Wrath of Kerberos (11 page)

The sentinel didn’t move.

“Unit twelve, report!”

Dunsany went to stand over the prone figure. The silver was fading from the sentinel’s eyes, flickering slightly as they dimmed. His mouth was stretched into a rictus grin and his fingertips danced lightly over the sand. Dunsany knelt down and put his fingers to the sentinel’s throat but could feel no pulse. He leaned over and put his ear close to the silver-eyed man’s mouth, listening for any sign of breath. But instead of the soft whisper of exhalation, there was a low buzzing sound, slowly gaining in pitch.

“I think...” Dunsany called, “I think that he may be okay; though it’s sort of hard to tell.”

The sentinel screamed: a sound like a thousand stuck pigs squealing in a vast abattoir; a sound so terrible that it was a small mercy that Dunsany was instantly deafened in his right ear. It was no consolation for the pain he felt, however, as the sentinel jerked upright, gripped his face and attempted to pull the flesh from his skull. Dunsany thrashed around with his right hand, trying to get a grip on his sword, but his fingers kept skittering across the pommel.

In the end it took not only Illiun, but also Silus, Katya and Kelos, to pull the sentinel away from Dunsany, by which time blood was trickling out of his ear and angry purple bruises were rising around his face. Kelos skewered the twitching sentinel on his blade.

Even with a sword sunk halfway to the hilt in the sentinel’s chest, he still took a long time to die. Instead of blood, a pale blue viscous fluid slowly leaked from his wounds. From his mouth came a pungent smell, like burning hair.

“I thought that you said we could trust the sentinels?” Dunsany said, rounding on Illiun and gripping him by the front of his shirt. “That thing almost killed me.”

“I don’t understand,” Shalim said. “The sentinels have never done such a thing before. Illiun, what happened?”

“We felt a charge in the air, just before the sentinel went crazy,” Kelos said, turning to Silus for confirmation.

“Yes. Something like the feeling you get before a thunderstorm.”

Illiun walked up to one of the stones and put his hand to its surface. When he pulled it away, Silus noticed small flickers of static electricity leaping from the stone to his palm. “It’s in the stones,” he said. “Whatever affected the sentinel is in the stones.”

“Then we better find the other two before they harm our children,” Rosalind said.

They followed Rosalind and Shalim past the corpse of the sentinel and further out into the desert.

It wasn’t long before they heard Zac and Hannah crying.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Katya said, running towards the sound.

They came to a depression ringed by more of the black stones, arranged so as to form a natural amphitheatre, at the centre of which was a bizarre, chilling tableau.

One of the sentinels was crouched over Zac with his right knee resting in the middle of the child’s back, pinning him to the ground. Blue froth slowly bubbled from the sentinel’s mouth as he gathered small stones towards himself, dragging them through the sand and carefully arranging them in two neat rows by Zac’s head. Occasionally the sentinel would twitch violently, emitting a noise like sheet metal tearing; eliciting, in turn, even greater cries from the boy.

At first they couldn’t see Hannah, only the form of the second sentinel as he capered around the perimeter of the depression on all fours, throwing up screeds of sand as he suddenly changed direction. But then they all heard the child’s cry and saw Hannah dart between two huge, jagged rocks. She was bleeding from a graze on her forehead and, as they watched in horror, the sentinel raced towards her, lashing out with his metal staff, striking the rock just above her head.

Shalim was already sprinting towards the sentinel, but the silver-eyed man was considerably swifter and soon lost him amongst the stones. Hannah threw herself into her father’s arms, sobbing and looking towards where her friend was pinned to the sand.

“Help Zac, Daddy, please.”

But Shalim was too concerned with getting his daughter out from amongst the stones to be able to help Zac. Besides, both Dunsany and Silus were already racing towards the boy.

The sentinel was on his feet before Silus could reach his son, and he threw the stone in his fist with all his might. It missed Silus but connected with Dunsany’s cheek, tearing a ragged gash in his flesh. Dunsany dropped to the sand, screaming in pain, only for Kelos to help him to his feet and step protectively in front of his friend.

The sentinel had another rock in his fist now, and he raised it above Zac’s head. Curiously, for a man about to commit murder, there was no emotion at all on the sentinel’s face.

Silus swung his sword, but the sentinel jumped back, deflecting his attack with the stone in his right hand, while snatching up his metal staff in his left.

“Silus, drop back,” Kelos shouted. “I know something about staff-to-staff fighting.”

Silus ducked back as the mage stepped forward, swinging his own staff in a wide arc that cut the sentinel’s legs out from under him. For a while the silver-eyed man lay on his back, allowing Zac to run towards his parents. The sentinel didn’t stay down for long, though, and soon he was back on his feet, raining down blow after blow on Kelos’s staff.

“Lead him back amongst the stones,” Illiun called. “Whatever energy is coming from them may help confuse him even more.”

Kelos looked up as Illiun spoke, the momentary distraction allowing the sentinel to thrust forward and knock out two of the mage’s teeth, sending him stumbling. But Kelos used the stumble to his advantage, drawing the sentinel with him, back among the shining black rocks.

