The Lost City of Faar

  This was going pretty well. Mitchell was making up all the answers. Mark didn’t have to do anything. Now all he had to do was get Mitchell to give him the page.

  “Thanks for finding it.”

  He held his hand out for the page. This was the moment of truth. Was Mitchell going to give it back?

  “What’ll you give me for it?” Mitchell asked.

  “What do you want?”

  Mitchell gave this some thought. This was tough for him. He usually didn’t think much.

  “Forget it,” he answered. “Just take it. It’s no fun messing with you anymore. It’s too easy.”

  Mark had to try to stop from smiling. This was amazing. He was going to get the page back, no harm, no foul. He didn’t want Mitchell to think he was too happy about it, so he just shrugged and held his hand out. However . . .

  It was at that exact instant that his ring started to twitch. Mark felt the telltale movement, but it was such a surprise that he could only stand there, frozen. Then the gray stone started to turn clear and glow. Bobby’s next journal was about to show up, and it couldn’t be happening at a worse time.

  Mark clamped his other hand over the ring to hide it. He made eye contact with Mitchell, hoping against hope that he hadn’t seen the ring move. But one look into Mitchell’s wide eyes told him the truth. Mitchell had seen it, all right. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Finally . . .

  “Gotta go!” Mark put his head down and headed for the door. But he had to go past Mitchell, and there was no way Mitchell was going to let him get past. He caught Mark and shoved him back into the bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” shouted Mitchell, with a touch of fear.

  “N-Nothing. I-I’m sick is all.”

  Mark tried to get by again, but Mitchell wouldn’t let him pass.

  “Show me that ring!” Mitchell demanded.

  By this point the ring was starting to expand on Mark’s finger. He couldn’t keep his hand on it any longer. Though it killed him to do it, he had to take the ring off and lay it on the ground. As soon as it hit the floor, the dazzling flash from the stone lit up the dark bathroom with a sparkling spray of light.

  Mitchell stood over the ring in wonder. He started to bend down to touch it.

  “Don’t!” commanded Mark.

  His voice was so forceful, Mitchell backed off. It was the only time Mitchell had ever done anything Mark wanted him to. Mark didn’t feel any victory though; his dominance would be short-lived.

  The ring was now expanded to its full size and Mark saw the familiar black hole in its center. The two then heard some odd musical notes coming from deep within.

  “Dimond?” yelled Mitchell nervously. “What is this?”

  Mark didn’t answer. He knew it would be over soon. If he were lucky, Mitchell would run in terror.

  But Mark wasn’t lucky.

  Mitchell stayed. The light from the stone blasted out so brightly that both guys had to shield their eyes. The musical notes grew louder, and then a second later, it was over. The lights stopped flashing. The ring was back to its normal size. Sitting next to it on the floor was another roll of pages that Mark knew was Bobby’s next journal. It had arrived the exact same way all the others had, only this time it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

  Mark bent down and picked up the roll and the ring. He put the ring back on his finger, and hoping to keep whatever power he had over Mitchell going, he held out his hand.

  “Give me the page,” he said as forcefully as possible.

  Mitchell was numb. He actually started to do what he was told. He held the lost page out for Mark. Mark reached for it, and just as he was about to grab it, Mitchell snatched it back. He was slowly getting his balance back.

  “What just happened here?” he asked shakily.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” said Mark, still trying to hold on to whatever leverage the bizarre episode had given him. “J-Just give me the p-page.” Mark was losing it.

  “I ain’t giving you nothing!” declared Mitchell.

  The power had shifted again. Mitchell was back in charge.

  “I’m starting to think you didn’t write this. I’m starting to think Pendragon’s been writing about where he is, and he’s sending letters to you, special delivery.”

  Mark didn’t know what to say. Mitchell had hit the nail right on the head. How was he going to explain this? Mitchell looked at the page again, then smiled a sly little smile. Mark’s heart sank.

