Hostage Run

  Then he returned. He came back through the portal and was here again in Kurodar’s constructed universe. And then—then the solidity of it, the danger of its threats, the power of Mariel’s silver spirit filled and surrounded him. Just like that, he knew that what he did and felt here—whatever fights he fought, whatever good he accomplished—was more important to him than anything that had ever happened to him before. Here, where the bizarre was commonplace, it was Real Life that seemed unreal.

  So now, once again, suddenly, everything changed for him. One moment, he was in the Portal Room, lying in the glass box, the transparent coffin lid closed over him, the metallic lining gripping him tight, a thousand pinpricks making his head swim and a thousand anxieties churning in his mind. He was trying to figure out how to rescue Mariel and Favian . . . whether to trust Miss Ferris and Mars . . . whether he’d ever see Molly again . . . and how he felt about her when all was said and done . . . and even bigger questions about his father, about his future, about his faith . . .

  And the next moment, that world, the so-called real world, was gone, and he was slipping like water through a straw into another.

  When Rick stepped from the purple diamond floating in space he was in Favian’s forest cottage again. For one final instant, he experienced the strangeness of the place. He felt as if he had become a figure in an illustration in a book of fairy tales. Then the reality of the Realm overwhelmed him, and the Portal Room and the compound and the pain in his legs faded away.

  The first thing he saw here was his sword. Full-bladed now, it stood upright, powerful and gleaming, its point thrust into the packed earth of the cottage floor, its sheath lying beside it. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and felt at once the warm surge of Mariel’s presence, traveling up his arm and flooding all through him. Once again he was reassured: she was still here, still in the Realm, still able to inspire him and give him strength. He fastened the sheath onto his belt and slid the sword into it again.

  Then he looked around him. The cottage was just as he’d left it. The yellow light, laced with the shadows of branches, fell through the windows and shone into the wood-walled room. Rick’s eyes traveled over the sparse furnishings: the rude table, the chairs, the stove, the bed . . .

  And in the bed lay Favian.

  Or, that is, Favian lay above the bed. His sparkling blue form was stretched out horizontally and floating in the air about two inches above the bed’s surface. He was fast asleep.

  Rick gave a small smile to see him like that. Why have a bed at all if you were going to float above it when you slept? You could float above the floor just as easily, couldn’t you? But then everything in the Realm was like that. It had its own illogical logic. You just got used to it after a while.

  Rick moved to stand over his friend. His smile slowly faded. Looking down at the sleeping blue man, he could see how much, how rapidly, he’d aged, even in the few hours Rick had been gone. His face, which had become youthful again with the fresh supply of energy Rick had brought him, was already growing lined and starting to sag. It was only half a day since Rick had last been here—so short a time he hadn’t even thought to bring more energy with him. But it was clear to him now that Favian was losing the ability to retain even what energy he had.

  This thought made Rick think of Mariel, of the way she’d been when he’d seen her in the pond. It hurt to think about her that way, haggy and decrepit before her time, dying and close to despair. Where was she now? he wondered. And how was she? How much energy had drained from her? How much life did she have left? She and Favian were dwindling away and he—Rick—the only one who could help them—could not help them until he’d completed his mission—a mission that might well kill him before he could help them at all.

  Lost in those meditations, he was startled when Favian’s hand closed around his wrist. He blinked and looked down and saw that his friend had awakened. Favian’s eyes were open. Open and—as always—full of anxiety.

  “You’re back already?” he said in his hollow, echoing voice. “I didn’t think they could send you back so soon.”

  Rick nodded and sighed. “They’re not supposed to.”

  “They had to then.”

  “They did. We have to hurry, Favian. I’ve only got two hours, and I need to get on that battleship.”

  In a blue flash, Favian was upright. He shook his head to clear the sleep from it, his face going into full-worry mode. “Get on the battleship . . .?”

  Rick explained his plan: “I thought if we could somehow get to the Golden City before the WarCraft passes overhead again . . . if I could somehow get on one of those cargo blimps that carry energy and supplies up on the lightning bolts . . . then if I could somehow slip from the blimp onto the ship . . .”

  “That’s a lot of ‘somehows,’ ” Favian said, but he was nodding thoughtfully, staring into the middle distance. “Still, it’s possible, I guess. The Boars load the blimps at the launch docks in the city walls . . .”

  “The boars . . .?”

  “I’ve seen them.”

  “The boars?” Rick said again.

  But Favian wasn’t listening. He went on, thinking aloud: “The problem is: How can we get there fast enough? To the Golden City, I mean. It’s a trek across the field—it would take us ninety minutes at least just to reach the walls. And that’s assuming we don’t run into any thresher bots.”

  Thresher bots?! Rick was about to say—but he decided he didn’t want to know.

  “Ninety minutes is too long,” said Favian. “You’d be out of time before you could reach the ship. And the battlecraft is due to pass over again in only twenty minutes. But maybe . . .”

  Rick waited while Favian considered. He could feel the seconds ticking away on his palm. Finally, he prompted, “Maybe . . .?”

  Favian’s only answer was to shoot out the cottage door in a blue flash.

