Raven Rise (24 page)

The Garden was packed. A full house. An elevated stage was erected in the dead center of the arena, where the tip-off of a basketball game would take place. It was surrounded by a solid pack of eager people. There wasn't a square inch of space available.

Mark nudged Courtney and pointed to a series of large red flags that hung from every level. They ringed the huge arena, creating a circle of bright, fluttering red.

“I think I'm going to faint,” Mark whispered.

Each of the red flags had a single, large symbol. The star symbol. A single, huge white star was painted on the floor of the black stage.

“It's okay,” Courtney whispered back, her voice quivering. “This is what we wanted, right? We need to know what this is about.”

Four huge photos covered each side of the square scoreboard that hung over the center of the arena. They were different close-ups of the man from the television commercial. He looked like a kindly old grandfather, with perfect hair and a warm smile. To Mark and Courtney, it seemed he was staring right at them.

“He personally wanted you to be here,” Eugene said, motioning to the photos. He had suddenly appeared behind Mark and Courtney.

“Who did?” Mark asked.

Eugene looked surprised. “Why, Naymeer of course.”

“Nay-who?” Courtney asked.

Eugene chuckled as if Courtney had made a joke. She hadn't.

“Why would he want
us
to be here?” Mark asked.

“I believe he's been wanting to meet you since you paid a visit to his home last night. You left in such a hurry, he never got the chance to chat. Enjoy!”

Eugene backed away, leaving Mark and Courtney alone. Mark sat down in a front-row seat. Hard. His legs wouldn't hold him anymore. Courtney held on to the railing, because she feared she might go over the edge.

“No” was all Mark could get out.

“Yes,” Courtney countered. “It's the guy from the window of the Sherwood house. With the dog.”

“Then the guys who grabbed us from your parents' house—,” Mark continued.

“Yeah,” Courtney interrupted again. “They were the ones shooting at us.”

“That means the man who's running this whole show—”

“Lives on top of the flume.”

The lights in the arena went dark. The crowd didn't cheer the way they would at a concert. Instead they grew quiet. Eerily quiet. Grand music swelled. A single spotlight hit the stage, illuminating the star.

The show was about to begin.

(CONTINUED)

The star on the floor began to
sparkle, sending out pinpoints of light that danced over the thousands of mesmerized faces. People raised their hands with their palms open, swaying to the music.

Mark and Courtney sat close to each other. Watching. Wide eyed.

The music continued, building in energy. The people moved rhythmically, their eyes closed to allow themselves to be swept away by the sound.

A booming voice echoed throughout the arena. It was a man's voice with a hint of a British accent. The voice was calm, but spoke with the authority that came from total confidence.

“Convergence,” the voice began. “All that ever was. All that will be.”

Mark held Courtney tighter. “Is this it?” he whispered. “Is this the Convergence?

Courtney stared straight ahead.

“Embrace it,” the voice continued. “It is for you. The chosen. The visionaries. The elite.”

The crowd let out a gasp of excitement, as if loving the words.

The voice boomed, “When the Convergence arrives, do not have doubts. Do not listen to the skeptics, for they are the lost. The future is yours. Let us enter into it with joy…together!”

The sparkling lights stopped abruptly. Several spotlights hit the center of the stage to reveal a man standing in the center of the star. The crowd erupted with rapturous gasps of joy. He was the same elderly man with the perfect gray hair that Mark and Courtney saw on the television commercial. His pictures hung from the scoreboard. He wore a long, deep red robe. On the back of the robe was a golden star. He stood with his hands out and a warm, fatherly smile on his face. Though he was older, he stood straight and tall—his age was not about to slow him down.

“Naymeer?” Courtney whispered.

Mark shrugged. “I guess.”

The man stepped off the star and circled the stage so everybody could get a good look at him. People from below reached up, trying to touch his gown. He never got close enough to the edge for that to happen. Mark noticed that there were several security types on the floor, holding the crowd back from touching the man. They all wore the same red shirts as the guys who had kidnapped them. And shot at them. On either end of the arena near the ceiling, two huge video screens flashed to life, each showing a live close-up of the man named Naymeer.

