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Authors: William Bernhardt

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BOOK: The Black Sentry
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A dark figure hovered behind them.

Mykah.

His uniform wa
s torn and bloodstained. His face was burned and black. Somehow, Mykah had survived the explosion and followed them back to their headquarters.

But he
didn’t dwell on those questions immediately. His attention was diverted by something far more immediate. Far more deadly.

Mykah
held the weapon the Acolyte had lost in the struggle. The one he called a laser. And it was pointed right at him.

 

 

 

 

35

 


Mykah,” Daman said, taking a tentative step forward, “the battle is over.”


Not while you still live.”


Mykah, please. It’s not too late for you. Join us.”

“Join you
? You’re traitors. Misfits. A member of the Black Sentry doesn’t join traitors. He kills them.”

The look in
Mykah’s eyes was frightening. Almost inhuman.

“I thought we were friends.”

“You betrayed our friendship, Daman. All you’ve done is lie and cheat. That’s all you’ve ever done. Steal what isn’t yours. Like Brita. Anything you wanted.”

Mykah
was barely coherent. He wondered if the explosion had damaged his former friend’s brain–or if he had just been pushed to the edge by so much disappointment.

“You’re a sinner,” Mykah
continued. “You violated the Sentinel’s Laws and Ways. I tried to bring you back. I gave you every possible chance to repent. You and Brita both. But you wouldn’t listen.”


Mykah—”

“If you’
d done nothing but destroy yourself, that would be one thing. But you’ve destroyed me as well. Taken everything that was rightly mine. Ruined my career, my life. I have nowhere left to go.”

“You can join
the Resistance.”

“I’d sooner die.
But you’ll die first.” His finger tightened over the button.


Stop
!” the Old Man commanded. He leaped in front just as the blue beam shot forward. The beam hit the Old Man straight on, burning a hole deep in his chest.


No
!” Daman shouted. The Old Man fell to the ground.

Mykah
lifted his weapon to fire again, but Daman sprang forward, knocking it out of Mykah’s hand.

He was enraged
. He pushed Mykah to the ground. They wrestled, struggling for control. Mykah rolled on top of him, crushing the wind from his lungs. The world spun around them. He had barely cleared his vision in time to see Mykah’s fist barreling down toward his face.

Daman
turned his head to the side, catching the blow just over his ear. He returned a blow twice as hard.

His head rang
. Breathing became difficult. He felt totally disoriented.

Get y
ourself together, he told himself. The Old Man was wounded, and if Mykah got free, he’d be next. Then Mykah would make his way into the cave and shoot everyone in the Resistance.

T
he truth came to him in an instant. Today was his birthday–and just as he had dreaded for so long, he was facing the Winnowing. Against his former practice partner. The friend who, in a hundred sessions, had always defeated him.

He saw another blow headed
his way. He rolled away at the last moment, causing Mykah’s fist to hit the rocky ground. Mykah shouted and cradled his hand, giving Daman time to pull himself to his feet.

He threw himse
lf at Mykah, trying to knock his opponent down, without success. He barely even pushed him backward.

Mykah
landed a solid blow to his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his gut. That was his last chance to strike back—and he lost it. Mykah had the upper hand again.

Dodging the next blow, Daman
cast his eyes around for some weapon—a rock, a stick, anything that would give him an edge. But he found nothing.

He trie
d to run, but Mykah blocked his escape, then hit him again, this time in the neck. While he was crouched over, Mykah kicked him in the face.

He pushed himself back to his feet.  He didn’t want to fight Mykah. He realized now that he had never wanted to fight Mykah. Perhaps that was his problem in all their previous encounters. But he had to get help for the Old Man. He raised his fists

Then they both heard the rattle.

The hideous slithering sound emanated from just a few feet behind where Mykah stood.

In t
he distance, he saw the rustling of leaves that told him a Creeper approached. He turned to run, but before he moved far, Mykah tackled him, knocking him to the ground. They rolled on top of each other, spinning down a leafy incline. Toward the Creeper.

Mykah
ended up on top. He raised his fists high, teeth gritted.


Mykah! It’s a Creeper. Get out of here.”

“Not until
I’ve taken care of you.” It was like Mykah hadn’t even heard. His whole mind was focused on revenge.

Daman pushed with all his might, throwing his opponent to the side. “Come with me, Mykah.  We need to
—”

That’s when he
heard the most horrible sound of his entire life, before or after. The sound of a Creeper, so close he could reach out and touch it. A Creeper’s raspy rattle in his ear.

It was
barely a foot away. Its green gelatinous exterior and its grotesque running sores. The hideous lipless salivating maw, so close he could smell its revolting fetid breath.

It
s 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 hi
s 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.”

“B
ut 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?”

“Y
ou 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 sai
d, 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.”

BOOK: The Black Sentry
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