Raven Rise (9 page)

“What kind of mark?”

Richard rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He looked tired. “Come on,” he said, and walked off.

Patrick noticed that the old man was once again stooped over. The momentary hope that he could use his skills to assist someone with a legitimate research project was gone. Richard led him along the rows of musty books, stopping at a wooden door that he used an ancient key to unlock. Patrick decided not to ask him any more questions until they reached their destination. He was too busy trying to get his mind around the fact that all records from Second Earth had been destroyed. Why? By whom? Who were the mysterious people whose arms were marked and who spied on people to make sure they weren't harboring secrets? Or the truth.

The door moved with a creak that told Patrick it hadn't been opened in a long time. Inside the dimly lit room were tables loaded with ancient papers. It was all pretty haphazard. The walls were lined with books. With all that he'd seen that strange morning, the sight of so many books was still jarring.

“Close the door,” Richard commanded as he shuffled to a bookcase and ran his hands along the volumes. “I shouldn't worry so much anymore. I'm tired. Nobody cares. Why should I?” The old man found what he was looking for. He pulled a heavy leather volume out from between the others and placed it on the table. Patrick expected him to open it. He didn't. Instead he reached into the empty space the book had occupied. Patrick watched with fascination as the old man opened a hidden panel in the wall behind the bookcase and took out a flat object wrapped in red cloth.

“This is all that's left,” Richard explained. “At least, it's all that I know about. I suppose there are other bits here and there, but this is all that I'm aware of.” The old man walked toward Patrick, carrying the mysterious parcel. “I don't know who you are or why you're looking for answers. Maybe it's time more people tried.” Patrick pulled the red covering away to reveal what looked like the cover of a book. Just the cover. One edge was shredded, as if torn from the binding.

“They've destroyed all the evidence,” Richard continued. “They've destroyed history. It's been so long that people now question if it ever happened at all. There are a few who try to keep the memory alive, if only to stop the insanity from happening again. But it's too late for that. It's still happening. It never stopped. That's why I'm afraid. That's why I checked your arm. I needed to see if you had the mark that made you one of them.”

“Who are they?” Patrick asked, numb.

Richard's answer was to show him the book cover. “Take this,” Richard ordered. “It's not doing any good hidden away here.”

It was definitely the cover from some ancient volume. How old, Patrick couldn't begin to guess. It was made of cracked brown leather and had two faded gold imprints. Running vertically down one side was a single word in ornate one-inch-high letters.

“Ravinia,” Patrick whispered, reading.

The word meant nothing to him, but it wasn't the word that held his attention. It was the symbol next to it. The symbol was familiar. The symbol made his head spin.

“Beware of people who are marked with that symbol, Teacher,” Richard warned. “After all these years, they aren't finished. They haven't given up. I don't know what their goal is, but it isn't good. If they knew this book cover existed, they'd destroy it. And then they'd destroy you.”

The large symbol was five inches across. At one time it must have been embossed with shiny bright gold. All that was left of the color were small flecks. Patrick ran his hand over the imprint, hoping to gather insight. He didn't. He was more confused than ever.

The symbol was a five-pointed star. It was the symbol that marked the gates to the flumes.

Shortly after, Patrick sat alone in the overgrown park behind the library. At one time it was called “Bryant Park,” but would now more aptly be called “Junky Messed-Up Park.” Benches were broken, garbage was strewn, weeds choked everything they could grab on to. Patrick held the book cover inside his shirt, against his chest. He looked up at the gloomy gray sky. He wanted to cry. What had happened to his home? What had gone so terribly wrong? He was alone. He needed help. He needed to get a grip.

He needed to be a Traveler.

He pulled off his ring and laid it on the ground. He didn't worry about being seen. Not a soul was around. His plan was to send the book cover to Bobby Pendragon. Pendragon would know what to do.

“Ibara,”
he called out.

The ring didn't move. Patrick stomped on it, as if trying to wake it up.

“Ibara!”
he called again.

The ring didn't respond. Patrick was reeling. In desperation he said,
“First Earth.”

The ring didn't respond. Patrick's world was closing in on him and it wasn't even his world. Not anymore. He had never felt more alone.

“What have you done, Pendragon?” he whispered, choking back emotion. “Where are you?”

The voyage back to New York
on the
Queen Mary
took six days. To Mark it felt like six weeks. He rarely left the cabin he shared with Dodger. The personable acolyte continually tried to cajole him into getting some air. Or exercise. Or anything. Mark wasn't interested. He spent most of the day in bed or staring out at the never-ending Atlantic.

Dodger had better luck with Courtney and the Dimonds, convincing them to make the best of their situation. They played tennis and swam in the pool and enjoyed some fine meals. It was mostly because they didn't know what else to do. There wasn't much joy involved. They were passing time. It was better than going crazy.

