The Pilgrims of Rayne (16 page)

Like it or not, it was time to stop being an observer.

I scooped up a short weapon that had been knocked away from one of the Jakills. I grabbed another from the hand of a Jakill who was out cold. He didn't need it anymore. I wasn't experienced in handling those short weapons, but they were all I had. The clubs were small, but solid. I gripped one in each hand, took a breath, and ran forward to begin my own personal battle to save Ibara.

It didn't take long to get involved. A Flighter took a swing at me. I dodged back, let him follow through, then clocked him on the back of the head with the butt of the club. A second Flighter launched himself at me. I ducked, took his weight on my back, and flipped him over…in time to face another Flighter who tackled me head-on. He hit me in the gut, driving me down and onto my back. I hit the ground hard, but let my momentum carry us both. I rolled with my attacker, then,
using his own momentum, flipped him over my head.

I was fully into the fight. Any pain or leftover rustiness I had from the quig-bee attack was gone. It was survival time. The battle had changed and the Flighters knew it. A ringer had entered the game. They were more cautious about attacking me, which is exactly what I needed. They may have been better fighters than the Jakills, but they weren't trained.

I was.

My hope was that the Jakills had done enough damage to soften them up a little. Ten-on-one is not a good thing, no matter how good I thought I was. The Flighters kept coming after me, but with enough hesitation that I could exploit their weaknesses. I nailed one in the gut, spun, cracked another on the back of the legs and sent him crumbling. Another Flighter came after me from behind. I didn't see him; I sensed him. Loor's lessons were well learned. He took a swing. I grabbed his arm and flipped him over my shoulder.

I may have felt like I was in this battle alone, but I wasn't. The Jakills kept on fighting. They even had a few surprises of their own to offer. I saw Siry raise a wooden club to his mouth and give it a hard, sharp blow on one end. I didn't get what he was doing until I heard a Flighter yelp and grab at his back. Those weapons weren't just clubs, they were blowguns that shot some kind of projectile. The Flighter fell to one knee. He seemed disoriented. I thought maybe Siry had fired a poisonous dart. The Flighter staggered off, headed for the jungle. His fight was over.

Twig fired her blowgun and hit another Flighter in the leg. He squealed, grabbed at it, and limped off. The whole time I continued to defend myself, while getting in a few shots at the Flighters, who were quickly growing less enthused. They had given up on the cave. They wanted to escape. One guy dragged
an unconscious Flighter toward the jungle. I knew he was unconscious because I made him that way. Another Flighter quickly helped him, and the three scampered into the bush.

I looked around, ready for the next attack. It never came. I had only been in the fight for a minute or two, but it was over. The Flighters had disappeared into the jungle, carrying their wounded. I looked around the clearing to see several Jakills looking dazed. Three were out cold. One of those was the little guy with ratty eyes. Most stood around, breathing hard, not wanting anything to do with chasing the Flighters.

Siry stood in the center of it all, surrounded by his fallen friends, breathing hard. It looked like he was barely able to stand. Blood flowed from his nose and a gash on his cheek. It reminded me of my own wound that I got from the quig that attacked me on Third Earth. I looked at my forearm. The wound was completely gone. I didn't know whether to credit my Traveler powers of recuperation, or the incredible medical technology of Third Earth. Either way, I was better. In all sorts of ways. I had shaken the last effects from the bee attack and the medication.

“You can fight,” Siry said breathlessly.

I replied with a shrug.

I glanced up the face of the mountain to the cave opening that led to the tribunal cavern. Standing there were the three members of the tribunal. Genj and I made eye contact. I expected them to send help, or to yell a quick “You okay?” or even give us a simple wave that acknowledged what had just happened. But nobody moved. Several kids lay at their feet, bleeding. They didn't seem to care. How messed up was that?

I had no idea who the Flighters were, or why they were after the tribunal, or why the Jakills were playing the game
from both sides. There was a very strange dynamic happening on Ibara.

Siry knelt down by the little guy with ratty eyes and gently turned his head over. The kid moaned. A nasty-looking black-and-blue mark was already forming on his cheek, right next to a nastier-looking gash.

“He needs help.” Siry was worried. I was glad to see that he cared about his guys.

“What about the tribunal?” I asked.

Siry scoffed.

“I don't get it. You just saved them from the Flighters.”

“We're dirt to them, Pendragon,” Siry said with venom. “Their reward will be to let us sink back into the jungle and not arrest us.”

