“You mean,” he asked, “the Creepers did not exist in the time of the Ancients?”
“No, not until the very end of the time before the Sentinel. At first, there were only a few Creepers, but they proved so unstoppable and reproduced so quickly that they soon spread to every unprotected corner of the continent.”
“And the Savages? Did they exist in the time of the Ancients?”
“No,” the Old Man said, but there was an odd expression in his eyes. “The Savages definitely did not plague the Ancients.”
“Were there other experiments?” Brita asked.
“Indeed. Of many different varieties. But the most frightening, perhaps, were those performed on people themselves. Some scientists thought to make humanity better than it was, to improve it. Some of those results were astounding–but the results of others were terrifying. And they remain with us today.”
“But—” Xander said, “even the slaves had machines?”
“There were no slaves,” the Old Man said. “Not at the time of the Sentinel’s ascension. The great evil we call slavery had existed for millennia, but the Ancients finally eradicated it. Men and women were free. Until the rule of the Sentinel began.”
“What kind of freedom?” Xander asked.
“Women could choose their futures for themselves,” Brita said.
“Everyone could choose their futures for themselves,” the Old Man said. “They could make virtually every decision themselves. Chart their own future. They could decide where to go and when to go there. They chose their own occupations, their own spouses. They could live anywhere they wanted and move any time they wished.”
Daman listened with amazement. He still could not conceive of a world with so much freedom of choice. “It must have been wonderful.”
“In many respects, it was. But sadly enough, it made many powerful people uncomfortable. There were some who disliked having so much freedom, or more accurately, disliked it when others had so much freedom. When humans are free to choose for themselves, inevitably, some choose poorly. That can cause hardship for others, especially those who think the whole world should be a reflection of themselves. They called for stricter rules, a return to the past, more centralized control. Increased ability to monitor the activities of those who were different. And it was only a short step from monitoring activities to dictating activities. ‘Order’ became the watchword of the day.”
“‘Order’ is the watchword of the Sentinel,” he noted.
“It certainly is. Order from chaos.” The Old Man took a deep breath. “There was great debate. Opposing forces did a lot of shouting. This went on for years, no one getting anywhere. For every person who wanted stronger controls, there was another who wanted to retain freedom. It was a stalemate. Until the Sentinel came along.”
“And then?”
“The Sentinel took up the banner of those who fought for Order. And unlike the others, he had a means of bringing his vision of the world into reality.”
“By killing the Constructs?” Brita asked.
“Yes. Don’t ask me to explain it. I’m no scientist. It was like he cast a spell over the entire realm–and the Machines stopped working. The Ancients, so unused to doing things for themselves, rapidly fell apart. In the madness and chaos that followed, it was easy for him to seize control. He took over, establishing his Black Sentry as a ruthless police force and himself as indisputable ruler.”
“And suppressing freedom,” Xander said quietly.
“Of course, the Sentinel claims he has not suppressed freedom. He claims that when all people have unlimited freedom no one is free–each is limited by the impositions of others. He claims that by structuring society along stricter lines and guiding citizens in the important decisions that affect the welfare of the entire community, he gives each person the freedom to make their highest and best contributions to society.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No. It’s a lie. A lie told by every despot since the dawn of time. There is no freedom in this world the Sentinel has made. People’s ambitions, their hopes and dreams, their aspirations, all are crushed in his all-controlling grip. That is why we must fight him, even though the odds seem impossible. We must fight him and fight him and never stop fighting him.”
“How can the Sentinel still be alive after so much time?”
“That’s a mystery that has baffled us.”
“And the Silver Sentrymen—?”
“Are machines. And somehow they work, even though no one else’s machines will.” His eyes closed. Brita told the two boys to move away and let him get some rest. He would need it, she said, if he was going to endure the next day’s journey.
Xander opened his pack and shared what little food was left. Some water, some bread, a smidgen of cheese. Obviously, they could not go far unless they found more.
“Perhaps we can find food in the next village,” Xander suggested.
“Even if we could, how would we buy it?” Brita asked.
“There are other ways to get food than buying it.”
They gathered some leaves together and tried to make reasonably comfortable pallets on the ground. They had not seen or heard any Creepers, and the Old Man clearly could not climb, so they decided not to go into the trees. One of them would stay on watch throughout the night while the others slept.
The Forest of the Savages was frightening enough during the day. But in the black of night, it sent shivers up his spine.
Steeling himself, he agreed to take the first night’s watch, while the others nestled down to sleep. He paced around the perimeter of the clearing, keeping his eyes and ears open. Eventually, Brita and Xander drifted off. He paced around their encampment, trying to stay alert...
When he first heard the sound.
He whipped his head around, trying to see what caused the rustling. Was it Creepers? Or worse? He listened and watched, trying to detect any trace of their distinctive slithering movement.
