers rode. This was not a freight train. It was a mode of transportation for people who traveled in style. It moved slowly and smoothly. I glanced ahead. The massive red door was open. The train was almost all the way out of the tube. I felt sure that once it was out, it would pick up speed.

  “Now or never,” I declared.

  “Now or never what?” Patrick replied with surprise.

  I scrambled to my feet and climbed up over the lip of the cement embankment. Patrick didn’t.

  “Pendragon!” he wailed. “You’ll get us killed.”

  I turned back to him but kept moving. “So what?” I said. “We’ll just end up in Solara and come right back here. That’s what you did, right?”

  “Yes, but… it hurt!”

  “So then, let’s not get killed.”

  I ran for the train. A quick look back told me Patrick was doing the same. The train was picking up speed. If we were going to jump on, it would have to be right away. The only place that seemed logical to do it was the space between the two passenger cars. I sprinted to the spot where I guessed it would be when I reached the train, and miscalculated by a few feet. The train was accelerating faster than I thought. Instead of grabbing on to the platform between the two cars, I grabbed on to a chunk of the decorative sculpture that was affixed to the side of the train. I trusted it was strong enough to hold me. I jumped, using my arms to climb the sculpture like a jungle gym. I found myself dangling off the side of the train car as it gathered speed. My idea suddenly didn’t seem so bright. I looked back to see Patrick sprinting to catch up. I didn’t think there was any way he would climb up the way I did, so I made my way forward, scrambling carefully along the sculpture until I reached the front of the car. From there I swung my legs over the safety rail, onto the small platform in between. I was on!

  “Let’s go!” I yelled to Patrick.

  The train was speeding up. Patrick wasn’t.

  “Can we please just turn into birds?” he gasped.

  “No! Pick it up!” I yelled.

  Patrick dug in and sprinted forward. He reached out to me. I grabbed his hand and strained to hoist him up and onto the platform. We were on. That was the easy part. We still had to get past the wall, and the guards. We both crouched down, so as not to be seen from inside either car.

  “I hope this wasn’t a mistake,” he wheezed.

  Mistake or not, we were on our way. The monorail train continued on toward the mysterious wall.

  “What do we do if we get in?” Patrick whispered.

  “Let’s worry about that once we’re in,” I answered.

  Truth was, I had no idea what we would do. Or what we would find. Though I felt certain we were in the right place. Whatever this monster wall was, whether it was keeping somebody in or out, it had to have something to do with Saint Dane. That much I was sure about.

  A moment later we arrived at the massive wall. I held my breath, as if that would do any good. We both pushed ourselves flat against the platform to try and look as inconspicuous as possible. Neither of us moved. Patrick looked one way, I looked the other. When we reached the entrance, I saw two Ravinians standing next to the track, looking the other way. I winced, expecting an alarm to go off. Or a guard to shout that there were stowaways sneaking in.

  There were no alarms. We weren’t seen. Seconds later we glided through the door and into another world.

  Chapter 10

  The first thing I noticed was the smell.

  It was good. Sweet even. Until I caught a whiff of the air beyond that wall, I hadn’t realized how truly dead the city we had just left had become. On this side of the wall, the world smelled alive. It gave me hope that we hadn’t entered a prison. Or one of the Horizon Compounds. The smell alone told me that this was a better place than the one we had left. The golden train glided slowly over the single rail, bringing us deeper into this new and mysterious place.

  “We gotta get off,” I whispered to Patrick. “This thing is probably headed toward somewhere with people. Until we know whose side they’re on, we better be invisible.”

  Patrick nodded and looked over the safety rail of the moving platform. He swallowed hard. He wasn’t thrilled about having to jump off a moving train.

  “Don’t think about it,” I warned. “Go.”

