by P D Ceanneir
‘Rations,’ she said and tore one open. The contents looked like a rectangle oat biscuit. She handed them out to the humans. ‘It is not much, but…’
‘It’s good enough,’ finished the prince.
As the group ate the biscuits, Vlaren took out another object from the pack. It looked like a smaller version of her PDU. From the top section of the device she extracted a long flat probe and touched it to the upper arm of one of the girls. The girl watched her with dopey eyes. Vlaren then pushed the probe back inside the device, tapped at the display and repeated the process with several others, including Moge.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Havoc.
‘This is a Medical Data Unit,’ she said waving the device as she spoke, ‘I’m extrapolating their health issues from their blood. So far, they appear healthy, but malnourished.’ She approached Havoc and touched the probe to his face without asking his permission; he allowed her, curious to see what she would find. The probe felt like a feather on his cheek, but when she pulled it away there was a small speck of his blood on it. Vlaren pushed the probe back into the MDA and frowned at the readings on the display.
‘They are related,’ she said.
‘Siblings? All of them?’
Vlaren nodded. She then looked at him with a raised eyebrow, ‘all of them, including you.’
‘What?’
‘You are a perfect match. So perfect, in fact, that you could be clones. There is only a point seven percent deviation in your DNA makeup.’
‘Clone? DNA?’
Vlaren was about to explain when her own PDU started to make strange pinging noises.
‘It’s that energy spike again. It’s stronger,’ she said when she opened the device.
The group of humans around them all stood and silently filed out of the broken wall of the house. Havoc had a strong urge to follow and said as much to Vlaren.
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure, it’s like something is calling me.’ He reached out and grabbed Moge’s arm. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Go, must go, over there,’ he said pointing south, ‘the Sentinel calls us. Sentinel good, Sentinel protect from Korzac.’ He shrugged off the prince’s grip and joined the others in their journey south.
‘Sentinel?’
‘They are heading in the direction of the energy readings,’ said Vlaren.
‘Well, let’s hope this Sentinel has some answers.’
14
Sometimes it’s best not to seek the answers, said the Blacksword.
Havoc ignored him as he and Vlaren climbed over rubble as they followed the small group of humans, now joined by about a dozen more. In the distance sat a building that Havoc had not seen in Baronstown before; a small castle, partly ruined and sitting high up on a hill where the forested expanse of the Kings Park once sat. Now there were no trees, no pathways through the beautiful woodlands, just a huge monstrosity of brick.
The rain fell like an opaque curtain, but he could see a soft glow of light emitting from the shadows within the castle walls, making the whole scene look eerie and unwelcoming. However, the small group of humans grinned benignly as they stumbled through the ruins. Havoc noted that they almost seemed in a trance. He was not immune to the effects of the summons. He felt a warm and comfortable glow in his chest the closer he moved towards the light inside the castle.
‘Quite a climb,’ said Vlaren as she looked up the vertical wall of brick that rose out of the high mound of churned up earth. That sludgy rainwater ran down the wall to flow into a ditch. Havoc and Vlaren stood in that ditch with the black water up to their knees. They had followed the humans to a narrow opening in the east side that was a more like a collapse in the wall, there was no actual entrance to see. But now the citadel survivors piled into the opening and blocked the route. Havoc and Vlaren looked for another way in.
‘No windows, no openings,’ mused Havoc, ‘there is a crack in the wall up there wide enough to admit two people, though.
Vlaren looked to where he was pointing, about fifty feet up the wall, ‘and how do you propose to get up there?’
Havoc moved quickly before the alien had time to complain. He wrapped one arm around her waist and leapt into the air. She screamed in obvious shock, but before she knew it they had landed on a narrow ledge and Havoc pushed her gently into the wide crack in the wall.
She turned to give him an angry retort, but he was on his knees breathing heavily.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I’m alright. That was an effort, that’s all. It’s as if my Rawn powers are weaker here.’
‘You still have not explained to me how a Rawn, such as you, could be here in the first place when my intelligence reports confirm that they died out several thousand years ago.’