I shot a look up at the tribunal, to see Genj, Moman, and Drea step away from the cave opening. Siry was right. They didn't care about the wounded Jakills. They didn't care about Siry, the son of a tribunal member. What was going on? The tribunal wasn't evil. At least, I didn't think so. How could they be, if Remudi was one of them? Nothing added up. I couldn't tell the good guys from the bad guys.

The blond thief knelt next to Siry. “Telleo,” he suggested.

Siry nodded. “Yes. She'll help.”

“We can bring the wounded to the hut where I'm staying,” I offered. “There's medicine and—”

Siry shot me a vicious look. “We don't need your help.”

“No? You've got a short memory.”

The blond thief played peacemaker. “Why not let him come?” he asked Siry. “Without him, more of us would be bleeding.”

“He was an ally of my father's,” Siry argued.

“And he won the battle for us,” the blond guy countered.

Siry gave me a dark look. “What do you want, Pendragon? Why are you here?”

“That's a long story, but you gotta know I'm here as a friend.”

Siry was torn. He wanted me gone, but I'd gotten some credibility by helping them turn back the Flighters.

“The things I showed you, it was to make you understand how different I am from my father. Whatever he stood for, I don't want any part of it.”

“I understand that.”

“Don't be an idiot. You're an outsider. As long as the tribunal thinks they need you, they'll leave you alone. But if they change their minds and think you're a threat…” He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

“I'll risk it,” I said.

I heard a sniffing sound as if my dog, Marley, were around and I had bacon in my ear. I turned quickly to find the girl named Twig had her nose by my cheek. “You don't smell scared anymore.” She looked at Siry and smiled. “I like him.”

“We might need him again,” the blond thief added.

Siry gave me another look. He scowled and said to me, “Don't get in my way.”

I had been accepted by the Jakills. I hoped that was a good thing.

IBARA

S
iry picked out four Jakills to help move the wounded, including his blond friend. The others were told to scatter. The six of us awkwardly carried the unconscious through the village and back to the hut. Along the way we got strange looks from the people of Rayne. We were a bunch of scruffy-looking kids, carrying three bodies. I'd stare too. Many of them quickly turned away and hurried back into their homes, as if we were carrying the plague. When we got back to the hut where I had first woken up after being attacked by the quig-bees, Telleo was sitting outside, reading. She looked so peaceful sitting there. It wouldn't last.

“What happened?” she asked, jumping to her feet. She looked around anxiously, as if worried that others were watching the scene.

“A group of Flighters tried to attack the tribunal,” Siry answered.

“Bring them inside quickly,” Telleo instructed while glancing around again. She definitely didn't want anybody seeing us. We carried the wounded inside the hut and gently
laid them down on beds. Telleo did a quick appraisal of each.

“We have to get a doctor,” she concluded.

“No!” Siry barked.

“They need care,” Telleo protested.

“Then give it to them,” Siry shot back. “I don't want doctors here.”

Telleo was on the verge of panic. “But I can't—”

“You can't or you won't?” Siry asked sharply.

This shut Telleo down. She nodded. “I'll do what I can.”

Siry pointed to the other Jakills and said, “Go home. There's nothing more to do here.”

Three of them left right away. The blond thief came up to me. “My name is Loque. Thank you.”

“Pendragon,” I responded.

He gave me a friendly hit on the shoulder and left.

“Let her work,” Siry said to me, and left the hut.

Telleo and I were the only ones left. Or at least, the only ones conscious. She looked scared.

“Can you help them?” I asked.

“I can try.”

“Why doesn't Siry want doctors?”

“Doctors work for the tribunal. He doesn't want anything to do with them.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Are you a Jakill?”

Telleo gave me a surprised look and chuckled. “No, I'm not. I don't think the tribunal even knows that name. I'm surprised that you do.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I work fast.”

“The tribunal would not be happy if they knew I was helping them. I could lose my job.”

“Isn't that kind of…wrong?”

“It's complicated,” she said with a resigned shrug. “I'm glad the tribunal didn't send you away.”

“I'm glad they didn't have me executed! They made Siry my babysitter instead. He's supposed to keep me out of trouble. Some joke, huh?”

Telleo's expression turned dark. “Be careful of him,” she said softly. “He's not a bad person, but he's playing a dangerous game.”

I walked for the door. “I'll be careful. Good luck with these guys.”

