Raven Rise (35 page)

“What are preppies?” Alder asked.

How did you explain that to a knight? I took a shot. “Preppies are wealthy, conservative people who all dress alike.”

“Like the Bedoowan?” Alder asked.

That made me laugh, but he wasn't far off. “Yeah. Preppies are like the Bedoowan. In Top-Siders.”

Mark and Courtney laughed at that one. Seeing Alder in clothes that were two sizes too small didn't help. He looked like a monster preppy kid who had outgrown all his clothes. His pants were above his ankles, and his sleeves didn't come close to reaching his wrists. Seeing that made us laugh even harder. Alder didn't exactly get it, but he laughed too. It felt great. These were my best friends in the world. No, in Halla. Mark and Courtney had been with me since the beginning of this adventure, either in spirit or in person. It was as much their adventure as it was mine. It now looked as if we would be together at the end. That felt right, like it was the way things were meant to be. Though it feels odd writing this journal now, since Mark and Courtney are part of it. But I have to continue. Who knows where it will eventually end up and who will be reading it?

“I knew you didn't quit,” Mark said.

The laughter stopped. That kind of killed the fun part of the reunion. The mood turned dark.

“But I did,” I admitted. “I wanted this to be over. I thought it was.”

“We don't blame you, Bobby,” Courtney said. “We just weren't sure about what happened or why we couldn't reach you.”

“I lost my Traveler ring,” I said. “But it's back.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Mark said glumly. He held up his hand to show that his ring was gone. “Everything that's happening here is my fault.”

“That's not true,” Courtney corrected quickly.

We spent the next few hours catching up. There was a lot to hear. Courtney and Mark gave Alder and me the story of what had happened since I left Courtney on First Earth to search for Mark. We learned all about KEM and how Mark was tricked into delivering his Forge invention to the company that would create the first dados. We learned how Nevva had actually saved Mark's parents and then threatened to execute them if he didn't give up his ring—the ring that was made from the same material as the flumes. The dark matter. The foundation of Halla. I didn't know what to think about that one.

They told us of Naymeer's history and the Ravinian cult and the Horizon compound and, most important, the upcoming vote at the United Nations. Between their story and what we learned from Patrick, I was pretty confident that we were up to speed on all that had been happening on Earth.

It was the only thing I was confident about.

“Patrick went back to Third Earth,” I said. “He's going to look for any information about how Naymeer and the Ravinian cult influenced events. From everything I've heard, the turning point on Second Earth is the vote at the United Nations.”

“That's what we thought too,” Mark added.

Courtney shook her head in dismay. “How can so many people be influenced by such a nutjob? A slick nutjob, but still.”

“People believe what they want to believe,” I said. “I've seen it all over Halla. Guys like Naymeer tell people what they want to hear. Everybody thinks their lives can be better, and guys like Naymeer say they can make it happen.”

“The grass is always greener,” Mark said.

“Exactly. It's powerful stuff. Naymeer has taken it a step further. He's giving them proof that there's something greater out there. Something bigger than their own ordinary existence. Imagine the leader of a religion telling people he can get them to heaven, and then actually showing them heaven! That's what Naymeer is doing. All they have to do is follow him, no matter how wrong his ideas are.”

“But Halla isn't heaven,” Courtney corrected.

“No, but it proves there's life beyond our own,” I pointed out. “That's pretty dramatic stuff. From there, Naymeer can spin it any way he wants. I'm not surprised he has so many followers. Saint Dane must be loving this.”

“Do you know where the demon is?” Alder asked.

“No,” Mark said quickly. “He took the form of one of Naymeer's people, so he's definitely in the inner circle of Ravinia. Beyond that, he hasn't shown himself.”

“What's the big deal?” Courtney chimed in. “All we have to do is get to the United Nations and convince them to vote no on Ravinia.”

The three of us looked at Courtney with blank expressions.

“I'm being facetious, dorks,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sheesh. Don't you think I know that's impossible!”

“So what
can
we do?” Mark asked.

