by Donald Brown
Then he understood: It was the mysterious man from the previous chamber!
The man was standing about four feet away from the counter and he didn’t appear to be intimidated by the Council at all. He was speaking to them as if he was the one who was on the throne. That was perhaps why the Council seemed so agitated, Storm reckoned.
As Hadrian and the boys reached the counter, raised voices floated towards them. “We have told you,” the Servant Vladimir seated in the middle rasped to the man, “we will not pay you anymore than you deserve, Outsider.”
Outsider? Storm immediately did a double take. Before him stood a real Outsider! Anger swept over him, as the foreigner strode closer to the counter. So this is one of the people who is responsible for all the suffering in Sanctuary?
“You need our merchandise, my friend,” the Outsider replied coolly, in a completely different tone of voice generally used when speaking to a Servant. “You send me down the wrong passageways and now you are totally unwilling to compensate me for what I have done extra?”
Storm felt another stab of anger, purely because of the clear disrespect shown by the Outsider towards the Council. The boys around him responded more vigorously, either shifting in discomfort or loudly hissing through their teeth.
The Council stared at the Outsider in fury and Storm noticed that Vladimir had been standing the entire time, but because his back was so crooked, he seemed to be sitting. Storm sensed that they were not used to be treated with such indifference. Vladimir’s eyes drifted towards the row of boys assembled before him and he forced a smile. After a short while, he shifted his gaze back to the Outsider and sighed. “Get out of our sight,” he said. “If you will not cooperate, we will simply kill you. We have other matters to attend to right now.”
Once again, the Outsider surprised everyone in the room by uttering what could only be called a soft chuckle.
How dare you? Storm thought, nearly making a growling sound.
One Red Cloak eventually lost his cool, drawing his weapon and raising it, ready to strike the Outsider. Vladimir, however, reacted quickly to the threat and rasped, “We will not kill him now, but his time will come.”
The Peacekeeper seemed disappointed and stared at the Outsider, who was grinning at him mockingly. Dipping his head to his chest in respect, the Peacekeeper stepped back to allow the Outsider to pass. The moment he turned, and finally revealed his face, Storm heard gasps from everyone around him and he instantly knew why.
He had never seen (if he had to be honest to himself) such a confident and imposing profile. He had always pictured that Outsiders would be grossly disfigured, malformed, stupid and cunning beings. This, however, couldn’t be further from the truth.
The Outsider was covered from head to toe in his brown leather robe, wearing a protective shirt underneath, clinging to his muscular body. A glittery scarf covered the lower part of his face and his neck. Only his eyes and nose were exposed and it looked just as remarkable as the attire he was wearing. He had a brown skin, something completely unseen in Sanctuary – except for Storm, of course – and his eyes were covered with some transparent protective material, similar to glass, held together by a strap around his head.
His attitude and demeanour was also completely unprecedented, especially for someone finding himself in such a hostile environment. He was strolling down the path smoothly, glancing about him with interest, not realizing that it was only the word of the Guardian that was holding back an army of Peacekeepers bursting to tear him apart.
Smiling at the boys as he passed them, he appeared to be oblivious to their hostility. His piercing glare was taunting each one of them as he inspected them. It was almost like he was radiating an aura which left them all powerless; his high self-esteem paralyzing them and confining them to an imaginary cell in which they could only stare from.
Then his gaze fell on Storm.
Storm froze, but the Outsider simply nodded and moved on… Whereupon he abruptly stopped.
He turned around slowly, as if in a trance, and peered into Storm’s surprised face, his cool appearance finally gone, replaced by utter urgency. He glared at Storm for quite some time, as if vaguely recognizing something, before a Peacekeeper stepped closer with his hand on his weapon. The movement broke the Outsider out of his trance. He shook his head gradually, not unlike the way Storm sometimes did, and then gave Storm one last mystifying glance before leaving the hall, the soft sound of his sandals fading away steadily.
Storm was disconcerted. Why had the Outsider found him so fascinating? He felt contaminated, as if the Outsider had transmitted some kind of disease onto him. The thought of a proper scrub in the icy waters of Sanctuary suddenly felt very inviting.
Once the Outsider had disappeared from the chamber, the boys’ heads swiveled back to face Storm, appraising his reaction. They appeared to be just as confused as he was, although some of them had darker looks on their faces, as if they had suspected him of being part of some sort of treachery all along. Jamie was showing a mixed expression of disgust and, interestingly, envy on his face. Storm understood that the boys, especially Jamie, were used to being treated as if they were special and the attention he had just received from the Outsider had invoked a touch of jealousy in some of them.
His contemplation was interrupted by shuffling on the platform and all the boys focused their attention back to the Servants (including Storm, though reluctantly). The fear of the trial he was about to face returned in full scale. Almost like a tide, the Initiation had appeared then dissipated in and out of his mind frequently on this miserable day.
Hadrian stepped forward towards the granite counter and knelt before it. The boys followed suite and Storm, predictably, managed to be a moment too late and out of sync.