She nodded. As soon as I left her and stepped out the door, Siry jumped me, grabbed my shirt and got right in my face.

“Did my father send you here?” he demanded. “Did he tell you to stop me?”

I could have dropped the guy in a heartbeat, but that wouldn't do anything to earn his trust. I had to show strength, but not seem like a threat.

“No. To both questions.”

“Then why are you here? And don't tell me it's to battle some fantasy demon monster.”

He was making it tough. That's exactly why I was there.

“What are you afraid of, Siry? What's happening here?”

He pulled away from me. The guy was a mess of emotions, most of them negative. He was angry, distrustful, and scared. He started to speak, but stopped, as if the words were difficult. He was struggling to keep his emotions in check. The other Jakills were gone. We were alone. I didn't think he'd have let his feelings show like that if the others had been around.

“Is it true?” he finally asked. “About my father?”

I nodded. Siry winced. The guy had a tough shell, but there was a heart in there somewhere.

“I didn't know him,” I explained. “But I know a lot about him. Maybe I can help you understand him.”

“I know all I want to know,” he snapped viciously.

This wasn't going well. I needed an ally on Ibara. I needed a Traveler, but all I had was an angry kid who had issues with his father. It wasn't going to be easy to get him to accept his role as a Traveler and take on a whole bunch more.

“Your father was telling the truth,” I said. “I need your help.”

“You say that like I should care,” Siry shouted. “My father was on the tribunal. He was just as guilty as the rest of them.”

“Then help me understand,” I pleaded with him. “What is the tribunal guilty of?”

Siry stared at the ground. I felt as if he wanted to trust me, but didn't know how.

“You said I was a target,” he said softly.

“We're all targets. All Travelers. You don't want to hear that, but it's true. You're going to find out soon enough. Better to hear it from me than—”

“Than Saint Dane?” he interrupted.

“I'm here to find the truth, Siry,” I said again. “Maybe I can help you get what you want too, but you have to trust me. I need to know about the tribunal and the Jakills and the Flighters.”

Siry looked at me as if I were from Mars. Or Second Earth.

“You really don't know anything, do you?”

“What can I say? I'm from out of town.”

Siry gave me a look that actually chilled me. “If you do anything to hurt the Jakills, I'll kill you.”

He meant it too.

Without another word, Siry walked toward the bay. He led me along the sandy path, down to the perfect white-powder beach and along the shore. The water was warm, like Cloral. It felt good to splash in it. Siry didn't speak. I didn't think he was used to opening up to anybody, especially a stranger, and I was about as strange a guy as he'd ever met. He was angry. Angry with the tribunal, with his father, and with life in general. He didn't speak again until we were too far from the village to be overheard.

“We're being lied to” was the first thing he said. “Everybody. Every last person in Rayne. Maybe everyone on Ibara.”

“Who's lying? The tribunal?”

“It starts with them,” he answered. “They're manipulating us all. They say they're doing what's best for everyone, but it's not the truth.”

“What are they lying about?”

“Everything!” he snapped. “It's about getting us to conform to their way of thinking. Their way of life. Living in this village is like being dead.”

“Really? Seems pretty sweet to me.”

“You don't live here,” Siry snarled. “This is it. There's nothing more. People live their boring little lives in their little huts doing little jobs. Every day. Everyone has his place. Nothing varies. When you turn seven, you're evaluated and told what job you'll do for the rest of your life. You have no choice. You know what job they've got for me? Farming. I'm supposed to grow food to feed the people who make the clothes that are worn by the people who catch the fish that are eaten by the people who build the huts for the people who pick up the trash of the people who repair the lights for the people who bring the water to the people who teach other people how to do
all the boring jobs in the first place. It never ends. Every single day. That's not living. It's surviving.”

“So where does the lying come in?” I asked.

“There's more to this world than that. To life. The tribunal is keeping it from us.”

“How?” I asked.

“They control information. There are plenty of books, but none talk about our history, or about anything that happens beyond our little world. Don't even try to ask. You won't get answers. Worse, if you ask too many questions, they put you away. It's a crime to be curious.”

“I don't get that.”

“People disappear. One day a guy might be heard openly wondering about why we aren't allowed to move to other villages; the next day he's gone. His whole family is gone. Nobody knows where or why. They're just…gone, and never seen again.”

“So why don't people just leave?” I asked.

“Because nobody is allowed off the island!” Siry shouted.