  “I’ll bet there are a lot of people who’d like to know about these,” he said.

  “Andy, you can’t,” Mark pleaded. “This isn’t stupid kid stuff at school. There are things going on here you can’t even imagine. If you told anybody about it, you’d be starting something that I guarantee you’d regret.”

  This seemed to hit home with Mitchell. Mark realized it might be his one chance to gain some real leverage over the bully.

  “There are only three people who know about these pages,” Mark continued. “Me, Courtney Chetwynde . . . and now you.”

  “Chetwynde knows?” shouted Mitchell in disappointment.

  This was good for Mark. Mitchell was just as afraid of Courtney as Mark was of Mitchell. Mark was beginning to realize he had more tools to work with than he thought.

  “Yes, Courtney knows everything,” continued Mark. “This is a serious thing. If you start telling people about it, then you might get in just as much trouble as we will. There’s a lot at stake here. You want to go public with it? Go ahead. But your life will never be the same.”

  Mark felt as if he had laid that on pretty thick. He wasn’t at all sure whether Mitchell would get in trouble if he revealed the journals, but he counted on the fact that Mitchell was dumb enough to think he could get in trouble. Mark knew that was the one weapon guys like Mark had over guys like Mitchell. They were smarter.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Mitchell,” said Mark. “Give me the page, forget you saw anything, and I promise never to tell anyone that you know.”

  Mitchell stared at the ground, thinking about the offer. Mark knew that Mitchell was over his head. This was way too much for his brain to process.

  “I’ll make you a deal, Dimond,” said Mitchell tentatively. “I’ll give you the page, and I’ll shut up about what I saw. But you gotta do something for me too.”

  “I asked you before, what?”

  “This isn’t before,” said Mitchell. “This is now. Before I didn’t see the hocus-pocus stuff. My offer is this: I’ll keep quiet as long as you let me read what Pendragon sends you.”

  “What?”

  This was probably the worst thing Mark could imagine. He didn’t want to share Bobby’s journals with anybody, let alone lame-wad Andy Mitchell. What was he going to say to Courtney? He didn’t know what to do.

  “That’s my offer, Dimond,” said Mitchell, suddenly sounding more confident. “Either you start showing me those letters, or I start blabbing to everybody about what’s going on. I might get in a little trouble, but nothing like what you and Chetwynde will catch.”

  Uh-oh. Mitchell was being smarter than Mark thought possible.

  “Okay,” said Mark, though it killed him to do it. “But I can’t let you read it before me and Courtney. The letters are being sent to us, not you. After we read ’em, I’ll let you have a look. But the letters stay with me, and if you tell anybody and I mean anybody about what’s going on, I’ll make sure you get in every bit as much trouble as we do.”

  Mitchell thought a second, then handed the lost page to Mark. Mark grabbed it like it was his most valuable possession in the world. And at that moment, it was.

  “Deal,” he said. “When do I get to read what you got?”

  Mark started for the door. He was feeling bold and lost at the same time. He no longer cared about Mitchell’s bully tactics. Their relationship had just been kicked into a higher gear. It was a dangerous gear that was way beyond petty bully stuff.

  “I’ll
let you know,” declared Mark, and opened the door.

  “You better, Dimond,” threatened Mitchell. “We’re partners now.”

  Mark stopped and looked back at the creepy Andy Mitchell. He was right. They were partners now, sort of. The thought made Mark’s stomach roll.

  A short while later Mark met Courtney near the gym, just as they had arranged the night before. Courtney was all sorts of excited to know if Mark had found the missing page.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

  Mark’s mind raced. What was he going to tell her? He knew he was going to have to tell her the truth, but right now he felt as if he had failed her, and failed Bobby. It started when he left the page in the bathroom and continued when he didn’t have the guts to stand up to Andy Mitchell. He felt like such a loser. Yes, he was going to have to tell Courtney the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it just then.

  “I got the page,” he said. “And this.”