The crowd gasped, as if seeing him this way was more than they could handle. Mark looked around to see that each and every person was transfixed. Some were actually in tears. There were people of all ages and races. Some wore western-style business suits, others wore traditional wardrobe from other cultures. They saw colorful wraps that could have come from African nations. Some women wore saris and several men wore turbans. They also saw what looked like military uniforms from different countries.

As unique as the people seemed, they all had one thing in common—they were transfixed by the man who stalked the stage. Many reached toward him, even from the highest level, as if getting just a few inches closer was a good thing.

“He's loving this,” Courtney whispered.

The man circled the stage twice while the music pulsed. Naymeer raised his hand and the music stopped on cue. The people instantly became silent.

“Whoa,” Courtney remarked. “They're like trained dogs.”

“My friends,” Naymeer began. His voice was the same amplified voice they had heard before. “The journey that began for me so long ago is about to end, and a new journey will begin…for all of us. I am so very pleased that you have chosen to join me.”

As he spoke, he circled the stage. He seemed to be making direct eye contact with each and every person there.

“I was given a gift,” he continued. “A gift that means nothing if I cannot share it with you. I have seen the future. I have seen the past. I have seen in each and every one of you the spark of inspiration that will guide our way. You have answered the call. You are the elite. You are the strong. You are the enlightened. You…are…Ravinia!”

The crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer that lasted for five minutes. The whole while, Naymeer stalked the stage, looking into the people's eyes, soaking up their adoration.

“This could go on for days,” Courtney quipped.

Mark said, “This is some kind of cult of the elite. He's telling them that they are the chosen.”

“I guess that means those people outside are the not-chosen,” Courtney added. “Sucks for them. I guess.”

“Yeah, but chosen for what?”

Naymeer held his hand up and the people quickly quieted down. Every last one, instantly.

“That's just odd,” Courtney whispered.

Naymeer continued, “You have read the writings. You know my story. I was near death. A poor, weak foundling. Nothing more than an inconsequential spec of sand being blown through a harsh, flawed world. Until I had the vision. The truth. It gave me the strength to live. My friends, I cannot tell you why I was chosen. I like to think that I was an example of what can be. From humble beginnings can grow a mighty force. I believe I was chosen because I had in me the same potential and power that I see in each of you. The power to thrive. The power to create. The power to choose light over dark. Strength over weakness. Right over wrong. From that moment on, I dedicated my life to finding and gathering those who share my vision. Together we will forge a new world. A superior existence. A shining tower. We will cast aside the weak and the needy in order to revel in the glory of a new Halla!”

Mark's stomach turned.

Courtney gasped.

The crowd went nuts.

“H-Halla?” Mark said to Courtney over the screaming crowd. “Do they know?”

For once in her life, Courtney was speechless. All she could do was shake her head in stunned silence. The cheering went on for another ten minutes. Mark and Courtney looked around to see people out of their minds with emotion. People fainted. People cried. People laughed. People hugged.

“This is mental,” Courtney gasped.

After several minutes of this rapture, the lights went dark. The crowd became still. The two large video screens flickered to life with a movie. With the same compelling music as background, the crowd was shown a montage of images, all featuring Naymeer. He was seen:

Walking along the Great Wall of China.

Having an audience with the Pope.

Leading a group past the pyramids in Egypt.

Shaking hands with a huge crowd of people outside Red Square in Moscow.

Sitting for a photo opportunity with the president of the United States.

Speaking to an audience in a packed football stadium.

“This guy's for real,” Courtney whispered.

“Yeah, but who is he?” Mark shot back.

As the images continued on the screens, Naymeer's voice was heard saying, “We have traveled a far distance together. Our numbers are growing because our cause is just. Now the next step of our journey is at hand.”

Images of the United Nations building in New York flashed on the screens.

“A great day is upon us. The next step in our evolution. We are soon to be recognized as the spiritual voice of the entire world by the United Nations.”

