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.
CHAPTER NINE
They 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 Nurn the night the Chadassa had slaughtered the populace. It was a smell he had become intimately familiar with on several occasions since.
When Silus and his companions had first discovered the settlement, a friendly crowd had greeted their arrival, open and delighted faces welcoming the strangers. But this time there were few to greet them, and those that limped towards them carried their injuries heavily, grief written deeply upon their faces. One woman clutched a hand to her shoulder, blood trickling between her fingers. A silver-eyed man held her aloft by her right arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. The sentinel had also been injured; his cheek torn, exposing his metal jaw, his artificial innards spilling from a hole in his side.
“You!” Shalim said, pointing at the sentinel. “You did this.”
“No!” yelled one of the men hobbling towards them. “The sentinels did not do this. Others came.”
“What others, Braden?” Illiun said.
“Humans. Wielding swords. Shouting about the… Lord of All.”
“Silus, do you know these people?” Illiun turned to him.
Acutely aware of the eyes upon him, Silus opened his mouth to answer, but for a moment nothing came. “I…”
“Yes,” Dunsany said. “We know of them. Trust me, they’re no friends of ours.” Turning to Braden, he said, “Where are they now?”
“Once they had their fill of killing, they forced their way onto the ship and sealed it. None of us have been able to get in since.”
“Could you not have fought back?” Katya said. “Did none of you think to stop them?”
“My people are not trained to fight,” Illiun said.
“Well, you may want to teach them that skill. This is the Final Faith,” Katya said, “and they’re as tenacious and violent as this ‘entity’ you keep talking about.”
“Perhaps they’ll be willing to speak to us,” Silus said. “We did sort of steal something from them.”
“And broke it,” Dunsany added.
“That’s a good point,” Kelos said. “I don’t think they’re going to want the Llothriall back now.”