“People of Sanctuary,” Hadrian proclaimed, “we have brought those who have finished their learnings in the ways of our rules and our beliefs. They are no longer boys, but men, fit to be judged according to their worth, so that their service to the people can commence. For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!”
“For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!” the boys echoed.
The Servant Vladimir flashed a crooked smile. “We accept their care, Peacekeeper,” he told Hadrian. “We may now join our brothers.”
Hadrian gracefully rose to his feet and moved back to fill an opening in the line of Peacekeepers against the walls.
“Sanctuarians,” Vladimir rasped, “we stand before ourselves by the Guardian’s grace, working towards the ultimate objective. The destruction of selfishness! The destruction of greed! The destruction of individuality and thinking! The destruction of life!”
“For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!”
“For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life,” Vladimir affirmed, once again giving his crooked smile before continuing. “We will now be conducting this ancient Initiation ceremony. We would like to remind you of how it became possible for this auspicious moment to take place.”
He paused for a while and beheld the boys before him, the grin still plastered to his face, before speaking again with animated hands. “One hundred years ago, the Guardian traversed the wastes that lay outside the Mountain, leading the first Sanctuarians through the tunnel and establishing what we now know as the place of servitude, equality and prosperity.”
Everybody inside the Initiation chamber cheered these words. Storm heard himself also releasing a hollow and unconvincing sound.
After acknowledging the applause with a simple nod, Vladimir turned serious. “But,” he continued, holding up one finger in the air, “the war still remains, the war against individualism. The Outsiders have poisoned our land and our minds and it is our duty to teach our boys on how to escape their twisted mind-sets. To this day, everything outside Sanctuary remains impure. But in here we breed the perfect specimens, the true and flawless servants!”
“For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!” the boys ch
anted once more.
“Now to the business at hand,” Vladimir said, peering at a battered scroll in his hand. “We will start with the Initiation, which has existed since the time of Sanctuary’s creation. It is the ancient tradition in which we will call each potential servant by their name, to receive judgment according to their worth and to be allocated to a suitable service in Sanctuary. Once selected to perform a service, they will be escorted to that appropriate school, where their education will continue. If they are not found suitable, they will be deemed ill-equipped and unfit to live, and will be exterminated.” Vladimir inspected them while a tense silence followed these last words. All Storm could hear was his heart beating frantically.
“So, without any further ado, let the Initiation commence.” Vladimir sat down, to the applause of everyone in the hall and the sudden return of the drums.
“Boy-123!” Vladimir called over the noise.
One of the typical blond-haired boys marched forward and stopped in front of the panel of Servants.
Vladimir studied a piece of paper in front of him before saying, “Miner!”
A Peacekeeper escorted Boy-123 out of the hall and Storm saw an expression of happiness on the boy’s face, grateful for the service that had been granted to him. Vladimir continued to call out each of the boy’s names and the reactions seemed to be all the same, no matter what the outcome; radiant smiles of happiness. They had been trained well.
“Boy-130!” Vladimir called and Storm saw how Jamie strode to the front, already convinced of his new duty. The Servant wasted no time and immediately said, “Peacekeeper!”
Another Peacekeeper led Jamie out of the hall and Storm had to suppress a feeling of irritation when he spotted the smug look on Jamie’s face.
The Servant Vladimir continued to call the boys until Storm heard the name he had been dreading. “Boy-150!”
It was as if his heart had finally stopped beating. He found himself walking forward and although it was a fairly short distance, it felt like he’d walked a mile before he finally stood in front of the counter. From up close, Storm could see the Council’s reactions more clearly. The Blood Captain was watching impassively as always; he almost seemed as if he wasn’t moving at all. Mr. Walrus was eying Storm with his usual distaste, probably relishing in the moment he had been waiting for. The Spymaster’s face was set in his usual grimace, whilst the Spiritual Leader was the only one who nodded encouragingly to Storm. Storm, in turn, waited expectantly, shivering and trying his utmost best to ignore the urge to run away.
Vladimir looked at him in mild interest for a moment before he stated: “Death.”
Feeling the blood drain from his face, Storm became numb and emotionless. This was a strange sensation. Where he’d felt a terrible ache in his stomach before, he now felt completely empty.
Two Peacekeepers approached the platform to escort him out and he followed them unconditionally. He somehow felt a tranquillity, knowing that his outcome had now been decided. His position had been judged and now he could depart, understanding very well that he wasn’t fit to serve the Sanctuarians. He became vaguely aware that one of the Peacekeepers escorting him was, in fact, his brother. Hadrian’s face was unreadable to him but then again, Storm wasn’t really focusing.
They led him through the same passageway from which they had come earlier and they finally ended back in the chamber with the wooden table and the messengers running around.
“Extermination,” the Peacekeeper to Storm’s left stated, once they’d reached the table.
“The path to your right,” replied the Senior Red Cloak.
Now at least Storm knew what the purpose of the right path was. At a time in his life this information would have fascinated him, but currently he couldn’t care less.
