by Donald Brown
Hadrian appeared to be taken aback. “But, shouldn’t we be following the middle…?” he said, then stopped as the Peacekeeper’s eyes shot up and gave him a stern gaze.
“Are we questioning the accuracy of one of our brother Sanctuarians?”
“No!” Hadrian exclaimed, surprised at the outburst. “Never.”
“Good,” his superior stated, peering down at a scroll on the table. “Then we may proceed.”
In a hurry to correct his misstep, Hadrian bowed and then marched over towards the designated path without saying another word. The boys scrambled to catch up with him and they once again started to ascend a set of stairs, leading them deeper and deeper into the Mountain.
In this new hallway, there was much less activity. The only illumination was the light streaming from the torch Hadrian was carrying. His torch was revealing strange depictions on the walls, which even caught the attention of Hadrian. Clearly he had never set foot along this route before. These pictures were illustrating what seemed to be armed soldiers leaving the Mountain, on their way to the outside world.
But that couldn’t represent us, could it? Storm thought. The Servants have preached for years that the outside world was too dangerous and that was precisely why Sanctuary had to be established in the first place.
As Storm pondered this new strange area, they began to pass various rooms. In these rooms, helpers were working silently, operating machines that seemed to be churning out a variety of metal pieces; mechanical equipment Storm had never seen before. This added to his confusion, as he had absolutely no idea what they were creating. The helpers who operated the machines watched them with suspicion as they passed and some even ventured from their work to stand up and glare at them in hostility.
Just when Storm feared a confrontation, as more and more helpers rose to their feet, a familiar voice called out from behind. “What are we doing here?”
They whirled around to see the Spiritual Leader standing there and for the first time, Storm saw that he was really angry. It was a terrifying sight.
“We were told…” Hadrian started, but the Spiritual Leader interrupted him.
“We are not permitted to be here,” he said firmly. It was amazing how threatening his voice could sound, even though it was still in a low tone.
“But…” Hadrian said and then headed to the rear, where Storm was standing. “Well, what are we waiting for?” he shouted and began to march back down the stairs. In his haste, his foot caught hold of his robe and he had to first untangle himself before setting off into the darkness again, as if nothing had happened.
Storm, despite his best efforts, smiled to himself and followed his brother, the boys now bringing up the rear. The Spiritual Leader seemed almost beside himself as they hurried past him to the main chamber, but when he saw Storm he became more relaxed and hurried over to walk alongside him, concerned. “Everything alright, Boy-150?”
With a blow, the fact that he was now heading towards the Initiation came back to Storm. All the drama had momentarily taken it from his mind. “We are fine,” he found himself saying.
The Spiritual Leader seemed to know what was going on. “Remember,” he said in a whisper, “remain true to the faith, don’t think Boy-150, that is the only way to be saved.” He gave Storm one last pat on the back, for good luck, then hurried out in front of them.
“These detours are going to hurt our chances of being selected for a top position,” Jamie moaned and some the boys echoed him. It didn’t help Hadrian’s position that Jamie also knew he was Storm’s brother, which only encouraged him to be nasty to Hadrian. But Hadrian merely stopped and gave Jamie a scorching glance, a gesture that instantly quieted everyone.
They proceeded at a quicker pace and soon found themselves right back where they started, at the large chamber leading to the different passages. Upon entering, Hadrian walked up to the Senior Peacekeeper who opened his mouth before Hadrian could even say anything. “We apologize, there was a mix-up in the communication and the confused messengers have been disposed of. We can now proceed to the middle path.”
Storm realized with a shock that he was now hearing a complete different voice, as the man who had previously pointed them in the wrong direction was gone, replaced by someone entirely new. Hadrian stared at this new replacement, unconvinced for a moment, and Storm could tell he was seizing up whether he should probe him further.
He obviously decided he would, for he asked: “Are we sure this time?”
The Peacekeeper appeared to be bewildered for a second or two. “Of course we are sure!” he snapped. “Proceed up the middle path!”
