The Black Sentry
Page 22
Its deadly tail circled overhead.
Apparently Mykah was so focused on the fight he hadn’t noticed. He raised a fist in the air. “You won’t get away from me this time, Daman!”
The Creeper heard the noise. Its long spiked tail whipped up toward Mykah’s head.
Without thinking, Daman reached out and grabbed the tail, deflecting it from Mykah. It still managed to strike a glancing blow to the side of Mykah’s face. The poisonous spike did not pierce his flesh, but it scraped down his left cheek.
Mykah screamed.
Daman scooped the laser off the ground and fired it at the Creeper. The deadly blue beam struck the creature and it erupted in flames.
The fight was over.
He leaned against a tree, gasping for breath, staring at the smoking Creeper remains. All his life, he’d lived in fear of the Creepers. Everyone in Merrindale had. They could contain them, they could avoid them, but they could not defeat them. In the history of Merrindale, no one had ever defeated a Creeper.
Until today.
On his sixteenth birthday, he had faced the Winnowing, one unlike any that had gone before. And he’d won.
He looked down at Mykah, who lay helpless on the ground. His left eye was clenched shut. He sweated profusely, bleeding in several places.
“I can’t see out of my eye,” Mykah cried.
He saw that the venom had split Mykah’s skin. Even if he survived, he would have a nasty scar down his face. His handsome appearance was ruined.
“Let me get you to a physic.”
“Leave me alone,” Mykah spat out. “You’ve been sentenced to execution by the Acolyte of the Sentinel.”
“Oh, Mykah...”
“Go ahead, run off with your friends. It won’t matter. Wherever you run, I’ll find you. I’ll never stop looking. I’ll chase you till the day of your death. Which will come at my hand.”
He stared at the pathetic, blinded wretch who had once been his friend. A dryness in his throat prevented him from speaking. A moment later, Mykah ran away.
He ran to the Old Man’s side and cradled his head. The laser had burned a horrible bloody hole in the man’s chest, a wound so enormous he knew it could never heal. The Old Man remained conscious, but the light in his eyes was faint.
A few moments later, Brita and Xander arrived. “We heard the noise,” Brita said. “What happened?” They both fell to the Old Man’s side.
“Mykah,” he managed to explain, fighting back tears. “The Old Man took a blast from that evil weapon meant for me.” He held the Old Man’s head close to his. “You should not have done that,” he said quietly. “You should’ve let me take the shot.”
The Old Man slowly shook his head. “No. I had very little time left in any case. You have your entire life ahead of you.”
“But the future of the Resistance depends upon you.”
“You’re our future, Daman. Not me. I knew it the day I met you. You have a most precious Gift, a remnant from the time of the Ancients. One of the three Great Gifts.”
“A Gift?”
“Yes. You have the Gift of Knowing.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Why do you think you never learned to love the Sentinel, as Mykah and the others in your village did? Why did you disbelieve what you were told by the Black Sentry, by the Acolyte?”
He stammered. “I...suspected it was because I was an evil distrusting person.”
“Then why did you believe me? From the first moment we met?”
“I–don’t know.”
“Why did you believe Drake, and the other Rebels when they told you about the world of the Ancients, about the truth of Balaveria, about the evil of the Sentinel?”
He did not know the answer. But he knew it was true. He had believed them, from the first instant they spoke to him, without even thinking about it.
“For that matter, why did you always fail in your practice sessions for the Winnowing? You’re strong and brave and smart. But your heart wasn’t in it. Because you instinctively knew that the Winnowing and everything else in the Sentinel’s twisted world was wrong.”
“But how could I?”
“You have the Gift of Knowing. An instinctive grasp of the truth. Once there were many like you. But the Sentinel has waged war on those with the great Gifts. Now I fear there are very few. Your father had it—”
“My father?”
“Of course. Where do you think you got it?” His breathing was labored. His words came more slowly. “Why do you think your father never accepted the Sentinel’s Laws and Ways? Because he knew better.” The Old Man took his hand. “You must stay with the Resistance, Daman. They need you. You’re a natural leader. Your pure and clear perception of the truth will be apparent to those around you. When you speak, people will listen. When you act, people will follow.”
“No one would ever believe me—”
“Think of your trial, Daman. I heard what happened there. You made a daring speech–and people listened. Many agreed–even if they couldn’t risk admitting it. Don’t be fooled by the bluster of people like the Acolyte and the Sentry. Most people want change. They’re tired of being ruled by the Sentinel’s tyrannical, inflexible hand.”
“But a leader? Me?”
“Think how your friends risked everything to rescue you from the Keep. Do you suppose they would do that for anyone? You are a special, rare individual. As you cross this vast continent, you will gather supporters for the Resistance, people with all kinds of talents and abilities.” His eyes drifted briefly to Brita and Xander. “You have already begun to do so. And at last, one day, when your travels are complete, you will be ready to face the Sentinel.”
“I couldn’t possibly defeat him.”
A soft smile played on the Old Man’s cracked lips. “I spoke to your father, you know. Back in Merrindale, before I was taken by the Sentry. He once dreamed of being part of the Resistance. But eventually he conformed to the Sentinel’s Laws and Ways. At least outwardly. He regretted that decision. And he was determined that you should not make the same mistake. He asked me to give you a message if I saw you again.”
