“Up,” Xander whispered under his breath. “Get it higher.”
Will placed his hand on Xander’s shoulder. “We’re all thinking the same thing,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think she can hear us.”
Nonetheless, Xander kept his gaze fixed on the spinning balloon rapidly approaching the fortress walls. “Up,” he repeated. “Rise.”
*****
“We’ve got to get this balloon higher,” Daman said urgently.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Brita shot back.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you can reduce your weight instantaneously.” She dropped ballast bags, lightening the load. “Those birds did some serious damage.”
“Perhaps we should turn around. Come back later. If they see us now—”
Too late. He heard a loud cry beneath him. He leaned over the edge of the basket and saw three Black Sentry posted along the wall of the fortress. One pointed into the air–directly at the balloon.
“We’ve been spotted.”
“We’re in the air. What can they do to us?”
He didn’t know, but he feared they might be more resourceful than he was. “We have to rise higher.”
“I’m doing everything possible. I’ll get us to the tower windows. It just takes time.”
Which was the one thing they didn’t have. More of the Sentry gathered. The front gate opened. A horde of Black Sentry poured out.
“They’re leaving the fortress,” he said.
“Why would they leave the safety of the fortress?”
They had their answer soon enough: for ammunition. The Black Sentry combed the area outside the fortress, picking up rocks and sticks, anything in sight–and throwing them at the balloon.
A large jagged rock whizzed by his head. “We must get higher.”
“We are higher!”
“Not high enough.” A large stick sailed past him, lengthwise like a spear. It was sharp on one end. It could easily have punctured the balloon. “Can’t we go any faster?”
“We’re rising as fast as we can, but—ahhk!” A rock thudded into the small of Brita’s back.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said, gritting her teeth and tossing off another ballast bag.
The balloon rose faster now. Soon they were high enough that, even if a Sentry was strong enough to pitch a rock that high, it was unlikely to do any damage.
“Thank goodness,” Brita said, massaging the sore spot on her back. “Soon we’ll reach the tower windows. Until then, we should be safe.”
“I’m not so sure.” He leaned over the edge of the basket.
“What do you see?”
He tried to think how to describe it. Another Sentry squad had emerged, and the leader held something in his hands, something with a semi-circular shape and a thin shaft through the center. He didn’t know what it was. But the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it was probably a weapon.
“Let me look.” Brita moved to the edge of the basket.
“I’m worried about the Sentry standing on the—”
“I see him.” Her voice was oddly flat.
“Do you know what he’s holding?”
“I certainly do. I’ve seen many pictures in my books. It’s a bow and arrow.”
The words meant nothing to him, but he felt a clutching at his heart just the same. “Could this...bow and arrow harm the balloon?”
“Oh yes,” she said quietly. “Oh yes.”
*****
Down on the ground, Xander saw the archers line up on the fortress wall.
“But how could it harm them?” Xander asked.
“I’m no scientist,” Will replied, “but I know the bow acts as a means of propulsion. It can fling the arrow up. And the arrow has a sharp point.”
“It could puncture the balloon?”
“Or worse–it could puncture Daman or Brita.”
Xander’s jaw clenched. “We must attack now.”
“We can’t. Our stunners are useless. We have no weapons.”
“Daman and Brita have no weapons. We can’t just sit here while the Black Sentry kills them.”
“We must wait until the Pulse is disabled. That’s the plan.”
Xander saw the leader of the Sentry draw back his bow. The arrow shot up into the air. Not only did it reach the balloon–it actually flew too high, missing the balloon by inches.
“If we don’t act fast, they will have no opportunity to disable the Pulse.” Xander pointed toward the front of the fortress. “The gate is still open. Some of the Black Sentry are dawdling outside, watching the show. We’ll never have a better opportunity.”
He felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned to see who was behind him.
The Old Man had come with the ground assault team to observe–although all parties agreed he was too valuable to put at risk in the actual battle.
“We must stick to our plan, Xander.”
“But Daman and Brita are in danger.”
“I know how you feel, son. I never like seeing my friends at risk either. Nonetheless, we must keep to our plan. Everything depends on it.”
“But—”
The Old Man held up a finger. “I’m sorry, Xander. We will wait.”
*****
“Get us out of here!” Daman cried. He’d seen the first arrow pass overhead, too close to the balloon.
All the ballast bags were gone. They’d sailed over the fortress walls, but they were still several feet from the tower windows. “I’m trying,” Brita said, “but the wind isn’t cooperating.”
“Never mind the tower. Just get us away.” He watched as the Sentry leader put another arrow in his bow and fired it. The arrow soared forward, coming so close he ducked. The arrow lodged in the basket. “Hurry!”
“Now we’ve gone too high,” Brita muttered. “We’re above the tower.”
“There is no such thing as too high right now.” He watched the Sentry load another arrow. “We must–”
Before he could finish, the arrow soared upward, making a high-pitched singing sound that stung his ears.
