Elli watched us, not saying a word. I got the feeling that it didn’t matter to her one way or the other how things would play out from that moment on. The fact that Nevva showed that one small ounce of compassion toward Mark was enough for her to know that her daughter wasn’t a monster.
“I still believe in the vision, Pendragon,” she announced.
“But you don’t,” I argued. “What you did for Mark proves it. You say that controlling people’s lives and rewarding excellence at the expense of those less fortunate is how Halla should be run, but then you show compassion. Real compassion. That’s totally against what Saint Dane has been preaching. You care about Mark. Even though he’s working against everything Ravinia stands for, you saved his life. That alone proves you believe there’s more than one side to a story.”
Nevva wanted to argue, but she knew my logic was sound.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said, her voice wavering. “I saw all that was wrong with Halla. Saint Dane had the answer. The vision. It was about encouraging people to strive for the absolute best. Nothing less would be tolerated. It’s such a simple concept.”
“But Halla isn’t a simple place,” I said with passion. “Neither are the people who live there simple. You’re one of them, Nevva. You’re a Traveler, but you’re also a physical being of Halla, with all its flaws.”
Nevva wandered away from her mother. She seemed dazed, as if she couldn’t get her thoughts straight.
“Everything that happened is what the people wanted,” she argued.
“But it wasn’t!” I countered. “Saint Dane targeted a certain type of person and influenced them. Then he systematically destroyed all those he couldn’t persuade. There’s no other way of putting it. What he’s left with are people all over Halla who are concerned with only one thing-themselves. Is Halla a better place now? Sure, this conclave is great. I’ll bet all the conclaves around Halla are just swell. But that’s only a small part of Halla. There are people suffering, Nevva. Everywhere. Does that feel right to you?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
I added, “And now he’s going to destroy the last group of people who are keeping the spirit of Solara alive. He’s not influencing anybody to do it. He’s not using people who believe in his vision. He’s created an army of emotionless dados to commit genocide. Is that part of the grand vision?”
Nevva shook her head. I sensed she was trying to find an argument, but couldn’t.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said, confused. “The territory was to be left alone. That was the plan.”
“Looks like the plan changed,” I said.
Elli finally spoke. “You put your faith in Saint Dane, and he betrayed you.”
Nevva snapped a look to her mother. If there was one thing I could always say about Nevva, it was that she was confident in her beliefs.
Not anymore.
“I lured them to that stadium,” Nevva said, pained. “Every last one. I made sure they were sent into that flume. But not to die. I didn’t know about the dado army, I truly didn’t. If I had known, I wouldn’t have-”
“You wouldn’t have what?” I pressed. “You wouldn’t have exiled those people if you knew they were all going to die eventually?”
“No,” Nevva cried. “That’s not how it was.”
I kept at her. “What about the rest of Halla? Those exiles aren’t Saint Dane’s only victims. You may not have had a direct hand in destroying each and every civilization, but you played a pretty big part. Why is that any different from what happened to the exiles?”
“It was… it was all for the greater good,” she said, grasping. I wasn’t so sure she understood what that meant anymore.
“There’s still time,” Elli said calmly. “The exiles aren’t dead yet. Help us stop Saint Dane.”
An idea came to me. Something I hadn’t dared to think about for a long time. The possibility seemed remote at best. Maybe impossible. But suddenly, with Nevva opening up, it felt as if there might be a chance. She knew more about Saint Dane than any of us.
“Nevva, can he be stopped?” I asked.
Nevva looked to me with confusion.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You know what I mean,” I said bluntly. “Can he be destroyed?”
Nevva faltered. She knew something. My instincts were right. My pulse started to race.
“Tell us,” I pushed. “Make this right. Tell us how to beat Saint Dane.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but instead she let out a gasp and fell to her knees.
Behind her, Saint Dane stood with a silver weapon.
“You simply will not give up, will you?” he said, sounding more than a little annoyed.
Nevva fell to the ground, shaking. Was she dead? Was that possible? Had Saint Dane killed her? She wasn’t turned to ash, but the weapon had definitely hurt her.
Elli screamed in agony and dove for her daughter.
I, on the other hand, dove for Saint Dane. I wanted to hurt him. I raised my weapon, leaped over Nevva, and attacked. Saint Dane lifted his own wand to defend himself, but I don’t think he was ready for the emotion-charged barrage I threw at him. I hammered at the guy, using the wand like an ax. Saint Dane backed off, doing all he could to ward off my blows. He didn’t even try to fight back. He couldn’t. I didn’t give him the chance. Anger took control of me. There was nothing cagey about my attack. The lessons of Mooraj didn’t come into play. I channeled all my pent-up emotion into using that silver wand to hammer the guy. I wasn’t even sure if the weapon had been activated. It didn’t matter. I would have bludgeoned him. In fact, I would have preferred it.
He parried my blows, but he wasn’t casual about it. He knew I was serious. I was going to hurt him.
“All you’ve managed to do,” he said in between the ringing sound of metal hitting metal, “is to kill another Traveler.”
His words charged me up to slash even harder. He was growing tired. His physical self wasn’t as strong as mine. For a moment I actually thought I was going to hurt him. I should have known better. Saint Dane threw his wand to the side. I was so surprised by that move, I stopped my attack. The demon stood there with his arms out, as if giving himself up to me.
“Nevva’s death is on your conscience, Pendragon,” he said. “It was all for nothing.”
I wound up to finish the guy, and he disappeared. Just like that. He took a step back and was gone. I was thrown for a second, but shouldn’t have been. He was a Traveler, after all. Why would he stand there and let me pummel him? I stood there alone, breathing hard. My pent-up emotion had no outlet. I let out a scream and flung the wand as far as I could. It clattered to the ground somewhere deep within the Taj Mahal. I screamed again. I couldn’t keep the frustration and anger inside.
“Pendragon!” Elli called.
I forced myself to get back some kind of control and ran to her. She was on her knees, holding Nevva’s head in her lap. Elli was crying. Her brief moment of bliss was already forgotten. The agony had returned.
Nevva wasn’t dead. Yet. She stared up with glazed, unseeing eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can’t die.”
I put my hand on her chest, ready to will her back to health. She grabbed my wrist and held it tight. “No,” she said. “There’s nothing you can do.” “I can! I can heal you!”
“No,” she insisted. “Don’t waste your spirit. It isn’t possible. He won’t allow it.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I took her word for it. “Go to Solara,” I said. “You’ll be safe there.”
“I can’t, Pendragon,” she whispered. “I’m controlled by a different spirit now.”
“But your spirit can go to Solara. Right?”
“Not anymore” was her answer.
Elli wiped her tears while stroking her daughter’s cheek soothingly.
“It’s not only my body that’s dying. My spirit is ending. There will be no existence for me beyond this one.”
“You don’t know that,” Elli said desperately.
Nevva looked up to her mother and focused. I saw the affection she had for Elli. That they had for each other.