Nobody had an answer. It seemed hopeless. It was a strange feeling. With every territory I'd chased Saint Dane to, I always found a way to get involved in the conflict. On my home territory, I was stumped.

“Naymeer is the key,” Courtney offered. “He's Ravinia. Without him, it all means nothing. If we can somehow stop him, we'll stop Ravinia.”

Courtney's words put a thought into my head. It was a fleeting idea. One that I could hardly believe even occurred to me. It might have been a solution, but it wasn't something I was willing to think about seriously. At least not yet. Things would have to get desperate before I went there. I hoped we hadn't already reached that point. Still, I had to put it out there as a possibility.

“There is one way,” I said. “It's a last resort but—”

“Courtney?” came a voice from outside. A woman's voice.

We all froze. I motioned toward the battery-powered lantern we had been using to light the cabin. Mark killed it.

“Courtney honey, are you in there?” the voice called.

Courtney's eyes went wide. She whispered, “It's my mom.”

Another voice was heard. A man's voice. “It's all right, sweetheart. Come on out.”

I looked at Courtney. She nodded. “My dad,” she whispered.

Nobody knew what to do. How idiotic was that? Here we were discussing the future of all existence, yet we were terrified about getting busted by Courtney's parents, as if we'd been caught skipping school or something. I guess old habits die hard. Courtney made the first move. She motioned for us to stay still and went for the hatch. I was able to peer through the curtains that covered the porthole, to watch as Courtney climbed onto the deck of the boat.

On the dock her mother and father stood waiting for her.

“Hi, guys,” she said, sounding like a meek little girl. “Going for a sail?”

“Honey!” her mom shouted with genuine relief. She ran for the boat and hugged her daughter tight. “You're all right,” she cried, in tears. “We thought…we thought…”

“It's okay, Mom, I'm okay. I'm sorry I had you so worried.”

Courtney's dad joined in the group hug.

“It's over,” he said, also in tears. “You're back with us now. Everything's going to be all right.”

“Yeah, it is,” Courtney said. “Let's go home.”

She tried to maneuver her parents back along the dock, away from the boat. Away from us. Her parents didn't move.

Her mom said, “I'm sorry, sweetheart. We did what we thought was best.”

“What do you mean?” Courtney asked suspiciously.

Mr. Chetwynde looked to the boat and called out, “Mark? Come on out, son.”

Mark stiffened. He shot me a look, as if to say, “Now what?”

“You too…Bobby.”

My head swam. This couldn't be happening. I had disappeared from town years before. Nobody on Second Earth had seen or heard from Bobby Pendragon in all that time. How could they know I was there?

I whispered, “It must be Saint Dane.”

“Maybe Nevva, too,” Mark added.

Alder didn't know how to react. “We should find out,” he declared.

“No. Stay here. I'll figure this out.” Then to Mark, “We better go.”

Mark nodded. The two of us crawled up and out of the hatch.

Courtney stood on the dock being hugged by both her parents. When they saw Mark, Mrs. Chetwynde began to sob.

“You're all right.” She wept and turned to her husband. “He's all right.”

When I appeared on deck, I thought they were going to faint. Can't say I blamed them. Bobby Pendragon had returned from the dead. Or at least the missing. Mrs. Chetwynde leaned against her husband for support. They truly looked stunned. If this was Saint Dane and Nevva Winter, they were putting on a great show. But for who?

Courtney pulled away from her parents and wiped a tear from her own eye. “Mom, Dad, you should go home and leave us alone.”

“I wish we could, sweetheart,” Mr. Chetwynde said. “This is too important.”

“What is?” Courtney demanded.

Mr. Chetwynde looked nervous. He ran his hand through his hair. When he did that, we all saw the same thing: On his arm was a green tattoo. A star. The mark of the Ravinians. The Chetwyndes were definitely followers of Naymeer.

“We can help you, Courtney,” Mrs. Chetwynde sobbed. “You're confused. We can make this all better. For all of us.”

Courtney backed away from them, toward Mark and me. “Mom, what did you do?”

Mr. Chetwynde answered, “What we had to.”

