The Lost City of Faar

  It was a beautiful night and the water was so calm that the stars were reflected in the water in front of us. I was standing on the bow looking out on this awesome sight, when I sensed that someone was behind me.

  It was Spader.

  “Tell me about where you come from,” he asked.

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover,” I answered.

  “It’s called Second Earth. Don’t ask me if there’s a First Earth or a Third Earth because I don’t know. I live in a town called Stony Brook. We have big cities and farms and small towns just like Cloral, the only difference is they don’t float on the water. I think something like four-fifths of the planet is covered with water; the rest is dry land.”

  “So how do you get around if you can’t use skimmers and speeders?” he asked.

  “Well, we have cars . . . vehicles that can go long distances on land, and big trains that travel on rails. And, oh yeah . . . we can fly.”

  “What?” he asked in shock. “You can fly?”

  I laughed. “Sort of. We have vehicles that fly. Some are small and hold only two people, others are big enough to carry four hundred.”

  “Hobey, that’s magic!” Spader said in awe.

  I guess to someone from another territory that didn’t have airplanes, the power of flight was pretty amazing. It was almost as amazing as being able to breathe underwater with plastic globes that molded to your head. Every territory was unique in its own way and believe it or not, I was beginning to like the idea that I was going to see more of them.

  “And you have a family?” he asked me.

  “Yeah. Mom, Dad, and a little sister named Shannon.”

  We both fell silent for a while. We knew what we were both thinking. What had happened to our families?

  “You know something, Pendragon?”

  “What?”

  “I believe Press,” he said with confidence. “We’re going to see them again. But not before some amazing adventures come our way.”

  I had to smile. Maybe he was beginning to accept our fate.

  For the rest of the night Spader and Yenza took turns at the controls and keeping watch. We all tried to get some sleep, but it wasn’t easy. We went below to the cabin, where there were some bunks. As excited as I was, I really needed some sleep, and konked out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I planned to sack out for only an hour or two, but as it turns out I slept through the entire night!

  What finally woke me up was the sound of the engines slowing. I immediately sat up in the hammock, banged my head on a beam of course, swore to myself, then headed topside.

  Uncle Press, Spader, and Yenza were already standing on deck. We must have made some pretty good time because the sun hadn’t come up yet. It was still pitch dark and the stars still shone off the water. It was very quiet, especially now that the engines were killed and we weren’t moving. I did a complete three-sixty and saw nothing but water.

  “Are we here?” I asked.

  “Right on the spot,” answered Spader.

  “It’s strange,” Yenza said. “According to the charts we’re over a huge trench, one of the deepest on Cloral. But my instruments show it to be fairly shallow. I don’t understand.”

  “Could we be in the wrong spot?” I asked.

  Spader answered the question. “Not a chance.”

  I walked up to the bow of the speeder and looked out onto the water. It was so calm that it was tricky to find where the horizon stopped and the water began. Especially since the stars reflected off the water.

  The stars. The stars reflected off the water. That’s when it hit me.

  I ran to the others and shouted, “Give me the map!”

  Spader had it. He had glued it together using some kind of, well, glue. I held it up toward the horizon. Then I slowly turned, still holding the map out in front of me until everything lined up and—

  “That’s it!” I exclaimed.

  “What’s it?” asked Uncle Press.

  “Look,” I said, pointing to the map. “The horizontal line represents the horizon. And all these dots above it are—”

  “Stars!” shouted Spader. “Hobey-ho, look!”

  It was incredible. The dots on the map lined up perfectly with the constellations in the night sky. There was no mistaking it. We were in the right spot.

  “Good thing we got here at night,” Uncle Press added.

  “So then what’s this big half circle below the line?” I asked.

  I think it hit all four of us at the same time because we all looked at one another cautiously. We knew exactly what that semicircle was supposed to be. If the straight line was the horizon, then anything below it was water. And there was only one thing that was supposed to be below the water in these parts.

  “Could it be?” Spader asked in awe.

  “I’ve heard about Faar since I was a girl,” said Yenza with reverence. “It’s supposed to be the most wonderful place that ever was. It’s where Cloral was born. To think that it could be real . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The idea was too incredible to her.

  “One way or another, we’re going to find out,” said Uncle Press.

  I could tell from his tone of voice that he wanted to treat this as any other expedition. He probably wanted Spader and Yenza to get rid of any childhood fantasies and fears that might get in the way of our solving this mystery.

  “Let’s all eat something,” he said. “Then get ready to dive. As soon as it’s light enough to see, we’ll have a look at what’s down there.”

  There was a stock of dried fruits and vegetables on board. The thought crossed my mind that these might be poisoned like the rest of the food on Cloral. But since they were dried, they had probably been here for a long time and were safe. So we all sat on deck and ate breakfast. To be honest, it was disgusting. That stuff tasted like shoes. Not that I’ve ever eaten shoes before, but if I had, I’m sure they would taste like this. But we had to eat something so I pretended like they were Pop-Tarts. Shoe-flavor Pop-Tarts.

