The Pilgrims of Rayne (26 page)

Loque ran up to me, frantic. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “We had them!”

Siry's eyes bore into me. “What have you done?”

There was no way they could understand. I was the only one who knew we had to get out of harm's way, so I went for it. Was I right? The answer would come soon enough.

We cleared the Flighters' ship and cruised away as the military boat continued on toward the channel. There was a loud metallic click as the two-headed silver monster finished its ascent. The “heads” of the silver beast were long tubes, wider to the rear and tapered to a narrow, hollow point. Both
“heads” turned together. With the metallic sound of turning gears, the hollow tubes lined themselves up on the Flighter's ship.

I was right.

“What kind of beasts are those?” rat boy asked in wonder.

“They aren't beasts,” I declared.

As if on cue, both of the long silver tubes unloaded. They were guns. I didn't know what kind of ammunition it fired. The sound wasn't sharp, but more like dull thuds.
Wump, wump, wump, wump.
They fired, point blank, at the Flighters ship. Each time one fired, it recoiled then locked back into position for another shot.

The Flighters didn't stand a chance. The missiles tore into their ship. Or should I say, the missiles tore their ship apart. There were no explosions when they hit. It was more like small laser bombs had ripped through their vessel. Our ship was close enough to be rocked by the impact. Siry jumped for the wheel. This time I let him take over. He knew the truth now. We needed to get out of there. He gripped the large wheel and focused on guiding us out of harm's way.

The Flighters were desperate to escape the attack and dove over the sides of their doomed ship. In seconds the hull was shredded. I had no idea if any were killed, but if there were any of them below deck, there was no way they survived. The guns kept firing with a vengeance.
Thump, thump, thump.
The sounds of tearing, hot metal sounded like fingernails scraping across a blackboard. The silver guns seemed like they were controlled by an unseen hand. As big as they were, they operated simply and smoothly, like a toy. In twenty seconds the Flighters' ship was a memory. All that was left were the bubbles that rose in the water to mark its grave, and a handful of floundering Flighters. I had no doubt
they'd make it to shore and be picked up by the security force.

Its mission complete, the guns stopped firing. With a mechanical whir they returned to center position and sank down beneath the water. The whole event, from the time we first heard the whir of the guns to the disappearance of any sign that they had been there, took all of a minute. A single, violent minute.

The Jakills stood staring back at the gateway to Rayne, dumbfounded. All was quiet. The sun continued to rise on a new day. It looked as if nothing had happened.

But nothing was the same.

IBARA

T
he stunned looks on the faces of the Jakills told the whole story. In those few short minutes they learned about firepower and its violent result.

“It was…it was…horrible!” Twig cried out.

Loque gasped. “Did anyone know about that weapon?”

Nobody had.

“What about the Flighters' ship?” rat boy whined. “They had a weapon too! We're lucky we're not on the bottom of the ocean right next to them!”

“I'm scared,” Twig said.

They fell into an excited babble. Gone were the bold hijackers who were willing to risk their lives to ram the Flighters' ship. Crashing one ship into another made sense to them. Powerful weapons of destruction didn't.

“Stop!” Siry ordered.

Everyone fell silent. Throughout the frantic debate, Siry's eyes had stayed on the horizon. He gripped the ship's large wheel, guiding it as if nothing had happened. It was a good act. I saw the truth. His hands were quivering. When he
spoke, he kept his eyes forward. I'm guessing he didn't want to make eye contact or the Jakills would realize he was just as shaken as everybody else.

“What did you expect?” he asked.

“Not that!” rat boy chirped quickly.

“Then wake up!” Siry shot back. “We're out here to discover the truth about our world. Did you really think we'd like everything we found?”

Loque said calmly, “This isn't the rest of the world, Siry. That weapon was here, where we live. Why didn't we know about it?”

“For the same reason we don't know about the rest of the world beyond our island,” Siry answered angrily. “The tribunal keeps us ignorant. I don't know what that weapon was or who put it there. That's the whole point. Why don't we know? Why are they keeping secrets?”

The Jakills exchanged nervous looks.

Siry continued. “Nothing has changed except we've had our first taste of life beyond our sheltered little village.” He finally looked at the others and continued with passion. “Do we want to learn more? Or was that enough to make us turn around and run back to our lives of peaceful oblivion like frightened children?”

There were tentative looks all around, but nobody raised their hand.

Siry nodded in approval. “Good. Everybody back to their posts. We've got a long sail ahead.”

The group dispersed silently but not enthusiastically.

“Take the wheel,” Siry ordered Loque.

Loque nodded and took control of the ship. He seemed to be Siry's most trusted friend. I could see why. Loque was a good guy. Siry looked me square in the eye. He seemed shaken.