Floodlights flashed to life onshore, lighting up the dock as if it were day. Our backs were to the water. We had nowhere to go. Below the white lights, several flashing red lights appeared. Police lights. The Chetwyndes had called the cops.

Behind the Chetwyndes a lone silhouette of a man came walking along the dock. He wasn't in any hurry. He knew we weren't going anywhere.

“Almost four years,” the man said. “I've been on this case for almost four years. Thought for sure it would never be solved…until right now.”

The man stepped out of the shadows and stood next to the Chetwyndes. He wore a plain suit that looked as if he had slept in it. There was nothing familiar about the guy. To me, that is. Mark and Courtney knew him very well.

“Captain Hirsch?” Mark called out.

“Hi, guys,” the man said. “Looks like we're finally going to find out what happened to Bobby Pendragon and his family. Believe me, the town, the state, and I'd pretty much guess the whole country wants to know. I, for one, cannot wait to hear.”

(CONTINUED)

H
i, Bobby,” the policeman said warmly. “I'm Jim Hirsch. Lot of people have been worried about you. And your family. We've got a lot to talk about.”

I was in a brain freeze. This couldn't be happening. Of all the odd twists that had been thrown at me, this was the most surreal. I looked to Courtney for help.

“Captain Hirsch is the guy who's been investigating your disappearance from the beginning,” she explained. She looked at the cop and boldly asked, “It is you, isn't it?”

Hirsch gave her a confused look. “Who else would I be? Except it's Chief Hirsch now.”

Courtney gave me a concerned look. She thought the same thing I did. Saint Dane. There was no way to know for sure. At least the guy seemed genuinely confused by the question.

Mr. Chetwynde explained, “We got a call from the Ravinians. They said you had broken into their compound along with Mark and Bobby and another young man. They didn't want the police involved, but we said there was no choice in the matter. That's when we called Chief Hirsch.”

Courtney said, “And you figured we might come here.”

The Chetwyndes nodded.

“So where is Naymeer and his red-shirt clowns?” Courtney asked.

“They are good people, Courtney,” Mrs. Chetwynde said quickly. “They don't want to cause any trouble. They left it up to us to decide what to do.”

“Yeah, I'll bet,” Courtney said sarcastically. “They're swell.”

“Don't be disrespectful,” Mr. Chetwynde admonished.

“Courtney, where have you been?” Mrs. Chetwynde asked with concern. “Why did you break into the home of such an important man? Did you steal a car from them?”

Mr. Chetwynde added, “And where's the other fella who was with you?”

Hirsch said, “I think it's best we all get out of the cold and go somewhere to talk about it.”

Mark interjected, “You mean somewhere like the police station?”

Hirsch answered with a shrug.

Time slowed down for me. It was a standoff. We were on the end of the dock, at least thirty yards from shore. I had to assume there were more policemen waiting onshore near the floodlights. Fighting our way off the dock wasn't an option. Not when policemen had guns. As of that moment, I didn't think we were considered dangerous. Fighting through the police would change that. But we had to make a move. Who knew what the police would do with us? Did they think I had done something evil to my family? Would they actually arrest us? The only thing we were caught dead to rights on was car theft. Maybe breaking and entering. Even if no trouble came from that, we'd be tied up with the police for a long time. The glare of public scrutiny would shine brightly. On me. And what about Alder? How would we explain him? If we went with the police, any chance of derailing Naymeer and his cult would be gone. Second Earth would be lost. Halla would be lost. It couldn't end this way. There was only one thing to do.

“Alder?” I called. “Come on out.”

Alder had been waiting below the hatch. As soon as I called him, his head popped out. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynde took a surprised step back and watched him move, as if he were an alien from another planet…which is exactly what he was. Alder was a big guy. A warrior. With clothes that were too small, he looked even bigger and more formidable. Hirsch tensed up. I don't think he expected to see a guy looking like a defensive lineman rise out of that boat. He shot a quick glance back toward shore, as if he wanted to call for backup. He didn't though. The situation was too fragile. Alder stepped off the boat and onto the dock, beside me.

