“My favorite part was when I stole Pendragon’s journals,” he cackled. “Man, I had you guys squirming. Pretty good how you got out of that one, I’ll give you that.”
It was too much for Courtney to comprehend. Her whole sense of reality had been turned inside out. “So . . . there never was an Andy Mitchell?” she asked numbly.
“Of course there was,” the kid answered. “You’re looking at him. Except he wasn’t exactly what you thought he was.” Mitchell cackled out another laugh and brushed his hair back. “Surprise!”
“Where’s Mark?” Courtney asked with a touch of desperation.
“Oh, no,” Mitchell said, wagging his finger. “That would be telling. Let’s just say our friendship has entered a whole new phase.”
As the truth sank in, Courtney was hit with a realization that was so stunning, it rocked her back into complete focus. She was no longer frightened. She was mad.
“You killed the Dimonds, didn’t you?” she seethed. “That plane disappeared because of you, Saint Dane.”
Andy Mitchell took a deep bow and said, “Just another piece in a very complicated puzzle.”
Courtney snapped to attention. That was the single most horrifying thing she had ever heard. Everything that had ever happened with Andy Mitchell, from the moment they met him in kindergarten until the death of Mark’s parents, was all a plot. Saint Dane had been working his way into their lives long before they knew about Travelers and flumes and Halla. Whatever his plan for Second Earth was, it had been in the works for years.
“Enjoy your life, Chetwynde,” Mitchell said as he turned back toward the flume. “What is it that your Traveler friend says? Oh yeah. Hobey-ho. Let’s go!”
He leaped into the flume.
“No!” Courtney shouted.
Courtney didn’t think, she acted. She ran at Mitchell, ready to tackle him and keep him from leaving. It was an insane move, but Courtney wasn’t in her right mind. She jumped into the flume, but it was too late. Mitchell was gone. Courtney hit the crystal floor, empty handed.
“Saint Dane!” she screamed at nobody. He was gone.
Courtney was on her hands and knees, still bathed in the light of the flume. That’s when she felt it. The slight tug. Courtney snapped a look deeper into the tunnel. She saw that the light wasn’t disappearing. What was going on? The tug became stronger. Courtney realized with horror that she was being pulled farther in! She got her wits together and crawled backward. At least, she tried to crawl. It was like pulling against a tornado. She spun around, sat on her bottom, and dug her heels into the crystal floor. It didn’t help. She was being pulled, inch by agonizing inch, deep into the flume. The harder she fought, the more difficult it became. She made one last-ditch attempt to stop herself by flipping over and trying to grab the edge of the tunnel with her fingers. It was too late. Her hands scraped across the coarse crystal, and she was yanked into infinity.
When Courtney spun back to look past her toes, she saw that she was on her way. She was traveling. But to where? She had been through a flume before, so she wasn’t terrified. At least she wasn’t terrified of the experience. The fact that she was there at all was a different concern. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and calm down. She had to be prepared for whatever she would find on the far side.
There was one small consolation. Unlike every other time she’d traveled through the flume, the rocky tunnel hadn’t cracked. That was what ultimately destroyed the flume on Eelong. Every time she and Mark had traveled, the flume physically cracked a little bit more, until that last fateful trip when it collapsed and Kasha was killed. But when she was sucked into the flume this time, there was no damage. She couldn’t begin to guess why, but she was grateful.
As she sped through the crystal tunnel, she gazed out onto the starfield beyond. As Bobby had described, she saw many of the ghostly images from the territories, as if they were being projected in space. She recognized some galloping zenzens from Eelong, along with the miniature helicopter that Bobby and Kasha flew to Black Water. She saw what looked like a vast tribe of primitive people, chanting and singing. She also saw something that she recognized from history books as the LZ-129—the airship Hindenburg from First Earth. All the images jumbled into one another, making Courtney feel as if she were traveling through an ocean of time and space, where all the territories existed together.
She had no idea how long she had been flying through the flume. It was long enough that she had calmed down and prepared to face whatever she would find on the far side. At least, she hoped she was ready. She hadn’t said the name of a territory when she left. Then again, neither had Saint Dane. There was no way to know where she might end up. Above all else, she hoped she would find Mark or Bobby.
The musical notes grew more frantic, which meant she was about to arrive at her destination. Courtney tensed up. Just before she landed, the last thought she had was that she wished Mark was with her. A moment later her feet touched solid ground. She stood up, having been gently deposited at the end of the line. Brilliant light swirled everywhere, making it impossible to see where she was. It took a few seconds for the light and music to recede back into the flume, and allow her the first look at her new surroundings. She took a quick look around to see . . . she was back in the root cellar under the Sherwood house. She was still on Second Earth!
Courtney had no idea what to make of that. It was the absolute last place she expected to be. On the other hand, it was the best place she could be. She was safe at home, though she knew “safe” was a relative word. She was relieved, but frustrated. There was nobody she could go to and ask what had happened. She didn’t have Mark to help figure it out. She was about as alone as she had ever been in her life.
She said to herself, Get used to it, Chetwynde.
She felt an odd sensation. Her first thought was that she was being pulled back into the flume, so she jumped forward like she was stepping on hot coals. A quick look back showed her that the flume wasn’t activating. So what was she feeling?