  Gradually, the sky grew brighter and then the sun began to peek up on the horizon. Soon we were bathed in its warmth and light.

  It was time to start our mission. Since this was an aquaneer speeder boat, it was well equipped. There were air globes and spearguns and water sleds. It was decided that Yenza would stay on board while the three of us went sunken city hunting. So Uncle Press, Spader, and I got geared up. We each popped on an air globe and strapped on spearguns.

  I didn’t have my watch, but I was pretty sure we were past the twenty minutes that you’re supposed to wait to go swimming after you eat. I had to laugh to myself. Here I was about to search for a mythological underwater lost city on the other side of the universe, and all I could think about was some old wives’ tale my mother told me about getting cramps at a picnic. It was times like this that I really missed her.

  “If we see something, we’ll surface and let you know,” Uncle Press said to Yenza. “But understand one thing. Zy Roder has the same information we do and I guarantee he’ll be headed this way. Whatever you do, do not take him on yourself, understand?”

  “You’re talking to a chief aquaneer, Press,” said Yenza with a little bit of an attitude. “I can handle things.”

  Uncle Press smiled in apology. “Sorry, my bad. Just be careful. Please.”

  “I’ll say the same to you,” she said with a little smile.

  I was beginning to think that Yenza was developing a “thing” for Uncle Press. Bad idea for her. He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d want to start a relationship with. He was on the road a little too much.

  “Spader, take the lead,” Uncle Press said. “We’ll follow on either side of you.” He then smiled and said, “Look for a really big city.”

  “Hobey-ho,” said Spader with a laugh.

  “Hobey-ho,” I echoed.

  We all grabbed our water sleds, gave a quick wave to Yenza, and did a giant stride into the water. A few seconds later we were all settled and floa
ting next to each other on the surface.

  “Everybody set?” asked Spader.

  We were. He dove underwater and Uncle Press and I followed right behind him. We descended in V formation for several feet, then took a look around. Yenza was right. The water wasn’t all that deep here. I’m guessing it was maybe sixty feet to the bottom. That isn’t very deep at all and certainly no place to hide an entire city. The bottom was fairly barren. For as far as I could see there was nothing but blue-green water and a huge field of low, brown coral. No city. No nothing.

  “Let’s head this way,” said Spader. “It’s the way Pendragon lined the map up with the stars.”

  As we sped along with our water sleds, I saw that this area of the ocean was much less interesting than the ocean bottom around Grallion. There were no plants or kelp fields. There were no farms. There didn’t even seem to be any fish. This was the Cloral equivalent of our moon. We traveled for a long way with nothing to see but more nothing. I hated to be the killjoy and say that we should give up, but I was beginning to think we were wasting our time.

  I was just about to say something when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Quick movement. I looked to my right, but nothing was there. I figured it must have been an eyelash or something . . . until I saw it again. Something moved out there. I saw it a little better this time and thought it was a fish. It made me think back to the big fish that was shadowing Spader and me when we were making our escape from the raiders under Grallion. It was the same kind of thing.

  Then I saw it again, and again.

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  Spader slowed to a stop and we pulled up.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “I saw it too,” said Uncle Press.

  Phew. I wasn’t crazy and hallucinating. But that meant there were strange fish out there who were smart enough to be shadowing us. They were fast, too. And big. Not Moby Dick big, but at least as big as a man.

  “There!” shouted Uncle Press.

  We all looked to see a green shape moving off to our right. It was far enough away that we couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but it was moving a little more slowly than the others so we could at least confirm that it was real.

  “I say we follow, mates,” said Spader.

  “Hobey-ho,” answered Uncle Press.

  Oh, swell. I really hoped this wasn’t a bad idea. We all gunned the water sleds and took off in the direction of this strange green fish. We were at full throttle, but the fish far enough ahead of us that we really couldn’t get a good look at it. I felt like it was teasing us and luring us forward. But that was impossible. Fish don’t lure people—people lure fish.

  “Are you seeing this?” Spader asked.

  We all looked ahead to see that the bottom was beginning to fall away. It was getting deeper.

  “Stay near the bottom,” said Uncle Press. “Don’t lose that thing.”

  I felt the water pressure build around me. At home it wasn’t smart to dive any deeper than, say, sixty feet. Going deeper caused all sorts of problems with water pressure and decompression sickness and a nasty thing called “the bends” that you got if you stayed down too deep for too long. But that wasn’t a problem on Cloral. I guessed it had something to do with the rebreathing devices in the air globes that kept the right mix of gases in your system. But still, this was deeper than I had ever gone before. It was getting dark, and the bottom kept falling away. We were chasing a big, smart fish into the dark unknown and I was getting scared.

  “There’s a ridge up ahead,” announced Spader.

  About thirty yards ahead of us it looked like there was going to be a drop-off. Yenza had said this was the deepest trench on all of Cloral, and I had the feeling we were about to see it. But I was sure this was the end of the line for us. There was no way we were going to go any deeper. We didn’t have lights, the water was getting cold, and who knew what was down there?

  I also saw that the fish thing we were chasing reached the edge and shot down over the side. I had no plans to follow it.