The crowed roared its approval.

“What!” Courtney gasped.

“There are powers in Halla that are greater than any single one of us,” Naymeer's voice continued. “This we have learned. We are humbled in the face of those powers, and steadfast in the belief that we have been chosen to help cast off the shackles of fear. The truth is at hand—the truth of our very existence. Together we will create a glorious future that is greater than anything that has come before.”

The movie ended and was replaced by the face of Naymeer. Live. He stood at the center of the stage. The entire arena was dark except for the two video screens, and Naymeer. He appeared to be floating in a black sea.

“I have seen the future,” Naymeer said again. “I have seen the past. Separately we are small. Together we have the power to control our destiny. What a glorious destiny it will be.”

With that, Naymeer made a fist and held it up above his head. The music stopped. The image of Naymeer's clenched fist was seen in close-up on both video screens.

“Oh my god,” Courtney whispered.

“It can't be,” Mark gasped. “Can it?”

On Naymeer's index finger was a ring.

A Traveler ring.

Neither had a chance to say anything more, for an instant later, multiple beams of light shot from the ring, as if it were activating and a message were coming in.

“Mark? What's happening?” Courtney asked, trembling.

The fingers of light spread across the arena, lighting up the eyes of everyone there. It played across their faces in a hypnotic dance. What happened next might have been described as a trick. Special-effects wizardry. Computer magic. None of the people in that arena thought it was a trick.

Neither did Mark and Courtney. They knew it was real. The people in the arena had to take it on faith that what they were seeing wasn't a clever illusion. Mark and Courtney didn't have to be convinced, because they had seen it all before. As if being projected from an impossible machine, giant three-dimensional images floated through the darkened space of Madison Square Garden.

The images of Halla.

Floating before them was the same jumble of images that had become so familiar to those who used the flumes. The people in the arena witnessed the floating barges of Magorran and Grallion. Zenzen horses sprinted in space, flying past an army of green-uniformed marching dados. The beautiful city built in the trees, known as “Leeandra,” was seen, complete with klee cats scooting across sky bridges. They saw the elaborate stone pyramids of the city of Xhaxhu on Zadaa, around which flew several green and yellow flying machines known as “gigs” from the territory of Eelong. A quig-bear from Denduron reared up against an army of Bedoowan knights, beyond which lay the shining city of Faar, newly risen from the ocean floor of Cloral. The
Hindenburg
sailed past, blotting out in turn each of the three suns of Denduron.

“Ravinia is the power of Halla,” Naymeer's voice bellowed. “We are the power of Ravinia. We are the strong. We are the perfect. Those who are not equal to the task will be cast aside. The Convergence will soon be upon us. We must be ready.”

Everyone in the arena watched in awe, including Mark and Courtney. As the images danced in the darkness, the crowd was hushed. Slowly, they began to clap and cheer. It started softly, then grew until each and every person was cheering for the swirling images of Halla.

“Th-There's only one explanation,” Mark stuttered. “He must be Saint Dane. Naymeer must be Saint Dane.”

“Really? Is that the only explanation?” came a voice from behind them.

Mark and Courtney spun around to see a man standing in the glass doorway that led back into the luxury suite. He stood well over six feet tall and wore a dark suit. His blue-white eyes blazed at them.

“There may be another,” Saint Dane said with a smile.

Mark and Courtney could only stare.

Saint Dane pointed back to the arena. “You're missing quite a show,” he cautioned with a slight snicker.

Naymeer's voice continued, “The Convergence will join together all that is good and perfect in Halla. You will be the leaders. You will control the next step of evolution. You will crush the weak and allow the glory to encompass us all. We will be one with the brothers of all worlds. Those who do not believe will be left behind. Embrace Ravinia, and Halla will be ours.”

“Who is that?” Courtney demanded.

“You heard him,” Saint Dane answered. “He's the future. He's the past. Very dramatic, don't you think?”

“But who is he?” Mark shouted.

“Isn't that obvious?” Saint Dane answered. “He's the Traveler from Second Earth.”