“Come with me,” he ordered, his voice cracking slightly.

The guy was barely holding it together. I knew he'd have questions. I had plenty of my own. He led me toward the bow of the ship and into the wooden cabin. Inside were coiled ropes and poles. It looked like your basic shipboard gear. Nothing unusual. We entered the cabin. Suddenly he turned and sprang at me. I was so surprised, I barely reacted. He grabbed my shirt and pushed me against the wooden wall. Hard.

“Never do that again,” he seethed. The guy was really ticked.

“Do what?” was all I could get out.

His eyes were wild with anger. Or fear. “I'm their leader. I don't care who you are, you will not take over like that again.”

I realized he was talking about how I took control of the ship's wheel and steered us away from the Flighters' ship.

“Sure, Siry,” I said calmly. “Next time we're all about to die and you freeze up, I'll back off so you won't look bad. No problem.”

Siry wanted to be angry. I think he wanted to hit me. Instead he shoved me away and walked to the other side of the cabin. The guy looked tortured.

I asked, “This isn't really about me saving the ship, is it?”

Siry pulled his hand through his curly hair. The confident front he put on for the Jakills was gone. “They trust me,” he said with a shaky voice. “What have I gotten them into?”

“Want to turn back?”

“No!” he said quickly. “I just want to keep it together.”

“You will,” I assured him. “You're not alone. You don't have to have all the answers.”

“Answers?” he said with an ironic chuckle. “What answers? All I've got are questions. Come see what I found below.”

I followed him down a wooden ladder to a lower deck. We climbed down one level and moved aft. The ceiling was low. I had to be careful not to bash my head. We walked along a short corridor with doors on either side. A few feet farther, dead ahead, was a doorway. He motioned for me to enter. I stepped past him into the belly of the ship. The large area took up most of the body of the ship. It was empty, except for long rows of wooden shelves that lined both sides. Each shelf looked about six feet long by two feet across. They were simple with no markings or detail. A quick guesstimate said there were about a hundred. Fifty on either side, two levels each.

“What do you think those are for?” he asked.

“They look like bunks,” I answered. “You know, for people to sleep on.”

“That's what I think,” Siry agreed. “This is no fishing boat. It was built to move people. But who? And to where?”

“I wish I knew” was my honest answer.

Siry looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you, Pendragon? Really? I've trusted you and you still haven't even told me where you're from.”

“I thought you didn't want to hear about Travelers and Halla. You think it's all some fantasy your father thought up.”

“Can you blame me?”

I couldn't. Siry was scared, and lost. Up until the Flighters' boat showed up, he thought he pretty much had it all wired. That ended as soon as the first shot was fired. He was floundering. It was the first chance I had to try and get through to him.

“First tell me about your father,” I said softly. “What was he like?”

Siry paced nervously, running his hand along the wooden
frame of the shelves. It seemed like a load of conflicting emotions were battling for his head space.

“He was a tough guy,” he finally began. “People respected him. He started out as one of those security goons, but he was smart and landed on the tribunal.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you're proud of him.”

Siry scoffed. “He was tough with me, too. He wanted me to be, I don't know, perfect. He kept saying that the son of a tribunal member had to set an example. He said I would take his place one day. You know, on the tribunal. I wanted to make him proud.”

“So what happened?”

“I found out the tribunal was lying to us. Most people had no idea. But I knew. You didn't have to be a genius to realize something else was out there. All it took was for something to wash up on shore. Knowing there was some greater truth was kind of, I don't know, disturbing. Knowing the tribunal was lying about it made it worse. The people trusted them. They betrayed us.”

“And your father was one of them.”

Siry nodded.

“So that's when you started the Jakills?”

“I wasn't the only one who felt betrayed. But we were smart enough to keep our ideas to ourselves, not like the people who vanished for asking too many questions. We only shared our thoughts when we were safe from the ears of the tribunal. But it wasn't all about anger. At least, not at first. We had fun, too. Everybody on that island is so, I don't know, behaved. I guess we caused some trouble. It was our way of protesting the lies we had to live with. The tribunal thinks we're a bunch of troublemaking kids. They have no idea that we want to open the eyes of every person on that island. But to do that, we first
have to open our own eyes. That's why we're here.”

He got right in my face. Some of his swagger was back. “That's my story. Tell me yours.”

The time for tact was long gone.

“You're in the middle of a battle that's much bigger than you realize. You're right about one thing though. Your father
did
want you to take his place someday…as a Traveler.”

Siry scoffed, but it felt like this time it was out of habit. “Yeah, right. Saint Dane, Halla, the future of all existence! My father lied to his people. Why should I believe anything he said?”

