Page 4 of The Missing Sentinel
“You said yourself it was a rumor,” Drexley pointed out, his throat dry. The last thing he wanted to do was start his day fighting with Adney. And he was worried. Why was Adney bringing up his daggers? They were an essential part of Drexley.Nearly an extension of his limbs despite the many years that had passed since Drexley was last allowed to wield them in training. They were the final integral thing that defined him as a sentinel.
“Had you not told me about this displaced sentinel masquerading as a leader, I would have continued to believe those stories to be a fable without proof. But it is far too coincidental that such a story exists while a sentinel mysteriously without a necromancer lords his way through the castle created for your people.”
“I find it difficult to believe that any sentinel could act in such a dishonorable way.”
Adney smiled. “Of course you do. You are the quintessential gentleman. You are educated, well-groomed, and the best example of your people. Every sentinel should aspire to be exactly like you. It is too bad we cannot start a reform school for sentinels, but I fear the danger should we leave my realm.”
“You believe I am the best example of my people?” Drexley asked, surprised by the compliment.
“Absolutely. Perhaps if our former leaders hadn’t been so short-sighted at the creation of your people, they would have presented sentinels to the world with your skills instead of dropping cloaked vagrants into our laps.”
“What I find strange is that I cannot recall our initial meeting.”
Adney’s gaze narrowed. “Your lack of recollection raises my suspicions further. It is a magical realm. You have seen what wonders I have created with sorcery. I do not know the full origin story of the sentinels. Our former rulers were rumored to be horrible people. They must be responsible for the place where you were kept. It was just days after we met that you disappeared, so they would have noticed if someone had interfered and built you a home. Why do sentinels have such poor memories? As we have discussed before, I believe it mustbe a spell. Was this something Alaric orchestrated with the help of a necromancer he later killed?”
“I do not know,” Drexley replied. So little was known about the origins of his people, and Adney had never issued any kind words about the former rulers, Faustus and Domitia. Which was odd since Adney had nothing but praise for the current Arch Lich, Chander Daray. Adney spoke of him with awe in his voice.
The first Fate-chosen ruler of the necromancers now led his people and the Council of Sorcery. Arch Lich Daray had brought prosperity to the entire magical world. And according to the tales Alaric had told Drexley, the Arch Lich had two sentinels and kept one with him constantly. They had been the lone sentinels—until Drexley—to spend some of their lives outside of the compound. Drexley wondered if they were like him or had stuck to wearing uniforms and hiding under cloaks.
“Well, that place and its mysteries are for someone else to solve. We are safe here, and this is where we will remain. Let us return to the important topic of weapons. They are unnecessary. There is no need for you to keep two daggers at your sides constantly.”
Drexley closed his eyes briefly and swallowed thickly. Setting his fork down since he’d lost his appetite, he could already feel the mixture of emotions in him brewing uncomfortably again as he fought between who he was and the man his dear friend Adney believed he should be. But Drexley had no choice. He could acquiesce or Adney would make it an order. It was easier if Drexley did not make it into a fight.
“I could keep my weapons stowed if you prefer,” Drexley offered, though he hated the thought of it.
“Remove your poison and hand them to me,” Adney stated in an order Drexley could not refuse. He stood and plucked the weapons from his sides. His gaze landed on theletters of his own name Alaric had burned magically into the blades. Although the sentinel hadn’t explained why, Alaric had insisted on doing so. Perhaps Adney had reason to be suspicious of the man after all.
Drexley removed the poison, and the green glow around the sharp daggers disappeared. Flicking them around, Drexley handed them to Adney hilt first. Adney took the weapons, and Drexley’s mouth fell open in horror as Adney cast a spell and destroyed the blades.
“There, that issue is taken care of,” Adney said, bustling toward the door as if nothing important had occurred. “Should we find that book for you now?”
Unable to find his tongue to speak any words, Drexley nodded and resisted the urge to weep or scream in fury. Adney was correct that a century of peace had passed, but what was a sentinel without daggers?
A gentleman. With enough education, eventually a scholar.
And according to Adney, that should be the true purpose of the sentinels. A race of men who fit into the world of necromancers instead of unkempt assassins ready to murder for the joy of it. Torn between what Adney wanted and the urges in his soul for training, Drexley followed the necromancer to the library with leaden feet.
Perhaps what Drexley needed most to do was remind himself that he was the epitome of a sentinel to his necromancer. Adney considered him to be the model of the future and wished for every sentinel to mirror his life. It was the sentinels who were living in the past and sticking with what the horrid Faustus and Domitia had wanted for them.
If a sentinel wanted to honor their necromancer and the current Arch Lich, they needed to be like Drexley. Instead ofusing weapons, Drexley was training his mind and enriching his existence.
He hoped if he repeated those words to himself often enough that someday he would believe them.
Chapter 3
Present Day
Five centuries had passed since Drexley had arrived at Adney’s home and they’d moved to his personal realm. Drexley had not recovered the memory stripped from him in the compound, and he no longer cared about that place. In fact, he barely recalled why he’d stuck so long to his sentinel routines. Drexley had eventually decided that it was his horrible isolation in his cell that had had him clinging so hard to training and creeping around in a uniform.
Drexley had evolved far from that lonely, sad version of himself. No longer a mindless assassin, Drexley was a gentleman and a scholar. A refined and educated man thanks to his love of reading and Adney’s vast library. But the peace Drexley had found was crumbling. So was the realm Adney had painstakingly built in his youth.
There was no mystery why the land was eroding and things no longer ran smoothly. Adney was an old man and edged closer to death with each passing day. Drexley had lost his soul connection to the necromancer, but even without his senses, it was impossible to ignore the inevitable demise of his dear friend.
What remained a mystery was how their bond had been severed. On an otherwise normal afternoon, Drexley had collapsed and awoken with complete freedom. Was the damage done unique to Adney and Drexley, or had every sentinel and necromancer pair experienced something similar?
Being without the connection had changed little. Adney had not issued orders to Drexley in years. They were far too in sync to require such a barbaric tool. With no desire to communicate with the outside world, Drexley and Adney had decided not to pursue a full investigation into the destruction of the bond that had connected their souls.
Instead, they focused on living. Which was fine until Adney’s magic weakened along with his body. Now, Drexley lived with constant and growing dread.
