The Black Sentry by William Bernhardt Read Free Book Online

bottom l ip. He knew they both spoke from frustration. “He can try.”
    “And why would you do that?”
    “Because…until just now...I thought I was the only one in the village who...questioned the way we live. The way we are forced to live.”
    “You were wrong ,” Brita said, without explaining. “But Daman, how can we change—”
    “There will be no change so long as people are not free to expres s their own thoughts. As long as we are controlled by a power we cannot even see.”
    B rita stiffened. He couldn’t understand why. Then he detected movement in the shadows behind her. Someone was back there, staying at a distance. Listening. Lurking.
    He bar ely caught a glimpse of the top of a head, but he still felt certain he could identify it. Mister Hayes. The man who had accused him of blasphemy.
    Brita cleared her th roat. “I think perhaps the heat has begun to affect your mind, Daman.”
    “Yes,” he said, catching on. “Perhaps it has. I’m babbling nonsense.”
    “ You don’t know what you were saying. Xander, help your master back home. A cool drink will do wonders for him.”
    H e caught a glimpse of Mister Hayes scurrying away. Had they fooled him? Or was he on his way to report what he heard to the Captain of the Guard?
    I f he didn’t learn to control his tongue, he would soon find himself confronted with the same choice as poor Mister Anton.
    Exile or execution. If they gave him any choice at all.
     
    *****
     
    Daman found a drink at Market Square. Xander left to perform his daily duties. Brita said she had chores to finish before sundown. He doubted it. More likely she didn’t want to be associated with this heretic, this crazed madman who blasphemed the Sentinel. When the Black Sentry came for him, she didn’t want to be anywhere near.
    At the en d of the day, his father sent him to the Nether End of the village to make deliveries to the slave quarters. He hated these jobs more than any other. Although it was still within the protective fence surrounding the village, the Nether End was the farthest point from where Daman and his friends lived. The Nether End was populated by slaves dwelling in shabby, filth-ridden housing. He could sympathize with the hard life they led, but the thought of being surrounded by all those deformed people, shuffling back and forth with their malformed heads, gave him shivers.
    He had made many deliveries here ove r the years, and it was not more than a mile from the forested banks of Blaine River, where he and Mykah and Evan had often played as boys—and where he had once saved Mykah’s life.
    After making his deliveries, he decided to take the long route home, following the tall fence. At one point, he heard an unsettling hissing, rattling noise just beyond the fence. Like the slithering of wet leaves.
    Coul d that be a Creeper? The men of the village said the Creepers lurked just outside the fence, eternally searching for a way in. Like most in the village, he had never actually seen a Creeper, but he had been told that they were deadly, that they could kill with a single blow, and that no one had ever managed to kill one.
    H e plunged back into the forest, with its perfectly spaced and identical trees, taking a diagonal route toward home. He knew a shallow place where the river could be crossed. Since he had completed his chores for the day, he took his time, mulling over everything that had happened. Before long, he had wandered farther south than he had intended.
    He remained deep in reverie until suddenly he heard footsteps behind him, footsteps approaching rapidly.
    “Help me,” a hoarse voice gasped . “Please help me.”
    Rising up the crest of a hill, h e saw a man like none he had seen before in his entire life. His face was strange. Deformed. His skin folded in on itself, rippling down the face and sagging under the chin. Even though he had never seen anything like it, he understood what it must be.
    This man was old . Older than anyone he