“This is an island?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Siry answered. “Rayne is the largest village, but there are others. I've been to a few with my father, but traveling is discouraged. We're conditioned from birth to live our lives in the little village where we were born and to be happy about it. I'm not. None of the Jakills are. We know there's something more out there. The Jakills are going to find it.”

“Wait, go back. This is an island that nobody has ever left?”

“Yes.”

“So who are the Flighters? People trying to leave?”

“No, they come from somewhere else. That's why the tribunal is afraid of them. They're worried the Flighters will
poison our way of life. The security force usually keeps them away, but sometimes a few make land, like today.”

“Where do they come from?”

“That's just it. Nobody knows! If the tribunal knows, they're not saying. The tough thing is, the Flighters are savages. If they were friendly, there might be a way to learn from them, but they aren't. They're scavengers who raid farms and steal whatever they can carry. They've attacked villagers and destroyed huts. They're all about random violence. Now they're going after the tribunal.”

“So it looks like the tribunal has more to worry about than whether they'll poison Rayne's way of life.”

Siry nodded.

“If you hate the place so much, why did you protect the tribunal from the Flighters?”

Siry chuckled and shook his head, as if I were an idiot. “We don't want to destroy Rayne, Pendragon. If people are happy with their lives, that's their choice. We just want everyone to know the truth and live their lives the way they want. We aren't heartless. The Jakills have families. We want change, not destruction. We want to help the people of Rayne, not hurt them. That's why we fight the Flighters.”

Good answer.

“So that's what brought the Jakills together? You want to change your lives?”

“Most of us are the sons and daughters of village leaders,” Siry answered. “We all heard things, growing up. Little things our parents let slip. It got each of us thinking on our own. Once we started pooling our information, the questions kept coming. Who are we? Why are we stuck here? Why can't we learn about the rest of our world?”

“What did your father tell you?” I asked.

Siry laughed. “He was the worst of all. He wanted nothing to do with the outside world. I have a hard time believing he was some kind of ‘Traveler.' That wasn't him. I'm sorry he's dead. I really am. He was a good guy when I was little. But once I started having opinions of my own, we stopped getting along.”

“What about your mother?” I asked.

“I didn't know her. Remudi adopted me when I was a baby.”

No surprise there. That's how it worked with Travelers. I was getting a better picture of Ibara. Remudi was a Traveler. I couldn't help but think that if he had a hand in the kind of disinformation policy that Siry was talking about, it might have something to do with the future of Ibara. The turning point. I felt I was on the right track. Not close, but at least on the right track.

“We just want the truth,” Siry said. “You saw the Jakill clearing in the jungle. You saw the things we have. None of that came from any village on the island. Over the years things have washed up on shore. What wasn't confiscated and destroyed by the security force has been secretly passed around and hidden. It may all be junk, but it means a lot more to us. Each piece is a clue to what exists beyond the shores of this island. We want to know what it is.”

“You might not like it,” I cautioned.

“Maybe. We want the chance to find out for ourselves.”

I nodded in understanding.

“I've been honest with you. It's your turn. What do you really want here?”

It was a critical moment. Siry didn't trust me, but he'd opened up. It made me think there was hope for an alliance.

“I think you're right,” I began. “The tribunal is keeping
secrets. Your father was keeping secrets. I want to know what they are.”

“Why?” he pressed. “Why do you care?”

“I know you didn't agree with your father or anything he stood for. I do. He was a Traveler, which means there's more going on here than even the tribunal realizes.”

That made Siry perk up. He liked the idea that there might be secrets being kept from the tribunal.

I continued, “I know you don't care about being a Traveler, but I think that what you want, what the Jakills want, is exactly what I want. We may have different reasons, but we're on the same side. We both want the truth. Let me help you find it.”

Siry stared deep into my eyes, as if he were trying to read my mind and gauge whether or not I could be trusted. He was a passionate guy. That was good. He was also a thief and a brawler who hated authority. Not so good. But I agreed with his philosophy. People should be in charge of their own destinies. And he was loyal. He cared about his friends and wanted what was right for them. Maybe he had the makings of a Traveler after all.

“All right,” he finally said. “But I meant what I said. If you betray us, I'll kill you.”

I had been cautious with Siry till then, but I was tired of playing games. I got right into his face and said, “Whether you believe it or not, you are way over your head. I've asked for your help, but pretty soon you're going to need me as much as I need you. Don't threaten me, Siry.”