PENDRAGON
JOURNAL OF AN ADVENTURE THROUGH TIME AND SPACE
Book Eight:
The Pilgrims of Rayne
PENDRAGON
JOURNAL OF AN ADVENTURE THROUGH TIME AND SPACE
Book One: The Merchant of Death
Book Two: The Lost City of Faar
Book Three: The Never War
Book Four: The Reality Bug
Book Five: Black Water
Book Six: The Rivers of Zadaa
Book Seven: The Quillan Games
Book Eight: The Pilgrims of Rayne
Coming Soon:
Book Nine
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by D. J. MacHale
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
MacHale, D. J.
The pilgrims of Rayne / D.J. MacHale.—1st ed.
p. cm.—(Pendragon; bk. 8)
“Journal of an adventure through time and space.”
Summary: With Saint Dane seemingly on the verge of toppling all of the territories, Pendragon and Courtney set out to rescue Mark and find themselves traveling—and battling—their way through different worlds as they try to save all of Halla.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-6722-9
ISBN-10: 1-4391-6722-2
[1. Adventures and adventurers—Fiction. 2. Space and time—Fiction.
3. Diaries—Fiction. 4. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.M177535Pil 2007
[Fic]—dc22
2006038131
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
http://www.SimonSays.com
For my brother, TG
CONTENTS
PREFACE
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #28: FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
JOURNAL #29: IBARA
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
AJA KILLIAN’S JOURNAL #12: VEELOX
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
JOURNAL #30: IBARA
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #31: IBARA
JOURNAL #31: IBARA
JOURNAL #31: IBARA
JOURNAL #31: IBARA
JOURNAL #31: IBARA
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
FIRST EARTH
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
JOURNAL #32: IBARA
FIRST EARTH
VEELOX
PREFACE
Hello everyone.
It’s that time again. Time to find a gate, leap into the flume, and travel through the next chapter in the saga of Bobby Pendragon. For those of you who have been following the adventure, you know that Saint Dane’s plan for the ultimate conquest of Halla is beginning to take shape. For those of you who are new, well, umm, Saint Dane’s plan for the ultimate conquest of Halla is beginning to take shape. Duh. Of course since you’re new, you have no idea what that means so I’d strongly recommend that you get with the program and start reading from the beginning! C’mon! I’ll wait. (Taps toes, whistles, plays solitaire)
Sorry, can’t wait. Gotta go.
As always, before we jump into the flume I want to take a little time to thank some of the many people who help me bring Bobby’s story to you. For many years now, the great folks at Simon & Schuster have been incredible supporters of the Pendragon books. Julia Richardson’s guidance has once again proved invaluable. Rick Richter, Rubin Pfeffer, Ellen Krieger, Elizabeth Law, Paul Crichton, the folks in design and promotion and marketing and sales and and and…the list would add another chapter to this book. I’d like them all to know how grateful I am for their support, talent, and wisdom.
I’d also like to thank the many editors and publishers of all the foreign language editions who have helped turn Pendragon into an international presence. The number of non-English publishers is ever growing. I’m thrilled and grateful for that.
Heidi Hellmich has once again done a masterful job of copyediting. I’m beginning to think she knows more about Bobby than I do. Strange. Thanks, Heidi.
My personal team of acolytes always has my undying gratitude. Without Richard Curtis, Danny Baror and Peter Nelson I might still be writing these words, but I’m not sure how many people would be reading them. Thanks guys.
Though there are many Pendragon readers around the world, I sometimes feel as if I’m writing for an audience of one. My wife, Evangeline. She is always the first to learn of each new danger and dilemma facing the Travelers. Her opinion means the world to me. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy. And I’m thinking you will be too. It’s worked so far!
I look forward to the day when my daughter, Keaton, will be able to read my stories. I think. I often wonder how she’ll react when she figures out that the guy who gives her a bath, gets her dressed, plays hide and seek and reads books to her is actually some nutjob who is able to concoct stories about the potential destruction of all that exists. Until that day, I’ll just have to thank her for not running into my office too often to disturb my plotting of inter-dimensional strife.
While traveling (the nonflume kind) to talk about the books, I’ve had the good fortune to meet many terrific booksellers, teachers and librarians from all over who have played a huge role in bringing Bobby’s story to you. Parents fall into that category, too. I owe them all a great debt of gratitude.
Finally, without readers like you, there would be no Pendragon. As many of you know, I love getting letters and e-mails hearing of your experiences and thoughts while reading my books. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that my words can mean so much to you. I’m honored. Thank you.
