Sentries: The First

Part I

“Harina,” he says, looking deep into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this.” She knows he is trying to convince her to stay.

“Entor, I am not a fool. I know what I am doing,” she replies and turns to go. Before she can even take a step Entor grabs her wrist and turns her back.

“I know you are not a fool,” His eyes are soft as he speaks. “But I still worry a great deal.” His words are said quietly, but a power comes from behind them. Harina pulls him to her, welcoming the warm arms around her.

“I worry too. But we will both be safe at last. I am sure of it,” she murmurs against his chest. All too soon the embrace ends and the time for them to part comes. Harina pulls out of Entor’s arms, feeling chilled by their absence. She looks up into his beautiful face and smiles, brushing a lock of his unruly curly hair away.

Quickly, Entor pulls her close and presses his lips against hers. With that touch, her resolve nearly melts. But she kisses him back and manages to find strength enough to pull away. She smiles, musters her courage, and strides into the clearing.

>>>>>

I watch as the woman strides from her shelter of bushes. The bushes here grow as high as two men tall, and provide great hiding places. I had picked this clearing to meet in partially because of that. I am not hiding in a bush though. I crouch in a much more dignified place. One of the high branches of a tree.

Shrouded in green needles, I can’t be seen. But mortals hardly look up anyhow. I stroke the bald head of my dear pet Killamore and survey the woman’s lover. His cover is not sufficient to hide him from me. But then again, I see much better than mortals could ever see.

I let the woman wait for a time before dropping the length of ten men to the ground. I land silently, not even disturbing the dry dirt that would have risen for anyone else. I dip my hand into the soil and come out with a handful filled with the tiny creatures that no mortal even realises is there. Tintantiks.

I whisper words to them and they flee from the clod of earth. They swarm across the clearing, scouring every part of it, searching for magic. Mortals don’t know about these creatures and never see them. The woman remains undisturbed. The tintantiks come back, revealing that there is no magic but my own present. They burrow into the ground, leaving the pile in my hand alone. I smear this over my hands and face.

I pick up the ragged cloak I had scavenged for earlier and throw it over myself. My body hidden, I look like a mortal again. I have always had the form of one because it would be entirely futile to change it. I deal with them so often I would be changing skins every week. Futile.

I pull and twist my hair until it is a mess. I stuff this into the hood of the cloak and stumble into the clearing. The woman turns to me sharply, and I can see the hint of a handle on her hip. A dagger, sheathed. She schools her expression and tries to look intimidating.

“Quickly, that does it. Shake the bottle. Walk with the cane. Forget the ingredients,” I mumble nonsense under my breath as I stagger towards the woman. I keep my eyes trained on the air next to the woman’s head.

“Here now,” the woman says. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” She says the words with the voice of a killer, though I know she is not. Her hand strays towards the dagger.

“Secret soup. Desert for the ears,” My words are said with a slur, as if I was drugged. I could never be again. Not in the state I had been changed to. The woman’s mask falls from her face and she looks completely incredulous.

“You’re the informant?” she asks, jaw still hanging. I nod crookedly and drop onto the ground.

“Long walk. Has to talk”

The woman crouches before me. “Blue reins supreme when dealt with colors. Code; Charlatan.”

I look up at her and notice the necklace hanging from her throat. It’s a red teardrop-shaped stone. I could rip it off her without her ever noticing my movement. “It’s dealing, not dealt. And charlatans are imposters, hoping to get coin from you,” I croak out.

“How do you kill a Sentinel?” That’s what this whole meeting was about. This woman wanted a clandestine meeting to discuss how to kill me. She didn’t know I was the one she wanted to kill. She thought she was meeting with an informant who had the disguise of a beggar. Mortals are always more stupid than I can ever imagine.

“Dagger, stomach … sword, head … blade, body…” I begin mumbling to myself again and get up, turning to leave. Then I pause. The woman touched my shoulder.

I turn back and she holds out a small pouch. I reach to take it and feel its weight. Twenty coins. All steel, coated in gold. I open the pouch and count the yellow circles. I was perfect in every account. I put them back in the pouch and drop it onto the ground. I pull out a dagger from within the recesses of my cloak.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, woman,” I keep my words slurred and my steps unsteady. Best she think I’m drunk then she know the extent of my powers. Yet. “I’m a Sentinel, and I’m going to kill you.”

The woman smiles and whips out her dagger. It is twice as large as the one in my hand. I smile and take a stumbling step towards her. She whips out a foot and lands me flat on my back. She raises the dagger over me and I can see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Then her grin deepens and she plunges the dagger into my stomach. Right where I told her to.

She can’t have killed me anyway. Even I don’t know how I will find my end. Maybe I am immortal. Maybe I can’t die.