Hadrian curled his mouth in irritation and then slowly walked to (hopefully) the correct way.
This path had no stairs. It simply ran on and on in a straight line and Storm could vaguely make out a door at the end. As they neared it, he began to pick up what sounded faintly like drums, the bom-bom-bom growing louder as they neared the heart of the Mountain. This caused Storm’s stomach to flutter. He felt as if he was going to faint, which he was desperately trying to avoid, for he knew that would definitely signify a red light when it came to his Initiation and placing him in a position.
This was finally it. There was no more delaying his final judgment.
The walls here were carved with the various services found in Sanctuary. In triangular shapes, the lower class was at the bottom, with icons listing of all the basic services in Sanctuary, from messenger to helper to farmer. Then above them were the upper class, which depicted the Peacekeepers and the Council. Then at the top was the Guardian, who looked down imperiously.
At the end of the path, they came to a glorious polished stone door.
Hadrian stepped forward and knocked five times…
25
The sheriff bade them farewell, then replaced his hat and strolled down to the town gates, while the two ladies continued walking home.
As they passed the grassy mound next to Dorothy’s house they saw why the sheriff had been worried. The Brotherhood were in full attendance. A group of black soldiers, were listening to the Black Knight, who was perched on the edge of the fountain. At the sight of the Black Knight, Dorothy filled with rage.
“It is them white people that have caused all our problems, they have brought about dissolution, they have robbed us of our dignity! They started the war that has left most of us homeless!”
“Come on, honey,” Dorothy called out to her daughter, her usual smile now gone.
Yara had subconsciously veered towards the soldiers and her mother’s call had stopped her in her tracks. But then Yara noticed a small butterfly fluttering near the soldiers. There hadn’t been any butterflies in Zion for a while!
“Look mommy!” she yelled and bolted towards it
“Yara, no!” Dorothy exclaimed, but she was too late.
In one swoop, Yara had the butterfly in her hands. She lifted it up and cupped between her hands, examined it.
Within seconds, one of the soldiers was standing beside her. He snatched the butterfly and with a similar movement, squashed it in his hands, leaving behind an inky mess as he brushed it off from his hands with a grunt. Then he defiantly threw it away into the bushes and glared at her with pure venom in his eyes. Up on the mound, the Black Knight had stopped talking and everyone around the fountain was staring at her. Yara started to edge back slowly, tears in her eyes and horrified at this brutal act. She wasn’t used to being rejected in such a nasty fashion.
“You have acted wisely brother,” the Black Knight announced proudly. “For even a small butterfly can be as dangerous as the more mature ones!”
This made the crowd of soldiers nod in agreement.
Dorothy had seen enough.
She reached out and pulled Yara away, and they hurried back home.
They dropped their book cases at the house – Yara still confused and Dorothy quite curt – and then rushed to the city gates. This time Dorothy made sure they took a path further away from the
fountain on the hill, where the Black Knight was still preaching to his fellow soldiers.
Upon reaching the gates, Dorothy sought out Father Dennis to tell him about the incident with the Brotherhood and the preacher seemed quite concerned.
“Indeed, they are a problem,” he told her, “the war has had such a massive impact….”
“But it’s been six years, Father,” she retorted. “When exactly are they going to change?”
Before Father Dennis could answer her, someone in the crowd shouted that a carriage was approaching.
Everybody stood on their toes to behold the carriage, for it was a magnificent one: vibrant with rich, royal colors and gold strips around the window frames and the roof. Furthermore, the two black horses pulling the carriage appeared to be very well groomed and mighty strong. Someone was waving to them through one of the windows and when it finally came to a halt in front of the gates, none other than Mr. Meyers climbed out to greet them.
“Hello! Hello! My fellow Zionists!” he announced, beaming at them and throwing his cloak to the servant driving the coach. Behind him, his son and his daughter ambled out in his shadow.
