I felt a warm tingle. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it felt… electric. I wondered if anyone else was feeling the same thing, but didn’t dare look around. I stayed focused on the rings. The Traveler rings. Eleven in all. Together.
One by one, the stones in the rings began to glow. They were activating. Something was really happening. This wasn’t just a bunch of new-age hocus-pocus. The rings glowed bright. Far brighter than when they were getting ready to deliver a journal. The light from each spread and enveloped the rings around it. It soon became a single mass of light. The light spread across the ground, radiating out from the center. I sensed, more than felt, that we all had stepped backward, making the circle larger. Though we weren’t physically touching each other, I felt as if we were still connected. We were one. We moved back, farther and farther, until the circle was probably twenty yards across.
The light from the center followed us, like water bubbling up from a spring. It lit up the ground, growing brighter as it got larger. I heard a sound. What was it? Yes! It was the music I had heard so many times while flying through the flumes. There was no tune. No melody. Just a mixed-up series of sweet notes that made me smile. It was familiar. It was exhilarating. We were doing it. We were channeling the spirit of Solara.
The circle of light grew until it nearly reached the ring of Travelers. The music grew louder. The light became so bright it obliterated everything else. It was then that I heard Uncle Press’s voice cut through. He said two simple words-two words that made absolute sense. “Third Earth.”
The circle of light responded instantly. It began to drop below ground level. It wasn’t as dramatic as the spinning Ravinian star that had cut the giant flume into the turf of Yankee Stadium, but the result was the same. The intense, glowing light sank deeper and deeper into the earth. The power that surged through me felt stronger than ever. I felt as if I were shaking, but I knew that wasn’t the case. It was such an intense feeling that as I looked around at the other Travelers, I half expected them to be glowing. In fact, just the opposite was happening. For brief moments some of the other Travelers seemed to fade out, becoming momentarily transparent. A second later their images would return, but then other Travelers would fade. And return. I fought panic. Was this the end? Had we gone too far in trying to create this impossible phenomenon? Had we sucked all the life out of Solara, and now all that was left was for us to wink out along with it?
Below the far edge of the circle, I caught sight of the first line of gray rocks that I knew would be continuing down until it became a tunnel to infinity. The light grew dim as it sank deeper. I looked up at the other Travelers, fearing that they would fade out along with it. Everyone was there. Rock solid.
A moment later the music ended. The light below went dark. I looked up to make sure that all the Travelers were there. I counted ten. Plus me. All eleven of us stood in the circle, dazed. I looked to the ground to see a large, round hole, maybe twenty yards across. We had done it.
We had made a new flume.
And we were all still there to see it. “Well,” I said casually, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”
Spader laughed first, followed by Uncle Press, then Patrick. Soon everyone was laughing. Not because of my casual understatement, but out of relief. We had done it and we were all there. Uncle Press came over and put his arm around my shoulders.
“To be honest, I didn’t think it would work,” he said.
“Oh great, now you tell me.”
The moment of triumph passed. Creating the flume was only the beginning. We stood staring at one another, not sure what to do next.
It was Aja who stepped up. “I think Patrick should go to Third Earth to see where the attack stands.”
“I can’t,” Patrick declared.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I just tried. Nothing happened.”
“You tried to travel to Third Earth?” I asked quickly. “Just now? And you’re still here?”
“I think Press was right,” Patrick said, glum. “Whatever powers we had as Travelers are gone.”
“But we are still here,” Alder said. “We still exist.”
“What happened, Uncle Press?” I asked.
Uncle Press sighed. “I guess I can be positive and say that you are now the people you always thought you were. Your physical selves are all that is left.”
Gunny said, “So no more healing? No more traveling? What happens to our spirits if we die?”
Uncle Press shrugged and said, “Don’t.”
“So then, what do we do now?” Siry asked.
“This doesn’t change a thing,” I called out. “The dados are still headed this way. I’m going to find Courtney and take one last shot with the exiles. You all should go to Third Earth. Find Mark and be ready.”
“Did you forget, Pendragon?” Siry said. “We can’t travel.”
I looked at the young Jakill from Ibara. He was a brave, dedicated kid. But he didn’t always think things through. I walked to the edge of the new flume and gestured to it with open arms.
“Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “Right.”
“Third Earth!” I called.
The tunnel came to life. The music was back. The lights were back. We were in business.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I said, and jogged toward the village.
My goal was to get back to the council meeting and give them one last warning about the army that was about to arrive on their doorstep. I hoped that maybe by showing them the flume, I’d have a little more credibility. Worst case, if they insisted on staying to defend Black Water, knowing about the flume might help set up an evacuation, if things started going badly. No, that would be when things started going badly. I ran over all the arguments and options in my mind. I had to be positive. I had to convince them.
It wasn’t until I reached the village and almost to the center building that I realized something was wrong. There was no sound. No activity. No gars walking around. No signs of life anywhere. It was eerie. Where had everybody gone? I hoped that it was actually very late at night, and everyone was in bed asleep. I expected to have to track these people down in their homes and wake them up…
When the warning horn sounded. The steady whoop whoop filled the oddly quiet village with ear-numbing sound. The wrong kind of sound. I didn’t think for a second that it was a drill. I ran to the far side of the village, toward the mountains and the tunnel into the valley of waterfalls. I expected to see gars and Yanks running to their posts to man their positions.
I didn’t. I was alone. Where was everybody? Maybe, I thought, they were already at their posts. It was the only explanation. But when I reached the outer ring of the village, I saw that the defensive huts were empty. There were no gars manning the radio cannons, or peering out of windows with arrows at the ready. The huts were dark and quiet.
What was going on?
My eye finally caught movement, but it only added to my confusion. I saw what looked like a pin spot of light glowing on the side of the mountain. It was maybe twenty yards up from the walk able slope, where the rock face turned sheer. It was like nothing I had seen before. Was it some new technology that was brought by the exiles? Was it a visual alarm to go with the horn? Was it an emergency beacon? I stood still, watching. Fascinated. The pin light grew. A beam shot out from the glowing spot and flashed across the sky, casting a line of light over the empty huts of Black Water. All I could do was stare in wonder. The pin spot continued to grow, spilling light onto the face of the mountain. The light became a growing circle. That’s when I realized the truth. I didn’t need to hear the musical notes that soon followed.