And she woke up. Simple as that, she opened her eyes. Her wound was gone too. Like it had never been there. But it had been there. I swear. The drying blood on her black leather armor was proof of that. It was un-freaking-believable. Since that moment I’ve tried to make sense of what happened. But how can you make sense of the impossible?
Sorry for repeating all of that, but as hard as it is for me to understand what actually happened in as troubling to wonder what it might mean for the future. My future. Up until then a few things had happened with the Travelers that made me think we aren’t exactly, oh, how should I put it? Normal. I had been injured pretty badly on Zadaa, and healed faster than seemed possible. The same happened with Alder from Denduron. He was hit in the chest with a steel arrow that should have killed him. But his wound healed quickly, and he recovered so fast it was like it had never happened. But healing quickly and coming back from the dead are two different things. Still, it’s not like we Travelers can’t die. We can. If we were invincible, then Uncle Press, Seegen, Spader’s dad, Osa, and Kasha would still be around. It’s not like we can’t be hurt, either. I’ve taken the lumps and felt the pain to prove it.
But I’ve seen three Travelers take mortal wounds… and live to tell the tale. Loor, Alder, and Saint Dane. I hate to put my friends in the same category as that monster, but after all, he is a Traveler too. On the other hand. Saint Dane is capable of doing some things that the rest of us can’t. I can’t transform myself into other people. Believe me, I tried. Once. I felt pretty stupid afterward too. How do you “will” yourself to become somebody else? I closed my eyes, concentrated my thoughts, and said to myself: Become Johnny Depp. Nothing happened. Maybe I should have been more specific and thought: Become Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as opposed to Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. It all seemed so silly. Especially since nothing happened. I didn’t even bother trying to think: I want to become black smoke and drift across the room. If I couldn’t become Johnny Depp, no way was I turning to smoke. Bottom line is. Saint Dane may be a Traveler, but he’s operating on a whole nother level than we are.
Still, both he and Loor came back from the dead. There was no getting around that. I wondered if it was possible that I had something to do with Loor’s recovery. But I was with Uncle Press when he died. Same with Kasha. Neither of them came back. When I try to relive each of those final, horrible moments, the only thing I can think of that was different with Loor was that it happened so quickly, and I was so totally stunned that I didn’t allow myself I to believe it was real. It sounds crazy, but it was like I wouldn’t accept her death. I didn’t want to let it happen… and it didn’t. She woke up. I know, impossible, right? But it’s true.
I suppose I shouldn’t be so upset about it. The ability for a Traveler to “will” another Traveler into staying alive is a pretty good thing. To be honest, it gives me a lot more confidence in our battle against Saint Dane. Not that I want to try it out again. No way. Testing death is not high on my “to do” list. As nifty as that might be, the idea leads me to some truly disturbing thoughts. I’ve always questioned the reasons that I was chosen to be a Traveler. I don’t think you’ll find a more normal guy than me. But after this whole healing coming back from the dead thing, I’m beginning to wonder just how normal we Travelers really are. Uncle Press said that my mom and dad weren’t my real parents, but he never told me who my real parents are. That starts me thinking. Where exactly did I come from? Knowing that my family disappeared along with every scrap of evidence that any of us ever existed defies every law of nature, yet it happened. It seems as if all the Travelers have had similar experiences. Each of us was raised on our own territory, yet none of us has a history to show for it.
I guess the overriding feeling I’m left with is sadness. Ever since I left home, my goal had been to get back to my normal life. It was the single biggest driving factor in everything I’d done since stepping into the flume for the first time.
I’m not thinking that way anymore.
This is tough to admit, but I’m beginning to wonder if I truly belong on Second Earth. I miss you guys more than I can say, but my family is gone. It’s as if some grand cosmic entity highlighted everything to do with Bobby Pendragon, and hit the delete key. What would I say if people asked me where I came from? What would I say? “Well, I grew up in Stony Brook, Connecticut, but my entire history was wiped out, and my family disappeared right after I left through a flume to battle a demon who was trying to crush all of existence. Pass the salt.” I don’t think so.
I don’t say this to make you guys feel sorry for me. Just the opposite. These journals are about writing down all that happens to me as a Traveler, so that when this cosmic battle with Saint Dane is over, there will be a record. And for the record, I’m fine. But there’s nothing more important to me than finding the truth. About me, about my family, and about Saint Dane. I have to stop this guy. Not only for the sake of Halla, but for me, too. I have absolute faith that once he is stopped for good, the journey will lead me to the truth. That goal is what keeps me going. I’m going to try to not question so much, keep my head down, and get it done. Getting it done means stopping Saint Dane. That’s why I’m on Quillan.
I wrote to you in my last journal how, shortly after Loor rejoined the living, she and I stood at the flume while it activated and deposited a brightly colored square box in front of us. It had red and yellow stripes and was tied up with a big red bow. Hanging from the ribbon was a yellow tag with the word pendragon written in fancy red lettering. Loor unfolded the tag and we saw that written inside were the words: “With my compliments. S.D.” Right. Saint Dane. (It was either that or South Dakota, but that didn’t make any sense.) I didn’t know what to make of the box. The demon had just murdered Loor, had fought me to the death, was killed and had come back to life, and now he was sending me a birthday gift. And it wasn’t even my birthday. Compared to that, maybe getting a present from South Dakota wouldn’t have been so odd. Welcome to my twisted world. Fearing that something nasty would be inside, I squinted when I pulled off the top. What jumped out was nasty indeed. At least to me. You remember, right? Springing out was a jack-in-the-box clown. It was a scary-looking thing with a hideous smile and a court jester’s hat. In fact, pretty much all clowns are scary-looking to me. I hate clowns. I wondered if Saint Dane knew that. The clown laughed with some recorded cackle as it bobbled on the spring. It sounded familiar. Swell.
At the bottom of the box was a blue envelope with the word pendragon on it. I quickly opened it to find a single sheet of bright yellow paper with fancy red lettering. It was an invitation that read:
Riggedy riggedy white
Come and spend the night
We’ll play some games
Some wild, some tame
Cause if you will, you might
Your hosts on Quillan,
Veego and LaBerge
Veego and LaBerge. I had no idea what that meant. I had no idea what any of it meant, but one thing was very clear: The next stop for me was Quillan. Alone. Loor wanted to come, but I needed to learn what Quillan was going to hold before deciding which Traveler could best help me there.
Besides, Loor had just come back from the dead. She needed the rest. At least I thought she did. What did I know? I’d never seen anybody come back from the dead before. So I reluctantly left Loor at the mouth of the flume on Zadaa, stepped into the tunnel, and shouted, “Quillan.” And that’s where my latest adventure began…
(CONTINUED)