The Black Sentry

by Bernhardt, William

  While they talked to people in the village marketplace, he heard heavy footfalls coming from the vicinity of Clovis’s Keep. Black Sentry.

  They ducked for cover, without attracting too much attention. He thought the Clovis Sentry might have been told to watch for them. As he watched the platoon march in formation past them, he saw that the reality was much worse.

  “Mykah,” he said under his breath.

  Brita nodded, but gestured for him to stay quiet. Mykah marched near the front of the contingent. He must have traveled from Merrindale–with how many others? And why?

  Near the end of the formation, he saw the purpose of the parade–transporting the Old Man. His hands were tied and a heavy wooden brace had been locked around his neck and shoulders. He looked exhausted. He had probably been forced to walk all the way from Merrindale, despite his injured ankle. He breathed heavily, and each step seemed to make him wince.

  The crowd reacted as soon as they saw the Old Man. People shouted and cursed and called him ugly names. Some even threw vegetables. His heart sank as he watched the Old Man being so cruelly treated. He heard a Sentry explain that the Old Man was being transported from the courthouse to the Clovis Keep, where he would remain until it was time for the Ritual of Execution.

  He exchanged a glance with Brita. Neither of them spoke, but he knew the same thought was on both their brains. They had to rescue the Old Man. Somehow. Before it was too late.

  *****

  After nightfall, from a safe hiding place, Daman saw Mykah emerge from the Clovis Keep. Keeping a discreet distance, he and his friend followed Mykah until they arrived at the temporary quarters provided for his stay in Clovis.

  They waited until all the lights in the small cottage were out, and then waited even longer, until it was reasonable to assume that Mykah, and most of the people of this village, were asleep.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

  Brita nodded, her eyes not quite meeting his. “I’m sure.”

  She hurried to the front door and knocked briskly. When there was no response, she pounded harder. A few moments later, they heard footsteps. Mykah was up, probably fumbling around for clothes.

  A few moments later, Mykah opened the door. He wore a casual tunic and trousers—probably what he slept in.

  “Hello,” she said simply.

  Mykah could not have looked more surprised if he had seen the Sentinel himself. “Brita. But—I was told…”

  “Yes?”

  “I was told you disappeared.”

  “I didn’t go far. I spent the night in a barn in the forest.”

  “But–the Creepers! The Savages!”

  “As you can see, I managed to survive.”

  “The Black Sentry said you joined the traitors. The Resistance. They said you helped Daman escape.”

  “Did you believe that?”

  “No, of course not. But I couldn’t deny that you disappeared. I thought that—that—”

  “What?” Her voice took on a softer tone. “You thought what?”

  “I thought you left to avoid me. To avoid marrying me.”

  Poor Mykah. Daman could not help but feel sorry for him. Even from where he crouched in the shadows, he could see the hurt and anguish in Mykah’s eyes. He loved Brita.

  “That is not why I disappeared,” Brita said.

  “But you said—and I could tell—”

  “I’ll admit I wasn’t anxious to marry, but that had nothing to do with you.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m only sixteen, Mykah. It’s absurd to think that I should settle down, should resign myself to nothing more than being someone’s housekeeper and child-raiser. I mean no disrespect to you. But there’s a world outside our tiny village. There’s so much I want to see. So much I want to do.”

  A deep furrow crossed Mykah’s forehead. “I don’t understand. What exactly do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. That’s my whole point. I want to learn.”

  “The Sentinel has decreed that you shall be my wife.”

  “Yes,” Brita said softly. “I know.”

  “The Sentinel knows what is best for us, Brita.”

  “The Sentinel knows what is best for the Sentinel. He cares nothing for individuals.”

  “Brita!”

  “If he did, he wouldn’t try to confine me to one village. Separated from people and ideas and boo—” Fortunately, she stopped herself in time. “The Sentinel does not want what is best for me.”

  All at once, Mykah took her hands in his. He pulled her close and gazed into her eyes.

  “I do.” He whispered the words, his eyes never leaving hers. “All I want is what’s best for you. If you don’t want to tend the house or raise the children, fine. All I want is you.”

  For some reason, Brita seemed to have difficulty formulating her response. “Mykah,” she said finally, “will you walk with me?”

  He nodded, and she led Mykah away from the cottage.

  Daman and Xander didn’t waste a moment. As soon as Mykah and Brita were out of sight, they crept out of the alleyway and hurried toward Mykah’s cottage. They slid through the front door into the main room, thankful to be off the street and away from prying eyes. They did not light a candle or use any other source of illumination. At this hour, any light increased the risk of discovery.

  They made their way back to the bedroom. A slim bed rested in the center with a medium-sized trunk at the foot. There was also a closet and a small wooden chest of drawers.

  “Do you see it?” Xander whispered.

  “No.”

  “We only have a few minutes.”

  He nodded. This was a fact of which he was well aware and needed very little reminding. “You search the trunk. I’ll take the closet.”

