The Lost City of Faar (Pendragon)
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The second installment in an epic series of adventures
Fourteen-year-old Bobby Pendragon is not like other boys his age. His uncle Press is a Traveler, and, as Bobby has learned, that means Uncle Press is responsible, through his journeys, for solving interdimensional conflict wherever he encounters it. His mission is nothing less than to save the universe from ultimate evil. And he's taking Bobby along for the ride.
Fresh from his first adventure on Denduron, Bobby finds himself in the territory of Cloral, a vast world that is entirely covered by water. Cloral is nearing a disaster of huge proportions. Reading the journals Bobby sends home, his friends learn that the desperate citizens of the endangered floating cities are on the brink of war. Can Bobby -- suburban basketball star and all-around nice guy -- help rid the area of marauders, and locate the legendary lost land of Faar, which may hold the key to Cloral's survival?
totally out of context. She was wearing a light green Cloral suit that really showed off her athletic body. She looked more beautiful than ever. I wanted to throw my arms around her and give her a hug, but that wasn’t Loor’s style. She stepped up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. That’s about as warm as Loor got. ”Spader came for me. He was confused, and afraid to speak with you,” she said. I could understand that. If he needed help, the last person he could go to was someone who blamed him
section of the platform and gently placed them down on the tile. The groups then stepped away, leaving the coffins on the floor of the platform. A moment later the coffins began to sink below. There were panels beneath them in the platform that acted like elevators to gently lower them down. Kalaloo had come to me the day before and asked if I would honor them by allowing Uncle Press to be buried in the Grand Mausoleum of Faar. This was a place where only the most revered people in Faar’s
Mr. Chetwynde’s basement workshop as a private place to read Bobby’s journals many times before. Mr. Chetwynde had set up an entire workshop down there and never used it. He was a lousy do-it-yourself type guy. Mark and Courtney could be there all day, even on a Sunday, and never worry about anybody coming down. Mark settled into the big, dusty couch as Courtney ran down the stairs. “Sandwiches are in the fridge,” she announced. “Ready when we need ‘em.” She sat next to Mark on the couch as he
standing. My guess was that if someone grabbed the necklace and made it back to his area, then his team would win. It was like capture the flag. A really scary, painful version of capture the flag. I then began to see that this wasn’t just a wild clash. There actually was some strategy going on. Loor’s red team took more of the defensive role and assigned a few warriors to guard the necklace. The green team, on the other hand, was all about attacking. It was every man for himself, and so far
pretty quick. There were no turns. There were no junctures. I was on the express line to Cloral. How did I know that? I heard a sound. I was used to hearing the jumble of sweet musical notes as I shot along, so this new sound jumped out at me. It kept getting louder, which meant I was getting closer to it. It wasn’t until I was almost to the end when I realized what it was. It was water. Suddenly the warning Uncle Press had given me before I got sucked into the flume made sense. He told me to