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Authors: William Bernhardt

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BOOK: The Black Sentry
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“It doesn’t matter what you think
, stupid boy. I’d hoped there might be some chance to rehabilitate you. You’re obviously a resourceful lad. The Sentinel could use someone like you. You might’ve even been an Acolyte one day. But I see now that’s hopeless. You must be disposed of as quickly as possible.” The Acolyte gripped him tightly by the neck. “And we’re not in the village any more. We won’t bother with the Ritual of Execution. We’ll just kill you.”

 

 

 

 

33

 

Xander pounded at the stones, trying to re
create the pattern the Sentry had used to open the door to the tower. How many possible combinations could there be? The man had reached high, then low. High, then low. After several unsuccessful random attempts, he tried matching one high brick with all the potential low ones, systematically running through all the possible combinations.

If he
had all day, or even a few hours, he’d be able to find the correct pattern. Eventually. But he didn’t have that long. He had a few minutes at best. Without weapons, they couldn’t hope to win. Soon they would all be killed. He had to get inside before that happened.

He continued
pounding at the stones. At last, he heard a clicking noise somewhere on the other side. For a moment, nothing happened, and then all at once, the door reappeared. The stone facade slid back creating a passage just large enough to enter.

He didn’t know how long the door would remain open
. He jumped through. An instant later, the door swung closed behind him.

Inside, the tower
was dark, but not so dark he couldn’t see. A central staircase led up and down. He didn’t know which to choose. He recalled hearing that the Pulse generator was up high, but he heard loud noises coming from below him. He decided to try that way first.

The staircase twisted
and turned so many times he became dizzy. How far down could they travel? It seemed as if he were descending into the bowels of the earth.

At long last, the stairway ended
. He stepped through a low portal...

And looked out into the most
enormous room he had ever seen, even bigger than the cavernous Resistance headquarters. The sides of the room were flanked with huge machines, great noisy wheels and pistons and other gigantic Constructs he couldn’t identify. Steam erupted in short bursts, contributing to the overall grayness of the area.

This must be where the Silver Sentrym
en are made, he thought. This is what we’ve come to destroy.

He dropped down from the stairway, keeping an eye out at all times for Sent
ry. He discovered a lower level just below him. This area was filled with long endless tables, stretching as far as the eye could see.

And the tables were
lined with people.

Old people
. Gray-haired and bearded people, like the Old Man, some even older. Far older than anyone he had ever seen in Merrindale.

H
e knew what it must mean. These were the people who had left their village after the Ceremony of Passage. These were the trusting citizens who voluntarily departed, thinking they were headed for paradise.

They were not even doing work
that would help their villages. They only served the Sentinel. Building the monstrous Silver Sentrymen.

These were the slaves of
Balaveria, the Sentinel’s forced labor camp.

They worked
with hammers, pounding out sheets of metal, attaching bolts and screws, sanding and polishing. None of them smiled. They didn’t even look up as he approached. It was as if they were in another world, apart, lost in a dream. Or a nightmare.

He wanted to talk to them, but the Sentry posted all around made that impossible.

Or at any rate, made it impossible to talk aloud.

Xander
told Daman that to tell one slave something was to tell them all.  And there was a reason for that.  They could talk to one another.  Without speaking.  With their minds.  Many slaves believed that something had happened to his people during the time when the Ancients experimented with the fundamental building blocks of life.  They were…changed, and not just externally.  Perhaps the protuberance on their temples that identified them as slaves also amplified their brains and allowed them to communicate with one another.

Not all the people trapped below were former slaves, but ma
ny were. He found one close by and made a connection.

How can I help you?

It’s impossible.

How can I stop the Silver Sentrymen?

Also impossible.

My friends have weapons that can help.  But they will not function because of the Pulse.

The Sentinel’s machines work and no one else’s.

Quick
ly, Xander tried to give his new friend all the details.

My friends have a Key that will turn off something called a Pulse Generator.

He could sense the excitement in his new friend’s mind.

If they can shut off the Pulse, your weapons should work—and the Silver Sentrymen will be immobilized.

He did not understand why shutting off the Pulse would stop the Sentrymen, but there was no time for lengthy explanations. If that was the way to turn the tide of this all-but-lost battle, he had to get up the Tower.  He would need help, and he would need to distract the Sentry.

How can I set you free?

By lifting the metal lever.  But it is guarded by the Sentry.

Xander moved his eyes toward the floor. The prisoners’
feet were held in place by a heavy iron bar. So long as the bar was down, the slaves couldn’t move.

Following the bar across th
e room, he saw the lever that raised and lowered it. He also saw a Sentry posted beside it.

Unfortunately, the Sentry
saw him, too. Xander rushed forward before his opponent had a chance to react. Two quick blows to the chin and the Sentry was down on his knees.