He saw nothing. But he knew he’d heard something. And even if he couldn’t see it...somehow, he sensed it. There was something out there.
Slowly, he made his way to Xander’s pallet. “Get up,” he said, under his breath. He gave Xander a gentle kick.
Xander blinked his eyes a few times, then came around. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
Xander woke Brita, and the three of them gathered in the center of the clearing.
“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?” Brita asked. “Forests are full of living creatures. It could have been a bird, or a squirrel, or—”
She stopped in mid-sentence. They all heard the noise this time, coming from somewhere beyond the clearing.
“What if it’s a Creeper?” Xander asked.
He knew what Xander was thinking. What could they do to escape a Creeper? They couldn’t possibly get the Old Man up a tree in his current condition. And how far could they carry him?
The faint sound seemed to grow closer.
“I don’t think it’s a Creeper,” Xander said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he replied. Except it wasn’t. Because if it wasn’t a Creeper...the next most likely alternative was even more frightening.
All at once, the trees surrounding them came alive. Dark shadow figures leapt out of the brush, shouting and crying. They were tall, dirty creatures, wearing little or nothing and chanting at the top of their lungs, words he didn’t begin to understand. They circled around him and the others, trapping them. The circle slowly contracted. The hideous, rhythmic chanting grew louder as the threatening figures drew in upon them.
He had no doubt about who or what these terrifying creatures might be.
Savages.
27
Daman whirled around in circles, trying to find a way to escape from the Savages. But there was no way out.
The Savages carried long staffs, many of them sharpened like spears. He also noticed that many of them wore ornaments around t
heir necks–necklaces strung with teeth and bones. Beyond that, they were all but naked and black as the night.
“It’s true what they say about Savages, isn’t it?” Xander shouted over the din.
“Will they kill us?” Brita asked.
Xander’s face was grim. “And then devour us.”
The frenzied shrieking of the Savages intensified. They bounced and whirled and danced, keeping time to some primitive rhythm only they could hear. It was a terrifying spectacle.
The Savages were so close now he could smell their revolting breath. They twisted and writhed around him, contorting themselves grotesquely. Some of the Savages poked him with their sticks. He slapped them away, but he knew it was a futile effort. There were far too many of them.
“I am sorry,” he said, looking into Brita’s eyes. “I wish I had never—”
He was interrupted by a new voice behind him. “What’s going on?”
It was the Old Man. All the noise must have wakened him.
The circle of Savages widened a bit as some of them turned to take in the Old Man.
“Run!” Daman shouted. “Before they surround you!”
But the Old Man did not run. He did not appear terrified, either. To the contrary–he smiled.
“Honestly, Will,” the Old Man said. “Couldn’t you do that a little more quietly? I was trying to get some sleep.”
All at once, the Savages stopped writhing and chanting. They pulled back, dropping their sticks on the ground. The horrible chanting and writhing suddenly gave way to–laughter.
And the Old Man laughed, too.
“I don’t understand...” Daman said.
“I think I do.” Brita stook a step forward. “You’re not really Savages, are you?”
One of the Savages smiled–bright white teeth in a darkened face. “You’re wrong. We are the Savages.”
The next one over jabbed him in the ribs. “We’re just not very savage Savages.” Again, they all exploded with laughter.
“It’s a ruse,” Brita said. “You’re covered with mud. And all that chanting and writhing and poking is just to frighten people.”
The first Savage looked at the Old Man. “She’s a smart one, Rico. Where’d you find her?”
“It’s a long story.”
“And you aren’t cannibals, are you?” Brita continued. “And you aren’t primitive.”
“True,” the Old Man said. “But the jewelry was a nice touch. Are those real teeth?”
The first Savage shook his head. “Paste.”
“But all the stories,” Xander said. “All the grim tales of the horrible Savages. I’ve heard them all my life.”
“Then we’ve done our job well.”
“But if they’re not Savages–who are they?”
The Old Man laid a hand on his shoulder. “They’re the people you’re so eager to join. The Resistance.”
Brita’s eyes lit. “Then–they’re soldiers?”
The Old Man shook his head. “Scientists.”
*****
After the leader of the pack of “Savages”–whose name was Will—and the Old Man talked for a few minutes, they led Daman and his friends back to their headquarters. It was not far away–a short distance compared to the journey they had made already. He was amazed to find that the so-called “Savages” were regular people, just like anyone else–except that they were covered with mud and nearly naked. He listened intently as they talked. Half of the words they used he did not understand.
Eventually, they arrived at the entrance to a cave in the side of a mountain. The entrance was disguised by brush and fallen trees, but the Savages–or rather, the Resistance–soon cleared the way.