By now, Mr. Meyers represented the typical wealthy man, whose prosperity had caught up with him. He was slightly chubby, something which his tight fitting shirt accentuated, but he had too much of an ego to buy bigger clothes. His black hair was combed slick against his head and, but for his weight, he could have passed as an admirable middle-aged bachelor.
“Ah, it is great to be back in the beautiful Zion again!” he exclaimed as he walked through the gates with his arms outstretched, talking to no one in particular.
The crowd of people beheld him like a lost son, staring at him, but not sure how to acknowledge him. However, Mr. Meyers was no stranger to fanfare and he steadily greeted everyone with a handshake, starting with the sheriff and moving down the line.
At last he reached Dorothy and his smile widened. “Well if it isn’t the most beautiful woman in Zion!” he declared, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Mr. Meyers, welcome back,” she replied, her dimples making an appearance. She was at a bit of a loss as to what to say.
“I have brought you a present, my dear.” He conjured a bunch of flowers, seemingly out of nowhere, which he handed to her.
He must have been holding it in one hand behind him the entire time, Dorothy thought, blushing. Then she looked over his shoulder and saw that his son and his daughter were standing behind him. Oh, one of them must have given it to him… She took the flowers and bent her head slightly forward to smell them, her eyes still on Mr. Meyers, almost like she wasn’t sure if he was perhaps pulling some prank. “Amazing, Mr. Meyers,” she finally said, “they smell so wonderful.”
“I plucked it from the coasts of the sea on one of our more recent stops,” he proclaimed, with his shoulders pulled back and a hand resting proudly on his fat belly. Then he looked down at Yara and said, “My, look how you have grown, my little princess!”
Yara’s eyes lit up and she said, “Hello, Mr. Meyers! You’ve gotten fat!”
“Yara!” Dorothy exclaimed, but Mr. Meyers chuckled.
“It’s all very good. I have something for you too Yara!” He fumbled in his pockets and then his face turned sombre. “Oh no!” he exclaimed, “it is probably still in the carriage. Let me go fetch it quickly.” And with that he turned and rushed back to his carriage.
That left his son and daughter facing Dorothy. “Hello, Ms. Kuttle!” they said, almost in a chorus, caught unawares by their father’s sudden disappearance.
“Thomas, Katrina!” Dorothy greeted them. “I told you before you can just call me Dorothy,” she added and then hugged them. Whereupon she swiftly disengaged with a stern look on her face. “Did you two still study on the trip?”
“Of course we did, ma’am,” Thomas said, eyes averted and a bit too quickly, which left Dorothy tutting in disapproval.
Before she could continue the conversation with the children, Mr. Meyers was back and he pushed himself in between his kids and Dorothy and Yara. He hunched down, looked at Yara and said, “Close your eyes, darling.”
Yara closed her eyes and held out her tiny hands, palms facing upwards, clutching at the object that was being placed in her grasp.
When Mr. Meyers told her to open her eyes, she glanced down and saw the biggest piece of candy she’d ever seen in her life. “Wow! Thank you, Mr. Meyers!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
Dorothy began to ask Mr. Meyers about his trip, when Yara tugged at her sleeve. “Mommy!” she said, “Kurt is over there. Can I go and say hello to him?”
“Sure,” Dorothy answered. “But you come right back, O.K?”
Without giving a reply, Yara sprinted away.
Spending the better part of ten minutes, Mr. Meyers gave Dorothy a summary of his travels, an excursion that had lasted four months this time. When he eventually returned to his carriage, she started looking around to see where her daughter was.
Moments later, the carriage passed her and then she noticed something strange. The carriage stopped at Zion’s first intersection of roads, where the Black Knight and his Brotherhood were waiting.
Oh, no! They might attack him.
But Dorothy could hear Mr. Meyers exchange some words with them and then the carriage rolled on, with the Black Knight giving a thumbs up from behind.
What was that all about? Dorothy wondered. How does Mr. Meyers know him? Are they in a work relationship or something?
