The Soldiers of Halla

Chapter 16

Spader and I found ourselves standing on the shore of a young ocean.

It was a familiar sight. I had witnessed this body of water being born when the pent-up rivers that ran beneath the desert on Zadaa erupted with spectacular fury. Fault lines had cut quickly and violently across the sand, sinking miles of desert that were soon replaced with water, gushing in from hundreds of underwater rivers. In minutes a desert had been transformed into an ocean.

Life now grew where none had existed for centuries. I didn’t know how long it had been since I was on Zadaa, but time had definitely passed. The shore was now lined with palm trees and swaying grass. I saw what looked like small deer drinking from the freshwater sea. The day was clear. The sun was warm. For a brief moment I let myself believe that all was well with Zadaa.

A very brief moment.

A lone person sat by the shore, staring out at the dark green waters. One look at this woman told me that the spirits of Solara had put us where we needed to be. They had brought us back together with Loor. As relieved as I was to have found her so easily, it was strange to see her sitting alone, quietly, as if lost in her own thoughts. That wasn’t like her. “Loor?” I called.

She gave us a quick look, but showed no emotion or surprise. She nodded to acknowledge us, then went back to staring out at the sea.

I looked at Spader. He shrugged. I wasn’t sure of what to say. Loor was obviously preoccupied. I didn’t think it was right to jump at her, all excited, to say, “Hey! We heard some exiles were here. Did you find them? Did ya? Did ya? Huh?” There would be time for that.

Spader and I sat next to her. The three of us sat for a while, enjoying the warm breeze. At least I did. My clothes were still wet from Cloral, so I didn’t mind letting the hot sun of Zadaa dry them. Finally Loor looked at me. I was surprised to see that her eyes were red. She had been crying. There was nothing right about that.

“What manner of evil has the power to change the course of so many worlds so dramatically?” she said.

We’d been dealing with that question since day one of this adventure. I wondered why Loor was just getting around to it.

“You’ve always known what Saint Dane is capable of” was my answer.

“It is not his intent that disturbs me so,” she replied thoughtfully, as if trying to measure her own words. “I understand his quest. What I do not understand is why so many have chosen to follow him. Saint Dane would not hold the power he does now, he would not be on the verge of destroying Halla and creating his own universe, if not for those who have allowed him to do so.”

“She’s right,” Spader added. “He may be a nasty woggly, but he’s had a lot of help from the very people we’re supposed to be protecting.”

“It is a disheartening reality.” Loor sighed. “It leads me to even darker thoughts.”

Spader and I exchanged looks. What could be darker than what we had seen Halla go through? I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know.

Loor continued, “Press said we are given power by what is left of the spirit of Solara. The positive spirit. If that is so, from where is Saint Dane drawing his own power?”

Turned out I wasn’t the only one who was bugged by that question.

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Spader said.

Make that three of us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ve been giving it some thought. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as absolute good or pure evil.”

“Not so sure about that, mate,” Spader interrupted. “I haven’t seen a whole lot of good coming from Saint Dane.”

“Not now, but according to Uncle Press, he started out with good intentions. He may have been arrogant and egotistical and ruthless, but his original goal was to help the people of Halla.”

“But he was wrong,” Loor complained. “His vision was wrong.”

“I agree, but we’re talking about his original intent, not his methods. His thinking was to save the people of Halla from themselves. His ideas may have been misguided, but in his mind he was doing something positive.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending the bugger,” Spader said.

“I’m not! What he’s done is monstrous. I’m just saying that in the beginning, in his mind, he was doing something positive.”

Spader shrugged. “Then it didn’t last long. Look at all the damage he’s done.”

“I think the real damage he did was to draw a hard line between good and evil. He’s not allowing for the good in people to exist by only rewarding the darker side of human behavior. Look at Ravinia. What do they encourage? Pride. Aggression. Strength. Power. Those aren’t necessarily bad things, unless you eliminate the other side. You can’t have pride without humility. Aggression without tolerance. Strength without compassion. Power without restraint. That’s what Solara has been about, balancing it all. Saint Dane has thrown that balance off.”

“You may be correct, but that does not explain where he is getting his power from,” Loor argued.

I stopped a moment before speaking. A theory had been tickling the back of my brain for a while. Listening to Loor’s concerns brought it forward.

“I think he’s created his own version of Solara,” I said. “Uncle Press already told us that Solara wasn’t about everyone being all peaceful and loving. That’s not reality. There were always darker forces in Solara. It’s the reflection of mankind, and mankind has two sides. There is no good without evil. Positive without negative. I think that by destroying the more peaceful, less aggressive spirit throughout Halla, it allowed another Solara to rise.”

