I lifted my own.
Wump.
I never fired. I didn’t get the chance. My entire body went rigid. It felt like being Tasered by the Ravinian guards when Alder and I arrived at the Sherwood mansion on Second Earth. I’m sure I hit the floor, but I don’t remember it, because an instant after feeling the jolt, I was unconscious.
Waking up from being rudely separated from consciousness is never easy. I should know. It’s happened to me often enough. There’s that initial feeling of disconnection, followed by the pain of whatever event caused the lights to go out, followed by the desperate need to understand exactly where I had landed and what situation I’d have to deal with. This time was no different. Once I started becoming aware of my surroundings, the first thing I realized was that I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move. Not a pinkie. I didn’t panic. I hadn’t pulled far enough away from the land of the unconscious to feel as if it were anything permanent. I had been through this enough times to know I had to bring my brain back online before I could expect it to control my body.
One thing was clear. I may have been the illusion that Saint Dane said I was, but at that moment my body felt all too real. I hurt every bit as much as if I had been born in Stony Brook, Connecticut, instead of in some alternate universe filled with spirits. At that moment I kind of wished I was a little more spirit like and a little less humanlike.
I opened my eyes and tried to focus. There wasn’t a dado in sight, which meant I was no longer in that factory. I was flat on my back and looking up at a ceiling covered with white tiles. Was this a hospital? It didn’t seem like a prison. I moved my head, which meant I wasn’t paralyzed.
At least not from the neck up, anyway. Mark was lying next to me, still unconscious. Someone had covered us with dark green blankets. I saw that we were lying on thin mats and not directly on the floor. That was good. At least we were being treated semi-okay.
I felt control slowly returning. I twisted my head around to see that we were in a large, empty room. Windows were set high near the ceiling. There would be no way to get out that way. The walls were covered with ornate tiles that created mosaic patterns. If this was a prison, it was a fancy one. I rolled my head the other way and saw that someone was standing by the only door.
Nevva Winter.
“You’ll be fine,” she said without compassion. “The effects are temporary, which is better than what those weapons do to the dados. Where did you get them, by the way?”
Nevva wore a dark outfit that kind of reminded me of Saint Dane’s black suit. But not quite as severe looking. She had a cloth belt that tied at the waist and an open collar. It looked more like a dark warm-up suit. Her hair was tied back too, which was different from the way she’d worn it on Quillan. This was more casual and made her look almost human. Still, she had those piercing eyes that made me remember just how cold and calculating she could be.
“Water?” she asked.
Elli. Where was Elli? I forced myself up to my elbows and scanned the room. Another body was lying against a far wall. Her face was covered, but I saw the end of Elli’s gray ponytail poking out from beneath the blanket that was over her. She was here, but still unconscious. I hoped that the effects of the blast hadn’t hurt her.
“No,” I answered.
Nevva walked toward me. “Why did you come back?”
I put on my best smile. “I missed you.”
Nevva didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. She glared at me. “It’s over, Pendragon,” she said with a touch of impatience. “Halla has fallen. Anything that you and the Travelers do now is futile.”
“So then you won’t mind that we hang around a little longer,” I replied.
“You can do whatever you like, but why would you bring Mark here and put him in jeopardy? That’s just irresponsible. He’s your friend.”
I gave her a surprised look and said, “Wow. Do you really care?”
Nevva grimaced and turned away. It struck me that she hadn’t said anything about Elli. Did she even know that her mother was lying only a few feet away? It didn’t seem like it.
“Leave, Pendragon,” Nevva said. “Take your friends with you and find someplace safe for them to live.”
She said “your friends.” She didn’t know that Elli was one of them. I had to figure out a way to use that to our advantage. I also had to figure out a way to learn what Nevva knew about the exiles.
“Sorry,” I said. “Monkeying with Saint Dane is a hard habit to break. I think I’ll keep at it.”
“But it’s over!” she repeated with a touch of frustration. “Surely you understand that. You’re fighting a war that has ended. The territories are no longer. Every world in Halla has been cleansed. There’s nothing left to do now but rebuild.”
I sat up. “Cleansed? Is that what you call it? What you mean is that the people Saint Dane considers worthy are living the life, and everybody else has either been killed or will be soon.”
“We have rewarded excellence,” Nevva said patiently. “That has been the vision from the beginning. Nothing has happened to the rest of the people of Halla that they didn’t bring about themselves.”
“You’re kidding, right? Saint Dane manipulated the people of seven worlds into making decisions that led to their own destruction, and you’re saying it’s their fault? That’s like pushing a puppy out into traffic and saying it was his own fault that he got hit by a car. Give me a break!”
Nevva took a breath. She was trying to control her emotions. “I know you don’t feel that a guided future is right. You believe that people should be free to choose their own destiny. But time and again the people of Halla have chosen poorly. And not just where Saint Dane was involved. The people of Halla were flawed, and I have no doubt that if Saint Dane never intervened, their destruction would have occurred anyway. This way, we have separated those who are worthy of rebuilding Halla and protected them from those who are not. I know, the worlds of Halla are in shambles, but it was necessary. This is only the beginning. We are going to make it right this time, Pendragon. We are going to create Utopia.”
I stood up. My head hurt and my legs weren’t working that well, but I didn’t want to be sitting on the floor to have this discussion. I wanted to be on Nevva’s level.
“What about the dado attack on Ibara?” I asked. “Did the people of Ibara bring that on themselves?”
Nevva blinked. She didn’t answer right away. I had struck a chord.
“They created the situation that allowed for it to happen,” she finally answered.
“No, they didn’t!” I shot right back. “They saw that their society was in trouble, looked ahead, and did exactly the kind of thing that you’re talking about. They created Ibara as a way to save Veelox. And they were going to succeed, until Saint Dane convinced the Flighters to attack and destroy the pilgrim ships, and then invaded the island with dados. Where was his grand vision there? The dado attack was sent as a conquering army. Plain and simple. It wasn’t the people of Veelox who let that happen. It was all Saint Dane. How do you explain that?”
For the first time since I’d known her, Nevva looked unsure of herself. “It… it was about you, Pendragon. It was intended to put you to the test, and you failed.”
“So what if I did? I’m not even from Halla! What was I being tested for?”
“The ends justified the means,” she complained.
“No!” I shouted back at her. “You can’t tell me this is all about doing what is best for Halla. Maybe at one time that’s what Saint Dane thought. Maybe on some philosophical level he was right. Who knows? But it’s not about that anymore. It’s about his own selfish goals. He wants to be king, Nevva. No, he wants to be a god. He wants to create his own Halla. It’s the ultimate power play. He’s living in a palace. He likes being human. Look how he’s changed himself. He’s developed vanity. He wants to look good. Don’t you see that? That’s why he sent conquering armies, and that’s why he’s built another army of dados to do it again. Whatever noble thoughts he may have had at one time have been corrupted. If you think he’s got any other goal than to be a god, you’re kidding yourself.”
Nevva looked stunned. I couldn’t believe that my words had hit her that strongly. No way. She was too firmly committed to her mission to let a little argument like this change her mind. But something I had said got through, and shook her.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s built another army’?” she asked tentatively.
“Oh, please,” I shot back. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“We saw the factory, Nevva. Where do you think we got shot by the dados?”