  He opened the sliding closet panel and rummaged through the contents. He thought it would be quick and easy to sort through Mykah’s belongings, given that he was only temporarily lodging here, but the darkness made any search difficult. One item of clothing looked much the same as another. Repeatedly, he had to remove items from the closet and hold them by the window to view them in the moonlight. This consumed too much of their extremely limited time.

  After a few minutes, he finished examining the closet. Xander finished with the trunk.

  “Did you find it?”

  “No.” Xander’s frustration was evident, compounded by his anxiousness over the possibility that Mykah might return. They knew that Brita would stall, but no matter how much Mykah loved her, he would not want to be out this late with no legitimate purpose. A suspicious incident could prematurely end the career of anyone in the Black Sentry.

  Together, they assaulted the chest of drawers. They tried not to disturb things, as they did not want Mykah to realize he had been searched, but it was difficult. They ransacked every drawer, but still did not find what they wanted.

  “Perhaps it isn’t here,” Xander said, eyeing the front door anxiously.

  “It’s here. We just have to find it.”

  “It’s brand new,” Xander said. “Probably the only new clothing Mykah has had in years. Surely he’d hang it in his closet.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want it to be in plain sight,” he said, thinking aloud. “If it’s his most prized possession, perhaps he’d put it somewhere safer. Somewhere special. Somewhere out of sight.”

  He scanned the room. They had searched all the obvious places. He tried to think—where would he put his most prized possession? He remembered when he was a tiny boy, when he often brought home small treasures—colorful rocks or flowers, perhaps a found coin. And he always hid them in a box that he kept—

  He crouched down on his knees. He lifted the edge of the bedclothes and peered underneath.

  There it was.

  He pulled out a small box containing Mykah’s shiny new outfit. The uniform of the Black Sentry, complete with the eerie hood and goggles.

  “Come on!” Without wasting a step, they start
ed toward the front door. Barely a moment later, they heard shuffling noises out front.

  They froze in their tracks.

  Footsteps. And a voice.

  Mykah was on the bedroom end of the house heading toward the front door–the only door—which was already within his sight. They could not exit by the bedroom window–the only window—without being seen.

  They had no way to escape. And Mykah was on his way inside.

  22

  Daman did not know what to do. There was no way they could possibly explain this. Mykah had said their former friendship would not stand in the way of his duty to the Sentry. No matter how much Brita protested, he would turn them all in. Or at least he and Xander.

  He heard a shrill, high-pitched noise directly behind him. He was so startled he jumped into the air.

  Xander was whistling, the prearranged signal to tell Brita they were still in here. Xander had the talent of whistling in such a way that it sounded entirely natural, like one of the birdcalls often heard in the village.

  Listening at the door, he heard Brita’s voice. She was trying to prevent Mykah from going inside the cottage.

  He and Xander huddled by the window. It had a single glass pane that could be raised.

  Slowly, carefully, Xander opened the window. It squeaked at one point and he stopped. Brita’s voice rose in volume. She had heard the squeak and was doing her best to drown it out.

  Xander opened the window the rest of the way, but at that instant, Mykah turned around.

  They ducked out of sight just an instant before he would have seen them. What would they do now? From where Mykah stood, he could see both the front door and the only window. They had no way to get out.

  “I can’t let you leave me again, Brita,” he heard Mykah say through the open window. “We’re promised.”

  “I never promised anything,” she replied. “Others promised for me, something they had no right to do.”

  “You speak so strangely, Brita. I don’t understand what’s happened to you.” His voice became firmer. “But I will not let you go. If you attempt it, I’ll sound the alarm and call in the Sentry.”

  A long pause ensued. “I promise you’ll see me again. I can’t promise I’ll change my mind. But I can promise I’ll see you again.”

  His voice softened. “How can I believe you?”

  “You must believe me,” she replied.

  He heard a soft murmuring noise, but no more words. He couldn’t resist looking. Carefully, he edged his head out the window...

  She was kissing him.

  In the embrace, she’d managed to turn Mykah away from the window. She saw his head poke out and, with the hand wrapped behind Mykah’s back, waved for them to go.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled quietly out the window. Despite their best efforts, they were not entirely silent. Mykah didn’t seem to notice. Apparently he had other matters on his mind.

  They climbed out of the house with their acquisition and moved stealthily toward their prearranged meeting point.

  *****

  Daman waited impatiently for Brita to return. After about ten minutes, she appeared in the darkened alleyway. “Did you get it?”

  He held up the uniform so she could see. “We did.”

  “Excellent. I couldn’t keep Mykah away any longer. I tried everything imaginable, but he’s very stubborn.” She held the uniform up to the light. “With this, no one will question us inside the Arena.”

  “But how will we get there in the first place? During the Ritual of Execution, the Black Sentry will be everywhere. We can’t simply walk through the streets. Someone will recognize us.”

  “I know how to get to the Arena without being seen,” Xander said.

  He looked at Xander incredulously. “How would you possibly—” He stopped himself. “But Sentry will be on every street corner, on every road—”

  “They will not be in the tunnel.”

  “What tunnel?”

  “There’s a tunnel leading from the Arena to a place north of the village. Or may be. There was a tunnel in Merrindale. I’ve been told every village has one.”