  He pulled Bobby’s newest journal from his pack. Courtney’s eyes lit up.

  “Double score! Excellent! See, I told you it was going to work out.”

  “You were right,” said Mark with absolutely no enthusiasm.

  Courtney didn’t sense this. She had enough enthusiasm going for the both of them.

  “That’s weird,” said Courtney.

  “What?” Mark shot back, hoping that she hadn’t sensed something had gone terribly wrong.

  Courtney took the newest journal from Mark and looked at it.

  “This isn’t like the last one,” she said with curiosity. “The last journal was written on that green, waterproof paper. This is . . . different.”

  She was right. Mark had been so nervous about Andy Mitchell, he hadn’t even noticed it himself. This new journal was much more like Bobby’s first journals that he wrote on Denduron. The pages were brown and crusty looking like parchment.

  “You’re right,” was all Mark could say.

  “Okay, we gotta wait till after school to read,” she said, handing him back the pages. “Meet me out front after last period and we’ll get back to my basement. Okay?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “Man, I hope I can wait that long. I’m dying! Don’t peek, all right?”

  “No problem. I won’t peek,” said Mark, wondering how he was going to keep Andy Mitchell from peeking all day.

  Mark and Courtney then separated and went about their normal school day. Mark did his best to immerse himself in schoolwork to get his mind off his dilemma. A few times while classes were passing, he caught sight of Andy Mitchell. Mitchell wouldn’t say a word. He’d just give Mark this exaggerated wink as if to say: “We’ve got a secret, right, pal?” Mark would just turn away and cringe.

  After school Mark and Courtney met up just as planned. They barely said anything to each other as they walked to Courtney’s house. A dozen times Mark started to tell her about Andy Mitchell, but couldn’t find the right words. He saw how excited Courtney was about reading the new journal, and didn’t want to crash her mood.

  When they got to the house, Mark decided that he wouldn’t say anything about Mitchell until after they read Bobby’s journal. In spite of all the extra stuff that was going on, Mark was excited to find out what happened to their friend. So without Courtney realizing that a momentous decision had been reached, the two sat down on the dusty couch to jump once again into the world that had become Bobby’s.

  “I’m shaking,” said Courtney as she held the pages.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” countered Mark, though he was shaking for a whole bunch more reasons than Courtney.

  Luckily for him, the time for talking was over. It was time to read.

  JOURNAL #6

  CLORAL

  Oh, man, I gotta apologize to you guys. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. It’s just that things are happening fast now and I haven’t had many chances to write. That last journal was getting pretty long and I wanted to send it before something happened to it, or to me. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.

  I’m writing this new journal from a place where I finally feel safe. At least for now, anyway. I won’t tell you where it is yet because the events that led me here were pretty wild. I’d rather recount things as they happened and not jump ahead. It’s easier that way. But I’ll tease you a little by saying you’re not going to believe where I am. Now let’s get back to where I left you hanging.

  When Magorran hit Grallion, I felt it rather than saw it. The impact sent a giant shockwave throughout the habitat that knocked most people off their feet, including me and Uncle Press. The habitat shuddered and shook and a horrible grinding sound filled the air as the two giant ships collided. I couldn’t see it, but I could imagine the destruction that was happening at the point of impact. I could only hope that it wouldn’t be so devastating as to send both habitats to the bottom.

  Moments before the collision the aquaneers had thrown off most of the lines that secured Grallion, so that when the habitats hit, we would be pushed back instead of holding firm. If not for that move, there would have been way more damage. Also, the pilot of Grallion threw the engines into full reverse, which helped to soften the blow. Still, that wasn’t enough to avoid the crash. Even after the collision, Magorran kept coming. The big habitat was powerful and moving fast. It pushed Grallion across the surface of the ocean like a toy. A really big toy. The only way to stop it was to stop Magorran.

  Once we realized we weren’t going to sink, Uncle Press helped me to my feet. There was a strong vibration from the force of the charging habitat and it was difficult to stand. Up till now I never even felt like I was on a ship. Now I felt like I was on the Titanic, and it was banging against the iceberg.