The answer came a second later. Light sparkled from the ring on her finger. The Traveler ring. Mark’s ring. No, her ring. She quickly took it off and put it on the ground in front of the flume. The ring grew and light flashed from the opening. Courtney closed her eyes. She needed a second to catch her breath. She didn’t know when she’d get another chance. The musical notes grew louder, and ended just as quickly. When Courtney opened her eyes, the ring was back to normal. On the ground next to it was another envelope just like the last one that had come through. It was Bobby’s next journal from Quillan.
The first journal she was solely responsible for.
She said out loud, “And so we go.”
JOURNAL #26
QUILLAN
This is the beginning of the end. Or the end of the beginning. I’m not sure which. After you finish reading this journal, guys, you can tell me. In fact, you can tell me in person because I’m coming home. It’s time. Ever since Saint Dane made that comment on Zadaa about knowing what’s happening with Courtney, I’ve been worried about what might be going on back there. Maybe I should have already come home, but I made the choice to go to Quillan. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.
My experience here on Quillan has been different than on any of the other territories. As I’m writing this, I’m still not a hundred percent sure of what the turning point is. Saint Dane was right about one thing—this territory is a mess. I already told you a lot about it. I’ve seen so much more. I’ll tell you about it in this journal. The big question is, is Quillan already lost? I don’t think so.
I’ve been given a golden opportunity to try to make things better, at least in a small way. It may not be a huge, global turning point, but who knows? Maybe a small positive change can snowball and help put the territory back on its feet. That’s hoping for a lot, but what can I say? It’s all I’ve got.
It won’t be easy. In fact, it’s pretty scary. But that’s okay. I’m up for it. I’m writing this
journal now, because it’s about to begin. When it’s over, I believe I will have done as much as I can for the people of Quillan. But there’s more to it than that. If I’m successful, and I will be, I think I’ll be taking a huge step toward reaching the end of this whole odyssey. Not just here on Quillan, but as a Traveler. Saint Dane is losing, I’m sure of that now. He’s desperate. We’ve lost Travelers along the way, and that is a tragedy, but we’re winning. You know how I keep writing about how I’m afraid that we may be winning battles and possibly losing the war? I don’t think that’s the case anymore. I think we’re winning battles and getting close to winning the war, too. Saint Dane’s confidence isn’t what it used to be. Since I became a Traveler, he has done everything he could to get me to give up, but I’m still here. He tried to get me to join him, but I never considered it, even for a second. On Zadaa he went so far as to beat me up physically to get me to give up the fight. It didn’t work. It only made me stronger. Here on Quillan he’s trying something new. He’s going to fail at that, too. All this tells me is that he’s running out of ideas. We’re going to beat him, guys. I think what’s happening here on Quillan is the beginning of the end. Or the end of the beginning . . . of my life as a Traveler. Of course there are no guarantees. Anything can happen. But for the first time since I left home, I can see the end, and it’s good.
To explain what I’m about to do, I have to go back to when I was kidnapped away from Veego and LaBerge by the Traveler from Quillan, Nevva Winter. It turned out that she wasn’t at all the person I first thought she was. But more about that later. After the accident I was kept in that cool, wet, fishy-smelling cell for about a day. They tried to make me comfortable, but that wasn’t easy considering the bed was a thin mattress and it was so damp that my bones ached. At least it wasn’t as bad as that cell on Eelong. Not by a long shot. Compared to that, this was like living large at the Manhattan Tower Hotel.
I wasn’t treated badly, though. There was a guy stationed outside my room who actually apologized for having to keep me in that cell. He said I wasn’t a prisoner, but that it wouldn’t be safe for me to be wandering around. I didn’t question him. Safe was good. A few times I asked him where I was and who the others were, but he just shook his head and said it wasn’t his place to tell me.
Just once I’d like to meet up with somebody who had all the answers and was willing to spill.
I took the time to write my last journal and collect my thoughts. Of course everything Saint Dane told me about Blok and how it controlled every aspect of everything on Quillan kept rolling around in my head. This was a territory run entirely by a store, and for profit. It was a soulless society that existed only to serve the bottom line of Blok, and to make those who ran the company wealthy. How sick was that?
On top of my worrying about the sad state of Quillan, Saint Dane had dangled a very big carrot that was tearing me apart. He wanted me to compete in the big game called the Grand X. Why? He wanted to see me lose. No, he wanted to see me humiliated. In return he offered to explain the origin of the Travelers. Could I trust him? It was an incredible opportunity. He was offering to unlock everything. Everything! I could discover who I really was and what had happened to my family. But as desperate as I was to learn those truths, I decided that the stakes were too high. With the Quillan games it wasn’t so much about winning or losing, it was about staying alive. People died playing these games. It wasn’t worth the risk, no matter how tempting the payoff. No way I was going to enter the Grand X.
That’s where my head was as I hung out in that cell. I tried to get some sleep and probably nodded out a few times, but it sure wasn’t restful. At one point my guard came in with a breakfast of dry bread and overripe fruit. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but I was too hungry to care. I was nearly finished when my cell door opened again, and in stepped the person I wanted most to see. Nevva Winter. Finally! She was dressed all in black, just as she had been the day before when I was kidnapped. She moved quickly, almost nervously. That was her style.