I think that covers most everybody. Now let’s get to the good stuff. The last time we were all together, Bobby returned home to discover that Second Earth had changed. New and impossible technology had suddenly appeared, not the least of which was a talking, mechanical cat that was manufactured by the Dimond Alpha Digital Corporation. Yeah, Dimond. That Dimond. Mark was gone. He no longer wanted to be an acolyte and jumped into the flume. But to go where? He left Courtney with the responsibility of the ring and the mystery of what he was planning to do. Bobby’s task was clear. He had to find Mark and fi
gure out what he might do that would put Halla square into the sights of Saint Dane.
If you haven’t been reading these books, aren’t you a little bit interested in what the heck I’m talking about? C’mon, admit it. Go on back. Pick up The Merchant of Death. Get up to speed and then come here to find out how Bobby and the Travelers are about to go to the wall in a desperate attempt to stop the destruction of all that ever was, or will be.
For everybody else…hobey ho, let’s go.
D. J. MacHale
PENDRAGON
JOURNAL OF AN ADVENTURE THROUGH TIME AND SPACE
Book Eight: The Pilgrims of Rayne
JOURNAL #28
FIRST EARTH
The future isn’t what it used to be.
I know that makes no sense. What else is new? There isn’t a whole lot that has made sense since I left home three years ago to try and stop a shape-shifting demon who is bent on destroying all humanity. At least I think it was three years ago. It’s hard to tell when you’re out of your mind. And space. And time. My name is Bobby Pendragon. I’m a Traveler. The lead Traveler, in fact. The Travelers’ job is to stop this guy named Saint Dane from changing the natural destiny of the ten territories of Halla and plunging them into chaos.
Do I have your attention yet? Stick around. It gets worse.
The Travelers’ mission is to protect Halla. Halla is everything. The normal and the exceptional, the common and the impossible. Halla is all that ever was and all that will be. I know, sounds like a bad sci-fi movie. I’d think so too if I weren’t living it. Every day. When I left home I was an ordinary fourteen-year-old guy whose biggest worry was whether or not Courtney Chetwynde liked me…and if she’d notice the zit that erupted in the middle of my forehead like some third freakin’ eye. Now I’m seventeen and the leader of a group that must protect the well-being of eternity. The future is in my hands. The past is in my hands. There’s nobody else who can stop Saint Dane.
Kind of makes the whole zit-on-the-forehead thing seem kind of lame, doesn’t it?
Why Saint Dane calls himself “Saint” is a mystery to me. He is anything but. He isn’t even human. At first I thought he was pure evil, just for evil’s sake. But the more I learn about him, the more I realize there’s something else that drives him. It’s hard to explain because I don’t understand it myself, but I’ve come to think that for some twisted reason, Saint Dane believes what he’s doing is right. I know, how can a guy who is pushing societies toward cataclysmic disaster possibly believe what he’s doing could be justified? When I find that answer, I’ll unravel the entire mystery of what has happened to me. Why was I chosen to be a Traveler? What happened to my family? Where did Saint Dane come from? Why does he have these incredible shape-shifting powers? What did he mean when he said all the Travelers were illusions? (I’ve lost sleep over that one.) What is this all leading to?
Saint Dane talks about something called the “Convergence.” I have no idea what it is, and I’m not entirely sure I want to. But I have to. Is it something Saint Dane is creating or was it destined to happen anyway? No clue. The only thing I know is that it’s up to the Travelers to make sure whatever the Convergence is, it won’t come out the way Saint Dane wants it to. It’s the only way to be sure that Halla will continue to exist the way we know it. The way it was supposed to be.
I write these journals for two reasons. One is to document what has happened to me for the ages. You know, history and all that. A thousand—no, a million years from now I believe it will be important for people to know what happened. The other reason is to let my best friends from back home know what’s going on with me. Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde are the only people from Second Earth who know the truth.
But things have changed. Mark is missing. Worse, I’m afraid he started a chain reaction that caused serious damage throughout Halla. The cultures of the territories are not supposed to be mixed. I’ve learned that the hard way more than once. Okay, a lot more than once. Territories have their own distinct destinies that must be played out. Mixing the territories creates havoc. Saint Dane likes havoc. He’s mixed the territories at every opportunity, and I believe he has gotten Mark to unwittingly help him do it again. At least I hope it’s been unwitting. The alternative is unthinkable. I wish I had never gotten my friend involved in all this by sending him my journals.
As for Courtney Chetwynde, she’s with me now. Together we’ve got to find Mark and try to undo the damage. Courtney and I have come a long way since we were childhood rivals. She is my acolyte and she is one of my best friends. Same as with Mark, I wish she weren’t involved in any of this. She’s been through hell. But we can’t look back. We’ve got to keep moving ahead, which in some ways means looking back. Don’t worry, that will make sense as you keep reading. I think.
