The Black Sentry

by Bernhardt, William

  The Old Man understood and followed them out of the room. He noted that the Old Man was able to quickly grasp the situation. He had far more experience running from the Sentinel than the rest of them.

  They raced through the corridors as quickly as possible. Fortunately, they didn’t encounter anyone. Presumably most people had gone above ground to see the Silver Sentryman in action. Unfortunately, the confusing array of passageways made it difficult to find their way back to the tunnel. They soon became confused. And lost.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Xander said, teeth clenched. “The Acolyte will finish his litany and realize the Old Man has escaped.”

  They stood in the middle of a corridor with three choices—straight ahead, left and right. All the passages were dark and long. There was no way to see what lay ahead other than by trying them.

  “I think it’s this way,” Brita said, pointing at the passage to the right.

  “I thought it was the left,” Daman offered. “Xander?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea. But we must do something quickly.”

  He knew Xander was right, but he also knew a wrong choice would make it impossible to escape.

  “Fine. We’ll go my way,” Brita said, tugging them to the right.

  Something about the way she said it rubbed him the wrong way. “What makes you so sure you’re right all the time?”

  “We have to try something.”

  “Fine. Let’s go my way.”

  “Don’t be an imbecile.”

  “I’m tired of you telling me how stupid I am and how much smarter you are than everyone else.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Xander reminded them.

  “He’s correct,” Brita said. “We’ll go right.”

  “Left.”

  “Actually, you’re both wrong,” a new voice said. “The exit is straight ahead.”

  They whirled around and saw not one but two Black Sentry behind them in the corridor.

  “Thought you’d make another escape, is that it, traitor?” The Sentry stared at him with hatred in his eyes. He knew there was no hope of deceiving him. He had heard too much. “You were lucky once. You should have quit while you were ahead.”

  The two Sentry moved toward them.

  Xander stepped in front of his companions. “You three go ahead,” Xander said quietly. “I’ll deal with them, Daman.”

  “No. We won’t leave you.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You must get the Old Man to safety.”

  He bit down on his lower lip. He hated the idea of abandoning Xander. But Xander was right–getting the Old Man back to the Resistance was their top priority now.

  Before he could do anything, the two Sentry rushed them. Xander dove, letting loose a savage growl. He leapt into the air sideways and hit both of them broadside. They all clattered to the floor, Xander on top.

  He did not doubt that Xander would defeat them. But it would take time.

  “Come on,” Brita urged.

  Reluctantly, he followed.

  They met no further interference as they wove their way through the corridors. The Old Man held up well, but his breath was fast and short, and his hand rarely moved from his chest. But he kept moving.

  At last they arrived at the room connected to the tunnel.

  “Great,” he said breathlessly. “Now all we have to do—”

  He stopped. A lock hung on the tunnel hatch. The tunnel was closed to them. And that was the least of their problems.

  A young man blocked their way. He held a huge club, and his expression made it clear he did not intend to let anyone pass. They knew him to be a member of the Black Sentry, even though he was out of uniform.

  He was out of uniform for a reason.

  It was Mykah.

  25

  Daman stared at his old friend and saw nothing but hatred in his eyes.

  Xander ran up behind them. It seemed he had dispatched the two Sentry. When he saw Mykah, he slammed to a stop.

  “That’s a fine uniform you’re wearing, Xander,” Mykah said, his lip curled.

  Xander made no reply. He suspected Xander was sizing Mykah up, determining whether he could take him, despite the enormous club.

  “You have all transgressed against the Laws and Ways. You have betrayed the Sentinel.” Mykah peered at Brita through narrow eyes. “And you have betrayed me.”

  Brita stepped forward. “It was necessary, Mykah.”

  “Necessary? Necessary to become a criminal? A traitor? To make a joke out of everything? Including us.”

  “Mykah...”

  “How do you think this makes me look, Brita? I want a career in the Black Sentry, the defenders of the Sentinel. And my own betrothed openly defies the Laws and Ways.”

