Raven Rise (4 page)

Mark stopped walking and looked directly at Courtney. “Do you really believe that?”

Courtney wanted to shout out, “Yes!”

She didn't. “I don't know,” she admitted. “But it's possible, right?”

“Let's go home,” Mark said. “We'll have plenty of time to figure things out on the boat.”

“I can't believe we've gotta get on that tub again,” Courtney complained. “It's nice and all, but it's still just a floating hotel. Talk about claustrophobia.”

They had reached the Royal Albert Hall, the large round brick concert hall. Behind it was the small hotel where Dodger had found them all rooms.

“I want to walk a little more,” Mark said. “On my own.”

Courtney nodded. “Don't be long. The sun'll be down soon, and it's getting cold.”

The two of them hugged.

“We did okay, Mark,” Courtney added. “Bobby would be proud.”

Mark didn't respond. He wasn't so sure he agreed. Courtney left him, headed for the hotel. Mark turned the opposite way and entered Hyde Park in the area known as Kensington Gardens. The trees were alive with autumn colors. Kids played pickup games of soccer. The air was turning colder, and Mark had to button up his coat to fight the chill. It was a beautiful day. Mark stood in the middle of a wide, grassy area and did a three-sixty to take it all in.

He had a moment. A brief moment. In spite of the fact that his best friend had sacrificed himself by destroying the flume so he couldn't leave Ibara, and in spite of the fact that he felt embarrassed by having been duped by Saint Dane, Mark allowed himself a moment to think that the sacrifices might actually have been worth it. Saint Dane's evil quest might be over. Halla might be safe. He even had the hope that they might have the chance to recapture some semblance of a normal life.

It was a great moment.

It didn't last long.

“Hello, Mark,” came a familiar voice.

Mark spun quickly to see a woman standing near a thick oak tree, her hands shoved into the pockets of her long wool coat, her feet set apart defiantly.

Mark froze. The moment of bliss passed as quickly as it had arrived.

“You don't seem all that surprised to see me,” Nevva Winter said.

Truth be told, Mark wasn't.

In his heart, he knew he had been kidding himself.

He knew it wasn't over.

(CONTINUED)

The two stood facing each other.
Mark didn't want to talk to Nevva. She was a traitor. She was the enemy. What he wanted was to turn and run away. He didn't. He didn't want to show weakness.

“It's over, Nevva,” Mark said, trying to sound as if he meant it.

“Is it?” Nevva asked while raising an eyebrow.

Mark thought that Nevva was beautiful. She had dark hair and flawless skin. Mark didn't know how old she was. Maybe in her early twenties. Like Courtney, she wore a dress and overcoat that were stylish for 1937. When he first met her, she'd taken his breath away. Mark wasn't used to dealing with beautiful women, especially women who were trying to bring about the destruction of all that existed.

“Where's Saint Dane?” Mark asked, though he knew exactly where the demon was. On Ibara. Trapped with Bobby. Mark didn't know if Nevva knew. He wanted to be cagey.

“You don't know?” Nevva asked as she slowly approached him. “He's trapped on Ibara.”

So much for being cagey.

“You must have heard,” Nevva continued while glancing at Mark's Traveler ring. “Surely Bobby told you that he buried the flume on Ibara under tons of volcanic rock.”

“He might have mentioned something about that, yeah,” Mark said, trying to sound casual. He had given up on cagey.

“Walk with me, Mark,” Nevva said with a small smile. She turned and took a few steps. Mark didn't budge. Nevva stopped and looked back at him. “We need to talk.”

“Why should I talk to you?” Mark barked angrily. Casual wasn't working for him either. “All you've done is manipulate me and cause us all grief.”

“I understand,” Nevva replied with sympathy. “But if you don't, your grief will only reach new depths.”

Mark got a chill. The woman was heartless.

“Shall we?” Nevva said with a smile as she continued walking.

The last thing Mark wanted to do was follow the woman, but he willed his feet to move. The two strolled through the park, looking every bit like a normal couple enjoying the chilly autumn afternoon. Mark wondered if anybody could tell that every muscle in his body was so tense he felt as if he might snap in two.

“It's a beautiful park, don't you think?” Nevva asked.

“Do you really want to talk about the p-park?” Mark shot back. He winced when the stutter came out.

“Nervous?” Nevva asked with a chuckle.

Mark hated it when his stutter betrayed him. He thought he had it beaten, but it still snuck back at the worst possible times.

“No,” Mark said adamantly.