  “Hey . . .,” said Rick—but Favian was already gone.

  So, once again, Rick found himself racing through the woods after the darting blue figure. He had a dozen questions he wanted to call out to him: Where are we going? Where’s Mariel? Boars? And those were just for starters. But each time he approached the glowing man, Favian streaked away again, his shimmering blue shape nearly vanishing into the surrounding blue canopy of the forest leaves. There was no time to ask questions. There was no time to do anything but run.

  Fortunately, the trip was brief. After only a few minutes, they were standing together in a bright clearing, surrounded by a half ring of blue trees. On the open side of the ring was a steep orange wall of dirt and rock, the side of a hill.

  “He sleeps in there,” said Favian.

  “Who does? Where?” said Rick.

  “Rollie. In there.” Favian lifted a glowing hand and pointed. Rick followed the gesture and saw there was an opening in the rock, a cave entrance. It was a rough, rounded hole about four feet high. It led into deep darkness.

  Oh man! he thought. What now? And who’s Rollie? And what did he mean by boars?

  “Rollie can get you there fast. Really fast. If you ride him to the eastern wall of the city—the wall to your right as you approach—there’s a field of high grass there. You might be able to sneak up pretty close to the wall, get to one of the launch docks without being seen. After that . . . I don’t know.”

  “Who’s Rollie?” Rick asked.

  Favian shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure what he is. I think Kurodar built him to patrol these woods. But he’s not really much good at it. Most of the time he just sleeps in his cave. When he wakes up, he comes out and eats a few twigs and some grass. Then he goes back into the cave and sleeps some more.”

  “So what use is he to me?” asked Rick.

  “Like I said, you have to ride him.”

  “He doesn’t sound like he’d be very fast.”

  “Not usually, no. But when you get him angry, he flies like the wind.”

  “All right. Good. We’ll get him angry, then.”
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  “But just watch out, okay? When he gets angry, he tries to roll over you.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why we call him Rollie.”

  “Cute. What do you mean, roll over me?”

  “It’s kind of hard to describe, but you’ll see what I mean. Just wait till he stops rolling, then jump on top of him. Then he really flies.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rick said doubtfully.

  “No, no, it’s not that hard. It’s easy, really. You’ll see. Just wait here.”

  With that, Favian streaked off and disappeared into the cave entrance.

  Rick watched him go in, then stood alone in the clearing, waiting.

  It’s easy, he thought. Right.

  A moment later, from the depths of the cave’s darkness, there came a noise. It was high-pitched and melodious, as if a singer were warming up her voice in preparation for a performance. But it was not a singer. It was Favian. And he was not singing. He was screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “Aaaaaaaah!”—and then there he was, streaking out of the cave so quickly he was invisible but for the line of blue light trailing behind him.

  Startled—stunned—Rick gaped at Favian as he flashed past across the clearing to the tree line. There, the glowing man stopped and re-formed into his usual shape. He was gesturing frantically toward the cave.

  And he shouted, “Watch out! Here he comes!”

  Rick turned just in time to see Rollie come bursting from the low, rounded opening in the earth.

  This was one of those moments that occurred from time to time here in the Realm when the months Rick had spent hiding in his room obsessively playing video games suddenly came in very handy. If he had not been a gamer, he probably would have stood there in shock and disbelief while “Rollie” rolled right over him.

  But because he played games, he’d seen creatures like this before. Rollie, it turned out, was one of those beasts like the ones in the game Onimusha that can curl themselves up into a spiky ball and roll at you at high speed until they skewer you and plant your bleeding body in the earth, where they proceed to jab you full of holes just before smashing you to pieces. Which was exactly what this beast was planning to do to Rick right this very moment.

  The giant spiky ball came tumbling toward him as if he were a pin at the end of some fantastical bowling alley. Rick dove to the side. He flew through the air, landed hard on the earth—and the beast powered past him. The ground shook beneath his outstretched body as Rollie skittered across the clearing and went crashing blindly into the thick trunk of a tree.

  Lying flat on the forest floor, Rick looked over his shoulder. As the beast smashed into the tree trunk, it snapped out of its ball and back into its normal shape. And what a shape: it would have looked something like a bull if bulls were the size of pickup trucks and had flaming red eyes and black steam coming out of their nostrils and three horns the size of spears on their heads and hides that looked something like concrete with lots of stones sticking out.

  It’s easy? Rick thought—and he leapt to his feet, his heart hammering with terror.

  “Now jump on its back!” Favian instructed.

  “Jump on its back?!” Rick screamed. “Are you crazy?”

  But before Favian could answer that question, Rollie swung round and spotted Rick with its fiery eyes. In a mind-stunning instant, it rolled its enormous body into a ball again and thundered across the clearing at Rick full speed.

  “Flash out of the way and then flash on top of him!” shouted Favian.

  At least that’s what Rick thought he said—it was difficult to hear while he was hurling himself wildly through the air to get out of the monster’s way. Again, Rick hit the dirt, letting out a loud “Oof” as the air was knocked from his lungs. And again, the earth shook as Rollie careened blindly into the side of the hill. On impact, he became the enormous bull-like beast once more.

