The Sanctuary 

By JP MacDougall 

Cordell stood watchfully upon the great balcony which projected boldly from the highest of the many turrets adorning the Great White Castle. From his incredible vantage point, he could see the vast entirety of Pangea stretching out beneath and beyond him; from its grasslands to its mountains and then to its vast and lush rainforests; down through the rolling, barren deserts to the most southerly, mountainous reaches. It was a view that could not have been any more spectacular; it was a view that few would ever have the privilege to behold. And yet, he was ill at ease. His hands tightened upon the green stone within his left hand. Something fundamental had changed within him; he felt an unsettling pull into the lands of Pangea, this glorious world created by his great and powerful relative, Zeus. The Great White Castle, as it was known to his fellow gods, had become claustrophobic; too cramped with egos and power.  He often wondered what it would be like to walk down the great staircase that led to the lands beneath him and that yearning was never stronger than now. And why should he not? Had not his brother, Typhos, done that very thing not so long ago. Oh, it had angered Zeus greatly and Typhos’s name was rarely uttered in the great corridors of the Great Castle but he felt he had no choice. 

He sighed and watched as far below him a flock of high-flying birds soared across the vast, twinkling lagoon. 

“A fine day, Cordell,” smiled his brother, Rigus, a solemn man with bright blue eyes filled with ice and judgement. 

“That it is, brother,” smiled Cordell, his gaze still fixed upon the vast view in front of him. He had little interest in conversing with his younger brother; they were chalk and cheese. Had the gods been at war, Rigus would have been a front-line warrior. 

“Come now, you spend too much of your time staring out into nowhere; it has been commented upon by many of us. I suspect even our father Zeus has seen it.”

“Brother,” smiled Cordell sympathetically, “how many times do I have to remind you that the mighty Zeus is not our father.”

Rigus bristled and his eyes flashed anger, momentarily darkening to the point of complete blackness. 

“Lord Zeus is master and father of us all,” he growled. “You should remember that, brother.” He emphasised the brother as if he were repulsed by the idea. Ever the constant disappointment to his own family, Cordell was different. And his difference was another reason why the Great Castle felt so unwelcoming and alien to him; it always had done. 

“You are a strange soul, Cordell. I am not the only one who thinks it - be in no doubt. That stone you clasp within your hand contains such great power and yet you chose not to use it.”

“Brother, have I not told you many times? I have no wish to leave this place,” lied Cordell, not realising it was a lie until the words had left his lips. 

Rigus studied his brother with disdain, his own jealousy and frustration clawing and seething within him. That rock, which his feckless brother held within his weak and feeble hands, had been a gift from Zeus. Rigus reflected bitterly on the telling conversation he had overheard two days before. He had been walking through the main courtyard, admiring the festoons of flowers cascading down its walls with some complacency. As he approached the great throne of Zeus, he noticed that the great lord was having a quiet and guarded conversation with his very own brother. Being the type who had no qualms about eavesdropping, Rigus positioned himself beneath one of the many white arches that lined the courtyard, and listened intently to the exchange.

“You feel the desire to explore, my young friend,” Zeus smiled, his white hair cascading over his muscular, bare chest, his eyes nearly too bright to stare into directly. Cordell hung his head, ashamed he had betrayed his thoughts and desires to the king of the gods. 

“In truth, my lord, yes I do,” Cordell whispered, his eyes studying the marble floor on which he stood. The courtyard was tranquil and peaceful, only sounds of hushed conversations and the gentle tinkle of the fountain in the centre were to be heard. 

“You feel shame, Cordell. You should never feel ashamed of what you are; that is no way to live a life, particularly the life of a god.”

“Then what shall I do?” asked Cordell, unable to hide his desperation. 

“You should do what your heart tells you. Fear not what others think of you. I sense great things in you, Cordell.”

Rigus had walked away, shaking and haunted with a deep hatred. There had been moments, during those painful waves of livid envy, when he would look at himself in the mirror of his chambers and observe the darkening of his bright blue eyes; sometimes they would even appear black. During those solitary moments, he would feel a pulse of power within him which he knew had nothing to do with his deific blood. It was unfamiliar, new and yet tantalising. 

He was beginning to get that strange sense of power and temptation now. How he would love to stride forwards and push his wayward brother over the railings and watch his pitiful body tumble. He bit down bitterly on his thin lips and narrowed his eyes, savouring how it would feel. Recollections of that treacherous conversation closed in on his thoughts again.

Zeus had paused and studied the young man standing before him; he had always liked Cordell. He had had the misfortune of being related to Typhos and Rigus, and Zeus pitied him.

“If I leave this place, I shall never be allowed back again,” pleaded Cordell. 