  “I meant no offense against you.”

  “Last night.” Mykah took a deep breath. “Last night you led me to believe there was some hope. That you cared for me...at least to some small degree.”

  Brita made no reply.

  “But now I see that was all a ruse. A trick you played. So you could steal something that didn’t belong to you and give it to a slave.”

  Brita walked toward Mykah, stopping when she was but a few feet away from him. Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear what she said. “Mykah...it was not...all...a ruse.”

  His head twitched. “It wasn’t?”

  “You’re a fine boy. Any girl would be happy...” She paused. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I can’t settle down to a life of dusting the farmhouse and watching the children. I just—I can’t explain it properly.” She shook her head. “I’ve always felt that there was more that I could do. More that I was supposed to do. Until this week, I didn’t know what it was. But now I do.”

  “You plan to join this Resistance?”

  She nodded her head.

  “I took an oath,” Mykah said. “An oath of allegiance to the Sentinel. I swore that I would enforce his Laws and protect him against his enemies. You’ve befriended the Sentinel’s greatest enemy.”

  At that instant, they heard a commotion from the Arena—shouting, crying, running. He knew what it meant. The crowd–and the Acolyte–knew the Old Man had not been incinerated.

  If they were going to escape, they had to go now.

  “They’ll be here soon,” Brita said, peering into Mykah’s eyes. “If they capture us—you know what will happen.”

  She moved even closer to him. His hand brushed through her stunning blonde hair.

  “Just answer one question,” Mykah said. “Last night, when you told me—what you told me. Was that the truth? Or was it another lie? Another trick you played so you could get what you wanted?”

  He could not help but wonder what she had said, but no explanation was forthcoming.

  “That was the truth, Mykah. I meant it. I still do.”

  His face softened. “I’m glad. What I said last night was true also. All I want is what’s best for you.” He lowered his club, still gazing into her eyes. “Go.”

  “Mykah—”

  “Go. Before I change my mind.” He turned toward Xander. “Do me the favor of clubbing me over the head on your way out.”

  A strange request, but they all understood why he made it.

  “Wait!” Brita ran forward suddenly, threw her arms around Mykah’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  A brief smile flickered on Mykah’s lips. “Quickly, Xander.”

  Mykah closed his eyes and Xander knocked him in the head with the club. Mykah fell to the floor. He probably was not unconscious—Xander had not appeared to put any great effort into his blow—but it would leave a mark sufficient for him to claim he was overcome.

  Xander beat at the lock on the tunnel door but he could not get it open.

  The Old Man gazed at the tiny tunnel door. “I doubt,” the Old Man said softly, “that I could make it through that tunnel in any case.”

  Daman knew what that meant.
They would have to take to the streets.

  They raced outside. They were relieved to see that the Black Sentry had not yet surfaced. They ran toward the north wall of the fence at top speed, helping the Old Man along.

  As they pulled away from the Arena, he saw several Black Sentry platoons cascading out the main entrance. Curiously, however, the Sentry did not race after them. They seemed to collect in the marketplace, falling into a loose formation. He could not imagine their reason for not pursuing, but he was not about to stop and ask, either.

  They reached the wall and used the rope with the metal hook to scale it. They all managed to get over the fence in record time–even the Old Man. After that, they darted toward the north road.

  By the time they reached the road, they had not met a single Black Sentry. They walked for a good while without interference. He thought they were either enormously clever or uncommonly lucky—when he heard the voice.

  The voice boomed through the air, rustling branches and frightening birds out of trees. “Stop, enemies of the Sentinel!”

  The Old Man gripped his arm tightly.

  “What was that?” Xander murmured.

  Again the booming voice split the air. “Your efforts are futile. There is no escape.”

  None of them had ever heard such a thing. The voice seemed unconnected to any person, any body. It seemed to descend from the sky.

  Brita looked at him. He knew what was in her mind.

  It was as if the Sentinel himself spoke to them.

