The Pilgrims of Rayne

IBARA

Siry didn’t fit the profile. Each and every Traveler was special in some way. Even before they discovered the whole Traveler thing, they each had proved themselves to be smart and competent, and above all else, honorable. I can’t really speak about myself that way, seeing as I was pretty young when I left home, but I think I was a pretty good kid. I’m not sure I could say the same about Siry. At least, that’s what I thought after knowing him for a total of two minutes.

He looked at the handcuff cord I tossed him as if it were infected. “What was that for?” he barked angrily, and threw it back at me. He took a step toward me, ready to throw a punch. I didn’t move. The big security goon grabbed him. Good thing. I’m not so sure I had the strength to defend myself.

“That’s enough!” scolded Genj.

“What?” bellowed Siry, complaining. “He threw it at me! You saw it! Are you going to say that was my fault too?”

Genj sighed. I got the feeling that he was tired of dealing with Siry. He stood up and paced, thinking. He had two problems: an obnoxious thief and a semiobnoxious, mystery guy with amnesia and scabs. The two women joined him and they stepped away to discuss the situation. At least, I assumed they were discussing the situation. I didn’t think they were deciding on what to have for dinner. The big guy stayed between Siry and me, making sure we behaved.

Siry shifted back and forth, bored. He was smaller than I was and looked around fifteen, though he carried himself with confidence, as if he were older. His hair was kinky curly, but long. It fell to his shoulders in long corkscrews. When he moved, they bounced like springs. His clothes were like everyone else’s, but old and worn. His shirt was darker blue, with cutoff sleeves revealing thin, strong arms. His pants were probably long at one time, but were cut off to just below the knees, with raggy ends. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if his clothes hadn’t been washed in a while. I’m not saying he smelled, but where everyone else in the village wore clothes that were bright and new, Siry looked kind of, well, grungy. I guess he was a street kid, tropical style.

He was full of nervous energy. I wondered if he was always like that, or if it was because three people were debating his future. His skin was dark, like Remudi’s. I guess on Second Earth we’d call him black. He was thin, but strong looking. “Wiry” is a good word. My guess was he was athletic. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. They were intense. Or angry. Back at home if I saw him walking toward me, I’d get out of his way. Not because he was big and intimidating, but because he seemed like someone who would snap with no warning. He was not the kind of guy you’d want to mess with.

Unfortunately, I was going to have to mess with him.

After a few minutes of concerned debate, the tribunal came back. The women sat in their chairs. Genj stood facing us.

“There may be an opportunity here,” the older man said. “Jen Remudi was my friend. He was a friend to all three of us and a trusted member of this tribunal.”

Whoa. Remudi was on the Tribunal of Rayne. He was a leader. He was respected. There again was a guy who was special in his own way, on top of being a Traveler. I wondered why his son turned out to be such a slug.

“His disappearance remains a mystery,” Genj continued. “Pendragon, if you are telling us the truth, and I’d like to believe you are, we’re hoping you might help us learn of what happened to our friend.”

Uh-oh. I could tell them exactly what happened to him. But I wasn’t going to. No way.

Moman said, “We’d like you to remain here in Rayne until you are fully healed. Hopefully, that will include recovering your memory. You can stay in the same common house where Telleo cared for you. You’re free to explore our village. Make no mistake, you will be watched. If there is trouble, you will find yourself right back here, where there will be a very different outcome.”

“Thank you,” I said. “If I can help you, I will.” I meant it too. Though not exactly in the way they were hoping. Still, if there was a way I could give them closure on Remudi, short of telling them the whole truth, I’d do it. They seemed like good people. Their village looked like a peaceful and decent place to live. It was the perfect target for Saint Dane. My goal was to figure out what it was about this village that could create a turning point that would affect all of Ibara. Things were looking up.

Genj stepped in front of Siry. The kid smirked, as if daring him to say something he’d actually care about.

“Siry,” Genj began, “you are a disappointment to the tribunal, to your village, and to your father. You are a thief and a liar,”

If this bothered Siry, he didn’t show it. He’d probably been called worse.

“This is the fifth time you’ve been brought before us on charges of thievery, mischief, vandalism, and brawling. Out of deference to your father, we’ve never given you a fitting punishment. That changes today.” He stepped back and took his place between the two women.

Drea declared, “Siry, you are assigned to work with our fishing fleet for a year of hard labor. Our hope is that by spending a concentrated time on a constructive, important task, you will learn the value of the individual’s place in our society, and return to it a more respectful, useful citizen.”

Siry’s eyes went wide. “Wha-? No!” he shouted. His cool finally cracked. “I’ve never done work like that. I don’t know how.”

“You’ll learn,” Moman assured him. “Hopefully, you’ll learn a lot of things, including respect for yourself.”

“I won’t go,” he shouted defiantly, stabbing his finger at me. “You let an outsider free in the village, but sentence the son of a tribunal member to a year of hard labor? That’s not fair!”