He
heard heavy footsteps behind him.

The other prisoners
had noticed him. One by one their heads lifted. Gradually, their faces slowly came back to life.

He fought
the next Sentry while the prisoners watched. At first, he only heard them in his head, the words of others of the slave class, trying to learn more about him, and eventually encouraging him. They were quiet at first, but as it became clear that this might actually be a chance for release, they began to shout, both aloud and silently, urging him on. When the Sentry collapsed after the final blow, the crowd cheered, creating a tumult that echoed throughout the room.

He
whirled, alert for more Sentry, but he saw none. He supposed most available hands were outside fighting the Rebels.

He grabbed the
lever and pulled with all his might. It was stubborn, probably typically operated by many men.

Put your foot on the iron pedal.

Below him, he saw a pedal, much like he might see on a cart.  He pressed his foot down on it and heard a creaking sound.

Now the lever moved more freely, but it was still heavy and required much effort.
He clenched his teeth and pulled all the harder. Sweat broke out on his brow, reminding him that he had a wound he had not stopped to examine. His palms grew wet. Blood rushed to his brain. But he kept pulling.

The lever gave way
. A tremendous clanging noise split his ears. And then the iron bars rose.

Cheers erupted
throughout the room, so loud they almost knocked him off his feet. The tumult ricocheted off the gray walls and sounded as if it might bring down the ceiling. Every prisoner in the room was on his or her feet, clapping, cheering, crying, shouting for joy.

They were free.

 

*****

 

Daman watched
the Acolyte withdraw a small grey box from the pocket of his robe. In some respects, it reminded him of Drake’s stunners. But he suspected its function was not so humane.

“Did you know that light can kill?” the Ac
olyte asked, smiling.

“I’ve seen blue light come from the arms of your Silver Sentrymen.

“Smart boy.
” He held the gray box high. “This is a laser. It’s similar to the devices the Silver Sentrymen use. Smaller than theirs, but more than adequate to eliminate you.”

“Spare Brita,” he
said. “She’s innocent. I forced her to come with me. She—”

“Don’t both
er. Mykah has already told me everything.”

Daman glared at his former friend
. “How could you? How could you betray the girl you—?” He stopped. He’d answered his own question.

Mykah
looked away again.

“That’s it?
” Brita said. “You’re just going to execute us?”

“Well, no.”
He passed the gray box to Mykah. “This is your final test. Your last chance to prove your loyalty to the Sentinel.” He peered down at Mykah intently. “Kill them.”

Mykah
took the gray box and pointed it at Daman’s head.

He considered pleading, begging, reminding
Mykah of all they had once shared. But he decided it would be better to die quietly than to die begging.

Mykah
’s face was stony, fixed. His finger twitched above the firing button.

“Well?” the Acolyte said
. “What are you waiting for?”

Mykah
swallowed. “It’s just...Daman once saved my life.”

“Does the Sentinel care
about that? You swore an oath.”

Mykah
’s outstretched arm trembled. “We’ve been friends since childhood.”

“The Sentinel is your greatest friend
. The only friend who matters.”

“But
—”

“This is your last chance,
Mykah,” the Acolyte said. “Do this now or you will be cast out of the Sentry, out of the Sentinel’s world, forever.”

Mykah
drew in his breath. His eyes narrowed, and once again he pointed the box.


Mykah,” Brita whispered,  “this isn’t you. This isn’t who you want to be.”

“What would you know about it?” he shot back.

“I know what you said. The last time we were together. Alone. If what you said was true...you won’t fire that weapon.”

“If you don’t,” the Acolyte barked, “your car
eer is over. Your
life
is over. If you fail me again, you will join the prisoners of Balaveria.”

Mykah
’s face was drenched in sweat. He hesitated, his hand wavering.

“I’m sorry,”
Mykah said. He clenched his teeth, moved his finger to the button, and fired.

 

 

 

 

 

34

 

Daman was prepared to die, but he was not prepared for what happened next.

Xander sprang up behind
Mykah and knocked him to the floor. The harsh blue beam from the laser shot downward, burning a hole in the floor. The weapon flew out of Mykah’s hands and skittered across the floor.

Xander crawled atop
Mykah and hit him again, this time square on the jaw. Mykah’s eyelids fluttered. He tried to resist, but Xander pinned him down. One more blow from Xander and Mykah’s head fell limp against the floor.

The Acolyte started to run, but Daman
grabbed the sleeve of his ceremonial robe and yanked him backwards.Before he recovered, Daman retrieved the red Key. The Acolyte snarled and raised his fist, but at that moment Xander started toward him. The Acolyte turned and raced out of the room.