Just then, Yara sauntered up to her, distracting her thoughts.
“Guess it’s time to head back.” Dorothy smiled at her, as she nodded.
They dodged little Alfred, who was throwing a tantrum at his parents.
“I wanted to see fireworks! I was promised fireworks!” he shouted, whilst stomping his feet, as his parents tried to console him.
Once they reached their house, Dorothy busied herself with preparing supper, while Yara went into her room for a change of clothes. When she was done, she wandered over to her mother.
“Kurt told me that he and his friends are going to go play outside…” she began, but then couldn’t contain her excitement, “…can I go join them? When I’m done, I will come back and help you with supper.”
Dorothy automatically did not give this much thought. “It’s getting late sweetheart and it might be dangerous out there, you saw with the Brotherhood…”
“A butterfly shouldn’t be caged, mother,” Yara interjected.
Dorothy stopped what she was doing to turn and witness her daughter staring at her, her arms folded.
Damn you, Frieda
She had been spending way too much time with her. On the other hand, Dorothy realized, she couldn’t protect her forever. She had put George’s death and the witch’s curse behind her.
“Very well, pumpkin,” Dorothy finally said, “but be back before it is dark!”
“Of course, mommy! Thanks!” she exclaimed and jumped to peck her on the cheek, before heading out, fearing her mother would change her mind.
***
Dorothy awoke with a start. She had decided to take a quick nap, but judging by the darkness outside, she had been out why longer than she had planned to be.
Why didn’t Yara wake me up?
She walked over to her daughter’s room and found it empty. Disconcerted, she did a quick scan of the rest of the house and found Yara nowhere to be seen.
Then she heard a rumble in the distance.
With a rising sense of dread, she rushed outside to see a dark cloud on the horizon. It was clearly carrying a dreadful storm to Zion.
Dorothy raced down the steps, calling her daughter’s name.
“Yara?! YARA?!”
26
Following Hadrian’s urgent knock on the door in the temple, there came no immediate reply from the other side. All they could hear was the muffled sound of the electrifying drums, which made Storm gulp. He was so nervous that he was struggling to
remain still, traipsing around like a little boy in need of a loo.
Then, after about forty seconds, they heard a booming voice and the doors slowly swung open, revealing yet another impressive chamber. They walked inside and, once again, Storm had difficulty in taking it all in. He could swear that the hall they found themselves in now was as big as the entire Sanctuary. The walls and the roof were carved out in flowing patterns and the room was beautifully lit by something glowing on the floor, all along the back wall. Once he took a closer look, Storm realized that it was, in fact, a continuous stream of fire and he gazed at the shimmering flames and sparks in awe.
Coco was the one playing the drums, near the entrance. He was acting like a complete maniac, jumping up and down and twirling his drums sticks which each successful strike.
Storm and the boys were now treading a cobblestone path that led to a raised platform, on which sat the Council behind a granite counter. Diagonally above them, up a steep set of stairs, was a steel throne where the Guardian sat, watching them commandingly. The only thing Storm could see of him was the apparel he was wearing, as the distance and the shadows rendered it impossible to see his features. What he saw was still impressive.
The Guardian was dressed in magnificent shiny plate armour, it’s metal brushed to a fine shine. His broad shoulders were pulled back and his arms were folded across his chest. On top of his head was a platinum crown studded with shiny diamonds and gleaming gold inserts.
There were Red robes everywhere and the entire overwhelming scene – the intimidating Guardian, the Council, the Peacekeepers, the drumming, and the size of the chamber – intimidated Storm tremendously, managing to make him even more nervous.
When the sound of the drums finally stopped, the boys hesitantly followed Hadrian, who was walking straight towards the granite counter. Storm was surprised to see that a figure, resembling a man, was conversing with the Council. What was odd about this man, was that he was wearing a brown leather robe, which appeared to be far richer in texture and superior in quality than anything that they had access to here in Sanctuary.
