Loor knelt on the sand with Bokka’s head in her lap. I remembered the horrible moment when she had done the same with her mother, Osa. It was a cruel twist of fate that Loor now had to see another loved one die the same way. As sad as that was, we had more pressing problems to deal with. Saangi and I joined Loor. I looked back to see the Tiggen guards gather around the assassin, whose weapon was aimed at us. Two words came to mind: firing squad. If the Tiggen guard wanted to kill us, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it.
“Why?” I asked. “We’ve done nothing to you.”
“Bokka was a traitor,” the assassin said. “He deserved to die. We came for him, not you.”
The assassin took a step backward, while keeping the weapon on us. The others followed, but kept their eyes on us.
“Do not follow us,” he said. “Or you will die along with him.”
The other Tiggens turned and jogged off. We didn’t move. It wasn’t worth it. A moment later they were gone. They probably crawled back into the sand and slithered off like the snakes they were. I was numb. None of this made sense.
“Kidik,” Bokka whispered.
He was alive! The poor guy was fighting to stay focused. “Quiet,” Loor said, cradling his head. “We will care for you.”
“I know the truth,” Bokka wheezed. “I came to tell you. They followed me, to stop me.”
This was horrible. Bokka was dying. With his last few breaths he was trying to tell us something that was important enough to be murdered for. With one weak hand, he motioned to his boot.
“What?” I asked.
“Look,” he said.
The Tiggen guards didn’t wear open sandals like the rest of the Rokador. They wore soft, sand-colored leather boots that reached nearly to their knees. I saw that tucked into his right boot, barely poking out the top, was a folded piece of parchment paper. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a map.
“Go to Kidik,” Bokka rasped. He was fading fast. “The truth lies beyond the city, out in the center. It is… it is…a nightmare.”
“What is the truth?” Loor asked. I could see that her eyes were tearing up. Her best friend was about to die.
“Find the man,” Bokka wheezed. “The stranger.” He coughed, gasping for breath.
“What man, Bokka?” I asked. “What is the truth?”
Bokka tried to focus on me, but he was slipping fast. “He says he is from your tribe, Pendragon.”
“What?” I shouted in surprise.
“Beyond the city. There is a vehicle waiting to take you there. Find him.”
“Who is he, Bokka?”
Bokka coughed. It was painful to watch. I found myself taking a deep breath, as if it would help him breathe. It didn’t. He winced, but forced himself to focus. He looked me right in the eye and said, “His name is…Saint Dane.”
They were the last two words he would ever speak.
JOURNAL #21
(CONTINUED)
ZADAA
Thenext few hours passed in a blur. We first brought Bokka’s body into the barracks and covered him. Loor was amazingly stoic. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head. Her best friend from birth had been killed by his own people. The only way I could relate would be to imagine if something happened to either of you two guys, Mark and Courtney. It was beyond horrible. Bokka died trying to help Loor. To help us. I regretted ever being jealous of the guy. He was a hero. Still, Loor couldn’t allow herself time to mourn. We needed to take care of the living, and Alder needed help. Fast. We knew where to get it.
We awkwardly carried the injured Bedoowan knight to the entrance to the underground, and the small train that would take us back to the crossroads. It wasn’t easy. Alder was big and heavy. None of us complained. As we traveled along in that miniature train, I hoped that we wouldn’t run into the Tiggen assassins. If they thought we were following them, well, let’s just say I’m really glad we didn’t see them.
We made it through the crossroads without problems, and continued the journey back to Xhaxhu. Luckily we found a cart that we were able to load Alder into so we could push him along. Without that cart it would have taken us twice as long to get back, and every second counted. We had to be careful, though. We didn’t want to take the arrow out. Loor said it would only make him bleed more.
Throughout the trip, none of us said anything about Bokka’s last words. There would be time for that later. Now it was all about Alder. As we moved quickly through the tunnels, all I could do was stare at him and hope that we wouldn’t be losing another Traveler. The thought was too painful to even imagine. Loor had her hand over Alder’s heart, as if trying to transmit some kind of cosmic energy into his body to keep him alive. It was sweet, and gut-wrenching at the same time.
Our goal was to get back to the hospital where I had been treated, and hope that the doctor who cared for me would be willing to help. By the time we arrived in Xhaxhu it was night, so we were able to use the darkness for cover as we made our way through the streets to the hospital pyramid. We found our way in and brought Alder to a quiet room, away from suspicious eyes, while Saangi went to find the doctor who had treated me. It didn’t take her long. She found him and immediately brought him to the secluded room. When he saw us, his shoulders fell. He did not want the responsibility of caring for another Rokador.
“What is your name?” I asked the doctor.
“Nazsha,” the man answered.
I spoke slowly and sincerely, in the hope that whatever abilities of persuasion I had as a Traveler would kick in. If we ever needed them, it was now.
“When you treated me, Nazsha,” I said, “you said you thought I could help the Batu. You were right. That’s what I’m trying to do. And so is this injured man.”
Alder was still unconscious. His white Rokador tunic was drenched in his own blood. He was alive, but I didn’t know for how much longer.
The doctor gave him a quick look and said, “That is the arrow of a Rokador.”
“It is,” I said.
“And you now wear the armor of a Ghee,” he said, confused.
“You were right before,” I said. “We aren’t Rokador. Without your help, he’ll die.”
The doctor looked at me. I saw the questions in his eyes. If he didn’t believe we were there to help the Batu, at least I hoped he was like the doctors on Second Earth who were supposed to help the sick and injured, no matter what.
“This could bring me trouble,” he said.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But isn’t all of Xhaxhu already in serious trouble?”
The doctor looked back to Alder. I could tell he was debating with himself about what to do.
“Bring him,” Nazsha finally ordered.
I’d like to take the credit for convincing the guy to help, but I think it was more because he was the kind of guy who always helped those in need. Loor and I each took one of Alder’s arms and carried the big knight through the sandstone corridors to a forgotten area deep within the bowels of the hospital. There, safely away from curious eyes, the doctor went to work. He cut off Alder’s blood-soaked clothing and pulled out the arrow, which I couldn’t watch. The squishy, sucking sound was bad enough. Alder looked pale, and not just Rokador-pale. It was from the blood loss. Doctor Nazsha cleaned him up and packed the wound with something that looked like leaves dipped in honey. He then went to work with needle and thread to close it up. I guess I don’t have to point out that I didn’t watch that, either. After he finished sewing, he dressed the wound with some salve and forced Alder to drink a