  He turned to the Old Man. “Have you ever heard anything like that before?”

  “I have not. But I have spoken to others who have. The Acolyte has a Construct that amplifies the voice. Makes it louder.”

  “But Constructs don’t work—”

  “You’re wrong. Constructs do work. But only if the Sentinel wants them to work.”

  “Then the Sentinel—”

  “The Sentinel is nowhere near here. The Acolyte has the device. He’s trying to scare us.”

  If so, he thought, the man is doing a fine job of it. “What can we do?”

  “Ignore it. He’s nowhere near us and neither are his minions. We must hurry.”

  They continued running. They followed the north road and soon crossed another bridge over a wide river. As soon as they had crossed, however, the voice returned.

  “Your efforts are futile,” it bellowed. “You have no hope of escape.”

  “Don’t let him disturb you,” the Old Man said. “He cannot see us. He is not here. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “Prepare to suffer the fate that awaits all enemies of the Sentinel,” the voice continued, even louder than before.

  “I think we should run,” he said.

  “Yes,” Xander replied. “But where? From what?”

  “Defenders of the Sentinel,” the voice boomed, “engage!”

  At that moment, they saw why the Acolyte was so confident they would not escape, even though the Black Sentry had made no effort to pursue them. Ahead on the road, just peeking over the horizon, they spotted a splash of silver glistening in the sunlight.

  “Oh, no,” he whispered.

  “We’ve lost,” Xander gasped.

  “Not them,” Brita said. “Anything but them.”

  On the road before them, they saw the monstrous Silver Sentrymen.

  Three Silver Sentrymen. Heading straight for them.

  26

  In the fading light Daman saw and heard the heavy footsteps of the inhuman Sentrymen. They walked at a slow but steady pace. Their eyeless heads focused straight ahead, never moving.

  He knew what the beams of light coming from those monsters’ arms could do. He did not wish to see it demonstrated again. Especially not on his friends.

  “Turn around!” he shouted. “We’ll go back the other way.”

  Brita looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Back to Clovis?”

  “Better that than the Forest of the Savages.”

  She didn’t argue. All their lives they had been taught about the Savages and their filthy, barbaric lifestyle...and their taste for human flesh.

  They headed back toward the village. Unfortunately, they had barely gone two hundred feet when, once again, they saw menacing glints of silver just above the horizon.

  Three more Silver Sentrymen. Coming at them from the other direction.

  The Silver Sentrymen blocked the road on both ends.

  There was nowhere they could go.

  The nearest Sentryman raised its arm. As if targeting them.

  “We must leave the road,” the Old Man said.

  “What about the Savages?” Brita had the same expression on her face as when she first spotted a Creeper.

  “We have no choice. Come on.”

  The Silver Sentrymen continued their steady march, lurching forward with earth-shattering footfalls.

  The Sentryman closest to them pivoted, following their movement.

  Before, in the Arena, he had noticed a bright red light in the Sentryman’s hand that glowed just before the deadly blue beam of light emerged. Now he saw the red light again. As soon as it began to shimmer, he dove and rolled close to the ground.

  The Sentryman’s deadly blue beam of light blasted out where he had stood only seconds before. It struck a tree, which instantly burst into flames. He covered his ears, blocking out the sound of the explosion. Smoke billowed up. Large chunks of leaf and bark flew all around him.

  He could feel the heat, even as far away as he was. “Quickly,” he said. “Into the forest.”

  This time, his companions did not hesitate. The Silver Sentrymen fired all at once. Hot beams of blue light crisscrossed all around them. They struck the ground and the trees, sometimes ricocheting in different directions. One beam hit another tree, sending large wood chunks flying through the air. Another beam blasted just over their heads.

  He ran, making sure the Old Man and the others kept pace, never looking back.

  Until he heard a sharp cry of pain just behind him.

  He whirled.

  The Old Man had been hit.

  He and Brita ran to the Old Man’s side.

