D. MacHale - Raven Rise

Naymeer raised his hands again.

“As much as this is a time to celebrate, we must remain humble. There are those who still oppose us. Those who do not understand. Those who will never share in the glories of Halla. They are deserving of our sympathy.”

The crowd didn’t peep. I didn’t feel a whole lot of sympathy going on. Man, who did they think they were? How could they be brainwashed into believing they were so superior? I glanced over to Saint Dane. He had a small smile on his face. That was my answer. Saint Dane had convinced them. Through Naymeer, he had seduced them into helping him begin his final assault on Halla. As Alder and I stood in that room, next to the guy who was the architect of this horror, I had no idea what we could do about it. I was beginning to accept the fact that Saint Dane was right. I was beaten.

Naymeer continued, “Right now, outside the sacred walls of this conclave, a group has gathered to protest our very existence. Might I say, once the teachings of Ravinia are instituted, such crass showings will be a thing of the past.”

I saw the people nodding to each other knowingly. Creeps.

“There will be no more protests. No more dissension. No more violence. There will be only one voice. The voice of Ravinia. The voice of Halla. Your voice.”

“There goes freedom of speech,” I said.

Saint Dane didn’t react.

“On the eve of such a historic occasion, I would like to invite some of our detractors to join us. To see what we are about. To get a small taste of the wonders of Halla.”

A concerned murmur went up. The people didn’t expect that. How could Naymeer suggest bringing the unwashed masses into their perfect little temple? Naymeer raised both hands and added, “I assure you, this will be a night that none of us will forget. Nor will our detractors. I beg your patience and understanding.”

The room lights went on. Naymeer strode away from the flume, walking directly up the center aisle. He was quickly joined by six guards, who surrounded him in a protective cocoon. They walked past the adoring yet confused eyes of the Ravinians, toward the rear of the room, and climbed the stairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Saint Dane left the window and walked to the opposite wall. There was another red drape, much smaller than the one that was pulled back from the window looking down onto the flume. Saint Dane touched the wall panel. The smaller drape slid open the same way, revealing another window. He gestured for us to join him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy, but I had to see what was happening.

Alder and I reluctantly joined him and looked out of the window to the street below. It was night. We were in the familiar Bronx neighborhood that used to be home to the subway station that held the gate to the flume. Mark and Courtney had described the huge, marble structure that we were now in. We were looking down from the second or third floor. I could see the marble steps leading down to the street… a street that was packed with people. Protestors. They carried signs that read: WE THE PEOPLE…andLIBERTYAND JUSTICE FOR ALL. According to Saint Dane, these were the bottom-feeders of society. The losers who were nothing more than a drain on the world’s resources. From where I stood, they looked like regular people. Angry regular people. I could hear them chanting, “Stop Naymeer. Stop Naymeer.”

A long line of red shirts kept the crowd from climbing the stairs. Unlike the dados inside, these guys were armed. They looked pretty imposing with their Tasers. Suddenly the chants turned to a chorus of boos. I looked directly down to see that a podium was set up on the stairs that led from the sidewalk up into the conclave building. Whatever was about to happen, it was planned. This wasn’t some impromptu moment. A group of red shirts marched down the steps toward the podium and surrounded it. Naymeer followed soon after and stood at the podium, looking out over a sea of his enemies.

“My friends,” his voice boomed over speakers.

This was definitely planned. They even had speakers set up. The booing grew louder. Naymeer was patient. He raised his hands to try to quiet them. These people weren’t as obedient as the ones inside. They kept screaming and booing him angrily.

“Stop Naymeer! Stop Naymeer!”

Naymeer stayed cool. “Please,” Naymeer continued. “I understand your concerns.”

The people were having none of it. Good for them. The boos got louder. This went on for a solid ten minutes. Naymeer didn’t give up. He kept trying to get them to listen, but that only made them yell louder. Finally, either they got tired of screaming or they actually decided to listen to what he had to say, but the crowd settled down enough so that Naymeer could be heard.

“Before you judge, I would like to invite some of you to come inside and see for yourselves what Ravinia is truly about.”

If it was possible for an entire crowd to be confused, they were. It didn’t seem as if they expected that olive branch. Their surprised looks proved that they didn’t know what to think about the surprise offer. Naymeer started pointing to people.

“You, and you,” he called out. “Bring your daughter. You, young man, join me inside, won’t you?”

Slowly, each person he pointed to stepped forward and onto the steps of the conclave building. The red-shirt dados parted, allowing them to pass.

“Yes, come forward,” Naymeer encouraged from his podium. “Don’t be afraid.”

The people were tentative, but they climbed. A few red shirts met them and escorted them up and into the building. Before the last volunteer went inside, he turned and threw his arms up in a sign of victory and defiance. The little girl who was the guy’s daughter did too. The crowd cheered, then started to chant again. It now felt like a charge to those who were headed inside.

“Stop Naymeer. Stop Naymeer.”

I looked to Saint Dane. “Has this ever happened before?”

“No,” he said coldly. “It is unfortunate that it had to come to this.”

He left the window, leaving us with that ominous statement. What was going on?

“I don’t like this,” I whispered to Alder.

We followed Saint Dane back to the inside viewing window. The Ravinians were as well behaved as the crowd outside was unruly. When Naymeer appeared at the bottom of the stairs, they turned to him and watched politely. There was no cheering. No chanting. No urging him on. Following Naymeer were his red shirts, after which came the group of nervous outsiders. A quick count told me there were ten people, including three kids. They didn’t seem scared, but they were definitely intimidated. All eyes were on them. They huddled closer to one another for support as they made their way toward the flume. One of them caught sight of the tunnel and nudged another. Soon they all saw the tunnel that led to the territories. Their mouths hung open as they drew closer.

Naymeer was back in his position, next to the opening to the flume. “Come now, right this way,” he urged the people warmly. Invitingly.

They were brought to the front of the audience and stood in a group near the mouth of the tunnel.

“There,” Naymeer said cordially. “Thank you for joining us. This is a night you will not soon forget, nor will your friends outside. You are about to experience the true power and majesty of Halla.”

Alarms were going off in my head. Something was wrong. Why were these people crowded together in front of the flume like this? Like…like sheep. The words that Patrick had written suddenly came back to me.

N. exiles enemies through flume.

Was that it? Were these poor people going to be made an example of? Was that going to be his demonstration of the power of Halla? My mind was racing. I had to do something, but what?