“If you choose to leave, you will be considered a fallen god, and your rights to live within the Great Castle will cease,” Zeus paused and then smiled, “but what is the good of living somewhere that makes you miserable?” He paused again and reached down the side of his throne, pulling out a small, wooden box with beautiful golden hinges. Slowly, he opened it and whatever the contents were, it glowed an emerald green. He pulled out one of the most beautiful rocks Cordell, or Rigus, had ever seen. Emerald green and seemingly full of glittering fireflies, its strange light bounced off the nearby walls scattering and splashing its green glow. 

“Do you know what this is, Cordell?” 

“It is a Life Stone, my lord,” replied Cordell aghast. 

“It is the last life stone in my possession. Since I came to be, I have possessed many of them and planted them across our land of Pangea. From these beautiful stones grew the first tribes; and the first societies to walk our land.” Zeus paused and narrowed his glistening eyes thoughtfully, studying Cordell with curiosity. “I believe that you should have my final stone, Cordell. You are a great thinker and I believe you were destined to found a society of your own.” Zeus leaned forward and, to Cordell’s utter astonishment, he held out the glittering, green stone for Cordell. “I order you to take it; there is much good you can do with it.” Zeus concluded.

Cordell hesitated for a moment. His brother watched from the shadows, trying to control his breath, such was his disbelief and outrage. Then Cordell reached out a hand and took the precious stone. He could feel its incredible power immediately, a low humming, vibrating sensation, which seemed to resonate from it, sending intense waves of powerful energy up his arm. He breathed for what felt like the first time in his long life. His eyes took in the beautiful, swirling sparkles that flitted restlessly within the contours of this angular, emerald-green stone. 

“Do not act immediately though, Cordell. Take some time to think if you truly do wish to leave this castle of ours.” 

Now Cordell stood upon the balcony, feeling the power of the Life Stone within his hand and contemplating the possibilities of his future. Rigus had recognised his lie in their conversation, as bitterness radiated from every fibre of his brother’s body.

“What troubles you, brother?” ventured Cordell, noticing his change in countenance. 

“I do not understand why you have been awarded the prize of Zeus’s last Life Stone. How can someone who longs to leave these great walls and wander with the lesser-folk deserve such a prize?” 

“I cannot answer that question, my brother. I know only that Zeus is wise and that he will have his reasons.”  He pulled the stone from his pocket, feeling a pulse of energy travelling up his arm once more, and stared across the balcony at his brother. “Is this what you crave, brother? Do you feel cheated?”

An overpowering wave of hatred coursed through Rigus’s body and, before he could stop himself, as if his own body had been overcome by some higher power, he lurched forward and snatched the stone from Cordell’s grasp. His hand clenched the stone but instead of feeling the invigorating, pulsating energy within, he felt heat, a terrible burning sensation which caused the skin on his hand to blister. Rigus cried out in surprise and, to Cordell’s horror, his brother drew his burning hand back and threw the stone as hard as he could. 

Such was Rigus’s strength, the little green stone took on the appearance of a shooting star and it burned its way through the atmosphere. It headed west first, over the great lagoon and then over the jagged mountains which lined the northern coastline; then it seemed to change course, as if magnetised, and followed the coastline in a southerly direction, picking up speed as it travelled. Just as the vast grassland planes turned to rich forests, it jinked west once more and hurtled briefly over the ocean and then plunged into the deep, blue void of the ocean. The briny waters exploded high up into the sky as the little stone broke its monotonous motions. Where it struck the sea bed, great black rocks rose up, breaking the fizzing surface of the water once more. That black rock grew and spread, forming an irregularly shaped island covered with hills, with one in particular growing taller than the others. After a while, the furious thrashing of the ocean soothed itself and its newest body of land settled itself into place. The waters resumed their rolling motion, tentatively lapping upon new, black, and rocky beaches, as if tasting something strange and foreign for the first time. 

Cordell stared out across the sky, horrified by what his brother had done. He could see the green tail of the stone still hanging in the air and his impossibly sharp eyes could just chart its route to the south. He turned to his brother, feeling not anger or bitterness but pity. 

“So this is where envy gets you, brother.” He walked from the balcony and into the central courtyard. 

“Cordell!” came the booming voice of Zeus. “Have you something to confess to me?” he roared.

How could he possibly know already?

“For your carelessness, you will follow that stone and, wherever it lands, is where you shall remain for eternity.” 

He left immediately, crossing the great corridor beneath the fathomless sky filled with winking and whispering stars, casting their judgement. Their piercing looks followed him as he marched his way toward the great white staircase, which led down to the distant world of Pangea. He felt no regret or sadness as he descended; this was his destiny after all. Finally, he would be away from the oppressive vanity of his fellow gods. 