With Mark missing and Courtney with me, I have no one to send these journals to. But I have to keep writing. For history’s sake, as well as my own. Yes, there’s a third reason why I write them. They help keep me sane. They allow me to look back and try to make sense of it all. The whole “making sense” part hasn’t worked so well, but the keeping me sane part is a good thing.
I don’t know who you are, reader, or how my journal ended up in your hands. I hope that you’ve already seen my earlier journals, because I’m not going to repeat everything that has happened. Those early journals, starting with #1 (duh), contain the whole story. If you haven’t seen them, go to the National Bank of Stony Brook in Stony Brook, Connecticut. Second Earth. My hometown. There’s a safe-deposit box there registered to Bobby Pendragon. That’s where my journals are kept. Find a way to get them and guard them with your life. They contain a story that, when complete, will tell of the events leading up to the destruction or the salvation of all that exists. Of Halla. It’s a real page-turner, if I do say so myself.
As I write this, Courtney and I have traveled to Third Earth. Our home world in the year 5010. That’s three thousand years in the future from the time when we were born. This is where we hope to find answers. This is where we hope to find Mark. After being here for only a short time, we’ve quickly discovered a scary fact.
The future isn’t what it used to be.
This is where the next chapter in my adventure begins.
And so we go.
JOURNAL #28
FIRST EARTH
I hope I haven’t made a huge mistake by leaving Second Earth with Courtney Chetwynde.
She isn’t a Traveler. Only Travelers are supposed to use the flumes—the highways between territories. I learned that lesson when Mark and Courtney traveled to Eelong on their own. The flume there collapsed, trapping the Travelers Spader and Gunny and killing the Traveler Kasha. Since then I learned that as long as someone uses the flume with a Traveler, nothing bad will happen. At least, nothing bad to the flume. What happens to the future of a territory once a non-Traveler gets there is a whole nother issue. Like I wrote, territories are not supposed to be mixed.
Which is exactly why Saint Dane has been doing it.
He’s deliberately brought people and technology and even animals from one territory to another. I don’t know if that has been his plan all along, but he’s definitely going for it now, and things are getting whacked. When he won Quillan, I’m afraid he tipped the balance of the war for Halla. He’s winning. I feel it. It’s not that I’m getting desperate, but it’s time to level the playing field. Maybe I’ve waited too long already. Why do the good guys always have to play by the rules while the bad guy does whatever he wants? Where is that written? It’s not like I want to start messing with the territories randomly. No way. But if I can gain an advantage over Saint Dane by bringing an element from one territory to another, I’m going to do it.
Right now, that element is Courtney Chetwynde.
Things have gone strange on Second Earth. History has changed. Technology has changed. Whatever caused it has something to do with Saint Dane’s plan for our home territory. Courtney is the one person who can help unra
vel the mystery of what happened. Together we’re going to learn the truth and try to make things right. The future of Halla is at stake. The future of Second Earth is at stake.
The future of Mark Dimond is at stake.
Am I making a mistake by bringing her? I don’t know. Uncle Press always warned me about mixing the territories, but he isn’t here anymore. Is it the right choice? I won’t know until the ultimate battle is over and the Travelers have won.
Or lost.
During the journey, Courtney and I floated next to each other on the magical cushion of air that sped us through the flume. We both wore jeans, low hikers, and T-shirts. You know, your basic Second Earth uniform. I had to admit, Courtney never looked better. She’d grown up since I saw her last. I guess we all have. Her incredibly long brown hair was tied back in a practical braid. Her big gray eyes sparkled, reflecting the light from the stars beyond the crystal walls of the flume. I remembered the very first time I saw her. It was at recess the first day of kindergarten. I decided to pick up the dodgeball she had been playing with. She decided to punch me in the head.
“Don’t touch my stuff,” she scolded, and grabbed the ball back.
I should have been ticked, but something about her playful smile told me she wasn’t your typical playground bully. I held back my tears, smiled, and said, “Don’t start a fight you can’t win.” I grabbed the ball and ran away. She took off after me and chased me through the busy playground for the next ten minutes. By the time we stopped, exhausted, we were laughing. That began a love-hate relationship that has lasted to this day. We were always friendly rivals, trying to outdo each other in sports. Sometimes she’d win, other times it would be me. Neither of us really felt superior, but that didn’t stop us from trying. The strange thing was that over those years our rivalry turned into serious affection. The night I left home with Uncle Press to become a Traveler, Courtney and I kissed for the first time.