Havoc looked at her, the dizziness he felt now dissipating.
‘Would you believe that I fell into an elaborate trap that brought me three thousand years into the future?’
‘No, I would not. Time travel over that distance is impossible.’
‘Nevertheless, I am here.’
‘It seems you are,’ Vlaren helped him stand and then took out her PDU, ‘energy spike up ahead,’ she said. Down below there was a series of interconnecting stairs and walkways from various points in the castle, leading towards a high courtyard. Vlaren and Havoc took the closest stone bridge and saw that a large group of the humans had already ascended the stairs. They still wore that trance-like expression, as if they were hypnotised. Havoc was desperately ignoring the effect that it had on him.
‘There is a low-level harmonic,’ said Vlaren as she scanned her PDU, ‘it’s moving on a sub-sonic carrier wave and limited to about five miles in all directions. It could be the answer to this “summons” you feel.’
‘Could be. It’s getting harder to resist,’ said Havoc, ‘you are not affected?’
‘No, my suit’s helmet is filtering out the harmonics, but I would theorise that the frequency is attuned to humans only. I suggest you stick your fingers in your ears.’
Havoc did so and felt instantly better, but he could not continue the climb like that, so he took some gauze wrapping from his Spit Gun cleaning kit and stuffed them in his ears and put his rain cape hood up.
‘Better?’
‘What?’
Vlaren sighed and shook her head.
15
The castle, on closer inspection, was not one in any conventional sense. It may be a ruin with collapsed walls and signs of subsidence, but it’s structure was built with care. Tall arches above the large opening soared many feet over their heads. Rows of huge pillars held up thick stone ceilings, although most had cracked or collapsed to the ground in the past. There was still no sign of any windows on the outer walls. All of the stairs, high openings and pathways led to the wide courtyard at the top of the structure.
It’s not a castle, said the Blacksword, it’s a shrine.
Havoc had to agree. The more he wandered upwards the more that realisation became fact. At the top of the final angled stairway, they stepped onto a huge platform or courtyard, paved with grimy slabs of marble that were uneven due to the ground subsidence. The human vagrants all wandered to the far end of the courtyard with slow shuffling steps, still mesmerised by whatever was drawing them here. Something sat on a stone table over at the other end of the courtyard and emitted a soft glow of peaceful light. Towering above the table, Havoc noticed the two stone statues of skeletons that where similar to the ones inside the Tomb of the Blacksword on the Morrows. He suddenly felt a pang of anxiety. The Blacksword felt it to.
Do you suspect another trap?
Havoc answered with a mental nod.
He and Vlaren wandered through the vagabond humans who now knelt and hummed to themselves. Vlaren was so tall; she towered over the crowd as she scanned them with her device. Havoc was staring towards the rear wall where the object glowed. It was a tall orb with a shimmering, shifting surface of colours. Something protruded from the to
p, something long and thin. He moved closer to get a better look, Vlaren followed.
‘Could it be?’ said the prince.
‘What?’ Vlaren asked.
‘Could it be that I have finally found the Gredligg Orrinn?’
‘I don’t know what that is,’ Vlaren shook her head.
The surface of the glowing sphere still shifted with colours, colours like liquid in a glass constantly splashing against the walls of the vessel. There was a distinctive and constant hush of whispered voices all around the courtyard; it came from the Orrinn itself.
‘The My’thos!’ said Havoc in awe.
‘What? The Humans Gods?’
Havoc nodded slowly, ‘they are talking. Can you not hear them?’
‘No. I hear nothing. Is this the Sentinel they speak of?’
At the mention of the name, the kneeling humans began to chant, “Sentinel, Sentinel.”
‘That answers that question,’ said Vlaren, ‘what is that object sticking out of the top?’ she moved closer to get a better look and stopped short in shock. She turned back towards Havoc.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘It’s…it’s the same sword, your sword!’ she said.