  “It wasn’t the blue light,” the Old Man muttered. Sweat poured from his forehead. “Some of the flying debris—” He gritted his teeth. A hole seared his tunic. Although there was no bleeding, his chest was severely burned.

  He and Xander lifted the Old Man to his feet. The Sentrymen’s beams were still firing. They couldn’t afford to stop until they were much further away.

  Fortunately, although the Silver Sentrymen were lethal and terrifying, they did not move that quickly, especially off the road and in the forest, where the ground was not flat and the way was often blocked by trees.

  The Old Man’s eyes were wide and his gasps were short and strained. His hand clutched at his chest. He appeared to be having trouble breathing.

  The Silver Sentrymen attempted to pursue, but because of their enormous size, they were unable to pass through the densest parts of the forest. A few more beams of blue light flew over their heads until finally they were out of range.

  The more they ran, the more the heavy footsteps of the Sentrymen fell behind them, until finally they could not hear the monsters at all.

  *****

  Daman carried the Old Man deep into the forest, not resting until the sun set. Once he felt sure they were safe, he gently laid the Old Man down in a bed of leaves. They removed his tunic. Xander poured water from his canteen over the wound. Other than that, there was not much they could do. After a few moments of stillness, the Old Man’s eyes closed and he seemed to rest.

  “Do you think he’ll make it?” Brita asked.

  “I have no idea. We need to get him to a physic. But we can’t go back to Clovis.”

  “And the nearest village beyond Clovis is at least two days’ journey.” She held the map in her hand. She had been studying their options.

  “I’ve scouted the surrounding area,” Xander said, “
and I saw no trace of the Sentrymen.”

  “The Silver Sentrymen may be powerful,” Brita said, “but they are not fast. And they were not made for trudging through forests.”

  Xander nodded. “Although it may be simply that...they felt they had no need to follow us into the forest.”

  They all knew what he meant. There was no need for the Sentrymen to follow their prey into the forest–because with Savages lurking everywhere, they were already as good as dead.

  They heard a weak, tremulous voice behind them. “Are we safe?”

  Brita ran to the Old Man’s side. “We’re safe. At least, from the Sentrymen.”

  He nodded. Some color returned to his face. He was undoubtedly still in pain. He winced when he spoke. But the brief rest seemed to have done him some good.

  “Do you mind...if we talk about the Sentrymen?” Brita asked.

  The Old Man did not show great enthusiasm for the subject. “If you wish.”

  She hesitated. “They weren’t...real, were they?”

  “They seemed very real to me.”

  “Yes, but–they weren’t…natural, right? They were Constructs.”

  The Old Man nodded.

  Xander drew in his breath. “If that’s what Constructs were like, I can see why the Sentinel eliminated them.”

  “No, no,” the Old Man said. “Remember what I said before. Constructs are neither good nor evil. They’re tools. Even before the Sentinel, they merely did what those controlling them wished.”

  “The controllers?” Xander asked. “The privileged class?”

  The Old Man shook his head. “In the time of the Ancients, everyone had Constructs. Machines. Some more than others, yes, but everyone had them. There were machines that could perform every imaginable task or chore. There were machines that cooked your food, cleaned your house, transported you from one place to another. The Ancients were always thinking up new machines, machines that could do even more than those that preceded them.”

  “Was this bad?”

  “Not really. But it worried some. Not everyone believed in progress. Some clung to the past, insisting life was better long ago. There are always such people, in any era, who think the time of their youth was the best and the world has deteriorated ever since. But toward the end, just before the Sentinel’s rise, there were more than ever before, because life was changing so quickly. New inventions seemed to arrive on a daily basis, and strange new experiments were constantly increasing knowledge, leading to even more new discoveries. Information was exchanged at lightning speed. With new knowledge came new power. And power in the wrong hands is always dangerous. Some scientists uncovered the fundamental secrets of life itself. People experimented, and of course, some of those experiments went wrong. It was rumored that the Creepers were the result of experiments gone bad.”