D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“We are nearing the end of a journey that began thousands of years ago here on Earth with the birth of Alexander Naymeer and the rise of Ravinia. Throughout Halla, the elite have triumphed. Like you, they are the chosen. The entitled. Look around. See the wonderful existence we share. We are spreading this Utopian ideal throughout Halla. When we no longer need protection from the evils of the dissenters, the walls that surround us will no longer be needed, and they… will… come… down!”

The crowd went nuts. Again. I guess that was the deal. The Ravinians lived in their own special little paradise, but they were like prisoners. It seemed like Saint Dane promised that the whole world would become as perfect as this conclave, just as soon as all those annoying people on the outside could be eliminated.

When the crowd stopped chanting, Saint Dane continued. “There is still work to be done. There are pockets of resistance. There are people who are no better than hungry, predatory rats, and they are determined to bring down our way of life. They want to live as we do, yet they aren’t willing to make sacrifices to achieve it. My question to you is, are you ready to eliminate the threat once and for all? Should we allow these people to continue to eat away at the fabric of our perfect society? That is the choice we are now faced with. Do we tolerate? Or purge? Tolerate? Or purge?”

The chant started slowly, as if they weren’t exactly sure of the answer. But once it began, it quickly grew. “Purge! Purge! Purge!”

It was chilling. These people were worked up, enthusiastically showing their support for a final massacre-all so they could continue to live in a nice park like home. Even the kids were chanting with intensity. It was bloodlust. Saint Dane held out his hands, smiling, letting the chant wash over him. I was watching his power grow, literally. He was feeding on their spirit. I was certain that whatever darker Solara he had created was feeding on it too. He held up his hands again and the chanting stopped. Looking out over the crowd, and to the people around me, I saw fire in their eyes. People were breathing heavily. Saint Dane had them in his spell.

“Of course that is the way!” Saint Dane proclaimed. “You and your ancestors have always been willing to make the difficult choices for the greater good. The same has been happening all over Halla. The strong have chosen to survive. The weak have been ground under our boots.”

Another huge cheer. Yikes. They were ruthless.

“Now we are faced with a decision. As much as I have become your spiritual advisor, every decision I make comes from you.”

Yeah, right.

“I have summoned you here to make another such decision. You will determine how we proceed. You all are aware of the growing number of rebels who live outside these walls. It is the same with every conclave that has been built on Earth. There are many who manage to hang on, threatening our lives and forcing us to live behind these walls. Once they are eliminated, these walls will come down. I am here today to tell you that we have captured a leader of these miscreants. He defiled the sanctity of this conclave, crept in like a cockroach searching for crumbs, with the intent of causing malicious harm to anyone who stood in his way.”

Okay, not true, but… whatever.

He continued, “My question to you is, do we show him mercy? Or do we send a message to all those who oppose us? A message that states beyond any shadow of a doubt that their cause is futile and their true destiny… is to perish!”

As the crowd erupted with another cheer, three more people stepped up onto the platform. There were two Ravinian guards and a guy they held tight. He was a prisoner, with a black cloth bag over his head.

Saint Dane reached out and pulled the bag off.

My stomach clenched when I saw his face. Yeah. It was Mark.

At the same time, from the crossbeam over Mark’s head, a noose was lowered. It was all happening much quicker than I imagined.

This crowd had been gathered to witness the execution of Mark Dimond.

A fourth person stepped onto the platform. Nevva Winter. Saint Dane wanted her to carry out the execution, and there she was. Ready to go.

“People of Ravinia,” Saint Dane’s voice boomed. “Give me your decision. Do we show mercy? Or begin the process that will crush our enemies once and for all?”

I wasn’t expecting any other response than the one they gave. The chant began quickly, the sound echoing off the Taj Mahal.

“Crush! Crush! Crush! Crush!”

The sentence had been handed down. Saint Dane had done it again. He had already decided to execute Mark, but he first drew these people into the process, making them part of the decision. Putting blood on their hands. He could still claim that the people made their own choice, though in reality he was stoking the evil spirit that gave him the power to re-create Halla.

I looked at the faces of those around me. They seemed like ordinary people. Nobody had three eyes or sharp fangs or looked any different from the rebels who lived outside the conclave. In fact, they weren’t any different. They all wanted the same thing, which was to live their lives in peace. Trouble was, the people of Ravinia felt they deserved more and weren’t above crushing those who got in their way. Not all monsters had fangs.

And not all of the Ravinians were chanting. I actually saw a few people who weren’t caught up in the furor. It might have been wishful thinking, but to me it seemed as if they were looking around in dismay, the same as I was. Was it possible? Were there some Ravinians who actually had a conscience? It gave me a brief bit of hope, but no more than that. There were plenty of others who wanted Mark’s blood.

I pushed my way through the crowd, desperate to get to the silver tower that had become a gallows. I didn’t know what I could do, but I wasn’t going to let Mark die without a fight. I kept the electric wand to my side, turned off. As badly as I needed to get through the crowd, I wasn’t about to kill anybody to do it. That would have made me no better than the bloodthirsty Ravinians who were calling for Mark’s head. I kept my eyes on the stage. Mark stood bravely, looking out at the crowd. They had cleaned him up a little for the show. His beard stubble was gone and his long hair was cut short. He stood staring out at the thousands of judges who wanted him dead, showing no fear. He didn’t fight. I’m sure he didn’t want to give anybody the satisfaction of knowing that he was anything less than a proud, formidable guy.

Saint Dane stalked along the front of the platform, soaking up the energy. He was loving this. After letting the emotion roll over him for a few seconds, he turned toward the Taj Mahal and waved. A quick look showed me who it was meant for.

Elli Winter had arrived. She was being held by two Ravinian guards, who dragged her out the front door of the ancient building. They forced her forward and stopped at the top of a wide set of stairs that led down to the bottom of the silver tube. The level I was on. Being up high like that meant she was roughly on the same level as the top of the platform where her daughter was about to murder my friend. Saint Dane gestured for Nevva to look back. Nevva didn’t. I think she knew who was there. It was a cruel move. Saint Dane wanted Nevva to know her mother was watching. Was it a further test of her resolve? Or was it punishment for having questioned him earlier? Either way, Saint Dane proved yet again how vicious he could be.

Having Elli there also meant that the Ravinians knew I was on the loose. It didn’t worry me at all. In a few seconds they were going to know exactly where I was.

The intensity of the chanting grew. It became a steady, incessant, “Crush them! Crush them! Crush them!”