He gaped as he stepped inside. The interior was huge. He could see why they had chosen it for their base of operations. Although the space was vast, it was virtually invisible from the outside. He supposed it had to be, to elude the prying eyes of the Black Sentry.
As he walked through the cave, he saw many other men and women. For the most part, people remained silent and focused, watching the Old Man and waiting for him to speak.
“Bad news,” he heard the Old Man say to one of the other Resistance leaders. “Those rumors were true. The Silver Sentrymen are a reality.”
“But how do they avoid the Pulse?” Will asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Then it’s hopeless.”
“No. But it’s more important than ever that we strike immediately.”
“But how?”
Without a word, the Old Man reached into Xander’s pack and withdrew the beautiful red stone. The Key.
“You succeeded.” He clapped the Old Man by the shoulders. “You got it.”
“Yes.” He looked at his friend levelly. “So you see, we have a chance. A slim one. But a chance, just the same.”
He noticed that the mood inside the cave changed dramatically when he revealed the key. He felt a sense of guarded optimism—of hope.
After the Old Man conferred with the leaders, Will gave them a tour of the headquarters. With his Savage disguise removed, he had a kindly face and a thick brown beard. Will appeared to be perhaps a few years older than his father.
“So,” he said, “I suppose it will soon be time for you to make the journey to Balaveria.”
“I certainly hope not,” Will replied.
What did that mean?
Will showed them the entire Resistance complex. Daman learned that, in addition to the vast central room of the cavern, there were various smaller caverns used for other purposes. They saw the Rebels’ sleeping and living quarters. They saw the planning room. They saw the stockpile room–which was filled with Artifacts from the past.
He raced through that room like a treasure trove, gazing slack-jawed at the wide variety of devices. “And all of these things date from the time of the Ancients?”
“All of them,” Will confirmed.
There were machines of all sorts and sizes–some so big they looked deadly, some so small he couldn’t imagine that they could possibly do anything.
“May I touch them?” he asked.
Will nodded.
Daman picked up a small thin glassy sliver. “What is this?”
“That was a phone,” Will explained. “People used it to talk to one another.”
“Does it work?”
“Not now. The Pulse prevents it. But at one time, it allowed people to communicate over great distances.”
This revelation interested Xander. “People could talk–even if they were far away from one another?”
“Exactly. And not just talk. It could transmit music, signals, even pictures or information.”
Xander nodded quietly.
They continued wading through the piles of artifacts, holding items up for Will to identify, wondrous objects called tablets and freezers and computers. Sometimes, even Will didn’t know what a particular machine was. Sometimes, he knew what it was supposed to accomplish, but had no idea how it was done.
“Much knowledge was lost during the Great Darkness that came during and after the Sentinel’s battle for control. We’re trying to recapture some of that lost knowledge, but it’s slow work.”
Finally, Will insisted that they move to a room he called a laboratory, filled with vials and small fires and other unfamiliar objects. Will explained that the scientists worked here, trying to recapture the greatness of the Ancients—or invent some of their own.
“There’s one other room I want you to see,” Will said, leading them onward. “One I think may be of particular interest to Brita.”
Brita walked eagerly behind him. “And what is that?”
Will outstretched his arm and pushed open a door. “The Library.”
Brita’s jaw dropped.
Back home, she had seven books. Here in the Library–they had hundreds.
Brita raced up and down the shelves, gazing at the spines and covers. “I can’t believe it,” she said breathlessly. “I never dreamt that
so many books even existed.” She gazed at the covers. “Books on agriculture and animals. The stars and fighting techniques and—” She grabbed one and clutched it to her chest. “Science!”
Will smiled. “And a million other subjects you’ve never even heard of.”
Her eyes watered. “All these books,” she said, “all this knowledge. It’s just–it’s too good to be true.” She looked up at Will tentatively. “Perhaps when I’m older, under close supervision, I might be permitted—”
Will laughed. “You can check out a book whenever you like. That’s the whole point of a library.”
For once, Brita was speechless.
“All you have to do is sign the card in the back, so we know where the book is in case one of the scientists needs it. Then you can keep it as long as you like.”
Tears actually spilled down her face. Daman was amazed. She had faced the Black Sentry, the Acolyte, the Creepers, even the Silver Sentrymen, without losing control. But now she cried. Over books.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you so much.”
“Wait a minute,” Xander said, as he peered out the library door. “I think I see someone we know.”
All three whirled around in the direction Xander was pointing.
“Drake!”
They ran toward him. Drake smiled as they approached. He held out his arms and gathered them up in a great group hug.
He seemed entirely different from the man they’d met in the barn. There was no more of the ducking and hiding, the skittering twitchiness. Here in the scientists’ sanctuary, he was perfectly at ease.
The Black Sentry Page 16