“You mean, like splitting it in two?” Spader suggested.

“Something like that. I guess. I don’t know. I’m winging this. But I’m thinking that by doing what he’s done, he’s forced the spirits of Solara to take sides. Those who favor free will and tolerance are about to die off, and those who favor strength and aggression are building momentum. The exiles are feeding the positive side, and Saint Dane’s Ravinian followers are feeding the aggressive side. Even the survivors of Ravinia must be feeding the negative side. Their lives are about fear and survival. Sounds like that could just as easily feed a dark Solara as a positive one. The balance that allowed Halla to thrive has been totally thrown off.”

“And you think this other, dark Solara is where Saint Dane is drawing his power from?” Loor asked.

“What other explanation is there? If he were drawing his power from the Solara we visited, it would have died long ago, Saint Dane would be out of business. I think he won’t be in total control until he’s completely destroyed that place. The positive side of Solara. And that’s where we come in.”

Spader gave me a sideways look. “If you say so, mate. It all has me head spinning.”

“The territories have turned,” I added. “Everything we’ve seen tells us that Saint Dane’s evil has taken over Halla. The balance has been tipped one way. The question is, how can we tip it back?”

“According to Press, it’s all about the exiles,” Spader said hopefully.

“And we have no idea where they are,” I replied. “At least seventy thousand people were pulled into the flume on Second Earth. And we’ve only found… what? Twenty? I don’t believe that number of people can be keeping Solara alive. There have to be more. Maybe they’re here.”

Loor dropped her head. She looked pained.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked her. “Why are you so upset?”

“Everything that you have said makes sense, Pendragon,” she answered softly. “I have seen it here, on my own territory.”

Spader and I exchanged looks. We both knew that bad news was on the way.

“How did Zadaa change?” I asked.

“My people are gone,” Loor said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

“Gone?” Spader asked. “You mean like… gone?”

“The Rokador have risen to power. They now control this area of the territory. I believe they have murdered the Batu tribe.”

“Murdered?” I repeated. “You’re saying the Rokador wiped out an entire tribe of Batu?”

“Not entirely,” Loor answered. “Those who survived are now slaves. But they are a small portion of what once was. I understand your words, Pendragon, but it is hard for me to believe that pure evil does not exist. Perhaps it did not begin that way, but that is the way it has become.” She pointed over our shoulders and added, “Look.”

Spader and I turned to view a breathtaking sight. Spader had never seen the city of Xhaxhu, so I didn’t think it would affect him one way or the other. But I was stunned. The whole time we had been there, I didn’t think to turn around and look at the city that was Loor’s home. It had changed. There was still a giant sandstone wall that surrounded the city, but that’s where the familiarity ended. The tall, ornate pyramids that gave Xhaxhu its character were still there, but they were now covered with a silver metal skin. What had once been an ancient city of stone pyramids now had a strangely modern feel.

“The Rokador were always more advanced than the

Batu.” Loor sighed. “The Batu were warriors who protected them in their underground homes. The Rokador provided technology in return. There were problems, but it was a good balance.”

“There’s that balance thing again,” Spader said, trying to be helpful.

“So what is Xhaxhu like now?” I asked.

Loor stood. At her feet was a white Rokador robe. “I will show you, but I must wear this. Batu are no longer free to walk the streets.”

That was an ominous statement. Loor took the wooden stave that was strapped to her back and tossed it to me. She then dropped the long robe over her head, and pulled up the hood so that she wouldn’t be recognized.

“What about us?” Spader asked.

“You look like Rokador,” Loor explained. “You will have no problem.”

The Rokador were light skinned, mostly from living for generations beneath the surface of Zadaa. I definitely fit the profile. Spader was on the fence. It would have been iffy if he had spent the last several years under the hot, tropical sun of Cloral, but since he had been living in the jungles of Eelong, his skin had sufficiently paled up. We could easily pass for Rokador.

Loor led us across the grassy field that led to the city of Xhaxhu. The last time I’d been there, there was nothing but sand. Lots of it. It had now become a much more hospitable place. Unless, of course, you were a Batu. It took us a few minutes to walk the roughly half mile to the city gates. Standing guard were two Rokador soldiers. They stood like sentries at either side of the entrance. It had always been the job of the Batu to provide security.

Not anymore. For a second I thought they might stop us, but they didn’t give us a second look as we strode into the city-

And into a world I barely recognized. My memory of Xhaxhu was a city with wide, unpaved streets; soaring, ornate pyramids; elaborate statues of Batu warriors; and troughs of fresh, clean water that were fed by the underground rivers and ran along every street. It was a place full of bright flowers and towering palm trees. Xhaxhu was an oasis in the center of a vast desert.