And the next sound he heard was a hiss.
He stared up at the balloon. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
She nodded grimly. “We’ve been hit.”
*****
“The arrow hit the balloon,” Xander said. The rest of the troops murmured in assent. “Did you see it?”
Will and the Old Man nodded.
“They’ll never make the tower now.”
Will looked at his friend. “He’s right, Rico. They won’t reach the Pulse generator. It’s over.” He addressed the troops. “Prepare to return to our base.”
Xander’s eyes were wide. “But we can’t just leave them.”
The Old Man laid his hand gently on Xander’s shoulder. “Even if they survive the crash, they’ll come down within the walls of the fortress. They’ll be captured immediately. There’s nothing we can do for them.”
“I won’t accept that.”
“Do you think I like it? I don’t. But we have to face the reality of our situation. There’s nothing we can do.”
“There is,” Xander said, shoving the Old Man’s hand away. “We can attack.”
There was an audible murmuring from the team. Whether they agreed with him or thought him ridiculous, Xander didn’t know.
“Xander, I know you’re young, but try to look at this with a mature—”
“I will not abandon my friends.”
Will frowned. “We’ll have time to discuss this later. But the Sentry will soon be searching to see if there are other Rebels in the area. We must go.”
“No.” Xander clutched his useless stunner. “If you won’t come with me, I’ll go alone.”
“Xander, don’t—”
Xander shot out from the brush, running at top speed, straight toward the open gate of the fortress.
31
&
nbsp; “We’re plummeting fast,” Daman said. “Is there any way to repair the hole?”
“Sure,” Brita said, “if you have some way to climb on top of the balloon.”
In other words–no. They would crash to the ground–inside the fortress. If the fall didn’t kill them, the Sentry surely would. “There must be something we can do.”
“We’re close to the tower.”
“So? The balloon is falling.”
“We could jump.”
“Jump?” He peered over the edge of the basket, then down at the ground, which approached at frightening speed. His nausea and dizziness returned. “We’d kill ourselves.”
Brita’s lips were pressed tightly together. “We’re dead either way.”
*****
Xander raced across the field. He hoped to get close enough to slip through the open gate before anyone spotted him.
A dozen or so Sentry loitered outside the gate. One of them spotted him while he was still more than a hundred feet away.
But he did not stop running.
Half a dozen Sentry started toward him at once. Fine, Xander thought, let them come. I may not be able to take them all down, but I’ll give them a fight they won’t forget. At the very least, they’ll think twice before they mistreat a “mere” slave.
He ran toward them, shouting at the top of his lungs.
To his surprise, they backed away.
He shouted even louder. Cowardly Sentry, he thought. They outnumber me six to one, and still–
Wait a minute. They weren’t just backing away. They turned and bolted, moving as fast as their feet could carry them. He knew he wasn’t that frightening.
He slowed, then stopped. He heard something.
The sound of many feet, running.
He turned and saw the ground assault team, all together, a few hundred feet behind him.
They were coming after all. Every last one of them.
Following him. A slave.
A bitter smile crossed his face. Now the Black Sentry would have a fight.
*****
“The ground team has begun its attack,” Daman said, watching the dramatic tableau from above.
“That’s crazy,” Brita replied. “Their weapons won’t work.”
“They’re doing it, just the same.” He saw the bowman and others who had devoted their attention to the balloon abruptly run toward the front gate. They had a new priority now. The fortress was under attack.
“This could be a break. Most of the Sentry are joining the fight. Only a few are staying behind to watch us.”
“No doubt we seem the lesser threat. Since they expect this balloon to crash and kill us.”
The balloon suddenly rocked to one side. He fell to his knees. “What happened?”
“We found the tower,” she said. “Or it found us.”
The gleaming black tower rose beside the balloon. “We seem to be dropping faster now.”
“Hitting the tower probably caused another puncture, or widened one of the previous ones.” Brita scanned the tower. “At this rate, we should drop by the upper window at any moment. Be ready to jump.”
“I—I don’t think I can.”
“I know you can.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because you don’t have any choice.” She took his hand and crouched on the edge of the basket, holding a support rope for balance. The instant she saw the top of the large wide window, she jerked him forward. “Jump!”
They did. There was glass in the window, but fortunately, no pane. They crashed through and fell to the floor of the room inside, shattering the glass. Shards sprayed all around them. He was cut in a dozen places.
But they were inside.
“Brita? Are you all right?”
She crouched down on all fours, gasping for breath. “Sure. Fine.” She had a gash across her forehead gushing blood. He ripped off the sleeve of his tunic and pressed it tightly against her wound. Despite the bleeding, it was not a deep cut.
“Can you go on?” he asked.
“I didn’t come this far to give up now.” She pushed herself to her feet. He could tell it required some effort, but she didn’t complain. He wrapped the sleeve around her head and tied it in the back, creating a makeshift bandage. “Let’s find what we came for.”