  And Favian shouted, “Now! Now! Flash! Flash on top of him! Hurry!”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t flash around like you can!” Rick screamed back.

  He looked Favian’s way just in time to see the glowing blue man blink once in realization. Then Favian said, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  “You forgot?” Rick shrieked.

  But then the ground started trembling under him and, sure enough, here came Rollie, rolled up into a ball again and bounding across the clearing at Rick’s outstretched form.

  Rick had no idea how he got to his feet so fast, but he was running before he knew it, the Rollie-ball right behind him. The next second, Rick broke through the tree line. On instinct, he dodged to the left behind a tree.

  Rolled up into a ball like that, Rollie was fast all right, but it was tough for the creature to turn. When Rick ducked left, Rollie thundered past him again, and went crunch into yet another tree up ahead. Then, with a squealing grunt, it popped out of its ball and back into its enormous bull-like shape.

  Rollie swung around and Rick swung around, the tree at his back now. Man and mega-bull faced each other, only yards apart. Rollie’s eyes flamed—literally, there were flames leaking out of his eye sockets around the edges of his bright eyes. His nostrils smoked. He lowered his three horns at Rick, about to curl up again, about to charge.

  Rick tried to think. He couldn’t just keep playing dodgeball with the beast. Eventually he’d slip—jump left when he should jump right or vice versa—and next thing he knew, he’d be a human pancake bleeding out onto the forest floor. He had to come up with a better plan. But what? He couldn’t just flash around like Favian . . .

  Or wait . . . Wait, maybe he could.

  Mariel had taught him about the power of his spirit, hadn’t she? How he could transform the Realm’s reality with enough spiritual focus, transform even his own body into another shape. But what if he could transform his own body into no shape—or into a streak of light like Favian? He’d only have to do it for a moment. That’s all it would take.

  Could he pull it off? Did he have that power?

  There was no time to be sure. There wasn’t even enough time to finish asking himself the questions. Already, Favian was screaming and Rollie was rolling into a spiked ball and the earth was shaking and the spiked ball was tumbling toward him.

  Not easy to focus with that thing hurling toward him. Not easy to think about anything but the spiky death bearing down on him. But hey, he was Rick Dial, right? He was Number 12—the quarterback who’d had to focus on the play at hand even with linemen almost as big as Rollie charging at him almost as hard.

  He used that power now. As sure destruction rumbled down on top of him, he dropped his consciousness down deep into the very self of himself. He thought of Favian. He thought of light. He thought of streaking away.

  And now the daggered Rollie-ball rose up above him like a crashing wave and . . .

  Whoa! Rick thought.

  He had never felt anything like it. It was as if his body had exploded into a million million pieces and yet at the same time it was as if he had been transformed into one great lightning-like piece of motion.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah! ” he heard Favian cheering.

  And before he fully realized what had happened, he found he had reassembled himself and was standing about six feet to the right of where he’d been. Stunned, he could only stand there watching as the enormous Rollie-ball rolled right past him. It smashed into the trunk of the tree that had been behind him. It struck so hard that the trunk crunched and splintered. Branches and blue leaves showered down to the ground, and Rick felt the earth jump underneath him. The next moment Rollie once again snapped into the shape of an enormous, snorting, smoking, flaming, concrete-skinned, three-horned mega-bull.

  And Favian shouted, “Now! Now! Do it now! ”

  Rick did not even have time to think—only to drop into that rich wholeness of focus that seemed to bring some inner truth about his being up to the surface, spreading through his physical form.

  And then it happened again. That
sense that he was bursting apart and yet still a single amazingly swift and thoughtless oneness of movement.

  And the next thing he knew, he was sitting smack on the mega-bull’s back!

  “That’s it!” Favian shouted triumphantly. “Now steer him with the horns!”

  More great advice from Mr. Oh-Yeah-I-Forgot! Still, Rick didn’t have much choice in the matter. His perch on Rollie’s back was precarious, to say the least. The beast was so wide that Rick could just barely straddle him. He had to grab hold of something to keep himself in place. The horns were the only something around.

  Rick grabbed two of the three horns on the enormous head. Rollie reacted at once, throwing his head this way and that, trying to dislodge the rider, hurl Rick off. Rick held on tight. The beast shook his head more and more furiously, sending up gouts of black smoke, flashes of bright flame. Rick felt like a rider in a rodeo in hell.

  Then Rollie stopped. He stood still. For a moment, nothing else happened. It was as if the immense creature were giving the situation some careful consideration before deciding what he should do.

  Then, apparently, he decided.

  Rollie let out a roar so loud it seemed to fill the forest. More flames spat out of the corners of his eyes. More smoke poured out of his nostrils. His huge beastly body gave a violent shudder that nearly flung Rick into the air. Rick pressed his legs tight against Rollie’s rough flanks. He kept his fists closed tight around the scraping surface of the horns. Somewhere off in the distance, he heard Favian shouting something—some fresh instructions probably—but what they were he would never know.