“What message?”
“He asked me to tell you”—the Old Man drew in his breath—“that he understood why you helped me, and that he knew you were doing the right thing.”
“He did?”
“Indeed, and there was more. He wanted me to tell you that he was very proud of you. And of what you have become.”
He felt a catch in his throat. “Did he say anything else?”
“He gave me something. To give to you.” The Old Man reached inside his tunic. “He wanted you to have this.”
It was the Watch, the ancient timepiece, his father’s precious Relic. His most precious possession. And now it was something more. It was a symbol of another time. A time when people governed their own time, when they were free to make their own choices, good or bad.
He felt a distinct itching in his eyes. “I will treasure this always.”
“You must act quickly,” the Old Man said, so quietly he could barely hear it. “My quest is now yours, Daman. We have slowed the Sentinel, but we have not defeated him. He will try again to build the Silver Sentrymen, perhaps in one of the other regions. If the Silver Sentrymen take hold throughout the Sentinel’s empire, resistance will become impossible. And the Sentinel has plans for other monsters even more horrible. You must act now, before that happens. Find the other Pulse generators and disable them. Defeat the Sentinel, and restore the freedom of the people. That is your destiny.”
He squeezed the Old Man’s hand. “I will try to be true to the task you’ve given me,” he whispered. He glanced up at Brita and Xander. “Given us.”
“We all will,” Brita echoed.
“We will not fail you,” Xander added.
The time for talking came to an end. The Old Man’s eyes fluttered closed.
“Does it hurt—very much?” Daman asked.
“N
o,” the Old Man whispered. “I’m past all that. It’s not bad, actually. Peaceful. I can rest easy. Knowing you will carry on the work.”
“During the Ritual of Execution,” he said, “I heard the Acolyte use your real name.”
He nodded slightly.
“May—May I use it? Now?”
A smile flickered faintly on his lips. “Yes.”
“Thank you. For everything.” His eyes brimmed with tears. He squeezed his friend’s hand as tightly as he could. “Farewell, Rico Dandel.”
The Old Man’s head shook slowly. “Till we meet again.”
*****
Daman buried him at sunrise, at the top of a great hill several miles from the cave where he would not be disturbed. Following his instructions, he and Xander marked the grave with two sticks placed perpendicular to one another.
After they finished, he stood atop the hill for a long while, thinking of all that had happened in such a short time. He could not imagine what lay before them—new people, new discoveries, danger, and perhaps even death.
Drake disappeared on another of his scavenging runs. Will remained in charge. With the slaves from Balaveria swelling their ranks, the Resistance was stronger than ever. Now that the Pulse was disabled, they intended to press their advantage. They would spread throughout the region, fomenting insurrection, enlisting support, until at last they were strong enough to overcome the Black Sentry.
He and Brita and Xander agreed to travel east in search of the other Pulse generators. They would find or recruit more Rebels. They would attack the other power stations. And then, once all the Pulse generators were eliminated, it would be time to unite the growing legion of Rebels and to strike against the Sentinel himself. The legacy the Old Man left them was both frightening–and exhilarating.
He sat on the hill for some while, gazing at the rising sun. His hand touched the Relic in his pocket and a smile came to his lips.
At last, Brita placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “We should go now.”
“The sooner the better,” Xander added.
Daman nodded. They gathered together their supplies and provisions and set out to see what lay to the east, certain of only one thing.
Despite everything they had been through, the adventure was just beginning.
Note from the Author:
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Acknowledgements
I want to thank my early readers, Lara Wells, James Vance, Alan Wells, Faith Wylie, Tamara Grantham, Sabrina Fish, Savannah Thorne, and Ralph Bernhardt for their insightful comments and advice. This book is better because of you. Thanks also to Jared Pike for his excellent recording of the audiobook and for pointing out several goofs he discovered. Special thanks to Brian Roe and Robert Geronimo for designing the terrific cover.
William Bernhardt
About the Author
William Bernhardt is the bestselling author of more than thirty books, including the blockbuster Ben Kincaid legal thrillers and the science fiction series Shine. In addition, Bernhardt founded the Red Sneaker Writing Center in 2005, hosting writing workshops and small-group seminars and becoming one of the most in-demand writing instructors in the nation. His programs have educated many authors now published at major New York houses. He holds a Masters Degree in English Literature and is the only writer to have received the Southern Writers Guild’s Gold Medal Award, the Royden B. Davis Distinguished Author Award (University of Pennsylvania) and the H. Louise Cobb Distinguished Author Award (Oklahoma State), which is given "in recognition of an outstanding body of work that has profoundly influenced the way in which we understand ourselves and American society at large." In addition to the novels, he has written plays, a musical (book and music), humor, nonfiction books, children books, biography, poetry, and crossword puzzles. He is a member of the Author’s Guild, PEN International and the American Academy of Poets.
To learn more about William Bernhardt, visit his website: http://www.williambernhardt.com. You can email him at: willbern@gmail.com.