“I guess I don’t have to ask if this was here when you left,” Mark said.
“Whatever that is,” Courtney said softly, “my family is part of it now.”
Courtney stared at the star a moment, then turned away, headed back toward the kitchen.
“Forget it,” she said abruptly. “I gotta get out of here. I’ll find some other clothes.”
Before she could take a second step, the front door of the house flew open, smashing against the wall. The sound was so loud it made them both jump in surprise. They spun to see five men enter quickly. They all wore dark red clothing and small-brimmed red caps.
One man, who seemed to be the leader, called out, “Don’t move, please.”
“Like hell!” Courtney shouted, and ran for the kitchen. Mark was right behind her. They sprinted for the back door, but before Courtney could grab it, that door flew open as well. “Ahh!” Courtney screamed.
More men poured in. They were dressed the same as the others, only these men were holding something over their faces, like masks. Courtney took a swing at the first guy. The man ducked it easily. She wound up for another punch, too late. The next man through the door held up a small canister.
“Look out!” Mark yelled to Courtney.
She didn’t. The man sprayed something in her face, hitting her with a thick, wet mist. Courtney thought it smelled like lemons. A second later her world twisted. She glanced back to see Mark on his back. He had gotten an even bigger whiff of the lemons. Courtney fell to her knees, beginning to lose consciousness. She looked up at the intruders with the fleeting thought that her parents couldn’t be involved with these monsters. How could they be?
She had one more thought before folding. The man who held up the canister had a star tattooed on his arm. She wondered if her parents were tattooed as well.
Her cheek hit the floor and she was gone.
JOURNAL #34
IBARA
Itfeels strange to write these words, but I have to because, well, they are the truth.
Mark, Courtney, I am having an amazingly great time. I guess I’m feeling kind of guilty about it, because I shouldn’t be having so much fun when you consider that the reason I’m here is because of a brutal war and the near destruction of a territory. Maybe Saint Dane is right. You’ve got to break something down before you can rebuild.
Whoa. Did I just write that? Did I actually agree with something Saint Dane said? Oh great. There’s something else to feel guilty about. But not really. This is different. Saint Dane’s plan for the destruction of Ibara was intentional. He was trying to bring it about. I’m just dealing with the end result of events that were beyond my control. I’m coming from a completely different place. I guess you could say that I’m trying to make the best of it, and it’s working out pretty well.
I suppose “fun” isn’t the best word to describe what I’m doing. I’ve actually been working really hard. Cleaning up the wreckage of Rayne was grueling. I wrote all about that before. Every last person who lives in Rayne did their part, and we were left with a clean slate. The beach was clear. We saved many of the beautiful palm trees. Tribunal Mountain was intact. What followed was the rebuilding of a village.
I won’t go into all the details of the work because it was extensive. Rayne may have been a simple fishing village built on a quiet tropical bay, but it was surprisingly sophisticated. As much as the tribunal didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past and become slaves to technology, some of the more rudimentary elements of civilization were used once again. Pipes were replaced to bring running water back through the village. The simple power grid needed repair so that each new hut would have light. The communication system was intact because it was powered from Tribunal Mountain. There were engineers who maintained each of those systems, and oversaw their rebuilding.
My crew worked on rebuilding the huts. For me it was the best job, because the results were tangible. After a hard day’s work we had an actual, physical structure to show for it. Simple as that. I guess it was symbolic as much as anything, but seeing these structures begin to dot the sand gave me the gratification of knowing I was working to make something real. Maybe guilt played in there a little bit as well. I was the one who brought the tak to Ibara that destroyed the village in the first place. Of course, it would have been worse if Saint Dane had his way, but still. I had a hand in leveling the place, and now I’m having a very big hand in rebuilding it. It’s an awesome feeling to do something so positive. There are no downsides here. I’m feeling great.
Another good thing is that the people of Rayne seem to like me. I’m no longer considered a mysterious outsider. I’m one of them. They trust me and follow me. I’m in charge of many workers, and they could easily blow me off, but they haven’t. I think I’m a good leader. I try to be fair and spread the workload, and I never ask somebody to do something I wouldn’t do myself. I think they respect that. It’s keeping me in great shape, too. I’m putting on some serious muscle. That’ll happen when you’re lugging around lengths of building materials all day.
Genj and the others on the tribunal are always asking my opinions on things too. Genj in particular. He’s always telling me how glad he is that I’m there and what a great job I’m doing. More than once he’s said that he doesn’t know where they would be if I hadn’t come to Ibara. I believe it was that feeling that led them to do something that took me by surprise. Even as I’m writing this, I’m having trouble believing what happened.
One evening, at the end of the workday, I was summoned from the job site to the mountain for an audience with the tribunal. That’s what the security guy called it: “an audience.” Up until that point my relationship with Genj and Moman and Drea had been pretty informal. Even though they were the big bosses, they always treated me as an equal. More or less. The fact that I was being summoned for an audience suddenly felt kind of official. Ominous even. As I walked toward that meeting, I kept racking my brain trying to figure out what I might have done wrong.
I entered the mountain and climbed the stone stairs that led to the vast cavern that was the tribunal’s meeting place. The closer I got, the more nervous I became. What had I done? What had gone wrong? I reached the floor and saw the three members of the tribunal sitting behind their desk, looking seriously formal. They wore the same simple light green clothing with long sleeves and pants that they had worn the day I first met them. That was a surprise, because for the last few months they had been dressing exactly like everyone else in Rayne. They were working hard too, and they dressed for it in work clothes. Now they were looking all sorts of official. Gulp. I walked forward, uncertain. It was like a wall had descended between us. Just that morning we were talking and kidding like friends. Now I was being called to the principal’s office. I stood in front of them without saying a word. Genj, Drea, and Moman stared back at me, expressionless. I wanted to break the tension and shout, “Guys? What the heck?” I didn’t. I’m learning to keep my mouth shut.
Finally, after enough time had gone by so that my armpits were totally soaked with nervous sweat, Genj said, “Pendragon, do you know why you’re here?”
Swell. A quiz. Did he mean did I know why I was standing in front of them feeling awkward and sweaty, or did I know why I was on Ibara? I didn’t know the answer to the first question and didn’t want to answer the second.
“No.” Can’t go wrong with that answer.
Drea continued, “We’ve been observing you closely since the day you arrived on Ibara and were attacked by the swarm of bees.”
Right. The quig-bees. I’d almost forgotten about that. Or maybe I forced it out of my head.
“As you know, we do not welcome outsiders,” Moman continued. “But you knew of our dear, lost Remudi. We originally decided to let you stay, on the chance you might help us learn what had happened to him.”
I knew exactly what had happened to him. He was the Traveler from Ibara. Saint Dane killed him during a Tato match on Quillan. As much as they wanted to know what had become of their former tribunal member, they would never learn that particular truth.
“Unfortunately,” Moman added, “we still do not know of his fate.”
I nodded sympathetically and said, “I wish I could help you.” It was the truth. I really did wish I could help.
