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?