Looming over everyone's head was the concern over what their next move would be. Courtney promised Mark she wouldn't let on to his parents about what had happened with Nevva Winter and his Traveler ring. It would be up to Mark to tell them when he felt ready. The few times she asked Mark what was going through his head, she was answered with a shrug and a grunt. Courtney feared that Mark was sinking into a depression and she didn't know how to shake him out of it. Courtney wasn't a stranger to depression. She knew that no amount of cajoling or discussion would help. He would have to work things through on his own. All she could do was be there for him when he needed support. A few times she had to stop Dodger from barging into the stateroom to try to sweep Mark up and out. Up and out was the last thing Mark needed. What he needed was time. And answers.

It wasn't until the last evening of the voyage that Mark came out of seclusion and knocked on the door to his parents' stateroom.

“I'm sorry,” Mark said, hanging his head when he saw his mom and dad. “For everything.”

Mrs. Dimond hugged her son, squeezing him as if she never wanted to let him go.

Mr. Dimond said, “Mark, there isn't a whole lot I understand about what's been happening, but the one thing I know for certain is that you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“We're proud of you,” Mrs. Dimond said, sniffling back tears. “To think of what you've had to deal with. It's unfathomable. My little boy. When did you grow up?”

Mark wasn't so sure when that happened. He kind of wished it hadn't. He liked his old life just fine. At first the idea of Bobby fluming around to other worlds to battle evil sounded romantic and exciting. If he were being totally honest, he'd have to admit that back in the early days, he longed to be part of the adventure. As much as he feared the possibility of Saint Dane setting his sights on Second Earth, some part of him couldn't wait for it to happen. He wanted to be part of the action. But those days were long gone. Saint Dane was evil. There was nothing romantic or adventurous about evil. It destroyed his life and nearly killed Courtney and his parents…not to mention the fact that his invention helped Saint Dane create the mechanism for mayhem on multiple territories. Almost four years had passed since he received Bobby's first journal. He had become a different person. He missed the old person.

Mark hugged his mom back then pulled away. He wasn't there only to apologize. He had business. It was time for a family conference.

“We're worried about you,” Mrs. Dimond began.

“I'm worried about everything,” Mark countered.

“That's why we're worried,” Mr. Dimond added. “You can't solve the problems of Halla yourself, nor can you be blamed for them.”

This made Mark look up at his dad. He wasn't so sure he agreed.

“I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just say it flat out,” Mark said, changing the subject. “You guys can't go home.”

The Dimonds exchanged confused looks.

Mark added, “To Second Earth I mean. I'm afraid if you do, you'll die.”

“You mean because we have to use the flume with a Traveler?” Mr. Dimond asked.

“That,” Mark answered. “And because Nevva threatened your life.”

The Dimonds stared at their son for a long moment. A small “Oh” was all that Mrs. Dimond could get out. They watched Mark with wide eyes as he explained the deal he'd made with Nevva. His ring for their life. When they heard that, both the Dimonds winced.

“I didn't want to tell you,” Mark added quickly. “But that would be wrong. I made a decision, and we're going to have to live with it.”

“You shouldn't have done that,” Mr. Dimond said flatly.

“What else could I do?” Mark cried. “I thought Nevva made a mistake. She said she wanted to cut off Bobby, but since Dodger had a ring, I thought it wouldn't matter. I was wrong.”

“Then why else would she want it?” Mrs. Dimond asked.

“I don't know and it's killing me,” Mark shot back. “I've already messed up once with Forge; I think I just did it again.”

“She's barbaric,” Mrs. Dimond hissed.

“Yeah, that's one word to use,” Mark said with resignation. “I can think of a bunch of others.”

Mr. Dimond stood and paced. “We have to go back,” he announced with authority. “We can't let her use us against you. Against Halla.”

“It's too late,” Mark said softly.

“Mark!” his dad shouted. “This is about the future of humanity, not just your mother and me.”

“I know that, Dad,” Mark said patiently. “But the damage is done.”

The three stood staring at one another. Mark was right. The damage was done. Nevva had the ring.

A soft knock came on the door.

“Come in,” Mr. Dimond called.

Courtney poked her head inside to see the tense standoff. “Oops, sorry. Family stuff,” she said, and started to close the door.

“No,” Mark called out. “Come in. You're part of this too.”

Courtney sheepishly entered the stateroom and looked at the Dimonds, saying, “I guess tennis is out of the question?” She gave them a big, hopeful smile, trying to lighten the mood. All three Dimonds stared back at her blankly. “Got it,” she added. “I'll just slink off.”

“I told them,” Mark said. “They know about Nevva and the ring.”

Courtney relaxed, happy that the truth was out. She plopped down in an easy chair. “Sucks, doesn't it? Now what do we do?”

Mark walked to the porthole. It was obvious he had something to say, so the others didn't offer their own opinions. Not that they had any.

“I've been thinking about this a lot,” he began. “It's pretty much all I've been doing since I gave up the ring. After we read Bobby's last journal from Ibara, we thought it was all over. It wasn't. Bobby's trapped. Saint Dane is trapped. Nevva isn't, obviously. She's on the loose, and whatever she wants to do with that ring, it can't be good.”

Courtney blurted out, “You think maybe she can use the ring to get Saint Dane off Ibara?”

“Maybe,” Mark answered. “I don't know.”

“How would that work?” Mrs. Dimond asked.