  “I’ve never heard of this.”

  “It’s a closely guarded secret.”

  “Then how would—”

  “How would a mere slave know?” Xander’s lips became thin and tight. “A slave would know because the slaves are the ones who do all the hard work that makes the Sentinel’s ‘miracles’ occur.”

  He bit his tongue. “But how can it stay secret if slaves know?”

  “What harm is there in telling a few slaves? After all, slaves are not even allowed to speak unless spoken to.” He paused. “What those fools don’t realize is that if they tell one slave, they tell us all.”

  He didn’t understand what that meant, but he had more pressing questions on his mind. “What’s the purpose of these tunnels?”

  “Have you never wondered how the Sentinel’s men arrange those amazing disappearances when villagers are exiled or executed? Here one minute, gone the next?”

  He remembered the latest example, when Mister Anton was sentenced at the Festival only a few days before. “We are told that the Sentinel’s power—”

  Xander rolled his eyes. “They drop through a hole in the floor of the Arena and are spirited away underground.”

  “A tunnel,” Brita echoed. “Of course. It’s obvious, once you know.”

  “There’s a platform raised and lowered by a pulley. It makes people appear or disappear through the hole in the floor. After that, they’re hustled out of the village through the tunnel. Never to be seen again.” He paused. “But if we can find it, the tunnel could be used to spirit us into the Arena.”

  *****

  Taking care not to be seen, Daman and his friends returned to the village wall and climbed back out into the forest. They would have to wait until daylight to search for the tunnel. As always, they were wary of Creepers. They found climbable trees and nestled down, after agreeing they would take turns keeping watch.

  He volunteered for the first watch. Brita and Xander settled in. He soon heard sounds that told him Xander was asleep. Apparently Xander could sleep anywhere, almost instantaneously.

  Brita, however, was still awake. He gazed at her soft face, her yellow hair illuminated by moonlight. “Did you change your mind?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  “About joining the Resistance. Helping the Old Man.”

  “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  He looked away. “I thought perhaps you’d decided to stay with Mykah.”

  “Why? Because you saw me kissing him?”

  “Well...”

  “Daman, the only reason I kissed him was because you two fools got yourselves trapped in his cottage and couldn’t get out.”

  “You shouldn’t call Xander a fool.”

  “True. He hasn’t been stupid enough to ask if I’ve changed my mind.”

  To his surprise, Xander laughed. “Leave me out of this.” Apparently Xander was not as deep in sleep as he thought.

  “You did not appear to be miserable while you were kissing him.”

  “Well, the ruse wouldn’t have worked very well if I had, would it?”

  “Most girls don’t go around kissing boys they don’t like.”

  “I kissed you, didn’t I?”

  That stung. He wished he’d had the sense to keep his mouth closed. “Kissing seems to be one of your favorite tricks.”

  “It’s not my favorite anything,” she shot back. “But I have noticed that once the lips lock, a boy’s brain ceases functioning. That can be useful.”

  “Would you two stop already?” Xander said. “Sleep.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, angry at the world.

  “You’ve got no reason to be rude to me,” Xander replied. “I didn’t kiss her.”

  He could feel his face burning. “As if she would ever kiss—” He bit off the end of the se
ntence, but not, he realized, in time.

  Xander rolled over, his face set in stone. “At first light, we must begin searching for the tunnel. Until then, I intend to sleep.”

  And eventually, they did.

  23

  The tunnel was not as hard to find as Daman expected. So few people traveled between the villages, and so few knew about the existence of the tunnels, that great deception probably was not deemed necessary. A few fallen trees and leafy branches were strewn haphazardly across the entrance. Xander said it was much the same with the tunnel in Merrindale. Anyone looking for it would be able to find it. The problem was, few knew to look for it.

  The tunnel was small, but large enough for them to pass through on hands and knees. It was cramped and dirty, and at times he had trouble breathing. He was surprised at how strongly it affected him. Sweat dripped from his brow and he felt a strange clutching sensation in his chest. He had never been in such a cramped place.

  After they crawled a short distance, his throat went dry and he found he couldn’t move. He felt as if the walls of the tunnel were closing in on him, as if he would be buried alive, deep under the earth. He knew these thoughts were not rational. But he could not banish them. He had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from screaming.

  “What’s wrong?” Brita asked.

  “N–Nothing.”

  “Why aren’t you moving?”

  His tongue felt so thick he could barely speak. “I–don’t know.”

  He felt the touch of Brita’s hand on his arm. It sent an electric charge through his already tremulous body. “I know,” she said quietly. “I feel it, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what’s happening to us. But I know this–we have to keep moving.”

  He knew she was right. He was behind Xander but before Brita, and there was not nearly enough room in the tunnel for her to pass him. If he didn’t move, Xander would be on his own. And he couldn’t possibly succeed by himself.

  The Old Man would be executed.

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced himself to crawl. He didn’t need his eyes. There were no wrong turns he could take. He tried to imagine wide-open spaces, meadows, wheat fields, forests. Anything to take his mind off where he really was and what he was really doing.