Xander
started after him, but Daman held him back. “Our first priority is stopping the Pulse.”

He didn’t like the idea of letting the Acol
yte escape, but they had to shut off the Pulse or the assault team outside had no chance.

He
approached the metal box on the raised table. He still had a difficult time believing that this small box was the source of the Sentinel’s great strength.

“I have to assume this button is here for a reason,” Bri
ta said, pointing.

“No doubt,” he
answered. “But I’d feel better if we knew what the reason was before we pushed it.”

“We don’t have time for a controlle
d experiment.” She pushed the button.

The box responded with a click, loud enough to make them all jump
. That was followed by a moment of silence, then a whirring from somewhere inside the table.

T
he same sound the Silver Sentrymen made before they prepared to fire.

“Are we sure this is the Pulse ge
nerator and not a weapon?” he said nervously.

“I’m sure,” Brita answered
. “Of course, it’s possible the generator is armed with its own weapons.”

“Why?”

“To prevent people from doing exactly what we’re doing now.”

The box made a sudden popping noise
. And then, as they watched, the metal shell rose into the air.

Beneath
the shell they saw a fascinating collection of gears and cogs and belts, all making a low melodic hum. Tiny lights flickered on and off. Thin cards inserted into slots lined up on the right side of the device. He heard a ticking noise, sharp and steady, coming from some kind of mechanism in the rear.

“How does it work?” he
asked.

“I don’t know,” Brita repli
ed.

“I don’t care ho
w it works,” Xander said. “The question is how do we make it stop working.”

“There.
” Brita pointed to a small indentation at the bottom left of the device. There was a small opening, the same size as the red stone.

A keyhole.

Hands trembling, he lifted the Key to the slot and pressed it inside. He heard a tiny click as it lodged in place. Then he gave it a twist.

The humming stopped
. The whirring stopped. The ticking stopped.

Brita covered her mouth
. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I think we did it. I think we actually shut off the Pulse.”

He ran to the
window behind the table. It gave him a clear view of the battle waged outside. The fighting still raged.  Three Silver Sentrymen were in the field, but they did not move or fire their deadly blue beams.

“Xand
er, can you knock out this window?”

Barely an instant later, Xander tossed a heavy chair threw the opening, shattering the glass.

He put his hands to his mouth and shouted with all the strength he could muster. “Rebels! Use your weapons!
Use your weapons
!”

And they did.

 

*****

 

Daman could not believe how well the rest of the struggle went for the Rebels.

Once the Pulse was disabled, the tide of the battle turned for good. Although the Rebels were outnumbered, the Sentry was unprepared for the stunners, and the Silver Sentrymen ceased firing. All the Rebels had to do was press the wired end of the tiny black boxes against an enemy. The boxes made a sharp sizzling noise and their opponents crumbled to the ground, spasming as they fell. They twitched for a moment, then closed their eyes. They were not dead, merely unconscious, but that was more than sufficient to get the Rebels inside the fortress.

Even better, the prisoner
s of Balaveria, released from their subterranean dungeon, emerged and joined the fight. Although they were weak and unaccustomed to the intense brightness of daylight, their numbers were great. There were far more prisoners than Sentry at the fortress. At that point, the Sentry fought a battle on two fronts–a battle they couldn’t possibly win. After the forces on both sides closed in, the Black Sentry deserted in large numbers, scrambling over the walls and ducking out through the gate.

The battle was won
.   

He
and his friends emerged from the tower still in possession of the Key. They found Drake outside. He carried a large pack on his shoulders and appeared to be searching for something.

“Who can tell me where the machinery is?” Drake asked
. “Where do they make the Silver Sentrymen?”

“I know,” Xander answered
. “I’ve been there.”

Xander led Drake
and Daman down the subterranean corridor to what was formerly the labor camp of Balaveria. Drake removed a rectangular package from his pack and placed it under the machine.

“What’s that?” Xander ask
ed.

“Another experi
ment of mine,” Drake said. “I think it will work. But of course, like everything else, I haven’t been able to test it.

“What do you call it?”

Drake carefully slid open a panel on one side of the box. “I call it a bomb.” A red light came on, and a pulsing beeping sound emerged. “
Run
.”

They
raced back to the surface. Drake told them their time was short, only as long as it would take them to count to two hundred. Daman didn’t understand, but he did gather that this was not a good time to be asking questions.

Xander climbed up on the parapet and shouted so that everyone could hear.

“Listen to me! We must leave the fortress! Everyone! Gather at the edge of the forest. But leave now!”

The word spread
.

The Rebels raced out of the f
ortress even faster than they’d arrived. It was a mad rush for safety, for the security of the outcropping just beyond the clearing.