“Mom,”
Mark said with a touch of impatience. “You ask that like we know how
any
of this works.”

“You're right,” she said quickly. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Mark continued, “I'm pretty sure what we should do. We've got to stay on First Earth. All of us.”

“We couldn't travel if we wanted to,” Courtney added. “No Travelers here, remember? I doubt Nevva will let us hitch a ride with her.”

“Even if we could travel, I think it's better that we stay here.”

Mr. Dimond entered the conversation, saying, “I told you not to worry about us.”

“But I do,” Mark shot back. “As long as you're here, I think you're safe. I don't believe Nevva. If you go back home, all bets will be off.”

“But why?” Courtney asked. “She's not Saint Dane. She wouldn't do something horrible just for fun. Would she?”

“I don't want to take the chance,” Mark said with finality.

“But, Mark—,” Mr. Dimond complained.

“Dad!” barked Mark. “We have to stay here. This is where we belong now.”

Mr. Dimond looked at his wife. They had never heard Mark speak to them like that. He wasn't a sheepish little boy anymore.

“All right, son,” Mr. Dimond said calmly. “This is your show.”

“What are we supposed to do in 1937?” Mrs. Dimond asked. “Start a new life?”

“If we have to,” Mark said. “We can get by. The money from KEM will help with that. It's the other reason I think we should stay. As much as it hurts to admit, I'm in business with KEM. Dado is a real thing. Maybe if we accept it and become part of the process, we can find a way to sabotage Forge. It's still First Earth. It's still 1937. We might be able to change history yet.”

“It's true,” Courtney chimed in brightly. “We're not done here. We could still scuttle the dados!”

“And don't forget Nevva,” Mark added. “We need to find out why she wanted my ring. If she finds out we're creating trouble for KEM, she'll be back. I want to be waiting for her.”

“I like that,” Courtney said with an evil gleam in her eye. “Let's make her come to us.”

Everyone exchanged glances and nods. Mark's words rang true. Better, they contained hope. That had been in short supply.

“I guess that's it then,” Mrs. Dimond said. “We're going to be living in the past.”

“I wasn't much for cell phones anyway,” Mr. Dimond said with a smile. “Or microwaves or computers or sushi.”

“I kind of liked the microwave,” Mrs. Dimond said wistfully.

It actually gave them all a chuckle. This was a family, including Courtney. There was a bond between them that they knew would help get them through, or even better, help them start doing damage control.

Another knock came at the door. Without being asked, Dodger poked his head in. “Hey hey! The gang's all here! It's our last night on board. I made dinner reservations. Who's with me?”

Everyone looked to Mark, who shrugged and exclaimed, “Why not? Let's celebrate the beginning of our new lives.”

It was a wonderful evening. They ate in the same opulent dining room where Dodger and Courtney had cornered Mark on their voyage to England. This time, there was no pressure. Dodger acted as host, ordering for everyone. Mrs. Dimond danced with her husband to the music of the swing orchestra. She even coaxed Mark onto the dance floor. Courtney and Mr. Dimond shared a dance, but Dodger cut in and spun Courtney around the floor expertly. Since the age of twelve, Courtney had taken dozens of ballroom dance classes, all under protest, thinking it was a dork skill she would never have to use. It never occurred to her that one day she'd travel to the past, where an orchestra would play swing music for her dancing pleasure on an ocean liner.

The group did their best to forget their troubles for a while and enjoy their last few hours on the most elegant ocean liner of its time. They spent hours in the restaurant. There was no hurry. They weren't going anywhere. At one point Courtney grabbed Mark by the hand. Before he had a chance to complain, she pulled him onto the dance floor. The song was slow—a ballad.

“I'm actually starting to recognize this music,” Courtney said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I'm kind of starting to like it too,” Mark added.

“I wouldn't go that far,” Courtney groused.

The two swayed back and forth in time to the orchestra. Mark stepped away, took Courtney's hand and spun her around with surprising grace. Seconds later she was back in his arms.

“Where the heck did you learn that?” she asked in surprise.

“We were in the same ballroom class for two years, Courtney,” Mark said flatly.

“Oh. Really?”

“You didn't know I existed.”

“I wouldn't say that! I just thought, I mean, I really kind of…Okay, you're right. I didn't know you existed. Did we ever dance together?”

“No. I was afraid of you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Courtney said with a touch of sadness.

“So much has happened.”

“Really.”

“At least I'm not scared of you anymore.”

Courtney laughed and held Mark closer.

“You're my best friend, you know that?” Courtney said.

“I'm your only friend,” Mark replied with a smirk. “It's kind of hard to maintain a social life when you're bouncing around Halla. I haven't been to many parties lately.”

“True.” Courtney sighed. “Then again, you didn't go to many before, either.”

“Gee, thanks for that.” Mark chuckled.

Courtney added, “For what it's worth, I think you're great.”

Mark had never had a girl tell him he was great before. He barely spoke to girls at all. This was alien territory. He didn't know what to say.

Courtney answered for him. “You're supposed to say, ‘Thanks. I think you're great too.'”