“Because it's true,” I said flatly. “You said you wanted the truth, that's it. I don't know why your father did what he did, but he was a Traveler. There has to be a good reason.”

“And how do you fit in to all this?”

“I've been chosen to be the lead Traveler. Why? I don't know. By who? I don't know that either.”

“What
do
you know?”

“I've followed Saint Dane to seven territories. Five times we stopped him. Twice we failed. That's not good enough. I think what's happening on Ibara could be the beginning of the final battle for Halla. He's here, Siry. I don't know where yet, but I guarantee, he's here, and I believe he's going to try and stop you.”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “He doesn't even know me.”

“Wrong,” I shot back. “You're a Traveler now. He knows all about you. He knows about all of us. I guarantee he also knows the truth about Ibara that you're trying to find. Question is, how is he using that truth to turn this territory upside down and set himself up to win the final battle? That's why I'm here. I'm trying to learn the truth, just like you. The only difference is I'm fighting for Halla, not just
this one territory. Whether you believe it or not, you are too.”

Siry nodded thoughtfully and sat down on one of the empty bunks. I didn't know if I was getting through to him, or if he thought I was as crazy as I sounded.

“I don't want to be responsible for the future of all existence,” he said, sounding tired. “I just think people should be able to choose their own destinies.”

“You know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means you've taken your father's place.”

Siry almost smiled. Almost. “I hate to admit this,” he said, “but we wouldn't have made it this far without your help.”

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

He reached under his shirt, where he had a wide blue belt strapped around his waist. He took it off and unfolded it to reveal it was a waterproof pouch. He reached inside the pocket and took out a yellowed piece of paper.

“I found this on the beach a long time ago,” he explained. “It was in a tube to keep it dry. The tube was broken. There's some damage.”

He treated the document as if it were precious. He gently unfolded the paper and placed it down reverently on one of the wooden shelves.

Before I looked at it, he said, “This is proof the tribunal has been lying. It's what brought the Jakills together and sent us on this adventure.”

He stepped aside so I could see the mysterious paper. It was a map. A very old and worn map. It was crude, not like a modern road map with lots of detail. This was more of a hand-drawn antique. There was no telling how old it was. Most of the writing had long ago worn off, but I could still see the detail of land masses.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“I know every detail of our island,” he explained. “Every cove, every mountain, every stream.” He pointed to an outline on the map and declared, “That's it. There's the bay where Rayne is built. There's Tribunal Mountain. It's all there.”

I wasn't so much interested in the detail of the island, as I was about the fact that this map showed other land masses. The closest to the island was so large, the borders ran off the edges of the page.

“What's that?” I asked.

“That,” Siry declared, “is where we're going. If we're going to find other life, that is the place to start.”

There was a peninsula that jutted out from the large landmass. Its tip was the closest piece of land to the island. More interesting was the fact that the peninsula had faded letters on it. It had a name. I couldn't quite make it out, so I took the fragile map and held it up toward a porthole so that light would shine through from behind. The words were faint and not lined up properly, but I could definitely make out the word “Rubity.”

“Rubity,” Siry said. “That's where we're going.”

As I held the paper up to the light, I saw another word, barely visible along one border. The letters weren't evenly spaced and could barely be made out, but there was no mistake. The word was “JAKILL.”

“We think it might be the name of the mapmaker,” Siry said before I could ask. “That's one mystery solved, right?” he added with a sly smile.

“How long will it take to sail there?” I asked.

“Depends on the wind, but it's not far. A day. Maybe longer.”

“That's close,” I said, surprised.

“That's why we chose it. But it's also a big risk. If Rubity is populated, there's a good chance we'll find something there we'd rather not.”

“What's that?”

“Flighters.”

 

I didn't have much to do on the ship. No, I had nothing to do on the ship, other than to walk around and be impressed by how the Jakills were such good sailors. They expertly trimmed the sails and kept the spider web of lines from tangling and basically sailed the ship like they were born to do it. I took the chance to talk with some of them and learned their major fun growing up was sailing small boats. Some even spent time on the larger fishing vessels or apprenticed under the guidance of experienced sailors. It definitely qualified them to be sailing this minipirate ship.

The trip was cake. The water was calm and the air was warm. In the afternoon when the sun got really hot, we swung off the rails from ropes attached to the mast, plunging into the warm, tropical sea. It was a blast.

I also took the chance to explore the rest of the ship. The engines were small, just as Siry had said. They weren't powerful enough to do much more than maneuver. Loque explained to me that it ran on fuel that was distilled from plants. How cool was that? Organic fuel!