His feet touched the lush green grass of ground level and breathed in the fresh, pine-filled air of Pangea. The great lagoon sparkled beneath a wholesome and inviting sun, it was a warmth that he had not encountered up in the Great White Castle. His eyes, which unbeknown to him, had turned a brilliant white, glanced up at the cornflower blue sky and caught sight of the tail of the comet which he knew was now many miles ahead of him. 

Cordell walked through the vast and seemingly endless grasslands and then through hot, dense forests, finally finding rich fields rolling over hills and highlands. The people he met were kind and accepting; they came in all sorts of different races and spoke all manner of languages, many of which he found he could understand. 

Finally, he reached the coast. Peering up at the sky, he could still see the fading tail of the green comet disappearing over the rolling mass of sea, which he knew reached beyond even his vision, to the eastern coast of Pangea. He stepped into the cool, calm and crystal clear waters and waded out, feeling exhilarated. Once the white sand fell away from his bare feet, he swam onwards, enjoying the hot sun on his back and the soothing coolness of the sea below. Sometimes he would dive deep beneath the waves and glide past sea creatures: some miniscule, others monstrous. He passed through a strange and shimmering haze and when he came through the other side, his heart was filled with warmth and joy as his eyes beheld the great island already covered with hues of greenery. Here was his new home, his… He paused as he bobbed up and down with the motion of the sea… his Sanctuary. 

He came ashore where the sea met the land in a sweeping bay which he knew was destined to become a great harbour one day. Cordell breathed in the fresh air of his new land and began to walk, following what looked like a natural road which wound its way up the highest of the hills. Something in his mind allowed him to visualise many carts and people walking up this road to the great city which would soon stand upon that vast, flat surface at the summit. All around him, nature was taking over the island, as she was so inclined to do. He welcomed it, enjoying watching trees of every kind break through the fertile soil which had once been black rock. As he reached the summit, he found himself standing upon a great plateau. Again, his strange visions appeared before him, and he was able to see his glorious city, outspread across the land. Great, graceful towers, turrets and domes would form the skyline and a benevolent civilisation would enjoy its splendour. 

“Fine visions you have,” came a voice full of contempt. 

“I wondered if you would come after me, Rigus,” smiled Cordell serenely. “You should know that this is my world and you will not be able to harm me here,” he added, turning to face his brother. 

“Say what you wish brother,” laughed Rigus scornfully. “But because of you, Zeus has banished me.” 

“That was your own doing, brother; you allowed your jealousy to cloud your judgement.” 

A warm breeze drifted lazily across the vast, flat plateau. Nature, seemingly unperturbed by the confrontation upon that hill, continued to fill the island with life. Cordell studied the black, glistening pits which had become his brother’s eyes and sighed, his heart full of sadness at what he knew was to happen. He raised both hands as his brother charged at him with a sword which Cordell did not recognise. It all happened in a matter of moments. A stride away from Cordell, Rigus lowered his sword to strike but, almost instantaneously, he was thrown up into the air, the sword flying from his hand. Cordell, his hands still raised, closed his eyes, as tears began to fall down his cheeks and splatter upon the dusty ground. 

The ground beneath his feet began to rumble; he could feel the anger within his land, its revulsion at this violent being who had invaded it. Cordell looked up and pushed his hands forwards. The terrible screams of his brother were crushing, as Rigus was consumed with fire then thrown far out into the distant sea. His body collided with the water with a violent hissing and sank until he crashed into the sea bed. Jagged rocks rose up instantly, breaking the surface of the ocean into an archipelago of islands, which would one day be named the Isle of Thorns or, more commonly, the Isle of the Banished. 

Cordell lowered his hands, tears still falling. He walked to the far end of the plateau where he foresaw a grand gateway which would lead people out to the rolling fields beyond. His sharp eyes picked out the fallen sword, stuck deep within a field of grass. He walked towards it and pulled it from the ground, inspecting the beautiful engravings upon the blade. They appeared to be of flowers; he narrowed his eyes and realised that they were lupins. His eyes surveyed the vast field he stood in and understood what this place stood for. It would be the place where those who felt ready, would embark on their final journey to their tower. 

He lowered the blade and pushed its point deep into the ground, running his fingers down the silver engravings. For a moment, nothing happened but Cordell remained where he stood, watching the ground intently. Finally, green shoots began to rise up all around him, their pointed leaves spreading and engulfing the grass. Gradually, buds of new blooms exploded from the greenery in countless colours and the air filled with a sweet, peppery aroma. Cordell looked around him, admiring the field which was now filled with vibrant, swaying lupins, and something else, something that quelled the tears and brought a smile to his face; people were beginning to appear amongst the blooms, their beautifully white eyes glistening in the sunlight. Their handsome faces all turned towards him. For there, within that field of lupins, stood the first of the Sanctorians.