The Peacekeeper marked something on a scroll, but then unexpectedly yelled out in pain. “You dropped it on our feet, you fool!” he shouted at someone who seemed to be rummaging below him.
A head peeked up from behind the table and Storm instantly recognized the face of the Outsider. “Well, with feet that size, it would be hard not to,” the Outsider said, smirking.
The Red Cloak snarled under his breath. “You are lucky that the mighty Guardian allows your insubordination, Outsider. If we had our way, you would be dead by now.”
“This is what I don’t get,” the Outsider replied, “you are saying ‘if we had our way’, yet you did have your way didn’t you? Doesn’t the Guardian speak for you? On your behalf?”
The confused Peacekeeper snorted, but seemed unable to offer a counter-argument.
Shaking his head from side to side, the Outsider turned his attention towards Storm. “So, what service were you assigned to?” he asked.
Storm was taken aback by his curiosity, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He felt as if his voice had remained in the Initiation chamber.
“Remember your place, Outsider,” Hadrian said firmly, then added in a lower voice, “Our brother has been sentenced to be executed.”
The Outsider seemed stunned by this. “Why?” he wanted to know.
For some bizarre reason, Storm thought that the Outsider already knew the answer to that question.
“We have been judged unfit by the Guardian for a service,” the other escorting Peacekeeper snapped, clearly impatient about the fact that he had to converse with the Outsider.
“And what does he know?” the Outsider scoffed.
The Peacekeeper shook his head in disgust. “Let us proceed,” he told Hadrian, “the Outsider is even more arrogant than we thought.”
Hadrian nodded and they proceeded to the path on the right hand side. This time, two more Peacekeepers joined them in the journey to Storm’s execution. The four of them were now surrounding Storm like a human carriage.
The words of the Outsider had awakened something weird inside Storm, something he had fought against the previous night: the fact that he did not want to die. His thoughts turned back to the book he had seen, the promise of another world.
That is selfish, Storm!
Yet, he allowed this train of thought to continue. Why should he die?
A glimmer of hope entered his soul while he was reasoning and silently talking to himself.
Could it be possible that I am not supposed to die?
No, I shouldn’t entertain these notions, I was sentenced to death.
But what if I could manage to escape?
The peacekeepers led a conflicted Storm up the stairs, oblivious to his thoughts, which were now having a full scale civil war inside his head.
They followed the same route Hadrian had wrongly escorted them on earlier. This time they stopped short of proceedings further up the path and turned right to face a fairly ordinary door, one that Storm hadn’t even noticed previously.
One of the peacekeepers opened it and a now reluctant Storm was taken inside. His eyes quickly darted over the unremarkable room. There was a lit torch in each corner and that was it. No furniture, no carpets and no other decorations.
Hadrian and the Peacekeeper who had opened the door took their positions in the center of the room, whilst the remaining two Peacekeepers stood in the doorway.
Looking at Storm with concern on his face, Hadrian said, “Kneel before us, brother.”
But Storm just stood there. He still did not want to die. Tears welled up in his eyes and before he knew it, he was sobbing his heart out. The Peacekeepers stared at each each other in bewilderment and one of them shoved Storm from behind. “Go to the middle and kneel!” he commanded.
Storm remained standing, taking deep, haggard breaths, whilst the tears were running down his cheeks. One of the Peacekeepers took hold of his arm, pulled him to the center of the room and slammed him down on the floor, where Storm remained, crying.
“You have been deemed unworthy of any service in Sanctuary,” Hadrian began, his voice straining a little, clearly conflicted about the duty he was about to perform. He didn’t have a choice, though. Hadr
ian had to know that any sympathy displayed towards Storm now would be tantamount to treason. Storm was now considered an Outsider.
He drew his sword and continued in a trembling voice. “You have therefore been sentenced to death as a martyr and a virtuous sacrifice. For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!”
“For the last enemy that shall be destroyed is life!” the other Peacekeepers repeated.
By now Storm had begun to shake his head violently in protest, while he was still crying uncontrollably.
Hadrian hunched down and whispered, “Come on brother, let it at least end with honor.”
Then he stood up and raised his sword over his younger brother’s head...
27
The Storm was preceded by a wave of butterflies.
One of the fishermen was the first to see the black clouds roll in from the west.
He was standing on his deck at the far end of Lake Zion, counting his haul. When he glanced up and noticed the blanket of sinister clouds approaching, his stomach churned in an instant. He couldn’t recall seeing anything like it in Zion before. It appeared more menacing and foreboding than most things he had ever experienced in his life.
It was then that he saw the butterflies.
It seemed as though they were pushing the storm itself. At first he rubbed his eyes, convinced that they were lying to him. But when he opened them again, the vision remained the same.
How could it be possible?
He stowed his fish away and rushed to the main square of Zion on foot to relay the news.
When he’d reached the square, it was already apparent that everyone had seen the dire omen.
“Get inside and hide!” shouted Oliver the guard.
A bell was ringing endlessly, the crackling sound coming from the direction of the church building, signaling the coming threat. People were darting about, trying to decide which location would provide them with the best shelter against this new unknown threat.