  But there was one other thought that made me even more nervous. When something this huge and bad happened it could only mean one thing: Saint Dane was in the house. The look on Uncle Press’s face told me he was thinking the same thing. This accident was classic Saint Dane. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Uncle Press’s head as he calculated what the crash might mean to Grallion, to Cloral, to Halla, and to us. Finally he announced, “We’re on the wrong habitat.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He wasn’t. Uncle Press took off running toward the impact point. This was insane. The safest place to be was far away from where the two habitats had collided. But being safe wasn’t usually high on Uncle Press’s To Do list. He was headed right for the most dangerous place on board, and I was right after him. We ran past several vators who were fleeing from the bow to a safer part of the habitat. There was a name for those guys. Smart. We weren’t being smart; we were headed toward disaster.

  The closer we got to the bow, the more damage there was. The deck had buckled and split. I could look down through jagged tears and see below to the pipes and struts that held Grallion together. It got tricky dodging around these open fissures. One wrong step and we could have fallen a few stories into the guts of Grallion. It was like running over a rickety old footbridge where the bottom could fall out at any moment. Still, Uncle Press wouldn’t stop.

  When we got near the bow, we saw the full extent of the devastation. Each of the two habitats were crushed where they impacted. It was a twisted mess of beams, girders, and decking. This no longer looked like a habitat. It looked like a vast, floating junkyard.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Uncle Press pointed to several aquaneers who were leaping on board Magorran. They were led by Wu Yenza, the chief aquaneer. It was a daring jump because even though the decks of the two habitats were only a few feet apart, they were both still moving and grinding against each other.

  “Follow them,” said Uncle Press, which was the last thing I wanted to hear. But he didn’t give me time to think. He ran to the edge of the deck, hesitated only a second, then leaped from Grallion onto Magorran.

  “Let’s go, Bobby!” he yelled.

  Imagine standing on an ice floe as it hurtled down a river and you had
to jump onto another ice floe that was going just as fast. That’s pretty much what this felt like. The gap between the two decks was only a few feet, but it felt like a mile. I looked down. Big mistake. I could see through four stories down of twisted wreckage to the frothing white water. Falling would really, really hurt.

  “It’s cake, Bobby!” shouted Uncle Press. “C’mon!”

  Cake. Yeah, right. I inched as close as I could to the edge without getting dizzy. The deck lurched under my feet. This was definitely not cake! I waited until Grallion settled, took a breath—and jumped.

  I cleared the chasm by a good five feet. Okay, maybe it was cake.

  “Now what?” I asked, trying to sound as if I were more in control of myself than I really was.

  “The pilot house,” answered Uncle Press. “Let’s find out who’s driving this bus.”

  The pilot house where the habitat was controlled wasn’t far from which we boarded. Like the pilot house on Grallion, this was an enclosed structure where the pilot, the first mate, and a few other aquaneers would send the commands that controlled the habitat. Whatever the problem was with Magorran, the logical place to start looking for it was the pilot house.

  We took off running, but it wasn’t any easier over here than it was on Grallion. This deck was torn up from the impact as well. The whole habitat shuddered and heaved as it bounced against Grallion. It was like trying to run across a minefield during an earthquake.

  The goal was to stop Magorran. I feared that when we got to the pilot house, we’d find none other than Saint Dane standing at the wheel wearing an aquaneer uniform and an evil, leering smile. But that would have been too easy. Saint Dane may have been responsible for this, but he wouldn’t have done something as obvious as piloting the habitat himself. No, Saint Dane didn’t work that way. He was a manipulator. This was an epic disaster that was worthy of him, but the cause of it would be far more diabolical. This was only the beginning. It wasn’t just about two habitats colliding. There had to be something grander at stake. So as much as I feared seeing Saint Dane at the wheel, it was his overall scheme that I feared more.