The Rivers of Zadaa by D.J. MacHale Page B

and jerked me toward him until we were nose to nose. We were so close I could smell his sour breath. At that instant something triggered in my memory. Smells can do that. It’s like there’s a direct link from your nose to your memory. It wasn’t a happy memory either. I looked into the guy’s wild, brown eyes and saw something that made my heart race even faster, if that was possible. We were so close, I was the only one who could see. His eyes changed color. They went from deep brown to lightning white. My mind didn’t accept it at first. It was impossible, right? Wrong.
    â€œWelcome to Zadaa, Pendragon,” the Ghee warrior whispered. His voice was suddenly calm. Gone was the rage. He was totally in control of himself…and me. “Let’s put aside all the intrigue this time and show each other how we really feel, shall we?” he said.
    In that instant I saw his eyes return to brown as he tossed me down on the ground. I was too stunned to react. The Ghee warrior reached behind his back and pulled out his wooden stave.
    â€œPick up the weapon!” the warrior bellowed, showing rage once again. Though now I realized it was all a show for the spectators.
    Reality had finally settled in. The good news was, I had found Saint Dane.
    The bad news was, I had found Saint Dane.

JOURNAL #20
(CONTINUED)
    ZADAA
    S aint Dane had taken the form of a Ghee warrior. It didn’t matter what side he was on. He could have chosen to be with those loyal to the royal family of Zinj, or put in with the rebels who wanted war with the Rokador. Right now, that didn’t make a difference. He was a Batu. I looked like a Rokador. We were enemies in the eyes of everyone here…and we were about to fight. I shot her a quick glance to see that Loor was being held firm by three of her fellow warriors.
    â€œLoor,” I shouted while keeping an eye on Saint Dane. “It’s Saint Dane.”
    Loor gave a quick, surprised look to the tall, dark warrior who had called me out. Saint Dane returned her look, gave her a quick nod, and actually winked at her.
    I saw Loor’s eyes grow wide. “Who is that Ghee?” she shouted to the other warriors. “I do not know him! He is not one of us! We must summon the commander and—” The Ghees holding her clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled to get away, but it was hopeless. I was on my own. I looked at Saint Dane. He gave me a quick shrug, as if to say: “Guess you’re on your own, pal.”
    The only choice I had was to reach down and pick up the weapon.
    You guys know, I’m not a fighter. Up until that moment I’d managed to survive by luck, and with the help of my fellow Travelers. The one serious fight I’d been in was on Eelong, but that was against a prisoner who was half my size, and so starved and weak that it was a joke. I was now looking up at a warrior who towered over me, with biceps like you’d see in a graphic novel about gladiators. If that weren’t bad enough, it was Saint Dane behind all that muscle. My enemy. The demon who was trying to lay waste to Halla. I was scared, obviously. But I was also confused. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t his style. For him, fighting was too…simple. Unimaginative, even. I had some vague shred of hope that he had another reason for doing this, other than to beat me up. There was a chance this fight would never happen.
    â€œAre you serious?” I asked, trying not to sound as scared as I was. “Isn’t fighting beneath you?”
    His answer was to lash out with his stave and clock me on the side of my head. It was so fast, and so violent, I wasn’t sure if I was more hurt, or shocked. I stumbled, but stayed on my feet. The crowd of Ghees cheered. Saint Dane circled in front of me, relaxed and smiling.
    â€œIf there is one thing you should have learned by now, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said, “it’s to expect the