“Listen,” I said to him. I didn't care that everybody else could hear. It would make absolutely no difference if they knew what I was thinking or not. It was more important that my friends and I were all on the same page. “The police want to take us into custody to talk about the disappearance of my family. They're the good guys. They don't want to hurt us. But if we go with them, they'll take us out of play.”

“Understood,” Alder said calmly.

I turned to Mark and Courtney. “Guys, I'm sorry but you're going to have to handle this situation on your own.”

“Got it,” Mark said with confidence.

“Not a problem,” Courtney added.

Hirsch took a step forward. His eyes darted between us nervously. “Let's…let's all be cool and head for shore, all right?”

I put my hand up. It stopped him.

“Jim, I know you might not believe this, but we are not criminals.”

“I'm not saying you are—”

“I know. I get it. You don't know what's going on, and you're going to want to talk all about it and solve all the mysteries. I'm sorry, but we don't have time for that.”

Hirsch shook his head quickly, as if not believing what he was hearing. “Wha—you don't have time? I'm sorry, son, but four people have been missing for a long time and—”

We didn't give him time to finish the sentence. Alder and I dove off the dock into the cold waters of the river. I could only imagine the stunned looks on everyone's faces. I hoped that would translate into a few frozen moments of inactivity before Hirsch triggered his cops into action. Alder and I both swam for the next dock over. When we hit it, we hung there to take a few seconds to form our plan.

“We'll split up,” I gasped. “Swim underwater as much as you can. Hide under the docks. Take your time. Don't splash. Make your way as far away from the lights as you can before hitting shore.” I pointed upriver and added, “On the far bank of the river, beyond the highway, is a rope swing. It's not far beyond the road, on a steep hill. I'll meet you there.”

Alder didn't waste time with a response. He took a gulp of air and dove underwater with nothing more than a wink of reassurance. The guy was a pro. I had no doubt he'd make it. I wasn't so certain about my own chances.

“Bobby!” Hirsch called out. “Don't do this! You're not in any trouble.”

“Yeah,” I thought to myself. “Not yet.”

I dove below the surface and dropped under the dock. It was dark. And cold. It was going to be harder than I thought. Visibility was next to zero. I'd been around docks like this all my life. They were each roughly six feet wide, with boats tied to cleats on either side. I knew there was airspace below. I surfaced to find myself looking up at the rows of wooden planks that ran the width of the structure. My hope was to zigzag from dock to dock, swimming underwater and resting underneath, slowly making my way toward shore. The docks were built like fingers, stretching out in all directions like a floating maze. I fought the urge to stay under the dock where I was and make my way toward shore beneath it—I was afraid that would be the first place they'd look. I needed to get to another dock to make the chase impossible. Alder had gone downriver, so I chose to go upriver. I took a few deep breaths, filled my lungs, and pushed myself down, headed for the next dock over. It was hard to see how far it was. I didn't want to surface short. I'd be seen for sure. I kept one eye looking above, trying to see the shadow of the float. The floodlights helped. They cast the wooden docks into sharp relief. I made it to the next dock and surfaced beneath it with no problem.

“Spread out!” I heard Hirsch yell to his men. “Two on each dock.”

He knew exactly what we were doing. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. But knowing what we were doing and actually finding us were two different things. As I wrote before, there were a lot of docks and many, many boats. I gulped air and dove below again. It was risky, because I had to maneuver between the keels of a few big sailboats. There were many places to hide, and just as many places to bash my head. I had to be fast, silent, and cautious. The shadow of a shallow-draft cabin cruiser loomed ahead of me. I swam beneath it and surfaced below the dock….

To hear footsteps directly above. The sound echoed through the airspace over my head. Did they know I was there? I looked toward shore to see the beams from flashlights shining down through the spaces between boards.

“Slow, slow!” a voice said. “Don't miss him.”

“I can't see anything,” another shouted back.