  I grabbed the rail with both hands, jumped up, and launched myself up and over with both my legs to one side, like vaulting over a pommel horse in gymnastics. I hit the ground and rolled backward to absorb the shock. It was disorienting, but I bounced back to my feet quickly and turned toward the train to spot Patrick. He wasn’t as quick about it as I was. He stood grasping the handrail, looking nervous, moving away. I wanted to shout “Jump!” but I was afraid of who might hear. All I could do was will him to move.

  He did. It wasn’t exactly graceful. He landed on one leg, tumbled sideways, and fell on his shoulder. Ouch. I ran to him, hoping that he wasn’t hurt. Of course, I knew if something had happened, I could fix it. A healing Traveler hand would do the trick. But that would have sapped more strength from Solara.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  Patrick sat up, rubbing his sore shoulder. “It would have been easier to turn into birds,” he complained.

  I didn’t argue the point. He knew what was at stake. I think he was just complaining for the sake of it. That was okay. He deserved to. The train kept moving. No alarm was sounded. No shouts of “Hey! Who are you guys?” Wherever we were, we had arrived unnoticed. I realized that we were sitting on grass. Soft, green grass. It was a welcome, physical sign of life. There would be more. Many more.

  “Wow,” Patrick said. “I didn’t expect this.”

  That was an understatement. Once the train cleared our field of view, we got a good look at our surroundings. I don’t know what better word to use to describe what we saw other than “beautiful.” Okay, maybe I can think of a few others. Lush. Green. Idyllic. Maybe even perfect. We were sitting next to the single rail that cut through an absolutely spectacular park. At least, I thought it was a park. There were leafy trees, a meadow covered in wildflowers, a narrow stream that meandered quietly along the length of the track, songbirds darting about, and sculptures. Many sculptures. A few yards from the side of the track there was a massive white statue of a naked guy. It was like three times life-size. It was awesome, in more ways than one.

  “David,” Patrick said with a gasp.

  ”Who?”

  “It’s the statue of David by Michelangelo. It’s a pretty good replica.”

  “Maybe it’s the real one,” I suggested.

  “That’s impossible. The David is in Florence, Italy. It’s eight thousand years old; it would never be here and definitely not kept outside like this.” He gave me a dark look and added, “At least, I hope not. The David is one of the great art treasures of all time.”

  We crossed over the rail and found a path that wandered through the grounds. We passed many other elaborate s
culptures and fountains and footbridges that spanned lazy brooks. Oddly, the air was clear and the sky was blue. I wondered how they were able to keep the dirt and grime that swirled through the air outside from descending here.

  “It’s like paradise,” Patrick said.

  “It definitely isn’t one of those Horizon Compounds,” I added. “That answers one question. The wall is to keep people out, because I can’t imagine anybody wanting to leave this place. Especially knowing what’s outside.”

  We passed a few buildings, though calling them “buildings” doesn’t come close to describing them. They were more like palaces. Or mansions. Whoever lived there was definitely living large.

  Eventually we saw people. At first we hid behind trees, so as not to be seen, but we soon realized it wasn’t necessary. There were kids playing touch football on grassy flats.

  Couples strolled around, holding hands. Mothers pushed baby carriages. It all looked so normal, like a park. A really incredible park. I was still wearing the brown sweater and khakis I had glommed from the Chetwyndes’ boat on Second Earth. Patrick wore jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt, which is exactly what he was wearing the day I met him. Oddly, our clothes were totally clean. Except for whatever dirt we’d picked up on our trip from the zoo, it was like our visit to Solara had refurbished everything. The people we saw wore a variety of normal-looking Earth clothing. This could have been a park on Second Earth, which meant we didn’t stand out.

  Besides seeing the people who were enjoying the day, we also saw workers. They wore dark green khaki uniforms with short pants and pith helmets. I didn’t think they were dados because they didn’t all look the same. There were all types, all races, and both men and women. They were trimming trees, cutting the grass, and sweeping the pathways. Yes, sweeping the pathways. Not a leaf was out of place or blade of grass too long. The place was immaculate.

  I asked, “You think if I pulled a flower petal and dropped it, somebody would come running to sweep it up?”