The city was still an oasis, but the look had changed.

There were still palm trees and flowers everywhere, but I didn’t see any open troughs. I figured maybe they had been buried under the paved streets. Yes, the streets were now paved, but they didn’t look like any street surface I’d seen. They sparkled with color. To me it looked as if the roadbeds were made from billions of tiny bits of crushed quartz. The sun hit the millions of facets in different ways, making the streets appear to be paved with multicolored jewels. The pyramids were gone. At least, the pyramids I remembered. These new silver structures had a sharp, modern feel, as opposed to the crudely carved stone of the old Xhaxhu. The lines of these new buildings were clean and straight, with no intricate carvings at all. The Batu statues were gone. In their place were modernistic sculptures that looked like, well, I don’t really know what they looked like because they were just kind of chunky pieces of metal.

This was not a modern city, but it was definitely moving in that direction. The place felt kind of, I don’t know, cold. Which is odd to say because it had to be a hundred degrees in the shade.

I’ve described the physical city and how strange it was to see the changes, but there was something else about this new Xhaxhu that was much more disturbing than any new architecture. The old Xhaxhu was populated by the dark-skinned Batu tribe. Now everywhere I looked, I saw only light-skinned Rokador. It was like one whole population had moved out, and another had moved in. That’s not to say that there weren’t any Batu. There were. But I saw what Loor meant when she said they had become slaves. Where the Rokador were out enjoying the day or traveling along the roads or doing whatever, the Batu were working. I saw a few guys polishing the silver buildings. Others trimmed the flowers. There were no cars, so the Rokador moved along the streets in two-person rickshaws that were being pulled by sweating Batu tribesmen. As one passed I actually saw the Rokador lean forward and whack the Batu who was pulling him with a long stick to make him go faster. The Batu weren’t just slaves, they were being treated like animals. I take that back-most right-thinking people wouldn’t whack an animal with a stick, or make it labor in the heat of the day. I didn’t see a single Batu who wasn’t working. Hard.

There was one more change in Xhaxhu that told me how wrong things had become. It was probably the most dramatic of all. On top of each building, a flag waved. A red flag. With a Ravinian star.

I glanced to Loor. She was taking in the scene with dead eyes. She had gone beyond anger.

“Do you know what happened?” I asked.

“When the Rokador left the underground tunnels, they used their knowledge like a weapon. The Batu relied heavily on the Rokador to provide expertise in growing food and purifying water and giving medical care. Once they began living on the surface, that knowledge became power, and they used it to control the Batu.”

I asked, “Didn’t the Rokador still need the Batu for protection against enemy tribes?”

“No” was her quick reply. “They found another means of protection. The Rokador brought in an army from another part of the territory. They proved to be superior warriors to the Batu and wasted no time in gaining control over them. I did not know that such an army existed on Zadaa, but it did, and the Rokador brought them here to vanquish the Batu and take their place.”

I saw a small group of these warriors marching together down the far side of the wide street. There were six of them, all marching in step. One look told me the truth.

“Dados,” I said. “They didn’t come from Zadaa. The Ravinians brought them here, just like they did on other territories.”

“Whatever they are, they are demons,” Loor said through clenched teeth. “They have destroyed my people.”

“How did you find out about all this?” Spader asked. “Come with me,” Loor answered.

She walked quickly, keeping her head down so nobody would recognize her as a Batu. She led us on a winding path through the transformed city. We reached the far wall and continued outside again to the vast farmland that fed the people of Xhaxhu. I wasn’t surprised to find that all the people laboring under the hot sun were Batu. There were men and women and even kids. Dozens of them. They all worked under the watchful eyes of several dado guards. It made me feel horrible to see how this once-proud tribe found themselves working on their knees to feed the very people they once protected. I could only imagine how it made Loor feel.

“I may be a spirit of Solara,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I am still a Batu. This is not right.”

The life she had known had been turned upside down. You could say that about all of the Travelers, but it must have been especially hard for her, knowing what a strong, proud person she was. I wished I could say or do something to make her feel better, but I had nothing to offer.

“What d’ya want us to see out here?” Spader asked.

Loor led us to several large carts that were piled high with what looked like potatoes. That’s what the Batu were digging out of the dirt. Potatoes.

“Stay here, I will return,” she said, and walked away from us.

“You’re right, mate,” Spader said to me wistfully. “Every territory has changed. We’ve lost every one of ‘em.”

“It’s not about the territories anymore,” I corrected. “It’s about Halla.”

Spader nodded thoughtfully, then added, “Do we have any chance of turning the tide?”

“I don’t know” was my honest answer. “But it’s not like we can stop trying.”