The three leaders exchanged knowing looks. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were satisfied that they had finally gotten to Siry, or had other plans.

Genj said, “You make a good point. There might be another way.”

“Anything!” Siry shouted.

The older man stood back up and walked to us. “Perhaps we shouldn’t let Pendragon roam our city so freely.”

Uh-oh. Now it was my turn though. Genj wasn’t finished. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Siry, you can serve your sentence in another constructive manner. You can supervise Pendragon.” “What!” Siry exclaimed.

“He would be your responsibility,” Genj said. “If there are problems, all you need do is contact security. We hope that won’t be necessary. We want Pendragon to recover. If there’s a chance to learn what happened to your father, don’t you think we should take it?”

Siry stared at his feet, his jaw clenching.

“Of course you do,” Genj said, satisfied, as he sat back down. “It’s your choice, Siry. Either act as Pendragon’s overseer, or set sail with the fishing fleet in the morning.”

Siry gave me a sideways look. He may have been debating his options, but I knew what choice he’d make. It was a no-brainer.

A few minutes later I walked out of the mountain cave, free. Better still, I was with the next Traveler from Ibara. It was all good. Well, mostly good. Siry wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who seemed willing to put his life on the line to save humanity. My plan was to find out about him and his father. Siry had other ideas. As soon as we left the cave, he stormed away from me without saying a word.

“Hey,” I called. “Where you going?”

He stopped and sighed. I annoyed him. He walked back and got in my face, trying to intimidate me. I still felt as weak as wet lettuce. If he had taken a swing, he’d have knocked me out.

“Look,” he said with disdain. “I don’t care if you’re an outsider or a Flighter or a slug from the sea. I’m not going to be your keeper.”

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll put you on a fishing boat?”

Siry scoffed. “They won’t get the chance.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I let it slide. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your father?” I asked.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Siry shot back. He gave me a little shove and walked off.

“Where did you get that ring?” I called.

Siry stopped short and twisted his Traveler ring.

“It was from your father, wasn’t it?” I asked.

He stalked back to me. His eyes were on fire. I wasn’t sure if it was with curiosity or anger. Was he going to hit me? I turned my body subtly, in case this turned into a fight.

“Why do you care?” he hissed.

I lifted my hand and showed him mine. Siry flinched. “What did your father tell you about that ring?” I asked. Siry backed off, no longer seeming so sure of himself. “No way,” he said, shaking his head. “No way what?” I pressed. “It was a story. He was always telling stories.” “What was the story, Siry?”

Siry glanced around nervously. I think he was debating whether to answer or take off. Or throw a punch, for all I knew. He chose to answer, I’m happy to say.

“He talked about some place called Halla and… and what did he call them? Travelers. But he always made up stupid stories, ever since I was a kid. They weren’t real.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“I don’t know!” Siry snapped. “I wasn’t even listening.”

“Yes you were. What else did he tell you?”

“He talked about some guy who was making trouble, and the Travelers had to stop him. That’s why he said he was leaving, to deal with the guy.” “Is that all?” I asked.

Siry pulled himself back together. His cocky attitude had returned.

“He told me that one day a guy might show up looking for help.” He grabbed my hand with the ring and held it up. “He said I’d know him by his ring. He said if he wasn’t around, it was my job to help him. There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want the job,” he said, and he threw my hand down. I kept my eyes locked on his as he backed away.

“Now my father’s missing, and you know what? I don’t care. He’s off somewhere being a big man and taking charge. That’s what he’s good at, you know? Taking charge. Wherever he is, he can be a hero and that’s fine. It’s good not having him around.”

He turned and started to walk away.

“He’s dead, Siry,” I said with no emotion. “Your father’s dead. I saw him die.”

My words stopped him cold. I hated to tell him that way, but he was tough. I had to be just as tough.

“He died trying to stop Saint Dane,” I continued. “That’s the name of the guy he told you about. Saint Dane killed him. Now Saint Dane is here on Ibara.”

Siry didn’t move. I walked around to face him and saw something I didn’t expect. Tears.

“I thought you didn’t care,” I said softly.

“I thought you lost your memory.”

“Your father died for something he believed in,” I said. “What do you believe in?”

Siry sniffed and shot me a look. The wild, angry guy was back with a vengeance.

“You want to know?” he challenged. “You really want to know?” “Yes.”

“Come with me,” he snarled.

He pushed past me, knocking my shoulder aside, headed toward the village. I stood there, wondering how this was going to play out. Did this loser really have to be the next Traveler from Ibara? The guy had some baggage. But whatever problems he had were nothing compared to the reality I was about to dump on him. How would he handle it? The sick truth was that I had to trust a kid with major attitude, authority issues, and a history of violent crime. Oh joy. I’d faced impossible situations before, but this was like nothing I’d ever had to deal with. Suddenly, at seventeen, I had to be a responsible adult in charge of a problem kid. How wrong was that?

I did the one and only thing I could do.

I went with him.

(CONTINUED)