“Really? You should be.”

Mark tried not to react. He wanted to be cool. He wanted to be in control. He wanted to be able to handle anything Nevva had to throw at him. Or at least give that impression. He didn't think he was doing such a hot job.

“Go home, Mark,” Nevva commanded. “Enjoy your life. You can't do anything else for Pendragon. He chose to stay on Ibara. He wants nothing more to do with the plight of Halla, and neither should you.”

“That's it?” Mark asked sarcastically. “That's all you wanted to say? You want me to go home and pretend none of this ever happened?”

“Yes.”

“Why don't I believe you?”

Nevva smiled, but Mark saw no warmth. He knew she wasn't concerned about his peace of mind.

“There is one other small thing,” she said slyly.

“I figured,” Mark shot back quickly.

“I want your ring.”

Without thinking, Mark grabbed his Traveler ring with the opposite hand. He had only parted with the ring once, when he gave it to Courtney to continue on as an acolyte while he traveled with Nevva to First Earth to try to save his parents. Once they were reunited, Courtney had given it back. She knew the ring belonged on Mark's finger. The idea of giving it up again made Mark wince.

“What? No! Why?” he exclaimed.

“To give Pendragon exactly what he wants.”

Mark stared at her, uncomprehending. “Uh, what?” he muttered.

“Pendragon destroyed the flume on Ibara,” Nevva said coldly. “He wanted to be cut off from the rest of Halla. I want to oblige him and make it a full break.”

“What for? Revenge?”

“Call it that if you'd like.”

Mark twisted the ring on his finger. “Forget it!” he snapped. “This is the only link I have with my best friend. Why the heck would I give it up?”

Nevva looked deep into Mark's eyes, as if trying to read his thoughts. It unnerved him. If he had said anything at that moment, it would surely have come out as a stutter. He knew she had to have an agenda that went beyond trying to isolate Bobby.

“Saint Dane has taught me many things,” Nevva explained. “He's working on an entirely higher plane than the other Travelers and he's shared some of his unique abilities with me.”

“Good for you,” Mark said sarcastically. “Why should I care?”

“Because unlike the other Travelers, I know how to control the flumes,” Nevva answered quickly. “I can not only travel between territories, I have the ability to control the time when I arrive.”

Mark felt his throat clench. He knew this couldn't be good.

“So what?” Mark commented coolly.

“I prevented your parents from boarding the airplane that crashed, Mark,” she said coldly. “You know that. What if I told you I could travel back to Second Earth to a time before their plane took off and this time watch silently as they handed over their tickets and boarded?”

Mark felt as if the park were spinning. He had lost his parents once…or thought he had. It was the whole reason he'd agreed to come to First Earth. Nevva told him that by traveling to the past he could change the future and save his parents from dying in that plane crash. But she was lying. Nevva had already saved his parents. That wasn't why Saint Dane wanted him on First Earth. It was all about getting him to sell Forge to KEM and start the chain of events that would lead to the creation of the dados. It wasn't about his parents. It had never been about his parents.

Until now.

“Wh-Why?” Marked croaked. He didn't care anymore that he sounded nervous. “Why would you do that?”

“I don't want to,” she said, trying to sound sincere. It didn't work. Nevva Winter was cold, efficient, and calculating. “I like your parents. I don't want to see them die.”

“Then why?” Mark cried. “I did what you wanted. KEM has Forge. What else do you want from my life?”

Nevva looked at Mark's ring and coolly answered, “I want your ring.”

Mark quickly put his hand in his pocket. “This can't just be about Bobby.”

“It isn't,” Nevva answered. “Call it a test.”

“Test? Of what?”

“Of you. Of people. Of Earth,” Nevva replied. “Saint Dane and I have the same vision. Our goal is to create a perfect Halla.”

“Yeah, by destroying it,” Mark spat.

“No, by breaking it down in order to rebuild,” Nevva said passionately. “Halla must be purged of all impurity before it can thrive. Unfortunately, the Travelers don't share that vision. That's what the struggle has been about, Mark. Saint Dane's vision of a perfect Halla, versus the flawed existence that the Travelers insist on trying to protect.”

“So what is the test?”

“I'm giving you a choice,” Nevva said dispassionately. “Give me the ring and I'll never bother you again.”

“I don't believe you,” Mark cried. “If you want the ring so badly, it must be because it will help you in some way. And helping you is helping Saint Dane.”