“The Old Man said it would be in the highest room. Let’s go this way.”
The tower had but a single winding staircase, spiraling upward.
The interior of the tower was like no place he had ever seen before. The floor was made of a white smooth surface, a material he had not previously encountered. The walls were soft and colored, covered with some fine fabric. There were drawings on the wall—paintings, according to Brita—and sculptures, and other creations that served no purpose other than to decorate.
An odd look for a stronghold of the Sentinel, he mused. There was nothing efficient or orderly about it. But it was beautiful.
He wished he could spend more time examining the drawings, but he knew some of the Sentry on the ground must have seen them jump though the window. It wouldn’t be long before someone came after them.
For that matter, some of the Sentry might be posted in the tower itself.
At last, they arrived at the top. The corridor ended. There were no stairs or any further means of upward passage.
They walked through a door…and entered the most spectacular room he had seen in his entire life.
“It must be here somewhere,” he muttered, spinning around. This room, like the corridor outside, was not filled with anything the Sentinel would call efficient or orderly. Beautiful furniture and colorful decorating. Glittering objects, lovely to behold. There was a bed in the far corner–a huge bed. Did someone actually sleep up here? What a life that must be.
“Over here,” Brita said.
He ran beside her. In the opposite corner, beside an open window, she discovered a flat table, bigger than his bed at home. On the tabletop rested a strange device encased in a hard metal shell but with visible parts on the exterior, many of them moving, emitting a low hum.
It could only be a Machine.
“Is this—?” Daman asked tentatively.
“It must be. The Pulse Generator.”
He removed the red stone hanging from his neck. “Now we must—”
He froze. Cold fingers gripped his neck.
He spun around to face the Acolyte.
“Well, Daman Adkins, you made a commendable effort, I’ll grant you that. In a thousand years, no Rebel has come so far as you. The construction of the balloon–that was particularly clever.” His eyes narrowed. “But it’s over now. Your assault is finished. And your friends are doomed.
32
Xander never fought so hard in his entire life. But if they lost this battle, it would not be because he failed them.
The plain outside the fortress had become a battlefield. The ground assault team–almost fifty of them–swarmed up behind him, racing toward the still-open front gate to the fortress. As soon as they were spotted, the Black Sentry poured through the gate to meet them. He couldn’t stop to take an accurate head count, but he knew the Rebels were outnumbered by at least three to one.
The struggle was hard-fought and intense, with fists and clubs and knives. Valiant as they were, he knew the Rebels couldn’t possibly hold out for long against such odds. If the stunners didn’t come into play, they would eventually lose this battle.
And what was the likelihood that the stunners would be activated? He had seen the balloon go down, had seen it drop out of sight within the high walls of the fortress. He hoped Daman and Brita had survived, but even if they did, the chances that they might make it into the Tower and shut off the Pulse seemed slim. He needed to get inside that fortress to see if he could help. Assuming they were still alive. And if not, he had to recover the Key before the Sentry did.
He heard a harsh whizzing sound overhead. He turned in time to see a Rebel, not five feet away from him,
clutch his chest and fall to his knees. A wooden shaft protruded from his chest. Blood seeped from the wound.
He turned his attention to a parapet on the north wall. The man with the bow and arrow had repositioned himself. Having successfully brought down the balloon, he was now slaughtering the ground troops.
Xander fought his way through the Sentry who stood between him and the front gate. Life as a slave might have other drawbacks, but it insured that a young man would learn to defend himself–if he hoped to survive. As a slave, you had to fight for everything.
Another Sentry, a man twice his size, rushed toward him. He ducked, grabbing the Sentry around the legs and knocking him to the ground. They both fell, but the Sentry got the worst of it. He grabbed the man’s head and slammed it down on the barren ground. The Sentry’s eyes fluttered, then closed.
He jumped to his feet and continued battling his way to the front gate. He didn’t kill anyone–he didn’t have to. He had learned that a forceful blow to the throat or the chest could quickly bring a man to his knees.
He was perhaps twenty feet away when he saw the front gate start to close. Of course, it was the logical thing to do. Once the gate was closed, with the balloon grounded, the fortress would be virtually impregnable.
Xander rushed forward at top speed. He ignored everyone who stood between him and the gate, weaving and bobbing between them. The gate was open a crack as he approached, barely a foot across. Xander dove forward, launching himself sideways with all his might.
He hit the ground and rolled, squeezing through the opening at the last possible moment.
“Rebel!” one of the Sentry shouted. “Inside!”
He didn’t wait for them to come to him. He climbed a nearby ladder and made his way to the parapet. Fortunately, his quarry was focused on the struggle outside and didn’t see him until it was too late. He smashed into the bowman, knocking his deadly weapon out of his hands and breaking it into pieces.
The Black Sentry Page 19