  “Take us to the edge,” said Uncle Press. “We’ll stop there.”

  Phew. It was official. The edge was as far as we were going. Uncle Press and I pulled up even with Spader so that the three of us were now traveling shoulder to shoulder. Whatever we were going to see over the edge, we would see it together. A few seconds later we reached the end and looked down into the abyss.

  Mark, Courtney, yeah, I’ll say it again. What we saw was impossible. It was a vision like I had never encountered in my life and I can’t imagine I ever will again. There are unique things in every territory. Some are evil, some are beautiful, and some are just plain spectacular. What we saw fell into the spectacular category. The three of us could only hang in the water and stare in wonder.

  “Hobey,” said Spader dumbly. “This is a dream, right?”

  “If it is,” said Uncle Press with the same dumb feeling, “we’re all having it.”

  The bottom fell off into black. We were on the edge of a trench that rivaled the Grand Canyon. As clear as the water was, we couldn’t see the bottom or the far side of this trench—its expanse was breathtaking. But what we saw before us made the immense size of the trench seem inconsequential. For what we were seeing was a magical water ballet.

  The water below the edge was full of hundreds of the same green fish like the one we were just following. But now that we were closer, we saw that they weren’t fish at all. They were people. At least I thought they were people. They were certainly people-shaped, but they were covered in a green skin that made them look like they were also part fish. Though they had arms and legs, these looked as much like webbed fins as they did regular old human appendages. Their faces were also covered by the same green skin. I know that sounds gross, but it wasn’t.

  It was an incredibly graceful sight. They were all twisting and swimming and diving and generally looking as if they were having a great time. It was like watching an amazing aquarium with scores of twirling fish dancing in the water.

  Several lights shone up on them from somewhere below. These beams swept back and forth as the fish-people swam in and out of their light. I was totally mesmerized. I felt as if I could watch them forever. It was just plain beautiful.

  But then three of these fish-people left the larger group and swam over toward us.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Time to get scared.”

  “Don’t move,” commanded Uncle Press.

  I didn’t, but instantly switched from rapture into near-panic mode. What did these fishies want with us?

  Each of the fish-people swam gently up to one of us and motioned for us to follow. Whoa, these things really could think. Maybe they were more “people” than “fish” after all.

  “What do we do?” I asked nervously.

  “I say we follow,” said Uncle Press, already swimming forward.

  Gulp. I didn’t have time to argue. Spader and I followed. I had no idea what these creatures wanted. Did they expect us to join in their dance? Would it be some kind of insult if we didn’t?

  I then saw that we weren’t joining the main group. These guides were actually leading us deeper into the trench. I had a moment of panic, but Uncle Press said in a calm voice, “It’s okay. Just go slow.”

  Then, below us, something caught my eye. It was the wall of the trench. I first heard a small rumble, and then I saw a crack of light beginning to appear out of the rock face.

  “What is that?” asked Spader, his voice cracking with tension. Good. I wasn’t the only one who was chicken.

  The crack of light grew larger and larger and we soon saw that it was actually some kind of rock door that was opening up. Then, as if on cue, all of the dancing fish-people gathered together like, well, like a school of fish, and all swam together into the light! They dove as a group, sped down, and disappeared into the rock wall.

  Our three guides were still with us. They motioned for us to follow, and then they, too, dov
e down toward the light.

  The three of us stayed where we were. Even Uncle Press seemed a little reluctant.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Uncle Press looked down at the three guides who had stopped again and were gently motioning for us to follow. He then looked up to us and said, “I think the Lost City of Faar . . . isn’t lost anymore.”

  JOURNAL #7

  (CONTINUED)

  CLORAL

  If I had only one sentence to describe what it was like to be a Traveler, it would be this: “Just when you think you’ve seen it all . . . you haven’t.”

  As if fluming from one bizarre territory to another wasn’t enough, within each of these territories I kept finding new and different places that had my head swimming—no Cloral analogy intended. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. It would be the same thing for a first-time Traveler coming to Second Earth. To go from a city like Chicago to the rainforests of South America to a tundra village in Siberia would be just as rattling. Still, what we found under the ocean of Cloral went way beyond my imagination.

  As strange and exciting as it was for me, it must have been a hundred times more bizarre for Spader. To him the Lost City of Faar was a fable. Could you imagine walking through the forest and finding a hut where seven dwarves lived with a beautiful princess? Or stumbling upon Noah’s Ark? Or finding the Garden of Eden? Every culture has its myths and legends. I can’t imagine what it would be like to discover that one of them was true. But that is exactly what Spader experienced when we swam through the rocky entrance to the Lost City of Faar.

  I wasn’t totally convinced it was a good idea to follow these fish-people into the opening in the wall of rock. So far they hadn’t done anything but frolick, like playful sea lions. But still, they could have been luring us to our deaths. Did these strange creatures feed on excited divers who followed them without a question, convinced they were about to discover the truth behind a myth, only to be served up like reverse-sushi? As always, my mind went to the worst possible outcome.