‘Eh?’ Havoc moved closer and shielded his eyes from the glow that obscured his view of the object protruding from the top of the Orrinn. It was then he noticed the Muse Orrinn pommel and the dragon hilts. The black blade of the Sword that Rules was impaling the Great Orrinn from top to bottom.
This is not good, said the Blacksword.
Moge, sitting towards the front of the crowd, stood up and approached the Orrinn.
‘Moge, no!’ cried Havoc.
Don’t let him touch it, Bloodline! The Blacksword shouted.
Havoc realised the same thing, if this truly was the prophesied Blacksword, and if these humans were some macabre copy of him, then…?
Moge turned towards him and smiled with obvious joy, ‘Sentinel,’ he said and then gripped the swords hilt.
The blast of energy that exploded out of the Orrinn knocked Havoc, Vlaren and the humans onto their backs.
16
Havoc got to his feet and helped Vlaren up. The vagrant natives all ran for cover screaming in fear. Above the Orrinn was a large black cloud of dust. Sparks of lightening zipped through the billowing formation and the wind roared around the courtyard.
‘What is happening?’ shouted Vlaren over the noise of the wind, ‘my PDU is showing powerful fluctuations in the magnetic spectrum.’
‘I think we need to leave,’ said Havoc, ‘we should not have come here.’
Movement inside the cloud revealed Moge hanging in mid-air with his arms outstretched. His ragged clothes were gone, his pale naked body twisted and elongated. His thin arms became even thinner until bones and sinew replaced what little muscle he had. The clouds weaved themselves around the boy, almost like huge unfolding wings of a large raven.
Vlaren took a step back, ‘what is happening to his body?’
‘He’s changing.’ Havoc pushed her gently away, ‘go! I will take care of this.’
The boy in the black storm was now over seven feet tall. His skin paled to white and his shaggy hair disappeared. The clouds covered the body to obscure the rest of the transformation and then his eyelids evaporated to reveal deep black sockets under a frowning and malevolent brow.
‘Welcome brother,’ it hissed in an angry whisper that could be heard for miles.
Havoc was in shock. This was the first time he had ever seen the traumatic effects of the change his condition took. Even the Blacksword in his mind looked on in obvious wonder.
‘Brother?’ said Vlaren.
The clouds began to dissipate. The Blacksword-Sentinel hovered about twelve feet above the ground. He no longer wore a cloak of black, but an ornately crafted suit of golden armour, complete with ridged shoulder guards and a helmet shaped like the open-mouthed skull similar in design to the skull opening at the Blacksword’s Tomb. A rich vermilion cape flowed and fluttered in the wind behind him, it had the entwined twin dragons, Sin and Dex emblazoned on its surface.
The golden armour glinted in the darkness, rainwater hissed and evaporated before it could come close to soaking its surface. The Sentinel hung in mid-air like some terrifying deity, staring with obvious hate at the prince.
‘I don’t understand. Why the elaborate trap to bring me three thousand years into the future?’ Havoc asked.
‘I brought you here to end all of this,’ said the Sentinel waving his hand around the sparse courtyard, ‘to end your failure, Havoc Cromme.’
Beside the prince, Vlaren gasped and stared at him, ‘Havoc Comme?’
Havoc was backing off slowly and urging Vlaren to do the same with slow waves of his hand, ‘Yes, sorry for the deception, but I had my reasons. I take it you have detailed records on me.’
‘Yes, quite a lot actually.’ Vlaren checked her blaster rifle settings and shouldered the butt, ‘so that,’ she said pointing towards the being floating above the ground, ‘is the…’
‘Blacksword, now calling himself the Sentinel, apparently,’ finished Havoc.
Let me out, said the Blacksword in Havoc’s head. Havoc forced his will and restrained him, knowing that it would only make him try harder and increase his anger.
‘Oh, I ceased to call myself, “The Blacksword” long ago,’ said the Sentinel. ‘Long after your death, in fact. Finding descendants to continue the Bloodline and have a host body when I needed it, was difficult, but worthwhile.’
‘Is he talking about the humans?’ asked Vlaren, ‘what is this Bloodline he speaks off?’
