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.”
SECOND EARTH
(CONTINUED)
“Bobby Pendragon is the Traveler from Second Earth,” Mark said with no emotion.
“He was.” Saint Dane sighed. “I’m afraid he decided the task was no longer to his taste. But I’m sure you knew that.”
Saint Dane turned and walked into the luxury suite. Mark ran after him. Courtney was right behind.
“How did you get off Ibara?” Mark called after him.
“I’m sure you’ll find that out soon enough,” Saint Dane answered without turning back.
Courtney asked, “Does that mean Bobby can leave too?”
“Pendragon quit,” Saint Dane spat at them. “Why do you think the Convergence has begun? He lost because he didn’t have enough faith in himself, or his convictions, to continue. He was flawed, which came as no surprise to me.”
“‘Flawed,’” Courtney echoed. “You make it sound like a crime.”
“Indeed,” Saint Dane agreed. “Pendragon was flawed. That is why he quit.”
“He didn’t quit!” Courtney shot back. “He blew up the flume to trap you on Ibara.”
Saint Dane held out his arms and smiled. “And you see how successful he was. Pendragon destroyed the flume on Ibara because he no longer had the will to continue the struggle. Paint that any way you like, but it is the truth. His weakness didn’t close a door, it opened one. For me. It’s a door that cannot be closed.”
“Unless Bobby wants it closed,” Courtney threw back at him.
“Why are you so concerned with Pendragon when such momentous events are happening right before you?” Saint Dane chastised. “Pendragon is history. This is what it’s all been leading to. The Convergence has begun. Accept it.”
“What does that mean?” Courtney yelled desperately. “What is the Convergence?”
“Weren’t you listening? It’s the creation of a new order, just as Naymeer said. My vision for a unified Halla is one breath away. It’s happening on all the territories. Each one is falling into line, just as I said it would.” Saint Dane walked to the kitchen area and looked over the tray of sandwiches on the counter. “This is quite nice,” he commented. “I may have to attend a sporting event here. What exactly is a Knick?”
“Why are we here?” Courtney demanded to know.
Saint Dane turned to them, but as he moved, he transformed into the character of Eugene, the clean-cut guy who escorted them to the suite. Mark and Courtney both jolted with surprise.
“I told you,” Eugene answered brightly. “You’re the special guest of Naymeer. He wanted you here.”
Mark fought to keep his composure and asked, “Why? He doesn’t even know who we are.”
“Naymeer is the Traveler from Second Earth now,” Eugene said with pride. “He needs acolytes. What better choice than you two? After all, you have loads of experience!”
“You can’t be serious,” Courtney spat out. “You expect us to give up on Bobby?”
With a quick move to his right, Eugene transformed into the character of Whitney Wilcox—the soccer-playing preppy from Stansfield Academy. He even had a soccer ball that he bounced off his knee.
“You’re a winner, Courtney,” Whitney said cockily. “The way I see it, you’ve only got one choice. Take it. Be a winner. You too, Mark. You can come along for the ride.” Whitney laughed, bounced the ball off his knee again and kicked it at them. Courtney caught it without flinching.
“Nice!” called Whitney.
“Not gonna happen,” Courtney said flatly.
“N-No, it’s not,” Mark echoed.
Whitney transformed. This time Saint Dane became Andy Mitchell. Mark’s nemesis. Mark’s partner in Forge. Mark’s nightmare. He looked as he did on Second Earth, complete with long, greasy blond hair and a dirty T-shirt. He hawked up a lougie and spit into the sink. Mark and Courtney didn’t blink.
“Guess what, Dimond? This one’s on you too!” Mitchell cackled.
“What does that mean?” Mark asked.
Andy Mitchell strolled over to the glass partition that overlooked the arena. The lights were back on. The Halla portion of the show was over. Naymeer was once again addressing the audience.
“Naymeer’s ring,” Mitchell said. “Look familiar?”
“All the Traveler rings look the same,” Mark answered through clenched teeth.
“I guess,” Mitchell agreed. “But that one. That one’s special.”
“Why?” Mark asked.
Mitchell smiled, showing a mouthful of yellow, nicotine-stained teeth. “Because it’s yours.”
Mark and Courtney stared back at Mitchell for a long, confused moment. It was Mark who first put it together.
“Nevva,” he whispered, dazed.
Mitchell continued, “First you created the dados, then you offered up the one thing that kicked off the whole show. I pretty much owe you everything, Dimond. The least I can do is offer you a seat at the table. Chetwynde, too, so long as she keeps her mouth shut. She can be really annoying.”
Mark stood frozen. Courtney grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Mark didn’t move at first, but was too stunned to resist for long, and the two moved toward the exit.
“Hey, where you going?” Mitchell called. “There ain’t no place to go. No place to hide. It’s all over but the shouting.” He let out a scream. “Ahhh!” Then shrugged and smiled. “Oops. Guess now it’s over.”
Courtney kept pulling Mark toward the door. She backed into it, reached behind herself for the knob, and opened it up.
“Think about it!” Mitchell called. “You’re either with me or against me. I don’t think you want to be against me. Not anymore.”
Courtney pulled Mark through the door and let it slam shut.
“We’re outta here,” she said to him and pulled him toward the elevator.
Mark didn’t move.
“It’s my ring,” he said, as if in a trance. “That’s why Nevva wanted it. It wasn’t to isolate Bobby. It was to start the Convergence.”
Courtney jumped back and got in Mark’s face. “Saint Dane started the Convergence,” she snarled. “Not you. Not that slick old dude. Saint Dane.”
“If Bobby quit,” Mark said flatly, “I think I will too.”
Courtney shook him. Hard. “You are not quitting! We’ve been waiting for this moment for years. It’s the turning point of Second Earth, Mark. It’s not what we expected. Fine. So what? This is our time. It?
??s on us now, just like we always thought.”
“But it’s all my fault,” Mark said weakly.
Courtney wound up and slapped Mark across the face. She didn’t hold back, either. She really whacked him. Hard. Mark stared at her, stunned.
“Wake up!” she yelled. “As long as we’re still alive, it’s not over. But if you give up now, then it really will be your fault.”
Mark looked surprised, and hurt.
Courtney added, “I don’t know what this whole Ravinia thing is leading to, but after what happened to Third Earth, you know it can’t be good.”
“I wish Bobby was here,” Mark said meekly.
“He’s not. We are. What’s it gonna be?”
Mark’s pained look slowly turned to one of resolve. His eyes focused. He stood up straight and said, “What do we do?”
“We get Patrick,” she answered quickly.
“And then what?”
“If Saint Dane is here, it must mean the flume to Ibara is open.”
“So?”
“So you’re right. We need Bobby. Somebody’s got to get to him and make him un-quit.”
Mark gave this a moment’s thought, then shook his head quickly. “Courtney, we can’t.”
“Yeah we can. We’re going to get out of here, get Patrick, and travel.”
“Hey!” came a shout from down the hall.
Mark and Courtney looked quickly to see two red-shirt guards running toward them. Both turned and ran in the other direction. They sprinted along the corridor past the photos of famous events. Mark wondered if one day there would be a picture of Naymeer hanging there. The thought made him angry. The anger made him dig in. They ran faster.
“The elevator,” Mark shouted.
“No.”
They kept running. Halfway down the corridor they hit a fire exit, blasted through the door, and ran down the stairs.
Courtney said breathlessly, “We’ll get to Grand Central and take the train home to get Patrick.”