The mage could feel the energy rolling from the dark stones and he wondered what this strange force was doing to the sentinel. The blue liquid that had been bubbling from the sentinel’s mouth now came in spurts as his shoulders hitched, spraying Kelos’s face as he led the sentinel further into the jagged maze.

Between two stones, leaning towards each other like drunken partners, the sentinel came to a stop. Kelos didn’t question what the silver-eyed man was doing, but thrust the tip of his staff firmly and forcefully into the centre of the sentinel’s forehead, instantly flooring him. The silver was beginning to flicker from the sentinel’s gaze, but Kelos was taking no chances and dispatched him with two more quick blows.

The mage didn’t see the second sentinel racing towards him, gibbering like something from the deepest cells of Scholten Cathedral, but Silus did. He shouted out a warning, but Kelos didn’t seem to hear him.

Silus ran almost as soon as he saw the silver-eyed man, but too much distance still lay between him and the mage. Doubling his efforts, Silus used two low rocks as a launch, stepping from one to another, before throwing himself forward and onto the back of the sentinel. For a moment Silus rode the bucking silver-eyed man as they careened around the boulders, before he was thrown from his back to tumble onto the sand.

Silus looked up to see the sentinel right himself and sprint back towards him, racing across the sand like a rabid dog. He only just had time to raise his sword as the sentinel leapt. The sky was blocked as the silver-eyed man sailed over him, only to come to a sudden stop a foot above him, looking down at Silus with fading eyes.

There was a sound like lips moistly parting as the sentinel began to sink down the length of the sword – his blue blood streaking the metal – until he came to rest, pinning Silus under his weight, his lips pressed against his cheek, viscous blood now pouring freely from his mouth.

Silus struggled to push the corpse from him and retrieve his sword. It came out of the sentinel’s chest in a tangle of wires and translucent tubes. He turned to see Katya staring at him with tired, frightened eyes, holding Zac, silently sobbing, to her breast.

Silus embraced them both, glad to feel their warmth and reassuring solidity against him.

“I’m sorry,” Illiun said, coming up behind them. Silus shook off the hand he placed on his shoulder. “Nothing like this has ever happened with the sentinels before. It’s this planet; those stones. Something–”

“What are those things?” Silus said, interrupting him.

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“The silver-eyed men; the sentinels. They’re not human. What are they?”

“Androids. We built them ourselves, programmed them ourselves. Believe me, they would never willingly attack a human being.”

“And yet they did.”

“They’ve been our guardians for generations, Silus. Shalim, you know; you’ve grown up alongside the sentinels. Your uncle was part of the team that developed the most recent model.”

Shalim was breathing hard and shaking. He looked down at the corpses of the sentinels and then towards the dawn, just beginning to pale the horizon.

“We need to return to the ship,” he said.

“But the mineral, Shalim. Without it we’re grounded.”

“And how are we supposed to find the mineral without the sentinels? Guess? Come on, Illiun, you know it’s impossible.”

“I think returning to the settlement will be for the best,” Rosalind said. “Maybe we can get the ship’s engines restarted some other way.”

“And when the entity finally finds us, and wipes us from the face of this world?” Illiun said.

“Well, we can’t stay out here! Together we stand a chance, surely?”

“Rosalind is right, Illiun,” Silus said. “Who knows what else is out here? We’ll be safer back at the settlement.”

“We’re not safe anywhere, don’t you understand that?”

But Illiun’s words fell on deaf ears, as Silus lead the party away from the circles of stones and back out across the desert.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

T
HEY HAD ONLY
been a few days out from the settlement, but the return journey seemed to take longer; exhaustion and despair took their toll. Illiun was on edge, constantly scanning the sky as though expecting it to fall on him at any moment. A few times Silus heard him muttering about the entity, but when he tried to calm him down, he refused to talk. Shalim and Rosalind were less pragmatic in their approach, openly criticising Illiun, soliciting snide remarks from the rest of the expedition, fomenting anger.

“You mustn’t let your emotions run so high,” Silus said one evening. “This rage does nothing to help us, or the settlement itself. Let Illiun be.”

“He put our children at risk,” Shalim said. “He has put us
all
at risk, coming to this place.”

“He only meant to protect you, Shalim. I know what it’s like to be helpless in the face of danger to your loved ones, to be powerless to protect them when things go wrong. Illiun’s suffering is punishment enough, believe me.”

Even so, Shalim did little to mask his newfound distaste for their leader, and he and Illiun didn’t talk for the remainder of the journey.

When the dunes rising around them became familiar – though quite how he could distinguish between mounds of sand, he couldn’t quite fathom – Silus’s spirits began to lift. Indeed, the morale of the party seemed to be on the rise as the settlement grew near. Perhaps, some of them reasoned, the ship would be alright after all; perhaps they would now actually be able to leave this planet and escape the attentions of the entity.

The smell coming to them from over the next rise, however, soon put paid to any hopes they had. The odour was unmistakable. It was the same smell that had washed through Silus’s hometown of Nürn the night the Chadassa had slaughtered the populace. It was a smell he had become intimately familiar with on several occasions since.