‘Yes, to the first question. Only my direct blood relations can wield the Sword that Rules.’
Vlaren looked at the sword on Havoc’s back and then the one inside the Great Orrinn. ‘There are so many tales about this sword; even on my homeworld it is legendary.’
‘You were designed by the My’thos to destroy the Dark Tanis. Why did you fail?’ shouted Havoc towards the Sentinel.
‘Who said I have failed?’ said the Sentinel, ‘undoing the mistakes of the past creates a new future.’
Sudden realisation hit Havoc like a battlehammer, ‘of course, you knew from past knowledge that I would be curious about the tomb on the Marrows and so laid a trap for me when I entered. A trap to bring me here…’ he frowned, ‘but how did you bring me here?’
The Sentinel pulled off his right gauntlet to reveal those familiar long white fingers. On his middle digit, he wore the same light brown ring that Havoc saw on the corpse in the tomb. Gold and silver flecks glittered brighter than his armour.
‘This is the Ring of Lorena,’ he said.
‘The ring of…wait! Princess Lorena of Southspire’s betrothal ring? That was lost thousands of years ago. It certainly did not have the power to give the wearer the ability to time-travel!’
‘Nor did it, but a wise man found the ring and found a way to use it for just that purpose. You will come into possession of the ring far into your future,’ said the Sentinel, ‘correction, you don’t have a future.’ He cupped his hands and formed a large round ball of flame, which hissed as the rain struck it.
Havoc extracted SinDex and pushed Vlaren onto her back just as the Sentinel used a burst of wind energy to shoot the Fireball towards him. The black-blade caught the main potency of the impact and absorbed the energy greedily, but the wind force knocked Havoc backwards and he skidded to a halt several feet away.
The Sword that Rules flew from his hand and embedded into the flagstones just beside Vlaren’s head.
Vlaren shouldered her rifle and fired three times at the golden figure as he floated towards the ground. The sentinel moved his body to one side and the first round zipped past him. He raised his left hand and deflected the second shot with a wave. The third, to Vlaren’s horror, he caught in his un-gloved hand. The plasma ball of green haze sparked and shimmered over his palm. He grinned at Vlaren and then threw the round back at her. She had time
to dive and roll as the round slammed into the ground beside her. The impact sent her crashing hard against a shaky ruined wall.
‘I will deal with you later,’ hissed the Sentinel as he touched down and walked towards Havoc, who was slowly getting to his feet.
Inside Havoc’s head, the Blacksword was becoming more frantic as he climbed through the prince’s physique, ranting and raving as his anger took hold. Havoc felt the change come over him.
His armour was turning black.
‘Do not fight him. Let him out,’ goaded the Sentinel.
‘No!’ groaned Havoc. He was speaking to the entity inside his head, ‘don’t be foolish! He wants my body, don’t you understand? He needs me to return to the past, it’s so obvious now.’
The Blacksword was not listening. The change made the prince grow another foot in height. His hair disappeared and his face paled to a sickly white, but Havoc resisted him with the shear might of his will.
Aarrrgggghhhh!
The Sentinel raised a hand and Havoc felt the air around him spin and harden. It lifted him into the air and threw him a dozen feet along the courtyard. The impact shocked his body and pain lanced through him. It instantly converted into Pyromantic Energy that only fuelled the anger of the Blacksword and the prince could not hold him at bay any longer.
The ground around him erupted and enveloped him. The Blacksword roared in triumph as he completed the transformation of the prince’s body. Vlaren watched all of this with fascination. The dust settled around the tall thin figure of the Blacksword, who scowled at the Sentinel with his hooded black eyes. The prince’s armour had changed to a matt black with an etched version of the twin dragons on his chest piece. The green rain cape now became black and it hung behind him as a collected shadow wafting and rippling in an ethereal wind. As a parody of the Sentinel’s armour, the Blacksword shaped the dust particles around his head to form an exact replica of the golden skull helmet of his opponent, but coloured black like the rest of the armour.
‘Was I ever so young?’ said the Sentinel mockingly.