Yelling was good. So long as they were yelling at one another and clomping around on the wooden boards, they wouldn't hear anything below, and I'd know where they were. I waited until they were nearly on top of me, then took a breath and dove straight down. I figured depth was good. No light could penetrate more than a few feet into that murky water. I forced myself to hover below without moving. Light would catch movement. I waited until my lungs felt as if they would burst, then drifted slowly back up. When my face broke the surface, I fought to keep myself from taking a huge gulp of air, for fear they would hear. Keeping my teeth from chattering was almost as hard. I was freezing. I sensed a flash of light behind me, and turned to see they had passed over me and were now farther out on the dock. I didn't want to risk having them walk over me again, so I gulped air, dove down, and pushed off, to head for the next dock over.

It was getting harder to see, because I was getting beyond the throw of the floodlights. There was less chance of them spotting me out there, but there was also more chance of me finding the hull of a boat with my head. I lost all sense of direction. I didn't know which way was up or down, let alone where the next dock was. The only thing I could do was surface. I stopped swimming, and let the air in my lungs float me to the surface. When my head broke out of the water, I found myself between the hulls of two big sailboats, a few yards short of the dock.

“There he is!” came a shout.

The voice seemed far away. I wasn't sure if I should dive under the dock and swim for it, or climb out of the water and fight for it. I figured that if they had spread out over all the docks, odds were good that I'd only have to deal with one or two cops. My chattering teeth told me to go for the fight. At least that would keep me warm.

Before I officially made the choice, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. It wasn't me they saw. It was Alder. I pushed off of one boat and swam out into the open to see that Alder was onshore about fifty yards from me. He wasn't alone. The police were closing on him. I could see that cops were spread out all over the docks to search for us, which meant only a few were left onshore, which meant they didn't stand a chance against Alder. It would take more than two policemen to take him down, unless they started shooting, which I didn't think would happen.

Alder made short work of both the cops who got to him. They had no idea what they were up against, but found out fast. The fight was short and violent. Within seconds both cops were on the ground, either unconscious or wishing they were. Alder didn't wait for the others. He disappeared into the shadows. I would have shouted “Yeah!” in victory, if I hadn't been still floating in the middle of the marina. I had to find my own way out of there.

I dove underwater and kicked the rest of the way toward the dock. I surfaced below its planks and waited. It didn't sound as if any cops were overhead, so I cautiously swam beneath the dock, toward shore. I heard the sounds of far-off yelling. Orders were being thrown out. The police were getting desperate. I was sure that some had taken off after Alder, which meant there were fewer looking for me. My hopes rose. I had a chance.

After a few minutes of winding my way beneath the wooden floats, my feet touched bottom. I was almost onshore. It was time to come out of the safety of the shadows. I dove down, pushed off the bottom, and surfaced to find that I was faced with a rock wall. The dock I was under was built parallel to a sheer wall that rose up out of the water and ran along the shore for about thirty yards on either side of me. I knew where I was. It was a retaining wall, on top of which was built the dockmaster's hut. The tide was low, so the dock level was several feet below the top. If I wanted to get out this way, I had to climb up the slick wall of rocks. It was a stroke of luck, and a total pain. Climbing those wet, barnacle-covered rocks wasn't easy. Still, it shielded me from shore and hunting eyes. It was all I could do to keep from slipping off and falling back into the water. I wouldn't have gotten hurt, but the splash would have given me away for sure.

The climb was torture. Between the slick seaweed that clung to the rocks and the slime from the salty water, it was like climbing up a vertical Slip 'N Slide. A couple of times I slipped back down into the water and held my breath, waiting to hear if anybody noticed the splash. It was totally frustrating. The cold made it even worse. I was having trouble convincing my hands to grip. I actually started to think that maybe turning myself into the Stony Brook police wouldn't be such a bad idea. They were the good guys, right? Maybe I could somehow convince them of what Naymeer was up to. The idea of us stopping him on our own seemed impossible. Maybe I could appeal to the police. Maybe I could tell them everything. As I stood in that freezing water, feeling very alone, the idea of looking for help started to appeal to me.

I tried one last time to make the climb and struggled to the top. It wasn't graceful, but I had made it. When I finally gripped the top and peered over, I saw something that knocked any thoughts of turning to the police out of my head.