Seconds a
fter they reached safety, a thunderous noise shattered the air. Daman turned toward the fortress and was astounded to see it crumbling before his eyes. The destruction started at the base of the fortress and worked its way up. The stone walls shattered like glass. The tower wavered at first, then tumbled to the ground with a mighty crash, smoke billowing up in its wake.

A huge cloud of fire shot up from the base of the fortress, then
slowly subsided. Dust and debris blew around them. He could feel the heat even from where he hid.

Once the smoke cleared, he
saw what remained–or more accurately, what didn’t remain. The fortress was gone, replaced by an immense rockpile. A useless expanse of rubble.

“Congratulati
ons,” he said to Drake. “I believe your bomb worked.”

“Yes,” Drake answered, but there was
no smile on his face, no pride in his accomplishment. “I’ve taken the first step toward bringing new hope to this world–by reviving the worst fear of the last one.”

 

*****

 

Daman had never felt such a rush of joy in his entire life.  Somehow, with only the tiniest of chances, they had managed to prevail.

After
the dust settled, the Rebels took inventory. Happily, their casualties were light, although the few who were gone were sorely missed. Many Rebels were wounded, but the physic tended their wounds. Few injuries were permanent. The majority would heal in time.

Most importantly, the Pulse had been disabled
. The production of the Silver Sentrymen had been terminated. Apparently the protective device that allowed the Sentrymen to function when the Pulse was active caused them to malfunction once the Pulse was gone. The Rebels could now battle the Sentinel and his minions on their own terms, using the weapons devised by Drake and the others.

For the first time in forever, they had a
fighting chance.

As twiligh
t fell, the Rebels made their way back to their headquarters. Their ranks had swelled–because most of the prisoners freed from Balaveria had joined them. Few wanted to return to their former villages. They would not be safe there, not while the Sentinel was still in power. And even fewer wanted to risk life on their own in the great forest. They knew the Sentinel’s world was a lie and they were anxious to do whatever they could to bring his oppressive reign to an end.

And all of this happened, Daman
mused, all these world-shattering events took place, on my birthday. That made him smile.  This time, perhaps, the Sentinel was the one who would be winnowed.

As they walked, he
noticed Xander ahead of them, walking alone.

He
quickened his step. “Xander.”

As he
approached, he noticed the slight stiffening, the discomfort that came over Xander.

“Yes?”

“Drake told me about everything you did. Leading the troops into battle. Sneaking into the fortress. Freeing the prisoners.”

“I did
what I could.”

“And of course, you made one other achievement of some small importance–you saved my life.
” He grasped Xander’s shoulders, forcing him to stop walking and to look him in the eyes. “And Brita’s. You made it possible for us to disable the Pulse. More than anyone else, today’s victory belongs to you.”

Xander shrugged uncomfortably
. “We all helped.”

“I just wanted to tell you, Xander...
” Daman coughed. “To–to tell you that I’m–um—”

“Yes?”

He drew in his breath. “I wanted to tell you that I’m proud to be your friend.”

Xander’s lips parted.

“I mean, if you’ll have me.”

“You…want me to be your friend?”

He clasped Xander’s hand. “You are my friend. You always have been. The best friend a boy could hope for.”

 

*****

 

After night fell, Daman and the others reached the cave. Just as he was about to enter, he heard the Old Man calling him. “Daman, could I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.
” They walked for a short while into the forest till they were alone. “What is it?”

“There a
re things I must tell you. Things you don’t know, although I believe you may suspect.”

Hi
s brow creased. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re a fine boy, Daman
. We’ve been through quite a lot together now, so I feel I can be honest. I’m very proud of you. And I know your father would be proud of you as well.”

He
beamed. The Old Man’s words meant more than he could possibly express. The Old Man was the chief Rebel of the Resistance, the one who’d acquired the Key, the one who’d made it all possible. He still loved his own father, but he thought of the Old Man as a father as well.

The Old Man pau
sed, as if unsure how to continue. “This is a great day for the Resistance. The greatest we have ever seen. But the work has just begun. With the Pulse disabled in this region, we will be able to fight the Sentinel’s forces on equal terms–perhaps even better than equal. But what of the rest of this great land? What of the other regions to the east? Someone must disable their Pulse generators.”

“That work
should be easier. Since we’ve already done it once.”

“That work will be harder,” the Old Man cautioned, “because now the Sentinel will be watching for us
. For the first time, he knows he faces a real threat. He will stop at nothing to defeat us.”

“But once the other generators are disabled
—”

“Then someone must fight the Sentinel himself
. And that will be the greatest battle of all. So long as the Sentinel rules anywhere, no one will be free. Or safe.”

A new voice entered the conversation
. “Certainly you are not safe, Old Man.”

BOOK: The Black Sentry
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