“That's where the test comes in. How firm are you in your convictions? How important is it for you to continue helping the Travelers? Helping Pendragon? Which is more important? The futile quest to stop Saint Dane…or your parents? Think, Mark. Think hard and make the right choice, because if you choose the Travelers, I promise you, your parents will die.”

Mark's knees buckled. They actually buckled. He fell down to the ground and sat on his feet, trying to catch his breath. His head spun. What was this about? Why was his ring so important to Nevva? To Saint Dane? Mark couldn't breathe. As badly as he felt about being duped into inventing Forge, he'd had no idea that he was doing exactly what Saint Dane wanted. Now he was faced with a much more difficult choice. His parents were in danger again. To save them, he had to agree to help the demon. There would be no excuses this time.

“That's the test?” Mark asked, numb. “Halla or my parents?”

“Something like that,” Nevva said without compassion.

“Why does it matter? What's the point of a test like that?”

“It's everything, Mark. If you choose your parents, you'd be proving once again how selfish and corrupt the people of Halla are.”

“You think it's selfish to protect people you love?”

“It's selfish to put your personal concerns ahead of millions, no, billions of others.”

Mark looked up into her steely eyes. He had never felt hatred before. He was a forgiving kind of guy who never held a grudge and always saw the good in people. As much as Andy Mitchell had made his life a living hell, he'd never felt actual hatred for him.

At that moment Mark hated Nevva Winter.

“You're as bad as Saint Dane,” he seethed.

“Thank you,” Nevva answered with a self-satisfied smile.

Mark wanted to hit her. He forced himself to look away to allow the rage to pass. He had to think. The choice was impossible. He needed to buy some time. Hopefully an answer would jump out.

“How can I believe you?” he asked. “I could give you my ring, and you might hurt my parents anyway. What proof do you have that they'd be safe?”

“None,” Nevva answered abruptly. “You only have my word. But you also have my word that if you
don't
give me the ring, they will die.”

Mark felt as if he had been hit in the stomach. He needed help. He needed to talk to Courtney. He couldn't make this huge of a decision on his own.

It was at that moment that an idea came to him. It was a simple idea, but it offered a glimmer of hope.

“This is about isolating Bobby, right? You don't want him to be able to contact me anymore?”

Nevva's answer was to stare back at him silently. Mark felt the rush of hope. He got to his feet.

“You really think that by keeping Bobby from sending journals to me, it'll help Saint Dane?”

Again Nevva didn't answer.

Mark didn't need an answer. He had already convinced himself that it was the truth. What he was beginning to realize, to hope, was that giving up his ring would mean nothing. There were other rings spread throughout Halla. Dodger was Gunny's acolyte. He had his own ring! If Bobby wanted to contact him, or they wanted to contact Bobby, he could use Dodger's ring. Was Nevva that dumb? He needed to talk to Dodger to make sure the little bellhop still had his Traveler ring.

“Can I give you my answer tomorrow?” Mark asked.

“No, you can give me your ring right now” was Nevva's curt response.

Mark convinced himself. Giving up the ring would be inconvenient, but not disastrous. He clutched the heavy ring and yanked it off his finger. He held it, feeling its weight. Holding it with two fingers he took a close look. He hadn't examined it for the longest time. In the center of the silver ring was a dark gray stone. Etched in the silver, circling the stone, were ten symbols. Each represented one of the territories of Halla. His mind flashed back to the time several years before, when he'd been awakened in the middle of the night by Osa, Loor's mother. She handed Mark the ring, saying it was from Bobby. He had given it up only once since then. Other than that, he had worn it every minute for nearly four years. He knew that if he gave it to Nevva, he'd never see it again. But he convinced himself that it was okay. There were other rings he could use to contact Bobby. Saving this one ring wasn't worth risking his parents' lives, no matter what kind of test it represented. If it meant saving his parents, he wouldn't mind failing.

He took a deep breath and held the ring out. “If you're lying,” he warned, “I swear you'll regret it.”

Nevva didn't take it right away. Instead, she looked into Mark's eyes. For a moment she seemed to soften. Mark thought she actually seemed disappointed.

“Saint Dane was right,” she said softly. “You are all selfish and shortsighted.”

Mark almost took the ring back. Before he could make a move, Nevva pulled it out of his grasp.

“Promise me,” he said. “Promise me my parents will be safe.”

“They won't die in that plane crash, Mark,” Nevva said. “You have my word. You can trust me, which is more than I can say for you.”

Mark winced. What did she mean by that?