“Good morning!” she said, hurrying in. “I hope you slept well.”
“Keep hoping,” I said.
Nevva had a black tool that looked like a heavy set of pliers, with sharp teeth. She opened and shut the jaws, saying, “These are impossible to come by. This one was stolen from a security dado.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hold your left arm out,” she commanded.
I did. Nevva slipped one end of the jaws underneath the silver loop on my arm. Excellent! She was going to free me from my electronic leash.
“Hold still,” she said. “This might hurt.”
“Hurt?” I shouted in surprise. “Why would it—”
The loop squeezed my arm as she clamped the jaws around it. The little needles, or whatever they were that held it tight, dug into my arm.
“Owwww!” I said. “Let go!”
“We’ve got to get rid of this,” she said, grunting with exertion.
“Then hurry!” The loop was cutting off my circulation. If she didn’t hurry, it would cut off my whole arm! “Owwww!” I heard a quick, sharp electronic chirp. An instant later the pain was gone. The loop released. Nevva clipped through it, and the vicious cuff fell to the floor. I rubbed my biceps to get the circulation back.
“There,” she said triumphantly. “You’re free.”
“Thanks, I think. Why the special tool?”
“This not only cuts through the metal, it interrupts the power source,” she explained. “If you try to cut off a loop without interrupting the power, it will squeeze off your arm.”
Yikes.
“I’m glad I didn’t know that before you got it off,” I said.
“Put these on,” she commanded, handing me a black shirt, pants, and jacket like the ones she was wearing. “You can’t go around dressed like a challenger.”
She turned her back to give me some privacy. I changed quickly, happy to be rid of that challenger shirt.
“I’m sorry you had to spend the night here,” she said. “There was nothing I could do. There was an investigation into the accident when we freed you. I had to be there with the security force to report back to the trustees. If I wasn’t there, it would have raised suspicions and—”
“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “It’s cool. I’m just glad you got me away from those guys.”
“It was very well planned,” Nevva said. “I know, because I planned it. Everything had to work perfectly or people might have gotten hurt. That’s why you weren’t brought before the trustees sooner. I needed time to organize the operation.”
That explained why I had to wait at the castle so long before being brought to Blok.
“Who helped you do all this?” I asked.
“I’ll answer your questions later,” she replied quickly. “We need to get moving. There is so much to do, and I don’t have much time so—”
“Stop!” I said firmly. “Take a breath, all right?”
She was talking so fast it was like she was a wind-up toy with a tight spring.
“You got me out of there, that’s great. But I’m not moving until you tell me who the hell you are,” I said.
“I did tell you!” she complained. “I’m the Traveler from Quillan.”
“Yeah, but that’s all you’ve told me,” I said. “I don’t know anything else about you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bust out of here and jump back into the flume.”
Nevva took a breath to calm herself, which didn’t look easy for her to do. She always seemed to be in hyperdrive.
“All right,” she answered. “Here’s your reason to stay. I know how to save Quillan.”
Oh.
We stared each other down for a good long moment.
“Okay, good reason,” I finally said, trying to sound casual. It was actually a great reason, but I needed to wrestle back some kind of control.
“Now would you please come with me?” she asked.
“No,” I answered, and
sat down. “I need to know what I’ve gotten myself into. Or should I say, I need to know what you’ve gotten me into.”
Nevva sighed and glanced at her watch. “I suppose we can spare a few minutes,” she said as if she guarded her minutes very carefully.
I said, “Start with telling me your story.”
Nevva glanced out the cell door to see if anyone was listening. They weren’t. She opened the cell door wide to make sure we’d see if anybody happened by. She seemed upset. I didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want to open up about herself, or because I was throwing off her precious schedule. I didn’t care. I needed to know.
“I’ve always lived here in the city of Rune,” she began. “My father was an engineer who specialized in dado repair. My mother was a maintenance worker at the Blok building. That meant she cleaned the offices of the trustees. Both worked for the same wage that is assigned to lower-sector workers, which is to say we were barely getting by. But we did get by. Things would have been fine, if not for the fact that I was, how should I put it, gifted. From the time I was quite young, I tested very high on the intelligence charts. My parents felt I was destined for great things. They didn’t want to see me working a job in the lower sector, where it is so difficult to earn a living wage. But to do that, I needed to go to school. And that was a problem.”
“Why? Aren’t there public schools on Quillan?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘public’, but most children do not go to school. Only the gifted ones, and it is quite expensive. My parents worked two shifts each to pay the fees. They had such high hopes for me, there was nothing they wouldn’t have done to give me a better life.”
I wondered if Nevva’s parents were her biological parents. So many of the Travelers were raised by people who weren’t, including me.
“I did well in school,” Nevva said. “I was being groomed for a management position within Blok. It was exactly what my parents hoped for. But it was getting more and more difficult for them to earn enough to keep me in school. The higher the grade level I reached, the more expensive it became.” Her voice grew solemn. “That’s when my father started to wager on the games.”