“No,” he agreed. “We’re in this till the end. Funny thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“How are we going to know when the end comes?”

I was about to give him a quick answer, but stopped myself. The truth was, I didn’t know. One way or the other. If Saint Dane found the exiles and wiped them out, would we all just stop existing? Would we even know that we had lost? And what if we won? What did that actually mean? Would things suddenly change? Would a gun go off and confetti fly, and we’d all pat one another on the back in congratulations? Probably not. Spader’s simple question raised so many others. I decided not to deal with predictions. There was enough to worry about. One thing at a time. But Spader’s words haunted me.

How would we know?

“Hello, Pendragon,” came a familiar voice.

I turned to see that Loor had returned with one of the Batu workers from the farm. It was a woman, though that wasn’t obvious, because she was dressed in rags and was covered in dust from head to toe. She was also drenched in sweat from her labors.

“It has been a very long time,” the woman said. She sounded tired and beaten.

“Do I know you?” I asked, digging through my memory to try and remember who she might be.

“I have grown since you saw me last. I used to be a warrior. Now I dig in the dirt. But I am still an acolyte to Loor.”

“Saangi!” I shouted, and threw my arms around her. I did it without thinking. If I had thought for two seconds, I probably wouldn’t have hugged her. Saangi wasn’t the huggy type. She was a tough little girl who wanted nothing more than to follow in Loor’s footsteps. She didn’t like me much either. She thought I was a wimp. I’d gained some respect after I went through warrior training with Loor and Alder, but I still had the feeling that she thought I was a step above useless.

I was surprised to find that Saangi hugged back. Yet another example of how much things had changed.

“What has happened?” she whispered in my ear, her voice quivering.

I felt a drop of her sweat on my cheek. Or maybe it was a tear. My heart ached. Saangi was beaten. She was a slave. Knowing the kind of strong girl she had once been made it all the more gut wrenching. She didn’t let go of me. Instead, she cried. I felt her body shudder with emotion. All I could do was hug her closer.

“Saangi told me of the rise of Ravinia here, and the destruction of the Batu,” Loor explained. “But there is more. Something you should hear.”

Saangi pulled away from me and sniffed back a tear.

“There is talk of a group being held captive,” she explained. “They are prisoners of the Rokador. Of Ravinia. We do not know all there is to know-that news only comes from overhearing the Rokador speaking when they do not think we are listening.”

I gave Spader a quick, hopeful look.

“How many are there?” he asked.

“I do not know,” she answered. “Many. Perhaps enough to fill a city.”

I had to stop from shouting with excitement.

“Is it possible?” Loor asked. “Could these be the exiles we seek?”

“‘Exiles,’” Saangi repeated. “I have heard that word.” “Hobey, this could be it,” Spader cried with obvious excitement.

“Only one way to find out,” I said, then looked to Saangi. “Do you know where they are being held prisoner?” “Yes, I do, as do you.” “Uh, what?” I asked dumbly.

Saangi smiled. She actually smiled. That didn’t happen much.

“It is a place you may not have fond memories of,” she said slyly. “For you it was a training ground. It has become a prison.”

“Mooraj,” I declared. I knew that place all too well. It was the abandoned Ghee warrior training camp in the desert, where Loor and Alder battered me into becoming a warrior. When the Rokador tunnels collapsed and the tribes joined together, Mooraj had become a playground for both Batu and Rokador children. From the sound of it, there was no more playing going on.

“It is heavily guarded by the new warriors,” Saangi added. “If you seek those being held inside, it will be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Saangi,” I said. “I can’t promise anything, but if these people turn out to be who I think they are, things might begin to change around here. For the better.”

“There is something you can do for me,” Saangi said.

“What’s that?”

“Take me with you.”

I wasn’t sure about that. Saangi was a warrior in training at one time, but things had changed. She was older, and the time spent laboring in the sun had taken its toll. Saangi looked frail.

I frowned and shook my head. “I wish we could, but if things get tough, I don’t think you’ll be able to-” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. Saangi spun, kicked my right leg out and grabbed Loor’s stave that I had been holding. With one swift move she knocked me on the side of my head. I fell to my knees, looking up at the girl who suddenly looked every bit as formidable as Loor ever had.

Spader laughed. “Can Saangi be on my team?” he asked.

I rubbed my sore cheek and looked to Loor.

She shrugged and smiled proudly. “A Batu warrior does not forget.”

I looked back to Saangi. Her tears were gone. I slowly got to my feet and took the stave from her.

“Let’s stop picking potatoes and see what’s happening at Mooraj,” I said to her.

Saangi smiled in relief. Like Spader, I wanted her on our team.